Undesirable Al-Qaeda

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"Al-Qaeda's North African branch has claimed responsibility for the killing of an American aid worker"

Brilliant, that's gonna get everyone on side.

"Look, look, we've killed another innocent trying to help our children! Aren't we just marvelous!"

Haven't they learnt the PR lesson yet? Surely they are aware that news has been knocked of its attempted truth throne by the easy route PR movement?

Surely they witnessed the skillful PR war during Russia's little adventure into Georgia?

No matter.

It's all being blown wide open by the Internet. No longer can you shut the doors to a country. No longer can you quietly tidy up the population every time it makes a fuss about freedom, choice, torture or any other such tiresome issue.

Now you're on the spot

Now people can film the police shooting, beating and breaking the rules before it's sent across the world to the everyday. Revolution can happen. Propaganda can only go so far...

That is until someone works out how to manage the whole thing effectively, block out the undesirables, stop some sort of truth getting through...

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Mrs George

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Watching , consuming the events of this planet through the lens of the popular media is like picking a scab. Everyday you scar a bit more. Everyday you destroy sensitivity, become a bit more more hardened, a little less hurt by the damage you do to your perception.

There are many things that upset me on this world. Many things that spur me into a caffeine fueled rage on paper. Not much makes me cry though. Not much reaches out and touches me in that certain way.

The outpouring of grief, anger, frustration and pain that greeted the police vans containing the accused last week surprised me. It wasn't the reaction of the people. It wasn't to anyone's surprise that the woman who raped, abused the children in her care, who broadcast these acts to the everyday would produce such a reaction. It was the strength of the reaction. It reached out of my televisions cathode ray tube and twisted my gut, squeezed my soul. It felt like a pressure on my being.

Of course, to secure a successful conviction the parents of the 'featured' children will have to identify them in the pictures, the videos...

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Spitfear

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Nick Griffin is an intelligent man. He holds a degree in law from one of the most highly regarded centres for learning and enlightenment on this planet. 

He is almost certainly aware of the bigger picture, of the long history of immigration, cultural blending, the construction, the building of images that makes up what we identify as being British. He is almost certainly aware also that the Supermarine Shrew (or Spitfire as it came to be known) his PR department use to colour his "Battle For Britain" campaign was used in anger to beat back a force that held very similar views that his political party chooses to propagate.

He is almost certainly aware as well that we are all descended from one race, one creed. We are all speaking with only slightly different voices, holding slightly different views of roughly the same colour. He knows all we want is the safety of ours, the security of the future. He knows this transcends colour, creed, sexual or political orientation. It could be argued also that he is/was intelligent enough to have foreseen the scramble to the political centre, the loss of certainty, the pleasing of today's headlines instead of tomorrows, next weeks, next months, next years, next decades concerns.

It could be argued he foresaw the vacuum this would leave. The disillusioned, the people who can't see the Yahweh or El for the Allah or Muhammad. Those people that feel hemmed in by the influx of immigration that results from the sun setting on the largest Empire Homo erectus has so far grown. He must have known.

He must have seen his niche, seen his moment.

But is that really it? Is it just the pursuit of power? What process made the man? 

Was it a heavy handed father? A callous Mother?

A bullying black or homosexual class mate?

All of this is nothing

All of this is just dust and shadows. Speculation and perhaps slander. What is real is Fear. 

Fear spreads like a disease. 

Make no mistake, the BNP are racist, they are hateful, they are Darkness and Fear... 

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Expenses

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In a not too brave and reasonably well judged publicity stunt the Public School Boy has ordered his Party to pay back any unjustified expenses. The icing on that particular cake was a well managed photo opp that saw him making all of this clear under the watchful eye of The Bulldog. All of this just a week after The Numbers Man faced changing government policy because of a (as a Canadian I spoke to last week joked) "celebrity"  and was then photographed in front of a Swastika. 

Bugger.

This is the stuff of election change.

It is going to happen.

But listen.

Do you hear that?

That is the sound of the public sector nervously shuffling its feet. Mark my words, a scythe shall but taken to the green fields of public spending. Health care will be put into the hands of business men and women. The men and women who choose profit , personal gain and stuff over their fellow human being...

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Spa Talent

The following was received  by junction point 234......... 

Narrow beam communication with no security priority.....

Believed to be some sort of 'light relief' for the admiralty....

Performance profile attached....

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Its cool warm Friday evening. We're sat in Conservative Cheltenham. Our ears are being assaulted in the only way new jazz knows how. It takes real concentration, I feel tired by it. Tired in the same way I'm tired by an intellectual Book or filtering through motorway traffic on a motorcycle. I love both. 
Dale Campbell does this. He assembles some people who are a little outside of the everyday, people who somehow, through all the lack of grassroots in this pretty spa town, have actually done IT. Originality on a plate. Take it. Take them. Their yours.
So whats the craic?
Ricky Tart is a stand up, rapping, dancing smorgasbord of entertainment. The girls swoon. 
Fire In The Cave have a talented drummer, some sort of crazy evasive bass player and some bloke from the Guillemots. 
Dale Campbell does his familiar yet no less startling guitar assault.
The not quite quartet are Ricky and Dale. Ricky does the jokes, Dale wields his guitar.
Did you like that? Come to the Frog and Fiddle on the last Friday of every month. Its available for you delectation... 

There are no bones to be made. This is the new edge.

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Speaking

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Indeed it is difficult to swallow anything that comes forth from the lips of a man who openly denies the holocaust, sites the destruction of Israel as a central aim of his government and enforces an anti-liberal attitude on his population but...

The staged walk out of various 'western' delegates at the UN yesterday was one of (as the man himself put it); 

"Arrogance and selfishness"

For such an apparent extremist to begin his speech by not only praising Allah but also mentioning Abraham and Jesus the Christ was actually a nod of respect to those who stand in the other domains of Yahweh. It had been mooted that various delegates had threatened to walk out if The Bearded Man uttered a word out of turn. 

So, at a conference about racism  he decided to label the Israeli government racist.

Correct!

Give that man a prize!

Indeed it is no less racist than his very own government but as he later stated;

"...everybody must enjoy the right to freely express his or her opinions... we should not be intolerant of listening to the opinions of others...."

Surely that's what the UN is. A sort of international Parliament?

No?

Oh.

Then what is it?

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High Street Charity

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Things had not started well. An anxiety dream followed by waking up, having a nose bleed and banging my head on the bathroom door handle had led to the brewing of a foul mood. Bad news from the bank and shuffling savings into bills added to the sombre mood. Radio 4 spoke of children so badly raped that they themselves would never have children. I had left the house, walked down to the high street and been drag netted by the usual smiley, slightly bo-ho looking charity raisers. This time something within me gave in. I stood and listened to the insufferable evil that the everyday decides to impose on the poor in certain areas of Brazil. Frankly this type of charity hard selling irritates me. It is too smiley, too happy, too idealistic, naive, insert more of the same here...

But then...

The voice that says these things is the very apathy I rant about to others. The very antipathy of why I write this blog. I signed up. As I walked away I turned to see the girl who had sold me the charity smiling to herself. It could have been a quip by a colleague, it could have been the pleasure of the sell, but something deeper glowed from her face....

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