Tuesday, January 29, 2008

New task for Professor C.B.T. ...

The Riddle of the Day is for Professor C.B.T. and his beloved friends from the GOBSART Academy of IgNoring Clinical Evidence. Only with extensive knowledge of CBT and Malingering GET are you able to spot the SUBMARINE, so please professor, where is it ????????

© ME/CFS Society (SA) Inc

Friday, January 25, 2008

ME and BBC Therapy

Last week Professor CBT and the CBT MAGIC WONDERLAND held their annual award ceremony for the best psychiatric fairytales and announced that the greatest story of the year was the ME guideline by the GOBSART Academy for completely ignoring all scientific evidence and believing every single silly word from the psychiatric poodles and other magnetic resonance coming from the area near the Thames and other psychiatric prisons.

You could immediately tell that one of the poodles, might also be one of the sheep, was actually some sort of MOD man who managed to loose 600,000 addresses and other valuable info from new would be soldiers who were willing to risk their life for a poodle who would than later say, if something happened to them, you were a traitor or no, no medical illness.

The ME fairytale would come in handy again.

First you start by denying it exists. Then you come up with a new definition, for something which isn’t there in the first place according to the delusional thinking part of the psycho brain, so a very intelligent proposition…..

Then you call it malingering again, so again you deny that what you say now existed actually didn’t exist, but then did, but then didn’t exist after all.

So the tombola is working overtime and the poodles are the only ones who can make sense out of this total nonsense….

The military cluster bombing has started you see, it doesn’t exist, it is malingering, false illness beliefs, laziness, exercise phobia, so really, in their own minds and words, they haven’t got a clue.

If you wanted to talk about any other disease you would only need one word, like Alzheimer’s or so, a bit like modern day warfare, where you would use precision and smart bombs if you know what you are talking about and doing and who you are after and so.

But the poodles have no clue, so back to cluster bombing the PWME. And that their silly therapies make us worse, well that is not their problem and they just call that collateral damage.

Because then it is not important or damaged you see…. Trick and treat learned from the military and used by our own poodles.

The same can be said from leaving out the ICD code for ME from the WHO and the fact that it is classified as a neurological illness.

Now we know why they did that, but it becomes a lot more interesting if you realise that ME patients are NOT allowed to donate BLOOD.

We might be passing on our malingeritis, or our CBT allergy, or our nasty GET cough: and again, the reason why this wasn’t mentioned by the GOBSART boys is clear, you would think that they have an obligation to inform the GP’s and other doctors as they are a so called Dependent Institute of Drowning at 48 feet of the coast.

But it is a bit like making cars exempt from certain taxes.

A few years ago they invented the rule that your car would be exempt if the engine was 1100 cc or less. So cars with small engine pollute less or something to that matter and that sounded quite smart and right for once.

Until you realised that even the Fiat Cinquecento didn’t fulfil this rule as its engine was 1106 cc. So 6 cc too much ….

In the end only 7 models made it yet almost no one bought those little sowing machines ….

Also called playmobil cars for grown ups, they can drive, sow and blow hot air into the stratosphere and as it isn’t much the politicians who themselves drive big fat cars don’t like them.

The politicians and GOBSART fellows said the rule was easy to use, good for the environment and educational well founded. And that’s lovely.

Very much like the ME guideline it is just ludicrous and not about ME at all just like the 1100 cc rule has nothing to do with people buying cars and stopping pollution……..

And I understand there is now a new rule made up by a political poodle that non polluting cars get bonuses, sounds great until you realise that they don’t exist. A bit like the psychiatric poodle and ME knowledge, they don’t ...

Exactly what these chocolate muffins wanted, pretend that you do something or know something about something yet the only interesting thing is your own bank account.

In that respect politics equals psychiatry, well the ones who have spend ther lifetime learning how to tell porkies and utter nonsense about well not clear actually about what and do not dare to contradict them as the blue or white vans will be on the way taking you into their GETanomo hospitals also called mental health prisons because you had the misfortune of falling ill with a neurological illness which was too difficult to deal with for the simple minds from the GOBSART Academy and their beer drinking buddies…

Anyway. Guess what. Immediately after the announcement was made by the GOBSART boys that they are on a promotional tour to promote Ignoring Clinical Evidence, as that GET's in the way, is awkward, a lot easier and it obviously slows the process down dramatically if you have to read it all, and so and it costs money that is better spend on going out with the lads from the GETanomo prisons.

Now half the nation’s GP’s rushed to the nearest store where they were drooling with exitement that this guidelines was endly there.

They had been having fantasies and other dreams about this, had been waiting months as you do when you wanted a ticket for the long awaited new Stones Album or the latest book from her Rowlingness about a boy who can fly and who dances around naked on Broadway.

Then they locked themselves up in a room for two weeks to read this fabtastc fairytale and then they would also dance around naked on Broadway singing the latest gospel from the poodles and other CBT tunes.

By the time they had read the manuscript or whatever you call it, all GP’s look like they have been smoking POT, it is that great, well to roll a joint with that is.

Yes I know, illegal and so, but after weeks of thinking, I haven’t come up with any other useful ness for this GOBSART Academy manuscript of poodles.

But if you have another idea, apart from reading evidence and rewriting the damn thing, please let me know, because I haven’t.

And then my BBC Therapist said it was time for my weekly session of Captain Slow as that is what his real name is. Some will call him James May, some will call him little Brian and some will just say he is our Queen. You know, that guitarist that used to help Freddie Mercury out.

You know that guy who sang, I want to ride my bicycle I want to ride it where I Like. Now I know that is against the GOBSART philosophy of exercise allergy and the funny thing is the less people like sports, the more they believe this exercise phobia they have got and are now portraying on us. Really interesting.

But Captain Slow said he was off to the no fly zone between East and West Germany, well the former area where the GOBSART boys still think there is an iron curtain.

They actually believe it existed, so be quiet, let them dream on. You might ask, what was he going to do there and the answer was simple. He was gathering evidence.

Yes, even at Top Gear they know how important that is and even how to do it. If a manufacturer says something they actually want to find out if it is true, so not the GOBSART mentality or the poodles who drink Thames water and after 12 sessions of CBT call it Mountain water or so, while they smoke their own articles, or snog them, I am not sure actually.

At this stage Captain Slow got the keys to a car, well it was more a rocket on wheels also called the Bugatti Viagra or something. It costs as much as Professor C.B.T. gets for selling porkpies; you can drive it, fly it and use it as a submarine and that all for that money.

No seriously.

It is however the one and only road car that can do more than 400 kilometres an hour, 407 or so to be precise. And Captain Slow got in. Now the good thing was, he didn’t need a helmet.

You see, he hasn’t been to a barber since he was three years old so by now his hair is a natural helmet and SHOEI, BELL and others from the special head gear industry are showing interest, and paying interest as well, to see how well his hare fairs against their special products.

That chin bloke from Germany used to use a different helmet, one from Mozart or Beethoven I think, and that one was so light that he once came in to the pits to ask if he was wearing his helmet or not.

Now dear old James won’t have that problem. He is well equipped, always and at every time of the day.

Anyway, from zero to one hundred took exactly one second, so just about long enough to blink you eye, from one hundred to two lasted double that so two seconds and by the time he was up to three hundred you and I would just have reached the end of the room.

Now remember he was and is and always will be Captain Slow yet here he was entering a point which most of us will never reach. He was now doing well over Three hundred and some say that he was shitting his pants, others say that he was thinking if this Bugatti was better than sex, but we know that he was really thinking of something else.

You see, in a few seconds he was doing four hundred kilometres an hour, and at this stage Captain Slow was faster than Mr Schumacher had ever travelled in his F1 car.

Amazing if you think about it, Captain Slow was beating Michael, the SEVEN times Formula One World Champion.

But you needed to remember that a Bugatti could only do this sort of speed for about 55 minutes because then he had two minutes too spare before a tyre blow-out would happen, and at that sort of speed that would be a no thank you.

A bit like leading a normal life in the nice and fast lane and then being stopped by a bloke called ME that causes a blow out of all your systems and your whole life has been smashed to pieces yet the poodles and quite a few others think this is the sort of thing we dream about, wish for it to happen, stuff of wet dreams and so.

And they are right, about wet in the meaning of tears, well you know what I mean. It is not the same as a Nice car, house, holiday, run or whatever.

But the poodles they are too busy counting their millions to have a clue about anything else really.

I would dearly love, at this point, to launch into a tirade against silly psychiatrists, and how their articles are poisoning the minds of our precious doctors.

But I won’t, you see I love them. I spend hours laughing silently about so much incompetence after graduating as a doctor; well I presume they did….

And then there is Captain Slow, he has a grin on his face when he gets out of the Viagra, he hasn’t crashed the damn thing as that is Hammond’s speciality and the Clarkman would not get near it as it is incredibly expensive, so you would think it is to his taste, however, he has to manually move the seat backwards and in a car of that price that won’t do for his Clarkness.

And you know what, he is right.

And then my session of BBC therapy is almost over, but not before James has mentioned that a normal car has one radiator yet this one needed TEN and the engineers needed special treatment as well as no F1 team could help with the aerodynamics as none of their cars drives at that sort of speed.

So they realised that they didn’t know it all, something you will never hear from the GOBSART POODLES, even if we all know that to be the case.

Of course, it would be nice if the ONE CLICK APPEAL would change that and maybe they will. Maybe some day a poodle will either wake up or GET ME himself and then realises that it is a shitty disease.

Yes a shitty disease, there is just no other word for it.

And now it is time for the last part of the BBC therapy, just watch and enjoy Captain Slow at his best……

But before that I will just mention a few other bloggers who are also using the Cool Blogging Therapy in their fight against all sorts of things like ME, cancer amongst other things.

If you want me to mention your blog as well, just let me know.

1. What Dave Thinks!
2. Antoinette Christie in her fight against ME
3. Maggie and ME
4. Chezza from down under fighting against ME

So and now it is time to let the Captain do the talking himself, he is funny, he is articulate, he is Mr ZZ-top himself, here is James May and his Viagra on wheels………….

Wednesday, January 16, 2008


Now what has this got to do with ME ??? Not a lot, or has it??? James May is one of those presentors that have a sway and a way with words, not so much with cars, that you have to laugh and for a moment you forget that you can't walk etc.

You forget all the NICE-ness from others and as I just found out it is his birthday It was a NICE excuse of putting his picture in my BLOG and say happy birthday to one of my BBC therapists.

He has developed a new and revolutionary ME therapy for petrol heads, available over the counter and recommended by The NICE Guidelines for ME.

The NICE Guidelines Blog that is, not the GOBSART kids that live in or near the Thames. So happy birthday Mr May.

Oh, and do not cut your hair, I kind of like it this way ....

No words needed...

Tuesday, January 8, 2008



If you want to learn the latest about the ONE CLICK APPEAL against silly GOBSART ME Guidelines, you just click on the picture...............

Sunday, January 6, 2008


As I write this sort of review of the year, the medical journals and newspapers have been full of stories of psychiatrists who are bored to death and so they have changed over to neurology. Or it might be that no one wanted them when they applied for a neurology post when they were young and now they are taking revenge.

On us, the patients.

They are sitting on a sofa, a fag in one hand, a beer on their desk and an enormous pile of apple reviewed papers, as the peers were on holiday, on their heads.

Their desks as we know are stacked with pound notes so where else would you leave two million and seventy five and a half article on a disease you wouldn’t recognise if it was sitting right in front of you as that is how good Albus Potter and his mates are at diagnosing ME. And in the next room, GET, also called Good Eerie Torture treatment is being delivered by physios who know even less about ME as their bosses the psychos.

So I would certainly be proud to be a psychiatric poodle as our London Correspondent calls them. No dear ME, that's the wrong word. I wouldn’t be proud. I would realise how stupid I was and how much of the countries resources I was wasting.

But you see, when I qualified the Hippocratic Oath was still a Hippocratic Oath whereas for the poodles it is the Hippocritic oath.

A small but not insignificant difference I fooly agree. And yes, they have ELEVEN MILLION in the bank and I don’t.

And Albus is not alone in his thinking and enjoying his egoistic joys. In fact, I am becoming increasingly concerned with the sheer number of psychiatric gnomes who have nothing better to do than to fool the world.

Earlier this week, 001/7, you know our master blaster of ME espionage went to the CBT MAGIC KINGDOM as he was getting bored out of his brain with not being a proper 007 anymore and with no improvements in therapy or diagnosis in the last fifty years for ME thanks to Albus Potter and his money eating and wasting therapies that are so popular with the powers that be that they were shelving their turkeys and were eating the same as they are treating us with, backed steam fried hot air.

Now I must say, maybe I need their help.

No not that utterly useless CBT thingy, no to GET my garden back to a NICE presentable one so that when I look out of my bed and see the garden I see a NICE one instead of one which is in a similar state as my body.

They are the magicians after all,so time for their trick and treat, or otherwise the ELEVEN MILLION might come in handy to ask a professional garden man or woman who knows their business which is very rare, not medium rare, in our ME world where the less you know the harder you shout and the more people tend to listen to you.

A very interesting phenomenon also called the psychiatric model of delusional Collusionism that you can admire on the catwalk of CBT wonderland and our beloved Albus Potter aka Professor C.B.T. will then talk you through all the creatures, or whatever the boys and girls on the catwalk wear, but don’t be surprised if he calls a pair of trousers a garment of loose threads just like his brain, or that he calls a girl in a see through blouse a psychiatric misfortune, or that the girl in the wide open blouse is called a model wearing a blouse that has missed its first three sessions of CBT otherwise it would have known that wearing a bra is a safety feature against drooling old psycho babblers.

Also known as Albus Hippotamus when he is repeating his CBT phrases that he uses at home when his kids spoil the jam on the floor, or when his wife accidentally calls him a lion in the midst of a romantic evening when she actually means a liar but that might ruin his once monthly Viagra moment.

Or when his neighbour is run over by his Potterness himself, when he forgets to use his glasses and runs over half his neighbourhood who are then admitted to hospital with false ideas that they have broken bones yet all they have are broken wrists and broken hips.

And they didn’t show up on the photo made by his camera that was designed before the industrial revolution hit the English shores yet is still fashionable in psycho land as it means that people have to sit still for a decade before you can take their picture so in the mean time they have no other option then to listen to utter CBT-ism and its nonsense that only psychiatric poodles can come up with.

It is that difficult and that silly.

Even portable lavatories are known to have more common sense.

You know the sort of lavatories I mean. Blocked before anyone can use them, a NICE flower and toilet paper in abundance on the wet floor and a psychiatrist from CBT wonderland who tells you that no, these places are immaculate and a joy of modern day life and we should enjoy them and celebrate the fact that we don’t have to dig a hole in the ground first as that is what Albus likes to do at home.

Digging holes and so that is.

You see, in that hole, no one will challenge his ideas and so he is king of his own hole. But don’t tell him that as that is called harassing an old and rare psychiatrist who is so happy to talk utter nonsense that even his plants are running a mile when they hear his car turn the corner.

One of his sons was so desperate that he started up youcbt and made a fortune and his daughter started to wlan the catwalks of the world in nothing more than a psychiatric suit her father uses when he is delivering his CBT service.

The trouble with the CBT church is that all its followers stay away, so even though they are happy to donate as much money as Albus demands so he can drive big fat cars and drink champagne, not only for breakfast but also to brush his teeth with, none of his devotees turns up at his CBT service for the simple fact that they know he is telling porkies………..

But how hard is it to be a psychiatrist and treat mental heath problems?

And how thick do you have to be to get it wrong and start seeing neurological ones yet you call them nuts or twix? Or whatever the flavour of the month is in Albus Potter CBT wonderland.

Now I recently read an article in a magazine that if you suffer from exercise phobia, with a tinge of falsifying illness beliefs and at the same time you adore your psychiatrist you will develop CFS as that is the only way in busy NHS land to be guaranteed access to magical mystery blokes who are so in demand that the next guest on Top Gear will not be Lewis Hamilton, The Stud, Naked people from Big Brother or the Eye brow man himself.

Even that block of Ice that became world champion as the boys from Steve McLaren hated each other so much that they forgot that up north in Lapland they can fly with their sleighs so driving an F1 car is a piece of cake and the result was that the iceman not only drove circles around anybody in F1 but he still had time to enjoy pole dancing while the rest was still trying to finish the Grand Prix.

He was that fast. No, the next guest on Top Gear will be the ELEVEN million pounds man, so about two or three times as much as whoever was the man of six million dollars in the past and he will talk so much rubbish that the Stig will finally have to take his helmet off, as it has not only become hotter than the sun inside his visor but also because he became so nauseous, that well, you understand what happened to the Stig who can spin and spin and spin cars and never ever gets dizzy yet five minutes next to Albus Potter in a car with three horsepower and listening to the first concerto in CBT minor and he was as sick as a fish.

Even in a swimming pool he never takes his helmet off yet this time he had no choice and he will never be the same again. Some even say that the Stig has emigrated to lap dancing land as he wanted to GET away from this Sick Soldier syndrome causing bloke ASAP.

Some even say that he has now taken up fishing in the Sahara; others think he might be dancing on grapes to produce the first Top Gear bottle of wine, yet the truth of the matter is that the Stig did something else.

You see, he is used to that May bloke who last went to a barber when he was three, he is used to that Hammond fellow that crashes anything that moves so he is only allowed to drive this:

And he is even used to the Clarkman who wets himself every time he hears a car that costs less than a Lambo will be tested on Top Gear and he is told that he has to drive it. But all that doesn’t compare to the experience of sitting next to Albus Potter and GET-ting five minutes of gruelling CBT.

Telling his Stigness that when the tyres were squeaking his ears had the signals wrong and their tyres crossed, that when he felt the back end of the car step out of line that was the same as people with ME harassing his Potterness by asking him questions about his so called knowledge about a disease he has never seen in his live and when the Stig mentioned that the idea of doing a lap was to drive as fast as you could, not to sit in May’s lap and whisper sweetness about his hair and so.

Now I know that being a Potter means business, just ask her Rowlingness who knows by now that her name is spelled H A R R Y instead of simply J K.

But the man from Potter wonderland would disagree and say that he is the one and only witch and that Harry is a pygmies of our imagination created by delusional minds thinking themselves ill with mental health problems that require emergency CBT as only used for people with malinger-itis also called CFS and ME by Albus Potter when he is sleepwalking in his desert also called dame blanche or was it dane edna??

You see this kind of behaviour as performed by Albus Potter on a daily base if you have the pleasure of falling ill with ME. It is utterly amazing how doctors and others who are supposed to have any form of intellect and common sense can utter so much nonsense as that will open the flood gates of pounds or whatever currency they use in that country.

In British CBT wonderland you are a lazy sod who suffers from exercise phobia which is cured by killing your brain cells by talking them into oblivion.

Yet their blood brothers in Holland who have discovered that people with ME have lost brain cells due to their disease claim that they can actually cure 70% so they are the real magicians as they can bring dead brain cells back to this world.

Any medical student knows that 3-4 minutes is critical for brain cells, any longer without oxygen and they are dead forever, yet these magicians from that cheese producing country can talk dead bran flakes back to live and the only reason why they came up with this utter nonsense is because they must have been smoking pot at the same time, otherwise they are in dire need of emergency CBT if they really believe their own nonsense…………

And that in a nuttershell is the beauty of psychiatry.

If you challenge their beliefs you are delusional and there is nothing you can do against a psychiatrist, there are no blood tests or scans that will show delusionism so you have no chance arguing with them just as we have no chance arguing with them about ME as that is plain and simple harassment of the worst kind.

And the only penalty for that is sixteen sessions of CBT by Albus Potter himself.

Anybody who is sentenced to that, God bless you ……….


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