First they threw bottles through her window, leaving her baby to crawl through broken glass.
Then they stole her garden bench.
Then they stole her pram from outside her front door.
Now the latest outrage.
A student walked into her house, forcing his way past her. He walked up the stairs and climbed into her childs bed.
She screamed at him.
He ignored her.
She dialled 999 then hammered on the window until a neighbour came.
He ignored both of them.
The police arrived.
He calmly walked down the stairs.
"Apologise to her!!" The police weren't taking the piss.
He smirked at them.
He wasn't drunk, he wasn't off his head. He knew what he was doing. He had not gone into that house by mistake. He gave the cops a false address.
When they drove him home to tuck him into bed they discovered 11 Palestine St was bricked up.He got out of the four wheel drive and ran. Now they had to arrest him.
Of course they'll make the whole affair go away. They have made no arrangements to take her written statement, essential if charges are going to be pressed. When she phoned them their response was,
"Nine times out of ten this thing won't happen again"
They're brushing it under the carpet.
Her nerves are shattered. She wants out, but knows a hostel will be worse. She's applied for emergency accommodation, but may not get it. What's happening to us is not classified as intimidation, so we've no hope of getting housing priority. We're lucky if we get any housing points at all.
Sunday, May 27, 2007
The "speak truth to power" moment
"I'm tired of hearing this nonsense that police treat residents different to students"
"It's not nonsense, it's my experience."
"It's nonsense"
Lewis Brown thought he could bitch-slap me.
A voice pipes up,
"Who here agrees with Alan?"
Half the hands in the room go up.
"There you are, Lewis. We must all be talking nonsense. Don't ever patronise me again!!"
Now he gets bitch slapped
Inspector lewis Brown and some of his pals from Donegall Pass PSNI had come to a residents' meeting. The community had turned out in force. The anger in the room was palpable. Every speaker bar one voiced furious contempt for the police.
I was having a field day,
"Ever since Robert Peel, who at least was explicit about it, you people have existed to protect property privelege and power, and to keep the little people in their place. Well you're certainly good at keeping the little people in their place and making sure students can do whatever they want. They're above the law. Eveyone in this room knows that nobody will be prosecuted for the sexual assauly that took place in Palestine street. Your people refused to arrest the ones that assaulted David Farrell. You have declared every one of us to be fair game for students. They know that they can do whatever they want to us and you'll make sure nothing happens to them"
The hammering went on for an hour and a half. Almost everyone in the room gave them hell.
Gordon Douglas, the man from Queens, made some noise about student's exams being delayed as punishment. I wasn't having it,
"Gordon, I have had exams delayed. I have had academic year after year written off because I have to live among your students. This year has been written off because I suffered intimidation at the hands of a builder, something that your officers, Lewis, refused to investigate properly!!"
I was eyeballing Lewis. We were three feet apart. He was terrified.
Thus it came to pass, the speak truth to power moment. The bottom line, as Chomsky says, Is that power already knows the truth. It just doesn't care.
"It's not nonsense, it's my experience."
"It's nonsense"
Lewis Brown thought he could bitch-slap me.
A voice pipes up,
"Who here agrees with Alan?"
Half the hands in the room go up.
"There you are, Lewis. We must all be talking nonsense. Don't ever patronise me again!!"
Now he gets bitch slapped
Inspector lewis Brown and some of his pals from Donegall Pass PSNI had come to a residents' meeting. The community had turned out in force. The anger in the room was palpable. Every speaker bar one voiced furious contempt for the police.
I was having a field day,
"Ever since Robert Peel, who at least was explicit about it, you people have existed to protect property privelege and power, and to keep the little people in their place. Well you're certainly good at keeping the little people in their place and making sure students can do whatever they want. They're above the law. Eveyone in this room knows that nobody will be prosecuted for the sexual assauly that took place in Palestine street. Your people refused to arrest the ones that assaulted David Farrell. You have declared every one of us to be fair game for students. They know that they can do whatever they want to us and you'll make sure nothing happens to them"
The hammering went on for an hour and a half. Almost everyone in the room gave them hell.
Gordon Douglas, the man from Queens, made some noise about student's exams being delayed as punishment. I wasn't having it,
"Gordon, I have had exams delayed. I have had academic year after year written off because I have to live among your students. This year has been written off because I suffered intimidation at the hands of a builder, something that your officers, Lewis, refused to investigate properly!!"
I was eyeballing Lewis. We were three feet apart. He was terrified.
Thus it came to pass, the speak truth to power moment. The bottom line, as Chomsky says, Is that power already knows the truth. It just doesn't care.
Public Accountability
"So what if I didn't write the article?!!"
Katrina was shouting. She'd wanted a row all night and now, finally, I was fool enough to give her it.
"If you've got anything to say about me come to my front door. Don't put it on the internet!!"
"OK, I'll say it now Katrina. Did you write the article in the South Belfast News?"
"You should be ashamed of yourself!!"
"Did you write the article?"
"So what if I didn't write it?!!"
And so it went on.It was an ignominious end to a resdents' meeting that had seen the community tear the cops to pieces (metaphorically), with one dissenting voice. Katrina, the esteemed chairperson of the Belfast Holylands Regeneration Association, thanked the police for the wonderful service they had provided for her. I commented that she was very priveleged indeed, a fact that was not unrelated to her position.
Katrina, it appears, wants all of the benefits of being a public figure: her face in the papers and on the TV, meetings with Lord This and Baron That (like they care) and the privelege of being the only resident in the Holyland the police actually protect. Well, being a public figure means that you are publically accountable. anyone can write about you on the internet and in the press, or talk about you on the TV or radio. That's the price you pay. That's why Mr. T. hides behind a woman, putting her name and not his on the disgusting article he wrote in the South Belfast News.
It's not acceptable to claim that you represent a community and yet tell them to their faces that you don't care if they boycott your meetings. You have declared your refusal to be accountable and, in the process, lost all legitimacy.
Naturally I'll be saying this to your face at the next residents' meeting.
Katrina was shouting. She'd wanted a row all night and now, finally, I was fool enough to give her it.
"If you've got anything to say about me come to my front door. Don't put it on the internet!!"
"OK, I'll say it now Katrina. Did you write the article in the South Belfast News?"
"You should be ashamed of yourself!!"
"Did you write the article?"
"So what if I didn't write it?!!"
And so it went on.It was an ignominious end to a resdents' meeting that had seen the community tear the cops to pieces (metaphorically), with one dissenting voice. Katrina, the esteemed chairperson of the Belfast Holylands Regeneration Association, thanked the police for the wonderful service they had provided for her. I commented that she was very priveleged indeed, a fact that was not unrelated to her position.
Katrina, it appears, wants all of the benefits of being a public figure: her face in the papers and on the TV, meetings with Lord This and Baron That (like they care) and the privelege of being the only resident in the Holyland the police actually protect. Well, being a public figure means that you are publically accountable. anyone can write about you on the internet and in the press, or talk about you on the TV or radio. That's the price you pay. That's why Mr. T. hides behind a woman, putting her name and not his on the disgusting article he wrote in the South Belfast News.
It's not acceptable to claim that you represent a community and yet tell them to their faces that you don't care if they boycott your meetings. You have declared your refusal to be accountable and, in the process, lost all legitimacy.
Naturally I'll be saying this to your face at the next residents' meeting.
Thursday, May 10, 2007
"We don't want to arrest him"
The girls in 12 Carmel St certainly know how to cause trouble. So much so, in fact, that the words,
"Sluts. Whores live here"
were painted on their wall some months ago.
Now I don't care what they get up to in the privacy of their own bedrooms, but when they take it into the street it's a different matter.
Paddy was going out with one of the girls. Evidently they had fallen out because he wasn't invited to the birthday party in no 12.
Being an aggressive sort of hillbilly, he tries to kick the front door in. When that fails he tries to drag his (presumably ex) girlfriend out the front window. In the tug of war that ensues, the girls manage to pull her back in. He slams the window on her hands. I can see why she dumped him. They call the police.
One by one four cop cars arrive. They try to reason with Paddy who is too busy screaming at the house.
"I know he's in there. I know you're screwin' him. He's the one with the big hard cock!!"
Paddy appears to have some issues wih his sexuality.
By now a row has developed in the street between the girls in No12, their friends from down the street, Paddy's friends and Paddy. This continues for an hour, from 1.30 to 2.30. Four carloads of police do nothing to quiet it down.
The girls are handing out cups of tea to the cops. Evidently the same bimbos that regularly play cheesy republican music for the retarded are unfamiliar with the phrase,
"No More Tea"
Ciaran, the enormous cop with the shaven head, is most popular with them.
"Ciaran, you must play GAA do you? You'd make a great player."
Paddy wants the police to give him a lift home to the wilds of county Antrim. He seems to think they're a taxi service.
Now his mother's on the phone.He hands it to the cops.
"He's causing bother, but we dson't want to arrest him."
They reassure his dear old mother that they'll do their very best for him then walk him to the bottom of the street.
Five minutes later he's back. The cops return. Finally they arrest him.
The landlord of the property, Steven Magill, has shown no apparent interest in his tenants or the mayhem they've caused over the last year.
"Sluts. Whores live here"
were painted on their wall some months ago.
Now I don't care what they get up to in the privacy of their own bedrooms, but when they take it into the street it's a different matter.
Paddy was going out with one of the girls. Evidently they had fallen out because he wasn't invited to the birthday party in no 12.
Being an aggressive sort of hillbilly, he tries to kick the front door in. When that fails he tries to drag his (presumably ex) girlfriend out the front window. In the tug of war that ensues, the girls manage to pull her back in. He slams the window on her hands. I can see why she dumped him. They call the police.
One by one four cop cars arrive. They try to reason with Paddy who is too busy screaming at the house.
"I know he's in there. I know you're screwin' him. He's the one with the big hard cock!!"
Paddy appears to have some issues wih his sexuality.
By now a row has developed in the street between the girls in No12, their friends from down the street, Paddy's friends and Paddy. This continues for an hour, from 1.30 to 2.30. Four carloads of police do nothing to quiet it down.
The girls are handing out cups of tea to the cops. Evidently the same bimbos that regularly play cheesy republican music for the retarded are unfamiliar with the phrase,
"No More Tea"
Ciaran, the enormous cop with the shaven head, is most popular with them.
"Ciaran, you must play GAA do you? You'd make a great player."
Paddy wants the police to give him a lift home to the wilds of county Antrim. He seems to think they're a taxi service.
Now his mother's on the phone.He hands it to the cops.
"He's causing bother, but we dson't want to arrest him."
They reassure his dear old mother that they'll do their very best for him then walk him to the bottom of the street.
Five minutes later he's back. The cops return. Finally they arrest him.
The landlord of the property, Steven Magill, has shown no apparent interest in his tenants or the mayhem they've caused over the last year.
A Short Note on the Banality of Evil
I read Katrina's article in the South Belfast News recently. I call It Katrina's article, but it's obvious she didn't write it.
"We are pleased that the draft HMO subject plan now rejects PPS1, acknowledges the importance of HMO issues as material planning considerations, and affirms that the subject plan complies with equality legislation"
She certainly didn't write that. It reads like a Housing Executive discussion document.
The true author of it is, I beleive, a shadowy figure who shuns accountabiity like a vampire hiding from the sun. For the sake of brevity and to protect his identity I'll call him "Mr T" and he is in his own way a truly banal individual who does truly evil things. Of course I'm not comparing hin to Hannah Arendt's description of Adolf Eichmann, the dull bureaucrat who sent millions to their deaths in Auschwicz. Well, OK, I am, but only in the sense that Eichmann represents a ubiquitous type. Such people are driven by their own need for importance and delusions of relevance. Ultimately their compulsion becomes a self- fulfilling prophecy.They become relevant and significant as a result of the harm they do unto others.
Let's examine what "Mr. T" has to say for himself.
"In the Holyland around 300 properties, capable of housing families, are lying empty. This number is sufficient to house 40 percent of the social housing waiting list in south Belfast........ if community audits are carried out in other areas they will find that there is sufficient vacant stock in South Belfast to resolve waiting lists without the need to build new houses at enormous cost to the public purse."
Well, that's some bucket of words, none of them Katrina's. So let me decipher it for you. "Mr.T", clearly a man on the inside track, has jumped on the policy bandwagon that says,
"Privatise all Public Housing. Force people to rent from private landlords."
Across the UK Council housing is being liquidated by any means neccessary. The new housing policy is "Cathy Come Home": slum housing, enormous rents (not fully covered by housing benefit), no rights, no security of tenure, eviction on a whim, homelessness.
Never let it be said that banal people don't do evil things.
There is, however, more. He wants to imprison 300 families in the Holylands. He wants to make them live in this lunatic asylum. Now, for the record, there are no 300 empty properties in the Holylands. Almost every landlord property is tenanted with students despite market saturation of HMOs.
Sartre was right. In the end we can only be judged by our actions. And,
"Evil exists"
"We are pleased that the draft HMO subject plan now rejects PPS1, acknowledges the importance of HMO issues as material planning considerations, and affirms that the subject plan complies with equality legislation"
She certainly didn't write that. It reads like a Housing Executive discussion document.
The true author of it is, I beleive, a shadowy figure who shuns accountabiity like a vampire hiding from the sun. For the sake of brevity and to protect his identity I'll call him "Mr T" and he is in his own way a truly banal individual who does truly evil things. Of course I'm not comparing hin to Hannah Arendt's description of Adolf Eichmann, the dull bureaucrat who sent millions to their deaths in Auschwicz. Well, OK, I am, but only in the sense that Eichmann represents a ubiquitous type. Such people are driven by their own need for importance and delusions of relevance. Ultimately their compulsion becomes a self- fulfilling prophecy.They become relevant and significant as a result of the harm they do unto others.
Let's examine what "Mr. T" has to say for himself.
"In the Holyland around 300 properties, capable of housing families, are lying empty. This number is sufficient to house 40 percent of the social housing waiting list in south Belfast........ if community audits are carried out in other areas they will find that there is sufficient vacant stock in South Belfast to resolve waiting lists without the need to build new houses at enormous cost to the public purse."
Well, that's some bucket of words, none of them Katrina's. So let me decipher it for you. "Mr.T", clearly a man on the inside track, has jumped on the policy bandwagon that says,
"Privatise all Public Housing. Force people to rent from private landlords."
Across the UK Council housing is being liquidated by any means neccessary. The new housing policy is "Cathy Come Home": slum housing, enormous rents (not fully covered by housing benefit), no rights, no security of tenure, eviction on a whim, homelessness.
Never let it be said that banal people don't do evil things.
There is, however, more. He wants to imprison 300 families in the Holylands. He wants to make them live in this lunatic asylum. Now, for the record, there are no 300 empty properties in the Holylands. Almost every landlord property is tenanted with students despite market saturation of HMOs.
Sartre was right. In the end we can only be judged by our actions. And,
"Evil exists"
"Things have changed"
"What do you want now?!!"
"What.....??"
He was taken aback
"We have a report from a local landlord that you walked out and stood in front of his van"
"I don't know what you're talking about"
"Your behaviour is bordering on harrasment. If we have to come back we'll arrest you."
"You're gonna arrest me are you? But you refused to arrest the ones who beat up David Farrell?!!"
A student and his "friend" had beaten up David Farrell, a defensless drunken fool, and prominent resident.I watched the cops caution those that did it and let them go without arresting them.
"When I stood up to your people and objected they were gonna arrest me"
I wish they had arrested me, but a friend and witness to the assault talked me down from the confrontation. The cops refused to question either of two witnesses, both of whom had to approach them and offer to give a statement. It was a week before they got back to one of them.
"We also have a report that you approached the estate agent and prospective buyer of a house in Palestine Street"
"What am I supposed to have said?"
"You told them a girl was raped in that house"
"A girl was raped in that house"
"It's not your place to approach them"
"It's not my place to tell the truth?! If I'm gonna buy a house I want to know if someone was raped in it. If you're gonna buy a house do you not want to know if someone was raped in it?"
He has no answer. Now I know it was Declan Boyle who complained.
"And when it comes to arresting people, I spoke to a former member of the RUC and he told me that he has never heard of two people assaulting someone and not being arrested."
"Things have changed"
"Yeah, these people can do whatever they want to us an we're nothing but scum to you."
They're getting into their van.
"If you don't like it you can always complain"
"We all know it'll make no difference"
"What.....??"
He was taken aback
"We have a report from a local landlord that you walked out and stood in front of his van"
"I don't know what you're talking about"
"Your behaviour is bordering on harrasment. If we have to come back we'll arrest you."
"You're gonna arrest me are you? But you refused to arrest the ones who beat up David Farrell?!!"
A student and his "friend" had beaten up David Farrell, a defensless drunken fool, and prominent resident.I watched the cops caution those that did it and let them go without arresting them.
"When I stood up to your people and objected they were gonna arrest me"
I wish they had arrested me, but a friend and witness to the assault talked me down from the confrontation. The cops refused to question either of two witnesses, both of whom had to approach them and offer to give a statement. It was a week before they got back to one of them.
"We also have a report that you approached the estate agent and prospective buyer of a house in Palestine Street"
"What am I supposed to have said?"
"You told them a girl was raped in that house"
"A girl was raped in that house"
"It's not your place to approach them"
"It's not my place to tell the truth?! If I'm gonna buy a house I want to know if someone was raped in it. If you're gonna buy a house do you not want to know if someone was raped in it?"
He has no answer. Now I know it was Declan Boyle who complained.
"And when it comes to arresting people, I spoke to a former member of the RUC and he told me that he has never heard of two people assaulting someone and not being arrested."
"Things have changed"
"Yeah, these people can do whatever they want to us an we're nothing but scum to you."
They're getting into their van.
"If you don't like it you can always complain"
"We all know it'll make no difference"
Sunday, April 22, 2007
"Sell your home and get the fuck out of the Holylands"
There were four of them, waiting in the entry, what for we'll never know. She didn't see them. It was pitch black.
"What the fuck are you doing out here at this time?!!"
They surprised her. She felt threatened, but would take no shit.
"I'll dump my rubbish any time I want!!"
"You're one of them fuckin' residents aren't you?"
"Yeah. So what?"
"This is our area now. Sell your house and get the fuck out of the Holylands!!"
If you're wondering who these people are, they're your future doctors, lawyers, teachers. Do you really want them teaching your kids?
"What the fuck are you doing out here at this time?!!"
They surprised her. She felt threatened, but would take no shit.
"I'll dump my rubbish any time I want!!"
"You're one of them fuckin' residents aren't you?"
"Yeah. So what?"
"This is our area now. Sell your house and get the fuck out of the Holylands!!"
If you're wondering who these people are, they're your future doctors, lawyers, teachers. Do you really want them teaching your kids?
"Indecent Exposure"
Picture the scene. You call the cops.
"There's a naked student running down the street."
"I'm sorry, we can't make out what you're saying."
You hang up. Phone again. Different cop.
"What does he look like?"
"Naked"
Eventually two of them come out. The exhibitionist is long gone. It's not hard to work out why they took their time.
It is of course absurd that public nudity is treated as indecent exposure and can get you a lifetime on the sex offenders' register. However, if a working class person ran naked through the street, the cops would destroy their life. If the law is an ass, it's burden should fall equally on the rich and the poor. Well, that's what they say anyway.
"There's a naked student running down the street."
"I'm sorry, we can't make out what you're saying."
You hang up. Phone again. Different cop.
"What does he look like?"
"Naked"
Eventually two of them come out. The exhibitionist is long gone. It's not hard to work out why they took their time.
It is of course absurd that public nudity is treated as indecent exposure and can get you a lifetime on the sex offenders' register. However, if a working class person ran naked through the street, the cops would destroy their life. If the law is an ass, it's burden should fall equally on the rich and the poor. Well, that's what they say anyway.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Another Family Flees
They told no-one. One day the removal van just came. They couldn't take any more. Nobody knows where they have gone. People do that here, just disappear. Maybe they're renting from some scumbag private landlord. Maybe they're renting from one of those who have raped this community. Thus the landlords create greater demand for their own disgusting trade.
A friend of mine remembers when Declan Boyle's brother ( and business partner) put her and her children out of their home so he could cram students in. Welcolme to homelessness. Say hello to the world of " Cathy Come Home", our government's housing policy. Say goodbye to public housing. It's going going gone. The new Rachmans have taken over. This area was redlined at least 15 years ago and tens of millions taken from the housing budget (It's gone now. No more executive new builds.) and poured into landlords' pockets. Kiss your community goodbye. It's a UK phenomenon, but in the Holylands we get our faces rubbed in it.
A friend of mine remembers when Declan Boyle's brother ( and business partner) put her and her children out of their home so he could cram students in. Welcolme to homelessness. Say hello to the world of " Cathy Come Home", our government's housing policy. Say goodbye to public housing. It's going going gone. The new Rachmans have taken over. This area was redlined at least 15 years ago and tens of millions taken from the housing budget (It's gone now. No more executive new builds.) and poured into landlords' pockets. Kiss your community goodbye. It's a UK phenomenon, but in the Holylands we get our faces rubbed in it.
"Criminal Damage"
"People are learning to hate you cunts all over again.!!"
I was screaming. It felt good. I could tell they wanted to arrest me. Itchy fingers were reaching for the CS spray.
"You treat us like dogshit, while you let these cunts do whatever they want!"
My friend calmly tells then that it's true. She politely disagrees with their rehearsed answers about dealing with the situation as they find it. If a resident calls for assistance they may never come out, but if a student complains about a resident six police cars arrive and his door's nearly kicked in.
The reason? "Criminal Damage". Tell the cops that a resident's committed criminal damage and they'll swoop like something out of a Hollywood movie. One marked and five unmarked cars were floating round the Holyland watching the community, waiting to pounce on my neighbours.
They've declared war on us. They're an army of occupation. They drive on by while "students" commit untold criminal damage, including plenty of arson, and inflict catastrophic noise, then turn to me and tell me to,
"Keep the noise down"
Is it any wonder I exploded?
If you're wondering why they didn't arrest me, it's because I had a witness. Without her I'd have got the CS spray in the face and a baton over the head. You can be sure no "Student" will ever have that experience.
I was screaming. It felt good. I could tell they wanted to arrest me. Itchy fingers were reaching for the CS spray.
"You treat us like dogshit, while you let these cunts do whatever they want!"
My friend calmly tells then that it's true. She politely disagrees with their rehearsed answers about dealing with the situation as they find it. If a resident calls for assistance they may never come out, but if a student complains about a resident six police cars arrive and his door's nearly kicked in.
The reason? "Criminal Damage". Tell the cops that a resident's committed criminal damage and they'll swoop like something out of a Hollywood movie. One marked and five unmarked cars were floating round the Holyland watching the community, waiting to pounce on my neighbours.
They've declared war on us. They're an army of occupation. They drive on by while "students" commit untold criminal damage, including plenty of arson, and inflict catastrophic noise, then turn to me and tell me to,
"Keep the noise down"
Is it any wonder I exploded?
If you're wondering why they didn't arrest me, it's because I had a witness. Without her I'd have got the CS spray in the face and a baton over the head. You can be sure no "Student" will ever have that experience.
The keystone cops have got machine guns now
Why were they there? Five landrovers, a twenty man Tactical Support Unit of riot squad, every police car and van from Donegall Pass station flooded the Holylands. Another resident and I followed them as they chased a teenager into the Lower Ormeau and cornered him with machine guns. Was he a Republican Dissident? Not likely, not at his age. Was he an armed robber? he looked too terrified to be a hardened criminal.
The Tactical Support Units roamed through the Holylands with their machine guns searching gardens and entries. It was like the troubles, but without the danger. These fools weren't even wearing body armour. The search lasted from midnight till 1.30 am. A police car pulled up and told a TSU,
" We got one of them"
At the police meeting we were told that two deeply anti-social individuals were scooped and a great service had been done to the public. I commented that I would love to see a twenty man TSU in the Holylands five nights a week.
"Of course", I said,"it would help if they enforced the law.
Sargeant Bell's tired of hearing this.
"You've raised this before and Lewis Brown's told you..." Blah blah blah blah blah.
Later I discovered the truth. A fifteen year old girl had broken bail conditions and run away from the local home with her boyfriend.
A sledge hammer is used to crack a nut when it's working class people. If you've got property or privelege or power you can do whatever you want. You're above the law.
The Tactical Support Units roamed through the Holylands with their machine guns searching gardens and entries. It was like the troubles, but without the danger. These fools weren't even wearing body armour. The search lasted from midnight till 1.30 am. A police car pulled up and told a TSU,
" We got one of them"
At the police meeting we were told that two deeply anti-social individuals were scooped and a great service had been done to the public. I commented that I would love to see a twenty man TSU in the Holylands five nights a week.
"Of course", I said,"it would help if they enforced the law.
Sargeant Bell's tired of hearing this.
"You've raised this before and Lewis Brown's told you..." Blah blah blah blah blah.
Later I discovered the truth. A fifteen year old girl had broken bail conditions and run away from the local home with her boyfriend.
A sledge hammer is used to crack a nut when it's working class people. If you've got property or privelege or power you can do whatever you want. You're above the law.
Thursday, March 29, 2007
Open letter to Inspector Lewis Brown, commander Donegall Pass Police Station
Dear Inspector Brown,
by the time you read this you should have received a copy of the receipts from the internet cafe I have been using to post on this blog. It is my belief that the Police are holding my computer to silence me. As you can see, that has failed. Your people siezed my computer four months ago. They cannot pretend they are still holding it as part of an investigation. Indeed, the attitude of Detective Sargeant Sylvia Hamilton was to state bluntly,
"No. You're not getting your computer back."
Well, Inspector Brown, if I'm not getting my computer back, I expect to be reimbursed for my internet cafe expenses.
It is possible to copy the contents of my hard drive if a permanent record is needed.
For what it's worth, I have nothing to hide or apologise for.
I expect to hear from you sooner rather than later.
Yours faithfully,
Alan Murray.
by the time you read this you should have received a copy of the receipts from the internet cafe I have been using to post on this blog. It is my belief that the Police are holding my computer to silence me. As you can see, that has failed. Your people siezed my computer four months ago. They cannot pretend they are still holding it as part of an investigation. Indeed, the attitude of Detective Sargeant Sylvia Hamilton was to state bluntly,
"No. You're not getting your computer back."
Well, Inspector Brown, if I'm not getting my computer back, I expect to be reimbursed for my internet cafe expenses.
It is possible to copy the contents of my hard drive if a permanent record is needed.
For what it's worth, I have nothing to hide or apologise for.
I expect to hear from you sooner rather than later.
Yours faithfully,
Alan Murray.
Saturday, March 24, 2007
Police target residents
You will recall, way back when, before the police siezed my computer, I said we are a lesser class of person to them. Everybody sees the looks of suspicion and loathing they give us as they drive around like an army of occupation. Residents are stopped in the street,
"Who are you? Where are you going?"
Me, at least, they know by name. It's odd that they don't stop students willy-nilly. Well, OK, it's not odd, it's policy. Criminalise the community. What they don't realise is that this is a tacit admission of failure. The entire community is in revolt, apart from a few collaborators. Now their energy's directed at containing our rage while the "Students" can do what they want. That, beleive me, is policy.
If students vandalise a resident's car, the resident is threatened with prosecution. If a resident is relating to police how he was attacked by three students, the police pull his son and, when he objects, is threatened by an enraged officer brandishing CS spray and a baton. Naturally nothing will be done about the "student" attackers, other than going through the motions.
For the record, we are all free to walk down any street or up any entry and we don't have to explain ourselves to anyone.
"Who are you? Where are you going?"
Me, at least, they know by name. It's odd that they don't stop students willy-nilly. Well, OK, it's not odd, it's policy. Criminalise the community. What they don't realise is that this is a tacit admission of failure. The entire community is in revolt, apart from a few collaborators. Now their energy's directed at containing our rage while the "Students" can do what they want. That, beleive me, is policy.
If students vandalise a resident's car, the resident is threatened with prosecution. If a resident is relating to police how he was attacked by three students, the police pull his son and, when he objects, is threatened by an enraged officer brandishing CS spray and a baton. Naturally nothing will be done about the "student" attackers, other than going through the motions.
For the record, we are all free to walk down any street or up any entry and we don't have to explain ourselves to anyone.
Charlatan claims to represent community
David Farrell's at it again. He's telling the press that he's the "Chairman" of the, "Belfast Holylands Regeneration Association". At least he's not calling it a resident's group.
He's written to the Police, wardens and universities to tell them what a good job they did making st Patricks day quiet. Does he expect us to beleive that they are responsible for it falling on a weekend, coinciding with mothers day and being washed out by a three day Atlantic storm?
There was a large police presence, but, as I'll explain in a later post, it focused almost entirely on residents, barring the collaborators of course.
An end must be put to this fake residents/regeneration/collaboration group.It's boycotted by residents who are almost universally disgusted with it.
He's written to the Police, wardens and universities to tell them what a good job they did making st Patricks day quiet. Does he expect us to beleive that they are responsible for it falling on a weekend, coinciding with mothers day and being washed out by a three day Atlantic storm?
There was a large police presence, but, as I'll explain in a later post, it focused almost entirely on residents, barring the collaborators of course.
An end must be put to this fake residents/regeneration/collaboration group.It's boycotted by residents who are almost universally disgusted with it.
Thursday, March 22, 2007
Raided
They came at 7.45am. I'd had little sleep. It was timed for maximum disorientation.
"Mister Murray Hurry Up"
I'm rushing to the door.
"We have a warrant to search the place.You can stay, but if you interfere you'll be removed. Do you understand?"
"OK"
The uniforms go about their work and the first plain clothes introduces herself.
"I'm Sylvia"
She sounds like a social worker.
Her partner, Alan, chimes in.
"This situation's got out of control. It's got to stop."
I'm feeling patronised.
"We'll look after you" Says Sylvia, "We're your guardian angels."
Alarm bells are going off in my head.
I look around to see my computer being taken out the front door.
I go into the kitchen. Every tin of yellow paint is being opened.
"What are you looking for?"
A uniform shows me the warrant.
" Orange/yellow paint, brake fluid boots."
I'm not thinking straight because they're siezing a lot more than that.
"We're taking your swords", says Alan,"until this is all over.
They're taking my antique swords. Even the wooden training swords I made myself are going.
"Leave me the baseball bat"
"No, it's going too."
"How am I supposed to defend myself?"
"If your house is attacked just call us
"You won't get here in time"
"Yes we will"
They're taking the piss. I'd be dead before I got through to the station.
Alan's prattling again.
"If this doesn't stop someone's going to get killed here"
They don't know the half of it
"You know why we're here. These bin fires have got to stop."
"You think I'm in the frame"
"The dogs in the street know you did it. You're out of control. people are afraid of you."
He's pouring it on like hot butter.
Sylvia approaches me.
"We're arresting you on suspicion of arson with intent to endanger life. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do not say, but reveal later can be held against you in a court of law."
"Can I take my medication?"
"We'll take it with us Our Doctor can administer it."
I put my tablets into a bag.
We're about to go. I need to get dressed.
"Where are my boots?"
"They've been siezed"
I put on my trainers.
"We have to put cuffs on you"
" Front or back?"
"Back"
They're uncomfortable. They make it difficult to squeeze into the Police car, and I have to sit forward in the seat as we drive to the station.
The Holding cell has piss on the floor.I shake with cold and fear while I munch on a mars bar.
After a while they take me for processing. They take my wallet, my gloves , my hat, my belt. They let me keep the bounty bar.
As the sargeant's taking my details my bowels are about to burst.
"I can't hold it sarge!!"
"OK just run"
I make it barely in time and squat above a stainless bowl pulling my cheeks apart while the world falls ouy of my backside. It's the first of many visits to the "customers" toilet.
I sit in a cell with my shoes outside.
"In case you hang yourself with the laces"
Well whatever.
I wait. And wait. And wait.
The door opens.
"Your solicitor's on the phone"
My solicitor, Julie has known me for seventeen years. She tells me to eat something. Lunch is on its way soon and she'll be there not long after.
In between lunch and frequent visits to the toilet I try to relax.Hours have passed. I was raided before 8am. It's now 2pm.
My solicitor arrives. Alan, or Detective Sargeant Piper to his friends, takes her aside for a chat about my mental health. I think he's trying to convince her I'm crazy. She's no dozer. He'll make fools of neither of us.
I tell Julie I know nothing about the fires in No2 Jerusalem St, and, with me being innocent the Police have no forensic evidence.
At 3pm the interviews begin. We will not finish till 8pm.
"What did you do that day?"
"I got up, I can't remember when. It was late. Afternoon sometime. I went into town. I got food. I came home.I said hello to the workmen at the front door of No2. I went inside. I went out the back and saw them dumping a huge pile of rubbish in the entry. I made my tea later on. I went for a walk late. I noticed that the windows of No2 were broken. I came back. I watched more TV. I had a bath and played music I went to bed."
"Did you hear any noise?"
"Its the Holyland there's always noise."
" Did you hear the fire brigade?"
"I was in the bath . I heard diesel engines. I thought it was the fire brigade coming to put out a eurobin."
"A what?", says Alan, feigning stupidity.
"Those big steel bins. They get burnt all the time."
"You didn't hear anything else?"
"I was playing loud music."
It's time to go over the evidence collected.
"What's this large tube of glue for?"
"It's general purpose, but it's perfect for round the bath. You've seen the sealant. It needs replaced."
"You haven't used it to seal up locks?"
"No"
"What about this superglue?"
"I have a house full of model kits. It's ideal for them. It's better than polystyrene cement. You've seen the large model tank stored in a biscuit tin I've been working on."
Neil, the evidence guy nods.
Now it's the yellow paint.
"That cream colour's for the living room floor. The others I found in skips or the entry. That large empty tub, turn it upside down.You see the coloured paint? I mount figures on it while I'm painting them."
"You haven't used these to paint X's on people's windows?"
"No"
"We'll be doing forensics on these. Will they match?"
"Well, paints can be very generic, but it's most unlikely."
" Can you tell us what this large stencil says?"Neill's feeling pompous.
"RICH SCUM GO HOME"
"What does that mean?"
" Well, let's see. I'm surrounded by people who've come up here for a three year long party, all the while abusing education. Look at my course. It's one of the best in the UK. It has a 50% non-attendance rate. These people come up here, go apeshit and you people do nothing about it. You just drive on by and legitimise their behaviour."
"What would you have us do?"
"I've spent all day in a cell called a "Drunk cell". There's an offence called "Drunk and Disorderly". Park a meat wagon in the Holylands, fill it up and process these people at the end of the night. They come up here, torment working class people and drive around in brand new cars that mummy and daddy bought them. And no, I didn't paintstripper their cars!!!"
Julie cuts in.
"I think we should take a break here. You're getting Quite upset."
"Thank's Julie. You're right. I just don't think I have anything to apologise for."
We take a break. Dinner arrives.It's suitably tasteless. The ordinary officers in the station are, I have to say, very decent to me.It must be refreshing for them to have a polite customer. Events in the interview room are of course most unpleasant. The whole business of being raided, arrested and grilled is increadibly threatening. The sense of ontological terror is overwelming.
While I eat chips my solicitor tells me the cops are on a fishing expedition. They have nothing. I know they're trying to pin all the resistance activity on me, as if a whole community isn't in revolt.
We have many breaks during the interviews. They're going on for hours. The cops are trying to trip me up or break me. I'm an innocent man. But they have to try don't they. My innocence or guilt is irrelevant. They need to make an example of someone.
More interviews. They've siezed the handbills I've been circulating with the address and phone number of Douglas Bailie, the landlord of No2 Jerusalen St on them. Later they'll caution me with harrassment for circulating his details and instruct me to take them off this website. They don't want me putting a list of his other properties in the area on here either or, for that matter, Declan Boyle's details. They seek to protect power from accountability.
"What can you tell us about these boots?"
"They're boots. they keep my feet dry in the rain and warm in the winter."
"We won't find any evidence on them?"
"I walked through the glass outside that house. I,ve done that with these trainers as well."
"Well, we'll have to confiscate them too"
They give me a pair of oversize plimsoles. Neill, feeling clever, says I look like Krusty the Clown. Beleive it or not, that wee boy has a psychology degree.
I'm finally released. Julie gives me a lift home. It's just as well. I'd have had to trudge through the rain in Krusty the Clown Plimsoles on a wet November night.
The next day I see the article in the South Belfast News. The fake residents group have been stitching up their neighbours. Go figure.
Postscript.
This happened in November. It's now the end of march and the cops still have my computer. They needn't pretend they're holding it as part of an investigation. They're trying to
silence me.
I went back twice to be reinterviewed. They had nothing to put to me. The second time Neill, the Krusty the Clown guy, told me they'd be holding my computer. I said why don't you copy the hard drive and return it to me. He answers with some words of wisdom.
"You can buy a new hard drive for a couple of hundred quid."
"A...couple ..of hundred..quid..?"
The couple next to me are sniggering
"Well, Neill why don't you lend me a couple of hundred quid?"
"No" His smile's slipping away.
"I didn't think so."
"Well I'm not burning down houses in the Holyland"
Calmly I say " Neither am I"
His smile's gone now.
"Am I free to go?"
"Yes you're free to go"
We part company. Now I'm Smiling.
"Mister Murray Hurry Up"
I'm rushing to the door.
"We have a warrant to search the place.You can stay, but if you interfere you'll be removed. Do you understand?"
"OK"
The uniforms go about their work and the first plain clothes introduces herself.
"I'm Sylvia"
She sounds like a social worker.
Her partner, Alan, chimes in.
"This situation's got out of control. It's got to stop."
I'm feeling patronised.
"We'll look after you" Says Sylvia, "We're your guardian angels."
Alarm bells are going off in my head.
I look around to see my computer being taken out the front door.
I go into the kitchen. Every tin of yellow paint is being opened.
"What are you looking for?"
A uniform shows me the warrant.
" Orange/yellow paint, brake fluid boots."
I'm not thinking straight because they're siezing a lot more than that.
"We're taking your swords", says Alan,"until this is all over.
They're taking my antique swords. Even the wooden training swords I made myself are going.
"Leave me the baseball bat"
"No, it's going too."
"How am I supposed to defend myself?"
"If your house is attacked just call us
"You won't get here in time"
"Yes we will"
They're taking the piss. I'd be dead before I got through to the station.
Alan's prattling again.
"If this doesn't stop someone's going to get killed here"
They don't know the half of it
"You know why we're here. These bin fires have got to stop."
"You think I'm in the frame"
"The dogs in the street know you did it. You're out of control. people are afraid of you."
He's pouring it on like hot butter.
Sylvia approaches me.
"We're arresting you on suspicion of arson with intent to endanger life. You do not have to say anything, but anything you do not say, but reveal later can be held against you in a court of law."
"Can I take my medication?"
"We'll take it with us Our Doctor can administer it."
I put my tablets into a bag.
We're about to go. I need to get dressed.
"Where are my boots?"
"They've been siezed"
I put on my trainers.
"We have to put cuffs on you"
" Front or back?"
"Back"
They're uncomfortable. They make it difficult to squeeze into the Police car, and I have to sit forward in the seat as we drive to the station.
The Holding cell has piss on the floor.I shake with cold and fear while I munch on a mars bar.
After a while they take me for processing. They take my wallet, my gloves , my hat, my belt. They let me keep the bounty bar.
As the sargeant's taking my details my bowels are about to burst.
"I can't hold it sarge!!"
"OK just run"
I make it barely in time and squat above a stainless bowl pulling my cheeks apart while the world falls ouy of my backside. It's the first of many visits to the "customers" toilet.
I sit in a cell with my shoes outside.
"In case you hang yourself with the laces"
Well whatever.
I wait. And wait. And wait.
The door opens.
"Your solicitor's on the phone"
My solicitor, Julie has known me for seventeen years. She tells me to eat something. Lunch is on its way soon and she'll be there not long after.
In between lunch and frequent visits to the toilet I try to relax.Hours have passed. I was raided before 8am. It's now 2pm.
My solicitor arrives. Alan, or Detective Sargeant Piper to his friends, takes her aside for a chat about my mental health. I think he's trying to convince her I'm crazy. She's no dozer. He'll make fools of neither of us.
I tell Julie I know nothing about the fires in No2 Jerusalem St, and, with me being innocent the Police have no forensic evidence.
At 3pm the interviews begin. We will not finish till 8pm.
"What did you do that day?"
"I got up, I can't remember when. It was late. Afternoon sometime. I went into town. I got food. I came home.I said hello to the workmen at the front door of No2. I went inside. I went out the back and saw them dumping a huge pile of rubbish in the entry. I made my tea later on. I went for a walk late. I noticed that the windows of No2 were broken. I came back. I watched more TV. I had a bath and played music I went to bed."
"Did you hear any noise?"
"Its the Holyland there's always noise."
" Did you hear the fire brigade?"
"I was in the bath . I heard diesel engines. I thought it was the fire brigade coming to put out a eurobin."
"A what?", says Alan, feigning stupidity.
"Those big steel bins. They get burnt all the time."
"You didn't hear anything else?"
"I was playing loud music."
It's time to go over the evidence collected.
"What's this large tube of glue for?"
"It's general purpose, but it's perfect for round the bath. You've seen the sealant. It needs replaced."
"You haven't used it to seal up locks?"
"No"
"What about this superglue?"
"I have a house full of model kits. It's ideal for them. It's better than polystyrene cement. You've seen the large model tank stored in a biscuit tin I've been working on."
Neil, the evidence guy nods.
Now it's the yellow paint.
"That cream colour's for the living room floor. The others I found in skips or the entry. That large empty tub, turn it upside down.You see the coloured paint? I mount figures on it while I'm painting them."
"You haven't used these to paint X's on people's windows?"
"No"
"We'll be doing forensics on these. Will they match?"
"Well, paints can be very generic, but it's most unlikely."
" Can you tell us what this large stencil says?"Neill's feeling pompous.
"RICH SCUM GO HOME"
"What does that mean?"
" Well, let's see. I'm surrounded by people who've come up here for a three year long party, all the while abusing education. Look at my course. It's one of the best in the UK. It has a 50% non-attendance rate. These people come up here, go apeshit and you people do nothing about it. You just drive on by and legitimise their behaviour."
"What would you have us do?"
"I've spent all day in a cell called a "Drunk cell". There's an offence called "Drunk and Disorderly". Park a meat wagon in the Holylands, fill it up and process these people at the end of the night. They come up here, torment working class people and drive around in brand new cars that mummy and daddy bought them. And no, I didn't paintstripper their cars!!!"
Julie cuts in.
"I think we should take a break here. You're getting Quite upset."
"Thank's Julie. You're right. I just don't think I have anything to apologise for."
We take a break. Dinner arrives.It's suitably tasteless. The ordinary officers in the station are, I have to say, very decent to me.It must be refreshing for them to have a polite customer. Events in the interview room are of course most unpleasant. The whole business of being raided, arrested and grilled is increadibly threatening. The sense of ontological terror is overwelming.
While I eat chips my solicitor tells me the cops are on a fishing expedition. They have nothing. I know they're trying to pin all the resistance activity on me, as if a whole community isn't in revolt.
We have many breaks during the interviews. They're going on for hours. The cops are trying to trip me up or break me. I'm an innocent man. But they have to try don't they. My innocence or guilt is irrelevant. They need to make an example of someone.
More interviews. They've siezed the handbills I've been circulating with the address and phone number of Douglas Bailie, the landlord of No2 Jerusalen St on them. Later they'll caution me with harrassment for circulating his details and instruct me to take them off this website. They don't want me putting a list of his other properties in the area on here either or, for that matter, Declan Boyle's details. They seek to protect power from accountability.
"What can you tell us about these boots?"
"They're boots. they keep my feet dry in the rain and warm in the winter."
"We won't find any evidence on them?"
"I walked through the glass outside that house. I,ve done that with these trainers as well."
"Well, we'll have to confiscate them too"
They give me a pair of oversize plimsoles. Neill, feeling clever, says I look like Krusty the Clown. Beleive it or not, that wee boy has a psychology degree.
I'm finally released. Julie gives me a lift home. It's just as well. I'd have had to trudge through the rain in Krusty the Clown Plimsoles on a wet November night.
The next day I see the article in the South Belfast News. The fake residents group have been stitching up their neighbours. Go figure.
Postscript.
This happened in November. It's now the end of march and the cops still have my computer. They needn't pretend they're holding it as part of an investigation. They're trying to
silence me.
I went back twice to be reinterviewed. They had nothing to put to me. The second time Neill, the Krusty the Clown guy, told me they'd be holding my computer. I said why don't you copy the hard drive and return it to me. He answers with some words of wisdom.
"You can buy a new hard drive for a couple of hundred quid."
"A...couple ..of hundred..quid..?"
The couple next to me are sniggering
"Well, Neill why don't you lend me a couple of hundred quid?"
"No" His smile's slipping away.
"I didn't think so."
"Well I'm not burning down houses in the Holyland"
Calmly I say " Neither am I"
His smile's gone now.
"Am I free to go?"
"Yes you're free to go"
We part company. Now I'm Smiling.
Creepy Critters prowl the Entries
I was in the yard getting firewood.It was 10.45pm. When I heard their voices I went into silent mode. They were checking my perspex roof and commenting on the "second house down", mine.As they were walking away I opened the yard door and said,
"What may I do for you gentlemen?"
"How may you...Oh!...My friend here owns the house next door(meaning no2) and he was showing me how he did his extention."
This sounds like bullshit. I'll make sure the police are informed. If people are casing my house I want it noted. Two men in their forties aren't going to be burglars. Something sinister is afoot. I don't expect the police to protect me. But I do expect something very nasty to happen. Perhaps Arson With Intent To Endanger Life?
"What may I do for you gentlemen?"
"How may you...Oh!...My friend here owns the house next door(meaning no2) and he was showing me how he did his extention."
This sounds like bullshit. I'll make sure the police are informed. If people are casing my house I want it noted. Two men in their forties aren't going to be burglars. Something sinister is afoot. I don't expect the police to protect me. But I do expect something very nasty to happen. Perhaps Arson With Intent To Endanger Life?
Police cover up alert: suspected sexual ssault in 16 carmel St
On the night of Monday 12th of March something terrible happened to a female student in 16 carmel St. THe house was subsequently sealed off for two days by the police. Forensics and detectives were busy. The Police and Queens refuse to release a statement. Detective sargeant Sylvia Hamilton told me that the police have no obligation to tell the public what crime is alleged to have happened. In other words Cover Up is the order of the day. We know that Police were asking neighbours if they heard a young woman screaming. So what ever happened, it must have been truly awful. Otherwise why cover it up?
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Residents Meeting
The cops yesterday returned my swords to me. They've finally concluded that I'm not a madman. I could have told them that anyway, but, you know, they just won't listen.
"No" says Sylvia the detective, "You're not getting your computer back."
Well, I decided to just say
"Fuck 'em",
and start posting from an internet cafe. I feel like sending them the bill. The least these fools can do is pay up after trying to silence me.
There was a residents meeting recently. It was the first we've had in five months. Naturally I waited till it was nearly over before I slipped in and dropped my little bombshell.
"this article in the paper claims that a residents group in the Holylands has been informing on their neighbours. I say informing, but how would they know who the resistance are. After all I don't know whose doing what."
"It could have been Rugby Road residents group or that one from the Lower Ormeau that meets in this church."
They know they're in deep trouble.
"I've some other questions to ask."
They've got that sinking feeling. They're reading the copy of the South Belfast News from November that I've passed round. Some are confused, some are outraged, some are terrified that I'll go ballistic.
Now I'm upping the ante.
"Is there a group called the Holyland Residents Group?"
"No"
"Whose the chairperson of this group?"
"Katrina"
She's not there.
"Then why is David Farrell going to the press and saying he's chairman of the Holyland Residents Group?"
He's making excuses. If Katrina's not available and the press call him, what's he to do?"
" Tell them the truth. You don't speak for this community. And you should not tell the world what a great job you think Queens are doing and how succesful you think the warden's scheme has been."
"You have to say nice things about them or they won't get their funding renewed."
"Who?"
"The Wardens"
" Well, I've a lot of respect for the wardens. I think they're very good people, but they'll admit that they can't get the universities, and I've discussed this with you",
I look toward Gordon Douglas, the man from Queens,
"at the police meeting. They can't get the universities to take meaningful action"
Gordon's nodding. He remembers the meeting well. He didn't have a good time.
I continue.
"It's a terrible thing to have to say"
They can see I'm going for the money shot.
"And no, I don't endorse it, but the only thing that makes a difference round here is direct action. Like it or not putting in windows, paintstrippering cars and painting X's on houses makes a difference"
"We can't support that" says Denise from the church.
"I don't endorse it, but it's made a difference."
"When?" says David Farrell" When has direct action made a difference?"
He walked right into it.
"You'll remember a young woman was sexually assaulted in Palestine Street in September. Well every window in that house was broken and those guys left pretty fast. Now I don't endorse it, but it worked.
"Well", says Denise, seeking the moral high ground. I would like to think that if someone saw a house being damaged they would call the police"
"It's one thing," I retort , "to report a crime. It's another thing to inform on your neighbours or, for that matter, stitch them up."
Time for the knockout blow.
" What's the name of this group?"
The Belfast Holyland Regeneration Association."
" This is not a residents group. If it was, the landlords would not have been coming to these meetings for a year and taking them over"
" But we got rid of them", says Denise.
" It took a year and a half and a hell of a fight. If this was a residents group they would have been told to get lost. There are people who don't live here, who have a home address and a term time address who can come to these meetings and vote"
"They're not here"
" If they wanted to, they could be, and they're not residents."
"What have You done?" Says David Farrell.
" I've stood up to students. I've written articles. I've given radio interviews and not used my full name because I'm not a self publicist. And I don't pretend to speak for this community."
"Neither do I"
" Then why are you telling the press that you are the chairman of the Holyland Residents Group?"
He has no answer to that.
" Where is the community?"
There are nine residents in the room.
" This group does not speak for what remains of this community.There are less than 200 residents left. You have regenerated nothing. Things have got worse over the past four years. The community is no longer sustainable."
"Well", says Denise, "If you want to propose changes you can come to the AGM next month."
They want to know why I will not go on the committee. I tell them I can acheive nothing on it. They agree that one voice can make no difference in that forum.
They Wrap it up. I leave knowing that I've said my piece and kept my cool the whole time.
The community has turned on itself. It had to happen. It was inevitable that people would start stitching up their neighbours. At least now it's out in the open and some people are squirming.
"No" says Sylvia the detective, "You're not getting your computer back."
Well, I decided to just say
"Fuck 'em",
and start posting from an internet cafe. I feel like sending them the bill. The least these fools can do is pay up after trying to silence me.
There was a residents meeting recently. It was the first we've had in five months. Naturally I waited till it was nearly over before I slipped in and dropped my little bombshell.
"this article in the paper claims that a residents group in the Holylands has been informing on their neighbours. I say informing, but how would they know who the resistance are. After all I don't know whose doing what."
"It could have been Rugby Road residents group or that one from the Lower Ormeau that meets in this church."
They know they're in deep trouble.
"I've some other questions to ask."
They've got that sinking feeling. They're reading the copy of the South Belfast News from November that I've passed round. Some are confused, some are outraged, some are terrified that I'll go ballistic.
Now I'm upping the ante.
"Is there a group called the Holyland Residents Group?"
"No"
"Whose the chairperson of this group?"
"Katrina"
She's not there.
"Then why is David Farrell going to the press and saying he's chairman of the Holyland Residents Group?"
He's making excuses. If Katrina's not available and the press call him, what's he to do?"
" Tell them the truth. You don't speak for this community. And you should not tell the world what a great job you think Queens are doing and how succesful you think the warden's scheme has been."
"You have to say nice things about them or they won't get their funding renewed."
"Who?"
"The Wardens"
" Well, I've a lot of respect for the wardens. I think they're very good people, but they'll admit that they can't get the universities, and I've discussed this with you",
I look toward Gordon Douglas, the man from Queens,
"at the police meeting. They can't get the universities to take meaningful action"
Gordon's nodding. He remembers the meeting well. He didn't have a good time.
I continue.
"It's a terrible thing to have to say"
They can see I'm going for the money shot.
"And no, I don't endorse it, but the only thing that makes a difference round here is direct action. Like it or not putting in windows, paintstrippering cars and painting X's on houses makes a difference"
"We can't support that" says Denise from the church.
"I don't endorse it, but it's made a difference."
"When?" says David Farrell" When has direct action made a difference?"
He walked right into it.
"You'll remember a young woman was sexually assaulted in Palestine Street in September. Well every window in that house was broken and those guys left pretty fast. Now I don't endorse it, but it worked.
"Well", says Denise, seeking the moral high ground. I would like to think that if someone saw a house being damaged they would call the police"
"It's one thing," I retort , "to report a crime. It's another thing to inform on your neighbours or, for that matter, stitch them up."
Time for the knockout blow.
" What's the name of this group?"
The Belfast Holyland Regeneration Association."
" This is not a residents group. If it was, the landlords would not have been coming to these meetings for a year and taking them over"
" But we got rid of them", says Denise.
" It took a year and a half and a hell of a fight. If this was a residents group they would have been told to get lost. There are people who don't live here, who have a home address and a term time address who can come to these meetings and vote"
"They're not here"
" If they wanted to, they could be, and they're not residents."
"What have You done?" Says David Farrell.
" I've stood up to students. I've written articles. I've given radio interviews and not used my full name because I'm not a self publicist. And I don't pretend to speak for this community."
"Neither do I"
" Then why are you telling the press that you are the chairman of the Holyland Residents Group?"
He has no answer to that.
" Where is the community?"
There are nine residents in the room.
" This group does not speak for what remains of this community.There are less than 200 residents left. You have regenerated nothing. Things have got worse over the past four years. The community is no longer sustainable."
"Well", says Denise, "If you want to propose changes you can come to the AGM next month."
They want to know why I will not go on the committee. I tell them I can acheive nothing on it. They agree that one voice can make no difference in that forum.
They Wrap it up. I leave knowing that I've said my piece and kept my cool the whole time.
The community has turned on itself. It had to happen. It was inevitable that people would start stitching up their neighbours. At least now it's out in the open and some people are squirming.
Friday, November 24, 2006
Service Interruption
The Police have confiscated my computer, so I am using that of my solicitor to make this post. I have had to make some changes to prevous posts and delete one in order to satisfy the protectors of property and power. (Almost) normal service will be resumed as soon as they return my computer. Incidentally they have not given me an inventory of siezed items. For what it's worth, it really is quite humiliating to have all your shoes taken away and be given a pair of oversize plimsoles to get you home in the rain.
If they wanted to, they could copy the entire contents of my hard drive to another machine and return my computer. What are the chances of that happening?
If they wanted to, they could copy the entire contents of my hard drive to another machine and return my computer. What are the chances of that happening?
Tuesday, November 07, 2006
We are A Lesser Class of Person
I want to contrast the police treatment meted out to residents with the free licence given to "students" to wreak havoc on Halloween or for that matter any other day of the year.
The police drove around in large numbers on Halloween, often with cameras mounted on their armoured landrovers. They took no meaningful action in the face of rampant criminality. The streets were filled with drunk and disorderly behaviour. The police stood by and watched. Residents homes were targetted with fireworks. The police did nothing. Till 6am we had mob rule. The police legitimised it.
Compare this with my own experience during the week. I was, as usual, chopping wood in the entry. A police van pulled up.
"What are you doing?"
"Chopping wood"
"We've had a complaint from long term residents about the banging"
No residents complained. It was students
"Where did you get that sheet of board?"
"In a skip."
"Well that stuff's worth £40 a sheet"
It was worth £20, but I wasn't going to argue the point
"I've talked to you before about taking stuff out of skips"
Indeed he had. He'd told me I wasn't going to get arrested for it.
"Well officer I know it's technically illegal, but-"
"It's not technically illegal . It's theft."
"If it's in the skip and it's covered in rubbish I don't think they want it"
He wasn't going to surrender the point.
"Show me where the rest of this is"
I show him my yard full of wood.
"You're stocking up"
"Winter's coming"
" If we're called out again about this we'll be taking action. Do you understand?"
"Yes"
" And I want all that mess cleared up"
" OK"
"What's your name again?"
I tell him. His partner wants in on the act. She's getting out her notebook.
"No", he tells her, "leave it".
They go, then park their car in the next entry and watch me shovel the rest of the wood into a bag for later use.
Could you possibly imagine them treating a "student" like this? You've got to be fucking joking.
Ever since Robert Peel the police have existed to keep the "lesser class of person" in their place while protecting the prerogatives of the "better class of person" (You know who I mean. Think money.) to do whatever the fuck they want, especially when it means stamping on the little people.
Last night a police car pulled up alongside me.
"Yes, It's firewood"
"Where did you get it?"
"Skip"
There's a pause while I glare at them, then,
"That's OK"
I walk on knowing that no "student" carrying fencing from roadworks, or a yard door, or a garden railing or a bollard will ever be stopped.
The police drove around in large numbers on Halloween, often with cameras mounted on their armoured landrovers. They took no meaningful action in the face of rampant criminality. The streets were filled with drunk and disorderly behaviour. The police stood by and watched. Residents homes were targetted with fireworks. The police did nothing. Till 6am we had mob rule. The police legitimised it.
Compare this with my own experience during the week. I was, as usual, chopping wood in the entry. A police van pulled up.
"What are you doing?"
"Chopping wood"
"We've had a complaint from long term residents about the banging"
No residents complained. It was students
"Where did you get that sheet of board?"
"In a skip."
"Well that stuff's worth £40 a sheet"
It was worth £20, but I wasn't going to argue the point
"I've talked to you before about taking stuff out of skips"
Indeed he had. He'd told me I wasn't going to get arrested for it.
"Well officer I know it's technically illegal, but-"
"It's not technically illegal . It's theft."
"If it's in the skip and it's covered in rubbish I don't think they want it"
He wasn't going to surrender the point.
"Show me where the rest of this is"
I show him my yard full of wood.
"You're stocking up"
"Winter's coming"
" If we're called out again about this we'll be taking action. Do you understand?"
"Yes"
" And I want all that mess cleared up"
" OK"
"What's your name again?"
I tell him. His partner wants in on the act. She's getting out her notebook.
"No", he tells her, "leave it".
They go, then park their car in the next entry and watch me shovel the rest of the wood into a bag for later use.
Could you possibly imagine them treating a "student" like this? You've got to be fucking joking.
Ever since Robert Peel the police have existed to keep the "lesser class of person" in their place while protecting the prerogatives of the "better class of person" (You know who I mean. Think money.) to do whatever the fuck they want, especially when it means stamping on the little people.
Last night a police car pulled up alongside me.
"Yes, It's firewood"
"Where did you get it?"
"Skip"
There's a pause while I glare at them, then,
"That's OK"
I walk on knowing that no "student" carrying fencing from roadworks, or a yard door, or a garden railing or a bollard will ever be stopped.
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