Vive L'Angleterre! - England Beat France

Once more unto the ruck, dear friends, once more;

Or close the maul up with our English ball carriers.

In peace there's nothing so becomes a man

As modest stillness and humility:

But when the blast of Chabal blows in our ears,

Then imitate the action of Jason Robinson.

Stiffen the hamstrings, summon up the blood,

Disguise fair-haired nature with hard-favour'd rage;

Then lend the eye of Jonny a terrible aspect;

Let pry through the portage of the tight head

Like the brass cannon; let the brow o'erwhelm it

As fearfully as doth a gallic Ibanez

O'erhang his conversion and jutty his confounded base,

Swill'd with the wild and wasteful swing.

Now set the teeth and stretch Sackey's nostril wide,

Hold hard the breath and bend up every spirit

To his full height. On, on, you noblest English pack.

Whose blood is fet from fathers of war-proof!

Fathers that, like so many tap-tackling Worsleys,

Have in these parts from morn till even fought

And sheathed their ice packs and deep heat for lack of argument:

Dishonour not your mothers; now attest

That those like D'Allaglio whom you call'd fathers did beget you.

Be copy now to men of grosser blood,

And teach them how to war.

And you, good yeoman,

Whose limbs were made in England, show us here

The mettle of your pasture; let us swear

That you are worth your breeding; which I doubt not;

For there is none of you so mean and base, except Simon Shaw,

That hath not noble lustre in your eyes.

I see Lewsey stand like a greyhound in the slips,

Straining upon the start.

The game's afoot:

Follow your spirit, and upon this charge

Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George Chuter!'

Austrian Shock Therapy

Someone asked me today to send them a list of Austrian primers, to get started with the one form of economics which actually manages to coherently explain all economic phenomena from inflation through to welfare dependency, via empire building, and onto boom and bust. I thought this might be a useful list for other budding Austrians to get their teeth into.

What has the government done to our money? A primer for inflation. Read around 10 linked pages for a good precis on the whys, hows, whens, and wheres, of what inflation is and how it comes about:
http://www.mises.org/money/3s1.asp

What else you should know about inflation. The classic text in the Austrian field:
http://www.mises.org/books/inflation.pdf

The origin of the horrors of the Welfare state and why it always destroys the human spirit:
http://www.mises.org/efandi/ch12.asp

How the welfare state corrupted Sweden:
http://www.mises.org/story/2190

Man vs. The Welfare State. Another Hazlitt classic:
http://www.mises.org/books/manwelfarestate.pdf

The Welfare state's attack on the family:
http://www.mises.org/story/2218

Democracy. The God that failed:
http://www.mises.org/hoppeintro.asp

The myth of efficiency (or the myth of the economy of scale):
http://www.mises.org/rothbard/efficiency.pdf

Economics in one lesson. A complete synopsis of Austrian economics:
http://www.mises.org/books/onelesson.pdf

What is the Austrian school?
http://www.mises.org/etexts/austrian.asp

Intellectuals and why the state looks after them:
http://www.mises.org/etexts/intellectuals.asp

Business Cycle - Boom and Bust - and how Austrianism explains it:
http://www.mises.org/story/672

Man, Economy, and State. A complete economic treatise, in much greater depth.
http://www.mises.org/rothbard/mes.asp

Human Action. The defining work of Austrian Economics:
http://www.mises.org/resources/3250

That should be enough to keep anyone going for a few days! :-)

Toad Gordo - The Greatest Coward in England

Yes, it makes absolutely no difference which political party has current control of the train set, here in England, but it is refreshing to see what cowards they are under the skin, as today with Toad Gordo losing his nerve and failing to call an election.

What a bottler.

If he'd announced an election, he would've said, "The Country is demanding it." But this logic still holds even if the opinion polls are against this great fat marxist. So what it boils down to is that Toad Gordo is a coward. And everyone knows it. Which is superb! :-)

Unlike the glorious heroes of the England rugby team, who read in a hundred newspapers that Australia would trample them, but who still rode out into the fire anyway to win against the odds, Toad Gordo looked into the face of the wretched Chocolate Orange inspecting enemy and flinched. Pathetic.

Yes, all politicians are pusillanimous immoral wretches, but it is good to see them for what they are when their cowardly impulses are set out in plain daylight for all to see, with the spin bubble removed from their brows.

Get back to Scotland, Toad. We don't need cowards here. Just heroes.

UPDATE: As if being a coward was not enough, we have since had Toad Gordo displaying mendacious arrogance by lying quite openly about why he failed to call an election. And everyone, even his own usual News International sycophants, merely laughed at him directly to his face. For this 'master strategist' to be thus revealed as an arrogant, indecisive, thin-skinned, lying coward, to everyone in Blighty with a pulse, is simply first class. And this is the best that socialism can produce, the finest of their new soviet men. What an utter shower.

England 700 Million, Australia Nil

If we are mark'd to die on this French field, we are enow
To do our country loss; and if to live,
The fewer men like Wilkinson, the greater share of honour.
God's will! I pray thee, wish not one man more than fifteen.
By Robinson, I am not covetous for the players in gold,
Nor care I who doth feed upon the Flood of my cost;
It yearns me not if men my bloody garments wear;
Such outward things dwell not in my desires.
But if it be a sin to covet honour,
I am the most offending soul alive.
No, faith, my coz, wish not the back row men from England.
God's peace! I would not lose so great an honour
As one man more methinks would share from me
For the best hope I have. O, do not wish one more!
Rather proclaim Phil Vickery, through my host,
That which Tuqiri hath no stomach to this fight,
Let him depart; his passport shall be stamped at the exit,
And crowns for convoy down under put into his purse;
We would not die in that man's company
That fears his fellowship to die with us.
This day is call'd the feast of St Sheridan.
He that outlives this day, and comes safe home,
Will stand a tip-toe like Worsley when this day is nam'd,
And rouse him at the names of Shaw and Kay.
Bearded George that shall live this day, and see old age,
Will yearly on the vigil feast his neighbours,
And say 'To-morrow is Saint Sheridan.'
Then Stevens will strip his sleeve and show his scars,
And say 'These wounds I had on Sheridan's day.'
Old men forget; yet all shall be forgot,
But he'll remember, with advantages,
What feats Catt did that day. Then shall our names,
Familiar in his mouth as household words-
Easter and Sackey, Regan and Corry,
Moody and Gomarsall, Tait and Dallaglio-
Be in their flowing cups freshly rememb'red.
This story shall the good man teach his son;
And Lewsey shall ne'er go by,
From this day to the ending of the world,
But we in it shall be remembered-
We few, we happy few, we band of brothers;
For he to-day that sheds his blood with me
Shall be my brother; be he ne'er so vile,
This day shall gentle his condition;
And gentlemen in England now-a-bed
Shall think themselves accurs'd they were not here,
And hold their manhoods cheap whiles any speaks
That fought with us upon Saint Sheridan's day.
Or at least, watched from afar with ale in our hands,
And shrinking disbelief in our hearts,
As we were vigilant upon the defeat of the men in gold,
And we shall proclaim this day,
As Triumph; Havoc, England and St. George.

Judge the Truth for Yourself

Of course, philosophically I am completely opposed to all state judges and the franchised state monopoly they run in legal court services, but every once in a blue moon they occasionally speak a little wisdom, so I must praise Judge Lord Bracadale for the following recent quote:

"The issue of counterfeit notes not only undermines the economy of a country, but is likely to result in loss being sustained by innocent people who find themselves in possession of these notes only to discover they are worthless."

Well said, sir!

Of course, the good judge was speaking about counterfeiters operating without a state licence. Strangely, when counterfeiters are licensed, by a magical process of magic-ness, producing fake bank notes backed by nothing but crispest fresh air, it's somehow good for the economy. It only becomes bad for the economy when its anyone other than the Bank of England or the Bank of Scotland.

We are fortunate indeed to live in such a magical land where such terrible crimes can be rendered wise and benevolent by the judicious intervention of a large mafia-like body known as the 'British state'. How fortunate it is then, that Lord Bracadale receives his income from this same state. It is indeed a remarkable coincidence.

Slightly Less Fat Man On Bicycle

Over the last few weeks of cycling 12 miles a day in central London, four days a week, I've managed to lose about 2.5 ounces in weight, which is nice. However, I'm afraid it's curtains for the Strida.
I do love this funky bike to bits, but we ex-4th-team flankers find the Strida a little bit slow and a tiny bit dangerous to cover the distance between Paddington and Bank, twice a day, especially when doing life-savers over the right shoulder. Fortunately, due to the splendid people at Strida who sold it to me on a 60-day trial basis (don't ya love the free market), I'll be getting my money back for it. I wish them the best with it, but I reckon it tops out at about 3 miles max per journey, for a man of my girth, and really ought to be used by slighter people than my good self.

With the money coming back, I've now splashed out on a Dahon Vitesse D5.This far sturdier machine is easily able to bear great human lumps of beer, pie, and fat, and is whizzing me along at a brisk 35 minutes per journey (as opposed to 45 minutes on the Strida), and therefore able to match the average Tube time. It's far less fun than the Strida, alas, and it's a bit more awkward and heavy to carry, but I can now look over my right shoulder with confidence, which is crucial for cruising down the Embankment.

So for those of you who've been watching out at Hyde Park for me with binoculars, hoping to claim their £10 pounds prize, I'm now much more blended in to the bitter ecomentalist herd at Hyde Park corner, worse luck, though I have still managed to avoid Lycra. Or putting sanctimonious stickers on my bike, such as "One Less Car", like one muppet I saw the other day - who presumably never eats food delivered to supermarkets by trucks or other gasoline-powered vehicles, or who has never travelled any miles in a car, ever. Thankfully, my splendid car carries my Dahon to and from the station at high speed and at great comfort, while I listen to Sir Terence Wogan on the bass-woofing car radio, so if anyone has any "I love my car" stickers I can stick onto my new bike frame, or "My other bike is a Honda CBR", I would definitely appreciate it, especially if the muppet above gets to see it.

And now we've mentioned the Honda CBR, do you think that gives me an opportunity to re-use the photo below? I should coco.

Pip pip!!

Oh No, Not Another Diana Enquiry!

Like London buses parking in cycle lanes, just when you thought you'd got round the last Diana enquiry, another one pops up. Hey ho, you might think, in a jolly way; at least it'll give the Daily Mail yet more opportunities to get the poor girl on yet another 72 consecutive front covers of their dreadful rag, to boost their ailing circulation.

But what exactly is the point? There are two things that could've happened:

1. Diana died in a car accident. (Roads socialism (PDF link) ensures this happens all the time.)

2. The British state took Diana out in a wet disposal operation, because she was becoming an embarrasment. (This also happens all the time. What would be the point of the MI5 Security and MI6 Secret Service operations, if it didn't?)

In the first instance, the enquiry is a waste of time, because even when the roads are eventually de-socialized, I'm sure there'll still be road accidents (though far less than under roads socialism), and as the Forrest Gump film put it so eloquently, shit happens. In the second instance, the enquiry is being run by the British state under their usual monopolistic court set-up, and the British state is hardly likely to accuse and then prosecute the British state in their own court in the manner of a Turkey voting for Saxo stuffing share options.

Of course the £50 million, or even £100 million, this enquiry is going to cost...

[Sound of penny dropping]

Crikey! Are you telling me that the British state is running this enquiry purely to fool us that the legal system is independent and then to cross-subsidise its various apparatchiks and fellow travelling parasites in the state-franchised legal system with yet more ill-gotten taxpayers pelf in return for their complicity in this enormous wealth-thieving scam?

That would be a vile calumny.