London Olympics: Armageddon ! Nuked & Ghengis Fokner II British Occupied Ireland

This is a pixellated version of an artist's idea of what Ghengis Fokner II's  exterior form will look like before he takes a running jump at a certain moment in time. He follows in the footsteps of his horsey predecessor who introduced internment last time in British Occupied Ireland and broke his neck while out fox hunting. Ghengis Fokner II has a bad back as a result of almost breaking his neck too while fox hunting. Currently the unelected English despot in Ireland is angry with the Irish natives because he has discovered the meaning of life and frankly it wasn't what he had hoped for. As a result he has resorted to perverting the course of justice in Ireland, kidnapping a highly respected Irish woman, interning her without licence, enabled the disappearance of a Royal pardon and torturing her in solitary confinement for more than a year now, along with other human rights activists to  ensure the destruction of a much touted peace process in Ireland

His sectarian, horsey, unionist friends, whom he has been cultivating for many years, to work within his bigoted British Tory Party, while happy with his sadism towards Irish political prisoners of conscience, cannot however prevent  him from treating their loyal apprentice boys bands like shit, in order to bring them to the his state of British enlightenment. Daily he instructs them in the following manner "Followers of the Way of Ghengis Fokner, if you want to get the kind of understanding that accords with the monarchy, never be misled by others. Whether you're facing inward or facing outward, whatever you meet up with, just kill it! If you meet a fenian, kill the fenian. If you meet a me feiner, kill the me feiner. If you meet a taig, kill the taig. If you meet your parents, kill your parents. If you meet your kinfolk, kill your kinfolk. Then for the first time you will gain emancipation, will not be entangled with things, will pass freely anywhere you wish to go." He is also a great believer in discomfort, hence torture, solitary confinement  and internment without trial in British Occupied Ireland. He runs his establishment of British Occupied Ireland, rather like an English public school. Cold baths and rough games. Builds character he says.

“We interrupt our normal BBC News to bring you Armageddon” “Oh gawwd no! not bloody Armageddon, they said it was ‘Eastenders”says Richard, I know, I know, it's no laughing matter but there'a lot of talk about atom bombs at the Olympics and such lately, so I expect some of you are wondering what the Big One in Olympic London will really mean to you and your family. What will it be like to watch your loved ones in London getting incinerated or dying a slow death from radiation poisoning? And what happens after one dies a slow horrible death? Will it be oblivion ? or will it be rapture? Is there anything we can do about it then Richard I ask? Will we get any warning? Will millions of the Olympic Community in London die? Who's finger is actually on the nuke button these days? What about our Olympic Protest on the Thames, should we turn back and leave them to it ?

So what kind of precautions can Olympians take ? Put lots of bulk between you and any radioactivity is the answer. You can never get enough bulk. You will just have to form an orderly queue for your local Tube Station and find an abandoned gold-mine or something like that. Failing that huddle behind the closest available fat Londoner. Fat Londoners will all be reduced to bubbling pools of water you say? Well get digging then! Thats not very pleasant is it? Ok, right back to Perverted Justice in British Occupied ireland. Trouble is, I tend to wander off on tangents. Right where was I ?

Richard tells me some saucy anecdote about big girls with riding whips and being formerly strapped to the Queen’s bench in London. “You aren’t taking notes Bernie, that's the problem?” he says. “Well I would,” I say, “but to be honest it sounds like little Englander stuff to me Richard. You’ll have to do better than that if you want  the new generation to listen to you. English public schools, cold baths and rough games building British character sounds quaint to them. Times have changed Richard, English garter belts, corsets are all museum pieces now. I never cared much for these thong things of empire either. Piddling around with a one track British mind doesn't cut it anymore, Richard. "They can’t get enough penis ," he says, “Yes, that’s how they are these days Bernie." What are you talking about Richard ? women ? "Totally self-centred, worse than us in many ways. Olympian Armageddon !, London nuked! They wouldn’t care if you’d were  being bum-phucked by the Kray Twins quite frankly, though apparently only Ron was actually AC/DC.” Bloody hell Richard what are you on about, people are paying good money to see the Olympics, not to end up being bum-phucked by the Kray Twins in London? "Bit cheeky I know Bernie but what the fuck, it also gives me a chance to be the phony..ahem.. count, that I really am."

So listening to Richard is a bit like looking in the mirror. ”Perhaps living in Thailand too long, has made me a bit cynical, Richard.” "The whole bloody world is going through a phase if you ask me,” says Richard, “will it come out the other end is the question, more importantly will we come out the other end of Olympic London” “Yes, well, who knows? Good old Richard, same old pessimist I see. To explain about Thailand to someone who hasn’t lived there is not a good idea. I should stick to the safe stuff of course, food, climate but after15 years there, it's difficult not talk about about the feeling of freedom, the absence of Western hang-ups, the laissez-faire lifestyle ?"  "Probably not Bernie" Richard says, "People have seen too many TV documentaries about Thai bar girls."

 I could have replied with something about, 'isolating myself from civilization’ but even that wouldn’t be the whole truth but being candid has its limits. I tried to tell Richard why I moved to a remote Thai fishing village. How I hoped to lose myself, my Self, in such a place. I was tired of my own ego, fed up with sentences beginning with ‘I’, bored with greed..my own and other people’s. “And did you?” Richard asked. “Did I what?” “Get your ego docked into the cosmos or whatever?” “No, I didn't. I’m still me.” Olive arrives on deck!. Its the Lord's Day of rest from the London Olympic protest voyage on board the Galway Whooker.



2012Olympics OlympicLondon, Armageddon, British Occupied Ireland, Ghengis Fokner II, London Olympics, Nuked, Olympic, Olympic Games, Olympics, Olympics London

Olympics London : PHOR PHUKS SAKE ! SHARE IF U LIKE IT !

Saturday, May 19, 2012

Marian Price should be released immediately.

Today The Pensive Quill features guest writer Mick Hall who blogs atOrgansied Rage. Here he takes issue with the ongoing internment of the Irish republican political prisoner Marian Price.

After the British Viceroy in Ireland Owen Paterson revoked her licence last year, Irish republican Marian Price has now been held without trialfor over a year. Never mind from day one this decision was surrounded in controversy as the British government were unable to provide the license claiming it has been lost. This is not a small matter as her lawyers claim it no longer stands having been revoked, expressing his concern Daniel Holder, Deputy Director of the Committee on the Administration of Justice (CAJ) had this to say about Marian Prices case: 

The case of Marian Price is particularly striking, as on the same day a Judge released her on bail in May 2011, a government Minister returned her to prison. There are other due process issues in relation to this case, not least the fact she was given a pardon under the Royal Prerogative of Mercy. The NIO claims this document only related to Marian Price’s fixed term and not life sentence for which a licence applied. Her family contest that the pardon related to both, and hence believe that the NIO had no licence to revoke. It would seem a relatively simple matter for the NIO to produce the document to settle the matter. However, apparently the pardon and all copies of it have gone ‘missing.’ Given that it could possibly change a decision as to whether a person is deprived of their liberty, one would think an investigation would have taken place as to how and when the information disappeared. CAJ has been told that the NIO have decided not to investigate this on the grounds that the pardon is ‘not relevant’ to this case.

Whatever the truth of this, the charges on which Marian was first arrested have now been dismissed, as the British judicial system in Ireland failed to submit the necessary papers that would have allowed the judge hearing the case to consider its merits. Judge McElholm reached the conclusion the prosecution had long enough to produce the necessary papers to the defence, yet failed to do so and threw out the case against Ms Price and her co defendants.

Yet still the Tory Viceroy Owen Paterson refuses to release Marian from prison. She remains imprisoned without charge or trial, which is internment by most civilised people's standards. To make matters worse she has been held in solitary confinement since she was first arrested and imprisoned, first at the top security Maghaberry jail and since February this year in Hydebank prison.

Understandably aged 57, solitary confinement without a tariff;  and a lack of exercise have taken its toll on Marian, according to her husband Jerry McGlinchey his wife's health has deteriorated rapidly since she arrived in Hydebank:

Marian is so ill that she had to be taken to a recent visit in a wheelchair. Her hair is falling out, she has lost a lot of weight, and her arthritis has got worse. She is suffering from severe depression after a year in solitary without any release date. The doctors in Hydebank have told us she's not fit to be in jail, according to them she should either be in hospital or at home.

To oppose her continued imprisonment and call for her release does not mean one is a supporter of Marian’s political beliefs, nor the organisation she belonged to at the time of her arrest. Her detention is a travesty of justice and harks back to the dark days of British rule in Ireland. You cannot have one law for some and a different law for political opponents. Such is the road to hell. If the history of the British in Ireland proves one thing, for justice to succeed it must be conducted before a judge and jury and in open court for all to see, not behind closed doors on the signature of a British politician's pen.

If the British governments representatives in the six counties believed Marian Price had committed a crime they should have processed the charges in the appropriate time period and left it for court of law to decide. This they failed to do as was clearly demonstrated by Judge McElholm when he threw out the case last week.

It is high time Marian Price was released from prison, she would not be going any where but home, if at a later date the judicial authorities in the six counties conclude they have a viable case against her, all they need do is knock on her door, something they had no difficulty doing a year ago.

To keep this sick and ageing woman in jail any longer is a judicial obscenity which reeks of bad law. Marian Price should be released immediately.

Olympics London : Galway Whooker Protest with Genitalia & Strip Searching Security Issues

 international | rights and freedoms | other press  Saturday May 19, 2012 00:42 by BrianClarkeNUJ - AllVoices 

Binn Paidin

“Our genitals exist as a source of permanent access to pleasure.” Michel Houellebecq

So as we sail past Goa in the Indian Ocean and its hot on deck Olive and Pui are giving me a bit of a rub down, chattering away to each other the way women do on such occasions, though I’m fecked if I understand a word they are saying I

LONDON HUMAN RIGHTS BRITISH OCCUPIED IRELAND

“Our genitals exist as a source of permanent access to pleasure.” Michel Houellebecq

So as we sail past Goa in the Indian Ocean and its hot on deck Olive and Pui are giving me a bit of a rub down, chattering away to each other the way women do on such occasions, though I’m fecked if I understand a word they are saying I enjoy listening, the babble is always re-assuring. Its one of those better moments between the sexes and somehow three seems a good number albeit mostly always temporary. A lot of westerners assume particularly women that Asians are easier to deal with than women from other cultures.
They think for example fiery Latin types would be more trouble than what they see as submissive Asians. Bollix ! they are all trouble. Anyway I seem to have a bit more clarity, while having a lazy massage and later some sex for hours in such circumstance.

I can't say what made me fall in love with Asia, a woman's voice that drugged me or the intensity of some of its colors, taste, even rain. We are going to find nothing like that in the filthy rain of London Olympics. They say whatever you're looking for you will find in Asia that you will understand a lot in a few minutes but the rest must be lived. Smell:is the first thing that will hit you promising everything decadent in exchange for your soul. With the heat your shirt is straightaway a rag and you can hardly remember your name but as evening closes in as it is now on deck there's a breeze and the sea is beautiful and only pleasure matters.

For some it was the pipe of opium, others the touch of a woman who might whisper she loves you. Then it happens all over again as you knew it would. Nothing is ever the same again and losing that magic is the beginning of death. I behave badly, I have every intention of behaving badly this massage with Olive and Pui is exactly the kind of situation where we all behave badly. Certain western feminists will criticize me but more often than not these two 'submissive ladies' will be sitting on my face, quite aggressively I might add as they will with one another. The Ying and the Yang of it is deceptive, its not always what it seems. They say there is a ghost in every house and if you can make peace with it will stay quiet not so the beast in us all. Scratch me and I'll want to scratch back, under this thin veneer of civility lies a savage. What about you?

Something else is always needed with me to fill the existential void. Sex, sailing and motorbikes are the answer for me at least for a good while.So with this trip to London for the Olympic protest I will be spending a couple of weeks on the boat. Olive, Richard, Pui and me. I'm an anti-social bastard at the best of times so it's best for everybody if I either make myself scarce or make sure I enjoy myself. Sailing like a good motorbike spin clears the system. After a few of days fighting a headwind its nice to relax on deck. Sure a state of enlightened celibacy and subjugated primal urges is a nice change sometimes for the needs of literature? But if only life was that simple, the primal urges always seem persist. I'll be honest, I have tried a wank now and then but it's not anything like feeling warm moist flesh around my hard-on, is it bhoys? Single handed sailing, blowing with the wind is great but a long time without a decent blowjob or oral sex puts me in the doldrums.

Michel Houellebecq's quote above “Our genitals exist as a source of permanent access to pleasure.” is basically true I believe, even though he is something of a shit-stirrer, giving offence for it’s own sake. His take on ‘The Possibility of an Island’ is I believe very relevant to contemporary Ireland with the the death of Catholicism and the ensuing vacuum its a relevant voice crying out against spiritual and moral decadence of British occupied Ireland and indeed the whole island. I’m flip flopping a lot on Ireland recently and in 4 or 5 minds about all of it as I believe is current Irish realpolitik. This Olympic Protest on the Thames is also about pushing the old envelope and stirring things up. These arrogant British Tories need a good kick in the arse from time to time and the Irish are the ones to do it. Anyway, what do they expect, interning without trial, Irish political prisoners of conscience, in their own land and torturing them as they have done with Marian Price for more than a year now in solitary confinement

Frankly I am disgusted with humanity recently, particularly these arrogant rich British Tories in this new-age of multiculturalism..These are strange times for many living fragmented lives, connected only by TV and the Internet with an absence of humanity and Government infiltrated human rights groups. "Do you actually have a point of view on this Richard or are you busy playing with yourself again?" I titter.

"Who me sir?" "Yes you Richard, what's it with the Sir all of a sudden?. Have you been paying attention, Richard?" " Well yes and no, I mean there is no conclusion because what your saying is a conclusion in a way isn’t it? he says out of the side of his mouth. "You sound tired and weak to me Richard, have you got any feelings in you at all man ? Where are you off to after this trip then? Who are you really, Richard? What’s going on in your head, really? Or are you just thinking about your next meaningless, ephemeral sexual encounter or is there more to you, than meets the eye?" I berate him. "Look Paddy I'm English and I am 60 years old, and my mind was a seething mass of great ideas and unrealized dreams when I was young." "Leave the condescending Paddy out Richard, what has English or Irish for that matter got to do with it. My name is Bernie and it does seem strange to me that you were actually young once and you can put that in your pipe and smoke it!.".

Phuck I'm beginning to sound like one of those Camus's novels again or 'The Outsider', voted the most significant "watershed" book for men which was very influential when I was young and vulnerable.'The Outsider' was written when he was living in a sleeping bag on Hampstead Heath in London Like us Irish strangers in a strange land, social outcasts, amazing he or us survived. Wilson's 'The Outsider' is about other outsiders, famous writers and artists who saw things differently. Basically he was saying it's alright to be eccentric and you are not alone. This was great news at the time. It became a guide for the young, bohemian, artists or James Dean types.

As the people such as Richard and much of Ireland grow colder, deeper understanding is required instead of constantly turning to my computer or TV. Spend evenings with Olive and Pui even if its sometime just sex or physical is better than just loading a new programme,: "Are you lonely, are you lost? The voice console can say." Press submit. "Hallo, I know you have been feeling tired. I bring you love with deeper understanding. Hallo, you're unhappy, aren't you. I bring you love and deeper understanding." When family found me, I was really lonely and lost without my little black box as I pick up the phone and go, Submit. "Hallo, I know that you've been feeling tired. I bring you love and deeper understanding. Hallo, I know you're unhappy. I bring you love and deeper understanding." I turn to my computer as a friend. I really do need deeper understanding. Got me deeper understanding. from a new podcast by rswipe. Imagine what more than a year in solitary British confinement without trial is like, after a hunger strike of 200 days being force-fed or have we entirely lost the bit of nature in us and our humanity ? "No respect Richard." I say. 'Exactly Bernie" he says "The world has gone mad." I do tend to go on a bit, don't I ? 

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Incorrect Video Id [STBpc3rxrT] Bean Pháidín - le John Beag

LONDON OLYMPICS : Galway Whooker Penetrates Olympic Security Getting Head Onboard

 international | arts and media | other press  Friday May 18, 2012 06:33 by BrianClarkeNUJ - AllVoices 

Joyce Country Disgrace O'Malley

“The hills are feckin alive.” Sings Richard “Very nice Dickie, could've used you when the wind dropped last night. Olive had the boat bobbin at anchor last night after the storm. Poor woman stretched, jib ripped, boom bent and a bilge full of engine oil. Still happy to be among our own kind again but to get to London for the Thames Olympic protest we must press on to Somalia.

LONDON HUMAN RIGHTS BRITISH OCCUPIED IRELAND

“The hills are feckin alive.” Sings Richard “Very nice Dickie, could've used you when the wind dropped last night. Olive had the boat bobbin at anchor last night after the storm. Poor woman stretched, jib ripped, boom bent and a bilge full of engine oil. Still happy to be among our own kind again but to get to London for the Thames Olympic protest we must press on to Somalia. We'll be movin around a bit, it would help if you spoke Urdu as we pass India on the way and we've got to get a Somali class in later, to understand what them pirates are on about. Maybe I’m losing my sanity but I can’t stand being around people too long anymore. I find it confusing, what with half the time I don’t know if I’m in Manila or Ceylon or Goa or bloody Mogadishu. Mind you writing addles my brain especially this rubbish, that’s why.

Manila is where I met Olive and where she is from. It was mostly our base but we often went over to Macau, Hong Kong and Jakarta where we did a bit of business. If Manila got too hectic we would ramble over to Langkawi. We've been lucky this trip so far, what with the monsoons and no typhoons, Colombo coming up on the right was always good for a few laughs. I've forgotten who the Yanks were bombing last time I was there. Basically Britain still wants whites only in a lot of these places but they don't have the clout anymore and the Yanks have taken over from them. “It’s a bloody mess." Richard says.”There’s a lot of them shouldn’t be allowed to breed at all. If you ask me some of them should be castrated or shot.” You've got to be joking Richard, its their bloody country you know.” I tell him. "There you go with your Irish republican stuff again." he complains." Now Richard you wouldn't want your wife to hear you talking like that, would you/" That shuts him up for a while. Tell you what why don't you let the women make a nice sandwich for you between them. Pui told me she wanted to study medicine. ‘Why not?’ I asked. "I no good. I very bad stupid girl." "Some attitude!" I said. "Just because you wore a veil in Jakarta and like sex, doesn’t mean you can’t be a doctor."

So the time has finally come to up anchor and rejoin the western world again. These distractions and side-trips are all very well but life and times are moving on and we have to go for it. For the immediate future anyway. So we are heading to Somalia but a week of Olive has left me knackered. She can’t get enough and she always wants to play with it some more, after she’s drained me dry. What does she think I am ? a machine ?. I’m a bit long in the tooth for all that nonsense and she's getting on my nerves rabbiting on about reality shows.She finally fell asleep and I was back to Pui's arms. She forgave me as usual and said no more about it after I pumped her bilge out. Next thing I hear Richard in the bridge, shouting down the phone at somebody. Sounds like he’s having a bit of trouble with his bank. He’s pissed off because they put him on hold for 30 minutes when he called the wrong number in Bangladesh and then he gets into an argument with somebody in Mumbai, who transfers him to Goa, who serenade him with the Sound of Music. Eventually he puts the phone to his arse and lets rip a colossal fart.

“Yes but not right now, Pui I think I’ll go and get Olive to help you out, besides I want to give you both a shagging." Talk about feckin strength and femininity! These bloody women are insatiable, I don’t mind too much but they have to help me out and give me a breather now and then while I watch. Which reminds me of my first sandwich in my misspent youth, when the lads and I went over to Dublin for a dirty weekend. We usually took to the races too. One time we had been on the piss all day and we took a group of young wans back to the Shelbourne There was the park outside and I ended up under some bushes, with a couple of women from Galway called Maureen and Cathleen, where my friends stumbled across us later as we all had a great laugh. We were also gripped by Bono and his band, who were just making a name for themselves. It wasn't just his music, he had dedicated himself to relieving world suffering.

When we heard he was giving all his money away to Africa, we were touched. Course he knew a lot of politicians and he could handle the media. But now I hear the faint sound of coconut shells? Can it be St. Bozo riding back from Rome with bottles of Holy Water and a hard drive of pardons with dispensations from his mate the Pope? But wasn't he in Washington with his pal Bill Gates of Microsoft a few days ago, discussing tax free donations. Can their advisers be trusted? What if Bill and Bono are targeted by unscrupulous opportunists? Of course what they really need is someone reliable like me to ensure their money goes to the right people. I’ve had a bit of business experience including a few non-profit operations. So if you’re listening Bono and Bill feel free to contact me. I'll take all your money problems off your hands.

Suddenly, as my mind drifts I am back on one of those old tea clippers, those big beggars with sails as big as Croke Park, with the wind from the stern quarter.Every stitch of canvas is up, ropes and spars. How did they do it you may ask? How did they make their way through so much rope, wood and cordage? Here is a few reference points: 1, bowsprit; 2, bobstays, three pairs; 3, spritsail-gaffs, projectinig at each side of the bowsprit- the ropes at the extremities are jib-guys and flying jib-guys; 4, jib-boom; 5, martingale-stay, and below it the flying-jib martingale; 6, back-ropes; 7, flying jib-boom; 8, fore-stay, flying jib-stay and halyards; 9, fore-top-gallant-stay, jib-stay and halyards; 10, two fore-topmast-stays and fore-topmast staysail halyards; 11, the foretop bowlines, stopped into the top and two fore-stays; 12, two fore-tacks; 13, fore-truck; 14, fore-royal mast, yard and lift; 15, top-gallant mast, yard and lift; 16, fore-top mast, topsail-yard, lift and reef-tackle; 17, foretop, fore-lift, and topsail-sheet; 18, foremast and fore-shrouds, nine-pairs; 19, fore-sheets; 20, fore-gaff; 21, fore-topmast backstays and topsail tye; 22, top-gallant backstays; 23, fore-braces and main-stay; 24, fore-topgallant braces and main-topgallant stay; 25, standing parts, or fore topsail-braces, and main topmast-stays; 26, hauling parts of fore-topsail-braces and main-top-bowlines; 27, fore parts of fore-braces; 28, mainstays; 29, main-tacks; 30, main-truck; 31, main-braces; 32, mizzen-stay and mizzen-braces; 33, main-topgallant braces and mizzen-topgallant-braces; 34, standing parts of main topsail braces and mizzen topmast stay; 35, mizzen topsail braces; 36, hauling parts of main-topsail-braces, mizzen-top-bowlines and cross-jack braces; 37, main-braces and mizzen stay; 38, standing part of peak halyards; 39, vangs, similar on each gaff; 40, ensign staff; 41, spanker-book; 42, quarter-boat’s davits; 43, one of the davit topping-lifts and wind-sail; 44, main

With Africa on the horizon shortly, its difficult to avoid thinking about it. Richard says there may be no better time to buy cheap beach front lots in Liberia or grass huts in the Congo. With Bono already on the job, Nigeria will become an earthly paradise, while the BBC do a piece on the first Zimbabwean female astronaut. Maybe I'm a bit cynical when it comes to Richard but I just can't help see Africa as a bottomless pit of gold, diamonds with brothers chopping each other up. They'll just buy more consumer crap and the place will be a garbage dump like England. Hey Bob, do you know why nightlight is so brilliant in Africa? It's because they haven't factories and power stations cluttering the place up you egomaniac. Bono better pack some Raybans with they 're fleet of Range Rovers waiting to take them to their air conditioned hotel rooms. Who's got the Ballygowan Spring Water? Help the local economy? So they can buy more BMWs and houses in Switzerland. Just because I'm cynical doesn't mean the world grinds to a halt. All you idealistic young people should just ignore me. My brain is addled from writing this.

Having said that, I normally don't have much time for politics but the Olympics in London and the dismantling of the Irish peace process by the British, has caused a temporary re-assessment by this Irishman. I feel sorry for my poor people in British Occupied Ireland, who are currently ruled by an un-elected Tory tyrant, who fancies himself as a bit of Ghengis Khan. Good old Ghengis Paterson all he and his fellow Tories want is another one of their nice little wars in Ireland. Intern without trial, torture a few Irish human rights activists in solitary confinement to make sure the natives remain restless, start the troubles all over again and then tidy up the map a bit later, while maybe grabbing a few more Irish assets for their pals. Besides the industrial-armaments-complex with plenty of brainwashed local cannon fodder and a war somewhere, every five years at least, is still the best business of Empire.

Basically they are creating another big bloody mess in Ireland, I could go on but what's the point, nobody listens and does anyone care about political prisoners of conscience in Ireland like Marian Price, tortured in daily agony in solitary confinement, without trial for more than a year now. Britain's human rights record is far worse than China ever was and do you remember all their racket about the Beijing Olympics and Tibet while their own censorship and treatment of Ireland is more subtle and sanitized, it is far more widespread but then that's why we are forced to go up the Thames to protest for the coming Olympics with a Galway Whooker even if people and her fellow sisters seem to have no heart or humanity left in them.Is there any nature left in people at all at all. Free Ireland and then Free Tibet is what I say! Things are bad when people have to come from the other side of the world to highlight all this. Are human rights totally ignored in Britain and Ireland now ?

Excuse me I must take break to lighten up a bit. Some people use drink, drugs or create their own bloody universe! Why not? like making something out of nothing! Like the Creator does. Some people like me enjoy plenty of sex, unlike these sadistic, blood thirsty, fox hunting Tories like the pervert Ghengis Paterson. Doesn't do anyone any harm does it ! Young John Lennon was right, make love not war but then they permanently censored him too, didn't they ? Like I said go forth and multiply for phuck sake! All these Asian foxes and sex are perfect for a Galway Whoorker in the South China Sea. Of course it doesn't always go smoothly. Sometimes I’ll write a paragraph and then I’ll look at it and ask myself, do I really want to write this crap? I keep telling people, I don’t give a toss but do I give a toss or don’t I? It’s an existential question I have to confront daily but I nevr seem to get used to it.

Anyway you can all go phuck yourselves, while ye are at it. I haven't asked ye for money? I don't litter the place with shite? No I only do it for my own amusement and right now I don't give a toss what ye think. Ye can read this stuff or piss off, it's all the same to me. If I start taking it too seriously, game is over anyway. Blow-jobs help a lot for inspiration though. Have I mentioned Olive's professionalism in that department? Give her a cock to suck on and she's as happy as dog with a bone for hours. She's down there right now as a matter of fact while I am banging away with one finger on the keyboard and she's keeping my creative juices flowing. . Talking of humdrum existence, ever heard of Jonathan Livingstone Seagull? Well you have now.

Banned tags; Olympics London, London Olympics, Olympics, Olympic, Olympic Games, Games, Two Thousand and Twelve, 2012, Twenty-Twelve, London, medals, sponsors, summer, gold, silver, bronze, 2012Olympics, London2012, 2012 Olympics, 2012LondonOlympics, 2012 Olympics, 2012Olympics
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Joyce Country Ceili Band Video

London Olympics : Protesting Galway Whooker to Ram it Up the Thames

 international | rights and freedoms | opinion/analysis  Thursday May 17, 2012 10:14 by BrianClarkeNUJ - AllVoices 

Useta Luv Her

I was over on Richards’s boat for the first time last night. He had a some people for dinner who are not my sort, stockbrokers, bankers with their ugly loud mouthed wives. Right enough they know a few good tax fiddles but essentially they are boring bastards. I look at their wives and no wonder I want a different one every day just like I can't imagine having to drive a bus everyday again through rush hour?

LONDON HUMAN RIGHTS BRITISH OCCUPIED IRELAND

I was over on Richards’s boat for the first time last night. He had a some people for dinner who are not my sort, stockbrokers, bankers with their ugly loud mouthed wives. Right enough they know a few good tax fiddles but essentially they are boring bastards. I look at their wives and no wonder I want a different one every day just like I can't imagine having to drive a bus everyday again through rush hour? Feck that for a for a game of soldiers. I can’t even think about that sort of work without a shiver going down my spine. Imagine being a poor barsteward stuck in some factory or mucking around a building site in wellies? Not sure I would last long in an office either. I'm amazed more people don’t go to lunch and never come back. How do they all keep getting up in the morning or even stay in bed with them same wives? Must be hungry feckers to get them rambling into their bathrooms, to look at their soulless selves in the mirror every morning. So today's the day, as Richard's world bank officials wing their way to Washington to catch up on the latest tax fiddle.

Today I've decided to have all the sails hoisted with full of wind. I could feel that way myself as we cut loose from the stale hangover of last night's decadent dinner. I got an opportunity to drop the bombshell to Richard, about his proposed protest visit up the Thames to London for the Olympics. Besides right now I feel like I could happily sail off into another dimension. Maybe discover a whole new world on the way to London, devoid of all these selfish wankers in the extreme. Perhaps I’d soon be lonely I suppose but it beats hangin around growing stale and vegetating. On the way to London, we'll keep sailing around all these Indonesian islands and see what comes to mind along the way.

People regularly ask me about a sailing destination. Have you any idea where you are going Bernie, I'm asked? WelI i give them an auld grin but to tell the truth I haven’t a feckin clue and frankly I know feck all about navigation either. Sextant no, sex yes!. All the fiddly stuff I leave to Olive. She gives me a compass head and I steer. She has an instinct, some people always seem to know exactly where they are. The Indonesians got around, hopping from Island to island, within sight of land almost all the time. Bloody amazing how they found their way across the Pacific on a few shells and twigs.Personally, I don’t know where I am most of the time. Wind, water, tide-tables, dates, headings, wind speed, haven't a clue and neither do I give a toss. A day at a time each one's a bonus. So the sail fills, the mast bends, I send Richard below deck while Olive and I fly across the ocean. One hand on the helm Olive in her harness tethered short enough to a jackstay, to prevent her falling overboard, while I rip her rigging off, oil her sterngland and ram it up her forecastle. Jaysus, it feels good with the wind and spray on our face and her arse drippin sea-water.

Later Richard and I were chattin about the sixties in London, John Lennon, the Beatles, the Rollingstones, the Who and we wonder how the world has morphed back into squares somehow. Everyone was either scooting off to the South coast or giving peace a chance with John. We both always loved watching sailboats and the freedom of the ocean, so I suppose that's why we both ended up with boats and why this boy kept busy chasing different tail every day. Feckin paradise, nothing to do but watch the sail billow and give the ould rudder a nudge every now and then. Gives me a chance to think about Olive's arse again. It’s not just about sex though, there's somethin spiritual about the whole thing. I leave Richard in charge and I head for a berth below to a sleep, listening to the sound of reggae music drift across the water.

Hallo says I, nice mornin for something. She smiles a lovely Philipinne smile and I want to phuk her again but she just stands there looking at the boat or more specifically the mainsail weighing about 150 pounds, more wet. "Think you could get it up there," she says pointing up the mainmast. "Sure, I say, why?" "I need a trimmer," she says. "Ach put the kettle on, I'm famished I say." "Morning Richard," as I meet him. "I don' want to go to London." he says, " I don’t think I like England anymore. Not even for a visit." Shut up Richard we discussed it alreadyor would you prefer discuss it with your wife ?" "Please No ! please I beg you, she will take me for everything, a bar girl everyday for the rest of my life is cheaper than that. " he said. "Get on with it, Olive and I are going down below for some breakfast." Well I must be honest. I’m really thinking, I’d bloody well like to ride Olive again. Get her tiny little white skirt off and go for a bit of muff-diving. She has gorgeous legs and I know I definitely won’t feel right till I have her again. Can’t keep my eyes off her thighs, as she wriggles her way into the cabin and onto the bunk.

"Funny people the English," I say to Richard later, "always talk like they can win everything, be it the London Olympics or the upcoming European football tournament. Always ignoring fantastic talent from other countries and teams, then they are so, so disappointed when they lose. Football is just a game but the English are brain washed, like as in Bill Shankly who said, "Football is not a matter of life or death, it's much more important than life or death." It seems to be like that when it comes to British Occupied Ireland too. I mean we are just after 40 years of deadly troubles, had a peace agreement and they go along and break i,t to intern without trial an Irish prisoner right's activist called Marian Price and torture her in solitary confinement. Its not not just the Olympics or the European Football finals, ;like I said yesterday its not bloody cricket, old boy !

More accurately we have an un-elected, demented English barsteward in Ireland perverting the course of justice, ripping up Queens pardons or loosing them to start another 40 years of war in Ireland. Wind your neck in you double eyed barsteward, leave the Irish women and men play their grown up games in their own country, stop interfering in other people's business and get back to yer wanking! Until you do, this Galway Whooker is sailing up your London Olympics, up your Thames, up your's mate! You see Ghengis, my voodoo helps. I have a bag of old bones scavenged from graveyards all over the UK. Whenever things get a bit too much or I am annoyed, I ride on the Galway Whooker by moonlight and cast them. Seems to work everytime, it worked with Brian Faulkner. The Brits have been after them for years but they can sod off. I’ve told them, they can have the bones back but only when we have Marian, our political prisoners and our country back. Beware of Shankley's ghost England to lose on penalties? Blame the ref is it or blame epic literature? Life's a voyage, we're all adrift on the ocean of life, some more than others. Sometimes we sail calmly, sometimes buffeted by storms from nowhere. We are now sailing into uncharted waters, as we approach London Olympics 2012.

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