Showing posts with label Dermot Hudson. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Dermot Hudson. Show all posts

25 September 2009

A Fillum Review from the KFA

It’s been a while since I visited the website of Korea’s Foul Apologists, sorry that should be the Korean Friendship Association. It was just as well as I found a wonderful post from England’s premier fan of Juche and Songun, Fuckwit, err Dermot Hudson in which he praises a recent North Korean film to the high heavens. The film in question is The Voice Calling Me. Here is his review:


... Just watched a DVD of a newish DPRK film “Voices Calling Me”. This tells the story of the land rezoning campaign in the DPRK centring on father and son bulldozers (bulldozer drivers or perhaps they really are father and son vehicles, called “Dear Leader” and “Spirit of Stakhanov” or the North Korean equivalent.)

I found one of the most impressive and moving scenes is when the army arrives to help in the project a practical example of army–people unity.

There is a beautiful scene near the end when a mass meeting is held to present the bulldozer driver with a membership card of the WPK.

So there you have it. When you have films like that who needs Citizen Kane?

I was so taken by the review that I resolved to find a copy for myself but does Amazon stock it or can I rent it from Lovefilm? Can I hell! Mercifully a copy is available here for the utterly reasonable price of 25 Euros. Unfortunately it does not seem to have English subtitles. Ah well it’s Korean lessons for me then...

08 October 2008

Stop Press!

The Korean Central News Agency reports the following earth shattering news:

Pyongyang, October 7 (KCNA)

Dermot Hudson, chairman of the British Group for the Study of the Juche Idea, arrived here by plane today.


Wow!

15 July 2007

McGonigall v the Songun Poet

In a post yesterday I drew attention to the poetry of the British warrior of songun Dermot Hudson. His work can be compared in stature to that of the poet laureate Alfred Austin, Roger B, a naturalist, photographer and regular commenter on the Poor Mouth (and thus a splendid fellow) compared Hudson’s work to Scottish Victorian-era poet William McGonagall.


Born in 1825, William Topaz McGonigall did not discover his poetic talents until he was 25 years old His first poem, An Address to the Rev. George Gilfillan set. Rev. Gilfillan commented "Shakespeare never wrote anything like this." McGonagall is viewed as the worst poet ever to have written in the English language. Of his 200 works perhaps the worst is the Tay Bridge Disaster:

Beautiful Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay!
Alas! I am very sorry to say
That ninety lives have been taken away
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

'Twas about seven o'clock at night,
And the wind it blew with all its might,
And the rain came pouring down,
And the dark clouds seem'd to frown,
And the Demon of the air seem'd to say-
"I'll blow down the Bridge of Tay."

When the train left Edinburgh
The passengers' hearts were light and felt no sorrow,
But Boreas blew a terrific gale,
Which made their hearts for to quail,
And many of the passengers with fear did say-
"I hope God will send us safe across the Bridge of Tay."

But when the train came near to Wormit Bay,
Boreas he did loud and angry bray,
And shook the central girders of the Bridge of Tay
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

So the train sped on with all its might,
And Bonnie Dundee soon hove in sight,
And the passengers' hearts felt light,
Thinking they would enjoy themselves on the New Year,
With their friends at home they lov'd most dear,
And wish them all a happy New Year.

So the train mov'd slowly along the Bridge of Tay,
Until it was about midway,
Then the central girders with a crash gave way,
And down went the train and passengers into the Tay!
The Storm Fiend did loudly bray,
Because ninety lives had been taken away,
On the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

As soon as the catastrophe came to be known
The alarm from mouth to mouth was blown,
And the cry rang out all o'er the town,
Good Heavens! the Tay Bridge is blown down,
And a passenger train from Edinburgh,
Which fill'd all the peoples hearts with sorrow,
And made them for to turn pale,
Because none of the passengers were sav'd to tell the tale
How the disaster happen'd on the last Sabbath day of 1879,
Which will be remember'd for a very long time.

It must have been an awful sight,
To witness in the dusky moonlight,
While the Storm Fiend did laugh, and angry did bray,
Along the Railway Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
Oh! ill-fated Bridge of the Silv'ry Tay,
I must now conclude my lay
By telling the world fearlessly without the least dismay,
That your central girders would not have given way,
At least many sensible men do say,
Had they been supported on each side with buttresses,
At least many sensible men confesses,
For the stronger we our houses do build,
The less chance we have of being killed.

It is atrocious stuff but is it worse than songun? For all his ineptness McGonigall never waxed lyrical about an evil and brutal dictator as Hudson does. It’s a hard call but perhaps William Topaz can now hand over the baton.

If you wish to know more about McGonigall this site McGonigall online is an excellent place to start.

14 July 2007

A Pome by Dermot Hudson (aged Twelve years and thirteen sixteenths)

(Scroll down for this week's Photo Hunt)

Writing in the Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy, renowned Essex man Douglas Adams identified the worst poetry in the known universe. In third place is Vogon poetry. Bad as it was it paled in comparison to that of the Azgoths of Kria. It was fortunate that their poet master Grunthos the Flatulent was killed by his own intestine prior to a reading of his 12-book epic "My Favourite Bath time Gurgles". The very worst poetry of all was attributed to one Paul Neil Milne Johnstone of Redbridge.

Writing in the late 70s DNA would not have been aware of Dermot Hudson’s celebration of Kin Kong Il and the final victory of the Songun revolution. If he had, then the poor Vogons would surely have lost their podium place.

For the purpose of ridicule his poem is set out in full here ( it was found on a Korean Solidarity website).


The thundering crack of gunshots still does echo
over Korea, not only there but over the whole wide world
even though 70 long years have passed and flowed away
decades so long yet so short

Gunshots ringing out heralded the
new dawn of liberation,of a new Korea bright and free,
of the glorious Songun revolution. Ever victorious iron-willed
brilliant commander, heroic patriotic partisan
the illustrious General Kim Il Sung fired
the shot that tore Jap imperialism into
a million and one pieces

Oh worthy warrior of Mt Paekdu
leading the stout hearted partisans of
the mighty KPRA to shatter the chains
of Japanese imperialism, shock brigade of
world fascism, to dispatch
the murderous Japs to their doom

The flames of revolution burned brightly
at Pochonbo that night consuming
the oppression of Japanese imperialism
The crack of gunshots and roar
of flames merge into a mighty
thunderous sound of the Songun revolution

The banner of Pochonbo is today
raised ever higher, the echoes of gunshots
at Pochonbo reverberating ever loudly
signalling the final victory of the
Songun revolution

I would imagine that Hudson does not support the Monarchy. This is merciful as I get the feeling that there is little prospect of him becoming the next Poet Laureate or even deposing Andrew Motion. Then again the position has been filled by the likes of Alfred Austin who is best remembered for these lines in a poem concerning an illness of the Prince of Wales:

"Across the wires the electric message came: He is no better, he is much the same."

Perhaps there is hope for England’s champion of Juche after all!