My life in a banana republic: June

Jambo, Jambo!

My great news is that I will soon be graduating from the Queen’s great university [where her anthem is no longer heard].

The badness is that , because of your tribal wars, I may return to my own peaceful African country.

The Great She Elephant failed to win an OUT vote yet she remains in power. How can her tribe explain that?

The two tribes united to say that they wanted to remain in Ireland and the EU. The Picts across the water voted similarly. So from Cork to Aberdeen the people are of one voice.

Meanwhile one Eton boy is resigning as Prime Minister and another, who might have beaten him or given him lines, wants to take the job.  I seem to remember the BBC casting fun at my country’s rulers.

The leader of the opposition is a strange man who reads many emails and dresses in the dark. Nobody believes that he can be a Head Man, because he is a ganch. This is a word my Sandy Row friends taught me.

There is a vacuum, in my country the generals would by now have parked the tanks on the lawns.

What has happened to the Mother of Parliaments?

Meantime , Ministers from the new assembly are sneaking around burying bad news. The Great She Elephant thinks that her football team, which played 4 , won 1 and scored 2 goals, should be greeted as heroes. Do you remember Winnie Mandela’s football team? Ask the family of Stompi Moeketsi. Politicians should do what they do best, telling lies, not supporting football.

To make it more confusing, Her Gracious Majesty visited the Giant’s Causeway today. I wonder if she thinks it was made 6,000 years ago?

My brother rang me. He has an import/export business in Africa. It does trade from Egypt to Cape Town. He offered me a job. He says I should come home to a stable country where there is a legitimate government, where the tribes worked out a pecking order fifty years ago and where there is a market for goods.

This offer is very tempting.

Jambo jambo!

Palmgate

As told to our reporter by “CSI5”.

“Well it was like any other morning in the fingerprint branch. I had done a couple of TADAs and three burglaries. So, like, it’s break time and I’m in the canteen, having a bacon bap and a mug of tea. I was reading the Sun, just for the sport, you know. Anyway , somebody threw the News Letter on the table and I saw the word ‘Kingsmill’. My dad used to be a bread server with Barney Hughes and I just thought it was an ad for bread. I like bread, so I looked more closely. It turns out it’s all about a massacre that took place in the seventies, before I was born. That’s probably why I knew nothing about it and had never, ever heard of it, even in the last six months. So I got to thinking, what if I could help? How could I help? Maybe there’s  a palm print un-identified since 1976, happens all the time.

So I said ‘Boss, any chance I could do the Kingsmill?’ He laughed. ‘You bored?’ he said.  ‘Go on then’ So fortunately, even though it hasn’t been investigated in yonks, I was able to find the file very quickly and there was indeed an unidentified palm print. My hands were trembling as I put it through the system. Within minutes I had matched it to a set of famous republican dabs.

I said ‘Boss, look at this’. Two of my mates confirmed it.

Now I’m the talk of the department, the Boy Wonder of prints!

I’ve had requests for help from the Lucan investigation and from the Kennedys. I thought that bakery had gone out of business.

Funny old [forensic] world.”

Ice cream, Gillen and the state

Many of you , Dear Readers, who have read about the book; “They killed the Ice Cream Man” will not be surprised by the allegations made by the Larmours.

Since I started my research in earnest two years ago, veteran observers had no difficulty in telling me about these practices. It was well known that senior members of PIRA were state agents and permitted to continue directing terrorism. They would have been little use to the spooks otherwise. On occasions they were permitted to commit murder, either directly or as someone who was involved in planning or directing. Look at the activities of  Loyalist Mark Haddock for a mirror image of the practice.

One name that came up frequently was Brian Gillen. My informants were in no doubt that he had been turned by the state and that he continued to operate in the role of Belfast Brigade commander. I named him as a participant in my blog ” The murderers of my parents”.

I have no difficulty in stating that he is the person referred to by the Armours and by by Ed Moloney. I have also made this allegation , some time ago to the Police Ombudsman.

Just as disturbing as these revelations are, what is more disturbing is that the State and its employees and ex employees refuse to admit that these tactics were used. I have had assurances from the PSNI, the Police Ombudsman and the Secretary of State that there was no advance intelligence of the murders of my parents . The same bodies have denied that an informer participated in the planning or execution of the murders.

A glance at my blog will show the one or more State agency is telling lies.

The Director of Public Prosecutions declined to direct the police to investigate Martin McGuinness’ role in the murders of my parents, despite Ed Moloney naming him in his book; “A secret History of the IRA”. He was quick to direct investigations into the Army on similar information. The Attorney General, despite his close interest in major issues such as abortion and gay discrimination, has declined to direct a fresh inquest, which would be required to examine special branch files.

The questions for readers are these. Are all those, like me, who have published names and activities, deluded? Or are we just scraping the surface of the State’s involvement in the dirty war? Is the State terrified of what might become known? Are Adams McGuinness and others equally frightened?

I’m given hope by the Hillsborough families. One day the truth will be known.

My life in a banana republic:May

Jambo Jambo!

My thesis is looking good and I have a little time to digress.

Who is this fellow Gerry Adams?

Is he your Quentin Tarantino? He has certainly a good imagination.

I have researched him because he printed the word “nigger”.

I have been called a nigger. I said “honky” back. Many songs by black artists refer to “niggas”.

If this Adams fellow says “nigger”, whom does he offend? All the back people in the world? That would be strange, because he has only 112,000 followers and there are 37 million blacks in the USA, alone. Did anyone say that they were offended at his use of the word or was it just his [white] political enemies?

But back to this Gerry fellow. He is good at making things up, Dingle tells me. He said that not getting into the White House was like being at the back of the bus. This is a reference , apparently , to Rosa Parks. She was a nigger, a protestant and the grand daughter of a Scots Irish person. She had no beard. She did not espouse violence. As Mr Connolly said in a letter to the Irish Times, on 18th March , the only thing that he and Rosa have in common is that neither was in the IRA.

I have researched this point. Gerry must have been the street wimp. Also at St Finnian’s primary school. When his mates were playing at being rebels, was he looking at pictures of goats and dogs? Was he beaten up often for being the only non rebel in his class? When they said “yo, Ger, are you joinin’ the hood?” Did he say ,  he was training to pull a good pint and buy a trampoline?

This fellow played a big part in negotiations with the British. This does not happen if you are not a terrorist. Look at Cyprus and all the African countries. The British did deals with terrorists. Imagine the situation. “Hello Ambassador, I represent Bongo Bongo.” “Are you from the Bongo Bongo Peoples’ front?” “No”. “Well bugger off, I want to speak to a top a terrorist who can deliver something.”

I spoke to Dingle, who was vexed. He said that Gerry had claimed to be a founder of the Civil Rights movement. Dingle said that this was a lie. Dingle had stoned them at Buntollet and he is sure that Adams was not there. Perhaps he was tending the bar in Belfast.

However I am now seeing a pattern. All British colonies are handed over to terrorists. There is then great and lasting corruption. They then send emissaries to London and the Prime Minister, who had an offshore account, says that they are corrupt.

It is fortunate that the Peoples’ Front for the Liberation of Bongo Bongo received no Semtex from Gadafy. Then you would know! Niggas be up for it!

So, now I wonder if I should convert my masters into a doctorate? I am happy in the religious quarter of Belfast and now that the Great She Elephant has been proclaimed as leader, it might be interesting. No abortion, no gay marriage, the right to discriminate against gays, so many un-British things. I feel quite at home. I wonder where the DUP stand on FGM?

Jambo Jambo!

 

The Basque children of 1937

This day, seventy nine years ago, the Condor Legion, Nazis,  bombed Guernica. One month later, financed by the British people, four thousand children, refugees of the bombing, arrived in Southampton. They were given homes all over the land.

In 2015 I was privileged to attend a talk at Shankill Public Library, organised by the International Brigade Commemoration Committee. The speaker was Manuel Moreno, one of those children. He has lived in Britain ever since.

Seventy five years on the Tories voted down a Labour motion to accept three thousand unaccompanied refugee children to the United Kingdom. No surprise there.

What is shocking to me is that my MP, Danny Kinahan voted with the Tories.

No doubt he will peddle the Tory party line that it will only encourage others.

So what? To do what? How does a child take advantage of such a concession?

Following the arrival of the Basque children, Britain gave a haven to many other refugees.

Northern Ireland has a tradition of accommodating refugees, from the Jews fleeing Russian pogroms to the victims of Idi Amin and onwards.

The action of my MP and his colleague Tom Elliott makes me ashamed.

Kinahan will not get my vote again.

I wonder what his party leader has to say?

 

My life in a banana republic:sports edition

Jambo Jambo!

Recently my friend , Dingle, took me to see my first rugger match at the fortress of Ravenhill.

There we met Dingle’s friend, called Alec Adoo, who is passionate about rugby union and  helps out at his club, removing the corner flags and clearing up vomit.

There were many people at this great venue and at the start they all sang “stand up for the Ulstermen”. This song has no more words than the one sung by the white men at Twickenham. Then a pretend person , called Sparky, danced. There is a rumour that inside is a retired judge.

The first half was most exciting and the crowd was especially  pleased when violence was at its peak. Alec Adoo shouted things like “get stuck into him” and “bury him”.

At half time we visited the Tent of Entertainment. The large and hearty men who were there all seemed to know each other. I asked Dingle to explain. He  said that they had been pupils at about six Ulster schools. I asked Dingle did that mean that they ruled the province. He said that while they were all the sons of great cattle owners and growers of crops, they preferred to be doctors, dentists, bankers , headmasters and such like. He  said that ruling was beneath them and very messy. It was left to quacks and witch doctors.

Many pints were drunk and spilled at half time.

In the second half, Alec was much quieter and the game was won by Ulster without his encouragement. Sparky clapped and the crowd sang their song again.

After the match, we went to Dingle’s favourite pub, named after Chelsea football team. There we met his lawyer friends.

What a sad bunch of fellows! They made no jokes and sang no songs. They were morose. Several told me that “it was all shite”. Many said that they can no longer afford homes in three lands and that their wives are displeased at the lack of new beads and have withdrawn conjugal permissions. It seems that a great economic drought has struck the lawyers, like a plague of locusts. It was a sorry sight to see these great legal warriors in such melancholy. But as I heard that immense  jurist Lord Justice Weir say; “the days of wine and roses are over at the Bar”.

I digress from my sporting theme. It was good to see that , as in my country, young males are blooded by watching such violent rituals. They are given a special place, by the pitch, so that they can observe the finer points up close. As they grow up, Dingle tells me, their mothers will come to observe them playing rugger and exhort them to do great violence to the opposite chaps.

This would have been great preparation for Empire, when they became officers in regiments which came and mowed down my ancestors  but was it relevant in the modern world I asked Dingle.

“No Surrender” , he said. This is the first time I have heard this expression.

“If you stay much longer it won’t be your last”, he said with a knowing smile.

Jambo Jambo!