Tag Archives: crime

Savouring a spree

On the face of it, 2016 is a great year to be peddling hate.

Ostensibly, the page you’re staring at now like a cow looking over a fence is intended to allow people to vent their spleen at everything from falafel to football via fatwas. Its purpose as I conceived it was to allow people to laugh or rage at life’s many stupidities. People hate a lot of things and there’s unlikely to be a giant jay cloth of joy passed among all 7.4 billion of us to wipe that all away any time soon. Might as well try to make light of it, accept the futility and anticipate the next disaster with a shrug, a pint and another pint.

This year above all should be a great year to write silly rants about what you loveable humans have been doing to each other. And yet here we stand, halfway through what seems to be the beginning of the end, and what I’d foolishly come to believe was my heightened ability to chuckle at even the most heinous event is cracking under the pressure. Civilisation is going stunningly wrong, and I can think of barely a goddamn thing to say about it.

Continue reading Savouring a spree

The wounded antelope

You’ve probably already read the statement by the woman who was sexually assaulted by former Stanford University swimmer Brock Turner, who last week was given six fucking months for the crime. If you haven’t, you know where to find Google. Go and read it. I’ll be right here, waiting.

Back? Good. Six fucking months. He could have got up to 14 years. Prosecutors asked for six years. The judge gave him six fucking months in county jail and probation because, quote, “a prison sentence would have a severe impact on him”.

That’s why I told you to go and read the statement by the woman he assaulted, to realise the “severe impact” it had on her. When she woke up in hospital after a booze blackout, she gradually found out she been left half naked behind a dumpster after Turner had fingered her so severely she had internal abrasions. Oh yeah, and this shining beacon of humanity ran off after two guys spotted what was going on and intervened.

One thing – among many horrific things – in that statement stood out for me.

Continue reading The wounded antelope


On Wednesday night, in a feeble, man-in-a-room-by-himself type of solidarity, I drew a cartoon. I say ‘drew’ – it was on the computer of course. Every time I actually try to draw something with a writing implement I seem to end up playing hangman, and losing on purpose just so I get to draw a stick man being hanged. I never said I was issue-free.

The cartoon of course involved a man named ‘Muhammad’. It couldn’t not, given what prompted it was the shooting dead of a group of people, many of them elderly, who had drawn or supported the drawing of cartoons of a man named Muhammad. Nobody need see what I drew, mainly because it’s shite, but it’s enough to know I did it and will happily accept the consequences of it when nutters appear in front of me screeching religious slogans and letting loose the dogs of lunacy.

This website should provide a fairly clear example of how little interest I and the others who write for it have in censorship or holding back in any way. If we want to write something that people find insulting or offensive we will do exactly that, and then we’ll pepper it with a cheeky ‘cunt’ or two to make even those who agree with the sentiment wince.

There are, though, things that are banned even here. Racism, homophobia, sexism; these don’t belong here. Cards on the table: I wondered whether to allow even this type of thing simply to help better reveal the bigots among us, but the internet generally hears the sound of the gun as it shoots the old dog rather than the farmer’s claims of compassion when pitchfork-carrying animal lovers come for him, and if there’s one thing I enjoy it’s as easy a life as possible. Am I the farmer? Stop saying that, of course I’m the fucking farmer.

It seems there are some among us who would like to add ‘religious commentary’ to that list of generally disallowed notions, words and images. They’re so angry about it they shoot cartoonists. Dead, no less. I mean, I’ve seen some of their cartoons and their level of ‘humour’ might deserve a knee or two blown out, but assassination is going a bit too far.

There are competing reasons to deny these people the right to tell us we can’t say what we want about religion. Chief among them, certainly for the French who have a justified pride in their various freedoms, is that nobody should be able to tell us what we can and can’t say about anything at all. Another is less about tradition and more about brains.

Religion: it’s all bollocks.

I can’t be bothered to go into why religion in all its forms is cataclysmically disastrous for 21st century humanity. It’s enough to say that it’s all wrong: there are no gods, there’s no afterlife, you’ve no evidence for any of it and just because I don’t have any evidence either doesn’t make it a 50/50 shot that just after I die the next words I use will be ‘Oh, er…I apologise?’

The issue here is one of favouritism. I can call a radio phone-in with the Archbishop of Canterbury and call him a ‘mitred tit’ live on air and not expect much beyond the tutting of grandparents across the land. I can walk down the street wearing a t-shirt that reads ‘Vishnu is a silly blue-faced twat’ and the worst I can expect is someone stopping me to ask who Vishnu is. I can draw a picture of the second-most powerful character in Islam and all of a sudden mild displeasure and frowning is replaced by men running about in black – always in black because it’s nice to look cool while you’re murdering people – shouting and shooting and generally making life terrifying for everyone nearby. And all because Islam wants to be a special case.

Obviously Judaism wants to be another special case; anti-Semitism is in the news a lot at the moment. I’ve attempted to provoke argument in the past by claiming to be anti-Semitic, before of course underlining that I’m also an Islamophobe, fantastically anti-Christian and I think Ghandi was a backwards-looking bastard. Jews have had a horrible time of it in countless ways but it’s been nothing to do with me; if I want to insult Jews along with the rest I will. And nearly all Jews will probably understand the point I’m making and let me.

But Islam wants to be even more special. They don’t care that we can call the Pope a dickhead and suffer few repercussions – do the same about Allah and expect a treasured part of your body to be irreparably damaged. Well, no, we won’t be allowing that. I don’t want equality for lesbians but not gays. I don’t want a Zambian visitor to my country treated differently from a Chinese, Spanish or Fijian one. I like equality to be equal, and if I want to treat every religion equally badly then I goddamn well will.

It’s time Islam grew up. As is made repetitively clear following incidents like the Paris shootings it’s a tiny minority of Muslims causing the trouble – but it’s another tiny minority of Muslims condemning it, marching against it, kicking these fuckers out of mosques, denouncing them publicly rather than believing they can prove they’re decent people solely by not actively supporting maniacs. There’s a reason the English Defence League come across as demented – they don’t represent normal English people and we want to make sure the rest of the world realise that as vocally as we can, hence every rally they organise being outnumbered by decent people shouting back.

Freedom of speech and of the press bump up against some understandable boundaries beyond which only those with vindictive bigotry in their hearts will tread. Superstitious god-fearing nonsense cannot be claimed as one of those boundaries, because next on the list is the licencing of pet unicorns and giving elves the right to vote.

Instinctively I want to end with something brutal, something which diabolically insults one of Islam’s principal flights of fancy, to see whether I’m worthy of the wrath of people like the imminently dead brothers in northern France. I have the freedom to call our long-deceased pal Muhammad whatever I want, but also the freedom not to. Je suis Charlie indeed.

The other guy started it

A day after the horrific massacre in Peshawar and we are all still in shock. Of course a lot of very important people are dive bombing into the media pool with condolences and false platitudes, twisting it to their own agenda, but common sense appears to be absent.

My first question after any such attack is ‘Why?’ What makes someone do something so ridiculous? The catch all term of ‘terrorism’ is handed to us on a plate as if that explains everything. “It must mean something.” Er, no. There is no excuse. None.

The experts say that this act is intended to demoralise the Pakistani Army. Anyone with a sound knowledge of Hollywood movies knows that this is idiotic. Killing a kid just leads to a desire for revenge. Liam Neeson and Mel Gibson would be all over their ass, renewed in vigour with gigantic guns and damning puns. Then again, even they are terrorists. Oh to erase Rob Roy and The Patriot from my mind.

The groups who commit these atrocities are, above all, certified loons. Going into a school and shooting over a hundred kids is not something that’s easy for a sane person to do. No cause can justify it. No matter whether it’s religious fervour, greed or fear, to repeatedly shoot a two year old in the head is not normal. Believe me I’ve considered it many times, especially over Christmas when trapped in a shop with brats crying over the latest plastic tat. Yet even with my anger issues I stop, I say no, I walk away. If you blast a child into the next life no-one will suddenly think you have a good point, and only other mentalists will sit and plan their next holiday training in a desert.

The subsequent Taliban news release (yes they have a press team, cementing our complete hatred) loudly stomped and threw a rattle pointing out that the other guy started it, their kids got killed, ner. What exactly was the result? Did you get all sad and give up as you’re presumably hoping the enemy will? No, I’m pretty sure you just shot a load of kids who you’d never met before. All of you got shot as well. That’ll get the message out there. You’ve been sacrificed my friend, and have just made life impossible for many of your religion across the world. I love it when a plan comes together.

Just remember when you next read about a terrorist attack that these faceless suicide bombers and gunmen are not just in it for ‘a cause’. They’re human like the rest of us. Look at the action, what was involved and what was actually achieved. In most cases I think we’re better off just agreeing that there’s a percentage of the human race that are prone to complete and utter lunacy. These killers migrate to causes andthey feed off them as an excuse to kill. Treat them like you would treat Ian Brady.

Does that cancel the bumming out?

Charles Manson is getting married. Rather than choosing this moment to evaluate his role in 1960s culture or the crime itself I stupidly popped onto Twitter. Unsurprisingly the social media of self-promotion has its own response. The overriding sentiment is from single white singletons: “If Manson can get married, why cant I?”

I confess I have never understood marriage. Other than one shining example I come from a broken family of divorce and false engagements. The fuss around it never makes sense. Many of my friends got married when all other life achievements had been ticked off, as if they had nothing better to do. The day itself is expensive, long, and focused on dresses and free booze.

What surprises me is that Manson has never had one of these psycho bunny weddings before. Look at the facts – he is supposedly the master of mind control, he is famous, he’s begging to be cured (by a real woman). For each of those prison pen pals he’d be a real catch. A trophy in fact. So what if he is 80. Look at the beard and attractive swastika. If his face looks like that imagine his satanic balls! Mmm wrinkly goodness.

For all the study of offenders, the nutters they attract are the real curiosity. They are the ones who really need studying to work out the edges of society and its faults. These women seem desperate to believe that anyone has a soft centre, a romantic core that can be reached. They can see the real person and make them better. This tends to lead to marriage and the inevitable spawning of some poor child. “What did daddy do?” “Well Damien, he got loads of rich kids to believe the Beatles signified the apocalypse, then they butchered a pregnant woman.” School will be a blast!

So what does this say to me about the underbelly of society? That there is a breed of people that cling to ownership and marriage no matter what. This life-affirming incident is not only legal but transforming. Even marriage can make a killer become human, a loving husband and father.  The lack of responsibility in choosing who to make a baby with is also unbelievably stupid. Which leads me to poor old Pope Francis.

Everyone should have equal rights. Why the hell the LGBT movement would want their share of the religious institute of marriage I don’t understand, but if they want to endure the same hell as a lot of people go for it. Oh no. You see marriage is OK for a serial killer, as a redeeming event, but for a gay person? No. No saving, no changing, no babies. Get thee to hell.

I really had high hopes for Pope Francis and he seems to be trying to move the Vatican towards real life, but it is starting to resemble Obama fighting the Senate. He says one thing, the Cardinals vote another.  So no to gay marriage, but yes to an infamous nut job getting betrothed to an idiot.  Am I the only one that thinks maybe that’s a bit wrong? I agree you cant marry an animal, or an object, but should those who kill really be included when upstanding homosexuals are excluded? What if you are a serial-killing homosexual, does that cancel the bumming out? What if you’re straight and like the odd spot of uphill gardening? Argh, the rules, all too confusing!

To all the sad singletons out there: find your own local killer if you want to see if marriage really will save us all. So far the jury is out for me. Save your pity for all the gays and lesbians who the church deems can never be saved.

The best way to dispose of a body

Everybody knows the best way to dispose of a body is to feed it to pigs. Or so I wrongly thought as I mused on the latest topic of fucking idiocy my office pod sisters embarked on.

For once they’d bounced onto a subject I could contribute to. Stupidly I‘d jumped in without thinking. You see they hadn’t thought about it at all. Their tiny bubble heads had never contemplated the horrors of life, or what exactly you would do if you one day flipped and smashed one of their empty heads through a glass door, severing an important artery.

I am not a violent person. I may exude the aura of violence, but you have to; it protects you if you’re prone to a less than sugary outlook on life. I frequently sit and watch crime drama or real life documentaries, on a constant search to work out what makes a person do that, or try to solve a mystery. It is pure coincidence that as a result I know many ways to kill a person. Everyone should know the basics.

Not if you stick your head in the ground and shout “Kim Kardashian’s exercise tips” apparently. Sigh. Oh you pretty things.

There are things every person should know. If you cut people up, don’t flush it. Acid won’t destroy it all. Burying things in a basement will cause a stench. If you meet a guy on Craigslist who sounds too perfect, he’s almost definitely a psychopath. Never wall up a cat unless you want to go mad and kill your family. Avoid hotels in isolated areas. For God’s sake, rub the lotion on your skin. Oh, and never take a knife to a gun fight.

You cannot help but be surrounded by murder, it’s a preoccupation. Could you be pushed to it? What would you do if attacked? Does that man shadow you as you walk down a dark street? Is that cabbie licensed? If you laugh at Man Utd’s entertaining decline one time too often, could it lead to spousal homicide? Be aware people, it could be you.

It astounds me that there are large portions of the community that really do not consider the wider world, those fringes where humans are pushed into moments of madness, right through to the more committed predatory beasts. The extremes teach us more about ourselves than all Piers Morgan’s Real Life Story bollocks. It is interesting, shocking, depraved, eerily logical and stupid.

Yet showing such interest or knowing about these things leads to sneers and fear. “You are such a Goth.” (I may wear black, but I am not a true Goth.) “You are a witch.” (Don’t believe in magic, sorry.) “You’re just weird.” (True, but for things you have no idea about.) “I bet you’ve killed people.” (Only in my mind, and right now you are being shovelled in the face.) The difference between me and them is that it may well take a lot more for me flip into actual violence as I know the many consequences and mistakes that will get you caught. If you know what murder actually looks like, well, you wouldn’t. It is a lot less picturesque than films would have you believe.

Oh yeah, and if I do flip, you’d better run. I always plan in advance.

The serious business of blame

The corpse of a west London schoolgirl has turned up in the River Brent. Plainly this is grim news for the people who knew her, and the sympathies of the country are with them at this difficult time.

It’s important to get that out of the way, like the condolences handed out to the families of dead soldiers at the start of Prime Minister’s Questions, just before MPs start baying hateful abuse at each other and making noises that sound like a goat’s vinegar strokes. Now we’ve said that we feel distinctly sorry for the family of the dead girl, we can move on to the serious business of blame.

It appears the police think some Latvian did it. There’s a good chance he’s pissed off back to Latvia since the crime was committed – the very country in which a few years ago he murdered his wife in a forest. The word ‘lure’ is used when that tale is told. He sounds a bit of a git does Arnis Zalkalns.

If he did indeed kill the British schoolgirl, that makes the blame game nice and easy. We blame Zalkalns. I’m no criminologist but the world will be a saner place for all of us if the man who did the murder is the man blamed for the murder. But we can’t confirm that he did it yet, not least because nobody knows where he is except perhaps for a load of Latvians, and that’s where the art of blaming takes a fun turn.

He killed his wife and served seven years in prison for it. Not long enough, with hindsight, but he served his time, was released and as far as the Latvian authorities were concerned he was free to hot-foot it to Britain to mess with schoolgirls because of the EU’s rules on freedom of movement. He comes here, he’s arrested on suspicion of assaulting a different schoolgirl in 2009 and released without charge, and even has the gall to take a British builder’s job while he’s here, the bastard.

Something has to be done. The Latvians have let him go, not monitored him at all, he’s free to go where he wants in Europe and now he’s over here touching up and murdering our schoolgirls. Something is rotten at the heart of the European project when a man can come here from somewhere they speak a funny language and kill one of US, and piss off back east to blend in with the very people who’ve allowed this to happen.

That ‘something rotten’ is the way this story will highlight how we view ‘other people’. The implication is that, had Arnis Zalkalns stayed in Latvia and killed a Latvian schoolgirl, it would matter far less. Is that really where we’ve ended up?

We all know the media will latch onto a good child murder, particularly if it’s of a girl, ideally a white one, and if there’s a dodgy homemade video of her appearing in some shocking school play, all the better. It’s possibly a stretch to say the News of the World may have considered topping one or two nativity play Marys themselves when the phone hacking lost its lustre, but you get the point.

But if this young, pretty, white girl is foreign in some way, or killed somewhere else, that’s really not our concern. There’ll be a devastated family somewhere, but not here, so never mind. We like TV news shots of dull British streets with yellow police tape and small white tents like on Silent Witness, not mysterious overseas cities of dark rains and police uniforms we don’t recognise. If Latvians want to kill Latvians that’s their business. How dare they come here and kill US?

People frequently define themselves by where they’re ‘from’. I could lay claim to the area of London where I live, or claim to be a Londoner, or an Englishman, or British. Anything wider than that makes you out as a freak in 2014. Nonetheless, I’m a citizen of the EU, an inhabitant of the continent of Europe, an Earth-dweller and a member of the human race and why the bloody hell would I choose one of the mid-range classifications, British say, to decide whether I care about someone being murdered?

I never met Alice Gross and I don’t doubt she’s a huge loss for her family, but if she’d been Latvian, Albanian, Peruvian or someone on the International Space Station I’d care as much or as little. Now her body’s been found we’re about to embark on weeks of moaning about why the suspect was allowed to come to Britain to commit this crime, utterly ignoring that he could have gone to any other country and we probably wouldn’t have heard about it. But he came to Britain because ‘they’ all come to Britain, and if we can use the death of a schoolgirl to reduce the number of immigrants ‘coming over here, taking our jobs’, we’d be fools to miss the opportunity.

There’s just as much chance that a British fiend will travel to another European country and kill one of their schoolgirls, unencumbered by any form of monitoring by British authorities. Next time this happens, let’s see if there’s an outcry here about it. He could have stayed in Britain and killed someone here, but thanks to the freedom of movement he could happily head off to Banská Bystrica and commit the type of atrocity that makes Hostel look like The Best Exotic Marigold Hotel.

So as the shouting commences and lasts a full eight months to the election, consider taking a breath and defining yourself first and foremost as a human being who hates the nasty shit we do to each other, regardless of how close to home the victim might be. Alice Gross is a dead schoolgirl, and that’s awful. She’s not an excuse for xenophobia.