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Showing posts from September, 2012

JOLLY COPPERS ON PARADE

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I am not sure what I feel about the ludicrous ‘pleb-gate’ or ‘gate-gate’ or ‘Toff-gate’ affair, when a government minister lost his rag with a policeman and started hurling abuse in his general direction allegedly calling him, amongst other things, a ‘pleb.’ One of the curious aspects of the affair was that everyone immediately seemed to believe the police account rather than that of the execrable Mr Mitchell, this after Hillsborough, the attempted cover up of the death of the newspaper seller Brian Tomlinson and myriad other examples of police lying. For my self I would now no longer ever automatically believe the un-corroborated account of any policeman, I rely in such circumstances on the balance of probabilities. The police are, in this country, not a militia they are civilians in uniform and whilst they ought to be accorded enough respect to be able to carry out their duties, I would be very wary of according them any other special status.   As to my own particular prejud

I SPEAK AS I PLEASE

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Freedom of speech is always under attack, even in those countries with a long tradition of free expression and even in the United States with has a constitutional guarantee of free speech; free speech has never been guaranteed by the British unwritten constitution. As I write this British citizen’s are in prison purely for words then have written either on Facebook or have tweeted, someone is in the cooler for having set fire to a copy of the Koran and someone else for painting poppies on the side of a mosque.  Two recent newspaper stories:- ‘ A British Muslim [Ahmed Azhar] faces jail for claiming soldiers should “die and go to hell” following a horror attack on British troops in Afghanistan. [1] ’ These comments he posted on his Facebook page. Azhar Ahmed, 19, posted the comments on his profile page and has been charged with a racially aggravated public order offence. ‘Detectives arrest man, 22, over 'offensive' Facebook page set up following deaths of the shot poli

THE STRUGGLE WITHIN ISLAM AND THE MANAFACTURE OF OFFENCE

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Question: How did the anti Islamic film get to be seen in the Middle East ? Answer: It was shown on an Islamic TV channel. [1] Question: How did the Muslim world become aware of the ‘Danish cartoons’? Answer: A group of Danish Muslim clerics travelled the world publicising the cartoons, which hitherto had gone unnoticed and would have disappeared without trace but for their intervention. Additionally having decided that the cartoons were not sufficiently inflammatory enough they created an additional cartoon, one calculated to cause the maximum ‘offence.’   So let’s be clear about these sudden ‘spontaneous’ demonstrations of outrage on the ‘Arab street.’ They are deliberate, calculated and orchestrated; the use and manipulation of stupid people by somewhat less stupid, certainly viciously cynical, people. If it was not for this particular film it would be something else. Secondly the flag burners and embassy storming mobs represent a tiny fraction of Islamic opinion an

A FEW DEAD SCOUSERS

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You were supposed to know who was telling the truth from the outset. It was a question of accent and tone. What were you going to believe, the precise language and well-rounded vowels of the official spokesmen, the coroner, the civil servants, the police or the ‘over emotional’ scouse accents of the Liverpool supporters. Their accents were supposed to tell you everything you needed to know; it was, as they say, supposed to be a ‘no brainer.’ The Hillsborough manslaughter has told us everything we needed to know about class in Britain and the contempt with which the established order views the lives of ordinary working people; the added dimension here being that the dead hailed from the city of Liverpool, and were that especially lowly tribal caste, football fans. It was, from an establishment viewpoint, unfortunate of course, but at the end of the day, we were talking about a few dead Scouse football fans who had  brought their fate upon themselves. [1] It is perhaps vicious

LONDON LETTER SEPTEMBER 9TH 2012

Glorious morning that would do late July or early August proud, the weather making up for the way it disgraced itself in May and June. The Olympic venues winding down, some of the sites being dismantled. I have however found the new sport of booing the minister most entertaining, with George Osborne taking gold. The Paralympics have been an immense success but as with anything of value the reactionary right can somehow always manage to devalue it and so it proves, I already here noises off stating how disabled people should cease to be viewed as necessarily in need of state support but as possible scroungers who could, if they were motivated enough, get off their backsides [1] and enter the jobs market. Indeed so much that is unpleasant is happening, from Russia to Scotland and Iran that I find myself reluctant to engage with any of it, it feels stomach churning, the common thread, no surprises here, being religion. As I write a 14 year old girl, possibly with learning diffic

SEPTEMBER SONG

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The 1 st of September is a firm date, marking the beginning of a solidly constructed month, it marks the end of summer and the beginning of the autumn, or as the Americans call it the fall. [1]   Not of course that the weather obeys such a clear demarcation line and warm September days infused with a honeyed melancholy drift in through the window, the most poignant and wistful of the year. September the month of endings, summer romances with people and places waltzing sadly to inevitable dissolution, as the flocks of birds migrate away from the melancholy north. Returning home, suitcases are carelessly disgorged with the hum of normality beginning to be heard again; home. September too is the month for fresh beginnings, the month for education, back to school, back to college, a month of anxiety and excitement for many young people prior to their first experience of university life and the month for evening classes. A month for   engaging with Russian for Beginners, BTE

AUGUST HEAT

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    Motionless as a lizard in the desert, The thought Not even a rustle More an ink stain spreading imperceptibly Experiencing my own insignificance.   Having visited this page I would be grateful for your feedback, either tick one of the boxes below or make a comment via the comments button.