Friday 18 June 2010

The One That Does Not Own Himself. . .

A momentary departure from the World Cup, which, despite the bloody awful football we’ve served up, is taking a large amount of my time up. Back to real life for a moment.

We’re still in that strange sort of cusp period, trying to figure out how much of what this government says it will do, it will actually do, how much of it is good intention but not possible on closer inspection, how much of it is lies and how much of it they’re not going to mention at all because some of the toys Labour had fashioned are just too exciting and fun to put back into the box.

One thing is for sure, even under this new regime, you do not belong to you. You may have a bigger share in self-ownership than under Labour, but at the end of the day, you do not get the final say in anything.

Two stories that I’ve seen in a most perfunctory recce over the news sites illustrate this perfectly. Firstly there are the CCTV cameras in Birmingham, commented upon recently by Old Holborn. Well, not surprisingly, the predominantly Muslim population in the area of Birmingham were these cameras where installed are significantly unchuffed at being spied upon 24/7 just because they have a penchant for beards and like to prepare their meat in a different fashion.

CCTV cameras are a blunt instruments used to cow the whole area. Terrorists couldn’t give a toss about them. It will make no difference to their plans at all, they’ll simply re-locate. But for the rest of the population, the inference is clear. ‘For your own safety, you are not to be trusted. You are to be measured and recorded and monitored.’

This is how diversity is valued, by telling one section of the population they are suspected terrorists. Oh, don’t worry, Muslims, it isn’t just you, the Irish have been there, as have the South Africans over here during the apartheid regime. We’ll all have a go on this particular fun fair ride before the park closes. Anyhow, the community not surprisingly has decided that this is not what they want and have kicked up a stink. Good. Say what you like about the Muslims, they may be women oppressors, mentalists, and all other things, but they still have a community, in its proper sense, not in some Nicola Murray DOSAC sense. Community has power, that is why successive governments try to break them up.

Sooooo. . .

Bags are to be put over scores of surveillance cameras in parts of Birmingham with large Muslim populations, after local objections.

A small victory, but a victory nevertheless. Except. . .

The cameras will not be used until consultation has been carried out.

Sorry? Consultation with whom? I thought the local community had made their feelings on this matter quite clear. What it should have said was this: ‘The cameras will not be used until everyone’s had a little while to calm down and had it explained to them that unless they shut up that new medical centre will be refused planning permission, or that community centre will have its funding withdrawn, or the council will embark on a full on audit of small businesses adherence to trading laws etc, etc. At which point the cameras will be used anyway.’

No reasonable debate or reversal of decision can be made. Whatever the circumstances. You’ve done nothing wrong, but you must still be punished. Pour encourager les autres.

I’m being cynical. Of course this will absolutely stop terrorism. Just as this sort of thing will stop gangs of feral youth shooting each other (and innocent bystanders) into shreds.

A grandmother has been jailed for five years for possessing a "family heirloom" World War II pistol.

But of course. I can now sleep safely at night because an old WWII pistol, which has been sat quietly in an old shoe box in the bottom of a drawer and probably hasn’t been in a serviceable condition for twenty five years, is no longer a threat. Phew. Thank God for that.

This sort of thing is good, that woman could have struck fear into the hearts of the hard working school leavers, about to embark on a life long career of wearing trousers with the waistband around their knees, talking in some bizarre patois and intimidating old ladies on their way to the shop to buy twenty Lambert and Butler and a lotto ticket.

Thank God there are no guns on our streets. And thank God there are no guns sat quietly in an old shoe box in the bottom of a drawer that probably haven’t been in a serviceable condition for twenty five years.

Everything is OK. Just do as I say, don’t ask questions, don’t make a fuss, take your punishment like a man, it’s for your own good.

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