Ian Bone ~ anarchist! by yan tree

'Without violent confroniLaition wilith ithe forces of the state the workimE class wi[[

never break

through

the

stulti$zirrg condition which

,deadly, enmreshes ilt

today.

The class becomes

decademt wilthout

class violerlce.

Without a willingness to confront and attack caprtalism physically, the state, authority. institutions will continue to

flourish. This will mean the e!'er increasing subordination of ev,etrv individual, not part of the ruling class. ito every facet of the system'.

This book is dedicated to Darren Ryan Ten more like r.ou Darren alrd rve

uill

change the

firckin-world

FT]LL STEAM AHEAD THROIJGH THE SHIT 7.40 a.m. Salisbury station, Wiltshire, England Aboard the much delayed 9.15p.m. Alpha Line Service from London Waterloo to Bristol Temple Nleads. 'We once again apologise for the delay to this sen'ice and for any'i,nc.o,nvenience caused.....'

f,'uckin' Shit! Three fuckin' hours l'uckin' late! Any fuckin'

i.nc,o'n,rte.ni.ence

caused!

Steve Edrvards banged his fist on the table, to no dramirtic eff,ccri $iim,ce his attempt to incitc a full scale passenger insurrection on first hcaring of the projected delal' at Sa,li.r-htrq,hrad failed miserabl-v. Looking back, even from this close distance, he could see that calling the guard a 'furc.klilm" s$upid cunt' had been tactically incpt as rvell as i

deologic all.r: i nco rrect.

No good blanring the fucking rvage slave n'as it? Up tiJl thren h,er'd, frr.ad poXpular support for liberating thc lrooze frorn the buffct. The guard had admitted rvith mock respect that 3Yeg Si,r, pasrrogers are cntitled to a frce SOFT drink tfter an hour's delay put not an alcoholic onc'.

'But y6s1!1'g no fucliin' soft drinks lelt - so rhat's the. po,i,r,rrt rrntl hieiuog fu,c[rin' en,titled to a soft drink if you haven't f'uckin' got an] lcft .1'ou fuckin' stupid cunt'. This had been a counter productive remadi evaporatiing h:ia trylputrlar snpp.or-i amdt le-adi,ng io a mass exodus from thc can'iage u'ith hands claspcd over little Josh's e-ars from scrLrwlli.rag parenis. fur$ea{, nf ihe h,uffet's liberation remarl<s could norv bc heard from his erstu'hilc follorvers about tl*e odlr,uink' refr,rsi'ng t0 rno,r,re rlrert of first class.

'Look'said the dnrnk nutter, a.kl lldr. Steye Edr,rtardq 'ttiere's no ftrckin' .xa[s am.ywh,er e]se so ltm cntitled to a sett in lirst I'uckin'dirss cspeciallt irs rve're threc fu,cfllin' hours fucJki,n'late'.

I British Transport Policeman fro,m d'(rwn dhe lfibae at A.mrd|qr$€xr frrir rttrllu,$e. Ir,{Ur: E<dnua,rrllirr. fnon' the fuck could copper arrive from fuckin' Andor,cr *'h,en thrr- r.runill&n'ri daiift f,lhr,ffirreAiha, iraim efl ifi-d{siil?

Mr. Edrvards ntight have been lvel.l rat-arsed lliru.f the nts,riiriedl s ffildldlkdi *.msa: i!illepplroptii',atr- boundaries. The craned necks of the bufl'ct lilck of bottle merchants \{e,r'e dErr,aa{amerdl fqo hrurw r.Nie{r' emriem&ui.r0ihn€:nt denied them as l\f r. Edrvards. lamb like, lcft his unauthorised seat itntl mylr,ir€ dl mred$k fo @mdl rr;iiilar tXhrr ,ijloei0le n,om<o,mplainers. 'Thc crcative personality does not seek to shock oif

enilErta{lnr [dhe. braurrgeoisir' ibre rlhougtnd

to himself 'but secks to

destroy them'. 'Scuse me pal', hc slumped into thc seat occupied b1, sorn,e

lt1lptro'ie sruuonrlbra1l',.s {b,rni$raoe".

Fuckin'hcll,rvhat a fuckin'pantomime- What n'as he getting sr f,ur,il<riro'up,iiglhrn cllb'ilutrt'? E[e. wasn't doing an-r,thing in Bristol flnt'tyalj-it did.n't matterto him if he stal'cd in Sali-rbun' a.ltl firrck.iiro'roiigfur- FtlCKtrN'SHIT. Hetvas becoming a firckin' joke. A ;rantomime fuckin' r,illain. A fift1' 1,,ear old snap,lore.ad nrimg to lkibjlk ii liike a t]-ro hooligan dtlusions of passenget' rc+olts. Whatever happened to his as'piratio'ns to be a serirqus r.evplnartio'nary? He ne'ed look no further than his four cans of Bass: f2.20 .t fuckin' r:an.

Bttllocks,he'd havc to tlo somcthing to take his mind off his lac.k of drink prolhlrerr,l. rBal:*r of a buff'e.t car brown bag. Nlake a list of the 50 British scumbags he 'd likc to kill if he was cve.r diagnose rtr with 6er,maimal cirnce-r. A Communique has bcren received from THE CANCER LIBERATION FRONTT - rtrrrrnjn,allr. illcrs with nothing to lostr so rvhy not take a ferv of the bastards n'ith 1'ou. Hospice consgriratonl'- Rarcli'orh,er*p,v rer:olutionaries. Tumour tc rro ri sts.

Chemothcra;ly' cad rrs.

!^l

The HODGKINS LYMPHOMA wing of thc CANCER LIBERATION FRONT has announccd the follon'ing targets rvill he hlorvn off the face of the earth. He doodled his list on the condensation of the rrindon'. [Ie wondered n'hat the yuppie frrcker thought his death list might bc.

PAUL DANIELS. FRANK BRUNO. THE QUEEN MOTHER LORD ST. JOHN OF' FAWSLEY. QUEEN MOT}IER. MICHAEL IIOWARD. TONY BLAfR TIL{TCHER IIAGUE. Fuckin' hell Fuck iL It rvas a shit list...some Dar,e Spart fantasy. If Steve -Edwards was reall.v tcrminally fuckin' ill rvho would he reall-v take out? Ma1,be the stupid fuckin' rvanker of a B.T. copper who was eleballing him through the windorv......waiting for him to write FUCK OFF CUNT in the condensation so he could do his funky stuff for his captive audicnce He pecred at 'Frank Bruno' in rer,erse mirror writing but, despite an auspicious beginning it could not pass muster as 'Fuck Ofl. Steue Edu'ards likcd 'FUCK OFF'. He'd once produced a magazine of that name. 'FUCK OFF' - the journal for Wclsh Mutants, hippies,;rrostitutes, purks, hooligans. A manifesto for the taff-v prolotariat.

Still the copper stared at him in the lellorv lighL Fuck Wittshire Police- He rrcmembered how much he hated the fuckers. STONEHENGE '85. TIIE BATTLE O['THE BEANFIILD. It still bugged him no one had got their ou'n back on the cops dirrcctly involyed. For sure a lot of travellers had kiched off the action at the PolI Tax riot in Trafalgar Square - hut not on thc fuckin' Beanfield Bobbies themselves. He didn't linorv why it still lruggcd him so fuckin' much. IIe wasn't there. He didn't know anl.one who was there. Bacli in '85 he'd had little timc tbr that bunch of soap dodgers or the Stonehenge fcstival anyway. But rvhen he saw the novs pictures he was fuckin' annoyed - more annoyed than about the miners strike or the bombing of Vietnam. When he san the suppresscd footage Kin Subido from I.RN, had donc he nas erâ&#x201A;Źn more annoled - and, yefi he'd admit it to his tender self - more upset than he could remember. FUCKIN' WANKERS. SHOOT TIIE FUCKII{' LOT. SCUMBAGS.

IIe stared menacingl-t, at thc platform copper through the fluorescent condensation, rnentally imaging blowing his hcad oft'. Futk it - the onc rvho reall.v dcsened it rvas the Chief Constahle of Wiltshire rvho masterminded the whole fuckin' attack Where rras the fucker non-? Free from retrihution somewhere, retired on triple pension to some rural fuckin' idt:ll. IIc was the fircker who desencd to die. His fingcr removed Frank Bmno from the condensation hit list and traced CHIEF CUNT OF WILTSHIR.E there instead - but the whole thing smudged as the splendidly mn Alpha fuckin' Line senice frnall_r' jerked Bristol wards No room lcft on the rvindow. Hc got out his papcr bag list again. The Retired Chief Constable of Wiltshire rcsponsiblc for the Battle of the Beanfield went straight in at No.l on the Edw'ards hit lisL If he erer got cancer he would scarch the fuckin' scumhag out and ram a pitchfork through his neck. A suitably corny rural touch he smirked. Had rtot his favourite anarchist Lucy Parsons advised those n,orking class tramps rvho rvere dron'ning themsclr.es in the ic1-lyaters of Lake Michigan to take a few of the ruling ctass with thenr.

.NOW IS THE TIME FOR EVERY DIRTY LOUSY TRANIP TO LIE IN WAIT OTITSIDE THE PALACES OF THE RICH AI{D SHOOT OR STAB THEM TO DEATH AS THEY CONTE OUT'.

Wham! Bam! Thank you Mam! People did fuck all for fear of retribution. But if you had a terminal cilncer diagnosis hanging oyer you there n'as no fear of future retribution. He'd often thought J-ou'd onl1- be free aftcr a terminal diagnosis unencumbered by the thought of future plans or consequcnces. The Cancer Liberation Front nould be unstoppable. Fuckin' neat. He rippcd u1t his list of celebs into tin.v bits and stuffed them donn the side of thc seat - learing some obscn ant ticket collcctor might piocc it togcther and pass it on to Special Branch. A nen list n as norr tlliing precedencc.

TOP I'EN COMh{UNIQUE CO}INIANDO NA}IES FOR

Non-Hodgkins

rnphonta Death Brigade. 2.The Lrukacrnia Luddites.

C\\CER S.

TERRORISTS:

The\lelanoma.

FUCK IT....Thc alcohol rvas slorving his fuckin' brain donn to thc pace of the non-sprintcr train. The list was no fuckin' better than his Dave Spart list of celebs. IIe rras scriousll losing thc plot. Got to stop the fuckin' drinking Steve Edn'ards couldn't even \rrite hilariousll-funn.v fuckin' lists an1 more.

- the other bane of his fuckin' life. IIe ryas forever making fuckin' llsts but ner,er doing anything about them....dispersed with the dregs of last night's beer ....ryaiting for the next list to arrive. LISTS!

TEN THINGS STEVE ED\\'.A.RDS \ItiST GIVf, UP:

Drinking

2. Wanking 3.Talking bollocks to women 4, Making lists he neler did

anything

about

STEVE EDW.{RDS'LAST TEN }IONEY ]ITAKING SCHf,NIES: 1.Opcn bookshop. 2. Start Listings magazine. 3.Opcn football museum. J.Invcnt quiz hoardgame. 5. Start Dating Senice for marrieds/attacheds. 6. Write treirtment for rldical T.V. chat shorr- 7. Makc some tapes of his old band and scnd off to record companies. 8. Write a novel called 'TUIIIOUR' rvith a cancer tumour as thc hero rathcr than the villain. Norv this one still had some mileage in it. The pluck-v fight of a cancer tumour to sunive as a living thing dcspite all that modern rnedicine could throrv at it. After a fcrr pints this seemed a crackin' fuckin' idea but in thc morning he startetl to worll that he might get cancer as some kind of retribution for praising the pluckl' tumour and everl' fucker rvould sa1'' it sen-ed him fuckin' right.

On his identit-v as the notorious author of 'TtIMOUR' being ro'caled to the surgeon the consultant would stare into the brain \-ra\s sa1 ing.... 'Well Mr. Edrvards - You'r'e got a VERY PLUCKY resourcelbl tumour slap in the middle of 1-our cerebellum and hc's got an arnrl- of other fuckin' pluckers mctastasising alr.a) in vour spleen, stomach, duodenum. pancttas, biliarl duct. rectum, bladder. bloodstream, retina, - and all brought on b1' thc stress and guilt of t'riting lour FLiCKWIT NOVEL. Over and fuckin' out.

It had

happenctl bcfore. He'd oncc n ritten a punk.r' rant against the Queen Mother:

,"#,:f:xT:ff:llf# But r ou ain't realll nothing

But a suJ)purating sore God Bless \ ou Queen \lum Your daughter's iust ar bad Let's hope she die: of cirnccr Like her fuckin' darl'.

And then hassled his doctor for weeks thinking he'd got thc s1 mptoms of storlach cancer. Stomach cancer - thc silentliiller-oftenshorvingnos)'mptomstillitnastoolate.Well hehadnos\ntptomsl Soitmustbeuntreatable!

SHIT.

Why was he

so obsessed rvith cancer?

'I'll tell -t1ou fuckin'

n'hy' Steve Edrt'ards answered back a bit smarlish. surprising himself rvith his own r-ituperation. 'Because of all those mitldle class wankers rvho n'rite boolis about getting cancer. \\ hen does anvone rvorking class get a fuckin' cancel book *ritten? FUCKIN' NEVER!'.

It's their gilded and cultivated livcs. their designer

Iit'est1-le, thcir sense of haring e\enthing rvorthwhile snatched an'ay, the cutting off of their precious taleot, the time ther rvon't notv be able to spend *ith little Josh and his little sister. For fuck's sake - thc;- rveren't going to spend anv time rith littlc Josh an\rrit) - the Norland I'uckin, nltnnr

noultl

see

to thaL

The unfulfilled genius of a 'Mart' or a John Diamond and his lovel.v- rvife Nigella Lawson. F,uck it imagine the horror if Julie fuckin' Birchill got canccr. Why don't the rvhole of thc Groucho Club - especiall-v including Keith

Allcn and In'ing fuckin' Welsh and Sean Ryder and Damian fuckin' Ilirst die quickly so we don't hare to read about it.

and all the other scumbags go arval- and

What about the sinrpering Polll' Toynbees of the world when Jill Tweedie got Motor Neurone Disease. As if their rvhole fuckin'rvorld had imploded - passing off THEIR world as if it was OURworld like a Diana death double take. What about our fuckin' factory ship wards with liver cancer proletarians coughing their bloody liver through their gobs while the agency nurse busts her guts over a rogue tumour break out from the fatt,r- pancreas in the next bedWhere's the witty cancer raconteurs fucked off to now then? Where's Dominic? Where's Nigella? You onll' sing wher 1.ou'rc dying Only middle class lives get counted by the Registrar of Tearjerk Emissions. Wor*ing class rvomen bust their lumps rvith basal cell growths on their own at home in shit ridden middens. Where's the Booker prize winner on lVlesothelioma, Pneumoconiosis, Asbestosis? Even in death these wankers get away with it. Steve Edwards was pleased with himself again. The hatrcd, the passion, the anger was still filckin' there - even the fuckin' idealism wasn't totally brain stem dead after thirty lears of relentless alcohol infusion. He rvls fuckin' fift1,-norv, hc wanted to get back to his old self. He was disgusted with the way he'd become - Citizen Smith rvith blacl<outs, indigestion, gaviscon addiction, on the verge of becoming a drunken scx pest IIe couldn't even rtrite a polcmical rant longer than 200 words now because of his attenuated attcntion span. The train,ierketl up at Temple Nleads. IIc rvould do something about it, he fuckin' would. Tomorrow hc'd starL Before thc ncrv list could begin.

.WHEN THE MODE OF THE MUSIC CHANGES THE WALLS OF THE CITY SHAKE!' Fuckin' hangovcr from fuckin' trell. Fuckin' dcprcssion. I{cre he was a-fuckin'-gain in the idcntical luckin' position hc n'ns in o'er.v fuckin' rveck. Fucked. Completely fuckin' fucked. The headache would be with him constantly for another trvelve hours, digestion completely l'ucked up for the whole rveek, couldn't eat without burning gastritis this time evcn drinking rvater burned like fuck Even sucking Gaviscon Advance out the bottle hurt his stomach lining. Shit, that'd never happened before. This time ma1'be hc realll, had done it No s1mpath1, for himself though. It was his orvn fuckin' fault. The warning signs were there for -vears and he n'as too bright a bo.v not to have noticed them.

This time he couldn't er.en be bothered to convince himself that hc was going to change IIis stockpile hangovcr fantasl,rvas that he rvas now at rock bottom hut had needed to get there before he could claw his nal hack up again. Shit, morc Gazza rvankl' T.V. therapist junk. Not going that rvay toda1. Fuck it. For once he did remember his night before's rcsolution. Fuck it, he n'asn't going to stop the boozing so rvhy lic in bed all da1'fretting himself as if he rvas. As soon as the symptoms subsided hc'd be back on the case - he could scc himself lf ing in the same lrcd rrith the same hangor.er thinking the same thoughts in seven da1.s' time. Fuck it.

He'd rcad somervhere that it wasn't physicat pain that hurt 1ou it was iust feeling the pain. So he uouldn't feel it. IIe'd rentove his head from feeling the pain like some Indian swami. One of Nixon's scumbag cronies had stuck his palnt in a candle llame and told Nixon he could just ignore thc feeling of the pain. So Steve f dsards rrould do the same.

lmmcdiatcl.v he felt better as if there was some renerved mental toughness and rigour about him. It jertied back into his consciousness, his pleasure rvith his passionatell: angry- thoughts of class hatrcd on the train. He'd als a.r's thought of himself as a nlovcr and a shaker- as someone n'ho u'as rvell capable of building up a rerolutionar.\ movement to at least have a proper pop at the ruling class. But norv he had a sense that the moment had passed . that he was an under achiever who'd blown his last dog's chance.

'There is a time antl tide in the affairs of man and if he does not take it he shall bc forever in the shallorvs'. AnrI he could see clearly rvhcre his time and tide had been and he could see hory and rvhv he'd blown it. Since the early 80's he'd been paft of an informal anarchist street fighting group rvho'd been in action lrt ncarly' everl' mainland riot or protest turned riolent lbr the last trventl'1:ears For sure the first St Pauls riot in Bristol in 1980 had taken him and nearly every other fucker- including the cops who got fuckin' well bricked out of the area - by surprise. But it had been an inspiration and the Brixton riot that followed had seen the group of nodding acquaintances - fresh from trashing the N.F. at Southall and Lewisham coalesce into a useful street fighting unit. The Summer of a Thousand Julys in 1981 with full on inzurrections in Brixton, Toxteth, Moss Side, Handsrvofih and outbreaks of iolous looting everl'rvhere from Cirencester to Knaresborough to fuckin' Tunbridge Wells had seen the group hard core expand to well orer one hundred. There u'as no formal membership, no meetings, no papers , no theory, no nothing but fighting the fuckin' state ryhenel'er the opportunit--v arose, You didn't el'en know the names of half the fuckers rvho-rvere fighting rvith you. They' rvere just faces --vou'd seen bchaving soundl-v in previous riots torching cop cars, building barricades, not bottling it rvhen the cops charged, being politically and tacticalll' sussed and lieeping their gobs shut aftenvards. Thel,'d get the word out about u'hich pub to meet in before the ncxt one kicked off. Neu-faces came in, old ones dropped out and dropped back in again. Depending on n'hat was going don'n out there the numbers in herc \!'ere up and down.

Miners strike, Brixton '85,, Wapping strike, Stop the Cify', Poll Tax riots, then the old faces would be back as if the.y'd never been arvay mixing in automaticatly to start the shit flying.

it all worked hc didn't fuckin' knol, hut it did fuckin' rvork and they'd never taken anv severe casualties either by na1' of deaths, injuries or gaol sentences longer than a couple of years. How

Well. Stere Etln-artls did rctualll knorv how it n'orlted. There rvirs the little matter of the Bakuninist 'invisibkr leadcrship', Himselt Gar1 . Phil. Norman. Spike, l\lick, Jim, Ster-e L., and Paul rvere all class war anarchists rvho hatcd and dctested leaders but o'rcr the 1'ears thel'l<nerv they were the leadcrship of the group, Thev were morc sussed than the others. could feel the pulsc of the riot, spot the policc mor.es bcfore the fuckin'co;rs knerv thel'rlere going to make them. rnakc sure avcnues of escape were kelrt open, e)'es darting on permanent adrenalin rush. Whcn the riot's over it nas heads do\\n to avoid the police dragnct, hoping no one alrcadl lifted plea bargains vou into thc mainframe, and the lotal press photogra;ther \yas too pissed to adjust his fuzz-focus on \our petrol bomh photo opportunity. I-eave the'n'e hatc thc cotr\' quote to'12 lear old riot ringleader'Dick1 Dim*it donn the road and polish up the alihi with the bouncer.- f16r6 pppeles Nite-Club rvhere vou spent the enti re evening in the compan-l of 38 friends. f-caving the perrcil book sultergra\tâ&#x201A;Źi t.r content thenrselves with sneet talking Dickl'Dimrvit into a lifetime at Her Majest.v-'s Plcasrrre tbr conspiracr for admitting to picking up a hit of trrick Thel- rl'cren't paranoid about the cops because ther knerr thel.could out-think them. The.v ueren't paranoid lellies bleating on about clicks on the phone betnuse thel'd becn on some fuckin' rnti-apartheid march oncc. But therc u'ere timcs n'hen thc cops did take ln interest - the nriners strike of '85 and Brirron and Broadn'ater Farm of that hot itutumn, the cscalatirtg poll tax riots in'92. Then the lnlisihle Lcadership uould be prudcnt. No tall<s on the phone, rvatch out for .iournalists or indepcndent rideo makers or more ohvious cop facc-s appearing suddenlp' on the scene.

Steve Edn'ards rras crap at spotting infiltrators. After a couple of pints he rhought an-l nerr face u ls a 'good latl'. Steve L. on the other hand could spot thenr before thel-canre in the fuckin'pub. It \\as a sensc of timing. He someho\Y fuckin'sensed \4/HEN the cops would tr1- and move someone in. Once rou knex rrhen then it n'as a doddle to spot the new s"v-ndicalist on the block getting a fuckin' gr.eat round in at the bar.

WHEN SHIT BECOMES VALUABLE THE POOR WILL BE BORN WITHOUT ARSE'OLES

It rras Stere L. u'ho had coined the Invisible l*adership's working name -'The Old Shackletonians' - like some l'uck-in' public school rugb1 tcam. Steve L . was a walking wad of information on polar exploration and a complete fuckin' borc on his favourite man - Sir Ernest fuckin' Shackleton. For fuck's sakc, he'd been to South Georgia to see Shackleton's grave at Grytviken. Shackleton neyer lost a man on his explorations -'though it was a close run thing' (Ster e L) - and the invisible leadcrship had never lost a man to the cops on any riot -' though it was a fuckin' close t'un thing' ( Steve L.). So the invisible leadership became The Old Shackletonians. Thel *ould cease to be Otd Shackletonians rvhen a) one of them was killed like Blair Peach or Kevin Gateley' b) had a serious injury like limh amputation, brain damage c) was sent down for longer than Shackleton took to rescue his men - 18 months or something fuckin' similar. Steve L. had been to Easter Island. Pitcairn, and even Kerguelen - some rvind hlasted red cabbage ridden French island in the sub- antarctic no other fucker had ever even heard of. You'd not see him for .v*ears then that Michael Caine voice would come on the phone 'When's the next Old Shackletonians fixture?' and Steve L. rvas back for six months. Isolated from any fuckin' human being for years then battering the cops to fuck on Wapping Highwa.v the

minute he got fuckin' back nrude the geczer tick? Autonomous zones. [Ie'd been with Sid Ran'le - king of the hippies, II-vde Park Digger Sid Ran'le - on some barren rock off lreland in the late 60's trfing to make it into some self-suflicient anirrchist indepcndrnt island. Hc'd cven fuckin' stuck it out when Sid and all thc Sid Rax'lettes had given up and fucked off. Eleutuallv he n'as air-lifted off by thc Irish Air Force suffering from acute h)'pothermia. He'd givcn Steve E. the gcrm of thc tcrrninal cancer idea Whcn the Big C. came a-knockin' on his immune s)'stem he nas gonna take over Lurrdr Islantl. or Stcrcpholm, or Flatholm or some other fuckin' rock in the Bristol Channel, declart it an autonornous anarchist zone and rcsist an1't'ucker lvho tried to get him off.

Whrt

Hc'ti rcnd irll about thc liberated ,orr", o, the past

- the pirate communities in Madagascar and the Caribbean, the 'Gone to Croittan' settlers in America, the Maroons and Indians of thc Great Dismal Sn'amp - but he was searching for onc in the here and now. he'd arrivetl in 'fristirn Da Cunha fift.y 1'ears earlier he reckoned he would have found it - no money, no state, no ;tolice, no larvs But nolv it was past w'ith fl governor and South African fishing bosses. IIe stal'ed there for three months and no fucker had spoken to him but it was the 'Nearcst he'd ever got to it'.

For Steve L. the Autonomous Zone was the place rvhert ]'ou ryere in control and thel'r+'cren't! It might be Tristan Da Cunha in 1928, a barren rock off Irrcland in thc 60's or 300 1-ards of rioter controlled roadrvaf in a stand-off rvith the cttps. He rr as fascinated b1' the social dynamics that occurred in these ferv hours or cven minutes of pu re autonomt'.

fle rrits trarelling to Nortblk Island off Australia uhen nervs of the Wapping strike reached him. He rlas back on Wa;lping Highrvay within { da-vs directing barricade building and finding nen- ambush points for the print casuals to hure a po;t at the T.N.T. lon'ies. Hc n'anted to understand the dynamics of rvh1, the few hundred lards of Highrvar n'ith no cops in it felt so diffcrent - n'h1-people engaged with strangers and developed a unitl of purpose antl action with uo apparent direction.

It uas a mini-r'ersion of that

feeling described in everl'revolutionan'momcnt in histor.r- - Russia 1917. Germanl' 1919. Spain 1936, Hungar-v 1956, France 1968. Steve L. rvanted to teasre it out, refine it, finesse it, make it more enduring, play-. rvith it - he didn't want to miss out on atr) global second of tifc u'here you coukl inhale it in. He might miss out on the biggies - hon' he cursed missing out on 1968 heing stuck incommunicado on his Irish islantl heaven hut he rvas going to suck in every other autonomous fragment and glue it into the biggest furball he coultl. .Fuckin, better than the best fuckin' sex' he'd describe his autonomy adrenalin rush. Stelc Edtt'ards respectcd Steve L like no one else. Which rvas rvh.v his pounding head was unforgiving about that big moment in '92 rvhcn hc had fucked up big time , pissed off Steve L. to leave Englantl for four rears and landed himself in the well desen'ed shit rvith thE Old Shackletonians. Almost fuckin' ended the Old Shackletonians as an anarchist fi ghting forct:

Still, nor. seven lears later several faces had ]et to return and Steve. E. knew the fecling of solitlaritl and self-

confidence had never recovered. Steve Etlwards had missed the time and title in the affairs of man big fuckin' time andhis failure gnarved a\t'a)' at his t rctchcd alcoholic bod.r- that da1. If his livcr dirl pack up he rvas beginning to feel he couldn't gi\e il toss.

ROY CASTLE, WAS A FUCKIN'CUNT Thoughts of B-List Cancer celebrities aggravated Stere E.'s cirrhotic, cnnen'ated, spunkless body that long da,r. THE ROY CASTLE CANCER TR{IN. The Ra1'Moore Story-. Su Pollard's cancer scare. Tarby's rectal bleedinB Everl,cancerous fucker rvanted their deaths to MEAN SOMETHING - some last gras;l at existencc bc.vond the grave. I dreamed I san'thc Joe Hill Scanner Appeal last night. Don't Mourn - Organisr the Joe Ilill Trauma Unit. Sk1'pilot pie rttions in the sky when vou die bye and b.ve. The Steve Edwards Cyclotron Appeal Special Unit. The Steve Edwards/ Dale Winton Cobalt Appeal. 'All I'uckin' bollocks' he ranted inn-ardl1'.

IIe remembercd his brilliant idea. In a boozer in dorvntonn Whitstable he had tried to persuade a casual acquaintance - thc sometime Big Issue journalist C.J,Stone - to rvrite a regular column saf ing he had cancei antl detailing his fight against it. Hc could just make it all up - it uas trul1' a luckin' brilliant idea. Then after a -vear or so n'hcn evcryone thought he nas near to death - he'd shavc his fuckin' head and all that to look like chemotheral)) - and he'd had thousands of letters and e-mails

and profiles and pluckily n'ritten his onn obituarl and marle eco-friendll green funeral arrangements to be buried in a bio-tlcgradeable cardboard coffin in some god-forsaken copse and

chostn the ap;rropriate nords from Kahil Gibran to be spoken rvordcd out - nhen he had done all this he n'ould pull back the sheets and sa1 'FOOLED YOU FUCKERS - I NEVER HAD CANCER

AT FUCKIN'ALLI TIA! FUCKIN'HA! HAI WISE UP FUCKIN'MUGS:

Just lnol< at their betral'ed. disappointetl. snindled facts.'We wos robbed! \!e nant our monet* back!', Phone fuckin' Watchtlog to complain thc fucker ain't d5'ing. Instead of hcing happl' that their pral-ers for deirr C.J. had been ansn'ered thel $ere norr'l'uckin' gutted he n'as alirc and in the fuckin' pink. What a fucl<in' scitm - it rrould kill cirncer.iournalism stone fuckin' dead. C.J.Stone had thought it n as not a good idea. Steve E. thought it still had a lot of legs leU in iL Fuck fuckin'cancer. He uas fcd up tith thinking ubout fuchin'canccr. Non the hangorcr hormoncs had kicked in good and ;lroper and he nas thinking about scr. Whencver he had a hangover Stcre E. wanted to luck all da.t, but his nausâ&#x201A;Źil and headache nradc softll wanliing a more riablc olltion. He'd return again and again to his fa'r'ourite fantasl'- he n'as getting n'orried it uus his onll'fuckin' fantasl - at least the onll one nhich enahled him to come within a reasonable passage of time. Hc u'ts getting like people rvho could onll come u'hen standing in dustbins, or trussed up. or all thosc other only rra] to come one-offers.

Sterc E. rvas truly vr-orried about this state of affairs but ploughed on uitb the raddlcd rvank regardless. Thc humdrum nature of the fantasl' was also bothering him - it n'as a bit too commonJrlace to be cherished lbr it's onn sake. Aler Comfort, the anarcho-srrologist. had dcscrihed it as the 'BUTTERED BUN' turn-on. Or at lcast he did in the verl'first edition of 'The Joy of Ser' hut subseqrrently it seemed to be too down market to be repeated in future editions. Steve E. resented being turned on b1 a buttered fuckin'bun. Steve E. liked fantasising about his girlfriends fucliing othcr merr - old men. ).oung men, married men - thcre rvas ample scope for variation rrithin the core fantasy itsclf. Oh. fuck it. Stere E. liked his gir{friends fucking other men - forgct thc fantasy'bollocks. In fact Stoe E. lilied fucking his girlfriends as soon after the1,'d fucked somcone elsc as possible - giving him a slorr motion r.erhal talk through and phl,sical action replal- of the onlv just finished minutes ago fucl; Steve E. had luckil,l' run into hvo polvandrous \voman friends who rrere happl to turn his fantasies into occasional realities. His hangover wake up call came just heforc hc gave in to the urge for a last of the da;" rvank. 'D'1.ou n'anna come over Stcve? Bring some I'ucltin' booze n'ith 1'out. Stcve E. sucked on his Gar.iscon dummv and matle ton'ards the off-liccnce.

FIGHT FOR THE RIOT TO WORK The poll tax riot outside Hackne.r- Torvn Hall in Marc Street had seen the Old Shackletonians out in full force. There was certain to be a riot with or without the invisible leadership - that rvas firckin' obr.ious just looking at eyents elservhere.

Thc question n rs this : Horv could the riot be extended away from just an hour's scrapping with the cops outside the town hall into a wider conflict bringing some of Hackne--v's smouldering estates into

direct confrontation with the police. The invisible leadership didn't rvant tw-o hours of push and shoving rvith the Socialist Wankers Party it wanted a full-on Broadwater Farm situation

The llletropotitan Police's top twenty list of tension indicators - always eagerly pored over by the Old Shackletonians - pinpointed Hackney's Clapton Park estate as the one most likely to go up. Clapton Park rvas too fuckin' far away to get ignited from Mare Street. The Pembuq' estate with it's high squatter/class war/Hackney anarrho population lyas nearer and a better bet to kick off. If the Pembur.v went up thcn Nightingale rvould go and by then the Clapton Parkers q'ould be streaming doln the Lea Bridge Road any,-way.

Word n'as got out to some of thc Pembury Class War people to make sure there was plentl' of builders' rubble and derclict cars conrenicntly placed. Veteran logistics expefis from the siege of Stamford Hill rvere consulted. Cratcs of glass bottles and frequent trips to local garages went unnoticed. The Invisible Leadership hard core met in the Three Sisters at Sp.m. Once the riot started the key nould be to drarv the cops up thc Narrow Way from the TownHall and then over to the Pembury estate where thel''d bc forced to fight on unfamilar territory - then rvho knows rvhat the fuck might happen. Smashing the shop rvindorvs and looting up the Narrow Wa-v meant the cops rvould have to follon. Over and Out. Apaft from one occasion the Old Shackletonians plans wcre ncl'er more sophisticatctl than that. Ignite the initial conflict then let the autonomous :rctions of thc class let rip. Sorted.

- over to the Pcmbury Tavern u'hel'e the anarcho/class n'arriors n'ould be drinking. Spread ncu's of the impcnding action by' side of the mouth rvhispers to familiar faces and move on dorvn to

6p.m.

the Santucl Pepls to suss out the cop tactics. Old Shackletonians turn out - fuckin' good- orcr {0. some faccs not seen since Wapping. Sterc L. diving in and out the pub r+'ith pieces of information, runlour, gossip, cstinrates of numbcrs - rioters, cops, and neutrals - n'hile the rest of the Old Shackletonians went lbr the quick hrain blitz that 4 pints in half an hour gives you. Ster-e Edwards leading the beer drinking charge and sn'apping anecdotes like no one had ercr heard them beforc. Perfect riot scenario. Plenty of SWPers nnd Militants to \yave placards ahout, chant and get pushed into the cop lines Lots of neutrals to get in the wa1' of the snatch squads and squeal righteous indignation about police brutaliQ. And fuckin' hundreds of Hacknel anarchos, street gangs and the sociall.y self-excluded from Holly Street to Kingsmead. The discerning could even spot the odd retired Angr-y Brigader lurking rvith intenl The Old Shackletonians didn't need to lift an earll finger - the light blue touch paper was well and truly fuckin' lit. Push and shove to start. light bits of wood and placard next, turf, emptv beer cans, traffic bollards and the fuckin' pigs are running awa-v like Keystone cops with shit in their pants.. Every fircker is u1t for it and the cops har,e lost the fuckin' plot. They catr't mo!'e any mobile units 'cos they're too closel5' hemmed in. Black flags on the Mare Strcet balcony - time to spread the action as planned.

First rvindows go in b1' the llackney Empire and like dominoes all up Mare Street to the Narrorv Wa1'. Every fuckin'shop windon's gone - but the fuckin'cops nre too scared to fuckin'follow. Ma.r*bc thel- knorv

what's planned for them but more likcly thev're just shitting

"..

Leisurely etcning's looting - televisions, clothes, booze, fags, electrical goods. Playing lbotball nith colour t v.s all over Mare Street. Donrt evcn \yanna pinch the fuckin' stuff. Pilc the teler.isions up and throw bricks at them like coconut shys. Steve L in ecstasl, at the Zone's rejcrction of consumer culturc. THE URGE TO DESTROY IS A CREATM URGE. But the cops ain't going to follou'the Pembury stockpiles are gonna remain stockpiles.

Backto Plan B. Pile into the Pemburl'Tavern and rratch the whole spectacle replal,ed on the Nervs At Ten Anarchos sitting on piles of looted televisions rather than seats at the bar. Fuck all arrrcsts, maximum damage but no spreading of the flames. Stele Edrr ards rvell happl' - back slapped for his wrecking spree up the Narrow Wa1'. Stcve L.'s had an ider - he'll be in touch,

THE PLOT TO DRAG THATCHER OUT OF NO.IO DURING THE POLL TAXRIOT AND BEAT HERTO DEATH A neek later the hard core rras listening to Sterc L. He's freeze framed a precious rideo nroment for closer eramination. Ceaucescu on the palace balconl- ,uaving to the crorvtls in Bucharest. confidcnt his imported lo1-alists can sort out his current local difficulties. He rraits for thc usual sountls of approbation to echo across the square to his plinth from the back of the crond. Then therc's a delicious pivotal momcnt nhen he first strains to tealise it's not approbation but anger hc's hearing. Pcrsonal, verl fucliin' personal,;lent up anger and rcsentment at him. THE VERY FIRST FRISSON OF FEAR CATCHES IN IIIS EYE. The ver-r. word frisson u'as made up just for this nroment in the e1'e of the dictator'. [Ic needs to lcg it but the game's up. Steve L. has freeze framed thc c1 c and Printer Phil has blown it up into a huge fucliin' poster round tlre roonr. The t1-e is hugell- magnificd but the fcar is right there in the middle of the fuckin' retina, fuckin' unmistakable, the essence of fear capturcd h1' the fuckin' camerL This kind of stuff .n-oukl rvin 1'ou some artl'-faft1'prize but it ain't the Whitbread that Stere L. is gunning for.

'That's fear in the

e1'e

of thc ruling class'he begins his presentation. '\'ou

rerl rarell'have thc

chance to see it. That same look n'as in the eles of the cops rvhen thel' lost it in \Iare Street the othcr night. The Poll Tax l\lovement has got far bigger than an1' of us evcr erpected. The march in London is going to be the biggest since the Chartist gatherings in 183f1. Let us identifr ourselles nith the ph.vsical force Chartists. We all knorv that our class is rvell in advance of us rerolutionaries. We ma;be getting 300'000 people and maybe J0,000 - -t0.000 up for a fight. But this time ue cannot let our horizons be limited into just a bigger and hetter riot. THIS TIME Wf \Ef D TO GO ONE STEP

BEYOND _ ONE STEP FURT}IER TO PUSH THINGS TO THE LL\IIT _ TO PUSH US ALL THROUG}I THE POINT OF NO RETURN.

Enough of revolutionaq' hobbJ'ism - this is our fuckin' chance to make fuckin' histor\'. Thatcher's snid she's going to staf in Dorvning Strcret. She won't bc driven out. Wcll. in that casâ&#x201A;Ź. $'e'lc got to go in and tlrag her out -,iust likc Ceaucescu- and finish her off in tlrc same fuckjn' u a.v. There's the fuckin' door. Tlrose rrho wantto be piss artist revolutionaries all their fuckin'lir.es, and those u ho n ant to live off anecdotes of past luckin' glories had better use it nou - and tlon't bother fucliin' coming back. It's mal<e 1'our fuckin' mind up time!'

Sitencel Steve Edwards could feel his hcart clomping like fuck as he self<onsciously lowered his beer can from his lips. fle'd ner.er heard Steve L use the F-word before. Neither had he saen so many people avoiding eye contact with each other. Since his anecdotalism had just been mbbished Steve e dw ards clicked his thought processes into anecdotal mode to avoid the tension of the silence. He'd bcen here befo6 and last time had {iasco stamped all over it IIe had attended some early days Class War meetings at the Rosemary Branch pub-in Islington. After a good ruck in Trafalgar Square rvith everyone motoring on adrenalin, booze and dope, a young class warrior had called the rcbellious meeting to order.

,Look' he said 'we've taken some arrrsts today and a few injuries but we gave the cops a good hammering. Considering tlre lack of available ammunition in the Square those comrades who smashetl up tt e paving stones rvith metal gratings did an excellent piece of improvisation. But don't forget they've got cameras on eyâ&#x201A;Źry building round the Square so thel"ll be sifting through the photos over the next few weeks and putting names to faces so be warned'. Steve Edrvar4s was impressed with the eflrnest young squash drinker budding St. Just maybe. The rel'olutionary youth continued-

the boy had potential,

it's going to bc from now on. If we're serious revolutionaries- which I take it we are ( attempted menacing look round room) - thâ&#x201A;Źn today san' a big escalation of the stakes tr'rom now on wc are going to face arrcsts and injury on a daily basis. Ileavy prison terms, maybe life for killing a cop, even death - that's thc future. Those who don't want to be part of it had better make their minds up and u'alk through that door now'. 6But thatrs thc way

Again therc was silcnce. tr'or a full minute everyonc had thc same thought bubble hovering above their hcads - the agonisingly tlifficult choice behveen death/life im;lrisonment or a life of booze, dope lnd ser. Suddenl;- ererl-one got up and walked through the door. St. Just was lost to history'.

But this didn't feel quitc the same. Steve Edwards felt his stomach churn as the uncomfortable silence dragged on. Ster,e L. rvas no t]'ro rerolutionary. It reall.v felt like put up or shut up time.

THE DEBATE. .... .. ... .........

.. ... ... ... ... . .. ..

THE PLOTTERS: Steve L., Steve Edwards, Gary- H., Spike, Phil the Printer, Tim S.r Ot'ord Jim' Norman S., Mick B, Paul S, A-L.F. Chris, Mad Pete, Crustie Tret'or, Rob J, The Lunk'Martin P.

VENUE; Nightingate Estate, Ilackney. MINUTE TAKER: IIa! Fuckin'HA! IIA! APOLOGIES: No fuckin' apologies - ever! THE PROPOSAL: 'We've got to go in and drag her out the same fuckin' way.

TIIE PR0POSER:

Steve

just like Ceaucescu

and frnish her

off in

THE RESPONSE: Silence. Stere

L: 'I*t's

go round the

fuckin' room.

See who's

in and lvho's fuckin' not'

Steve Edwards felt the pressure on his balding cranium as chief drinker

ard anedotdisL

you've got cancer ya cunt you'd better say so 6oos I ain't gettins banged up for life for your fuckin' death wish. Taking you are serious you're off yurr fuckin' r:ocker. It's a frrll on Steve Edwards:

'If

conspiracy charge just trashing into No.10 leaye alone killing fuckin' Thatcher. Even suppose you thought out how to do it you ain't thought of an.v* fuckin'way to get alyay with it You've lost the

Riot

fuckin' plot Stel'e" PRINTER PHIL: Kitling'fhatcher lire on tv. has it's rather beguiling attractions - I'll admit _r-ou got m1' pulse pumping Slevep. But the attraction rvouldn't be so sodding beguiling rvhen 1'ou had tcn years to contemplate it. We've talien risks of getting nicked on hear'.v duty charges - conspiracl' to riot, conspiracy to canse violent disorder - for lears but this ain't a risk it's a fuckin'certaintl. lf 1'ou rvant to convince me just calling me an armchair hobbrist ain't going to guilt trip me. I ain't middlc class guilt trip material Ster,e - [ can't afford package holidals to Easter Island cither mate and I ain't gonna leg it after the great cvent to live on some remote fuckin' shit'ole, lf 'r'ou've got a better case, fuckin' makc it and I'll fuckin listen. GARY H : Steve's right - we've got to push this one as far as it $ill go. There's a huge politicined social movement out there and March J0'h is the big test. It $on't get an1' bigger than that - I'ou can't march the troops up the hill a second time - therc ton't be a second time - some concessions u'ill he made and the thing will dribhle arya] al the edges - disperse into different tactics - rcverl back to localism, get co-opted b1' thc Labour Par11 . We have the biggsst political demonstration - nralhc 500.tlt)0 people - since 18J0. We can't have such a povcrty oferpectation that all ne can hope for is a bigger and bctter ruck for a I'en'hours then rend about it in the papâ&#x201A;Źrs on Sundar morning thile normalitl returns md eterlone naits obcdientll-to get nicked when the cops get around to launching Olxration Riotsmasher. We'vc got to at lcast think about seizing and holding buildings and territory - not going home at night - wc should be holding on to buildings and streets in central London for dals - proroking a crisis in thc government about how to regain control. Look at Pads'68. Who knon's rvhat might happen - it's our joh to light thc spark. rrc can't knory n'ith certainty n'hat will follorv. We must initiate seizures of buildings in othcr torrns in solidaritr. It'll bc a crisis of 'Who rules Britain - thc mobs or the government ?' Once 1ou ask the question 1ou can nev'er bc sure rrhat answer -Vou'll gct hack. Heath did it rvith the nriners in '7-l and look rvhat repl_r he got. We'r'e absolutell' got to go for it. Swerct as a nut.

ane up for iL Most of 'em arc coming tooled up rlnvn it\. This is for the Beanfield and 1'ears of being fucked over. Most of 'em are fucking off abroad after this anyrf il-r'if thel haren't gonc already. Thc llIutants irre coming hack l'rom Berlin for onc

CRUSTIf, TREVOR: The Travellcrs pa-vback time

last pnp. You revolutionaries nitlt cos-r'deals uith corlrorate building societies on \our mortgages - onc foot in the revolution, one in contl-1 da1 iobs accomodating the systcm -vou affcct to despise - 1.ou ain't des;rerate any nrore. l'ou're going through the fucking rnotions - )'ou're likr a toleratetl r.iolcnt sidcshorv the s1 stem nerds - containcd u'ithin limits 1'ou're too fucking scaretl to break out off. You'r'e been fucking recupcrated. Courses on the Old Shackletoninns at kicester Polltechnic Cultural Studics course, you't'e fucliing reilied into fucking Biff cartoons. radical chic rrankers, everlthing 1'ou hatcd ]-ou'\,e becomc. The biggest moment since 1830 and half of 1'ou are shitting it looking for a conrenient ideological escape route, What did Nechaev say ahout the rtvolutionarv being a doomed man if he still had tics and moral fucking scruples. l'OU ARE FUCKING DOOIIIED IF YOU DON'T GO FOR THIS. You lnugh at the fucking Trot fucking vanguardists hut u,hat differcnce are -1ou if you're paralvsetl nith fear to act rvhcn the mome nt you'r'e allegcdll' heen waiting for all lour fucking life actuallt comes. I'm up for it irnd there's fucking hundreds of others who'rvill be. Drag the fucking con out and tlo her.

ROB J: We knotr some of the estates arrc reldl'to blow. The Class War lot at Salford arc more or less running Ordsall estlte iln-r'rra\'. Last neek the lllanchester cops unreiled their ne\t super unnickahlc Ford Coslorth super-cop car. The same fuckin' tlal' thc Salforrl mob nicketl it from thc cop shop car park, drove it round Ordsall for a couple of hours dnring thc cops to comc on the estate. Thel' set fire to thc fuckin' car, r'ideord the rvholc fuckin' thing and se nt it to Granada T.V. to shorv on thc local fuckiu' nen's.

The cops rverc fuckin' fuming but still couldn't go on the fuckin' estate. Some of the Ordsall mob have just come out of Strangeways which the.v reckon is set to blorv at any fuckin' minute. We know the rvay prison riots spread - if one fuckin' goes the lot fuckin' go. What's going on outside will get through inside. If Trafalgar Square goes up the prisons will go up. We'll never have a better time. We got the contacts in Yorkshire through the Hemsworth, Fifzwiltiam and

Hatfield Main boys - thc People's Republic of South Yorkshirr - they even linked up with your fuckin' crusties Trcr, at Nostell Priory. Yes,Yes, and fuckin' yes again - count me in. MAD PETE: I've never heard such deluded fuckin' bollocks- you all on pscilocybin or fuckin' what get a fuckin' grip. 1,fi)0 per cent wishful frrckin' thinking. There'll be a ruck, you'll all get rat-arsed, two da1' rvonder in the papers and by Wednesday it'll be .yesterda.r-'s news That's it - full stop. You're old enough to know hetter Stcvey L. You're supposed to he the fuckin' wise one and me the mad fucker! Agree or not I'll be the first fucker through the Downing Street Gates. Just don't tell me I didn't

fuckin'tell ya

DICK P: If we forget the personal slag offs, what arrc we actually arguing about. We alwa-vs try and push things a bit furlher - except this time we'll have a load more people with us and thc biggest Old ShaclJetonian turn out u'e've cver had. What's thc point of planning to storm Downing Street when ne don't knou'where or when it'll kick off. The idea you could drag Thatcher out is just ridiculous come on Steve! You're plap'ing to the gallery for the 'I'm more revolutionarl' than thou' brigadc -

\ou'rc luckin' grandstanding. What's 1'our problem todal'? Thittcher'll be guarded h1'cops with guns, Dorvning Street will be bristling nith armed co1ls, ma.vbe S.A.S.. rvith contingencl' plans to get her out through tunnels or helicopter if necessan. It'll be a distraction and rve'd takc heavl' casualties when we could be concentrating on seizing buildings Iess heavill dcl'endcd and holding thcm for davs like what was said. Push it to the limit and beyond. [-et's get a coherent plan together here toda]' - but firrget the obscssion

rrith Thatcher.

TIIE LUNK: WHY? I am fuckin' ohsessed rvith Thatcher. She's ryrcckin' my life and the lives of my class. I hate her fuckin' guts. I'd happill fuckin' hang draw, and quarter her - on fuckin' T.V. if 1ou like. What's wrong n'ith class revengc or personal vengeance on our enemics? If wâ&#x201A;Ź're gonna get c\â&#x201A;Źn a possibilit,v of a sniff of a chance to get her then lct's plan now to take full advantage of it if it happens. If rve gct no chancc then sreize the buildings and the rest of iL TtM S: You're a bunch of sad old limp misoginysts getting your rocks off about dragging a woman out in the strrcets and beating her to death. You woultlnlt have heen salivating on about dragging Callaghan or lleath out would ]'ou ]-ou saddo fuckers Presumabl-r she'll have all her clothes ripperl off as rvell. Go on - havc a collective rvank, get yourselves well despunked then we can make some

fuckin' progress. In the meirntime... I'm up for

DON'T WAIT TO HIDE UNTIL YOU'RE CHASED

TOO DRIJNK TO FIJCK IIe'd decided he was an anarchist at

15 and the decision had defined his life

an anarchist at 51. But was he? Did hc still he just going thrcugh the fuckin' motions?

elrr

since. Now he rvas

realll'fuchin' believe it? Was Cmstic Trevor right -

rvas

6Anarchist' was what defrned him, rvhat gave him his small town fame, Steve Edrvards the anarchist ryho'tl kept thc faith - who'd never sold out - the '68 student rebel who was still battling in Grosvenor Square when ever-,-vone of his comrades had slunk off home years ago.

Steve who'fl never donc the long march through the institutions who'd never been a teacher, a social worker, a community worker, who'd never had a job where he rvas an order giver, whtt'd ahvays been an order talrer b-v choice

who'd nevcr had a mortgage, had brought up his three kids in ever shifting rented accommodation, rvho'd never busscd his kids to the better statc schools, who'd never married, rvho'd never had more than two grand in his bank balance. never bought a car. Steve who on the break up of his man.v rclationships could always get the totality of his possessions into thrce black bin bags: Steve

(i) Clothes (ii) Odds'n sods (iii) Personal letters, photos. political pamphlets Steve who belicved in unreconstructed class warfarg who hated rich scumbags at 51 as he did at 15. But as a child he was scared of spiders and as an adult he had told everyone

with the same passion

that he was scarcd of spiders. IIis children kneq' their dad was stared of spiders. But twt years previously a huge house spider had scuttled across his legs and it had caused him no bother at allBut hc hatl not told anyone that he was no longer scared of spiders. IIe stiil acted in public as if he rvas scared of spiders. Being scared of spiders was part of the perception of others of nho Steve Edrvards was. If he rvasn't scared of spiders an]' morâ&#x201A;Ź wasn't the rest of his life when he had been scared of spiders a waste of time. a sham. If he rvasn't what he'd always been, what others had always thoupiht he'd been, what he had alwal's thought he'd been, didn't this make his first 51 years useless, redundant, invalid. Didn't he have to keep on truckin' as an anarchist keep on being scared of spiders, whether he was or not, just to validate his entire lifc in his own or other eyes IIad he just painted himself into a corner as a teenager and unlike everyone else not just walked thruugh the paint to gst out of it. Wh--v

didn't

just fuckin' grow out of it?

Ma-r,be he wasn't an anarchist anymore in the same rvay he wasn't scared of spiders an1'more - but ,iust had to go on acting as if he rvas. Wasn't there some old Situationist stuff about antagonists mouldering into each other - frozen into oppositional forms and gestures n'ith no meaning ir realitv - a false opposition reified into a frozen posture.

Crustie Trevor had n fuckin' point. The travellcrs did act without fear - of losing a job, not being ahle to pa1' thc rent, being broke, bad publicity with the ncighbours. of going to gaol - all those mundane rrorries that rcvoluti<lnaries scoffed at but n'hich circumr-ented their even action, turning them into palsicd, half-hearted rebels

Norv. in the odd fleeting moment, he'd despairingly caught himself n'ondering hory he ryould manage when pension timc camc. Fuckin' hell , w'hat was happening?

'Ho;leldiebeforclgetold'.RogerDaltreywasafarbiggercunt-acuntofadifferentdimension-thantumour ridden Roy Castle \Yhp- didn't fuckin' Daltrey get cancer when he ryas almost gag$ng for it? Daltrel,- the Tory-

voting, countryside alliance supporting, barboured green wellied toff with the fuckin' trout farm. IIa, fuckin' Ha Ha!

A.L.F. Chris had told him about the ALFers who pourcd slurry into the stream feeding the trout farm by mistake n'hen attempting some fish freeing liberation manoeuvre and poisoned all Daltrrcy's fuckin' fish. Daltrcy had hilariouslv whincd on television about his financial loss poor dab. Roger fuckin' Daltrcy shoukl'ye been paraquatted along rvith the innocent victims of the great trout slurry disaster.

.HOPE I DIE BEFORE I BECOME A TORY VOTING CUNT' Stere E. pulled the crumpled brown Alpha Line buffet bag fragment from an unwashed pair of jeans b]. the bed:

CANCER LIBERATION FRONT HIT LIST: 1. Former Chief Constable of Wiltshire (

19ti5). tle

added one nelv

name.

2. Roger Daltre-v

It *'ould probrtbly go the same $'aJ irs all his other unconsummated lists but it would suryiye instant immolation for thc;lresent He felt hetter any\ray. He'd lifted up the edge of his'don't look under here you'll end up like S.v-d Barrett' mcntal baggage carp€t and no disabling somnambulist thoughts had leaped out and grabberl him bv the throat.

Self-doubt, regrct, depression, failure rvoultl co-habit with him tilt the cirhotic liver he expected to come knocking on his door at anJ-. moment announced his arrival and kicked him into jaundiced oblivion. Last days full of drips and masks in a geriatric wflrd, 68 beds within pisspot sharing distance of each other too late for regrets then Now he could still do something about it - he would tlo something about it, this time he was fuckin, sure.

Thc phone. 'Steve. d'1'ou fancJ- an all da1'er?'. 'Course u;l'. See 1-ou in half hour'.

I do Ilonna,

my liver's screaming ,fuck m€, fuck me right

THOSE WHO ONLY MAKE HALF A REVOLUTION DIG THEIR OWN GRAVES Steve L. had rvon the fuckin' da1'. The Otrl Shackletonians , in alliance with Crusty Trevrs hardcore Beanfietd Avengcrs. n'ould go for the Dorvning street option. Dragging Thetcher out of No. l0 was a 10,000- I long shot but the DESIRE to drag Thatcher out $es the unifling force, the pulse throbbing aim that could lead to thc moi-e pedestrian likely achievements - storming the gates, getting to No.l0 itself getting sorteO..

You couldn't enthuse people on the day by saying 'Let's have a bit of push 'n shole with the cops by the Downing Street gates', BUT 'Let's get fuckin' Thatcher' with a three hundred hard core firtd an6 toolc4 up to ao it woulrt send electricity cour.sing and raging through the crowd. As soon as the gat€s wet'e burst and the first fuckers got thnough all the 3,000 others who were up for it would steam in bchind making the prrcssure irrrcsistibte. The rush of movement through Whitehall and Trafalgar Square woull lcad to the whole crowd of spectators and lefties ( same thing!) pushing in ttrat direction to see whaf w.as going on an4 blocking attempts by the cops to bdng reinforcenrents through. The cqls rvould have to

tr1 and force a passage through to lloryning Street inflaming the non-combatmt sections of fighting back themsclvcs and pror.iding useful T.V. rootage of the .cops staned it first'r'arierl.. !1cry]vd-lnto The Old Shackhtonitrs were detcrminerl to start the trouble first if nirtning had kickerl off in the meantime. Get 1-our retaliation in first was taker as rearl. Unlike the Left the Okl Shaci<letonians did not sob into their beer whining about cop brutality - that's rvhat the cops lyere fuckin' pai4 for for fuck's sal,ie!

KINGMOB the ,Hospitatised coppc'r calenelar' was in every old shackletonian's christmas stocking' along with rr-hen - -- 'You cry -vou p.c. Btakelock Joke nonr. -;wiutrs thc oifrcrence behveen P.c. Blakelock and an onion?' p-c- Blakelock chop up 8n onion" rD Jr Rtrtrotmtt. r ---^^r-^ f.--.^Rlakelock -- He Blakelock' P'C' plus the good old standby sing-a-long-a- shackletonian karaoke faves """ 'P'c' coppers" Roberts is our friend - he kills ain,t on ahe beat n, .o"* *d'tn" standard ctassic 'Ilarry class

war,s

practicafly verscd in mob rioting. The booksher'es - See M They were as werr rced in mob psychoro&1. * they werc iThe L,oodon Mob" 'The Role of Rumour in the ,The'ltiob ln n" Age or RcYolutiorr'. for Mob and R for niot. re-imarnation of the LONDON MOB' Echoer of KING trrench Revolution'. They sarv themsehes ,, tf," modern MOB. thread of proletarizrn n^1$i$r history' 'The world rurned .Albion's f,'atal Tree' and 'The Making of the English Working Class''

The three books steve E. never leant out

up*iJ"

o"*r'

- an unbroken

Moh battling the

Arm;-, the Gordon Rioteni the shackletonians were the Truc Ler.ellers, the Ner Morlel Forc3 Chartists iu" l-uOOites' the Men of No Property' the surgeons for corpses ,n ilfro* TqJheii."ti.^f their family trce, their proletarian pcdigrte' cuptain Swingrrs, tn" scot"t, cattle. This was tleir bloorl line,

The

o*l

since seen sen'ice at Brixton. Torteth' Handsworth' Nlissing out on the zurprise enrption at st.pauls in '79 they'd ON PERIVIANENT FUCKING TOUR chcptctown, Moss SiAel Rartclitie, South shields - RENT-A-MOB 1g81 onrvards

The Golden Age of

rhe English Rioter. The Miners strike

nrcking at Mansflreld and orgreaYe- the irnpendirtg

to push things that final bit further the battlcs of wapping Highx.ay, and now th'e chance at rast London Potl Tax Riot

S1r5t sates,The-copsloulrl he erpecting the traditional The key wa.i to make the inirial breakthrough the Downing with the spit and gob, but not a well planned push and shove, a ferv cans of special n".il ooriog rhroigL the air had never happencd on an Engrish demonstration bcfore. assrult with the ner.,sar)- hardwarc. why shoutd thiy - it ft eru.orberry. Rules werc rhout to bc serioustl' fuckin' broken.

" oler the counter in France and 300 were crusty Trer rvrs the quartermaster. c.S. Gas spral's coultl be bought as eas]'to get and these qert dispersed almost grenadeswere stashed away for ura on rr site in Brighton. rear'Gai for use hy the oltl shacktetoniann rvho would he anrund the Hrckney squats. Fift1. gas.ra*x-* ,ie." stitcf,ed together b.r the tcor gut nnd C.S. sprals the Shackletonirns could the first to go over the iop. \ilhen the cops nere forcert back person operated bolt cutters to crt through holtl them off thc gates long enough for the b"r*- nearlweight thme con in rcsideree' up for thc sacking of oon'ning-Strcct and the seizing of the mad the gate locks and open tt "ir.oy of some might seem ccrt|in but marimum confusion would mean at [east some hope prison scrtences Arrest and long a few for out hold could if the-thappen might shacliletonians getting awa"r- with it - and anlrvay wlro knen what as erpected' prison riots days, other towns weni off an6 S6angervays kicked off tbe ski-masks, blacli'boots - no hint of dress The othcr key was anonymity. Everaone sxs to drcss in black with hootls, to identify people later. As soon as the action was about sense indir.iduality would Bl,,L* it mire difricult for the cops seize cameras and tideos from journalists to kick off the class War crtws woutd take out the static spy cameras and and T.V. crews.

full of cop sun'eillance. as would be the earll' The marc5 assembl;- point at Kennington was to be avoided at all costs, to sift trough in the suhsequent Operilion materiat stages of the march iiself. Gire them the minimum amount of 50 geez.ers all in black joining together twos in ones and Ringleader Finder. Insinuate themsclves into the march are. teking similar precautions' might excite a little suspicion e!-cn among plod. Crust1' Trer,or's moh to come as the1.

BINm! - fuckin' go for it No x,ull on presence Salf wr1. down the march as it got to Downing Street - then the top. mace the nearest fuckers' grcnrrdes orcr backlift, just hit the fuckeis before they knen'rrhat rn'as coming. Gas No'10' on assault boltcrack the gatc within 60 seconds, crrsh through with a whoop then all oul

We only have to be lucky once: Stomp Thatcher's head to a pulp Easl= as fucli sentence.

and an astonishing lack of detailed planning invoh'ed for something that might crach lifc "lou a

'Maybe we should stick Thatcher's head on a pole and parade round the square' enthused GaryH. .JUSTLTKE THE COPS MADE UpABOUT

BLAKI LOCK'S HEAD AT BROADWATER FARIVI" 'Let's just settle for a simple de<apitation , without posing the kids do ya?'.

for the photo opportunity Gary - don't tranna frighten

Once the dccision had been madc Steve E felt exhilaratingll- tiberated. There were no more arguments for or against, no backsliding, no thoughts of throwing a sickie - they were bonded together and the solidarit.v ard total sensc of commitment gave him an unexpected serenity. Mt1-be it was thc cancer sentence trick - no fear of consequences any more. He'd agreed to stop drinking for fear of Itlufting it out in some boozer - it rvas no problem. IIc listened to his heartbeat pumping, lying raked on his bed. He was stripped dorrn to his essence, to the real him again. IIe was stitl an anarchist - his tife wasr't a sham. The self-

tloubt *'as gone.

Hc lookerl into himsclf and his inner resources were still capable of fighting. IIe looketl anew at familiar objects in his hedroom. Thcy sc'cmed to take on unfamiliar shapes and reveal formerlv ignored ttetail. The ticking of his clock rvas ctpablc of being hrokcn dorvn into separate sound components.

He could rvank without recourse to his essential fantasies and luxuriate in the n,arm glistening of the come globs on his pulsing stomach. The lifc se ntence gave him his life back again This time he woukl make it count.

Stcl'e E.'s job rvas different than he'd expected. He wasn't going over the top with the others. He was to transpoft some of the tear gas grenades to the front line then fuck off to avoid idcntification.

'Lttoli lil<e a fucliin' Yanli tourist rvith a backpaclc Sit in one of the Villiers Street hoozers then Chris p. will give you thc nod rvhen thcl''re getting near to Downing Street. Move down to Whitehall and drop the backpack when Chris P. e}'eballs 1'ou agitin. Wear shades and a basebnl! cap. Destroy all clothcs and keep away from any other fucker for a month. No phonc. no letters, no contact And if you gotta boozc do it solo in the house, and no bragging to Donna or Jane. If the whole thing kicks off in a bigger s.a)r th,rn we think - then fuck it, get stuck in and we'll all hang togcther'. Stere L. laughcd as his briefing to Steve E. finally brought a smile to the tear gas man,s face.

Date: 3 p.m. Nlarch 31't

1990 Venue: The Griffin

Pubo

Villiers Street.

Steve E. bu-r-s a fizy mineral water and looks down at his feet to check the rucksack of gas grenades GONE. Nicked from under his feet in a second. Assault on No.10 aborted. Best chance for a feneration fucked. Fucked by STCVC E. FUCK TUCK,FUCKFUCKTI,UCK f,.UCKIN' WELL FUCKIN' FUCK TUCK F'UCKED BY STEVE E.

will kill him but gets nicked throwing a fire extinguisher at the cops from a crane gantry. Strangeways goes up the next day. Chief Inspector Roy Ramm launches Operation Carnaby lgainst the rioters. cnrstl- Trevor skips bail and fucks off abroad. old Sharckletonians fall aparL Crust.v Trcvor

Steve E. has missed his time and tide and would forever remain in the sha<lows.

EXILE.o.oo.o and STEVE E. WAS EXILED. Given a month to fuck off out of London. After some consideration to Bradford War crowd Class lot of the knew a Ire Bristol. on he decided lin 12 Club in the politico-drinking endless nights there and"all iorts of oddsrn iods from his back catalogue had gravitated thert since the 60's. Plus his on/off job and his own occasional lover Jane had r place in Montpelier where he could park his arse while looking for a place Steve E. packetl his three bin bags, fucked off from London rrith remarkably littte regret working as a postal sorter in Cattlemarket Row with a one bed flat in Bedminster.

and by August

1990 was

His mate Grovesey gave him the politicat lorr-down on the Cit-r-. South Bristol was where it was going to happen Hartcliffe. Knorvle *est - forget utt tt" politicos slumming it in StPauls or the Montpelier muesli belt , that was all middle class wanky shit They didn,t hal'e a fuckin' nose for trouble at all - lifestytists running back to mummy and dad4y when the funls run out. Middle class ri,hite radicals happy to get mugged hy the StPauIs boys - and sen'ed them fuckin' right said Grovesey - they'd all be captains of industry in ten I'cars time so why not gire them a kicking rvhile you still had a chance. pulling Grovesey was straight outta Merrlwood via the Venture Inn and the Parftside Social Club. His phenomenal or Fuckin' poryer ai ttre pan slde meant his Merrl'w-ootl mates could profrtably freeload off his reflected charismsa. ruckin' Grovesey's Band of Merr5t'ootl Men knew the pulse of South Bristol.

didn't altogether buy into Grovesey's ferrets and whippets class analysis, and dismissal of anyone with a 6ody piercing as s middle class wanker, but the boy was sharp, funny, and reeked of class hatred as well as phenomerone-.. Gror**"y was going to be there for the duration - Steve E. sensed that - and his proletarian drinking milieu provided warm cornfori foinimsett in his early days of exile. The pubs of East Strrcct rveren't exacfly a mirror Steve E.

image of Hackney's multi-culturalism, but n'hat the fuck - after a few pints of Roughage at the Three Lamps on the Wells Road his n'eight of political failure did not bear down so heavily.

Ife could see what Grovesey was on about.. St Pauls was thc wnong way to be looking.....as spent a force as All Saints Road or Railton Road. The days of the black inner city front lines going up werc well and trulx- fuckin' over- As Gror.esey u'oulrt admirabll, expound in the Barley Mow 'now it was thc time of your peripheral council estates'. No other fucker would listen to him but when the cops murdered Sean Stirrr in Ilartcliffc the place went up like fuckin' bingo - along with Scotswood in Newcasfle, Stoops in Burnley artd a fucksight more examples of the rectitude of the Grovesey analysis.

The politicos had lost the fuckin' plot. Young white proletarians were rioting all over the count{ but the anarchists ,n"r"o't even looking in the right fuckin' direction. Stere E. compensated for the lack of balance in his life hv increasing the weight of the alcohol conzumption to balance the lightness of the potitical intakebecame a hit more adventurous in his explorations of the City' than the Grcvesey mob stuck in the fastness of their South Bristol rrcdoubts. Zarl,ey Janey shorved him the late drinking attractions of the Plough and the Star and Garter and the blessing of memory blackouts protected him from his worst excesses.

IIe

YOU DOIVT NE,ED A WEATHERMAN TO KNOW WHICH WAY THE WIND BLOWS. .. Bv 1997 the summer riots of '92 coukl he seen from a different perspective - the last spturge of the urban convulsions beginning at SLPauls in '79 and ending in some desultory' skirmishing on a shithouse estate in Burnle-l.

1'l

The gravestone rvould read:

TIIE ENGLISH RIOTER BORN BRISTOL'79 DIED BURNLEY'92 RLP. The erpectation that the riots rvould go on and on was lost under a wclter of regeneration schemes' community development quangos, collapse in the street price of crack and heroin, and the happy feeley smiley face of the Ecstacy Tab. The confidently hekl belief that riot could be turned into insurrection was now a series of forlorn '

if onlys'.

If only......Bri.rton

and Broadwater Farm had gone up during the miners strike rather than six months after X'ront in the inner cities might have come to King Arthur's nescue. the Sccond endetl......then

If onll'.....,the ferocity of the Toxteth riot had lasted a fen' more hours, had got the extra few hundred yards to the cit.l. centre.

llilt all that late Friday afternoon. Iike a horde of pillage the centre of Newcastlc on a Friday night loot feared to and Visigoths u'aiting to sacli Rome,h:rd descended as linhing up rvith the Bigg Market drinking lads and lasses gathered from South Shields to Sea llouses. If onlv.....the Scotswood mobs gathering at the brow of Westgate

If onll-.....IF ONLY HE HADN'T LOST TIIE FUCKIN' GAS GRENADES. It alwal's nagged its way back into his hcatl - n'ould never lcave him alone. Images of that late Sundal' afternoon as Stangcwa)'s went up. It must have beeu linlicd to thc riot. What might have happened if they had still been in control of parts of central London, if Downing Street had been scizrd and other torvns gone up? The daring. the imagination and resourcefulness of the Strangervays rioters with their mediaeval windswept masks silhouetted on the chimnel' stacked skyline stood starkly out against his orvn ineptitude. It was truc - they didn't have any fcar of conscquences. Alan Lord and the rest of them clearly identified to the authorities on their rooftop autonomous 'zone - and thcy didn't give a fuck.

Huddled in slate throrving foaming venom around the Strangewal-s chimney heads thel' were freer than his own intcrnal policeman stuck in his own fuckin' hcad had ever allowed him to be. It was the delirious promenade of the anteaters at the zoo, of the terminal cancer patients, of the travellers with tumours who'd one da-v do the former chief constable of WiltshireAs the Strangewal's Da1's unfolded he had sat slumped in front of the t.v. nervs bulletins surroundcd by Special Brew cans and finger lickin' fragements. The frantic scrambling across the last few feet of slate roof space to avoid capture - to prolong the autonomous zone to the last brick of the last chimney stack. The clenched fists of the descent in the cranc hoist.

STEVE E. crietl for their braverv and his corvardice and struck off into his Bristol exile.

BABY, BABY, BABY YOU'RE OUT OF TIME, Ster-c E. fclt not onlv like a man rvho had missed his main chance but one who was curiously out of sy-nc with his times. Like an aging Victorian in the first Edn'ardian decade rvho's values and beliefs no longer had any currency struggling to makc sense of a world of aeroplanes and motor cars

Class struggle - the bedrock of his politics- had vanished with the end of history. The protestors, the activists, the oppositional clements that now sur{accd did not have urban insurrection on their agendas.

Environmentalism and animal rights were sidetracks, cul-de-sacs, single issuc blind alleys for hin. He did not consent to Green Anarchist's by line 'for the destruction of civilisatiotr' nor concur with Ronnie Lâ&#x201A;Źc's ' all scntient Iife has the same value'. Steve E.'s value judgement was thrrt human life was more important than that of rr rat, head louse or cuddly bunny. Speciesccntric it might be - but fuckin tough, that rvas it Unshakeable. IIe ate meat unaccompanied by guitt pangs and rvas happy qualling lager with gelatine from cows' nail clippings. Ilunt Sahbing he coultl relate to 'cos it was having a pop at rich bastards on horses. Drag the fuckers off their horses and drown them in the fuckin ditches was a greater goal than helping the fox fuck off sharpish. a hunt sah against the big dadd--v of them all - the Beaufort Hunt - had not met rvith conspicuous success, After a head rushing six pints of II.S.B. in some snobbl'boozer in Badminton he hade leapt in front of t group of riders shouting ' TALLY FUCKIN IIO, TALLY FUCKIN HO' , windmilling his arms and causing the horses to start and rear up. Rather than being back slapped for his bralerl, where others merelv onlooked he rvas roundll' and humiliatingll-lectured b1, a group of elderly lvomen activists hecausc he had ' frightened the horses'.

His one attempt at

For sure he enjoyed watching the tv. picturcs of confrontations at Tw-dord I)own, Newbur-v, IVlll and Nlanchester ai4rort but horvever hard he tried to mentally adjust he could not manufacture an1' cnthusiasnr for saving a ferv trees or the threatened habitat of the Marsh Watersnail. The Earth Firsters! were now the cutting etlge of direct actionism rvhere Class War had been a decade earlier - but his heart and head n'ere still stuck in 1985. He rvanting to feel he was with the animal export denronstrators at Shoreham and Brightlingsea but he knew he was not. Whether the animals lvere killed before thev were exported or erported then hilled did not seem to be rrofth Jill Phipps horrible death undcr the articulated rvheels at Coventn, airport. The Rave scene. Ecstacy. Re;retetive Beats. Warehouse parties Well, he rvas just too fucl*,in old - he still had an iota of decomm. Pa1-ing for rrater seemed totally fuckin' bonkcrs, the ultimate capitalist pigfucker rip --off. But rrhat the fuck did he knon':rn--yllaJ. Castlemorton passed him b1'as did the opposition to the Criminal Justice Bill . He rvas tempted h1-the big II1,de Park demonstration rvhich turned into a fierce littlc rucker - but his exile kept him awal'. He worked the beer tents at Glastonbury but manelled at the absence of political paper sellers or incendiart' tract distributors. No one n-as fuckin' political anvmore. IIe watched The l-evellers headline to the srraving thousands hut 'Therets onll' one n'a1' of life and that's 1'our own ,Tour olvn ryour orvnt .iust rvashed over them like anv other good tune about any old banalig. Liking the songs had no meaning - it didn't lead to any action apart from buying the album.

Wh1'was hc srrr;lrised? So luckin'naierc. so eternallr optimistic - rvilsn't it ever thus in previous doctdes of political music - '77 hrnk or'68 hippr revolution? Shit. He'd iust have to admit he u'as too old, too fucked up and toofuckedofl'.WhatdidChrisFarlotcsrrr'Brrhr.blhr.hahr'. Iou'reoutof time'.

.DO WHAT THOU FUCKING WILT' Ile rtmcmbercd the last da1's of TIIE BEAST. Alcister Crou ler slugging out his irllotted spnn in a gentcel Hastings boarding house. 'Will that be the full English Mr.C.?'. The march of the cenrurl.passing him b1'. The funeral pvre on the windsrvept bcach attended h1' a handful of the illuminatti. Steve E. had bccn born the same day Crowley'died - onll about 3(l miles anay in Han.khurst.Kcnt. He often joked he was Crowley re-incarnated - sometimes in megalomaniac boozed up mode he belier ed he n as Han'khurst the home of the infamous llarvkhurst sntugglers gang. He'd scen the gra]'estonc of onc in the churchlartl at Goudhurst with a skull and crossbones engtaving just visible beneath the lichen. As a kid he'd rralk home from schonl through the graveyard and stared admiringll at thc hcadstone - scraping anal thc moss off the skull and crossbones so it stood

out more. Sccretll'nicking flowers from the graves of the Goudhurst nerrl.r tlearl to place beforc the intencd smuggler then watching the adults puzzlemcnt as to rvho the illicit moumer might be. Malbe hc rvas thc mutant cross brced of thc Harvlihurst srnuggler and Aleistcr Cronlcr. Whrtcver!

II t

Smugglers, alchemists. ananchists had gone to join the ranks of the Muggletonians and Fifth Monarchy Men in the runks of thc failed and forgotten. If the GREAT BEAST couldn't do it what the fuck could Steve E. do? Ife traccd ,our rime u'ill comc' in beer foam on the table and watched it disappear like

LOVE LETTERS IN THE SAND AUGUST'98 The telephone rings

ONE FROM OUT OF THE BLUE..the blue 'Alright Sterc' 'Who's that?' 'Steve

L.'

'Fuckin' helt, I hcard -rou was fighting with the Bougainlille Revolutionary Army fuckin' Port Moresby nrc ya?'

you ain't reverse charging from

tNo, ya cunt from HackneJ-'.

'What happened in Bougainville?'

'['l] tcll -ra Saturday' 'How dt1'ou mean?'

'Bristol Reclaim The Streets mate - whcre you bcen hibernating- can we stay at your gaff?' 'Who's the fuckin we?' 'Me , Chris, Phil, The Lunk and Tim S.,' 'What for ?'

'Fuckin shit! I heard your brains were fuckin scrambled

total roughage overload or what! For the Reclaim the

Streets Do. We were on the Brirton one - fucking livening up nicely. So arc we in or fuckin' what?'

tCourse you are

1'a

cunt'.

You're going home like Sandy Richardson..... Steve E. knerv he sometimes enjol'cd the build up more than the o'ent. Standing in thc llub rvatching the rloor everl' tirne it opencd - hoping for a familiar face - the bcer rrarming the stomach, addling the brairu loosening the tongue, multipl.ving the 'fuckin" word count, re-inr.igorating the anecdotes. Toda-v he'd had the briefest flirtation with the thought of not drinking but as soon rs he entered the Rerklcss Engincer he'd got stuck in to handsomc selction of their Fine Real Ales. The Engineer gaye a clear yiew of thc entrance to Temple l\lcads station rthich he eagerly scanned for the arrival of his comrades. And here the1 rl'ere ---Swaggering dorvn from the stalion lilie thel \yere a Premiership Awar Crew arriving in Vauxhall Conference Land.

Years ago he 'd had his one day, in thc sun as a Swansea City North Bank bootboy rrhen the Swans rverr drawn at'a1. 1o Minehead Torvn in the first round of the F.ACup. Oh how they'd accentuatcd their srvagger as a couple of thousand Swansca Jachs put fcar and loathing into the lunchtime shoppers in Minehcad's main drag Shitheap spotty proletarian 1'ouths from the estate wastclands of Blaen-1'-maes and Townhill enjof ing tlreir moment in the luckin' snn , the dispossessed Taffy- losers having po\yer lbr once putting the shits up the Minehead sheep shaggers.

'You're going homc like Slndl- Richardson' sending Nlinehead's finest rain-bonnetcd grannies scurrying into Woolworth's for sanctuary. Power. Power. Thc"v had it and we didn't. Maybe toda,r.'rvould be a Minehcad da1. Thc remnants of the Old Shacklctonians had quickl.r' seized the polyer of the Reckless Enginetrr's beer pumps, Hugs, handshakes - no mention of the past - tacitly agreed a ro-go area all round. Streants of riot visored cop vans edged past the pub rvindon's - n'ith thc odd plain clothes spotter sticking his head round the door to clock the dis;losition of thr Reclaim the Strcreters. 'None in the Enginecr' the.v could sce hinr rcporting in to his command centrc as he critcd the door. No co;l rvould clock the Old Shackletonians for eco u'arriors. Thcl'lool<ed more like a hunch of Combat l8ers waiting to ldck shit out of a fen' lcfties to thc politiciscd cop c)'e but a bunch of Bcmnrl bol.s on the piss to thc untutored e1'es of Bristol coprvorld.

Thc ntain tlodl of thc RTSers \ias t0 guthcr in Castle Park to kccp thc cops conlusetl ahout n'hich road thel uerc going tn hit. Thcl''tl be cxptcting the Ill-l lt \erfoundland Roatl again a straight re-run of last .rcar's tactics u'hich

hadledtosomcuppittl'ruckinginthccit.r ccntrc. Therealtarget$astheraiscdflr'over-ariclietl HeathRohinson airbornc contraption but vital to irroid cit.r ccntrc gridltrck Block that and rou'd fuck up the sttrcts of the Westnorltl's Car,tropolis for hours on pr:ak Ha;lp.r Shopper Dlrl .

Ytlu could sec thc fltoler from the Engincer's frorrt drx,rr so ir couple of hours rxtra drinking coultl be hatl before things kickcd off. watching the cops dispcrse their forcer to implement some totalll ineffectir r contlinrncnt plrn. Al'on's top cop had givcn a fine hosttge to {brtune h1 stating on the Ercning Post's front page that he rvould not allorvthestreâ&#x201A;Źtsof Bristoltobeblockcdagain -asurefir'ereripcfortotal gridlockl last lear's fiasco.

- aftercriticismofhisl'orcel'or

It was a racing ccrtaintl'that a leu'hundred rave organiscrr. crusties and ect>.*arriors n'oultl givc the cops rvith all their high-tech equipment. advance planning, million pountls rr minute helicopter and stealthl'plain clothes

infiltrators the com;llcte fuckin' run-around. The real fun noulrl start \lhen thc cops tried to clear the fl_r-over - then the Old Shackletonians would gird their loins. forsake the Rerkless Engineer and rr adc in on the side of the just.

'The difference from fir'e 1'ears ago' ertrilpolated Steve L. 'is all those arrogant l-lame resistant all htack no number allal all fuckin' aftcrnoon rr ith a couple of hodrguards no attempt at hiding - then thel'- nick ]'ou on the next fuckin action. Ther look rhrough all thc photos an{ their spotters pull 1-ou nert tinrc. Thel''re the fuckers rrould should be concentrating on toda.\. l'ou'tl never bclicve the numbers of punters rvho rrcar the samc fuckin clothes on ctcn-fuckin action. Thc cops huc got rvall loads of pictures of the l'uckers'. Cop vans went shooting past the uindorvs. abruptll halting ruptured in the gridlock spilling out their riot shielded passengcrs. Flashing movemcnt and motion rrer\rrhcrc. Out of the n'indous thcv cnuld see thc hright blurs of colour on thc fl--rover.

zombies with the fuckin zoom lens ctmcras. The,v just snlp

Congratulations! You have just been

LUNKED

'The1-'r'e fuckin rlone it , fair play to them' laughcd Steve E. A smudge of black appeared in the windowed porch of the pub. A zomboirt fascist goon from the Planet Zarg uk'a" the police photographer, temporarily dropping off his bodl guards, unarrare of the enemy within.

He moved aside as the Okl Shackletonians quietly exited, catching only the briefest blur of The Lunk's mighty cranium crashing down on hin. A broken nose, hairline skull fracture, nausea, r'omiting, piercing headache n'ith no analgcsic pain relief allowed, were the prcdictable follow up to a Lunk nutting. Camera, radio and LD. were renror.ed for future use into Phil's rucksack

Thc cops had sealed off the occupied llvover but the Old Shackletonians passed through with practiced ease gcsticultting in thc dirertion of Annabcls' Casino. The flyover was completely seized from end to end with huge RTS banners drapcd across it. Part of the road on either side was also occupied but the cops rvere trying to push people on to the pavenrents to allorv traffic frec flow rountl. Music and drumming had started rvhich Steve E. knerv from crperience to bc a had sign - inevitabll, leading to harmonious dancing in front of the cops and the triumph of pacifism.

He was brrdll' out of touch though. Reclaim the Streets u as a cut abovc fluff--rism and the collective imagination had not stopped rr'ith the fl1'over scizure- Suddenl.r- another 50 or so RTSers emcrgcd from the hugc property delelopment site op;rositc blocking the forrr lanes beneath the flyovcr and dragging barricades of portakabins and scaflblding into thc road.

YES: FUCKIN YES! Stevc E.'s hcart gare a spontaneous adrenalin whoop. For

some reason the co;ls had neithcr protected the huge T'emple Gafe site nor removed potcntial barricade building materials and ammunition from it. WISE UP MUGS! Steve L. and Thc Lunk *ere alread;- hauling r.ast beam ends into the road, follorved b-v cement rnirers, generators, I'cncing, rvhat looked like a dismantled watch tower, securit;- kabins, gate posts, lintels, tarpaulins and an1' amount of general debris.

The mood was taking hold. Chain gangs l'erried bricks, railings, cement fragments, hard core and rubblc to build up stock;liles of throrvable ammunition directll, behind the barricades The cops just stared and watchcd from a safe distance - nlore conccrned rvith getting an ambulance through the jammed traffic to a prone figure in the dooru'ay of the Rcrcliless Engineer.

They had a back-up containment plan norv that the)' had lost the initial battle to keep the roads opcn. Allow the RTSers to blow thernselves out over a few hours and hope for a peaceful drifting away as the evening wore on. Other darker minds werc at n'ork hou'ever who did not harc pcacet'ul containment in mind. Bricks rvere being passed on to thc airhorne bridge. Stevc L looked up to the windorvs of thc building directly overlooking the flyover, almost touching it, catching llashes of moyement in its u'indon,s, 'W'hat's that fuckin' place' he asked Steve E.

'The Grosrenor Hotel Used to be a DHSS Bed and breakfast but got closed down by Environmental Ilealth 'cos n'as such a shittole. It's empty nowt. 'No it fuckin' ain't - it's wherc alt the fuckin' cop cameras ane.

'Fuck 1'eah. I remember it, we sta-ved there with Jo Strummer on the Rock Against the Rich tour. We n'as doing the merchandising - the Class War t-shirts with Thatcher rvith thc axe stuck in her fuckin' head. Strummer asked the Bristol Class War lot to book us into a decent hotel - and that's rvhat they fuckin' comc up n'ith - a filth1* fuckin' rabbit lvarren shithole with a fl1'over trvo l'eet from your fuckin' hedroom. Strummer fucked off and slept on the bus. The cops rvere standing rvell back out of ammunition rangc but any Dickie Dimwit corrld see the.y- rvere preparing for a mounted charge to dispersc the main bardcades'Fuckin' great' enthuscd Steve E. 'a fuckin' mounted coconut shy ahout to gct their fuckin' heads taken off.

' Yeah, and hardly any fucker masked up and all frlmed by some goonsmln up there in Stnrmmer's bedroom'. Steve L. gesticulated towards two black clad figures on the Grosvenor roof. 6C'mon let's get the cunts, otherrvise some poor fuckers flre gonna be stitchcd up bigtimc'. see no wa1' to gain access to the building, surl'ounded back{irst before any otheroption would open up.

From the tallest point of the flyor,er they could cops. They rvould have to he driven

it rvas by the

Masked up, they ferried bits of brirk, railings and steel meshing up the bridge. A mini-cairn of stockpiled ammunition took shape in the middle of the elevated highway. The helicopter spotters radioed down and the police retreated from two sides of the Grosvenor hefore the concrete confetti coulil be showered at them. It was one of those moments of collective will, so trcasrrred b-v Steve L, rvhen without rerbal communication a rioting moh knows instinctirely what tasks need to be done. Trvo punky girls abseiled down the elevated stanchions, crashed a hole in a Grosvenor skylight and disappeared throrrgh like pink hairerl fcrrets A balcony door EI(PLODED OPEN TO CRAZY COLOURED CLENCIIED FIST MAYHEM. A rvhoop of ladders bridged the icc creyasse betw'een bridge and balcony and the autonomous zoners addcd a squatted hotel to a squatted flyor.er. A squatted hotel with other squatters still clicking away in thc Strummer Suite two floors up.

I)oryn belorv the mounties were salll-ing forth in timid unconr.incing forays towards the harricades. The flashes of hesitation and early halting pull -ups hetrayed a fearful lack of confidence in their commanding ofticer's game ;rlan. Fear and hesitancy cornmunicated to the RTSers who charged at the retreating horses, turning the Bristol skv into a scrapman's dream.

THE IRONCLAI) A huge copper boiler rvas trundled torrards the horses like a mediael'al battering ram, the noise alone crrusing one horse to rcar up and throrv it's rider over the middle road railing dividers Bchind the Ironclad boiler ram - a creation for Isamhard Kingdom Brunel to gaze wistfull.r- at from his G.W.R l'antage point at Temple Meads - thc first f'ufious lrcs of petrol hombs bounccd among the backward edging horse hobbics. As the flames scorched up their fetlocks the mounties abandoned any pretence of an orderly, disiplined retrcat Searing horseflcsh kebab smells sent 1-ears of training to the middens of Redcliffe Caves Panicked by thc titanic boiler now itself conted in burning petrol and, the width of the dual carriageway, trundling incxorably towards them and the rain of petrol bomhs in their midst the horses danced and pranced like an audition for the first battle of The Somme.

Mounlcd coppers hurlcd sl<;*rvards - one catching a full on the face petrol bomb at the zenith of it's upward trajectory - his llaming head bursting ablaz* in a spectacularly beautiful tableau. Other beasts performed summersaults, their girlhs crushing down on their petrified former masters with heavl' shods flaiting skull cracking hlows at those defcnccless officers pinioncd untler great horsc mmps. The back-up bo1's fluffcd it - fluft'ed it bigtime. Shooting useless water jets at buming petrol driven cop heads, terrified, stricken b1' the soot_v risages of tlreir drinking pals flaking off hefore them. The flaming imnclad rolling over thc crushed limbs under the horses putling napalm shards of face llesh onto it's sticky'flypaper rusting coppâ&#x201A;Źr. One co;lper's whole face was ripped from his head appearing with a perplexed lopsided grin on ever:' huge roll of the Ironclad. Steve

L. and Sterc E. R'ere first acruss the ice ladder to the Grosvenor joining the flame.haircd punkettcs in aghast

admiration at the carnage below.

'Fuckin', fuckin' hell, horv the fuck did that fuckin' happpen in five fuckir' seconds?'.

--)

He could see The Lunk grinning through the smoke, the burning ty-res, like a scanecrow on Acid, leaping erhorting

further attacks on limbless coppent with Belisha Bcacon hcads. 'Fucliin' Jesus' soft hreathed Steve the fuckin' M{ after all.'

L '['ve

b,een

all over the fuckin' world but it was gonna go off at the bottom of

' You two, fuck off home' , he addressed the fcrrrct punks 'get rid of the hair and stick likc fuckin' glue to the same fuckin alibl This is a life sâ&#x201A;¬ntence coming up for cop killing. Harrf Roberts onll' killed three and he's never getting out so what the fuck knorvs flre we gonna do for this? Go on , fuck oIfl'. The-r did.

'I'r'e got nothing to lose now mate', Steve

fixed Stwe E. in his gaze.' But .r-ou've gotta fuck off

'No fuckin' n'a1. I t'ucked up on the tcar gas, now it's fuckin' redemption 'Steve.

I didn't have time to tell )-ou, I

too'.

time'.

I i

went to Bougainville to fight with the Bougainville Revolutionarl, Army

hccause I couldn't give a fuck anymore...... I wanted to die fighting the bastards. not on some fuckin' hospital blood drip rvith mc white cells evalrorating fasL I can take out these bastards There was a fuckin' ceasefire in Bougainville irftcr I got therc - ycah, firckin' funny as fuck I know - so I came back to get Thatcher. Now it'll havc to he this lt's no lircliin' good you fuckin' rotting in gaol 'cos of some fuckin' tear gas guilt trip'.

Sto c L. gulpcd for air. 'Steve - -vou let me down once - fuckin badll' dorvn - don't fuckin' let me dolr n now as n'ell. Fuck Ott. Organise thc resistance alttr this - God knows it'll need it. I rvant this Steve. I fuckin' n'ant it. Don't fuckin' stcll it fronr mc likc vou did belbrc vou cunt'.

STEVE E. EXITED THE GROSVENOR. RAN THE RA.GGED STREETS OF FLAMING BR]STOL WITH THE I}IET,\STASISING MOBS' PETROL BOMBED THE FINEST PARISH CHURCH IN ALL ENGLAND , PISSED ON HOLY RELICS, TORCHED'IHE MATTIIEW AND PREPARED IIIMSELF FOR TIIE FORTHCOMING NEMESIS IN FRONT OF 6 a-m. SUI-DAY CEEPAX.

. 7 POLICE DEAD IN BRISTOL RIOT

HORROR' ,7 COPS DEAD,Z TAKEN HOSTAGE'

.MURDER LUST MOB KILLS 7 COPS'

.MOB MANIAC STILL HOLDS 2 COPS..' I

LTVE SIIOCK HORROR PICS F'ROM TIIE SUNNY WESTCOUNTRY.

The non' at rest [ronclad rvith the cop's face scraped off and now being sewn back live on his face b1, somc pioneering Bristol heart surgeon moonlighting lrom the struck-off rcgister. Weeping cop widows in front of Happy' Famill ;tics, Cahinet ministcrs in mourning mode. Half-mast flags on Poftishead Pig H.Q. po-faced presenters the full grieling faqade of the State. Shades of the Queen Mother's dcath aged 1.13.

Steve E. longed

with his whole heart for the Belgian pie-slappcrs to invade the studio to the strains of 'Thc Laughing

Policeman'.

Then.......LM

PICTURES SONIE VIEWERS MAY FIND DISTURBING

Stel'e L. prowling thc Grosvenor roof rvith the two goon zoom lensed cop zombics lcashed to his rvrists" Strangewtls

revisited If Steve L. gets rrrtyheelcd off the roof b1' the fire;torver of the rvhole fucliin' Avon Constabulary currently trained at him thcn the bound and gngged zomboids will also take a minor fatal tumhlctoss.

I I I '

Hc can sense the corpuscle count surging through Stevc L.'s pumping yeins and arteries Thc mln is fcrociousll. alive, the adrenal gland twitching every muscle and s-vnapse in spasm from his buttoclis to his bottom Iip. This is a man n'ho's time has come and he fuckin' knows it and no time or title is gonna rvash him arvay from his rooftop fifteen fuckin' minutes. Ile's sought it all his life from the forests of the Chiapas and the autonomous zoncs of the Ztpatistas to the island of Bougainville. IIe's sucking in ever;- sn'oosh of air, a hundred contradictory thoughts contending to guide his ncxt vital actions. His heart popping like a sky full of amyl nitratc. the proximitl' of his death with the exhilaration of the here and now triumphalising his rvhole life. 'What's hc gonna do?' gasped Stcve E., aware the same question was queuing up for a pressing ansll'er lrom himsclf. He strained to catch the words Stere L. rras shouting in full close-up on his T.V. screen.

THE HAT TRICKHERO 'Bring IIARRY ROBERTS here from I)artmoor. You can have the tw'o cops for luckin' nothing - full on alile , I fuckin' promise - for flrfteen minutes for Harrl Roberts on this fuckin' roof. Fiftcren futkin' minutes That's it or the cops fuckin' die rvith me'. FLASII TO DARTMOOR PRISON, PRINCETOWN. Robcrts, the other hat trick hero of the summer of '66 , clambering into a helicopten looking skinnier than the fat boy'facc peedng out frorn the Epping Forest fronds thifty years beforc. It was a fuckin' gamble. Roberts might have said no - clinging to some vain hope that the Police Federation would give the nod to some Homc Secretary to let him out on his 871h bifthday. But Mr. R never wailed. Never publicl.v- rc*anted. Nerer said sorry. Like the ex-SWP gsez.er rvho shot the cop dead during the factory raid in Newcastle. 6How do you plead?' y'our Honour and proud of as fuck 'Guilty

it'

WAM, BAM SLAM THE GATES!

But norv Mr. R n'as disintcrred a living foll< der.il come to choke the puntcrs rvith the ultimate Rock-r' Horror Breakfast Shorv. The Last Supper for the cop killer on the doss house roof. Ster'e E. could hear Middle England Baggrng, knerv that Ster-e Maildom gtrggrng reflex - the ashen faced National Gagg-In

L could sense the conlulsive

welling up of the Daill'

Mr. R by limousinc front Lulsgate Ai4lort, waving regally as thc outridcrs screeched the taut heaft-strings of thc Bristol burbs. Mr, R's first glimpscs of the big be-1'ond since Drve Dce, Doz1,, Beaky, Mick. and Tich. No shades for Mr. R. Collar askew to reveal tuo big, meatJ'-, juic1, lovebites, the product of a lifers long necking scssion rvith a murder groupie. Norv she'll make a fuckin' packet, smiled Mr. R. I

' I

His tirne n'arpetl turn-ons - short black skifi. black boots, white skinn;- rib jumper B*mm1' gob-spitter rvorc them to salutc the last parading of his camal lusts.

so antiquated eyerv teen

L. greeted NIr. R squinting into the epiteptic flash of pop hulbs. SIIERPA TEn-SING AND EIIM gND IIILARY ASTRIDE THE ROOF OF THE WORLD. The cop killers convention in the ctouds. Look at us non,.ltla!. Steve

Evcrl'exchanged n'hisper under the eavcsdroppcd b,l ravening colls tlesperirte for a con.solation killing. Too desperate to allon an ertended live-tinre T.V. photo opportunit.v lbr the rop slaler.s Love-ln. The Honrc Scc,.ioh squirming in his pants, needs an on- air rcsult. Gives the nod. Each cr4r mirrksnrirn mouths a pt rsonal kiss to the

lt Steve L.'s hearL The Avon and Somerset armed nesponse unit opens up rrith the full firepon'er alloned h1 it's much slashed budgct. LIr. R's stomach spills red out from his prison shirt, belly clutching at lacerated intcstincs norv sharpshot to external organs. P.C. Wombrvell can laugh in his grave at last.

bullets ainred

Steve L.'s eyes freeze framed to a milli-second's awareness of thc acclamation that rvill grect the forthcoming disintcgration of his cerebellum.. The smiley, pcarly teeth giving a FUCK-YOU encorc by catching the bullets. This man's last act ain't gonna be salvation for the Home Secrctar_a. His jaw shot separated from his skull as if still capable of autonomous spcech - cut off mid sentence like Albert Parsons cruell-v truncatcd ralcdiction for Anarchy on the staffold. The brain scneams out it's message to Steve.E. through it's malignant eyeball - it's intentions manifcst through the T.V. screen.

The brain kee;rs it's subliminal word and hurls Steve [,.'s corpse from the Grosvenor roof dragging thc still leashed col)s to crack out their skulls on the pavements below - two hroken eggshcll heads spilling out their bloody .y-ellorv 1'olks nll over thc Home Set. and the Sunday Brrakfast.

GIVE FLOWERS FORTHE REBELS FAILE,T) Yes, gil'e flon ers. Then run like fuck from thc nemesis of the state.

The Old Shachletonians had ncrcr lost a man. Well now they wene on a fuckin' steep learning cun'e. Stel.e L. gone bigtimer lilc on the Big Breakfast and a police dragnet likely to g&t every fucker photographed anyrvhere near the

Bristol action a 'Common Cause' life sentence for murder just for stafters Steve E. fled from llristol. A reluctant Weather-Underground fugitive but a complete fuckin' non-aspirant when it came to lifc scntences. The 'THIRTY MOST WANTED' photos splashed across the tabloids featured Steve E. in the guisc of:

'THE MOST EVIL MAN IN BRITAIN'

DalvMirror

,KINKY SEX SECRETS OF MADMAN'S PSYCHO LIEUTENAI\T, Th.S,n Both articles replete rvith some extremely unllattering referemes to his sexual performances and ,kinky tastes' by the ever faithlcss Donna- 'Well, she always did have ,rn eye for the main chance' he smiled ruefully to himself. Thc Lunk had bcen arrested at the scene in the process of stuffing a decapitated police head up a hor-se's arse but such a lerel of wicked dcpravit;* was too much even for the tahloids to mention. Whether out of respect for the decapitee's poor rvidow or the sensibilities of the horse was dillicult to ascertain but the outcome rvas the same in that stcve E. had rather undesen'cdly shot past The Lunk to crime watch's :

.NO. I EVIL BASTARD ANARCHIST ON THE RUN' A series of ' THE WAY MADMAN NIIGIIT LOOK NOW' photofits rathcr unflatteringly portra,r.ed him crosshreed betn'rrcn Giant Ilaystacks and Ifomer Simpson. Oh, God, he hopcd his mum was sticking to .Chat'AND .T.V. euicl<'.

as a

sunival shills of a Harry Robefts or il Unabombcr so unobtrusively booked himsclf into a 'Roont Only'West Indian boarrling house in Ilandsrrorth and set about keeping the proverhial hend n'cll fucliin' dorvn. A hettle, a month's supply of Pot Noodle and a;lortable T.V. rvould sustain him. Steve f,,. lackcd the

Shackletonians present in Bristol were arrested and chargcd with seven counts ol murder. Those Shackletonians not prcsent were arrested in London and charged t'ith conspiracy to commit murder. Seventl- eight RTSers rvere charged with murder on the Common Cause catch-all,

All the OId

The two flame-haired punkettes,who were first through the Grosr,enor door, in rvhat the1, had thought rvould be the a laugh, also copped the murdcr rap.

temporary opening of a squat and a bit of

OnIl' Steve E. ryas free plus Crusty Trevor left in France'. Steve L . was buried by his mum and dad. No Red and Black flag draped the coffin. No message from Sub-Commandante Marcos. No 'Anarth1, in thc U.IC' as the crematoria grabbed his bod1, and best tuncs. A shame-faced family tlo. The anarrchists all nicked or ccrtain to he mug-shotted if theJ did turn up. You'll get autonomv in the sk.r,when you die hye and h1'e-

ARME,D LOVE get angrJ', get even. Steve E. struck offlbr the Romney'Marshes to welcome Cnistl'Trel'or back from sxilc in the silent long grasses of his youth. The conspiracy rvas born under the stringless hopfield polcs of early u'intcr in Kent Yuppified Oast Houses trvinliled in thc darkness as the Angry Brigade for the Millennium n,as born.

Don't

THE ANGRY BRIGADE IS THE PERSON SITTINGNEXT TOYOU ON THE BUS THE CANCER LTBERATION F'RONT TS TIIE Tf,RMINAL DIAGNOSIS NEXT TO YOU IN THE CONSULTING ROOM DON'T GET ANGRY GET EVEN TAKE SONIE OF THE BASTARDS WITII YOU YOT] CAN DO A LOT OF DAI,I,{GE IN SIX MONTHS

)'7

COMMUNIQUE NO. I CANCER LIBERATION FRONT TO ALL TERMINALS

AFTER THE RADIOTHERAPY, CTIEMOTHERAPY AND SURGERY COMES THE'YOU'RE GOING TO DIE SOON' CONSULTATION. PALLIATIVE CARE IS OFFERED. NOW IS THE TIME TO LIVE AS NEVER BEFORE. NO MORE FEAR OF CONSEQUEIYCES. IN DEATH THERE IS LIFE. HOSPICE DWELLERS OF THE WORLD UNITE AVENGE YOURSELVES . SHOOT THE BOSS. THE SOCIETY FOR ONCOLOGICAL ANARCHY LONG LIVE THE BATALLIONS OF DEATH STRIKE FEAR INTO THE BLOATED HEARTS OF THE RTCH

METASTASISE THE MOVEMENT SPREAD THE CELLS OF THE C.L.F. RE,VENGE YOURSELVES ON YOUR ENEMIES DO NOT GO FUCKIN' GENTLY INTO THAT DARK FUCKIN NIGHT I{OT LIBERTY OR DEATH BUT LIBERTY AND DEATH VICTORY TO THE AUTONOMOUS CELLS OF THE C.L.F. TERMINALS OF THE WORLD UNITE

STRTKE NOW! Steve E. retalled a myriad lingering grudges to be settled but Crust-v Trer,pulled him back to the straight and

narroll. Remember the gaolctl punkettes. Spread The Terror titl thel were free. And n'hen they n'ere free increasc Tlte Te rror. Those who onll make half a revolution dig their orvn griryes. The Extenninilirg Angcls of the C.L.F. rvoultl alight silentll' on the tudor betmed cavcs of the rich and famous at nightlall tleparting at da\yn from a transmogrified charnel house. The Norland Nannies of Sunningdale woukl welcome the ertra overtime cleaning the bloodl 'Pigs Must Die' graffitti front the scullery walls. A job creation scheme for the Surre_-r underclass. The carpet bomhing of Wcntrvorth golf club. Ghost trains running a shuttle ser.v'icc to Brrrcku'ood Necropolis \+-ith rhe cadirr ers of the slaughtered from thc Corporate hospitalit5, tents The return of The Great tr'ear. Gerard Winstanlel atop St. Georges Hill lgain lnd the Truc Lcvellers of the C.L.F. scything their n'af in hlood and gore through Virginia Wttcr. Thc Committee Of Public Safet.v in permirnent scssion, merciless, rrithout compassion. 1999

The inverted Year of the Beast

as the catalyst for actions. Their own actions uould sen'e as the catalyst for others' Thc first Roberts' hat trick of '66 werrc selected with some comfort:

Words could only ser1e three to match

llarrl

The retired Chief Constable of Wiltshire. The rural PIGRUNT must die. THE BEANFIELD AVENGED.

ROGER DALTREY. Ilope I die before I get old would have his wished fulfilled feature in 'Who was Who?'. Drowned with a plastic trout in his mouth.

PAUL DANIELS. The desecrator of OId Mother Shipton's rvell and perpetrator of Humanity. The millionaire must die.

The C.L.F.

Communique on the Internet

a generation

too late.The second

a thousand Crimes Agninst

File under sCrankologv' but the Guest List would become thc

hottcst backstage pass on the web.

.Think tike the cops' said Crusty Trevor 'They'll trarvl through the cancer liles searching for terminal rouies near the assassination sites, oncolog'- outpatients, hospital cancer wards for overnight absences, hospice sign-in books, x-ray groupies, chemotherap-v hatdies, G.P,'s cancer lists, withdrawals from library medical sections, victims of medical negtigence, grieving rclatives. Everything will misdircct them - the forensic psychiatrists, the physiologl pro{ilers, the sturlents of long distance lorr,v drivers and raihvay routes. The Cnncer Liberation Front populated only by the cancer free. Untraceable'.

MOONRAKERVILLE They moved across the rick hurning leylines of Wessex to Otd Sarum. They observetl Edrvard Heath promenade along Thc Close of Satisbury Cathedral and imagined the drowning of the Tor-v boatman in the shallorvs of thc Nadder,like Wilson drorrning in his fat pants off The Scillies. To the villages be1'ond Snlisbury, to Shaftesbury and Tisburl and to The Lamb at Hindon. Hindon, only a generation belbre populated by cheery headscarred lmdgirls and Scots battalionsmen on their rvay to rvar in Africa faruvell hissing among the rvhitened cabbage stalks and clucking bantams of long gartlens. Norv the post rvar council house proletarians retur-ning on the Labour tide rvere long gone to trading cstate drudgery in Warntinster and Fromr. Every- alleJ'- noly a Mervs and a Bosun's Nest up everJ' Mervs. Untouched h1" thc lonc flickering of the Wcsscx Liberation tr'ront's in it's Wimpey burning Der'-izcs attack of '85 Hindon dreamed that deep u ntroubled slerep of the gent rl' for centu ries. The rural ne'r do rrclls reduced to thc forsaken flat of a summer holida.r- home, l'etching fir'elighters on the Wilts and Dorset hus from a garage in Wilton. barred from The Lamb antl prime suspccts for a forthcoming fit-up.

'How the fuck arc rve going to get awa1,'with this?' quizzed Steve E. at long last questioning his confidence in Crust1' Treror's gameplan. 'I can imagine killing the fucker - I will kill the fucker - I ryant to kill the fucker.....' 'You sound like fuckin' Kinnock talking in threes' internrpted Trer.or.

'We'll do it like this I lerrned it from some Meibion Gllndwr people u'hen I t'as in Dfed n'ith the ]Vlutants in the

80's.The.y- had problems getting awal' rvith burning holiday homes being nicked before thcv were far enough arval from thc flames So you s;read paper, straw, an1'comhustible material over the floor, paint thinner, rvhatever. Stick a candle in a bowl of paraffin. light the candle and let it burn dorvn to the paraffin n hile 1'ou're long gone. Don't aln'ays work though candle sometimes goes out hut if it does thc house gocs up rrith a rvhoosh while rvc'rc

on orrr

wa]'to Daltrel.'land. If not rve'll run amok rvith pitchforks in The Lamh, 'There are no innocents in Hindon".

Some quietly etTecthe slcuthing through Trevor's Beanfield scrapbooks had revealed that the o{ficcr in charge at the

Beanfield was not thc Chief Constable aller all but a Deputl Commandcr rvho non' lircd on his police retirement pension in one such 'Bosun's Nest' b1 Hindon churchyard. Noru suJlplementing the porti scratchings b1'freelancing with a fer, securitl' companies' P.R departments to persuadc frightencd pensioners to cough up 0800 for the 'Cornplete Peacc of lllind securit.l'Package'. His citations lbove the inglenook and Chirirnranship of Hindon Parish Council made for a ;rig in rural clover.

orr n 'peace of mind package' horvever was a triflc faulty as Stsve E. and Crustl Tm'or made thcir rval through the open French n'indows from the honeysuckled rvalls of his shady arbour.

His

'Merr1'man, Merryman' the folmer deputy commander called out to the prczumed padding across the floor of his golden labrador.

'Merry-fuckin-man! Ilere's one from the Beanfield'. Crusty Trernr slerv his machete in a loosâ&#x201A;Ź limbed slash across the back of thc neck. It stuck, embedded in bone just behind the ear. Staftled, Trevor let go of his only- weapon. He'd forseen a rcpeat slashing till decapitation, but now the machete harl become a permanent part of the top cop's heedgear.

The cop could not vocalise his pain or shock A truly botched murder, only half exccuted - business unfinished. He slumped in a hessian fringed armchair facing the T.V. - the absurdity of a machete half cleaved trough his skull likc a pantomime attachment. Hammer Hourc of Horror gone awful. The cleaver staunching the florv of blood and brain bits, stiil breathing, conscious eyes searching for answers Sterc E. and Crusty Trcvor sat down on the settee opposite

making a killing not so easy.

'What do rvc fuckin' do non'? Asked Steve E., ' you should've gone for his fuckin' throat, he looks like he could last for fuckin' weel<s'. 'He 's got tht: lurliin' Beanfield l'idco Steve.r-, Lookl'. There it n'as . 'Battle of the Beanfield'. Crusty Trcxlr flicked the video tinrer, straightened thc lbrmer deputl' Conrmander so he had full on cye contact rvith the tcler-ision. looscned thc machetc a little to lct his brain bits flon'. traced C.L.F. on to his forehead from the hlood norv seeping through the wound and erited the French rvindows

.C]ANCER T,IANIAC SLAYS FORMER C]OP CHIEF' Roger Daltre.r was n cunt. No explanations n'ere necessar-y or offered for his erecution. The plastic-waxed Barborrrians rverc at his gates and if you didn't gile an instant rvhelp of delight or at least a frisson of illicit pleasure that such an ahsurditl' had been mutdered then there wils no hope for you. Daltrey dron'ncd on his fish farm. Trout Mask Replica.

. A.L.F.

CLAIM DALTREY SLAYII\G'

ore snrokcscreens. The C.L.F. motif scratched on Daltrel-'s forehead rrith a fish hook had mutatctl in the dank fish pond to A.L.F. Robin Webb stitched up again rrith a bloodl'fish hook appearing in his car. Gandalf revisited. The beginnings of The Grcat f,'car in the rock starbroker belt Securitl- thick neclis suarming at pro-celebrity golf tournaments. Forslth, Tarbuck, DavidsonrEdmondsrCla;rton,Collins, John, under armed guard. Vcrsace killers stalking the Wc1'bridge gravcl pits Weirdos arrested. LD. parade queues outside Walton on Thames copshop. Guntoting cops from Heathrorv moonlighting on Tolworth Broadwal'. 'TOYAII PLEES ABROAD' and 'RICK WAKEMAN IIIT WITH IRON BAR IN STREET GANG ATTACK'. Cop raids on hospices. All new cancer diagnoscs to be reported to M.I.5. Consultants failing to notify terminal tumours to Special Branch guilty of an arrestable offcnce. Homc Secretarv ;lroscribes the Cancer Liberation Front under the Prevention of Terrorism Act. w'

Steve E. types C.L.f,'. Communiquc No.3 into website-

Will not compute. Steve E. and Crusfl'Trryor bewilderment NEWSFLASII:

as Communique No.3 is revealcd as already Communiqued.

PAUL DANIELS SLAIN BY C.L.F. TERROR MTJRDER COTTNT GROWS TO THREE Autonomous Communique from South Yorl<shirc Command Cell of the C.L.F. reads in full:

'Paul Daniels rvas asphyxiated today-b1- being placed in Old Ma' Shipton's well. His Mr. Blobbying of the legacl of Old Mothcr Shipton was crime enough. Ships of iron shall float in the sky and millionaire Torv scumbags rvill surcly dic'. END COMMUNIQUE.

A freelancer. Steve E. and Crusty Tncvor rejoice. Waheman hit by street gangs and D:rniels docs the disappearing trick courtesy of an unknown class warrior. Daltrcy and Daniels. Professors of alphabetoltlgl* trek the newsrooms providing public comfort food agninst the horror of randomness.

.MILLIONAIRE MAGICIAN MURDERED. WHO'S NEXT?' Steve E. and Crusty Trevor consult their hit a bunch of white liberals' said Steve E.

list

6We'd better hit some cunt like Frank Bruno or thev'll thinh rrc're

bit Let the panic takc hold. Whcn Ravachol and Emile Henry were bombing the salons of paris piece of scenery iollapsed backstagc at the opera house one night 'I*s Anarchistes! Unc bombe' a the rich in rvere crusherl to death in the stampede for the erit than Ravachol and Henr-v* ever More bourgeois came the cr.r-. .No, no more hits for a

managed to kill themselves. I-et,s sit back and see what develops for a few weeks, then we can bargain for the releasc of the Bristol mob and the Punkers'. Steye E, concurre6. The Groucho Club erected bultet proof windows and Paul Daniels' attractire millionairess young widorv was charged u'ith murder and causing a public panic by issuing a fake C.I l E. communique. 'IIow the hare u falh" C.L.F. communique?' museit Trevor as he sun'eyed thc erer incrrcasing firepower itu.t ."n .r-ou

assigned

to'Operation Copslayer'.

Spring anrt the workl was mud luscious and puddle wonderful. They holed up in a chalet at Sandy Lanc was just "Gowei peninsula and caught their breath at the events of the last few weeks. Thcir mutation into folk devils' on the

pondering on th" probability of their imminent Butch and Sundance deaths, and rvondered at how thc fuck they'd got where they rvere. The accidental terrorists. 6I don't even fuckin' believe in terrorism...............I'm a fuckin' collective action bo'i-......terrorism's a fuckin' middle class fantasy rvilnk, a fuckin' dead end' they laugherl at the absurdity of their situation.....'it's it fuckin' dead end for us' smiled Trevor. .Postpone the fuckin'post mortems Stcve, we ain't in the Guardian fuckin' obituary pages yet'.

Victor Serge's words echoed from the midnight of the century to a wooden chalet in the druggie haven of Sandl' Lane. ,Thgv were wandering in the city, without escape, ready to be kilted somervhere, anJ'where, in a train or a caf6' cornercd, alone in defiance of a horible world'. The fragments of Serge's rvriting stalked Stere E.'s brain for sereral days as the yellow gorse of the Gower spring tore into his weasel flesh arms.

.A positive wave of l,iolence and despair began to grow. The outlaw anarchists shot at the police and blew out their brains. Others, olerpoweretl, before they could fire their last bullet into their orvn heads, went off sneering to the guillotine ' One against allo 'Nothing means anything to me! and 'DAMN TIIE MASTERS' DAMN THE SLAVES AND DAMN ME". Serge's words called out from histor.v to Steve E.'s present Bonnot, wrapped in a mattress, shooting at the cops till the last Peter the Painter peaccck struttiug dorvn Whitechapel lligh Street to the Autonomy Club but now slipping quietly away from No.12 Sidney Street. Thc Hounsflitch murders, dead cops in Abncy Park cemetr-v, Steinie Morrison struggling like a &mented colossus on \Yhitcchapel station, a dead man already, on his way to force fed choking, Scrge himself, cardboard for his shoe soles, slipping anonymously from life in Mexico City. The ever lightening summer nights as they wear.ed homewards down the Pennard Castle valley clutching their late night supplies from the Pa*mill Happy Shopper. A last summer idyll before the storm would break about their heads. Suspended time, cancer terorists in remission. Pulses racing as they scrabbled home among the reedJ' streams and distant headlight beams. Firellies dancing in the smoke at Rhossili and time closing in with the tide.

Marge Piercey's 'Vida'. The Weather Underground fighting on years after Port llurtn and the Days of Rage. Silas Bissell hoovering up the rich. You don't need a weatherman to knorv which way the wind blows. Geronimo Pratt on bail. People you thought rvere dead rising from the gravc rvith stuttering pump actiou shotguns like Muhammed Ali's silent words in Brixton market. Leary freed b.r* the Wcatherrnen, dead, gone along nith Rubin and lloffman,but Weathenvomcn ghosts blasting bullion vans and sen'ing 500 1-ear sentences as orderlies in facilities of correction.

Peter the Painter returning with Spring heeled Jack as his bagman, wanting more than his fifteen minutes. Kathy Boudin freed by Weathergrandchildren. Sacco and Vanzctti pleading again in Deadham with the advantage of hindsight forensics: 'Guilty as fuck your Honour and proud of it. We done it good and proper We was never innocent

fuckin what If we hadn't shot the fucker we'd have just been A good shoemaker and a poor frsh pedlar

Fuck that for a lark'

A Sergeant Pepper cover of anarchrterrorisers Vaillant, Henry, Ravachol, Bonnot, Czgolgoz, Ber*rnan, Nechaev, Valerie Solanas offing Will Self on the Late Reriew. Paul Daniels unconvicted widow struggling to shove his arse dorvn the well. Magic out of that one wankface!

THE ANGRY SIDE But Stevc E. kncrv mostly why he'd come back to the Gower. Vapour trails tracing back to the summer of '72 when Ililary Creek and Anna Mendelson - one quarter of the Stoke Newington Eight - had been bailed for a last glance of freedom for a decade to a blissful Gorver summer. Doomed women facing a life stretch hugging naked on Oxwich beach, kiss flicking under broody Swansea rainstorms waiting for the turnkey's chastity belts An intensity of repressed desire"

Visitors and more l'isitors from London. Ian Purdie, I)arcus Horve, World in Action - lolloping with wine bottles and dancing among the depositions at Three Cliffs Bay. Steve E. trying to read the body language - Ililary Creek's body' language. Misreading the signs - hugs, squeezes, laughter and warm affection weren't sexual longing. Or had they been?

Mal'be he'd dorrble misread the signs. Did

she want him or not? \Yhat about the Angr.v boys not granted the Angry girlies bail privilege? FUCIC Desire suppressed as the hot summer slipped awa.v. Facing a life sentence with a celibatc sumrner.

Onc late $umrncr's irftcrnoon shcld called round to his Swlnsea flaL 'Fanc1' a drive out sontewhere Steve?'. The use of his first name seemed somehow intimate as did the suggestion of a no purpose.

trip rvith

'Gower?'

'No, Llanelli' She eyebrowed disbelievingly.'Llanelli?'

tYest

She was a confident driver, only one hand lazily on the steering wheel, speeding down the Carmarthen Road rvith effortless flicks of the wrist in and out of the traffic. IIe knew she'd he a confitlent loyer and he'd be happy to surrcnder to her control. 'What's with Llanelli Steve?' she smiled. 'It feels the right time' he said, pushing the shared intimacy of mood between them towards open acknowledgement

The sun shone down on the red brick tinplate town, glimpsing dapples among the silted docks and mud-flatted as as promising a venuc for a dmmed romance as you could {ind, a place of thwarted loye and moment who's time has gone before you erer realised it existed-

Loughor estuary. It was

Away from her Angry Brigade sister Anna, the support gmup, the interminable tlepositions, the pnessure rising as each summer day ebbed au'ay'towards prison, the.r* walked arm in arm among the scruhby warehouses and tong coagulated rust meldings of the dock railtracks. The ey-e's of the world's Tinopolis followerl them among the hcad bowed cratres and coal dust lumber. The marooned groynes tracing a finger towartls Stebonheath and derelict tinplate sheds lilre long forsaken rvhaling stations on South Georgia

Her warm confidence made him feel at an]- moment she would stop the meander and putl him close to her - the proximitl- of the moment accentuating the pulse beat in his eardrums. She didn't Neither tlid he pull her close to

-)i

him. ln n critical onc hundrcd yarrds expectation pealied and dissipated. When thc.v- glancctl at etch other again it rvas like thc summer !\'as ol,cr. The rvamth of fiiendshigr would stay - the warmth of fiiendship. She could carr.r- sticks of gelignite strappcd to her waist through custorns, blon up a cabinct minister's housc and

drive lilie Juan fangio but.....but,but,but,..,..but maybe that one surnrner's night in the Tintown she n'antcd something differcnt - to be irrrsponsible for once, to havc the responsihility'for: what she did taken arva.v from her.

Whatever, Ma1'be he'd dreamcd the rvhole thing up. Whatever.

Now he was the Gorvcr outlaw, dodging to the shoplight through the sand dunes. Another celihate rebel on autodestruct He needed a fuck. IIe couldn't die rvithout a fuck.

TIIE FTICKFEST When

she ansrvered the door hc started himsclf

bl,flashing Solanas's'words through his brain.

'The malc is, nonetheless, obsessed with screwing; he'll srvim a rirer of snot, wade nostril-deep through a mile of vomit, if he thinks there'll be a friendly pussy awaiting him.' Cnrsty Trcvor had called him a scrotum brained fuckrvit jeapardising their entire existencc but still htr'd conrc. He rvas risking everything, waltzing past the Srvansea cop shop to her torver bltrck rvithin striking distancc of the polict' station clock. Solanas rvas fuckin' spot on. Trevor was spot on - his brain rvas 'in his fuckin pants!' 'f,'uckin' hell, Stevey', she whisked him in self aware of his danger. A loopy stupid 'I knew you'd be back again' grin framed around a gummy smile, Silence as he took in the shock She'd always been a bit thin but not fuckin' skeletal. Still the rvinceyette nightie with clogs hinted at a stylishness still prcsent. He moved ton'ards her, presumptuously, to pull the winceyette over her head and feel her stick thinness next to him. 6Therc's my friend ncxt door Sterey

- I need to see to him -

sit down'.

'A punter?' hc quizzcd. 'No Stevey,

friend. It's alright, I won't introduce

1,ou

you'rc safe Stcr,ey.

StaJ''.

Hc'll go shortly.'

it had depended on her har-ing teeth in her head. It didn't come off. But at least she tried to make it come

Therrc rvas a smile, who's power over him she knew too well, but She tried to fix him rvith that smile as she exited the room. off- he comforted himself.

IIe hadn't setn her sincc he left Swansca in 1981. Trvo lettcrs and a telephone con\.ersation one dnrnk night alter live .years of bitter slyeet untogctherness. She hatl been on thc uprvard trajector_v of whoring then - an evangelicirl n'hore eyen - an ideological rvhorc - fronting him the money- for his F'UCK OFf,' magazine and bunging him f70 to gct the first issue of CLASS WAR printed. How come the press ncyer picketl up on that onc he hrrd often wontlered rvith his tahtoid editor's e1'e lbr a good story:

.MADAM CYN WHORE FUNDS CLASS WARFANATICS'

She lucked the rich to redistribute their u'srlth - mainl.r, to herself, but thcn ,for surc, osmotically to hcr conrratles b.r way of drinks, food, or dossing rights in her Lndbrokc grove flat. Outright rerolutionan' grants rvere not applied tbr like Chumbart'amba's welcomc post 'Tuhthumping' dishursements antl rarell given.

-l

RUTHIE She started at 15 fucking her mother's friends' husbands in downtown Munrbles. Suddenly she had power. She was her mother's respettable rnore powerful than her mother in her Swansea Soroptomist circles. Rotary- Club men friends - could be rcduced to porverless wrecks by the naked smile of tbis hitherto insignificant teenager. Shc worked out all on her own that you could get money for it. She'd only gfu'en arvay three fucks before shc wiscd up'

She never realised she was a prostitute till later rvhcn Mr. Mumbles Yacht Club rcfused to pay up and she bricked his front rvindorvs in and got nicked. IIer magistrates court revelations ' TEENAGE LOLITA IN GOWER ROTARIANS F'UCKFEST' were dismissed as fantastical but kept the Ugly Lovely Town agog for two days and

sent her mother tumbling from polite society into a terminfll slYoon.

old signing on and grring her occupation as PROSTITUTE with a FUCK YOU insolence established the rationale for her work 'I can earn more in an hour than you can in a fuckin' week dear!'. The sixteen

y,-car

lip*urlingly out of the state benefit safety net forever into a life of self-help and social entrepreneurship, dc".spunking the boys and empowering the girls on the way. She evangelised prositution. It wasn't just a job like an1' othcr - but with better pay rates - it was something 1'ou were a MUG not to be" She flounced

'We are all ;rrostitutes' read the ripped t-shirts of the Swansca class of '78 girl punkers. Not a slogan - a statcment of fact. Tccnagc punkcttes with moncy- to burn - outspending the bleached Gower surfie boys who's fathers they were fucking. A slewed peripheral econom]' out of sync. Mohicaned 'Belsen is a Gas' girls whipping the fuck out of the City' Ftthers. A pon.er inversiou. A city where real power tay in the hands of teenage proletarian women. Guilty corporate pillon-talk secrets passed to anarcho-scandal sheets. Councillors on corruption charges, council leaders gaoled antl then gaoled agnin. The girl done good,

TEEI{ CUNT POWERWRECKED THE CITY Mar.'be it could wreck the nation. She fucked off to

fnndon to find out.

'I ain't fuckin' no fuckin' copper' Liz n as the agitprop to Ruthie's sl1 subversion. Partners in the lesbian sex shorv at Cynthia Par. ne's Ambleside Avenue parties Cl,nthia drerv her fbul-mouthed big earncr to one side. 'Just give a r;uick hand relief dear, and don't swear, just a quick de-spunk'.

'I ain't wanking no copper of eithcr'. Liz retained he r principled stand. The Chief Inspector had to look elscwhere lbr fulfillment as C1:nthia smoothed the uupleasant stain from the atmosphere. 'Alright Liz, alright , srlc'to the bank manager instead dear'.

Liz rvould do the lesbian show and fuck allcomers but not coppers. That rvas her limits, what kept the vital paft of her to her integral selt distinguished her from Ruthie u ho put her rvholc self in. The limits made Liz last the pace while Ruthie fiz-zed stanvards like she had in Swansea. But Ambleside Avenuc was pedc'strian, suburban horing. It rvlsn't eyen B-List celcbritl .....Dercli Nimnro oncc lras as hot and edgel as it got. Cvnthia Pavne rcmintled Ruthic of her Mumhles nrothcr, full of u ankv tlel'ertncc and eager to ple asr anl old male tosspot rvho came through thc door. Strictll Dcrck Nimmo league - the Church Arml' nith knapkins. London rvilsn't Srvansca. Tecnagc harlots werc onl-v big news n'hcn thel-. had their throats cut urd randr councillor"- rverc ne*'s from nrln'htresville.

lr+

Aftcr Cynthia got raided the second timc therc was somc talk of a 'promincnt lrish polititian' hcing a regular house guest. In fact she'd hare been fuckin' luckl' to get a retired Alderman from Cattbrd but Ruthie sensed an Ian Paislel. storl coming on in a press blind spot and managed to screu' thc News of the World for a couple of hundretl quid on saying she recognised a photo of Paislel'when shorv to her by a pants-wetting-sleuth-hound. She set up on her own in Paddington. Conveyor belt-fucking. Drinking and drugging to hlot out the dumbfuck boredom. Holidays at the Stonehenge Free Festival provitled the yearly release and prostitute activism with Ilelen Buckingham a ncw cause. Cross Womers Centre she had her frncst rhetorical hour. Arguing with the English Collective of Prostitutes - rvho'd managed to effectivcly clean up on the media franchise for speaking on behalf of prostitutes - too dumbfuck stupid to speak for themselves - Ruthie sneeringly berated them as ' Neither English (they rvert all American) Nor collective ( Selma James and Wilmette Brorvn ran the whole show 'rvith a Stalinist grip) Nor Prostitutes - ' who'd pay to fuck her' she lip curled at Wilmette Brorvn. Her last vestiges of prossie activist celebrity vanishing dorvn the accompanying scandalised plug hole as the moftified sisters looked on aghast.

In hattle rvith the Kings

But London generall.r did not quake. She became a run of the mill Paddington whore with an ever increasing smack problem. Her flat got repossessed. She got two 1'ears gaol for dealing back in Srvansea and copped tuberculosis inside. Steve f,. lost contact . Just keen to hold on to the odd rumour that she was still alive.'

.IT'S FUCKIN' MEN INNIT' The front door shut. She kissed him on the cheek. 'Steve"v I love -vou for killing that Stonehenge copper - 1'ou did it for me, I knorv 1'ou did. D',vou wanna fuck Stevey? Do you want some herb tea first? Have you scen m-y rat Stevc-v? What a lor.ell- surprise? Ilorv did you know rvhere I rvas? Stevey I ain't gonna be in this place long. I'ye met tlris man, he's gonna build me a house in Barbados but his rvife don't likc it. I bet you ain't had a fuck for ages I saw .vou on the television Stevey'. I ain't got no stockings Stevel'- ain't got no hips to hold 'em up. I'm getting better nolv Steve5 - gonna buy a place again. It's alright herr though, not so bad as it looks Stcvcy. I'm getting mv tceth back soon, when I stafi earning again. You ain't caught mc at a bad time Steve1". Stevc E. laughed at her head numbing mix of speed rush and punterese. She tried for a coquettish smile in thc old way and sat dorvn on his lap. 'Stevey we can't fuck

- I got herpes too badrbut no teeth's good for something ain't it Stevey?'

'Ruthie, shut the fuck up for just

a minute' he smiled affectionately. He was beginning to feel rotten about his earlier prezumption and her instant perception of the motivation for his risil

He stripped his clothes off, pulled up her wincyette nightie and pushed his head inside to the neck till it covered them both. IIe felt her warm stick thinness next to him, like she could be snapped in two aborc the buttocks if he squeezed too hard, and the lightness of her bodyweight. She rvas quiet now, concentrating on the motion of her hand on his penis.

tThis ain't gonna be potato juice is it Stevey?', she whispered, biting on his ear lobe as a slug of viscous come settled into thc crook of her thumb and forefinger.

'Night'. She zucked on her thumb and slcpt in Steve E.'s foetal embrace under the wincyette canop),.

'Have you got the full blown job or just

'Just Positive

two years now. Sterey

II.[V.

Positivc?' asked Steve

on waking

- you're such a fuckin' hypochondriac,

how come you let an Aids ridden

smack addict with Hep B. give you a fuckin' wank?'.

Fuck knows You must have taken advantage of my weakness !"ou bastard. Ifow come you still got punters who'll

fuck you?',

'It's fuckin' men innit. Diggin' their own

graves with their dicks'.

was hoping you'd havc Karposi's Sarrcoma , then you could haye joined the C.L.F,'.

She hit Stclr E. with a pillow, zurprising them both with her playfulness. He tickled her in the few parts where there wes any flesh to tickle and marvelled there was room for a fast heating heart in such a skinny frame.

'Sterey, I knorv you think I was a twat lbr going on about the Stonehenge festival all the time but I was right wasn't I? You wouldn't havc killed the copper if I wasn't right. You shouldn't have heen so fuckin' arrogant about it - it was fuckin' magical. I miss it. I miss it loads You must have changed your mind. That's a big thing for 1.ou Stevey, to evcr sa)- to yourself you were wrong.

Ilc

laughed. It n'as a long time since he'd enjoyed the intimacy of someone who knew him so well.

'Steve3-, tr ain't so brtinless as .vou

'If

think you know. Steyey, y'ou're doing things wrong. Can I tell you?'

oot ;-ou, who?' he smiled.

rou just go on killing people they're nel'er going to negotiate with you. Thcy'Il never release the Bristol people. You did badll' rvrong to get them punk;- gids life - they'd only gone out for a demonstration and now you,l-e fucked

'If

their whole lives up.........

thought

1-ou

had something positil'e to f'uckin' say,.

'You nerer could takc any fuckin' criticisrn even when you knew it was right I bet ]-ou do feel real bad about them girls but 1'ou won't fuckin' let on will you'. He srniled again. 'You're fuckin' dangerous, you know too fuckin, much. Go on. I can take

it'.

'Steve-1', You'!'e got to have something the.v want before they'll negotiate with you something they want renl bad a fuck about a few dead celebs or time servert ioppirs do you?

like hostages. You don't really think they give

Shooting Peter Stringfellorv ain't gonna open the doors of any prison, 5.ou know that Stevey. is too messy but I got an idea about something that could worlc

Stlley f know

hostages

He nodded.

'Dig up Diana's Steve E" left

body.

Dig up Diana's body and rans{xn it for the release of the Bristol punks'.

for Sandy Lane,

EXTREMISM IN

THE DEFENCE OF LIBERTY IS NO VICE,. " " .. "MODE'RATION IN THE PURSUIT OF JUSTICE NO VIRTUE O

Trevor had bcen seriously impresscd hy thc Animal Rctribution Squads' irttempt to dig up thc Duke Of Beauf'ort's bod;-. 'John Curtin told me they u,as going to heep it upstairs at somtonc's mum's house but thc mum grassed thcrn all up. Buckin' spot on idea though. Then they- tried to do John Peel's grave......'

'But he ain't dead'. 'Not the fuckin' D.J.

1'ou twat, the

fuckin' hunter'.

'Ycs, apparently Class War had some idca about digging Churchill up but they- bottled

it'

tYou do fuckin' surprise me' sarcasticed Trer,or.

'You know what clse Ruthietold me" Liz, this woman she uscd to go rvhoring rvith, reallv fuckin' gurd ltxlking, she used to fuck Earl Spencer . And..... f,,arl Spencer used to call her Diana all thc timc.....Liz looked a bit likc luckin' Diana .....so she rcckoned Spenccr had this thing about fuckin' his kid sistcr'.

'That don't surprise mc- Ther"re all fuckin' in-breds the aristocrac5'. Look at thc fuckin' Windsors. Ma1'be that's fuckin' keen to spirit the body back to Altho4r as sharpish as he could - so he could gil'e her a final fuckin' poke in the coffin. I think we should fuckin' do it. Whcn Sterc L. had those two coppers on thc roof hostage they brought IIarry Robcrts straight fuckin' to him'. wh.r- Spencer was so

as spokeswoman for us, for the C.LF. - like Robin Webb does for never be able to contact atrIione v'hen we're got the body or we'll be truced. She'll go on T.V. - the and negotiate for us. I trust her to fuckin' do it'.

'Listen , Rrrthie had another good idea She'll act the

A.L.F, We'll

fuckin' lot

'Fuck me. Shc's gonna be as popular as Myra Hyndley, Is she really geared up for it? Does shc really know the shit that'll come down on her? She'll get done for conspiracy or shot in the fuckin' street or something. The punks u'as hrrd enough, do we really wanna fuck someone else's life up

'She wants to do

especially someone you're still so ohviously' fond

?'.

She'll do it goodt.

Steve E. and Crusty Trrcl'or pushed off

from

Sandy Lane for

Althoql - an immaculate caravanette attached to their

Hertz hire car.

When they got there.....the cupboard was bare Burlre and flarc wcnt to work on the Althorp island intending to lever the Quecn of llearts from Earl Spencer's

profit margins

as an incidental bonus.

'Spcncer you fuckin' in-bred cunt, horv fuckin' deep har,e you buried her?' Treyor plunged his spade back into ther hurial mound. ' This placc fuckin' stinks - it's more like a shit'olc mirlden than a fuckin' hallowcd fuckin' resting placc. Jesus, we're gonna haye to hit something fuckin' soon or rve're fucked'. The.y* concentrated on driving through in onc spot. Steve E. threrv the pick are again and again rvhile Trevor punched a rod through the softer mud. The oak coffin rvas at last disclosed.

'We ain't got any fuckin' time to dig this out Stevel-, we'll have to smash the top of the fuckin' litl open. If rrc can,t drag the whole fuckin' bodS'- out through the gap 'cos of the weight of mud ne'll have to hack the fuckin' head off and make do u,ith that'. 'Shit, rvhat fuckin' state rvill it be in. I can't fuckin' do

it'

Steve

E. pulled

his face mask tighter round his nostrils.

Trevor didn't trgue. Years on the festival scene gave him the practical skills which the more cerebral Steve E. lacked. He smashed through the thick oak with regicidal ferocity. A window of opportunity appeared. IIe stretched his arm through to feel for the cadaver.

'It must be all fuckin' slipped up thc one end' he shouted 'give me the fuckin' torch'. Trrvor's head and right arm vanished into the coffin. After several minutes rvriggling his face returned. 'Stcve, there's nothing in thcre'

case the meaning

lrasn't quitc clear he added ' Steve, Diana's fuckin' body ain't fuckin' there!.

'Well rvhere is it?' blurted out Steve E. as if it's absence gave Trevor powers to detect where it was. 'FUCIC Think about it Steve. If this gets out there'll be fuckin' upr.oar. We gotta think on our feet clever and quick What's Spencer done with the fuckin' body? C'mon, we gotta stick everything backthe way it was and fuck off outta

hert'.

Burke and Hare retreated panting to their gleaming in the moonlight caravane.tte. They motored gentty to their site thift5' miles arvay. Steve E. for the first time felt confused. And scared. SCENE: IRTHLINGBOROUGII CARAVAN PARI( Approved by the Caravan Touring Club of Great Britain) Thcrc's only onc reilv)n why Spencer would empt)' the fuckin' coffiru Think about it. .When hc filcke{ Ruthie's mate Liz he called her Iliana He is a fuckin necrophiliac - stuffing her corpse somewhere in Althorp. Remember them rumours about the 'Spencer Curse'. People thought it was funny, made up, but malbe it's fuckin true,.

'Tret'or yott're fuckin' losing it mate. IIe's just buried her somewhere else. 'We've gotta find her tonight before the.v discover rvt've rumbled the â&#x201A;Źmpty coffin. We're in danger of losing the fuckin' plot here. Alright it rvas furkin, rveird hut so what if he is a fuckin' necro it ain't gonna make any difference to us We need something to fuckin . ransom - the bod.t.- othenvise let's fucl< off back to Srvansea,. 'Yes, o.k rve go back tonight. Stevey hare you ever thought about the fuckin' abzurdity of the C.L.F'.? We're a frrckin' urban guerilla's Dads Arml'- we can't overthrow the state with a pick antl sholel. Spencer must have loa6s of fuckin' guns in there, lets get armed rrp tonight as w'ell. You're going to look well fuckin, stupid doing your Bonnot act, wrapped up in a maftress but rvaring a shot'el about when the cops storm i1o. Stevc E. laughed.

SCENE: TEIVIPLE OF DIANA MUSEUM, ALTHORP IIOUSE. 2. AM. Steve E. frorze. Treror clicked away with his camera Brhind the glass sensitive temperature controlled panels stood the I'irginal Diana in her n'edding dress From a concealed ventilation duct crawled i nake4 Ead Spencer. Ile.kissed the Diana model gentl.l'on the cheek before inserting his erect penis into the cup of the modelrs hanrl and swaying his hips back and forward.

.WE YOUR BLOOD FAMILY WILL LOOK AFTER YOU" Over the speaker came Spencer's funeral oration at tVestminster Ahbey. He unclipped the nedding dress which fell awa.y to the floor in one practiced sweep,

.WE YOUR BLOOD FAMILY The specch was reduced princess's palm.

WIL

LOOK AFTER YOU"

to a repetitive sampled beat to rvho's throb Spencer propelled his penis in the model

'It's not a fuckin' model' Trevor gritted through his teeth. 'Look at the scar tissue around the chcst and neck It,s Diana - he's fuckin' embalmetl her and sfuck her in the fuckin' museum'. He clicked an'a1'. Steve E. was rooted in dumbness.

Spencer folded the naked Diana corpse to a kneeling position, zupported at the neck by Ile prized the lips apart and inserted his penis into the mouth of thc mute Diana

U-shaped clamping rod.

.WE YOUR BLOOD FA]VIILY WILL LOOK AX'TER YOU'. The rhythm of the words increased in tempo as he thrust again and again the ground.

till,

a spent force, he slumped sobbing to

Trevor cleaved the air, crashing throupf the glass panels with his pick axe, straddling Spencer with the handle' garrotting his windpipe.

'Kill

the fucker' screamcd Steve E.

'No, he's going to be more use to us alive when these photos get out'.

The Spencer armoury rvas poss€sserl The cadav€rous princess was chucked into the caravanette's chemical toilet. The necrophiliac Lord of the Realm rendered urconscious with a shovelling blow to the head. The C.LF. caraYan trundled unsuspected back to the Gower with it's deathly ratrsom. Nou.

it was down to Ruthie to rvithstand the storm.

'ENGLAND'S ROSE DUG UP'Daitlhrair .GRAVE ROBBING BASTARDS"UO tDI

- A- BOLICAL'

fl MILLION

Sun(ratecdition)

REWARD'ou,,'t,irror

'DESCENT INTO TIIE ABYSS? c,u.,tiu, .DEATH PENALTY FOR TREASON' ',XPTCSS

'THIS IS NOT THE WAY. RECALL THE T.tl.C.' Sociarist worker .CHARLES CONIFORTS WILLS' 'BLAIR TO BALNIORAL' 'UNSPEAKABLE EVIL' Richard and Judv Middle England rvallorved in a catharsis of spectacular outrage. Talk show hosts searrhed for superlatives of superlatires. 'Words could not do justice'.......hlah, blah,blah.hlah......,.......

'DARK CLOUD ACROSS THE NATION'S HEART'Bhi.(ria 'EARL SPENCER'S HEROIC STRUGGLE AGAINST ARIIIED MOB'.....Cut blankly at smashed open coffin.

campber)

head bandaged Earl staring

p.Lc plummet. Candlemakers clean up again outside Kensington Gardens. A nation united. jokcs in school play'grounds. Co-ordinated police raids on Earth First! Grcen Anarchist! Class War! Black Flag! f,'rcedom bookshop! McLibel Campaign! Cancer hospices! Radiotherapv rvards! Woodcraft Folk! Shares in Althorp

First Diana's

bod.r*

' BRING BACK IN TERNIT{ENT FOR AN ARCHISTS' Evenin g Stan dard 'BRING BACK DISINTERRIVIENT FOR ROYALS' Anarchist slogan in Brirton.

'Candle In The Wind' back at Nol. 'Body-. Shop' changes nilme to avoid girtng offence. Weeping Wills and Harn' on everl' black-edged front page. 'Shallol Grave' dropped from T.V. schedules. Street attacks on anyonc with unsuitablp' cheery face.

.NEWSFLASH' 'We interrupt this programme of martial music for a C.N.N. live reportage of a Communique received from the C.L.F'. and read by a C.L.F. spokeswoman'. The Sandy Lanc chalet T.V. is turned up. Stcre E. and Trevor know this is a thousand camera flashes.

A tiny Ruthie appâ&#x201A;Źars in the middle of

'Fuckin' hcll, she's got fuckin' teeth from somen'here' blurtcd Steve E. She's ro'ertcd to '77 punk sty,le - Safet-v pin in ear, tartan bondage trousers, jet black hair, black bcret V-Sign to thc n'atching mourners. SCHLOCK! T.V. as never saen before.

a calculated

'C.L.F. COMMUNIQUE No.5. The hod-y of the Princess of Wales will be returned intact, and all further C.L.F. assassirrations ceusc on the unconditional release of all those arrested at the Bristol RT.S. action including all gnoled ftrr police murder. We nsk for no immunitv for ourselves, If this request is not complied with in one week Diana rvill be put through thc mincer and fed to liberated mink. END'.

'I'll

takc questions'. Her

jauntl

lightness of tone and accomplished T.V. confidence temporarily disarms her

intcrogators. 'Fuckin hell' rvhispered Stere E. 'she ain't supposed to be taking fuckin' questions'. I.T.N. : 'You sa1']'ou are just a spokeswoman who reccives communiqucs anonymously trom the C,L.FI. How can we be sure you do spcak for them?', Ruthie: 'Eas1', for sure. This come in the post this morning'. Produces Diana's ear from envelope. 'Check it out rvith Spencer's for thc D,N.A'.

BBC: 'Do )'ou personirllr condone thc CLF action?'. Ruthie: 'Diana was

jet setting cow like the rest of the royal scum. I hope the mink get a con"in' lush tbed. Yes, you

next'. Shc conducted thc press confe rence with a consummate unfazed professionalism. Her time and tirle had rvaited for her and she rvas full florv on the crest of the fuckin' ehb. She cracked jokes, lip curled, and V-Signed her cheeks to the swoons of Middle England. She removed here berct to reveal the fett tipped foreheatl inscription:

.SMACKHAG H.I.V. WELL POSITIVE. UP THE C.L.F.' 'SMACK HAG' on her knuckles joints. 'tr'uckin' hell' exclaimed Cnrsty Treyor 'she's got fuckin style or what!'.

Steve

E. rcmained

rooted to the telerision-

'And one final point. When you get the skeleton back.v-ou might tike to ask the bral-e blood relative what his semen is doing in her mouth. VICTORY TO THE C.LF'.'.

An accentuatcd clenched fist black polycr gloved salute rvith one hand rvhile she rubbed her pclvic thrusting crotch with the other. Entcr police in rush, end of conference and arrest of CLF spokeswoman. 'Well that's public sympathy on our side then' smiled Steve E .Fuck public sympathy' snapped Trevor. 'It's material facts that change history. D'you realise the fuckin' potential of this Steve? When wortl gets out that Spencer didn't bury Iliana, that he's a fuckin' necrophiliac fuckin' England's Rose ever.r'_ night there's gonna be fuckin uproar. And when it comes out that the other fuckin' royals, parliament, Blair, the aristocracy, the church all fuckin' knerv about and connired at it then the whole lot'll come crashing dorvn F\ckin' revolution by fuckin' accident or what?',

'And how are we going to prore all thal'. 'Steve, don't bc a clever cunt now. Listen, we'r.e got the photos. O.IC, they might devise their way out of that - say they were faked or something - but Spccer's DNA will be in the fuckin' semen in her mouth. It's the stain on Monica Lervinsky's dress. The fuckin' clincher'. Steve E. was wondering what was happening to the CLF spokeswoman. The cops would know that she was more usc if she was fiee and able to receil'e communications from the CLF so they could chase clues. He knew she

to them

could fly it on thc seat of her pants, just make fuckin' stuff up. But....he surprised himself ...would he cver sec Ruthie again?

IIe switched back to the cogency of Trevor's analysis, and allowed himself a twinge of optimism. 'This is fuckin' Year Zero' he murmured to his co-conspirator.

.NO NEGOTIATIONS. NO PRISONER RELEASE. NO SURRENDER TO BLACKMAIL. NO GIVING IN TO TERRORISMT.

The press and government lvere unanimous. There n'oukl be no accerling to the demands.

'EXECIITE THE SMACK HAG'

cLF's

rh*s,,o

Week One of Year Zero past with no prisoner release. Trevor travelled to Birmingham to mail a brown 'Do Not Bend' manilla envelope to a large mansion in Northamptonshire. The-r n,aited,

CLEAR THE SCHEDULES: PRIME MINISTERIAL STATEMENT:

Blair at No.l0 in sombre mood

'At the erpress request of Earl Spcncer, and in recognition of the agony of suffering undergone bl his nephervs William and Harry and all members of the Windsor famil5', IIer Majesty's governmcnt has decided, in these tragic circumstanccs, to meet the demands of the C.L.F. , rvith great rrluctance at the abandonment of the due process of larv. Accordingly prisoners will be released at 7am. tomorrow to meet the conditions for the release of the Princess of Wales' body. No immunitl.rvill be offered to any be1'ond those released prisoners and the perpetrators of this unspeakably evil deed will be pursued with the utmost rigour'. BB.C. Breakfast Nens.....Maior bresldns news storv......Horfield Prison. Bristol ......7em 56 male prisoners released. giving clenched fist salutes. The police hold back a visceral proletarian mob spitting

their finger jabbing hatrerl

Stval Prison Cheshire

Twcntl four womcn prisoners released simultaneousll'. Thc punkcttes, not. shaven headed like World \ilar II collaborators, brcaking the protocol - chins juttilrg into microphones, screaming: 41

.VICTORY TO THE C.L.F.

SMASH THE F'UCKIN'STATE! FEED DIANA TO THE FUCKIN'IUINK!'

'Some viervers mav not find these scenes offensive.' Althorp season ticket holders demand a rehate. Paul Daniels cremated. Mohammed El Fayed offers f,5 million rervard for capture of the C.LF.

The Gon'er television flicks to 0FF. 'tr'uck, tr'uck, We've fuckin' done

it.'

The tension poured from Steve E.'s trembling shoulder*, his hands shaking

with heart popping relief. 'Yes, that's the half a revolution done - nory for the other fuckin' half- the half that no fucker's eyer done before. When we give up the body Blair will renege on the agreement for sure. The punks will have to be sussed enough to fuckin' realist they'll be pulled again and vanish sharpish. They'll also have some fuckin' ideas on rvherc to find us so

rve'll have to

from here.

An-v ideas Stevey?'.

'Back to London. One of the old tr'rcestonia squats

off Latimer

Road'.

'Thcn we'll fuckin' out -renege fuckin' Blair boy bigtime. Release the Spencer photos to the news - POWI - Who fuckin' knorvs what might happen then?'

agencies.

Conspiracl' of thc century

'Trevor. hou come ;-ou're so fuckin' hard nosed about elery-thing but fuckin' starr-r- eyed about this?. The government will never let the photos get out You're off ;-our fuckin' head if you think that the press is going to expose this and get revolutionary mobs out on the strcets Ifthe photos are goingto do anything - and it's a hcll of a l'uckin' tnrmp cartl I agree - we'll nced to get it out on the internet first - somewhere they can't fuckin' fully control'. 'Bollocks. Nlurtl<rch's got no love for the ro;*als or fuckin' Blair. He's more powerful than both of them. lle'll fuckin' for it. But he rvon't he ahle to control it. He'll be like fuckin' Cromwell - hoping for the ol-crthrolv of established privilege for a millennial meritocracy - hut he'll unlensh forces he can't fuckin' fathom. Then it'll be down to us to act ruthlesslS' to push things our lyay - that one fuckin' step further'.

Steve E. thought but said nothing.

'Oh luck it Steve,.1'ou might be fuckin' right, maybe it is fuckin' fantasyland - but rye can rrcIease it on the intemet at the samc time - try fuckin' ererlthing we fuckin' can to get it into people's heads the fuckin' conspiracv that's gone or. And thev'll be fuckin' enraged Steve. fuckin' enraged. C'mon we gotta be united on this now for fuck sake'.

CROSSING THE RUBICON Steve E- smiled, stretched out his hand to Cnrst;- Trevor. 'We hal'e crossed the fuckin' Rubicon' he said in his Piet Botha Boer accent 'Stevey' said Trevor 'I think rve crossed the Rubicon just before fuckin' Hannibal'.

kst

WIND STREET POST OFFICE SWANSEA: The Queen of Hearts is card board bored up anrl shrink wrapped. u'eighetl up and stamped and dispatched on Parcel Force's guaranteed rtelivery within thrce u'orking da_v-s sen'ice to her ex-mother-in-larv at Buck House" Sandl Lane has done it's time and the Trrin Town terrorists depar.t the prctty shittl citr for the old squat havens of Ned Ludd Gate. HOME SECRETARY'S STATEMENT TO A P.ACKED TIOUSE OF COIVTMONS:

'I have to report to the House that as of 3p.m. this afternoon, with two regrettable exceptions, all those released from Bristol and St1'al prisons have been rearrested under the terms of thc Prevention of Terrorism Act for belonging to, or assisting the promotion of, a proscribed organisation - the C.L.p. I am grateful for the bi-partisan support of the whole house on this matter and further cncouraged by the message of support received from the absentee Sinn Fein members. The police and security scn'iccs assure me that the arrest of the rcmaining active CLF cell is imminent following the discoverl' of their hide out in Wales and other information rcceived. 42

princess of Wales n'ill be matle public bv Earl Spencer tontorrorv but there arc Details of the rc-i,terrment of the Ends' trro"grrt to be some tickets stitl available on the gnte. Hear, IreIr'. statement

yer miszus?" The proprietor: 'What's thflt matg some young buck fuckin' sWish it was pal' said Steve E. with just a glint of sincerity'

llo-Not-Bended to the newsdesk Twenty Spencer photo Na.sties reproduced, blown up, spine stifiened and Then wait for the BBC/ITNISKY/CI\|N. mt$s bloodhounds waiting for the big one to plop into their ungiateful endgame to unraYel.

miscalculated bigtime- f,'aulty fuckin' analysis doesn't. NorIrrNG. And then more nothing. Crusty Trevor has government can get it's retaliation in first, spike the the now xet ttri times fuckin, 10. shoukl,ve gone straight to fuckin' sto ry-, un de rmine the photocred i bility'

Front page tabloid idcntical leads on Sunday morning:

.BEYOND BELIEF _ VILE SPENCER SMEARS' .Twelve senior British journalists were y-esterday shown surely the most obscene photographs of all time' Thecrazed monarchl' have defiled the fanatic minrls that pniouced these vils horron in an attempt to destabilis the British sheer arrfulness of their for the hut risible becn bere rvould photographs hearr of a nation. Ttre poor quality faked

snrack Irag intent. A CLF prostituie - positively itlentified oi tt e cLF media spokesrvoman and self-confessed attenrpting to pass known as Ruthie - *r*qr*.nhes as tire corpse of the Princess of Wales n-hile a CLF terrorist, inhuman- tct of this to pass olT himself otT as Earl SJrencer, engages in necroptriliac relations with her. CLF attempts had no peopte. Earl Spencer depravitl- as genuine via thelnlernet witl be treated with contempt by all right thinking olrence an rt rvill be nephews. his comment as he is bus1, tending to the re-interrment of his sister and comfoning only hope the CLF under the prevcntion of Terrorisnr Act to possâ&#x201A;Źss or distribute these photographs' We can depravit--r'' of monsters are apprehentted bef<lre sinking to still further depths Signed by all trveh.e editors of the British National Nervspapers Asso,ciation.

proprietor of 'Adult Photo Reproduction Services' for oDe. Keeping a strictlv rvank night special he non-contirlential sly cop;- back for himielf he got more tllan the 'young buck fucks my missus' Copl-ing desks hum Goldmine! rvas expecting fi.om his uninvited arlditionat copies. Fuck the PTA this is a Goklhawk for a grand a tine' photos reproducing E.'s into the nighi all oyer the city from Hounslow to Haggerston- Steve most unlikely in thc for sedition Scarch polemical agitprop. Small time entrepreneurislism spneads the rvord not ke1' charge electric and photocopier shops 5p from porno mutatiog, millionaires created overnight, qu""tuo Forget r'imsrevolutionrry of thc carriers into unconscious machines, tottery card merchmts in front of cob webbed piece of getting their is trader market Tob.v and fuckin' Yos Yocver1. and Boppers your Rubili,s Cubes, Deeley bperation Prairie Fire and fuckin' off to Ronnie Knight land on the proceeds'

But not ever]-one is

so compliant. The

boffins, Government placemen and spindoctored media toadies are outflanked b-v investigative maYericks, dissident eagle' thieves, record postings, dental Internet profiIers, forensic probers, renegade IINA anal"vsts, unemployerl hotll: parallolitical photo-Iit fanatics, prick stories, frcckled Eyed anarcho-analystq rveb guerrillai, ex-lovers with researchers, and Notes from ihe Borderlantlers. When the mode of the music changes the rvalls of the cit-r- shalieporver A first frisson of awful doubt begins it's inerorabte gnart at England's Marv. Rank breakers, opportunists' ainvavcs. clogthe grudge gpinders, bearers merchants, arc

The goubts gather rountl Althorp like pack ice cracking an empty bean

tin If the photos are genuine

consequences arc too arvful ttl contemplate.

the

THE PHOTOS ARE CONFIRMED AS GENUINE. A guttural cry of collectire wrath is heard emanating from deep within thc borvels of the stout yeomen of England. THE PHOTOS ARE GENUINE. Earl Spencer is prevented from privately cremating Diana's body. Calls for D.N.A. tcsts on the semen traces found on the corpse. F'irst denied, then acceded to by Tony Blair. The phoney war of Monica's stain. Spencer flees to South

Africa

.D.N.A" TEST POSITIVE. EARL SPENCER A NECROPHILIAC.....IT'S OFF'ICIAL.'

FUCKIN' SHOCK OR WHAT! MOBS SACKALTHORP. Diana cremated on the funeral pyre of Althorp mansion's eaves before a million banshee punters,

Blair's doclors of ill repute hold the damaged limitation line:

'Spencer family tragedy' 'Anguish of Wills and Harry' 'Historical roots to feud between Windsors and Spencers'

rurn the heat back

on the hunt for the CLF

ter;H-#*:lj"T,fffiI;if

won't run. The doubts

seep through the

.DID THE WINDSORS KNOW?' 'DID BLAIR KNOW?' .WHAT

IF THEY ALL KNEW? WHO COULD COMPR-EHEND THE CONSEQUENCES OF ST]CH A COn*SPIRACY? WHO COULD COMPREHEND TIIE CONSEQUENCES OF SUCH WICKEDNESS?' Steve E. and Crusty Trevor could- A collective paralysis infected the country. Streets and towns deserted as a stampede into privacy took hold to contemplate the aw{ulncss of what was possible,

'A time for healing'- the Archbishop of Canterburl, who had knowingly blessed the empty coffin antl ignored 'the Spencer curse' for generations. The spin doctors evolied the spirit of wartime Britain and the Queen who'd stayed at the side of her people in London in the direst hour - norv the Queen Mother. A rveek of calm had passcd. The Queen Mother to mark the period of the end of the nation's collective sorrow by appearing at Kensington Palace Gate on the eve of her 100th birthtlar'. Continuitv anrl Reneryal in the verr.Heart of the English Nation. X'or some. f,'or others 'Seize the Time.' That moment lost in all histories before was peering across London from the derelict windon's off the Goldhawk Road. Berlin 1919, Barcelona 1936, Budapest 1956, Paris 196t1, London 1999. The wclled back anger n'aiting to burst out or subside. iltalie p'our mind up time before the hour dribhled past unseen.

c.L.F. FINAL COMMUNIQUE ECTIOING BACK FROM THE ANGRY SUMMf,R O'F'72 TO BEYOND THE POINT OF NO Rf,TURN TO BE ISSI.IED TWO HOURS AFTER THE FIRST C.L.F. STRIKES

IFYOUWANT PE,ACE.OO"PREPARE,

FORWAR DUMME& HA.IVIPSHIRE: C.L.F. freelancers batter Major Ron Ferguson to death rvith his polo mallets

B.U.P.A HOSPITAL, CROMWELL ROAD, LONDON! mistakenh' administcrs

Skinny Agencl Nurse Ruth

fatal dose of horse tranquilliser to Princess Margaret.

KENSINGTON PALACE GATE: ll a.m. QUEEN MOTHER'S IOOTII BIRTHDAY

A shaven headed member of the CLF punkette death battalion discharges pistol's worth into the face of the rancid crone.

Kensington Palace looted. The dams of deference are cracking. Crowds swarm the streets of central London, pouring from long forgotten alleyways and hidden towpaths longside the subterranean River Fleet. Springheeled Jack leaps the grimey stacks beckoning the swarms onwards towards Trafalgar Square. King IVIob is back in town, gathering strength like a nascent wasps' nest down Charing Cross Road, The Strand, Regent Street' Garrods, the Royal Jewellers, set ablaze; it's vainglorious baubles pressed into the hands of liberated 'Big Issue' sellers. Steve E. and Crusty Trevor in the van of the black clad mobsters. Rounding Trafatgar Square into The Mall. Halting at it's start. The Windsors are gathered on the Palace balcony, unaware of Bowes-Lyons little mishap, waving to a few hundred rural Iickspittles, backwoodsmen, bucolic ballygombeen men, and bull-barred barbourians bussed in by the Duke of Westminster. One last divine right con trick, one last try to keep the lid on. They have sight of the huge crowd, silent now, moving inexorably down The Mall. Royal flushed faces straining to ascertain the motivation. That Ceaucescu Moment Steve L. so dreamed of seeing.

The burly figure of a Yeoman of the Guard, pike in hand, suddenly erupts from across St. James' Park to front the march, plumed hat extravagantly underarmed. Re-assured the Windsors wave as enthusiastically as their breeding does allow. The mob halts before the gates.

The Yeoman bows exaggeratedly low turning his head - the head of The Lunk - towards Steve E. and Crusty Trevor. He pushes the plumed hat aside and thrusts the severed head it was concealing on to the spearpoint of his pike. Ife swivels to deliver the expected royal supplication to the Windsors - but juts aloft the head of the Queen Mother. A skinny nurse and two flamehaired punkettes seize the crone's head and plant it atop the palace Gate.

Full astride the gates of Buck House she surueys the faces of the mob - flickering by torch brands in the royal deathlight. Levellers, Diggers, Ranterc, Luddites, Chartists, Rioters, Mutineers, Syndicalists, Strikers, Angry Brigaders, I)ockers Tannermen , Matchgirls, Suffragettes, the Ilawkhurst Gang, the Tyburn Mobsters. John Ball, Sylvia Pankhurst, Robert Lockier, peter the Painter,Lillian Wolfe, Steinie Morrison, Gerard Winstanley. The dispossessed from the runnels and the guffers come to get what's theirs. Squatters from Villa Road, Effra Parade, Stamford Hill. Wildcats. Winston Silcott. Poll Tax Rioters. Wat Tyler. And Tyler smiles. General Ned Ludd and Captain Swing stride forward to read the Proclamation

'The time is a fast approachin'when a great many great mens heads wilt he a comin' off

The punkettes, fiety, incandescent, against the blood red sun in the btack sky:

.LET US DEVASTATE THE AVENUES WHERE THE WEALTHY LIVE. WE ARE NOT IN THE LEAST AFRAID OF RUINS FORWE CARRY A NEWWORLD IN OUR HEARTS'

THE GATES OF BABYLONARE RENT ASUNDER TIIE END

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