Boris Johnson’s Ping Pong Speech

Again I say: oh, Boris. Don’t ever change.

Boris Johnson, Mayor of London gives quite possibly the greatest Olympic speech ever made; quite certainly the most entertaining. But why didn’t he bring up Poodle Clipping? That was an Olympic sport!

“Virtually every single one of our international sports were either invented or codified by the British, and I say this respectfully to our Chinese hosts who have excelled so magnificently at ping pong,” he said in a tongue-in-cheek speech.

“Ping pong was invented on the dining tables of England in the 19th century and it was called wiff waff.

“There I think you have the essential difference between us and the rest of world.

“Other nations, the French, looked at a dining table and saw an opportunity to have dinner. We looked at a dining table and saw an opportunity to play wiff waff. That is why London is the sporting capital of the world.

“And I say to the Chinese, and I say to the world: ping pong is coming home.”

Text excerpt from Sander Cohen’s Muse

The Deadbeat Club

Well, I’ve never been one to dip a toe in when I could plunge over the cliff taking an entire bus with me instead.


MistressCowfish suggested I start a group, because after Friending people, Grouping is teh hawtness on Facebook, which sounds to my elderly ears like a rave gotten completely out of control, but whatever.

I have Grouped.

If you’re on Facebook, you’ll find me at The Deadbeat Club (cue Metro‘s bitter humour…).

Inspired by glorious deadbeats throughout history such as the authors of Frugal Indulgents, Dorothy Parker, Oscar Wilde, Quentin Crisp, Vincent Van Gogh, and that guy … you know … that guy whose name I can’t remember, who destroyed his priceless collections and then killed himself rather than let the collection fall into Ceasar’s hands. See, if Boris would join the group he could tell us who that was.

Yes, surely in a Deadbeat Club there’s some room for rich, sore losers. Especially if they’re buying.

Ladies, Gentlemen, and the Undecided, please raise your glasses, mugs, or sippy cups to our anthem:

The Deadbeat Club by The B 52’s

I was good, I could talk
A mile a minute,
On this caffeine buzz I was on
We were really hummin'
We would talk every day for hours
We belong to the deadbeat club

Anyway we can,
We're gonna find something
We'll dance in the garden
In torn sheets in the rain

We're the deadbeat club
We're the deadbeat club

Going down to Allen's for
A twenty-five cent beer
And the jukebox playing real loud,
"Ninety-six tears"
We're wild girls walkin' down the street
Wild girls and boys going out for a big time

Let's go crash that party down
In Normaltown tonight
Then we'll go skinny-dippin'
In the moonlight
We're wild girls walkin' down the street
Wild girls and boys going out for a big time

Anyway we can
We're gonna find something
We'll dance in the garden
In torn sheets in the rain


Oh no! Here they come
The members of the deadbeat club

London Calling

Boris is bonked out by the looks of things

Hello to my funnily-accented friends from various quaint backwaters across the Pond.

I understand that congratulations are in order for the multi-ethnic immigrant underdog Al Kemal, new Grand High Vizier of Londonistan.

Yes, the long shot has triumphed over the Career Bureaucrat, despite a few false starts and a campaign website optimized for and displaying correctly on no browser known to science or religion. We at the ol’ raincoaster blog are vastly relieved to be on the other side of the planet, well away from the anticipated violently uncontrollable celebrations of the cricket louts, the derby-topped swarms of bankers lumbering down sidewalks high on Earl Grey and looking for trouble, and of course the looming presence of his old homies in the Bullingdon Crips, who will now become quite impossible to deal with on a reasonable level. One of the most cosmopolitan cities in the world will be under the ruthless control of a small, formerly marginalized group of cronies whose life experiences fall so far outside the norm as to constitute positive aberration.

The hordes have already destroyed Boris’ website (which has crashed) and so the mob furls their umbrellas and moves on to Boriswatch.


add to : Add to Blinkslist : add to furl : Digg it : add to ma.gnolia : Stumble It! : add to simpy : seed the vine : : : TailRank : post to facebook

Operation Global Media Domination: the Potter Situation

TIA, babyWell, Technorati loves me, but Google has forgotten I exist. Ah well, they’re probably just getting back at me for misusing their name as a generic verb; these Internet people are such drama queens! It’s true, though: my posts don’t seem to show up on Google at all anymore, although when someone posts them to Digg the Digg post turns up okay. I also appear to be AOL’s favorite referral, which is weird. I mean, people still use AOL?

Technorati situation:

Authority: 270

Rank: 15,898

Which is pretty cool, particularly when you realize that two weeks ago I was at 17,800. That’s the kind of breakthrough I’ve been looking for for awhile. Now to get it back to 14,400, which it was for all of twelve hours before Technorati did a reorg and kicked me back to 18000..

In related news, search terms indicate unsurprisingly that you’re all about the Potter boy lately. Seriously, you can’t wait one more day? The entire top half of the Vancouver Sun yesterday was dedicated to this guy who’d found the book online…like I did about three months ago. Really, I DO need to do a better PR job for myself. Why should some other pathetic internet obsessed nerd get the cover of the paper and not me? He doesn’t even have a blog to pimp out!

But top posts is looking like this lately:

Britney Spears(?) sex tape trailer 235
Harry Potter spoiler di tutti spoiler 131
Harry Potter final paragraph 129
Daniel Radcliffe in Equus 94
Harry Potter and the treasure trail of s 48
mummified fairy remains found!!! 46
beaver shots 40
Linkie o’ the Day: Beautiful Agony 30
the Harry Potter Countdown ticker: get i 17
LolGoth #16: ai iz kleered 4 takeoff! 17

I’m sensing a trend. Also sensing that hits are headed towards a cliff, off which they will throw themselves in about 25 hours. Ah well, Britney will always put out for me…or just about anyone, so it seems.

In related news, nobody on Reddit is interested in Boris Johnson, as mine is the only story on him on the site and nobody’s voted it up. Did okay on Digg, but not Pottermania levels. Diggers, it seems, have more of a sense of humour; whodathunkit?

The benefits of encouraging newbies have manifested themselves, as blogpimping apprentice With Malice was interviewed and managed to plug the ol’ raincoaster blog repeatedly with links throughout the interview. That’s my boy! He also linked to my All Star Hooker Bust post, and why would he do such a thing? Because shrinking violet here asked him to, that’s why. He also liked my Air Sex story and video. Hey, if golf is a sport, so is air sex.

I’m trying to put together a “Virtual Birthday Present Roundup” but it’s frankly too big a project. Archie, ferinstance, posted virtually nothing but tentacles the entire week of my birthday, and every blogger in the Western Hemisphere plus a couple in the Eastern one sent me the story of the giant squid washing up in Tasmania. More on this later…because I know you’ll keep coming back for the sweet, sweet Fake Britney Porn.

Lolgoths finally came through for me, achieving continued readership and a link from this article; the neat thing here is that the Bloggersblog has something like eight different URLs, all with different authority levels, all the way up to 700. And technorati counts each one. I love the scent of SEO in the morning!

Also: snuck past the censors and made it into Top Blogs and Top Posts again today. They’re all partying at Wordcamp and will doubtless delete me as soon as they return.

add to :: Add to Blinkslist :: add to furl :: Digg it :: add to ma.gnolia :: Stumble It! :: add to simpy :: seed the vine :: :: :: TailRank

Support Al Kemal for Mayor of London: the People’s Choice!

Boris Johnson in fezLook, Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, MP, (Eton, Oxon) Of That Ilk and Running As Such is just never going to win the hearts and minds, much less the votes, of the fish and chips crowd. You know it, I know it, he hasn’t a bloody clue, which is where competent staff comes in.

While it appears increasingly likely that BoJo is going to declare his candidacy for Mayor of London (perhaps entranced, as are we all, by visions of blond, fluffy clouds of fur floating over black velvet robes) realistically he will have to work his uppers to the crust if he wants to rule the rank and file. His opponent is Ken Livingstone, a charismatic and iron-willed lefty in the Trudeau Fuck You vein known as Red Ken.

In fairness, it must be said that about the only person in the UK who’s offended more people than Boris is Red Ken himself. So if nothing else, this campaign will be on 24-hour gaffe alert on both sides.

Still, Boris can’t afford to coast on looks, charm, and the implicit opportunity of below-stairs patronage appointments at the Spectator. Or the Times.

Boris needs to reach out to Londonistan. He has to become The Man of the People, even if he only encounters those people in the form of a studio audience. We here at the ol’ raincoaster blog have long studied the phenomenon that is Bojo, and we, being somewhat leftist ourself(s?), feel that we can come up with a statement providing a new direction, a new vision, even a new Boris Johnson.


Al Kemal* is the People’s Choice for Mayor of London

Boris Johnson

From his humble beginnings as a Turko**-American*** immigrant from a broken home, Al’s life has been a series of struggles, a succession of successes. He is an inspiration to the entire Islamic community, and a leader for our globalized times.

Born in an American Stalinist medical facility**** to foreign parents, he spent his early years nomadically, drifting from country to country***** as his feckless father moved the family in search of lasting employment******. When Al eventually landed in the UK as a child of 11*******he had no more than the proverbial tenner in his pocket*******. An innovative and extraordinarily inclusive admissions program at one local school allowed young Al the kinds of educational advantages normally only enjoyed by native Britons of elevated standing, despite differences in background, ethnicity, and even religion.*********

Al made the most of those opportunities, eventually securing a place at Balliol, living out the dreams Thomas Hardy had written for him more than a hundred years before.********** While there, he became instrumental in the operation of the British-Arab University Association, and rose through sheer grim slogging to be the first Turko-American member of the Bullingdon Club. Additionally, he was the favoured candidate of the Social Democratic Party, clearly demonstrating his centrist, mainstream, populist leanings at an early age.***********

Al was active in social outreach programs, making friends among even the criminal classes.************

Although Al appeared to have overcome his past as the child of a broken home, the pattern reasserted itself. Married too young, Al put his first marriage behind him and eventually settled down with (and subsequently married) a nice Englishwoman from the showbusiness class, with whom he has had four children.*************

Al’s early forays into politics were humbling, to say the least.*************** Nonetheless, he came back to have a moderately successful career as a television presenter and in local politics, as well as gaining notoriety on the sports field*****************.

No stranger to disadvantage, exclusion and setbacks, Al Kemal is truly Everyman for the new London of the Twenty-First Century.


*Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson’s original family name was Kemal. His family calls him Al.

** Kemal is Turkish…his great-grandfather was Ali Kemal, an ill-fated Turkish journalist who became a government official and came to a sticky end. Obviously learning from the past is not a family trait. Ali Kemal was not, it should be noted, Catholic. Yay, Islamic outreach!

*** Boris Al was born in Manhattan.

**** In some godforsaken Yankee hospital: they’re all bloody HMOs nowadays. Poor bugger’s lucky he’s still alive.

***** Seriously, are we sure they aren’t Rom? First the UK, then a move to the States, then Belgium (Belgium, for chrissakes…how bloody desperate do you have to be to look for work in Belgium?), then the UK again. Can’t these people settle down and commit to one country? Is that too much to ask? Bloody gypsies!

****** See above. Two footnotes looked more impressive, and nobody reads this shit anyway.

******* To attend Eton. Must have been an equal-opportunity initiative or some kind of ethnic scholarship. Good work, Al!

******** I am estimating this, based on the fact that most young Etonians don’t keep cash in their pockets. They keep it in their manservant’s pockets.

********* He’s Catholic. I know, doesn’t look it eh? So that’s the Catholic vote sewn up.

********** Thomas Hardy is so going to fucking kill me for this.

*********** No proof exists that he actually ran for the SDP, but on the other hand no proof exists that he didn’t, either.

************ Darius Guppy, who also attempted unsuccessfully to involve Al in criminal activities. That’s our Al, never afraid to do social outreach.

************* Marina Wheeler, a lawyer. Handy, when you’ve got Al’s friends.

*************** Wales so totally kicked his ass.

**************** YouTube

add to :: Add to Blinkslist :: add to furl :: Digg it :: add to ma.gnolia :: Stumble It! :: add to simpy :: seed the vine :: :: :: TailRank