I was shooting my mouth off earlier on Facebook-em-Danno, about John Bercow the corrupt former speaker of the house of commons.
If he was a Christian or a Muslim I would publish the BREXIT plotting that all sides of the most divisive issue to tear the British people apart should demand to know, but there are limits to free speech.
This doesn't mean, JB wasn't one of the most learned speakers in modern times. He knew his subject better than his adversaries and delivered it in that dazzling upper-class, Pompous-English cadence that wannabes like myself wouldn't mind being capable of, but I didn't attend a top school like Frith Manor in Woodside Park as John Simon Bercow did.
Now the thing about JB is that his BFF was Keith Vaz MP, so I searched my blog archives to see if I could illuminate the depths of whatever made both of these men completely untouchable by the most powerful levers of statecraft.
Just imagine my pearl-clutching and heart palpitations as I discovered that manipulation of my esteemed and generally ignored work had taken place? My blog post about Vaz had been kneecapped.
I nearly fainted for an encore.... many of the cast spontaneously broke into tears and the audience looked like they collectively stood up to applause, as the curtain was drawn, but as we can't see a thing with the spotlights turned on us, it's about the feelz not audiencide™ eye-contact in the business.
Anyway, Vaz, or maybe even his mates 503'd the last of three posts about Keef On The Goa Vaz. Not because I called him oily in the headline... that's still there.
The content is gone.
I was itching to find out how I had triggered things, so I hit on an idea, and for the first time ever, I searched the waybackmachine to see what the archives said, as top journos in the United States had confidently informed me that all claims of meddling could be settled in this manner.
Hah, the good old days eh.
Those were the days my friend, we thought they'd never end.
