Keep up the good work!

Eddy

For numerous reasons that article takes us way back to the start of the whole Al Qaeda fiasco.

The writer thinks muslims in general are absolute fools.

I really do not feel I have the energy to deal with this guy.

If, when the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan, the ‘muslims’ hadn’t offered themselves as cannon fodder for the Capitalism V. Communism battle – then there would have been no Al Qaeda. Whatever the merits of that little skirmish – no one should fall into the trap again. Everyone should act with great care and not accept any other ‘global scenario’ coming out of some great global power. Blair is the master communicator for this great power.

The iceberg is a good analogy.

Sunny now is the time to stop the pandering to the right wing press- That was surely one of the problems with Blair.

Being beholden to Murdoch is of no use to the country. The long standing structural problem of ownership of the mainstream media had been swept under the carpet. I guess this a part of worship of money and power.

Blair being considered for place on the board of News Corp. will only undermine what remains of his credibility. The question of course will be: Who was he serving?

And does Gordon Brown wish to be associated with that?

http://thepcaa.org/Report.pdf

and, by the way, there’s a really good article by amir taheri in asharq al-awsat, the arab newspaper on why muslims having a go at blair are basically ignoring a lot of the facts about his record:

http://aawsat.com/english/news.asp?section=2&id=6300

i’m sure a lot of the people here will pick holes in it, but i think it deserves consideration.

b’shalom

bananabrain

Refresh – Katy and I were talking about this thread this morning, and we’re agreed that the increase of antisemitism and Islamophobia are just the tip of the iceberg. Soon the indigenous population are going to be fed up with all of us, and it’ll be ‘thanks but no thanks’. Meanwhile, instead of reconciling our differences, we’re all fighting amongst ourselves.

Well done us.

I think he could be worse than Blair.

I am even more annoyed with those that peddle that rubbish. I feel pretty confident you are not that far behind me on that front.

“….all the reactionaries that bought his shit because it re-inforced their prejudices and bigotry.”
Really? I think you’re the one showing prejudice here. I think you’ll find a sig proportion of the population that reluctantly backed the war don’t fit into that category.

I wasn’t referring to those that were misled. And yes there were very many. Then there were the others.

I think I saw the word ’straw’ in it as I skimmed through. Link identified!

I just wonder if there is any possibility that we could all make a concerted effort to go back to judging people on what they say and do rather than just slapping a label on them.

Katy, I’m pretty sure Sajini didn’t mean it maliciously.

‘We sat inside the car until it was almost time for our appointment and then crossed the
forecourt to Trimdon Community Centre.

Inside it was bright and cheery, smelling of new paint, and a friendly receptionist bade us
follow her to a small reception room at the side of a large communal area.

The room was full of people coming and going; a camera team were there to film a
piece for local TV, together with a photographer from the local rag.

A group of Salvationists were also in attendance to receive ministerial recognition for
their good work, joined by the ‘Trimdon Triplets’ – an MP’s mainstay for good publicity,
and me.

A motley crew, we stood waiting, while a tray of coffee was wielded upstairs-
to the man himself.

I spoke to the Salvation Army Officer, himself a Southerner and seconded to the North
East about the area and we agreed that Durham was very picturesque, but he admitted that he was going back down south to retire, because of the increase of criminal damage where he lived.

After he went in to see the Prime Minister, accompanied by the newspaper
photographer, the rest of us chatted amongst ourselves, passing the small talk, the
chitchat and the niceties between us. The usual custom that passes for conversation and
makes the English well known for our reserved-ness, the great art of speaking but saying
nothing.

Next to leave our little group were, the ‘Trimdon Triplets’ and the camera team there
to capture Mr. Blair doing the usual- kissing of baby’s heads and saying well done as if
this mammoth task was worthy of only his blessing.

Then came the call – “Is there a lady from West Cornforth here”?

‘Yes, I’m here’ and I moved forward and together with G we took the long walk
down the corridor to the foot of a set of steep stairs.

I wasn’t quite sure how I was going to negotiate them with a walking stick and by the
time I had got halfway up, the receptionist called out to me that there was a stair lift, but
too late, onward and upward. I made it. I was escorted past a line of more security men
whom I believed to be Secret Service and totally amazed that no search of my
person or handbag contents took place, which I thought was more than a little lax.

I was then shown into a room with assorted tables and chairs – looking rather like an old
fashioned student’s common room and seated at the far end of the room was the
secretary with whom I had had so many tacit conversations. To my right was seated John
Burton – Mr. Blair’s agent and to the front of me sat the great man himself.

He rose to his feet, shook my hand and then sank back down onto the chair facing me,
and asked why I was there.

“Well, I’ve prepared a letter to read I thought that might be the easiest thing” I said.

‘That’s ok’ he replied leaning forward ‘the one thing about this job is you learn to read
very fast’ and he took the letter from me and slipped on a pair of spectacles.

He read my letter in stunned silence and after looking across to his agent looked gravely
back at me.

Then came the comment I was waiting for – ‘Well it’s clearly not acceptable”.

‘No, but it is accepted’.

“Clearly you’re being targeted”. Clearly I was.

Full marks to the man who had deduced the obvious!

‘John, what’s going on in Cornforth’?

“Well there’s a bit of car speeding and running around”!

‘Better get on to the Chief Constable’s office; see what he can do about it.

What about A H, the borough councillor, has he been made aware’?

“Excuse me Prime Minister; I had a letter outlining a meeting with A H dated

25th October, but the meeting didn’t materialise”.

‘What’s going on? A is usually so good’?

“Mr. Blair”, I interrupted, “before you go any further, 25th October, 2002 and I’m still
waiting” (it was November 2003 by now).

He said nothing then went on to mention that the offenders if they were of school age
should be attending full-time education.

I pointed out that I had pursued that route of enquiry only to be told that the youths
involved in the massive amount of crime against my property had been excluded from school or were on special educational packages and
only attended certain days of the week, such was the volume of their offensive
behaviour.

I also pointed out the fact that I had tried the local authorities, the county council,
the borough council and the parish council for help and with the exception of two
parish council members giving me suggestions to go elsewhere for aid, I was very
firmly told ‘You’re on your own pet”.

The police had attended when requested but their hands were tied since most of
these vandals and intimidators were under the age of seventeen and knew the law inside
and out. They walked a fine line between making my life a living hell and being caught
doing so.

The hardened majority of youth in Cornforth were serving the modern apprenticeship of villainy,
entering into the scheme via anti-social behaviour and progressing swiftly through the
ranks of hooliganism and petty crime until they were fully qualified thugs.

No matter whom I had asked for help, my pleas fell on stony hearts. It seemed
nobody was prepared to try and put a stop to this misery and nothing could
deter these bullies from their incursions onto my property. Not even the tally of
four cameras, microphones and surveillance equipment in the house, could staunch the
flow of criminal activity against me.

Mr. Blair then addressed my question over the anti-social legislation he had recently
introduced and said there would be no exceptions and the law would apply to house-
owners, and both council and private landlord tenants.

He also remarked that there would be on the spot fines and the fast tracking of
offenders to court for anti-social behaviour.

He advocated the use of community wardens to help police trouble spots, and

assured me that all these measures would be put into force.

He then questioned Mr. Burton over the use of anti-social behaviour orders and
acceptable behaviour contracts to try and stem the problems in Cornforth.

Mr. Burton replied that ‘they were difficult to enforce because the youths broke them
and then they had to start the process all over again and it was costly’.

Changing tack he enquired of me what business I was going to bring to the North East
and I mentioned Film Distribution had been my goal and putting a business in Cornforth
would have brought much-needed jobs to the area.

I remarked that the area needed ‘new blood’ but the welcome people received
was it any wonder they didn’t stay? I also told him that the only knowledge I had
gleaned from the North East thus far, was not to trust anybody.

And he agreed that ‘That was a shame, because there are nice places here.”

That wasn’t the point one should be able to live anywhere not have to pick and choose for
a decent and safe place to live. He glanced across at John Burton and then back toward

me and for one fleeting moment, my eyes caught his and his expression said I am truly
sorry.

It was a hopeless situation and I’m absolutely sure he knew that.

Our meeting at an end I also pointed out that without the help from G and Victim
Support, my health would have deteriorated even further than its present level.

That said and done he shook both of our hands and assured me that he would be writing
to me in due course even though he knew by this time, as I told him, I would not be

making a life in Cornforth.

Even so, he hoped that those left behind might be helped in some way, and assured me

once again that he would be ‘in touch’ quite soon.

I thanked him and G and I walked slowly down the stairs, out to the car park beyond.

“Well”, said G, “I wouldn’t have missed that for the world”.

‘Really’? I said ‘A bit of a waste of time I thought’ but as the blind man said – ‘we’ll
see’. I was quite sure that I wouldn’t have been given time to bend the ear of Caesar if I
hadn’t persisted in my fight and bombarded his office with phone calls.

Given my background with media connections, I believed that this was a
damage limitation exercise, to keep me sweet before I left Cornforth. They were counting
their blessings that I hadn’t gone public with the disgraceful way I had been treated,

pushed from pillar to post and fobbed off with excuses from every ‘official’ source.

We drove back to Cornforth and G gave me his mobile number, so I could reach
him if needed, and even he admitted that he would never entertain the thought of living in
Cornforth – it was just too rough. So it wasn’t just a North –v- South perception then.

Even a fellow Durham-ite wouldn’t place a safe bet on ‘Straw – Doggie’.

I went inside to reflect on how my meeting with Mr. Blair had gone and to draft a letter

thanking him for seeing me at his constituency surgery, hoping that my remaining time in

Cornforth might be safer now that he had agreed to help.

I had mixed feelings over the meeting; my first impressions had been that he was

genuinely concerned and caring, my second that he knew Cornforth and he knew of its

bad reputation, my third that he promised me help he couldn’t deliver and my fourth, and

underlying one was that he was a consummate actor. Added together the sum total was of

a man who cares about situations he has no hope in changing, but give him credit he

cares with some amount of panache and style.

I had explored all the avenues he had suggested and I wondered just what, if any,

difference he could make.

Perhaps he had a bigger stick to wield than I did, I had to put my faith in him and trust

that he would be a man of his word.

It is said that a prophet is never known in his own land and there is plenty of evidence of

that here.

Whether it is because he is away from his constituency so much or because he is not a

‘home grown’ I don’t know but I have witnessed first hand that the vox populi don’t like

him, with endless quotes of – ‘He’s never done anything for us like, man’, but then they

have never done anything for themselves either, so one has to take that remark at face

value.

I wrote my letter of thanks, duly posted it and waited to see how things might shape up

in West Cornforth- I was in for a long wait.

Two weeks down the track with no correspondence from Mr. Blair’s office, no

communication with the Chief Constable of Durham and still no meeting with A
H my borough councillor, where do I go from here?

And yes, you guessed it, exactly two weeks after seeing the First Lord of the Land- we

are back to square one.

Bang! Bang! eggs hitting the windows full force at 11pm at night from the entourage of

half-wits and no hopers shattered my Saturday night and brought on an asthma attack.

I only hope and pray that the throwing of eggs is the only form of fertilisation these
low- lifers ever manage, for God and the Devil help the child that is born of such losers.

Some place this really is!

Bang! Bang! Your spirit is dead, killed by the uneducated and the ignorant and
aided and abetted by a village that looks on and does nothing.

The plot sickens.

BTW Mr. Blair wrote a letter tome some 6 weeks later saying’I hope you keep an occasional contact with the people of the village’….in other words …move.