Rocks Around And Thinks That He's The Toughest

It is with deepest sorrow, that we announce the untimely death of Lord Papmeister of Beeston, who passed away this morning aged 89.

Lord Papmeister, born Fintan Feckyuze, was an unmistakable presence around the Upper House. Renowned for being operatically proportioned and wearing his hair in a bun, he will probably be best remembered for his attempts to introduce a Bill making legal the hunting and shooting of people on lower incomes. Although his efforts were eventually unrewarded, his legacy lives on today in the newspaper campaigns of the Daily Mail and Express, most notably in their attempts to revive Hilterian policy with regards to gypsies.

Several days before his passing I had the good fortune to be entertained by Lord Papmeister at his exclusive gentleman's club, The Damn and Blasterer, in Whitehall. On the topic of the Daily Mail he smiled wistfully and said, "Them's me boys. Still sticking it to the gypos, what?" before vomiting down his front and passing out.

At this early stage, details of the elderly statesman's passing are unclear, although rumours in the picturesque village of Much-Binding-In-The-Marsh, which he had made his home in these past forty years, suggest that the grand old gentleman was perhaps in the act of deflowering several of the younger maidens of the parish when an enormous brain haemorrhage (befitting his enormous brain) overcame him. Early reports indicating an electric shock from a faulty sex toy are being denied by the family.

Lord Papmeister leaves behind a wife and 37 children, all of whom were bastards, including the ones born in wedlock

Patrick Foresmith writes: I was at Oxford with Papmeister. He was an absolute bastard.

: I was at Oxford with Papmeister. He was an absolute bastard.

Posted by: papmeister at 08:19 | link | comments (7)

Where e'er we go, we celebrate
The land that makes us refugees
From fear of Priests with empty plates
From guilt and weeping effigies
And we dance

Posted by: papmeister at 11:14 | link | comments (4)

IRA thugs defiant as sisters fight on
By GORDON RAYNER
THEIR control of organised crime in Belfast has earned senior IRA men the nickname "the Rafia", a grimly appropriate mix of Republican Army and Mafia. And by swaggering openly through the city's streets in recent weeks, those believed to be responsible for the murder of a widely-admired Catholic man, Robert McCartney, have lived up to the reputation of crime lords beyond the reach of the law. Despite a campaign for justice by the victim's five sisters and demands from Sinn Fein leader Gerry Adams that the killers turn themselves in, the three men alleged to have been at the centre of Mr McCartney's murder are still at large. Gerard "Jock" Davison, said to have ordered the killing following a brawl in a Belfast pub, Jim "Dim" McCormack, reported to have administered the fatal knife blow, and Gerard Montgomery, alleged to have orchestrated the clean-up operation afterwards, have remained defiant despite widespread disgust among the nationalist community.

Davison, McCormack and Montgomery are among the Belfast IRA's most powerful and ruthless "volunteers".

Davison, 37, lives in Short Strand -- an island of nationalists surrounded by loyalists in East Belfast -- a few hundred yards from the house where Mr McCartney lived with his fiance, Bridgeen Hagans, and their two children. He is frequently seen driving around Short Strand in an expensive four-wheel-drive car and his comfortable home, where he lives with his wife and son, 18, is guarded by burly young men. Davison remains a member of the Northern Command, regarded as the real powerbase of the IRA. He is the undisputed leader of the IRA in Short Strand. His defiance of Gerry Adams' orders to submit to a trial, and his sneering contempt for the dignified campaign for justice being waged by Mr McCartney's sisters, is an indication of Davison's belief in his own impregnability.

"Jock Davison is not going to end his liberty over a bar fight just to make Gerry Adams look good," said one republican source.

On January 30, Mr McCartney went for a drink with a friend and they chose Magennis's bar, a new-wave Irish gastropub. There were IRA men in the bar and, according to the McCartney family, a republican accused their brother of making a rude gesture to a woman in their group.

"Do you know who I am?" he asked. Mr McCartney knew who he was, but would not apologise, saying he had done nothing wrong. A row ensued. Mr McCartney's friend, Brendan Devine, had his throat slit and the two friends stumbled outside. A knife was taken from the kitchen and, outside the bar, Mr McCartney was stabbed and beaten so badly he lost an eye. His family say the attackers went back into the pub, locked the doors, cleaned up, removed CCTV footage and did not call an ambulance.

Picked up by a police patrol, Mr McCartney died in hospital that night. Mr Devine, whose throat was slit from ear to ear and stomach from navel to chest, survived.

The nationalist motto in the area around Short Strand is "whatever you say, say nothing", but now the community, led by the McCartney sisters, is standing up to the IRA.

"I've been waiting on people saying nasty things, but everyone has been supportive," said Donna McCartney in the sandwich shop she runs.

The eldest sister, Gemma, says they are driven by love for their brother and a desire for justice.

"Only now I'm in this situation do I realise how essential justice is," she said. "You see people on TV saying they're fighting for justice and you think, 'why don't they just accept things and get on with the grieving process?' It's only now that I realise how important justice is. Otherwise he would have died in vain."

Until the murder, Jock Davison was regarded as a key ally of Adams. Police say he was in a a delegation sent to South Armagh before Christmas to negotiate with hardliners agitating for a major operation. The result, it is alleged, was the $55 million Northern Bank raid in December. Last week Davison gave an interview to a sympathetic newspaper flatly denying he ordered the murder or covered it up. But he has already served time for "the cause" -- in 1986 he was sentenced to two years for IRA membership, wounding a police officer and possession of a firearm.

Jim McCormack, 36, lives in the Catholic Markets and is a relatively recent addition to IRA ranks. At school, he had a reputation as a bully and as a teenager he was in trouble for joyriding before graduating to burglary. In January 1984, while a teenager, Mr McCormack was questioned over an arson attack on a leisure centre in which six people died, including three children.  He was attracted to the power, money and violence that membership of a paramilitary organisation could bring, so he joined the IRA.

Gerard Montgomery, 34, also from the Markets area, is a former bouncer whose physical presence got him the job of armed bodyguard to Gerry Adams and the IRA soldier turned Sinn Fein leader, Martin McGuinness.  He is alleged to have been involved in the beating of Mr McCartney and the "clean-up', leaving the scene of the stabbings with two videos from CCTV cameras that had recorded the incident.

They are three powerful men. Whether they are strong enough to stand up to the McCartney sisters and a wave of public revulsion remains to be seen.

Posted by: papmeister at 01:27 | link | comments (3)

In which we sing the praises of White's greengrocers.  This morning I'd popped out to buy my provisions and called in White's greengrocers.  Whilst I was selecting my carrots, tatties, mushrooms and onions I heard Mr White on the telephone to his bookie.  "That sounded interesting," I piped up once he'd finished his call.  "Yes, I was talking to the owner of a horse yesterday who advised me that not only will it be running this afternoon but that it will also be winning."  Now, naturally, I am a sucker for this type of information and headed directly from White's across the road to William Hills Turf Accountant wherein I made a financial investment on Archie Babe in the 3.05 at Towcester.  I returned home, chopped my onions, sweated them off in a little organic extra-virgin olive oil, added the chopped mushrooms, carrots and tatties plus other ingredients and left them to simmer in my extremely large pan.  I had a little lie down.  Then a bath.  Then I checked the racing results.  Oh God bless you Mr White!  And God bless you too, Archie Babe! God bless all of you, each and every one, on this finest of days!

Posted by: papmeister at 16:38 | link | comments

There are any number of reasons why The Fall are the greatest rock 'n' roll band in the world, not least that they have pursued their own agenda, free from sell-out, compromise or seeking favour for nearly thirty years.  You could add that they have the greatest lyricist of modern music or that only Captain Beefheart has been quite so original.  But I like them because Mark E Smith makes me look quite healthy:

Posted by: papmeister at 08:57 | link | comments (1)

Tonight Paps and MC Hammered are going to see The Fall at the Irish Centre.  Ladies, think Jude Law and Colin Firth out on the town and that should give you a rough idea of what the evening holds.  As our Australian cousins would have it, "Brace yourselves, Sheilas."

Posted by: papmeister at 18:36 | link | comments (1)

Some things can crush a man.  They'd better not try to hurt you by hitting you or calling you names because that's been tried and it doesn't work.  So many small defeats, so many humiliations and you are a washed-up, ten-time loser and you have no qualities that a normal human being should have.  Drip feed the badness in the eighties, the Falklands, ten-men-dead, the miners' strike, Hillsborough, and still they don't break you.  You leave the fucking country in the end because you're sick to the gills but you come back in the wash because there's no place like home and you've had some beliefs all your life and then this last few months you've seen them stripped away and you're not on your own and the blanketmen agree with you and you try to talk and all you can say is "I've been so lonely, Ma. So fucking lonely."  And you go upstairs and the sight of any empty bed finally crushes you.

Posted by: papmeister at 00:27 | link | comments

My friend has found Jesus.  Or more specifically, he's found the face of Jesus on a pebble.  Stay tuned, when I get hold of a picture I'll post it on here.  Then we can turn Papmeister into a site of pilgrimage via word of mouth.  I may start selling religious trinkets on here... 

Posted by: papmeister at 21:09 | link | comments (1)

I renewed my passport yesterday.  The new photo looks like one that might be in a newspaper with the following caption underneath it, PAPMEISTER: Neighbours say he seemed quiet.  Looking at how I've changed since the last passport photo is a lesson that should be taught in schools.  Kids, this could happen to you if you abuse your bodies.  My old passport ran out five years ago.  I haven't needed to renew it because I haven't been anywhere.  When you get the new one you have to hand the old one in and it was a bit of a wrench.  You see, the old passport has always been a reminder of someone who I loved very deeply.  We were going away and neither of us had passports; we didn't have time to get one in the normal way so we caught the train to Liverpool and queued for hours to get one straight away.  For the next ten years, even though we were no longer together, every time I looked at my passport I thought of the fact that the number right next to mine was hers.  Now the passport's gone as well as the girl.  And my new picture shows some of the sadness of the intervening years.

Posted by: papmeister at 10:25 | link | comments (1)

 If you haven't seen the programme then this will mean nothing to you, but the best line in a TV programme this year goes to Frank in Shameless saying to Lillian, "Get your facts right, Bo Selecta." If you live in the UK, watch next week's episode on Channel 4 and you'll know what I mean.

Posted by: papmeister at 00:39 | link | comments (1)