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updated site at http://homepage.ntlworld.com/fak.whiting/Life History Work History Skills and Achievements References Qualifications
for Narrative continued from 2005   (click qualifications and scroll down).
IntroductionAbout this document
The main problem I have encountered every time I try writing a CV is in explaining why it is that I have arguably little in the way of an apparent or appreciable work record and despite the obvious dangers of adding cliche's to a work so soon after it's inception in saying that the answer is inevitably composed of numerous interrelated factors, I hope it will not prove an overconfidence to proffer that despite increasing age and the effects of long term impoverishment it is nevertheless the case that I have arguably a great deal of potentially valuable intelligence and experience in various fields.
Whilst agonising over the issue mainly from the simple point of view of severe economic insecurity in discovering a family background which was despite some early promise, thoroughly insecure and quite impoverished especially by the standards of time and place; the Computer age eventually dawned and it became apparent that many misunderstandings could perhaps be resolved via the new medium of the Internet or World Wide Web. I have therefore found it most expedient from all points of view to write an online CV with an 'Explanatio' forming the bulk of a Life History section. Insofar as there is a lot of personal information on the site the reasoning was that anyone who might consider employing myself on a more than casual basis would almost certainly get to hear at least the gist of a fairly unhappy story and in any case besides being of some legitimate general interest it should also serve to answer most of the usual questions relating to employability: broadly speaking I calculated there was more to be won than lost in giving away information. There are many other reasons for recounting the events described besides those which relate directly to one's prospect of remunerative and/or otherwise rewarding employment and principal among these is the fact of my having spent most of my adult life engaged in an ongoing conflict with the local legal establishment if that doesn't sound too dramatic: which obviously in many respects of course it unfortunately does. In any case I hope it is readable and interesting in its unfinished state and anticipate that many of those who have shouldered proportionally significant tax burdens for some of the debacles described may be grateful that I have been willing to speak out on certain contentious matters. One realises of course that there are advantages in composing something more concise, especially from the viewpoint of short term Employers who cannot be bothered with perhaps spending as much as an hour or more in reading a CV, especially if what they want to see is a brief resume` and are likely to be put off by the fact of controversy and/or scandal. I may yet therefore get around to presenting a more abbreviated version at some point so for those who are not particularly literate or are otherwise averse to reading in bulk I apologise for the sheer quantity of ideas and facts I have sought to convey and in the short term will have to plead that it was simply inescapable. I should say that the obvious result of continued efforts to polish up earlier attempts to construct a lucid narrative has been that the first half of the document has been rather better swept clear of errors than the second and for this reason I have put what I consider some of the more important points as yet not part of the narrative in a 'notes' section at the end of the document....
In seeking to present such a speculative ambitious work I am still deliberating over many ideas for bureaucratic expansion with various essay topics on a few risque subjects planned as a means to show off a command of English which had always been considered my best general career advantage insofar as such a matter was ever considered seriously; all this has especially complicated the intrusion on my existence the latest Information Technology has engendered and the actual content will be have to be subject to a certain amount of ongoing revision prior to getting the CV in it's entirety into anything resembling an acceptably completed state. This I hasten to add is the consequence of the consistently unschooled use of unfamiliar, unpredictable and rapidly evolving computer software (with which I am always improving it is true) rather than of any desire to present a vacillating and opinionated version of the known facts tailored for any particular sort of audience. I say this mostly in respect of the fact that earlier versions of this document have despite my best efforts contained errors that would never have been made with pen and paper with which nowadays I am far more practised and comparatively able than I am with a keyboard and for which I have contemplated various explanations.
I had expected from the outset that the document would become large and unwieldy, this being confirmed the thought of a paraphrasal then became quite paramount but further consideration made it seem irrefutably the case that this was a relatively inconsequential matter compared to the necessity of finding it propitious to explain certain major incidents (one in particular) into which I have had extremely valuable insights, especially for example from the point of view of those with whom I theoretically share nationality and tax burden: also obviously not entirely unforeseen when the endeavour was commenced. I refer to the bewildering array of lies being presented by the powers that be as 'investigations' into the matter of the Chinook crash of June '94 which disaster would have been entirely avoided if simple advice had been taken. I don't know how many saw the picture of Chief Constable Kevin Macnamara which was shown on British TV on the afternoon of the day he died which showed a man in need of a haircut with his shirt tails hanging out and was obviously a fairly recent picture, but further displays of the same image have presumably been suppressed perhaps by the same 'authorities' who sought to remove his name from the casualty list in reports of the latest House of Lords whitewash into the affair. I urge anyone who has the wit to comprehend that what I say is obviously true to write to their MP or local Councillor to express dismay at the debacle in general, the deceitful and expensive yet worthless enquiries which have ensued, as well as contempt for the Office holders and the political system they are battening from. Particularly in view of the current controversy over official attempts by Sir John Stevens to make out that this and other very grave questions relating to the recent Irish troubles are being responsibly dealt with by official sources which they are not. Most outstandingly in terms of press coverage, that influential elements of the RUC or the Police Service of Northern Ireland as it is now, and the British Army, have colluded in the assassination of citizens of the Irish Republic who had been vocal in their opposition to British jurisdiction, many may note that more recently there has been a lot of media coverage of the murder of Republican sympathiser Journalist Pat Finucane in 1989 whose young Son witnessed the shooting over Sunday Lunch? Anyway, there was also the murder of a woman Journalist (who had been shot in the back?) which has obviously aroused some disdain and more recently of course the Irish have been fortunate enough to enjoy the breaking out of comparative peace.
I have been working on this document for several years now and am happy to say that the narrative itself is increasingly complete with only relatively minor though nevertheless significant details to be added. I should like to apologise again to those whom I have asked to examine the document in the past and found it full of errors. I am still marvelling at just how it should have come to be that someone who had been the subject of so many compliments for simple ability over the years and had to a certain extent been persuaded to believe in his own virtuosity should have left a document littered with ghastly errors for a CV. Since 2002 it became apparent that the sex offender? Tramp I have for a Father (oops my finger slipped) and his delinquent half caste Son had been hatching a long term plan to rob me and do my affairs to say the least, very much serious mischief since I took them in when they turned up in the Country in about '98. I have therefore attributed much of abnormally error prone attempts to make this document lucid to what has been an ongoing scheme on their part; it being the case eg that the younger individual is virtually illiterate and would seem to have been blaming me for many problems of his own that should correctly be attributed to his parents' shortcomings it being the case that I had not been concerned about malice aforethought in sharing computer expertise, friendship, and intimate details of my personal life (such as it is) with either of them which as it turned out was extremely ill advised. They recently stole a number of personal possessions from me when I was ejected from a certain property by the local Police on the basis of fictitious testimony provided by my Father FJK Whiting (he was certainly a drunk driver with a lengthy history of antisocial behaviour) for motives which it is difficult to interpret as part of anything other than an ongoing attempt to disguise their own treasonable inadequacy, but you will have to read through to the end of this increasingly lengthy document if you want to apprise the details: the material value of what was taken was not great but the fact is that they were all I had to show for a lifetime's work. I had been lured with promises of good behaviour into moving in with him after providing him with many thousands of pounds worth of personal assistance over the few Summers since he returned, he then rapidly became abusive and threatening and after drunkenly provoking an altercation and alleging he had been assaulted, glaringly ludicrous allegations which he obviously never had the slightest intention of repeating to a Magistrate, for which there was simply no evidence and which should have been formally substantiated as a tissue of lies the following day; he then stole or caused the theft and destruction thereby, of most of the material value of my lifetime's work whilst charges were being inevitably dropped, and I was rendered homeless owing to some mysteriously deceitful behaviour on the part of Council Officials with whom the move had been negotiated and arranged despite my having sacrificed an immense amount to provide him with an it can easily be said in many respects an all too undeserved dignity.
I have followed the fashion of the 1960's and 70's insofar as I have sought to concentrate on style and content rather than being overly concerned with grammatical pedantry. It being the case for example that it proved possible to elicit only sneers and misinformation from professional gentlemen at the local Suffolk College in response to the most recent attempts to acquire relevant intelligence. It does need to be borne in mind that everything on the website is written in British standard English rather than American and therefore that not only will many spellings vary from the correct orthographical idiom for those who are native speakers of U.S. English but also that some grammatical constructions are also inappropriate.
I intend to stand by the gist of the remarks I have made about the veniality (corruptibility) of British institutions and named individuals for all legal purposes or eventualities and invite the casual reader to adjudge the truthfulness of what I have to say.
(section pending)
From roughly mid '70 to mid '76 I lived with my Father and his Northumbrian girlfriend who was comparatively large and heavy and her two boys both slightly younger than I, who also had different Fathers. The marriage of my natural parents, my Mother was from Dublin southern Ireland, had gone awry (not that I knew it at the time) and my Father took me (under false pretences) to a mining town on the Northumbrian coast where he had been chosen to fill the job of Assistant Borough Librarian. At the age of scarcely six I witnessed at first hand the Miners' strikes that crippled Ted Heath's Tory government and rapidly learned what it is to stand out from the crowd as the Miners' children detested well spoken southerners or feigned to at any rate, and I was the only one that most of them had ever encountered. My school career there was blighted by violence and persecution that had scarcely begun to ease after four years in a district with an enduring reputation as one of the toughest in the UK and I had little thought as a ten year old that I would ever look back quite fondly on the experience as a fourteen year old whose negligible or non existent career opportunities were being eroded with a thoroughly unpleasant scheme on the part of my Father who had lost his nice Job as well as his home and any semblance of social dignity and was seeking to prostitute myself among the various inadequate and shiftless characters of a divorced and separated singles club whilst seeking to disguise or ignore increasing symptoms of what most would probably describe as mental illness of some sort. My memories of the time are especially poignant and anguish laden in that I had spent six months waiting to see my Mother knowing only that she was playing some horrible trick on me that she was bound to apologise for, only to find her in the company of two abusive boyfriends/persons one of whom she later married. I have my doubts now that I will ever do so myself but one particular reason I will never be in a hurry to Father a child (besides the fact that I can't afford any sort of a family), is the lasting deep and bitter psychological scars that I acquired on the day that I waited so long and through such an impossible ordeal, only to be confronted with the unutterable horror of trying to climb into my Mothers' arms to find some genuine remission of my disturbed and plaintive state after a weekend of fruitlessly trying to creep between two paramours convinced that she was going to marry one and of being pulled off and hurled aside, wondering why she seemed trapped by them and unable to find even as much as her scent let alone any shelter from the ghastly world I had found or respite from continual the indignity and humiliation that she had inflicted. From a personal point of view the fact is that the matter left me thoroughly sick at heart and it is a feeling that I have never quite managed to escape through the decades long ordeal of witnessing an unpleasant dimwit yokel's messily eating children prosper in that which had seemed mine by any any conception of moral rightness, and the concomitant accruing damage caused by various deceits ensuing from the ambition of their family. I don't know if my father ever had any genuine feelings for my Mother or vica-versa it being the case of course that Children are often a much more significant part of marriages and relationships than words or signatures on a piece of paper and the fact that someone may happen to be the Mother or Father of your own firstborn may be a more defining factor in evaluating desirability or suitabilty in many cases than One's actual opinion of the individual.
Any such story inevitably calls to mind many conceptions about personal responsibility and family values if we consider that we have no choice but to conclude this was a malign and ill conceived act from the point of view of society in general insofar as the manner in which I was replaced is certainly among the principle anthropological reasons for conflict in human society. I have to concede that in many ways the story I am recounting now has rather more of the character of a Stepen King Horror Story than of any sort of exposition on success, certainly material success, and the capacity that the individual has to fashion personal success of any sort is unfortunately diminishing with encroaching middle age; I suppose it was always to a certain extent my intention to express a certain deeply felt personal sorrow ensuing from my childhood experiences however little it had to do with any sort of endeavour, the principal reason for the lengthy CV being the nauseating, unacceptable and inexplicable manner in which I continue to be treated by various officials of my own nation and I certainly identified a lot with the little boy in "The Shining," when I read the book in '79. I have rather sought to concentrate on more generally relevant aspects of my personal history however, and have to confess when I look around that whilst it may be debatable to suggest that I am arguably fortunate to still have both parents living under any circumstances, it is nevertheless a fact that many who do not are immensely jealous of such simple things: which it seems fair to suppose, is one fairly good example of the meaninglessness of material values in many respects!
We had moved to Lancashire in '74 and for two years my Father had an interesting time selling market garden and animal produce in the bleak if picturesque Lancashire fells to the North of Manchester which seemed quite a challenge for him after a lifetime of penpushing. I found at least as far as I recall that the people in the North West were far from charmless in many ways and in retrospect I have to say that I felt less of an outsider there than I do after thirty years in Suffolk: which is to say that I found that Suffolk people seemed insular and almost unfriendly by comparison. This may have been something to do with the fact of so many of my living relatives being at least nominally Roman Catholic, Lancashire being the County where the general proportion of Protestant to Catholic in the English population is reversed, but is probably more to do with my negative feelings about having later attended a Secondary School in Ipswich from the age of twelve under the auspices of a German (a wartime refugee with serious connections to the Third Reich) who made his animosity and ill will toward myself quite plain and continues to enjoy high favour and fortune under the auspices of the Windsorian dynasty: though in all fairness it has to be conceded such a perception is inevitably the result of the interaction of many interrelated factors it is among a number of ongoing complaints that he, at least as myself personally was concerned though it does seem a bit hackneyed to say so, was in fact a malicious fascist and in any case more specific allegations have been made about the manner in which he kept records. I had been fortunate enough to have had a form teacher in Lancashire for the first year of Secondary School (the only one that I was there for) a Lancastrian by the name of Mrs Chapman whose kind smile and intelligent knowing manner I often look back on quite wistfully when I consider what happened to me back in Suffolk whilst a teenager as she had seemed, unlike many of the Teachers I can recall to have some insight into my Father's uncaring inability, insanity, and depravity signalling some real disapproved of his attitude, which most had been willing to overlook because his literacy itself made him less of a burden on teaching staff and which sort of confirmation of my thoughts about him I really needed if I was to make any sense of what was happening to me. She was able to lighten the darkness of being his Son in many small ways that were a real help and broadly speaking seemed to have decided that FJK Whiting was if not entirely shiftless certainly scheming and that he viewed parenting aside from the possibility of obtaining material advantage as at best amusing, and that not only would he invest no effort in it but more importantly no goodwill. It was an unfortunately symbolic piece of ill fortune which epitomised the failure of my Father in terms of first principles of household management, that among the last meaningful acts of his Mother's life was to have spent some months knitting a beautiful Cricket Jumper which indeed it was, far finer than any I can recall having seen, a large billowing object of blue white and red that was meant to have lasted many years and went missing on the first day that I took it to School which would have been perhaps mere weeks or even days before my last day of term there and very close to the hour of her death in 1975.
These reminiscences are especially interesting in view of what happened to me in later life and my recollections of Mrs Chapman's perceptiveness,as my form Teacher at Fearns Secondary Modern may well reflect the comparative freedom to consider my affairs that she had at the time as my Father's second long standing relationship with Edna Mowbray his Northumbrian partner of six years was breaking up; she hadn't had to deal with my stepbrothers as they were still in Primary School and almost certainly knew the gist of the fact that my Mother had remarried for someone of her background comparatively comfortably as they say and may have been quite likely to have surmised that any meaningful assistance or vaguely responsible upbringing would be more likely to come from the parent she didn't know and her siblings, of whom the most salient observation which could be made was that they were (southern) Irish and of the most humble social background. She was a strikingly attractive Woman with long straight and very dark but not quite black hair which would typically be done up into a bun for work, her complection was pale and clear, she had a large firm Jaw, piercing blue eyes, an aquiline nose, was shapely and of about average height. Such recollections of the academic year beginning 1975 are also very valid in that it was a dividing point between two distinct periods of my life as a child and is a convenient point in time from which to make valid assertions about the nature of my personal life situation and accurate observations about individuals involved in and related to it. I mention the case of this particular ex Teacher at a time when I am seriously considering seeking asylum in a foreign country on the basis that I cannot stomach the illegal persecution to which I have been subjected not that legality is a word which has had any significant meaning for many: as an individual and as a citizen it seems to be the case that the agencies of so called law and order seem to be distancing themselves further and further from the lives of ordinary people. In respect of the fact that there are many instances of hard working and capable individuals getting little or no great reward from comparatively unprestigious careers I feel it ought to be noted that that such individuals deserve better from the Magistrates, Chief Constables, Doctors and other lofty titled individuals who are all to open to charges of general shiftlessness, like to think they know how to run the Country and are all too fond of telling others about it whilst providing nothing actually worthwhile, irritating foreigners with ignoble xenophobic comments about the decline of Colonial greatness and overlooking outrageous crimes on the part of Windsorian sycophants.
It was a cheerless existence excepting the fact of the personability of the County's populace, the perpetual rain seemed as a great deity weeping for the sheer desolation and harshness of the windswept Fells where a few stunted trees struggled forlornly against the biting Atlantic winds. Some of my earliest familiarity with the question of business responsibility, meeting commitments and so on came from struggling to help manage a smallholding at an age when, and this is an observation worth making, it was not legal, due to some worthless Child Protection Acts to work to the extent that I and my stepbrothers did, in conditions that were also illegal in themselves for a worker of any age. Laws governing animal husbandry were, similarly without value except to those who profited from the legal system, the house we lived in crawled with lice, fleas, maggots and vermin: as far as I am aware this was all in defiance of laws governing the welfare of animals or children all of which it remains impossible to avoid concluding from my point of view is without any value whatsoever. Insofar as this relates to such important questions as the lack of respect for law which ensues from such short-termist legal precedent in modern Europe: the shortcomings of our own judicial system need to be confronted if the UK in Europe is to have any credibility in such matters for example as fishing quotas that are not routinely flouted and are rather understood by interest groups to be for publicity purposes and merely serve to keep bureaucrats polishing chairs at very significant expense whilst undermining confidence in the institutions of government leaving all those who require that they function, with increasingly serious problems of one sort or another that inevitably worsen amidst an atmosphere of deepening distrust.
I had already resented the inevitable involvement with petty crime and the squalor of areas where the average six year old spent their days throwing rocks at streetlamps and the average nine year old was an accomplished burglar and shoplifter. I have always felt outraged by suggestions that I was in any way able to completely avoid a minimal amount of juvenile crime in these districts. Were it not for the fact that the death of my single surviving Grandparent my paternal Grandmother occurred in late '75, at the same time as My Father was leaving his then common law Wife, which itself had only partly precipitated a move. I would have been very happy about the return to Ipswich, the County Town of the rural, coastal East Anglian Suffolk where I had spent some of my earliest and (so I was supposed to have thought at the time) happier years and indeed for a time I was quite buoyed by the prospect of a return to anything like the circumstances which I could recall by the onset of adolescence despite the fact that the only notably respectable person in the family was dead: my Mothers' parents had succumbed to Tuberculosis and overwork/alcoholism by the mid sixties. I didn't personally dislike Ms Mowbray the Mother of the two stepbrothers I was to part company with in '76 but in the first instance did not consider that her hostile upbringing had left her sufficiently capable to fulfil the roles of Mother to someone whose primary socialisation was already in it's latter stages, or of Wife to the occupant of the socially demanding role of the Borough Librarian as FJK had become on the death of it's incumbent in about '72. It is interesting insofar as my more recent experiences have been of familial treachery on the part of FJK and his other son Jack now some twenty years my Junior that I can scarcely recall ever having been on anything other than the best of friends with David and Alan Mowbray or of them ever having robbed me, or having offered unjustified violence to anyone, despite the doom laden air with which they went off to their obviously seriously deprived and unhappy futures back in the days of that long hot summer of '76. Such people are supposed to be the lowest of the low in this nation but the fact is for example that they simply would never dream of robbing me or anyone of my description, background and means in the appalling manner in which my Father and his other Son just have.
Much of any apparent unwillingness to labour industriously as it were during the Thatcher years may have stemmed initially from the fact that the family situation failed to improve which was in turn exacerbated by the two facedness of various authorities who had taken an official interest in the matter. My Father was planning to marry a Widow when he moved back into Suffolk, one whom he had known since they were young it is true, but her Solicitor talked her out of it (or so they said) which was a pity because the Docks accident which had left her widowed also left her comparatively well heeled. So we ended up making an impromptu stay at his ex parents Bungalow which had become his sister's property instead of moving in with a prosperous and agreeable seeming if uninspiring Widow with a Suffolk accent and a daughter some two years older than myself: which had always seemed to good to be true as far as I was concerned. In retrospect I would say that the prospective third wife then, whose name was June, a dumpy but not unattractive blonde never had much intention of pairing off with my Father but was helping him get into a position whereby he would be able to try and get my Mother and her new family to help him bear the expense of having a child at School whilst he enjoyed the life of an alcoholic lazing around at his Sister's place where he and she failed to reinvent any semblance of happiness or contentment I may have once had and rather starkly failed to invest at all in my future though they would remain interested enough otherwise. The arrangement wasn't agreeable at all as the place was small for two people and with three in an interior which had not been updated of any amenities since the 1930's it was all rather shabby and well below the sort of thing anyone in their right mind would expect any significant gratitude for from a schooldchild in a comfortable if not quite prosperous looking suburb in the late seventies, or from any kind of suburb for that matter, especially not once they had beaten him up for refusing to indulge in acts of Prostitution.
After two years his Sister got fed up with he and I sleeping in the spare room of the very modest if well situated property she had inherited (or so I was told by him), and so I had to move much to my immense distress with him into the already crowded house of his next Wife with three children and two lodgers already crammed into a poky semi. The point is that when this didn't work out, she stole from him for example (more about this later), my schooldays became saturated with visits to family Counsellors and Psychiatrists etc and both my natural parents became involved in ludicrous discussions with stepparents without having any material influence on the situation to say nothing of the fact that one was a depraved and deranged alcoholic and that the other had become the partner for an almost illiterate and unpleasant yokel though her honesty and responsibility had betrayed rather more of the characteristics of a Weasel than anything catlike in any way. My Mother during those two years did make some serious if not extensive efforts to persuade the authorities to allow her to assist me to move into a place of my own before the statutary age but these attempts were blocked. All I was ever offered and far too late for it to have made any impact on my life chances as an 'O' level student was a room in a hostel with difficult adolescents which rather criminalised or stigmatised me instead of those who should have been censured for their illegal ambitions and personal inadequacies. Insofar as I have perceived that recent events including the fact of my having been the subject of a malicious prosecution have taken place as revenge for some of what was said in those years about the adults who were supposed to be 'looking after me' in general terms I suppose I have to look back and wish I had taken the opportunity, but the fact was at the time that the Man who ran the Hostel went to extraordinary lengths to persuade me that the place was 'no good' and that I should stay where I was if I didn't want to be routinely sodomised by gangs of musclebound, working class teenage criminals. It is difficult to make an intelligible comment here given the quantity, variety and peculiarly rhetorical nature of propaganda with which we are all constantly being bombarded with regard to what kind of norms and values we are all supposed to have, especially in social and familial matters but broadly speaking I was being driven to believe that the state would do for me what my parents had failed to: I do understand that it is often convenient to blame ones' parents when confronted with social or material inadequacies but I am in no way to blame for the impressions I received about the state's role in these matters. I obviously felt that my Father wasn't succeeding at enough of what he aspired to, as a matter of fact he has not succeeded at anything during the course of my life and events would bear out the allegation that he would basically fail to do the work involved in allowing someone of my age to derive any advantage from the fact of what was meant to be significant and expensive state education in the '70s it being the case that there was a more widespread belief in it than exists today, let alone someone who had endured the lack of fortune that I had whilst under his legal jurisdiction: I was obviously profoundly disturbed by his parenting and fairly unable to work or concentrate on anything much beyond that in which I found immediately easy and have not for example even now a 13 year old's knowledge of Mathematics.
His neglect and incompetence was simply complete and amounted to an absolute state of inadequacy insofar as he was penniless, unemployed, effectively homeless and had no consideration of or apparent reservations about his parenting which if he had, might have prompted him to take steps to forestall the fact by behaving with some genuine degree of responsibility and admit to himself that he was a useless and self deceiving burden. He remains a mass of ludicrous petty irritations and abrasive infectious nervousness: whatever has happened to him in his younger days and he hasn't been at all candid about it with me, had left him evidencing symptoms like bed wetting and grinding his teeth (when he had any), aside from nowadays compulsive lying and a fairly complete inability to face simple truths etc, anyhow onward.
Suffice it to say for various reasons it would be something of an understatement to simply point out that neither of my parents were commendable role models of any sort, that neither had a career, a regular job, or even a home of their own, when all these things were obviously necessary if I was to compete in any way at all with the various grandiose expectations of the society with which I was confronted. The unsupporting and unsupported ambitions of my Father in particular is a striking fact with regard to my educational career particularly in respect of the fact that I had managed to get into the 6th form of an ex Grammar School by 1980. This has a particular bearing on the reasons why my qualifications don't tend to match my standard of education insofar as for example by 1981 I had been refused the opportunity to continue with an academic career on economic grounds (I didn't have the support or investment necessary), which I had very much been told not to worry about by advocates of the statist welfarism that was largely accepted prior to the Thatcher era. So I had no means to support myself and was told to go and get a Job in an unexpected and extempore manner which didn't happen for various reasons, perhaps most significantly that by 1985 I had been violently prevented from managing my own legal affairs and have been consistently, reasonably expecting the upshot of this to be deemed unsafe and improper! It is obviously the case that I have been and am largely unwilling to validate what had happened by the performance of any sort of good works especially when they are being solicited by those who are simply seeking to validate their own grubby intrigues rather than extol the value of patriotic sentiment or any genuine unselfish concern for others: it being the case that I have had to draw many unpalatable conclusions about the Society in which I live and the extent to which it is governed by illusion, propaganda, spin, trickery, deceit and the increasingly profound suspicion that appropriate rewards and sanctions for various travails are going to be ineptly allocated.
I hadn't enjoyed life at Copleston High School where I spent my last four years of mandatory secondary education 1976-80, my destitute, shabby and unwashed appearance only offended the children of families who took their education more seriously and didn't want to be sidetracked or offput by company that as a matter of fact, no longer actually quite literally required de-lousing as the various farm animals and the billions of lice had almost all gone: but was obviously and unquestionably someone who was not going to profit much from having to attend School without a complete change in his domestic arrangements. My Father was small, ineffectual and all too arguably typically dirty and/or drunk and uncaring about his all too evident shortcomings, especially since he was completely uncritical of and had consistently held great views about himself and his role as a Father which as I say he refused to question under any circumstances. Perhaps I shouldn't say he had little or no self esteem as he was and remains capable of deluding himself about simple realities, but he had failed to maintain himself shall I say properly, or fulfil any worthwhile social role at all for more than a very few years at most once his marriage to my Mother had failed. It is a reasonable comment on his performance as a Guardian that by the age of ten I already had scars (the result of labouring in foul, squalid conditions) and black teeth, (every molar had been capped), was weak, virtually malnourished, profoundly disturbed and upset in contrast to the dumpy happy seeming boy I had once been. It epitomises the deranged, exploitive and vengeful motivation of my Father's which he proffered as parental concern, that I had once been ordered to hobble around for weeks until continual howling protestations elicited the professional medical diagnosis of a chipped ankle bone.
During those years as I have said, I had in the course of living in three very different regions of England spent most of such time as I had in reading and devoured endless works of fiction, mostly One supposes the sort of thing a working class parent might find pretentious under some circumstances.
English was a subject in which I did excel in my school years despite not having the kind of existence that enabled me to keep schoolbooks or do homework at all. I read the Lion the Witch and the Wardrobe at the age of six and rapidly completed that CS Lewis series; by the time I was eight I was for example reading full length Novels by PG Wodehouse, HH Munroe (Saki) and Edgar Rice Burroughs, I was rated as having the literary ability of a school leaver at the age of ten. I never attained less than the top six in English examinations from a year of 250 or more pupils in the years following at Secondary Schools where my reading skills were the subject of constant requests from contemporaries: it would not be an especial exaggeration to say that I was openly acknowledged as the Master of the subject in my year at both the secondary schools I attended in Lancashire and in Suffolk and in mentioning this I'm not indulging in excessive self praising or lurid intellectual narcissism, but rather seeking to put the fact of failing to get support for my educational career at College age into proper perspective and to a certain extent justify a continued pursuit of a career involving literary and social skills if only because I can do little else particularly well. It is an interesting point that whilst I have probably not had the schooling necessary to make myself into a heavyweight academic what I have learned academically is unusually well juxtaposed in my case alongside an intimate knowledge of the sub Sociology of Ipswich, which to a certain extent may or may not be considered a suitable microcosm of the nation (as a marginal constituency it is in many ways) and given what I have observed passing for professional social work of one sort or another I remain at least partly convinced of my own insight and ability to communicate effectively with a wide variety of people on a worthwhile basis despite lack of material success which as I say I have ascribed to what are often described as talentless wannabee upper class creeps in the local legal establishment but to whom rather more sinister epithets and adjectives should probably be applied.
In view of my Father's numerous obvious problems and the fact that if he wasn't actually to blame for my distress he was most strikingly responsible for it I therefore simply didn't think that I would ever be treated with less than kid gloves by the Police or Courts, or given anything less than at least a single fair hearing once I had crossed swords with these Agencies or rather, once they had felt like criticising what was the fruit of my thought and elected to cross swords with me; this was after all far from inevitable since arguably none of the issues involved arose from my behaviour in any respect, but that to put it very simply was that in terms of short term prospects: I needed just a little of the right investment from somewhere as well as the right kind of therapy for the senses (particularly that of hearing) which had been routinely abused for the amusement of stepparents and I'm afraid the Government didn't provide any. My circumstances were so conspicuously indigent as to have attracted comment from various parties including the USAF and I really had not considered it a serious possibility that I would get anything less than the proper and appropriate sort of hearing which I unfortunately needed and having plenty of reason to consider that I deserved in some respects and had certainly been led to expect in most. In respect of seeking to encourage 'authorities' that they need to quash an enactment or two, I should point out that I had been the subject of a lot of speculative debate about what should be done in the state welfare and education systems, and none of it had ever come to the point of any unusual difficulties being taken onmy account especially not in the form of any investment: it had kept people in Government jobs at the taxpayer's expense without any payback being gained in the form of goodwill being reciprocated by someone of whom time has catastrophically shown had much of very real value to offer. I could quite easily have become a right wing sycophant my teenage years having coincided with the Thatcher heyday and my Grandparents being remembered by the Conservative Association as among those who were not late opportunists on Churchill's bandwagon in 1939 having supported his unpopular advocacy of rearmament and fully sharing his views on Hitler since the late '20's when so many bad memories of the first great conflict had hardly receded: this despite having developed a strong sense of justice as a result of the inequality I had seen in the depressed north as a child. The colliery towns of 'two up two down,' housing, were especially grim and desperate places to grow and live in and I had definitely seen whole communities that could have been classed as mentally ill by general reason of deprivation according to any decent sort of up to date standard. I hadn't ever been in trouble by myself without incitement of some sort from other persons and, except on one occasion when I forgot to pay for a tin of cat food, had not been in any at all since I had moved back to Suffolk and it was only when my own expectations in the matter of an Education were disappointed and I had showed no apparent enthusiasm for getting a Job, having been summarily disqualified from further education on non meritocratic grounds that I became a target for the local Constabulary who felt they had a reason to at least making a pretence of implementing Thatcherite social policy. I didn't and I still don't think much of the criticisms represented by any charges that have been levelled at myself at any point and am as a matter of fact quite outraged at the simple fact of having been the subject of legal censure as well as the manner in which it has taken place and know I can count on virtually one hundred per cent support from local people who know anything about these events to justify my standpoint. I must have made this quite clear by now especially as I still really don't know what the more serious sounding one consists of and have just spent almost twenty fruitless years trying to find out: this relates to the allegation that I was technically guilty of Burglary in 1983 when I sold a some trifles belonging to an acquaintance who had reneged on an agreement to share the expenses of running the Flat I was occupying 'de facto' my Father having escaped official censure at School despite the in principle illegal ambitions he had to organise under age sex for example, perhaps with the help of a new ambitious Lady Biology Teacher who wanted a messy situation swept under the carpet whilst she was eyeing up her chances of raking in fortunes under the obviously imminent Conservative government: in any case by 1980 he had also acquired housing in my name instead of pointing out that I was on the point of leaving him, having for example been irritably beaten on a few too many occasions as I've unfortunately had to say.
Society and the British state made a great deal out of what it was doing for me, encouraging nay insisting that I believe it was infallible and deserving of unqualified deference. Since the age of five the pleasant world of apparent aspirant middle class gentility had become a nightmare of petty violence and squalor in a world which for me had changed drastically and unpleasantly over the ten years of my compulsory schooling. I remain profoundly (lookout here comes a cliche) disgusted, thoroughly appalled, contemptuous and profoundly angry at the actualities of life in modern Britain, in marked contrast to the fantastical assertions of those who have taken a great deal from the general and the national well being. As an adult I am utterly dumbfounded at the charade of being the victim of a token sort of bullying on the part of Officials who often don't seem to want to treat me like some mentally defective Charlatan who deserves or is only capable of some form of unfulfilling endeavour (a dead end job) by a society that has so many glaring faults, double standards and practises outright lies. I know it isn't a particularly practical way of looking at things but I had been taught to believe in an elevated and sanitised view of the character of the Nation and expected it to live up to the sorts of endlessly propounded values which suggested that injustice could not exist within it and have been 'appalled' to learn at staggering personal cost that this is not so. The question of to what extent persons in various individuals, societies and nations have a right to existence without any form of justification for it, is a matter of some immense amount of conjecture on the part of it might not be an exaggeration to say billions of people. I say this because there does seem to be much confusion in my own Nation as to whether the basis of, shall we say social policy or contemporary thought for want of a better phrase, is that we should seek to help each other as a life strategy or whether others merely exist to be taken advantage of if One can do so, as a necessary evil in an inescapably materialist Universe and much of contemporary politics of course boils down to rhetoric and dishonesty around this in fact relatively simple if unfortunate philosophical juxtaposition.
I am afraid that my experiences force me to consider that the UK like any other society is vain self seeking world in which one must 'eat or be eaten,' to quote a striking phrase from Jack London's 'White Fang.' A world in which altruistic (and Christian) values are used to justify cynical exploitation by those who trumpet the values of self help and independence; also being typically propounded by those who enjoyed superior, privileged life chances and inherited their wealth or were at least gifted easy means to attain prosperity and fulfilment. Insofar as it is shortage of Money, Land, Art Treasures and such valuable items of property that prompts me to advertise myself thus and try to write a proper comprehensive C.V. it is relevantly alleged by a leading right wing daily newspaper which would be likely to understate such figures that the large majority of Britain's millionaires have inherited their wealth, not merely most but a large majority. So much for the entrepreneurial society "humming with opportunity," as Gordon Brown the Chancellor of the Exchequer emptily put it some few years ago.
I really didn't get anything so melodramatic as what one would call a role model or anything such from anyone, for one thing I never personally felt inadequate enough to need one and such as existed were powerless to deal with the nightmare existence my Father had foisted on me and unable to answer the questions he posed and time has not altered my presumably correct views on what is wrong with Society and the Family: a succession of half witted or insincere employees of what can loosely be called the Welfare State, the Education and Judicial systems who weren't interested in anyting except their Jobs. Perhaps I shouldn't say most of them were really not talented enough or if they were, simply lacked the necessary resources to be able to do anything worthwhile for me or perhaps anyone else for that matter. They had unanimously failed to be usefully candid with me about a personal situation which by the standards of the time and place were shocking and unpleasant. I very much tired of hearing such characters tell me that all my complaints were quite justified but that (in any case) nothing could be done! The staff at the Secondary School I went to in Suffolk undermined any faith I really had left in society and the nation by this and one Lady Biology teacher caused me immense irritation by insisting on identifying FJK Whiting as myself which I know it is not as I had furiously pointed this out and never forgave her for it. I mean what is the point of giving someone all kinds of interviews and evaluations and talking to him about his difficult parents if you are simply going to allow either of them to impersonate the person you are supposed to be helping and end up refusing to talk to that person as a result.
I'll never forget and it is topical insofar as there is always a good deal of talk in the media about violence in schools (Remember Diana Spencer) and what we can reasonably expect from our Teachers; that one morning back in late '78 or early '79 the German Head of my school year paid our form class at Copleston School a visit and made a particular point of telling me in front of thirty odd pupils and a class teacher that, "I hate you Whiting, it is my sincere hope that you will end up on the scrap heap." You understand that this wasn't said jestingly but with genuine malice and hostility, and and it would be no exaggeration to say, after the fact of my having had to make an elaborate plan to travel three miles across town every day often running a painful gauntlet of undisciplined if perhaps not unprompted thugs lying in wait: this, after arguably on occasion having been little less than raped by my 'Guardians' the previous evening. I can recall having gone with the School on a Geography field trip for a week whilst in the last two years at Copleston High with 'O' level students to Wales, having been reasonably severely beaten and knocked about the previous evening as part of parcel of trying to get me into bed with the Magistrate's daughter he had married and having some noticeable bruising to show which took some time to vanish: this particular tale is one which can be easily corroborated I know. Aside from the fact that Secondary schools in the UK are in fact very violent places and that I had probably been kicked and beaten with habitual malice in making the effort just to get there I was being asked to tolerate such behaviour as normal in the staff. He had assaulted me within 30 minutes of my starting at that school in a fit of temper about his being unable to stop 250 twelve year olds from slinging their hymn books around en masse during Assembly and seemed to go out of his way to make my life a misery whenever he could: at the time I was a natural target because my Father hadn't itemised sufficient funds for such things as a school uniform and I had an odd coloured corduroy Jacket or at least that was how I rationalised the matter then.
That Head of Year at Copleston has now become the Deputy Head of that school, Wolfgang Powell as he is known and whilst it is obviously true and I know I can obtain a near unanimous agreement on this score from ex Coplestonians that he deliberately overlooked what were regular and quite savage beatings from other pupils I cannot help but wonder to what extent he specifically organised this or frustrated my attempts to get myself taken into care or otherwise managed more properly during the last two years I spent there until it was too late and Mr and Mrs Whiting were splitting up: it is of course quite true that adolescents don't treat each other with the respect that well balanced adults do or perhaps smaller children. I don't personally know how the story came into circulation that he was the son of a Nazi or German Rocket scientist by the name of Heinkel who was brought here near the end of the war but it is one which is generally reckoned to be true hereabouts, doesn't surprise me in the least and I have even heard that he has a Cousin in the SS who commanded a Tank in Normandy. Such incidents were to characterise my nightmarish days at Copleston High, a chapter in my life that I simply could not close quickly enough for a whole variety of reasons besides the immediately obvious.
The extent to which FJK is an unashamed advocate of various unacceptable ultraliberal doctrines and is just about the last sort of person anyone would choose as a parent is demonstrated by the amount of what might be described as serious psychological ailments acquired by those that he has had an interest in as a putative Father. His second (common law) wife as I say had two children and I don't know if he ever tried anything on with either of them but the younger, Alan was always quite disturbed by him and within weeks of meeting him had acquired speech impediments, the habit of defecating in his bathwater and has been more or less permanently in care as an adult the last I heard of him: I gather that he has developed an understandable hatred of FJK and oft repeats the desire to 'kill Ken Whiting.' His older brother David has sired a large number of children whom he cannot care for and has been a heroin addict much of his adult life, though I hate to say it it's hardly surprising and I wouldn't be surprised if it were true of half his teenage contemporaries in the mining town where his forebears lived and died. I haven't seen either for many years now. I have no idea either whether FJK ever tried anything on with Mrs Cormack's Cherubic golden curled four year old boy from her second partner/husband (FJK was her third) but I gather he also grew up partially delinquent or at least that his behaviour hasn't been problem free, and that the marriage of Rachel her daughter from her first marriage to a Scot rapidly went down the pan. I knew the bloke Daniel whom she (Rachel Cormack as she had been) married as he also went to the same secondary school and had a good opinion of him as a likeable enough sort though I didn't know him well and he had told me that he was going to marry her in 1992 I think at a School reunion and did actually invite me to their wedding. I don't think he realised at the time that he had stirred a lot of very painful memories that I didn't want to think about and had not only managed to avoid thinking about but had actually forgotten: I daresay he has since then surely deduced this fact.
The truth was that I had been rendered absolutely sulphurous by FJK's decision to take me with him on his latest marriage venture to Mrs Cormack when he announced it in '78, not that my use of such a vehement adjective can carry the usual comparative stress insofar as I was well past the question of either anger or tears about my life situation and had rather passed into a state of shock and denial by 1978 at the latest, as a matter of fact had probably in many ways done so by 1970 and a matter of mere days rather than weeks or months into the discovery that after all the anguish I had experienced listening to what had been my Mother's promises of better behaviour that there was to be a divorce. I had not wanted to be involved at all with any aspect of my Father's management, left at the earliest available opportunity, had successfully managed to forget everything about it within months and really found being reminded, particularly of the events of the two years in which my Father had been married to the Magistresses daughter immensely distressing: the look I threw him (Daniel) would have rendered the Medusa a trembling ashen shambles. In short the fact that my life has been ruined by having an unpleasant, sadistic, exploitive and all too apparently lunatic Father is all too well documented and all too well known locally or so I have always imagined insofar as I have given the matter any thought. I don't mean to imply anything more significant than the fact that he was a catastrophic failure and possibly a serious malcontent, which is not necessarily to suggest for example that any of the relatives I knew who might have looked after me as a substitute for the nuclear family upbringing I had been led to believe I would get were necessarily more likely to have achieved anything in this respect just because he was the individual who first acquired the role of parent and was naturally enough first to fail. I know nothing for sure about any record he has for any sort of offence except the fact that Ms Cormack had sought to raise the question one morning in accusing him of having been sacked from a teaching Job once for seeking to make paedophilic advances. It was a conversation that I was unwilling to take part in and forgot about during my years on the streets in the years immediately following, probably because as I have said it was part and parcel of what was hardly less than an ongoing attempt to perpetrate what could be difficult to avoid describing as attempted rape which I had also to many if perhaps not quite all intents and purposes also forgotten having by then the immediate preoccupations of effective homelessness and quite extreme indigence, if also some excellent society among the crop of young socialites and intellectuals from that time.
For many years afterwards I had perhaps not completely but had certainly effectively forgotten about the fact that I ever had any sort of a Father and was quite happy to. I obviously could hardly avoid considering that at the time that he was interested in things like babies being s*******d as I had found such a picture amongst a collection of pornography in his earlier households; my opinion that he was at least modestly mentally ill would at the time have only been likely to have incurred fresh beatings and I was obviously loth to discuss the mater at all let alone with someone I considered an unwelcome stranger. That the matter was discussed by School officials and Social Workers was a complete waste of time insofar as one key Teacher refused to admit that I was anyone and insisted that it was FJK, presumably for convenience and as a misbegotten attempt to save public money being wasted on shiftless scroungers with nothing to offer though she may well have been merely seeking to cover her blushes from a personal point of view as I have at least partly suggested elsewhere. That there is obviously something in the rumour that he has been sacked from teaching for sexual offences or has been involved in some such scandal is a contention supported by the fact that he and his sister have consistently circulated rumours that I am homosexual or bisexual which is all too obviously a red herring intended to distract third parties from making observations about his own character, reputation and criminal record concerning which he ahd his relatives have obviously consistently lied to me. At the time I hadn't thought much about the fact that my Father or Ms Cormack might be worried about having committed what were a number of assaults and continual sexual harassment insofar as they were criminal. It might be something of an exaggeration to say my only experience of the Law to date is that it serves to keep sycophants in costly employ, though I have to admit that now at approaching forty years of age my perceptions are coloured by the fact that my knowledge is limited by my subjective experiences in mostly one Borough over many years where there are particular political reasons for specific civic/social problems. That it might attract censure or opprobrium from others aside from the empty threat of prosecution for such behaviour was a matter I did not consider greatly being preoccupied with the fact that being regularly knocked about was actually painful as well as a pauperising nuisance so I had hardly had an opportunity to reflect on the fact that I was going to have to draw some sinister and unpleasant conclusions about national Institutions; I wonder how may of the well to do social planners who make up these laws and regulations that no-one can ever afford to keep ever actually seriously consider this or the fact that it would probably be better to offer no kind of social service than one which is nominal, simply bogus or serviong only those getting pay cheques for working with such services. If I recalled the matter at all during the time that elapsed between then and the time my Father made some utterly false and malicious allegations about my having assaulted him and invaded his/my home in 2002, it was as part of an elaborate lengthy and deeply unpleasant nightmare related to his inadequacies rather than something specific that I troubled to remember as a particular incident in itself: that the particular reality of having been habitually assaulted was in fact lodged somewhere in my mind would not surface again as a particularly conscious thought until the year 2002. I soon had other new experiences in life to divert me from such unwanted memories as a teenager, it obviously doesn't take much to distract the individual from such distasteful thoughts and recollections let alone any sort of teenager being exposed to the unwholesome fascinations of a newly discovered urban sprawl. That I had been encouraged to resent the fact of economic exploitation and inequality by the small time 'leftists' I obviously met in great numbers may have exacerbated this rather than help focus properly on my situation with regard to the significant achievements I needed to procure if I was ever to aspire to a successful career for example. The simple fact was however, that I already had more than sufficient grounds to resent officialdom in that I was supposed to be grateful for the interest of Guardians and school Counsellors who were mostly guilty of habitual common assault on my person and it is no great surprise that they had obtained the verdicts they wanted from the consultations they contrived and managed and neither is it really a surprise that most of those who have feigned to be altruistic leftists have proved thoroughly self interested and insincere.
So what has all this got to do with a Curriculum Vitae you may well ask? My immediate response here and now is that I am trying to write a serious C.V. that anyone in the World can read and understand given a reasonable command of English and since the main feature of my adult life has been an ongoing conflict with the authorities who have sought to deny me such a thing as a basic iota of justice or any reasonable chance to explain the few and trifling misdemeanours of which I have ever been perhaps guilty by association or technicality in the most luridly underhand and ignoble manner, it is in short a matter which requires some investigation, elucidation and explanation if you can credit the information I put before you as accurate. I have not had many simple things to do with my rights as a citizen, which I had never imagined I would be disallowed and from my point of view this remains a crippling 'influence' on my chances of getting involved in any sort of constructive endeavour. I intend to explain the circumstances and relevant facts fully and do not intend to leave any surprises omitted from a necessary amount of self advertisement though I may also for example not wish to elicit approaches from individuals/organisations whose activities I may deem unacceptable. The fact of my having survived at all could be considered in itself at least a minor achievement given that I was abandoned in a crime ridden corner of one of Europes' largest housing estates at little more than school leaving age without as much a single set of clothes and can number literally dozens of acquaintances who have died prematurely and not just from among my own age group in which there are now obviously increasing fatalities. People have succumbed to death by suicide or drug overdose, heroin is obviously a quite common one, have been otherwise crippled by using various dangerous black market narcotics and other indulgings in questionable practices of one sort or another. It goes without saying that this is often exacerbated by and contributes toward various forms of mental health problems which are a fairly big talking point in society today.
Many of the reasons why I have thought to look for work, something interesting and different to do for a living, perhaps outside of the UK, arise directly from these legal contretemps associated with my disappointment at the performance of the British Education & Judicial systems and my profound detestation of the so called 'fair play' and decency which people like to think they are admired for in this country. To say nothing of the astounding incompetent antics of many of those who have been entrusted with resources by the Bliar regime after having monstrously destructive sins of malfeasance overlooked and whilst professing the intention of relieving conscientious hard working people of taxes for ludicrous and further breathtakingly self seeking charades which are almost completely lacking in any value of any sort whatsoever except to the Politicians themselves.
At the age of fifteen it was the case that I had: two stepmothers; a stepfather; four stepbrothers; a stepsister ; three half brothers and a half sister as well as almost having had a third Stepmother and Stepsister across four almost five families during my five years in secondary schools in squalid and makeshift circumstances during which time my Father managed hardly so much as a single stroke of work of any sort whatever. Even for those with the best of environments to support them it was something of an achievement to have gotten three O levels a feat equalled by perhaps less than ten per cent of my peers at that school even considering that they were all C grade. I had only expected to pass English Literature, and perhaps RE but mysteriously failed it despite having always excelled in the subject. This poses some interesting questions about the availability of good teaching for those with special needs, strikingly so with regard to contemporary underachievement of the educational system and a perceived dumbing down of popular culture. In general terms the fact of having to attend school with hundreds of children who were quite lawless and comparatively illiterate in an environment where the teachers had not only failed badly to preserve much worthwhile order but as far as I could tell in general rarely made much of an attempt to do so, meant that my ability to handle thoughts and ideas properly in any sort of semantic context actually declined whilst I was at Secondary School as my principal preoccupation was evading violent assault which Herr Heinkel had in many ways encouraged. My perception remains that those who make it through to the teaching profession tend to be talentless sycophants of nondescript middle class backgrounds who prefer whining about the behaviour of their adolescent charges than facing up to the challenge that eliciting disciplined and/or constructive behaviour from a given cross section of the juvenile population represents. My memories of secondary school Teachers in particular are overwhelmingly that they prefer preening, playing with their fingernails, engaging in pretentious conversation and daydreaming of joining the Aristocracy or some other elite social group, than the plain hard work inherent in making any real attempt to maintain a worthwhile amount of order and impart something useful to their luckless charges. Whilst I am quite willing to admit that this could be for almost any number of reasons I am in general inclined to go along with the view that if individuals cannot amuse and educate a class of fourteen or fifteen year olds it is because they artless 'yes persons' who lack ability, not because the Job is especially difficult for some obscure and politically correct reason or other.
When I went to Northgate Sixth form in the Summer of '81 I had as I say somehow gotten 'O' levels in English Language, History and R.E. I also had a near miss in Geography and had attained CSE grade three in Maths and Biology without the use of a Calculator which would quite likely have gotten me the other 'O' level I needed to go straight onto an 'A' level course had any of those who feigned to take an unselfish interest in my prospects at this point been so diligent as to actually provide such a trifling piece of equipment, which at the time was still a quite costly item for a child to acquire. The old Grammar school in 1980 was much more like the world of Conan Doyle, HG Wells, or even Ian Fleming's James Bond I suppose. The graceful, generously laid out buildings were very pleasing and could have been pretty much as they were an hundred years before, excepting the adornment of young scholars in space age attire. The place had educated many Empire builders and people were as One would expect more charismatic, tolerant, desirable and interesting. More like the sorts of persons One wishes to be according to conventional evaluations of 'success' and more like the self image that One tends to conceive after 16 years of devouring British ideology with authors such as Conan Doyle, HG Wells and John Wyndham as well as the typical schoolbooks of the 60's and 70's of the Enid Blyton variety with all their pithy moral aphorisms and so on. Not that my experience of these kind of facilities was more than quite fleeting or the opportunity to make use of them very limited by conditions and circumstances. I had been allowed in to do a foundation year which meant that I could take an extra year to do more 'O' levels, what are now termed GCSE's, so that I could start an A level course. The abler students there in some ways tended to look down on someone who could only scrape in but I was by virtue of my birthdate in late July almost always the youngest person in my academic year so in taking an extra year I wasn't really taking that much of an easier academic path and had no broader ambition than to get into major studies of the Arts which was what I had repeatedly been told was obviously my own destiny and had no interest in acquiring a knowledge of Maths or any other science than Biology, having failed to acquire even a 12 year old's knowledge of Maths Physics or Chemistry as the result of five years of Secondary (so called) Education. Whilst I definitely won't say that I never heard any negative criticism of my deportment from either staff or students at the establishment, the fact of being an intellectual lightweight was not really among them: though time and misfortune had taken it's toll and I was no longer in possession of the advantage over contemporaries that I had ten years before I could still punch my weight with the better students in preferred subject areas. I had only wanted to pursue studies in the Humanities and as I've said elsewhere the only thing I learned about Maths was that my Mother's family were better off than my Father's: which I could hardly have summoned the temerity to consider beyond the question of pain threshold. That was as far as I got in any educational mathematical hypothesis and I only really say this, as insofar as I did get any sympathetic feedback from people at Copleston High it was to the effect that my Father was no good as a parent (which I knew) and that perhaps I ought to try to inveigle myself into my Mother's household,(which was perhaps almost equally obvious) and in truth was the only place I ever got a genuinely clean shirt from or anything like that, though time would prove that I should obviously very arguably have avoided them after the manner of any pauperising gift. My Father and Mrs Cormack did not have the basic necessary resources to even begin any realisation of their various lofty ambitions, besides any of the other glaring faults they had exhibited by then and were basically unwelcome to gather facts about third parties on the basis of some purported concern for myself and the same was also obviously true of my Mother's family though for difffering reasons.
It was a difficult and demanding time of my life to say the least. I had nowhere of my own to stay, no resources, not even any clothes barring a few genuinely ridiculous rags and my contemporaries in an ex Grammar School 6th form were in many cases almost obscenely wealthy. I often found myself begging for pennies and tuppences for cups of tea in the morning break from people who wore designer clothes and drove to school in some cases in brand new cars.
Now I really mustn't get ahead of myself: I have said that the local Police were at least making a pretence of implementing Thatcherite social policy which is unquestionably true to a significant extent but this fact was made unusually complex and difficult to evaluate by two other interrelated factors. Firstly was the matter of not getting along with my Mother's new husband who was a diametrically opposite personality to that of my natural Father. Instead of being a camp and pretentious product of the post war University system he was a terse, gruff and swarthy creature who had made his way into Docks Management after herding cattle at the local market as a child and delighted in the local rustic accent which I have almost always found quite disgusting and rather more akin to the grunting of the farm animals for which the County is well known than for it's resemblance to any form of worthwhile or recognisable human speech. To my mind if something is worth saying it is worth saying properly, in as much detail as possible, with as many shifts of tone, emphasis and style as can be accommodated within the breath of utterance: the simple fact is that he was a poisonous retard. Life is too short to tolerate mediocrity without good reason: I could all too easily spend many times my own span reading a mere fraction of the material I wish to, don't happen to have any spare time at all to listen to the vain imaginings of liars and fools and consider this to be quite true of most potential employers whose offerings might tempt me.
The habits of rural Suffolk are quite the contrary with pride taken in every dropped aitch and absent grammatical idiom, a form of inverted snobbery which I cannot help but find vaguely foolish somehow. This isn't to imply that there isn't a lot to be said for plain English or for preserving rural dialects absolutely not. Smooth talking legalistic parasites are among the worst products (and non producers) of western society and I'm entirely in agreement with the aims of the Plain English Society. Anyone who has ever seen any of their approved documents I feel would readily be moved to concur that such an approach should be encouraged if not enforced in all legal, constitutional and commercial bureaucracy.
I can only assure the possibly bored reader at this point that it is all in fact very much to the point and I don't wish to go on about people who don't read or write much or well, as being in some way inferior just because it is a skill which for someone without a University degree I arguably have to a significant extent. This regular tendency to dislike the local accent probably does stem from the crude strange and unceremonious manner in which my Stepfather became part of my broad family. The fact that he may have had virtues of his own is indisputable in that One doesn't work one's way up from the dockside and cattle markets of the ration bound post war era to an honourary company directorship without having something going for Oneself in the way of personal virtue but that really did not interest me at all. I had been reading full sized novels whilst hardly out of short pants and the obvious fact of a dockside Rat character who was all too evidently the sort who carried knives about and got into drunken fights when he was a youth in the Town, masquerading behind the charade of a bucolic verbal idiom as a charming if rather imbecilic yokel was insufficiently detailed and too transparent for me to find it that ingenious or interesting.(:Sorry about this folks please excuse the brief rant:)
I suppose we all tend to prefer the accent we first learned which was (supposedly) Queen's English in my case, though having an Irish maternal connection I have an abiding and ineluctable tendency to prefer it for listening to and can exhibit a remarkable indifference even irritation toward female voices employing an English one, even in the most amicable of contexts but it really isn't that important, a poor tone is a poor tone whatever the accent employed in it's utterance and tone always betrays knowledge or lack it to a significant extent. In answer to any hostility this might ever evoke among compatriots I can only proffer the question how would you feel if your Mother should chance to speak to you in a Scots or Welsh accent for example? The answer would probably be something along the lines of: confused; don't know; freaked out; reasonably freaked out; very freaked out; appalled and dumbfounded etc. Anyway the point is to say that general facility with forms of communicative and interactive behaviour can be regarded as an ability of equal value to that of purely technical linguistic ability; insofar as a lot of roles call for various degrees of posturing eg in legal or security related employment, right through to professional acting I therefore consider it worth noting in respect of having made serious mention of what constitutes talent and ability and what does not that I am talking about producing with some facility almost any sort of English that has yet evolved for any sort of exigency or requirement. I am in the position of being able to claim a genuinely intellectual knowledge of my language and whilst not having had the benefit of a vast amount of expensive professional tuition and in the short term lack a broad enough knowledge of other European languages to look particularly good in academic terms, can nevertheless claim quite authoritatively to be a personality with the ability to extemporise effectively, efficiently and constructively in a surprisingly wide variety of situations: it isn't really an exaggeration to say at the highest level at least insofar as, 'necessity is the mother of invention' and the 20th century has exaggerated the value of knowledge of the English language in particular as a 'via medium.' I haven't entirely wasted my years of underinvestment with complete inactivity, can debate usefully and authoritatively on an increasingly wide range of subjects as I shall seek to establish despite a lack of formal qualifications. In this respect it is possible to point out besides the fact that the motivation for and value of such academic awards is increasingly in question, there "ain't nothing half as clever as a good example of something that's supposed to be clever."
I do think it is remarkably interesting that One obtains very different reactions to people if One employs varying accents. Now most people realise this to a significant extent and obviously most people tend to speak with the same accent most or at least nearly all of the time and I realise that in switching regularly for everyday purposes I am unusual if not unique. Before explaining how that comes to be I should like to reiterate that it is extraordinary how differently individuals will react, not just odd individuals even those who know me quite well, if I choose an incongruous voice for a situation which I'm afraid I often have an irritating habit of doing. From learning Queens English, at aged five I had to go to school with a class of 90% plus Miner's children so it was initially part and parcel of trying to survive that I began to speak to the Geordies in Geordie and when I moved to Lancashire I was using three different accents on a daily basis. When I moved back to Suffolk it became expedient in many cases to feign ignorance as is the 'gyse' or habit of the rural eastern flatlands of Britain in sometimes using a 'Suffick' accent, and as an adult have taken to relapsing into brogue occasionally, as the majority on One's kin have retained it to some extent: my Grandfather had a Londonish accent however. It does seem strange that people do react so contrarily to such and such a sort of voice, which is after all nothing more than a seeming and easier to change than a set of clothes or a hairdo; but Individuals who are half asleep and wouldn't bat an eyelid if One mutters something in English jump half way to the damn ceiling if you say the same thing in Irish which is of course probably due to the impressions people have of the contemporary Irish troubles. Similarly if One goes into the Jobcentre with a Suffolk accent it is inevitably the case that One is offered more manual Jobs than in the case of deliberately choosing to speak in simple good unpretentious Queen's English: which can be spoken without the upper class inflection which eg tends to make 'aiyt' from the word out instead of 'owt' or 'ewt' as in Suffolk. I think the point is that Queens English is the accentless standard by which we categorise and assess other English dialects and feel that the distinction between simple Queen's English and Queens English with an upper class accent is one which could be usefully made more often.
What does interest me very deeply with regard to this is the fact that whilst I was attending the prestigious local 6th form (Northgate) over the academic year 1980-81 among the 'O' levels I was studying was a Biology retake of a D grade I had attained the previous year which as you may know involves a general study of the forms that life on Earth takes. Insofar as this relates to the question of Human Biology and Medicine I find it amazing in retrospect that I learned anything as Ms Cormack was too interested and, as it happens had certainly been noticed taking too much of an interest in adolescent sexual affairs trying to find out if anyone was 'Gay' and if they wanted any help with 'coming out' and so on. For example, whatever agreeable story she may have agrred on about her unwanted interest in myself, there was a Kevin in my year who proved amenable to ultraliberal propaganda and in respect of this I have to say that I hope the parents of any of those who did turn out 'Gay' from that year realise that it is very arguable that the Teachers were not enforcing the Local Government Acts as they should, and it is an interesting point that such individuals are theoretically at least partly in principle litigiously responsible for their actions. There were many other flaws with my doomed and pointless attempt to make use of compulsory Secondary Education than that which relates directly to the fact of my Father having sought to arrange paedophilic orgies among various parties with whom he had managed to devise marital and familial entanglemennts and these include obviously the fact that he and Herr Heinkel had both assaulted me and both had reasons for overlooking each others sins. Insofar as the Local Government Acts which define what it is permissible to teach schoolchildren about social/sexual matters have been a matter of debate recently, I should like to embroil the Lady Biology teacher from Copleston known as Miss Lennon whilst these matters were developing in bearing culpability for the recent murder of a camp gentleman who had been visiting The Greyhound public house and seemed to think he was in a Gay district of some sort or something such as the Newspaper article seemed to suggest, having wandered out to get mashed by some local youths who had been out for an evening a mere few hundred yards from where my Stepfather Mr Taylor worked on the Docks as well as Ms Cormack whose voice was quite clearly visible on CCCTV footage of the character as he made his way through Town, individuals whom it may well prove possible to argue convincingly have succumbed to quite deliberate suggestions made by various parties, may even have been employees of his when the strange and fatal attack took place: this in respect of the fact that it might seem this Teacher has been seeking to disguise her culpability in flouting the principle of such legislation as the Local Government Acts by contriving amongst other things to further the suggestion that I was a happy ultraliberal who wanted to sleep with his Stepmother and other same sex partners whilst she enjoyed the benefit of FJK's erudition in her new Job which she used to acquire a lofty well placed residence off Westerfield Road from which pink propaganda (plain distasteful vice is what I call it) can be surreptitiously circulated in the district and about the same convenient distance from Ms Cormack's residence on the other side of the Pub. This perhaps could be said to have helped give rise to misunderstandings among regulars to the establishment, who in my view have a right to take issue with the forceful and aggressive manner in which pink propaganda has been circulated in the locality; it is certainly the case that such suspicions certainly seem 'prima facie' to have some significant justifiable basis. It seemed certainly true that the CCTV footage quite clearly shows the deceased had become entangled with Ms Cormack's voice but I should really like to have another look at it before committing myself fully. I have to say my interest in the matter of my own education as an adolescent was always one of profound incapacitating embarrassment and that I never had anything but the very least of desires to have to display or confide anything of my wretched personal life to anyone. It is regrettable that she (the poor Lady Teacher) may have found embarrassing the eventuality of having to deal with my odorous and odious vagrant of a parent whom may I remind you was planning more malice than a simple significant theft when some of these events including the fatal beating took place. The matter is also touched upon in the local news section of the website as part of the article about the murder of Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman which has been in the News very recently and I'm sure if I'm wrong about any of the relevant details that someone will see fit to correct me.
It so happens to be the case that I had sought to remark that I was suspicious of one of my Mother's older sister’s (Bernadette's) longstanding partner's skin tone and texture in the Christmas period 80-81 if not before (it was a remark I would seek to make on at least several occasions in the shortly thereafter and had thought to advise that he ought to get some blood tests done on the basis that he was unnaturally sanguine. This was shouted down by the Stepfather whose reaction to this during the rigmarole of weekly family visits and so on was, "send that bloody boy out to get a job he shouldn't be allowed to waste his time on all that useless book knowledge." He had always called me rude names and seemed to resent my failure to acknowledge him despite the fact that when he turned up in my life he was one of two boyfriends that my Mother had in tow and that I had no intelligence whatsoever regarding the extent to which there may have been some chance of my healing the rift between my natural parents who to this day have not been truthful with me about the question of their marriage which was still in effect at the time and haven't been truthful with me about much at all really. He, (my stepfather) was always consistently deliberately, rude and provocative and rather than make a scene I have avoided him since he waved his fist in my face at a Cousin’s wedding in '87 (Raymond Williams picture is in the personal section). It is true that neither of my natural parents seemed to be really responsible at all about the fact of having a child and were in the first instance more preoccupied with getting someone, anyone else to shoulder the burden of a Son who had developed high hopes, or at least sought to maintain them whilst his expectations all fell through, though (obviously) Mother had lacked or apparently been deprived of such an opportunity before she remarried in '74.
It is very much worth mentioning that Bernadette the Aunt who brought my Mother to the UK had an intimate knowledge of my Father and I inasmuch as she was probably more burdened by the task of caring for me up to the age of five years old than either of my parents in some respects as my Father was preoccupied with lofty ideas about his professional status and was during the late sixties holding onto an apparently viable career whilst his Wife began looking for a more lucrative or more appealing marital catch: I didn't remember Bernadette the first time I saw her after the separation in the late seventies and had to be told that I knew her, as a matter of fact I had forgotten she existed at all: when I was told that she knew me all I could not recall anything specific of her except that I did vaguely recognise her but this recognition was unpleasant and any thought about it thoroughly subsumed beneath a mountain of forebodin g and misgiving that I could not quite account for. It wasn't until some time after I became offically adult that I found out that my Mother hadn't been there as much as I was supposed to have remembered and had e.g. gotten pregnant by a convict my Father had unaccountably met somewhere or other. Amongst the things I have been meaning to do for my Mother (a lobotomy for her husband is a less immediately practical though obviously desirable suggestion) is to track down the male child of that liaison which was adopted and who may chance upon this webpage. In the event that he finds me before I find him/you, which is broadly speaking my intention in the hopefully now medium term what I have to say is succinct and straightforward and consists of saying that aside from all the emotivenes involved in wanting to be aware of family and wanting to have an identity and belong somewhere which everyone or at least nearly everyone surely does, that in the event that fortune has not smiled on him which as an Orphan adoptee it probably/possibly significantly has not, that there may be a real chance of getting a few quid out of his Mother who like her sisters is in line for some kind of award as compensation from the Irish Government for her savage and unpleasant upbringing in a Catholic Orphanage and has guilt feelings about having brought children into the World and having failed badly in the role of Mother (at least as far as her first two sons are concerned), though there is tension between the British and Irish governments over relevant taxation issues as well as in ideology. In general insofar as I have appraised the intelligence I have to hand on this matter it does betoken the fact that there is a propaganda conflict going on between these authorities on the subject of nationalism and what it means to belong to a nation and presumably the Irish are hoping to promulgate a loftier vision of themselves as a nation apart from that which is how shall we say part of the 'Great British' and have that reason for seeking to make some meaningful apology to those who were finacially exploited in a particularly shameful manner by controlling interests making money out of Orphages during and after WW2. As far as the simple matter of the welfare of my ailing Irish born relatives of my Mother's generation is of any concern to myself it seems appropriate for me to say that this bestowal of compensatory awards is in many ways very late for it too make a big difference to those concerned individuals. It unfortunately has to be said of Bernadette that to a certain extent her ghastly life experiences had left her very arguably psychologically impaired to a certain very real extent and it is a fairly valid comment in the context of the demanding social world of 'posh' English School products in the Thatcher era that finding her voice about was a nuisance in terms of my seeking to stay on the right side of sixth form teachers and those who obviously quite rightly expected a fairly high standard of behaviour from those they were grooming to be the young Politicians, Doctors, Lawyers, Administrators, Philosophers and Thinkers of tomorrow and equally I wasn't in a position to help her insofar as anyone complains if not in so many words about deprivation of one form or another. It being the case that about the only genuine comfort I ever witnessed her enjoy was the simple luxury of getting enough to eat and she was nothing but one form of nagging frustrated want or other: the story of her family life as a child was obviously something the painfulness of which it would take me some time to appreciate insofar as I had to paint a picture from bits and pieces of stray information that were gradually acquired over decades. I do resent having been told that that I should have had some concern her welfare by simple virtue of the fact that there was absolutely nothing I could do to make her life more pleasant in 1981 and aside from the fact that I had no memories of her that I was aware of, I really didn't owe my Mother any favours like looking after her relatives. She was obviously was a habitual guest at my Mother's home whilst I was still supposed to be making something of my schooling and insofar as she tried to nose her way into my my own miserable affairs, was all too evidently too much of a working class malcontent whose presence had a deleterious effect on my attempts to make something of my life chances in the more up-market world of an ex grammar school sixth form as I say. Her other siblings have all had the serious effects of their upbringing (to say it was extremely harsh can only be considered a vast understatement) cushioned by stable long term relationships. Bernadette was unfortunately nearing the end of her obviously marriageable state of life when she fled an environment she obviously resented with her sixteen year old sister Freda in moving to seek better pastures in England, who my Father first got pregnant and married (in that order). It is perhaps an interesting comment on ideology that pictures I have seen of my maternal Grandmother don't show a Woman appearing to be particularly in tune with the hopes and expectations of the rebel State. She had travelled between Belfast and Dublin at about the time that the German Sixth Army was being decimated in Stalingrad (1942) and many lives and fortunes hung in the balance. For those who don't know, it is the case that the Independent Irish state was officially neutral but provided the Nazi U-Boat menace with invaluable asistance in almost winning the War in it's earlier stages and was the only nation as far as I am aware to have actually sent an official letter of condolence on the death of Hitler. In any case whatever the reason I'm told that when they arrived on the mainland Bernadette was in a severely nutritionally deficient state promptly collapsing and having to have undernourished teeth removed so it is of some general interest that the Irish state obviously hasn't been a huge success story in every respect for everyone and you would quite possibly be equally as valid to say of my Mother and her family that they were Dubliners as much as identifiably Irish, it being the case that their experiences had made them with the city dwellers quick witted habits of thought and speech rather than e.g. a countryman's easy confidence .
Anyhow the point is to state that she has always been around and had performed similar assistances in the matter of caring for the infant siblings I had via my Mother's existing marriage, having also been a regular obviously in Mr Taylor's household during the late seventies and very early eighties. I would possibly attribute my failure to acquire an English Literature 'O' level to the impersonations which ensued from being told that we were in fact acquainted though I didn't quite realise at the time that this was what was happening: it was certainly true that she wanted to be me though it was a simple coincedence that I was the only other regular or frequent vistor of my Mothers' relatives in the late seventies. I didn't consider it much at the time that this was because she arguably had not even the modest diversions I had from an existence which was deprived, undesirable and soulless and couldn't find any better company as my own existence was trying enough at that time. I have unfortunately however to cast her in the role of an eavesdropper and an incompetent interferer rather than as some old friend of any sort thought the truth is probably a curious mixture of both I rather felt that she had done more damage than her attempts to be friendly were worth: she was exasperating and perhaps lacking some insight if not courage, imagination and a certain amount of will. Her boyfriend or Uncle Dan as he became on his deathbed marriage called out the Doctor one day in '87 with a serious gutache and was rapidly told that he had primary liver cancer in the final stages and could expect to live for perhaps a month, which he almost managed. It was whilst this was happening that I waited for apologies which never came. It would be the case insofar as there has to be an implicit suggestion that the manner of his death, or rather these facts about it, were concealed by the Taylors, that many mutual acquaintances would be in a better position than myself to evaluate the truth of such an accusation and many would no doubt say that she might have avoided this by being more independent minded about her own place in the World than relying on her sister's household for moral and material support and constantly angling for invites she wasn't particularly welcome to from her Brother in law's point of view and pointlessly, jealously complaining that others had better life chances. I am for example not aware that she has ever held a Job for more than a few months and it isn't my fault this arose in the early eighties as the Taylors had moved next door to a Tory Councillor, she certainly has not during the time I have known her, and that which she did occasioned endless recrimination though she was probably having to gratify third parties with conformist noises given the nature of her situation. Whatever the whole truth about this it is an irresistable observation that she might have fared better living in the community in which she grew up if all she can expect is the inevitable cold shoulder but I believe she had bad memories of her childhood and the Dublin community which was hardly surprising after the War with families practically being forced to sell their daughters into Prostitution: she had for example acquired malformed feet from wearing hand me downs. I think she had tried to tell me something about her relationship with Daniel Dellar to the effect that I might help her avoid becoming a physical object of gratification so to speak in the matter of her relationship with him and to a certain extent I had just by being someone who was about, not that I ever really quite worked out what was being said or suspected him of anything in particular, but she never made this presumed request quite explicit enough for me to really comment on and consistently descended into fits of angry recriminations which achieved nothing. Whilst I had no wish to be unsympathetic and was far from ignoring the fact of her shabby existence in various bedsits, there was nothing much I could do for her whilst I was living like a Tramp: I had never really adjusted to the fact of the manner of my parents' divorce and found my Stepfather's presence more disturbing and deranging than anyone cared to admit.
You would be likely to think in such circumstances that I would have rapidly been proffered an extremely humble apology at the very least, you surely wouldn't imagine that I would ever have had any subsequent difficulty getting educational grants and so on either. Not even when Bernadette was disinherited by her then deceased husband's Mother whose logical heir she then was, apparently because of these at least partly justified suspicions about advice he had been given which involved the Police in an investigation of the nursing home where her money went did I even receive a tacit acknowledgement that it was a fact that no-one had done as I had advised because Mother's husband wasn't having any crap from any smartass kid and no-one had either the resources to socialise somewhere other than his house or the necessary physical presence to shut him up. The circumstances of these events can quite fairly be said to have contributed to the events described in the Article on the homepage entitled 'The Truth About the Chinook Crash,' and of course renders the matter(s) described' in 'The MP and his Mental Health,' even more nauseatingly outrageous, and in a nation with such an elevated self image, simply incredible and utterly unbelievable than they actually are. My Aunt Bernadette was told (as far as I know) that it was her Husband's own fault (he married her on his deathbed) that he died because he had been nosing into Mr and Mrs Taylor's affairs which as it happens was as a matter of fact hardly something he had gone out of his way to do and may have attracted the attention of others less disinterested than myself in any information as to whether everything was always above board as regards the fact that their livelihood came from the local Docks: in any case it does not alter the fact that Mr Taylor is clearly guilty of manslaughter whatever the extenuating circumstances might be or some legal definition of unlawful killing that comes very close to such by virtue of the fact that he violently silenced scientific observations about the health of guests in my Mother's house.
There is a lot I could say here which could fairly be said to be relevant to the nature of this essay/article but suffice it to say that the general point is that my Mother had a husband who was in many respects simply hostile to the fact of my existence and saw to it that she was unable if she ever had much of a genuine inclination, to provide the sort of investment in my future that was readily available to his sons: my best guess is that she probably did but was unwilling to indulge in the unpleasantness and possible consequences that this would obviously necessarily entail. That this had a deleterious impact on my long term affairs is also fairly unquestionable: I lacked guile and was in some ways (but not in others) more naive than you might expect at little more than School leaving age. East Suffolk is a quite different kettle of fish, much more regressive in character than central London, Dublin, Tyneside or Glasgow to name few examples. I had acquired for a child what was top level ability, often consuming the equivalent of several novels in a week at the age of about seven or eight and had many times the perceptive and literary ability of many if not most of the adults that I came into contact with but my life experiences had left me very ill prepared for the kind of existence I would be forced to lead. I had little suspicion for example that my miserable existence was envied by any of the previous generation to the extent that any aspect of it might be subject to any sort of injurious intrigue or jealousy and there are no directions in any Enid Blyton books about how to deal with characters like shabby lawyers, violent teachers or abusive parents or indeed as to how someone who had acquired much in the way of education and was enduring a lot of nakedly hypocritical rhetoric should learn to live like a Rat in a dirty, decaying and indefensible building on the grimy corner of one of Europe's largest sink estates.
It was many years before I was fully able to assess the extent to which my Father had sought to burden my already virtually intolerable existence by purveying my dispirited vitality as a commodity with which to lighten the burden of making social security claims and enrich his existence whilst I was supposed to be studying 'O' levels which are termed GCSE's nowadays. I really didn't need a pimply middle aged, overweight Magistress's daughter nosing her way into my life and trying to talk to me about sex, insofar as I might have had any real prospects of how you say 'making good in life,' at that age with all the difficulties I already faced, her presence in it was arguably the straw that broke the Camel's back: as a matter of fact I was in my late twenties before I really even found the spiritual strength, perhaps that's not quite the right phrase but it will do, to consider these matters at all, and had not deliberately forgotten (that would imply more voluntary thought than it actually required), but had certainly omitted to remember that I had amongst other things been beaten by my Father in a suggestive sexual manner in order to improve the degree of hospitality which he was expecting, or that he had tried to get all the step relatives involved in sexy games as she had a daughter some several years my junior. I don't mention this as some sort of attempt to sling muck for the sake of doing so but rather to explain some of my motivation and in particular the extreme disdain I have in fact evidenced for the general tone of remarks addressed to myself by Crown officials who have been ludicrously selective in deciding what sort of malefactions to pursue in supposedly preserving order. At the age of six I was supposed literally overnight to have inexplicably become an unconscientious vandal on virtually the first occasion I tried to make my way home from shool alone; which matter should have been blamed on my Father as he was supposed to be competent to look after me and despite suffering what I have partly detailed here in my late teens it somewhow mystifyingly became the case that I was supposedly the sort of person of whom it could reasonably expected would be setting a good example for others and working hard for the Tory goverment, which was a preposterous demand to make on someone who had laboured illegally in the conditions I had amongst many other matters of relevant significance.
It is true that toward the end of my stay in the Cormack's household, that I did happen to be the particular child from it who took advantage of a three week stay with a French family as a sort of return visit from someone who stayed over once in a summer school, but to say that I really lacked the resources to take advantage of this would be a massive understatement which can only serve to emphasise that Ms Cormack was foolish to have sought to make anything more pauperising than it already was, out of the School existence that I was being forced to lead. I only had one change of clothes and about enough money for a single evening out in addition to which I wasn't even studying French and ended up getting rather embarrassed by the situation but that's life I suppose isn't it. I have to admit that looking back it really was a quite fantastical break, even without the money for odds and ends as Jean and his family were generous with their hospitality in Paris and in the French Alps. For the three weeks I was with them I had eaten well, was comparatively happy as I had perhaps never been previously, it would be a many years before I would manage to acquire anything like their level of domestic comfort, on any basis, even temporarily, decades in fact. One particularly interesting perspective on this was that Jean was a very large man for a fifteen year old boy, he was in fact of approximately the same general size and shape as Herr Heinkel (a heavyweight of around six feet in height) which was an interesting fact in view of the need for someone of that description in dealing with said learned refugee, and it did come to pass whilst realising that we both shared a sincere detestation of Nazi revisionists, that the fact of him being large enough to simply lump the Kraut was discussed meanimgfully on many occasions insofar as it was a point which obviously inescapably arose: it is also the case that he was fully aware of Ms Cormack's designs on my virginity and was of some significant assistance in seeking to defeat them as were his excellent and honourable family insofar as I was obviously more upset by her attentions than had already with some difficulty been disguised insofar as he had to admit that he didn't want to sleep with her either he couldn't really blame me for my personal distaste with it.
The other factor complicating my existence at this time was the fact of having become acquainted with members of the defeated Labour Party some few Months prior to the General Election Victory of Margaret Thatcher in '79 and of having been involved with the Labour Movement for a time. I suppose the main reason why this happened was that I simply had nowhere to go in the evenings and compared to the usual sorts of peer group activity that one might expect someone in their mid teens to indulge in I found being treated as an adult and not talked down to quite a refreshing change from the continual assaults and unpleasantries which I had been subjected to by almost everyone in my Secondary School including as I have emphasised the Head of Year Mr Heinkel. There was also the question of the quantities of Beer with which I was plied not by just political hopefuls: some of the 'comrades' were genuinely altruistic, intelligent, sensitive individuals who were far from entirely undisturbed at my pitiful appearance and complete lack of wherewithal of any sort, (not that these sorts of conditions were or indeed are completely unheard of) and some of course, are black hearted and self seeking. It's the same of course with the established Church with which I have also been involved, there are good and bad in all walks of life; my paternal Grandparents were (if I am to believe what I am told) stalwarts of the Tory Party and Church of England if relatively unassuming by birth and education and insofar as I had learned an ideology that was recognisably my own it was embodied in these sorts of symbols of Britishness. It's probably also worth repeating in making this particular assessment that Ipswich lacks things like a Cathedral or University which can often provide character and direction in large urban centres. Insofar as One thought in such terms at this formative age I was unfortunately unable to take advantage of the society of persons of my own social class literally none of whom had anything like my own very singular set of circumstances and it is hardly possible for teenagers to escape the influence of peer groups entirely even if it is not sought or even avoided deliberately, especially not those with any such combination of domestic/social circumstances. Having not had Religion forced on me at all for example since my Grandparents died, it was easier for me to indulge in flirting now and then with Anglicanism which happened in a modest way just before I left Secondary School for 6th form: this may well have occurred because I did have a fairly conscientious and competent RE teacher but there is also the fact that the Church at that point didn't run after School drinking sessions.
You will recall that I commenced this essay with the aim in mind of giving a good account of why I don't have a significant (official) work record and in this respect my involvement in the Labour movement was certainly a significant influence. People who have had no involvement in such things howsoever wittingly or willingly, might not readily understand the sorts of pressures and influences that the individual is placed under in such situations, we are after all governed by professional politicians (or at least so it might seem), most of whom have been involved with their respective groupings since at least their teens or early twenties (William Hague is a striking example). I have come to believe this is a bad thing as the possibility of getting directly elected to high Office depends not on having good ideas, being the right person in the right place at the right time but on having longstanding connections with and within the political system as well as an intimate knowledge of it. In other words the world of politics is in many ways a closed shop though the advent of the World Wide Web is rapidly changing the nature of the game it remains the case that the political parties are two sides of the same coin and spend just as much time conniving at the expense of media manipulated taxpayers than they do competing to promote different policies. In almost any other walk of life I can think, of people who change their opinions so readily and regularly, and are so routinely scheming and manipulative would be condemned as criminally insane. Anyhow to be blunt, the politically emasculated Labour Party of 1980-3 did not encourage people to wholeheartedly work for the regime or for anybody much except themselves for that matter when it comes down to it: which sort of fairly cheap and out of date idealogical populism you may or may not regard as an ordinary occupational hazard of everyday life but the point is that they had inflamed such tensions as existed and were rather more preocupied with preofessional agitation and looking for career advantages for themselves than they had any real constructive interest in myself or so the passing of time would indicate.
I have arrived at the opinion that the serious involvement of persons in politics who are not even old enough to vote is in many cases a bad thing and I say this principally not just because involvement with the Labour Party was obviously a salient reason I was refused a meaningful access of Further and Higher Education as well as the right to a defence in Court: but also because someone who had become a good friend of mine ended up committing suicide a brief few years after we got involved and he was to be but the first of many who could arguably with some justification blame local politicians for encouraging them to lead failed alternative lifetsyles in a downward spiral of mental ill health, drug addiction, broken relationships, joblessness and all the rest of it. That this has proved to be a complete waste of time as the present government now mirrors the Thatcherist policy it once vehemently opposed has not escaped the attention of a large audience. Many people would obviously like to blame the fact that we had both been introduced to pot smoking and underage drinking as a result of hanging around with members of the present Government for what might be termed (in general terms) underachievement though to date I haven't noticed any of the employees of the local mental hospital who also sit on the Borough Council or have connections with the local Labour Party daring the wrath of the powerful by pointing out that their self seeking antics have obviously arguably contributed to many such cases of which Conrad Payne was just one striking example: he finally succeeded in killing himself by slitting his own throat and leaping from the tenament building in which he had been housed. Even the best adjusted 15-16 year old's it has to be said are highly impressionable compared to adults, and in retrospect (which is of course an easy vantage point from which to make statements) I personally think that he should have been told to go and get on with the appallingly badly paid job in a Newsagents that he had, and not to worry about making a Revolution or getting someone else elected to a potentially lucrative position in order to facilitate the enactment of policies which have all been predictably dropped. It is boringly predictable that the last Labour MP (deceased Oct 20001) should have engineered the dismissal of the previous Labour MP on the grounds that he had not campaigned on a genuinely Socialist manifesto which it was said would have won the election, and then made full use of a more right wing manifesto than that in order to win the seat for himself and fully makes the point that we are governed by spin, deceit and propaganda and that it is an unedifying trait which needs to be confronted at the highest level if our nation's 21st century image isn't to become little more than a laughing stock puppet of the USA which is quite well looked after.
I may have been partly guilty of allowing myself to be led, but I was hardly likely to start telling several prospective parliamentary candidates and a host of Councillors that their comments about sending the Tories to work in the Siberian Salt Mines or getting them disposed of by the IRA were perhaps irresponsible: I have eg no doubt that the young Conservatives make similar tasteless jokes about their social and political enemies. It might seem unkind but it is true that some of the things which we had arguably both lost worthwhile career prospects campaigning for (if anyone can be said to have prospects worth having) eg: the maintenance of benefits for 16-18 year olds; nuclear disarmament which was popular in the early '80s; high income tax policy; linking of welfare benefits to the average wage (rather than the rate of inflation) all went out of the window. I don't wish to indulge in any great investigation of this here and now, the matter is probably worth an essay all of it's own but suffice it to say that I was encouraged not to work for the Thatcher administration in no uncertain terms and that this is rather a failing of more senior people than I with a more real involvement in politics than it is an illustration of some great character defect of my own.
Anyhow, by the age of seventeen or so I had lost interest in the squabbling over the power vacuum at the top of the Labour party. I can remember that I must have been getting on for eighteen because I definitely wasn't involved at all by my eighteenth birthday which I can remember quite well because I spent it alone vomiting on a mixture of alcohol and cheap drugs on the floor of Conrad's bedsit who later so gruesomely committed suicide. I had endured circumstances, events and individuals in my school years that would have broken the sanity of many and in the short term I needed a less demanding and a more sustaining set of life experiences than I was going to get pursuing a doomed political career the idea of which was a nasty joke for someone in my position really. Such an ambition was at that point in my life an obvious and completely ludicrous waste of time in view of the fact of my having zero resources and the need for an immediate and more practical life strategy: I should hesitate to say as to whether or not I have ever gotten very far in devising one. Aside from a growing lack of interest in such matters on the basis that I was not equipped to deal with them and that local Labour politicians were ignored by anyone with real influence; there was for example the fact that accommodation owned by the Party that had formed part of it's patronage went to others who were better off and had no need for any kind of special arrangement including the German/Irish son of a very wealthy businesman by the name of Christopher Schonbeck whose Father did as it happens fight for the British during WW2 though it seems difficult to believe given the amount of Hitlerite oaths that Junior intermittently spits out. Interestingly enough he tells me his family was among those who had his London business vandalised by the mob and that some of them are embarrassed by their unbritishness in the same way as the Windsor (Saxe Coburg-Gothe) family which is a fairly interesting psychological conundrum insofar as we hear so much about how marginalised the ethnic descendants of ex-colonials feel as British citizens. I believe roughly what he has told me to the effect that he has relatives involved with the British movement (a cousin), it is fairly easy to tell that some serious racism is in his family on the basis of phrenological evidence alone and I wouldn't mind betting that certain of the Labour Council who had offered him their accommodation had sought to enmesh many of their black voters in headaches thereby, after promising anything and everything to the large local ethnic minorities for short term electoral purposes. Anyhow the point is that his son is quite notorious locally among people of my age, had already enjoyed a very expensive education and as far as I know at the time had a fantastic home to go to, rapidly became an antisocial nuisance in later life and could possibly be the individual responsible for the allegations about the Suffolk College having received threats of violence from me insofar as they seemed to be indulging in some sort of exchange with someone, especially on the part of those College Lecturers who know perfectly well that it if anyone threatened anyone (an allegation they should be required to substantiate) it was not myself: the matter is dealt with more fulsomely on other documents on my website about the Jason Mitchell affair. Despite the fact that he has a significant record of violence and drug addiction he has never been subject to any sort of interdict on their part that I know of for all their shabby pretence of being concerned about students who might represent a "danger to staff," despite having plenty of form for gratuitous violence and is contemptuous of those who expect him to be sorry that society has to support him with generous medical pensions of one sort or another on grounds of his condition whilst waiting for his wealthy family to start departing the mortal coil. As to whether or not any of this comparatively amazing good fortune is due to the fact of his Father reputedly being a friend of an odd senior Policeman or two himself I canot say. What simply astounds me is not the fact that this happens and I have plenty of reasons for remaining objective about the fact it does insofar as I feel myself an increasingly disinterested party to the affairs of the nation, is the extent to which it is possible to find people with serious and virtually critical handicaps being asked to exist on considerably less than he manages to acquire as the result of being forced to make official obeisances to the reasoning behind our drug laws and confess that he is or has been an addict. Obviously a lot of this sort of thing stems from the 'Mother Goose' attitude of our state within a Monarchy presided over by a diminishing Matron but it is difficult to be objective about this sort of thing as eg at the moment I subsist in inferior accommodation on about 1/3 of the money that this already privileged individual does, am in a markedly inferior condition as a result and have never had the opportunity to acquire comfortable rest and relaxation, have always been unable to consider the question of enjoying any luxury and aside from any consideration of the fact that maintaining such failities on the basis of and in response to drug addiction is arguably a character defect for which Prison might be a more appropriate remedy than some kind of unfortunately acquired ailment on the part of an unfortunate sufferer I cannot comment much further beyond pointing out that the Drink industry has many friends in high places who have helped shape legislation over the last twenty years which promotes the suggestion that alcohol dependance is somehow good and that other forms of substance dependance are bad. It is an interesting and relevant statistic for those with even a vague interest in such matters that it has been reliably calculated that the NHS spends ten times as much money treating alcoholism as all other forms of drug abuse combined and that, is aside from all the other social problems and expenses which stem from the fact that our history, society and personal behaviour are closely linked to the habit of drinking alcohol like the mess on the Streets at weekends and the overflowing casualty wards all of which cost resources to put right.
I spent the time in between mid '81 and late '83 in relishing my freedom, living rough and enjoying what interesting society there was available, which was quite considerable in many ways as with the Thatcher administration the children of 'substantial' families were much more keen to take an interest in society. Nowadays all one can find in the town centre of an evening are gangs of drunken youths squaring up to one another, mass fights or car racing in the small hours is the only notable culture that young people have and there seems to be some sort of rule which necessitates that shockingly tasteless 'music' must be played at a sufficiently loud volume to prevent conversation and debate wherever young people congregate and whenever possible. Once it seems there were crowds of interesting and articulate persons to be found, though of course one does always tend to look back on one's younger days through rose tinted spectacles (excuse the garish plagiarised metaphor) and this is probably at least partly due to the fact of getting older though I cannot help but feel that it is also a very great deal to do with the fact that the Labour party cannot motivate the 'worthwhile' families for want of a better word to deliberately effect any unusual benign interference in the social status quo though this does change in proportion to the extent to which it is willing to become the Tory Party, which many including myself on the whole, argue that in many respects it is in all but name or at least One would be likely to think so given some of the quaint language the PM has been using just lately. The fact is of course that our so called democracy is nothing more than a corrupt Oligarchy and the only reason that established interests have given it (New Labour) media backing is because they know full well that they cannot get the Tories elected again by overt means. I'm afraid that the Labour Leadership is only altruistic whilst Media people are paying attention and whenever they are not these characters typically behave with wolfish self interest toward the comparatively helpless sections of the population that they are supposedly representing, and have in any case gotten the nation involved in the thorny Iraq question with a curious sort of enthusiasm. It was an inescapable conclusion from my point of view that New Labour had already cost me far more than I could afford to lose backing it several years before it even got into power, and nowadays I have to reluctantly confess that I am considerably more interested in the possibility of emigrating than I am in the idea of voting or reconciling myself to the senseless tyranny I have encountered for what remains of my miserable existence.
Anyhow to get back to the interesting stuff, (of course it's all interesting :)): my criminal record is in itself actually thoroughly unremarkable excepting only that for someone of my economic/social/familial background it is quite exemplary. Theoretically I'm not required to declare any of it to an Employer under the terms of the so called Rehabilitation of Offenders Act of 1974 (UK parliamentary legislation). In practice there are too many exemptions to this for the Act to be considered worthwhile and in real terms any Employer who is offering a Job involving something more responsible than shovelling shite is entitled to hear of any 'spent convictions.' Perhaps more relevant and interesting is the fact that there are a good deal of permanent bans on a huge list of all the best jobs for having ever had any sort of criminal record. So the lack of a full, legitimate history of constructive endeavour is in fact partly due to the fact that I had been banned from almost every responsible position one can think of before I had even assumed full legal responsibility for myself or was able to vote. I really hadn't even had time to evaluate my own position in society after a difficult family history for which my Father was principally to blame before that position was permanently destroyed by a combination of circumstances which involved the local Constabulary and have never ceased to complain that in general that is a mistake of theirs, and have never personally been afraid of the suggestion that it all ought to be properly explained to any sort of impartial audience. That it was glaringly obvious that this was the case and that I hadn't really managed to get even half an ear trained on such serious matters regarding my future, and that I have always denied any suggestion that complaints about my own behaviour would be verified if they were investigated properly whilst this sort of judgement was rushed through, was merely the first significant piece of revenge that I would enjoy as the evolving tale of injustice was going to reach the ears of more and more, angry embarrassed taxpayers and the merely righteously indignant as the years went on. If I were seeking to conceal something in particular which I'm not, or if I had something in particular to hide which I don't, I would be far more likely to put my faith in the Government's predictably very great capacity for incompetence than in a necessity for any sleight as a means to prolong some undeserved iota of reputation or status. As I cannot offhand think of a particular worthwhile legal right or civil liberty which has not been violated or treated with contempt I can argue cogently that I no longer have such a thing to lose in any case. I can still borrow books from the Library and get into one or two Borough Council (local government) facilities though it seems that this won't last. What usually happens in such cases is that the victim is allowed to rot away in some dank sub standard accommodation on subsistence welfare (if they're lucky), if only because they're a smelly nuisance begging on the streets and annoying the tourists.
As part and parcel of putting the blame for the problem of a lack of order, and/or respect for the law back where it belongs, i.e. with those who are paid large salaries for maintaining it and those who otherwise enjoy the prosperity that it brings, may I remind the reader of the vulnerability of the average late adolescent to peer pressure which modern research suggests is even more important in terms of child psychology than has always been assumed. I didn't get involved with crime or anything of the sort but almost the only person in my class at Copleston High who was good enough to share any society with me shall we say, was the son of a onetime professional thief who once persuaded me to steal a Bicycle which I hasten to add wasn't kept: the point is that a huge amount of this sort of thing seemed to be going on in that Secondary School. Much of my time in morning registration was spent being regaled with tales of daring thefts, resprays, number filing and immense profit all pretty much with the knowledge of Teachers though I would like to know more about their workloads and responsibilities before making comment about what they should or should not do in such circumstances. You understand this is not a confession but rather an accusation, that I had to be part of a standard peer group in some way, could not refuse to run the gauntlet of malicious assaults involved in going to School and had to exhibit what was more normative, understandable behaviour often advancing (insofar as I was beginning to think in such terms) my Irish Uncle's voice rather than my Father's insofar as individuals in the same class often want to know what their parents do and so on and finding it easier to get by as a result insoafar as he was firstly getting up and working for a living in the building trade which is an immediately strikingly useful thing to be doing insofar as people were discussing their familial roles and secondly in that his voice was not circulating brazen ultraliberal propaganda which my Father's obviously was and, equally obviously, eliciting a poisonous response.
I couldn't fight the situation though it has occasionally occurred to me that if I had hurled a half brick at Herr Heinkel during one of the outrageous diatribes that punctuated his appearances in class that it would have probably saved a good deal of trouble having to spend years pointing out that the account he must have imparted of my character and actions onto official records could be easily and simply discredited, and that I would not have suffered from a lot of the advantage taking I have endured in later years on the part of other authority figures who have only sought to profit from any overtly constructive or optimistic behaviour I may ever have evidenced. I couldn't hide from it had nowhere else to go in any case, and so when necessary to a certain extent I did as others did and sensibly enough tried to avoid standing out from the crowd in allowing myself to be persuaded to steal a Bicycle and demonstrate some 'cahonas.' The most interesting inference I can make of this is that my Father's third Wife the Magistress's daughter knew of it and found it a useful red herring insofar as I had sought to convey that her interest in myself was most unwelcome, that I didn't like being wound up into a frenzy by her naive daughter every night, that I didn't want her sleeping on it or me in any sense, and moreover that I found it nauseating and disturbing that she followed me around ogling me in tight Cricket trousers and so on even after it had been officially conveyed to her (as I presumed it must have been to some extent) that her interest was unwelcome and in principle illegal. Of course we are supposed to have all sorts of paper rights with regard to accessing such information and besides the fact that most of them will prove worthless without the money to pay Lawyers to effectively look into such legalistic matters, I will still have no reason to consider that such record keeping has ever been anything more than a matter of fictional convenience for short termist governmental inadequacy: to put it simply, people whose brains have been mashed by years of abuse, neglect and violence may have more difficulty than One can easily consider in eliciting worthwhile facts from piles of records and smarmy courthouse officials.
The fact is I'm certain almost all of my contemporaries and ex classmates would agree with my finding of this particular fault, not that it isn't immediately quite obvious to anyone with the benefit of hindsight and even a passing familiarity with any of the persons involved, and am sure they will all be shocked to hear that I have been treated with other than sincere respect by the local legal establishment in view of all the above circumstances and not in the least because of the tax burdens anyone may have shouldered whilst all this has been going on. I resented it very deeply that my Father and this Woman were treated with any respect or credibility as they deserved none and their attempt to contrive anything like a family was so shabby and obviously doomed from the word go. The law said that I was to be free of this kind of harassment and I was beaten for seeking to distance myself from it with the knowledge and complicity of all supervisory authorities. My Father in view of the fact that his own self image was too far removed from what others thought of him should not have been considered responsible or sane enough to have anything to do with parenting if at all possible. Some people have to make serious sacrifices to send their children to School and the antics of such characters as my Father and Mrs Cormack were a serious social nuisance to those who might have valued what the state had to offer in the way of education back in the late seventies: they should not have gotten the aura of respectability that they did from the 'authorities' who had to comment on their marital and familial difficulties as all they did was very little more than spend the days trying to get into their respective offspring's knickers and society has arguably hardly started counting the cost. The erstwhile Mrs Cormacks' three oldest children will recall a particular savage and brutal attack on a camping holiday that went predictably wrong and left me with chunks of hair missing severe bruising and an eye so badly blackened that it took weeks to disappear. I would also wager a good deal of money on the suggestion that they would find her guilty of paedophilic behaviour (being the good honest middle class children that they are, or were) as the sole, real apparent motive for this attack was that I would not show her my genitalia which was apparently likely to have kept him in her good books and financial favour: rather than the caustic comment of mine about his practical acumen with camping gear which it was feigned had sparked off that particular piece of peevish malice and that the incident was more of a drunken rape attempt than anything else.
Insofar as it somehow became fashionable to make these observations in the eighties it is worth pointing out that she was hardly a boon to the nation having spent time between Private? School and waiting for Mummy to kick the bucket and leave her the valuable property at the top of Anglesea Road Hill by sprogging several children by different Fathers and collecting a fresh deed of title via the concomitant Social Security payments to add to the Family's collection of odds and ends. This includes things rightfully mine I believe such as a collection of miniature medieval cavalry figurines which I have recalled only in 2004 are missing among items I should have from the Cormack marriage, indeed as I remember it the only item of any significant value at all that I owned at the time. You understand that all I had ever said was that I did not wish to be involved in my Father's intrigues or any of his plans for household management, the experience left me dreadfully embarrassed and distraught. Once I had escaped it I did not think about it or them, insofar as the human mind does not deliberately tend to recall that which which it detests or cannot abide for whatever reason and I trust in elaborating this I have made it quite clear that I find it sinister and malicious that within a few years I should have been officially censured so emphatically for very little more than peaceably minding my own business especially when you consider what had just been overlooked for apparent mere convenience.
My purpose in mentioning these things here and now is to emphasise the extent to which I was a victim of Secondary Education rather than a fortunate recipient and to make a comment something along the lines of saying that if the present government has such huge funds available for it's all too often glaringly badly thought out Employment Programmes, which have included abortive attempts to reintroduce forced labour, mandatory recording of spare time spent and much else via the back door as they say, that they really should have a little time to consider such things properly and ought not to refuse meaningful legal rights for no apparent reason. This is with an especial view to rejecting the notion that I should ever have been asked to set any sort of example for others under the impossible set of circumstances which I was presented with and that a comprehensive official apology is long overdue for the campaign of hate to which I was subjected as Education and the thoroughly shabby attempts firstly to pretend that worthwhile help was available for someone who had a 'problem parent,' and secondly for the attempt to convince me that I was somehow personally to blame for a contemporary crisis of law and order in the evolving post industrial society. At a more mundane level that it could be said that if Teachers do not keep order in Schools it is a fairly specious expectation that conscientious behaviour will somehow spontaneously evolve among children of that age to say nothing of it also being ludicrous and ignoble unless an unusually high proportion of them are from better families and neighbourhoods which in this case they did not seem to be: for whatever reason I was severely disturbed and alienated by what I had experienced.
Whilst my 6th form career was sliding down the pan I was caught taking a pint of milk off a doorstep early one morning on the way to my Saturday Job of which we shall hear more anon. Naturally enough I have sought to portray the event as more of a prank than a serious attempt to enrich myself by illegal means: I had been wandering the street all night with the friend who later committed suicide and we were both in fact cautioned, which was to be a final warning of criminal prosecution in my case. It was perhaps 15 months later, after the termination of my 6th form career that I wandered out of an up Market Department Store in the town centre during a hectic pre Christmas weekend having neglected to pay for a paper knife valued at some £2 after a lunchtime of some very serious drinking. This perhaps isn't quite as innocent as it sounds though I was hardly sober enough to be able to fairly say whether or not what I had done could in any fair sense be called deliberate, I don't suppose it really can. I had been drinking with some relatively new 'friends,' who had hardly had time to appreciate the appalling if not entirely uninteresting stories I had to recount of what life was like in certain northern districts. You understand that these were people (young people) from solid families and some, from fee paying Schools with whom I had become acquainted whilst I was sixth former, rather than the sort of run of the mill characters from dank housing estates whose support the Labour party tended to rely on and are the sort of people I haven't seen for years as it happens.
It was an interesting if a rather sad incident insofar as everyone had been drinking excessively and the boredom elicited by my stories of those who are doomed to life on northern housing estates only had the effect on this drunken crowd of teenagers of making them want to play at shoplifting, for a laugh as they say. None of them had any need to steal anything and I would hardly have followed suit which I can only barely remember and risk a criminal record for an object scarcely worth the price of a drink unless I had been as thoroughly drunk and incapable as I was. I subsequently learned that my Mother and her husband kept a large expense account at the up market department store in question. You understand that this was the sort of situation where a few words from an expense account holder to perhaps point out a few of these (circumstances) perhaps even offering to pay for the things which had been 'abstracted' from the stores shelves might have gone a long way toward blunting any particular enthusiasm the Manager or Police may have had for prosecution especially in my case as I had arguably done little more than merely follow a group of well dressed youths and girls who had been heard to plan a petty crime or two whilst inebriated and had myself neglected to pay for a single odd trifle as a result: it might have been a good idea anyway if One was deliberately thinking of trying to cultivate such 'up market' company. I never really thought much about social climbing and so on, at the time I did tend to hang around in visible places I suppose, but that was hardly a matter of choice and I didn't consciously think of trying to cultivate company of any particular kind beyond the usual obvious everyday value judgements which are largely subconscious. It was the fact that I had no resources and nowhere to live that had ever led me to be a visible character on the streets of a comparatively small Town leading a social rather than an overtly constructive existence rather than because I thought about trying to meet certain kinds of people, or particularly enjoyed going out and there was the fact that no-one I knew at the Council had said anything about getting a Council flat for myself for whatever reason and were really more interested in furthering their own careers than in conscientiously discharging responsibilities they already had. One doesn't have to have money to be bourgeois or middle or upper class or whatever term you might use and equally, having money doesn't necessarily mean that one is not working class. It is obviously true that I was and am a good deal happier with the identities and roles that people had tended to ascribe to me as the child of a onetime higher professional than the average contemporary. All of which is to say quite interestingly that whilst I have barely if ever attained the income of even my working class Irish relatives and can probably be said fairly to have some element of every social class in my personality (don't we all ) can make out a fairly convincing claim to have been born into a modern day Patrician Class or Intelligentsia by virtue of the fact that my Father had attained senior administrative position or at least to be more associated with the this sort of group in terms of identity in general as a result of this than with any other: no-one however can manage wthout any money at all. Whilst thankfully some of the more unwholesome symptoms of the fact of social class such as the sealing up of working class people in the belly of the Titanic are dramatically in decline and in considering that it is better to foster a more comprehensive self respecting moral philosophy I believe in general that we have to categorise ourselves as individuals, and that even if there were no point at all in doing so we would be likely to find it an intrinsic and ineluctable part of our species behavioural personality. Sociology textbooks say that technically I am lower upper class but I have to confess I have grown contemptuous of compliments about my politeness and understanding of propriety and etiquette over the years as I am afraid they don't satisfy the Landlords of England or keep out the cold and hunger: hopefully one day I will get around to presenting a decent sized essay on the subject.
The truth was that I had never asked my Mother or her family for any helpful investment with any sort of energetic or plaintive insistence as One might expect of a needy Son worth investing in, due to the fact that it would probably be a waste of time trying to fake a friendly happy semblance of zombie like complicity with her husband's pithy insincere aphorisms: I didn't feel like begging, not even from relatives and she/they had teased me about the demise of my 6th form career saying that she and her Husband had 'seen to it' that it wasn't going to work out. This wasn't the kind of behaviour that had been imprinted on me while my Grandparents lived and he in particular (my paternal Grandfather) had always hammered it into me that what others might do for one wasn't worth as much as an instant's consideration and that good things are only ever the result of self help and self reliance. This I still believe very passionately though it has got me into trouble in some ways as I ignore a lot of what goes on around me as the result and have thus fallen prey to many pauperising schemes insofar as I could have ever been more prudently suspicious of the motives of others. Even today I don't benefit from much of the occasional charity my Mother bestows on me insofar as if she buys me some food it will all too often involve having to give her man a nice backback or her Sister getting involved in seeking to extract blood from some witless acquaintance who will eventually blame me for the ensuing chill, so just about all of what she gives me gets thrown out, left to rot or otherwise misused or wasted whilst I continue to demand that he/they should serve a prison sentence for what they have effected and look elsewhere for sustenance even when I cannot afford it and am almost literally starving. I really would be and would have been better off in many ways without it and whilst acknowledging there's no point in point in crying over spilt milk as they say the point is that there has never been any understanding of any sort between my Stepfather and myself, in contrast to many attempts to contrive such a seeming, and I have never digested a meal in his house without feeling nauseated or acquiring a thick ear in the process. I am after all a human being, I cannot and will never come to terms with the fact that he is a poisonous retard who simply physically took my Mother and was controlling her before she had personally given me the slightest hint that all was not well between herself and my Father, it simply does not compute and there's obviously something about it that I don't know; individuals simply cannot behave in such a manner and the suggestion that I am able to is about as ludicrous as trying to teach a Chimpanzee to write in Latin. I have since had to work out that my Mother was in fact an Irish Orphan when questioning myself why she doesn't fit into the norms and values of everyday life in middle England and that she perceived her only road to fortune was via marriage but it doesn't alter the fact that his behaviour is completely inexcusable or answer the question of as to how she and her Husband have managed to supplant the judicial process in quite the manner that they have, especially whilst they are still collecting their milk and honey from the Windsorian bandwagon.
My Mother's husband as I've said had always called me names, once it had dawned on him that he wasn't welcome to marry my Mother as far as I was concerned insofar as she was married to my Father at the time he took over; I found his accent and manner disturbing, alien and have often since thought that he must be cursed with some unusually stupid thought processes if he thought it appropriate to start acting like he owned her and could speak for her before she had even communicated the fact that she permanently wished to leave my Father to me which as it happens I am still waiting for. When my Father took me to the North in the latter part of 1969 it was on the understanding that my Mother would be following as she had to stay behind to manage the sale of the house, it wasn't until we were half way up the M1 that the truth emerged and I did not see her again for six months until she appeared with two boyfriends one of whom was a young businessman and local garage owner, the other being her present husband. She was obviously quite taken with the young Garage owner who was more in fact of about her own age though he had other plans for himself I could tell. The other person whom as I say she married within a few years, insisted on calling me "mate" an English word for buddy, even though we had never met and no-one tends to address acquaintances thus except as a joke or a completely meaningless pleasantry which was thoroughly inappropriate under the circumstances. Shortly after this unhappy reunion I discovered a wicked scar across my right palm which I have always imagined is something to do with some acid burn scars he has on his right forearm from an industrial accident though it could conceivably be something to do with my Uncle's missing finger. In general whenever I have sought to take advantage of what my Mother had legitimately acquired for herself and eg in staying at her house and benefiting from it's hospitality I have been overcome by poisonous unpleasantness of one sort or another. This is concomitant with the fact that he tries to treat me according to the life lessons he has learned as a dockside lout who seems to have been in some trouble in his youth (I don't know the details) and had to make a good show of being reformed. He seems to think everyone else is a potential shiftless crook in need of some discipline or moral direction and the fact is that I never needed the slightest scrap of advice from him, or anyone else for that matter, on the subject of what is good behaviour and what is not, especially not according to a British view of History: I really do think that my own knowledge of simple right and wrong, and my own appreciation of norms and values and of acceptable behaviour was at least almost always almost as unerringly perfect as any such understanding can be, or at least almost so, and I challenge every reader to find a better exposition on the subject of British etiquette than that which I put before you.
Now I don't know how much he knew of all these things at the time but I was as I say someone who had never been directly told that there was any problem with the still existing marriage of my parents and was therefore not ready to take any interest in my Mothers' boyfriends or my Fathers' girlfriends from any angle and desperately, desperately wanted to be rid of the Woman who had moved in as my Father's common law wife. I was unhappy about being with my Father, just the state of his oral hygiene was enough to deter anyone from any form of intimacy; my stepbrothers and I at the time, would be tied up and have smoke blown in our faces when eg we used to complain about he and his partner smoking heavily in a Car with secured windows. My one hope once all these unpleasant facts had irrevocably dawned was that I would be placed with my paternal Grandparents who had just been moved into a bungalow by my Aunt in defiance of my wishes, on the grounds that it would be,"easier for them to manage." I have often reflected that the truth was probably something more along the lines of making it easier for her to manage them, as she was to be the sole real benefactor of their Wills, though she had lived with them throughout her adult life and in many ways had gone to significant troubles on their account. I don't mean to infer any opinion about that decision or to suggest anything about it at all other than the fact that either my Father or his Sister could have been better prepared to deal with 'managing' their parent's retirement: he was dead within a year or two and she lasted until '75 as I have said.
Now I want to try and abbreviate as much as I can of other events between '81-'84 as this document is already of a much greater length than I had originally planned You may be wondering why so much of one's family history has crept into the narrative, well that should become plain if it is not already. The fact of my having fallen into my Father's care in quite the manner that I did, especially with regard to his mental state was a bigger tragedy for me than anyone cares to admit and a long unpleasant nightmare would begin.
I did nothing at all that was work, literally nothing in those years that I can recall, like many of that age I was among the homeless and unwanted and can remember thinking I would have been better off in a Boot Camp and would have quite happily volunteered for such a thing on grounds of long term health and fitness on various occasions if it had been available and time would show that my suspicions that I was right to be concerned about myself and my needs to this extent, not in the political careers of others or the emotional blackmail spun by the lackeys of the privileged to try and persuade the less fortunate to self sacrifice on behalf of the nation or Party and particularly with reference to the consequences of living long term on the streets or in sub standard accommodation. Most of the interesting company I had known in 1980-1 had disappeared by 1983 except the down and outs whose friends the local politicians liked to pose as: obviously I had a lot of acquaintances who went to London. Some made good as they say, mostly those who had significant family support in the matter of Education and things like Driving Licences etc, those who didn't are dead, living in psychiatric units or have ended up on the 'scrap heap' in one way or another: central Ipswich was more than enough for me to handle in any way for interest value as an indigent and an unwanted statistic. People tell me that before Margaret Thatcher they hadn't seen beggars on the street since the War and I really don't know to what extent that is true as I was only 15 when she came to power though the change was becoming apparent by the time that 16-18 year olds were disqualified from obtaining Income Support and it has been said that the increase in numbers of people of this age getting involved in some form of Religion is due to this.
I had during the course of 3-4 years of living rough, sleeping on floors in other peoples' houses and flats etc been fined on three separate occasions for possession of tiny amounts of Cannabis and once for a tiny amount of Amphetamine (speed) all of which combined was not worth £5. In contrast to what has been said in the document entitled 'The MP and his Mental Health,' I have never had any, experience of any form of Narcotic. I have seen Cocaine perhaps twice and Heroin on perhaps half a dozen occasions and have never 'taken,' any more than an average Drug Squad Officer would do in the course of examining and familiarising themselves with the odour and appearance of these prohibited substances. I have developed a healthy respect for and a personal policy of quite complete avoidance of the latter and those who use it especially in view of the fact that it has it has killed quite a few people I've known, many of them good people and not all of them weak willed.
I don't mind admitting that I have used Cannabis habitually, as a matter of record I certainly deny ever having offered to apologise for any of my 'drug crimes' or being anything other than outraged at such offical comments about my 'medicine,' especially in view of the fact that at least one medical diagnosis I had made would turn out to be catastrophically and fatally correct in three cases. Not that I would try to justify any form of smoking as healthy or acceptable and have only used any other form of stimulant or controlled substance on a mere few occasions since I was twenty: I have never gambled and don't drink except for the odd once in a blue moon exception to prove the rule or at least I haven't for something like a decade or more now. This 'attitude' as some might call it, is rather aimed at selective law enforcement here in the UK than an assertion that it is in any way clever or desirable to fool around with One's life and health and is not, eg a remark that I wouldn't respect such laws if I were visiting another country or trying to start a serious Job for example. In contrast to some of the misbegotten stories that people have circulated from various selfish and unwholesome motives I have never made any particular secret of this though it isn't the sort of thing that one tends to emphasise in certain quarters obviously. I would say that as much or approaching as much was true of a very substantial minority of people of my approximate age in the UK perhaps even a majority among younger groups or in more urban districts. I have never for example felt that I had to complain of side effects or take time off for any form of drug abuse, or seek any form of medical help or benefit for a drug induced complaint. Other than a few weeks in 2000 for stress associated with a corrective operation I had on my nose which was badly broken on Armistice Day 1986 when I was nearly murdered and never set properly. I have never been officially'on the sick' at all which remained true up to February 2002 and it is especially interesting that whilst numerous acquaintances I had made amongst contemporaries were whinging about drug addiction in their comfortable middle class lives during the eighties I was being chased around from one dirty, dangerous, illegal manual job to another and was unable to allow myself to decline into an unusable condition so to speak. When I was first brought before the Courts it was bitter memories of having to endure habitual assaults that made me especially furious at the 'attitude' I was getting for peacably minding my own business. I think it worth noting that the Court which accepted the fictitious plea issued by the Solicitor Anthony Smythe on my supposed behalf in 1985 would have been happier with what I wanted to say and would probably also have been happy to sign me off with stress whilst investigating properly who had stolen what, rather than enacting a pointless prosecution which left the supposedly guilty party, myself, wondering who had really stolen £2000 pounds worth of goods and as to how to effect some justice from the situation, I have absolutely no idea to this very day and moreover I have no idea why I am wondering why I have no idea!
It was late in '83 when I was forced to take shelter back at at the Council flat (that's public housing) that my Father had disengenuously acquired on my behalf by which time he had strangely reluctantly married a Large Thai woman he had met on one or two trips abroad that he'd managed to make since he had been very reluctantly working for an Assurance Company for about two years by then: which someone seemed to have decided would excuse him from any criticism about his doings. On November 26 he left with her saying that he'd be back in three weeks: I didn't see him again for eight years and I don't recall having missed him or having a single lucid word from him in that time. I didn't pay much attention to what was happening at that time relation to my Father's affairs and he probably got more attention from Cormack's elder Son Guy who stayed in the Council allotted Maisonette during the course of arguments with his Mother whilst I was roaming and sleeping rough. FJK and his Wife had been in trouble with the Law and I suppose Guy Cormack must have then surmised more of the truth about her than I. The fact was that she had been 'on the game' here, was obviously a professional Prostitute nearing the end of her working life and had probably had some official Thai assistance in getting her hooks stuck into FJK which might seem to have been fairly pointless, at least I'd been told it was. In answer to those from her homeland who have sought to portray herself and FJK as respectable and employable I have simply to say they were not, and that I had seen no change of behaviour when I visited them in Thailand from the time when she stabbed him during the course of his trying to perform infamies on her in the Council Maisonette where they spent much of their time playing with a fake phallus and trying to take an unwarranted interest in other peoples ears.
I did nothing in the following thirteen months and I don't have many reasons to recall the year as it was empty and depressing. I had read George Orwell's Novel about the year at the age of 13-14 perhaps earlier and can recall thinking when 1984 actually came round that life wasn't at all what I had imagined it would be, but the reality of my situation was, well it would be difficult to improve on the adjective 'Orwellian' for sheer aptness as to say Dickensian would probably be a little out of date. The Council flat my Father had rented was a very humble and hastily erected residence, a post-war prefabricated construction on top of three flights of foul smelling stairs with a black odorous communal rubbish chute. It was bulldozed within the last five years after much public complaint that the buildings (there were some fifty flats in three, triple storey blocks in a corner of a huge housing estate) were a breeding ground for Drugs, Prostitution etc, which was true: I believe they were supposed to have been demolished as temporary accommodation some thirty years before it was allotted to my Father.
You must have some appreciation having gotten this far of the motives I had for not having industriously looked for a Job that year: local Politicians had filled up my ears with what would prove 'tall stories' about what I could expect as a citizen and what was expected of me as a citizen (more about this later). I had been summarily disqualified from Higher Education probably at least partly as a result of keeping the company of overwhelmingly discredited Labour politicians who to date have done nothing for me and have only really sought to take or make an advantage rather than assist me with any of the real difficulties I faced: I had not found the nerve to even think about my family situation. The result of that was increasingly wanting to be alone and think about what had happened after several hectic years roaming around my hometown at all hours; I had no responsibilities like children, or a household, this would change though not really in the manner I had hoped. I had no means to invest in myself for something like a Driver's Licence which I still can't afford as the following century waxes; this may sound difficult to believe but it is true and I am rolling merrily on toward 40 years of age. If ever there was time during my life history that I was ever subject to the allegation that I was at all overwrought or otherwise incapable to an extent that was worth recording as a medical shortcoming it was during the period of my Father's third marriage when I basically told such Teachers as I had that were able to listen, insofar as I was inclined to express myself, that in general I was not able to deal with the poisonous domestic situation with which I was faced and that my life was a nightmare. I really did't want to draw sinister conclusions about my countrymen on the basis that this didn't happen despite the fact that I could not possibly be more obviously an innocent victim of circumstances and the actions of others, but by 1984 I had no choice at all but to arrive at the worst conclusions about human nature and so called fellowship: if you have examined any of the other documents on my homepage you will perhaps have noted that in 1993 by which time when I had painfully and laboriously acquired the makings of a household of my own, the establishment here had started lying about my health and cynically trying to discredit me from things, feigning to be helpful and seeking to blame some soft drug use for all the symptoms of abuse and neglect that had occurred before for example I had even learned what Cannabis smelled like: the only obvious motivation for this or so it seemed at the time was to avoid explaining the whereabouts of a number of my possessions.
It was difficult, very difficult indeed for someone who was once a small child who had at some point been taught to have the utmost in respect for his country, deference for his elders and honesty for his peers, to eventually conclude by that year that the Officers whose uniforms were supposed to have been the very icon of justice and virtue were little short of framing him with such a slur on his reputation in order to at least temporarily evade allegations of impropriety against themselves: but I need to turn back to the eighties to explain how this came to pass.
A friend or should I say an acquaintance I had made (Pip Wood) had let me have a Motorbike on credit a little while after my 17th birthday I think it was, a Honda CJ 250T (the one on my homepage) which I drove on a learner Licence for some months until it broke down. It wasn't that which had taken me off the Road but rather the fact that despite my being a good Rider I had never had the spare cash to take a test and the law on riding such machines was changed in 1982 by which time it had also developed a habit of snapping it's cam chain. When I took charge of the Honda 250 I had already owned an old 100 cc machine which I bought for £50 from the only person from my Secondary School I ever maintained contact with (whom I may have mentioned as the son of a onetime career criminal). This was a Yamaha YB 100 which was disastrously wrecked when I went over a badly (illegally in fact) maintained piece of highway in 1982 adding significantly to the scars that I already had on my left knee (the result of my Father's neglect): I managed to get £1000 from the County Council which I didn't get until mid '84.
It is some further measure of the extent to which I live(d) in relative poverty that I could not afford to get another until 1989 which was stolen within a year, necessitating the only Insurance claim I have ever made, I managed to replace that by about 1996 and it wouldn't be until the late nineties that I passed the current three stage Motorcycle test (it is an expensive business in the UK). It is worth noting that getting the Honda was a favour far in excess of anything that any of my relatives had done for me. It was from someone whom I hardly knew well at the time who merely felt sorry that I couldn't afford to replace the Yamaha, though he did own several motorcycles at the time and may have had a mind to try and enjoy some of the attractive young company that I hadn't quite lost by then. I don't say this by way of making vague or interesting conversation but rather of pointing out what a contrast this was with people who I was actually related to including my parents. My Father had no apparent interest in my affairs once his ability to claim social security on the basis he was my Guardian had expired and was busy enough trying to keep quiet about his parenting and making new friends thousands of miles away, all of whom were of course comparatively ignorant of the truth about him. My Mother's interest as I have been at some pains to allege/explain had been made into nothing more than a poisoned chalice by the Englishmen who had gotten hold of her. It is worth mentioning that the attitude which she and her Spouse displayed toward the fact that I had found anything worthwhile, interesting or likeable to do was one of jealous and angry hostility and that this had in turn evoked some indignation among the more enlightened company I had found. They were too unappreciative of any happiness I had found and rather than constructively trying to assist me with such things as investment in protective clothing and driving tests lost few opportunities to criticise the young motorcyclist as yet another wayward liberal for which it was difficult to discern a precise motive. It is a hard thing for anyone to conclude but the real tragedy is that I didn't realise how powerless, and it can probably be quite fairly said irresponsible she actually was, even now years after all these and other events, but I'm getting ahead of myself and need to explain further.
A curious thing had happened to the business affairs of the two gentlemen who had accompanied my Mother on her first visit to see me after her unannounced separation from my Father. I believe I've said that one was an ex hippie sort of character garage/property owner of whom I've heard it said that his Father made fortunes from wartime black marketeering. The other (whom she married) was Under Manager for a powerful company director of an American (Now Japanese) Shipping Company. Sometime in late '82 I think it was, this latter asked the former if he had someone available for a welding job in one of his warehouses and the following day it became apparent that one of the people detailed to the Job had left some embers burning and that some £2,000,000,000 of goods had been destroyed. Yes that's correct two billion pounds worth ! I believe this was the figure bandied about and remember that a pound is still worth a lot more than a dollar.
I don't suppose the dust had even begun to settle on this matter before my Mother decided to interfere in legal wrangling which began as a result of my Father's failure to return from Thailand though it wasn't something she had confided in me until she and her husband were already off the legal hook. I wasn't interested in the fact of his marriage to his Thai wife as I have said, and obviously didn't really want to know about it at all once she had appeared; he after all appeared stragely unenthusiastic as if she was blackmailing him and the only thing that stood in the way of such a conclusion was the obvious fact that he always feigned not to care about a conventional reputation. I don't mean to say that I had anything unusual against her, or against Prostitutes in general but rather that FJK was flogging a dead horse as far as gettng a favourable wind of circumstance from my direction was concerned and that it was at least deliberately rude and thoroughly stupid to have pretended otherwise. This in itself wasn't her fault as such and she wasn't necessarily to know the reasons why at the time though by and large she must have rapidly adduced the truth about FJK and that she had definitely made a bad choice if she was hoping for someone who might have been able to fulfil any ambitions: I have never for example heard anything about why it was that she wanted to marry him. I did subsequently some few years ago make some efforts to communicate with her to the effect that FJK was living in a World constructed largely (it seems) of his own imagining and there was no immediate understanding of any sort beyond the fact that she seemed to have wanted my Father as a means to wreak some change on her existence than for reasons of personal attractiveness. I assumed this must have been less than desirable for her to have gotten hitched up with someone like my Father who was 20 years older than her for example and had not the slightest common interest that I could discern. What happened was that some months into his three week stay my Father saw fit to state in one of his meandering missives, that I should take over the Flat and manage it in my name if I could; and by and large has over the years sought to ignore the fact that this was not something I would have been able to do for him in more than the short term even if he had been the best most respectable well financed person in the whole World and there are or were various reasons for that. Now obviously from a point of time seventeen years into the future or over half my lifetime ago now it isn't the easiest matter in the world to get all the details absolutely precisely correct in recalling the ins and outs of domestic matters but this really doesn't detract from the worthwhile point of acknowledging the particular truths involved and it isn't as if enough facts are not available with which to fashion some worthwhile conclusions. By and large she just wanted money and from what I have seen and learned about their relationship later in Thailand for example she and her son have appeared to be in the habit of just taking money from him: in return he was able to obtain regular access to child prostitutes without any great fuss being made which was definitely what he had always wanted, if the fact that this has always formed the bulk of his conversation and preoccupations is anything to go by.
What happened was that by the end of the summer of 1984 it was beginning to dawn on me that the 'Old Man' wasn't going to return in the foreseeable and that something was going to have to be done about the bills on the place and so on. One or two people had stayed for a few weeks during this time and thought better of arranging a longer stay; at one point a whole gang of Punks stayed once stayed over one weekend having gotten marooned after travelling up from London to see a Band. It has to be emphasised that this definitely was the last place anyone would choose to live, especially slap bang in the middle of the Thatcher era with deregulation, low taxation, Yuppies and mobile phones, anyone with the slightest scrap of youth, ambition and common sense was busy earning as much cash as possible and investing in shares and property. So I didn't begrudge a couple of people a free stay well one person had stayed for a week before he officially been diagnosed as having mental health problems not that this was the particular reason he didn't stay long, he had a thing for travelling and had let me have another 100 cc Yamaha quite cheaply of exactly the same model as that which had been wrecked on a country Road a couple of years previously. His name was Ian Davidson and I have been told though I couldn't vouch for the veracity of the information that his case of Schizophrenia has featured on a TV programme about interesting characters on the streets of London. He certainly was a fascinating character and I can well believe that he is probably well known on the Streets of London and is perhaps the only bourgeois dropout I know who has unquestionably lived up to his own moral philosophy and is (it is an interesting coment on modern life) without doubt about as close to being a real Saint as anyone I've personally known including all the Clergypersons. It got a nail in the tyre after about a week and was stolen from outside the flats three days later just as I as I acquired an aerosol inflater for it. Before September of '84 there was one other person who had stayed for a period of some three weeks before deciding that he didn't wish to remain and as I owed him £100 I haven't ever reminded him of the lesser amount that could possibly have been reckoned as outstanding: as a matter of fact he hasn't spoken to me at all since which may give you some idea of the horror with which those of my age who had any prospects viewed the circumstances with which I was personally confronted. The suggestion that I somehow owe my Father something becase I didn't fulfil his impromptu wishful thinking in his ludicrous optimism that someone might, manage a flat for him, if certain hypothetical circumstances were fulfilled is thoroughly dishonest and lacking the slightest scrap of credibility especially when you consider that it took (as I have alleged) various serious malversations on the part of the School authorities and others for him to have obtained jurisdiction over my paper housing rights at the age of 16-17.
It was late August or early September when it arose that another ex member of my Secondary School Peter Murray-Cowen (picture in Copleston School reunion section) needed a place to stay and I don't think it was as the result of much, discussion that it was decided that he would move in, on the basis that he would meet half the expenses of running the place. It seemed convenient, he was stuck for somewhere to stay and I was trying to 'arrange' taking over the responsibilities of managing my Father's flat; this was not however according to a conversation which took place between my Father and I though he has sought to persuade many otherwise since and from my point of view this was simply a 'de facto' reaction in which I had no option that could reasonably be described as a choice without money or transport, resources or personal property of any sort whatever barring the smelly rags in which I stood. What self possession remained to my Father then was of less than no value to me, since he was in the hands of someone of whom I have had no choice but to conclude was a scheming Asian criminal and in general terms he had simply been too much of a demanding problem in the recent past to have warranted any sympathetic consideration. Whatever the truth about his messages i.e. as to whether or not he had ever said specifically that I ought to do so and whether it was three, six or nine months into his three week stay, perhaps I shouldn't say I don't recall for certain, as if I do proffer such a piece of honesty it will be insanely seized upon as evidence of some personal flaw though I do recall for that he was thoroughly vague about his movements and doings and that he made no offer of any financial assistance in the matter and has not sought to pay the bills which were left outstanding on the place in his name, nor sought to raise the question before the proper authorities over many years, despite the fact that I sent him several hundred pounds in the following few years partly with an eye obviously to settling some of these little misunderstandings and the fact that a Trophy of his Father's went missing. Much could be debated about what was actually happening then. I might have been yougn and quick witted but was never anythign but sulphurous about the manner in which my official existence had developed and was amongst other things being told to conceal illegal earnings instead of pursuing a proper legal resolution and what is of the argument about the extent to which what I was subjected to constitutes assault and criminal conspiracy: I suppose the bulk of what I have to say therefore centres around this particular argument in the unfortunate context of too many establishment characters having quite frankly made too many serious mistakes for them to want to be honest about it without some form of authoritative persuasion.
Anyhow by the time December came round things were pretty rough, I hadn't paid off the outstanding bills, I hadn't been in a position to even if I'd had no reservations about settling what was not strictly speaking my affair. The phone had been cut off and screeching reminders were arriving in my Father's name. Peter Murray-Cowan the 'friend' from school was working part time as an army reservist and had stowed a collection of electronic musical equipment in the flat. By late December he had moved in to stay with his girlfriend leaving his property in it and the situation being critical I went round to see him a couple of days before I was due to receive my fortnightly welfare Cheque to tell him that he was going to have to put up at least £20 toward the cost of maintaining the thing in the immediate future whatever might transpire with the paperwork. A lengthy argument ensued which was witnessed by his girlfriend during the result of which was that he was only willing to put forward £10 instead of the 20 I had asked him for as an interim payment and didn't want to fight about it: which being in dire straits I had uncharacteristically offered to do. You understand that a lot of people give out various stories routinely about being poor or unfortunate in some way or other and whilst the £15 a week I was living on then, as a matter of fact it had probably gone up to abouty twenty by 1984, was probably the sort of equivalent sum that would have quite impressed an Asian beggar who for example might not have needed weatherproof accommodation to quite the same extent as dwellers in the northern hemisphere's temperate zone, by then it had been many years since I had been fed properly or seen a clean change of clothes and given the onset of a third or fourth winter sleeping fairly rough I was facing up to having to starve to keep a few essential utilities switched on insde the flat much as I didn't like being there and found the whole place thoroughly depressing.
I was a bit put out by that insofar as I hadn't asked him for much, considering that something like half of three months rent and expenses could fairly be said to be outstanding and a few days later driven by the exigencies of my situation and having noticed that he's put a couple of flimsy locks on the room he was occupying as a Bedroom, after some serious agonising I undid them and took a junction box for a Synthesiser from the collection of his musical Instruments (which I had actually helped him to move gratis), and went round to see someone who was a mutual acquaintance and fellow musician of his with the idea of pawning the item and having nothing much more in mind than stinging him into action and making a few bill payments. It is probably worth reiterating that this was something that happened between people who were living very much off the cuff and that it really wasn't a case of my going out of my way to be any kind of a nuisance if anything quite the reverse. Peter and his other friends many of whom had been, have and are still involved with neo fascist groupings within and without of the Conservative Party often stole from one another. He himself in fact had been involved in Burglaries and Extortion since the age of fourteen along with a now practising Solicitor by the name of Stuart Lucas who also had associations with the far right. It is probably also worth pointing out at this juncture the extent to which people are swayed by political and religious predilections (thought the two things are pretty much effectively the same in many ways in the UK's comparatively secular society), when assessing things like who to charge with what sort of crime. The last piece of gossip I heard was that PM-C had fled the Country after an embarrassing Court case in which he was found to have defrauded IBM or Microsoft on a Computer deal of some sort: I hope God will forgive me for professing the earnest hope that he finds himself in a stinking oriental jail sometime soon! (picture in School reunion section).
For example the local Town Council has been in the hands of the so called Reds for almost thirty years and they held the parliamentary seat during most of the Thatcher/Major era, but all that really gives them is the right to collect rubbish and so on. Parts of the County are reputed as the most right wing in England and no-one of any real influence is associated with the Labour party, a situation which may be the result of the fact that e.g. Suffolk is the only County in England without a City in it and whilst there may be a lot of agricultural and engineering workers who have traditionally formed the bulk of the local workforce and give the Reds their political supremacy in numerical terms within the Borough, the place is surrounded by villages full of aspiring Insurance Executives, well armed Farmers and suchlike: many of course also opine that in any case Britain or at least England is an awful class ridden society by nature. There is however a distinct lack of the high culture that one would typically expect of such an Urban centre such as Brighton which is smaller and has a Soccer team about three leagues below the Town but has an entirely different vibrant and Cosmopolitan character or so I'm told.
There is only one small Theatre in Ipswich which has been closed for much of the last decade due to lack of interest among the locals, one daily Newspaper which is typically crammed with announcements for Church Socials and Commendations for overweight Police Constables who have picked up sweet wrappers etcetera. It is certainly also worth mentioning the extent to which this gang of neo fascists had flourished under the watchful eye of Wolfgang Heinkel; another of the boys in my class at School was half German and had two brothers of whom one might say that they formed the nucleus of this group and of whom I would hesitate to say for sure what was the full extent of their involvement with questionable right wing groups which certainly existed to some extent. Obviously once it had got about that I was involved with the supposedly opposing brand of politics less interesting gossip regarding this sort of thing found it's way into my ears. In saying that they hadn't always been entirely cruel to me insofar as all nonconforming school pupils had that much in common so to speak, I don't mean to imply that anything less than a complete mistrust came to evolve within a few years though this may be more to do with the facts of my personal situation than with political ideology in general: doubtless most who knew of such questionable political involvements were quite innocent though interestingly enough such activity has incurred prosecutions within the last ten years. The vast majority of people I had known in Secondary School seemed concerned with being conventional and materialistic and consciously tended to ostracise those who were not to a certain extent, which may or may not be entirely imaginary on my part, or possibly attributable to the events and personalities of the time and place: it is certainly true that the teaching profession is under a certain amount of pressure to produce individuals who are compliant rather than questioning. I didn't really get to know any of the people I went to Secondary School with socially to speak of at all and I was in any case more preoccupied with the fact that Stuart Lucas for instance had made a particular habit of destroying my things if I tried to join in a game of Dungeons and Dragons or Wargaming, which was quite popular in the pre personal computer era and for which incidentally I've never had an apology. I should add that Mr Lucas is a large gangling bloke about 6ft 4ins in height with a mad glare, a huge purple birthmark on his face and was involved in habitual and professionally undertaken thefts of Bicycles and Motorcycles long before he either got in with the Tories, qualified as a Solicitor, or was granted permission to Practise: which is to reiterate that evading the constant threat of violence was pretty much all I had time for in Secondary School.
In any case to return to the narrative: this mutual musician acquaintance of mine and PMC's was able to tell me a bit about the Junction Box to the effect that he knew of PMC's collection of equipment including that the box was itself quite useless without it's corresponding Synthesiser. Now having spent quite a bit of time outlining the circumstances of these events and with the benefit of hindsight I surely don't need to restate that there are always two sides to a story and that it might be possible to put many different interpretations on the acts that followed, not that they seem to be in themselves the main cause or reason for the Legal enactments which would eventually ensue.
I allowed this person (Clive Rower) whom it is true I didn't know particularly well to persuade me to also give him the Synthesiser in question which had one broken key and which was estimated by him to be worth perhaps £70. I might not have been so trusting but there were a couple of people present whom I did trust broadly speaking. One of them was an innocuous and charming son of a bespectacled Teacher who was also called Peter and whose virtue and honesty were so blandly profound that anyone would have unthinkingly trusted him with their life as the result of a few moments casual conversation. I really didn't have the slightest inkling at the time that this might lead to any sort of legal difficulty, at worst I thought that I might have to repay him (PMC) £70 to regain or replace the Synthesiser if there was to be any serious threat of this but I didn't consider it a very real possibility. I really didn't view my role in these events and I still don't as hardly anything more than perhaps a little high handed at absolute worst; aside from the fact that such actions were fairly commonplace amongst this mobile and unsettled section of the workforce as I've said, there are a number of sufficiently weighty justifications for such peremptory actions not the least of which is the inefficiency and general ineffectiveness of the local Constabulary as a means to safeguard ones' belongings. As a matter of fact as I may have already mentioned, they had confiscated a valuable pair of boots from me in June of '83 it was said, on suspicion they had been used in a Burglary and twenty years later they are still refusing to even discuss their return whilst I am smirkingly being presented with obfuscations, changed subjects and deaf ears. It wasn't as if he (PMC) was a stranger with whom one had a purely business relationship he was someone I'd known for several years at School, someone I'd swapped books with and insofar as I had known anyone I did know him quite well and really didn't anticipate anything more than perhaps a few unusually serious words between people who were suppose to be friends and have an informal and amicable understanding based on mutual trust and esteem etc. I was aware that people were trying to say that I might have been skating on fairly thin ice as far as not looking for a Job and being indigent was of concern to the 'authorities' but didn't really consider that what I had heard to this effect was aimed at anything other than the failed Labour party dignitaries I had met insofar as I had given the matter any thought. The point is, that I have been illegally and shamefully deprived of the most basic characteristics of anything even remotely answering the description of meaningful political rights or civil liberties in my attempts to frame a defence to the charge of Burgling what was at least partly officially my own official residence. I had been encouraged by most of those who had been employed by the state to comment on the social, material and personal difficulties that my Father was responsible for in the then recent past, to insist on getting what allowances and so on that I could and didn't consider that a ruthless application of legal technicality would ever be applied to someone as obviously impotent, deprived and powerless as I was, and problems only arose because I directly tried to impose some order on my existence which by then was defintely necessary whatever anyone else might have thought, or had to say about it and of course because I trusted to PM-C's general good intent which did prove utterly foolish.
Anyhow as it turned out I didn't return to the Flat to live for long as some week or two before Christmas as it was by then, my Mother's nagging at me to get different accommodation somewhere else had become quite intense, she obviously didn't like the area and was willing to put up the money for me to get a bedsit elsewhere that could subsequently be charged up to the Council once I was actually living there. So I didn't happen to be in the Maisonette over the Christmas period and had unthinkingly given this piece of information away toward the end of the time that the 'negotiations,' were underway regarding the musical instruments: which didn't mean for example that I had abandoned any interest at all in the administration of the Maisonette. The first I heard that things were not as I had imagined which was merely that Peter would tumble to the fact of my actions, concede he'd done wrong and seek me out to apologise, was when I had a personal call from him sometime in January I think it was, to the effect that his entire collection of instruments had been stolen. On returning to the flat to verify this I learned also that some few items of clothing of mine had been taken and most significantly, one of the few items of any real value of any sort that belonged to my Father or myself in the flat: a Silver Cornet engraved with my Grandfather's name which had been awarded him for three decades in the Services.
To put it in brief what happened next was that Charges of Burglary were brought against me much to my endless surprise and that when I went to an interview with a Legal Aid Solicitor my Mother insisted on accompanying me with her husband and they both agreed with the what the Solicitor said about my defence: that he wouldn't defend me, that he couldn't defend me and moreover that characters like me were guilty of anything that anyone cared to mention. This was about the point that I gave up on the attempt to elicit a response that I considered either legal or acceptable. I don't know that much about American Law and plea bargaining etc which we all often hear about on our imported U.S. Television programmes but the essential central point of English Law is that guilt or innocence must be determined by a Judge and Jury on the basis of evidence being supplied to prove an allegation beyond 'all reasonable doubt.' Not behind closed doors by parties who have not been invited to take an interest, and that most particularly everyone has a completely unqualified right to a plea of their own choice and a defence in a Court of Law. Mr Smythe of Bates, Wells and Braithwaite entered a guilty plea against my every stated wish. Insofar as I had ever had any kind of an existence at all I had staked everything on getting a fair hearing about all these matters and this was to just about all intents and purposes the end of a genuine understanding or trust between myself and the State if any had ever existed. It may sound dramatic but is unfortunately ineluctably very true. I did not ask this Solicitor to enter a guilty plea, and he did not obey my instructions and treated my suggestions with contempt. Now the fact that I was unable to say what I said sufficiently forcefully to drown out other unwelcome voices adding their opinions as to what I should do, does not mean that it is not what I said! I can only continue to beseech and importune any official responsible persons who may chance across this document, to act upon it, make the relevant apologies and pursue those responsible for this distress with a great puissant power immediately as matters cannot be satisfactorily resolved otherwise given the good name which I believe I in fact enjoy amongst townspeople and compatriots who will only be likely to echo what I have to say about this nauseating disgusting existence that I am forced to lead if given the opportunity, and have justifiable reason to be dissatisfied with the performance of such high earning, self righteous hypocrites as have so shamefully mismanaged these affairs. The principal reason for talking to my Mother about the matter had originally been merely that the story of my Father's existence had been so unbelievable and his behaviour so antisocial tht it needed some confirmation and I wasn't thinking of trying to borrow money for example. There was no question that this needed to be said but I was rather assaulted by Mr and Mrs Taylor and the character Smythe who was adamant that Labour supporters would not get a meaningful defence if he had anything to say about it. I didn't bother telling him that this was no longer the case if there had ever been anything serious about my involvement with said organisation and that I was certainly by the end of 1983 if not before in fact fairly offended by their doings.
Neither Mr Smythe nor the local Constabulary have been willing to part with the slightest scrap of information other than that which I have recounted to you here since 1984 when the plea was entered and the reality is that it has not proved possible to compel them to do so by any existing formal or informal means. This astounding arrogance and disrespect for thoroughly basic notions of honesty and decency are precisely what has seen British jurisdiction expelled everywhere from South Africa to the Suez within living memory. Even if I were guilty of Burglary as Mr Smythe averred due to the fact/possibility of such a thing as having technically offended against 'squatters rights,' it does not alter the fact that I have not even had as much as an explanation as to what I was supposed to have stolen, most significantly whether or not I was being charged with stealing £70 of Synthesiser or a whole collection of Instruments or as to whether or not I'm also supposed to have stolen and sold my own Jacket and my Grandfather's Army Service trophy. Neither does it allow for the fact that I cannot easily imagine that the Army today are happy to have any of their active personnel officially squatting on Council Property, or for the fact that this was before the matter had actually reached the Courts and the Police retained the power for various courses of action as did the local GP who must have known the truth about my Father and his role in these events.
So I had acquired to a certain extent hostile 'dispositions,' toward the state partly as the result of my experiences of schooling here in this County which as I recount it to you as hardly less than a prolonged effort to avoid violent persecution that was all but openly organised by a distinguished European gentleman of lofty social origins who is now the Deputy Head of the academic institution in question (Secondary School) and you may or may not find this sort of allegation credible to a significant extent. Also partly perhaps because I had been at least partially deluded into this sort of hostile reaction to general adversity by more sophisticated and self interested individuals with vested interests in local government who had certainly encouraged me to adopt a ludicrously optimistic world view concerning the extent to which the State could be litigiously held responsible for it's actions. Would anyone have done what I did under these circumstances, it is difficult to say? It was a fact that by this time I had a number of justifiable grudges which could have proved and may yet prove something of an embarrassment to the said County's Constabulary in view of their stubborness over the specific allegation that their attitude toward my complaint was ludicrous, the 'help I had found in managing such important matters was ludicrous just couldn't have been more obviously true as far as I could see and I never saw what was wrong with the argument. No matter how much anyone might have wanted me to be nice to the poor bloody Government I was completely sick at heart with my existence and had been for as long as I could remember. Would they have persisted in pursuing charges in the face of having the matter of this being purely a technicality, if a simple request were made that they be withdrawn for example? This was the initial response which had occurred to me as 'appropriate in the circumstances.'
It simply didn't occur to me even once that I would ever get anything other than an apology from the authorities after all that I had experienced as the child of an acknowledged dysfunctional parent (or two) and I reiterate that it wasn't my own initial inclination to seek or expect help from any sort of 'officialdom' as far as such domestic matters were concerned at the time: it was only after a good deal of 'brainwashing,' to that effect as I say, on the part of hordes of social workers, Counsellors and Psychiatrists who had insisted on nosing their way into my misery in the late seventies that I was coerced into accepting offers of so called 'assistance' in principle or at least discussions about the existence of such 'assistances' as may have seemed worthwhile. I still cannot reason that any institution, organisation or person concerned for their reputation would fail to provide this acknowledgement. I have even on occasion been assaulted by members of the Constabulary because I attempted to exercise my legal right to complain about NHS Dentistry another matter which I'd like to get around to documenting fully, but suffice it to say for now that one has to make a written statement in the event such dissatisfaction occurs. The state of our society today is such that within hours of doing so in 1991 I was visited and literally attacked by a WPC's seven foot 17 stone male colleague who reached through my flat door and grabbed me by the throat as soon as I opened it. This isn't likely to sway people to employ the pen rather than the sword whilst seeking justice in such matters and can only undermine the Constabulary's reputation; perhaps this is intended insofar as where job opportunities and job security can be assured by anything that might possibly be construed as something as sinister as a terrorist threat by the taxpayers of a gullible pastoral audience there is an irresistable tendency to manufacture one, if in less than a particularly conscious manner. As it happens the Irish troubles of 1916 which led to the break up of the Union with Ireland is authoritatively alleged to have been sparked off by overreaction to mere rioting on the part of a handful of 'common criminals' as many of our right wing commentators often like to describe the urban indigents of a traditional industrial society whilst feigning social responsibility as a guise for self satisfied enjoyment of privilege.
In the first place being able to state unequivocally that one has been robbed by these people (The local Constabulary), is a particularly strong piece of information to have at one's disposal concerning a government agency intent on shaming one in public for, one's attitude to other people's property !?!? I utterly and entirely refuse to consider that the denial of any consideration whatsoever of any of these facts and the lack of essential legal propriety remains anything other than an absolute f****** disgrace: dear reader aren't you glad it's not you. It goes without saying that the consequences of remark that the powers that be have colletively lied about my case and declared that I have not been robbed when I have, and that furthermore I have cynically been dumped with third rate citizen's rights on a very shabby pretext is not a matter that lies within my control.
I have made it plain that I don't agree with the arguments represented by the attacks on my name and it's humble standing in life at the time and I really don't need to emphasise how illogical they are. My experience of the Police in the North had been that they rarely blamed individuals concerned for most odd minor transgressions when the fact of many people living in places and circumstances where even the completely law abiding and conscientious individual would seldom find it practicable to even express such values let alone make any sort of serious attempt to live by them was all too self evident; so when there had been the fact of one or two very minor incidents after some years in Suffolk, had expected some form of negotiation in the form of seeking to extract worthwhile promises of good behaviour, perhaps under the threat of summary prosecution. At the point these events were taking place therefore, (the winter of '84-5) insofar as the quest for order is supposed to be the business of the Constabulary they had already played their strongest card, leaving me effectively nothing much to lose and depriving themselves of any leverage they might have had: I had already been barred from almost any worthwhile sort of Job. If what they were seeking to do was elicit more evidence of legal/constructive behaviour this, selective hearing, of almost every possible weakness that a luckless fool who dared to agree to resent the threat of being exploited, whilst ignoring evident shortcomings of the legal requirements of meaningful and worthwhile defence, has not impressed anyone with the Constabulary's insight. I had all too obviously managed to hear all too little about the penalties and procedures underway partly resulting from not wanting to know or be able to face up to my family situation, attempts to frighten me only fell on ears that were already at least as disturbed, disorientated upset and frightened as any legal sort of negative sanction would allow. I was obviously at a loss to fathom that the fact of criminal prosecution would be even a remote possibility without at least a very full discussion of all the facts and issues especially given the experiences I had of life in districts where crime was a more everyday occurrence and in relation to the sins of my parents. This year (2002) the Suffolk Constabulary have sacked someone for drink driving on duty, or was required to resign (see local news), and have also decided to prosecute one of their own number for reporting a gun attack which never occurred which I remember thinking was a very odd story indeed.
Smythe had decided as I say that I would not get any justice and made it quite plain that he didn't like long haired people with obvious or perhaps not so obvious left wing views, and that in this case no defence of any sort would he enter on my behalf under any circumstances. I don't recall whether it was before or after this announcement that he glossed over the matter of signing him documents which released him state funds for doing so: it was beforehand I think. I didn't have any 'friends' of significant weight of opinion at hand to help and as far as I'm aware. I just ignored what was another unpleasant matter it went away and I don't even recall if I actually paid the fines myself, as a matter of fact I think it was my disingenuous Mother. I should add that Mr Smythe was/is a bald and heavily built individual of (at least) some six foot three inches in height, that his attitude was menacing and unpleasant for all his educated voice and cultivated air and that particularly unhappily as it turns out, my Mother was taking an increasing hand in my affairs. I shouldn't say was necessarily a bad idea in principle: it simply didn't work out and if Benadette's presence has complicated the issue it is through no contrivance of my own. It was a fact that my Mother was the only friend or relative I had who was willing to even pretend to be either able or willing to be of any immediate assistance to me in the circumstances in which I found myself. I'm sure we all need a little help from time to time and I daresay that the statistics relating to such persons as myself in this situation make frightening reading in terms of the proportion of persons of that income group and general background who are obviously doomed to combinations of drug addiction, poor housing, general ill health, mental ill health, crime etc ad nauseum ad infinitum: more than enough to scare anyone's Mother I should think and it really is unfortunate for those who have sought to legitimise what took place that so many people have the perception she has been forced to carry out her husband's malice thereby. Regardless of whether or not she really cared at all there was nothing I could do to stop her from trying to undertake a task she simply wasn't equal to, which she persisted in seeking to achieve with the use of a forceful neo hysteria, which only allowed her husband room to wreak mischief and can't have been terribly sincere. In ignoring the personal task of turning the strategy I had conceived for my general situation into actuality she was in fact less than welcome to be interested at the time insofar as my own English voice and my own (technically) English backside and my own English vocabulary were far more suited to the task of producing a satisfactory conclusion in an English Courtroom.
The truth was that I made a severe mistake in paying much heed to my Mother in respect of her notions about the workings of English Law not I repeat, that it was something I chose to do in the sense of having any real choice. Aside from being a foreigner by birth and one without education there exists an awful lot of evidence to suggest she was rather than being a helpful individual, friend or adult, a mere tool as I say of her husband's capricious nature or at least that such dark motivation and intent was very real as was jealousy of my newly acquired liberties and the enjoyment of at times much better company than any whom I have noticed endure her husband's society ;though I was very much a solitary figure adrift by 1983 and the observation predicates a number of complex value judgements about people and society. In defence of my actions or inactions I can only really say that the extent to which I had endured actual physical conditions that were severely substandard was more real than mere spectators on my existence cared to admit and so was the psychological trauma: in 1984 I had been sleeping rough on floors and in just my clothes never eating regularly or anything such for at least three full years and given what sort of domestic arrangements had been endured since the turn of the previous decade which was really no better, was in a fairly sorry shape. A 'friend,' would have at least advised sacking Anthony Smythe and made sure that he was sent off with a flea in his ear: there is no means of interpreting these events amicably. Smythe was absolutely unequivocal that I should be working unreservedly for the Thatcher administration and that someone who wasn't was a Communist who hadn't "earned the right to a defence," his own words. Another thing that tended me to consider that he did have certain ideological/political motivations for what he did and said was the fact that by the mid nineties it came to my attention that he was working for one of the Country's biggest Labour Unions, which could have meant that he had paid serious attention to the fact of my having had any links with the then Opposition and sought to hop on the bandwagon once they had effected the obvious lurch toward the right an and electoral recovery though without more information I should perhaps hesitate to say. One way or another my Mother had failed to try and back me in the academic career that I had first sought to pursue at the time I was trying to make noises about her sister's boyfriend's complection and it shows some lack of insight that she took the course of action that she did: I'm sure very few Mothers have so little idea of their own children's character. I'm not sure whether this was from sheer cowardice or whether there were many other motives involved besides perhaps inverted snobbery, ie that she tended to share her husbands' views on those who use an average of more than three grunts per sentence as pretentious effete charlatans, or at least affects to very convincingly. In effect what I am saying is that she was and is 'owned,' by people whose only clear intention were she to seek to do anything for me, was that it be harmful to myself which it was in the extreme. If she had any genuine desire to be helpful it seemed very much submerged beneath fear of her husband and lack of 'real' concern. She really hadn't tried to help me as a sixth former despite the fact that it was a really quite prestigious kind of scholarship to have won under any circumstances. I had not asked her for anything more than the usual odd weekly trifles and the fact that I had started seeing her weekly was hardly a contrivance of mine and I did know she wouldn't be welcome to furnish anything worthwhile. It is of course always easy to theorise of what might have been if such and such were true etc, but it definitely seemed that she was very strongly compelled to seek to destroy my prospects of a tolerable future in that direction. By the year that her husband's warehouse burnt down it seemed as if every other Cop in Town was an ex school friend of his seeking to ensure that I was one scrounging parasite who wouldn't get to use any of ' his,' money for any reason and would definitely be sent out labouring for resources to make progress in life. When I had consented to allow her to be present with her husband I had no use for them other than as an attempt to make sure that my version of events was going to be heard and they basically set on me.
Her personal tragedy (it is obviously something that happens to many) was one of having no marketable personal attributes beyond her marriageability and obviously I couldn't have ever really expected to be able to distinguish fact from fiction insofar as my developing world view in it's earliest stages had been largely my Father's creation. Her parents had died quite slowly as she survived life in an Orphanage from an early age and as a happy unthinking five year old I obviously didn't tend to question her ability to think and behave in a manner which matched this wishful thinking and to a certain extent obviously,was still true when I was in my late teens. Perhaps inverted snobbery might have played a role in this, more seriously perhaps some jealousy of the next generations' and the next nations' life chances. It is of some minor satisfaction if hardly a meaningful consolation that she must endure for example the disparagement of the extended family for her role in these particular events, most of whom have been constrained upon to labour far more conscientiously for their families and loved ones than her career as the sort of spouse who is open to the allegation of being a trophy wife to some degree. She finds it necessary for example to tell me nothing but lies about her own experiences of having taken any drugs during the sixties and is unconcerned about facts except as they relate to her personal wealth and her chances of holding onto it in the foreseeable without getting any aggravation. Insofar as anyone anywhere takes notice of various persons' claims to virtuous or worthwhile endeavours, the role she played in her brother in law's demise: he did actually die a painful lingering death which he would have had ten years headstart on treatment for if someone had told her and hers to 'shut it' and cease the routine perpetration of what amounts to nasty sabotage on my life chances is a scandal which has so far attracted as I understand it, little attention from any of the responsible agencies or family members who have been inconvenienced by the affair, (paragraph was written before death of Jamie Cann MP) and are far too keen on criticising myself: no-one has evidenced remorse or ventured any apology (correct at time of writing) for this vile malice. Overlooking such facts as death because they might be economically inconvenient can arguably be a very dangerous habit. My Mother could easily have followed him as it so happens it isn't a terrible exaggeration to say, and I only mention this in the context of misunderstandings about family goodwill and so on; I don't think the Lady Biology teacher thought anything much of her attitude though this may have been merely because she was forced to deal with my Father but whatever the reason within a few years she did have serious surgery herself for things that had gone bad and required removal: I wouldn't accuse either of anything other than very (especially by modern standards) modest drugs experimentation since the 1960's but she and her Sisters have obviously indulged in some.
It is also worth noting insofar as there is so much evidence to suggest that influential if not powerful individuals had allowed themselves as is perhaps all too often the case in a nation obsesssed with comparatively antiquated notions of legal propriety to be swayed by preconceptions about character for example; that as far as I am aware my Mother and her Husband have more general association with Smugglers than myself insofar as he has been a regular friend and drinking partner of a very notorious local name or two though throughout all the time I have known of him. Whilst observing that this is common knowledge to regulars of dockside establishments I do concede that it would be fatuous to imagine that someone having such an intimate and longstanding association with the business of the local Ports (Felixstowe is about the largest container Port in the World) would have anything other than such society. In saying this I'm pointing out that it can easily be fairly said that in such matters and in such an environment, it might not have been so easy to discern the reasonable truth about an individuals congeniality or aptness for this or that sort of sanction than has been supposed. It is also worth mentioning in respect of the fact that the local Constabulary are feigning ignorance about many of the matters that I have raised but are sufficiently well informed to have arrested one of my Stepfather's drinking buddies on a yacht with twenty seven million pounds worth of Cannabis about a decade ago (a member of an Anglo-Hispanic family with a colourful reputation) so they cannot be as ignorant of various relevant aspects of my case as they have purported, to say nothing of the fact that they are pretending not to be guilty of the most elementary oversight in respect of denying their deceased colleagues in the RUC vital life saving information or at least in denying me any information as to why the information I provided them about him has not been used properly.
Being in a position to cast aspersions on the 'quality' of the education I had received from the state, to say the least, and the fact that the Police had literally stolen from me, were not the only means with which I have mocked the Crown's chances of successfully effecting any real public disapprobation of myself as worthy of some form of official censure: my Father's fitness as a Guardian was rather more circumstantial though particularly relevant. There is also the fact I had been robbed during the time that my Father and I lived on Chantry Estate, (have I mentioned it's one of Europe's largest), by someone whom I had met and befriended there, of £60, which to an unemployed youth in the early eighties without so much as a single decent item of clothing or even a knackered second hand record player was a very significant sum of money equivalent to a month's Social Security. The story that the Police had come up with for not pursuing him, despite the fact that it was a clear cut and dried case with witnesses and no other possible suspect, was that he was a down and out who couldn't effectively be prosecuted so he gained no additional official black marks or suffered anything such as the result of a malicious theft from someone who badly needed the money and still does.
Another incident that might have tended one to the conclusion that my prosecution for Burglary was not as essential to the Nation's future as was made out by Mr Smythe (perfect name for a complete Cad isn't it), was the fact that, also during the time I lived on the Chantry Estate I had been assaulted seriously by almost two dozen heavyweight Negroes of mixed British-American background following a very minor accident in the car park of the tower block on an attempt to practise parking after which the whole gang immediately piled in and on top of the car I was in and despite the fact that they were all literally, at least twice as heavy as I, began a violent attack with a hammer on my person which left me with a number of lumps on my head and body and a fractured wrist: It was a nasty case of assault with a deadly weapon and had been simply ignored by the Crown Prosecution Service if any report ever reached them. This is the actual context of the events referred to in the documents entitled The MP and his Mental Health and/or The Jason Mitchell affair (Health Service Resources) and others, in which it is alleged that I was a lunatic because I'd broken a couple of windows in the course of a minor practical joke and tried to issue a general warning about some potential repercussions of continuing to ignore things I was morally and materially owed which matter is partly dealt with in The Truth About The Chinook Crash of June '94.
In between Secondary School and Sixth form I had worked briefly at my Mother's instigation for the Garage owner whose company I had first seen her in along with her present husband after her secret separation from my Father. It was appalling work involving use of Industrial chemicals and so on amongst appalling company, Rednecks and Truckers who were typically rude and threatening. In those days I could get about £6 for a days work which was enough for a small packet of Tobacco and a half bottle of Spirits: obviously not enough to fund an academic career or acquire a residence. After arranging the disingenuous matter of my legal history she was permitted to arrange that I start working again for her, 'friend.' The only catch was that I wasn't allowed to declare the work and that I would have to defraud the state making false claims for Welfare benefits as well. She also managed to arrange helpfully enough from his point of view that I would be occupying the oldest worst maintained house that this friend of hers owned, his name was Mark Howes incidentally. I think her real motivation was her attraction to him and his money (though this latter was naturally, purely incidental). He never gossiped about the fire which his employees had started though it reached my ears indirectly that he was having trouble keeping his properties as well as his business because he had not been really, really properly insured.
With regard to my involvement in this: I was not being offered a choice I was told to submit false reports by individuals who were all more 'influential' one way and another than the Clerks working for the various welfare departments who obviously knew or seemed to know they were being defrauded under these circumstances. So did every public official and Policeman within about twenty miles for the several years that this went on and when it did come to a halt it wasn't the result of any pressure from these agencies. Quite the contrary in fact it was halted at my own inclination, expense and inconvenience and to the great indignation of everyone who knew of it without exception as far as I can recall. It was obviously convenient for many parties who had been associated with what had been happening to me that I may have appeared to have been leading a more normative existence and more than an odd few may have clutched at such a convenient seeming fiction: especially the Councillors and Agitators who were significantly responsible for the death of Conrad Payne Aside from a sense of the practical everyday ordinary realities of perceptions of right and wrong and a submerged sense of responsibility I was personally concerned this would be held against me by worthwhile employers even if there were no real danger of prosecution. The tendency to regard public money as having been somehow stolen from the public and it being some kind of game to steal it back is especially strong out here in the Shires and needless to say there seems little sign that Tony Blair's vain empty proselytising is going to alter the attitudes of local businessmen. This sort of view is instanced by the fact of William Hague emotively having described taxes as having been 'robbed' from people in the build up to the General Election 13/05/01. The only person I've ever heard have been prosecuted for this kind of malfeasance was a clueless Asian who ran a Curry House could hardly speak English and had been paying his delivery drivers in cash.
In seeking to distance myself from this sort of inventive accounting I really must point out amongst other things that in any conventional reckoning of the word 'thief,' one tends to imply a certain deliberateness, a striving and contriving to obtain something by means which are considered underhand, unconventional, pauperising to others, unfair or simply dishonest. Now of course it is possible to wrangle interminably over the semantics of the words for example an individual can argue quite reasonably in a purely objective sense that it is ludicrous for a Court to accuse him/her of dishonestly stealing from the Crown on the grounds that it has changed hands by a variety of questionable means throughout History, in which murder for example has certainly played a part and that to accuse One of literal dishonesty for not reporting this or the other aspect of One's income to such an institution is ludicrous. Such an argument does have a certain amount of objective validity and is open to a variety of interpretations in a good many situations and contexts however impractical or specious it might actually be or seem to be and however irrelevant for practical purposes. The main point is that I have been betrayed by a judicial system interested only in favourable statistics and that amongst other things it is a more system which runs more on the basis of patronage and clientage than on any principles of Justice: it is without question Tony Bliar's greatest failing that he has put far too much faith in this good natured democracy of his and striving to present an utterly non existent Government by consensus knowing perfectly well that the system is out of date, failing, lacking in consensus and of little use to anyone except the monarchy. I had no real choice but to go along with what others were dictating at this point in 1985 and there obviously is absolutely no chance whatever of persuading someone who isn't either educationally subnormal to the point of being mentally defective, bribed or browbeaten that what I say is anything other than the truth the whole truth etcetera: my perception today is that Magistrates who had looked at my case between 1980-5 must have been easily misled by suggestions that matters be perceived as other than they actually were. I had not done what I was told in '85 I would have had nowhere to sleep, virtually nothing to eat and all the comcomitant problems of existing in such a condition. In justifying myself I have to point out that arguably comparatively few of those who actually claim to be thoroughly indigent in Britain today are seriously wondering how a few days nutrition is to be found if bills are also to be paid and that even less of those will have started life with anything like literally nothing: if you see that the government has been talking about giving such people an cash windfall on the eighteenth birthday so it has been a matter of at least, some insincere conjecture on the part of culpable authorities with an eye to their electoral reputations. I also hope to persuade you the reader that summary confiscations of property and disqualifications from the rights of meaningful and worthwhile citizenship are going to lead nowhere except to distress and that this cheap extemporaneous disqualification enacted by Smythe is an illegal experiment gone disastrously wrong.
I should also mention that among the threats, blandishments and inducements I was presented with as part of the attempt to get me to go along with all this was that it would be seen to that I would end up with a prison sentence if I didn't. Smythe was rewarded for what was in effect the destruction of any effective rights I had as a UK citizen and rendered me effectively a member of the underclass by my Mother's Husband with at least one contract from his Shipping Company for legal work.
What is not a matter of debate but a matter of fact is that during the course of PMC's stay in my Father's flat he took it upon himself to return a credit card that I had taken out from Barclays Bank with some of a £1000 that I was awarded for the accident I had on my first Motorbike, the fault of a badly made Road. The fact that I was harangued when I put in my much deserved claim for compensation for the badly made road which left me with a very slight but permanent limp and a very sensitive left knee which I cannot lean on easily and was told it was partly my fault for riding so soon after I had sustained an Injury to my left wrist subsequent to having been assaulted by some two dozen heavyweight Negros with lethal weapons in previous weeks, an event which was not prosecuted and typifies the hypocrisy and lack of honesty in Britain today: the point is rather that these roads are supposed to be safe enough for pensioners to ride their mopeds on and the remark that I should have been fit enough to effect the grip of a weightlifter on the machine is a bald lie which typifies the character of the modern Englishman. I doubt very much whether an accomplished athlete could have held onto the bike after having hit such an object as I had, which was a badly set water hydrant protruding some inches above the road surface. This had been largely spent by the time that PMC moved in but the point is that until he made as I understand it a very satisfactory Insurance claim or something such on the things he'd had stolen some of which I also hear second hand the Police managed to recover for him, he had been getting very much into organising things and working for his future with particular reference to management of a public image. His taking of my overdrawn credit card and handing it back to Barclays Bank was indicative of a certain paying of lip service to responsible ideals which he hasn't mentioned since he put in his generous insurance claims: in fact he hasn't mentioned anything at all to do with these events and as I write in 2004 he has served time for a mot insignificant Computer fraud. (see School reunion document) On one occasion we spoke since these events took place I gave him £20 in public as a mark of contempt whilst a number of parties who had only half heard about these matters were observing, on the only other time I have seen him since he said "hello how are you" and I ignored him being unable to find any comment to the question beyond the quip that I should feel "ill indeed shoudst own a conscience black as thine," which I didn't feel that he'd earned the right to share so I didn't make any utterance. He has definitely forfeited the right to any friendship which is the symbolic significance of giving money in the Judas tradition if you like, also a statement that One feels profoundly wronged and that for such a magnitude of personal treachery there can be no forgiving: also that I cannot be held responsible for the consequences.
The point here is that I did not seek to put my financial affairs back into any organised state until the mid nineties and that it's a strange kind of con artist who 'forgets,' to open a bank account or carry out anything other than the necessary minimum amount of bureaucracy to survive if there were any intent at all to set out to systematically pillage the state and squirrel away invisible resources. I wasn't able to use the money I had made to my advantage as it was how you say dirty money, perhaps that was why I mailed so much to my Father, and I really felt that I couldn't do so without incriminating myself more widely than I had in the eyes of hundreds of people who weren't all necessarily likely to take the same view as those who arranged the changes in my life that took place at this time: in many ways I was in a serious state of denial about my personal situation and arguably remain at least partly so.
Another thing was that I had also got a legitimate Job working in the local Archives Department before the matter of the Burglary went to Court from which I did receive a reasonable reference despite the fact that my attempts to be of service there had suffered very badly as the result of living in one of MHs' worst houses which cost a fortune in just the fruitless attempt to heat it. Perhaps even more debilitating was the fact that whilst I worked legitimately three days a week and illegally for another three it was taking far more out of me than that. Various tasks of Industrial Maintenance and Building Work required a great deal of spare time to prepare for and much additional equipment which I paid for myself; things like boots, gloves and tools which get used up and disappear very quickly in such an environment. There was also the question of it taking a great deal of time to clean up from such kind of work and the fact that Mr Howes's place where most of this work was undertaken was several miles out of Town and I was relying on a Bicycle for transport having given up as I say in many respects, on the matter of being allowed to 'manage,' my own affairs to the extent of planning to acquire Licences, credit cards etc. I was eating slightly better than I had, wasn't facing any of the immediate serious threats that I had, and was having to face up to the fact of needing somewhere of my own indoors to sleep in winter and manage a modest household, which I had not. It seems worth adding at this point that I have never had any idea how people come to obtain Council Houses, when I first got hold of a tenancy on a tiny boxroom in a shared house most of the people I had known were young single people or students who tended to rent short term accommodation privately; no-one offered to tell me anything about it and I continued to nurse hopes of an academic scholarship of sorts that would allow me to travel to another district up to the time I was about thirty, so my only real understanding of the matter was that someone who obviously didn't need to be housed was given precedence over myself.
The Job at the Archives department was only part time for a year but the damage was done insofar as I might have made a decisive career break in the mid eighties; an application for a full time Job there was treated with more respect than I thought it would be but did not succeed. I did get the impression that it could have been practically a formality had I been able to pay even a little more attention to the matter than I did as the Boss Amanda Arrowsmith was a very intelligent buxom redhead who seemed to have a modest liking for my youthful appearance and wit which I suppose must have been due to the fact that it is a very difficult task to employ individuals of my standard of literacy for a low grade clerk's wages though it should be said in some fairness this is more true now than it was then as I had read little and had not watched TV at all for several years at that time. It obviously didn't go down particularly well that I was sharing the house I lived in with another ex Coplestonian (Copleston High School) as the fellow Martin Tolley was in the process of losing his grip on a conventional existence. He had been robbed of almost everything that he owned which was maybe £2000 worth of property by an ex girlfriend a couple of years previously which he didn't get much worthwhile official help with as I understand it and was regularly entertaining a number of younger persons, teenagers from a nearby Estate: they were taking hard drugs and stealing things, one of them broke into my room and took a rented TV and video recorder amongst other things. All of this took a severe toll on any generally positive image I might have had if only by association and arguably wouldn’t have happened but for my Mother’s arguable infatuation with Mark Howes (MH) which had led me to cast around for someone who might be willing to share the costs of occupying a near derelict house.
The first time I officially made any protest at these goings on was about three months after failing to get a full time Job with the County Council's Archives Department and was sparked off by the sensational fact of someone else by the name of Peter, having tried to murder me or of certainly having made a fairly convincing attempt at so doing. By then I had just moved into a refurbished house belonging to MH with the son of a friend of my Mother called Jesus whose family were Gibraltan and his Girlfriend, which was only really big enough for them. One day unbeknownst to me this other Peter stole some trifles from that part of the house which was set aside for Jesus and Jackie and when this came to Jesus' attention it was agreed that he and I would visit Peter with the object of effecting their recovery. With the single exception of the fact that Jesus might have made some unquestionably threatening gesture to forestall any attempted prevarication this went according to plan and for some time I didn't see Peter again. When he did call it was something of a surprise but I was prepared to consider that he had thought better of thieving certainly at least from other welfare claimants who were hardly any better off than he; he stated that if I came round to his bedsit which was less than a mile away across the town centre that he'd repay me a sum totalling perhaps £30 which I had lent him in bits and pieces here and there over a period of time, not that I had thought to hassle him for it, so money not growing on trees I walked over to his place.
I know I should have smelt a Rat, in stopping to read this approaching twenty years after the event I still curse myself for a fool, I really should have expected something was awry with my expectations. It wasn't until I realised that he'd locked the main door of his bedsit behind him that I began to feel distinctly uneasy, he then went into the bathroom which was behind me as I stood in the doorway to his front room and whilst I was thinking that he was concealing something in a plastic carrier bag he walked around me, suddenly pulled a knife from it and took a full blooded swing. I hadn't seen it coming quickly enough to avoid the initial blow which luckily (as it turned out) had only punctured my lung, but immediately managed to get the fingers of my left hand wrapped around the blade. A fierce scuffle ensued in which my first objective was to twist him off balance onto the floor, in doing so I was concentrating primarily on the knife, when we both fell I was slower to arise and not paying attention to his head which he slammed into my face twice in quick succession shattering my nose.
I should say there was nothing adventuresome or interesting about the episode which was a horrible, nasty, dirty fight with a knife and nothing more. I eventually twisted the weapon from his grasp and struck him left handed in his right femur as he was behind me moving off in that direction at the time. This gave me sufficient of a breathing space to notice, despite him having also dug his nails into my eyes leaving only about 30% vision in the right eye, that the tall window on the first floor would perhaps permit egress for someone of my aspen figure and so, rather than to cut him into pieces in order to reach the door I wriggled through the window and dropped down into the busy downtown rush hour traffic where a taxidriver called an ambulance, (I did have quite serious chest wounds in addition to the rest).
This was Armistice Day 1986 (Nov 11th) just about the time of year when all the drunks, dossers and dropouts have finally been driven off the Streets and out of the Parks by the first fully fledged blasts of winter, when people get hungry and the despair of unfortunate urban indigents is magnified by elemental hostility. I never really realised just how poignant the decay of life in the Autumn in our part of the world is until I spent a few months in the far east where the twelve hour days and the annual cycle of Monsoon and rapid growth may have their primeval terrors, but do not compare to the horror of the annual annual death experienced by the northern temperate zone between mid September and late November in terms of the sheer decay: though they say (and I tend to agree) that the weather patterns are changing due to global warming.
All I can remember of the rest of the night was of coming round late in the evening, of being ignored when I stated I didn't want visitors, and that the medical staff involved had cut marks across my wrists and heels mostly, I still carry scars they put on the backs of my hands. Presumably they were outraged at having to clean me up as amongst other things I had shat myself in the process of interpreting the sight of a dagger whirling it's way toward my heart. This suspicion was given further weight when an expensive pair of trousers were apparently stolen by one or some of the same from a locker later that week. I am told this happens to many of the most fearsome and cynical of personalities when faced with such near death experiences and it wasn't as if I had insisted on having them wipe my arse like a two year old, they had put me to sleep whilst in the Ambulance. I was after all extremely lucky that the blow hadn't hit a vital spot and I didn't really know that, until I awoke some hours after being cleaned up and found a big hole in my chest with a huge pipe protruding from it being vaguely aware that for a moment I had stared death in the eye. I was just that that split second too late in seeing the knife to interpose the blow with arms, hands or elbows and was just focussing on the object as it flew from right to left across my chest. I saw it whistle so close past my face, knew I couldn't reach or block it in time that I'd get hit badly and possibly wouldn't live for more than another few minutes, that I might in fact be drawing my very last breath: suddenly just like that right out of the blue. In the final analysis it was almost certainly what I would have to call pure luck at that second that my reflex action hadn't been 'misjudged' if such a thing can be true of an action with so many involuntary characteristics and had not hit a vital spot regardless of the final intent or otherwise, the blow did seem to be aimed at my Heart when it was swung!
Now I have to admit that I was still rather disturbed the following day and didn't think much about it when I was asked to sign an accusation to the above effect. In the coming days however it had obviously dawned on me that amongst other things I ought to protest about some of the prior and arguably associated events particularly the fact that it was another Peter who had tried to kill me almost as if he were apeing the manner in which cadet soldiers are taught to slay stealthily; state that the fact of having almost been gruesomely murdered in a desolate bedsit on a grim winter's evening was just the culmination of a run of 'bad luck' which included many oversights on the part of the Police that arguably constituted a dereliction of duty especially if we are seriously talking about the ruthlessly demanding standards that necessitated my prosecution for having neglected to pay for a paperknife after a drinking binge to say nothing of various other matters including numerous assaults against my person which had been routinely overlooked. Unfortunately for me was the fact that the Detective who had been handed a serious prosecution on a plate just happened to be a drinking pal of MH and he didn't like the story about the web of deceit and neglect that had left me with a life history that was at least as bad and in most ways worse than that which many coloured persons from minority groups would protest loudly about and so on etc and as far as I am aware did nothing.
I injured my knee and left a third serious scar on the region of the kneecap when I went straight from the hospital to the Police Station after hitting it's wall on my bicycle. The Detective in question as I say wasn't interested in anything except a successful prosecution and as far as I am aware has ignored all my complaints and requests. Shortly after this my Father asked John French one of his Cousins (probably about the only one who was willing to speak to him at all), who was making a business trip to Thailand if he could spare the cash for an air ticket. So in '87 I spent six weeks in the Far East during which time I was mostly sick though it was nice to see some real sunshine, a fairly rare occurrence even in the South of the British Isles: I recall of the eighties that they were particularly barren of sunny summers. When the offer was accepted I wasn't interested in my Father's attempt to make out there was any kind of conversation or understanding with his wife, she never spoke to me and he kept trying to make out that we were friends or that I should somehow have some interest when we were hardly acquainted. I had to spend much on accommodation of my own on both visits I had made to Thailand when faced with what seemed to be requests for money which is an extremely rude thing to ask for after having invited someone to stay. I found the conditions which my Father was living in quite disturbing and definitely nauseating to my sensitive west european palate: he survived for some years living almost as a refugee it seemed. The only respite being when up market clients for English Lessons took him, (us, while I was there) out for meals and odd trips and suchlike which was quite often and some of which were pretty good obviously insofar as it is the case that the comparative value of anything like the language expertise he could still command to a significant extent carried a high exchange rate to such domestic and recreational luxuries of which they have a comparative superfluity. The general fact was as it turned out however that in many ways I shouldn't have accepted the offer as it would later turn out to be more trouble than it was worth: I say this in respect of the the fact that he (John French) later turned up destitute in Ipswich at a particularly uncongenial time insofar as I had just had a lengthy bout of domestic troubles which had ensued from my having generously taken my Father and his other Son in when they turned up here without having made any suitable arrangements for their welfare in about '98. He died under certain appalling circumstances in a local detention centre for the elderly having had amongst other things his deadly motor neurone disease misdiagnosed until weeks before it killed him in that his resuscitation equipment was witheld and he could no longer breathe without it.
I realise that I'm raising a lot of serious issues here to do with government social policy and the role of the Police and so on or at least, suffice it to say, they have arisen and I am trying to keep it to the minimum here, and deal with it in other essays/articles as this particular one is becoming a little large and unwieldy for the purpose which it was originally intended. At this point I can only beg your perseverance and proffer the suggestion that investigations of such failings in the nation's administration can only be likely to provide essential lessons for those who are thinking about how the UK is to be governed in the 21st century.
I think it was some time during the early summer of '87 that I moved to a better one of MH's flats in a more law abiding area of the Town but the whole tenor of my existence was flawed. My Mother in many ways treated the place as her own, getting people in to share it which wasn't a good idea, and inviting her own relatives to use the place for storage without even asking me though this was brief it is true. According to the persons who had fashioned these arrangements I was supposed to be leading a constructive normative life after having misspent my teenage years but the reality was that things were far worse in many if not most ways for me than they had been in those years and arguably nothing much had really changed except that someone who was already wealthy was becoming more so at the expense of the British taxpayer, also that my own long term life chances were rapidly declining. I have mentioned that it took almost the same amount of time to prepare and clean up for almost the worst kind of work that anyone could think of, amongst company that many would consider foul, abusive and poisonous and immediately refuse to have anything to do with. I heard some years after we parted company that MH did exactly what I had always thought best and sacked almost his entire workforce. Now of course it is always true that people are always seeking to persuade others especially employers and influential people that One is well brought up and honest etc but it was glaringly true that one particular reason why MH wanted me among his workforce of maybe a total of a couple of dozen, besides the obvious financial motive of not paying taxes, was that he had been getting robbed of odds and ends and he wanted someone around his yard he felt was trustworthy when it came to others' property it being the case that in a place like an Engineering yard there does tend to be quite a lot of tools and equipment constantly lying around.
When my Father dies I will probably inherit a family Bible that has entries supposedly dating back to the time of Waterloo and I am related so I am told to one of Nelson's Officers though I have always been profoundly suspicious of his consistently pauperising tales and attach little credence to aught he has to say in any respect. He had after all on my second visit done little more himself than extend invitations under false pretences and try to rob me with a gang of 'low life' acquaintances he had made: this was especially foolish insofar as it wasted the only sum of money I have ever acquired that could be reasonably termed significant if not substantial substantial though this was also significantly to do with the fact that I would probably have stayed at home, if I had not had the complaint that I did about the way I was being forced to live and work illegally. My father figure or role model for want of a better phrase during my years of primary socialisation was as one might expect the Grandfather (picture in personal section) who had served for thirty years in the services and was used to setting an example for others and providing leadership, at least to the extent of acquiring every non commissioned rank in the British Army. Which is to say amongst other things that obviously the idea of any sort of pilfering really didn't occur readily at all whatever the truth about my personal reminiscences and the social standing of my Grandparents: I can remember that my first Stepmother was surprised when I expressed some shock that her children regularly filched from her purse and pockets and that she not only expected this but accepted it. Neither does turning a blind eye to at least most openly fraudulent behaviour though it is a lesson I have been told to unlearn to a significant degree and I feel I can confidently say again that my record of infractions is quite exemplary compared to the average in districts where I have lived and only exists at all because my Father was to say the very least an ineffectual and shabby character who didn't provide the level of protection from criminality and street life that One ought to be able to hope for from such a self important head of the family, though in this case the term is completely empty of any dignity or worth and he has unfortunately to be simply cast in the role of a peevish and malicious exploiter who couldn't face up to his own failure. Of course this isn't always true insofar as not everyone puts on the sort of airs my Father does, or has I should perhaps say that some people couldn't care less about crime, others are openly opportunistic and some for example only frown on things like stealing from poor pensioners and so on. It is true that within the last ten years at least one senior Clergyman in the UK has caused a minor uproar by the advocation of 'shoplifting' among the homeless and destitute as a means to alleviate poverty: all of which is to say that I have been quite mystified as to the inspiration for many years official persecution of my own perceptions about these issues.
This was just before the first time my Father returned to the UK in 1988 since his departure in November '83 and I had been looking forward to putting him up somewhere in comfort with a little style, insofar as I definitely considered him a 'disturbed' individual and I had put in a huge amount of work in putting the flat in Gainsborough Road into good order but owinmg to the fact that my Mother had been making arrangements of her own with the place as I say, we ended up sharing a one roomed bedsit I had just moved into between the three of us, as he had brought his other son whom was then proceeding from late infancy to early childhood: it is worth pointing out that in the three or four years I had lived at Gainsborough Road I often commented that the place was a Palace of Mirrors a bit like a Chinese puzzle and that I believed the setup capable of causing accidents as it was able distort perception, especially vision insofar as the mirrors deceived the eye by the device of creating moving reflections of reflections, which in turn contrived illusory impressions of the weight of objects including people, also creating illusions such as making one person appear to be wearing another person's ears. I spent almost all my spare time over a three year period in restoring a garden which had been used as a refuse tip on the expectation that it would be worth something to me, besides the fact that I like basking in the sun, which isn't true of everyone and was rapidly beginning to acquire a sense of how to get things done. I had realised that I was no longer a helpless child or simpering ineffectual shaveling and usually couldn't bear to be idle especially whilst I obviously needed so much. This alone was worth between one and three thousand pounds according to various estimates and I had been then refused any reward: besides having to practically fight for the place with people my Mother had gotten in to share who didn't particularly like the 'arrangements' she was making either. I hadn't really learnt anything worthwhile from working with MH and his employees, obviously I got on better with some than with others, but will always resent having spent the best years of my life thus. I can remember well discovering the condition of my dentistry at the age of about 23 while I lived there and it was quite a shock I can tell you insofar as I had never made any attempt to do anything except hide myself from all but a very small handfull of individuals (which didn't include either parent or any of their siblings) who had sought to take an interest since the age of five: I have maintained a reasonbly good average standard of personal hygiene since that time but the damage was already done and the inside of my small sized and badly crowded dentition had been layered over with deposits blacker than the Road outside the house which I have been trying to remove ever since.
I had made a bit of a tongue in cheek attempt to blackmail the Howes before abandoning them to their own devices: unimaginable, criminal, ludicrous, appalling I can hear you say. This wasn't as illogical as you might think! I had been beaten routinely, sexually harassed to an unbelievable degree, told that I couldn't get a defence in a Court despite the fact that numerous individuals had paid themselves for providing it, and had been told to get on with living a criminal existence by those who were supposed to be enforcing the Law: there was no chance of getting the Howes prosecuted as they simply had influential friends in the way of anyone who might have had the propensity to do so. How precisely can One blackmail those who are above the Law, or jeopardise legal rights which simply are not worth the paper they are written on? I just wanted rid of them at almost any price by this time and was sick of hinting that we weren't going to be friends on the nakedly exploitative basis that 'Marky' seemed to find so just and appropriate. They wanted to employ me at absolute bottom dollar, skivvying in positively Dickensian circumstances which I had actually already been doing for four years that had cost me at least half as many man hours again as had (unofficially officially) been booked: some people I'm afraid really do have sh*t for brains.
I think the important point is that all I had ever done was say that no good would come of their attempt to extract some extrastatutory enrichment from my own personal difficulties, certainly not for myself: when my activities on their behalf ceased I owned less than £100 worth of goods and that was the remainder of the criminal injuries compensation from when I had been stabbed in the chest though My Mother bought me a fairly cheap used Motorcycle after returning from my second visit to the far east. They (Mr and Mrs Howes) had been having rather too easy a time of it insofar as they knew my Irish relatives and (had obviously) found them relatively credulous and illiterate, ready to believe almost any story they posed about the rights and wrongs of the situation and, of course, the impracticality of doing anything, 'by the book.' I can only consider that such people are even more stupid than a mere veneer of respectability and a 'propre' accent might have suggested to the observant eye on the watch for this sort of disgraceful superficiality especially in an age when it is commonly alleged that schoolchildren have no moral or ethical concept of citizenship and require 'education' on the subject. It was an extremely foolish assumption that anyone who had spent four years in the constant company of the Howes and their employees could possibly tolerate any more for less than a massive wage even had the work been the most engaging and delightful enterprise: such as for instance being assistant Secretary to the assistant Secretary of a Church Choir significantly composed of beautiful and intelligent young females or something such.
To reiterate all this in order to ensure that there can be no misunderstanding: the fact of having worked 'on the side' was thus arranged for me as part and parcel of my having been refused legal advice and coerced into some superficial agreement/decisions these others made. I have considered the fact that I should probably have been excused this ordeal on general medical grounds and have probably also mentioned that the GP I had BEB Williams was an elderly bespectacled gentleman with very fixed socio-political notions and preconceptions about the behaviour necessary to elicit worthwhile medical care from his practice and I couldn't help thinking that the manner of his having been asked to act as a character reference for a College course in 1992 may well have offended his Conservative sensibilities, to a certain extent he was justified but not in blaming me and I think time would however show that he was motivated by political considerations to an unacceptable degree. I didn't reiterate that local Magistrates had largely ignored me when I had been arraigned on charges of possessing Cannabis, but made it fairly clear that I certainly felt unable to have anything to do with any sort of a conformist statement about Drugs, and had only partially expressed this to him having of course some interest in glossing over potential objections to getting off the dole and into College even though I had other serious reservations about it. I had to have a reference as a formality but no-one really knew me better at the time than some of the College lecturers with whom I had become acquainted and I certainly sought to distance myself from the suggestion that I was somehow keen to please in this respect if not making it as plain as I might: so some attempt to ignore what I had actually said was taking place. I have also stated that for four years I may not have worked the precise equivalent of a full time Job on site on weekly tasks involving various dangerous and unhealthy materials, situations and arguably persons in terms of the hours I was paid for; but it is nevertheless the case that for four years I was fully occupied with working for the Howes and that I had tried to raise these matters with the local Constabulary within the first eighteen months of that period having noticed or imagined that everyone in Town knew this, having initially expected some apology for it all, and having been then told to get on with working illegally by them.
When some years after freeing myself from the Howes I recounted to a Borough Council fraud investigator that I could arguably be said to have lost the compensation money I had for the stabbing in the process of trying to instil respect for the law since it was with the £2000 compensation I had as the result of the stabbing that I went to the Far East for a second time. I abandoned the Howes and their flat leaving it to an ex Captain of the Oxford University ladies tennis team, an expert on West European Languages who was sharing the place as she started her first Job with a theatre group and had been rather good company obviously and insofar as this was also the time that they were busy with much work and I could have profited most from either continuing to work as was being demanded of me or by staying at home and investing my legitimate windfall: the fact that I did not stay at (home) and invest thus was due to the fact that I was being thus threatened and is a matter that ought to be the subject of legal censure. The Investigator was very obsessed with what he called 'corporate fraud,' and I couldn't seem to impress upon him that what I had done was because I couldn't get legal advisers to co-operate or persuade relatives with 'fixed opinions' to admit their persuasiveness went beyond the bounds of decency and that which any reasonable person would expect me to be legally accountable for, and not, because of some stray scheme or contrivance of any sort on my part: which is also to say that it was rather pointless of him to have asked for example about any other information I might be able to give him as I was pleading that I didn't have the force to win violent arguments with such persons as already had other ideas. When I first started making complaints about the manner in which I was given non existent legal aid, was forced to permit the entering of pleas in Court with which I did not agree, and work illegally, I had no idea that the DSS ran their own fraud enquiries and had assumed that such matters would be dealt with by the Constabulary as is every other sort of crime. I mean One thinks fraud, fraud squad, and so have no idea what official comments may or may not have been passed between these Departments of State as background for example to the incident of a Manageress whose behaviour seemed to coincide with descriptions of Cocaine addiction, sacking me from a Job at the DSS in '96 on the obviously fictitious basis that I was lazy after a mere nine days, whilst keeping on other virtually clinically obese and obviously less competent staff.
Since then I won't say that I have done everything absolutely strictly by the book since then and I can't say unreservedly that I haven't been completely able to, but have earned no more than a thousand pounds since 1989 that could in any way be said to have not been correctly accounted for through the correct official channels, this remains well below the total I was allowed to earn undisclosed in that time, and one which most people have saved many times over in the same period on smoking smuggled Tobacco: I am the only unemployed person I know who does not. This was mostly between '93 and '95 on a run down house a friend of mine had bought on the other side of a then nearby Park. Robert Strutt was another ex Coplestonian (about five years older than myself) whom I knew vaguely from parties in the early eighties and hadn't seen him about since then until I went to College in '92.
It turned out that Robert Strutt was a friend of Wolfgang Powell/Heinkel and I rapidly found myself having to say that the only interest that 'Wolf' was welcome to take in my personal affairs was in providing a confession that he had maliciously fabricated a portrayal of myself as having criminal traits in his capacity as Head of my School year in the late seventies, as I couldn't find any other explanation for the immensely different indeed cardinally opposite portrayals of myself in 1975 and in 1980; when he asked for some some help with a property he'd acquired a couple of years later I explained any details that hadn't already cropped up in gossip of my previous employment history which I had obviously found time to expound on to some extent. We had arguably become fairly close friends since the early nineties though I couldn't help thinking that he had been prompted for unwholesome motives to take a theoretically constructive interest in another ex Coplestonian's career: Bob Dumper a senior English Lecturer had made comments about my Mother's sister Bernadette being known to him for example and he, I think might have had an eye toward looking after her within the context of the British reputation in Ireland or so I had thought at the time. Much of the reality of my conversation with Mr Strutt in future times became almost a business deal the object of which was to provide some therapeutic input for her rather than a friendly conversation about the 'prima facie' subject which I didn't particularly like for the simple reason that I had no other purpose but to extract justice from the state in respect of what I had been subjected to, and besides the fact that I found her strangely disturbing and sinister, she and her relatives were constantly seeking to give out the opposite. For some time now he's been perhaps the only officially 'respectable' friend or acquaintance I have had outside of people who were associated withthe local Church and I had as a matter of interest teased him about his being something of a friend of Herr Heinkel (as another ex Coplestonian) postulating that he was a naive dupe of said character and that attempts to carry out his will would lead to disaster, as early as 93-4. Obviously he has now heard about my having been assaulted and consistently verbally abused by Herr Heinkel (to say nothing of a great deal more about the School records with which I am alleging he contrived a fictional portrayal of myself as a criminal character). He Mr Strutt would personally probably have to be excused if he were to plead that he didn't really quite grasp all the details of what I had said on the matter of my employent history and the reasons I had for taking certain standpoints: it being the case eg that a lot of different parties were and are, seeking to promulgate highly contradictory portrayals of events. As it happens I did point out to the local Constabulary that he, the German teacher was at least partly significantly responsible for framing the circumstances that I judged were threatening the life of Kevin MacNamara three days before he died. I thought it remarkable that so much faith in official records of one sort or another was being evidenced in the apparent expectation that they were going to bring some sort of luck to the British nation when they were obviously fictitious. The Chinook crash doesn't seem quite so strange when you consider that all the security implications inherent in having someone condemned as this or that sort of criminal malefactor at School leaving age in quite the manner I was by someone whose name was Heinkel and whose predilections had attracted a significant amount of hostility from his colleagues: he was a very different audience to certain presumably contributing events involving Irish relatives than that which most would have assumed given his conventional appearance and upper class English accent. My Uncle and his near Family are known to people I went to School with in Ipswich in a fairly real sense insofar as people sometimes notice the family voices of fellow pupils to this extent and it is relevant to point out that he might be considered the only voice which had evidently sought to protect me from adversity to any extent or with any success in my School years. I was obviously encouraging his Wife to try and 'lump' Mrs Cormack in response to her advances (a matter in which she perhaps hadn't entirely failed) and who had perhaps succeeded in lumping FJK during the course of at least one of his assaults or forcible attempts to get me to display my genitalia for the approbation of the Cormacks: this wasn't entirely unknown even to those with whom I had little concourse other than having to sit with myself during the course of morning registration and so on insofar as it ws impossible to avoid noticing that I was being sexually harassed and assaulted routinely, had seen the bruising and knew of the ordeal I was going through. That I had the subconscious good sense to know that my Mother's husband didn't mean well for me and that I was wise to, avoid if not quite as far as possible any help that came from what was supposedly her household, to treat it with some serious circumspection was as time would show a basically sound piece of aforethought. As a Resident of the Irish Capital William was unable to do much beyond managing to leave the odd worthwhile tangible bump in the way of regular tormentors: though it is not entirely inconceivable this was merely a by product of concern for his sisters in particular Bernadette. My mothers siblings, she is the youngest of three sisters and one brother were all deprived creaures brought up largely by a Convent-Orphanage in WW2 and the subsequent concomitant economic downturn that War brought to almost everyone in Europe as I have mentioned. He is not what he was nowadays unfortunately, and I gather has had major heart surgery in the last few years which may or may not be a valid comment on the potency of Irishwomen ha ha, but is possibly at least as much to do with years of eating convenience food, drinking alcohol and enduring a generally appalling social and material conditions in the post war inner city in which he grew up or existed.
Over the thirty odd months that my friend Robert's place near the local park was a mess of redecorating and reorganisation he had occasion to ask for as I have said some occasional assistance and it might have seemed to the casual observer that I did a lot more work there than I actually did as I spent quite a lot of time there for other reasons including the fact that the flat I had just moved to was impossible to heat in it's then condition, however peaceable (excepting the fact of the nutcase who owned it) and the fact that he had a good colour TV for example. In addition to that was increasingly significantly the perception that I was the victim of unwholesome intrigues and their being a need to examine the people I had been mixed up with more carefully in seeking to evaluate exactly what had been going on which was facillitated by the fact of being near to rather than in the residence I was supposed to be heating and living in during the hours of daylight. He's still working on the place intermittently and as I say have collected less than a thousand pounds in the last ten years or more now outside of recorded and accounted transactions with the DSS which I didn't want to go to the bother of signing on and off continually for, besides being more interested in making a fuss about the long term truth of what was happening in regard to work declarations particularly. My total of personal possessions at the time consisted of a portable TV worth maybe fifty quid, a few tools and a wrecked Motorcycle. He sometimes wanted only a few minutes help with deliveries or with placing lintels for example and so I omitted everything that I had done for him from any official accounting/administrative comment which strictly speaking in financial terms I was allowed to do if one considers so much time in a given decade shall we say and most would agree that I only bent the rules by this retrospective evaluation and indeed hardly that, it being the case for example that half the work which he paid me for was in the shape of a Videorecorder he bought some time after a given total of a few humdred quid had been built up in various hours. The point is that I was not interested in any validation of what had gone before and that I didn't care to cover it up considering myself a victim and was rather concerned to provoke a prosecution not evade one insofar as i considered a wider discussion would at least acquit me of any deliberate wrongdoing. I did learn a few things about building maintenance and did two other major jobs of work, which took a matter of some weeks at about this time for which their were no such sensible practical objections (in the early ninteties), one of which was for one of the local Church's more notable characters a chap who did serious work with the Choir, wanted a tree removed from his front garden and a little serious interior redecoration arranged. He was unfortunately for himself one of those who was stupid enough to have ignored my belief in the validity of my general complaints about my legal situation and continued seeking to persuade me that I should be running around trying to set an example for people at my own personal cost and displaying willingness to take a third rate Job which does in fact demonstrate immense hypocrisy and cowardice, at least in the context of him posing as a friend: I daresay he may be forced to admit this eventually and expect a more sophisticated comment will emerge. The other serious task was perhaps a little more interesting and something of a challenge and consisted of building a handrail on the property next door for the Octogenarian couple who owned it which called for all sorts of extempore thinking and a certain amount of design innovation on a Victorian building which didn't want any remarkable change in appearance but did need a handrail around the front garden. I was not really interested in seeking a career as a self employed, self taught artisan in any way and couldn't understand why people seemed to find so readily, various reasons for making out that I did. Obviously the fact that people had escaped fairly lightly in terms of my unwillingness or inability to behave in a ruthless manner in going after money on odd tasks has some bearing on it. I built this rail for the elderly neighbours, very cheaply as it turned out because I was in the process of acquiring more tools with money from my Mother to rebuild the motorcycle in the Garage which I was restoring and the use of which I had acquired, also for my own long term personal practical considerations having suffered badly maintained privately rented properties and having been made all too aware of what they cost in upkeep for those who have little knowledge or ability in such areas. These neighbours as particularly frail pensioners were, it might have been fair to say to a certain extent being neglected by a West Indian musician their daughter had married and I could tell there was some modest friction between him and the Mother in Law who passed away during the time I was their neighbour.
Someone else, an acquaintance of this friend Robert on the other side of the local park whom I had assisted casually as described (one Andrew Booth as I seem to recall whose Wife teaches at Copleston) when he learned that I had carried out certain works there refused to pay me for three weeks work he then in turn solicited (which I obviously didn't want) and another whose name I can't remember refused to permit declaration of work and I didn't even bother to collect a day and a half's money that he owed me once I found out that he couldn't be made to understand this: I had already told him it was unacceptable and that Robert's case was due to the peculiar circumstances I had adumbrated, as well as the fact that he was providing me with all kinds of help including loans of petty cash whilst I was trying to make something worthwhile out of what I little I had. In view of the facts as I have put them I must state that I resent any imputation to the effect that I should be personally concerned at all about any aspect of the proprieties of this particular matter, given the help I had not had with such business in prior years when my not wanting to systematically pillage the Welfare system was supposed to be some kind of unsavoury scheme on my part. Rather more significantly is the fact I am not personally equipped to cope with Police corruption and rivalry between these departments; my view is that if they are lying to each other and putting interdepartmental loyalties and personal accountability above legal principle then things will go wrong and it really isn't any fault of mine if there is any lack of communication on this score. I note in testament of the veracity of information that this is a hugely difficult matter to administrate and that our public school educated PM's latest moral initiative on the issue has collapsed and is in fact a financial burden. I will say that I have earned considerably less than I was entitled to since 1989 and that overall since I first left School and signed on that my allowances are in fact arguably correct to within a very small margin of error it being the case that in a twenty two year period I was entitled to earn a total of approaching £5-6000 that I did not need to declare and any odd favours that I may have managed to obtain whilst I had the use of a garage was an inconsequence totalling perhaps three hundred in cash value via the medium of odd modest favours my friend Pip Wood I had shared it with had done for me. The difference between what I have earned and what I was strictly speaking allowed to earn was perhaps as much as four but probably more like two thousand pounds over a 23 year period in which I have been officially unemployed which is easily writable off in terms of the expenses I incurred on the nature of the work which I have also discussed. There were a number of other things that I didn't seek expenses for in the same period which I could have had reimbursed by the state and didn't bother to chase up which were mostly medical expenses: there have been and are many instances of my involvement in various community affairs that that could fairly be described as voluntary work, few of these I have considered taking the trouble to record as such on an ongoing basis either.
I have to take issue with any inference that I ever said anything about these enterprises upon which I was engaged for MH other than that it was illegal, unwise, and that good would not come of it: I also said it first and tried to divert resources into voluntary work for the benefit of the family and wider community. This was subequent to the fact of my Mother having begun feeding me resources in bits and pieces which happened when she got a typists job with the Police force and by which time I was almost thirty. I did some voluntary work for the woman who had been her boss in the late nineties which consisted of playing Chess with her husband who was all too evidently dying from severe brain injuries sustained from a Motorcycle accident, lacked company and was fond of the game. He was a big man who had obviously once been proud of his ability to provide for and defend his family and so on, couldn't come to terms with the extent to which he had become a burden on his Wife and Daughters. Christian morality regards suicide as cowardice but in such cases I have some serious difficulty agreeing, and feel in many respects he made a brave and noble decision to allow himself to slip away whilst his Wife Judith was stilll young enough to find another partner rather than lumber those he loved with the shambling epileptic burden he had become: I can only say that if it were myself I would be likely to have done the same thing and I have little enough taste for life and the company of my compatriots and fellow human beings as it is.
I have no idea what official amnesties or any such thing may ever have been offered with regard to black market Labour or obviously as to how it might have ever theoretically or hypothetically had any bearing on my case and it makes little difference in the here and now as far as I can see: obviously it is a subject which is and has been a subject of some significant ongoing concern in terms of media time. What is needed in the UK are not fresh pronouncements on the part of Bliarite spin Doctors but the evolution of a clearly understood and respected legal establishment less based on who knows who and more based on simple right and wrong which is of course easy enough to say. The impression I get is that politicians are making noises about it that don't make much sense and such media comment as I have noticed lack continuity it being the case that more small time politicians asociated with the present government could easily be accused of enouraging the practice of social security fraud and the quite prevalent view of it as innocent whilst national politicians on TV seek to create the opposite impression for the benefit of more bourgeois or well to do audiences on prime time TV. My view is that MH should have been prosecuted in 1990 or so for the events of '84 to '88 which I basically did not profit from (they were theoretically the best years of my life) and the fact that he was not renders any other official comment nonsensical insofar as it does not make sense to excuse a millionare from fraudulent behaviour and then seek to take to task someone who is merely trying to pay a mortgage. Failing to secure this arguably renders the Constabulary here liable to offical disapprobation themselves but as recent News shows if they cannot be persuaded to avoid scheming with paramilitaries on the question of assassinating citizens of the Irish Republic for example, they are hardly likely to be concerned about accusations that they may have suppressed or mishandled allegations of financial impropriety on the part of their acquaintances and I have to reiterate that in many ways I couldn't be expected to have known this at the time. It has occurred to me at times in more recent years that Robert was expanding the amount of work he did at the College and that it might have been a good idea to have declared some of what I did for him where possible insofar as anyone likes to maintain a respectable public face; especially of course those with serious incipient professional ambitions but my view was that this would be a cosmetic exercise of no real value to anyone except those fraudsters whom I had just escaped a year or two previously who were seeking to plagiarise the integrity and the honest airs of others and that signing on and off for a day here and a half day there would be a counterproductive nuisance both in respect of necessary administration involved in signing on and off repeatedly, and in terms of my general aim of refusing to legitimise what had happened in any way and that if the total he was likely to want didn't exceed roughly such and such figures no-one could justifiably complain at ommitting what I did for him on grounds of my casual allowance especially in view of the fact that everyone else that I knew without exception including more senior College Lecturers, Policemen and local Councillors had displayed a unanimous displeasure when I had refused to continue perpetrating a wholesale fraud some two years or so beforehand as it then was: sorry if this seems a bit repetitive.
Now obviously getting up and doing at least vaguely constructive things was simply a much better idea than sitting around in a depressing flat without the means to support it at anything other than prehistoric standards of comfort. I couldn't say as the result of four years of working part time with Builders and Engineers that I had learned nothing about how to handle myself in such an environment even if I learnt little about engineering and not a great deal about building/construction. Working with all manner of vehicles and buildings is obviously more dangerous, and in most ways demanding, than processing any kind of bureaucracy for a living and of course there was also the opportunity to modestly indulge in acquiring and learning to use useful tools and equipment as a result of participating in such endeavours though this wasn't great and most of MH's employees seemed to go out of their way to make life unpleasant for me. In general the experience had taken rather too much from me one way and another: my hands in particular suffered immensely as the result of several years of working in abominable conditions in all temperatures with every unmentionable substance from sewage to waste fuel and I will certainly be very likely to acquire various rheumatic and arthritic complaints at an early age as a result. It was some few years after this and again at approaching the age of thirty that I found out about employment legislation and the significance of a P45 document and have adduced that this was probably something to do with the fact of having had only the one 'friend,' as such throughout schooldays in Suffolk and teenage years who had a preoccupation with crime (it having run in his family), and the fact of my effectively having arguably no relatives who were either remotely responsible or capable.
Late in the Year 2001 I could boast that I had acquired the use of a moderate sized garage, two motorcycles (if old and relatively worthless), and a larger than average collection of tools including (basic) welding and spraying equipment. That not all my attempts at repairing and maintaining motorcycles have been a success has been due to some minor acts of sabotage and misinformation but otherwise I haven't had any major disasters in any of my actual avocational and employment career, or any disasters at all come to that: in many ways I like to think that I have at least demonstrated a significant even unusual amount of determination and resourcefulness in dealing with adversity.
I'm afraid a sort of nepotism characterises a lot of the infrastructure of British society nowadays with any form of statutory civil liberty being effectively at the discretion of lower middling white collar workers who are encouraged to condemn any of the altruistically motivated legislation of the post-war years as a sort of discredited Attleeist style communism. Since I was quite forcefully and quite falsely encouraged to believe that the cradle to the grave vision of the welfare state that was more seriously countenanced just after WW2, might be of some assistance to me in the personally dire straits I found myself in as a homeless young person I have had good teeth deliberately removed, as a punishment for seeking to obtain the most basic of dental procedures that I am in theory guaranteed by the law and have in turn been assaulted by said Constabulary for complaining about expensive and destructive procedures which were at least deliberately careless and have had very distressing results. I am very much afraid that rhetoric about civil rights and so on is very much a tool by which careerist politicians seek to take advantage of others and that the political will to improve this is in fact being eroded by their antics especially those which relate rather deceitfully to the Labour Party's supposedly less materialist values. Such 'medicine' as the state now gives away seems often logically, not worth having, unless you are dying or in serious trouble and have no choice but to take a risk. The provision of legal aid to those who cannot afford it is an equally cruel joke as I have been at pains to elaborate and the burden of which must also be shared by the taxpayer, the only benefit of which is the costly employment of those in the judicial system who return nothing of value to a conflict ridden society.
Anyhow, to return briefly to the subject of Education another subject forming the basis for what is obviously as far as I am concerned another lot of vain and empty proselytising on the part of Generalissimo Blair: as a matter of fact this is surely the opinion of anyone with an IQ in excess of about 70 or 80.
Within two years of failing to get onto an A level course at Northgate 6th form I started trying to study part time at the local College 'Suffolk College' as it had then become; I was to spend much time there over the following decade though I didn't acquire any qualifications as a result. During those ten years I did undertake much part time study mostly in the humanities but a significant amount also in Biological Science. I don't know if many people realise it but the money spent on Education since the sixties had endowed the powers that be with quite a lot of facilities and the disbursal of this cash was almost certainly the most outstanding if perhaps not the most lasting achievement of Harold Wilson's government.
In academic terms I suppose I can boast that I have several times the level of knowledge in English or History that is required of a University entrant though my age now makes any comparison with School leavers unfair insofar as I have now simply had sufficient time to acquire enough knowledge to impress. For this reason mostly I consider I would be best employed in a situation where I would have the opportunity to use the communication skills I have developed. I suppose I would probably have studied and researched to the extent I have even if I had never gone to a local College and in many ways, given the amount of time that people actually spend on their teaching jobs I might as well have stayed at home at least as far as adding to the exam passes I had in 1981 was concerned. Insofar as I have any definite thoughts about what I might be likely to do with my future in the short to medium term; I do get very bored with people, things and situations that don't require any significant cerebral activity and am unlikely to countenance something that doesn't with any seriousness if I can persuade people that I really need something which does.
The point is that insofar as it is of some interest to a few and a sort of intellectual bone of contention, the general direction that my study was going in was a curious paradox of old and new since in some ways I had a small c conservative approach to the humanities and yet was intent on carrying my study of Biology further. Of three other pupils from my High School who went up to 6th form one other had been in my RE 'O' level Class and went on to do RE (Religious Education) at A level. So up to a point on the one hand there was an exploration of Bible study and contemporary Religion, on the other of objective thought through semantics and linguistics in the Arts. It occurs to me to say at this juncture what a dreadful shame it really is that the nation became so obsessed with political correctness at this point in history, mostly with regard to some perceived lack of culture and the ennui of civic life in the Town of Ipswich. About the most contentious thing that has been said in the Borough within the last ten years was the remark passed by Jamie Cann that there should be "mandatory life sentences for dealers in hard drugs," which was an obviously impractical idea considering the huge numbers of such persons who are supplying the black market demand for ecstasy in particular (which I have never personally tried) each weekend and was almost certainly the result of at least one too many large Glasses of beer, (written before his death obviously).
Now it must surely be reasonably plain to anyone who has read a fraction of the material I have written here, that between 1981 and 1985 I had no opportunity to study properly as such, and that between 1985 and 1992 I had little. It wasn't merely the case that I was forced to live the sort of lifestyle which left me with little or no chance of sitting down to write, neatly and legibly at high speed for hours at a time which one must do if one wishes to pass any examination in the humanities. Many have often commented this is rather a test of temperament rather than of intelligence and is certainly a game for those with adequately supplied personal situations insofar as it is competitive. This means that it is not necessarily those who know the subject best who will pass exams but rather those who are able to write well, which does not tend to include those who have been living rough for years on end however brilliant they may actually be. It wasn't until I was in my thirties and after I had been barred from College that I had finally learned the trick of writing perfectly by hand almost at will: many nowadays comment that it is a shame that this is a dying art. I certainly find that the ability to do so confers much upon those who can be troubled to master it including interrogative ability and it does remain a minority who can afford to use a Computer at home or even have regular access to one. I had always been good at reading and reading aloud, so much so that in my first year at Secondary School in Lancashire a good proportion of the class would consistently clamour for me to be appointed to the task of reading anything if it were required of someone. It would now take me a few days practisement to reinstate the ability to write perfectly as I use a keyboard for almost everything nowadays and given my difficulties with the local educational establishment I have little reason to practise the production of perfect handwritten notes as, for example amongst other things they make an ineffectual response to armed assassins.
It was also the case that I was faced with increasing hostility as a social security claimant from teachers and other white collar workers who had little real intention of helping someone like myself through an exam. Over the approximate ten year period from '81 I enroled on part time courses most years, and, whilst it is true that I failed to learn nothing whatever, when I wasn't living appallingly rough I was struggling to cope with the demands on my time and good humour that working as a skivvy cleaning lavatories and floors whilst enduring the insults of Engineers and Builders: so, in that decade I only made about two attempts to sit for an 'A' level exams which were aborted. Some attempt seemed to be made subsequent to the fact of my having left what was euphemistically termed the full time course in September of 1992, to infer that I wasn't going to get any worthwhile assistance with the business of acquiring an actual exam pass as I had already monopolised more attention than was fair or deserved, which I didn't understand. For example I had never tried to trouble anyone for any kind of reference. When I say hostility, I mean that the County Council employees were often openly resentful of any claimant even when unprompted and tended to state that they had less right to their 'services' than others and should be looking for a Job instead of troubling honest taxpayers for 'charity,' obviously a fairly popular hobby in certain quarters, as well as having some fairly less than humble ideas about how the sort of regard in which the public ought to hold such Government employees considering themselves 'classy' white collar workers as they do. I can only say off the top of my head in this respect that it would make more sense if County and Borough Council's weren't so opposed to one another and make the obvious observation that there should be more continuity in Goverment.
It was during the latter part of 1991 I think it was that a senior member of the English department one Robert Dumper told me there might be some chance of getting on a 'full time' course, which naturally did interest me: at that point I still held dreams of a worthwhile future and my concerns were not that I couldn't do the work but that I would be unable to do it as I was getting older and less able to meet the demands of my indigent existence. I didn't quite understand why a reference was wanted, as he probably at that point knew me better than anyone else who had any sort of official standing in, 'society.' He certainly had a better idea I would reckon, or at least as good as anyone else as to what exactly I had been doing: he even had his car serviced by Mr Howes and not only knew both my parents as my Father had sold him an assurance policy in about 1982 and my Mother was doing some of Howes's paperwork, but also had a reasonable idea which one of my Aunts and Uncles was which, which was true of few of my 'acquaintances.'
As soon as my Mother heard this she was insisting on writing to the then MP the Conservative Michael Irving about the difficulties of retaining rented accommodation whilst attending a 'full time' course; despite the fact that I had told her that she should confess to having already wreaked an immense amount of harm on my life chances (amongst other things by deliberately trying to get me involved in fraud) and do nothing except endorse my own comments. At no point did she display any compunction about encouraging crime and instead continued pursuing a fraudulent course of action that was illegal and seemed foolish insofar as it was dictated by those whom she had already assisted in a fairly complete destruction of any worthwhile existence I might have hoped for whilst I was in my twenties. This was in complete contrast to that which I have consistently sought to put before the Constabulary, for whom she was by then working as a Typist which they have as far as I know refused to consider in any way: in general the College authorities mysteriously tried to follow her script and any of my own observations or comments were apparently thought unworthy of reply.
At this time I had not clearly perceived there might be some link between the apparent willingness on the part of the College authorities to pander to Mrs Taylor's unwanted pronouncements and the fact of the Father of one of those who almost certainly knew of the actual facts about the Burglary, which partly thanks to herself I was, (officially) blamed for, being head of the A level department that year: I did not know that Frank Grace was to be Head until the first day of the academic term which commences late September as far as further education is concerned and was distinctly upset at the discovery as I had found him deliberately unhelpful in part time History lectures in previous years. Despite the fact for example that besides Frank Grace (an ex Navy man*) and Robert Dumper, I knew some dozens of employees of the College quite well after ten years of odds and ends of part time study, it was oddly enough a completely new employee of the College who was principally inconvenienced by the duplicitous conversation my Mother had engendered. Dave Stott was from out of town and knew nothing whatever of the persons and events involved: which inevitably tends to the suspicion that Mr Grace knew about this or that someone did and that the failure of the course was perhaps the result of a deliberate attempt on his part to perpetuate the deceit which exculpated his son and their friends from explaining what they know about the disappearance of items of my family's property and PMC's collection of musical instruments. His son Simon had attended my Secondary School (Copleston) and knew as I have said of most of the circumstances of the 'Burglary' of my Father's maisonette in 84-5, having been present at the initial conversations when the matter of bad debts and housing arrangements were being discussed.
The course was for 21 hours a week though of course one was theoretically expected to work for much more than that under one's own direction. I had expected an easy ride as I had read half of the English 'A'level texts already, and whilst opting to do Sociology as the other 'A' level, instead of Biology of which I had also already covered at least half of the syllabus in the previous two years: I expected no great difficulty with any literacy based subject after all I had done little with my life except read. I had however reckoned without the general (perhaps it might be unfair to say) shiftlessness of members of the teaching profession (perhaps other apparent motives may yet emerge for the refusal to carry out their responsibilities), and the particular fact that Frank Grace was to be the head of the 'A' level department that year, having assumed this would be Robert Dumper whom as I recall it was partly motivated in seeking to put such a thing my way by the, shall we say peculiarities of the national conflicts central to my family background and was probably attempting if not to defuse just such an incident as that which came to pass in The Truth About The Chinook Crash of June '94 but was apparently (wisely as it turns out), seeking to undermine some of the circumstances which arguably gave rise to it. It is probably also worth mentioning that he knew of the four years I had worked for the Howes and may have sought to disguise this if only for convenience insofar as he had to give the matter of malversation amongst Townsfolk he knew at least some unwelcome consideration of the sort that such academics have to regard as an occupational hazard in many respects.
Another of the English Lecturers I had become quite well acquainted with as the result of abortive attempts to finish part time courses, was an ex public schoolboy (that's actually privately educated) called Trevor Grimshaw. As far as I am aware when I left the course a few weeks prior to it's actual scheduled finish he had not even marked or returned to me the essay I had presented him with on it's first day and there is also the suspicion that he has amused himself by teaching the wrong facts about possessive apostrophes. The whole tenor of the feedback that I got from some very expensively salaried and lettered gentlemen was basically that I was not welcome and that they would not carry out their statutory responsibilities. I can only say that if I'm in the least bit erroneous in my approbation of this then I'm sure the whys and wherefores will be understood and that an explanation exists.
Over the previous academic year I had helped to run a small club there for Dungeons and Dragons role playing and wargaming and as I say, knew quite a lot of people in the place so was quite surprised when things didn't work out as I imagined. I had to have dealings with new employees of the 'Student's Union' though I never actually found out what it was that they did; there was a new employee, a Northern woman by the name of Christine Norman whose behaviour semmed like an iritating and facile script for a children's TV Programme. I think they were something (obviously) to do with Students' rights, but they seemed to be employed by the same branch of the County Council as all the Lecturers and besides refusing to divulge the precise nature of their endeavours one of her friends tore up a certain amount of paperwork whilst having a fit of hysterics which might have provided some insights, without any expression of disapproval from her. This 'friend' Anne Hunt was supposed to be acquainted with me on the basis that she was a fellow student, but by the time that she was getting unpleasant about the fact of my not having helped her raise funds for some creche or something such which she had hardly requested in any genuinely polite or reasonable manner, she had still to divulge what it was she was studying. Whatever the Student's Union do for a living besides patronising the fatuous, or anyone who simply has the misfortune to be around, it is a secret which has never been shared with me and I have been left making educated guesses.
I can't say I didn't enjoy the course at all or that some of the study didn't have a great deal of intellectual validity: another of the senior English Lecturers I forget his name as I only saw him that year, was a massive bear of a man, (Mike Gowar?) highly capable, who put a great deal of tolerant effort into the business of giving people who had perhaps never felt comfortable with the idea of literacy as an avocation, some real insight into the nature, history and workings of our language. This can be especially true of many for example among ethnic minorities who often complain of alienation and of being asked to digest the worse aspects of our society. This was while Trevor Grimshaw was consistently turning up forty minutes late for two hourly lessons; it has occurred to me since that he may have been signalling that he wished me to carry out some of the simpler tasks, ie in assisting him to teach rather than waiting to be fed input so to speak. I did after all know some of the books in sufficient depth and was certainly quite capable of doing this at times, but was rather disconcerted by a good deal of what had taken place and was not, one way and another in the right sort of frame of mind to make such a step without a very much clearer indication that this was desired and besides which it is obviously a very difficult matter for anyone who exists on such means as I have and am, to maintain sufficient of the right sort of composure for such a task. One interesting sub plot to the fact of the course being imminent in 1992 was the result of my having recently moved from the flat in Gainsborough Road which contained the sets of three way mirrors and visual tricks I have mentioned. The first place that arose was a bedsit in appalling condition only a few hundred yards away in a block, but the people who ran the place were at least otherwise professional, reasonably friendly and accommodating. Living on the top floor at the time was one Councillor John Harrison (Labour), who stood for election to Parliament for one of the neighbouring constituencies in the subsequent General Election and not having socialised at all with anyone of any real intelligence or any charisma for some time I did briefly join the Labour Party again that year but only to make it plain that the lesson of my previous experiences of politics and local government was that I wasn't going to be putting any serious work into anyone else's political career and was rather trying firstly to shame them for their legal neglects, and secondly was trying to lose them. This isn't to say that I couldn't have been persuaded to get involved in something I might have believed in if the legal angles could be worked out, but at that time I was in the process of trying to get on top of the course work before it began and felt my time was better spent in realising ambitions than in acquiring them.
Councillor Harrison was occupying almost precisely the position as Councillor for Whitton, (a left wing ward dominated by low income Council House tenants) that I would perhaps not have been unlikely to, under certain circumstances and it might not be a dramatic overexaggeration to say that at one time some influential figures might have begun to think of me as the spiritual heir to Jamie Cann insofar as in the year that he captured the Labour nomination I was arguably the only really capable young recruit who had appeared in the whole Constituency and tended to stand out a bit at around the time that he became the leading light in the local Labour party, which was some time before Councillor Harrison turned up. This would have been much more true if I could have managed somehow to raise my profile with some investment or employment and leave behind some of the worse habits of the louche existence I had inevitably acquired to a certain extent insofar as I definitely didn't have clean clothes or good bathroom facilites: but I was never the sort of person to be overly concerned with even comparatively innocent portrayals and partly necessary deceptions unless there was some reward or objective clearly on the table and even so find them irritating. I don't say this as part of some kind of megalomaniac diatribe but simply because it was true. Mr Cann had entered politics as a result of finding that the primary school children he was teaching lacked basic amenities, hygiene clothing and facilities etc to allow them to actually benefit from Education and I, had precisely the same reasons for involvement in politics at the age of 15-16: there were very few of any ability at all who were willing to oppose the Thatcherite consensus for any reason in the early '80s and the Labour Party was then in the same position as the Tories are today of having to look around for fresh ideas and it is a genuine shame that these leftist idealogues have betrayed such lack of insight, incompetence and fairly outrageous self interest.
I cannot say to what extent socialising with people who were trying to popularise themselves with low income voters contributed toward the fact of my being mugged by three males of West Indian extraction on the very day, as fate would have it, that my academic grant cleared (for the 'A' level course in 1992) and I withdrew some of the sum ('scuse the weak joke): I quite suspect that it did have at least something to do with this. Councillor Harrison was a Londoner and was trying to hold down a full time teaching Job as well as entertaining very real hopes of a parliamentary seat of his own and it was all too evident that I could do much of what he was doing quite satisfactorily (or so I imagined). I had not only more time but a more intimate knowledge and understanding of the Constituencies' problems and personalities and was rather more annoyed at the fact that he did not think any of what I have mentioned here at that point in time about my personal story was significant and worthy of a high profile course of complaint, than I was interested in political point scoring of any other sort. I really felt that my general case against the 'authorities' was already carrying sufficient weight and was sufficiently disturbing to have warranted further investigation of at least some sort rather than the continued pursual of what was however nicely disguised in the short term an attempt to exploit myself whatever useful opportunities such a prospect might have led to in the bigger perspective. I don't believe many of the local Labour Council members had any blood ties to the region let alone the Town and when it comes down to it over the years the place has developed a reputation for violence and a low murder clear up rate, which doesn't tend to suggest that the impression of fraternal endeavour fostered by the local Paper is much of a reality, (I hope this isn't considered unfair). It is true that recently an article in the local rag focussed on how few of the ruling Labour groups' Councillors are either using or are able to use the Computers which they have been issued at public expense; which is a rather more intelligent line of comment than the usual irrelevant drivel about Middle England's values and the pastoral idyll so much beloved of the Prime Minister's rhetoric and in the light of such compelling evidence it is difficult to avoid portraying Ipswich as a place that has increasingly been abandoned by the middle classes in many respects.
I was mugged of over fifty pounds and suffered the loss of a broken Walkman, one of the young men had pursued me before with curses and menaces though not alone or unaided and must have been one of the Constabulary's main targets amongst young Muggers since robbery was obviously their preoccupation on the day in question. They had followed me through the narrow Tudor streets and walkways and before I had realised it I was trapped. It was already commonplace ten years ago for muggings to take place routinely in the neighbourhood of the Caribbean Association, other unsuccessful attempts I hadn't bothered to report, but this had come directly from my inadequate grant monies and given the situation vis a vis Frank Grace I was in the position of being able to say that being on such (sarcastic) intimate terms with the Head of the College Unit that I couldn't possibly conceal the disappearance of the money, not that I was willing to or would have countenanced doing so. When this case went to Court, which surprised me immensely as the Station Clerks (one of them at least) had refused to process a report that I had been robbed in my flat by a young woman and one of her acquaintances about 18 months previously (this was when I lived in the same block as Councillor Harrison). The desk clerk in question was a woman in her fifties who had known me at least vaguely for a while and has a disconcerting habit of dressing up like a teenager and putting on too much make up and so on. I rather got the impression that she felt sorry for the Woman who had robbed me who she also knew, had decided that I was among a number of persons who were not going to get anything worthwhile out of the Police Service and could afford to subsidise other unfortunates; she pretty much told me to find the resources to replace the item with cash which her colleagues were in effect insisting that I defraud from the Department of Social Security and I also got the impression that she was a Labour Supporter who didn't want any rocking of Jamie Cann's political applecart (please excuse the ghastly metaphor hehe). Her case was of interest since it rather typified the difficulties faced by small households in dealing with official two facedness on soft drugs. She was at one a typical young Council Estate single Mother with an in many ways arguably quite likeable extrovert nature which had led her into what shall I say was an excessive amount of socialisation with questionable company and gangs of immigrants, had been embroiled in drug dealing and vice as a result, partly it might be said of unrealistic self interested advice on the part of local small time politicians who are keen to encourage others to socialise with their voters with too little thoguht of the realities. If we examine the role of drugs in such a situation it is difficult to belittle the chaos and confusion ensuing from widely differing official impressions of such realities as it being officially a crime, but in reality something which is increasingly viewed as an innocent facet of life on such Estates. The last time I saw her she looked as if she'd been body building and I couldn't help but wonder about the extent to which it seemed as if the local Boys in Blue had given up on trying to prosecute her for various criminal Acts and had been constrained upon to help look after her instead. It is of course the tendency of the informed taxpayer to see the convenience value of such an action insofar as it can cost many thousands of pounds to harass a single penniless Council tenant and some of our more badly educated Police Constables can easily leave a horrific lot to be desired in terms of people who are trying to justify their status and income.
That I gather a brother of one of the accused was subsequently convicted of a haul of some thousands of pounds worth of Heroin is further grounds to find failing with the local Constabulary insofar as people become genuinely unpleasant about the suspicion of collusion with the authorities in such investigations and there might seem to be some reasonable grounds to suspect that the motive for these strange courtroom goings on might have been a roundabout means of adding to their obviously or apparently meagre intelligence regarding such things in the Borough.
When this case went to Court in the spring of '93 there were some ugly scenes outside the Courtroom as I was menaced and threatened by relatives and friends of the accused. All I can really say as the result of what followed was that the thousands of pounds which perhaps a dozen Crown Officials charged the taxpayer for then abusing me, not just once or twice but for the whole day, to the effect that I was a drug addict, without any respite and without any other item of business being conducted, and without any evidence for the allegation being offered. My response to the allegation was obviously a denial and when I was asked if I had anything to say I said no again, wondering whether it was the n or the o that wasn't being fully comprehended. This remark which was obviously made with regard to the accusation of drug addiction, (which besides being an odd way to interview a plaintiff) was irrelevant to the principal motive for the expensive assemblage, even if it were proven to be true, which it couldn't, and was taken as a pretext for closing the remunerative proceedings and since then, all official parties have continued to demonstrate their supreme arrogance and disservice to the nation being smugly silent despite the most earnest entreaties for basic information about so many prior, related issues and events which remain unsettled and which will inevitably lead to expensive conflict.
It goes without saying that these arbitrary antics on the part of the Judiciary are beneath contempt and that they have made a striking contribution toward inciting the murder of a barmaid by two such youths or young men during the course of a Robbery at a Public House in Stoke Park Estate in the winter of 2001-2: who happened to be young West Indians, one of whom I recognised and have since heard is related to one or two longstanding acquaintances among the West Indian Community. The particular odious overstuffed object in question I have decided to nickname 'fatty Friesler' after Hitler's star Judge, Roland (Friesler) as he failed to introduce himself with a typically arrogant lack of grace which is the hallmark of local Crown officials. The streets are full of rudderless, dispossessed, diseased, desperate and destitute people and it is a highly irresponsible act to deliberately overlook and encourage thereby the perpetration of robbery with violence under any circumstance, let alone that of doing so highly visible provocative intent among the inner city indigent. I mean to say by what criterion is the average unemployed young single person of humble means supposed to evaluate the question of when and where it is advisable or acceptable or perhaps merely possible to get away with robbery with violence to any degree? What qualitites, or lack of them are potential victims to be assessed by? A lot of damning hype was made at the Trial and Appeal about the fatal beating given to an uncompliant barmaid, (even the accomplice who was elsewhere at the time was convicted as an accesssory) who as it happens would seem to have been the Mother of a local girl of Anglo-Afro parentage, despite the fact that it wasn't witnessed at close enough quarters for anyone to have given a really good account of the event from any perspective other than that, in this case the violence used was fatal. A number of questions will be left uppermost in the minds of residents of the nearby Estate not the least of which will in general be that of rising crime and as to how regular or irregular such ugly incidents may become in the future with so many low income families in areas of arguably poor facilities of one sort or another. Figuring at least as large will be questions about the effectiveness of the Judiciary, the direction that legal reform will take in coming years and and many associated matters such as the nature and amount of interest that is typically shown in such affairs by given sections of the population, and their awareness of the way that the handling of such such matters is presented by the powers that be through the media. To my mind it is all too arguable that if someone kills someone quite unintentionally during the course of a punitive beating it is really no different than killing someone through bad medical advice motivated by false pride but the facts are that in this case a West Indian youth or two get life sentences for a fatal beating while a local white man with a Job, friends and connections to the Police Department gets his case of causing death by arguably inadvertant but nevertheless deliberate means completely overlooked, at least officially.
It was either before or within a week or two of the beginning of the course that I had put several things in writing to one or two of the more senior staff there. Someone called Peter Fox was occupying a role which was something to do with the social side of things: he was a Lancastrian with a knowledge of languages, and though I didn't know him well I did actually know him to speak to so to speak (excuse me) to a significant extent. I distinctly recall having asked in writing whether there was anything unusual intended about the pronouncement made in his name in the modest brochure advertising the 'A' level unit that year that if anyone had "problems with drugs," they could speak to him. Besides the fact that it was the time of year when such characters seek to effect the return of their charges from drug fairs and rock concerts and so forth for more useful endeavours it was the case that I had imagined during the course of these contretemps and intrigues as a result of some of the feedback I was getting that there were perhaps one or two drug dealers or criminal characters hanging about on the fringes of the College fraternity and that this might have concerned him sufficiently to want to make a fuss about it that year or perhaps even something more specific than that. I got no reply to this however, but the point of mentioning this is to say that for whatever the reasons were for not marking my work any alleged use of soft drugs could not have been amongst them or it would not have been ignored. Neither did I get a reply when the class was asked by someone by the name of Robert E. Lee (no known connection to the American civil war general) to write a critique of the course organisation and as a matter of fact it was passed on to a Counsellor by the name of Lillian Power whom as I recall it, pretended not to have received this document at all as when she spoke to me she was intent on ignoring my references to it. I'm afraid she had struck me as singularly unsuitable for the role of providing good advice to (largely) teenagers about social matters as amongst other things she was so obese she could hardly walk. I am afraid that at least a certain amount of physical activity is an indispensable element of a healthy and wholesome lifestyle, which isn't to suggest that Oneself necessarily succeeds in attempts to do this, but it is inescapable that if people cannot manage to keep their own bodies in better than appalling condition and their memories functioning, then perhaps they shouldn't be providing psychiatric advice to others: I'm sorry if this seems a little below the belt but what really do you expect? They certainly shouldn't be allowed simply not to have to do their Jobs when that's what they get paid for by the same County Council politicos's who are constantly saturating the local gossip columns with stories exaggerating the worth and significance of their roles, accomplishments and ability to control matters effectively. I certainly imagine that the expense of maintaining complaint procedures when no intention is held of adhering to the meaning of simple words does offend many of the contributors to the Exchequer who may have reason thereby to believe that they are paying for them in a very real sense.
I had also by this time actually complained that I was being pestered by Christine Norman of the Student's Union who was trying to be frightfully interested in what was going on and by and large just making a fuss about nothing. I knew where things were by and large and was an adult who didn't need much general help of any miscellaneous description with the kind of thing that teenage fresshmen do. I knew an awful lot of people there at the time as I have said (or so it seemed). She was new, was just being nosy as far as I could tell, basically wasn't willing to say what she was doing. I think my reaction to this was the real motivation behind my being subsequently banned from the establishment. I had commented one day that she smelled appalling (which was true), rather than being an act of any intentional malice on my part. At the time I put this down to a combination of odd circumstances including the fact of her being brash and inquisitive.
(see also)
The fact is that if you have looked at these documents you will have realised that I engaged in a modest practical joke which involved the destruction of a few pounds worth of Ms Powers' windows some months later since she had taken (or so I imagined) to leering triumphantly at me from the window of her Morris Minor, presumably because she (as had others) managed to get away with not doing her job: not that this has prevented her more recently from earning extra cash writing for the Evening Star about the psychological effects of the World Trade Centre disaster. I had been able to get a lease on a larger flat within weeks of leaving the 'full time' course, was having to cross her path each day the following year and was finding the experience of being a constant victim of sneers from the window of her vehicle rather irksome.
Another related matter concerns the fact that of the two half brothers I had acquired as the result of my Mother's second Marriage (they are roughly ten years my junior); the elder, Sean had developed an interest in Computers and was lecturing in the subject in which he had just qualified, due to the shortage of lecturers. He had in particular, and quite understandably, having witnessed at first hand the results of my living on the streets reached the opinion that he didn't want to have anything to do with any of the things I had done at that age, having witnessed at second hand some of the seamier side of youth culture, local politics and social realities in the more central districts of the Town as I still made odd visits to their house particularly in '81-'83. Once I had gotten to the point of being unable to tolerate his old man's abuse, he subsequently became involved with the Conservative party and was already I could tell at the time though I had no contact with him then and have had little since that he was eyeing a prosperous future for himself and is now a tax exile in Dublin. The point here is that Sean had developed a world view that was less concerned than mine had to be with shall we say broadly social justice, and saw only those aspects of what I had experienced which were glaringly undesirable and antisocial. More significantly and relevantly he has tended to obscure what it is I am actually saying myself insofar as one Anglo can look and sound much like another he was unfortunately for me in the ideal position to broadcast a more tolerable seeming version of events than the truths I have sought to publicise, and arguably wrought havoc on my attempts to clearly define where I stand on a number of very serious personal and social issues and events whilst seeking to exculpate his parents from the offences of which they are guilty as well as generally getting fat and wealthy whilst I stand up to the weather in sub standard occommodation from whcih his Father's friends were profiteering.
I definitely put down my inability to follow a lecture one day about the bureaucracy involved in making a University application to these intrigues that were going on (isn't that understandable?). I was refused any further help when I stated that I simply hadn't managed to hear the necessary details.
With regard to the fact of having effectively been barred from further education as a 'danger to staff,' by the fact of having been refused entry to Ms Power's College after the incident of breaking her windows. It surely doesn't require the greatest of intelligence to realise that if it takes over a year for a very highly salaried Deputy head of a College earning at my guess between a 100 grand and a quarter of a million annually to, 'realise,' that some young punk has been mailing his staff threats, and that he can no longer be permitted to enter College property in case he attacks someone that this must surely constitute a serious error or shortcoming of some sort, and he should rather be occupying a bath chair in some retirement home at significantly less expense to the taxpayer along with any of his colleagues who might care to find the time to try and endorse such obviously questionably motivated sentiments, than he should be occupying such an eminent and influential position.
I have a pretty good idea how this particular situation arose as it was not for over a year as I say, that this accusation was made and that this was perhaps at the inspiration of Christine Norman's husband John: whatever the facts the College refused to produce these letters (which I obviously asked them to do) for the simple reason that they don't exist. I had been looking at a little basic Italian in an Evening Class in the intervening year and as far as I am aware was welcome to continue with the two year Italian GCSE as far as the Lecturer in question was concerned. John Norman was the only person apart from the then Deputy Head whom I had never even seen let alone met to have phrased this disapprobation of my presence in any way. He must have approached the Deputy Head as he had never had anything to do with me at the establishment or any of the courses I was on, and was the person who pursued me with documentation to the effect that he had managed to get the Deputy Principal to issue the edicts on display in The MP and his Mental Health and/or The Jason Mitchell affair (Health Service Resources). This was presumably revenge for having made a jest out of his wife's inability to remember to wash properly to a very significant degree upon an odd occasion, for whatever reason. No-one was willing to take much notice of him or his papers and it wasn't until he called the infamous Suffolk Constabulary that I had to concede that I wasn't going to make the second part of that course.
It really needs to be said at this point that later in the year and in following years when I did a lot of voluntary work that it was not as some have tried to give out, a case of some poor deluded fool who had been cured of some mysterious malaise but was an occurrence rather prompted by the fact of needing to publicise the unacceptable realities of my official existence and the erroneous doings of such ignoble characters as have been named in the narrative of this and other documents, also obviously not wanting to be coerced into the lower end of the labour market. Especially as the advent of new communications media promised a complete rewriting of the rules of political journalism, amongst much else in our daily lives, which was obviously of particular interest to someone who considered he had a just case that only required to be heard in the manner in which it originally should have been put to the Court in order to elicit the correct and appropriate response from the powers that be.
The ongoing attempt to portray the opposite case would only be the result of the guilty scheming of talentlessness, malicious, fools and flatterers who had, rather than resolving a unproductive and potentially dangerous conflict with a plausible seeming fiction, only served to intensify my personal bitterness and sense of injustice whilst magnifying the potential perils which I had sought to draw attention to. In the aftermath of the Jason Mitchell affair I noticed an advert in the local Advertiser saying that the Womens's Royal Voluntary Service needed helpers for lunchtime deliveries of cooked meals to the aged and infirm which wasn't only in principle a suitable outlet for my sociable talents, knowledge and ability but was in practice also quite congenial in that the WRVS centre was only a few minutes walk away.
I had moved into a larger flat in June 1993 as I have previously mentioned and had lived in two bedsits near the town centre since living in the Howes' property in Gainsborough Road, having moved into the second of those, very centrally situated a few months before the A level Course. The place I moved to after the course finished was derelict excepting the fact that it had a fresh coat of Emulsion on the walls to contrive a contrary appearance: the windows were all hanging out; there was a little narrow rabbit path through an eight ft tall dense undergrowth in the driveway; the rear garden was thoroughly overgrown; numerous trees had to be dug up and the Garage was half submerged beneath tons of detritus. The one obvious redeeming feature about the place as far as I was concerned was that the flat was two storeys up opposite the thick woodland of the grounds of a public school well populated with gun toting Army Cadet children of the well to do. The front room had a perfect snipers view over the approach road from the front, the rear was thick with brambles shrubs and trees entirely governed by a very small group of bourgeois householders and utterly impassable to anything larger or less nimble than one of the swifter varieties of African Mongoose. Even a tank would find approach impossible owing to the presence of many massive Oaks and Limes and in short a dyslexic mental defective could hold a battalion of pioneers at bay for months with a toothpick from the location: I doubt if many of the locals would quibble if it were described as one of the most secure locations in the County.
The ceiling rapidly fell off in the ground floor flat which was pronounced sabotage naturally enough by the Landlord who had little choice or so it seemed but to offer me the deal the Canadian girl who occupied the ground floor flat had before she fled weeping after 100 years worth of plaster had deposited itself on a lot of new hi fi equipment. This was that the garden would get what was optimistically termed 'maintenance, it actually required a four figure sum for immediate 'restoration.' In exchange I would obtain the use of the Garage which was submerged under a landslide at one end and was full of stinking Rubbish as I say: I really don't want to think about the price I paid in terms of man hours for it all. Strikingly in mind at the time was that I had owed Pip Wood a sum of about £70 since 1982 when I had spent several months sleeping in his front room and never paid it, largely coincidentally it seemed to me then insofar as I had only seen him about a few times in the intervening period, never so fate had it at any of the times that I had ready cash and could easily have repaid him with it and it was at about this time in 1993-4 that I started seeing him about again, which was partly becaause I was then living nearer to the Council flat he was forced to live in, having lost the modest terraced property his Father left him on a Boat which sank in suspicious circumstances in the mid eighties at about the same time or just before his Mother rapidly went down with Cancer of the Liver. The point being that he had managed to hold onto perhaps several partly functioning motorcycles despite all the pauperising suggestions that he seemed to have been exposed to, and I thought it might have been appreciated if I offered to repay him in the extremely substantial manner of permitting him a key to the place and effectively virtual will to do as he pleased with it on condition he forgave me the modest cash debt and helped me restore the aged and renovation requiring 'wheels' that my Mother had bought from a mutual acquaintance a couple of years previously. I had wanted to do something special for him in terms of settling a bad debt not least in respect of the bad luck he had suffered in the time that I hadn't seen him about though I didn't realise there was quite as much evidence to suggest that he might have suffered bad luck as the result of his association with myself and/or my Father as I have subsequently discovered. This principally consisted as I saw it then of the fact that since 1980 in addition to Daniel Dellar having died from Liver cancer Pip's Mother had also succumbed to the failure of this Organ system only a short while after he had lost the poky terraced house his Father had left him in a Court case which allowed a couple of 'rogues,' one of whom had played the role of lover to his trusting Mother, to strip his assets to pay for a boat he had invested in as well as a good deal of hers. The fact was of course that unbeknownst to all, the Town's MP who had feigned to take an altruistic interest in getting me the credit for having correctly diagnosed Daniel Dellar's condition was going to pay the ultimate price himself, also with a rotten Liver. The boat was accidentally sunk and not so accidentally stripped of valuable fittings and fitments. He started 'hearing voices' and has been on medication for the last two decades. It's a shame these stories about law and order get in circulation and only goes to show how realities differ from actualities and proffers a bleak prospect for the future: his Mother had been quite well liked locally and had known a lot of people as the result of running a Pub.
I mean this place, once restored and power lines run in was the sort of thing that people can pay several thousand a year to rent, it was bigger than two flats I had lived in and so I hadn't imagined that there would be any problem or quibble of any sort arising from this but he proved apparently unable, by virtue of the fact perhaps that he has become quite institutionalised, to do anything much and he did help me out over the almost ten years that I had the place for, with other petty cash to the tune of perhaps three hundred which was spent on Computer componenents as exigencies developed, but I was left rather puzzled at least at the time by his apparent lukewarm attitude and inability or unwillingess to perform. Something that irked me a bit was that he bought several other wrecked machines without documentation and installed them before I was aware of the oversight; none of which he has done anything with and are still there owing to the fact that when I moved out they were left there whilst he fretted on about his supposed inability to do anything. I had agreed to see about getting their documentation looked up but the fact is that among all these problems I have had with the said Constabulary including not getting things of my own they have confiscated returned to me, that the matter has thus far to date been overlooked and such numbers as I noted off the machines are presently stored at what was my Father's address concerning which I am waiting to hear that it has been vacated: so I'll have to make temporary excuses with any righteously inconvenienced parties whilst I proceed with such ineffective litigious tools as I have at my disposal now, given the disatrous nature of intervening events. I mean it wasn't as if there were any question about the validity of the Landlords say so in the matter, or the manner in which I had acquired it, though he did act up seriously for most of the time he was happy enough to consider doing worthwhile things to a certain extent. I had persuaded him to get cable in for example when it was a relatively new innovation, I mean this was a very old and valuable property and in many ways a compliment to entrust any serious aspect of it's care and usage to anyone and I do miss it. I had gotten leave to spend so much time on the place as the result of pleading that I should be allowed do maintenance in exchange for the exclusive (barring a few tools of the Landlord's use of it) which was one other reason that I didn't want to accept any cash for then sharing it and hadn't sought to. I was however seeking to conceal the extent to which I was going to use the fact of having acquired such facilities as I eventually did, or rather the use of them once the garden and garage was all restored, for complex personal ends rather than for the primary purpose of fruitlessly having somewhere to live and actually pay the rent on it as a result of what I was likely to get paid for my official qualifications and experience in a wage from a beginners Job. It was the case that I could never afford to live somewhere like that on the money I was going to get on the basis of what my suspiciously empty CV then said, as I was almost thirty when I moved in and had officially worked for three weeks at the age of sixteen, one year as a part time Archives clerk, at the age of 22, and about six days for my Mother's acquaintance Mark Howes four years later. If I did anything particularly deliberately at all other than skivvy all over the place endlessly it was with rather the broad aim of trying to live a little better and more healthily and seeking to further some sincere debate on my grievances about my legal status than I had any preoccupation with the idea that I ought to acquire a career of any sort that circumstances would immediately allow for.
It took a lot of time, in fact it was three summers before the grounds were all restructured and flowerbeds excavated: the winters were cold, resources scarce, conditions spartan and the Landlord's interpretation of various facts and events to say the least imaginative. This austere scenario did however have certain attractions, at least as far as someone in my particular situation was concerned having decided that some change in my world view was going to have to take place a semi retiry of some sort (I was sick of the sight of the town centre) and an in depth stock taking as far as many serious personal issues were concerned was the best thing if I were to preserve some of my better long term life chances and make an accurate analysis of the events which had recently occurred.
My Mother had begun feeding me resources after I moved from Gainsborough Road as I've said, never a lot at once, never enough to do anything significant with, but in the long term enough to make a difference as I no longer had an 'invisible' income. First it was getting a telephone, on another occasion it was a couple of hundred pounds for a clapped out motorbike which I did get on the Road about seven years later. By the time I had moved to that address my habit of going out had declined to nothing; I was virtually a hermit excepting that I had started going to the local Church and had been involved with the Choir quite seriously for a while. Both this and the voluntary work came slowly to a grinding halt once I had got things going in the garage along with a serious attempt to get back on the road and upgrade my provisional driving license: besides which I had failed to quit smoking which rather precludes any serious attempt to sing and my Father and his other Son had turned up and I had foolishly as it would turn out taken them in and trusted them to behave decently.
I had stated quite unequivocally to the Vicar at the local Church that things were not going to proceed constructively from such a situation, that any compliments I might ever have elicited were going to prove an inadequate means of securing any genuine goodwill and that someone was going to have to undo what Anthony Smythe had done if any was to be forthcoming. I'm afraid to say that I rather got the impression in general that he ignored what I was saying and it did seem as if others were seeking to posture that I was a happy willing contributor to the general well being which was an arguably dangerous falsehood, about to forget everything and take the first lousy Job available just to please the delightful and charming compatriots who had been clever enough to feign cloth ear syndrome and overlook all his righteous complaints about what was being expected of him. It's difficult to avoid looking at this as a snub in some ways and am unlikely to have anything much further to do with people who are more interested in Gay Rights than basic human ones. I seem to recall also that I had been told by the local Vicar that he would say something about the Chinook Crash, or at least my allegation that the Constabulary are neglecting essential aspects of their duty in allowing such a thing to happen; but I never heard anything from anyone and was getting angry about attempts to portray eg my motivation for doing voluntary work as being other than it was. The question may have been complicated by the fact that the diocese had relatively a new Bishop at about this time and that his inauguration was rapidly followed by the murder of his eldest Son at the hands of a low life girlfriend. This also does tend to suggest if only circumstantially that there were some unsavoury intrigues in circulation though I wouldn't necessarily imply a meaningful connection between that event and others relating to myself in the diocese: I probably have run across the Bishop once or twice but certainly haven't met any of his Sons at any time.
I think the Church, in this case our nation's official Church (the C of E) can have a role in modern society, unquestionably so, but I feel it might need to drop much of the medieaval monarchical adulative nonsense from it's order of Service and replace it with something more appropriate to the spiritual values of the 21st century if it is remain anything of a genuine force: making a point of replacing Vicars who make cruel empty promises and are arguably implicated in incitements to commit murder and political assassination is also obviously a good idea. I personally find it extremely upsetting that something which in many ways represents a high point of British culture should be a forum for sex weirdos and neo fascists of the sort who seem to have arranged the cruel and brutal assassination of the unfortunate Perry Mason in the Town centre about a decade ago and have whined on about the expense of failed enquiries into who poured petrol onto which Tramp and lit a match and so on etc.
My Father and his other son a problematic 14 year old came to stay, not by any prior arrangement I might add. His odd letters had declined to outrageous deluded diatribes and I could hardly be troubled to read them being certain only of their pauperising intent and deranged motivation: once he turned up, having forgotten about his attempt to rob me with his Asian gangster friends about ten years before I was simply in a position to save the state the cost of putting them up in a hotel having just about enough space. This increased my preoccupations and didn't help the attempt some four winters or more ago now to commute to Bury College where I did well enough on a pre university course until my resources expired at around Christmas time and I ran out of patience with some of the obfuscating vagaries of bespectacled lady College Teachers who seemed to have uniformly acquired the habit of general disinterest in anything except their own ludicrously (from my point of view) inept timetable. The main reason aside from this and the shortage of funds was really my paternal half brother's violence and attention demanding behaviour; he seemed to be under the impression that his Father ought to have made better arrangements for him which was obviously quite true: I knew that his Father had lied to him about the kind of welcome they could expect on the basis of his vain imaginings but assumed he had deduced as least as much as that. It isn't much fun having arisen at 06:30 and having departed on a perilous midwinter motorcycle journey of 25 miles across open country to endure six hours of college time to achieve work that could be done in two if One were allowed to simply do the work and reach stated academic goals. To have to then repeat that journey arriving home at 4pm only to spend the bulk of the evening scouring the Town for loans and scraps of food often far into the night was in fact quite a nightmarish routine especially when I also had serious weekly voluntary work commitments.
Practically his first words had been "I'm glad your not married because I want to inherit something," the meaning of which I am still trying to work out, he also positively resented the fact that I owned anything, and seemed to think the fact of my existence was a scheme to deprive him of something in which he had some legitimate interest. Much time was also wasted on talking to Social Workers and Police about the fact that he was a verifiably violent nutcase who had immediately consistently attracted unprecedented howls of complaint from other 'British' Schoolchildren having, for example tried to assault a neighbours fourteen year old girl on his first day in Secondary School a practise which he was to continue on a regular basis. They also had to be helped move from one flat to another and Jack cost me further months of work in slowing me down in various ways making it easy for the people who supplied me with my first serious set of computer hardware to rip me off very badly on money I had borrowed amongst other things and this was probably the result of their own ongoing schemes to do likewise. I have therefore no choice but to decry the integrity of the local Constabulary as virtually non existent their actions obviously representing another tactic to avoid being brought to book for their inept and venial management of terrorist issues as expressed in my article The Truth About The Chinook Crash of June '94.
I went to some trouble to impress on him that his Father should have made some official comment about what had happened to his accommodation in 1983 and that he should have if not returned himself to deal with the matter as he had never planned to leave for more than a few months, made it quite clear in writing what his view was about the management of what was technically his Apartment to the Housing Department and the Police: it being the case that I had run into legal difficulties as the result of trying to secure the short term viability of the Apartment in question by paying some of the Bills or at least attempting to do so and the fact is that these were never resolved . He was not, however interested in the truth and rejected it for what precise reason I don't know. I didn't want to have to tell him the unsavoury truth about his Father and Mother and that they were both considered deadbeats and would be instantly rejected by any society worth having according to any sort of conventional value judgement; I obviously considered it a better idea than fruitlessly seeking to conduct a contrary pretence, sought to convey that he didn't have to be associated with their pauperising intrigues and that his future was rather more in his own hands than he might have imagined.
He made all the wrong decisions however and in general behaved unutterably foolishly, the vast majority of 14 year olds would have given their eye teeth to live in the neighbourhood that I was at the time and go to School with some of the people I knew and their Children. This was first World society in no uncertain terms and the stupid turd of a boy instead of enjoying some of the best most charming and peaceable society that is to be had literally anywhere in the known Universe insisted on behaving as if he was a Pimp in a downmarket whorehouse or a Gangster on a rough 1950's housing estate. I could tell that his Mother was jealous of the fact that he then had a better chance than she of integrating in any way, he being at least half English or approaching half English whereas she was an alien by birth who had done nothing more than sign a marriage license for a distinctly disreputable academic and that to a certain extent she was misdirecting him deliberately but I thought he would realise that, react accordingly and appropriately and display some gratitude for what he was taking from me.
After about three months I had to tell them that they were going to have to disappear for a few days to give me a chance to clear up after misunderstandings with the new Computer had given rise to my hurling plantpots around: I did need a break from them badly. They had managed to get a bedsit on the top of Greyfriars (a big tower block which dominates central Ipswich) but the only reason they had really moved then was because Jack wanted to be in charge of affairs which meant that he was rapidly taking the opportunity to steal money and I'm not sure exactly how regularly but I was soon being faced with almost daily requests from my Father that I, "beat hell out of Jack," which I consistently refused. There is no question that to say that he was insufferable is the absolute in understatements. Even when snarling Neighbours, Policemen and Social Workers were banging at the door demanding punishment and explanations he would stand and roll his eyes around saying "everybody likes me," in a voice and manner so brash, pompous and deliberately provocative as to be utterly and completely unbelievable in every respect: I still cannot credit what I have seen and heard in any way at all, so much so that it has taken me years to write the matter up properly. It is the case there are quite a lot of really impoverished West Indians in Ipswich and they can be hard to impress with sorry tales of poverty and iniquitous behaviour but he has genuinely amazed even the most hard bitten characters with his singleminded and irrational pursuit of evil. It wasn't so bad whilst they were living at Greyfriars because there were none or few others of his age about with whom he seemed to behave particularly badly and I only had to spend about two days a week trying to keep him amused, but once the Council issued them with a Maisonette on Stoke Park estate he met lots of more down market company including many questionable seeming juveniles, though the crowd that I had to spend a dangerous hour in talking them out of lynching him included many sober and more respectable looking individuals. One boy in particular called Stephen who came from a criminal family who I understand had been moved on continually from one Town to another had , marked criminal tendencies and was an obviously bad Apple smashing up my Motorbike one day whilst a West Indian Cop call PC Mark Clarke was visiting (foolishly enough for such a neighbourhood in full uniform) to discuss other attacks that had been made in the Car Park outside the block of flats. It was not until after Jack first returned to his Mother and whilst John French was living at my Father's that I had to go and see Mark Clarke again because John was being regularly robbed and assaulted by Stephen: some of the more responsible neighbours wanted to effect a prosecution and he had threatened to cut me. He wasted a good half hour I would say going into an office/room to take notes when all he had to do was take note of the fact that he could obtain the names of those who were willing to testify for a cut and dried prosecution from my Father: said he would look into it and has not been heard of since.
This is a more recent article from the local Rag about Race relations.
I hope that doesn't seem unnecessarily candid but I'm afraid the political opportunism of so called community leaders and civic figures definitely plays it's part in framing such incidents as this particularly nasty incident from May 2nd 2004 in which a conspicuously 'white' boy had his head fatally fractured outside Cardinal Wolsey's birthplace after a strange argument with someone by the name of Dulu Miah of whom I can tell you nothing except that I seem to recall that he has been reported as being a dark skinned person of African derivation if not personal origin.
I felt awfully ashamed that I was anything to do with the Town when I first read of this attack.
My presumption is that he had emptily threatened Jack with prosecution for any repetition of some of the more outstanding violent attacks that he had made on our Father FJK, simply didn't want to know about them and ended up telling dangerous lies as a result. I'm afraid he should have resigned if he wanted to do that as Jack was undaunted and would not return to his Mother's family unless he was given money and was beating hell out of the old man every day: my Father had amongst other injuries sustained a punctured eardrum leaving him partially deaf in one ear. I ended up in various sorts of trouble as the result of having to arrange a fake banker's cheque that would persuade him to leave as well as further complicating the management of my paltry diminishing funds. The Co-op Bank who had been troubled by this had also made problems about the return of the monies insofar as the one Gentleman who was managing my case had given me a lot of false information, and I had to make a number of trips and practically threaten him in order to get it back at which point he was lying through his teeth about the whole business. I didn't get the compensation he feigned to offer me, and they then seized my rent cheque so in many respects my choice of moving home was made for me. They have since placed fictitious complaints on my credit record which have been contrived by waiting six weeks before telling me that I could, and would have to wipe my debits off my account in order to pay the figures they had contrived six weeks beforehand and I have as yet to deal with the matter properly and fully which is almost entirely due to the arrogant and contrary language used by their legal people and the refusal of a Northmptonshire County Court to explain how they have reached certain judgements without consulting me: that particular branch is the source of many odd complaints and one particular employee (I do apologise for previously publishing the mistaken assertion that it was the Teller principally responsible for arranging the business about the bankers order) has been the source of accusations of theft in which it was not proven beyond reasonable legal doubt he was personally responsible for the disappearance of monies from that Branch. It is not inconceivable that they are making a roundabout statement of some sort with regard to the undesirability of allowing Bank customers to be threatened in quite the way that my Father was with Jack (my dusky half caste half brother) waiting outside with a bunched fist for money.
I did give him a present for his Mother to try and cover up the awful truth and make it look like he had been doing some worthwhile work of some sort, a satellite receiver which had cost me nearly three hundred pounds on credit and had therefore only been acquired as the result of a good deal of starvation, deprivation, cold and self sacrifice.
Please note that more details of these events are described in the Article: New Labour, New Deal, Same Old Treachery and Lies.
I was further embittered when a Solicitor by the Name of Rowland said he'd look into my grievances after a consultation about some motoring technicalities concerning which the Crown Prosecution Service had mistakenly opened legal hostilities: he obtained my signature for legal aid monies and then wrote to me gleefully telling me to fuck off, rather like a deceitful delinquent in a low grade Comprehensive taking advantage of a lack of supervision! So I'm afraid I wasn't that diplomatic about the way I disconnected myself from the WRVS and indeed from a Riding School where I had only just started helping handicapped children and am not really sure what the situation might be regarding the fact of obtaining a reference from the former of these sources whom at one point would have been willing to have no doubt given me a reasonably excellent reference my having made less than about a half dozen 'errors' of any minor consequence over a period of perhaps five or six years in which I may have assisted them for an average of perhaps three days a week or certainly at least approaching that.
So having gotten perhaps half way through the document I had planned to create, having dealt with a lot of issues and having raised a considerable many more in the process it seems appropriate to stop and evaluate what has been said thus far and to make some comment on the matter of why it has been necessary for me to extrapolate on so many matters not directly or particularly relevant to the matter of my personal history. More particularly I want to start outlining where I hope my career options in the near future may lead: the short answer at the moment is not very far as I have been very preoccupied by more recent events.
It was at about this time that the Cousin of my Father's who had spent money on an air ticket died (01 / 08 / 01) under circumstances which as I say had appalled me and besides perhaps being something of an exemplar of the extent to which British society and British institutions are apparently in a state of decline, it had by then evolved into a thoroughly sinister and unwelcome sub plot to the story of my life. It is now in a document of it's own entitled John French (In Memoriam) on the homepage though it does contain much of relevance to the question of my life and employment history at that time the narrative of which may not make much sense if it is omitted.
It was owing to many factors and not just the increasingly wayward behaviour of the Landlord at the place I have mentioned (Constitution Hill) who after approaching ten years of collecting Housing Benefit had begun claiming not to have received certain odds and ends of money and had ended up with thousands upon thousands of pounds worth of free work on his property only to decide that he wanted to do 'something else with it' at about the time my years of hard work in this respect were actually beginning to repay me. I should say that it wasn't in particular his charlatanesque management, one has to expect this in modern Britain: he had once left a badly repaired tap in the flat for want so he said of a £20 tool which gave way one night filling the kitchen with water which removed three ceilings below and cost some insurance company several k to repair. He then tried to blame me and I had to endure months of inconvenience without any apology, so the next time something required a little 'management' I attended to the matter myself: which was to call the Council to find out what furry animals were running about inside the roof (squirrels as it turned out). He threw a great fit at this and insisted on doing things himself, opining loudly and meaningfully that I was treating him like sh*t (which I had to accept as a tributre to my percipience); this quite amazingly meant charging the neighbours for a share of the cost of poison for them instead of fixing the hole they had come through and leaving them alternative egress via the ceiling hatch near the kitchen window as I suggested. Neither was it really his conceited drivelling which was fairly nauseating and consisted largely of unhelpful advice about fire precautions which he would never admit was flawed insofar as it was in fact motivated by profit. Even habitual threats of violence hadn't actually caused me to move out, he was hardly quite a serious threat at a whole head shorter than myself, being also ten years older quite dyspeptic and rotund to say nothing of having an unfortunatley large Jaw three times the correct size for someone of his height. In the final analysis it was probably the fact that he insisted on carrying out some obviously unnecessary piece of maintenance one day and eavesdropped on the entire conversation I had with John French's partner on the first occasion that I spoke to her after his death that had definitely brought me to the conclusion that he was best disposed of one qay or another before very much longer so it was for a wide variety of reasons besides the fact that he was increasingly confrontational, including obvious economic ones that I moved in with my Father. Whatever else may have been true about it I was definitely completely sick of tending this bloke's property day in day out, freezing winter after freezing winter and the thought of a much smaller bill for monthly facilities and acquiring perhaps enough ready cash in the short to medium term to quit the region or even emigrate had become an attractive seeming option..
John Eastoe was the son of a Newsagent who had sent him to the local private school and liked to hang about the property in overalls feigning the role of a sensible tradesman whilst bungling odd jobs as I say and interestingly, feigned to be a New Labour sycophant. I say interestingly as about the one detail that firmly stuck in my mind about all the errant nonsense, some of it quite dangerous, that he constantly opined, was that he had never been asked to have fireproof walls and doors fitted which my friend/acquaintance just the other side of the Park had been required to fit at some very significant expense, and he not even being an absentee Landlord. I have had no answer to my queries on this score from the Council since I moved out and can only assume that the implementation of fire regulations is another aspect of our lives, at least within this particular Borough which is unfortunately subject to party political nepotism. I don't ask you draw any conclusions from my insertion of this particular link at this point but would point out that the incident does occur at about the point in history that he was apparently getting fire regulations overlooked to help him with his badly underfunded investments and that the blaze referred to occurred as far as I know in Council Property which his friends on the Council manage. I should also say that if you are easily upset by sights of great trauma and suffering that you should think carefully about following the link; as far as I know this information is accurate, I am obviously willing to stand corrected if anyone can demonstrate that what I say is anything other than fact. The point of which is to say that if you are the Father of any of the children in the Borough who happen to live in Council housing, that within the last decade in addition to any genuinely well intentioned advice about fire regulations and general safety which you may have been given, you may also have been able to discern at least one lazy, duplicitous, profiteering ex public schoolboy adding his penn'orth in just the ludicrous manner I have described and, apparently getting the nod to, as I say 'have expensive fire precautions overlooked.'
Tales of Courage and Suffering, Child Burns Victim Terri Calvesbert (caution: disturbing images)
Besides not wanting to be a willing or even merely a knowing participant in such a business there was fact of wanting to spend more time with the Computer and less time manicuring other peoples' properties and maintaining a Garage I couldn't afford to invest in; there was also the fact that I had been spending a significant proportion of each week at my Father's place as he was incapable of doing anything for himself and that it had an empty room. We discussed the matter with the Chantry Are Housing Officer and it was decided that as Jack (his other son) would not be returning, (this was the one thing FJK was adamant about). It would solve a lot of problems if I moved in. I would be able to get a cable modem connection for the computer and have much more realistic financial expectations and incentives in the event that I were to obtain such employment as I had at the Post Office over the winter 2001-2. Aside from the striking and very singular inconvenience of having to move a ten year accumulation of goods into somewhere much smaller and the loss of facilities, the idea seemed workable from most angles if far from congenial.
I have sought to convey much about my perceptions about why the fact of my having grown up in Britain has struck me with an absolute chill and as time goes on I find I have become comparatively indifferent to others. Not just in terms of the fact that other people suffer are happy, unhappy sick or healthy, but the fact that they are there at all. One supposes there are many similar stories in circulation about many similar cases and I've little doubt that hundreds of thousands if not millions could reasonably claim that their parents were worse than a useless nuisance to themselves, and or possibly as in many ways I am that the hordes of Social Workers, Youth Workers, School Counsellors, Solicitors, members of the Constabulary who were charged with taking a benevolent interest didn't help and were only concerned with maintaining their own well being, collecting a wage and were entirely unwilling or unable to do anything about the antisocial and exploitive behaviour of my Father: so to my mind they might as well not be employed to note these things and that the money spent on employing them would have been much better applied at source in terms of real resources like Housing. The specific problem was the fact of having my Father as Guardian as his behaviour was delusory, violent and didn't allow for or provide the basic facilities that were required if he was to fulfil the role he had insisted on assuming. I really don't know if he has ever had any kind of sensational run in with the Educational Authorities of his own, his underhand attempt to interest himself in my own official academic connections (when they existed) whilst failing to enter into any serious discussion of any educational issue or academic subject and exhibiting an unhealthy preoccupation with child prostitutes, even when his own specialist knowledge badly needed updating, would definitely tend to suggest that there was some truth in such rumours as I had heard.
I say this because I feel it necessary to show clearly that when it comes to the serious business of doing something worthwhile and trying to earn some money over the next few years that one does not indulge in delusory or duplicitous behaviour if it can possibly be avoided and that One is nothing other than a reasonably well informed realist who can be reasonably well relied upon to be straightforward, open and honest wherever this is practicable. I hope it doesn't seem arrogant of me to suggest that my life experiences make me a reasonably good judge of character. I was perfectly correct in my belief/assumption/observation that my Father was in many respects unfit for professional Office and could in no wise afford to take on board the putative family that he did in 1970 and retain a senior administrative position: the fact that he made this eventually pointless attempt is only further damning evidence that he has serious head trouble and ought not to be in charge of cars, or people and certainly should have no say over accommodation arrangements for anyone else.
What firstly went wrong later in the morning after having dropped my Father off at Heathrow with the assistance of Pip Wood: was the fact of a Rastafarian Engineer from NTL having sabotaged the Computer I had guarded so nervously against just such a failure at just such a critical moment. The operating system was crashed and as I couldn't find the number of the win95 disc from which it was installed I was up a gum tree in at least nine ways out of ten: it was February the 12th (of 2002) and I had by then already endured all the horror and shock of a piecemeal dislocation. I had to use all the cash reserves I had from the liquidation of my previous address about £300 to have the computer rebuilt with an intact Operating system and network stack. This wasn't all entirely necessary obviously, but I had it in mind to upgrade fairly soon and it would have cost perhaps 2/3 the price of the upgrade just to restore the Operating System under the particular set of circumstances in which the event had occurred. It took NTL some three weeks or more to concede that this was in fact the result of an act of sabotage and by then I had been left with no choice but to proceed thus and had spent all the cash reserves with which I had intended to clear off my arrears on utility bills which weren't considerable but were certainly very real. I have as yet to replace the modem that was destroyed by the act or recover access to any of several email accounts as I had to transfer the hard drive's contents onto cd rom; just about every programme fell apart and I could not recover much at all. NTL had awarded me the pathetic and inadequate sum of £25 to help toward the hundreds and hundreds of pounds worth of damage they had caused which was without any reckoning of the obvious anguish this caused.
I believe while I was living at Magdalen Close that they had said that they would pay the cost of calls I had made in trying to reconstitute the Computer's hard drive and have only just worked out that they are in fact trying to take me to Court for these charges. I had been thinking that some £150 worth of charges must have arisen as the result of FJK having used the line: it does seem that he had certainly made some and am absolutely taken aback at the staggering, irresponsible nature of NTL's management. I had no idea that the numbers were pay numbers at all and besides the fact that I have not succeeded in recovering any of my email accounts, none of the calls would have been made at all but for the fact that their Engineer was a saboteur who had completely ruined my precious Computer.
What happened next was that the Department of Social Security cut off my entitlement at another supremely critical moment when I really needed to do some shopping, get on with the redecoration and try to recover from these trying experiences. I had contracted a fairly nasty throat bug or virus of some sort, was pretty much at my wits end and managed to persuade the Doctor at my new address (I had to change clinics), to start giving me sick notes. I mean this was ridiculous: I was cut off for not applying for some job or other which I hadn't actually asked about and the member of the Jobcentre staff in question had been so asleep that she had actually neglected to note that I had actually moved and obviously couldn't possibly do anything of the sort. This was some six to eight weeks after my having stated that it was to be taking place and after a huge midwinter moving operation. If there was ever a single instance during the whole of my almost entirely officially unemployed 20 year odd work record of an occasion when I could absolutely justify the immediate difficulty in being at anyone's disposal this was probably second only to the occasion of having spent a week in hospital after having been stabbed in 1986 and I had after all, only just surrendered rights to Housing Benefit of half as much again!
When my Father returned it wasn't as One might have expected to receive grateful thanks for all that One had done, especially the fact of having collected him without reward, driving into London and back is an awful task, for which he appeared especially insulted, but in fact to a poisonous tirade which had no apparent motive at the time but would subsequently seem to have something to do with him having then successfully circumvented via the fact of my presence attending to the managerial necessities, the restrictions imposed on his personal authority which were logically aimed at trammelling his jurisdiction and movements abroad as an undesirable sex tourist and the author of many historical domestic managerial malefactions. I don't know for sure but it is pretty much my opinion that he was threatened by his Wife and their Son: after all he was black and blue and in a potentially life threatening situation when he and I had escorted Jack onto a 'plane with a fake cheque for five hundred pounds. I had to do this as the Constabulary had apparently decided to ignore the fact that he was getting seriously beaten up almost every day by then, probably because he had already told them too many fibs and was acting deaf about obvious general criticisms of himself that he has consistently ignored.
I had assumed that the Council would be getting their paperwork up to date and have sorted out a joint tenancy by this time but one or two things seemed to have gotten in the way. One was the fact of them having sent out a cheque for Housing Benefit to what was my previous address despite the fact that I had told them not to. In addition very specifically that I would be unable to collect any further mail from the address as their acquaintance the Landlord was having fresh fits acting out his delusions, was rushing around fitting new locks and would only be likely to react with more vain threats of violence (and continually expecting them to be ignored), were any reasonable request to be made of him.
By the end of May 2002 some weeks after my Father had returned I was having to write and rewrite letters to the Council repeating that they had made a mistake in sending out the cheque, another mistake in asking me about it, and another in threatening me with legal action for it's return. I was waiting for these matters to be resolved and the paperwork to come through for a joint tenancy on the Flat that had been my Father's when he started becoming increasingly aggressively hostile and unpleasant, insisting on occupying the room next to the hallway into the flat and refusing to close it's door or turn off his lights or TV at any time of day or night. My response to this was to call the Local Area Housing Officer with whom the arrangements had been made with a view to getting someone to chat to him about it and for which I had been waiting with the utmost of patience; there was no way he was going to get any contributions toward the bills on that basis it did not constitute sharing (I would rather have paid the bills myself and had him stuck in a loony bin, where he obviously belongs & where he obviously should have been placed after such a disgraceful display of malicious and destructive deceit) and I stopped halfway through various jobs of redecoration and refurbishment which I was finding it impossible to do whilst he was deliberately making excessive noise and deliberately manufacturing as much sneering poison and I say this quite literally as can be considered humanly possible.
On June 19th he became particularly aggressive and smirkingly made arrangements to recall Jack to the place which before many witnesses he had sworn he'd never do again. I had as I say at this point been buzzing the local Housing Office and the GP with plaintive messages to the effect that he was evidencing various remarkable behaviours all of which were seemingly deliberately raising the temperature in what was a neighbourhood crime hotspot which was obviously a situation which had dangerous potential for further catastrophe bearing in mind the seriousness of odd things like violence, dislocation and death which had only just recently occurred. He obviously couldn't do me much phsical harm but his malicious intent whatever its underlying motivation must have been clear to many third parties by this time. As the result of the altercation which followed from my attempt to seize my telephone back from him with my extension lead on it; made a complaint of assault which he wisely withdrew before it went to Court as it was obviously a tissue of lies and I had a number of statements (including that of the Housing Officer) which diametrically contradicted everything he said. It is important to grasp at this point that the Police viewed this as an excuse to make life unpleasant for me and I assume it is in fact part and parcel of their fruitless ongoing attempt to exculpate themselves of the blame for the Chinook Crash and perhaps the Death of the Princess of Wales if various rumours around the subject are to be at all credited.
I cannot believe that the Constables in question didn't know they were lying through their back teeth especially since they did actually refuse to check any of the facts and sought to insist that an incidental blow or mock cuff, that hadn't even cracked his spectacles or left him with even the slightest of bruising constituted GBH, and insisted that I was an unwelcome overstaying holiday minder despite the fact that my life's collection of possessions were in the premises and I had obviously been doing a huge amount of work on the place though this was less evident than it had been a few hours earlier because I had wrecked a good few cupboards and pulled a few units off the walls in seeking to demonstrate the athropological/behavioural impossibilty of adjoining odd characters thus and undoing a certain amount of what had been done as part and parcel of the general short circuiting process that had occurred as the result of it beginning to dawn on me that he was willing to prejudice my entire health and well being for the sake of his own increasingly palpably sick vanity and for no other reason than the fact (as it turns out) that he would be able to steal the few items of my treasured personal property that were of any petty value at all. In other words I really did believe by then that he had actually got a screw loose and was no longer debating the matter with myself at all. He didn't say that Jack had been seriously injured as he had in a gang fight acquiring amongst other things a sabre slash some eight inches in length across his lumbar region (I can only say the perpetrator demonstrated great restraint) and that perhaps we ought to relent and try helping him out. He just wanted to be someone who was going to make arrangements and he has already sought to arrange the fulfilment of far too many personal ambitions at the expense and inconvenience of others who had displayed at least a minimum amount of acceptable constructive truthfulness with people like Council (housing Officials) members of the Constabulary, Social Workers and Teachers to name but a few examples over the years. It ought to be said at this point obviously that a number of Officials ought to be taken to task for their role in allowing the business to fruit as they did and that certain local Politicians are too fond of making inflammatory remarks, doing nothing and simply waiting around to plagiarise the efforts of others. It didn't dawn on me immediately that there might have been a particular emerging explanation for a view of the local Constabulary as beneath even contempt in the minutae of FJK's petty self preoccupations. That he had spent far too much time among questionable foreign company was suddenly striking in that he was no longer soneone lying merely evidently to himself but was someone scheming and deceiving for gain with no more apparently sophisticated motive than the acquisitiveness of a cut throat Asian pirate. I was tormented by the injustice inherent in the fact that there are numerous well documented instances especially from schooldays in the seventies of FJK having carried out serious enough assaults to have warranted such a charge and that I in fact carry odd scars from such assaults. That I had refused continual drunken sadistic requests on his part to "beat hell out of Jack," when he stole for example in the previous two-three years as well as having to intervene with apparently thus prompted mobs of locals renders everything that they Policemen in question said on this occasion so blandly untruthful as to be unworthy of even a derisory snigger. That they have, to use the word ruined is not an exaggerated remark, everything I have ever worked for and for no other apparent reason than that which I have postulated may have temporarily amused some but I must assert that is a matter so casually, stupidly and irresponsibly destructive that I find it unreservedly sinister and I'm sure many taxpayers will feel the same way even before the full ramifications are perceived.
In further substantiation of the allegation/contention/assertion that the Suffolk Police are responsible for some serious malversation and may have sought to cover it up with a treasonable shade of whitewash I should point out that I had been wrongly arrested on at least two separate occasions in between the arrival of FJK and Jack, and Jack's first return home after terrorising the Co-op bank employees and severely beating his Father in an attempt to extort money to spend on a return to his Mother. On each occasion I was accused of non payment of parking fines which were outstanding against FJK. The manner in which they had our details confused obviously indicates the malicious influence of Ms Cormack and the parking tickets have been ignored presumably via the influence of her nauseating family. I was only released when it was realised that I may be in a poor to very poor condition but there was no way that I could be almost seventy years of age as the bloke they were looking for was supposed to have been born in the '30s and I have never had either a Car or a Car Licence.
They say that in English law One is innocent until proved guilty, well it simply isn't so. I was thrown out onto the streets with what I could carry on June 19th having spent my all blithely trusting in the honesty and sanity of my near relatives and Local Government Officials: I had done everything for Jack and FJK. They had cost me hundreds of hours of work just on various Cars for example and this was largely wasted because FJK was continually over assertive and insisted on driving them away before they were really ready, rendering the effort which had been put in thereby all lost. This whilst Jack was insisting that he should be allowed to sit around as I worked hard on many tasks and generally sought to behave like a thug. All I was able to afford in the way of accommodation with money I had to beg from Irish immigrant relatives was a tower block bedsit in central Ipswich commonly known as Greyfriars owing to there once having been a Monastery on the site. I had not been told there was any problem with the bedsit, of which I had only asked that it preferably have a phone socket (which as it turned out, it did not). I paid a man a sum of approaching £150 for what was termed an 'administration fee' and was told that I could pick up the keys that evening from someone called Darryl at Greyfriars. I was pretty much at the end of my tether by this time, having been sleeping rough and carrying my motorcycle equipment and various necessities about all the time in the middle of a heatwave was an awful experience, by then this had been going on for about six weeks.
I repeat that when I took the keys for Greyfriars I was under the impression that the flat was ready for occupation; the employee who was to have delivered me the keys found something else to do on the evening in question and hackles were immediately raised over his having neglected to apologise the following day. Within the next month, not soon enough to cause obvious suspicion but fairly soon afterwards my aged motorcycle was kicked over and had it’s mirror stolen; ever since then for no reason at all my friend’s four year old daughter has been staring daggers in the general direction of the well built red haired employee who was supposed to have delivered me the keys on the day in question. That the bike was later stolen and torched from outside a friend’s place where I was forced to park it was also therefore indirectly attributable to workmen at Greyfriars if you accept they had vandalised my motorbike as some kind of indignant revenge for the fact perhaps of my existence having reminded them that they were mere manual workers who should have done as the Boss asked, or resigned if they couldn't good naturedly carry out their Jobs.
The place needed plumbing and electrical work, there was not even the luxury of hot water and the shiftless workmen were demanding the rent: I doubt if anyone would expect to be asked for such money having been lied to about the condition of the place. I wrote protesting to the Landlord's Office: I had moved a lot of my possessions into the place imaginging that the work would be done within days you see, and couldn't install them properly with the electrics in the back of the storage cupboard needing attention and was urgently wanting to retrieve the rest. I had to say that their payments would be cut off until the work was done. They wrote back saying they were happy with their employees and cancelling the tenancy agreement: which was obviously a ludicrous act since they themselves hadn't failed merely to adhere to it's terms, but were making their intention to do so 'official' by cancelling it for no apparent reason other than the fact that their employees didn't feel like doing any work. I really do feel that all the money paid out ought to be recoverable under these circumstances and a half decent civil Lawyer ought to be able to get a lot more for all the anguish this has caused besides the financial burden. This wasn't to be the last I heard about the business as the Council forgot to cancel payments to them and I am now considering how to recover my administration fee and the cost of moving my goods in and out. Apart from the financial nuisance of being a beggar and of being defrauded and abused quite so cheaply of what I had managed to obtain in the way of charitable donations with which to set up a household; I had been receiving sickness benefit for stress under these circumstances and the powers that be decided whilst this was going on that I was fit and taking no notice of the fact that my situation was worsening, had insisted on setting me to look for work so I have no choice but to pretend that I feel capable of or inclined towards making a worthwhile contribution to the endeavours of the nation. It is true that I hadn't paid for the cold water and electricity that were connected to the flat but this was cut off by the workmen for Trigrange whilst I was typing a response to the letter cancelling the tenancy agreement and it remains to be seen what will happen when I get around to retrieving various items of correspondence and expressing myself fully to the owner: the salient fact being that his Manager was either a crook or was having the devil of a trouble extracting the completion of essential maintenance, or both.
Having had my life ruined and the best part of twenty years of hard work scattered by the Police as part and parcel of their mollycoddling of this particular sex tourist and whatever else he may be; it comes as no surprise to hear that the Suffolk and Cambridgeshire forces had failed to catch such a malicious murdering pervert (at least until it was too late); who was responsible for the abduction and murder of the two ten year old girls who I believe were called Holly Wells and Jessica Chapman around the County border at about that time. Judging from the amount of Policemen including some of those involved with that particular enquiry who have been arraigned on child pornography charges since, and the huge number of attempted child snatches in The Borough I have personally seen reported from that midsummer, there could be an awful lot more of this sort of thing going on than I had personally suspected and certainly begs the observation that certain of our rural government establishments should be more careful about how they take references from clean shaven young men with cars and a superficial air of respectable politeness, which is of course always true. Also, to be less concerned to allow employees of the Education department such as Mr and Mrs Norman of the Suffolk College and their friend the Principal Herr Muller to facilitate such breaches of security and waste this nations' resources with nepotism, backstabbing, cheap insults and downright black hearted lies that the average person would be consider unworthy of an educationally sub normal ten year old.
It was not until November 2002 that my Mother managed or was willing to find the money for another flat and so since then I have been slowly moving my things in and trying to piece my existence back together. Amongst other things I have as yet to recover a modest collection of personal jewellery and many important personal effects, tools and equipment to the value of several hundreds of pounds and have found it impossible to obtain the slightest scrap of useful asistance from any of the relevant civil authorities in the face of apparent extortion on the part of my sex tourist Father and his other delinquent Son. All the politicians I have spoken to have ignored me whilst the local Police always try talking about some other matter than that on which they have been addressed. After something in excess of two decades of evasive duplicity this has obviously taken a heavy toll on my general well being and the Solicitors who were appointed to act on my behalf vouchsafed me not a single honest or constructive word before declining to answer my plaintive demands for information as to how One was to survive whilst One waited for charitable donations from Irish immigrants to replace that which has been destroyed by the local Police in the course of looking after that particular sex tourist or sex offender or whatever else he may be: I have been at some pains to emphasise that I don't personally know.
While I was trying to reconstitute myself in 2003 I was harassed by DSS employees enacting Bliarite initiatives who for whatever reason had been unable to take much of my circumstances into account including the fact eg that I was obviously being subjected to extortion whilst seeking to recover property which is undeniably mine whilst insisting I apply for Jobs in a tearful and incapable condition. I would say that Schonbeck and his parents had probably duped them into persecuting me whilst they are trying to get various state large benefits to make his violent, drug fuelled lifestyle somewhat less of a burden on their reputedly considerable fortunes than it seems to have been. When with the help of a bored and irresponsible Council Bus Driver I managed to fracture my kneecap running around with documents to please these DSS characters in mid February whilst those who have been emptily threatened on numerous occasions by the local Constabulary (namely Jack and my Father) are making specific financial demands for the return of items quite essential to such an endeavour such as my Computer's Operating System disc: which is criminal extortion. I obtained the starvation rate Job Seeker's Allowance (the ineptly demeaning title for something so symbolic of goodwill as cash derives from the Major era), but for someone as utterly incapacitated as I was, being in a state of shock after taking all afternoon about resigning myself to the fact that it had happened I got precisely ten pounds per week during the first month toward the expense and singular inconvenience for someone living very hand to mouth, and had to tax a very few already overburdened friends and acquaintances with fresh requests for various charitable acts. Now isn't that a marvelous piece of 21st century Government for you! I was and am thoroughly distressed by all this it is obvious to see and needless to say.
Even the sight of crutches and an undeniably genuine chit from the department of accident and emergency was unable to deflect the PM's drones from thus abusing the crippled and as May approached I was still seeking to get outstanding monies paid. I also had another a very dangerous viral infection of some sort which mysteriously coincided with warnings about an asian flu and in general am being told a number of unfathomable lies by the employees of the DSS who at one point had deprived me of some £150 on a verifiably fictitious basis occasioning all sorts of personal logistical nightmares in having to make applications and write explanations/requests which was particularly difficult in view of the fact that my affairs are about as basdly organised as theey could be. In many ways my recent experiences have left me feeling genuinely quite ill: I'm trying to make light of things but I have an awful feeling that somehow I'm not going to regain any faith in my fellow man for some time if ever at all and though I have been given written notification that the point will be conceded and that some symbolic financial forfeiture will be paid have as yet to be even advised of a specific sum.
It was early in the summer 2003 that I eventually noted the fact that FJK's intrigues had been significantly contrived via the medium of nods and winks going back and forth between him and his ex Wife the erstwhile Ms Cormack and that certain of his 'petty self preoccupations' have in fact been thoughts of obtaining some advantage from the fact of her presence nosing around, perhaps some revenge if they felt embarrassed by accusations that were made about them in the late '70s, and that amongst other things it became awfully apparent that it is has been her that he is talking to when he feigns to have made arrangements with me for his accommodation between '83 and '98 rather than Council Officials or myself; so at least the assumed basis of his imagined slight or whatever other deranged motivation might explain his actions, can be shown to be nothing more than a fictitious contrivance of his own insofar as others must no doubt have noticed this already. What finally led me to the conclusion that I have been the victim of an ongoing contrivance amounting to malicious impersonation was the fact that the Solicitor who was supposed to have represented me and who refused to take the slightest notice of anything I had to say was definitely talking to someone, who definitely seemed want to give my property away and was trying to confess to assault on my behalf. I was thinking who, the f** are you I know you from somewhere, but didn't quite place the voice. I suppose it might, surprise many that I am claiming to have just noticed this and, that amongst other things FJK was seeking to infer that the presence of Ms Cormacks's voice was something to do with a piece of conversation that I was making or was at least aware of, rather than an aspersion of his own.
A whole load of pennies had suddenly dropped and I found a number of mysteries and conundrums suddenly explained and resolved and a lot of painful memories exposed. The first thing it occurs to me to say as the result of my having eventually spotted this is in fact a great deal to do with the arguably unusual number of children who have perished in accidents either within a stone's throw of the place I am living now or on the route into the Town centre. In the few years since FJK returned with his dusky delinquent Son he had wasted a considerable fortune on second hand cars usually casting them aside just before I had finished some major works on getting them into good enough shape for the demanding requirements of British Road Law which none of them ever really were: they were certainly no good for a learner. Well any way the point is in this respect that on two separate occasions that I had been driving these dodgy cars he had bought he explicitly, venomously, and at astounding volume for someone supposedly sick and dying, issued instructions that would have killed the four occupants of the car had they not been ignored by me at the time which fortunately they were. Now I know I don't have to ask for confirmation of this story as all the individuals concerned are aware it is true, suffice it to say that such corroboration could be found. It is a point which needs to be made as e.g. on the day that FJK went off to recount his elaborately contrived fictions to the local Constabulary he was drunk as he had been frequently whilst driving and in a Car which only technically met the legal requirements for road use. I am not making the suggestion that this has everything to do with his attempt to sell me to Mrs Cormack nee Miss Nightingale and what has to be perceived as an ongoing attempt to hijack my central nervous system on her part, I am simply observing that it is a fact and that e.g. the young Asian man who mowed down and killed two teenage boys on Bishops Hill a few months ago would have been much less likely to have felt like driving that day whilst 'out of his head' if such a person who the establishment here was obviously doing too many favours for, had been given even as much as a verbal warning to the effect that he should not drive dangerously maintained cars whilst under the influence of alcohol at all and that aside from such obviously poor and preoccupied concentration. I repeat that there have been at least two other child fatalities within a stones throw of where I am living now, which is among a group of shops on a main road ribbon development between two large housing estates on the east of Town above a Bookmakers who are open every day of the year which I really don't like at all but have little choice to get used to.
In a way I hope her aged Mother is still living because they have apparently, it is impossible to interpret these recent events otherwise, used their informal influence to seek to prevent me from obtaining meaningful or worthwhile legal aid as revenge for refusing paedophilic advances and in saying I want them to know that their manner of undermining the spirit of the law had deluded those responsible for keeping a watch on potential terrorist activity insofar as I think it will probably become a favourite theory for the Constabulary's negligent seeming behaviour, and that they are being held responsible by informed opinion for the intelligence failures which must have made a striking contribution to the various shortcomings which resulted in the Chinook crash of 94 unless my ears completely deceive me. The thought that anyone who might ever have violated me in any small way should be seen to find it hurtful and profitless is obviously in principle the right sort of lesson to demonstrate to those who would exploit myself in any unreasonable manner, but the thought that someone who lusted to take of my life against my will and choice, ending up going down in history among names like Crippen and Hindley rather than as an eminent and respected member of local society with sought after opinions seems so dramatic. All I had done was to go out on a limb, when during the course of seeking apologies from the local Police for my incarceration at the Hospital in '94 I had told an Officer at the Station that there was an awful lot of IRA activity about, and in view of the fact aforethought I suppose that I didn't want to be blamed for the next mysterious disaster (there had already been a large dockside fire involving certain named individuals) that might reasonably be considered as related to the fact of the troubles; had left this Sergeant, he having sought to elicit something more specific than my assertion that they ought to consider anew the truth of what I had to say about my supposed criminality in relation to this, with the parting shot that the RUC Boss ought to careful of travelling. I had momentarily become quite agitated with the suggestion that it was a good idea to give him such a warning without even thinking why: the thought also disappeared rapidly. I suppose I had a lot of things at the back of my mind rather than having any possibly constructive or valuable thoughts aforethought for easy plagiary by individuals whose sincerity my rational thought had given me immense reason to doubt, which is another way of saying that my thought was composed toward other aspects of my existence and relations with the Constabulary than those which might have related to the fact of my being half Irish. Principal among these was the fact that I was aware that my voice had been borrowed during the course of my trying to good naturedly make what I could out of the College course I had been on in 92-3, for the not guilty verdict in the Perry Mason Murder trial which remark I shall seek to elaborate on later in this document and elsewhere as soon as possible. Suffice it to say for now that I have no resrvations about making this remark and that increasingly few of those who live locally or know of the affair, are willing to dispute the assertion that most will obviously bet that the Judiciary would be rather embarassed by the result of putting myself alongside Shaun Miles and elaborately asking the 12 good men and women and true whose voice it was that they had actually acquitted.
Revenge they say is a dish best served cold but I had never imagined that their gloating and worse, over having escaped censure for sadistic attacks on myself, would be so spectacularly trumped however real the partially informed might deem it; much of this I repeat I have only very recently and partly discerned and I can only say that if I were those Cormacks or erstwhile Cormacks who are responsible for certain huge social security claims and these pauperising hauntings, I would give serious consideration to the thought of leaving Town or emigrating, preferably soon and in the dead of night, and preferably permanently as if I get my way it will be the only means of escaping somne further disapprobative enquiry into these events. Suicide is also an option but the thought of escaping immeasurable shame and execration in this Town and living is not, whatever the authorities might happen to say as the obviously true story about how their contributions to the nation have so confused the Boys in Blue that they have actually declined unquestionably the single most striking piece of intelligence that has been supplied to the Government on the Irish question in the history of the recent troubles and without the correct use of which many have died: my guess is that the security services had deduced that she and her family were principally responsible for this as far back as '94 and have been sweating and swallowing, hoping that taxpayers are going to stand meekly by and accept whatever convenient fictions the public might seem gullible enough to accept. It reminds me of a certain quote from a film about the Mafia and child abuse neglect where Jean Reno has a knife to a Cocaine Merchant's throat as his boss says down the telephone he's holding in the other hand, "well I think it's safe to say we aren't going to be seeing your fat fucking face around Town ever again."
Notes to be Added to the Text
Jack and my Father have besides causing the destruction of at least about a third of the property I had sacrificed so much to collect over the years, also stolen a good deal of the rest leaving me about a third of my life's work after having sacrificed so much to save them from poverty and the consequences of their own failed schemes. Items missing include expensive reference books, tools which they are both obviously far too shiftless to use, clothes and a collection of personal scraps of Jewellery which were birthday presents from my Mother that I had saved over the years: I am especially distressed by this theft if only because they were all I had in the way of remembrances of my life not that it has been particualrly memorable. That he (my Father) had already lost my maternal Grandother's wedding ring as the direct result of his alcoholism is a very kind way of describing his attitude toward others' possessions. I have incurred large debts in the process of surving the malicious debacle he has created. FJK has also made a number of international calls on my line which have caused havoc in seeking to establish where I stood with Telecommunications companies this year and for which I might be able to afford a private prosecution in a year or two and only bears out that this is a well hatched malicious scheme for which he and his dusky offspring will obviously have to suffer permanent banishment from my presence to say the least. I even had to pay the outrageous turd to help me move what he hadn't stolen and when he had done that he commenced filching other items; on the last occasion he stole my Tobacco from in front of my face in a downtown coffee bar so I told him that he was going to be making his own way in the World without further reference to myself.
It's difficult to comprehend his motivation troubled as anyone with such parents obviously would be: the mystery of various instances of being misunderstood can be attributed to the explanation of an impersonating additional voice or voices unnoticed or unidentified by me (at the time) such as in my conversations with an interesting Thai Lawyer or two with a fine intellect if somewhat overweight (he looks or looked rather like Oliver Hardy excepting that he makes Hardy look positively aspen), which I obviously hadn't taken too seriously at the time being not quite sure what Mr Pettong and his colleague Mr Tick were precisely going on about and having reason to be less than ruthless with my Father in view of my ongoing impressions of him; I had run across thema s the result of some neighbourhood acquaintances of his Wife's chikdren as they then were, having thrown rocks at his Car which was a bit of a symptom I think of her failure to get any positive portrayals from me about their chances of being mistaken for a respectable family. I think they made a bit of a show out of composing a two sided argument about FJK in making a pretence of investigating the circumstances of my Father and his Wife having invited me under false pretences and of the evolving attempt to to rob me of what little I had on my second and last visit to the Kingdom. It was shame really, I think they knew that she had done little more than blackmail my Father into his official wedded state and I certainly hadn't been dishonest about my disinterest, neither were they to blame for the fact that someone called Prachewap (some kind of bigwig Educational Official) had sought to cast FJ's attempt to earn money from teaching in a favourable official light: I think his Daughter was a Lesbian and he consequently shared an interest in pink issues. I can only consider that he must be bitterly regretting that he didn't take FJK and his Wife to task for what they did if he valued his reputation and for the fact that FJK was principally preoccupied with trying to take advantage of child prostitutes the concealment of which may have been responsible for some of the fatal road accidents I almost witnessed at that time: he will surely have realised that he should not have sought to sanitise FJK's reputation and that this was a serious error as far as I was concerned insofar as I had been seeking to get him to be a bit more honest about himself (and his shortcomings obviously). I would have said that Mr Pettong had perhaps comparatively innocently been pretending to have a legitimate conversation with me as part of an attempt to be diplomatic in view of various things that people were trying to put over, but that he had perhaps gotten a bit carried away with feigning a semblance of a concurring converse to the point of talking to any of the voices that obviously wanted to take an interest. It was too obvious that Mrs Whiting (Tassawan) aside from her obvious overt criminal behaviour was an obvious appalling social climber who had shown no scruple whatever in mothering children of wealthy Fathers by the time she met mine, and even less in seeking to marry them off into other wealthy influential circles afterwards at least as far as I understand it: there was also a certain amount of potential legitimate opportunity of an educational nature that by the time I was there, I had little choice but to assess from my own point of view.
This is obviously of some relevance to the emerging soap opera portrayal of Ms Cormack and her Mother (in particular) as people who were seemingly nervous about allegations of paedophilic behaviour and had insights into the thinking of local Conservative forces via the fact of her Mother having ben a local figure of some sort and a Magistrate with connections and who sought to portray myself and such acquaintances as I had acquired in the years first following our unwanted meeting, as drug soaked lunatics undermining the Thatcher administration. I suppose it must have occurred to her and her offspring before the event that this revenge for snubbing her advances and the malicious portrayal of myself as someone who could not be trusted and who should not be listened to, which ensued has arguably caused such 'forces' and the 'powers that be,' to overlook intelligence essential to the well being of the nation and the lives of security personnel in the process: though I expect my final investigation of everything relevant that has occurred will probably identify other contributing factors and I really don't know how the Government keeps its' records. At the time I had put down the fact that the Constabulary were making a literally grave mistake in their appreciation of such serious matters to the fact of Wolfgang Heinkel being the initial author of remarks about my honesty and reliability but more recently, ie from the last weeks of May 2003 I have had time to reflect on the fact that Ms Cormack's voice seems to have a consonance not just with the badly performing creepy old fossils who work at the Courthouse and may well have known her since she was very small but also between her voice and Mr Taylor's who was obviously glad that she was trying to look after me in the late seventies as it may have seemed to have saved him some potential expense. In general it is quite simply the case that such a hypothesis looks damning, incontrovertible and simply explains far too much far to well. It is also the case for example that surmising the existence of such an intrigue or intrigues might explain much of Pip Wood's behaviour which I have found unaccountable insofar as besides the fact that his family did feel let down by the manner in which the legal system left him landless after an investment was officially accidentally destroyed, and I have to admit I don't know all the details in saying this; but they seem to also concur with the logical train of thought which tends to suggest that he may have been painted blacker than he deserved and encountered more hostility than perhaps he should. He did also lack education in comparison to some of the bright young company that was about in the early days of the Thatcher administration. There is also the fact that this may have been exacerbated by the fact of my having stayed at his as a casual guest from the time that I was old enough to first leave my Father's jurisdiction and having been prosecuted for having very very modest amounts of soft drugs whilst on his premises whilst he was away. It is one logical step further to adduce that this additional complicating motive (he and his brother seem to have mistakenly accused me of being involved in a long term scheme of sorts with her and I would imagine this is a result of her all too evident eavesdropping) of my having been involved in a marriage that had something to hide, possibly something that was technically significant as far as the role of Minors were concerned, might have made him also a target for the equivalent of quite carefully prompted and unjustified hate mail of sorts insofar as if I were to be perhaps rendered more incapable and unbelievable by my experiences as a vulnerable teenager in a world full of crime, drugs and poverty, labelled unreliable and inherently faulty rather than misunderstood, overexploited, abused, let down or simply the victim of criminal scheming: in short he was conveniently blameworthy for any such happening which a number of local politicians were also happy to find a convenient scapegoat for insofar as the Town was very much more parochial twenty years ago and any individuals stood out more than they do nowadays.
Don Edwards my local Ward Councillor as far as I know has ignored my requests for matters to be dealt with properly rather than form the substance of fresh pro labour intrigues as has Councillor Mowles, which is a bit of a let down for those who may have put much good will into any of the ambitious enterprises associated with these two names. I know it's rather an understatement to say that he is not the right sort of character perhaps to deal with any especially complex issues but it isn't as if he doesn't know for example that I was fairly angry that I had to put up with what I did in Secondary School in the Town and I feel that my reputation can withstand any real suggestion to the allegation eg that freedom from violence is something that I have ever failed to offer anyone else to the best of my own reasonable ability myself and that I am not a hypocrite in saying that I feel victimised by being targetted for any criminal slur for minding my own business peaceably, and if not constructively then at least with reasonable good humour for One so humble. Having to repeat continually that the quality of the legal work/assistance I have had is to say the least scandalous enough to warrant severe and immediate censure rather than attempts to palm me off with a dead end Job and some story about getting a Labour Government and is not really a matter in which I am willing to compromise, neither do I expect to be honour bound by any statements I am or have been forced to make under obvious duress in this respect.
Mayor Richard Risebrow the Deputy Mayor and one of Labour's recent Mayors has ignored several recent letters about these issues.
Jamie Cann the last MP ignored my letters about these issues or if he raised them was ignored by the Constabulary whom he then failed to pursue.
Every official I have ever spoken or complained to about any of these issues has ignored them: they are ignoring my requests not only an honest interpretation of what has come to pass but about almost everything they can, even completely insignificant details. My only real hope for a tolerable life or what remains of it as verification of my complaints are continually refused is that one day I will be able to emigrate and forget all about this ghastly existence: I'm afraid I have found my life here to be thoroughly hateful and there is little else I can conclude except that perhaps I really ought to be thinking in terms of finding asylum elsewhere if possible. Don't get me wrong I really don't want to say this but I am fairly completely nauseated by the fellowship I have been offered, more perhaps on the part of officials who are supposed to have dealt with my familial difficulties than with acquaintances I had made. I really cannot overstate the extent to which I detest and loathe the existence I am forced to lead and in many respects the people I have to tolerate: it's really no life at all and am not in the least bit surprised that such talentless and undeserving individuals who can make and unmake the written law more or less as they like have occasioned for example the Rebellion of territiories about half the size of Asia within living memory.
The only avenue of complaint against the Police is via investigations about allegations of single instances of misconduct against individual members of the Constabulary which are to be looked into by their own Officers which is obviously about as much use to anyone as a perforated Condom. The most recent occasion that I sought to make the doings of the Suffolk Constabulary the subject of a verified complaint was this year when the Office in London passed on my complaint to the Suffolk Constabulary. The state of their cynical abuse of the system is such that not only did they ignore me but that they were so mind bogglingly provocatively arrogant as to have cynically neglected to have even told me that they were going to ignore or reject complaints about what by then was an increasingly lengthy and serious sounding list of criminal offences in which I had been the victim.
That I didn't report any criminal goings on at Secondary School was due to a combination Wolfgang's hostility, the fact that I was simply a vulnerable victim as the child of my Father at that time, the near certainty of violent reprisal not any personal 'criminality,' which had been wearing me down over the previous decade that I had been in receipt of state education and had no choice but to react to the company which came with it. I have always maintained that it is obviously the case that Mr Powel/Heinkel had routinely overlooked thefts taking place if not as a matter of personal choice, and my opinion that he must have sought to incriminate or taint me for little more than knowing about the odd bicycle theft which I'd have obviously informed on if there had been sufficient order, if the reaction of officials to my personal application for rights and allowances in later years was to be explained, that's the essence of all that I have ever ssaid to the Constabulary.
The fact of having been acquainted with numerous American Servicemen in the early '80's who were almost without exception thoroughly helpful and understanding of the problems faced by the destitute on Europe's post war housing estates as an an unfortunate and complete indigent, contrasts strikingly to the reactionary hamfistedness of the local Constabulary for which various (one in particular) theories may emerge, constitutes further evidence to substantiate such a theory and the fact eg that I am not just inventing things myself and expecting to be believed. Whilst admitting that it's easy for people who don't have to give one anything to afford a positive view it doesn't detract from the observation that a negative view of oneself is in fact quite finite.
I have said all I am going to about Social Security fraud barring perhaps one or two very minor details and in contrast to what the local employees at the local DSS seem to believe (they have been tampering with my claims and making illegal deductions) I really think I deserve credit rather than censure for being willing to speak out on the subject, and can only hope that those responsible for inflicting malice on this crippled indigent will find their career prospects rather diminished as a result of their ill informed extempore malice: I am sure there are those who would say that it is typical of an Englishman to kick someone when he's down though finding out exactly who is responsible has been rather a waste of time. It apparently takes more intelligence than I had thought to make the adduction that attacking someone who is willing to make any concrete remarks is going to be counterproductive rather than helpful in most cases where that person has nothing or a negligible amount to lose, and the prospect of telling people who are supposedly accomplished adults something as simple as the fact that truthful and honest behaviour should be rewarded and not punished (especially if more is desired) is a rather sombre and cheerless one: I'd have thought that people who could so easily be replaced by a nice Computer would be more careful, ah well there's no explaining some folk.
In respect of labelling (my Father's third Wife or longstanding partner) Mrs Cormack, Noy, or Nightingale as I believe she was born or whatever she calls herself nowadays a Paedophile (excuse the dramatic overtones) not to be confused with any of her three sisters, I am digressing from the narrative somewhat as I didn't really consider the legal implications of what they had done from their own point of view at the time inasmuch as I was preoccupied with the immediate material and social problems that stood in the way of my taking real advantage of state education. I wanted only to be rid of the additional burden that her demands made on my tortured senses, was simply comparatively happy to have forgotten all about her and hers after the abortive two year relationship she had established with my Father and had given the fact of her existence a total of perhaps ten seconds worth of consideration up to a point in time mid way through the year 2003 when, as I have unfortunately had to say it became apparent that she was continuing to indulge in pauperising intrigues with him despite his being officially married to someone else for some fifteen years or more now. I simply happen to consider it a fact for example that if certain variables were mixed up in such a story and for example whilst not wishing to belittle the importance of the suggestion that I was already disturbed by the reality of what had taken place and the impossibility of conducting a constructive existence due to painful emotional turmoil, that if it were an ethnically british female being harassed by for example an illiterate Negro body builder stepparent, that few, especially those who derided my life chances in those years, would have been motivated to disagree that this constituted such an offence, especially after two years.
The fact that I was bruised to the extent of almost visibly having her fingerprints all over my private parts certainly ought to be considered more of an offence than that for example that which appertains to one of perhaps two friends of mine from Copleston (Secondary School) with whom I have consistently maintained any contact over the passing of time, having been officially arraigned for taking some allegedly saucy photos of girls he knew whilst half drunk in the local park some few years ago. Such a comparison becomes one of immense magnitude if one considers that most victims of physical rape will usually have physically recovered within weeks or mot=nths and that I am only just assessing that I am only just apprising the damage that incidents from 25 years ago seem responsible for. I haven't asked either the Geography Teacher Mr Moon who seemed to have noticed some of these facts at a Suffolk School in the late seventies or the capable Lady Biology teacher we had as to what their opinions might be on this score: I think most of them were aware that my Father was increasingly a peevish drunk who was determined to be a nuisance but what not many might be likely to know is the precise extent to which I was consistently sexually harassed by Mrs Whiting as she was at the time. So much so in fact that I pretty much told Miss Lennon the Biology teacher as she then was if not in quite so many words that I was being forced to enter into sexual liaisons with her and that if I really wasn't going to have any rights to protection against this in principle that I would prefer to ask her or at least someone more congenial than the particular dyspeptic Sow in question to give me a proper bath, which I obviously needed if I was to derive the slightest benefit from the School as I was basically obviously too miserable and depressed by the abuse and squalor I had suffered and was suffering. One doesn't study heart and circulation and blood and various aspects of domestic science for years on end however badly and inefficiently without knowing to some extent when someone is seeking to refresh itself at one's expense or to put it in simple terms being too nice to old, disabled or otherwise partially incapacitated people does leave one tired, jaded, drained and lacking acuity of sense.
The basic mistake being made was that I was violently presented with demands for intimacy which she could only legally claim from FJK Whiting who as I have been at some pains to emphasise has always struck me as a disturbed individual in more respects than I care to mention. On the day that they were married I found myself having to signal very strongly that I was thoroughly offended at being mistaken for him for this reason, that I did not want to know her that she should refrain from attempts to be intimate with me, that I was most unwillingly under his jurisdiction and that he would be disposed of as any kind of associate at the very earliest opportunity, which he was. I did not find her attractive and it was pointless to ask that I should, she was overweight, shapeless, had skin trouble, a suspiciously yellow complection, was far too old and unattractive for her to have been offered to me in the role that she was and had a disconcerting habit of exhaling bubbles of spittle whilst talking and whinging on sadly about the extensively greying hair she would dye: this Woman would simply not take no for an answer to continual nagging. It is possible to argue convincingly that this two year marriage of my Father's to Mrs Cormck was a paedophilic scheme from its inception, especially by the norms of the socially demanding society of which she likes to think she is a functioning component as he obviously put it to her when initially eyeing up her fortunes, that he had a fourteen year old boy she would like to live with; whilst it is perfectly legal to insist on some things from children who utterly loathe their legal guardians it is not a legal act to go seeking to mistake it for the the spouse. It would be a ridiculous oversimplification of many complex matters to say that that I have arguably been unable to conduct relationships as a result of such adolescent 'abuse'. It is also true and is worth noting that I have certainly been seriously over sensitised by it and cannot bear being photographed amongst other things: such perceptions of course depend on the individual's frame of reference with regard to perceptions of how much and what sort of interaction is viewed as normal and/or desirable. The whole idea that I should have moved in with the Cormacks was ludicrous and offensive to me especially in respect of the fact that I was being nagged to take my education seriously and was or had been supposed to do well. This is to say nothing of the fact that my Mother was living in the same Town but they did obviously lack the quality education Ms Cormack had obviously enjoyed and had grown up in an orphanage that was little better than a step or two up from what was experienced in Nazi detention camps at about the same time including and I hope those involved aren't going to be upset about my mentioning this it is a very upsetting fact, having to wash the clothes of disease victims which was literally potentially fatal.
The friend I have mentioned in terms of being a nuisance to children was someone whom I remembered well from Copleston as it might not be an exaggeration to say he was one of those who hadn't gone out of his way to make my life a misery. He was quite well known for raucous misbehaviour and was something of a disciplinary conundrum to the School and though not particularly poisonous did have some relatively modest personality/behavioural problems having eg nearly been murdered by Negros who poured petrol over him and lit a match back in about '78. I only make some further mention of his case because of a few related facts, a general perception of the desirability of good government and the partial necessity of some debate on double standards, injustice, nepotism and downright stupidity that taxpayers are being asked to fund. In addition to the question of examining the suspicion that he has relatively unwittingly been corrupted by exposure to input from certain above named individuals. The point is that the assaults carried out on me in my Father's household in many ways constitute to the best of my knowledge a significantly greater offence than that which this person was prosecuted for recently and are arguably are partially responsible for corrupting him in the first place insofar as in more recent years, I have had to say noticed what I allege are unwelcome contrivances as well as an attempt to circulate what I would call pink propaganda and the sentimetn that it's acceptable or trendy to have excessive liberal views on the subject and had not thought about exposing him to it: he was a vulnerable unemployed lone parent who might easily succumb to suggestions that he should get involved in the sort of thing they were guilty of and what is as I say of the allegation that they were in the process of impersonating me and sowing false impressions. I used to visit him occasionally it goes without saying obviously that over the years I have had little opportunity to travel or good humour and fellowship of any sort to share, but I had come very close to actually uttering warnings about acquiring especially tasteless pornography, he was always older and a litle more daring than I (if such a thing can be possible haha) and to a certain modest extent I had allowed him to do questionable things that the individual tends to have reservations about: he gave me my first cigarette at School for example and in general it is worth pointing out that he is very much the sort of person who can easily be led and misled for any and all of his other qualities or lack of them.
He had one too many one day and took some quite saucy photos of some girls near the paddling pool in the local park: this could have easily been overlooked especially in view of the fact that he is a keen amateur photographer who often carries a camera and as I say a parent himself if obviously not an exemplary one. It is a fact to my mind that he fell from grace so to speak, substantially as the result of unwitting exposure to pink ultraliberal propaganda via the fact that I had neglected to sufficiently significantly remember even the fact of the existence of my Father, or the fact that he and his, were surreptitiously circulating the kind of sentiment that said it was OK to scheme at paedophilic sex: it obviously is the sort of thing one doesn't care to remember. This happened sometime after several (in fact) instances of my personally considering warning him that he didn't want to start getting interested in any especially lurid Pornography to help cope with life as a single parent and the ennui of long term unemployment without having consciously reflected on the quality of thought of my near relatives to which he would seem to have been unwittingly exposed by me and in making this observation so forthrightly here, being another digression from that particular story which is mine, I am obviously considering the fact of influential audiences such as the Judge and Defence Counsel at his trial whom I was unable to furnish with such a substantial piece of mitigation at the time. The last time I spoke to Ms Cormack's son Guy her eldest child some two years my Junior was back in about 1982 when he had moved temporarily in with my Father and was literally screaming out that he would murder his natural Mother, which seemed logical enough to me at the time as I recall it insofar as any respectable person would display similar feelings about such a shiftless and despicable personality as the result of a very modest exposure to it.
The story is unusually distressing in that his Father passed on soon after and had just missed a vital insurance payment or so he tells me. One cannot help but wonder how this family might have fared if they had not been exposed to some of the unquestionably vile trash that might be said to have some origin from my own Father's unsavoury marital ambitions: there is also the fact that one of the women involved was married to a Policeman so there again is the question of double standards and Nepotism from two viewpoints. I think he accepts that I exposed him to this sort of suggestion through no deliberate fault of my own insofar as he and his 20 year old Son have been examining the input they've been getting more recently. It has been quite reliably (if not yet perfectly officially) established that I have been the victim of pauperising hauntings on the part of named erstwhile relatives whose antisocial paedophilic behaviour was real and serious enough to have attracted a certain amount of comment and it is an irresistable observation that the authorities really ought if not to have made an example out of Mrs Cormack and my Father many years before to have at least at some point have given me the satisfaction of an admission that such an allegation was in fact technically true, most especially in view of the fact/allegation that it is palpably her voice which has been involved in corrupting this friend/acquaintance (this is an observation I made some significant time after the actual events and the Court case which I attended on my own behalf in 2002) who only did exactly what she got away with (though in a much more modest manner) and has been smirking loudly about it until the year 2002-3ish when her unwelcome scheming presence was eventually detected and brought to light in these columns.
With regard to the fact that Chris Schonbeck had turned up with a badly broken collar bone after one of his holiday jaunts (in this case it was India) in 93 whilst I was trying to attend the full time College course. I would have said that the College people had categorised us together insofar as we both had Irish Mothers, some association to the Labour Party and had both also been known to have been prosecuted for drug possession. I however am appalled at the thought of having to apologise for his voice insofar as people react badly to it and I haven't really got any family with enough resources to compensate me for being mistaken for the voice of someone who may have no such real concerns about his long term employability. Whatever virtues he may or may not have, he conveys a comparatively negative impression and is thoroughly unwilling to consider making any real attempt to live on what the unemployed are supposed to live on, and as such was a particularly bad case for a Labour authority to have blessed with housing privileges if they are seeking to set any sort of example. I would have said that he was aware of this as far back as '93 and that the quite serious motorcycle accident he had might even have specifically arisen as the therefore not entirely unprompted attempt to study my reputation in contrast to his own in which respect he was probably being asked to consider that he was a privileged indidvidual who owed more to his family and to British society than the average individual whereas I was someone who owed less. I would furthermore say that he realised this though I'm not quite sure what his point was in making an application in my name at the College or as to why Doctor DN Hall seems to have carried out a conversation with him to then write to me claiming that he'd been threatened by me, and he must have known perfectly well that he was not. It seems a fair deduction insofar as he would seem to have overheard some of the gossip about me, had certainly found some such exchange in which I/he was supposed to be going on about drugs in some sort of weird dialogue with the College at the instigation of one or two Nightingales and Taylors who acquiesced in the unwarranted persecution of myself: instead of making the general point that I was trying to and that was that I couldn't live any sort of life without proper legal rights as a basis. I'll bet his family had found my Mother's family involved in blackmail tactics seeking embroil the Suffolk College in allegations they hadn't done what they should in respect of drug legislation (which was probably true of most by the late eighties) and forget about such matters as the strange affair of ex Tory Councillor Wright and his business disaster of household rewiring. He was a next door neighbour of the Taylors, had been aware of much of what I have recounted regarding the events of 1980-83 with regard to the circumstances of my unemployment and the politics of the time and I would have said that his business misfortune which as I gather involved rewiring was perhaps the result of him being misled by his neighbours some of whose odd visitors may have sought to sell him a 'bum steer' as the contemporary phrase has it for one reason or another. Insofar as this occurred at about the time of the Brighton Hotel bomb and at a turbulent time in politics generally I can't help but think there is some Secret Service file somewhere that seeks to connect the accident with the fact of him having lived next to an Anglo Irish family which has been and is the subject of some real controversy about cross border events in relation to the contemporary Irish troubles. I suppose I feel partly guilty about the matter insofar as Councillor and Mrs Wright may have been a bit how shall we say, glibly right wing in their acceptance and promulgation of Thatcherite Toryism but they were arguably basically decent and well intentioned people who would probably have done a lot better out of local politics as far as I have any interest if they weren't (though in saying this I don't know to what to what extent it is true) associated with the Cormacks in the local Conservative Association: I certainly didn't feel particularly good about watching them have to sell off bits and pieces of their Garden and then finally the house itself not that I cannot successfully deny being the perpetrator of any deshabille on their part. Insofar as it may be worth making some comment on these facts I would tend to advise Mrs Wright if she has not at some point already done so to make a clean breast of exactly what was said and done about my welfare and employment at the time (to a reputable police authority if one can be found) in relation to the fact of other disasters that have occurred. It is an unfortunate fact however that my most recent ruminations have left me in little doubt that Bernadette had used her familiarity with both my Father and myself in inflicting this misfortune on Councillor Wright whilst trying to be interested in converstions about politics (and medicine) for example and pretending not to be aware that the Taylors might really have wanted to find something else for her to do besides remain interested in their household to the extent which she was. It is an especially distressing personal circumstance for me that I have no choice but to conclude that my Father has been a severe 'agent provocateur' in playing on Bernadette's jealousy and so on in order to manufacture these sort of quarrels among people who had actually worked for a living and what a huge shame it is that I had not discovered such self possession as I have now (and awareness of the actions of others) many years before. It should also be borne in mind however that she had sought to foist herself on him with various arguably shiftless unpleasantnesses once he had tried to 'find' her sister who was young and naive? That the members of the previous generation of both sides of my family have successfully conspired to conceal the precise details of what happened in my Father's household in the late sixties with particular reference to Bernadette and more especially from my point of view the manner in which my Grandfather took a stroke and died over which particular matter I have mused painfully over several decades. One obvious conclusion is that Mr Taylor should have taken more care with his business and his neighbours before he started the business of pursuing any sort of foreign married woman with any sort of kid and forcefully imposed himself on that child's attempt to rejoin it's Mother. All I can say is that she was going to marry for more money, didn't really seem to want to want to and whether or not she was actually seeking to sow the seeds of destructive conflict in response has to be considered as seriously socially irresponsible in any meaningful appraisal of an adult personality in either her case or his.
My Father had taken all the possessions and unclaimed benefits belonging to the deceased John French despite the fact that it was myself who was principally inconvenienced by the fact of his having been dumped on FJK who was already being a massive burden on me in every way. In the second place he had spent most of the time that John was wandering the streets here whilst being routinely assaulted and robbed by local youths whom the Magdalene Close neighbourhood had been advised to "sort it out themselves," as another Constable had put it, in questing after drug addicted adolescent prostitutes in seedy parts of urban South East Asia. This was after about two years of constant criminal, peevish, demanding scheming and deceitful behaviour and the fact of my having supplied them (Jack and FJK) with various forms of personal assistance that would have arguably ten thousand pounds to buy and whilst I was at least making some attempt to earn some money.
I would have said that my Aunt Bernadette's attentions have had a longstanding deletirous influence on my well being and my ability to function insofar as she was left alone with me for long periods as a Baby and as an Infant and I have obviously had at least some trouble keeping her out of my ears as time goes by. I would say that Mr Taylor knew that she was haunting me with a destructive, grasping and incestuous need arising from her troubled background and that by the late seventies was bullying her into making ill advised critical comments about myself: she depended on him for quite a lot and would have been likely to have been institutionalised had she not been almost an adjunct of my Mother's household. I would also say that he then enmeshed her in misbegotten attempts to blame the distress in my personal life on drug use after having killed the one boyfriend she had found in her time here with the maliciously motivated bad advice I have quoted, and that in cahoots with the Nightingales and their friends in the Constabulary they have even gone so far as to try insidious blackmail tactics on acquaintances of mine instead of finding themselves guilty of various infamies which I have only partly detailed. It is of course impossible to avoid noticing the size of the Insurance claims that had been made by certain of these parties and their 'friends' shortly after they sabotaged my chances of a worthwhile academic career at 6th form. Once they had done that and decided they were going to overlook paedophilic abuse and the threatening of defendants outside Courtrooms, they moved on to cooking the Housing Benefit Claims and then deliberately misreported the attempt on my life in '86: it was only one small step further before they were forgetting to take proper cognissance of terrorist activity which arguably helped create that helicopter crash in June '94.
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From Northgate in 1981 I passed another 'O' level, Classics in Translation which was the only subject I had wanted to take out of the options I had been given excepting Biology only in which subject I got a near miss, grade D.
Qualifications Qualifications
Work History
I practically saved the Dog's life once when it was attacked and badly savaged, by pulling apart the jaws of a mad dog that had attacked it though I eventually got sacked for just taking it round to the Garden at home : an hour and a half each day along the same stretch of river is quite a chore especially when you've had to travel 3 miles across town back from School : I had stuck to it for quite a while however and it was my first real experience of being involved with the workforce and of having to meet deadlines and keeping to a routine and earning money.
In between leaving compulsory Education and commencing 6th form (isn't that what Americans call High school?) I worked for three weeks in a technical Library, part of the logistical effort that went with the building of the Orwell Bridge: which can be seen in a contemporary TV advert I think it's a British Gas Advert where the bloke gets stopped by the Black Cop to ask him about his Gas Bills and you can see the huge span bridge in the background.
I have sat down to add further to the narrative of this document here as so much has been going on and have been feeling a bit put upon by the vehemence and routinely deceitful suggestions I have been getting and so rather than run the risk of causing more confusion by writing in the wrong tense I have decided to continue the story of what has happened to me from 2002 insofar as it has been unavoidably interesting. I'm sorry if people have been expecting me to get all the articles on this site properly corrected and finished but I did get ripped off rather badly by a fellow Town supporter called Mark Born when I tried to put together the money for a new Computer at the end of 2004: I doubt this had anything much to do with the decline in Town's form but I definitely lost interest in the Soccer team as a result. An overnight Job took six weeks, the machine didn't work properly he was abusive and threatening and when it broke down completely within a few months he refused to answer phone calls.
The main point about my life at this time is that firstly I have had no choice but to plead Incapacity and submit to a certain amount of interrogation into my state of mind in which respect I can't survive without at least minimal welfare allowances which continue to be subject to the whims of the people working at the DSS who having agreed that they would have to pay me compensation for lying about my claim when I fractured my kneecap and have since denied knowing anything about it. I have been getting a bit more of what I wanted in the way of responses to the general nature of my suit from a nice young lady Doctor at a different Doctor's Surgery in the Town, or so I had thought until I was unceremoniously taken away for a week's arbitrary detention on June 6th as the result of tring to obtain a prescription for a sedative over the telephone which I have done without any comment at all before and have not disappeared or completely forgotten myself during the last few years (not for want of trying obviously), but had in fact been rather taken aback by certain ensuing personal revelations resulting from 'discovered memories' which reconstituted themselves early last summer 2004 and inescapably pointed toward the fact of near relatives having been involved, some willingly and some unwillingly in some serious criminal activity during the period of my infancy and since then I have been preoccupied with something of a psychological episode as memories and impressions rearranged themselves into a more coherent and understandable whole. Consideration of this has however been rather clouded by the News broken to me by my Mother on the evening of the 21st of July this year, the eve of my Birthday that her Sister my Aunt Bernadette whose courageous and forceful personality had formed much of the background gossip to my tale and was very much an intrinsic part of the story of of my personal existence as well as a salient cause my current consternation and distress, had taken a severe heart attack on the previous Monday 18th July and had passed away alone at home probably whilst making tea after arising.
Insofar as the main thrust of my endeavours has been seeking to get said what needs to be said on my website I was exactly half way through the second sentence of the second paragraph of this narrative continued section which I had started at some point over the previous weekend when this occurred, having only just begun work again only briefly on a couple of occasions during the last six months including a bit of tidying up of this document during the last fortnight which had been coincedentally dated as the 13th on my website homepage and consisted of just a few odds and ends including a brief note about the passing of Jean Paul 2nd. Whilst I can remember dating it I don't recall any superstitious thoughts and was probably in a moody sort of rush when I briefly adjusted the chronology which indicates when each article was updated.
I have during this time been considering as carefully as I can some of the more mundane details of my narrative of some of the more salient events over what is perhaps the more recent period of my life, whilst various awful and unbelievably significant twists in the tail of the tale I have discovered reveal themselves to that portion of One's mind which makes elaborate calculations but it becomes necessary to digress as within a short while the woman pictured below had died in the town centre and the family group pictured below her had suffered the loss of it's only Son and that amongst other things besides the dangerous lies which both parties were not entirely wittingly or willingly being drawn into, which relate directly to my case and the suggestion that they should not have interrupted myself or my (present)GP with this period of arbitrary detention or have added comparativley ill judged and erroneous observations to the inquiry taking place under her jurisdiction, is the observation that they might have been a bit more aware as well, that question of Islamic extremism was hovering around in the background, making the question of hardly half sincerely contriving fictions about murder cases and murder investigations, even more confusing and dangerous than they already were, when strictly speaking what happened was that these individuals were asked to participate in a disgusting deceitful contrivance. As far as I am concerned I am taking a leave of absence from having to seek work one which if anything I should have been allowed perhaps just in terms of stress and distress before I had even left School and I maintain that allegations and diagnosis of mental illness are a cheap contrivance inspired very significantly by Doctor BEB Williams who also appears among other things to have been conducting a conversation with Ms Cormack whilst feigning that it is myself; One does of course hear a lot about the postcode lottery in terms of the debate about NHS treatment and it only goes to show that opinions can differ remarkably and that a second informed opinion on anything is always a good idea. Perhaps the single striking fact about this besides the ongoing underhand attempt to allege that I am a drug addict, a shiftless thief, or schizoid lunatic rather than a victim of various forms of perhaps arguably petty abuse principally a disguised violence, is that it seems I have developed a perception that has not recognised that people are things (obviously the result of abuse/neglect in the imprinting stage of development and have thought that depressive moods and strange humours are to do with the weather or internal thought processes when they're actually to do with people sneaking in and making pauperising suggestions of one sort and another. One could of course with immense justification propound a view that something like 70 or 80 per cent of the world's population are clinically mentally ill if set against the demanding standards of moralistic middle England and the relevant point isn't so much that anyone has any strange quirks of behaviour that it might be worth noting in any respect but that other events have ensued over decades and there has to be more of a come uppance for one or two characters whose cumulative actions obviously underly such mishaps. I suppose I ought to add that Mr Halley Frame is far from being any kind of a sinister state lackey, showed no enthusiasm for the course of action which had been principally undertaken by a dubious looking West Indian Doctor and it's probably also true that he had evolved a more accurate perception of what was taking place despite not being the most obviously charming and attractive or medically learned person at the Hospital by far; which is probably due to the fact of him being very much an Ipswich person whose family are heavily committed in making a contribution toward the correct functioning of the NHS and I daresay that there will be many regrettable consequences in terms of public confidence once a more correct appraisal of the role of various characters comes to light.
WPC Lloyd was obviously the sort of person who was very sensitive to some of the issues and events I have sought to discuss I can't help but feel that she was among those members of the Constabulary with local connections who must surely have considered arresting certain members of the Judiciary for their role in certain recent affairs; I'm sure I am not the only person who will notice a fairly striking resemblance to '80's Ipswich Starlet, Scholar and Socialite Clair Brace. I gather that she was an acquaintance of the Schonbecks, or rather of the dying Leukaemia patient they employ to try and keep him out of trouble, and it is unfortunately the fact that I would have to point out that besides the fact that Christopher has been threatening to bring fascist heavies to the neighbourhood and has been ignoring specific instructions that he is not to follow me round to my favourite cafes or call at this address, they have also been importuning for his incarcerable sins to be overlooked with other acquaintances of theirs who work for the Constabulary and can easily be viewed as having thereby contributed toward Ms Lloyds unfortunate lapse of concentration.
Oh dear oh dear
The point about Mr Halley-Frame is that he was among those who insisted on detaining me on the basis of various fictions that numerous individuals have sought to posture as having responsibly resolved in relation to ongoing complaints about the manner in which medical facts have been recorded and medical diagnoses procured. I had been complaining for well in excess of a decade that my complaint about what happened in 1994 was quashed by the simple expedient of lying about the time I first sought to make it, and it has to be said that in view of such a simple fact, such misfortunes and misdirections should have been at least partly anticipated, David was supposed to have remembered that he needed to carry his medicine and these sort of bare faced lies have not assisted him. I would say that a certain Hospital Manager (a New Zealander) was principal among those who prompted his surviving Sister to make ill advised comments about getting compensation instead of admitting that David's oversight was the result of the ongoing deception he is perpetrating!
Perhaps principal amongst these comparatively incidental details of my narrative that I needed to get tidied up was the fact of Pip Wood having placed unregistered Motorcycles in the Garage at Constitution Hill and of having caused some significant offence thereby insofar as he had been constantly reminded that he, and in consequence both the Landlord and myself stood in jeopardy vis a vis the fact that he could not prove they were not stolen until he had. I never had any intention seeking to tolerate this situation and from my point of view the personal relevancies had been described to both these parties and consisted roughly of the statement that I had been seeking to pursue claims of theft and worse against the Constabulary including boots that were arbitrarily confiscated in 1983 and as a matter of fact constituted about half the value of my personal possessions at the time. If I hadn't confronted this situation immediately it was due perhaps firstly to the fact therefore that it is the case though more serious recent developments may have elicited somewhat more interest, that almost every reasonable if obviously irritably phrased comment or request I had ever made in the direction of the local Constabulary who keep records of reported thefts had been summarily refused on the basis of some character assassination I couldn't quite identify and was in general seeking to complain about. What I didn't realise at the time was that Mrs Cormack was apparently playing a malicious undetected role in events and would continue doing so up until 2002 when it was first noticed, and beyond and that he may have been seeking to phrase some comment/response about this in that I hadn't noticed she was responsible for many misunderstandings and the fact being that anyone who hearkened in any detail might have heard among other things some gloating over successful thefts from both my Father and myself in the late seventies which events I have partially described above and which was a matter I had sought to forget for reasons other than personal iniquity: In short there was nothing I could do about the fact that they were ignoring me and I felt that they would probably be likely to have reckoned that it had been sorted out under an insurance claim and have told me to stop being a nuisance. They had also after all told me to get lost when I described having been robbed by a Vice girl whilst living adjacent Councillor Harrison who had significantly provoked it by leaving his all too ambitious thoughts about riding a tide of disorder into high office all too carelessly open to approbation and I had been seeking to put a fairly reasonable point to them about the behaviour of my Solicitor and allegations he had made consistently for many years. It needs to be said that I felt the objects in question were stolen (or perhaps Pip was setting a trap for the unduly critical) and that someone had persuaded him to buy them having heard that he'd been palmed off with the use of a Garage for a bad debt; to describe them as Motorcycles wuld be a bit of an exaggeration insofar as there was two wrecks that looked as if they had been gutted for spare parts. I had rationalised that they wouldn't be going anywhere and that I would have some time to deal with this from such a perspective as I am doing. I feel it needs to be reiterated that the shambling sad looking Oaf isn't the self confident smart homeowner he once was, that the manner in which he lost his fortunes investing in a boat which 'unfortunately' sank in the local Docks is related to the contrivances of criminal minded individuals with influential connections particularly the erstwhile Ms Cormack and my Mother's family but I'm sure others know more about it than I do.
Obituary of Bernadette Dellar (Baker)
The issue of my precise status is very much a paramount question for me insofar as I have only the silence and lack of denial on the part of the new GP whom I have been seeing or rather the new GP's at a different clinic whom I have been seeing with which to furnish any concrete conclusions and have to surmise amongst other things that this may for a number of reasons which it is difficult to avoid viewing as sensational in the magnitude of their general interest and which is to say; given the nature of the conclusions which have to be drawn it is unsurprising that any small time Doctor, Lawyer or other sensible, responsible, professional person might have some trouble not so much in crediting the general nature of the accusations made as they are quite obviously all too true, but in assessing what ought to be done not least in view of the fact that it relates to malversation at the highest level, more specifically the fact that a number of powerful and officially respectable individuals are obviously guilty of some very serious dishonesty surrounding a number of murder trials amongst other things but I should explain.
During the course of re-registering with the state medical services after having been made homeless at the negligence of Council Officials and the curiously destructive prosecution engendered by the local Boys in Blue in 2002 I had sought during the course of seeking to explain myself to a comparatively young female Comprehensive School product (you may recall if you have read any of the above that I have recounted specific dissatisfactions with the white haired Tory who had been my GP for years) that it was fatuous of anyone to think that any good was going to come of what authorities had postured was the relationship I had with my Mother insofar as many seemed e.g. to have erroneously worked out that I had willingly and deliberately started falsifying my social security claims in 1984 for the chance of an easy few quid in cahoots with her and a certain Garage owner; the truth about this I have always maintained is that I was much more like a beaten and abused character who was refused a fair legal hearing thoroughly unreasonably and was forced into working illegally under what amounted to threats of summary imprisonment and I have expounded on the relevant circumstances quite fully in the preceding narrative have I not? The fact that the local legal establishment are currently suffering some torrent of abuse and misfortune with their public countenance ought to be as far as I am concerned traced back to it's source in the malicious portrayals I have described and I don't want to be self important but it is a specific matter which has involved some important names and I might add, is no real personal contrivance of my own.
I had gone so far as to say to her that it was ridiculous to have purported any such connivance in view of the fact of what had happened in the 1960's while she was married to my Father and that the only reason she had ever taken any official seeming interest (and I say this in respect mostly of local acquaintances who may know a little about this or only a few relevant facts) was that by 1984 she was the only person I knew that wasn't a Tramp since the familial scheming (and all that went with it) which had been substituted for any serious perspective on my education, had left me stuck by the early 1980's in a filthy corner of a grimy sink estate in a virtually condemned Council building with personal resources which equalled nothing but the rags I stood in, accounts on the utilities rapidly sinking into arrears and a rapidly worsening nervous disposition which is to say nothign of the nature of the allegations which have been made about the disappearance of my Father with the eastern Woman who had arm twisted him through the Registry Office and of the manner in which e.g. he had only just arguably underhandedly assumed responsibility for my housing.
What significantly occurred was that I awoke in the place that I am forced to call home today, to find myself half in a dream state yet fastiduously scanning dark corners of my memory with a strange involuntary intensity that was extraordinary in it's insistence. I suppose everyone can remember at least a few occasions of waking in a sweat from a nightmare or a compelling dream and of having been so involved with it that One is immensely irritated to have to realise that one is awakening into the harsh or mundane reality of the actual waking existence. This was very similar to such an experience insofar as at first I was enraptured in a dream of early childhood and thought I was in a perfect dream of an infant in it's Mothers' arms until I found myself thinking 'oh no it's only a dream' at more or less the point that One does in these dream states when One realises that One has been dreaming and is in fact on the point of awakening. Instead however of reaching that bathetic decline when one realises that one is not in any sort of idealised reality (it is a fairly interesting question to pose as to how many people would say that their best impressions of perfect bliss derive from these semi conscious states) when the mind not wishing to believe, focuses irritably on mundanities like the needles and pins from lying still and the chores awaiting: it was then that a voice or thought which I couldn't quite recognise arose unbidden and said something like 'no it's real think, think, think.
I then started to realise that it I wasn't in such a typical waking from dream state, that was only part of it, and very strikingly that my mind was intensely scanning it's memory to such an intense degree that it could scarcely be equalled under optimum waking conditions. The obvious question as to why, was suddenly answered, when the memory stopped at what I have had to conclude is more or less my earliest conscious memory though this was but a later and almost incidental conclusion to many that I would have to make since the early summer of 2004 when this huge mental shakedown occurred as the memory stopped thinking, at just the place it was almost unwillingly yet inexorably seeking to find. A scene from the Council flat on the East London outskirts where I spent the first eighteen months or so of my life played itself back to me almost like a video recording and I became possessed with thoughts of anger and irritation as I realised why I had been unable to remember this scene and as to why it was so personally important to me that I do so. The first immediate and overwhelming thought was the realisation that I had definitely been questing for this memory with more singlemindeness than I could ever have consciously imagined, indeed what is very much of the simple fact that in many ways it would be quite reasonably true to say that I had never done anything else but search for it since the event or incident occurred.
I was sitting on a couch or settee early evening at approaching bedtime in the front room of the house in which I first grew and learned to walk I can't say exactly how old I was but I must have been something between 18 months to two and a half years old at most and it is more or less my earliest conscious memory. There were three people in the room at the time when there was a knock on the door, my Father my Mother and her Sister Bernadette who has just died. I was therefore just about the age when babies become children and start wanting to know what is happening in the outside world so my attitude at the arrival of a couple of tall dark strangers as I now recall was naively enthusiastic about something interesting happening. That it was interesting to a toddler who knew nothing of the world was an understatement obviously, as is the fact that the conclusions I have had to draw are sinister and thoroughly unpleasant insofar as there was a reason that I was being neglected. This is obviously the broad reason as to why those relatives involved have unquestionably sought to frustrate the location of these memories and indicates that serious would probably be a better word than interesting for the nauseating experience which has followed: it was at least temporarily, almost impossible to remember anything that had happened in the intervening decades which hardly seemed to occupy the space of a single breath, and the sensation of only just having awoken after being told by my mother's Sister to go to sleep as they were going to play a game was entirely overwhelming and the events of those decades seemed completely non existent.
What happened next was that I consciously formed the conclusion, being now forcefully and painfully awake that these were the Kray twins, that some familial association with their criminal activities had been hidden from me and uppermost among the conclusions I immediately reached was that many had assumed that I must have known about it, and obviously that many or some have had motives for posturing that I did when I did not, more directly annoying was the realisation that many hereabouts not only knew about it but still know more than I do or did about the details of the sordid story or stories underlying the fact of my personal existence.
It is all too palpable to see from subsequently looking at films and news clips from the late 1960's that this specific incident formed a good deal of the background gossip to the trial of the Kray twins and the the nature of the impact it had on London society and the national consciousness at the time. Insofar as that might easily be described as a key event in 20th century British Social History depending on your view as to how various factors should be evaluated and salient among these would be some inferred personal interest on the part of the Monarch insofar as I'd say my Mother and her Sister had probably escaped imprisonment as vice girls as the result of threatening Chief Justice Rhapsodybottom or whatever his name was with revelations about Margaret Windsor's Cocaine habit: I should add that I have as yet looked into the matter from such a historical perspective and that this conclusion has been formed from the rediscovery of this memory and others from about that time.
This scenario and many others ensuing from it have been gradually painfully asserting themselves and the last eighteen months or so has been a very bittersweet exerience, not that I have enjoyed it at all as the victim of various unseemly lies about my person and status and particularly housing which could easily be viewed as some kind of of ongoing plot having it's roots in these events from the late sixties in which Labour politicians have been framing various blackmail threats whilst feigning concern for my indigence and vulnerability. During the month of October 2005 I found myself looking at a clip of Peter Sellers saying something to an interviewer about how "so that didn't quite work out then," and imagined that he was referring to arrangements the Krays had sought to make on the evening in question rather than directly addressing the verbal conversation......... This may or may not be a ridiculously long shot but it seems an inescapable conclusion that at some point this incident had been widely noted among the society of sixties celebrities that were known to haunt the Kray owned clubs in the London at that time.
I had never taken any interest in the Kray twins as a social or criminological phenomenon, I had watched the film made about them some ten years after it was made and did know only vaguely that their connections to celebrities and the aristocracy had been a significant talking point in the London of the late nineteen sixties: If I had I would probably have observed the familial connection as the story of the fate of one small child whose Father was unable to pay for the Cocaine being demanded by the young Wife, her siblings and friends (I have to assume that is what took place) can all too clearly be seen among pictures taken of the Kray twins from about that time and I have to assume that what took place very much relates to their own fate, so I never realised prior to the summer of 2004 that the Father of my first spuriously created half brother, whom I have never met (and have no particular desire to meet) was in fact Ronnie Kray or that he and his friends had probably been haunting me with the idea of seeking to posture a more positive portrayal of what took place once it became plain that they were going to spend decades more in prison than they already had though this is of course true of all my spuriously created half brothers and sister.
There was no mistaking the initial memory as I also remembered speaking to Reggie, when if I had tried to be friendly with anyone as I had, it should have been Ronnie and commenting on how funny it was that they were so alike obviously: but they hadn't come to entertain and the first attempt to interact on a friendly basis with a conspicuously young and attractive Mother was also the last.
Given that the midwinter of 2005/6 now beckons and that I have had some 18 months to consider the implications of what lay buried in these early recollections of life I suppose I should go back to the roots of the story behind the events of that evening and commence with my surmisals about how if it was not the the source of various scandals, that many contributing factors arguably lay in the marriage of my Fathers' parents which I suppose I am forced to surmise was weaker than I had been encouraged to suppose and which had been exploited by a Latin Teacher from a CofE Grammar School who had died leaving me a hundred pounds in 1994, and who it seems I must suppose was seeking to make some comment about various rumours that he had been responsible for initially introducing my adolescent Father to homosexual behaviour, which he (my Father has been consistently dishonest about): One ought to remember that by 1975 I had in many respects plumbed some fairly serious depths of degradation and that the decades long perspective from which I have viewed matters was not the comfortable armchair of a dispassionate observer but from that of an emotionally tormented and grubby street urchin who had witnessed his Father lurch from one indignity to another whilst dodging what were in effect death threats.
It is at this point that I cannot escape the remark that I am partly Jewish, that my Father is partly Jewish and that he inherited this from his Father's Father who was a Victorian immigrant from the German Jewish community who sought a different environment at a time when London was pretty much the centre of the World and the British Empire as it was then, pretty much at it's zenith. In view of the fact that I stared at my own face for in excess of three decades without realising this myself it would be therefore illogical to berate others for mistaking me for someone who is white. There are of course probably tens of thousands of residents of greater London who don't know about or have masked their true genetic heritage from relatively innocent motives of mere convenience since the mid century when the fact of people being taught to recognise semitic characteristics was rather more topical: for the record I had finally consciously realised this some time after moving into Constitution Hill in the early to mid nineties as I was staring at the mirror in the flat there and could not e.g have knowingly taken any personal part in any deliberate intrigue on the basis that I was or am; I also seem to recall that I had subsequently seen pictures of 'the old boy' a handsome and clean cut and sensitive looking person in the dwelling of a paternal great Aunt a year, and seem also to recall having denied being white at the Trial of the muggers Crossfield, George and Wright shortly afterward when incidentally this was ignored by the Judge who insisted on conducting conversation with a voice or voices that I did not recognise. partly also as the result of puzzling over the personal resemblance and childhood recollections of the fact having been mentioned by my Father during the course of him having been driven out of Ipswich in 1969 by my Mother and her Sister(s) who presumably wished to use my home as a brothel and were rapidly blackmailed into the domestic marriage arrangements that were made by 1974, they having been unwilling to rein in their cocaine habits and being threatened with prosecution for failure to pay debts which were to be cancelled in exchange for such arrangements.
So far from being white the fact that I am not is ineluctably the single most important relevant fact in my personal familial history especially if my surmisals about my Grandfather's experiences as a more obviously multi-racial individual in turn of the century London should prove to be true and I have little reason to doubt that my impressions are very likely to be substantiated.
I have to paint a picture insofar as I know anything about my pateral Grandparents as the union of a naive country girl, a youngest Sister eager to escape the confines of her Father's North Essex Smithy and the constraints of being a younger child with a comapratively worldwise anglo-semitic Londoner and proffer the suspicion that he had been blackmailed or that his family had been backmailed over his courting conduct (which was obviously very coarse for many to say the least in that time and place) at some point in his personal history and that his Mother had perhaps been afraid to stick up for him in a messy legal situation, that his life had inevitably been darkened by the experience of learning that this would not have been so had his Mother's firstborn been white and that despite the panoply of international, and multiracial goodwill represented by the massive number of individuals attending Queen Victoria's funeral at around the time of his birth he would not remain untouched by intolerance and the murk of London's darker side as his Father perhaps had, in not for example having to attend School......
I propose that there had been some tension in the marriage over the issue of certain specific sexual acts early in the childhood of my Father Ken and his Sister Cynthia, not in itself unusual, and it's certainly difficult to deny from the comfortably objective 21st century armchair that discussion of this formed a substantial informal debate in the popular literature of the day. I suppose that also that some debate around certain sexual acts had formed part of the unofficial history of WW One and that as an adolescent at the time he was probably more acutely aware of the extent to which the ruling class were discredited by that conflict than his Wife had been and probably knew more about the unofficial facts behind the abdication crisis. I propose that a certain Latin Teacher had preyed on the concerns of my Father and his Sister for their parents' marriage and relationship in which it can hardly be understated that the circumstances of the mid nineteenth century were neither conducive to the resolution of social, sexual and racial tension, that this led to his careless digestion of a three year sentence for seeking to importune such acts with a minor himself despite the fact that he was not someone who had actually done it, and was hastily bustled off to serve it being ecouraged by the family friend who had abused him, to act the part of the social rebel at a time when it was quite fashionable to be sexually and socially outrageous and amidst a sea of guilt and recriminations on the part of his parents that at some point which was probably roughly about the time he lost his faith in the legend of the goodly monarch, he had been locked up in a cell with Ronnie Kray by some tittering uniformed Windsorian who was probably letting him get away with running the place significantly according to his whims and paying off rent boys with smuggled drugs.
It seems that many must wish to comment on the arguably iniquitous role of the monarch in these events and it seems difficult to dispute that what is going to emerge is a fairly thorough vilification of Mrs Windsor's part in these events and that many should perhaps not have taken the post war monarchy so seriously as leaders and role models. I propose that my materal Grandmother had made informal complaints about being treated coarsely and that whilst Churchill and his cronies had overlooked it as something that she might have at least partly deserved in perhaps carelessly patronising right wing elements of society who to this very day snigger on about getting his relatives exterminated, that this had in fact reached the ears of no less than the irritated niece of the Duke of Windsor and that this meant bad luck Once Churchill was dead and a new conservative Monarch safely esconced on the throne with a foreign husband.
So broadly speaking the story of what happoened to my Father is one of him gradually making a nonsense out of the quaint homespun small c conservative kind of conformism taught by his Mother and of him gradually showing that far from being the divinely ordained virtuous capable leaders they make themselves out to be they are really more like grubby advantage takers and shiftless inheritors. We can see today that the House of Commons is all too much obsessed with profitable Windsorian proprieties instead of being genuinely concerned with fashioning good government and that the Windsors are all too happy with such a situation (at least in the short term) indeed Tony Blair is having a real amount of trouble convincing his own voters that he is not a Windsorian puppet or toy. The history of social legislation in this country is in fact a good example of the neglect of hereditary rulers insofar as Sodomy for example was not made legal until 1988 or nine despite the fact that it has a valid medical application and wasn a law which had been effectively disused; the need for clear and well informed directives in such matters was so paramount in many respects that Schoolkids were singing songs and buying pop records about it. I think the point in general is really that most will say that such rulers will have to do better than follow the crowd in an age when e.g. Computers are able to make more and better informed decisions than any sort of overly protected upper class character with a very limited world view as are those with a genuinely classless outlook if any such thing can be said to exist. It might seem curious but I can't help but feel that successful politicians and administrators of the future will be people who pay attention to these sort of minutae in answering simple questions about the everyday existence of ordinary folk.
The impression I get is that my Grandfather had resented much about what he had learned about life by the mid 1930's and had been forcefully compelled to examine a world view that was very different and very much more callous than the quaint middle english kow-towing of rural English grammar schoolproducts and their studied avoidance of embarassing questions such as how evil is it to have sent millions of soldiers, and tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of teenagers to their deaths on the Western Front after a night in a French Brothel. I have as yet to surmise quite what the actual connection is to the most senior members of the royal family aside from the surmisal that Princess Margeret had run across my Father in one of Ronnie's nightclubs, but I think people are telling me that what he wants to say was that ER had at some point found Ronnie a more useful diversion in many respects than hard work at the nation's awfully out of date administration and that she was or had been intent on trying to make an unoffical example of his Father over some perception that he had treated his thoroughbred English Wife coarsely at about the time of the abdication crisis and the rise of the Nazi party: I suppose it does interest me rather more as to whether there is any truth in the allegation that Churchill had told the present Monarch to desist from persecuting him or his family in view of recent events I do believe that it is quite widely acknowledged on at least an informal basis that cocaine use and perhaps some association with the Kray gang played a part in the startling difference between pictures of the smart, sophisticated and sexy Margeret in black and white pictures from the fifties and early sixties and the overweight, sick looking elderly woman who hovered in the background of royal pictures from the late seventies. I say this as at some point in the last eighteen months whilst I was mulling over freshly perceived recollections, a certain picture from what must have been the mid sixties flashed into sight during the course of my roving throught Cyberspace in search of articles from the mid sixties, one in which the Lady is showing off her impressive dentition in a nightclub type setting and in which the shadows seem eerily familiar.
This is of course a vast simplification of many presumptions of which a more obvious one is the suggestion that my Father had experienced a rude awakening for a Grammar school kid who'd been taught to be completely propre and respectful toward the upper class and the establishment, since he had it seems at one point been introduced to Cocaine by Ronnie perhaps whilst one of a more youthful Mrs Windsor's Prison Governors was chuckling away over his maintenance of someone who was a known celebrity of sorts and allowing him all sorts of ingorances whilst the Windsorian bandwagon rolled on.
I am reaching in the dark here as I haven't tried to research the relevant material, haven't spoken to my Father in some three years, having little intention of eliciting fresh deceptions, having enough to unravel, not believing aught his Sister has to say either and having just told his other Son that none of them are likely to reap any benevolent consequences from continuing to withold my Jewellery box and pitiful collection of personal trifles which they have crudely stolen: this is simply unheard of and that it goes without saying that neither will be received into my household again until I have every scrap of paper every, newspaper cutting, tool, disc, ear stud, necklace and drawing pin as well as a proper diagnosis and treatment for their mental conditions.
I can comment more on what I know about my Mother's role than I can about the Historisociology of these events and it is a salient fact in relation to her conduct insofar as I have obviously had to make many sinister conclusions about it, that her Mother was diagnosed with TB when she had barely learned to walk and that she was taken off the streets of Dublin and placed in a convent school along with her Sisters within a few seasons of having learned to walk. Their suffering in the austere post war world was extreme and the declining out of work and drink cursed Father probably looked the other way on occasions as the second sister Bernadette became embroiled in prostitution in the inner city where they lived. I don't know all the circumstances and that's probably due to some of the things they hven't felt able to tell me but I think there was some serious conflict with the city authorities, and a presumption of hypocrisy on the part of city notables perhaps that prompted Bernadette to flee to London with the object of acquiring some more serious reward for her younger sister's innocence on the streets of England's Capital. It may well be true that Windsorian authorities and friends of the Royal Family deliberately saw to it that the sins of this Irish criminal family were overlooked as part of some revenge against the more ethnic characters in my Father's background whilst Churchill was in his final few years and I can't really comment on the allegation that various authorities did know about these matters including the details of the fact that he was abused by his Latin Teacher with the knowledge of the authorities and that this was overlooked for what were strictly speaking racist motives and I also consider it from what I know rather more true that less enthusiastically Windsorian members of the establishment had sought to enmesh him with an attractive young catch as the result of what they had adduced than it is the case that he had personally gone at all out of his way in order to do so.
I expect Freda (my Mother) was often in two minds about what her Sister was doing though she probably agreed that some of the fine folks back home were just trying to take advantage of poor families who had to get along as best they could in that this would seem to be the reason that she insisted on clearing out my Father's house of cash and valuables whilst I was an infant and blackmailing my Father's family for her own. I would suggest that she ran across him soon after he was released from prison and had ignored perhaps informal tearful admissions that they were seeking a pimp who might reward them for a career in prostitution, thinking that he had been told to avoid crime, not wanting to wish a hazardous future on her, and perhaps perceiving a means to get some payback on Ronnie who had presumably rogered him silly under the auspices of ER's uniformed goons as I say, he entered into a relationship with her and sought to some extent to show her off to what he found in the way of London Society, but she then ran across Ronnie and Reggie Kray, she and her sisters decided the law was worthless and that she would be better off working for the Krays, who would give her all the cocaine she wanted and wouldn't ask her to look after some snotty demanding kid: so they (the Krays) had reasons of their own for seeking to drag establishment figures into a disreputable spotlight.
The tragic thing from a personal point of view in assessing my Father was that I have to assume looking at such photos as I have that they (the Krays) had very much overheard him get in the way of a 'nice little earner' and that they decided they wanted to let him live provided he payed all the blackmail demands phrased by my Mother and her family who had developed a taste for the kind of drugs that only the wealthy could casually afford. What I suppose many who have some less personal interest will be most surprised to hear is that I have only as recently as 2004 surmised that I have infant recollections of my Father being raped at knifepoint by Reggie Kray in order to provide my Mother and her relatives with credit for a huge amount of cocaine he could not afford and that this was probably within months of them having killed three rivals in the drug market whilst trying to display that they were big shots etc and that their instability at the time probably derived from the manner in which they humiliated myself and my Father insofar as I have to consider that this story was known as it evolved and that they were seeking to spite Pricess Margaret and people who had said they should respectabalise somewhat including perhaps Peter Sellers who also had a suspiciously Jewish looking nose.
It goes without saying that I prefer to stick to the subject of my own legal situation insofar as amongst other things I have suffered (so it seems) some long term hearing problems or perceptual distortion as a result of the assault which took place (or subsequent events) and in many ways I obviously don't want to discuss anything except how to escape from the pauperising plots that have ensued and the litigious culpability of the relevant authorities. I suppose that Ronnie had just about gotten round to expressing to a significant amount of dissatisfaction with Ken's Mother insofar as they both had roots in the London Jewish community and some desire to see her blamed for deliberately leading him into perversity because she felt embarassed about committing certain acts with the son of a black man seems to have been deduced and evidenced. It is difficult to say and not just because my own memory has been manipulated, few subjects can have occasioned as much hypocrisy and deceit during the course of the last century as sexual morality and race relations and many women especially in the earlier half of the century, endured married lives that consisted of little more than being routinely raped and made to work in virtual slavery even in the so called civilised first World but in many ways there is little point in agonising over the past.
Here is another picture of another of the victims of the town's increasingly lawless streets (and some of his family) of whom I have reproduced quite a few from the local Paper. I suppose the reason is the increasing perception that the altercation which led to his death was very much something to do with the ongoing blackmail and self interested scheming of Councillor Mowles; I say this with particular reference to the nature of his relationship with the Schonbecks and the fact that e.g. that his friend Christopher is supposed to be an rueful, apologetic Drug Addict, Incapacity Claimant and has spent most of the last twenty years or more more either racially abusing such characters as the accused, or trying to score drugs from them.
I have to presume that Councillor Mowles first perceived that one or two individuals knew facts about the Royal Family and their asociation with the Krays which would provide useful material for various sorts of blackmail within weeks of running across me. Now I should say that he hasn't been welcome to call me his friend of comrade and that I have had no concourse of any sort with him since the time that I found Mr Schonbeck and Mr Deeks moving into a plumb flat owned by the Party way back in the early eighties. I had been subjected to an immense amount of propoganda to the effect that the Party couldn't afford anything: the former person I had not even seen in the Constituency and the latter had not done a fraction of the helpful work that I had so any attempt to infer that they have been involved in any of the constructive comment I have sought to engender is a nasty con the results of which have arguably fruited in the series of deadly accidents which have occurred in the neighbourhood since I unwillingly moved here. I can understand now why (presumably) Councillor Harrison had been made an example of or had decided to resign after his disgraceful behaviour in the late eighties and this must have been significantly because Councillor Mowles wanted to cover up his own. All I said to him (Councillor Harrison) was that I had been badly let down by his colleagues and that I had been refused anything other than a notional or non existent right to a defence in Court on the basis of an association with the Labour Party that had as a matter of fact by then ceased to exist: both Mowles and Harrison are called John incidentally. I pointed out that I could only be enticed way from the College course I was going to make a fairly hopeless attempt to profit from with the offer of something at least as substantial as the bandwagon that Harrison reckoned as his own and by the time the local Party Branch had ignored voting procedures in an attempt to pretend this wasn't happening and that these high minded characters were engaged in a very shabby piece of exploitation is something that might have been better exposed to some informed audience I suppose. It hardly requires sying that the murder of Perry Mason followed the deposition of the Tory MP some months later and that this is likely to have been partly occasioned by the fact that Labour politicos seem to have been hurling around blackmail threats as soon as they managed to eavesdrop on any conversation that involved a Tory voter associated with the College smoking dope and that this was a conversation promulgated by MS Cormack who was humming along and seeking to make out that I was a liberal who had enjoyed being sexually harassed by a shiftless middle aged welfare claimant, Mr Mowles who had been informally blackmailing the local Tories thus into defeat and was seeking to cover his tracks (he was probably Jamie Cann's most effective confidant), my Father who was seekign to keep embarrassing facts about his first marriage from the public eye, my Mother and her relatives all of whom had sought to go along with this conversation as a preventative measure in that I was less likely to be believed if I had acquired any controversial reputation by the time I pieced to gether the meaning of my infant memories. Now the fact is that I never told anyone that I was at all happy and had been savaged or exploited by every authority that had feigned to take a benevolent interest. What needs to be concluded here is not that one party is in trouble and you should vote for the other, that is what these conniving characters want, what needs to be inferred is that Government is in a very real state of crisis and that Tony Blair's much vaunted panacea for all, his Democracy is just another insulting deception.
Stories like these below from September 2004 also tend to bear out the suggestion that Councillor Mowles and his new Labour cronies have been at least informally blackmailing their party political rivals at the Council table via their association with the Woman named as Ms Cormack on my CV website. It is hard to avoid viewing these incidents as almost copycat killings in a Town where the Labour majority seem safe with their friend the local Newspaper Editor, the Tory rank and file have obviously been inciting acts of hatred against welfare claimants and ethnic minorities (tell me something new). Many such fatal incidents have occurred since the murder of Perry Mason some 12 years or more ago now and given the public furore (at least in Ipswich) over the gruesome murder of the luckless Incapacity Benefit claimant and his pet Dog as well as the thoroughly dishonest acquittal of two neo fascist hangers about of the local Conservative Association the refusal to convict two obviously guilty parties created a number of serious and sinister precedents in the minds of many but here is an explanation for the apparent lackadaisical performance on the part of such morally high minded lefties in seeking to make a fuss about the acquittal of Mr Masons' murderers in particular. So you think that's bad ? Well one must admit under almost any sort of circumstance this would be an appalling discovery and no doubt many will consider aforethought that this is an appalling reflection on human nature and that society has not advanced a jot in two or three thousand years, since the picture I have to paint of local Government in the 21st century reads more like the goings on in a corrupt Roman senate or a bloodthirsty Greek City State than it resembles the aspirations of the 21st century citizen in a supposedly first World nation. What is perhaps even more disturbing is that these characters are presently planning to write handbooks on morality and citizenship for the next generation of immigrant voters.
The significance of the story about Ms Chiti (apart from the fact that she does resemble the Mother of my Father's other Son and is, or was rather the kind of respectable Brtish Citizen that she wants or wanted to be) is arguably in a general sense some circumstantial evidence of a sort that tends to back up the suggestion I have made about the realities of race relations in local government for example.
The significance of the story about Mr Harvey (they both date from 2004) is that he was living a few streets away and was murdered by his Son very oddly and coincedentally whilst living under domestic arrangements that exactly mirrored those which I had agreed with Council Officials in 2002 in respect of my having moved in with my Father that year and it might seem difficult to avoid some comparison with the story of how his own mentally troubled? Son perpetrated a murder almost as if to justify allegations which have arguably had many serious repercussions on the Town's community such as it is.
Things have been moving behind the scenes and I can only in the short term conclude that Mr Bliar and others (including Mrs Windsor)
have perceived the potential for disorder once the public relise what's actually going on here, and have been seeking to manipulate some damage limitation as this sort of gossip reaches more and more ears and eyes. The Teacher Wolfgang Powell (nee Heinkel) took early retirement recently and another ex Coplestonian with arguably somewhat less than politically correct rightist leanings Councillor Dale Jackson has also volunteered his resignation within the last two or three years; I should point out that I don't know much about these machinations but I do assume they are connected with the events that I have sought to draw attention to on this site insofar as Mr Bliar in particular may have had some advance warning of the likelihood of such stories appearing. This is due to the fact that I did pen an outraged letter to the last MP Jamie Cann pointing out that hundreds had observed that mine was the voice which had been acquitted of Mr Mason's murder, that thousands would do so and posing the questions firstly as to how they were going to talk sensibly about community policing in view of such facts, and secondly as to why they weren't making a fuss about my legal aid as they were supposed to be doing and which fact I hadn't entirely forgotten was the particular sticking point over my relations with the local establishment despite many years of developing side issues.
The answer to the second question seems to be as I say that blackmailing MS Cormack and the Tories who should have cold shouldered her in the early eighties was yielding far better electoral results than seeking to be my friend in any way and the answer to the second is unfortunately (especially if you are British) that a confused trail of death and disaster seems all too closely asociated with Councillor Mowles' ambitions in particular. Many local contemporaries will recall that over twenty years ago the Dave Mundy affair of the early eighties should have been blamed on such thoroughly insincere and self interested lefties; Mundy was a young punk rocker who felt prompted to set fire to a school whilst Councillor Mowles and co. were rabble rousing about fascists, whom they calmly went off to work with the following day, and continued to co-operate and collude with for some twenty years and more whilst backtracking and u turning on every single political issue anyone has ever heard of and what is unfortunately of the allegation that the reason certain Tory Councillors are not making a present fuss about some of these related events is because they are accessories to murder in a mini wave of terror that has also seen the controversial acquittal of one friendly and comparatively clean Tramp who died a horrible death after being set fire to in an empty building adjacent St Maragaret's Church. I'm afraid that some of the young (and not so young Policemen and Women) that I have spoken to on some of these matters within the last few years are lying to me out of sheer terror, and much of common logic suggests that the powers that be are bracing themselves for a huge media frenzy: it appears to be true that the local Paper has stopped reporting the latest Road disasters nearby as I saw a bunch of flowers for a deceased boy called Jim within the last few weeks. One has to consider the extent to which the establishment seeks to use people like Councillor Mowles to keep order in communities where there are few amenities and little conspicuous wealth in looking at the Karen Hales murder in particular and the fact that there is often a good deal of two facedness around the issue as informal understandings are thrashed out. The media have already shot themselves in the foot over the Karen Hales murder insofar as locals seem more aware than the characters on About Anglia that the murder and mutilation of a Mother in front of her suckling child was almost certainly perpetrated by one of the local drug addicts who'd had a right earful over some decades from these self righteous Labour Councillors and their solve all democracy, only to clearly witness that the single unquestionable upshot of the Perry Mason Trial was that said Councillors were clearly being told that they were too disreputable to deserve a murder conviction and what arguably happened when Perry Mason was murdered was that when someone likely to have been an acquaintance of his, was brutally slain by acquaintances of the recently deposed Tory MP Michael Irvine in a manner which would have disgraced an unpopular and drunken Roman Gladiator!
Here is a picure of Councillor Mowles published in the Ipswich Evening Star on April 14th 2004
alongside this reassuring article which was set off by three lines of inch high text about the good intentions of the local Constabulary .
I'm afraid the picture of this naive looking young man who I've never heard of and who it must be presumed has been wheeled in to distract from the sins of older colleagues has done nothing whatever to instil any confidence in the nations' institutions and if anything the juxtaposition of these snapshots seems rather to suggest that they have been conspiring together. I cannot also avoid mentioning the suspicion that John Hawkes the onetime model Biology O level student (of the career conscious Copleston Teacher once known as Miss Lennon) and presently Sergeant in the Sufffolk Constabulary, has taken an interest in these events insofar as he's certainly an acquaintance of some of the rightists I have mentioned as having been involved with inciting one or two of the murders in question; I suppose it is the approximate truth that he has probably flattered the Labour faction rather more than they deserve on the basis of what he seems to have overheard and has been caught in the backlash or at least it seems a reasonable explanation for the embarrassed writhing that passed for a response to my last greeting insofar as he has obviously spent the last ten years badmouthing ethnic welfare claimants and west Indian socialites just the same as every other successful contemporary of mine.
Here is another ex employee of Labour Ipswich's Crown Pools> I don't know anything as to what extent others may have inferred that the incident described may be connected with any of the sinister scemes of this young Lady's ex employer.
The text of the accompanying article however can easily be read beween the lines as pointing out that her Landlord a Conservative Council are making a critical point about Ipswich's Labour Council who I believe are or were supposed to be administering payment of the poor cripple's rent. it is true that I have similar ongoing problems and am also an ex (thank God) Coplestonian.
It is true that I have similar ongoing problems and am also an ex (thank God) Coplestonian.
Below are a few of Councillor Mowles cronies depicted alongside the odious Muller: did you ever see public officials that looked more like gallows bait ? I repeat the allegation that these characters are little more than incompetent profiteers who have stirred up disorder for no-one's benefit but their own and that I am not aware in many respects that any of them have more than an opportunists association with the Town with possible exception of Hehir (who knows no-one of any consequence) and I happen to know for example that Ms Rudkin has grown quite wealthy via her political associations. The fact is however that owing to the circumstances I have described they are unlikely to be seriously opposed by Conservatives sweating (or pretending to sweat whilst their establishment friends make favourable arrangements) over the possibility of prison sentences for some of their contrivances and in this light it is far more probable that Labour will lose the Seat than the Tories will win it, not that I have any personal interest except to bring them both to book for their pretence of constructive friendliness.
Sights like this from 2003, consitute a much more realistic depiction of the consequences of the New Labour myth and it's romance with the nations' news media at least as far as this Borough is concerned.
I suppose this seems a suitable point to state that at some point during the last thirty months that I wrote to the Queen about the shortcomings of the local Constabulary with regard to their failure to make some admission that I have in fact been assaulted by criminals and blackmailers whilst seeking to make proper use of the nations' Courts and that I have also been the victim of fabricated records and malicious prosecutions which have been a complete waste of time and money and which is to say nothing of the fact that these little neglects have arguably led to confusion and the loss of many lives. At the time I was thinking of speaking of or to the Office insofar as the powers that be are having increasing trouble disguising the nature of the reality behind local government in the Borough with regard to provoking some embarassment on the part of such estblishment figures and role models as are obviously enmeshed in these unseemly goings on. I have never felt in many ways that I belonged to a nation, and my life has been a nauseating experience so the intention wasn't to be friendly at all but was an act born of desperation insofar as I have nothing or very little to lose in this respect the intent was rather to say that the Royal Family has friends like Mr and Mrs Howes, Mr and Mrs Taylor, Mr and Mrs Smythe, Ms Singleton, Shaun Miles and other such other assassins as have been freed by their fat cat hangers on the local Courts and that failure of the establishment to prosecute these and other individuals for their malicious and destructive campaign of hatred precludes any friendliness of any sort: as a matter of fact it is simply true that the fact that these characters ever got their unpleasant scheming off the ground at all, is a symptom of a rather more deep rooted malaise than many care to think. I suppose I should say finally in this respect that if ever I might have considered the Royal Family in a more positive light that it was over by about the time of the Silver Jubilee and that far from merely saying that as an Institution one has to conclude that it has offered little of any real value during the last fifty years but also that far too much of our political life is given over to the debate about what Mrs Windsor and company like or don't like, so much so that the Tory and Labour Parties could almost presently be amalgamated into the Windsor Party, and more strikingly that far too many Institutions are failing because of an unfortunately justified perception that political success is measured only in terms of the ability to fawn on the monarchy as some sort of mysteriously sacred cow. This is of course all too arguably (especially if you are also relatively powerless) the underlying cause of many stories about corruption and failing Departments of State, the general failure of such political will as exists in Britain to organise anything with any observable efficiency though the role of a well fed and fairly docile journalistic fraternity who like the Politicians and the Lawyers in Britain are doing far too well out of brown nosing this lamentable family, has to be firmly included if such an hypothesis is to be considered meaningful and accurate. The most relevant point really is that occasionally Institutions need to function and if for example there were to be a serious war or plague epidemic tomorrow the country would be considerably more vulnerable than many care to think as the accumulated mischief of promoting sycophants renders many potentially useful public services worthless.
My perception is that many of these people are simply denying their responsiblities and that e.g. imagining that these problems are going to go away just because my Mother has had a windfall, as most of the officials pretending to deal with my complaints seem to be and I have had no real choice but to accept her charity has arguably for some already proved a literally fatal decision. If my Mother and her family are under some sort of official cloud then they should really be dealt with instead of being left to manipulate others, laugh about their escapes from justice and sow futher damaging lies in a neighbourhood full of cheap cars and vulnerable children: is that not the fact of the matter?
27/03/06
I am going to have to start dating my entries here if only to ensure as far as possible in the short term that there will be as little legalistic confusion about what needs to be said and what ought to be done.
This constitutes formal notification for the Police Complaints Authority that on February 27th this year the Suffolk Police threatened the Manageress of the Boookmakers downstairs with wanton damage to the property and broke into my Flat with the spare key entrusted to her care; this also constitutes official notification that the DNA samples their colleagues took on the basis of some weird story a couple of weeks later are to be destroyed; this also contitutes formal notification that I am not a drop in centre and that they are not welcome to call here without an appointment as they were notified by telephone; finally this also constitutes notification that you/they are not welcome to go annoying the medical services with lies or as the result of incompetent management and that it would be best if they considered more carefully why they are not respected with regard to the fact that local neighbourhoods have increasingly decided to start arranging or managing their own security.
During the three years or so that I have now been existing at my present address they have continually sought to conceal the truth from the public and myself and have eg made a huge fuss about some youths hanging around the shops outside as part and parcel of a nasty underhand attempt to convince the neighbourhood that everything they are doing is above board and that they have been dealing with my grievances/complaints/observations which they have not: as a matter of fact much of what I have had to focus on in seeking to explain things to my GP has been in trying to explain or find reasons as to why they have been lying so routinely and so blandly about even the most apparently inconsequential of incidental details.
Toward the end of last year I had to ring them as I was getting regular abusive phone calls from Jack: the first person I spoke to on the switchboard took a crime number in December and said the matter would be looked into or dealt with. When these calls were being repeated through January I made another, and then after another few weeks another, only to be told there was no record of the second call. Now instead of arresting this vile and nasty young criminal they made some abusive phone calls themselves and called the Mental Health Services who are still reeling from the deaths which ensued from the last time they tried to blame me for obviously disturbed and threatening messages which should probably have been attributed to Mr Schonbeck or some of the other rightists who have successfully passed of my voice as that of Shaun Miles with the abbetance of College authorities.
30/05/06
Now I want to recap somewhat a lot of what has happened not in the least because as I say, I seek to make any discussion of mental illness it will be taken as some admission of guilt or acceptance of malpractice. It should be rather more relevant to say that the fact that much of any confusion around the subject of my Life History can be attributed to the emerging story of how my sense of hearing in particular had been involved in and damaged by a criminal assault inspired by my Mother and her friends at a point in my Infancy which my Father's family had sought to conceal and which if it didn't actually quite entail a conspiracy to murder him certainly involved most of the half dozen most serious offences on the statute book, ought to be the basis for any sincere discussion of my health in psychological terms but as I say owing to complete official silence I have to speculate.
When I started this work approaching a decade ago now, or at least by far the larger part of a decade ago I had it foremostly in mind and not just from my own point of view to say that with regard to my employment and status I had been hopelesly aggrieved by the treatment that I had received as a legal aid claimant in 1985 who was in effect maliciously prosecuted by one of the fledgling Thatherite Government's wealth gathering Solicitors, but also from the point of view of the nations' taxpayers of whom it would be difficult to conclude other than that they had been involved in an apparently pointless piece of malice which was rapidly having arguably serious and expensive repercussions.
This was principally because of the attempt to portray myself as having no justification for taking the attitude that I did and the complete neglect of the ghastly family history which in general I had consistently complained throughout years of inquisition at school into my family affairs and parental shortcomings had left me dangerously sick at heart in many respects. At the time I was as completely indigent as any Tramp in the western hemisphere ever has been and as I owned literally nothing by the rags as I stood in at the time this can be considered as a matter of fact to have been true not only of every Tramp in the whole World but throughout all of known history but I'll try to resist arguably meaningless superlatives.
At the time all I knew about My Father was that he was a disgruntled academic of liberal or onetime liberal views which he made a great deal of but didn't care to discuss honestly. The best of my memory had given up conjecturing over the divorce from my Mother which had happened early in my life at the age of about six largely because as I say for varous reasons I was overwhelmed with depression having amongst other things having had to endure the nightmare of being beaten whilst my Father sought to prostitute me at the age of fourteen which was among the various matters that had apparently been deleted from consideration for the official record as this Solicitor Smythe had it, though the reason he gave for providing a deliberatly worthless or non existent defence was at the time the impression he had got that I was at the time something to do with the official Labour Party whereas the fact was that by 1985 I had not spoken to any Party Official for well in excess of a year and was so pathetically down and out that such considerations of whether or not One wished to speak to anyone was ludicrous as I was living the life of a Tramp if not one who stole or begged on the streets. In this respect I suppose it ought to be reiterated here that the authorities ought to be more preocuppied with meaningully seeking to apologise for the suggestion that that they would seem to have been seeking to manipulate criminal conspiracies at this time than in seeking to presently take an unnecessary interest in my personal life or contrive a favourable Party line for any political grouping especially since so many accidents can fairly be attributed to their failure to behave honourably and responsibly whilst performing public duties.
In seeking to further explain the significance of the unpleasant upheavals in my memory during the last two years or more now roughly I suppose it becomes increasingly clear that my Father must have been expecting me to remember unprompted certain facts about his having been assualted, blackmailed and effectively threatened with murder by my Mother and her friends during the late sixties, not least in respect of the fact his present Wife in whom he has no real personal interest obviously has no interest in anything other than repeating the profitable experience. That he has been dishonest with them for one reason or another in the past accounts in some respects for their willingness to maliciously concoct a disastrous aborted prosecution.
Now at some point during the last couple of years as I 'm sure I've already mentioned my increasingly incredulously self had been having to consider not only that these events had attracted some significant personal interest on the part of the monarch vis a vis the fact that her Sister was little more than a dilettante drug addict according to many portrayals, and that the fact of her relationship with the London underworld and nightlife having been terminated at roughly the time that it seems my parents had been involved with the Krays having been the approximate cause of the interest insofar as even a fairly complete conspiracy of silence on the part of the journalistic fraternity isn't enough to completely frustrate debate over the iniquity of hereditary rulers and establishmentarian role models who consistetly manage to get their sins overlooked whilst seeking to get the credit for general social, economic and scientific progress among other things.
At that time I was rather preoccupied with rationalising the consequences of the personal discovery that there had been some familial involvement with the Krays which was in some general terms responsible for the sickness at heart I have described in any plausible consideration of events. This was after all quite an immense discovery which not only explained satisfactorily why my Mother has contrived to appear friendly as far as the authorities are concerned insofar as many must have wished (including obviously myself) that she had been prosecuted and that the facts about her criminal activity had been made known as this would have precluded her being also able to posture that I was knowing of or involved in extortion, blackmail of my Father and his family and dealing of narcotic substances which various cousins for example were certainly benefitting from since the late sixties.
By the time I had ruminated on the fact that it must have been something to do with an argument or quarrel over probably sexual practices that had led to my Father being exploited and abused by a perverse Latin Teacher who used balckmail tactics to get what he wanted once he'd found out presumably something about how offended his Mother was with her half Jewish husband my mental state was one of genuine consternation with various appalling implications including the fact that I seemed to be concluding that the Monarch had known of this since the forties. The next logical thought I had, was why would I think that and why would it seem so important, so obviously from there, I went back to thinking about the various occasionally seen relatives of my Mother all of whom were involved in some more meaningful degree of collusion with her than my memories suggested my Father had been pressed to in seeking to explain why the idea seemed so interesting as they have obviously not entirely recently failed to realise that the truth about his irritation has dawned on me and that I have been making al sots of interesting calculations about their motivation obviously, irresistably in mind is as to how this might have effected the evolution of events arguably leading to the Chinook crash of 94, but it didn't take me long to work out that of all the relatives and acquaintances who have been feeding me less than throughly honest suggestions and ideas the answer might in fact more correctly be found in my half Jewish Grandfather's sole surviving sibling, his youngest sister Kathlyn coommonly known as Kit who amongst other things I recalled was Miss Clacton on Sea 1938 and whose desirability had obviously not only played a role not only in these inchoate personal and familial matters but also in the political events of the 1930's: it might seem surprising that I don't know her well and have only spoken with her on about a half dozen occasions during the course of my lifetime.
I have therefore been struggling to deal with this as it has all finally overwhelmed me what with thinking constantly that I had gotten to the bottom of things, and finding the plot impossibly thickening after each sensational fresh conclusion and hope to present a basic analysis of what I think must have happened, and why I think these events can conceivably be related to more recent and apparently unconnected events such as the assassination of Yitzak Rabin and the burning down of the British Motorcycle Museum in the mid to late nineties..............
15 / 07 / 06
Last week I put together a few more notes for my GP: having been caught up with events within my own mind during the last twelve months I haven't been pestering her or anyone with responses to an analysis of events which is only just approaching a state of completeness but have been disappointed with my Doctor's interview today.
Now this Woman must be taking home something in the order of £2000 a week and has had nine years formal training in the field of medicine; over a period of some thirty months I have been passing her mounds of detailed notes about my recollections and the significance of various events and she has not contradicted anything other than odd incidental details of what I have had to say. I have sought to concentrate on purely medical matters given the supremely interesting nature what seems to be taking place and have therefore centred much of what I have had to say around the issue of my hearing problems and the allegation that a serious assault took place during my infancy as my Father's family were extorted of about half their lifetime's work, and that I am arguably in purely medical terms, only just recovering from it's effects. For her to say and I quote "I don't know what you mean" is thoroughly dishonest, thoroughly shameful and entirely disturbing: I have had to tell her that was the last opportunity any Official of any sort will have to exert any temporising influence over any further possibly damaging disclosures I may have to make about the state of the nation and it's institutions insofar as it is definitely relevant to my case: she didn't even know why I was getting Incapacity Benefit. I am honestly completely clueless about my status and am thoroughly frightened of being again incarcerated on further fictious bases especially in view of the fact that for all the critical articles about the local mental Hospital that have penned in his Rag over the last fifteen years not one has been of sufficient note for it to have resulted in so much as an informal apology.
I think I have made it clear that there will be no good will of any sort coming from myself as far as the workings of the nation goes without a number of profound apologies and an immediate six figure sum in respect of my various complaints as I can get the citizenship deal that I am 'de facto' being offered from any European country without having to endure the mockery of criminals, blackmailers and assassins infecting the local establishment who have personally taken the trouble to make my life a misery and I do speak foremostly of those to whom I am related.
I suppose I'd like to think that she was talking to someone else in a roundabout manner of speaking but the fact is that she has now had plenty of time to come up with an honest and meaningful response which at this stage I was surely entitled to expect having plied her with interesting notes about the functioning of my mind and memory for about thirty months now. I had explained everything to her at great length and am afraid that the circumstances of my incarceration last June should have warranted some apology. Now not only has she not offered to apologise for her medical colleagues having locked me up on the basis of what someone else was saying but for any of the readers who may have been hoping to hear of some progress being made I can only now say that I appear to be being lied to about anything and everything connected with my case and have not for example had comparatively basic matters like keeping Hepatitis B jabs up to date considered.
I'd like to think she was misleading my maternal relatives whose actions are being shown in the most sinister light and whilst I can obviously understand some trepidation over the sheer staggering significance of what unfortunately and inescapably has to be concluded about the psychological, social and familial background to my case there is also the fact that her attempt to be honest about it could very readily be said to have made a striking contribution to the death of David Halley Frame whose Father and colleagues were reading a fictitiously contrived official history of my case whilst another was being discussed with the said Lady GP and I have read her maladroit goggling thus.
I have to repeat that of five officials who turned up as the result of what I took to be a fairly routine phone call: the WPC seemed to think that I was plotting with the voice of Sean Miles which in truth probably reflects some existence of a plot to suggest that among certain of her colleagues whilst he's impersonating me and spreading the sort of poison that prompted Zulf Ali to mow down a couple of young Labour activists who were probably only vaguely aware that their mentor the great Councillor Mowles had himself been dodging murder allegations made against his west indian community and probably knew nothing of the fact that underlying this was an attempt to blackmail wealthy criminals (the Krays); the half cast colleague accompanying the WPC, was apparently struck with a fit of dyslexia and kept repeating himself whilst giving no indication of any ability to understand anything at all beyond simple feats like standing, breathing and nodding; the Irish Doctor who then turned up at least pretended to comprehend what was being said to him but made no explanation of why I was going to be carted off and has not been seen or heard of since; A poorly spoken west indian fellow who was obviously annoyed about someone's voice and whom I have immense trouble in believing had ever qualified for anything positive took no notice of the reasonable explanation given to the effect that that he was not listening to mine but was falling for a deliberately contrived deception which had been carefully detailed in letters to the GP, took no notice of anything that was said to him and neither did the other toothy looking medical official whom I have since seen smirking out of the pages of the Ipswich Evening Star. They all feigned to be polite and honest by passing me over to other medical staff with hastily contrived titles to make this ignorance seem justly explained including the Father of David Halley-Frame, were obsessed with being dishonest and contriving even more nasty fictions along with helpings of unwanted sympathy to make matters fit the facts as was desired from the official point of view of the local legal establishment.
Here is another picture of the conscientious and unfortunately deceased with his onetime fiance. I adjure the interested reader to recall in evaluating some of the more serious allegations that I am about to make about the motivation for this, the fact that all I wanted was a sleeping tablet from the clinic across the Park!
Here is another shot of the deceased WPC: I do think it relevant that if the local establishment had not resorted to the equivalent of sending out death squads (strictly speaking mostly true) they have certainly incited at least two murders and two knowingly, deliberately wrongful acquittals, then these two characters would almost certainly be alive. In respect of the WPC, this might seem an exaggerated claim insofar as it is obviously true of David Halley-Frame but pictures of her badly injured colleague seem to suggest that he feels a hostile community might have been to blame for their accident.
In this picture I'm the one not standing
An awful lot could be said about this picture, it's been knocking about for quite a while now and I had in many respects forgotten most of what I could remember about the day in question having looked at it disinterestedly on about a half dozen or so occasions in the forty years since it was taken, and having remembered I can tell only too well why most of the adults in the picture wanted the truth about what was going on forgotten.
Several things are in fact obvious about what is taking place, one is that the gist of the conversation/event/incident is in fact about blackmail and that the old man my Grandfather is in fact being racially abused by a voice I have eventually concluded is an old friend of my Mother's that of one Ms Kristina Singleton who was instrumental (presumably) in persuading My biological Mother to destroy this family after she had been persuaded that marriage to someone was her best legal option being obviously a vulnerable younger sister of a hard nosed wartime prostitute and UK vice tourist. Among the more obvious pieces of conversation taking place One can also see quite clearly the voices not only particularly of the Kray Twins, but very strikingly those of the queen and Queen Mother .
I'm getting a little ahead of myself here and am afraid that we need to go back to the early 1930's to trace the origins of this story and I would suggest, indeed have I not already, that there was a good deal more to the abdication of '36 than the mere niceties of marriage proprieties for such a leader or role model. At the time of my Father's birth I would have said that Edward the 8th as he would be if never actually crowned, was guilty of many particular sins other than having the general reputation of a playboy who wasn't too serious about public life, which most but certainly not all Leaders have found to be a handicap, and I would have said the first of these was being a bit glib about the kind of mind games associated with the Wars between the offspring of Queen Victoria ususally termed 'The Great War' or 'World War One' insofar as the Kaiser and King were both her Grandchildren. I would say that he had excited the considerable indignation of the many bereaved by the conflict in his quest for a rapprochement to this tragic mistake as it came to be seen in British thought, and had fallen under the spell of a certain tall handsome Bohemian Corporal by 1932 and was little short of planning the genocide in Europe with this Character.
One has to consider the political-journalistic realities of the nineteen thirties very closely to obtain a sharp and accurate impression of what was occurring. This was the era of mass political movements when widespread literacy was something of a novelty among the working population; real political debate and real political decision making was effectively confined to a relatively small class of the well off and the two party system happily frustrated the efforts of the Labour movement in Britain to effect wealth redistribution and break down class barriers. Perhaps approaching half the population still believed they were made in God's image and individuals expected to marry so they could work hard according to the Protestant work ethic, for the good of the nation and the edification of the Monarch.
I propose that at some point during the Great War odd newspaper photographers had taken pictures of upper class Generals and the like which had eventually occasioned much unwanted debate about the privilege of the upper classes especially in relation to the breakdown of sexual mores occasioned by such massive upheavals. I propose that there was a general fear of such maladroit or indecisive Leadership as George 5th waned and the informed political nation concealed it's concern about his eldest Son from the Electorate at large.
I would suggest that my paternal Great Grandfather's five anglo-semite progeny had between them worked out that there was a fairly serious plot amongst European rightists to effect a genocide on the large European Jewish community then in existence perhaps in general fostered by a partial awareness that easy colonial riches were diminishing and that many Jews with a multinational heritage had been responsible for the spread of progressive ideologies. Now fear of Bolshevism obviously did play a significant part in the thinking of many European Conservatives at this time and it was obviously a somewhat more justifiable concern than suggesting that the lives of non ethnic British citizens were of no moral concern .
I would suggest that besides Edward himself those chiefly guilty of wanting to surrender to Nazi authority in remodelled right wing Europe were the recently deceased Queen Mother and the then heir to the title of Duchess of York our present Monarch Elizabeth the 2nd
and that it had taken a nasty tantrum by an outraged cigar shrouded brandy soaked Churchill who had found it expedient in requiring upper class unity and upper class support for the idea of a very unpopular War, to settle the succession on the erring Edward's brother George. I would also suggest from looking at newspaper clips and old black and white documentary footage with renewed interest that there had been some personal involvement with certain of my Great Grandparents and that to a significant extent there had been some scene in which my three or four year old Father had found himself listening for the Great Man and that my paternal Grandmother had been caught backing the wrong horse so to speak, and had been significantly or noticeably roughed up or assaulted by him in a cathartic scene which the Queen Mother foolishly sought to pursue only to end up having to tell people how much trouble she'd been having looking the "east end in the face." or something such.
What obviously gives me less pleasure is having to look at footage of the VE celebrations and seeking to decipher what that sidelong look from the faceache Princess adds up to. My contention is that it was friends of the future Queen who having an eye to the likely disbursal of patronage in the near future took an attitude which ensured the my Father Kenneth came to grief in his own relationships having been seduced by a sycophant paedophile Teacher before the War had even been won; I have decided that much is true but what really excites the enquiring mind is the extent to which she personally knew of or even supervised this development in his adolescent existence. That particular sidelong rejoinder may be about something else closely related to the matter or maybe I haven't quite got the timeline quite right. I have however had to conclude that members of the Church of England are still conspiring this very day to have the matter concealed, that it is a matter which has occasioned much malicious gossip and manipulation over a langthening period of time and I will say again that this was apparent during the hunt for the Killer of the Soham two in 2002 if it can't quite be said to be a strikingly blatant provoking cause of Mr Huntly's dysfunctional behaviour. I do however think by then many local people were aware that this was the case and it is certainly true that the chaos about reporting the trial and the role of Maxine Hunt who looked a lot like a younger Ms Cormack was at least partly due to an increasing awareness of these facts as e.g. I had by then been plaguing various people including Policemen, Journalists on the local Paper, Army reservists and the Vicar of St Margarets whose ravishingly beautiful germanic looking adolescent daughter's excesive friendliness may have stemmed from perceptions of these matters in the minds of her elders. As a matter of fact when I was looking at certain of the reports which came through on the media, and I don't say this as fact merely that I got this impression that Kevin Wells had encountered my Father's sister's voice and that it had or that it was, whilst thinking about the manner in which she was first induced to look upon sex criminals as innocent, inadvertanly been responsible for misleading him from the first night when he almost caught Huntley in the act. So instead of finding that the Vicar of St Margarets One David Cutts had been taking a sensible interest in my complaints about my legal situation as I had asked or directed him to I find rather that it seems difficut to deny that he was or already had been inveigled into covering up a sexcrime scandal which had been going on for fifty years: it logically follows that such events can be construed as being responsible for some debate about what constitutes grooming minors of any sort for roles and acts which intrinsically involve questions about seduction, glamour and allure.
What is an extremely distressing fact from my point of view of my Father and from my Father's point of view in particular is the suggestion that it was one of my Mother's friends a certain shiftless and shallow Ms Singleton who by 1965 had gathered much of this (more than I had by the beginiining of 2005) and during the course of apprising this tasteless gossip about the upper class had, sensing the Queen's impatience to be rid of his venerable authority fetched him a lump which was the partial cause of the cerebral thrombosis which carried off the ninety year old saviour of the Brtish reputation at the end of the year.
"Never give in except to convictions of honour and good sense."
There are of coure many dark and blank spaces in the mind which will only gradually be filled in as sort and sift through many freshly perceived recollections and hammer out newly fashioned conclusions and in the short term I can only assure interested parties that I certainly hope to get the matter effectively and reasonably properly written up asap. With regard to may interest in achieving any genuine settlement of any litigious aspects of my existence as a citizen I should surely justifiably point out that in the short term the only hope I really have of looking after my Father properly insofar as I have no news of him but don't doubt that he has been dissatisfied with his ongoing retirement would be to own a suficiently or suitably large sized house to put him in and that his premature demise in this respect would be likely to inflame many long standing passions.
More soon.
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