Family Memo

Posted: 14th May 2012 in BLOG, LIFE
Tags: , ,

From: Head of House

To: The Spawn

Dear Spawn,

You will, I’m sure, recall previous memos issued from my office when, in an attempt to amicably resolve an issue of concern to me, all available avenues were explored only to prove insufficient in providing a solution to the problem at hand.

You will also, I’m equally sure, recall the embarrassment and discomfort you experienced when such public pronouncements were made. As  explained previously, this was not done from a malicious desire, on my part, to humiliate you in front of your peers, despite the high degree of merriment such humiliations invariably engender.

Neither was it done to add to the considerable burden under which you no doubt labour living, as you do, rent-free, responsibility-free and with no demands greater than wondering  at which parent to sullenly grunt or which item of wholly-subsidized refrigerated produce you might choose to consume at any given moment.

No. In all instances such memos were only designed, as a measure of absolute last resort, for the express purpose of focusing your thoughts on a potential solution to a particular matter which my customary, sunny-natured, easy-going manner and always-reasonable requests have failed to secure. Let us, therefore, proceed to the matter at hand which, on this particular occasion, involves basic matters of accepted bathroom etiquette.

A conventional toilet invariably has a device, a ‘handle’ in common parlance, which is deployed for the purposes of disposing of the human waste previously deposited therein. In Western cultures, this process is usually referred to as ‘flushing’.

Now I am in no doubt that during the course of your respective infancies you were provided, firstly by me, with the necessary tutelage to enable completion of this undeniably simple manouever. Equally, thanks to a blend of evolution, genetics and cognitive development, nature further equipped you with the physical capabilities necessary for accomplishing this entirely unremarkable task.

I have, as you are well aware, on many, many occasions expressed my displeasure when, on entering the bathroom, I have been forced to encounter the noxious, and frankly unnatural, by-products of either/both/all of your digestive tracts.

On numerous other occasions I have requested that this not be so by virtue of your adoption of the simple task outlined above. To wit; ‘flushing’.

Sadly, all my most reasonable requests have failed to resolve this unfortunate dilemma. Here, then, is my proposed solution: you will, from now on, on every occasion, without exception FLUSH THE FECKING TOILET WHEN YOU’VE USED IT!

Should you persist in ignoring this edict the following, supplementary actions, will be instigated…

1. A photograph of the revolting substance you have failed to flush will be taken.
2. Said photograph will be posted to the appropriate Facebook wall, with a short line of text clearly identifying the perpetrator. Incurring, one hopes, storms of derision and mockery from your friends.
3. The substance in question will be removed from the toilet and placed in your room whereupon, I hope, you will find its removal unpleasant, inconvenient  and far more difficult than might otherwise have been had you, instead, chosen the more traditional method of disposal.

Yours in familial love and harmony, Dad.

Eventful day. Not bad. Not at all but certainly eventful. Hibs, being my 2nd team and Celtic being my 3rd, I’m half-thrilled, half-horrified by today’s events at Celtic Park. The first Hibs v Hearts Scottish Cup final since 1896 is now set for May the 19th. I predict an epidemic of coronary arrests and anxiety attacks on both sides of the Edinburgh divide anytime between now and the final whistle. Christ, apart from my own swooping-and-soaring emotions I felt every beat of my dear friend and comrade, Eddie Truman’s undeniable Hibee-til-he-dies roller-costing heart.

Cool time, as always, rappin’ with brother Mick Wall. We had, I think it’s fair to say, a lively time, Friday night just gone, but today concerned matters of weightier import. Easy-like-Sunday-morning, though, as always when we chew the fat. Right to the heart of the matter with our respective shit squared away and a deeper understanding arrived at. Tres cool. As is Mick, bless his black-and-white-chequered-pavement of a soul…

Snuck in a quick visit with The Auld Yin, too. A man who, apart from labouring under the indescribable burden of being my Dad, continues to both humble and provide me with an example of something to which I, one day, unrealistically, hope to aspire; that of being a person of similarly unimpeachable integrity, boundless compassion and indestructible moral fibre. One day, maybe, the GA willing…

Amongst all that, I’ve finally, hallelujah, finally, finished a piece for the most bodacious Joe Daly of The Nervous Breakdown, America’s premier arts and culture ‘zine. Thing with Joe-Boy, though, is he aint just an editor but a writer of no mean talent, too. As a Future Publishing colleague, at Classic Rock Magazine although he’s also a Metal Hammer regular, Joe sees both sides of the fence and plays both sides of the pitch. Can’t bullshit a guy like that, see? Made life a little tricky with my TNB debut. So much to think about with this piece; make it accessible for a foreign audience but don’t talk down to them, don’t assume huge swathes of prior knowledge but don’t patronise them either, make it informative and factual while reigning in my own strong and very partisan feelings on the subject at hand (Scottish independence and the strategic and ‘defence’ implications thereof for the US of A, if you’re interested).

Also experienced one of those odd moments where the sense of the years hurtling by step up and batter you straight in the puss (for English readers that does not mean ‘cat’). Caught sight of a picture of Sam Metcalf’s nipper, Ted, on Facebook. Me and Sam go waaaay back to the Post-Militant-then-to-be-soon-post-Socialist-Party days when we fought, if not the good fight, a bloody and determined fight in the Communist Party of Great Britain. Haven’t seen Sam in years although we’ve maintained a loose contact via Facebook. I first knew Sam as a lover of the most ridiculous Indie-Pop nonsense, the possessor of a quite remarkable quiff and a self-effacing determination to make the world a better place. Gave me a start though, seeing his young lad, bursting with life and energy, grinning up at me courtesy of the wonders of the world wide web. Maybe we’ll hook up if you’re going to the Malcolm Pinnegar Memorial Service (date TBA).

Talking of Malcolm Pinnegar, who was one of the architects and leaders of the ‘Dirty Thirty’, a term, initially of abuse but then a badge of honour, coined to describe those thirty stalwart class-warriors who maintained the Great Strike in the scab Leicestershire coalfield during those tumultuous days of ’84/’85, I was deeply saddened to learn of his recent passing. David Bell, an admirably indefatigable writer, chronicler and historian of so much of our working-class history conveyed the news.

I was privileged to hear Malcolm speak on at least two occasions and I suspect we met at least once but, to my deep regret, memory fails me. In any event, spare a moment for a brave and honourable man and a true class hero. Bloodied but unbowed during the Great Strike, death finally succeeded where Thatcher failed. Well done, thy good and faithful servant; well done. Sleep well, comrade.

Joy, though, has visited in the form of POD suffering the hang-over from hell and losing a (relative) packet on lottery scratch-cards. About which I’ve mocked and sanctimoniously pontificated. Obviously. As you do. Certainly, as I most assuredly did.

Said joy, though, was short-lived as SheWhoIsNeverWrong, AKA She-who-never-allows-me-a-well-earned-moment-of-Schadenfreude, drily remarked, “Hmm, let’s see, shall we? Excessive boozing? Check. Gambling? Check. So, definitely your daughter then…”

I see. Aye, right; cheers for that…

Although I visit my local library far less frequently than I once did, instead much preferring to own all the books I read and fortunate enough to be able to afford to do so, I absolutely love them. They are priceless, noble, magnificent and, in my opinion, as essential to the well-being, development and happiness of humanity and civilization as hospitals and fire stations. To paraphrase someone famous, I believe the quality of a nation’s civilization and culture can be measured by how it treats its libraries.

The Coalition doesn’t care, though. Obviously. As austerity measures start to bite, it’s been predicted that as many as 600 libraries all over the UK could close. These barbarians and philistines, with calculators and spreadsheets instead of hearts and souls, care nothing for the damage they cause as long as a few quid can be saved and passed along to the rich and the privileged they so effectively serve.

So next time some soulless corporate-servant of a politician proposes the closure of your local library, a place where hundreds of working-class kids, the poor, the desperate, the young, the old, the able, the infirm, the curious and the hungry can escape, briefly, to magical worlds full of adventures, knowledge and access the greatest minds humanity has ever produced, spit on him/her in the street…

Condemn them for the dead-inside hollow husks they have become.

Mock them for the shallow, money-obsessed scum they unquestionably are.

Jeer and sneer at the spiritually-vacant non-entities they shamelessly show themselves to be as they demonstrate they know the cost of everything, the value of nothing and feel even less than that.

Shame them with the power of your protest and the passion of your defiance.

Knowledge is power, books are therapy, reading is healing and libraries are the churches of the thinking, the humane, the compassionate and the daring.

No to library closures anywhere. Free access to knowledge and beauty for all.

Sometimes you get things spectacularly wrong. You think you can accurately guess the reaction of people to your deeds, words and endevours only for subsequent events to show you knew precisely shit, brother.

Well, that was me after sticking Soldiers Are Not Heroes out there less than a week ago. As anyone who’s read it can well imagine, my feelings, prior to publishing, were those of doubt and trepidation. “You can’t say that, H!” “You’ll get slaughtered” and “You’ve gone too far this time” were just some of the understandable comments offered by friends and family. People who love me and genuinely feared for my safety. The fact that those things were said at all, though, however well-meaning, is instructive and as much a damning indictment of our current climate of pro-war and pro-military hysteria as the article itself.

But here’s the thing; the response and reaction has been unbelievably supportive and even those who have disagreed have been unfailingly polite and courteous in registering their dissent. Not only that but the sheer volume of hits the piece received threatened to bring the bloody website down as it buckled under the pressure. I’ve yet to get my weekly stat report but the Facebook ‘like’ button at the end of  the article registered one thousand ‘likes’ in the first 48 hours, before it, inexplicably, reset itself. My eldest son, who manages the site for me, once told me that I average 12.5 page views per every ‘like’. So do the maths.

I simply couldn’t keep up with the number of people who have emailed me, retweeted it and shared it around Facebook and I’ve been stunned that the overwhelming majority of those have been in agreement and so overtly supportive. Oh, I know there are some squaddie forums howling for my blood and I won’t be expecting an invitation to address the troops anytime soon but that’s fine and dandy. What delights me so much is that such a potentially contentious message has been so well-received. And more than that; with political debate in the UK currently narrowed to a terrifyingly small space, within which what is deemed acceptable leaves no room for me and the hundreds of thousands like me, it’s been immensely gratifying.

I tried to address several issues; the state-sponsored terrorism in Afghanistan, obviously, but also the role of trades unions, free speech, jingoism, racism and the way certain groups are demonised whereas others are practically deified depending on how each serves the Coalition and their US masters’ political agenda. Overwhelmingly, you responded and made it clear that  there is a sizable constituency who see things as they really are.

You made this happen. The thousands upon thousands of you, from all over the world, who have read, shared and discussed these issues, have almost restored my faith in humanity. It seems there is a very large minority, maybe even an outright majority, who want not only an end to the UK’s occupation of Afghanistan but also the sinister climate and culture we now have which forces people to censor themselves for fear of the consequences.

Well, they can’t gag all of us and It’s clear that now, after ten, long, bloody years that the end is in sight. Keep the pressure on, people. Keep the faith.

Troops out of Afghanistan now.

You might need to sit down for this one. Ready? OK, here goes…

Soldiers aren’t heroes. There. Shocking, eh? Well, consider this; the army, like any organisation comprising hundreds of thousands of men and women, will contain almost as many different types as there are people. There will be the diligent and the lazy, the honest and the deceitful, the brave and the cowardly and the humane and the pitiless. They can’t all be heroes, you know. Not even all the dead ones.

Now I don’t know about you, but I’m sick to the back teeth of the emotional blackmail with which we are daily assaulted. Appeals to ‘Support Our Boys’ everywhere you look and every poor, duped and brainwashed unit of working-class cannon fodder, unfortunate enough to step on an IED in Helmand Province, virtually elevated to Sainthood. Even the BBC, laughably dubbed Bolsheviks Broadcasting Communism by the more unhinged and bellicose of our gin-soaked Colonels and their twin-set and pearl-adorned wives, seems to have turned itself into the Department of War Propaganda with never so much as a hint that there might exist, out there in the country in which it purports to report, an alternative view. I’d even bet it was a majority view, too, by now.

I’m also more than a little sick of the accusing and outraged responses my articulating of such sentiments provokes. There is, currently, no army anywhere on the face of the planet fighting for me or to keep me and mine safe. I wasn’t asked if I wanted UK troops in Afghanistan and I’m certainly not stupid enough to believe that now they are there, they’re fighting to protect my family and yours. Oh sure, there will be some soldiers, maybe even many, who believe that’s what they’re doing but, back in the real world, most of us know the real reason they are there is to secure and then protect by force cynical Western interests revolving, mainly, around resources and geopolitical influence in the region. By that, of course, I mean largely American interests, to which we become ever more subordinate.

Frankly, Afghanistan and the UK’s ongoing involvement there makes me angrier than I’ve been for a long time and I resent the frothing, rabid, racist idiots, drunk on blind patriotism and the bullshit dripping from the state’s propaganda tit. Expressly designed, of course, to keep the stupid proles docile, compliant and on-message. You sup if you want to but count me out.

Now I’m no wild-eyed, army-hating pacifist. I’m privileged to know some fine human beings who have served in the British Army. One, in particular, spending an eventful career involved in incidents that will definitely not be subjected to public scrutiny any time soon. Interestingly enough, though, they all seem to have a far clearer and much more accurate understanding of the motivations underpinning the UK’s military excursions than those who support them. Motives, they would assure you, which have nothing whatsoever to do with noble concepts like freedom, democracy and philanthropy.

But the point is this; currently doing the rounds on Facebook (where else?) is this…

“2000 tanker drivers are complaining that £45k a year and a final salary pension, is too little for a dangerous job? Yet our boys and girls out in Afghan get £24k or there about to get shot at? Round the 2000 tanker drivers up, send em out to Afghan, then ask 2000 soldiers if they want to earn £45k a year driving a fuel tanker about. Problem solved…. repost if u agree”

This is a ridiculous argument and one that cannot withstand even a moment’s scrutiny. Firstly, the idea that no one has a right to defend their wages and living standards from attacks by this vicious, greedy government of toffs, simply because they aren’t soldiers, is too stupid for words.

Secondly, tanker drivers earn between £20K and £25K per year. The mythical £45K the Tory media would have us believe they earn is a figure that applies to less than 20% of the industry. And at what price? Dangerously long hours and working during holidays and days off. But that’s not all, is it? The unions involved are also fighting to ensure drivers receive proper training and valuable health and safety inductions (you remember unions, don’t you? The people who brought you the weekend, the forty-hour week, paid holidays, sick pay and put an end to sending kids down the pits, to mention just a few of their achievements).

Meanwhile, back at the Tory ranch, unscrupulous employers are being egged on by the oil companies to undercut unionised firms by hacking back on training, health and safety as well as pay and conditions. So when a knackered and stressed out driver ploughs his tanker full of petrol through your front room, taking out your kids in the process, along with most of your street and that union jack you’ve got flying over the garden, hopefully you might then wish you hadn’t been an ignorant and resentful idiot, incapable of independent thought and seeing the bigger picture.

But back to ‘Our Boys’; as a parent I value my children’s lives above all else. It was for that reason I told all three of them that joining the armed forces was not an option. By sheer force of will I had my way. Wrong? Maybe. Should let them make their own decisions, right? Possibly. To be honest, I don’t care. I know I’ll never have to stand weeping over a box filled with bits of my kids. I’ll never feel the rage, guilt, shame and self-loathing that would come with knowing I let my kids die for ruthless, immoral, war-mongering governments who demonstrate every single day that they have nothing but contempt for me, my kids and our class. Let them send their kids, let the privileged officer class be the heroes, let’s see the Cabinet sending their sons and daughters to perish in the desert.

So, you want to support ‘Our Boys’, eh? Then do it in the only way that matters; bring them back from Afghanistan. Oppose this pointless, unwinnable, immoral and dirty war. Give your kids the chance to live or you aren’t a parent; you’re a monster. A disgusting individual prepared to sacrifice your children for the hollow lies sold you by the governments of the UK and USA. Are you real? What kind of human being are you that you’d do that but presume to judge me for my lack of patriotism? Dulci et decorum est pro patria mori, eh? What is wrong with you people?

Troops out of Afghanistan now. And while you’re at it, support the tanker drivers.

Went to Matlock today, with SheWhoIsNeverWrong, for fish and chips. Sometimes these things just have to be done and a glorious sunny March Sunday seemed just such an occasion.

The UK’s premier lefty blogger, author, journalist, blues-man and all-round good-egg and snappy dresser, Dave Osler, questioned the wisdom of such a plan. “Another town, just for a kitchen supper? Don’t they have fish & chip shops in Nottingham?” Dave O, bless him, while a splendid human being with talent and the love (or at least the patience) of a very fine woman to sustain him, nevertheless labours under the burden of being not just a southerner but a Londoner, too. As all who  reside above the Watford Gap know, such individuals are not fit and proper persons to judge in matters of this regard. Apart from anything else, lots of English chippies insist on leaving the skin on the fish. A nauseating practice thankfully eschewed by the great Matlock fish-fryers.

Being something of a Mecca for bikers, Matlock was, as it invariably is on days like these, rammed with the two-wheeled beasts. Although the character of the owners seems to have changed somewhat over the years. Once  upon a time you couldn’t move in any direction without bumping into a 1%er. Today, though, only Satan’s Slaves appeared to be represented with the overwhelming majority of machines belonging, instead, to sport’s bike enthusiasts, complete with those ridiculous, almost fetish-like, Power Ranger outfits they seem to like.

Of far more importance, though, was the post-scoff visit to the adjacent bookshop which yielded a fine hoard. Miles Davis’ collaborative autobiography by and with Quincy Troupe, a title I’ve been meaning to acquire for years. Also Philip Norman’s Stones effort and David McGee’s BB King biog, “There Is always One More Time”. Nice, I think you’ll agree. Unlike SheWhoIsNeverWrong who, astonishingly, continues to believe I have “too many books”, a condition, again I’m sure you’ll agree, which simply does not and cannot exist.

Talking of muso biogs, I’ve recently finished Joel McIver’s excellent collaboration with Glenn Hughes. You really need to read this bad boy. A remarkable tale brilliantly told. And while on the subject of Joel Mr Metal McIver, he recently asked me, in response to my congratulations, “when are you gonna do one of these here book things?” Well, an aptly-timed question as it’s something I’ve been thinking about for a while until The Great Idea landed. Joel, kind and generous soul that he is, offered to assist and advise in any way he can.

A day or so later, during one of our regular nattering sessions, I mentioned all this to Mick Wall. “I can’t speak highly enough of Joel”, opined ‘Rock’s Most Famous Writer’. “If he’s offered help and advice you should definitely take it”. Who am I to argue with such a weighty authority as Mick Wall? As for The Great Idea, Mick was gratifyingly supportive and enthusiastic. “That’s a brilliant idea, H, and the timing is perfect. You should absolutely do this!” What can I say to that? Joel McIver and Mick Wall, of all people, both in my corner as a neophyte author! Fantastic but humbling, too.  Many, many thanks indeed to those two up and outstanding gentlemen.

Yeah, life is sweet, currently. SheWhoIsNeverWrong is now making definite progress toward recovery, at long last, so that’s a huge relief, thanks be to the Great Architect, and the work is going well, too. Nearly caught up on all outstanding commissions and assignments, a little something for the patient, long-suffering but never less than excellent, Joe Daly of The Nervous Breakdown now firmly at the top of the list.

Settled in nicely at Powerplay Rock and Metal Magazine, too. In no part due to the kindness and friendly welcome proffered by fellow-scribes Andrew Hawnt (how great is that surname for an author of horror stories, by the way?) and Matt Spall and, of course, the indefatigable Red Imp (for Country Music fans, that means unflagging, tireless and full of beans), also of that parish.

Future Publishing’s excellent mag, Classic Rock, also now pay me actual real money for my ramblings and musings which reminds me; I must remember to move the dosh to another account before they find me out.

Cracking weekend, too. Saw Captain Horizon blaze across the Rescue Rooms skyline yesterday at Al Draper’s new and very much improved Upload Festival. A good lad is Al and I was chuffed it went so well for him.

Later, the evening took an unexpected turn. An interview with Mick Wall’s old mucka, Joe Bonamassa, or Joey Bones as Mick calls him, and a review of his Birmingham show was shunted instead to Monday in Nottingham. So I ambled over to Derbyshire where SheWhoIsNeverWrong was taking full advantage of her recent partial recovery and bossing Fahran about during a new promo-shoot. Given that today was bassist Alex Stroud’s birthday I shouldn’t have been surprised that the band’s manager, Beth Windsor, had organised festivities to follow the shoot. That those festivities involved both cake and copious amounts of Bushmills and Guinness wasn’t exactly earth-shattering news either and a good time was most assuredly had by all. As is always the case when attending a soirée at Windsor Castle. And let’s face it; that’s the nearest you’ll ever see me getting to crossing the threshold of a Royal household ;-)

“The problem with you, H, is that you’re an extremist”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. You scare people and the British people aren’t extreme by nature”

“Define ‘extremism’ then”

“Well, you know; all that ranting about the poor, class war and inequality. It’s just too extreme. Too radical and it’s unworkable and utopian anyway”

“I see. Funny, that; I kinda see entire continents starving to death, in the 21st century, while the West destroys tonnes of food every day, instead of giving it away to the starving poor, as extreme. I reckon 10% of the population owning 80% of the nation’s wealth is pretty extreme. I think making people work for dole money, when they’ve paid national insurance stamp for precisely that dole money, is as good a definition of extremism as you could find”

“See? That’s exactly what I’m talking about! You’re an extremist!”

“You don’t think invading a country, illegally, bombing and slaughtering its civilians, all in the name of deposing a dictator that the West armed, funded, trained and put in power in the first place as extreme, then? You don’t think standing idly by while Israel murders women, children, the elderly and infirm just for the crime of being Arabs as extreme, then?”

“I’m not on about that, I’m on about the trade unions holding the country to ransom and ruining the economy. You support that! You’re an extremist!”

“That’s an interesting inversion of reality, don’t you think? Considering the trade unions are weaker than they’ve ever been, strikes and industrial disputes are at their lowest level ever since records began and they are hamstrung and paralysed by the most draconian and undemocratic legislation that exists anywhere in the Western world? Now that’s ‘extremism’, surely?”

“Words! Just words! You’ve always got an answer for everything!”

“Are you real? Isn’t that what debate and discussion is about? The free-flow and exchange of contrasting views and opinions?”

“Whatever but you just refuse to live in the real world!”

“That’s ironic because in the real world, where real men and women and their families live, the real ‘extremists’ are bankers, CEOs and executives who have, literally, sold the country to their spiv mates and the crooks while the ordinary men and women in the streets are flung on the dole as jobs are hacked and slashed in their thousands. And then they’re smeared as ‘scroungers’ by brainwashed idiots and told they’ve got to give their labour for free to some profiteering supermarket chain or lose their paltry benefits. That’s your ‘real world’ for you. Don’t you think that’s ‘extremism’?”

“Oh, you’re just a communist, you are!”

“So; let’s sum this up, then; because I believe a system that exploits people for profit, sees them as mere commodities to be bought and sold, that condemns entire nations to war, poverty, famine and death so that the rich can grow ever richer is wrong, that makes me an ‘extremist’?”

“But you are an extremist! You’re living in a dream world if you think you can ever change anything”

“How do you even live with yourself? How can you look at yourself in the mirror? How can you sleep at night?”

“Eh? I don’t know what you mean”

“Exactly. And there, in a nut-shell, is the problem. That’s why the world is fucked…”

“You’re just a raving idiot, H. Millions of normal people agree with me. There was this article in The Daily Mail earlier…”

Normal people, eh? You better watch out for them. There are more of them than us…

Dewsbury Magistrates’ Court was an unsettling place to be on March 20th. It was here that current far-right bête noire, Azhar Ahmed, appeared to face a charge of committing a ‘Racially Aggravated Public Order Offence’.

As previously reported http://www.sabotagetimes.com/life/azhar-ahmed-and-scott-mchugh-a-tale-of-two-states/, Ahmed took strong exception to the blanket media coverage of the six servicemen from the Yorkshire regiment killed in Afghanistan recently, compared to the scant attention given Afghan civilians killed by US and UK occupation forces.

It’s difficult to see his arrest and charge as anything other than a deeply sinister move by the state to punish anyone daring to question the morality and validity of the illegal campaign in which the UK is involved.

Maybe something of the obvious hypocrisy of the charge and the transparent political persecution it represents was a factor in it being withdrawn and replaced with that of ‘Posting a grossly offensive message on Facebook’, the clumsily worded replacement reeking of a kind of make-it-up-as-you-go-along justice. Incredibly, though, it seems the offence is covered by the 2003 Communications Act. Ahmed has now been bailed and will stand trial under the new charge at Huddersfield Magistrates Court on July the 3rd.

The far-right were on hand to vent their collective spleen as Ahmed arrived at court and some three dozen members of the EDL, Casuals United and assorted lumpens and neo-fash detritus brandished placards demanding the jailing of the hapless teen and of anyone else committing the heinous crime of insulting British troops. They were controlled by some fifty police officers complete with four video vans.

The obvious class spite of Ahmed’s arrest contrasted with the, so far, absence of any action against the pro-troops racism and bigotry of McHugh and his supporters, not to mention their clear and overt threats of violence and death, and reflect well the current viciously reactionary period.

As the UK becomes increasingly draconian in its attitudes to protest and ever more brutal in its handling of those involved, the oft-vaunted claims of a classless society are exposed for the hollow sham they really are.

When a drunken youth can be jailed for two years for jokingly advocating a riot on Facebook (a riot that never even took place) and Azhar Ahmed is hauled before the beak for voicing an inarguably and unmistakably political opinion, then it’s time people woke up and started thinking.

As the austerity measures of the coalition make themselves felt and job losses escalate, further protests are inevitable. As we saw last year, following the summer riots and the shooting of Mark Duggan, not to mention the cases of Alfie Meadows, Ian Tomlinson and numerous others, the state is more than ready to use its extensive panoply of powers to keep the moaning proles down.

Powers that were originally introduced under the guise of aiding the state in its ‘War On Terror’ have already been wheeled out to crush political dissent and protest from unions, students and NHS workers, among others. This will only continue as the crisis deepens.

It’s clear that Cameron’s government will stop at nothing to make the poor pay for the sins of the greedy elite. And as if that weren’t enough, Ahmed’s case makes clear that they are also prepared to give their class allies in the police service and judiciary the necessary power to penalise legitimate political protest. Nye Bevan once perceptively observed that you never hear the Tories talking about class war because they’re too busy fighting it.

We are all Azhar Ahmed now…

No one should be under any illusion regarding the increasingly oppressive nature of the UK state. The creeping criminalization of previously legal protest action has been seen countless times recently; students protesting against tuition fees and the politically-motivated sentences handed down to those convicted of last summer’s riots being just two of the most obvious examples.

Things have taken a very sinister and outrageous turn, though, with the arrest of nineteen year old Azhar Ahmed, who is due to appear before Dewsbury Magistrates on March 20th. It is alleged the youth recently posted the following comments on his Facebook page: “People gassin about the deaths of soldiers! What about the innocent familys who have been brutally killed.. The women who have been raped.. The children who have been sliced up..! Your enemy’s were the Taliban not innocent harmless familys. All soldiers should DIE & go to HELL! THE LOWLIFE FOKKIN SCUM! gotta problem go cry at your soliders grave & wish him hell because that where he is going..”

Strong words, to be sure, and undoubtedly offensive and upsetting to many, not least the bereaved families of serving soldiers. However, we’ll gloss over the tragic irony of his comments being lent substance by the rampage of a US serviceman, last Sunday, which resulted in the deaths of sixteen civilians, including nine children and three women. An irony further compounded by his comments apparently being motivated by what he felt was an imbalance in the coverage of casualties in Afghanistan. With blanket coverage given to the six recently killed British soldiers compared to that given to Afghan civlian casualties. It seems he at least has a point, however uncomfortable some might find his choice of words…

But that aside, the real concern here is the offence with which West Yorkshire Police have charged him, that of committing a “racially aggravated public order offence”.  It’s difficult to see how his words, as reported, constitute racism in any way. Instead, significantly and worryingly, his comments amount to an overtly political statement. So; it seems we have a state which now deploys the flimsiest of legislation to silence political dissent. Set in the context of vicious austerity measures and the increasingly totalitarian methods used to suppress and quell the resulting protests, this marks a new and very serious attack on civil liberties and personal freedom.

However, don’t despair. It’s not all bad news. It seems we also have another state in operation. One which works in parallel to the one experienced by the unfortunate teenager. Under that state it appears perfectly acceptable for serving soldiers and their friends to post the most noxious and racist filth on Facebook without, thus far, incurring any sanctions.

On March 12th, one Scott McHugh, who appears to be a serving soldier, posted on his Facebook wall, in response to Ahmed’s comments, “Azhar ahmed you sick horrible twisted paki bastard, how can you say that about our soldiers!” McHugh was joined by several of his friends, some of whom commented as follows…

Leighanne Gillott: ” He’s disgusting and should be fucking hanged!! He won’t get away with it, locked up or not somebody will get him, he will get what he deserves!!x”

Lee Crisculo: ”Fucking sick twat burn his eyes out smelly fukka”

Helen Massey Gordge:  ”Cheeky smelly pakki cunt wants tying to a tree n shooting …Smelly fukker..Lock him up n throw the key away ..Grrrhhhh….SKUM…!!”

Robbie Joedys Sampler: ” He’s nothing he’s gunner die veryy soon”

Danielle Lufc Harker: ”Dirty smelly greasy bastard needs fuking torturing the dirty paki bastard!!”

The comments were subsequently removed and it appears as though someone reported McHugh to Facebook administrators, as his defiant rejoinder, and that of a friend, seem to suggest…

Scott McHugh: “some body else had just reported my comment who ever it is Get back on ya Camel and f**k off!

Danny Wheeler: “probably a paki shagger lad fuck em there shitbags for not admitting who it is!”

Were all this not bad enough, try this on for size  https://www.facebook.com/AzharAhmedScum

Welcome to justice and democracy, UK style. Right about now, I doubt I’m the only one with a grim smile, fearing for the future while hearing  Joe Strummer intoning, ‘Know Your Rights’.

March 2012

Of late a band in a state of flux, Fahran is delighted to announce the addition of guitarist Chris Byrne to their ranks.

Laughed Jake Graham, “We’re probably as surprised as the fans by this! We were settled on staying as a four piece but after a jam with Chris, well, the chemistry and the musical interplay just seemed so right, we thought why the hell not?”

Manager, Beth Windsor, added, “Chris and Jake have known each other for a while and have been big fans of each other’s playing and when they eventually jammed, initially just a friendly, impromptu get-together, we were all stunned at the outcome”

20 year-old Chris had this to say: “I met Jake on our first day at university. We both acknowledged that we had similar tastes in music and styles of playing and we often spent free time just jamming around on guitar. When I heard ‘Crude Design’ for the first time I took a chance and sent him a text saying if he needed a second guitarist in the band to give me a shout. Two days later, he invited me to jam with the band. It just felt right from the get-go.

The band was very welcoming and supportive. The very second you step into their rehearsal space you get the sense you’ve joined something special. Everyone involved is incredibly motivated to push the band as far as it can go. The more modern direction in music style whilst still having some foundation in the classic metal sound means we can play some awesome music. All I see in this band’s future is making great albums and playing some awesome shows. Bring it on!”

Fahran sticksman, JR Windsor, in typically dry fashion, added, “We’re really pleased to welcome Chris aboard but believe me; this is the last line-up change unless someone dies!”

N.B. having just returned from the first gig featuring Chris, I can safely say the kid is a find-and-a-half. Very different from, but complimentary to, Jake Graham. He’s an energetic player and really adds a whole other physical dimension to the Fahran live experience.

Musically, he’s got an impressive bag of tricks at his disposal and his use of harmonics, little phrases tapped out behind the nut and his soloing style in general, really add something fresh and exciting to the band’s sound. Well spotted, Jakey-Boy ;-) Good luck and best wishes to both Fahran and Chris.

H.