Just Another Manic Monday (Tuesday, Wednesday, etc…)

You know I went to Brum a couple of weeks back? And I stayed in a hotel? With indoor facilities and a heater? Well, after a rather pleasant drive home to the hills of Wales in the fading sunlight and reaching home as dark fell.. I switched on the light, only to find that the dog sitter had been charging his phone. The light went off after about a minute and half, and I was in the dark. The caravan had been empty since Friday, and so things were damp, as well as dogs taking liberties with the place and the goose having had visited.

There was a bit of charge left on my phone so I watched about half of the MOATS on Sputnik, and then all went dark. And I thought to myself. Bollocks to this.

The next day I looked at the price of flats in Brum while the kettle boiled and now the sun was up. I had driven down road after road of for sale signs, and getting all estate agenty I had a look. Some cheap stuff up there if you go to auction. Shall I move to Brum? Do goats like the city?

So, I carried on looking, and then looked again at places locally, and saw one I’d liked before, but ignored because these things were not concrete in my mind yet. Suddenly, after two nights on dry land, they were. I mailed the agent. Next day I viewed. Next day I offered. Next day it was accepted. Then I had a week or so of paperwork hassles to secure a mortgage and then suddenly. Today, in the nick of time before lockdown as I write this the contracts were sent. And stuff will start happening from…. Now.

You know what they say about light at the end of the tunnel? Well, there finally is some. I’ve been wondering for a long time what to do, and suddenly it all became clear. The kid approves. Two chippies in town and an Indian takeaway? Are you kidding me? The very town where I went to school and where some of my oldest and bestist buddies live, and where there’s a co-op over the road from the place I’m buying and they have cake.

Big kid lives up the road, the folks live five minutes’ drive away, there’s a fair there every October, and there’s swans outside. I know every pub in the town intimately, although not for a very long time. Nostalgia will be the main feeling I’m guessing, along with the glee of pavements when it’s raining and a chemist just up the road. People. Lights. Electricity. Wonderment. I’ve been living like a 17th century peasant, wandering around my land with my led lamp like some 21st century Bronte sister, Tess of the D’Urbervilles, just slightly less tragic, almost to the point of picking a tree, fearful that some being old willow, the rest having ash die back, that the bough will break and you’ll be explaining away two broken legs and a big bruised neck.

I’m not serious. Ok. A little. We’ve perhaps all been to those dark places. But you can’t carry it out when there’s kids and goats involved. You can be frustrated or glad about that. It depends. I think the last two weeks may be what mania looks like. I’ve done it many times. It’s always fun. I’ve never recognised it for what it is before. But ho hum, if it gets stuff done.

I’m beginning to think the whole opd off-grid thing has been one giant nervous breakdown. Where did it begin? When I left Jameston? When I left Narberth? When I split from ‘im indoors? When Gelf dog died? When I lost the shop? When I got stupid horses? I don’t know. Life takes so many turns, it’s hard to know which one brought you to where. Any decision could have changed everything along the way. It’s a lot to contemplate as I drive the miles to my land that I have to drive until other things take over up there. Never let it be said that I didn’t try, and never let it be said that I haven’t lived a thousand lives, and that there’s not room for a thousand more.

Yes, there are plans for my land. For now, that’s classified, but it’s good, and happy, and everyone is catered for. All the Delismurfs are going to be ok. Don’t worry about a thing.

You may have guessed the town. Those close to me already know. Locals will guess. My enemies won’t recognise the clues, and so they can wonder. I wonder if they will still stalk me when I’m gone? I think they may have other things to do.

I’m going home, peeps.

Kulaks vs Kolkhoz

Yesterday, a friend of mine sent me a photo that she had seen on social media. It was my neighbours, raising their glasses, in front of the stable block that one of them built without planning permission. Their glee was to celebrate their victory in stopping me achieving planning permission to live on my land. If you didn’t see the story here in the Herald as it unfolded, you might be interested to read my book – NoPD – How to Epically Fail at One Planet Development.

What interested me about this picture that I was sent, is that someone can be so smug about such a victory. Ok, you stopped me living on my land. Well done. Congratulations. But by doing that you made me homeless. Who celebrates making someone homeless? I guess, the kind of person that makes it their life’s work to ensure that you can never live on your land and start the tree nursery that you wanted to grow.

It’s a weird old thing, homelessness. You feel really lost. I’m still on my land at present; I have until February before they come and bulldoze me away. I’m in an 18 foot caravan that is cold. Really cold. And damp. I have plans to go, of course. I really can’t be bothered with court. But It’s interesting that this seems to be the way of things in this capitalist nightmare that they like to trap us all in.

There are no individual solutions to social problems. But in a world full of individualism, you’d think that was the only path available. People of a certain age, who grew up as baby boomers, who had good healthcare, decent schooling, affordable housing, they’re the ones who get angry when they feel that someone else may be able to get on despite all the odds. They’re into their pensions, which were sorted out back when there was such a thing, and they live comfortably, and they are able to do whatever they like, in that they build stables, houses, rental properties on their land, yet the council turn a blind eye, instead preferring to concentrate on those that have nothing. A farmhouse up the road sold recently to an English couple. They have filled the fields with cabins, vehicles, tents, buildings – all visible from the road, all making a visual impact, yet that’s ok, because they already have a house. And if you have a house you can have lots of other stuff and you can get away with it.

It strikes me that if I was in the position of my neighbours, in that I owned my property outright, had luxuries like land, stables, disposable income etc etc, that I wouldn’t begrudge someone trying to build something for themselves. Is the world really that selfish? Are people really that cripplingly cruel? It’s one thing to object to a planning application. It’s quite another to make it your life’s work to make someone fail, and then gloat over it.

During the Russian Revolution, the rich landowners, the Kulaks, were eventually beaten down by the peasant farmers, the Kolkhoz. With the help of the proletariat, they were able to rise up above the moneyed classes, the flag of the USSR signifying the union of the workers and the peasants. I feel that this may need to be a situation that arises again.

My neighbours, the Kulaks, aren’t being asked to share anything, to give anything, to contribute anything. But still they can’t bear to see the peasant class rise up. They can’t even bear seeing them safe with somewhere to live. And even though these objectors of mine are women, they show no solidarity with another woman, indicating that feminism was always a class issue, and the ones with the dolla will stick together, chink their glasses and celebrate the fall of the peasant.

My one trump card is that as a Kolkhoz, I’m on the side of the workers. The proletariat. We’re a much bigger group than they are. And when the revolution happens, it will be nice to see how they fare. Not many people know that most of the stories about the Soviet Union and Stalin were lies spread by the Nazis by their association with a certain newspaper magnate in America, but that’s another story. All we need to understand for our purposes, is that though there were a lot of lies about the Gulags, the Gulags did exist. And that’s where the Kulaks ended up.

Just sayin’.

Danger? Just Capitalism, Darling.

I’ve seen some anti Covid vaccination people online today, declaring that they’re going to get their flu jab. On the other hand. I’ve seen people also stating that all vaccinations are bad. I talk about eradicating smallpox, and that makes me a government stooge. Everyone has a stance on the Covid conspiracy. But there’s no conspiracy other than that which is obvious.

I was in Birmingham at the weekend on business. Three days of going in and out of all sorts of establishments; hotels, conference buildings, shops, pubs, takeaways, offices; not once was I asked to download any type of app whatsoever, but I see people all day long freaking out because they can’t get into McDonalds without downloading the track and trace app. Firstly, if you’re in McDonalds, then, well, sorry bro, you’ve already lost the game. Secondly, the fact that you’re using your smart phone to tell us all this also implies that you’ve lost the game. The app that you’re using, that social media platform, asked you for all sorts of permissions when you joined. Don’t you remember? And now you’re saying that the new vaccine will become compulsory and they’re gonna track us all?

In the queue outside the pub in central Birmingham last Friday night, we were asked if we had the app. We said no. So, the guy gave us a form to sign, that lots of people had touched, presumably, in that there were lots of signatures on it. I wrote my real name, and real phone number, but that’s all they wanted. I write like a blind child, so my information is safe, without even having to be on a blag. I could have written anything.

There was a book in the conference room we went in, but no one made anyone sign it. The only time I got asked to put a mask on was in the station, by two unmasked coppers, a station so vast that to me it felt like I was outside, but I wasn’t, so I had to put my mask on, that had been in my bag, because you don’t need it on in the street, and you need it to go into the pub, but not to sit in it. So it’s in and out of my bag and pocket, getting covered in fluff and dry tobacco.

In the pub you had to use an app to order food and drinks, but my colleagues already had the app, being that they live in Brum, and use this kind of magical technology all the time. No one was at the bar, the tables were waited on, it was actually much better than your usual inner-city public house experience. The staff looked too busy, and they needed more people working than they had, but apart from that, it worked fine. There were automatic hand sanitiser dispensers everywhere, making loads more sense than the ones in establishments where you have to press the lid to use it, which defeats the entire object.

I think what I’m trying to say, is that I’m confused. Either it’s dangerous, this Covid, or it’s not. Either you can have streets full of people in the city, or you can’t. Putting a mask on every time you visit the toilet after you’ve touched every surface in the vicinity seems a bit nuts. The fact that we had to stay on a table together, as we were a group, even though we had met up earlier that day from every corner of the country, didn’t matter. We were a bubble, as far as they were concerned. When a seventh buddy turned up, three of us had to sit on the next table to make us into two groups. However, when we left, we all left together, sandwiched in between every other pub leaver at bang on ten when we were booted out. The thing that worried me more, as we waited at the station afterwards for our other colleague to arrive, was that the police who told us to mask up, wouldn’t allow an elderly gent on the train because they made him admit he’d had a drink, so they wouldn’t let him on the platform, because it was dangerous. Leaving him alone in town and not able to get home, was not.

The following night, sharing a taxi with drunk people after an evening event, they had to be told to put their masks on by the poor driver, who clearly was sick of this already. They were drunk, so they put them on, but not properly. Of course not. They’re drunk. So, it’s either safe to let drunk people out, or it’s not. Which is it?

And back to the vaccination thing. Without a trace of irony, people who are up in arms about the Covid vaccine are proving they’re not anti vax per-se, by toddling off for their flu jabs, the research for which is being funded by Bill Gates, the guy they’re all terrified is gonna squirt them with a tracker or a sterilisation bug in a Covid vaccine, when he could have easily done it by administering it to every kid who has their TB jab at thirteen, or with the childhood vaccines that everyone has, or that tetanus that  you have when you tread on a nail or your cat bites you, or indeed, the flu vaccine, which they’re choosing to have. Their argument seems to be that they’ll be forced into a compulsory vaccine. Firstly, our government could never organise anything that efficiently, and secondly, why force you to have a vaccine when you’re happy to have one by choice?

The whole thing is chaos, and everyone is missing the point that as long as profit is in charge of everything that happens, nothing is going to make sense. And so you may as well stop arguing about the wrong things and consider a new society.  

Calm down. The answer is more obvious than you think.

Cancel Christmas? Go On Then.

Word is they’re on about cancelling Christmas. For fear of sounding like the Grinch, good. Bring it on. I bloody hate Christmas.

Kids of a certain age, as in my age, are probably feeling the same way as I am. And that’s because we’re eighties kids, born in the seventies, with all the memories of those eighties christmasses looming over you every year to remind you just how crap Christmas has become in this post-post-post-modern world.

Years ago it was all about watching Top of the Pops for all the Christmas number 1s, and we could console ourselves in later years that Christmas was almost as good, by putting  on Top of the Pops Two, a re-run of all those magical times, where you could listen to those hits and be happy in your memories. Now, we can’t even do that. The world has got so messed up that those old shows have now been banned, due to the fact that they were largely presented by paedophiles. All the old Christmas names have been wiped out. Ok not all, but you get the idea. Nearly all.

I remember going to see a youth theatre production that my son was in in Narberth, where the kids had written their own pieces. The one that stands out for me is these little kids in a group presenting their “Expectation versus Reality” turn. It was spot on. All the magical promises in the adverts get completely destroyed by the reality of the actual day, and not just the day, the lead up, the shopping, the credit card debt, the pressure, and everything else that goes with it.

Christmas used to be charity week in school and me and my mates sending each other the crappest, flimsiest cards in the cheapy Christmas card box for funsies; the cards with the candle on, the ones that were always the last in the box, because they were so bad.

Now Christmas is families desperately trying to get together, when the families are all so split that it’s a logistical impossibility to have everyone together at the same time, meaning that someone always misses out on seeing the kids, or the grandkids, on that special, allocated day, and have to make concessions to boxing day, to sharing people out fairly, so that everyone feels stressed out and a little bit disappointed in one way or another.

Everyone feels like they’ve got to buy loads of presents, and so they get themselves into debt. I got my first ever credit card because it was Christmas. You spend all year saving up a bit of dosh, and then you end up blowing it all on Christmas. And no matter how much you tell yourself that this year you’re not gonna go hotty-potty, you get to the 20 somethingth of December and suddenly have a crisis that you haven’t bought enough and off you go, to buy more stuff, that never looks enough once it’s unwrapped, and that no-one ever really likes, because it’s from Tesco.

And all that paper. Yes, I know there are ladies on Pinterest making recycled wrapping paper, but if you have kids, with 20 million stocking fillers, then that’s hardly appropriate. How many times have you bought little bits of random tat just so that such and such will have “more to open”? I hate shops and avoid them all year, but at Christmas I turn into this mad shop monster that feels the need to go into every single shop with a decoration in the window just in case it contains that elusive present for two adult sons that are completely impossible to buy for.

So anyway. I think it’s a great idea. Ban it forever. Make a new festival to do with the shortest day, the solstice, that lasts a week so that you can see everyone within the allocated time period and no one gets left out and then no one feels that wistful melancholy so usually associated with our current spangle fest. Bin the present thing, bring back the Christmas song number one thing with all proceeds to Macmillan Nurses every year, and make Christmas good again. Because if it stays this crap, Covid or no Covid, I’m super happy to stop the whole thing forever.

Innocent White Boys

From what I can see there’s not much good to come out of this Penally situation. The county is completely divided down the middle. I’m pretty shocked at some of the things I’ve heard people say, people that I thought were ok. I’ve noticed a lot of Tory voters getting very angry indeed. Most of the Labour voters seem to be the ones baking cakes and collecting clothes. A generalisation of course, but I think it shows that in general, the people on the left are a bit more switched on about the factors that have resulted in so many refugees appearing in the UK.

There have been soldiers based at Penally over the years, and Brawdy, and Castlemartin, that have gone over to places like Iraq, and bombed the shit out of the families of these people that are now being housed in these very barracks. How many of these young men witnessed their Dads getting bombed by the UK and the US? If you were one of those boys turning up the other night and you had witnessed those scenes outside the camp, where the Little Veteran, or whatever he calls himself, was brandishing a whip and instructing teenagers and young men to fight with police, you’d be forgiven for hating the west even more. Luckily, Little Racist has been arrested, and hopefully will be sent back to whatever hole he crawled out of. Perhaps he’ll join his buddy Tommy Robinson who ironically now lives as an immigrant in Spain, having to flee for the safety of his family, having turned himself steadily into a figure of hate.

Folks, I hate to tell you this, but the veterans that you’re all so enamoured of, who fought for their country, are the very ones that went to Iraq in an illegal war led by Blair and Bush. So the Labour voters can bake as many cakes as they like, but it won’t square the circle that it was their leader who started this.

How many illegal, imperialist wars have we conned our uneducated youth with no future into getting involved in? A friend of mine joined the marines at 19 because he couldn’t get a job and was desperate. He came out and then went to work for the council. All of sudden, he gets called up, in his 30s, and within days is running around Basra with a 40-pound pack on his back. I asked him if he shot anyone. No, he said, but I probably mortared quite a few.

Do we really have to be so proud of a bunch of people that choose to go and be turned into trained killers, just to go and fight the wars for the rich? Because of oil or other resources? Because of land, because of flags? Territory? Slave acquisition? It’s not WW1. No one’s getting drafted here. It’s a career choice. If you actually research the history of Iraq, a history that I don’t have the word count for here, then you would see that you’ve been completely lied to, and that all your righteous protestations are just pure wrong. But that kind of learning takes effort, and because government and media propaganda tell you otherwise, and it’s quicker and easier for you to just believe what they say, then that’s what you believe. It’s not your fault. You’ve been conned. But until you realise that, we’re not going to get anywhere.

All I can say, is that everyone who has been cruel about the Penally camp residents, not the ones who are slightly concerned that they weren’t consulted, but the actual, cruel comments that I’m seeing every day, seem to slowly be coming to the realisation that the government, the system, the status quo that they’re always so keen to maintain, has absolutely no care for them. Not even a little bit. They don’t care about your concerns. They’ll do what they want. Perhaps once you realise that, then you’ll start to see that your real fears should be the privatisation of the NHS, or the fact that 9million people in the country are furloughed, which is ending soon, and half of them won’t get their jobs back, marking the most massive unemployment numbers that this country has ever seen. All the while the retirement age is being raised, pensions are being robbed, and you’re all screwed anyway. The least of your problems is some lads at the camp.

When I was a teenager and young woman, it was terrifying to be in Tenby when the squaddies were around, and Pembroke, and Harford. They were everywhere. They were rude and abusive. I should know. I married one. The mindset of any army veteran is not the mindset of a normal person. I got told stories of atrocities acted upon Iraqi people with zip ties and torture instruments, I won’t tell you the details, I’ll just leave you with the knowledge that my Corporal in the Royal Signals ex-husband knew all about it, as did my ex-marine buddy.

You either join the army because you’re a bit of a hardcase, because you fancy yourself as a hero, or because you have no other alternative. Just because you chose, for whatever reason, to kill people for a living, to fight imperialist wars for a living, to loot other countries and destroy their democracies for a living, it doesn’t automatically turn you into a god that should be homed above other homeless people. The irony being, if they hadn’t been out mortaring and zip-tying people in Iraq, then the sons of Iraq wouldn’t need to come to Wales.

You reap what you sow. You stand by your actions. Your live by the sword and die by the sword. Those innocent white army boys that you never worried about – even though they were actually abusing your daughters, you just didn’t know about it -ended up being the very ones to dislodge another country, steal their resources, topple their elected leaders and replace with US and UK imperialist backed ones, thus condemning you to the Iraqis next door.

Think on’t.

The Penally Camp Massacre

Well. We had Dowsongate. We had Kraussgate. Now, ladies and gents, if indeed, I’m still allowed to address you that way, welcome to Penallygate.

I’m still in shock from reading the comments. Literally, shock. I knew that Pembrokeshire was, how you say, sheltered, a little misinformed, a little behind the times, a little bit set in their ways, but nothing could have really prepared for me for what I’ve been reading this morning.

The government plan to turn everyone against everyone else is complete. Not only do we now have to grass up our neighbours if their mates come round, even though they’re all at liberty to gather in Wetherspoons, but now Pembrokeshire has a whole new game to play. You’d think the curtain twitching would be enough fun, but no, here we are, with a protest that’s had every entitled racist in the county turn up and feel they’re doing something good.

It can’t just be coincidence that as I’m reading their views all about how the Syrians like to murder each other and they should stay in their own country to fight, like we did in two world wars, the misspelling of simple words is evident and the use of proper grammar is absent. This deliberate lack of education, gradually fed to us over the last forty years, the deliberate dumbing down of a nation, the deliberate disinformation and propaganda fed to the populace by the Sun and the Express and the Mail, is starting to show. The mainstream media combined with the lack of any decent schooling has resulted in an uneducated rabble filling our towns, just ready and waiting to be told what to think and how to react.

Education for the masses was originally invented in order to bring workers into line. To train the masses to do the jobs that were needed to run a country. Now they don’t need all of us, so they don’t bother so much. The private school kids will run the show, so they get proper schooling. The rest of us make do with what we’re given by whatever curriculum is in vogue at whatever point in time. Usually, the cheapest one.

Once education became too expensive to spread around, and once cuts had been introduced and then introduced some more, and departments stripped of funding and lessons dumbed down to accommodate huge class sizes and lack of resources, and higher education came with a giant price tag, then a never-ending freefall was inevitable. When I was a teacher in the 2000s, I could see that, bad as school had been when I attended as a pupil myself, it was already much, much worse. Quite often my classes weren’t even allocated a room, and we spent half the lesson wandering corridors to find an empty one. The class sizes were enormous. I saw my year 7s, 8s and 9s once a fortnight; there was barely time to get to know the class, let alone tech them anything useful.

But this systemic racism that exists, spread by media fearmongering, as someone to blame for all the faults of a country that has been destroying itself since the late 70s, is even shocking in this context. You’d think this vogue for BLM et al would get everyone thinking the other way, but it doesn’t. These people at Penally are the same ones complaining about the Diversity dance routine. The lefty type protests turn everyone off. The right negate it all with their All Lives Matter stance. They argue on social media. But now it’s on the doorstep, the county has properly lost the plot.

Fear is a funny thing. But fear is a learned response. Everyone has been learning from the Goebbels playbook though it would seem. Fear everything you do not know or understand. Listen to your media tell you that these people are evil en masse, with no individual characteristics at all.

They’re all young men I hear you cry. My sons are 28 and 18. Are they then, natural murderers and dissenters? Are they out to get you and steal your daughters? No? Why? Because they’re Welsh? If my sons had to go to another country to be safe, I’d send them in a heartbeat, because they’re my baby boysies, even though they’re giants with beards. It matters not to me how old they are. If they need to be kept safe, then why shouldn’t they be? Because they’re the wrong age?

I’m genuinely sad today. I wanted to get into politics to help people. But when actually confronted with the people of the county that I would be helping, I’m not sure I really want to. They look beyond help to me. It’s a simple case of education, but it’s too late, because this lot already know it all.

What is to be done? Is there anything that can be done at this late stage? I’m starting to wonder if it’s worth it.

Mythbuster

I keep seeing stuff online about the Workers Party, and it’s quite frustrating, as a member of the party, to see this stuff bandied around willy-nilly. Even some pretty good people, that you think are ok, that you seem to largely agree with, seem to have this really weird mental block about our party.

Since joining the party last December, pretty much the minute that Corbyn lost, I have never felt such a sense of camaraderie. The party was tiny when I joined, and the benefit of that was that you got to know pretty much everyone in it. Now, as new people join, it’s harder to keep track, but I love seeing a new person with a little target logo on their profile and seeing that we’ve got new bods rocking up all the time. It’s like collecting Pokemon, but more fun, and slightly less cute.

I’m gonna tackle a few myths, because they’re irritating me. Firstly, we’re not bankrolled by anyone. We have membership fee and that’s it. If you can’t afford to pay that fee, which is only £1 a week, then you can join as an affiliate member, which is free. You can also join up the whole family and have membership for everyone for the price of one.

Secondly. Just because we’re called the workers party, doesn’t meant that we’re anti-disabled, anti-unemployed etc. That’s ridiculous. If you are of working age and you rely on your income from selling your labour, you’re a worker. If you’re disabled and can’t work, you’re still a worker. It’s just capitalism decides you’re not productive enough and puts you on some benefit or another. We don’t see it like that. We believe that everyone has a place and a right to enjoyable and fulfilling work, and we see you as workers, not disabled people. If you used to be a worker and are now retired, you’re a worker. Whether you were a surgeon or a bin man. It makes no difference. If you trade your time for a wage, no matter how big that wage is, you’re a worker. If you’re self employed and have staff, but you still work for your firm yourself as manager or director or whatever, then you’re a worker. You’re what they’d call petit bourgeois, years ago, but you’re still a worker. You’re only not a worker if you can live from the labour of others without having to do any yourself. If you exploit workers for profit and live off their efforts, then you are not a worker. So. How many of the people that diss us for being called the workers party are actually in that position? Not many, mush. You reckon Bill Gates and Bezos are quibbling over what a worker is? They know full well, that they used to be workers, and now they’re the exploiting capitalist class. They’ve shifted, but calm down, mister camp site owner or small-ish building firm owner dude… you haven’t, I’m afraid. You’re a petit bourgeois worker. Sorry, but you are. You ain’t the middle class. There’s no such thing. You’re as much at their mercy as we are.

Is that what it’s all about? The status game of becoming middle class? That people like to think that they’re step up? And that they imagine all workers look like Fred Dibnah and work up a chimney or down a mine?

Thirdly. People often go on about our links to the CPGBML – The Marxist Leninists. But wait. Socialism came from Marxism, and Leninism. All the main ideas that Engels and Marx came up with on political economy, the arts, humanities, etc, are what made socialism a thing. So to try and distance your self from those guys because they’re from a long time ago and because you believed all the cold war propaganda you got fed all your life, then reject them, is counter intuitive. People seem to think that fake news is something new, like it got made up when Trump got in, and before that everything was wonderful and true and wholesome. Well, sorry, me old muckas, but a lot of what you got told was exaggerated bullshit. When I learned this, I learned the true meaning of blue pill/red pill. The woke think they’re woke, but you ain’t woke ‘til you appreciate the full scale of cold war propaganda that shaped your life and your mind by osmosis. It’s truly incredible when you realise the lies that have been told, it’s almost incomprehensible. I’m watching comrades in the party go through the same stages of learning, as we do quite a bit of studying in our party, I’m afraid to tell you. We like to learn about what we’re talking about. There’s enough vacuous nonsense going around without us adding to it. We take this seriously. And when you start to do that, and really take notice of what’s going on, it’s more than shocking. It’s frankly, disturbing. But don’t take my word for it, there’s plenty to go and watch and read. But don’t come on twitter and diss our acknowledgement of the importance of history and theory to bringing about socialism. Unless you understand where you came from, there’s no way you’re gonna get any further than arguing for a piece of kindly capitalism to promenade as socialism just to make the masses feel slightly better about themselves and to stave off the revolution for another little while longer, which is incidentally what they’re trying to do with UBI, another thing that people like to slate our party for, because we don’t agree with the imperialist plan to pull the wool over your eyes by bunging you a few quid and everyone feels dead grateful because they’ve been starving on Universal Credit for the last couple of years.

They take, they give, like they’re gods. They’re not even in charge. The shareholders are. They’ve got you all determined to kick out the Tories like getting Labour in is actually going to change anything. It’s not, and I think the main reason we get so much flack is because we’re the only party who are willing to acknowledge that. We don’t spend our meetings talking about where to set up the next soup kitchen or to shout about how bad the Tories are. We spend our time discussing and planning the inevitable fall of capitalism and the rise of its natural successor, socialism. Not identity politics, not UBI, not sticking plasters or concessions or reformist ways, but changing the entire system, from the ground up and from the top down. Talking of top down, this is the bit that irritates me the most. The shit that people give our leader, the inimitable Mister G.

George is Marmite, everyone knows that. You don’t spend fifty years in politics and say the right thing every single day, although to be fair, he’s come pretty close. Which is all the more reason why his detractors seem to pick up the three things they can hold against him, or that they think they can, and go on and on and on and on about it. Yes. He wanted Brexit. So did Tony Benn, so did Jeremy Corbyn. So did all the socialist greats. Just because the Farage wanted it, for different reasons, doesn’t mean it’s bad.

Next he was on big brother. So? He had a good laugh AND RAISED CASH FOR PALESTINE.

Next, he’s working with Tories. No. He’s showing the Tories up, because they’re refusing to work with him, showing clearly that their title of Conservative and unionist party in Scotland is a complete misnomer on every conceivable level, and that all they’re actually interested is keeping their own party strong, not what they’re supposed to believe is best for Scotland. They’re standing by, while George and his buddies do their job for them. And that’s bad, why?

Next, he’s transphobic. Jesus wept. I don’t even know where to begin with this one, as the whole point of that statement, is that it’s so indicative of how identity politics is talking over politics that it’s almost too ironic to comment upon. At the workers party, you can be a twenty stone monkey in a dress and call yourself a giraffe if you want, as long as you broadly agree with the ten-point programme, and don’t go on too long with the showtunes. You can be a one-legged, bearded trapeze artist with three breasts and a tail like a donkey. We don’t give a shit. It’s irrelevant. We don’t agree with people picking on each other for what they are. We don’t even like to be too mean to gammons. We understand that they’re mostly uninformed, lost, disenfranchised people that see the world in a certain way, the way in which it’s always been presented to them, and this new woke world is just too much for them to comprehend, so they lash out for the right to think how they’ve always thunk. There are a generation, of mostly men, that are never going to understand that you want to be called Sindy and wear lipstick. They just don’t get it. The tragedy is when men of that age are Trans, and they have to deal with the people in their own generation, and most of them probably hid all their lives, causing themselves immense pain in the process. They’ve all seen Billy Elliot. They know how it works. They knew they shit they’d get. You young uns should think yourselves lucky that you can more or less do what you want. Nobody really gives a crap. We don’t. Are you a worker that wants the best for yourself and your family and your community? Do you want to live in a society where all have meaningful work, homes, jobs, freedoms, less work hours, more fun stuff, more rewarding friendships and camaraderie, no billionaires fleecing us all, no big businesses making all the decision, but workers making the decisions on what’s best for their localities? Where the people get to choose whether or not the call centre stays in town and provides jobs or it moves to India instead? Where our industries are rebuilt using green technologies that are green for green sake and not for the sake of profit? Where our country can rebuild itself, provide for its people, give everyone a comfortable safe home, a meaningful life, less seclusion, less loneliness, more hope? Isn’t that what you all want?

That’s what we want. So please, if you’re gonna diss our party, or our leader, or our members, know that what you’re doing is holding up all the stuff that needs to happen before you can get what you’re saying you want. While you’re causing these big chasms of personality versus personality, then you’re completely missing the point. These people spend all day whining about being politically homeless, yet the answers are staring them in the face, and they’re too proud to even look up and put the key in the front door. Just come in, for God’s sake. Kettle’s on.

Woke. The New Sleep.

Ok I don’t wanna generalise. But I’m gonna.

All the people I know personally, as in, in real life, that are Covid deniers, are also flat earthers. And they’re moon landing deniers. And antic vaxxers.

That protest in London over the weekend, where there were 35k people, apparently, all without masks, is gonna present a problem if they’re wrong. Not for them. They’ll be back in the provinces. The people of London will be privy to their germs. Similarly, back in their provinces, and on their travels home, the proles will be taking their germs with them. They will argue that VE day and the other protests didn’t cause a spike. And ok, they didn’t. But isn’t it all just a little bit playing with fire and running with scissors?

Belief is a funny thing. And we should all be allowed to believe what we want. But when your belief affects others then that’s probably not ok. And those All Lives Matter people that were dissing the BLM protests had a point too. Protests can lose their lustre if used too often, and Covid presented a perfect opportunity to learn new ways of protest. But here they are, in the streets, asserting their rights, whilst ignoring the rights and beliefs of other, led by none other than David Icke, who should have stuck to A Question of Sport as far as I’m concerned.

The scary thing is, because Icke manages to sneak his madness into rhetoric that appeals to the masses, and words like freedom are bandied around when they don’t know the meaning of the word, a huge swathe of believers, who are into reptiles and the illuminati, will be following him like a God, insisting that if the lizard thing is true, then the Covid hoax must be too, or vice versa.

I know that thousands of years ago peoples all over the world developed certain beliefs in order to make sense of the world around them. Jesus wept. Imagine if they’d had youtube. Can you imagine the videos that would be out there? Hey everyone, the Sun God is part of a paedophile ring and Jesus is a lizard.

But come on. There’s no need for all that now. The people who believe this stuff choose to. Why? Because the CIA put it out there and they’re bored, and need something to believe? Because they see the other lies and that’s the only way they can make sense of it? To make up stuff that is no worse than what is actually happening, to distract themselves from what is actually happening?

Chemtrails, for instance. Yes, this lot love chemtrails. They’re left by aeroplanes to poison us, dontcha know. You can see them in the sky. What you can see, is contrails, from aeroplanes, and the reason that they look different at different times is to do with altitude and temperature and air moisture and all kinds of other things. This stuff is left because thousands of litres of fuel is being burned and sent out of the exhausts, gathering little bits and particles as it goes, which form nuclei, which form rain clouds, which warm the earth. Jet planes are the biggest polluter and contributor to global warming that there is. But that’s not enough for the flat earth crew. They have to make up that there’s poison being sprayed on us, and completely deny what’s actually happening, which is that there’s poison being sprayed on us.

The people that I know personally, who believe this stuff, are no longer friends, barely acquaintances, because I hold them directly responsible for turning attention away from the real problems with their fake quasi academia where they watch youtube and think they’re the learned classes. The point of an education, is learning to differentiate between the bullshit information and the good stuff, and come to your own conclusions. Not watch one video about giants and then tell everyone there are giants. And once they have decided that they are woke, then that’s it, they fall asleep completely, and at that point, like Sleeping Beauty, you may as well just let the brambles grow up around them, for all the good they’ll do. They cause trouble, they argue the toss, they conspire to undermine proper radical action, and they piss me off. And I ain’t kissing them, cos they’ve probably got Covid.

There are enough worthy causes without this sixth form mentality having to make shit up. Flat earth? Two words. Navigation. That’s one. But it’s enough. Now get a grip.

Lunacy, Boomers and Trust

We’re all going crazy. I think it’s official.

We’ve got to that point of no return. There’s no way out. Look at social media right now. Everyone is proper losing it. Even the ones who ordinarily seem to have their shit together.

This is all too much for the human mind to cope with. In our evolutionary dog years, we should probably be still farming and getting into a bit of art by now. However, the curse of the genius, human mind, is that here we are, trapped int this bright world of carnage, where absolutely nothing makes sense. Nothing, not even one little thing. I’m reminded of that bit at the Beginning of The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy where Arthur first finds himself upon the Vogon ship and the earth has blown up beneath him. He would have felt reassured if he could see something familiar, just one small box of cornflakes. But there was nothing. That’s what the world feels like to me right now. I don’t see any cornflakes here at all.

They do say that in this world, the sane ones are the ones who seems crazy, in that they can’t cope with this gone crazy world so they in effect go crazy. The real crazy ones, then, are the ones who take it all as said, and accept what’s going on without question.

Think back a couple of generations. I can remember a time when everything seemed pretty mellow, but I was young, and unaware of the power cuts of the 70s, other than I remember my mum always had candles for power cuts, and I remember power cuts. I just didn’t know why they were happening. But I also remember that people jollied along. There was no indication that the adult world was so hectic back then. Until, as I got older, I started to hear people start to complain about “the way things are going”, and realised that stuff must be up. Where are the institutions that used to reassure us all? The street bobbies? The bank manager that you could phone personally? The News at Ten?

Our folks lived through the Cuban missile crisis and we grew up taping songs about nuclear war off the tele when Top of the Pops was on.. or the top 40.  But there was this sense of the country being slightly in charge of things. A trust in government. People were staunchly supportive of their teams back then. No one really criticised the government to the extent that they do now. A lot was hidden away that has only become known due to the advent of the internet and peer news sharing. We now know that all those pop pickers were paedophiles. How very reassuring that is.

And so everyone who grew up during that time learned to not trust their government. There were an older generation who still did; not the proper oldies who survived the war, like my mum, but the boomers, who got all the perks. And they’re the ones who are the last to lose the rose-tinted glasses it would seem.

Their investments are becoming worthless, their homes that they’re soooo proud of are becoming worthless, their pensions are worthless, and their easy time is over. That’s why they all drink so much. All those late middle-aged wine o’ clock ladies who live off divorce settlements are starting to feel the pinch, when they thought they never would. Those men that identified themselves through the status of their work are realising that their bubble may be bursting along with everyone else’s, as the poorest cannot possibly afford the goods or services that used to be so popular and which they provide.

This crash is being hidden behind Covid, but anyone can see this has been a long time coming. The only thing that’s been stopping things from proper kicking off in this country is the relative comfort of those that are doing ok. They don’t want to rock the boat. Of course they don’t. But to hear these people who have voted Tory all their lives complaining about the lack of care they’re receiving from the NHS is irony in its purest form. Not that they were to know that Labour are just as responsible for the privatisation of the NHS. They don’t realise that the government are all in it together, and they’ve never really had to care, because for them, everything was ok.

We’re in a place now, where all day long, people argue. They argue and argue and shout and block. They accuse each other of being keyboard warriors. They accuse each other of stupidity. They argue about everything they can possibly find to argue about, and it’s possible because of the barrier of the screen, and finally the British don’t have to be reserved and polite anymore. They can tell each other what they think of each other.

They say that 1 in 3 people have a mental health issue. Bullshit. It’s 3 in 3. Everyone, and I mean, everyone, has got something going on. No-one is completely relaxed in this full-on world. Maybe we never were. Maybe relaxed is a temporary, or fake construct, designed to give us ten minutes rest between fighting a tiger and cutting it up. Like sleep. Just a physical need, not a state that can be achieved like Buddha.

The first step has to be to stop arguing. We may be getting the shit kicked out of us by societal mores, but that’s no reason to be shitty to each other. Why cause fights among the same team? We’re a massive, vast group of lunatics, that channelled into the correct direction could cause all manner of mischief. There’s an asylum out there for the taking, but everyone is so busy thieving from the drug cabinet and arguing the toss about stuff that’s no more relevant than the soap operas on TV.

Take over the asylum, loons.

Roundabout Now

A buddy of mine has alerted me to the fact that this weekend some Extinction Rebellion protestors blocked the roundabout at Carmarthen. This roundabout is the main route into West Wales and on a bank holiday would have caused a considerable amount of disruption. A row has broken out on social media of course, as it always does. My buddy’s point being that they are just pissing people off, and solving nothing by their actions. Their point is that they are using their right to protest and that protest has, historically, resulted in changes taking place in society.

As far as I can see. They’re both right. Protests have indeed changed much in our history, but there have also been many times where they have changed little, take for instance the protest against the Iraq War.

But when they feel hopeless, what else are people supposed to do? How do they change things?

What’s going to happen, and what is already happening, is that big business will see this prevailing fashion for all things eco, they’ll see the “yoof” mobilising themselves, and organising, and they’ll reason that they need to keep this lot sweet, before  a revolution occurs. They will have talks, and then they will release their new “eco” plans, where the likes of Shell and Mobil start investing in solar tech, and more wind farms spring up, and hydros, and tidal power. This can only be a good thing, right?

Well, it depends.

The clue is in the fact that to run this set up takes lots of dolla. The big businesses and corporations are the ones with all the dolla, so they’ll be the ones setting this up and becoming the heroes, with green versions of their logos stretching as far as the eye can see.

However, in this late stage Capitalist society in which we find ourselves, everything that is done will be to provide a smokescreen to make us all be quiet and ignore all the other stuff. In the same way that the invention of the NHS and the building of loads of council houses kept everyone sweet after the war, they will do the same here. They will have tag lines, like investing in the future, sustainability, eco this, eco that, green this, green that, and all the XR kids will be chuffed to bits, because they’ll think their protests changed things.

It’s not the protest that changed things. It’s your numbers. If you put those numbers behind, oh, I don’t know, smashing the capitalist state and instigating the beginnings of a new socialist future, where the workers are the ones who own and control the means of production, and where green technology would be developed to the benefit of all, and the planet, instead of the big rich guys, then maybe, we might have a fighting chance of saving this planet.

While we have capitalism, we have no chance. Everything under capitalism will always be done for profit with the intention of getting the worker to work as much as possible for as little as possible, yet somewhat placated that green energy is now commonplace, and you can see the wind turbines from your damp flat window or from the box in the centre of town that you’re living in because the economy is shot, but you were missing the point, and you got what you thought you wanted.

The ONLY way to solve this is for the people to be in charge. You are many. They are few. What you gonna do? There is only one big fight worth having. Stop wasting time.