I am sat, writing this brief post, on a somewhat calmer evening than last.
An evening that saw all hell continue to break loose in London, only this time, it was actually on our doorstep. Last night, Dalston was subjected to the reign of hoodies, I am truly thankful to the heroic Turkish shop-owners who took it upon themselves to fight back and rid Kingsland High Street of this hideous infestation.
It had been a good day and all, Lovemenot and I had finally found a new house; complete with four lovely new housemates - and a garden, Stickels was on the verge of being offered his second Running-position on a TV programme – thus his dreams were coming true, then our world was suddenly drowned out by ominous news coverage of rioting in Hackney and thundering helicopters hanging overhead. We were gripped to the TV as we watched thugs setting light to anything they could find, watching from our balcony as police cars chased groups of ‘hoodies’ along our road, and stood helpless as the Twitter feeds filled up with news of unthinkable scenes happening but five minutes away. We were too scared to sleep, too eager to know what had happened and whether it would return. And now, word on the Twitter Feed is that it’s hitting other major cities in England and I am failing to see an end to it all.
I don’t confess to being a political follower of any sort, I leave that to people who really know what they’re talking about; but it all seems to come down to greed to me; not a revolt against the tragedy of Mark Duggan or job cuts or anything like that, just pure greed. Thing is right, when I was little and there was something that I really wanted, be it a holiday or something minor, like a cuddly Troll, I was always taught that you had to save up for it and earn it; which is probably why Twinkle sat, pride of place, in my little bedroom for quite the length of time that she did. I grew up realising that nothing came for free and I still live by the cold, hard facts (much like most people in the world) that in life, you simply can’t always have what you want or, that you have to work for it. That is all down to my Mum bringing me up in the right way, and that’s what I believe is missing for the mindless, senseless arseholes who are wreaking havoc on our great cities. Nobody to look up to, so no sense of right and wrongand no real place to be, so they take it upon themselves to steal from everyone else.
We now have youths, many of them too young to understand the word ‘government’, let alone what they are fighting for, storming our streets and terrorising our societies, or what’s left of them, protesting against the Police with no real idea as to why they are there. If you believe in something so strongly that you have to take a stand, please do be my guest; if you want Grants not Fees, by all means march. If you want better working conditions, strike until you can strike no more; but don’t falsely advertise your burning of bins and mugging of injured people as protesting, you are simply doing what we would all do have we not evolved and developed human spirit; turned on your own. The irony of it all being that only in the UK could rioters, wearing £100 trainers whilst organising meet-ups on their £400 IPhones, ‘claim’ to be in poverty. There are people in underdeveloped countries fighting for their basic rights to clean water and medical help, not lashing out for a 42” HD-Ready Plasma TV they think they somehow ‘deserve’.
I would love, at this time, to be regaling you with my latest witty reports on the weird and wonderful world that seems to so constantly surround me, but this is all that has been, and remains on my mind, whilst the faint whirring of sirens police somewhere in the distance. So I could spend all night blogging about Bob and Croatia and my lovely new house, which will sadly take me from the wonders of Dalston but lead me on a path to a much happier lifestyle, but where is the sense in all of that? Not when there are kids running rings around our policemen and setting alight to the livelihoods of so many people. A friend of a friend has had to watch as the bike shop where he works in Camden, was torn apart and set alight in live news coverage; so all my little woes and joys seem really rather silly at this moment in time. It makes me so sad that this is what it has come to, sad and scared for the future. I’ll shut up now, being that I normally spend my life pawing over boys and living in a fantasy-world, chances are I don’t know what I’m talking about, but I do know the devastating effect this could have on us all, and I don’t like it, not one bit.
Jon McClure...not afraid to sing what the public are feeling
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