The cunting Daily Mail thread.

[Woo]

 

No matter what that is, its just wrong!

 

Im gonna have nightmares for weeks now.

[Unrighteous]

I don't want Fop dammit, I'm a Dapper Dan Man.

 

Fucking finally! Someone got it! I was like... wtf... I expected a load of "Dapper Dan Man" comments but NONE.

[Chris]

Fucking finally! Someone got it! I was like... wtf... I expected a load of "Dapper Dan Man" comments but NONE.

 

Further confirming that I am, indeed, The Man.

[theRedHorse]

I. Was. Just. Winding. You. Up. In. Return. It. Seems. To. Have. Worked.

 

Not. Really.

 

Chris. Negged. Me. Though.

 

:(

[She Knows It]

Without getting into an argument over the subject of the article, I am thoroughly shocked by the 2nd photo - Article here.

 

That is so out of order. I'm speechless.

[Ted]

Especially Ted.

 

I don't want Fop dammit, I'm a Dapper Dan Man.

 

You and your defamation.

 

I am not an emo. I am a human being!

[Chuck Fadanoid]

Not. Really.

 

Chris. Negged. Me. Though.

 

:(

 

Doyoumeaninmydefenseorbecauseofacompletelyunrelatedissue?

 

Idecidedtogotheotherway.

[Malarkey]

I like emos.

[Malarkey]

My life is a dark abyss and all that.

[AngryOfTuebrook]

Take a minute to let this one sink in.

 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3867972/Migrant-children-relax-basketball-court-Devon-hostel.html?login#readerCommentsCommand-message-field

 

Child refugees have escaped a war zone; managed to dodge people-traffickers, kidnappers and slave-dealers across Europe; spent God knows how long in disease ridden squalor in a French refugee camp; and now they've safely arrived in the green and pleasant land where they can start to rebuild their lives.

 

You could, if you fancied yourself as a patriot, take pride in being part of a country that is so welcoming and compassionate, and reflect on the fact that they will forever associate England with kindness, peace, safety and love.

 

Or...

 

You could pay someone to lurk in the bushes photographing children, in the hope of finding something to stir up hatred against them.

 

 

I shit you not, if every single hack who works for that hate-machine dropped dead on the spot tomorrow I would laugh my cock off.

[Anubis]

Hiding in bushes and photographing children is paedophile behaviour.

[Pureblood]

They've thrown an air-ball there.

[Paulie Dangerously]

Playing with a rugby ball? Tory fucks send them back

[Moctezuma]

Take a minute to let this one sink in.

 

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-3867972/Migrant-children-relax-basketball-court-Devon-hostel.html?login#readerCommentsCommand-message-field

 

Child refugees have escaped a war zone; managed to dodge people-traffickers, kidnappers and slave-dealers across Europe; spent God knows how long in disease ridden squalor in a French refugee camp; and now they've safely arrived in the green and pleasant land where they can start to rebuild their lives.

 

You could, if you fancied yourself as a patriot, take pride in being part of a country that is so welcoming and compassionate, and reflect on the fact that they will forever associate England with kindness, peace, safety and love.

 

Or...

 

You could pay someone to lurk in the bushes photographing children, in the hope of finding something to stir up hatred against them.

 

 

I shit you not, if every single hack who works for that hate-machine dropped dead on the spot tomorrow I would laugh my cock off.

 

I've been fortunate in my life that I've never had to work for a firm/institution that was demonstrably trying to make life worse for people. I wonder what kind of mental hoops are required for people to jump through to work at somewhere like that?

 

I'm trying not to be sanctimonious here and I realise people are trying to get on in their careers and feed their families but what would motivate you to get out of bed when you know your contributing to something that horrible?

 

Money/delusion I suspect.

[Moctezuma]

Actually I bet loads of them have to go round apologising to their old friends from their journalism courses and try to rationalise it by lines like 'well it pays the mortgage'.

 

Eventually perhaps they have to start distancing themselves from their mates who are more righteous as they feel uncomfortable in their presence and instead they start to hang out with new people who aren't quite as moralising.

[cloggypop]

Just look at the state of Silverlining

[Stickman]

Lovely film review from that cunt Toby Young a man who hates state handouts except when it's to set up a private school to keep posh kids away from poor kids

 

 

 

Why only Lefties could go misty eyed at a movie that romanticises Benefits Britain, says TOBY YOUNG 

 

 

The audience watches as a disabled man is being given a Work Capability Assessment in a Newcastle Jobcentre.

He is the eponymous character in I, Daniel Blake, the latest film by Left-wing director Ken Loach. Needless to say, his experience is portrayed as brutal and degrading.

To make matters worse, the ‘healthcare professional’ who cross-examines Daniel is an employee of — you guessed it — an American private company.

Typical Tories, eh? Not only do they force the disabled to go through a humiliating test to see if they’re fit for work, they outsource the administration of it to an evil capitalist corporation!

You may find it hard to believe, but that opening scene is the most entertaining in this relentlessly dour film. Daniel makes light of some of the questions, such as whether he has difficulty evacuating his bowels. 

Compared with what follows, the first five minutes are almost upbeat.

The remaining 135 minutes are unremittingly depressing. 

Daniel’s application for Employment and Support Allowance is declined, in spite of the fact he’s just had a heart attack, and he’s then thrown into the Kafkaesque labyrinth that is the welfare system appeals process.

Inevitably, the Left-wing Press has taken the film to its heart. The Guardian, for example, calls it a ‘battle cry for the dispossessed’, and its reviewer describes how he was reduced to ‘a shivering wreck . . . awash with tears, aghast with anger’.

Veteran socialist Loach also throws in a female character — a single mum called Katie — whom Daniel befriends when he witnesses her being mistreated at the same Jobcentre.

 

She’s been turfed out of a homeless shelter in London — ‘They’re moving out the likes of me,’ she tells him — and ends up in a freezing flat in Newcastle with no electricity.

She faints from hunger in a food bank, is caught shoplifting sanitary towels and becomes a prostitute so she can buy school shoes for her daughter.

Such is Loach’s view of life for people trying to claim benefits in austerity Britain.

I, Daniel Blake is supposed to be a contemporary version of Cathy Come Home, the famous BBC film that Loach made in 1966 and which caused such an uproar at the time it led to changes in attitudes and, ultimately, changes in the law.

Will the latest effort of this 80-year-old Jeremy Corbyn supporter have a similar impact?

I’m no expert on the welfare system, but several aspects of I, Daniel Blake don’t ring true.

The two protagonists are a far cry from the scroungers on Channel 4’s Benefits Street, who I accept aren’t representative of all welfare recipients. 

But Loach has erred in the opposite direction. For a filmmaker who styles himself a ‘social realist’, he has an absurdly romantic view of benefit claimants.

Daniel is a model citizen. At no point do we see him drinking, smoking, gambling, or even watching television. No, he is a welfare claimant as imagined by a member of the upper-middle class metropolitan elite.

He listens to Radio 4, likes classical music and makes wooden toys for children — the kind of over-priced ‘artisanal’ tat sold in ‘alternative’ toyshops in Islington, where Loach lives.

Katie, too, is a far cry from White Dee, the irresponsible character in Benefits Street. 

She’s determined to better herself and has embarked on an Open University course.

If only those heartless Tories hadn’t thrown her out of London, where her mother helped with childcare, she might have become a social worker. 

Perhaps even an organiser for the Islington branch of Momentum, the Corbyn-supporting phalanx of hard-Left Labour activists.

As it is, poor Katie is reduced to trying to read by candlelight, as her wan-faced children fight over the last digestive biscuit.

She is more like a Dickens character than a resident of 21st-century Britain, the fourth richest country in the world.

Daniel’s experience of trying to claim Employment and Support Allowance is also a little implausible. 

 

Would a middle-aged man who’s just had a massive heart attack really be declared ‘fit for work’ by the Department for Work and Pensions? Or is it the fault of the evil American corporation that conducts the tests for a multi-million-pound contract?

Even supposing this happened, it is dishonest to suggest, as the film does, that Daniel couldn’t appeal until a so-called ‘decision-maker’ had called him.

Employment and Support Allowance claimants are entitled to appeal as soon as they get the letter telling them their application has been turned down.

More importantly, the whole polemical thrust of the film is misleading. 

We’re asked to believe people who claim incapacity benefit are all upstanding citizens who would love nothing more than to earn an honest living if only they were able-bodied. Forcing them to undergo a Work Capability Assessment is a needless humiliation from a sadistic Tory government.

In fact, the test was first introduced by Labour in 2008 and between then and 2013 roughly a million people decided to come off the Employment and Support Allowance rather than go through the assessment. 

No doubt Loach believes they all suddenly got better overnight. It’s true that a majority of the claimants did take the test. But of those, a further million were declared fit for work.

I dare say some were men like Daniel Blake, who were wrongly assessed. But the vast majority should never have been receiving disability benefit.

They were among the millions who became welfare-dependent under the last Labour government, which saw Britain’s benefits bill more than double in size despite record economic growth and falling unemployment.

A significant percentage of this increase was due to Labour’s introduction of the Employment and Support Allowance, claimed by more than three million people by the time Gordon Brown left office in 2010.

Is Ken Loach really telling us all the new claimants were genuinely disabled, like Daniel Blake, and are being cheated of their benefits by evil Tories?

What about poor Katie? Is it likely she’d be reduced to selling her body to buy her daughter a new pair of school shoes?

Hardly. A single mother with two children typically gets more than £200 a week in state hand-outs and her rent would normally be covered by housing benefit. School shoes from Tesco cost around £10.

In the film, the working people of Newcastle are portrayed as kind-hearted Labour voters who support Daniel and Katie every step of the way. But welfare cuts introduced by the Coalition government were wildly popular with the majority of the British public.

A Populus poll in 2015, on the eve of the last General Election, found that only 25 per cent of the public share Loach’s view that abuse of the benefit system has been overstated.

By contrast, 75 per cent think too much money is being spent on benefits and want further cuts to Britain’s welfare bill.

And it may break Loach’s heart to learn that working class voters in the North of England are just as keen on cutting welfare as Conservatives in the South. 

Indeed, Corbyn’s opposition to cutting the benefits bill is one reason his party is trailing Theresa May’s by 18 points.

Perhaps I’m missing the point of I, Daniel Blake. Maybe it’s not supposed to be a realistic portrait of what life is like for people at the bottom of society. Maybe it is just intended to signal to all Loach’s admirers what a compassionate fellow he is.

If so, it should be judged a success. It won the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival because of movie industry bigwigs keen to let the world know how virtuous they are, too, and no doubt will be showered with Baftas in due course.

At the end of the film, Daniel’s appeal hearing has arrived and he has prepared a ‘moving’ statement in which he complains about his terrible treatment at the hands of the Tory Government: ‘I’m not a client, or a customer, or a service user. I, Daniel Blake am a citizen, nothing more and nothing less.’

Unfortunately, tragedy strikes for Daniel.

Loach’s indictment of Tory Britain certainly packs a punch if you can make it to the end of his 140-minute civics lesson.

But don’t call it ‘social realism’. Judging by its misty-eyed, laughably inaccurate portrait of benefits Britain, it should be called a ‘romantic comedy’.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Frankenhooker]

Toby Young once advocated getting rid of wheelchair ramps at schools. Fucking despicable cunt, hope there's a special place in hell for him.

 

How to lose friends and alienate people indeed.

[Sputnik1]

Toby Young once advocated getting rid of wheelchair ramps at schools. Fucking despicable cunt, hope there's a special place in hell for him.

 

How to lose friends and alienate people indeed.

 

 

He might have been scared about an upcoming dalek invasion, I mean someone has to think of the children. 

[Chairman Meow]

Lovely film review from that cunt Toby Young a man who hates state handouts except when it's to set up a private school to keep posh kids away from poor kids

 

 

 

Why only Lefties could go misty eyed at a movie that romanticises Benefits Britain, says TOBY YOUNG 

 

 

The audience watches as a disabled man is being given a Work Capability Assessment in a Newcastle Jobcentre.

He is the eponymous character in I, Daniel Blake, the latest film by Left-wing director Ken Loach. Needless to say, his experience is portrayed as brutal and degrading.

To make matters worse, the ‘healthcare professional’ who cross-examines Daniel is an employee of — you guessed it — an American private company.

Typical Tories, eh? Not only do they force the disabled to go through a humiliating test to see if they’re fit for work, they outsource the administration of it to an evil capitalist corporation!

You may find it hard to believe, but that opening scene is the most entertaining in this relentlessly dour film. Daniel makes light of some of the questions, such as whether he has difficulty evacuating his bowels. 

Compared with what follows, the first five minutes are almost upbeat.

The remaining 135 minutes are unremittingly depressing. 

Daniel’s application for Employment and Support Allowance is declined, in spite of the fact he’s just had a heart attack, and he’s then thrown into the Kafkaesque labyrinth that is the welfare system appeals process.

Inevitably, the Left-wing Press has taken the film to its heart. The Guardian, for example, calls it a ‘battle cry for the dispossessed’, and its reviewer describes how he was reduced to ‘a shivering wreck . . . awash with tears, aghast with anger’.

Veteran socialist Loach also throws in a female character — a single mum called Katie — whom Daniel befriends when he witnesses her being mistreated at the same Jobcentre.

 

She’s been turfed out of a homeless shelter in London — ‘They’re moving out the likes of me,’ she tells him — and ends up in a freezing flat in Newcastle with no electricity.

She faints from hunger in a food bank, is caught shoplifting sanitary towels and becomes a prostitute so she can buy school shoes for her daughter.

Such is Loach’s view of life for people trying to claim benefits in austerity Britain.

I, Daniel Blake is supposed to be a contemporary version of Cathy Come Home, the famous BBC film that Loach made in 1966 and which caused such an uproar at the time it led to changes in attitudes and, ultimately, changes in the law.

Will the latest effort of this 80-year-old Jeremy Corbyn supporter have a similar impact?

I’m no expert on the welfare system, but several aspects of I, Daniel Blake don’t ring true.

The two protagonists are a far cry from the scroungers on Channel 4’s Benefits Street, who I accept aren’t representative of all welfare recipients. 

But Loach has erred in the opposite direction. For a filmmaker who styles himself a ‘social realist’, he has an absurdly romantic view of benefit claimants.

Daniel is a model citizen. At no point do we see him drinking, smoking, gambling, or even watching television. No, he is a welfare claimant as imagined by a member of the upper-middle class metropolitan elite.

He listens to Radio 4, likes classical music and makes wooden toys for children — the kind of over-priced ‘artisanal’ tat sold in ‘alternative’ toyshops in Islington, where Loach lives.

Katie, too, is a far cry from White Dee, the irresponsible character in Benefits Street. 

She’s determined to better herself and has embarked on an Open University course.

If only those heartless Tories hadn’t thrown her out of London, where her mother helped with childcare, she might have become a social worker. 

Perhaps even an organiser for the Islington branch of Momentum, the Corbyn-supporting phalanx of hard-Left Labour activists.

As it is, poor Katie is reduced to trying to read by candlelight, as her wan-faced children fight over the last digestive biscuit.

She is more like a Dickens character than a resident of 21st-century Britain, the fourth richest country in the world.

Daniel’s experience of trying to claim Employment and Support Allowance is also a little implausible. 

 

Would a middle-aged man who’s just had a massive heart attack really be declared ‘fit for work’ by the Department for Work and Pensions? Or is it the fault of the evil American corporation that conducts the tests for a multi-million-pound contract?

Even supposing this happened, it is dishonest to suggest, as the film does, that Daniel couldn’t appeal until a so-called ‘decision-maker’ had called him.

Employment and Support Allowance claimants are entitled to appeal as soon as they get the letter telling them their application has been turned down.

More importantly, the whole polemical thrust of the film is misleading. 

We’re asked to believe people who claim incapacity benefit are all upstanding citizens who would love nothing more than to earn an honest living if only they were able-bodied. Forcing them to undergo a Work Capability Assessment is a needless humiliation from a sadistic Tory government.

In fact, the test was first introduced by Labour in 2008 and between then and 2013 roughly a million people decided to come off the Employment and Support Allowance rather than go through the assessment. 

No doubt Loach believes they all suddenly got better overnight. It’s true that a majority of the claimants did take the test. But of those, a further million were declared fit for work.

I dare say some were men like Daniel Blake, who were wrongly assessed. But the vast majority should never have been receiving disability benefit.

They were among the millions who became welfare-dependent under the last Labour government, which saw Britain’s benefits bill more than double in size despite record economic growth and falling unemployment.

A significant percentage of this increase was due to Labour’s introduction of the Employment and Support Allowance, claimed by more than three million people by the time Gordon Brown left office in 2010.

Is Ken Loach really telling us all the new claimants were genuinely disabled, like Daniel Blake, and are being cheated of their benefits by evil Tories?

What about poor Katie? Is it likely she’d be reduced to selling her body to buy her daughter a new pair of school shoes?

Hardly. A single mother with two children typically gets more than £200 a week in state hand-outs and her rent would normally be covered by housing benefit. School shoes from Tesco cost around £10.

In the film, the working people of Newcastle are portrayed as kind-hearted Labour voters who support Daniel and Katie every step of the way. But welfare cuts introduced by the Coalition government were wildly popular with the majority of the British public.

A Populus poll in 2015, on the eve of the last General Election, found that only 25 per cent of the public share Loach’s view that abuse of the benefit system has been overstated.

By contrast, 75 per cent think too much money is being spent on benefits and want further cuts to Britain’s welfare bill.

And it may break Loach’s heart to learn that working class voters in the North of England are just as keen on cutting welfare as Conservatives in the South. 

Indeed, Corbyn’s opposition to cutting the benefits bill is one reason his party is trailing Theresa May’s by 18 points.

Perhaps I’m missing the point of I, Daniel Blake. Maybe it’s not supposed to be a realistic portrait of what life is like for people at the bottom of society. Maybe it is just intended to signal to all Loach’s admirers what a compassionate fellow he is.

If so, it should be judged a success. It won the Palme d’Or at this year’s Cannes Film Festival because of movie industry bigwigs keen to let the world know how virtuous they are, too, and no doubt will be showered with Baftas in due course.

At the end of the film, Daniel’s appeal hearing has arrived and he has prepared a ‘moving’ statement in which he complains about his terrible treatment at the hands of the Tory Government: ‘I’m not a client, or a customer, or a service user. I, Daniel Blake am a citizen, nothing more and nothing less.’

Unfortunately, tragedy strikes for Daniel.

Loach’s indictment of Tory Britain certainly packs a punch if you can make it to the end of his 140-minute civics lesson.

But don’t call it ‘social realism’. Judging by its misty-eyed, laughably inaccurate portrait of benefits Britain, it should be called a ‘romantic comedy’.

 

 

 

TLDR: The people in it aren't total scum so it romanticises them and is total bullshit as things like that never happen.

 

You know if you ignore the cases where people have been sanctioned and died, or just generally been treat like a piece of shit by ATOS, the Job Centre et al.

[Moctezuma]

The that warms my cockles about Toby Young is that even his friends fucking hate him:

 

http://www.spectator.co.uk/2016/06/the-day-i-stopped-believing-in-the-friendship-myth/

 

It was on my stag weekend 15 years ago that the scales fell from my eyes. There were about ten people I placed in the innermost circle — my own personal Cosa Nostra — and I invited them all to Malaga a week before I got married. Or rather my best friend invited them, having volunteered to organise the trip. He promised a whistle-stop tour of the most glamorous nightclubs in Marbella and enlisted the help of a well-connected local DJ to smooth our passage. I didn’t think of this as an opportunity for a final blowout with my nearest and dearest, since it didn’t occur to me that I’d be seeing any less of them after I got married. Innocent that I was, I thought of marriage as adding another person to my intimate circle rather than the substitution of one for the other.

I experienced a brutal reality check when only four of the ten honoured guests appeared at the Spanish hotel on the Friday evening. The no-shows included my best friend, the organiser of the festivities. He left a message on my phone explaining that he’d been held up by an ‘emergency’ 

[Moctezuma]

Why the fuck would you admit that in print?

[Jairzinho]

What a fucking bizarre way of living.

[Hades]

How do people like this get away with it? In a civilised society they'd be dragged into the gulag and given a 50-year sentence. 

[Guest Pistonbroke]

I'd read the comments on that article for a laugh, but the inbred rabid fucking racist bastards just bore the fuck out of me.