Tricked-up Gangsta Rap

How It's Done - the real MI6

All power corrupts, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Rupert Murdoch's empire is falling apart. Oh, sorry, I mean 'he's splitting the company into the lucrative entertainment assets, and the useless newspaper parts...'

Useless newspaper parts. Worthless, tainted, non-performing, loss-making newspapers.

God who needs newspapers. Not Rupert, that's for sure. Is he actually literate?

In my day, 'literate' did not mean 'able to read and write;' it meant well-read, a person of letters. What a bastard. He's paid every politician this side of the old Iron Curtain, dumbed the public down through rotten newspapers and the influence he's had through publishing companies and government policy – and now he's finished off newspapers for keeps.

I was absolutely appalled to see the then Chief of the London Metropolitan Police actually fly the kite of 'terrorist cells still active in the city,' on the Parliamentary public media inquiry, even while he himself had been tied to the disgusting mindless activities of the phone hackers and the political mates of Rupert and their cosy club of twisted self-involved, self-interested, self-righteous, indignant Right Wing Modern Roundheads.

The inquiry was the thin end of the wedge of what these fellas have gotten up to. I mean we are talking about a massively wealthy cadre that decimated British industry in the Thatcher era, sold Rolls Royce and Bentley, utterly destroyed Leyland, and spent the years thereafter roaming around the world doing backhanded arms deals and over-invoicing on huge public works projects that drew attention from Malaysia, to Zimbabwe, to the Sudan and Saudi Arabia. You would be utterly nuts to think that the British Intelligence Establishment were not up to their necks in the whole entire messiness of this clique.

Mind you, they have a few 'successes.' I mean, speaking of bugging telephones and things, let me explain to you how they got Saif Gaddafi to trip himself up and 'run into the waiting arms of the Libyan Revolutionary Army.'

Project Kahn Design Evoque

Okay, let me not though, I could get into serious trouble.

What I will tell you about is this thing called 'masked programming.' It's about manufacturing high-end micro-chips in the countless of zillions, which can also be used in washing machines, fridges, airconditioners, audio entertainment systems, telephones - as much as they can be used in spacecraft, airforce fighter jets, and so on. Inside the chip architecture, are a series of programmed layers with pre-set programmes for all kinds of things, including for example, turning your stereo speaker into a microphone and sending the picked-up conversations and sounds to somewhere very shadowy. Everybody knows about it; it's stock standard the-way-it-is, folks.

Personally, I would not buy a new Range Rover Evoque Victoria Beckham, if I were going to have sex in it with Max Mosley, if you see what I mean. Not that I am intending to have sex with Max any time soon. And even though it does have a very good computer-controlled sound system.

Anyway. Cut a long story short. Ain't no Rupert Murdoch doing bugging of people's phones boys n girls. That's just the same old claptrap they always sell you in the fishwrap that Rupert is about to cancel shortly. Wouldn't do to let the common folk know how it's really done and who done did it all, now y'all though. Would it? Still... It's very hard to leave off something completely addictive like getting private shows of the celebrity world's kinky bitches on the government Secret Service's bill. Like Princess Di.

It's so-o-o easy-peasy too, you know. They just get some guy to change his name to something Middle Eastern-sounding, and give him a WHOLE LOT OF MONEY to start a specialist after-market bespoke car boutique. Say like 'Afzal Kahn.' What 'Kahn' do you know from the Mid-East. Khan, I know. Kahn, nope. ...And the kids come in and get their sportscars tricked-up.

Anyway here's a great gangsta rappa, at least, to get off this dismal subject. This guy is genuinely talented. Great group. Great production. Great song. Wild One, by Flo Rida ft. Sia.

You gotta remember, my uncle was M.D. Of Shell Far East some years ago. And I'm pretty sure it was Lady Daphne Guinness in the chrome and diamond mask at the kinky private show in Sydney in a twenty thousand dollar designer get-up... ...that I was also at. Too much money. Too much time. You know how it is. Secrets and whispers. Lady Daphne's great though – I admire her heaps. And she doesn't give away secrets. I don't mean to imply that by talking about her here. I'm just saying these are the sorts of places where you hear stuff which generally tends to be pretty reliable, and from people who generally tend to be very well-placed! Me, I've just got a lot of money and a very big er...