Wednesday, October 28, 2009

Saturday, October 10, 2009

Harry Hill.

Harry Hill is a funny guy on British Saturday evening TV.
But his lampooning of the current Ghandi documentary was a bit steep. The original regular reporter in the clip described the ornate Ghandi memorial at the man's birthplace as 'overblown'. What rubbish.
He founded the biggest democracy in the world.
And there were just two words carved under his portrait: TRUTH and NON-VIOLENCE.
Pretty damned impressive I'd call it.

The Opener

Arthur Straw strolled quietly down the pedestrian street. He was not exactly tall, not exactly broad, but there was about him the air of potential violence, a frame that moved fluidly and not in any way identifiable with any of the usual traits.
In fact it was this that led to trouble – as it always did – whether or not Arthur gave a damn. Which he usually didn’t.
His face was violent only in its calmness, and his eyes roved sardonically from incident to incident with barely a flicker of interest.
He had a scar above his left eye, a small scar that told little of the fury that had caused it.
As he walked down the street, he saw the local neighbourhood kids standing outside one of the doors.
He liked them. They’d asked him his name and made friends with him. On the way back from the Chinese take-away the other night they’d showered him with their water pistol while screeching with delight. He smiled at the memory, a gentle, true smile.
There was an adult with them.
The adult saw, and hated, and coughed.
“Ey up, mate. Corrupting your kids are you?”
No reply. Just a dirty stare.
“You’re not a nonce or something are you?” Arthur grinned after he made this remark. The other guy was bigger than him. The other guy left the kids alone and stood up straight.
“Cos I like these kids, and I’d hate to see anything happen to them.”
Arthur’s voice had hardened. It sounded flat and deadly.
“Fuck off mate. I’m their uncle.”
“Lucky for you.”
Arthur glowered as he strolled past. The other man stood straight and shrank at the same time. ‘Not in front of the kids’, thought Arthur.

Friday, October 09, 2009

Tuesday, October 06, 2009

Why Can't We All Just Get Along?

Ever get the feeling something is going on? I go to the Chinese takeaway; I walk past, take a look up a sidestreet, then come back and go in. I order, sit down with a newspaper.
Sure enough, there's one of those young bastards who have been very much in evidence.

I haven't seen this particular one, but the blond, spiky hair and the look of aggrieved pomposity is tell-tale. maybe a coincidence, but this little slag is waiting across the street with a can of coca cola trying to look casual.
I can smell these creeps, and tonight the stink is strong.

I tell you, one of these days I might just tackle one and see how it goes. This has been happening for a year now, first they see me, then suddenly they are 'living' in the flat downstairs, and now they are curious about where I go.
They are just kids, but they are going to be bloody injured kids if they don't go away.

Anyway, I kept an eye out on the way home, and I wasn't followed. But then they know where I go don't they.
There are three possibilities:
1) I'm mistaken.
2) They are local punks trying to be 'big men'.
3) Somebody is sponsoring this low level harrassment because of my views.