This is not just a blog

A word about advertising.

Though I have not been actively blogging this week (due to a contagion so foul that it has no medical name nor – conveniently - any scientifically proved cure that is indistinguishable from bed-rest, watching endless cheap sci-fi DVDs and consuming otherwise fattening but medically-absolved snack-food products, and which has elicited the sympathy both from Mrs. Northwester herself and also from kindly readers thankyouthankkyouthankyou from the length and breadth of the western edge of our common European home and one of its islands), my feeble attempt to get rich quick without doing any work by adding Google Ad Sense has burst upon my site in all its tacky glory.

Set up a fortnight ago by a professional coder who swims the oceans of perl like a, well…like a noble salmon breasting the salty wave but who is considerably cheaper-sounding, (and who says I’ll never make much money using Ad Sense, but I can’t afford his professional services to optimize the blog anyway, so asking him to help me was like getting Paderewski to play the joanna for pass-the-parcel or inviting Hannibal Lecter to tell the kids bedtime stories) this service will stick ads in my site which you will all ignore, thus keeping West Hollywood and Martha’s Vineyard safe from my new-money vulgarity for decades longer than would otherwise be the case.

Still, a British conservative who blogs in favour of a smaller and more effective State, alongside more social conservatism in public matters - including 90-day detention for some jihadist terror suspects (and thus possibly alienating my hastier and less-generously built libertarian readership) - and who tries to do this despite the notorious fact that the David Cameron is leading the official Conservative Party to the political centre where all is mush and state-worship and moral relativism and mawkish sentimentality: and all early in a 2009 when President Obama is signing off a three trillion dollar pork barrel national economic euthanasia measure on behalf of Democratic Party campaign donors and who is also intending to leave Iraq alone this year to fill its own barrels with what is likely to be Iranian-owned oil soon enough does tend to indicate a certain optimism on my part, or as one might also say an insane lack of realism.

On the other hand: I haven’t posted anything new for two days; the service only came online this morning and I’ve already earned $1.10, so what do you say to that, Mister Rugfish? What do you really know, Spocko? Huh?

One promise that I can give to my small (but select and punctuation-tolerant readership) is this: the presence of advertising on these pages will in no way effect the content, form, subject or purpose of my political and moral writing.

Probably.

My writing is my heart; my soul; my testament to our great and beleaguered civilization. It is the real thing. I shall continue to fight against the growing global Islamist menace with freshness and confidence. My words will continue to echo - I hope - in some small way the words of our great national hero and Conservative leader Churchill who insured our safety so well and who put such a premium on freedom at a time when Christian culture and decency were massively discounted. I shall choose my subjects prudentially, dropping my pearls of wisdom upon my readers to maintain the standard of our mutual life in a co-operative spirit. Above all else, I shall remain calm, dignified and collected and not make a drama out of a crisis.
At a time of national economic and military peril, I shall not lard my writings with allusions to groceries not pepper it with key words which might attract foodstuffs advertising.

I shall continue to eschew actual swearing in the main body of my text as a good social conservative should, and if any swear-blogger should say I’m wimping out then let me put them on notice that I wouldn’t give a XXXX to do anything else.

From Far Left to frothing-at-the-mouth Ultra b Right, I intend to go on (irrespective of petty commercial considerations) giving the good old Victory V sign to all the jokers who are messing up our beloved country, our ancestral continent, and our Mother Earth.

It’s what your right arm’s for.


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