III :: I'm leaning on a lampost
I'm leaning on a lamp / maybe you think I look a tramp / Or you may think I'm hanging 'round to steal a motor-car
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Birmingham Guild of Students. December 1936
Speech by Emmanual Goldstein, Mayor of Birmingham
...We live in turbulent times, at both home and overseas. But what a time to be young and mounting out upon a great adventure in the world. If I can offer you any advice on taking your next step in life, it would be to treat your fellow citizen as your equal. In Germany we see Herr Hitler pursuing a path that many believe will ultimately lead to war and destruction. In many ways that war has already begun as he wages war upon his own people and those that dare speak out against his party, a party no more socialist than the back street bookmaker is an accountant.
In Britain today we enjoy privileges that our fathers and their fathers before them have earned, often through the shedding of blood. We can criticise. We can protest. We can decide freely. But what of our brethren in the Empire? What of the dalit in his clothsack in the slums of Calcutta? Earlier this year I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gandhi when he attended talks on the future of India. As many of you will know, I was involved in showing Mr Gandhi the hard work of our industrial city. Mr. Gandhi was impressed by the warmth of his reception, especially by working people in some of our most impoverished slums.
What impressed me most about Mr. Gandhi was that he preached equality for all. My colleague in the Labour Party, Mr. Blair, who as a former colonial policeman had a good understanding of the issues facing India, was also impressed - so much so that he has returned to India to investigate life in the slums of the subcontinent.
How though, is the message of Mr. Gandhi relevant to us, in Britain today. It is his message of equality. Who am I to judge a King on his personal life. Of course, as a head of state and King-Emperor he is accountable to the people that he represents, but we should no more judge him personally than we should our neighbours and our community.
The King is as much a citizen as you or I, and as such we must respect his decision with regard to Mrs. Simpson, whatever that may be...
-----
The Honourable Artillery Company, City Road, London. February 1983
The general rolled out the Ordnance Survey map on the table. Whilst much of what was seen on paper in eighties Britain was to be taken with a pinch of salt, the accuracy of Ordnance Survey maps was as consistent as it had been for almost 200 years. He spoke to his officers, pointing at locations on the 1:10,000 edition that covered much of Stoke Newington and surrounding districts.
G: We believe that there are elements of the Brotherhood here, here and here [ pointing ] and that they are planning an attack on a police station in Islington. The area is dangerous - it is dominated by proletariat slums, and part of it includes the Jewry Quarter. I do not want boots on the ground until we have taken out two key locations. Firstly, here [ points ], in Dalston. There is a bomb factory at the rear of the Railway Tavern. I do not need to stress how important it is that we are accurate on this occasion. The name of the pub is the give away here, gentlemen. One hundred metres away is a bridge and I do not want to have to explain to the Ministry that we have blocked a railway line. With that in mind we will be using gas shells to smoke the buggers out.
Your second location is...
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The Railway Tavern, Dalston. 2 hours later...
Arthur the Prole: Now then, Jeff
Jeff (publican): Hullo Arthur. How are things?
Arthur: Not so bad. Shame that Spurs didn't win on Saturday, but that's life I suppose. I'll have a half please.
The publican began to draw off the half-litre into a straight glass. It was a busy night for a Tuesday. Men gathered in the pub playing cards and bar billiards. A group of women in the corner sang bawdy songs amongst themselves, all the better for a few glasses of Victory Gin. Their children sat outside on the pavement playing a game resembling marbles, albeit using stones that they had found.
You heard the whistle before you heard the bang. The gun was two miles away. A boy, no more than seven years of age, leaning on a lampost on the corner of the street looked up.
STEAMER!
It landed twenty yards away, destroying a townhouse that was home to thirty people. Then the gas.
-----
The soldiers, gas masks on, strode into the area thirty minutes later, stepping over bodies and securing the key sites. It was only now that their secondary mission became apparent. There was an incident of StreetCrime. A reminder of a byegone age. The street names of the district. King Henry's Walk; Wolsey Road; Queen Margaret's Grove; Boleyn Road. They all ceased to be, renamed to reflect modern times as if it had always been that way.
-----
Dunchurch, Warwickshire. 22nd December 2013
The car pulled off the M5 motorway and down the sliproad towards the village of Dunchurch. The journey over from Norfolk had been pretty unspectacular. The usual mix of quiet Sunday villages until the motorway network was joined at Huntingdon. The occasional Christmas tree. A nativity outside a parish church. In the bigger towns and villages a few handmade decorations and St George's crosses.
He had stopped to attend morning service at a church just outside of St. Ives, sitting quietly at the rear of the building with his bodyguards on either side, before nodding a knowing glance at the vicar and leaving before the people saw him.
The M5 was quiet, despite being resurfaced during the summer and despite the uptake in private vehicle ownership in the years since the overthrow. The three carriageways on either side carried a mix of civilian lorries, the cars of the emerging wealthy and the inevitable coalition military convoys. His Landrover seemed unremarkable amongst this mix.
Dunchurch was an interesting village, like many in post-overthrow England. It had a post office, a bakery, a butcher, a grocer and, of course, a pub. Here it was the Dun Cow Hotel, an old coaching inn on the road from Coventry to London.
The three of them parked and entered the building, as requested, via a back door, meeting upstairs in a hotel room that overlooked the village square below. The two bodyguards remained outside, whilst he entered the room.
Politician 1: Good afternoon, Sir
Politician 2: Yes, welcome, Sir. Please. Take a seat.
George: Thank you, gentlemen. I'm sure that you are aware that I have traveled a significant number of kilometres this morning. I would like to help you, but I am not entirely sure of how I can do so in an appropriate manner.
Politician 2: Sir. We know that you are sympathetic to our party. We know that you respect the fact that we haven't pigeonholed ourselves into the isolationist policies of the English Nationalists, nor the neo-socialism of New Labour. We know, as you know, that the only way to unite England is that middle road of mutual respect and bridge building.
Politician 1: We appreciate that it is difficult for you, given the burden of history, but we, we, er...
Politician 2: Just spit it out, man! We want you to act as our figurehead. In effect you are the leader of the opposition in this country. We believe that with you publicly on our side that there will be a Liberal landslide when the election comes around in the spring. The English Nationalists are the remnant English Socialists. There are people there with some very dubious histories. Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss. People won't get fooled again.
Politician 1: And New Labour. As in-animate as they have been at any time since the overthrow. Yes, more modern policies for a more modern world, but at the heart they are preaching an outdated message that was more relevant in 1914 than in 2014.
George: Yes, yes. I agree with all of that. What about the regional parties. Kernow? Cumbria? I believe that there is even a Yorkshire First party gaining vocal public support in the West Riding?
Politician 2: We believe that they will be useful coalition partners, should the need arise. Whilst both English Celtic fringe parties have limited local followings, such is the nature of their vote that they will benefit from proportional representation and the federal nature of the new parliament. They will be strong in the second chamber. Yorkshire could be huge. Think of the politically active electorate in Leeds and Bradford, for instance.
George: I cannot promise you anything. I need to seek advice, both from my family and from my advisers. But I will listen to you. But first. Just what is it that you want me to do?
-----
But no I'm not a crook / And if you think, that's what I look / I'll tell you why I'm here / And what my motives are.
I'm leaning on a lamp / maybe you think I look a tramp / Or you may think I'm hanging 'round to steal a motor-car
-----
Birmingham Guild of Students. December 1936
Speech by Emmanual Goldstein, Mayor of Birmingham
...We live in turbulent times, at both home and overseas. But what a time to be young and mounting out upon a great adventure in the world. If I can offer you any advice on taking your next step in life, it would be to treat your fellow citizen as your equal. In Germany we see Herr Hitler pursuing a path that many believe will ultimately lead to war and destruction. In many ways that war has already begun as he wages war upon his own people and those that dare speak out against his party, a party no more socialist than the back street bookmaker is an accountant.
In Britain today we enjoy privileges that our fathers and their fathers before them have earned, often through the shedding of blood. We can criticise. We can protest. We can decide freely. But what of our brethren in the Empire? What of the dalit in his clothsack in the slums of Calcutta? Earlier this year I had the pleasure of meeting Mr. Gandhi when he attended talks on the future of India. As many of you will know, I was involved in showing Mr Gandhi the hard work of our industrial city. Mr. Gandhi was impressed by the warmth of his reception, especially by working people in some of our most impoverished slums.
What impressed me most about Mr. Gandhi was that he preached equality for all. My colleague in the Labour Party, Mr. Blair, who as a former colonial policeman had a good understanding of the issues facing India, was also impressed - so much so that he has returned to India to investigate life in the slums of the subcontinent.
How though, is the message of Mr. Gandhi relevant to us, in Britain today. It is his message of equality. Who am I to judge a King on his personal life. Of course, as a head of state and King-Emperor he is accountable to the people that he represents, but we should no more judge him personally than we should our neighbours and our community.
The King is as much a citizen as you or I, and as such we must respect his decision with regard to Mrs. Simpson, whatever that may be...
-----
The Honourable Artillery Company, City Road, London. February 1983
The general rolled out the Ordnance Survey map on the table. Whilst much of what was seen on paper in eighties Britain was to be taken with a pinch of salt, the accuracy of Ordnance Survey maps was as consistent as it had been for almost 200 years. He spoke to his officers, pointing at locations on the 1:10,000 edition that covered much of Stoke Newington and surrounding districts.
G: We believe that there are elements of the Brotherhood here, here and here [ pointing ] and that they are planning an attack on a police station in Islington. The area is dangerous - it is dominated by proletariat slums, and part of it includes the Jewry Quarter. I do not want boots on the ground until we have taken out two key locations. Firstly, here [ points ], in Dalston. There is a bomb factory at the rear of the Railway Tavern. I do not need to stress how important it is that we are accurate on this occasion. The name of the pub is the give away here, gentlemen. One hundred metres away is a bridge and I do not want to have to explain to the Ministry that we have blocked a railway line. With that in mind we will be using gas shells to smoke the buggers out.
Your second location is...
-----
The Railway Tavern, Dalston. 2 hours later...
Arthur the Prole: Now then, Jeff
Jeff (publican): Hullo Arthur. How are things?
Arthur: Not so bad. Shame that Spurs didn't win on Saturday, but that's life I suppose. I'll have a half please.
The publican began to draw off the half-litre into a straight glass. It was a busy night for a Tuesday. Men gathered in the pub playing cards and bar billiards. A group of women in the corner sang bawdy songs amongst themselves, all the better for a few glasses of Victory Gin. Their children sat outside on the pavement playing a game resembling marbles, albeit using stones that they had found.
You heard the whistle before you heard the bang. The gun was two miles away. A boy, no more than seven years of age, leaning on a lampost on the corner of the street looked up.
STEAMER!
It landed twenty yards away, destroying a townhouse that was home to thirty people. Then the gas.
-----
The soldiers, gas masks on, strode into the area thirty minutes later, stepping over bodies and securing the key sites. It was only now that their secondary mission became apparent. There was an incident of StreetCrime. A reminder of a byegone age. The street names of the district. King Henry's Walk; Wolsey Road; Queen Margaret's Grove; Boleyn Road. They all ceased to be, renamed to reflect modern times as if it had always been that way.
-----
Dunchurch, Warwickshire. 22nd December 2013
The car pulled off the M5 motorway and down the sliproad towards the village of Dunchurch. The journey over from Norfolk had been pretty unspectacular. The usual mix of quiet Sunday villages until the motorway network was joined at Huntingdon. The occasional Christmas tree. A nativity outside a parish church. In the bigger towns and villages a few handmade decorations and St George's crosses.
He had stopped to attend morning service at a church just outside of St. Ives, sitting quietly at the rear of the building with his bodyguards on either side, before nodding a knowing glance at the vicar and leaving before the people saw him.
The M5 was quiet, despite being resurfaced during the summer and despite the uptake in private vehicle ownership in the years since the overthrow. The three carriageways on either side carried a mix of civilian lorries, the cars of the emerging wealthy and the inevitable coalition military convoys. His Landrover seemed unremarkable amongst this mix.
Dunchurch was an interesting village, like many in post-overthrow England. It had a post office, a bakery, a butcher, a grocer and, of course, a pub. Here it was the Dun Cow Hotel, an old coaching inn on the road from Coventry to London.
The three of them parked and entered the building, as requested, via a back door, meeting upstairs in a hotel room that overlooked the village square below. The two bodyguards remained outside, whilst he entered the room.
Politician 1: Good afternoon, Sir
Politician 2: Yes, welcome, Sir. Please. Take a seat.
George: Thank you, gentlemen. I'm sure that you are aware that I have traveled a significant number of kilometres this morning. I would like to help you, but I am not entirely sure of how I can do so in an appropriate manner.
Politician 2: Sir. We know that you are sympathetic to our party. We know that you respect the fact that we haven't pigeonholed ourselves into the isolationist policies of the English Nationalists, nor the neo-socialism of New Labour. We know, as you know, that the only way to unite England is that middle road of mutual respect and bridge building.
Politician 1: We appreciate that it is difficult for you, given the burden of history, but we, we, er...
Politician 2: Just spit it out, man! We want you to act as our figurehead. In effect you are the leader of the opposition in this country. We believe that with you publicly on our side that there will be a Liberal landslide when the election comes around in the spring. The English Nationalists are the remnant English Socialists. There are people there with some very dubious histories. Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss. People won't get fooled again.
Politician 1: And New Labour. As in-animate as they have been at any time since the overthrow. Yes, more modern policies for a more modern world, but at the heart they are preaching an outdated message that was more relevant in 1914 than in 2014.
George: Yes, yes. I agree with all of that. What about the regional parties. Kernow? Cumbria? I believe that there is even a Yorkshire First party gaining vocal public support in the West Riding?
Politician 2: We believe that they will be useful coalition partners, should the need arise. Whilst both English Celtic fringe parties have limited local followings, such is the nature of their vote that they will benefit from proportional representation and the federal nature of the new parliament. They will be strong in the second chamber. Yorkshire could be huge. Think of the politically active electorate in Leeds and Bradford, for instance.
George: I cannot promise you anything. I need to seek advice, both from my family and from my advisers. But I will listen to you. But first. Just what is it that you want me to do?
-----
But no I'm not a crook / And if you think, that's what I look / I'll tell you why I'm here / And what my motives are.
