[in response to an email from a friend, who thinks Boris is funny but harmless]
Funny is fine if you’re a clown, a comedian, or a TV presenter, but he’s standing for office, for the largest personal mandate in Western Europe, and control of a budget of hundreds of millions. The man can’t even add up. Anyone with even a rudimentary grasp of economics can see that the development of an entirely new Routemaster bus will cost a fucking fortune, and the production of a comparatively tiny number of buses that will be required no where else in the world means they’ll have a unit cost of close to a million quid for a single bus. A nice bit of nostalgia, but hardly good value for the London taxpayer.
He has been sacked from every job the Tory party ever gave him, and can’t even run a magazine properly, let alone a city.
Incompetence is one thing, but the man doesn’t even care about London. Throughout his entire parliamentary career he has mentioned London only once, during a debate on foot and mouth. He didn’t even bother to show up for the Crossrail bill, one of the most important piece of legislation to affect London in a decade.
Such is his ability to offend that his own party have a policy of not allowing him to do hustings, lest he open his fatuous maw and offend another community. Hardly an ideal platform for one hoping to represent a multicultural city.
At the risk of sounding like a bleeding-heart Guardian reader (even though I am one), racism and homophobia aren’t funny. Waking up to find someone who suggests black children are “picanninies” with “watermelon smiles” is running the city will not be funny, and will become even less amusing when he starts f*cking up London’s economy and transport system with his ill-thought-out, uncosted and economically unviable policies.
That’s before you move on to the incident where he offered the get a journalist beaten up on behalf of his convicted fraudster chum. Or the time he knocked up Petronella Wyatt, promising to leave his wife, only to pay for her to have an abortion and run home to his missus.
He is many things – incompetent, affable, blond, bigoted, for example – but funny? No.
“The catch-all label for this material is “user-generated content.” It’s easy to deride this sort of thing as the nadir of publishing — why would anyone put such drivel out in public?
It’s simple. They’re not talking to us.
We misinterpret these seemingly inane posts, because we’re so unused to seeing material in public that isn’t for the public. The people posting messages to one another, on social networking services and weblogs and media sharing sites, are creating a different kind of material, and doing a different kind of communicating, than the publishers of newspapers and magazines are.
Most user-generated material is actually personal communication in a public forum. Because of this personal address , it makes no more sense to label this content than it would to call a phone call with your mother “family-generated content.” A good deal of user-generated content isn’t actually “content” at all, at least not in the sense of material designed for an audience. Instead, a lot of it is just part of a conversation.”—The Penguin Blog: Special Guest Post - Why User-generated Content Mostly Isn’t
“Rickroll: To post a misleading link with a subject that promises to be exciting or interesting, e.g. “World of Starcraft in-game footage!” or “Paris Hilton blows Busta Rhymes’ dick” but actually turns out to be the video for Rick Astley’s debut single, “Never Gonna Give You Up”.”—Urban Dictionary: rickroll