Mark my words, I will not be a terror clown

I know you’ve got to go
And I wanted to be afraid to say
But I’m not
I’m scared to death of what you’ve become

Well now. Those who know me (and those who have the wrong impression of me) consider me some sort of Right Wing-er. Certainly not. I am of a Libertarian bent. I can explain to you what it means, but not if you read the Gnuariad. Go chew your tofu, you misanthropic wastrels.

You were my only ally
Now you’re looking around for an alibi
Why don’t you go ask your new set on the set of lies

Anyhow. There was occasion, on the 5^th of November, for a few people to amble from Trafalgar Square down to Parliment Square. Not a bad walk, all in all. Surely nothing different from the hordes of tourists and office drones, policy wonks and SpAds who do it every day. There was one difference, though. I was going to join, and put on my own mask, but I didn’t get round to it. However, working only round the corner, a short stroll of my own took me into their path. So I could take some pictures.

You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I’ve been calling since four o’clock last night
You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I saw you singing and dancing in the rain
All the way home

I had forgotten how angry I was until this useless display of security theatrics. I had forgotten, mostly as I can ignore it. To have it shoved in your face, to see the meat wagons and the squad cars, lights and sirens flashing for eight people in masks walking down the street. To see the fear from the State apparatus. The van with roof-mounted CCTV, the police with their cameras (a bit away from the ones pushing people around), the fact that the webcam above Parliment was down for maintainence during the, well, not demo, for there were no placards, no slogans, no chanting.

You left the keys in the door when you left that night
I don’t wanna point the finger but I can’t help it
Why don’t you run your scared little ass down the block
I’ll catch up to you when you come back and

Me, I got hassled by the police, too. Although they didn’t give me a stop-and-search receipt. Three times I was, if not questioned, then engaged in conversations with the Plod. Three times they gave up on me, and wandered over to others, to try and intimidate them. Talk back, hell yeah. Don’t raise your voice. Don’t believe what they say to you, for they will bully and cajole to get you to do what they want, regardless of whether they can stop you, or you are doing nothing untoward. And never, ever give them your name. (Except in two situations, but for the most part, don’t.)

I also had fun explaining to some tourists what was going on. The looks on their faces went from bemusement to astonishment to total disbelief. I hope they tell their friends, who tell more, and the word gets about that Britain in the early 21^st century is run by a Politburo who ceaselessly watch and track and (try to) control its citizens. One guy laughed, as if I was joking, and walked off shaking his head. Those eccentric English, he muttered. Yes, those eccentric English, who belief in liberty. Don’t they know there is a war on? That we must give up ourselves for our own safety?

You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I’ve been calling since four o’clock last night
You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I saw you singing and dancing in the rain
All the way home

This country is shafted. But there is hope. Those I spoke to (including Old Holborn himself, I do believe) gave me hope. There are some who cherish the freedom we used to have. There are many more who don’t care, and don’t realise, and still maintain some stupidly left-wing ideal. Wake up. snip three paragraphs that were getting increasingly annoyed, bitter and hey, likely to get me arrested in this current climate

When all the bills have been unrolled
And your story has been untold
Tell me if it was worth it
To see the whole damn thing unfold

Normally, my flickr stream gets around fifty views a day. People searching and finding pics I have tagged. However, the above-mentioned event, at which I took pics, caused something of a stir in my stats. The day after, I had a record breaking 701 views. Wow, I thought, that was as I put the link to the set on a few sites, including the organiser of the stroll. Excellent! Exposure for me! But I wasn’t ready for the day after. When it nearly topped 2.5k views. Epp.

My pics of the walk also got a compliment, too.

You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I’ve been calling since four o’clock last night
You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I saw you singing and dancing in the rain
All the way home

My next experiment is this: I shall buy a hoodie. I shall wear it each day. When I get off the train, as soon as I step into the CCTV zone (yes, yes, there are ones on the train, let Them™ match me up) I shall draw the hood. Hide my features. Move through London as if I were a private person, unmolested by the eyes of the State. How long before one of the Sheeple report me as suspicious, or I get stopped by some plastic ploddie? Then there is the fact I walk by New Scotland Yard each morning, too. Maybe I should also take pictures of the Met. With the hood up.

You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I’ve been calling since four o’clock last night
You cheated me and I can’t believe it
I saw you singing and dancing in the rain
All the way home

For those who don’t know, read your rights. Or a primer on some of them, anyhow. My next post will likely be about me exercising my rights under Article 61 of Magna Carta. Or a scanned image of my stop-and-search notice.

Does England still expect?