Day 70 – I Love the Smell of Teargas in the Morning




The State Religion of Masli Makes Women Free




The Grand Sphincter of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire Tey Thorn is thumbing through his photo albums…..





Thorn: I am so proud of my granddaughter who is now in faith school. She has given me her new annual class photo. She’s the girl with the blond hair.




Thorn: The village children spend their days taunting me and my Mayor of Wankara on the Internet using their infernal iPhones. He is indeed more than a few cards short of a full deck but that’s part of his job description. Who in their right mind would want to be public servant to the village mob – at least without kickbacks?  And so I have once again declared war on those unholy Jewish dogs at Twitter. I have abandoned plans to found my own service – TurkTwatter — because I ended up twatting to myself. Nobody listen to me, even on the Internet and that’s fucking full of like-minded wackos.  I have just ordered 6,000 villagers to volunteer and create something called mind-bending hashbags on Twitter so that the world can see the good side of Greater Istanshire and not just the brutal public beatings cuddling of protesters by my plain-clothed policemen, the delightful mutilations body modifications, the justified murders unaccidental deaths and the delicious terrible teargassing deaths. Oh #BOLLOCKS! Twat that!



Teargas clouds in the night sky over the Masli paradise of Little Tallyban, Istanshire




Day 66 – Olympian Idiots



Some Musli porn to start your day.




The Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire is monumentally pissed (off). His Caliphate has not been awarded the Olympics by the Jewish controlled Olympia Committee.


Thorn wrote: I don’t understand them. Istanshire is a fantastic place to have the Games. My citizens excel in water sports thanks to the free Toma water cannons I provide. They regularly compete against my riot police in both sprint and marathon disciplines. Discus and Javelin would be absolutely no problem. My citizens excel at throwing bricks at the riot police during the nightly fun and games. My police athletes would be champions in the rifle competitions and regularly shoot protesters in the face with tear-gas canister guns from a range of several meters. Not to mention the regular marksman practice against the rebellious riff-raff with plastic bullets.




Later that day – His Most Excellent Excellency of Highnessness Thorn is in a meeting with his advisers in a crisis meeting. 


Thorn: How the fuck did we lose the Olympia? You know how much that meant to me.


Toady: (Giggles) About five million dollars in construction kickbacks Efendi ?


Thorn: No no that’s not what I meant. Although you are right. I mean why ?


Toady: I think the police killing the riff-raff on the streets didn’t help our case Efendi.


Thorn: Yes, you are right. We should kill more of them so they stay in their homes.



Editor: Below the Under 21s national football team from heathen Swedeshire get teargassed during their national anthem before the start of the game against the Caliphate’s team at the village recreation ground.








His Nastiness is in another crisis meeting. This time it is about one of the riff-raff who was killed during a night of completely censored street riots.


Thorn: He really did die because he fell off a building. It was all recorded by a security camera. Why haven’t our media reported this?


Toady: They did Efendi.


Thorn: Then why are the Rebellious Riff-Raff still on the streets throwing rocks ?


Toady: They don’t believe our press anymore Efendi.



Day 62 – Somewhere Over the Fucking Rainbow

His Crappola Highness Tey Thorn is not amused by the cub scouts and brownie packs of the Village of Little Tallyban. After his sexually confused speech in which he simultaneously introduced separate bathing for men and women while banning homosexuality (with the exception of men buggering male goats which is allowed under the new state religion) the kids have started painting the village in the gay colors of the rainbow.


Thorn writes: The little shits are always trying to provoke me. Everyone provokes me. That is why I have ordered the village workmen to paint over these horrendous looking stairs in a lovely municipal grey. That’ll show them.





 But the more the grey men fumed and painted the more the village children painted….














Furious that the rainbow revolution went completely unopposed by his own supporters (who don’t understand symbolism anyway) Thorn began to pen a revenge speech.


Thorn wrote: My riot police have suffered so much at the hands of the brownie and cub scouts. They have suffered endless provocation. Flowers thrust in front of their faces. Glasses of undoubtedly poisoned lemonade offered. And bullets. Oh yes. Real ones. Shot at my policemen.


Toady: O lord and mighty one.


Thorn: Yes, yes, yes, what do you want now ?


Toady: It is against our religion to lie. It is a sin. To lie. About um…. the bullets. No shots have ever been fired.


Thorn: I read that shots had been fired.


Toady: Yes Efendi. Our policeman shot and killed a protester.


Thorn: But our man was shooting back, surely?


Toady: If my lord wishes it so…


Later that day…..


Thorn has just appeared on a particularly smarmy TV show in which he has been praised for his achievements….. endlessly.



Thorn: Note to self. Must buy that nice TV presenter some sex lube. His butt must be so sore.
















Day 58 – The Gay in the Closet – just say yes!

His Grand and Most Excellent Excellency (etc etc) Tey Thorn is furious (again) – this time because opinion polls conducted in the Village of Little Tallyban say he is autocratic. They say he has surrounded himself with advisers who are toadies, sycophants and Yes Men.


Thorn stormed to a meeting of the party faithful: I am always open to new ideas. I call on all intellectuals to criticize me if they think I am wrong. I am not a scientist. My advisers are not Yes Men. They are all handpicked because their opinions concur with mine. And if any intellectual in the Shires should wish to criticize me me then let them have the balls to stand up publicly for what they believe is right.

Publisher’s note: Understandably, those intellectuals who have not already been jailed, sued into poverty, disemboweled or deprived of their ‘crown jewels’ are reluctant to come forward. Undeterred, Mister Thorn continues to burrow himself deeper into the personal lives of his subjects.

He continues: From now on, gay men — who are certainly an abomination and destined for the lake of fire in Hell — will be prevented from being employed by the state. Homosexuality will be illegal and a jail-able offence. And I am also announcing a new building plan of separate swimming pools for men and women. No more will men have to look at women in bikinis. We are creating a nation where men and women will no longer use the same swimming pools . From now on the sexes will bathe separately to avoid any improper conduct. Imagine a world where men no longer have to be confronted by lascivious women in bikinis. I will give this to you.

The irony of announcing these two policies together goes unnoticed. After the hysterical reception by the party faithful Mister Thorn turns to his advisers.


Thorn: I no longer want Yes Men in my entourage.

Creepy Toady 1: Yes Efendi.


Thorn: Will you disagree with me if you feel I am in the wrong ?

Creepy Toady 2: Yes of course Efendi.

Thorn: Am I the greatest man who ever lived ?

Creepy Toady 3: Yes indeed Efendi.

Day 56 – The Cancer Spreads






Complicated doctoring for cancer-stricken babies is now a thing of the past in the Shires.



The self-appointed Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Great Istanshire is over the moon about his new health service. With the doctors gone (arrested, jailed, fled), Mister Thorn has handed much of the healing work over to the Mami – the vicars for the new state religion of Masli. Here we see them attempting to heal a child with cancer by using holy tickling sticks.


Thorn writes: With the economy going down the boghole fast I have had to make a few budget cuts. The vicars have agreed to fill in for the doctors at the shire’s hospitals and I am saving a packet. The kid is probably doomed anyway, so why spend any money on him? And as you can see my vicars have a better bedside manner.


The Grand Caliph is reading a foreign newspaper as he eats his breakfast.








Thorn: I am pleased to see that our new religious infiltration is going well in Ingerlanshire. Soon everyone will be named after the great Masli Prophet – won’t that be delightfully confusing for the parents! They will all grow up ready to fight and die so that Ingerlanshire becomes part of my Caliphate.


Mister Thorn has been cutting onions again in preparation for his appearance on state TV. 


 This is from a different universe called Turkey which is ruled by a benign, wise and loving and democratic prime minister. The picture of him genuinely weeping is used for illustration purposes only.


Thorn: I am so unhappy about the tragedy of the Masli Brotherhood in Gipposhire. Now I don’t have any friends at all. My plan for a Middle East-wide Caliphate in which I am the leader has all gone to the unholy dogs. I can only hope that my friend Brad Orbarma, the President of the United Shires continues to be my puppet and brings the new Sissy Regime to its knees. I have promised to deliver him a benign Masli world if he makes me Caliph with his military might. The whole world knows that I keep my promises.


And finally, dear reader, here is a guide to the present state of the Middle East in which Brad Orbarma of the United Shires is (confusingly) backing Al Quaeda rebels in Synistershire to the east. Good luck in making out why the United Shires is supporting Al-Quaeda or the Masli Brothershood.



 Photo above is for illustration purposes only and in no way represents the state of things in this universe.






Day 54 – Tey-lee Plotter and the Burqas of Doom

The famous international financial advice service Gloomberg has accused the self-appointed Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire of being “semi-unhinged”. After reading it Thorn became completely unhinged and the metaphorical door is unlikely to be rehung any time soon, even with the finest medical psychiatric assistance money can buy. The toady who brought the article to Thorn’s breakfast table on a silver platter has received his reward and is quietly dripping blood onto the floor with a kitchen knife handle protruding from his chest. Actually it’s not quiet. Thorn is eating his breakfast while watching the dying man’s convulsions.

Thorn writes: How could they utter these lies ? Everyone hates the Jews – even God and he is supposed to love everyone. I have got rid of the hookers from the streets of the village and the shire. Glad to see the end of those sluts.

Cringing Toady 2: Lord, we thought you said hookahs. We got rid of the bubble pipes in the village bars by making a $1,000 tax on them.

Thorn:  I am surrounded by fools. No wonder there are no more infidel tourists in the shires. I have called the housemaid to clear up the blood of both toadies and told her to dispose of the bodies.

The exchange rate for village tokens is now, thanks to Gloomberg and the hookah fuck-up, plunging on the international markets but I can turn it to my advantage. Since I am going to be kicked from office anyway I will leave the next prime minister with a ruined economy and the conditions will be ripe for an irreversible Masli revolution where my people gain power for ever!

It is time for bed and Mister Thorn likes to take a little light reading from his holy book, The Horny Kola.

Day 50 – A Rip in the Fabric of Spacetime


Real-life James Bond villain, Fetullah Ghoulean wants a worldwide Caliphate. 

 There has been much speculation in the state-controlled media that The Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire is ill. They are right – he is in the booby hatch again.

Thorn writes: One minute the tailor was fitting my new jacket with the very long arms and in the next I was being carted into an ambulance. The vicars say I have to stay here until I learn something called humility. That might take a while as there is no dictionary in my padded cell and I have no idea what the word means.

 There has also been a critical article in one of the ‘friendly’ newspapers, The Today’s Zaperson, which is under the influence of real-life James Bond villain, Fetullah Ghoulean, that Thorn should take anti-depressants and chill-out. Ghoulean is the mastermind behind the coming World Caliphate and formerly one of Thorn’s secret backers.

 Thorn writes: They want me to take medication ? I’m already taking bloody medication! What do you think I would be like if I wasn’t ?! My friends in the Masli Brotherhood were angels of a new world order. All they did was promise voters to lead Gipposhire a modern democracy by chopping off the hands and gouging out the eyes of anyone who objected to them secretly taking Gipposhire back 300 years to where such punishments were the norm. What’s not to like ??? Why is anyone complaining ? I don’t get it. I’ve been getting away with this for ten years although admittedly I am a lot cleverer and subtler than that fruit and nut job, Brother President Muesli.

Ghoulean lives in Pennsylvania under a volcano using his huge personal fortune to finance the coming world-wide Caliphate, while inexplicably living under the protection of Brad Orbarma, President of the United Shires. Ghoulean is furious because the Masli Brotherhood has been toppled from power by a military coup  in nearby Gipposhire. The so-called Masli-Stink (or CIA-backed (and named) Arab Spring as you call it in your parallel Universe) has come to a grinding halt. The anonymity that Ghoulean has enjoyed for over a decade has come to an end. A huge demo by villagers, complete with international TV cameras is about to arrive and put a metaphorical bomb in his volcano’s cauldron. 

 Meanwhile in Gipposhire the vicars (after being signalled by Volcano HQ) are holding helpful services and then sending members of the congregation to fight the new regime’s soldiers armed only with the martyr’s promise of 72 virgins. If there were any virgins in heaven before Gipposhire’s coup then there aren’t anymore and there is a bit of a deflowering backlog. Not to matter because the remaining congregation has been slaughtering women and children at random to make up the numbers.

 Thorn writes: My efforts to take my own country back in time have also suffered a mortal set-back. Let me explain. To maintain some appearance of democracy is important so that we can keep the $22bn a year flowing in from Brad Orbarma of the United Shires. Therefore I have not been able to assassinate, jail or disappear as many opposition party members as I would like. Those bastards in the village council have just blocked my bid to become Omnipotent President Of The World Until The End Of Time.  FUCK! And what if Orbarma and the CIA now also turn on me ?



Day 46 – Nearly There! – the enemy within

Afghanistan and Turkey – then and now (from a parallel universe which is not the subject of this blog at all, oh no)

And (below) Women’s Day in Iran, then and now.

My fiendish plan to turn Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire into a religious dictatorship is almost complete. It is important that we keep Brad Orbarma of the United Shires on our side until the transformation is complete. My supporters are impatient for the coming World Caliphate and have been sloppy. News has leaked of more bombs by my supporters against their embassies. I just wish they would bloody well wait until my power as Supreme Being is unassailable.  Then we can complete our takeover of Ingerlanshire, the European Empire and the United Shires with our undercover sleeper cells who are already embedded with the enemy. Here is a new base for our fighters being built in the village of Wimbly in Lundun, Ingerlanshire. The idiots just let us build as we please.

And here (below) is another secret base in Old York, Old York in the United Shires

There is no better camouflage than hiding in plain sight, is there ?

Day 44 – Lost in Time – The Erdoganikon Machine

The Grand Caliph of Little Tallyban and Greater Istanshire threw down a challenge to the village’s cub scouts and brownie packs to design a new flag for their nation. The flag, said Thorn, should pay tribute to the old flag but should reflect the emerging character of the new nation. This is what the kiddies came up with – the winning entry ladies and gentlemen.

Thorn wrote: I am most impressed with the creativity of my school children in the Shires. They have told me that the banana is a symbol of myself, shining in the sky, enveloping this great nation of mine which is symbolised by the adjacent star. The banana is our image abroad, the yellow symbolizing our great justice system and the bravery of its leader — that’s me! I am so happy. They say I am like bananas. How cute! The red colour of the star symbolizes the blood spilled thus far to make this nation what it has become. How true!

My religious scientific advisors have been busy taking our country back through time. But like my favourite TV documentary, things have got a little fucked up. Instead of being transported to the Middle Ages our great nation has become stuck in Stalin’s Russhire.

What a great opportunity! Here we are in revolutionary Russhire. My flunkies have been busy jailing everybody who has annoyed me during the last 10 years, just like Stalin. It’s such fun. My show trial courts have now shown the world what true democratic justice is. This has been the just right of every great leader throughout history. Stalin, Hitler, Pinochet, Papa Doc, Brad Orbarma. Unfortunately cameras were banned and all the journalists in Istanshire were defendants so I didn’t see what went on.  Note to self: Must be more open in the coming decades. The court cases would have been so popular on YouTube. No point in reading about it in the newspapers I control. They would just make it up.

Bugger! The villagers have started marching around with portraits of Joe Stalin in their hands chanting that they would rather have Stalin as a leader than me.  Sigh! Don’t they have anything better to do than bitch about me ? Moan moan moan. All they do is moan. I should send out my police to start making random arrests in the village. That’ll shut them up.