Make sure you vote phoney tony and co out the next chance you get!

 

I have been an expat for 10 years now which means I pay tax wherever I live, but not in the UK. There is talk now though of bringing in a system similar to that in the US whereby they tax you wherever you live in the world, even if you don't use any of the services in the UK

One thing that I really don't understand though, is how come there is no paper that really makes a big thing of the way things are going tax wise? I know the Sun has articles periodically, but 15 years ago it would have been front page news every day until they got the party out of office .....

 

I think you have only got to look at the way that the government was shaking a big stick at the BBC recently to guess why that is - either the media is on their side or too frightened to speak out. All those people who said Iraq had no WMD's must be feeling pretty stupid now!!!

The minority press, Private Eye and so on, still say what they think but unless somebody bigger stands up to be counted the media is going to be no help to the man in the street.

The problem is that newspaper owners have their own interests to look after first and foremost (you scratch my back....)

 

By the way .... have you come across this one before?

While walking down the street one day, Tony "Phoney" Blair is shot dead by a disgruntled taxpayer. His soul arrives in heaven and he is met by St. Peter at the Pearly Gates.

"Welcome to Heaven," says St. Peter. "Before you settle in, it seems there is a problem: We seldom see a Labour Politician around these parts, so we're not sure what to do with you."

"No problem, just let me in; I'm a believer," says Phoney.

"I'd like to just let you in, but I have orders from the Man Himself: He says you have to spend one day in Hell and one day in Heaven. Then you must choose where you'll live for eternity."

"But, I've already made up my mind; I want to be in Heaven."

"I'm sorry, but we have our rules." And with that, St. Peter escorts him to an elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors open and he finds himself in the middle of a lush golf course; the sun is shining in a cloudless sky; the temperature a perfect 72 degrees.

In the distance is a beautiful clubhouse. Standing in front of it is his dad... and thousands of Labour types he had dealt with over the years... Neil Kinnock, Ken Livingstone, John Prescott.... The whole of the Loony Left was there too... everyone laughing... happy... casually but expensively dressed.

They run to greet him, hug him, and reminisce about the good times they had getting laughs at the expense of the "dumb voters." They play a friendly game of golf and then dine on lobster and caviar. The Devil himself comes up to Blair with a frosty drink, "Have a Margarita and a little blow; relax, Phoney!"
"Oh, I can't do drugs any more, I promised Cherie," says Blair, dejectedly.

"This is Hell, son; you can drink and eat all you want and not worry, and it just gets better from there!"

Phoney takes the drink and finds himself liking the Devil, who he
thinks is a really very friendly guy who tells funny jokes and pulls hilarious nasty pranks so they can laugh at the others. They are having such a great time that, before he realizes it, it's time to go. Everyone gives him a big hug and waves
as Blair steps on the elevator and heads upward.

When the elevator door reopens, he is in Heaven again and St. Peter is waiting for him. "Now it's time to visit Heaven," the old man says, opening the gate.

So for 24 hours Blair is made to hang out with a bunch of honest, good-natured people who enjoy each other's company, talk about things other than money, and treat each other decently. Not a nasty prank or joke amongst them; no fancy country clubs and, while the food tastes great, it's not caviar or lobster. And these people are all poor, he doesn't see anybody he knows, and he isn't even treated like someone special! Worst of all, to Phoney, Jesus turns out to be some kind of Jewish hippie with his endless 'peace' and 'do unto others' jive.

"Whoa," he says uncomfortably to himself, "Alastair Campbell never prepared me for this!"

The day done, St. Peter returns and says, "Well, then, you've spent a day in Hell and a day in Heaven. Now choose where you want to live for eternity."

With the 'Jeopardy' theme playing softly in the background, Phoneyreflects for a minute, then answers: "Well, I would never have thought I'd say this -- I mean, Heaven has been delightful and all -- but I really think I belong in Hell with my friends."

So Saint Peter escorts him to the elevator and he goes down, down, down, all the way to Hell. The doors of the elevator open and he is in the middle of a barren scorched earth covered with garbage and toxic industrial waste, kind of like Sellafield. He is horrified to see all of his friends, dressed in rags and chained together, picking up the trash and putting it in black bags. They are groaning and moaning in pain, faces and hands black with grime. The Devil comes over to Blair and puts an arm around his shoulder.

"I don't understand," stammers a shocked Phoney, "Yesterday I was here and there was a golf course and a clubhouse and we ate lobster and caviar... drank booze. We screwed around and had a great time. Now there's just a wasteland full of garbage and everybody looks miserable!"

The Devil looks at him, smiles slyly, and purrs, "Yesterday we were campaigning; today you voted for us."