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Official Joseph Stalin Thread

Started by DangledTeeth, January 16, 2021, 11:02:20 PM

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DangledTeeth

M D E :  The  Rise of t h e   Stalinist  Manchilds



m u s i c

What people hardly ever say these days is America is a land of opportunity, and that's because of the cultural decline of Western values and legacy - it's becoming a cesspit of regression. It will only make the U.S. and Europe implode into nothing.

If you look at Tumblr post-2016, it's become a, uhm, echo chamber for gender-sensitive liberals who project their grandiose fantasy view of how the world should be and how society needs to adhere to their terms and conditions. It's no longer ironic anymore, and I've learned to compound the insanity until it's far away from my peripherals.

The battle against masculinity has become multicultural and transcended race. There are black guys who wouldn't date transsexuals. This is something that Vice and MSNBC are going to notice, then they'll blame it on heterosexual caucazoid normies. I saw this ad from Ugg earlier today.




Ay, look at me wit my bouffant jheri cuuurl. I be lookin' drip to these zhers. Caitlyn Jennifer done not lap me. Ionno 'boutchu bbhut I finna clap lady cheeks and grab a dhick all at the same tiihme. My pronaouwns are ME, bitch.

more  m u s i c

The other aspect in all of the insanity is the boomer retard not being able to discern the difference between their generational economy and how things have been for millennials. You're trying to gain a place in the living world and it can come with baggage. Baggage is for people who sleep. It's like, you go to a family get-together and one of your uncles, who owns a furniture store, ahsks how you're doing, and they hit you with their advice steeped in fucking nostalgia: "Ragh! Raaagh! WORKING IN A FAST-FOOD JOINT IS AN OPPORTOONITY! Study at college, then you can sell a condominium for quadruple the price and pay for laxative enemas and taxidermy cocks." It's quite difficult to get a managerial role for a tech company when the CEO has unique olfactory features and doesn't like Jesus.



YOU LIKE FIVE-YEAR PLANS, DON'T YOU, BOY?! YOU WANT INDUSTRIALISED SOCIALISM?! PURGE LIKE YOU MEAN IT - WE'RE JUST GONNA KILL 'EMMMM! PRODRAZVYORTSKA IN YOUR ASS!

Stalin won the war but didn't actually do anything. They laud Stalin like the victory was all his when other people were involved. Whatever happened to the collective? I thought it was all theirs to be shared, including achievements. But this has seeped through into institutions and they have participation trophies for anything, like being a fucker who smiles in a DMV line.

The Bolshevik League of Marxists erased a part of history because ancient white people owned some black people's great-great-great-great-great-great grandparents. But this rhetoric will only lead meek liberals on to a pathway of self-indulgence and diversity training. It will cause the SJWs to in-fight while they compete to be the most righteous and domineering, and this will develop another generation of latte-sipping zoomers. (I don't know what they'll be called.)

Stalin is essentially Churchill, minus the paintings. What did imperialism do for the Soviets? Everything. But only when they traded a post-famine in exchange for agricultural technology from Germany and the US.

Stalin was a smartass who read himself to a bureaucratic death. He had no real friends but political enemies. Authoritarianism isn't a lost concept to the Brooklyn hipsters; they'll find a sneaky way to convey their message to moderate people and it'll open the floodgates to terrible politics.

Roosevelt and Churchill could pay off their debts. Stalin was a pre-silent generation asshole who put a down payment for a Buick without understanding the impact of what he did. Churchill was an old-timey social democrat with lots of cigars.

"Hehloooo, Oy'm sir Winston Churc'eell. The real fascists will be against democraceey and will ardentleey read Zola, mate. Can oy borrow 'alf a crown to pay for the NHS and to clean moy chimney, lads. It's a comple'e bloody absurdity, that's wha' it is, gentlemen."

Maybe there is a New World Order. I'd welcome it tomorrow.

DangledTeeth

June 07, 2021, 09:11:51 PM #31 Last Edit: June 07, 2021, 10:10:04 PM by DangledTeeth
Music: RRROHM-PAH-PEH-POHPEH-POHM etc.





Hello, Mark Felpro here. 1930s grammar school teacher accent. Straightforward no-nonsense presentation. You can suppawrt my channel on PayPal or Patreon - details in the description bawx beloew.

In 1922 when Vladimir Ilich Ulyanov Lenin became rather impeded in his endeavours due to two strokes, his bureaucratic workhorse Joseph Stalin was appointed General Secretareh of the U.S.S.R and premier of the Central Committee and Soviet Oxygen. Stalin also inherited the General Secretary uniform: a splendid khaki tunic with seven buttons... and two sleeves. And if you're wondering, no that's not a small candlelight on the left side of his tunic, it is a reflection of the museum's lights.

The origin of the tunic is unclear. No historian or researcher has ever uncovered a receipt for the tunic or any illustrations of its initial design. All we know is Lenin's mother possessed the torso flannel when young Vladimir was a mere puppy. It has been rumoured to have harnessed mystical powers beyond human comprehension. But one thing is certain: Stalin wore this stylish tunic until the fateful Headache & Piss Day, 5th of March 1953.

According to the memoirs of Mikhail Kalinin, Stalin ritualistically polished The Tunic's understated buttons on a Monday, Wednesday and Friday morning. Of course, Joseph being the Man of Steel chose to buff the fuckers whenever he had the time. That is to say, when he wasn't tucking into flambeed yak escalopes a la collectivique. Presentation was of paramount importance to the dictator.



Peasant uprisings in Ukraine were at an all time high in the years, erm, in the past. Bands of irate women grabbed their shit back from the collectivised farms and grain storage sheds. The OGPU archived documentation reveals that there were 23 anti-Stalin and slogans scrawled in chalk on the sides of 3-storey kulak dachas, 'DO ONE, COCKHEAD!', which translates from Ukraine to English into 'ARSE TUNIC'. Why the peasantry detested Stalin's mesmerising attire is a complete mysterehy, although correlating it with involuntary requisitions is quite far-fetched.

Laser 'Lazar' Kaganovich sent two letters to General Secretarehy Stalin regarding two gentlemen's notes about the collectivisation policies in Ukraine. Molotov winged a sheet to Stalin to say that Soviet grain exports might be curtailed because Ukraine needed food aid. Stalin was a trifle cross:

"I did not like the letters of Chubar and Petrovskyi. The former spouts 'self-criticism' in order to secure a million more poods of bread from Moscow, the latter is feigning sainthood, claiming victimisation from the [Central Committee] in order to reduce grain procurement levels. Neither one nor the other is acceptable. Cubar is mistaken if he thinks that self-criticism is required for securing outside 'help' and not for mobilising the forces and resources within Ukraine. In my opinion, Ukraine has been given more than enough. Let's be honest here: my tunic slaps and my presence makes every meeting more lit than an inferno inside a candle factory. Comrades of the Central Committee come up to me and tell me that I'm bossed to the pecs with drip. Son, wait until these broads stunt on my cream uniform. Real generals move in silence like gnomes." - J.V. Stalin, 1932

Whenever Stalin gave a thoroughly riveting speech at the Central Committee his CPSU comrades in the audience insisted on applauding the tyrant's oral emission and the freshly ironed The Tunic. Scholarly research shows that Party members were expected to clash their palms sore in order to signify the clever things Stalin said about centralising the economy, plans to increase factory productivity, to enforce realistic quotas and improve worker safety at Magnitogorsk and Vorkuta, and how dope his new hubcaps for his Buick are. Eye contact was to be maintained at Stalin and The Tunic for the duration of each meeting and hearing, failure to do so would result either in a spa visit to the basement of Lubyanka or a year-long holiday at Kolyma Resort (courtesy of Thomastomyi Cookov).

Stalin became a close work friend of Sergei Kirov who staunchly believed in collectivisation and industrialisation; he'd reportedly been an individual who challenged Stalin's opinions and plans. He was a reputable figure and popular among his peers, maybe a little too popular... Kirov sported a dashing tunic, too, one which doubtless was envied by despot Stalin. Kirov was assassinated in the year 1934 by Leonid Nikolaev, a financially troubled gentlemen with a disregard for the law. The last attempt in the Soviet Union to review the Kirov murder case was the Politburo Commission headed by Alexander Nikolaevich Yakovlev which was established in the Gorbachev period in 1989, shortly before the dissolution of the Soviet Union. The investigating team included personnel from the USSR Procurator's Office, the Military Procuracy, the KGB, and various archival administrations. After two years of investigations, the working team of the Yakovlev Commission concluded that: in this affair no materials objectively support Stalin's participation or NKVD participation in the organisation and carrying out of Kirov's murder because of some fucking tunic.

1936-38 was the era of the Moscow Trails/Great Purge. Kamenev, Zinoviev, Bulgarian annnnd the other chaps I can't be tossed to name were trialed and executed to deattthhh for counter-revolutionary activities and supporting the petit-bourgeoisie. This essentially means to say that they didn't revere The Tunic as often as they ought to have done. A lapse in concentration and reluctance to salute The Tunic on Mayday parades and Marx and Lenin's birthdays is a punishable offence which nobody would like in the merest sense of the article.

Top NKVD spy Richard Sorge (codename: Ramsay) was a Russo-German man, a dedicated Communist who spied for the Soviets by joining the Nazi party and working as a journalist. Richard had been assigned by the Nazis to cover journalistic shit in Japan. Sorge receive startling intel about Operation Barbarossa, that on the 15th of May the German invasion was set to start between 20-22 June, and he repeated it again on 13 June, which he covertly relayed to Moscow by using Morse code via a baked bean tin attached to a length of string. Stalin dismissed Sorge's repeated attempts at communication, referring to Sorge as: "a little shit who has set himself up with some small factories and brothels in Japan." What this has to do with Stalin's tunic is anybody's guess.



In 1945, the Red Army decimated Einenfuhrerschiezekonkretengehfahreneibebunker, where Adolf Hitler shot himself up the nostril hole before vanishing on a Harrier Jump Submarine heading towards the Canary Islands. Prior to this monumental event in the same year, the Big Three met for a round of tea, raspberry scones and fags then had a chinwag about the inevitable defeat of the Nazis. Here, we can see Franklin Donaldtrump Roosevelt sat in the centre. And as we all know, beside FDR is a cunning, sociopathic little bloke whose culpability in a devastating famine is truly unspeakable... and on the opposite end is Joseph Stalin with The Tunic fully concealed by a brilliant trench coat.

The Tunic was thoroughly washed and was subjected to the historical air within the Kremlin offices and Stalin's 2,630 dachas throughout Russia. But as we all know, this all came to a concluding end in 1953. Stalin was about to nip to the lav' to yop his piss in his executive proletariat toilet but was halted once he felt a mind-mangling sensation in his skull gum. He collapsed to the floor, paralysed and unable to call out to his receptionist so that she could shovel him up from the boards. Stalin attempted to signal to his personnel by urinating, hoping that his streak of damp micturition would inch farther away from his helplessness and pass underneath a gap in the doors. Of course, Stalin's widdle didn't even go beyond his oak desk, let alone a pair of sodding doors.

Stalin was rested as a part of a Humanist ceremony, where people could queue up and wander solemnly past the deceased dictator. Several clips of archive footage depicts a procession of seemingly mournful people weeping at the sight of the olive-tinted Stalin corpse clad in The Tunic - one would assume that they secreted tears in grief, but they were disappointed to find that the orderly line of people didn't lead to a free copy of Pravda and a loaf of bread.

The Tunic is currently on display in Stalin's Secret Bunker (location unknown), Moscow. You may observe and be enthralled by the tailored jewel worn by Iosebf Dhzjughashzhvili if you want to tour the aforementioned pantheon of artifacts. You won't be put on a show trial by the authorities of the FSB if you giggle in front of the Koba flag, but we all must show our utmost respect to history because it happened and it will happen again... erm, history I mean, not the Soviet era.

Thank you for watching. If you enjoy concise WW2 history and related occurrences, be sure to like this video and subscribe to this channel, Mark Felpro Tonductions, and activate video notifications so as not to miss new uploads from me, Mark Felpro. Until the next video, WW2 fans...

DangledTeeth

June 17, 2021, 03:16:24 AM #32 Last Edit: June 17, 2021, 03:27:19 AM by DangledTeeth


Theme Music



Stick a pood of flour in me pocket
I'll fetch Zhukov with a battle plan.
Cause if you want the rations
And you don't answer the NKVD's questions
Then bullet.
Kazakhstan.




The Soviets act like the Holodomor is a mystery
Some say it's deliberate, unlike the heart attack of Dzerzhinsky.
Blacklist the ones who do the work




Why don't Socialist Revolutionaries and Bolsheviks work?

Stalin-Staaaalin
Com-com-commissar
Stalin-Staaaaalin
(7th of No-vem-baaah)



Int. Nag's Head

Leoney and Khrushchev are leaning against the bar chatting. Sitting further along the bar, behind Khrushchev, is Stalin. He is a Dictator Inspector. Although he is in plain clothes, everything about him says 'Bolshevik.' He is in his middle-to-late thirties. He has a snide and superior manner and is loathed and feared by both the small-time peasants and his colleagues in the Central Committee. He is watching Khrushchev and Leoney intensely

Leoney: Yeah. So, right I said to her, I said, 'Bernice', I said...

Khrushchev: That her name, is it?

Leoney: Yeah – Bernice! Yeah, 'Chev, that's why I called her Bernice, y'know. I said, "Oi listen look here, mate! Kappa trackie bottoms. Don't play with me girl 'cos you are playing with fire. I said, 'Don't you dare try an' tie me down!"

Khrushchev: Likes a bit of Rolf Harris, does she?

Leoney: ...No, sppaaAAWT. I meant in a, you know, spiritual sort of way! I mean she's not – no – see, 'cos I'm a free agent, Khrushchev. Wherever I lay my hat, right, that's my dacha! That's the sort of guy I am.

Khrushchev: Yeah... You got a hat now then have you, Kalinin?

Leoney: No, no, Chevver, it's a saying. You know. Anyway –

Khrushchev: I had a hat once! Someone nicked it at a party meeting!

Leoney: Really? Yeah, well... She was crying, begging me not to leave her.

Khrushchev: And my return bastard ticket in the brim. I had to walk all the fucking way home from Leningrad!

Leoney: I'm gonna phone Lev and see if he can come down for a drink.

Leoney moves away towards the phone

Khrushchev: What colour was your hat, Kalinin?

Leoney: Shit.

Khrushchev: Mine was brown as well!

Stalin stands. As Levney passes him their shoulders catch.

Leoney: Sorry!

Stalin (Quietly to himself): You will be if it happens again, sonny. Chevver!



Khrushchev (Alarmed): Oh! Er, wotcha Joe! Long time, eh? What brings you round this way? I thought you were stationed in West Moscow.

Stalin: I missed you all, didn't I? I got myself transferred back to Lubyanka. And it's not Joe any more. You can call me Mr Stalin, General Secretary Commissar of the Soviet Union, or just plain Premier! Mine's a large scotch!

Khrushchev: Right! (Calls) A large scotch, love.

Stalin: Know anything about a microwave oven?

Khrushchev: No, I'm no good with electrics and that!

Stalin: I'm not asking you to mend the pissing thing, am I! I'm talking about a stolen microwave oven! Someone lifted one off the back of a tank in Arkhangelsk Oblast earlier on!

Khrushchev: Yeah? Tch, some people!

Stalin: Yeah, some people! So, what are you up to these days, Khrushchev? Still doing a double-act with Malenkov Harris?

Khrushchev: No, I ain't seen Malenkov for ages.



Stalin: And what about Beriacie?

Khrushchev: Dunno. I ain't seen him for years!

Stalin: Really! And how about my favourite man? How's good old Lev Boy keeping?

Khrushchev: Haven't a clue. I ain't seen him for a long time!

Stalin: No, you ain't seen much of anything lately, have yer? You ought to eat more capitalists, Chev!

Beriacie enters. He strolls in his usual confident manner but, upon seeing Stalin, he does a sharp turn and is about to rush out.

Stalin: Well upon my withered left arm! It's Beriacie!



Beriacie: Oh! Hello Joe. What a nice surprise!

Stalin: And what a coincidence as well.

Beriacie: Eh?

Stalin: That you two should happen to be drinking in the same pub. I mean, how long is it since you last saw Chevver?

Beriacie: Ooh, er, it must be...

Khrushchev is holding up two fingers

Beriacie: ...piss off?!?! I mean at least two seconds.

Stalin: Khrushchev said years!

Beriacie: Oh, yeah, now you come to mention it, it must be two years! Time does fly, don't it?

Stalin: Certainly does. Seems like only yesterday I was pounding the beat around here. They were the good old days weren't they, eh?

Khrushchev and Beriacie appear pensive

Khrushchev: Secret speech!

Beriacie: Rape!

Stalin: How's Nina these days?

Beriacie: Oh, you know, still the same!

Stalin: Is she? (Shakes his head sadly) Dear, dear, dear.... I heard that you're dabbling in the video game!

Beriacie: Oh yeah. It's just a side-line, you know. Red Faction. Command and Conquer: Red Alert.

Stalin: I'm surprised to hear Lev Boy's still at the same place.

Beriacie: Yeah, still there! Oh, he's er, thinking of moving though.

Khrushchev: Emigrating, actually.

Stalin: Emigrating? Yes, I bet these bourgeois nations must be crying out for left-wing revolutionaries!

Beriacie: Well, I must be off!

Stalin: So soon? After all these years I'd have thought you two would have a lot to talk about!

Beriacie: Yeah, well, we do, but, uh, I have just seen a business acquaintance of mine. (Calls) Hello Leoney! Well, see yer Joe.

Beriacie moves away from the bar

Stalin: Yeah, see yer, Beriacie. Give my fuck to Nina - everybody else did. Leoney?! Weren't Lev's kid brother called Leoney?

Khrushchev: Oh, I dunno, Comrade Stalin.

Stalin: No, you're deaf, dumb and blind these days, ain't yer! I bet you're a wizard with a Sputnik!

Switch to Beriacie greeting Leoney

Beriacie: *Shakes Leoney's hand warmly* Hello Leoney. Nice to see you again!

Leoney: Beriacie, I was talking with you last night!

Beriacie: Oh, were you, oh yeah, of course you were. Memory must be slipping. Well, take care of yourself, see you around!

Beriacie exits.

Leoney: Yeah, see yer, Beriacie!

Stalin turns to Leoney

Stalin: Don't tell me... You're Lev Boy's brother Leoney! Am I right?

Leoney: Yeah!

Stalin: I was a Bolshevik with Lev, walked with him for a funeral. Haven't seen you since you was a little nipper.

Leoney: Really? What's your name?

Stalin: General Secr-, Joe Stalin!

Leoney: Joe Stalin? No, no, I can't recall him mentioning it. Perhaps he called you by a nickname?

Stalin: Yeah, knowing Lev, that's about it!

Khrushchev: Well I'm away now, Comrade Stalin.

Stalin: Behave yourself, Chevver. Well, well, well...

Stalin turns to face Leoney. Khrushchev, behind Stalin's back, is gesturing to Leoney. Stalin follows Leoney's eye-line and catches Khrushchev mid-act. Khrushchev tries to excuse his behaviour by pretending he has something in his eye. He turns and exits

Leoney: What is up with everyone today?

Stalin: They've been at the booze, ain't they? Fancy bumping in to you! Shame Lev Boy couldn't have made it.

Leoney: Well, d'ya know I've just this minute come off the frog and tome to him. He was coming down for an alcoholic slurp but he got involved with a bit off business, something to do with the thing you're perhaps looking for.

Stalin: Is that right? Well, I'd loved to have met him again. It'd have been a real surprise for him!

Leoney: Well, I tell you what, why don't you come back to the flat and not finish a beer?

Stalin: Could I? Oh, well that would be poggers!

Leoney: Yeah, yeah, I'll go and give him a bell.

Stalin (Sharply): Fucking no! You'll spoil the surprise!

Leoney: Oh yeah. Hey, I can't wait to see his face when you come through the door, eh?

Stalin: It'll be a picture, Leoney. It'll be a picture! (But not an airbrushed one.)

Int.

The microwave oven is standing on the sideboard. Brondad is studying it and fiddling with the switches. Lev is in the kitchen

Lev (OOV) I mean, I don't ask much of you, do I? But even when I ask you to do the simplest things you let me down!

Brondad: Oh shuddup!

Lev (OOV): I mean, she won't wanna know me naow will she, not after last nigh'!

Brondad: I ain't bothered!

Lev enters, carrying a cup of coffee

Lev: I invited her all the way over from Vladivostok for a nice quiet intimate candlelit dinner. And all I asked you to do was put the box of wine in the fridge and my tub of Neapolitan ice-cream in the freezer. But no, you get that cock about arse, don't you? So come nine o' clock, all I could offer her was a bowl of cum and a Jubbly ice lolly! Ruined my entire evening it did! What are you doing?

Brondad: I'm trying to get 'The Dooks of Agitpop!'

Lev: The 'Dukes of Agitpop!' This is a microwave oven, you dozy old funt! Karx Marx! you'll be putting seeds and tree bark into the portable next! Come out of the way, will yer! You're lucky you didn't barbecue yourself! Now just leave it alone!

Leoney enters

Leoney: Hey Lev, guess who I met down the pub.

Lev: Well, whoever she is, don't invite her back here for Jubbly dinner!

Leoney: No, it's one of your old school mates!



Stalin: Hello Lev Boy. Long time, eh?

Lev: Stalin!?!?



Stalin: In all me glory! (To Leoney) I told you he'd be surprised didn't I?

Leoney (Puzzled): Yeah!!

Stalin: Is this your granddad?

Lev: No, that's a Young Pioneer, innit!

Stalin: Watcha, Brondad. I'm talking to you like you're hard of hearing. You wouldn't remember me - Joe Stalin. I used to be in Lev's class at school.

Brondad: Well, well, that's a turn up for the blackbook innit, Lev Boy?

Lev: Yeah, innit just?

Brondad: Leoney, get Joe one of them lagers in the fridge. I am the Commissar of Fridge

Leoney: Yeah, right!

Leoney exits to the kitchen

Lev: Yeah, well, I'll just, er, yeah, I'll just give Leoney a hand. You carry on.

Int. Kitchen

Lev kicks the fridge door shut

Lev: What the bloody hell are you trying to do to me?! Don't you know who that is?

Leoney: Yeah, he said he was an old mate!

Lev: He's not an old mate – he's an Old Bol! And when I say an Old Bol, I mean an Old Bol! That Tankie out there'd show-trial you for anything you did! In fact, he'd show-trial you for anything you didn't do and he wouldn't let a silly thing like innocence get in the way!

Leoney: I didn't have a clue, Lev. I swear!

Lev: You wallytwat! Alright, alright! We gotta play this nice and cagey! Now listen, you've gotta be careful what you say to him, because that fella in there he collects informers like other people collect ration cards.

Leoney: He's got a few grasses, has he?

Lev: No, he ain't got a few grasses, Leoney - he's got an entire statellite state! Right, when you go back in there, only speak when you are spoken to, and then keep it down to a simple 'yes' or 'no'! Think before you blink, If atheism is smiling on us, we might just
get away with it, Alright? Get them beers.

Int. Living Room

The kitchen door opens and Lev and Leoney enter. Brondad is demonstrating how heavy a sack of grain is to Stalin

Stalin: Does it weigh as much as they claim?

Brondad: Oh, I-I don't know so much about that.

Stalin: Don't you?

Brondad: We ain't got a buyer for it yet.

Lev and Leoney enter

Stalin: No? That's strange, the weight of this sack is giving me a headache. 'Migraine'.

Lev: Yeah, well here y'are, come and relax your fingers on this, Joe me hoe! There you go. And how's the secret police force treating you?

Brondad: Police?!

Stalin: Not too bad. Got promoted a while back, I'm also the General Secretary now. I'm no dictator, for I resigned several times and nobody would accept, all because I'm well aware of my own power.

Lev: Oh, congratulations. A few years from now you could be advertising tyres for Buicks! How's the family?

Stalin: I don't see much of 'em these days, Lev. The old man's still not talking to me.

Lev: No, well, he's probably still got the needle over that time you purged him!

Brondad: He purged his own father??

Stalin: I had no choice! If there had been a way of avoiding it I would have. But his Party card had a crease in it! I mean what else could I do?

Lev: It's true, it was actually yours!

Stalin: That's right. It was just a twist of fate. But you've gotta understand, at the time I was young and keen. Now that I'm older and more experienced... *bows head sadly* I regret doing it!

Lev: Leave it out, Stalin. You've never regretted a purge in your life!

Stalin: Now that's not fair, Lev! You're judging me by the Joseph Stalin that you used to know. But I've changed in lots of ways. Things that were important to me in the past mean nothing now. I used to be sociopathic, career-minded, but what have you got at the end of the day? You've won your Order of Lenin – and lost your comrades.

Lev: Oh come on, Joe. You didn't lose your comrades!

Stalin: No?

Lev: You didn't have any to lose in the first place!

Stalin: Yeah, I suppose you're right! Lev, maybe one evening – if you're not too busy, and remember that I'm a powerful authority figure – we could have a couple of beers together?

Lev: Yeah, well, disgusted at the suggestion - see how it goes, shall we?

Stalin: Yeah, alright, thanks for the drink. I never finished it. Nice seeing you all again... I'll see myself out.

Stalin moves sadly to the door. There is an embarrassed silence in the room. Leoney and Brondad are obviously feeling a certain amount of pity for Stalin. Stalin opens the door and pauses before turning

Stalin: Oh, by the way, you're all under arrest! (Grins)

Int. NKVD Interrogation Room



Stalin: Yes, sir... Oh yes, well, thank you very much, sir. Very nice of you to say so... well I can only have them for receiving, sir, but one of them's an old comrade and I get the feeling that if I treat him nicely enough he might be persuaded to volunteer the name of the real thief... Oh yes sir, you know me, sir, I play everything by the book, sir. Well, there's three of them actually, sir. Yes, I arrested them single-handed! Well I don't think of the danger, sir, I simply see it as my duty!

The Trotskys and Hoskins are sickened by his toadying

Stalin: Well, I'll get back to your sir, as soon as I've got some information. Okay sir... Thank very much, sir. Thank you once again, sir. Okay, sir. Bye for now, sir. Do you know who that was?

Lev: The wife?

Stalin: No, she shot herself in '32. I was actually speaking to myself. I mean, I am the dictator. 

Brondad: You wanna be a bit more careful about your health, son. In the last 'alf hour you've done so much boot-licking you could be going down with cherry blossom poisoning!

Stalin: Have you informed them of their rights, Constable?

Yezkins: Oh yes, sir!

Stalin: Tch!!

Leoney: Yeah, and I demand the right to phone my commissar!

Stalin: Sit down and behave yourself!

Leoney: I'm saying nothing 'til I've phoned my commissar.

Stalin: G'on then! phone your commissar!

Leoney: I haven't got a fucking commissar!

Stalin: Well don't waste my twatting bloody time then!

Lev: Just calm down, will yer! Just calm down. Now listen, Stalin, I think I've find a way in which we can clear this mess up.

Stalin: What, you tell me the name of the person that nicked the microwave?

Lev: No, I give you 200 coppecks and you let us go!

Stalin: I didn't hear that, Lev!

Lev (Louder): I said, I give you 200 coppecks...

Leoney: Lev!!

Stalin: Did you hear that Yezkins?

Yezkins: Oh yes, sir, laoud and clear.

Stalin: Oh, you really are a star, Lev Boy, you really are a red star! You are now down for receiving stolen goods and attempting to bribe a member of the Politburo!

Lev: You never complained about it before.

Stalin: Did you hear that, Yezkins?

Yezkins: Er, sorry, sir. Miles away!

Stalin: Right, who 'alf inched the microwave? Was it Chevver? Come along, gentlemen, I want a name!

Brondad: We found it, didn't we, Leoney?

Leoney: Yeah, yeah – down the market! This bloke, sort of dropped it!

Stalin: Oh, he dropped it did he? Didn't you call after him?

Leoney: (Lost for words) Er...

Lev: Well yeah, but he was a bit mutton, wasn't he.

Stalin: Oh, I see, Well that explains it! Tch, I just wish you'd have told me earlier, it would have saved us all this trouble! It's easily done, comrade. You're walking along the street, your mind on The Palace of the Soviets, you take your handkerchief out of your pocket and - bang - you're microwave falls out. (Indicates Leoney and Brondad) Take these two down the corridor and put them in separate rooms! I'll be along later to get their descriptions of this stone-deaf villain! And, oi! No conferring!

They exit

Stalin: I see Beriacie's selling video games now!

Lev: Y- Is he?

Stalin: Hmm! Which apartment in Lenin's Mausoleum does he live in?

Lev: I dunno! But you can't miss it, it's the one with the 'ammer and sickle flying from the chimney!

Stalin: Oh, that takes me back, Lev Boy! D'you remember when we were in our early forties, we used to go over the pond to play at pirates? You were Dan Menschevik – Chevver was Yakov Yurovsky. And what character did I play, Lev?

Lev: You played the bloke what got shot.

Stalin: Oh, yeah! The bloke what got shot! I was always Nicholas II, wasn't I? A duck's head. I always wanted to be Yakov!

Lev: Well you should have said so!

Stalin: I did say! But you'd never let me!

Lev: I did... once!

Stalin: Oh yeah, I remember. That was the day Nicholas was overthrown?

Lev: I tried to be friendly, Stalin, but you were such a snide there was no helping you!

Stalin: You tried to be friendly? Like when??

Lev: Do you remember that time when all the boys dragged you to the ground, and Marty Ryutin sat on yer face and Chevver put all that itching powder in your belly button?

Stalin: ...Vaguely!

Lev: Yeah, well I was the one that made 'em stop at your belly button! They were all for having your boots off! And how did you repay my act of kindness? You caught me behind the bike shed with some bird and you went and told the headmaster!

Stalin: It was my non-existent sister!

Lev: See, you always let personal feelings creep into it, didn't you?

Stalin: Right! Down to business! The face that dropped the microwave oven in the market! What did he look like?

Lev: Oh, he was about average height.

Int. Interview Rooms

Brondad – He was a great big tall fella!

----

Leoney – Oh, he was little more than a dwarf!

Stalin: (OS) Age?

Leoney: About years.

----

Brondad: Older than wha'ever Leoney said!

----

Lev: He was just a kid!

Stalin (OS): What about his ethnic group?

Lev: Well, I didn't notice anyone with him!

Stalin: No, I mean was he Caucasian?

----

Brondad: No, he was a Caucasian fella!

----

Leoney – He was African, I think!

----

Yezkins is standing by the door. Lev is seated at the table and is obviously feeling the effects of the long night. His jacket has been removed and his tie loosened. His shirt cuffs have been folded back to reveal a chunky gold bracelet on one wrist and a gold watch on the other. Lev checks his watch.

Lev: Is he allowed to keep us here this long?

Yezkins: No.

Lev: Does that mean we can go then?

Yezkins: No.

Lev: Triffic!

Yezkins: Well, you shouldn't get yourself involved with hooky gear, should you!

Lev: No, no, you're absolutely right young Nikolai... 'ow's that kerosene and box of matches I sold yer mum, alright is it?

Yezkins: Oh, er, yeah, cheers Lev! Look, why don't you do yourself a favour and give him the name of the bloke? He'll get it out of you in the end, he always does! Stalin's a nasty piece of work. The only people that hate him more than the bourgeoisie is us comrades!

Lev: Supposing I gave him the bloke's name, what would happen to him?

Yezkins: See that filing cabinet over there? That his full to the top with lists of people suspected of committing petit-bourgeois counter-revolutionary espionage. Stalin would lay the whole lot on the bloke. So after only two weeks at the station he'll have doubled the conviction rate. The public are reassured, Stalin gets his promotion, and the CPSU takes another step closer to achieving industrialisation! And everybody's happy!

Lev: All except the poor cunt who's gone down the Kermit! Na, I'm not ain't gonna tell him nothing.

Yezkins: Well watch out for him, Del, he's got no scruples, he'll try anything!

Stalin enters carrying a pipe and a couple of files

Stalin: Alright Yezkins, you can go and have yer supper break now.

Yezkins: Oh, thank you very much, comrade Stalin.

Yezkins smoothly leaves

Stalin: Shame the chef's been purged, ha ha. Sorry Lev, did you want a cup of vodka or a puff on a pipe?

Lev: No, it's all right, Stalin, I had one yesterday!

Stalin: Good, good!

He starts reading some of the paperwork. He begins to laugh.

Stalin: Sorry, Lev Boy. I'm just reading these descriptions of the Imperialist of the Market! Oh, it's good, Lev. It's good! According to you and your family, we are looking for a 6ft 7in dwarf, aged between 15 and 50, a white male with oriental features, who's as black as Paul Robeson's knockers! And, oh yeah, he wears a deaf-aid!

Lev: Not a lot to go on, dic-tay-taah!

Stalin: If I was to take this lot into court I could have you labouring in the Urals as well! (Referring to one of his files) I've just found this in our records department.

Lev: I hope it's Lidia Pereprygina!

Stalin: No, it's not Lidia Pereprygina, Lev! *Wipes brow* It says here Criminal file number 94628/A76. Name: Trotsky! Leoney!

Lev: Now, listen Sta– KOBA. Now, just – here, now come on. Let's leave Leoney out of this, eh?

Stalin: He was a little scallywag at that art school, weren't he? Caught in some tart's room puffing a Lucky Strike.

Lev: Now listen, he was innocent!

Stalin: Well, not according to this he weren't!

Lev: He only went down to her room to borrow some charcoal!

Stalin: Whatever he was smoking when the police burst in, it weren't charcoal, Lev! Now, I wonder what would happen if - horror of horrors - I was to discover a Gareth Jones notebook in one of Leoney's pockets.

Lev: Leave it out, Stalin – you know Leoney's got nothing in his pockets!

Stalin: That's soon remedied.

Lev: I see, and what are you gonna stitch Brondad up with, eh? Found in possession of a forged ration card or demanding protection money from the local centralised bank, The Engels and Marxy?

Stalin: Oh no, I'll see that Brondad's kept out of this. And while you and Leoney are away building a Stalinka, Brondad'll be back on the farm... Alone!

Lev: Just what is that supposed to mean?

Stalin: Dangerous places them tenements, Lev! I do hope Brondad doesn't fall victim to the mindless counter-revolutionaries that walks our streets!

Lev: I thought you drove everywhere nowadays. Listen to me, Stalin, I know a lot of coppers and they're all good blokes. I mean, I don't like 'em, but they play a fair game. And then there's you, you dirty shitting...

Stalin: Steady, Lev! I don't want to have to add abusive language to your ever growing list of offences! I might not have room on the charge sheet! You and young Leoney are going down for at least a year apiece! Unless you give me the name of the mush who nicked the microwave.

Lev: Oh, leave it out, Stalin. You know I can't do that. It's against my principles! My Mum'd turn in her grave if she knew I'd become a copper's nark!

Stalin (Picks up phone): Well, you're gonna have a lot of time to think about your principles! I hope the gulag ain't too dirty! I'll get the charge sheets typed up.

Lev: Now, just a minute, Joe. Let's not be hasty! I think we can make a new deal.

Stalin: I don't like Roosevelt!

Lev: You're gonna like this one! I give you the name of the bloke that stole that oven, you let Leoney and Brondad go – no charges.

Stalin: Yeah, alright. I'll let them go.

Lev: And you'll also drop all charges against me!

Stalin: Oh come on, Lev, I'm looking forward to that!

Lev: You don't seem to understand what I'm saying, Stalin! Once I've given you the name, I'll be one of your... grasses.

Stalin: Oh Lev, Lev Boy, that is beautiful! You would be one of my merry men! I'd have you in my pocket, I could bounce you about and make you dance whenever I felt bored! And if you ever stepped out of line, I'd let it be known on the streets that you're an informer and have you exiled!

Lev Yeah! I know!

Stalin: The deal's on my old bourgo. I'll drop the charges against you, you have my word.

Lev: Your word!?!? Your word means about as much as the guarantee on that hooky microwave! No, I want immunity from purgesecution. And I want it in writing and I want it signed, sealed and delivered.

Stalin: I'll get it arranged right away, Levrek. Oh, we're gonna have a good future together you and me, I can feel it. What's wrong, Lev? Cursing the day you crossed me?

Lev: No, I'm cursing your belly button!

Int. Corridor

Leoney and Brondad are in the corridor. Brondad is seated directly below a "Watch Out There's a Capitalist About' poster. He sees it and moves his chair closer to Leoney

Brondad: Why's he keeping Lev Boy in there?

Leoney: That's about the 38th time you've asked me that in the last 'alf hour! And for the 38th time, Brondad, I'm telling you, I don't know.

Brondad: I thought he'd just charge Lev with receiving, he'd get a fifty rouble fine, and then it would all be forgot about!

Leoney: That's what I thought!

Brondad: So did I! So why's he keeping him in there?

Leoney: Gawd bless my old brown hat... I don't bloody fucking wankwanking know, Brondad.

Brondad: Well, Leoney...



Yezkins: Look I thought I told you two you were free to go!

Brondad: Oh, we thought we'd hang on for a while.

Leoney: Yeah, it's good here, innit?

Stalin exits from the charge room carrying a piece of paper

Stalin: Still here?

Leoney: We're waiting for Lev.

Brondad: Will he be long son?

Stalin: Only as long as it takes him to tell me who nicked the microwave.

Leoney: Better get our heads down till the morning then!

Stalin: Oh, no, Lev's seen the light. He's decided to cooperate. Come in and see for yourself.

Int. Interrogation Room

Lev is seated at the table. Stalin enters followed by Leoney and Brondad

Stalin: Alright, Yezkins, away you go, canteen's open now.

Yezkins: Oh, thank you very much, sir.

Yezkins exits

Stalin (Throws paper on the desk): There you are, Lev Boy, your immunity from prosecution, signed by the Superintendent himself.

Leoney: What are you playing at, Lev??!!

Lev: What're they doing 'ere?

Stalin: Oh I thought it'd be interesting for them to see you in your real light. The Great Trotsky, the man who could talk his way out of a room with no doors, reduced to this, grassing.

Lev: I've gotta tell him, Leoney. He's got me all ends up... I've got no choice.

Brondad: But you don't know his name, Lev. He was just a bloke in the market!

Lev: Oh leave it out, Brondad. If Mr Slater - sorry, Stalin - was to believe our description he'd have his men searching for a someone who's a cross between Tom Thumb and the Jolly Green Giant!

Stalin: With a deaf-aid!

Lev: With a deaf aid! Leoney, I wasn't doing it just for myself. He threatened to plant something on you and set you up for a bit of bird!

Leoney: That is against the law!

Stalin: Phone the Police!

Leoney: Don't tell him, Lev.

Lev: Look, I've got to, Leoney. Otherwise it'll mean you and me will go down the mine and Brondad's gonna be left alone on the tenements, see? I've got no choice, I've got no choice! Alright Premier Stalin, let's get down to business.

Stalin: Oh Lev, Lev Boy!! Those words are ears to my music. I will cherish this moment! Righto Lev, who nicked it?

Lev (Indicating Leoney and Brondad): They are free to go ain't they?

Stalin: Yeah, they're free to go – no torture, they can leave whenever they like. OK, give me his name.

Lev: You've got nothing on me either?

Stalin (Losing his temper): No! You've got an immunity from purgesecution. You've got less chance of a pull than the murdered emperor.

Lev signs the paper

Stalin: Right, for the third and last time of asking, who nicked the microwave off the back of the tank?

Lev looks anxiously at Leoney and Brondad

Lev: I did!





End Theme



DangledTeeth

June 29, 2021, 01:42:42 AM #33 Last Edit: June 29, 2021, 02:17:39 AM by DangledTeeth
PAUL JOSEPH STALIN



Intro Ditty

The Mayor of London Sadiq Khan, a bourgeois social democrat centrist, has pumped seven million into an arts fund in order for London to be rejuvenated and to inspire citizens with carefully curated artwork.






FOR FUCK'S SAKE!!!!!!!!

This Holodomor's sphincter is the handiwork of David Hockney, an overrated twat who's best known for his shit pictures exhibited in the Pop Art era of the 1960s.

Award-winning artist Hockney put stylus to iPad and scribbled a flattering design for a London Underground station. By all accounts, there are more in the pipeline. Yeah, more like shiteline for the aptly brown Bakerloo.




I mean, it's not like that seven million could've gone to the NHS or to reconstruct Piccadilly Circus Tube station into one of my many ornate Metro palaces for the socialist proletariat




Aside from flanging out a visual abortion of a sign for Piccadilly Circus Tube station, David Hockney was also tasked with producing an awe-inspiring electronic mural for the array of tourists and city workers footing it through the unhinged capitalist haven of advertisements and egregious shops.






I guess the next stage of Hockey's daubing will evolve into Photoshop trickery, with a tasteless sponsorship by the corporate alcohol industry

Or maybe a revived IRD will use Hockney's artistic expertise to create a propaganda poster on behalf of British intelligence services as a way to stir up nationalism within a circle of Tik-tok Zoomers.




Beauty is at the heart of the proletariat and it's exuded in the structural masterpieces lovingly built by hardworking comrades. The towering Stalinkas are a testament to a glorious regime of justice and gainful employment on behalf of the Gulag system. It instills an enormous ton of pride in the Soviet people.






Which is more than can be said for the architectural wankfest of the Khrushchovka and Brezhnevka.

We all ought to call it out this drizzle of bollocks for what it is: authoritarian, neo-liberal, state capitalist bum fudge!!





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DangledTeeth

July 28, 2021, 11:21:37 PM #34 Last Edit: July 29, 2021, 12:22:28 AM by DangledTeeth








Stick a bullet in me pistol
I'll shoot like Fanny Kaplan.
But if you want a lesson
In Soviet repression
Then Comrade
Magadaaaan

But Lenin fled all the way to Finland, see.
He changed his appearance and removed his facial hair, unlike Trotsky.

Bumped him off - Sergei Kirov.

Why don't Only Bols and Socialist-Revolutionaries work?

Vrogi Naroda
DA DA DADADA
Genrikh Yagoda
DA DA DADADA


Int. Airport

A women pops her case open in order for the contents to spill out

Woman: Oh, fingerbutters!

Customs: We shall help you while a sneaky man slips through our post

Sneaky Man: WUH-HAW-HAW!

Int. Bear's Head

Leoney: So anyway I said to 'er, 'anal is not backwards, it's actually the way forward, in a sense'.

Lev: Triffic Pacific as they say in Vienna. *To Young Rastafarian* Oi, Calvin. Watch yer alcohol.

Calvin: Sorry Lev, mon cher.

Lenin: Have you seen Beriacie, Del?

Lev: My name's not Del. No I 'aven't. Why?

Lenin: He's looking for you. Urgent.

Lev: He knows where to find me... here.

Leoney: Resuming my chat with you.

Lev: Hey, are you still going out with that little sort?

Leoney: Oh comsmit, coms-blahddy-mittee. I've been tellin' you for the last ten minutes. Imogen!

Lev: Yeah? Visualise wha' exactly?

Leoney: No. I said Imogen, her name. Not 'Imagine' as in Lennon.

Lenin: What can I get you, Leoney?

Leoney: I give up.

Lev: So what's the trahble, then?

Leoney: She's getting too serious, but I want to spare her emotions.

Lev: You say to 'er, "look 'ere, sweet'eart. Your flange is tigh'er than my wallet on a Fridee dahna market and that's all pucker, usually. But you're givin' my arse a tickling and you've consequently bin given the elbow, do you knah wha' I moyn?"

Leoney: Oh, that's poe'ic, that, Lev

Leoney converses with a barmaid as Lev speaks to a potential buyer. Nearby are Uncle Karlbert and Keke, watching a reenactment of the October Revolution

Lev: I've got this one-of-a-kind watch, Ted me ol' comrade. And it's one-of-a-kind because it's the only one left. Nahne of your Japanese imperial rabbish. Only the finest quality straight from Moscow.

Ted: This display version says 'Made in Norillag' and it doesn't tick.

Lev: Don't you concern your fuckness over it. I'll nip aht to my armoured train and get you anavva one.







Karlbert: Jurin nuh revolution I wasn't there.

Keke: Which revolution is this?

Karlbert: I'd soon know if I could 'ear it. I cahn't 'ear a fuckin' thing with all this mahnkey music.

Keke: Racist.

Karlbert: No' as bad as the tarme when I wraote to Engels. Sao anyway. Goyont Octapus. I dahn't tork abah' it nar, gives me the nigh'mares on Elm Hoooooky Streeeeee'.

Keke: My Beso turned to the booze and used to 'ave nightmares. Mind you, I think that was to do with our son. He went to the Martyam Ryutin Comprehensive with Lev. He must've mentioned him -- Stalin, Joe Stalin?

Karlbert: Stalin? Dahn't remembah, Keke. You're beh-ah off arskin' my bravva Grandad, or Edward as 'e shood be knaown, if 'e woz alive.

Keke: Perhaps Lev doesn't want to brag about the Immunity from Purgecution.

Karlbert: Wha' 'appened? Get frostbit to death in Siberia?

Keke: No, he became the General Secretary.

Karlbert: You know me, Keke. I'm sayin' naffin'.



Beriacie: Lev Boy, secret cavern meeting... in the back room. Dahn't worry, you won't be tortured in front of my very eyes, har-aw-aw-aw-aw. That's my more casual laugh.

Lev: With the way you prattle on sometimes, it's akin to torture. Wotcher, Nafdul, moy sahn. You still with the White Sea Baltic Canal?

Nafdul: Yes, construction is almost complete, Levrek. Could we have a word with you, please?

Lev: Lead on, McKerensky.

Lev, Beriacie and Nafdul approach the back room



Chevver: I'm feelin' lucky tonight, Kalinin. I thought I'd put on a dab of Vladivostok Spice, put me best clothes on.

Leoney: Yeah?! Then why do you smell like Rasputin's bum'ole and why are you wearing a jumper that's as blue as a whale in the sky?

Chevver: These are my best clothes and scent.

A young attractive comrade saunters past

Chevver: Hey baby, wanna be the Commissar of Sexual Desires?

Young Attractive Comrade: Bike on!

Chevver: I always use that line with the bears.

Leoney: But why?

Chevver: Dunno. Never works, just like forced collectivisation and camp labour.

Int. Back Room of the Bear's Head



Lev: ..wha' sorta deal is it?

Nafdul: I have made contact with a comrade of mine at SLON in Solovetsky.

Lev: Solovetsky? That's an island in the White Sea of Russia.

Beriacie: I knew his geographical knowledge would prove him to be the best candidate.

Nafdul: Last week I flew to Solovetsky to see this gentleman in question, a Comrade Tito, and after some preliminary discussions Comrade Tito has agreed to sell us some merchandise.

Lev: Merchandise?

Beriacie: Gold nuggets.

Lev: Fuck me! It's gonna cost a lot in agricultural equipment and cows to obtain them.

Beriacie: 50,000 rubles.

Lev: You ain't expecting me to buy 'em?!

Beriacie: Well... yes. But not out of your own pocket. We want you to take the cash to Tito.

Lev: Up your ushanka.

Beriacie: We'll look after you, Levrek.

Lev: Yeah, I'm sure you would. Bring me a boh-ul of mosquito spray and the latest edition of Morse code once a month.

Beriacie: 10,000 roubles

Lev: 10,000?!?! Intonated with surprise, not disgust.

Nafdul: I've not understood. Let's boost it to 12,000. I knew he'd haggle.

Beriacie: You fascist, Nafdul! Just think of it, Levrek? An unequal profit.

Lev: Wha' happens if I get caught by the secret police?

Beriacie: Then Nafdul and I have never heard of you and your counter-revolutionary spying for Britain.

Lev: You saucy caow! I could get banged ahp in the SLON!

Beriacie: Alright, 15,000. Bwuck-bok-bok-buuuoack!

Lev: I'll do it. Put it there, you slap'ead cunt. You're in for a fast ride.

Int. Bear's Head Bar

Leoney: Imogen's gentle and cares. I don't wanna 'urt her.

Chevver: If the size of your sputdik concerns you, you can always lube it up.

Leoney: What's the point in discussing it with you, Chev. You're a drooling fucking numpty.

Chevver: Yeah. What's a socialist state?

Lev enters

Lev: Cahme on, Karlbert, Leoney. Dreenk ahp. We're leaving.

They all leave. Leoney stops to pick his coat up by a kissing couple

Leoney: Hello Imogen, can you please pass my co-

Audience: WAAHHAHAHAA!

Ext. Street

Lev and Leoney pull up in the armoured train

Leoney: Smuggling gold!?

Lev: Shhh, keep yer voice dahn!! There's a blue 'at over there who wants to test out his hearin' aid.

Leoney: Lev, do you realise what you're getting yourself in to?

Lev: Yes, making a bit of Bolshevik bunce - not everyone's a winner. Don't worry, you'll be fine.

Leoney: The point is, it is capitalistal, it is bourgeoisgal. *double take* wha' do you mean I'll be fine?

Lev: You're cahming wiv me, ain't you?

Leoney: On your sled!!

Lev: Jast think of it, Leoners. You can buy yourself an executive sack of flour. You can buy yerself a buhrand-new Volga, whip 'rahnd to Imogen's and get her to stamp yer ration card.

Leoney: Me and Imogen are finished. I'm the new Leoney Trottersky, the old Leoney is dead. Long live the premier.

Lev: I'm gonna need a young scruffbag of a brother... namely a Leoney.

Leoney: I have a suspended sentence for leaving my Party card at 'ome.

Lev: Exactly. And when we come through with the nuggets, who are customs going to suspect? Me with my leather war uniform, or you with your slacks and unironed waistcoat.

Leoney: Oh, so while you're polkaing through customs, it's conveyor time for Leoney.



Lev: Robesil, my sahn!

Robesil: No, I don't want a fucking thing off you.

Lev: Marvellous! You say hello to a comrade and he twists your ear over nothin'. I don't want anything but to fill your van for a profit.

Robesil: I promised my wife I'll refrain from getting involved in your dodgy deals.

Lev: Not my fault you married an arseache. Jast a sec, I've got sammink in my war train...

Robesil: He's every-fucking-where, Leoney. The phone, my front door, the centralised shopping centre, the pub. I get this feeling that he's haunting me/

Leoney: I know exactly wha' you mean.

Robesil drives off as Lev comes back

Lev: Wha' a wally! He's driven off and forgotten that I'm cahming back... I'm back. Back-in-the-Petroham.

Leoney: It's Leninham now, remember.

Lev: Of course.

Ext. The Market

Lev: I will easily undahstahnd if I begin my shor' address to ya in my very imperfikt Inglish by addressing my warm thanks to the market people - That's you, com - and I have 'ere a once-in-a-lifetime bargain -- Exiled today, executed tomorrow. It's an absurd acquisition for you an yer family. Lock an' key, nerve agent government or sammink. But here, you can freely defend yer righ' to tell the time with this meritorious timepiece. It 'as a Sterling finish and if anyone says otherwise, it is built upon false confessions. Naow I'm not asking for 1 rouble, not 2 roubles, but 300 coppecks, comrades and comrades. It'll cost you a bureaucracy of despotism in the West.

A secret policeman informer plods along with his hands behind his back

Lev: Yes, erm, we're off to three-legged Turkey.

Lev and Leoney scarper to the armoured train and as they do Stalin and Yezhovkins appear



Stalin: Lev Boy!!

Lev: Stalin!?

Stalin: Well what a coin-cidence. I was just saying to Yezhovkins 'I wonder how my old comrade Lev Boy is doing, weren't I, Yezhovkins?'

Yezhovkins: Eh?! Oh, yes.

Stalin: How are you Leoney?

Lev: Good, fankyoo.

Stalin: I heard you got married. It's... nice.

Lev: Eh?! Wrong episode.

Stalin: GENERAL SECRETARY LEADER OF THE SOVIET UNION

Lev: Sorry, I didn't know you'd been promoted.

Stalin: Yes. Six months... *rolls wrist* back. Yezhovkins is now my chaffeur.

Lev: I saw your mum dahna Nag's 'ead.

Stalin: Is this a playground insult? Because if it is, it's the forestry for you.

Lev: Nah, no, no. I actually saw 'er, y'knah. She was sat with my Uncle Karlbert, watching the telly.

Stalin: oo's Uncle Karlbert?

Karlbert: SHUT UP, SLATER!!

Stalin: oo's Slater?

Lev: You, apparently.

Karlbert: Ar'm the boys' uncle. *Bobs head*

Lev: Oi-yeeeh, you ain't sappost to be 'ere. Sling yer 'ook. Breakfost and vol-au-vents

Karlbert: I'll make meself sahme caold tea, sahn.

Karlbert shifts off

Stalin: Do you fancy a cup of hot tea, Lev?

Lev: I have not considered what an authority figure you are, so no, we're in a bit of a hurry.

Stalin: I don't think you heard the question, Lev. Cup of tea?

Lev: Now that I've remembered that you're the sociopathic revolutionary General Secretary and Leader of the Soviet Union, I am parched for a drink.

Int. Mik's Cafe

Lev is seated opposite to Leoney at the table, the suitcase is under their feet. Stalin and Yezhovkins are at the counter

Mik: There you go, General Secretary Stalin.

Stalin: Leader General Secretary, Stalin.

Lev: As you well know from the previous episode, Slater's a bastard so watch what you say.

Leoney: BOOHF?!

Lev: I s-



Yezhovkins: Watch what you say, Stalin's a wanker.

Lev: Oh. I remember him from last time.

Yezhovkins: Fucking canteen's closed on my supper break! The audacity! He's on the warpath. He's resigning (again) and wants to go out in a blaze of glory.

Lev: Resigning!

Yezhovkins: He's had no choice. He's a master dictator. He's using it as a manipulation tactic to make 'imself seem self-aware of his flaws and shows that he's been ineffective in very specific departments, which makes him seem endearing and even vulnerable. But people - as much as they disagree with most things he does - know what he's achieved what he's set out to do due to his bureaucratic consolidation of power. Nobody's gonna accept the resignation and replace 'im.

Leoney: Ineffective in wha'?

Yezhovkins: Oh, there was this one time where he had a'confession' beaten out of a bloke to admit that he was an imperial Japanese spy. Trouble was, the accused was a black fellow who moved from the U.S. to work at Magnitogorsk.

Stalin approaches the table with teas and a slice of pizza

Stalin: Bacon sandwich for you, Yezhovkins. Are you sure you don't want a bacon sandwich, Lev?

Lev: Nah, you're alright, Stalin. I'm against cannibalism, y'see, and it's against the law to assault an officer, let alone bite one. Wha' are you doin' back in the parish? I thought you'd been transferred to Stalingrad

Stalin: No, only visiting, it was a special assignment to do with a little gang of nugget smugglers.

Lev: Any luck capturing a second-'and car salesman and a diamond merchant?

Stalin: No. But the ringleadear's called Josip. Lack of evidence. Almost caught them twice. Between you and I, Lev, I've heard a whisper they're trying again, a couple of local b-

Yezhovkins: BERIACIE AND NA-

Stalin: Yezhovkins!! I don't know who the courier is. If I can catch him, case closed. This is why I'm having this cordial discussion with you, Lev.

Lev: Wha', you don't think I'm involved in this elaborate scheme?

Stalin: HA HA HA HA! Leave off, Lev. They'd need a sophisticated intellectual type to slip through the cracks. I'm aware you're not a grass, but please give your old comrade Stalin a telegram with the name of the mush who transported the nuggets. No more blue hats kicking you up the arse for trying to independently and privately earn a profit from your wheeling-dealing enterprise. *To Mik* Do you want me to pay for my pizza, Mik?



Mik: On the farm, Stalin

Stalin: Very communist, Mikhail. Very communist indeed. *To Yezhovkins* You'd better pay for your sandwich, Yezhovkins.

Leoney: Do you know if the courier is a woman? Perhaps her name is Imogen. Yeaaaah, you can arrest her for *ponders* smiling at a former White Army commander.

Stalin: Great thinking, Leoney. Have you ever thought about joining the Communist Party?

Leoney: No. I'm religious.

Stalin: Very funny. I know that he or she will be flying next week.

Stalin and Yezhovkins exit

Leoney: Well that's fucked before it's started.

Lev: It wasn't going to be plain sailing, brahv.

Leoney: We ain't going through with it now. Stalin's got the airports covered.

Lev: He can't watch the airports 24 hours a day. We'll have to hangglide or sammink.

Int. Beriacie's Showroom

Beriacie is enticing a couple of potential buyers for one of his Zaporozhets

Assistant: Phone for you, Comrade Beriacie.

Beriacie: Tell him or her to get FUCKED.

Assistant: Yeah, 'spose you're right to say that. It's some whiny bloke talking about nuggets. Who'd wan' a box of soppy pieces of chicken anyway?!



Beriacie: I'll be right there! *To couple* Ah yes, it's the new Buick Nuggets, an affordable vintage limo import, perfect for picking up young women off the streets. Do excuse me, Mr Hugecock.

Beriacie powerwalks to his office and raises the receiver to his ear

Beriacie: Yep?

Lev: It's Lev Boy. Listen, I've had a rivetting conversation with Stalin, General Secretary and Premier of the Bolshevik Yard.

Beriacie: Stalin!? What's he wan'?

Lev: He knows. He has more grass than Leoney's spliff.

Beriacie: How much does he know?

Lev: That you and Nafdul put up the money.

Beriacie: Cannot back out. Nafdul's contacted Comrade Tito. I've got 50,000 roubles and a state-owned tractor in my 'ouse. We've got to meet tonight and give you the dosh. then Nafdul can make the final arrangements.

Lev: My flat?

Beriacie: Piss the fuck off am I Astairing across to your dilapidated Khruschovka with a suitcase full of monetary bumwipes.

Lev: Okay... pub?

Beriacie: He befriended Leoney and spoke to Chevver and I in the previous episode. One midnight knock on the back room door and he's got us right to bangs. We need somewhere temporarily stationary and secluded where policeman won't inspect out of curiosity. We also need to be somewhere dark... like Robesil.

Lev: I know jast the place.

Beriacie: Where?

Int. Robesil's Lorry



Beriacie: Fuck me! *Pinches nose* does Robesil transport packets of ham slices or what?! Prime location.

Nafdul: I think it's a brilliant idea. Stalin would not look here in 74 years

Beriacie: But my suit, mate.

Nafdul: Whining woman.

Ext. Lorry

The Armoured train pulls in to a halt nearby. Lev spots Beriacie's limo

Lev: Right, they're here. Any danger you hoot like an owl or do a squirrel bark - they do emit a variety of sounds, honest.

Leoney: How about a Batman signal?

Lev: I ain't gonna see thaa-aat behind a steel door, you prannycock.

Leoney: Yeah, alrigh', but making a noise might attract unwan'ed attention and you could peer out of the door. 

Lev approaches the lorry's rear and gently opens the door

Lev: eeeello, 'ello, 'ello, what are you fascist counter-revolutionaries doing in 'ere, then?!

Beriacie: Get in 'ere, for Darwin's sake.

Int. Kremlin - Stalin's Office

Stalin is on his phone

Stalin: Leave it to me.

Stalin lowers the receiver

Stalin: Get your coat on, Yezhovkins, and find a uniformed officer. There's been a report of three kulaks looking for kerosone and buried sacks of grain in a cafeteria's car park.

Yezhovkins: Molotov, get a car around the front, pronto.

Int. Lorry

Nafdul: I spoke to Comrade Tito this morning about the date, venue, time. Listen carefully, Levrek. The exchange will take place this coming Friday at twelve, noon. Here is the address in Solovetsky, memorise and then eat it... or set fire to it, whichever.

Lev: *Reads paper* Big monastery, you can't miss it. *screws paper into a ball, lobs it and dusts his palms*

Nafbul: You will meet my cousin over there. He will be there to check the merchandise.

Lev: Jubbly fuck! You've got a brother in Hungary, a cousin in northern Russia. Sure you ain't got a sister in Odessa?

Nafdul: Yes I have.

Lev: Cash?

Beriacie: When you get to Tito's office give me a call and I'll tell you that the combination to the case is 1243.

Lev: Oh, grea' deal of trast, thinking I'll nip off with 50k on a tractor and avoid you two for the rest of my life. What about the expenses for plane tickets?

Nafdul: Plural?!

Lev: Yes. Leoney, the young former pothead, will accompany me and get his arseterisk checked over by the customs Gestapo.

Ext. Lorry Park

Nafdul and Beriacie make a smooth exit. Seconds later, Stalin's Cadillac appears

Stalin, Yezhovkins and Molotov exit their car and begin to inspect the lorries. Leoney cups his palms and begins to uselessly blow air into it

Leoney: FfFfWUuUUuHHhH!!

Molotov: What was that deflated sound?

Stalin: The provisional government.

Leoney (Muttered): Provisional government!? Cunt!

Lev peeks out of the door and sees Stalin's Cadillac

Lev: Wank off for Busey! I'll get my fingers deviated.

Stalin: We'll have a quick shuffle and call it a night.

Stalin shines the light into the trailer that's empty yet has a Lev-shaped tarpaulin at the rear

Stalin: These lorry jockeys invite kulaks, don't they?

Stalin places the latch into a locked position

Leoney is still watching from the armoured train. Robesil strides back to his lorry

Ghetto Blaster: WEST. END. GIRLS. PPPPEHGHK! BEOWN-DOH-DA-DUAOH!

Leoney (whispered): Robesil! Robesil!

Robesil climbs into his cab and trundles off

Lev is trying to force the doors open

Lev: Robesil! Robesil, you twonking cunt! I'm in 'ere!

Leoney desperately tries to stoke the fire

Leoney: Come on, please, please! I'll give you a bath.

Leoney's armoured train chugs off in pursuit of Robesil's lorry

Int. Kremlin

Stalin: Prankster motherfuckers! Write down everything Beriacie and Nafdul do. I wan' to know who's the courier, Yezhovkins.

Yezhovkins: Bound to be local, Comrade Stalin

Stalin: They've got to have someone they're not paranoid over

Yezhovkins: Mystery.

Stalin: Lev Boy's armoured train is missing, toured the area, no peep of it

Yezhovkins: Perhaps someone's nicked it.

Stalin: Yes, is it attractive. It has an ornate interior and a vast desk, printing room, garage - everything

Yezhovkins: Yeah.

Stalin: Something's just struck me like my drunk father, apparently, if documented evidence for a man who's been papped in one existing photo is anything to go by. Lev Boy is quite the sophisticated intellectual. He may have his thick wave of hair and KFC founder face, but Lev Boy's well acquainted with the ways of Bolsheviks. He invented the iron hammer. That brother of his has a Young Pioneer badge for Holodomor Census.

Yezhovkins: What are you saying, Comrade Stalin?

Stalin: Maybe those two are more intelligent than we give them credit for. Yes, it's all their master plan. The Croatians are the suppliers. Beriacie and Nafdul are the money men and the Trotterskys are the brains.

Yezhovkins: Yes, sounds plausible.

Stalin: Oh, have some dynamite, mate. I'm joking.

Yezhovkins: Sorry, comrade.

Int. Robesil's lorry

The lorry thunders across the motorway as Lev tirelessly knocks on the back of the trailer

Lev: ROBESIL! OLLLLDDD MAAAAAN RI-VERRRRRRRRRRRRR.

Robesil can faintly hear Lev's voice and believes it to be imaginary. He turns up the volume of the radio

The Armoured train passes a sign which reads The Arkhangelsk. Leoney parks alongside a booth

Tolld Bridge Man: That's a coppeck.

Leoney: What?

Toll Bridge Man: A coppeck.

Leoney: This train has 26 wheels.

Toll Bridge Man: There isn't a silhouette of a train on my sign.

Leoney jangles the coins

Leoney: I lav 'im, I jast bloody lav 'im.

Leoney stokes the coals and steams away

Int. Dockside Cafe

Robesil's lorry is parked outside

Lil: 'ere y'go. I stoock t'kettle for y'cohpa teaaaa an' it's all dohne.

Robesil: Thanks.

Lil: Y'looking vereh tired. Y'doing awll thurse night-shift delivereh, it'll mek y'tired in the eyes, Gruhmit.

Robesil: My complexion is dark like the night, Lil.

Lil: Well durn't ge' y'self urver worked, luvvie. Or else y'might go doolally.

Robesil ponders her words yet shakes his head in defiance. He glimpses the armoured train chugging by in a reflection. He turns and sees nothing behind him

Ext. Cafe Car Park

Leoney draws up behind the lorry. He opens the rear doors and finds a scruffy Lev is asleep under the tarpaulin.

Leoney: Del!

Lev: Del?!?! Oh, it's you, Leoney. You're a gaolden naggit for rescuing me. Speaking of a golden nugget, it's about time we departed on our mission. Where are we any'ow?

Leoney: Arkhangelsk.

Lev: Fuckin' Arkhangelsk!?!? That's... a distance.

Leoney: Yes. Oh well, get yourself a coppeck ready, we're heading back home.

Lev: Yes, both of our boats look tired. *Lev smiles triumphantly* Thassit! I know how we're getting to Solovetsky.

Leoney: What, follow Robesil's lorry again?

Lev: Naooh, you fuckin' tart. Over there!

Leoney: You mean... we'll swim across?!

Lev: Leave-it-aht! We're not going to be doing the old breathstroke.

Leoney: Breast.

Lev: This is no time to be thinking about tits, Leoney! Well, p'rhaps if we were going to Amsterdam to knock about the Red Line District.

Leoney: Yeah, the only red line we'd get is the Central

Lev: We ain't gonna appendage our way across the gulp, we're gonna hire a vessel and nauticise to our destination.

Leoney: Nahne of us can sail.

Lev: I know thaa-aat. We'll give Uncle Karlbert a call soon

Leoney: Yeah? Why, does he know a sailor?

Audience laughter track: Mahahahaahaha.

Lev: Okay, he's capsized on several occasions; he's had more tugs than a masturbation enthusiast. But he'll do a better job than us.

Leoney: Yeah, we'll sink quickly.

Lev: That's enough of your sarky comments. Let's see about obtaining a rafter.

Lev crosses the road while Leoney sits in the train. Lobesil is in his lorry and faces the crossing pedestrains. he cartoonishly rubs his eyes until everyone has crossed

Ext. Dockside

Lev: Ahoy there, gumbo

Seaman: Mornin'

Lev: I wanna hire a Schubert.

Seaman: LOLZ. I have jost t'bert f'yeh, y' sovvern poff.

Lev: Ah, si si. It have engine?

Seaman: Oh aye. Y'can tek Minge out f'weekend. 20 roubles.

Lev and Leoney are conferring

Leoney: There is no way Commissar Birdseye is going to convey us to the island of gold, ma'e.

Lev: Oh alright, fair enaff... I have faith in you, Leoney.

Leoney: Erm, perhaps we ought to go the station.

Ext. Arkhangelsk Station

Karlbert stands before Lev and Leoney, with a dufflebag draped over his shoulder

Leoney: Oh, dear Darwin. Comsmic!

Lev: Oh, leavidaht, Leoney. That is the greatest sailor since Reinhold Glière.

Leoney: Lev, he's managed to bollocks up every hull except the one in Yorkshire.

Lev: Did he? Wha' about our Uncle Karlbert?

Leoney: I'm talking about Karlbert. And Reinhold Gliere wasn't a famous sailor.

Lev: No? Well he shoulda been.

Karlbert: Ahoy there, Comrades. All shitshaped in Bristol's fashion, ready to seize the means of prodaction on the waves, sahn.

Lev: Yes, I am startled by your vernacular, Karlbert. I presume your commandeering ability is on par with yer slang. Did you bring your passport?

Karlbert: I def'nitely did, sahn.

Lev: A change of clothes?

Karlbert: Yes, only for myself.

Lev:  You divvy old selfish minuscule bicycle of an atom, you reeeeally are, the Karlbert! You're so selfish you forgot about us.

Karlbert: It's not often your two nephews vanish ahp norf. *Does dramatic wag of his head* 'ow mar sappost to think abaht yer attire.

Leoney: Well, I danno, maybe reeking of hot lemons and old cabbage could be a sign that we need a surfeit of fresh clobber. In fact, that's precisely the verb I wanna do to you.

Lev: Oi, packet inn. Right, cahme on, Skippy. Let's show you the submarine.

Karlbert: Yes, one needs to scrutinise the cleats and transom before she meets my approval

Lev: Pissing shame if you dislike Minge, because you're at the helm in 16:00 hours, and if you dahn't like it, I'll give you a stern kick up your rear end bum.

Ext. Arkhangelsk Dock



Lev: Karlbert, decrease the knots

Karlbert: Yah?! Baht whoy wohd you untie the ancah?

Lev (Muttered): I don't buhlieve 'im!!

Karlbert: Eh?!

Lev: Go to your right.

Albert: You mean Starburst

Lev: I mean right. Don't you start all that Opal Fruits capitalist cobblers with me. *To passing ship* Sorry, squire? And you, son!!

Robesil is walking along the shore with concern

Robesil: Okay, Robesil, it's soliloquy tiime. Talking to yeself is deh fairst sign of madness, ahlrait. Now, inhale, closed eyes and... open.

Lev is at the bow of Minge as it crusing out of the estuary

Robesil: Earldon Warrennett! I-I'm sick! I'm sick!

Robesil cautiously runs in the opposite direction

Ext. Minge. Sea

Leoney: Uh feehw ssick, Lev.

Lev: Fuck a banana, brahv. We've hit an inferior ripple, you wait for the deluge.

Leoney: Huuark!



Lev: Cough it ahp, might be a ration card. *Inhales with conceit* This gets the old tingle in yer Zelda. This Soviet 1/6th. Stitched ahp the Menscheviks. Makes ya prahd to be a Communist, dunnit? *sings* Союз нерушимый республик свободных. Сплотила навеки Великая Русь. Да здравствует созданный волей народов. Единый, могучий Советский Союз!

Int. Minge. Night (Sea)

The Trotterskys are sat inside the wheelhouse

Lev: Have you got any notion where we're loca'ed?

Karlbert: No. It's hard to see at nigh'

Lev: Wha' I mean iiiis have you checked the charts?

Karlbert: W'nah. I daon't see the poin' in lookin' ahp 'oo's doin' superbly in the music world.

Lve: We're tryna get on land in order to obtain a pouch of gold nuggets, not a fuckin' gold record, you silly aold fuckin' goa'.

Leoney: How in Darwin's name are we supposed to get to Solovetsky?

Karlbert: Lev said it weren't too far.

Lev: Well, on the map it seems like a piece of piss. Middle of the cunting night and not a monastery in sight. I thought you said you can sail a boat.

Karlbert: I am capable of sailing. I ain't the commissar of cartography and geography. *Bobs head*

Leoney is checking the chart

Leoney: According to you, we're somewhere between the Antarctic peninsula and the Caspian Sea.

Karlbert: When I was in the German Navy I was boilah maintenance man. I never 'ad to study navigation.

Leoney: He's somethin' else, ain't 'e? What about all the currents around 'ere, eh?

Lev: Yes. And you don't wanna topple overboard or else you'll get an electric shock.

Leoney: What?! There's no thunderstorm aht there.

Lev: Yes, thank you, I'm well aware of that, Leoney. I meant when I shove a generator up his arsehole and fling 'im overboard.

Leoney looks up at the sky

Leoney: The stars

Lev: Red ones?

Leoney: You can steer by the stars

Karlbert: That's a fuckin' grea' ardea, Leoney.

The Trotterskys leave the wheelhouse and stare at the sky



Karlbert: There's milyons of 'em, ain't there?

Lev: We ought to name a constellation after you - The Big Dipstick.

Karlbert: They have names like Orion's Belt.

Lev: Can't you just find the Belt?

Karlbert: Wha' does it look like?

Lev: Well, it's a leather strap and buckle inside a cinema, innit.

Karlbert: Look ahp there, it's a Cawncawde.

Lev: No it ain't, you bearded useless. They don't fly 'em anymore.

Karlbert: I know. I'm aonly saying, Cawncawde.

Lev: I'm gonna purge 'im! I'm gonna purge 'im, the soppy aold cock.

Leoney: Leave 'im alone, Lev.

It's the following morning

Lev: Cahp of tea. Sorry abaht the sea salt.

Leoney: Where's Ahab?

Lev: Fucking abaht with the radio.

Leoney: At least he's trying to make contact with the coastguard.

Lev: He's tryin' to get Capital FM on the radio. Rihanna's gonna be on again for the 12th time today.

Lev spots something upon the horizon

Lev: Full mast, Horatio. We are going to Solovetsky Island.

Minge sails close to an oil rig

Lev: Oi, Com? Which way to Solovetsky?

Oil Rig Man: It's over there.

Lev: Cheers, pal. Karlbert, Solovetsky is to the Opal Fruits. Hey diddly dee, my name's Lev Trotter sky.

Ext. Canal

Leoney: Where the fuck are we?

Lev: We're still in the sea.

Leoney: I know that, I know where we are but... where are sea?

Karlbert: This is the Whi'e Sea, Leoney. Takes us straigh' to Solovetsky.

Lev: Yeah, don't act suspicious. Blend into the sarroundings.

Lev waves at monks

Lev: HOXHA!

Leoney: Lev, erm, this Tito bloke you're meeting for the exchange, right, he's a Croatian, ain't 'e?

Lev: Yes, annnnd?

Leoney: Well, I have to be pedantic.

Lev: You ain't gone all Jimmy Savile on me, have you?

Leoney: No, I said pedantic. Any'ow, 'Hoxha' is the surname of the leader of Albania.

Lev: W'yeah... I know thaa-aaht. But they're all part of them statellite states of sammink, eh. It's called Yoghurtsalvia.

Leoney: YYYYeah, grea' point, Lev.

Int. Beriacie's Sound-proof Office



Beriacie: It's a nanosecond past the six. Why he no ring?

Nafdul: Perhaps they've sunk.

Beriacie: No, Captain Karlbert of S.S. Minge is commandeering the sh- yeah, maybe they have gone in the drink

The phone rings................................ Beriacie answers

Beriacie: Hello? Oh hello, Mr Hugecock. You purchased a car from us when? Well, I couldn't give a seeping rectum if your death-trap has wheezed out on the zoom strip. My advice is masticate on your pride, fuck it abrasively, right this minute and necessarily in that precise order. No, this is not Mr Beria speaking. This is his buried rape victims.

Ext. Monastery

The Trotterskys inspect the name plates on the Monastery

Lev: You stay here.

Leoney: Why?

Lev: 'cause we don't know what sort of gree'ing we're gonna get. Might turn nasty

Leoney: Very thougthful of you, Lev. Usually, you get me lumbered into your schemes and what 'ave you.

Lev: Now that you mention it, y'knah, I do think that it'd be wise for me to have my trustworthy bodyguard with me.

Leoney: I'm stayin' put. I sweep ahp and make the toiea.

Lev: Wallystick! Any sign of trouble, don't make the sound of slashed bagpipes, alrigh'?

Leoney: Fine. I can do Batman bahnny sha-a-dows.

Lev: Stay put.

Karlbert: It's for the best, sahn.

Int. Tito's Office

Tito is sat at his desk, smoking a cigarette, he has two bodyguards beside him. Nafdul's cousin is sat in a chair. There is a knock on the door

Lev: Good afternoon. Levrek Trottersky from Moscow. Pat the briefcase.

The bodyguard glances at Tito who gestures to allow Lev entry

Lev: Good afternoon, Comrade Tito. Sorry I'm a bit late. You can never find an oil rig when you need one.



Tito: Ah, not to worry, Comrade Trottersky. This is Mr Frenkel, Nafdul's cousin. And these two gentlemen are my assistants.

Lev (Nods at bodyguard): 'es a chunker. I bet it's all that vodka he eats.

Tito: Do you have the roubles?

Lev: Yes. And the nuggets?

Tito: Yes, I have them here. *Pats desk drawers* which one did I put the fuckers in? Ah, here we are.

Tito opens a pouch of nuggets on to a table

Tito: If you give them a once-over, I'll make a quick call

Int. Beriacie's Office

The telephone rings and Beriacie swipes it up with alacrity

Beriacie: Hello? Oh, good afternoon, Comrade Tito. *To Nafdul* It's 'im!

Nafdul: Uh knoow thaart.

Tito Phone: Your man has just arrived. He wants a flap.

Lev Phone: Hello Ber-

Nafdul: Is my cousin there?

Beriacie: Is Nafdul's cousin there, Lev?

Lev Phone: Yes. He's using one of those Christmas cracker prism telescope things from the tsarist era

Frenkel: These gold nuggets are gold. 24 carat and make no mistake about it.

Lev Phone: He says they're legit shit.

Beriacie: He says the nuggets are good. Okay, Lev, I'm going to give...

Lev adjusts the rolling locks on the briefcase

Beriacie: ...you the combination to the briefcase.

The briefcase pops open

Audience laughter track: MWUHHAHAAH

Beriacie: 1. 2. 4. 3.

Comrade Tito's bodyguard flicks through a few wads

Lev looks on anxiously until the bodyguard firmly nods with approval

Tito: Good. I believe these are yours, Comrade Trottersky.

Lev graciously takes the pouch

Lev: Narce wan. *On phone* We've got a deal. Everything went as sweet as a... erm... sweet. I'll see you soon.

Beriacie Yeah. Don't you go fuckin' runnin' off into the sunset with th-

Lev hangs up

Comrade Frenkel: Will you be requiring my service any longer?

Lev: Nah, off you wander, pal.

Tito: Good day and good luck, Comrade Trottersky

Lev: Thank you. *To bodyguard* Hoxha!

Ext. Monastery

Lev: Lubyanka jubbly! The deal wen' off withaht a snag

A man with a white moustache appears to survey the Trotterskys



Leoney: Lev!!

Leoney gestures to a distant wagon

Lev: Foot it!!

The Trotterskys sprint

Leg-it Music

Karlbert: Puff! Puff! I carn't keep this pace ahp. G-go on without me, boys.

Leoney: Yeah, leave old smoke jaw to get shot. I'm being selfish for once.

Lev: Cahme on, brahv. You can't leave the antiquated cunt to face the tuneful composition.

The Trotskys hold their hands up and the white moustached man zips past with the NKVD in pursuit



Lev: Oh! They weren't for us. Let's ge' aht of 'ere lively, 'cause 'training for the Olympics' as soon as you look at uniformed men and holding your hands up looks very suspicious. You dozy little twank, Leoney! Why did you shaht rahn?

Leoney: It was breathless that said it.

Karlbert: You knah me, sahn. I said naffin'. I kept my opinyons to meself.

Int. Kremlin. Stalin's Office

Yezhovkins: You rang, m'premier?



Stalin: We've got our man, Yezhovkins.

Yezhovkins: Lev?! How did you figure that out, comrade?

Stalin: Funny sensation. Remember that time I almost shat myself because of that curry?

Yezhovkins: Yes. But what does that have to do with your hunch?

Stalin: Well, Lev likes his curry and he's the biggest dump of them all. I have  Poskrebyshev and Malenkov covering Leninton Airport. There's a troika going through Heathdomor, and you and I are at Genrikh Airport. Right, Yezhovkins, I'm going to teach you the basic rules of airport spying. Remember paranoia, Yezhovkins. Suspect everyone, from the socialists, the anarchists and the petit-bourgeois. What's the most important thing we have to do, Yezhovkins?

Yezhovkins: I don't know, comrade.



Yezhovkins: Dress up as John Wayne.

Stalin: What do I look like?

Yezhovkins: Well, erm, you look like yourself but with a large hat.

Stalin: I look like I've spent a week in Sochi.

Yezhovkins: Oh, I see - blend into the surroundings after having a salt bath.

Stalin: The first rule of spying is: don't look conspicuous. *Looks with disapproval* We'll have to get you something, Yezhovkins. You look like a right cunt.

Ext. Minge - Middle of the White Sea

Lev: Joust my arse with a boiling pin! How can we be lost again?! I thought you'd memorise the velocity of the H2O?

Karlbert: The sea is like a fam'ly album of cahntless twins. It's like several Annas' wa'ers braoke and tha' woz it! Looka'em! 'ow am I sappost to tell the dif'ronce?!

Leoney: Lev, there's a ship!!

Lev: Brillyunt news, Leoney. Yeah, I expect we'll see traffic on the road - if we make it to shore again.

Leoney: It's the Solovetsky to Arkhangelsk ferry.

Lev: Well spotted, Leoners. Karlbert!

Karlbert: Yah, sahn?

Lev: Set Minge's coordinates for that boat.

Karlbert: Daon't you mean Star Trek?

Lev: Oh, I get it - beam me up, Shitty.

Int. Back Room of the Bear's Head

Nafdul: According to this Lev Boy watch, it's 6:30pm

Beriacie: I ain't got a Lev Boy watch, therefore the time on mine is correct - half past twelve.

Nafdul: Fucking timepiece.

Beriacie: Lev phoned me and said he dropped anchor in Russia, not that he ever left Russia but, you know, an island is still foreign. Maybe they got into Robesil's lorry on the way h-

Armoured Train: HHWWWWUUOOOT!

Nafdul: It's them.

The train stops outside of the pub

Lev: Let Santa aht the back, Leoney?

Beriacie unlocks and opens the back door for the Trotterskys

Beriacie: Where the fuck have you been?!

Lev: Alright, keep your pince nez on. We got lost in the middle of the White Sea

Nafdul: The plane crashed?

Lev: Naoh, we boated it there. The fucking ferry went the wrong way. For the next hour there was about as much ferry as a cancelled Roxy Music gig.

Audience Laughter Track: AHAHAHAHAHAH IT'S ALL IN FILM.

Beriacie: Nuggets?

Lev: Currency on the table

The door is kicked open



Stalin: No man, no misquote.

Beriacie: Stalin?!?!

Lev: RahhwEhHQuIcKoutThiSWaY

Yezhovkins and Molotov block the exits

Stalin: Off you fuck, you pair.

Stalin circles the table and picks up the pouch

Stalin:  They're pretty, ain't they?

Nafdul: General Secretary

Stalin: Leader General Secretary

Nafdul: To each according to his and her ability. Can we centralise this gentlemen's matter?

Stalin: Nah, you're fu'ing nicked, me old be-yoo-tay.

Stalin reacts to the smell of the Trotterskys

Stalin: You reek of a Show Trial

Karlbert: So wohd you if you were flao'ing on Minge

Stalin: Oh, you came in by boat. I've wasted 18 hours at Genrikh waiting for you. Who are you, little individual?

Karlbert: I'm the boys' uncle.

Stalin: Yes, the family resemblance is uncanny to a crisp. It's the 60-year-old wrinkles, epidermis bonce and voluminous beard - dead giveaway. My last case and I've got to nick two of my school chums.

Leoney: Aouldon, I was never in your year.

Stalin: Beriacie is the other one.

Stalin puts the last nugget back into the pouch

Stalin: 30, spot on.

Beriacie: Give us an amnesty, Joe. Lev Boy did all the smuggling; we're not culpable in any way.

Nafdul: Yes, nothing to do with us. Why we're meeting them in a back room of the Bear's Head is beyond us.

Karlbert: I was the brains behind the Minge.

Stalin: Alright, I've counter-signed the decision. We can do it in one of two ways. One, I take you down the Kolyma mines for five years. Or two, I put the pouch in my pocket and do one - not 'one' as in the first proposal. I mean 'leave'.

Beriacie: Yes, option two is top.

Nafdul: I will merrily go along with this.

Stalin: Lev Boy, your thoughts?

Lev sneers

Lev: Something smells distinctly like shit and it ain't just my undercrackers. How come you knew there were thirty in that bag?

Leoney: Yeah. And how come you knew who was involved from the start?

Lev: Just a dodgy watch minute! When we were in the cafe the other day, you mentioned a bloke whom you couldn't nick for smuggling diamonds 'cause of lack of evidence.

Stalin: You mean Josip?

Karlbert: oo's Josip?

All: SHUT UP, KARLBERT!!

Karlbert: Daon't 'ave a pop at me. I though' 'is name was Titaoh.

Lev: His surname wouldn't have been 'Broz' by any chance?

Stalin: You found me out, you raspberry.

Beriacie: You and Tito?!

Stalin: That's right. He sent me pepperoni. He sets up a bunch of McCarthyites greedy enough to smuggle nuggets into the country. Well, a region of Russia. And I pick them up on this side of the water. It's the third time we've pulled it off - and I ain't talking about my cock. And there's sweet Football Association you can do about it, Perrier. Unless, of course, you fancy a rewarding holiday at the SLON. Well, I believe that concludes our business. Have a nice life, Del Boy.

Lev: I have no idea 'oo tha' is. But I hope we bump into each other... again.

Stalin: I don't think so, Levrek. I'm going a long way away from here - foreshadowing. Cheer up, coms, still got your repression.

Stalin exits

Beriacie: You twerk, Nafdul!

Nafdul: How was I supposed to know Tito was a crook? He forron like me with accent.

Beriacie: Where are y'going, Lev.

Lev: Back to Robesil's lorry. Maybe it'll take me far away from you, you plonking paira backstabbing shitbrothels.

Beriacie: I wouldn't do that, Lev Boy.

Lev: Why no'? Are you gonna vouchsafe a coupla grand to say sorry?

Beriacie: Nah. Robesil's gonna deliver a pianar to my manor this evening.

Lev: You sent me a few 'undred miles away. I've been to Solovesty and back! Stalin's ensconced the diamonds into his trenchcoat. And to fuck it all, my two comrades grassed me ahp.

Nafdul: It was a diversary tactic.

Karlbert: Yeah, diver' the blame from yerselves. UuAgh-HuErgH-MeeGh-HyoUer-OoUgh-HaEah!

They frown with dismay

Karlbert: Sorry, sahn. I ain't dahne my trademark larf ye'. Ar'll make sahm taostfost, sahn.

Lev: Come on, Leoney................................................................. Karlbert. Let's sling our 'ooks.

Int. Stalin's Cadillac

Yezhovkins: No diamonds again for the third time.

Stalin: If it's good enough for Roosevelt.



Yezhovkins: Do you know what I think.

Stalin: To be honest, I'm not interested. You're not paid to think, you're paid to be conscious enough to steer this vehicle back to one of my dachas.

Yezhovkins swings the car into a side road

Stalin: This gaggle of NKVD henchmen are not my house.

Yezhovkins: The canteen's closed and I was wondering if these comrades knew where I could get the key.

Stalin: What's all this?!

Yezhovkins: They've known about your 'collaborations with Goebbels' for a while now.

Stalin: Look, Yezhovkins. Nikolai, use your loaf. I'm the dictator and I can easily vanquish my opponents. Help me out and I won't demote you to Commissar of Water Transport.

Yezhovkin: The Central Committee and Politburo have had enough of you. We've accepted your resignation.

Stalin screws his face up in defeat

Int. Leningrad Bank



Int. Bear's Head

Nafdul: Does Lenin know we're here?

Beriacie: No.

Nafdul: There must be something we can do. I'll phone the police.

Beriacie: Phone the rozzers?! Oh yeah, what shall we say, a revolutionary tyrant disguised as John Marston nicked our forbidden pebbles?

Nafdul: I see your point. At least the only money we lost was fake.

Beriacie: Apart from the 15 grand Stalin snapped up.

Nafdul: Lev's intended wage packet was actually genuine?!

Beriacie: Came out of the bank Friday. Lev the shortarse who's adept and renowned for his punching and roundhouse kicks would surely malign my face. I am gutted. Gutted!!

Int. Trottersky's Flat

Leoney: It ain't turned out as bad as you think.

Lev: Too right, fucking jubblytastic, moy sahn

Leoney: Buh?!

Karlbert: Would you like a coupla doimonds with yer vol-au-vents?

Karlbert suavely puffs on his pipe. As the smoke dissipates, his palm hovers into view with two diamonds resting on it

Lev adjusts the cuffs of his shirt

Lev: 'ow abou' two cats' cocks? Worth 5k each, sell the pair for six, split it three ways and you get a grand each, hahahahaha.

Leoney: FOUR?!?! Feast your oculars on this *waves a jelly-like wad of cash* dad-dey, dad-dey.

Karlbert: You crafty, tall wanker, Leoney.

Lev: You know what I'm gonna do with this wad of roubles?

Leoney: Yes! Invest. This time next year we won't be 15-grandernaires.



Karlbert: For a minu'e I though' 'e throo tha' dosh orf the balcony!

Leoney: Yes... nothing but inexplicable confetti.

Lev: The money was dud. I am an expert in this sorta thing. Beriacie stuffed cahnterfeit mahney into the briefacse for Tito. Wha' do you think I am, eh, sahme sor' ov capitalist?



DangledTeeth

August 02, 2021, 12:07:33 AM #35 Last Edit: August 02, 2021, 01:17:32 AM by DangledTeeth








BOLSH BOLSH BOLSH BOLSH BOLSH BOLSH BOLSH BOLSH
No income tax, no V.A.T. No money back. No private property.

Int. Nigthclub

A sign reads "Auditions. Please report to back door". The owner and manager of the club (both tough-looking characters of 45) are seated facing the stage, on which a 20-year-old girl is singing accompanied by the club's
pianist. Seated at the bar are Lev, excited and power-dressed, and Leoney, bored and casually dressed. The girl is singing 'Feelings'


Lev: Gaw, she's like a dog 'umping a turd

Leoney: What, wild and dirty?

Lev: Naoh, fucking shit.

Leoney: I have not the clueiest why you summoned myself hered.

Lev: Well, you've been 'exiled' from yer job at that printing... job. Wha' else would you be doin' at 10 of the morning, aeh? Playing with your cock while using it to prop ahp the duvet to look like a tent. I thought you could applaud Nadezdha.

Leoney: Applaud 'er? She's abou' to sing a fucking ridiculous s-

Lev: I chaose ih!

Leoney: Explained.

Owner: Nexxxxxxxxxxxxxxt. Nadezhda Alliyuleva.

Nadezhda enters the stage and glances nervously to a proud Lev and sympathetic Leoney.

Nadezhda: Yo, motherfucker! What the fuck you lookin' at?! Get out of my motherfuckin' face, right now!

Owner: Are you her agent?

Lev: In Soevyet RrRrRaasha, everybody MGB agent. I giv yoo thyis prihzhent, yez? You will opon the chawklets by 12 noon, urkay?

Owner: Excuse me?!

Lev: I'm not her agent, but I do represent her in a professional capaci'y. Have a business card, squire. Trottersky's Worldwide Agency of Talented Singers, working in conjunction with Communist Union's Nationalised Transport Service for the tours. Do you know Maxim Gorky?

Owner: No, not as a mate.

Lev: Oh, well, he's no singer, but I was wondering if you 'eard of the chap.

Nadezhda turns and reveals that she's five month's pregnant

Owner: Pack your arse and shit off!

Lev: You ruddy fuckin' mare!

Int. Trottersky's Lounge

Karlbert is asleep in an armchair. A fax machine whirs into life and churns out a sheet of paper. Seconds after, Lev, Leoney and Nadezhda enter the hall, which causes Karlbert to leap out of the chair and begin hoovering

Karlbert: The blaooow is winnnnding. Lyrics are all bollocksed ahp and it's the wrong episaode.

Leoney: Alrigh', Unc?

Karlbert: Phew, I ain't stopt sih-in' in tha' awmchayr since you jast aopund the fran' door. Nar ar'm pretendin' to be 'oovering the shop. *taps nose* you knah me, sahn. I'm sayin' naffin' abah' caold vol-au-vents and slinged 'ooks. *bobs head* 'ow'd yer awdishun gao, lav? I be' you sang a righ' bel'ah.

Nadezhda: Don't ask!

Karlbert: I already did. uRh-HyErR-eaH-HoAUrR

Nadezhda: He got me to rap 'Black Sheep - U Mean I'm Not'

Lev enter

Lev: Engine, engine 1929, I didn't follow the Party line. Maybe next time we'll choose a song by Madonna.

Nadezhda: Yeah, Die Another Day.

Lev: I'll make a p- Leoney, whack the pot of tea on, there's a good lad.

Leoney: Why me?

Lev: Nadezhda's pregnant and your uncle's tired after chillmaxing in the recliner. You ain't got no job, so the gov'ner has requested you to boil the translucent

Karlbert: The CPSU say it's alrigh' fer you to 'ave a cahp of tea between employment, sahn.

Lev: I am a trailblazing captain of industrialisation. I am dealing with all the intelligentsia.

Leoney: Yeah, in Camp No. 48

Lev: My fuckin' pals are not in prison.

Leoney: Twattain of 'imdoesnothingrealisation, more like. I mean, look at those blocky contraptions he's bought.

Karlbert: 'andy things to 'ave, Leoney.

Leoney: Yeah, if the State have supplied you with one. In the two days he's been wired to the worldwide fax he's had no messages so f- *reacts to machine* you've got an email prin'ed on paper, Del.

Lev: oo's Delchel? Haow does it feel to see unbelievable pictures of Michelle Ryan from EastEnders? Clickbait. *reads* It's from Lenin at the Bear's Head. He applied for one and I gave it to him off the blackmarket. Buncely Oncely. Fuck everyone! He's a moaner, ain't 'e. 'Fux Muchine net walking pooply' wha' does he want for 20 roubles?! Wha' abou' this then? I've aonly been invited to the Show Trial Reunion.

Karlbert: No ardea wha' tha' entailed, you're kiddin'?!

Lev: Naoh, heterosexual above or straigh' ahp. It's the people who wen' to witness the Show Trials an' all the comrades involved, apart from the poor gits who were executed. No one wants to exhume corpses from the woods all so that we can 'ave a knees-ahp with malodorous crumbling people.

Lev enters the kitchen



Lev: There's a Show Trial reunion at the Bear's Head

Nadezhda: I am reading a letter. Concerned. It's from my lawyers. They've managed to trace my husband and told him that I've started divorce proceedings.

Lev: Good... and what's he say about it?

Nadezhda: Consid-

Lev: Daon't warry abou' that cock. He'll have to get past me. Let the lawyers... lawyererise. I wan' a real wedding. *Indicating pregnant stomach* that cunt shrimp wasn't planned, but he'll be gushing out with his gut kofte attached to yer volvo soon enaff. Scotsman's wig temporarily included.

Leoney: No, you ought to cut out the biscuits and fried breakfasts.

Lev: I'm referring to Nadezhda's sto- *Leoney laughs* hilarious, brahv.

Nadezhda: Promise me you won't get drunk with your pals tonight?

Lev: On your pissin' sled!

Int. Bear's Head. Hire Room

A spread of snacks are laid out on the table. Lev and Robesil are seated and find it tedious. Beriacie checks his watch and he foots around the room. Leoney is seated in the corner and is sipping a beer, smoking a cigarette

Beriacie: This is terribly shit! The reunion was supposed to start at 7:30 and now it's 8:10.

Lev: Is that the watch you bough' off me?

Beriacie ironically pouts

Beriacie: Yes.

Lenin enters with more food

Lenin: Ain't 'e here yet?

Robesil: Who?

Lenin: The host. The bloke who paid for all of this according to his wallet. He said he'd arrive late, wants to surprise you.

Lev: There ain't gonna be any MGB agents 'ere to batter us ahp?

Lenin: About your fax mach-

Lev: Yes, you shall receive a letter of apology via your knackered fax machine.

Beriacie: Who's the bloke's name, then?

Lenin: I don't know.

Robesil: Didn't you write his name down on the receipt for your accounts?

Lenin: Erm, no.

Beriacie: He coughed up the cash?

Lenin: Yes.

Robesil: Looks? Tall?

Lenin: Yes, very height.

Lev: Did he have a scar running down from the bridge of 'is nose to 'is mouth?

Lenin: No. But he did have fiery almond eyes, a walrus 'tache and a face that looks like a pizza after being used as a pin cushion

Lev: Not a lot to go on, inspegktaw.

Beriacie: It's not Sergo Organkidneys.

The door slowly opens. They stiffen in anguish

Chevver enters

Lev: Maybe he organised this

Beriacie: Oh, leave it out, Lev. He couldn't organise a piss-up in a pub... oh. Erm, he couldn't organise a prayer in a church.

Leoney: That's because religion is practically extinct.

Beriacie: HAGH-AGH-EGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH-EGH-AGH

Chevver: Less of that! I'm the head of the Soviet Union now. Any more disrespect like that and I shall have you porked.

Leoney: It's purged.

Chevver: I wouldn't go that far, Kalinin. But it is a long time.

Robesil: Speaking of porked, I hope it's not Bendover Bolshevik, otherwise known as Comrade Bottom-basher.

Lev: Naoh, 'e was one of the people who got shot.

Beriacie: I though' he was one of the executioners?

Lev: Yeah, one of the other riflemen aimed at 'im by mistake.

Chevver: I got lost on the way here.

Robesil: How can that happen?! You've been khoming to his pohb feh yeehs, since you were ten.

Leoney: Yea- TENNNN?!

Chevver: No, wha' I mean is in this pub. I got lost coming to this room. I've been standing in the dance hall for abou' 'alf an hour.

Beriacie: I saw the room through the gap in the door. It was pitch black. did you switch the light on?

Chvver: W'nah. I thought you were all in there and we were gonna jump out and surprise someone.

They all appear aghast

Leoney: This is all really mysterious. Something out of a Leo Tolstoy novel.

Chevver: I used to fancy her.

Robesil: Her?!

Chevver: Yeah. She was good in Switch.

Beriacie: That's Téa Leoni, you cunt.

Chevver: Wha'ever!! I fancied 'er.

Leoney: Someone has paid to have a spread of food and alcohol here and for you all to congregate inside this room. Now, think long and hard who could have orchestrated this.

They all appear lost in thought

Chevver: Michael Aspel.

Beriacie: Michael Motherfuckin' Arseholin' Aspel?!

Leoney: Daon't bey schoopid.

Lev: This is Your Life?! More like 'This is My Wife'. Foreshadowing.

Robesil: But what if Bendover Bolshevik's ghost has come backhgk to haunt and bohm os won last tiime before going to, erm, the atheistic non-afterlife. Or the eteernul dark.

Lev: Don't try to scare us, Leoney.

Leoney: Eh!? I didn't say anything, Robesil did. I think I'll check on Karlbert, he might have a cold toiea as I sweyp ahp.

Beriacie: Yes... I think I can hear the engine of my car outside, I'd better scarper so that I can turn it off.

Lev: Don't be a Politplonker all yer life. Stay with us.

Robesil: I wasn't exactly a witness to the Show Trial, and I don't feel likghke I should be heere.

Beriacie: Did you get an invite?

Robesil: Yes.

Beriacie: Remain seated.

Lev: Strength in numbers.

A hand reaches around the door frame and switches the lights off

Beriacie: Fuck me!

Chevver: Have you seen my dolphin?

Leoney: Punch the rays on, Lev.

Lev: Shattap, you tart.

The door gradually opens. Silhouetted by the lights from the Bear's Head hallway is a 5'7'' figure of a man wearing a black overcoat

Robesil: Fhockin' 'ell! It's the executioner! Bendover Bolshevik!

Lev: Well, if it is, he's lost a few inches - and I ain't talking abou' 'is cock.

The imposing figure steps forward into the room and switches the lights back on

Lev and Beriacie: Stalin!?

Chevver: Superman!?

Stalin: I had you going, didn't I? Be honest, I had you this time. You never would've guessed Joe Stalin would be here.

Lev: What the fictional realm are you doin' back, Stalin?

Stalin: Oh, don't sound resentful, Lev. I paid a pub manager to do all of this.

Beriacie: You mean, you organised this reunion?

Chevver: That sounds like something I would say.

Stalin: Well, not exactly. As I said, I paid a pub manager to whisk up the grub. I was in town and thought I'd catch up with my old comrades. Here, I heard you brought another woman back to your soundproof office.

Beriacie: What about it?

Stalin: Well, nothing. Just congratulations. I know you and her have been dreaming of having a baby for years. Makes no sense. And Leoney...

Leoney: Wha'?

Stalin: You're married.

Leoney: Yes, I was at the wedding.

Stalin: No need to be defensive, son. I'm pleased for you

Leoney: Yeah, well, the marriage hasn't really worked. Just like this poxy regime.

Lev: Don't tell 'im, like. He'll use it against you.

Stalin: I've not come to upset things. It's a little get-together. Can't we be comradey?

Lev: Comradey!? With a cunt like you!? I wish it had been the Bolshevik Bummer or whatever he's called.

Robesil: I wish it were Michael Aspel.

Beriacie: I thought you were in Siberia.

Stalin: I was released six months ago.

Chevver: Are you back in the Central Committee now, Joe?

Stalin: No, Khrushchev. They wouldn't have me back. Not since I resigned and was found guilty of smuggling nuggets. The CPSU are funny about that. I've been living in a seminary. My coat. By the looks on your faces, I wish I brought my punishment paddle. Fancy a beverage?

Beriacie: No thanks, Joe. I have a prior engagement with the downstairs torture chamber

Lev: Save yourself a journey. The biggest pain in the bum is here.

Leoney: I must be off, General Secretary. My uncle promised to tell me about 1905.

Stalin: I'm not the General Secretary anymore. I'm just an ordinary bloke. I can't do you any harm, nor do I mean you any harm. I've changed.

All: HAHAHAHA

Audience: WAHAHAHAHAHA

Stalin: I have redeemed myself through cash. I'd like to wipe the slate, er, clean.

Lev: Idiom!? After what you've done to us in the past?! You done as all up on Donald Duck charges.

Stalin: I know, Lev. That's why you were on the list. Annnnd the fact that nearly everyone else was executed. I wish I could turn the clock back

Lev: Me an' all. To about 'alf-past six this evening, then I'd have stayed in watched the telly and made sure I turned it off at night to preven' it from blaowin' ahp. You nicked me, Robesil and Beriacie for stolen coal.

Beriacie: Yeah, and we mined it for you.

Stalin: I know. And I'm sorry.

Robesil: With the greatest respect, ex-general secretary, you can fuck your aspelogies.

Lev: I remembah when yaou follerd mey in the armoured train and nicked me for doing 70 miles an' our in an industrial area. It was my word against is and guess who the Party believed? I mean, you couldn't get that armoured train to blow a cock let alone blow out steam.

Lev appears offended

Stalin: Leoney, I'm sorry.

Leoney: Yeah, well, shit it, Stalin. Needlessly look shiftily left to right. Shit it!

Robesil: And what about the tiyme you plahnted 3,000 ration cards on Chevver and he went away to the youth offenderlag?

Stalin: I'm sorry, Khrushchev.

Chevver: Oh, that's alright, Joe.

Stalin: I always wanted to be comrades with you lot, but you sort of purged me. I wan'ed to hurt you for not appreciating me. You can't win over their trust, repress them, that was my attitude. So Marxism became my god. But in the end, my old comrades and Jewish doctors got sick of me and my... ambitions. I knew my days were numbered. I began to panic. I felt as though people were orchestrating things, I felt violated, and they did it without my consent. No pun intended, Beriacie.

Beriacie nods understandingly before doing a double take

Stalin: I was worried about my future and the economical system. So I turned to crime - one crime. I had three years in a 20ft by 10ft shack to work out where I'd gone wrong.

Lev: An' once you worked it aht, you 'ad 1,094 days ahead of you.

Stalin: When I started working in the seminary, I found Jesus.

Lev: What, he was arrested for counter-revolutionary espionage?

Stalin: Well, to be more precise, the seminary found me. I got a message to say the old man had passed away.

Pause

Chevver: Why didn't you go to his funeral?

Robesil: He was a piss'ead, Chev.

Stalin: No I wasn't.

Robesil: I'm referring to your dad.

Stalin: Oh. I didn't know him well enough. You all look a bit embarrassed. Go on, you shoot off. I'll resign from this venue.

The comrades look at each other, they feel sympathy for the lowly Stalin

Lev: Go on then, Sta- Joe. I'll have a drink with you.

Stalin: Thank you, Levrek. What about you other revolutionaries? Will you flake the load with me?

Leoney: Southern vodka.

Lev: He's a seminary choir boy naow. Can't arrest us no more.

Robesil: Yeah, and he's still getting people to sing like a canary.

Beriacie: You don't believe he's changed?

Leoney: Personally, I'm not sure, but I'm willing to down a Southern vodka. Make that a double, Joe.

Robesil: Ahlrait, I'll have a lager. Chevver?

Chevver: Yeah, I'll have a lager.

Beriacie: How can you drink with Stalin? That's the man who stitched you up with them knocked-off ration cards and sent you away for 18 months.

Chevver: I know. But when I came out I got an electric blanket full of lice and Solzhenitsyn's hot plate *wink*

Lev: A rapeseed cognac?

Beriacie: And quick!



Int. Trottersky's Lounge

Beriacie: I'm so drunk, I'm havin' a pretend conversation on this phone.

Leoney: Del's pissed up.

Lev: Shattit, Leoney! Hah hah hah.

Karlbert: Whoy do womin olways say dahn't ge' drank?

Robesil: It's their nature. My lorry was always saying that before I drove her.

Leoney: And my Natalia

Chevver: What's a marriage?

Stalin: Take my advice - the only sure way to avoid a broken marriage is by purging your fiance

All: Laughter.



Stalin: It's funny, I've looked at all these photos of the boys, my old comrades, and I'm the only one in the photo

Robesil: You were busy, Joe. You had us all airbrushed out of them.

Karlbert: I sappose it was taff for you in exoile when the locals fahnd aht you were an ex-leader

Stalin: You don't know the half of it. The villagers with their transportation horses eyed me with suspicion. "Twat, twat!" they'd whisper. "We're gonna get you, twat. I hope your wife can sew, Stalin"

Beriacie: Didn't the horses get agitated?

Stalin: That was the horses. The villagers really had it in for me. You'd have to watch your back in the outhouse

Lev: Yeah, I've heard there's a few turdidos in there.

Stalin: Oh yeah! It's no wonder Dostoevsky wrote a book about it. You'd be amazed what they'd sell for a slice of butter and a kerosene lamp. Fortunately, they didn't give me any problems. I mean, these days even the poofs don't fancy me. No pun intended, Chevver.

Chevver gormlessly stares ahead and nods

Lev: Look at this photo. Dynamo Kiev

Beriacie: My favourite team.

Chevver: There's that American kid. Good player, what's his name?

A car beeps outside

Beriacie: Ah, that'll be my limo. My cab service is open.

Robesil: Give me a lift, Beriacie.

Chevver: Yes, me an' all.

Stalin: Bye, Beriacie. We can have a pint in the week.

Beriacie: Erm, yes, we'll be in the pub sometime when you're preferably not in there.

Stalin: Nice. It's a date.

Beriacie arches his eyebrow

Lev: I'll get a photo of this enlarged, Joe. This was probably the last time you was with all your comrades. We had Robesil in goal. Polski Mariusz in at right-back. There's a feeling about this photo. We had a camera ready.

Chevver: Was that the American boy?

Lev smirks to himself

Lev: Yes, tha' woz 'im, Chev.

Beriacie: Come along, Chevver.

They all exit

Lev: Another drink, Leoney?

Leoney: Yeah, why not.

Lev: Joe? Aoh, look, the purgical plonker's gone to sleep. Said 'e's stayin' in a bed and breakfast - it's here. Ah hah hah.

Karlbert: Good ardea, sahn. I'm ganna clarmb into me 'ammock.

Karlbert exits to his bedroom

Lev: If sahmwan said to me that I'd be sipping drinks and giggling with Joe Stalin, I'd say they were fuckin' nutbags.

Leoney: I suppose he's not so bad after all

Lev: Take away the sociopathy and white tunic and he's just like the rest of us. *Singing* Cum on with gout.

Lev exits to the kitchen

Leoney drifts off to sleep right before Nadezhda enters from the hallway

Nadezhda: I don't b- Leoney, where's...

Nadezhda is startled by Stalin's loud snore. She hears ice cubes clinking into glasses in the kitchen. Lev continues singing as she enters the kitchen

Lev: I'm not drunk, jast relatively ingratiated or sammink.

Nadezhda: You shit! You promised me.

Lev: We're hardly going to sip a lemonade and pop off to midnight mass.

Nadezhda: Your promises mean bugger nothing! 'Don't worry about that cock. He'll have to get past me'.

Lev: Well, that's right.

Nadezhda: Really? Then why's 'that cock' asleep in our living room?

Lev: That's Leoney.

Nadezhda: I'm talking about Stalin.

Lev: OhhHhHh. What are you on about?

Nadezhda: My ex-husband is asleep on our sofa.

Lev: No, that's Stalin.

Nadezhda: I know his name. I was married to 'im for 13 years.

Lev: Stalin?! You were married to Stalin?!

Lev appears bewildered

Nadezhda: I wish I hadn't burnt my wedding photos.

Lev: Bah' thaz Stalin!!

Nadezhda: I told you my husband was a general secretary

Lev: Yes, but his surname is Jughashvili, yours is Alliluyeva. Why didn't you tell me wha' your married name was

Nadezhda: You'd change the subject. Have you said anything to him.

Lev: No he doesn't know. Are you sure you were married to 'im?

Nadezhda: Of course I'm fucking sure!

Lev: You stay here. I'll get rid of him

Lev slips into the living room and nudges Leoney

Lev: Leoney, wake ahp, you dumastick.

Leoney: Uhn!? Wha'?

Lev: Stalin is Nadezhda's husband

Leoney smiles

Leoney: Wha', is it a joke?

Lev: No, it's not a joke. I wouldn't lie about sammink like this.

Leoney: Does he know?

Lev: Of course he cuntin' well knaows. He was at the wedding.

Leoney: No, does he know abou' you and Nadezhda?

Lev: Oh, right. He don't know nothing. I've gotta get him to sling is 'ook without snatching ahp the vol-au-vents.

Lev shakes Stalin

Lev: Fuckin' Stalin! *Nicely* Joe.

Stalin: Oh Darwin, what's the time, Lev?

Lev: Time you was off home. I'll get your coat.

Stalin: Do you mind if I get a glass of water from the kitchen

Lev: NO! There's some bourgeois water here. Tell me sammink, Stalin - with my suspicious line of questioning - did you come back to Leninham just to organise a Show Trial reunion?

Stalin: Not solely for that. My wife's lawyers telegrammed me about a divorce. Seems quite delayed given the circumstances.

Lev: Yes, I'll stare sheepishly at the kitchen.

Stalin: While I was here I thought I'd organise a jolly piss-up, Lev. It's done me a world of good, meeting my old comrades again and finding that you're willing to forgive and forget. The cup of alcohol really do runneth ov- *points at a photograph* That's my dead wife.



Lev: Do what?

Stalin: That picture, there. That's my Nadya. What's a photo of my deceased wife doing in your flat. She shot herself in the heart.

Lev: Well... it's erm... what's that photo of Nadezhda Alliluyeva doing in our flat, Leoney?

Leoney: I darn't knah.

Karlbert: There's more racket aht here than a tennis match. I'm tryna ge' sahme sleep. Has Nadezhda cahme 'ome yet?

Stalin: Nadya's here?!

Nadezhda enters from the kitchen as opposed to the balcony

Nadezhda: Yes, I live here. Hello, Joe.

Stalin: Nadya!

Karlbert: oo's Nadya?



Stalin: I don't understand why a woman is living with three men. Oh! You're cohabiting. Well... *swings forearm* which one?

Lev: I know there's a likely choice between myself and Leoney, BAHT KARLBERT?!?! You saucy cunt, Stalin. Wha' do you mean 'which one'.

Stalin: I'm squinting in disgust. Lev?!?!

Nadezhda: Correct.

Karlbert: Oo's Nadya?

Leoney: Shut up.

Stalin: What's the full lagpunkt, Levrek? Is she another Robert Conquest? Or are you two close *reacts to pregant stomach* you're pregnant?!

Lev: No' you an' all. Leoney make a dig at me earlier about my pot belly.

Nadezhda: Oh, that's what this basketball up my jumper is.

Stalin: I figured you'd have moved on, not drag yourself downwards. You always like the peasantry, didn't you, darling?

Lev: One more word, Stalin, and the balcony will give you a lesson in psychics.

Leoney: Physics.

Lev: This is no time for a soft drink, Leoney.

Stalin: This woman, my not-dead wife, has been thrust by a proletariat. You could've had Churchill or Harold Truman with a boil on his bellend, or a Siberian tree covered in snow, but you decided to go primitive.

Lev: Naff off, Stalin. You're upsetting her. She's gonna have it off on her toes.

Stalin: Yeah, and we always did, didn't we, love?

Lev: Righ', get your coa'!

Leoney holds Lev back

Nadezhda: You better fuck the up shut, Joe. I'll set him on you if you don't. He took on two men several years back. Calm down, Levrek please.

Lev: Yes, okay, sweet'eart.

There's a dramatic pause

Karlbert: oo's Nadya?

All: SHUT UP, KARLBERT!

Two hours have gone by. The room is dimly lit. Leoney is lying on the settee with a blanket over him

Lev enters in his lingerie

Leoney: You gave Stalin my bed.

Lev: I 'ad to. If my clients were to find aht that Nadezhda was married to Stalin, the cunt - who's feared by all Ukrainians - and that Nadezhda lived with him and sle- sle-

Leoney: Fucked?

Lev: Aoh, go back to sleep, Leoney.

Leoney: Sorray.

Lev: I'd be a laughing stock and no one would trast me again.

Leoney looks ahead wistfully and mutters delicately

Leoney: No.

Audience: MUWAHAHAHA.

Karlbert: Can't you sleep either? If people were to find aht tha' Nadezhda was married to Stalin, you'd be finished, sahn.

Lev: I know thaa-aat, unc. They'd be saying 'orrible things.

Leoney: 'This toaster doesn't have a spring mechanism. Can I have a refund?'

Lev: Yes *does a double take*. I don't wan' Stalin mouthin' off about his marital past to the denizens of our town. He's got a hold over me.

Leoney: He doesn't know that. He's not aware of how despised he is and if people were to discover the truth you'd be ruined more so.

Karlbert: Leoney's go' a poin'. Dahn't le' Stalin take advan'age. If you do, he might wonder whoy.

Lev: Yes, you could be right.

Stalin enters in his trousers and vest

Stalin: Excuse me, comrades. I need a squirt of quencher. Can't you sleep, Lev?

Lev: I got up to do an early breakfast, Stalin

Stalin: Oh, that's nice for me.

Lev: Then you could eat it on the balcony - 10 floors down.

Leoney and Karlbert nod reassuringly to Lev

Stalin: What, eat a breakfast on your neighbour's balcony?

Lev does a double take of confusion

Lev: Naoh, Naooeeh, I meant throw you off the balcony after servin' ahp the breakfast.



Stalin: Is that right? I couldn't sleep well myself, worrying about your reputation if I were to blab about my marriage. I doubt that anyone would trust you again, well, not that anyone ought to trust a dodgy salesman in the first place. I'm the ex leader and general secretary. Stalin the Cunt who's loathed and despised by all except for 20-something-year-old Marxist YouTubers and dyed-in-the-wool Mayday marchers. I'd think it'd be the end of you.

Lev glances at Leoney and Karlbert with defeated expressions

Stalin: I'd hate to see that happen to an old com like you. Despite the fact you have nicely formed a loving relationship with the only woman I loved - and fucked her - I don't hold it against. So, I promised myself to keep my mouth shut.

Lev: Cheers, Joe. This seems all too straightforward and convenient...

Stalin: How-motherfucking-ever...

Lev: GROAN

Stalin: I hope that I don't have too many beers at the Bear's Head and let it slip. Now, champagne is different. I'd love to imbibe several bottles of them. But until my inheritance comes through I can't afford those fancy luxuries from the state-owned factories. It's a poser, innit, Lev?

Lev picks up a wallet and flips out a couple of tenners

Lev: Have a coupla boh-uls on Lev Boy.

Stalin: Are you sure, Lev? Well, that's brilliant. Thanks. I'm not sure how long I'll be staying - but that's no problem, Lev?

Lev: Nah, you're very welcome to stay, Joe.

Stalin: Thanks, Lev.

Lev: Belly bah-on.

Stalin exits to the bedroom

Karlbert: What are you gonna do, sahn. He's got you by the... well, like that

Karlbert tightens his fist into a ball

Lev: Karlbert, this is no time to play rock, paper and scissors.

Leoney: Dynamo Kiev freekick. Aerodynamic and painful.

Lev: I've already given 'im 40 roubles already.

Karlbert: This is Stalin's wallet. UyR-HyErR

Lev: Well that's cheered me ahp no end.

Leoney sifts through the wallet

Leoney: What's all this? It's a letter from his lawyer. 'I, Nadezhda Jughashvili (nee Alliluyeva), hereby waive all my legal rights to my husband's present and future non-private property' It's one of them things theatre performers get their future wives to sign.

Lev: So that's wha' he really came for, not Lenin's superb bar snacks

Karlbert: Wha' mahney does he have, thought he was skint.

Lev: No, he stashed those nuggets into his safe. *Lev reads another document* Look at this. It's a counter-signed document with 'is signature over it.

Leoney: What's it for?

Lev: It's a memo for a proposal to kill Polish officers, and it's been counter-signed by Stalin. This is about the Katyn Massacre where approximately 22,000 people were executed.

Lev coolly slips the sheet into the wallet

Leoney: You've got 'im, Lev! That is concrete evidence.

Lev: I know, Leoners. But let's not rush things. Let me put this behind the level crossing novelty light

Stalin: I have appeared. Thanks for finding my wallet. Oh, that breakfast in bed you mentioned. A couple of boiled eggs and a yak steak would be great, about 9:30

Lev: Fuck! We're out of yak steak, and none of us can drive to the all-night market as we've got alcohol in our system.

Int. Bear's Head. Day

Stalin: B U R P

Nadezhda enters with bags of shopping and tries to do a u-turn

Stalin: Nadya! Let me attempt to ruin your pregnancy by offering champers.

Nadya: Fuck off. I came in to find, Lev.

Stalin, Okay, I'll get myself another bottle for myself

Stalin moves across to Lenin behind the bar

Lenin: Lev is a good bloke.

Stalin: He cer'ainly is, Lenin. Do you know, he made me breakfast in bed. They broke the mushroom when they made that fucker. *Referring to Nadezhda* She's a lovely girl.

Lenin: Yeah, she's been married before. A right wanker, I heard.

Stalin: Really?

Lenin: Lev usually doesn't pay his way, but his heart's in the right place.

Stalin grabs the bottle and sits with Nadezhda

Nadezhda: What are you playing at, Joe? Why's Lev waiting on you hand and foot and showering you with bubbly?

Stalin: He's standing by for an old comrade who's fallen on hard times.

Nadezhda: When are you pissing off, Joe?

Stalin: I'm waiting for my inheritance to get evaluated. Then I'm thinking of applying for an apartment around here. Do you ever remember our old times together?

Nadezhda: Some things remind me, like repeats of agitprop

Lev and Leoney enter with a suitcase

Stalin: Lev, Leoney, let me get you a drink

Lev: Cheers, Joe. Why don't you sit in the train, Nadezhda. This'll be ugly

Nadezhda: You ain't gonna cave his head in with a chair?

Lev: I 'adn't though' of thaa-aat. But nah, I ain't doing it.

Nadezhda: Oh, testicles.

Nadezhda exits

Stalin: This champagne has prevented me from saying that I was married to Nadezhda. Oops, there I go. I think hiring a car might tighten my lips

Lev: Before I approve, there's sammink I must ask: you knew all along Nadezhda was living with me

Stalin: Yeah, I knew. I checked her name in the Communist Encyclopedia - I didn't see your face in there, Lev. I had to get my way into your flat to be certain. That's when I came up with the Show Trial reunion.

Leoney: You've got a habit of leaving champagne bottles lying around.

Stalin: Yes I have. I noticed that Nadya was lying around in her nightgown. Still, nothing I haven't seen before. *Falsely winces*

Lev: I read your letter to your lawyer.

Stalin: Only protecting my interests. If it's good for Yakov Sverdlov, it's good enough for me

Leoney: We also read that memo with the scribble over it.

Lev: Now, what would happen if we sent that to the IRD?

Stalin: Sweet Federation of Armenia, Lev. I've still got exhibit A tucked up safe and sound in my pocket. So get out of that one, Perrier water.

Lev: Jast before I gave you your breakfast, I took your wallet out and had another look at that document.

Stalin: And?

Lev opens a suitcase and produces one of his fax machines

Lev: It's a fax machine. It transmits data to your tree shavings and wings it to anyone in the world. It also has another function. Read the writing.

Stalin: 'Pho-to-cop-i-er'



Lev: Yessss, Stalin with no Carling. It photocopies things, like clickbait about a washed up or retired actor's newest photos and memos proposing to murder thahsands of innocent people

Stalin: So you've got a copy.

Leoney: Not one, sev'rowl. Imagine the damage it'd do once the U.N. and U.S. administration get a hold of this. The U.S.S.R would collapse because of you. How many years would it take, six years?

Lev: Oh, I'd say less than that.

Stalin: Correct me if I'm wrong, but I suspect that you're hungry for a deal.

Lev: Spot on.

Stalin: Alright, I'll split the nuggets with you 90-10 for me

Lev: No.

Stalin: Okay, 110 in your favour.

Lev: No, ma'e.

Leoney: No, sir. We don't wan' his money?

Lev: Naoh. *To Stalin* I want you to give Nadezhda a divorce, and I want you exiled out of Leninham for life. If anyone finds out that Nadezhda was married to you, I'll send a copy of your memo straight to Joseph McCarthy.

Stalin: Well, those terms seem acceptable. I think we've concluded our business. You will excuse me, I've got a train to catch. Lev, when the baby's born, if it's a boy can you name it after me?

Leoney: I wouldn't have thought it'd be acceptable to name a kid 'Cunt'.

Stalin: No ring to it. Have a nice life, Lev Boy.

Leoney: Oh I will, Stalin. Don't you worry, I will.

Stalin slinks off

Lev and Leoney: YES!

Leoney: Why didn't we take 'is money?

Lev: I'm way more unethical than ou, but it's wrong. Plus, we'll earn out of the divorce

Leoney: Oh, Levrek, I'll drink to that.

Lenin: That photocopy option on the fax machine, it doesn't work.

Leoney: Neither does ours - just like Stalinism

Lev and Leoney: HAHAHAHAH!

Credits Theme

DangledTeeth

STAGGY - IT WAS LAVRENTIY







Yo, comrade
Yo
Open up, comrade
What do you want, comrade?
Some girl just caught me
You let her catch you?
I don't know how I let this happen
With who?
The secretary next door, you know
Comrade!
I don't know what to do
Say it wasn't you

Alright...



Honey came in and then I was red-handed
After killing the girl next door
Picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the office floor
How could I forget that I had given her the handcuff key
All this time she was standing there
She asked "Why did they torture me?!"


How you can give the woman access to your residence?
Trespass and witness without hesitance.
You better watch your back before you turn into a killer
Let's review the situation and send her to the mines in Kolyma
To be a true comrade you have to know what to say in her ear
If she say 'with you all night', convince her to blame a gulag brigadier
You don't give a shit when she says 'nay'
And if she doesn't consent, she tell you, "Beria, no waaaay"

But she was caught as a counter (revolutionary)
Saw me bangin' on the sofa (was it a Nazi?)
I even had her in the shower (said Naftaly)
She even caught me on camera (but I run the NKVD)
She saw the marks on my shoulder (it wasn't Jughashvili)
Heard the words that she spoke, er ('it was Lavrentiy')
Heard her scream get louder (according to the U.S. Embassy)
She stayed until it was over


*BBBBOOEH-BOOEH-BOOEH*



Honey came in and she caught me red-handed
Creeping with the girl next door
Picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on my office floor
I had tried to keep her from tellin' nasty lies about me
Why should she be screeching
When I told her I think her bum's sexy




Make sure you put her in a camp and make her like zeks *wink*
Whenever you should see her, make the archipelago flex
Somebody else as it be by you, it not that com(rade)plex
Seeing is believing so you better change your pince-nez
You know she are gon' bring 'bout things up from the past
All the documented evidence you better know to mask
Quick upon your answer: cover up your arse
But if you pack a gun you know she better run fast

But she was caught as a counter (revolutionary)
Saw me bangin' on the sofa (blame it on Georgy)
I even had her in the shower (said the Central Committee)
She even caught me on camera (but I run the NKVD)
She saw the marks on my shoulder (it wasn't Jughashvili)
Heard the words that she spoke, er ('It was Lavrentiy')
Heard her scream get louder (according to the U.S. Embassy)
She stayed until it was over

Honey came in and she caught me - outstanding
Beating the girl next door
Picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the office floor
How could I forget that I wanted her to do obshchie roboty
All this time she was standing there
She begged me to not send her to the forestry




Gonna tell her that I'm sorry
For the pain that I've caaauuused
I've been listening to your reason
It makes no sense at aaalllll
We should tell her that I'm sorry
For the propaganda that I've caaaaauuuused
You may think that you're in the Politburo
But you're completely looooost
That's why I sing


Honey came in and she caught me red-handed
Creeping with another zek whore
Picture this, we were both butt-naked, banging on the barracks floor
How could I forget that I had arrested her for decorating an Xmas tree
All this time she was being strangled there
And her heart stopped just like Felix Dzerzhinsky's.


*ERRH-YH-YEHNG!*



DangledTeeth



"Yeaaah, Bolshy!"



"100 million Bengalis!!"





Austalin: Uhh, where am I?

Balitsil: You're in the FSB laboratory underneath Lubyanka. It's 2021. You've been cryogenically frozen for 68 years.

Austalin: WHO ARE THESE PEOPLE?!

Balitsil: I'd like you to meet General Tomsk Greenov and Colonel Randy Reinhardt of the C.I.A.

Austalin: C.I.A.!? Are you mad?!

Balitsil: A lot's happened since you were frozen. The Cold War is over.

Austalin: Well, finally those capitalist pigs will pay for their crimes, eh, eh comrades?

Balitsil: Austalin, we lost.

Austalin: Oh, well, I'll go and perk myself up by dancing with some combots.




DangledTeeth

August 09, 2021, 12:08:22 AM #38 Last Edit: August 09, 2021, 01:33:03 AM by DangledTeeth




Narrator: Sinister and dramatic music. 1917 appears on the screen like it's been smoothly typed, with that delicate electronic sound - 'spr-ih-ee-ih-ee-ih' - that's used for any scenic location shots to give it that sophisticated documentary or espionage vibe. Aaaaanyway...



Narrator: For 300 years the Romanov bastards rrrruled with an iron fist. World War 1 - crushing, mate. Tsar Nicholas the Second is fucked. The country is spunkulating for revolution. The Communist Bolshevik Party storms the Winter Palace and rules with another iron fist. Under Vladimir Lenin, the Marxist government maintains a civil war for control.



Sebag: Yah, hehloeh, it's me, the pawsh man from the BBC documentareh on the first page, Simon Sebag Montefiore (or SIMON SEBGA MONTEFIORE according to the Mail Online's updated web page). I'm not the only talking head, there'll be plenty of middle-of-the-road academics to comment about how evil and mental Stalin was. The Bolshevik revolution was sstruggling to ssurviive. All ssiides had to commit acts of violencccce, terror, mayhem and ruthlessness. Precissse sssibilance.





Dr Mark Felton: Hello, this is Dr Mark Felton. FELTON!! Oh, no, the viral video dog is called Fenton. I'm not here to speak about Stalin, I'm here for the second half about Hideki Tojo. You can find me and my superbly concise videos here on YouTube: markfeltonproductions. You can support me on PayPal or Patreon. Link in the description below... on my videos.



Narrator: Among the men vying for the position of leader was Josef Stalin. Here he is stood in between bulb head Vyacheslav Skryabin Molotov and Trotsky lookalike Mikhail Kalinin.

CaBber: OOOOOH, that's why Chevver from the exhausting OBAH trilogy calls Leoney 'Kalinin'.



Professor Rayfield: Everyone wanted a top position, Commissar this, Commissar that. But not old Stalin.

Narrator: The Old Bolsheviks were going to get done over by Stalin in years to come... years ago... in the past.

Stock sound: spr-ih-ee-ih-ee-ih

Narrator: Georgia 1878. Stalin came crying out of his mother's flaps. It was Gori *ahem* the location where he was born, not so bad if you're looking at the subtitles. Joseph Stalin was merely a nickname. He was born Iyohseb Joe Joogharshveely. And do you know what, Georgian Stalin wasn't even Russian.





Professor Brent: Erm, he was about 5'4. No, really, I actually do say this despite being the author of 'The Stalin Archives'.. Stephen Kahtkin's book and a straightforward ahnswer with Stalin's mugshot and its details on Quora say he's 5'7'', for god damn crying out loud, unless he shrank three inches in old age and I'm referring to his corpse's measurements! He was short and he didn't like being short. He was a short-ass buttbag. It's been well dahcumented that he had a Napoleonic complex and it's this that was the driving force behind the tyrannical bloodbath unleashed by him and his cronies. Shall I do the dance? MHN-NEH-NHNNHN-NUH-NHN!



McCauley's Corking: He never wanted to be wrong. And he was right when he was wrong. And he was always wrong, but you couldn't say that to him. I look like an eccentric executive director at a railway company.

Narrator: He received a top education at the Georgian seminary. Mrs Stalinvili wanted her son to become a priest. But Stalin had other ideas...

Simon Sebga: Stalin became an atheissst, then he studied the Bible of MarxSsSsSs.

Narrator: Karl Marx, radical economist - conduit of the BBC - was the Tik-tok of his day. Stalin made sure that he had a small waist, pretty face and a big bank. This was the impetus for Stalin to topple the tsarist reggy-me

Professor Brent: This Stalin guy was quite a clever cat and needed a cause. He was the old equivalent of those guys who join ISIS today. His cause was that of communism, not radical extremist Islam.

Narrator: At age 20, Stalin joined the underground Bolshevik revolution. The tsarist secret police, the Okhrana, were on the prowl for subversives.

Montefiore: The life of a Marxxissst was a very peculiar one. You changed your name constantlehy. You were essentially a caravan. If you thrusted and busssted in some slutbint's vulva, you'd have to fuck awff elsewhuere. You could trussst nyeubody.

Narrator: Stalin adopts the codename 'KOBA ROBIN HOOD'.

Boats: HHHWOOOAAARRBP!

Montefiore: He went to Batumi which was an oil terminusss orn the Black Sea. Thousands orv workers working work. And Stalin arranged a sseries of ssstrikes - nawt those sort orv strikesss. And then the fisticuffs commenceth.

Music: Mildly chilling and tense

Narrator: It was in Batumi where Vampire Stalin got his first taste of claret. His crew advanced on the assembled police force and they opened fire on them, killing 15 and injuring many more; the Stalin Gang, however, came away relatively unscathed. All Czarists Are Bastards.

Stock Gun Effect: PBHNNSZZZH!



Dr Lynch: The Strike is an epiphany for him. Vahlence is the order of the Bolshevik cause. Hah-hah, my surname is 'Lynch', how ironic.



Narrator: Stern classic photo of Lenin. Stalin was invited to meet the great leader of the movement, but was a trifle disappointed to see he wasn't the hulking giant that Stalin had in mind.

Sebga Montefiore: Lenin was actuallehy Stalin's teachyeh in the practice of terrahw. A nimiety of violence was par for the courssse. *Dramatically raises forearm to expose an open crab-like hand* Delivering the biff by any means to the counter-revolutionary  foozlers and mutton shunters was the entire ethos of the radical faction.

Doc Lynch: Lenin. Sees. In... Stalin... a-man-of-loyalty. The cause the cause the cause.

Narrator: Lenin wanted dosh for the revolution and appointed Stalin pre-commissar of Finance. First destination: Baku. Rich tossers port haven, far from Tsarist power. Here, he becomes Stal Compone, feared Mafioso mobster.



Sebag: SSStalin ran a gang or something called 'The Outfit'. They were a caddish posse who'd lapidate and fleece the pedestrians of Baku.

Prof Brent: He's shakin' motherfuckers down. Running racketeerring operations. Broads were screamin'. It was like Brooklyn in da nineteen-twennies.

Segab: Piracccy. Protection Racketsss.

Narrator: Stalin told the law to piss off. Cap lives do not matter. He appeared on an radio broadcast of The Okhrana's Most Wanted. But he is not yet the murderous, callous, arbitrarily psychopathic, clinically insane caricature the unfamiliar thinks he is. In the meantime, he bonks Ekaterina 'Kato' Svanidze and they have a child, Yakov.



Rosamond Richardson: It's me from the same BBC documentary what Simon Sebga was also in on page one. Fuck me, us white people don't usually age very well. There are more cracks than a nudist assembly line. Mind you, I am in my 70s. Anyhow, Kato was a terrific woman. Creature comforts the Plasticine animation thing.

Narrator: Yeah, shut your noise, talking head. It's my turn to chat. Kato 100% contracted typhus to death.

Rosamond Richardson: Oi, fuck off! When Stalin's first wife died, he was rather upset and cross with the world. A stenographic copy of Stalin's words orated to his typist reads as follows: when Kato died, my feelings for people died with her. That creature softened my heart of stone.

Narrator: Stalin had enough. No one was going to be allowed into the sanctum of his heart, His rise to power had only just begun. 1906, the Tsarist regime was on the rocks. Nicholas set up a parliament called the Duma. Lenin's so-called Bolshevik Party wins seats there, but he continues his illegal struggle against the system. Stalin persists in his zealous quest for the building of a communist utopia.

Sgeba: SSStalin befriends a chap called Marinovsssky, who turned out to be a secret police double-agent. He wasss invited to tarry and dine with like-minded intellectuals of revolution.

Narrator: The dinner was a trap. Arrest. Betrayal. The seed of paranoia was planted in the soil of Stalin.

Sbagasge: This storehy is astonishingly interesssting because we can profile the inherent dissstrussst festering inside Stalin and it reveals why his purgesss took place. Hardly anyone could be trusted. Why, even Lenin could've been Stolypin's undercover bodyguard.

Narrator: Stalin was exiled to Siberia, where he deftly sketched illustrations of wolves. For four years he's stuck in a tundra of goat semen - and it was no fun. His heart becoming cold like the temperature in the invisible, and hard like this cock when he sees peasant skirt.

Wind: HhHhwwWwAUuUuUuoOoOWwHHhhh





Doc Lynch: I look like Arnold Ridley with a half-arsed hair transplant. He doodled wolves' teeth around the edges of the pages. Like bears teeth. GRrRrR! Churchill once said: "He's got a hint of Hugh Jackman in X-men about him, whoever and whatever they are"

Stock Gun Effect Again: PBHNNSZZZH!

Narrator: Stalin makes his comeback in 1917, ready to take his place in Lenin's new government. He becomes Joseph Stalin - Man of Steel, the Stalinman!

Music: Drama intensifies.

Narrator: He's best mates with old Lenin. He's a trusted member of the Central Committee. He's not the most senior or even popular at that. When Lenin dished out the top roles, Stalin didn't get one.

Rosamond: Stalin didn't have the intellectual rigour that Trotsky and Lenin had. And I think it made his withered left extremity a notch envious.



Narrator: Leon Trotsky, the supreme intellectual, didn't bother to acknowledge Stalin.

Professor Rayfield: Trotsky bollocked up big time by snubbing Soso. He was plucked and placed on the sidelines near the end of the following decade.



Narrator: School teacher-turned-revolutionary Lev Kamenev, portrayed by a young Harrison Ford, would run Moscow and was Lenin's deputy... and be purged by the pernicious Stalin.

Stock Gun Effect Again: PBHNNSZZZH! PBHNNSZZZH! P-P-PBHN-PBHNNSZZZH!

Narrator: Lenin admires Stalin's organisational skills and appoints him as General Secretary of the Communist Party,

Professor Rayface: Nobody wanted that job, because it seemed tedious and pretty nancy.

Narrator: Stalin used his position to devise how he'd consolidate his power and exact his lust for executions. Kamenev and Trotsky ponced about the political stage, while Stalin tapped his tips in a typewriter - or so it would seeeeeem. As GS, he could hand-select and puppeteer who'd cheer for him on the sidelines. If you control the agenda, you could control everything.

McCauley's Corking: Appointments. If you had a majority in the Central Committee, you were number one.

Prof Brent: If you disrespected Comrade Stalin, you signed your life away, simple as that. *Crumples lips and shrugs, loudly slapping his thighs* You're fucked! YOU'RE FUCKED!

Electronic spy sound: spr-ih-ee-ih-ee-ih

Narrator: In January 1924. Cough! Excuse me, let me quickly wiki this... yep, Jan '24. Comrade Leader Lenin Ilich Revolutionary died of a cehrehribabbal haymerridge and had a funeral. All his pals were in attendance.

Bsega: Ye-esssss! The troublesome Bolsher died. Consume that with your ffffucking oysters, sir! *Thrusts his hips diagonally from the camera with clenched fists* Let's do the Tootsssie Roll, the Tootssssie Roll. To the front, to the left. (Notthepoliticalfarleft.) Oh, my aunt Mabel! Joyous day.

Narrator: But one person is conspicuously missing from this fly-swarm-quality footage, and that is the lack of a Trotsky. Leon Trotsky.

Professor Brent: Stalin was one greasy son-of-a-bitch. He sent Trahtsky the wrong fucking date of da funeral on poipose.

De Ar Lynch: HAHAHA manic eyes! He didn't turn up. What sort of Leninist could he beEeEEeEe for not being in attendance at the funeral. Eulogy. "TO THEE GREA' LENIN". Y-y'know, it went on for about 12 minutes like this. Stalin was essentially saying: I am your air. Yes, that sort of 'air'.

Narrator: And heir he was. Stalin became de facto leader and premier of the Soviet Union once Lemon croaked his soles. Stalinman had Trotsky kicking and screaming his way to the train. Trotsky eventually fucked off to Mexico, where one of Stalin's assassins 'picked' him off. *PPPAOWK* Seriously, I actually do say this in the real documentary and there is a gunshot sound effect. To be fair, we don't have a stock sound effect of a sharpened instrument viciously penetrating somebody's skull.



Narrator: In 1929, Stalin is fully in charge and he enacted the Collectisation plan as part of his five-year plan. His first target: farming, and the land-owning kulaks.

Prof Brent: He implements da foist law: fuck da kulaks by shooting them a death.

Prof Rayfield: They were seen as vermin, like rats.



Narrator: The peasants worked on the collective farm, and the grain was taken to feed the factory workers and to sell abroad. Propaganda films show that grammarphones work, but them films in this era was not talkies. But the truth was exactly the opposite.

Rayfield Prof: Stalin probably saw the famine coming, and probably knew it would cause the death of probably 10 million.

Karanne Applebaum: Excuse me, can I speak to the manager, please? 10 million is way too high.

Comrade YouTube Halfwit: No! Holodomor never happened. Gareth Jones is a paid British intelligence spy who got as far as Belarus. In fact, he didn't even have a pencil on him to write his scripted deceit. Walter Duranty told the truth. The Wienerberger 'photos' are entirely of a completely different famine from another decade. Stalin actually sent 30 billion roubles in aid, and Molotov allowed farmers to buy caviar and chicken steaks; there was no blacklist. It's all lies from Nazi propaganda by Western historians before the Nazis existed. THE KULAKS DESERVED WORSE!!!! Acclaimed historian TheFinnishBolshevik also did a peer-reviewed video about it.

Segbaba: SSStalin once sssaid: 'the death of a tragedy is a statissstic. Misquotes solve all problems. No man, no problem.' Lenin, mate, my hand will not tremble.



Narrator: The news of the faminine is suppressed. But it leaks out in the Kremlin. 1932, Stalin's second wife, Nadezhda 'Nadya' Alliluyeva, disapproves of his attitude towards the peasantry. Yes, the dreadful Stalin lookalike is supposed to be Stalin underneathh all that blurry peripheral macro bollocks.

Rosamond: Nadya was pretty flustered by Stalin's boorish manner and flitations. She snuck off to the sack and gunned herself, it's believed, in the sternum

Narrator: In her bedroom, she pens a sheet, condemning Stalin. And then she took her own life by shooting herself in the head as seen in the reenactment.

Rosamond: She couldn't go along with collectivisation.

Narrator: Stalin did not attend Nadya's funeral. To him, it wasn't a tragedy... it was a fucking comedy. He thought her suicide was a betrayal. He became more isolated and paranoid. The days of the Great Terror are about to begin



Brass Section: HHHHHHHYYYYYYYEEEEEEEEEEEEEAOH

Narrator: In January of the 1930 and 4, a summit of commie leaders occurs. Well-liked mate of Stalin called Sergei Kirov was in attendance. They durrrrink vodtka with the gropniks, yhez. He is the party boss of Leningrad, but 'noid cunt Stalin isn't satisfied with Kirov's popularity. One night, Sergei saunters to office and is shot by an unknown mysterious assailant called Leonid Nikolayev in Kirov's office. Of course, in the real documentary I don't say the bloke's name, I say it's 'part of Stalin's master plan'. He used this as a precursor for trials and executions of his rivals.

Prof Brent: One way to remove people from your coicle is a purge. And the best result of a purge is for people to be killed to death. Executed, if you will.

Narrator: Lev Kamenev and co are reduced to a false confession and deaaattttthhhhhhhhhh. Prior to this, they are summoned to Stalin's quarters, like he's the Godfather, and they are given an offer: die or be executed. Kamenev and 15 other Party members are put on trial. The trial lasts a whopping 53 seconds, and this conclusion happened when Kamenev was being brought to the stand. Kamenev attempts to suck off the courthouse grunt in order to obtain his freedom, but the only freedom he gained was in death - a projectile zipping through his bonce gum.



Stock Gun Effect Again Yet Again: PBHNNSZZZH! PBHNNSZZZH! PPPAOWK! P-P-PBHN-PBHNNSZZZH! PBHNNSZZZH! PPPAOWK!

Narrator: The infamous and feared midnight knocks occur and more Party members begrudgingly accept their fates at the hands of the NKVD. The violins wail in a cloud of theatrics.

McCauley's Corking: Nuebody coowld contradict his nehrative about the revolution or the 1920s. Sauna scrote neck.

Narrator: Mental Stalin does not feel secure. The other witnesses to his failings are the Soviet people, most of whom lived through and after the Revolution. They must not remember!! The Great Purge accomplished, then followed the Great Terror

Brass Section: HHHHHHHWWWWOOOOOARRRRBP

Narrator: The secret police, NKVD, are given the task of cleansing the city of what Stalin calls 'ungrateful, backstabbing motherfuckers'. He puffs his pipe and waits for Ribbentrop.



Professor Fieldray: The NKVD operated on 'limits', every city and province, they were out for an arrest.

Segbagbs: SStalin would sign death warrants and write with hisss favourite colouring penccils to add unfavourable slogansss like 'Endless Prick', 'Crosse and Blackwell Chicken Meatballssss', 'You Deserve It Fucking Earthquake Features Die' and 'Absssent Groom' on his meossst hated targetss.

Rayfield Professor: At this stage, any psychiatrist or clinician worth his weight in feathers would diagnose Stalin with Loopy Knob'ead Syndrome. But Stalin isn't normal; he's well off his raft. Mad as a Frenchman.

Narrator: Stalin's next target - The family unit.

Doctor Lynch: Stalin taught children to worship him first and the life givers second. Seriously, mate, it was like out of 1984. All rickety Brutalist flats, pothole roads and kiddies grassing every bastard up. And so ran the Party line in Stalinspeak: Stalin is Shit. Communism is Idleness. Past is Gulag. It's remarkable.



Narrator: 700,000 people are executed. Millions are sent to slave-labour camps known as Gulags. A statistic too much. He goes unchallenged and is effectively Tsarlin the Third. On the horizon in Germany, a new threat appears: Adolf Hitler. Adolf might be cunty enough to be on par with Stalin's lack of humanity. Hitler hates ze Bolshevikenmittenkasmikdbt. Nevertheless, Hitler cuts a deal with Stalin via his international relations officer or wha'ever, Joaquin von Ribbentrop, to meet with Stalin's equivalent. Foreign Affairs Comradessar Vyahshslevelsh Molotov Cockarse. "Our Himmler" booms Stalin with a crinkle-eyed simper and his hands coyly behind his back, bouncing on his heels, without Beria present. They agree to divide Germany between them and agree not to attack each other.

Music: TUM-DAN-DA-DUUUUUN!

McCauley's Corking: Stalin chrusted noe one. But he chrusted Hitlar because he thought that he was a strong leadar. He believed they could conker the word.

Narrator: But once the cunt Hitler took France in 1940, Stalin believed that Hitler wouldn't want no heat from a real G like Stazzer. Hitler bummed out Stalingrad in 1941. If only Stalin and his team heeded the accurate intel of top spy Richard Sorge. Casualties inevitable. Dead rife. Situation analysis: Hopeless.

Narrator: Stalin's first son with Typhus-stricken Kaytoe Swonneedtsyay, Yakov, was captured by the Nazis.

Sebgbga: Yakov was reportedly captured and the officcialss notified SSStalin in a sort awv ransom negotiation thingehy. Stalin responded: "I'm not swapping a low-ranking soldier for one of your generals - and that's final, mate!!". That was the crueltehy of SStalin; he didn't care about his own son. Nevertheless, the Nazis were impressed enormouslehy.

Rosamond: I haven't spoken in quite some time. He hurled himself onto the electrified barbed wire fence.

Narrator: Disaster struck. Millions of Soviets would lose their lives in the The Big Punch-up with Guns and Mechanical Turrets. The soldiers were merely statistics to DESPOT PSYCHOPATH MADMAN STALIN (the madman).



Tanks: PPPPROMMK!

Rayfield the Professor: In summer of 1941, Stalin was really shagged out once the tanksss rolled in and cannoned the shop. Disappointed and shrouded in the stench of loss, Stalin became semi-catatonic as he watched his garden from his luxurious dacha for three weeks. No pidgeons came for the precious Gulag bread that wasn't plonked on the lawn, but a procession of disgruntled Sovieteers marched for the Soso.

Segsbag: SStalin was snapped out of his ssself-indulgent mope and believed the public came to sheepshank his tube from the plank. But they appointed him as Commissar for War Uhffairss and Generalissimo of the Red Army. SStalin heroically rose with graccce,
clenched his fisstss and the ground vibrated, akin to the ending of Phantom Menshevik, I mean Menace, but without the black body ssssuit and corny 'NoOoOoOoOo!!!!!!!'. All Stalin could do was say 'YeEeEeEEeS'. From this point onwardsss, Field Marshal Zhukov meticuloussly and sstrategically planned out the winning manoeuvresss, while SSStalin ssmirked like a twat over the wittle moddol tanksss and ssssmoked his titssss arid.

Narrator: In 1945, the Red Army stormed Berlin.

YouTube Stalinist Nutjob: SLAVA STALINU. Second best industrial superpower achieved in such a way that would make a downtrodden Amazon worker sigh with relief. Space travel achieved (and not forgetting the development of a death rocket with a serial rapist as the head). Workers and soldiers of the world unite! We are the collective! So anyway yeah Stalin won the war, all battles 1939-1945. THE TYCOON LUDDITE KULAKS DESERVED WORSE.



Narrator: Joseph Stalin meets with influential kingpins Truman, Churchill and then ATTLEE to discuss peace. Note Stalin's swaying motion and funny left arm, and the boss cream tunic is in full effect, complete with the two-stripe fake Adidas tracksuit bottoms. He reveals his hand. Not that hand. Nobody would be able to invade the Soviet Union.................................... AGAIN. He's going to hoard the territories his boys stomped over. The Iron Curtain. In 1949, he celebrated his 70th birthday and seemed fed up towards the end of it and did the weak clap with his withered wanker. But he had a stranglehold over the satellite states, and anyone who puffed a negative opinion about Dictator Arseface would be confronted by the full force of the Great Terror again.

Brass Section: HVVVVVVVVVVWOMMMM!

Narrator: The cunt has cardiac problems.

Professor Bernt: In old age he couldn't do star jumps anymore, not that he did any in foist place. And, y'know, that's how life goes, and he ain't figured on that.

Narrator: He spends more and more time at his dachas. But his paranoia takes him to a new enemy in his mind: THE JEWS.

Rosamond: Oh, he was violently antisemitic. I am a top historian in this area.

Narrator: Stalin's rival Trotsky was a Jew. Kamenev, too, had a Jewish father... but it only matters when it's the mother who do be a Jew or sammink. Therefore, Stalin 200% was going to do a Hitler.

Prof Rayfield: Stalin and Hitler had one thing in common: moustaches, albeit in different lengths.

Narrator: In January 1953, Stalin devises another purge. He arrests the country's top medical men for conspiring to dismantle the CCCP. Dawktaw's Plawt. Most of the accused are Jewish. They're taken and tortured for confessions.

Punch and baton impact sound effect: SLEMP! PAMP!

Needless Stock Death Grunts: EEURAH! OGH! OOOAARGH! HWWEH! OOH-WAH! NGHNYEEARGH!

Brent: Stalin said: "BEAT THEM! BEAT THEM! BEAT THEM WITH DEATH BLOWS! I want those confessions now, preferably, please thank you my good friend okay." One of them had to be carried in on a stretcher because the suggestion of a beating made him faint... and then they interrogated him with knuckled jabs. *Cod Russian accent* Are yoo Trrrrrotzkyeh spy? Tell uz where yoo hide Narzy treazyorz, comrade? Yoo love fehm'ly, yhez? Yoo ken cooperate with uz ind make life eezy.

Narrator: Scholars believe that Stalin may have been planning one final purge for the Soviet Jews. Whatever Stalin had planned never came to fruition, for there was one last purge which occurred in his mind - lllllliterally - not as a thought but a devastating strokeurysymhmhm.



Narrator: Stalin, the paranoid death merchant maniac of the U.S.S.R, slept in a multitude of beds and sofas through his humbly big dacha of about 18 of them. His staff so tentative about approaching the tyrannical workhorse loon would only adhere to the strict system allowing comrades to converse personally with Stalinman on pressing matters

Segba: The Comrade Stalin reportedly felt a disscomforting zinger in his cranial matter. The pain clamped his bean and buttered his threshold until he torsoed into a perpendicular collapssse. If that wassn't enough for the downed Koba, his frazzled mince could no longer maintain control of his piss balloon, resulting in his fuck-flapper leaking a stream like an emancipated dam. It was the earliest streamed leak of piss before Spotify mistakenly doffed up Robin Thicke's newest album a week too soon. SSStalin's trawsers were ssodden to Ipswich within nanos. A puddle formulated about Stalin's perssson and encroached the wooden grains of his once-unpissed-on office floor. Tch! The cleanerss had a ffffucking assignment on their handss. Well, actuallehy, they would've of haved a job to do if Stalin didn't purge his entire Commissariat of Internal Cleaning for collaborating with an emigre nationalist organisation in Uzbekistan.

Professor Rayfield: He was incapacitated for at least an entire day. His minions too reluctant to disturb their boss out of fear he'd demote then to the Council of Bin Shit if they inappropriately horned their oral baggage to The Stalin without his approval.



Narrator: Stalin eventually succumbed to his ailments days later, surrounded by opportunistic vultures. His silently dead presence mourned by passing citizens of Moscow. *Muttered* Was-it-Moscow? Erm, or was it... Leningrad? Fkit, can't be arsed to check. *Stops muttering* But even in death Stalin inadvertently launches one final post-cark purge: approximately 500 of his hysterical mourners are crushed beyond living by the billowing queues of people lined up to dab their handkerchief under their eyes over the sight of the eternally sleeping dictator. It's just as well Stalin was dead by this stage because the unhinged, paranoid, psychopath Stalinballs would believe that the mourners were actually there after his funeral to kill him.

Sebagba: Stalin's brutality does make him one of the mossst egregious bbbbastards in historehy. I think he was an evil man. Libertey meant cock-nothing to the bally rotter. May he rest in pissburo.

Dr Lynch: Despite the bloodshed and repression, there are Stalinists today who think none of it could be achieved without his influence.

Professor Brent: Hey, be thankful for the liberal democracy we have today *wipes tears*. Another Stalin could be lurking around the corner, ready to confiscate your private property.

Music: Tense violins

The End: Conclusion.

DangledTeeth

August 26, 2021, 12:44:19 AM #39 Last Edit: August 26, 2021, 01:47:39 AM by DangledTeeth


Welcome and hello, comrades. Tonight is the night for the Stalin Star Award. Is it too bright? Erm, Stalin Star Award. Many CIA Joseph Goebbels Radio Free Europe Orwell's List Bill and Ben Flower Pot Mensheviks 'skeptic' anti-communists tell lies and MORE LIES about me and the gulag. But one man deserves an award according to his own ability to educate brainwashed people who have entrenched anti-Stalin beliefs based on Nazi propellergondola. Comrade John Rabotcha/Ruddy is loyal to the ideals of the Motherland by defending my buried legacy, and he offers his excellent family and romantic relationship advice on Quora, including his opinions on a variety of subjects. He's also uploaded videos to his YouTube to do with his pro-China comments getting deleted by CIA troll bots or something. Here are his best moments




Is Biden Stalin's secret love child?

No this sounds as deranged as any right wing conspiracy you'll hear like Hillary Clinton is a Maoist or Trudeau is Castro's kids. File it in the fevered imagination folder.


Would Trotsky have been a better leader than Stalin during WW2?

Absolutely not! Go to Youtube type Finnish Bolshevik Moscow trials to see what kind of man Leon really was


Why does the game "Call of Duty" suck so bad now?

Most boring game imaginable. Move, enemy show up, shoot em and move forwards or they'll just keep on coming, move,hide, shoot, move hide shoot, hold x to use item/switch button/activate whatever. Rinse and repeat


Why do some people find polyamory disgusting?

Because it is! Enjoy your knob rot.


I feel like my dog only cares about food and doesn't care about me or love me at all. Is this true?

Hard truth: your dog hates you but is utterly dependent on you. It's like a relationship that won;'t end even thought it's bad for both of the people involved only that one desperately needs the other for some reason. Burglars used to steal dogs especially dogs that came with signs like beware of the dog because they say dogs have no loyalty. They give a dog one slice of ham and that's it silent forever. You can find experiments online of people in fights of being attacked and their dog seems to be a hindrance rather than a help. Do not be fooled by dogs or their supporters.




Do married men actually respect their girlfriends?

No! That's why they're called girlfriends and he has a wife! A married man doing of this is not someone showing respect or being deserving of gaining it! What a stupid question


How do you think people will react when the third wave of Covid19 comes?

What third wave? Anyone still falling for Covid should be sterilised. Hence my willingness to advocate for MSM parakeets to take the vaccine. Because it has nothing to do with helping you


Is OnlyFans good or bad for the society? Why?

It's disgusting and everyone taking part needs sorted out. We have a sick society maybe we should permanently Lance the sickos from it


How corrupt is the UK?

just a brief glimpse at the headlines you won't see on msm about Britain taking part in or supporting RECENT massacres is proof of how corrupt that race is


Is Sky News Australia biased?

It's just awful and for the fear of facts right wingers


Can you get infected with a corona virus if you are wearing a mask?

Anyone still wearing a mask after many people have started to catch on that Covid is nonsense is wearing it to hide there 4/10 looks


My wife is pregnant with another man's child and the father wishes to be part of the child's life. How do I deal with this?

How do you deal with it? With a shotgun




What is the most brainwashed country in your opinion?

1) America 2) Britain 3) Anywhere wanting to be like them


Why don't people follow football teams from where they were born?

It's totally pointless to follow a team you like, or a certain player who plays for that team, isn't it? Most peoples support for a team is due to narcissism. They have achieved nothing in life and know they won't so they attach themselves to others success as a coping mechanism. I can't count the number of anti English Irishmen who give a good tale of being lifelong Man Utd fans because their great grandads wife's brothers fiancé's cousins mate walked a dog past the Stratford end at 3pm on a Saturday when a match wasn't even on and now they are lifelong Man Utd fans. Until they get relegated. Most of my mates from school were either Man Utd or Liverpool fans. Magically sky blue is now many of these peoples favourite colour. Support your local team or they should admit they are mentally weak


Is Angelina Jolie a CIA agent?

asset or agent one of two! Weird how us so called tin foil hat wearers are right on a lot of things. In 2005 as an 18 year old I said she was a CIA agent or at the very least an asset for propaganda. People said I was mad! Well I'm not so mad anymore more and more like people don't just THINK she is CIA linked they KNOW she is now. Same when I said in 2008 to people that South Korean smart TVs are CIA tools to do mass surveillance on the population at home and everyone said I was mental. Well I was right. I also as a 15 year old in a Barbers in Omagh in the north of Ireland I said in a room full of adults Saddam has no WMDs and that room of grown ups all apparently more intelligent than i were apoplectic with me! Right again though! Maybe these so called skeptics of our positions should be a bit more oh I don't know SKEPTICAL of things they read! But so called skeptics are only ever skeptics of two things: Religion and anything that isn't on Wikipedia




Do you consider trans women to be women?

No. The word trans before the supposed chosen sex is proof of this! Anyone saying otherwise is mindless


Is RationalWiki a trustworthy source?

No


Is the word "dude" annoying?

It's utterly twatful and should have died out with the teenage mutant ninja turtles in 1991! I get a strong urge to punch anyone who says dude


When my boyfriend says he does not do empathy anymore, could it be a sign of narcissism?

No it could be a sign he's fed up and suicidal though! Maybe he's took one look at the planet and mankind and done as I've done: popping the dead of the world into a "I literally don't care anymore" file! I've tried to stop idiots being idiots I've tried to stop needless violence but by and large for every 1 clever person their are a million morons who you, in the end, actively hope for their demise!


How can the United States and Russia resolve their political rifts?

By having America back off! America and it's people are the biggest threat to mankind!


How should I deal with my father who's constantly mocking me for no reason, this affects my studies a lot and I'm very sensitive person, these are my career years, so can't waste time on him, what to do now?

Knock him out! Period! No dad should belittle their kids no matter the age! Then bin him and wait for him to die [contains swearing]!




I get no respect from my siblings what should I do?

Knock them out. They'll learn then. Believe me this works my brother and I were put in a care home as teenagers and he was heading down that being a pillock acting hard route in his formative years and one day we were playing pool and he was going through the motions and egging me on to fight him (long story short I was always told not to hit me brother and if I did as self defence I'd get beaten by me mum for fighting back and then simultaneously told to fight back if he hit me just to get beaten again) and I had a pool cue in me hands and I was using it lengths ways as a sort of get back thing shield type way and eventually I just dropped the cue and laced him all over. That was over 15 years ago. It's been a good 15 years since he acted hard or tried to belittle me. Hope your follow this sound advice and lace the lot of them


Why do people hate Christmas music?

I'm listening to have yourself a very merry Christmas and I want the man who sung it dead!!! What a twatful tune some bloke practically crying into the mic!!!! Be gone


What do we know about the new variant of the coronavirus in the UK?

No


Why is Soviet Russia suddenly popular again?

Archival research debunking many notions held for decades. There's a reason the books and documentaries on Stalin etc dried up after 1991!

Stalin: A Biography is a biography of Joseph Stalin written by Robert Service. It was published in 2004
-
2014 - Stalin: Volume I: Paradoxes of Power, 1878–1928 
2017 - Stalin: Volume II: Waiting for Hitler, 1929-1941 - Stephen Kotkin

-
Stalin and His Hangmen: The Tyrant and Those Who Killed for Him, is a 2004 political biography by Donald Rayfield
-
Stalin, a 1997 biography by Edvard Radzinsky of Joseph Stalin
-
Stalin: The Court of the Red Tsar by Simon Sebag Montefiore (2003-07-10)
    Young Stalin (2007)
-
Stalin: New Biography of a Dictator by Oleg Khlevniuk (2016-05-03)
-
Stalin: From the Caucasus to the Kremlin by Christopher Read. Published December 12 2016 by Routledge

-
Stalin: A New History Paperback – 8 Sept. 2005 by Sarah Davies (Editor), James R. Harris (Editor)
-
JOSEPH STALIN: THE DICTATOR OF THE USSR (Great Biographies) Paperback – April 26 2018

--

Inside the Terror (BBC, 2003); Stalin Channel 4 Corporation (2004); Apocalypse: Stalin - Original release: November 3, 2015. And various made-for-YouTube documentaries.




Do guys generally dislike/avoid dating women with unnatural hair colour?

If they have dyed hair you can tell they'll fit most negative stereotypes immediately! Met a purple haired lass at work. I instantly knew she was bisexual at least! And couldn't take criticism



Brodie Westwood: how is her being bisexual negative in any way

John Rabotcha: I didn't say it was but I knew instantly she was bi! And anyone who's identity revolves around where they place their genitals is empty in the head

Ruby: Nice homophobia there bro 👌

John Rabotcha: It's not as popular as you like think! Quite frankly two men is disgusting! And you know it! You just pretend! Here's a simple fact; we force kids to accept something THAT THEY FIND NATURALLY WEIRD! Making kids accept anything against their natural instincts is child abuse! Something you lot are good at

----

Why do many women think that they are pretty and attractive only when they wear makeup?

Because most of them are ugly without it! When I was a good looking teen I never brushed me hair I had no real need to, and didn't do anything extraneous at all to my appearance yet I managed to pull. In all honesty women should just ditch make up and accept REALITY










What is life like for the average Russian?

Russian


What makes Brits so hard to beat as drinkers?

the Irish are better drinkers both by quantity and quality


What do I do? My mom literally doesn't want to get the COVID-19 vaccine because the Bible said something about doctors putting chips in people! Is she right to not trust the vaccine since it's so new?

She's right to not trust it but nowhere in the bible does it mention chips being put in something that also didn't exist in biblical times demand she shows you where it says that


What is the scale of vaccine skepticism?

High even among the most ardent lockdown advocates


I'm 42 and my boyfriend is 33. Is it really possible for us to stay in a faithful relationship?

Yes


Why can't I trust my girlfriend?

Trust issues but you're a man so this will be called out. A woman gets the "she was probably hurt by someone" line but that one never applies to people with a scrotum


Have you ever had an intuition that happens to come true?

That what you're told about Stalin is mostly lies


My boyfriend won't let me have a guy best friend. Why?

Because he knows they want to bang you. End of




Why is a movie that was shot on film and scanned digitally different from movie that was shot on digital in the first place?

Every answer here was every pseudo directors wet dream I'll not bore you: because they can't! The creature on film is very much not a man in a suit. So what is it? I consider the whole Bigfoot Patterson gimlin film investigation the true means to gauge someone's thinking skills. If a suit couldn't be created then, that still can't be crated now, that moves naturally with no signs of needing to see where's its looking as someone in a suit would more than likely do, has muscle movement and neck movement and a huge stride and leaves deep footprints that men standing next to couldn't leave a mark on is proof it's not a man in a suit so what is it? It's like the COVID vaccine. If the flu vaccine is only effective at 40% with 70 years testing and it currently takes upwards of ten years to test a vaccine how can a 9 month tested vaccine be considered safe?





How should I tell my mom that I am a communist when she doesn't understand what it is?

Good luck you're in for a world of idiocy now. Just force her to read Grover Furr and j arch Getty and even to get her to watch old Soviet tv shows and movies and parades and whatnot and have nearly ALL of her preconceptions destroyed


Did Stalin pluck a live chicken?

Short answer: no.

long answer: definitely not.

i wouldn't mind knowing where you heard this fanciful take from




Why is Western Europe still so wealthy despite being destroyed by World Wars I & II and losing their overseas colonies?

Greed and murder in far flung places


What are good ways to chat up a Russian girl?

With your wallet



Why do some teenagers look so young while others look so old?

God only knows when I was in high school in the north of Ireland we had 15 year olds who looked like 40 year old blokes who'd just been released from prison. Nowadays I see 25 year olds with little iddy bitty girl chins and dressing like them too. Alex Jones did more to harm the scientific study on frogs than anyone all due to people just wanting to win an argument. He claimed they "turned the freaking frogs gay", which is incorrect but he was almost on the money. What the study actually showed was there was a chemical that wasn't turning them gay it was giving them sex changes instead. And the scary part is is this chemical is abundant in the west's water and food supply's. And has been since the late 90's.




YouTube Video Title: My Reply to That Sheep Cunt Blaming China

Ruddy's Video Description: There is no deadly pandemic Covid has been around since March 2019! *internet link* You're brainwashed plain and simple! Yet everyone says "duh chinky bots delete anti chinese posts" well you've seen the video you've seen a deletion take one second! So prove to me pro Chinese stuff stays up and anti Chinese is taken down! PROVE IT DUMB CUNTS
--------

Ruddy's Video Description: Jewtube censorship in real time




Ruddy (Comment on Video): State of Opportunity, it's called controlled opposition she was allowed to run and grab as many left and far lefties as possible and make them impotent. I saw through her when she first ever appeared but I had some hopes but no it took a quick google search to Sind out how big a  s c u m b a g she was! but because she's mildly good looking she has an army of pretend feminists (male rapists with manners) who will defend her vagina forever in the hope she'll touch it or suck it

Video Description: Their are no chicom bots deleting posts you can find many anti Chinese posts that border on genocidal all still up but my mood criticism of AOC gets deleted? What part of this video annoyed the Jews now?!





"Hmm [Stephen Kotkin] claims Stalin isn't on camera walking amongst other lies he spews

"Pity he's done good work debunking certain anti-Stalin myths then goes ahead and lies to an audience with the Stalin walking lie!"




Kotkin: ...around in order to walk so there's no footage of Stalin walking or moving



Mr Burns: Hello! There's more.



Kotkin: around in order to walk and so there's no footage of Stalin walking or moving extant in any Soviet archive - it was forbidden to film it. There are only a few tiny clips of him in Potsdam where they show him walking very slowly

Note: Ruddy commented twice on the same video. I distinctly remember that nothing was mentioned in the video about 'Stalin walking' and realised that John simply gave an example of what Stephen said elsewhere, which seems to be on the Nyuad Institute video above. (The comments are turned off, so Ruddy isn't able to 'signpost' that it's the video he's alluded to.) But Stephen says the same thing on another lecture yet he adds 'Tripoli' as another location. I think I've watched all of his Stalin talks and he's never said 'There's no videos whatsoever of Stalin walking'.

DangledTeeth

October 01, 2021, 11:21:38 PM #40 Last Edit: October 01, 2021, 11:42:40 PM by DangledTeeth


Man of Steel - defending the legacy of Joseph Stalin

Quora Question: Why is Joseph Stalin the most hated Communist?

The reason why Comrade Ioseb Vissarionovich Dzghushvili Koba Stalin is loathed by capitalist apologists, liberals, fascists and Trotskyist-Bukharinites (if you'll excuse the pleonasm) is the archival evidence pre- and post-glasnost all derives from Nazi propaganda peddler Joseph Goebbels and the other Joseph who developed McCarthyism.

Primarily the U.S. and Poland, Ukraine and the Baltic countries believe that Stalin killed as little as 20 million - no, wait, 40 million, or is it 80 million? - Soviet citizens for supposedly arbitrary reasons. The IRD-backed 'historian' Robert Conquest has worked closely with the neo-liberal Stanford University and its anti-communist Hoover Institution, which acquired 'documents' and 'micro-films' from Menshevik traitor Dimitri Volkogonov.

Since more of the archives have opened and files declassified, more and more anti-communist Tea Party conservatives and liberals like Stephen Kotkin, Robert Service, Anne Applebaum and Timothy Snyder have gotten their research assistants and undergraduates to ghostwrite their books with misleading inaccuracies, fabricated evidence and rely on memoirs from untrustworthy people, like Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn - who's a confirmed C.I.A. agent, and according to his ex-wife it's all 'folklore stories', and he wrote The Gulag Archipelago in an American apartment. And there's the dishonest agent for the Nixon Administration, Eugenia Ginzburg, who claimed to be an educated old-school communist and was apparently and initially imprisoned at Black Park and Butyrki before being moved on to Kolyma, where she uses fascist lies about exaggerated NKVD interrogations, so-called 'punishment cells' and forestry work, for being associated with a Trotskyite faction in the mid 1930s (which she was part of, even though she's lying out of her inverted sausage roll).

There has been a lot of misinformation spread about collectivisation and the mythical Holodomor - the latter is a huge lie 'backed up' by doctored photographs from right-wing nationalist Alexander Wienerberger and C.I.A. lies from 'journalist' Gareth Jones. There's a reason why Comrade Duranty kept his Pulitzer Prize, because he was telling the truth and the U.S. establishment are well aware of this but chose to cover it up. If I bothered to read a history book by the bourgeois historians penned after the Cold War I would know that they've mentioned kulak sabotage and that they say there have been famines before which were caused by drought, therefore what I am about to say won't be a revelation: the kulak bloodsucking vampire land-owning fucking Count Cuntula flew into a Luddite rage and destroyed all the agricultural equipment (but let's gloss over why they did it, and not all opposed to forced collectivisation were anti Soviet; some believed that it was a betrayal to the Revolution and thought it'd turn into tsar-era serfdom again). THE KULAKS DESERVED WORSE. You know... if they had it their way, the kulaks would defect to Nazi-occupied Paris and then be transported to a death camp for wrongly being identified as Bolshevik Jews. In which case, THE KULAKS DESERVED WURST (COVERED IN OUT-OF-DATE SAUERKRAUT).

As believers in the collective as opposed to the individual, we Stalinists proclaim Koba as the sole victor of WW2. Ungh, Red Army?! Who cares about Nazi-treasure-hoarding Zhukov?! Richard Sorge was a counter-revolutionary traitor who was part of a clandestine Ryutin terrorist faction and a fully fledged Nazi. After all, Generallismo Commissar or War Strategy Stalin was airlifted into Berlin, where he plummeted into a stylish crouch, vengefully rising while he wields two revolvers once ensconced in the lining of his trenchcoat, spouting a rogueish line about his mission as shells explode in the near distance. He crosses his forearms and expertly shoots several enraged slaves of the Wehrmacht as they advance on him until he's surrounded by several men clasping Lugers and Walthers. Stalin feigns surrender as a way of sneakily throwing a grenade at the unsuspecting formation then performing a sideways cartwheel flip. Stalin sprints in the direction of the Fuhrerbunker, superman-punching everyone who stands in his path. He arrives at the entrance doors and roundhouse kicks the bomb-damaged door off of its weary hinges. Joseph strides into the hysterical interior and confronts a whimpering Hitler in his lounge room. Stalin backhand punches Hitler onto his arse and aims his two revolvers at the Fuhrer before muttering "It's time to kick ass and exile Trotsky, but he's already dead" in Russian with his heavy Georgian accent. Bang!! Adolf is forever motionless to death. Blondi, probably already dead at this stage, attempted to maul Stalin's forearm as The Victor of WWII solemnly paces away, but the helpless dog is caught before it can sink its teeth into the Georgian's poor wanking arm, consequently having its neck snapped by the Bolshevik's headlock. Stalin then lit up his pipe outside the dilapidated Fuhrerbunkereinekestreibemitten before being greeted by a cigar-puffing Churchill with his coat draped over his shoulders. "Jolly good job, Bear, old chap. Here, I present the Victoria Cross to you for your staggering bravery". Stalin politely declined this bourgeois treasure, saying: "Comrade Churchill, your gift to me is immensely touching, but I shan't accept an award for those more deserving of the accolade". In other words, "shove your imperial tat up your bottom, y'blown-dry old bollock".

Comrade Stanli proposed the hugely successful Five-year Plan. THE KULAKS DESERVED WORSE. Second best super industrial power in the world achieved in four years. Checkmate, capitalists. Don't mention the useless railroad tracks, and don't tell anyone that the Baltic White Sea Canal was made up as they - the hardworking comrades - went along without properly surveying the land etc. GDP? Erm, erm, Khrushchev lied about Stainl in his 'Secret Speech' and was a complete pushover minge towards Mao. Brezhnev era was good for most people, but there was plenty of corruption because of him. Ah, Andropov! What a guy! The closest thing to Stalin we had. THE KULAKS DESERVED WORSE. Chernenko didn't do a lot in his short career. And Gorbachev is a liberal sell-out who opened the archives to Western historians, while they ate Pizza Hut and sauntered into McDonalds for an apple pie, the lovebite cunt.

As for the Gulags, they were NOT death camps like Nazi German ones. They were work camps - and we all know work can never lead to death. If you compare the current prison population of a nation, the U.S.A, that's hardly small to a prison/labour system from over half a century ago, you will find that the U.S. prison population is worse. Somehow, this justifies overwork, malnutrition, poor administration etc. Oh, and get a load of this: the C.I.A. themselves released a report of the Gulags and concluded that they were 'pretty hygienic, mate'. There were (previously) shockingly hidden facts like 'they had food' and would get more if they 'surpassed a quota', and until 1952 they worked between 8-10 hours a day, later kept at just 8 hours. But most of the report shows that improvements occurred between 1952-54, and we love to misleadingly say that the Gulag (as a term for 'camp', not the entire system) was established in 1918. Hmm... that's a pretty long time to iron out the wrinkles. But anyhow, who cares about Gulags?! I mean, being imprisoned, dying because of your environment or through an execution is nothing special, really. Why single out the Gulag?! They have the death penalty in some U.S. States. The Nazis used to mistreat and execute people a- oh... yyyyeah. Forget-I-said-that-bit.

But one thing you must not forget: Stalin put Yurine Gregory on the Moon. Yes, Stalin was 200% poisoned by Beria and Khrushchev (the former was the head of the Secret Soviet Atomic Bomb Project but that's one rocket we'd rather not praise) in 1953, but without Stalin's repressions and faith in the labour camps being good for the economy we'd never understand outer space an' all tha'.

It's been rumoured by Fox News, Buzzfeed, TMZ and Vice and other right-wing and quirky liberal outlets of propaganda that Stalin had a titchy penis. WRONNNNG!!!!! Old Super Schlong Stalin was called Super Schlong Stalin for a reason: he had a massive cock (anditwasasuperschlong). And boy, did the politburo know. They knew. Penisburo, more like. Central Cummittee. THE KULAKS DESERVED WORSE. Stalin's second wife, Nadezhda Alliluloluluyuliyluyeva, is believed to have shot herself in the heart, but a Serbian friend of mine has found a document from the Military Archives in St Petersburg which proves that Nadezhda's pumper failed after Stalin drunkenly whipped out his full mast in front of her and their guests. Anti-communist historian Richard Pipes begrudgingly noted that "Stalin was eight inches on the flop", Princeton professor Stephen Kotkin came (lol) to a similar conclusion but it was 8.2 inches on the stiff. World-renowned Stalin sympathiser and erudite commentator John Rabotcha cast doubt on what Prof Kotkin stated. "Hmm, he claims that Stalin had a rotating fanny made out of chocolate mousse, including other lies he spouts. If it takes years for less important vaccines to be formulated correctly, then why has a vaccine during a pandemic taken a lot less time to be developed?! Since the skeptics in a barber shop didn't believe me about my likely guess to do with WMD's, I suppose they'll overlook the fact that the NWO and Bill Gates wants to reset the economy and track people by an injected microchip to keep tabs on who uses a debit card instead of physical money or not"

Lenin reportedly had three strokes. With a knob as big as Stalin's, the Revolutionary Hero of Tsaritsyn have several strokes in his Kremlin quarters, I can tell you. Although his final stroke would be inside his head. Not in his imagination, mind. Because in 1953, Stalin had a spot of bother with a severe headache, stumbled over and did a pee (in his trousers). He suffocated blue around his loved ones, erm, his daughter and neglected alcoholic son (not the captured one who Stalin didn't give a shit about). It's a sad day for sure. Ah-aaaah-ah-ohhhh.

I've been Man of Steel. Thank you for your question and for reading my answer. And remember...

T H E 
K U L A K S 
D E S E R V E D 
W O R S E

DangledTeeth

October 02, 2021, 08:21:32 PM #41 Last Edit: October 02, 2021, 08:43:40 PM by DangledTeeth
The Solonelyvetsky Island - PISS (AND SHIT) IN MY PANTS



I've been arrested and sent to this place
Full of SRs and anarchists - I think it's a disgrace
I've been kept awake nearly all night
I need to scratch these mosquito bites
It's not so bad now that my voice is hoarse
We can only talk in the code of Morse
Conversations had in an array of taps
I hope I don't do the opposite of a crap
The walls are grey
And it's overcast today
But soon, I'll be the boss of this camp
And it's very damp
Just like my trousers when I
PISS IN MY PAAAAAANTS




I've been kicked out of the party of Communists
Stalin's arse doesn't think it's wrong to shit
Criticising him, it's not a great idea
He thinks I'm full of chod yet Stalin sometimes unleashes diarrhoea
Yeah, sometimes he has the runs
Luckily I wasn't in the firing line of guns
Two years later I embarked on my exile
The train approached; it took a while
I went to Turkey, France, Norway and then Mexico
Where I filmed a speech about Stalin, so
I spoke about the trials and his bureaucracy
I retired home because I needed to pee
And then I felt a pain in my head - was it caused by a lance?
No. It was an axe
So then I
PiSseD iN My paNnNnnTssSsS




I am Yezhov, I was the head of NKVD
Chief of unfair arrests most-er-ly
Ravenous, just like a wolf
I was called the deadly dwarf
But then, I was in a state of fear
Stalin demoted me, a dent in my career
For water transport I was the commissar
One day, I rode in a promised car
I was worried for a while
And then I had a really short trial
But that wasn't the end of my hell
I was then thrown into a cell
A guard came in, gun aimed with his perfect stance
And then I
(((Pissed in my pants)))




I flirted in front of my wife egregiously
she resented my attitude towards the peasantry
"This really never happens you can take my word
I didn't peacefully collectivise?! That's just absurd
Did the vodka work?
Are you hammered yet?
Are your nerves still shot like Kamenev?"
She was appalled by what I said
And right that second she got up and left
Nadezhda, darling!? Where have you gone - is what I thought
Another lesson in loss is what I was taught.
I found her dead with a gun in her hands
And then I did a
P I S S
I N
M Y
P A A A A A A N T S





I shake Ribbentrop's hand
SHIIIIT IN MY PANTS






Attend the Yalta conference
SHIT IN MY PAAAANTS






My 71st 70th birthday at the Bolshoi Theatre
SHHHHIT IN MY PAA-AANTS





The year is now 1953
When I stumbled over and did a pee
But first, let me set the stage
I'm older now - 74 years of age
Here with staff in my Kuntsevo dacha
So quiet, you could hear muffled laughter
But one thing that wasn't funny
Was when I came over all funny
I was more precious than rationed bread
I felt a pain in my Marxist head
The light was on and I fell down
A look of terror without a frown
No one came to help - they didn't want to disturb
It was scary shit, a synonym of turd
Speaking of which, I was looking at the crack under the door
To see passing feet, help is what I did implore
Face down across the floor
I couldn't crawl let alone dahnce
Someone needed to get an ambulahnce
I felt a sensation in my sausage of romance
And that's when I
PISSED IN MY PANTS


Okay, seriously, you comrades. Can we, okay?



I piss right in my pants every time I'm at a conference through the Central Committee
And it's harder when I touch my glans and piss with an erect willy
You say I'm cruel, I just call it elimination of the kulak peasantry
I wear a hat indoors - it's unnecessary
'Cause I
Piss in my PAAAANTS

DangledTeeth

October 05, 2021, 12:00:07 AM #42 Last Edit: October 05, 2021, 01:19:36 AM by DangledTeeth





When I conducted research for my Stalin biography I slid out a drawer in the Moscow Archives and made a startling discovery: Stalin had coituscourse with a particularly young 'woman' named Lidiya Pereprygina while in exile.

I was momentarily in disbelief. What a shocking find. Annoyingly short paragraph.

Doubtless, the Mayday tankies will dismiss this for being bourgeois lies. But I saw the evidence, chaps. You cannot refute what has been seen. It's all true. The Georgian gangster would make you swim with the fishes in the Hudson River if you didn't pay your protection fee on time.

The 'do from the Caucasus tsaritsyned the teen. He sank her boat alright, whatever that's supposed to mean.

Unkempt beast with a tidy and voluminous moustache. Beast, I say. Beast!!

"She is a slag.

"A dirty, enticing sur-laaag. This essay by Owen can wait!! I'll be up her peasant posterior in no time"

These were the depraved thoughts of Bolshevist Stalin (all in squiggly Georgian, even in his mind); his libido bubbling to the rim because of the tedium served by his exile.

The Stalinman needed a distraction. The Siberian fluff that adorned the pasture of Koreika was a conduit of the ice-cold temperature of the region and it was sub-zero like his Marxist heart, but his nads were searing with fuck.

His current love was mattressing any female creature that breathed. Of course, the wispy trails emanating from their frosty lungs made it evident there were signs of life - and these were lives which Stalin did revere, ironically.

Lidiya used to visit the 35-year-old's dilapidated shack for something that's not worth wording euphemistically. Let one say that he fornicated with the innocent adolescent, the vile cad.

She was of the legalos Agesandro of Consentez, of course. But when you're a lawless prisoner of the white prairie who's stuck in such a position for combating the tsarist system, you're essentially forfeiting your legal right to be accepted for your
lewd perverted acts of young-shag.

Before Stalin inserted his proverbial member into the gaping 'gasm crater that was SSR Ukraine, Nonce Lite had his fiery almond oculars honed on the Pereprygina glute-max.

Again, I must emphasise that it was above board in tsarist Russia at the time, but you must admit to yourselves that it was bally well disgusting of the Georgian gangster to dump his yoghurt into her flange... or up her arse, the document doesn't specify the orifice.

When Stalin despotically rose above his comrades in the politburo as General Secretary of the Communist Party, he was able to formulate a death list of his Old Bolshevik chums who had unfavourable opinions of him.

His library consisted of historical books about the Roman Empire, Ivan the Terrible and a Take That 1993 annual, anachronistically.

In the meantime, during his blisteringly boring exile (plus coldness), he penned a list of all the rump he could pump. Erectivising the assriculture was on his mind in the 1910s. Instead of forcing the peasants to fill their sacks, Stalin eagerly wanted to empty his.

The list was rather short (similar to his respectable height), for their weren't many Siberan harlots for the Commissar of Cum to skeet. There was Marishka, the 63-year-old seamstress with pleurisy; Anya, the 51-year-old field labourer with frostbit piles; Yelena the 46-year-old forestry feller with a missing thumb. But for some inexplicable reason, Stalin was not a jot interested in these charming ladies.

Jughashvili eagerly received correspondence from Vladimir Ilich Ulyanov, otherwise known as Lenin. The letters from the revolutionary bald cunt duly reminded Stalin of Lidiya's.

Stalin was guarded during his exile by a cop named Ivan Laletin. He was a tad cross with Stalin's lasciviousness.

At Stanford's Hoover Institution, I flit my eyebollocks over a bonanza of revealing and savoury secrets...

Nikita Khruschev - Stalin's trusted pal, who seized power and denounced him in 1956 - launched a private look into Stalin's sordid history and ordered KGB honcho Ivan Serov to investigate.

Serov reported back to inform Comrade Khrushchev of Stalin's fun 'n' games.

The KGB chairman explained: "J.V. Stalin started living together with her and gave her one. I have my left palm rested on my right bicep as I raise my forearm with a clenched fist, complete with contorted pout. But upon reading more details about her birthday, I have a splash of vomit on my tunic" - and this, he implied, was almost as shocking as the seduction.

Soon the news became even more yapper-hanging: Lidiya was up the bun. A little twat shrimp was brewing in her kettle, but it died soon afterwards. Lidiya's miscarriage.

Stalin moved into the unflattering Pereprygin two-room hovel. The bog was a shithut where he used to take a rifle to scare the circling wolves - and this is no metaphor.

To entertain himself, Stalin razzed it up with the local tribesmen, tangoed for the moon, and learned how to purge marine life. Kaleika Trout Trials he called them.

During my research, I discovered Stalin already put it about the showroom and there's provenance which determines that he often promised marriage, only to cunt off at the last tick of the clock.

Even in these years of empty-wallet vagueness, he was never without at least one friend with benefits - and often more.

Indeed in exile, he became a randy old shunter: in Vologda, in an earlier exile, he had met a runaway squeeze of 16 named Polia who was living with a revolutionary comrade.

Stalin and she began an affair: watching secret police codenamed her Raleighfanny, for she was the village bike.

Polia was one of the few people who understood how strange Stalin was and could tease him about it: she always called him Pockface Praddock - which is a portmanteau of 'pranny' and 'haddock', because Stalin could be a convivially silly fellow at times, and he was known for being a master of the line and reel.

But Stalin's tackle shot more instigation into Lidiya's gap, where she churned out a surviving son named Alexander, but she buttoned her twin cushions atop her chin about the child and Stalin never actually knew yet had his suspicions.

But what became of Polia?

When they parted, he sent her a postcard of a couple hugging it out and wrote: "Freaky li'l thang gon' pass me by, watchin' you out the corner of my eye. Wit' a big booty and them healthy thighs, let a mothafucka get a li'l piece of that pie. You ain't all that. Why you actin' stuck up?! Let me pour some of this drank in ya cup. And maybe later I'll hit them guts, and maybe at night you be catchin' the bus" - Josef

1917 came calling and Soso had his heels away on revolutionary duties. He wasn't drafted for WWI because he had a dodgy arm after a sentient cart attempted to purge him, and it also made him walk like a cautious duck.

And as we all know, Stalin ascended the Marxist ladder in Lenin's newly formed government and became Lenin's Commissar of Coffin before plotting collectivisation plans as Supreme General Premier Secretary of the USSR and RSFSR.

Cunt Stalin is available at Waterstones and Foyles for £8.99 (paperback) and £14.99 (hardback), and Amazon Market place for several hundred pounds.


DangledTeeth

October 07, 2021, 09:07:25 PM #44 Last Edit: October 07, 2021, 11:55:52 PM by DangledTeeth
STALAN FORD - EASTERN BLOC DICTATOR

Stalan: Hello, I'm with the Sunday Pravda. I know you bought today's copy.

Woman: Yes, I take the Pravda.

Stalan: I'm no' interested in wha' you fuckin' take, comrade. I just wanna know whether you've read it.

Woman: Yes, I read it this morning.

Stalan: Well let's have a look then, shall we?

Woman: What are you doing?!

Stalan: What's all t- oh look! It's the agriculture section, looking distinctly unread.

Woman: Well, I don't read the agriculture section.



Stalan: Well perhaps you fucking should!!

Woman: What's going on?!?!

Stalan: You haven't read any of them, have you?

Woman: I mean, I've read most of them.

Stalan: Oh, have you? Well let's have a little exam, shall we? Sit daown. Tell me, wha' did it say in taday's papah abaht what is the worst region in Italy?

Pause

Stalan: ROME. Why?

Woman: Erm, I don't know.

Stalan: Because of the fuckin' fascists. What does H.G. Wells have to say abaht Marxism versus Liberalism?

Woman: Well I don't know, but I actually agree with him.

Stalan: I don't fuckin' care whether you agree with the arse-wiping rhetoric. I wanna know wha' H.G. Wells has had to say abaht it.

Woman: I don't know.

Stalan: Wells said: "My visit to the United States excited my mind. The old financial world is collapsing; the economic life of the country is being reorganized on new lines. Lenin said : "We must learn to do business, learn this from the capitalists."" What does he say?

Woman: My visit to the United States excited my mind. The old financial world is collapsing; the economic life of the country is being reorganized on new lines. Lenin said : "We must learn to do business, learn this from the capitalists."

Stalan: Good, good. Have you read what Maxim Gorky had to say abart the western film The Lost Patrol, 1934?

Woman: No.

Stalan: Well, you fuckin' should, you soppy tsart! Sunday is a day for the conveyor belt if you don't read every section of that Sunday Pravda. Because if you don't, comrade, I'm gonna be watching you. And I don't care where you go - you can fuck off to Vladivostok. And I shall have men - nutters from Norilsk - dressed with blue officer hats, up Lubyanka, with rifles, ready to break your tsarty fingers off for Trotskyite-Bukharinite counter-revolutionary espionage. You know wha' I'm sayin' to ya? There's the agriculture section. There is a very interesting article about the kulaks.

------------




Stalan: 'ow much longer are you gonna be, Luca?

Luca: Oh, I won't be longer than five minutes, comrade. Oh yeah! Hang about, you're a commie, ain't you? You'll like thees one. There's thees commie and he's a li'le bit imperialeestic. And he does the centralised economy and everythin' but he gehs it all-a wrong because he's imperialeestic. So for ex-arm-pool, expensive state bread; starvation.

Stalan: Wha' do you mean 'an imperialistic commie'?

Armando: It's just a joke. He gets all his politics and economy mixed up, so, you know, Soviet state salt bath; dead Ukrainian peasant.

Stalan: He shouldn't be doing tha' imperialistic business, fucking mixing up resourced subsidised goods with the petit-bourgeoisie, 'e shouldn't be doing it.

Luca: N-no-no...

Stalan: Where does 'e live?

Luca: Eets just a li'l joke, really.

Stalan: Tell me.



Luca: Oh, well, it could be... I don't know... Moscow.

Stalan: Moscow? Near Moscow by the shacks?

Luca: Yeaaaah, could be in the shacks

Stalan: I know the shacks in Moscow. What's his name?

Luca: Well, you know, I don't know... Martin Wright.

Stalan: Martemyan Ryutin, lives in the shacks in Moscow - I know 'im. I'm gonna sor' aht this Gentile-esque raspberry. This fascistic, babbling, dokhodyaga, Napoleonic cunt-moose.



-------------




Stalan: And if you don't fell trees above the norm and construct the Palace of the Soviets by 2005, I'll fuckin' kill you. Thank you.

Stephen Mangan: Well, erm, thank you to the Eastern Bloc Dictator for an inspirational talk at the meeting for the 16th Party Congress.

----------------


Armando (On phone): Yeah, it's my washing machine. Could you send in a Eastern Bloc Dictator? Thanks.



Armando: I switch it on and it completely cuts out.

Stalan: Are you happy to be here while I do this?

Armando: Yeah-yeah, I'm doing a bit of tidying up.

Stalan glares at a washing machine

Stalan: There's a comrade 'ere who's exchanged 10 rations cards for you an' 'e's not very 'appy. If you don't start turning, I'm gonna tear you apart so to'ally you'll look like the fucking Cathedral of Christ the Saviour, you cheap, me'alised piece of crap. I'm gonna Kerensky your bel', that's wha' I'm gonna do. If you don't rotate you're gonna end ahp in a lagpunkt mopping up shitty pants and lice-ridden sheets - is that what you want? I'm gonna tear every nut and bol' and piece of wire aht of your cheap, nasty guts. And then I'm gonna shove 'em dahn your pahder tray like bits of old Beria. And when I come rahnd tomorra I'm gonna bring rahnd a pair of White Army trahser's and you're going to wash them! I don't care about their political label. You're a washing machine, now fucking wash! I will not tell you again.

Washing Machine: WHHRRRRR

Armando: That is fantastic! Thanks a lot.

Stalan: S'alright.

Armando: I would offer you a cup of tea, but the kettle is broken.

Stalan: Wha', this kettle?

Stalan points at the kettle

Armando: Er yeah, it cuts out just before getting to boiling point and is part of a clandestine Yagoda faction working in collaboration with imperial Japan.



Stalan: Do you wan' me to have a word?

Armando: Yes, please.

Stalan: Listen, you f-

-----



Doctor: Susan, I have got to say Trotsky has been in a coma for eight months now. There's very little sign of brain activity.

Susan: Please can we try? *Holds up a cassette* This is his most hated - Eastern Bloc Dictator - it might just do something.

Doctor: Okay, but he won't hold out much longer.

Susan inserts a cassette into a player

Stalan Voice: I'm evah sao sorry to say this baht if you don't wake ahp, I'll purge ya! You understand, you sick capitalist?! What's the matter, those tubes suck aht your tongue, eh? Are you listening, eh? Don't you look serene lying there. You won't look serene at the bottom of the Volga River with another ice axe in your head, will ya?! You bourgeois bollockhuffer!

Trotsky: Mumble!

Susan and the doctor are astonished

Stalan Voice: I know what you're thinking: 'if I die I can get away from 'im'. Well, let me tell ya sammink, comrade. When your spirit's floa'ing dahn that zona toward the light, you know what's behind the light?

Trotsky: E m i n e n t  m e d i o c r i t y.

Stalan Voice: It's not God! It's me! And I'm gonna exile your poncy soul all the way back dahn the zona till you choke on your own fucked-up ribs. NOW, DON'T WAKE THE FUCK AHP!

DangledTeeth



Palpalenin: Did you ever hear the tragedy of Friedarth Engelsueis the Wise?

Stanakin: No.

Palpalenin: I thought not. It's not the story the Mendi would tell you. It's a Bolshesith legend. Friedarth Engelsueis was a Marx Premier of the Bolshesith, so powerful and so wise he could use the Force to influence the proletariat and create... revolution. He had such a knowledge of the Marx side he could keep the ones he cared about from dying.

Stanakin: He could actually save people from death?

Palpalenin: The Marx side of the Force is a pathway... from each according to his ability, to each according to his need. Some consider to be unnatural.

Stanakin: What happened to him?

Palpalenin: He became so powerful, only thing he was afraid of was losing his power, which eventually, of course, he did. Unfortunately, he taught his apprentice everything he knew. Then his apprentice killed him in his sleep. Ironic - he could save others from death but not himself.

Stanakin: Is it possible to learn this power?

Palpalenin: Not from a Mendi.


DangledTeeth

October 18, 2021, 08:04:14 PM #46 Last Edit: October 18, 2021, 08:18:07 PM by DangledTeeth


DangledTeeth

October 20, 2021, 07:09:40 PM #47 Last Edit: October 20, 2021, 11:03:04 PM by DangledTeeth


Hello Plonkers, Sir David Jason Sir MBE here. You'll know me best as Del Boy or Bournville from Open all Hours Except Sunday. I'm here to share another OFAH classic from the BBC archives themed on the Soviet tyrannical dictator from the former U.S.S.R. It's inspired by the spin-off Only Bols(heviks) and Horses, except all the cast is more or the less the same, no Trottersky family nor nothin' like that.

Sit back and view the unreleased alternative version The Unlucky Comrade Is

Int. Airport

The Trotters trail behind a crowd

Rodney: Y'knah, it's funny, I no'iced it earlier but it didn't register.

Del: Yeah? What's that?

Rodney: Apart from us, the winners are all mums and dads.

Del: It's not the parents who are the winners, Rodney. It's the kids.

Cassandra: What do you mean?

Del: Well, Rodney's painting 'Stalin's Arse at Dacha' was sent to the State Flakes competition for the under 15-year-old category.

Rodney: Say it again.

Cassandra: So they think Rodney's fifteen?

Rodney: Is that right?

Del: No... they think you're fourteen.

Rodney: Fawteyn!? They think I'm fawteyn!! Whoy didn't you tell me this back in England?

Del: I thought it might get Mykawl Fish Stall to predict an 'urricane over the holiday. Look, Rodney, I sent your painting off in good faith. I didn't know that it'd get sent to the Young Pioneers. I mean, it's all your fault, dipstick, for putting 'by Rodney Trotter, 14 years, six months and ten days old'.

Rodney: But how was I sappost to know that in twelve years' time I'd have the misfortune of having my masterpiece winged off to a cornflakes committee by my cosmic cockend of a brother?

Del: It's hardly my faul' that you won. *Del glances at the congregation* Now, come on, come on. You're gonna poplock through it - you migh' as well practice naow 'cos you'll 'ave that brokedancing compostition near the end of the episode.

Rodney: Poplock through it?!?! 'ow the 'ell am I gonna pass for fawteyn?

Cassandra: Ueh-her-her-her.

Rodney: Will you cease your laughter, Cassandra. Please behave in a way that's appropriate for your age.

Audience: Laughter.

Del: Righ', just look over there, look... sahme of those lads, look, are over 6 foot. Fifteen- and sixteen-year-olds look a lot stubbly and elongated than the past generation.

Rodney: That's an astute observation, Derek. The most astuterest observedvation, in fact. However, there is one vital aspect that you have overlooked.

Del: And what's that?

Rodney: THEY THINKOYM FAWTEYN!!!!

Del: Erm, you have boyish good looks. Advantage.

Rodney: That's why there are three tickets: two for mater and pater and one for the newt.

Del: You can't expect teenagers to pilot themselves abroad, can ya?

Rodney: Let's see, I'm supposed to be fawteyn, and the pair of you have two tickets as parents, so what is your role, Del?

Del: Erm, well, when the commissar for centralised cornflakes phoned me ahp, 'e said you have to be accompanied by yer parents and - I dan't know why I did it, musta been jazzed on the booze - I said that I was yer father.

Rodney: Mar dad!? Did you 'ear tha', Cassandra?

CassandraL Yes. Ah-hah-h- then who the pissing hell am I supposed to be, his mum?

Rodney: Tell mey this is a nigh'mare.

Del: Naaoh, you soppy aold marecunt. You're not his mum, ah-hm-hah, no... you're 'is step-mum.

Cassandra: I think we should tell them the t-

Del: Jast a minu'e, wanky. The secret police won't be all thaa-aat secret if you go shooting yer mahf off. If Rodney convinces them he's a decade younger, we can all enjoy a free 'olidee.

Rodney: But if they find out we're lying, they'll chack us ou' on the streets.

Del: And if we tell them the truth they'll do the same thing. Now, the return fligh' is not for another week, so wha' are they gonna do, stick us in one of them 'alf-way barracks Obama?

Rodney: Sooner or later, Del, they are going to find out that I'm not fawteyn.

Del: Baht we'll be in the hotel by then, away from the prying eyes of the NKVD. Now come on, we're on holiday.

Cassandra: Well, at least it'll be an experience.

Del: Good girl, you know it makes sense. Hah-hah-hah. Come on, let's get over there and check-in. And don't forget to act a bit mumsie.

The Trotters approach a holiday rep

Man: We're leaving in about five minutes. It's only a half-hour journey to the hotel, so we should be there in time for lunch.

Del: The Trotter family.

Man: Ah, yes. Alan Stalins, pleased to meet you. Shake your hands. Here are your rosettes, Mrs Trottlers. And one for you, Mr Trobter. And here's a unique badge for young R-

Stalins turns to the imposing sight of Rodney

Stalins: He's a big fucker.

Del: Yes, his la'e mother was a Harlem Globetrotter with a connection to the Surrey Globetrotters.



Stalins: Sensational. And here's your badge, Rodney. You are a life member of the Gulag Gang.

Rodney: Thuh fuckin' wha'?

Stalins: The Gulag Gang - it's an idea we came up with to make the comrades feel part of it. Whenever we say "are you Stankanovites having fun rapidly industrialising for the motherland by exceeding the production norms?" you all shout "GULAG".

Rodney looks miserably stern

Del: Daon't worry, he'll get the 'ang of it.

Stalins: Okay, fine, we'll be off in a moment.

Stalins moves away

Del: Yes, thank you.

Rodney: Uh daon't bohlieve this is happenin' to mey.

Del: We'll be on the coach in a minu'e, hotel in 'alf an hour and then you're free to do wha' you wan'. Nice an' easy, bruv, nice an' easy.

A blonde woman in uniform appears

Roza: Uhkeh, all mimbers of the Gulag Gang over here.

Rodney: Oah, naoh!!

Roza: We all goh to the hurtel on the Stolypin wagon, niet with theze owld fogehz. Da?

Del: Ah-hah-har. 'Old fogies'.

Rodney: You're fucking enjoying this, aint ya?

Del: No, Rodders. I'm just playing along.

Stalins: Mums and dads, if you'd like to follow your dictator, the coach is just outside. We've laid on a little welcoming reception back at the hotel. I'm sure that none of you would object to a glass or three of vodka, if you're not working on behalf of an anti-communist faction from Uzbekistan.

Del: That's lovely, Alan. Salute wave. *To Rodney* W'go on, Rodney, off you go.

Rodney: Wha'?!

Del: You're supposed to be with the Gulag Gang.

Rodney: I don't want to be with the cunting Gulag Gang.

Del: Come on, imposter teenager, don't balls it up now.

Cassandra: The blue hats are staring at us.

Roza: We're stihll wihting fer Rudney Trrrrotter.

Del: Jangling the off-duty bottles in my bag. Over here, comrade.

Roza: Khome on, RRRRudnyey. Dun't b-

Roza is astounded by the sight of 6'4'' 14-year-old Rodney

Rodney (muttered): 'm nht goin'.

Stalins: Oh, is he not a good mix?

Del: Not a good mix?! He definitely is, Alan. He'll be doing the windmill with the others when the DJ drops his selection of tunes.



Roza: Oh, noh need fohr sed face, Rudnyih. Dohn't wurry, Khomrrrrade. Roza protict you. Here iyn Sovyit RrRrRaasha we like plenned ikonomyih borger and Perm-36 frrrriez.

Del: Oah, that's his fav'rite.

Cassandra: Don't get any ketchup down your shirt, Rodney.

Rodney: (((Amplified mumble))), Cassandra.

Del: I'll just put my arm around yer girlfriend, Rodney. Ohp! I mean step-mum.

Cassandra: Don't push your luck, Derek.

Roza leads Rodney across to the Gulag Gang and a girl of about 13 speaks to Rodney

Girl: Do you like Bernes?

Rodney: Naaoh.

Roza: All togyither, are you hevin' farn?

All: GULAG!

Roza (singing): United forever in friendship and labour. Our mighty republics will ever endure. The Great Soviet Union will live through the ages. The dream of a people their fortress secure

Rodney glumly mouths the lyrics as he walks off to follow the departing Gulag Gang

Duty-free bags: C L I N K

Int. Hotel Bedroom.

Del: I've bought some Soviet State lottery tickets - everyone's a winner. I got one for you and Rodney. We're on a winning roll, ain't we?

Cassandra: Tell that to poor Rodney!

Del: Aoh look, don't keep on abou' it. I tried to say that, as Rodney's parents, we'd like to have him accompany ahs on our holiday. But it's in their terms and conditions, see. They had to give us space to enjoy our holiday. Plahs, we don't want to falsely confess to being part of a British-led resistance movement collabora'ing with a rogue group of Trotskyists.

Cassandra: More like you didn't bother to reason with them.

Del coolly places his hands in his pockets and nods

Del: True, sweet'eart. It wouldn't make for a hilarious episode if we requested for Rodney to be separated from that Goolies Gang lot.

Del goes into a bedroom

Del: Oh, that must be Rodney's room, there's a picture of Jimmy Savile on the wall, not a picture of Ho Chi Minh.

Audience laughter: removed.

Cassandra: I'll sleep in there. You and Rodney can have the honey-moon bed.

Del: Yeah, alright. I thought it'd be a bit weird for the old maid to find me tucked up with his biological 'father'.

Cassandra: It would look even weirder if the maid finds Rodney donging my flange.

Del: I didn't think of thaa-aat. I'd better cancel breakfast in bed. Do y'want that picture of Savile taken off the wall?

Cassandra: You have done enough for Rodney and I already.

Del: Cushty bushty. There goes Rodney on a skateboard. *Calling* Rod-ney, don't go fuckin' loopy, will ya, son.

Cassandra: That was quick, wasn't it?

Del: Leader of the packet of quicks.

There is a midnight knock at the door, and Del opens it

Roza: Yez, it's me. Is RRRRudnih here?

Del: Well, you're the fuckin' Akela, brahv. You ough'-a know where the full-sized adult 'alf-brahvva of mine is.

Roza: Itz juzt toeh let hyim knoh about Joonyor Dizco at Kolyma mines. But I khome back leter and inform the newz to hyim. Bye for now, comrades.

Roza exits

Cassandra: Junior disco?! Oh, he won't like that one jot. We can't lie by saying Rodney won't be well.

Del: Dan't warry, I'm cer'ain he'll want to Wallace and Gromit when we tell 'im.

Del enters the bathroom then Rodney enters in skateboarding gear

Cassandra: What have you been doing?

Rodney: Abseiling in the Panama Canal.

Cassandra (ironically): Oh... and there was I thinking that you'd been skateboarding.

Rodney: Where's the twat?

Cassandra: He's having a wash.

Rodney gently taps the bathroom door

Rodney: Derek? Could you come out, please.

Del: On your bike! There's no need for me to 'admit' that I'm a noofter.

Rodney: No, I mean could you exit the bathroom.

Del: I am starkers, Rodders. Give me five minutes to wrap a towel around me.

Rodney: Sorry about the bad language, Cassandra.

Cassandra: What b-

Rodney: DO NOT UTILISE THE BIDET, YOU COMPLETE ROTTER. OR ELSE I'LL THRASH YOU ONE.

Cassandra: Yes, that's bad language alright.

Del: Oi-oi-oi, what's up with you?!

Rodney: I came 26th in a skateboarding competition at the age of two. No, no, I've muddled it up.

Del: Second?! You were in the lead when I saw you.

Rodney: It's a Soviet skateboard, it snapped in 'alf. A tree feller attached a set of wheels to a log.

Del: I told you not to go fuckin' loopy.

Rodney: I also have a 13-year-old Bernes fan called Trudiy who's got the hots for me. And tomorrow I'm going to have a guided tour of Magnitogorsk, and I'm gonna kill you.

Del: Calm down, Rodney! You're acting like a big arse. I'm not leaving this bathroom until you've cooled off.

Rodney: I'll wait. I don't care if you shower all week. I'm gonna get you, Derek Trotter.

Cassandra: Have you seen the room?

Rodney: No.

Rodney removes the skateboarding clobber and sits down at the balcony.

Rodney: Poxy lih-zuhd. Gyood.

Cassandra: Is that Trudiy saluting at you?

Rodney: ...Yeah.

Rodney does a half-arsed salute in reciprocation

Cassandra attempts to conceal her smirk as she foots over to a drinks cabinet as Del enters from the bathroom

Del: Have you calmed down yet?

Rodney: CUNT!!!!!!!!!

Del approaches with his fingers crossed

Del: Feign knives, feign knives. Do you think I'd let us come over 'ere if I knew this would 'appen?

Rodney: Of course you would. It's in the script.

Del: Oh!!!! That's like a spoon going in my mouth. I may be many things but I'm not a selfish bloke who comically contradicts his words through his actions.

Cassandra tries to hand a drink to Rodney but Del snatches it

Del: Cheers swee'fart. They probably fixed up all the entertainments today to make you feel at home. The rest of the week is your own, most probably.

Rodney: Oh no, I was given the whole itinerary: tomorrow, after my car welding lesson, we're off to witness the interrogation of some dissidents. Then on Wednesday, myself and the rest of the Gulag Gang are going to do a shift in a kitchen. And then we're going to learn how to preserve Lenin's corpse.

Del: Wha', the one who did the Revolution of October and Revolution 9?

Audience: MAH-PAH-HAH-HAH-HAH!

Rodney: And the day before we go 'ome, we'll get to repaint the corridors of the Lubyanka.

Del: Wha', in matt, gloss or vinyl?

Rodney: You're enjoying this, ain't you?

Del: Yet again, I'm just playin' along, makes no sense in this context. If you keep this mood up you're going to ruin this holiday. *To Cassandra* It's all your fault for tellin' 'im abou' the junior disco in the Kolyma mines.

Rodney: Junior Disco?!?!

Cassandra: Never said a word.

Rodney: I ain't going to a junior disco!

Del: It's alright, your dad and step-mum will look after you.

Rodney: A tubster of a nurse will look after us. She's so huge she'd have to go on a diet in order to get a GWR

Del: Well, at least their trains are nice.

Rodney: No, the record.

Del: Matt Goss on vinyl?

Rodney: You're fucking enjoyin' this!!

There's a knock at the door. Del opens it to the sight of Stalins and Roza

Roza: Iz RRRRudnih back yit?

Del: Rodney, your commissar is here.

Del hurriedly takes a drink and cigarette from Rodney and puffs on the cigarette like a penguin

Stalins: We thought we'd take the opportunity to check your passports.

Del: The fuck do you wanna do tha' for?

Roza: It iz simplih Sovyet regulashon.

Stalins and Roza examine Rodney's passport and glance at him with suspicion

Stalins: Have you ever been in a band, Rodney?

Rodney: No.

Roza: Hev you heard of a behnd called A Bunchehv Wallies?

Rodney: Yes. I aonly swept ahp and made the taeay.

Stalins: The lead singer stated that you were Marxist-Trotskyite anarchists.

Rodney: Now 'old on, I questioned it with astonishment.

Del: Yes that's right, he did. I coulda been their manager but, well, I didn't agree with their political views, and neither did Rodney.

Stalins is almost convinced

Del: And if you check with the BBC you'll see that they were on Top of the Pops without us two there.

Stalins tilts his head and exhales

Stalins: Okay, I believe you. And your date of birth is acceptable.

Roza: Oh, Rudnyih, I nihd to tell you, there is brihkdancing khontyest at Kolyma mines. We miht at hotel bar for departure, da? It great farn, plenty of prize.

Rodney: Superb.

Stalins and Roza exit

Del: We better order room service.

Rodney: Naooh, why don't you *nudges Del's arm* go out and take in the sights.

Del: Oh-aaoh, yes, I'm feelin' a bit closetphobic.

Del goes to leave

Del: Oh, and Rodney.

Rodney: Yeah?

Del: Mike's cock sock machine is in your flight bag. And I wink to myself, what a wonderfuuuuul world.

Rodney: Killed the vibe.

Int. Hotel Bar. Night

Trudiy appears at an archway and stares at Rodney

Rodney: I'LL BE BACK IN A FUCKIN' MINUTE!!!!!!!

Cassandra: Having fun?

Rodney: Gulag. Ah, you didn't get me a drink, then?

Del: Uh?

Rodney: Well, don't worry, I'll get my own.

Rodney stands at the bar

Rodney: Can I have a large Bacardi and Coke, please?

Del: And an orange cordial with ice and a straw, please.

Rodney: We've got into the holiday and I'm gonna tell them the truth. I dan't care if they chuck us ou', ma'e. I just don't care.

Del: Yeah, you be a self-absorbed plonkercock, why don't you. What about that soppy cunt over there.

Rodney: Ergh, I'm not bothered about 'er, clearly I'm not. *Calling* Once again, I'll be back in a minute.

Del: Naaoh, no, not that Trudiy kid. Gordon Bennett!! I mean Cassandra.

Rodney: Oh!!

Del: She's having the time of her life on this holiday. Don't go an nause it up for her. Alrigh'. Now if you'll excuse me *nudges his head and adjusts his lapels* I'm off aht on the town with two women. I hope those two holiday commissars don't spo' me. Still, I could always say I'm in a polygonal relationship.

Del saunters off with two women

Rodney: So, Cassandra, are you enjoying this holiday?

Cassandra: Yes. Incredibly relaxing.

Roza appears

Roza: Heeey, Rudnih, it final of brihkdancing competishon. Stolypin train go in ten minutez.

Rodney: Darwin!

Cassandra: It's up to you. Do you want to wa-

Rodney: Watching? I'm about to participate.

Int. Hotel Bar. Day

Del: Juan, can I have a pina colada with ice and Alka Seltzer?

Rodney and Cassandra storm in

Rodney: Del! You said we were on a winning roll.

Del: Yes.

Rodney: It wasn't a winning roll; it was a fucking sandwich.

Del: Sorry!?

Rodney: We've won.

Del: You and Cassandra won the b-boy championship?

Rodney: Naaaoh.

Cassandra: It's the lottery tickets. Rodney won.

Rodney shows the newspaper to Del

Del: Bloody hell!!

Cassandra: I learnt Russian at evening school and I've read it properly.

Rodney: But it'll be in a foreign currency.

Del: Potahtahs, Hungarian liver sausage, warm vodka 'otdogs. Dan't fuckin' care. We're milyunaires.

Del and Rodney dance in a circle

Del: My aold man's a dustman, he wears a dustman's hat... A-DOOBY-DOOBY-DOOBY... DOOby... doo. No, 'ang abou', there's got to be a catch. We're in Russia.

Stalins suddenly appears beside Del

Stalins: And right you are, comrade. This is Russia - the Soviet Union. I heard of your lottery win.

Del: Yes. Can you check this article, make sure it's all pucker.



Stalins: Yes, it's the winning ticket. But I'm sorry to say that you cannot claim a coppeck of this dosh, comrade Trotter.

Del: Why no'?!?!

Stalins: This newspaper is Pravda - lots of propaganda and false success stories and auspicious things appear in here.

Cassandra: But it's a winning ticket.

Stalins: Yes, but here in the Soviet Union we are all winners. To each according to his or her lottery ticket, to each according to the winnings. You shall receive 10 rubles each.

Rodney: Wai' a minu'e, I've got my passport out for some inexplicable reason in this version and you've drawn a number on my D.o.B.

Del: It's aonly a passpor', Rodders.

Rodney: No, come 'ere, I need you t-

Del scarpers and Rodney pursues

DangledTeeth

October 22, 2021, 01:56:31 AM #48 Last Edit: October 22, 2021, 02:35:55 AM by DangledTeeth


Bloke: hello, lightly posh-sounding man here. As you know, this is a lecture about Stalin at War. I shall leave you with professor Stephen Kotkin of Princeton University.




Stephen: Theank you for tha intraduction. I haave a nasally New Yeork eykcent, as you can tell. I'm an endearingly straightforward, infawmative speaker who includes a dash of humour at certain points, if I say so myself. What we're naht going to tawk about is what the letders IAS steand for on the podium inside the Institoot of Adveanced Studies. What we're naht going to tawk aboudt is the currency exchange rate between the U.S. Dollar and Bangladeshi rupee. We're naht going to tawk about the convoluted nature of meta-physical prahpuhties in aerodyneamic rugby. We're naht going to tawk about how lawng Stalen's penis is - it's 8.2 inches awn full mahst, as I said in a previous lecture. What we're naht going to tawk about is what we're naht tawkin about. What we're naht going to tawk about is the animated series of Monty the Dog. We're naht going to tawk about how many squares miles comprise Ecuador. We're naht going to tawk about the post date for Stalin Wars - it'll be in segments, naht an entire Soviet-themed parody, from episodes 1-6 and a heandful of scenes from Rise of Skywalker, and yes, I will be starring in this special edition alongside my hairy friend who's actually bald. What we're naht going to tawk about is the Jehpenese Bullet Train and its effectiveness in its crusade against illegal sweatshop labour in Grimsby. We're naht going to tawk about myself. What we're naht going to tawk about are the details for each individual update of Gran Turismo Sport, uhm, you'll haave to check their website for theat infuhmation. What we're naht going to tawk about is the obtrusive continuity errors in the second season of Teenage Mutant Ninja Tuortles, beahd animation consistency.




Stephen: What we're naht going to tawk about is the dialogue awn the 59th page of Donna Tartt's The Secret History, it's well-written and absorbing, buuht it's pretty crahss and naht suitable for the ears of this discerning audience, unless you don't mind hearing about a waiter who's suspected of being an 'officious fag'. We're naht going to tawk about the time I contracted flystrike through a kaleidoscahpic nebula. We're also naht going to tawk about why the vahlyoom for this rekawded video is relatively low, which you'll see and hear eyfter the lecture. We're naht going to tawk about the hue of my heandkechief in my breast pahket - it's Arctic blue. Ohkay. What we're naht going to tawk about is why 87.073535% of recommended YouToob videos awn the homepage haave 'Men of Culture, the algorithm has brought us here once again' and its variations for each video's cahmment section right at tha tahp. We're naht going to tawk about how many particles of urine are on the rim of my toilet. We are naht going to tawk about the importance of letting ravioli go turgid on a cyclist's feannypack. We're naht going to tawk about a tuba below rationing. What we're naht going to tawk about are semi-quavers for blahst-prahcessing. We're naht going to tawk about a stampede of quadriplegic whales. We're naht going to tawk about the efficacy of vaporwave when the view outside accompanies the serene and comforting sounds as you think of two different locations one eyfter the other and it cheerily reminds you of a place which duzn't exist, awll for about three seconds - I don't know whut the term is for this psychological phenahmenahn, but I won't be tawkin' aboud it. What we're naht going to tawk about are rigid scarfs surpassing condensation alarms. What we're naht going to tawk about is Damascus foreskin. What we're naht going to tawk about is pleurisy of the hymen. We're naht going to tawk about the unreliability of brogues. What we're naht going to tawk about is the wearisome thunderstorm on the fibre of panache.




Stephen: We're naht going to tawk about whut company makes those pre-packed sehndwiches for gas stations; we're naht going to tawk about the demogreaphic of who buys them; we're naht going to tawk about about the profit percentage per capita for each sehndwich sold. What we're naht going to tawk about is the French-Canadian animated television series The Smoggies and the significance it has on our society. We're naht going to tawk about the yellowtail flounder, a species of flatfish in the family Pleuronectidae. We're naht going to tawk about eigenvectors - it's tricky to comprehend. What we're naht going to tawk about is the Jahnson desk that was used by U.S. President Lyndon B. Johnson in the Oval Office as his Oval Office desk. We certainly are naht going to tawk about a palindrome for every pair of Ascot sneakers. We're naht going to tawk about the 1971 Australian Open – Women's Singles, where first-seeded Margaret Court was the two-time defending champion and she successfully defended her title, defeating Evonne Goolagong in the final, 2–6, 7–6 (7–0), 7–5. What we're naht going to tawk about is my reluctance to use velcro in an emergency. We're naht going to tawk about the Royal Yugoslav Navy between 1921 and 1941. We're naht going to tawk about Dick's Picks Volume 11 - the 11th live album by the Grateful Dead. And we're naht going to tawk about my K'Nex stairlift. What we're naht going to tawk about is the dog turd I snuck in my grandma's chimney, and that's naht a euphemism for her gorilla-skinned old cunt. We're naht going to tawk about The Netball Superleague. We're naht going to tawk about the pungent flatulence detected awn hazardous enemy lines. We're naht going to tawk about semantic satiation applied to the word 'billabong'. What we're naht going to tawk about is indecisive pop corn. We're naht going to tawk about impregnanted whiskers. We're naht going to tawk about the stethoscope village located in a nun's larynx. We're naht going to tawk about the Ordinance Survey curriculum for Eaglesnest. We're naht going to tawk about a spunktacular ankle enema. What we're naht going to tawk about is a Wickes store pirouetting by a shetland's pube for the delectation of El Dorado, 'cause that's naht really pertinent at this venue. What we're naht going to tawk about is Michael's Bay sphincter. We're naht going to tawk about a sequel to Demolition Man. We're naht going to tawk about the most ideal way to cahnfiscate a tapir's Reader's Digest with the aide of a nifty diaper. What we're naht going to tawk about is apothasis. We're naht going to tawk about calling me 'an' historian becawz theat's just semantically fuckt. Ohkay. Let's move awn...




Stephen: Stalen murdered his awfficer corps. It's troue, he fucken did. We've gaht mountains of dahcuments from all of da archives which haave decleassified muterials. The German historiography paints a picture which conveys that, hey, Stalen's lunacy did pay awff. Stalen was perspicacious but kind of blinkered about ideahlahgy. Theank you for listening. I'll conduct the Q&A now, buut the awdience in YouToob world won't get ta watch it. So if you are watching from your computer, phone or teablet, then give this video a thumbs up and smash theat subscribe button. Now, who wants to ahsk a long-winded question which'll use up valuable time in trying to prahcess and eynswer?


DangledTeeth

October 24, 2021, 01:33:01 AM #49 Last Edit: October 24, 2021, 01:45:38 AM by DangledTeeth
Stalin's Personal Transport



Music

Hello everyone, Dr Mark Felhlton here, everyone's favourite WWII historian on YouTube. You can support me on Paypal and Patreon - details in the description box below.

Josef Stalin, the world's most bloodthirsty dictator sated his appetite for Marxist progression by enacting devastating policies across the Soviet land thus murdering 768 bbbbillion peasants, intelligentsia, military servicemen, commissars and camp prisoners.

Poncing about on foot would impede the dictator from completing a plethora of bureaucratic tasks and would prevent him from nipping back to one of his several dachas to watch a western film before the working day came to its conclusion.



Stalin had a car. An armoured one at that. Being a man of modesty and refined taste, the General Secretary and Premier of the Soviet Union travelled in a bullet- and shell-proof armoured Lada. Boasting a blistering 43bhp and a roaring maximum speed of 65mph, the Georgian menace was conveyed from Kremlin to dacha whenever the requirement was there, equipped with a state-of-the-art Bose sound system and state-modified Comrado Switch in the glove compartment.

Assassination attempts through gunfire would prove to be futile, for the tempered window panels were six inches thick, not to mention the impenetrable triple-plated steel doors and bonnet concealing the all-important engine.

Despite the anachronistic vehicle's reliability, the weight of the car put enormous and gradual pressure onto the suspension, causing the minuscule zipper to be retired and buried in a forest located near to Smolensk.

According to the memoirs of Rudolf Hess, Adolf Hitler saw reconnaissance photographs of Stalin's second vehicle and exclaimed "Vot on earth ist Zis?!"



And that's precisely what Stalin's upgraded wheels were: a ZIS armoured limousine. This motherfucking behemoth had titanium tyres inflated with scoria farmed from a fissure vent in Peru. The headlights were made from the solidified transparent flesh of six starving Ukrainian infants circa 1933. The plush leather seats were assembled at the automobile plant located in the zona of Nohopelag, a deadly labour camp for war criminals serving a 25-year sentence, in the Urals.

A special air-conditioning system was installed at the rear interior of the aforementioned vehicle to filter the airflow inside the dictator's road bullet. Stalin was known to drop the most eye-watering, malodorous chod signals whenever the Farter of Nation dined on a yak escalope with men in his inner circle on a Thursday evening.

Stalin wasn't a molecule arsed about aerial conveyance, as he had a deep-rooted fear that Rykovite dissidents were hiding in the clouds, waiting for the dictator to swoop in their line of sight and be shot down thereby corkscrewing into the meadow.

Instead of flying, Stalin would opt for a lengthy train ride to faraway locations of importance. Stalin valued his safety and life as much as he did for his impeccable duty to serving his beloved denizens of Moscow and Leningrad.



Here, we see an uncanny resemblance of Stalin depicted at the front of this robustly segmented inn for death merchants. Of course, exhaustive and time-consuming journeys leaves one with no choice but to urinate and defecate when appropriate. Stalin's cross-country locomotive and tasteful carriages were furnished with essential technology and apparatus of its time.



Stalin would routinely whip out his nozzle and unleash a stream of warm piss into the bowl whenever the Moustache of the Socialism needed to extract his fluid. He'd also drop his flag when he ominously felt curious walnut mince emerging from his crack, then he'd firmly place his posterior on something that was more hinged than he was: a large mahogany horse shoe.

If you like this video, please give it a thumbs up and share with your friends, and subscribe to MarkFeltonProductions if you haven't already. Thanks for watching, comrade. And przepraszam cioto.



DangledTeeth

November 24, 2021, 01:43:15 AM #50 Last Edit: November 24, 2021, 02:25:30 AM by DangledTeeth


Hello, this is Dr Grande. Yep, it's been a while. Glad to see me? And yes, I still have the obtrusive brick wall set behind me. I'm sahrry if you thaught it was the highly anticipated Stalin Wars. Some of it will be in production later today and won't be a lahng-winded parody, but it'll be completed once I watch the prequels again.

Today's question ahsks, can I read sennences from the Wikipedia page of Joseph Stalin and from books that *raises eyebrows and tilts head* the guy beyond the screen has?

Just a reminder: I'm naht diagnoe-sing anybody inthisvideo... *slowly closes eyelids* oonnllyy speculating about... What. Happened. Erm, in history... situation like this. *Shrugs* You know what I'm trying to say.

If you enjoy this video please like it and subscribe to my channel, and consider supporting me on Patreon. LINK and description and this and video.

First, I'll cover the early life of Joseph Stalin and then I'll speculate awn his situation like this. O.C.E.A.N. included.

Joseph Stalin was bawn Ioseb Viflujivajzee (whahlevver) Deezoogashvili in eighteen seventy-eight, in Go-ree, Georgia. That's the country in the Caucasus, naht the south-eastern State herhre in the U.S.

When I say Joseph I'm referring to Ioseb who later became known as Joseph Stalin in years to come... in the past... *hand tilt* right... because in his younger years - before he died - he was alive and didn't go by the alias 'Stalin', naht yet. *Earnest sideways nod* Of course, this did happen but at this stage, when you look back awn it, it wasn't time for Joseph to call himself Stalin, which he later did in the future, but naht in 'our' future which has yet to unfold, because his future - in the pahst - is yet to be covered by myself.

Joseph was the third and only surviving son of Ekaterine 'Keke' Geladze, who was a devout Christian mom and looked kind of like an old-timey nun or an English grandma with her head poking out of those Punch and Judy tents. And his father Besarion 'Beso' Jughashvili was a shoemaker and a connoisseur of the cough medicine. It's a shame he wasn't a peacemaker because he'd surely teach his son that being a tyrannical Marxist dictator isn't the best way to modernise Russia. Ah-hhm. But if Father Stalin stuck around and watched his son grow up, Beso would surely need to be fixed with a pacemaker, right. It appearhrs that only one photograhph exists of the old drunk, so... these claims that Joseph was slapped around by his father seemed dubious to say the least.

Young Joseph was enrolled at Jesus School, namely the seminary, by Keke. It was herhre he was nurtured by an illegal tome known as Das Kapital, the seminal best-selling nahvel by ecahnahmist Karl Marhrx. Nikolay Chernyshevsky's 1863 pro-revolutionary novel What Is To Be Done? had some influence on Joseph. Another influential text was Alexander Kazbegi's The Patricide, and naht forgetting Tahm Clancy's Espionage Marmalade Jar. Joseph was also moved by right-wing evolutionary naturalist Charles Darwin's Awn the Ahrigins of the Species, which is later embedded in the cahmmunist repression of religion. In Tsarist Russia, pahlitics and radical print were naht permitted. Joseph was subjected to an institoot of snitching and canings - could this be the ahrigins of his questionable behaviour? Who knows. We can't ahsk the dead. But at this time in the histioahgraphy Joseph is naht dead.

In 1899, now going by the nickname 'Koba', Joseph decided to leave the seminary to pursue a brief career as a meteorahlahgist/weatherman, but with no hurricane to gust away the Okhrana secret police and the repressive regime, Joseph decided to cahnjure his own storm, right. Inspired by his thirst for workers' rights, Joseph and his gang 'The Outfit' knarcked the living fucking poop out of greedy capitalists at a port or somewhere in Batumi, tommygunning no-good snitches and broads who wouldn't pay the protection fees awn time. Citation needed.

According to historian Simno Segba Mentifrooe, Joseph was once confronted by the Mensheviks; they were a minahrity group who split awff frarm the Bolsheviks *pause, tilts head* the Bolsheviks werhre Lenin's majority party, with the Social Revolutionaries as the third in the socialist circle. The Mensheviks were naht please with The Outfits' misdeeds. It's been reporhrted by other historians that Joseph's gang ambushed an armed convoy for a bank and lahbbed bahmbs, killing around 40 people. The Mensheviks wanted to expel Joseph frarm the RSDLP. Montefireo dahcuments that he stole an observation balloon on his lahst day of worhrk, soared across the sky and pelted the Menshevik H.Q. with canteens brimmed with voluminous bird shit. Uhm, when I say 'he', I am referring to Joseph Stalin, naht Smino Seabg Moetonfire.

In 1905, Joseph met Vladimir Ilich Ulyanov otherwise known as Lenin. The two Bolshevik giants shook each others' hands and chuckled heartily with Caucasus vigour. They told the Mensheviks to "wank awn elsewhere" when they suggested that funding the revolution through rahberries was a bad idea. Perhaps there was a mistranslation with 'rahberries' as 'raspberries'. Ah-hm.

The following year of 1906 was when Joseph met and married his firhrst wife Ekaterine 'Kato' Svanidze. She died a yearhr later ahfter succumbing to the debilitating effects of typhus, which occurred ahfter giving birhrth to Yakov Jughashvili - it's an understandable chain of events, right, because it's naht pahssible forhr the deceased to cunt-burp a newborhrn baby out into the realm. But awn an unrelated thaught, I wonder what the prahcess of giving birhrth to Jake Pauhl was like. Zing.

Joseph - Stalin as he's now known - had several encounters with the law and was cahnsequently imprisoned and faced numerous exiles. In 1914, Stalin cohabited with a 14-year-old girl named Lidiya Pereprygina, where she did a 'Cassandra's miscarriage' a year later and gave birth to a bahstard in 1917. The AoC commenced awn 14 according to Tsarist law. But *frowns thoughtfully* Stalin was around 35 years old, so, it's really disturhrbing. *CoUgH* The Nonce is my favourite hip-hahp band!!!!!! Excuse me.

Anyhoo, 1917 happened and *swishes hand* the cahmmunists won, sorta. A Provisional Government was set to try and regain power, but Alexander Kerensky, the head of this short-lived government, got his ass out of there ahfter six months and moved to New York City and taught at the Hoover Institoot. He was buried in Putney Vale because none of the religious fuckers liked his freemasonry and thaught he was a right old pussy when it came to rolling over for the Bolsheviks.

Lenin sat down and huddled over a notepad, while Stalin had a blow on his curl, and the U.S.S.R. was bawn with the application of a pen. Trahtsky - a rival of Stalin's - was appointed War Commissar and the Commissariat of Leather Uniform was formed, while Stalin became the Commissar for International, ahm, Countries. Stalin was also the Commissar of Capsizing Vessels, which he did in the battle of Tsaritsyn.

in 1922, Stalin was given the mahdest jahb of General Secretary, which suited him well as the benevolent dictator, for he could handpick who'd he want to represent him in the thingy meetings. But if it was Trahtsky, Stalin would icepick him. Erm, or axe. Sorry, I forgaht naht to enunciate the 'e' because we say ax in America.

By 1924, however, Lenin pahssed away all those years ago. *Dead pan glance* I believe it stemmed frarm the time a woman busted some Kaplans in his ass *nod of correction* ahm, to his upper bahdy. Speaking of Fanny, Stalin seized power and slowly reverhrsed the NEP because he thought it was 'alright, yet massively butt, if I'm hahnest'. He booted out Trahtsky in 1927 and he had to wait twoooo ffffucking yeeeears for a train to whisk him away awn exile.

And then the collectivisation was enforced. *Sighs* Some doctored photos of an Indian famine and the Volga River flicks, and the infamous frog-child depiction were hauled out of Goebbel's ass and cherished by Thahmas Wanker and the Hearst press. And then the ungrateful Kulak Draculas luddited the equipment to nothing and the well-fed gulag criminal prisoners did six-hour shifts to build things on an industrial scale. And who cares about the gulag?! The U.S. prison pahpulation of today exceeds the highest toll from 60-something years ago.

In 1939, Stalin's aide with that Gahdfather gangster drip, Veyeishehlahv Mahlahtahv, the guy with the bulb head. Yeah, him. He phoned up Hitler's foreign minister and got him to jet awn over for a Stalin kebab. Hitler's phahtahgrapherhr flicked Stalin's ears - I bet that stung a bit (ah-hyeh). They signed an agreement about oil fields and territory or some econo-political nahnsense and bad boy Hitler completely cunted the deal.

1941... Stalin was at a lahss over the Stalingrad walloping. But he did bring it to those Nazi motherfuckers in 1945. This is one victory Stalin has, and the 70% pahsitive opinion poll is an up yours to you asswipes out there - Pootin will carefully champion the dictator because every autocratic leader needs a long-running histahrical figure to subtly compare themselves to. Stalin did nothing wrahng, right. *Almost smirks*

In the early 1950s, Stalin thaught that the Trahtskyite-Bukharinite doctors were trying to put cyanide capsules into his sandwiches, and when the bureaucratic mule stayed up working late he had a night-hallucination, where he saw the ghost of Roman von Ungern-Sternberg pissing awn his shashlik.

As we know (even if you didn't), Stalin micturated himself to death in 1953 and his stahff were too cautious to bahther the genocidal pant-wetter. Fin. Then Khrushchev and comrades killed some rapist and everything was alright for about 11 years, then Leoowlnid Browsnev took over until he died and some other guys did the communism until the collapse of the U.S.S.R. Fin Fin.

O.C.E.A.N. - Stalin was doped to the tits awn Openness (to experience), for he had 20,000 books in his collection, wrote poetry during his Koba years, appreciated films, had intellectual discussions with H.G. Wells, Churchill and Roosevelt. And Stalin was good at calligraphy as demonstrated awn those death lists. A renaissance man, that was our Stalin.

He scores incredibly high herhre for Cahnscientiousness. Stalin was a stalwart of the ahffice. He sure loved that paperwork. A dedicated Marxist, no question there. He was the Father of the Nation for everybody.

Extroversion? Well... unlike Lenin, Hitler and Mussolini, he wasn't adept at being an orator. On the other hand, he conversed with a variety of people in his inner circle. I'll say it's mid-range.

He wasn't an agreeable individual. He put his Agreeableness awn the conveyor and forced it to give a false confession.

Stalin's Neurahticism was rahther low. He was said to have been distraught over his firhrst wife's death and didn't turn up for his second wife's funeral.

Those are my thaught's awn Soviet dictator Joseph Stalin. Please put any comments and opinions into the cahmments section they are sure to generate an interesting dialogue. As always, I hope you found my analysis to be more interesting than a playthrough of Superman64. Thanks for watching.

DangledTeeth



Do I talk out of my crack?
Do I crack my pot for you?
Am I comrade because I do the two?

*Bughn-Zyeeo-bYeEAw-BaOoh*

Could you let me know
Right now, please
Anne-ita Applebaum

*Bughn-Zyeeo-bYeEAw-BaOoh*

Anne-ita Applebaum, you've got Stalin wrong.
Anne-ita Applebaum, I said you've got Stalin wrong.
Anne-ita Applebaum, you've got Stalin wrong.
Anne-ita Applebaum, I said you've got Stalin wrong.
Anne-ita Applebaum, you've got Stalin wrong.
Anne-ita Applebaum, I said you've got Stalin wrong.
Anne-ita Applebaum, you've got Stalin wrong.
Anne-ita, Anne-ita, Anne-ita

*Bughn-Zyeeo-bYeEAw-BaOoh*

Hey Anne-ita, sad to read ya.
For the nationalist, capitalist, miss, I must beseech ya
Ain't no need to question Stalin's authority
General Secretary of the Party, Premier of the Congress and
You wrote some crap about famine and prison repression
Quoting nationalist death toll stats with careful selection
Mhm-hmm
Hey, you're cute like a agitprop poster, you know?
Anne-ita Applebaum, you've got Stalin wrong.







The lies about Comrade Stalin continue - still have yet to find that one crime, guys - and I want to draw your listening ears to another agent of dishahnesty. She is called Anne Applebaum, whom I mentioned in the conclusion to my lahst lecture. She's 'written' - or her undergraduates and research minions did some considerable work on her behahf - extensively about different facets of the Soviet Union. There are two lauded books by her, which were published *swishes hand* by various publishers but the Penguin Random House Corporation have pushed these paper pavements of propaganda across all book retail outlets and given them top-shelf placements, namely the 'Russian History' section which doesn't have prahminence *stares at his notes and dismissively waves arm* but it still adds to the an-tie Stalin paradigm.

Who's Anne Applebaum you ahsk?

What are her bourgeois credentials?

She's an American journalist. She's married to a Polish politician (and we know about all the lies they tell about Katyn), and she has described Poland's governing party, Law and Justice (PiS), as "xenophobic and nationalist". Oh, we've got ourselves a liberal here. Well, that's naht the same as being a leftist - don't ahsk me how. Well... it seems prahmising so far. I mean, she sounds better than Kahtkin, who once said to Reagan's speech writer (Peter Rahbinson) that Thatcher was a "brilliant politician ... a woman of conviction" and referred to MSNBC as "red star news" or something similar. *Sardonically looks to his small middle-aged crowd* we all know what team he bats for: The Citigroup Dahdgers. Being a conversative, pro-capitalist historian post-glasnost means you'll rely exclusively on Goebbel's collection of ass brownies, including the lies published by the IRD and will aim to decry everyone on Orwell's List.

So, Applebaum sounds marginally better than Kahtkin. (Ah-hah, doesn't everybahdy.) She dislikes Trump and Putin, and so does Kahtkin but forget about that, and... while Putin is indeed an 'interesting statesman' *wink-wink* with a distinctive gait, he has succeeded in partially rehabilitating Stalin as the brilliant leader who won WW2. How-motherfucking-ever, Anne has written for The Sunday Telegrahph, Times and was editor for The Spectator - these are all right-leaning publications. Ahm, the American equivalencies would be The New York Post, TMZ and the one that went bankrupt ahfter Hulk Hogan was voyeured with his cahck in a fuck-purveyor's pleasure cavern.

Her compendium of chicanery, Gulag (2003), won the prestigious Pulitzer Prize in two thousand fourhr. No doubt she was on the payroll of the Bush administration. She piled on another several hundred page rectangle of skewed facts and 1/16 truths to the An-tie-Stalin vault - this one's titled Red Famine (2010). All evidence used by Applebutt are erroneous and inexact and are doubtless fallacious, from the ISBN number, foreword and special thanks sections, right down to the primary and secondary sources list. In fact, I looked up these weblinks her researcher and editor - sorry - she provided, and it has nothing to do with the Soviet Union and its so-called failures. I mean, I did consult the history list in my web browser as I'm sure I've looked up the references before *looks sheepishly left to right*. And guess what, it was all HornPub. It's quite apt that this sordid 'evidence' about Stalin is for the more discerning adult as it features some asshole cunt and people who enjoy this sleaze often have an arm more defined than the other.



I have published a new book covering her two tomes of incredulous nahnsense. Be sure to drop a quid or ten into the centralised sack for your copy. The Stalin Society is apprahximately $126 away from purchasing another PS5 but the P&P will be $12 from Amazahn. *Shakes head* I'd rahther naht fund the piss-bahttles corporation, but this is the only way we can obtain one.

In Applebaum's Gulag book, she covers the whole history of the Gulag, from the 'SLON' (that's the pre-gulag) to the methods of the NKVD, camp work and barrack life, a little insight into post-Khrushchev prison-camps and assertions that Brezhnev reversed the an-tie Stalinism of Khrushchev, and when he (Brezhnev) died, there was Andropahv who's the former KGB head who repressed people and was the closest to being like Stalin - Well I for one welcome the long-running dead overleader.

The book commences reasonably without any outright distortions of the truth. But then she pens some asinine bullshit about the Social Revolutionaries and others having beds covered with bugs and being punished by mosquitoes. That's all a lie! The SRs were a faction who were in good standing with the Bolshevik revolution. The 'historians' want you to believe that the revolution was so disorganised it was deemed disgusting even by other leftist factions. The OGPU were the prison administrators; they oversaw the clealiness of the facilities and made sure everyone had a jahb. I mean, one prisoner called Naftaly Frenkel became the commander of the whole gig and elevated the socialist standards much higher than before. Would a death row inmate be allowed to govern Orange County? Not a fuckin' chance. That's Amerikkka for you.

She also gives a thirdondary source for a unfounded claim that the SLON guards would do things like shout 'DOLPHIN!' in order for the prisoners to jump on command from a bridge and into a river. How can anyone believe in unfounded 'scholarly' trash as this?! Lies. It was 'GIRAFFE'.

Applebaum contributes more to the communism burial by informing her readership that the labour camps were the driving force behind production, from toys to the military, and that Beria pushed for these gulags to contribute greatly for the econahmical good. Provably false. *Nods, sniffs and scratches his nose* There is no evidence of Beria's internal thoughts. If there was evidence, we'd be looking at it. But because there's
no evidence, we can only assoome that it's all been destroyed, which is why Khrushchev, Malenkahv and his cronies had Beria executed.

She mentions the fascist C.I.A.-backed Radio Free Liberty subsidiary called 'Memorial' in a favourable light and cannaht deny that the chief was apprehended for possessing questionable research material on his hard-drive, which you guys mentioned on your website, but you never wrote anything about, ahm, the Putin administration taking a disliking to Memorial - classing them as a 'foreign' agent - and having the FSB raid their ahffices and taking away their hard-drives not long ahfter Memorial showed a banned film. Quite suspiciously, a historian who critiqued the Red Army and was cahnsequently banned from being allowed to conduct his research in Russia was found with questionable research material in his virtual stash, too.

As for Red Famine, Applebaum relies on the old pics of previous famines and dahctored photograhphs by Thomas Walker of older famines, published by the Nazi-loving Randolph Hearst press. On the 13th March 1935, in an open letter to the American weekly, The Nation, Louis Fischer successfully exposed Thomas Walker's articles and photos to be a fraud. Applebaum also had the assholing audacity to use right-wing nationalist Alexander Wienerberger's unreliable, falsified flicks of the 'genocide' famine caused by luddite kulaks (who wouldn't know progression if it hit them in their Faberge boots). I have a cahpy of the fake bahdy in the street which I used for my cover.



You won't be surprised to learn (assooming you've naht read the doorstahp) that Applebaum heralds British spy Gareth Jones for his all-expenses-paid 'trip'. Anyone can publish whatever the hell they like and the right crowd of people will lap it up... ahem. I can 'go on a Ukrainian train' and jaht some bullshit about throwing an orange peel into a garbage can and a 'homeless' person scurries across the floor like a chimpanzee and fishes it out, ravenously devouring the fruity shrapnel.

She also criticises Comrade Walter Duranty for being 'dishahnest'. Lies. Erm, she lies, naht Duranty. In fact, Duranty was telling the truth, which is why he kept his prestigious Pulitzer Prize until his dying day. Walter told it how it was: people were a tad hungry; the food supplies were delayed; the harvest wasn't tits enough blah-blah-blah. No, literally, that's what he put blahblahblah.

According to her, the Ukrainian language was suppressed by the Soviet government to diminish any nationalistic spirit. This is complete cat's piss. The Ukrainian language never existed in the first place - if it did, why do they speak Russian? And as for 'never existed', Applebaum also claims that Stalin and Pals made up an opposition group - I think it was called the SVU - as an excuse to accelerate kulak hatred. Lies. The SVU did exist and th- oh, hang on a sec!!

There's a paragrahph or two about the invisible 'roadblahcks', and Amplebums prattles on about 'blacklists' and places the blame on Molotahv for prohibiting manufactured goods, including kerosene, salt and matches. And more bullshit about activists forcing blacklisted people to hand back clothes, furniture and tools to the authorities. All lies, the evidence in my book proves it, £10 *cough* PS5fundexcuseme.

Appletits also mentions 'dissident' traitor Martemyan Ryutin who attempt to counter Stalin's 'dictatorship' as a result of the imaginary famine, cahnsequently alarming Stalin into arranging executions for Ryutin and his family. Complete package of deceit!! Ryutin was a known Trahtsky sleeper agent working on behahf of Ernst Rohm and the NSDAP. Ryutin was instructed to recruit local peasants in order to seize the Kremlin and murder Stalin in the lead up to Hitler's election, so as to weaken the political infrastructure of the U.S.S.R.

She goes on about Raphael Lemkin and an Armenian chicken. I-don't-know. He was the one who apparently coined the term 'genocide'. But it wasn't a genocide. It was a mismanagement orchestrated by the Drakulaks. PEASANT GO SMAAAAHSH.

Thank you for listening. And don't bahther to read Applebaum's books, specifically the ones I spoke about in this lecture, okay. They're each around 360-400 pages lahng, so save yourself time and money by donating to the PlayStation 5 fund, where you can pick up a free cahpy of 'GuLIES & Red Fanny' by me, Dr Grover Furr Ph.D - to each according his or her ability, to each according to his or her read. Slava Stalinu, comrades.

DangledTeeth

History Debunked with Stalin Webb



Hello again (for the first time).

I'm sure that we have noticed something interesting that's becoming a trope on television and advertising, that there are a lot of kulak people - every kind conceivable - being promoted in agriculture, and it's becoming irritating in the RSFSR and the Satellite States.

Since the USSR consists overwhelmingly of peasants, it seems peculiar for centralised markets and banks to adopt such a policy. Surely they must know that all of them are of Romanov ancestry and are bloodsucking vampires. Why are these rich Luddites being shown with families of the Politburo?

AH-COUUUUGH!

One explanation which I've seen advanced on the ourternet is the Kulakgi Plan, that this is part of a vast conspiracy. The aim is for nationalist and social democratic factions to usurp the collectivisation by giving enraged yet idle farmers a platform to present themselves as misrepresented people in order to overthrow socialism in generations to come.

Nosferatu Stoker-Kulakgi was a Romanian-Ukrainian who was was fixated on the idea of all farming families being able to privately own their land. But I have my doubts over how such a project could be successfully engineered without it becoming generally known.

Some versions of the story involve Trotskyite-Bukharinite agents of fascism, supposedly being masterminds behind the thing.

I have an idea that the Kulakgi Plan and the Great Counter-revolution are unnecessary hypotheses. And what we can scrutinise is sufficient in itself to explain what's happening.

Three of the main factors are use of the ourternet, and subversive agitprop brigades who are changing the narrative, and the trend towards imperialism.

Think about the biggest financial district in New York, which is Wall Street. If you look at the thumbnail of this video, Wall Street displays a poster of a kulak woman standing conceitedly in front of Trinity Church. Of course, Wall Street used to be known as Capitalist Cunthole in them olden days. And all of their posters show everyone except for the members of the Politburo and Central Committee.

To stir up a counter-revolutionary spirit, pictures and footage of kulaks are used. If Wall Street's partners mainly put Stakhanovite comrades into their adverts, they would not represent the imperial capitalists of the world - this is a problem if you're trying to lure customers in the U.S.A, Britain and Japan, and you might say "they're just putting peasant farmers in advertisements like they do in Ukraine".

The answer to that is the ubiquity of the ourternet. Wherever you are in the world, when you search for 'Wall Street' or 'Capitalist Cunthole', all their posters come up. They aren't going to depict any comrades whatsoever because Wall Street doesn't want to look like a centralised bank. They want to appear to be liberal, a financial district for everyone in the world

The future development of the world is where the big money is going to be made. Most finance investors are eyeing up Cuba, Venezuela, North Korea, and they're going to be targeting them for a counter-revolution. This is probably why companies are eager to show images of non-tankies and non-Soviet families. The markets in the U.S.S.R aren't going to expand exponentially like they are in other non-Soviet parts of the world.

In short, the Great Counter-revolution and the Kulakgi Plan may play a part in why we see less comrades in advertising, but I don't think we need to rope in conspiracy theories about spies and sinister neo-liberal social democratic politicians. What we need to do is put them in a Stolypin wagon and convey the fucker into a solid brick wall.
 
*Reaches for the camera*