The Filth & My Fury

 1312

Far too often, I find myself furiously nodding in total agreement with George Henrik von Wright’s analysis of his friend and peer Ludwig Wittgenstein’s influence on humanity -:

His ideas were generally misunderstood and distorted even by those who professed to be his disciples, while he doubted he would be better understood in the future. He once said he felt as though he was writing for people who would think in a different way, breathe a different air of life, from that of present-day men.

In so many ways, politically and philosophically, that is my experience of the world; beating on, a boat against the current. However, often almost imperceptibly and at a glacial pace, I all too infrequently see evidence of those who may have decried my words in the past, coming to a broad agreement with me. Take, for instance, my attitude to the Filth; the revulsion and hatred that I hold them in was once seen as wild or excessive nihilism by many of my associates. Now, other than those bald authoritarian populists whose neo-Fascist conformism obliges them to regard Babylon as their enemy’s enemy and so a surrogate friend, vast sectors of society hold the Peelers in abject contempt. 

You wonder why I think like this? Parking the conduct and influence over the local Blue Meanies held by Robin Fisher and Elaine O’Connell-Gray, come and enjoy a typical Sunday with me. It may help you understand why I feel like I’m the new Alan Barnes.

Mid-afternoon I say goodbye to Laura and the cats, then head home from the coast, in preparation for the working week ahead. I’m turning right on Park Terrace by Davinder Singh’s corner shop, heading to Linskill Terrace. Opposite me is a bright red boy racer VW Golf, number plate NG11 BBF. There’s three of them in there; a little cunt driving, a big cunt in the front passenger seat and a scrawny cunt in the back. The little one does an oh so hilarious wobble with the steering wheel, as if he’s going to run me down, before pulling up at the shop. I say out loud, “clever lad,” as the big cunt gets out. From inside the vehicle I hear “get some cat treats” and a squeal of infantile laughter.

At this point I should leave it, but frankly I’m sick of this kind of taunting. Yes, events of June 19^th last year were less than memorable, but I’m sick of being made fun of. I go back to the car and open the rear passenger door on the driver’s side, asking the two occupants what the joke was. Things escalate; the two squealing cunts in the car scream for the Lenny lookalike, who grabs my untended bike and hurls it across the road. They abandon this shopping trip and tear off. I feel hurt, angry, upset and, most of all, vulnerable. Naively, I call the Pigs. The call handler, who doesn’t give his name or collar number, isn’t interested. The best he can offer me is a call back on Tuesday, which I tell him is inadequate and ask for a call on the Sunday. He ends the conversation and I’m feeling no further forward.

After spending 10 minutes rethreading the chain and checking the bike is still in working order, I pedal slowly into the teeth of a stiffening headwind, making slow progress. About 10 minutes later, I’m heading up Queen Alexandra Road, about halfway between The Gunner and The Alex when NG11 BBF crawls past. Skinny cunt is leaning out of the window screaming, “you fucking little nonce. We’re go to fucking do you, nonce” repeatedly, while filming me. I get off the bike and call Babylon again. This time the handler is quite sympathetic, promising me a call back on the Sunday, but no chance of a Plod coming to see me now.

All I can do is head slowly home, feeling tearful and worthless. About 100 yards from home, I get a call from Sergeant 3114 Simpson, who is frankly the most arrogant, objectionable and unsympathetic Rozzer I’ve had to deal with in years. She ends the call abruptly as I’m not immensely grateful for her efforts (there’s a complaint going in about that one I’m telling you). Twenty minutes later, I get my 4^th different Pig on the line, who is ever so pretend sympathetic, but the best I can get is a Tuesday 6pm slot to receive a call, to discuss this incident. The call, when it first comes, is at 4.50pm when I’m still at graft. I explain this and then get my proper call 15 minutes late. Yeah he’s sympathetic and that, but all he’s doing is second stage triage; six phonecalls and I’m yet to give a statement. Fucking pointless, and further evidence of Northumbria Police’s agenda against me. The local Pigs are corrupt and incompetent; they do not investigate any complaints I make in a satisfactory manner, but are only too keen to persecute me when Fisher and O’Connell-Gray are greasing their palms. No wonder the whole country hates them.

It’s not been the best of times for the Scuffers of late. Following the arrest of a serving officer for the brutal abduction and murder of Sarah Everard, the Met showed their true colours when launching an abhorrent, ill-judged, but institutionally absolved, attack upon a socially-distanced, peaceful vigil in Sarah’s memory on Clapham Common. The utter lack of empathy and point-blank refusal to accept responsibility for such an outrage by Cressida Dick, Head of the Met, made her force’s behaviour appear to be a planned show of strength in support of Wayne Couzens.  No doubt it was. No doubt the same flat-footed psychos in DM shoes and Primark dress pants will have donated to some secret rainy day fund for Dorset pig Tim Brehmer, who has recently had his risible 10 year stretch for throttling his lover Claire Parry to death in a pub car park, doubled.

Not all violence towards women is perpetrated by members of the Constabulary, but all of it is condoned by the Po Po; especially when it is against members of the Trans community. The murder of Amy Griffiths by Martin Saberi showed which side the dated, dangerous, dungareed Millie Tant Tendency were on, when their leading spokestermagant claimed Amy’s murder not to be a hate crime. These hatchet faced TERF crones oppress Trans women in a way akin to Yaxley Lennon’s thugs beating down on Islam. These Spare Rib anachronists are still to be found worshipping at the feet of evil Graham Linehan; a straight, white male so eaten up by his hatred of Trans women that he registered on gay dating sites, pretending to be a Lesbian, to out Trans women. Unsurprisingly, his wife divorced him, out of revulsion at his obsession, though he can now take the pick of whichever Andrea Dworkin and Bea Campbell soundalike he fancies. Lucky bloke eh?

Fair play to the sisters and brothers down in Bristol whose heroic Kill the Bill demos have exposed the Avon and Somerset bacon for telling lies about broken bones and punctured lungs. In the words of the late, great Bernie Grant, the Five-O have taken a bloody good hiding on at least three occasions now. The Manc Filth showed themselves to be as evil as when Anderton was in charge; 60 of them wading into a couple of dozen student sit down protestors.  What a shame Dale Cregan couldn’t have been there.

Meanwhile Northumbria Police continue to be the focus of my ire. You’ll recall the complaint I made last June when I grew weary of PC Doyle’s continued campaign of social media vilification against me. Well, after Winton’s witless wankstains completely arsed things up, the Office of the Police and Crime Commissioner stepped in and the Forth Banks fucktards were told to do their job properly, which encouraged me to donate to Kim McGuinness’s re-election fund. The Filth didn’t do much of a job, as you’d expect, but at least they actually looked into my 3 complaints.  In short, they rejected 2 and accepted the other.

The easiest one to deal with is my assertion that the elusive CI Lowther who never even sent me an email, but took Doyle to one side for a cosy chat about Twitter, didn’t do his job properly. Presumably this was rejected so they could heap the blame onto Lowther’s subordinate ACI Hall, who they found to have fucked up. I have to say at this point, she is one feisty customer and, reading between the lines, it is absolutely clear she does not accept for one second that she has done anything wrong; more fool her. Doyle, as you’d expect, was utterly exonerated and is therefore free to continue his vendetta against me, no doubt with the aid of his only three friends.

Good news though; I’ve put in an appeal to the Independent Office for Police Conduct against the decisions related to Doyle and Hall.  I explained that it was both the way my complaint about Doyle was handled, which I do not regard to have been rigorous enough, and the outcome of this complaint, which seemed to be an inevitable whitewash after the desultory manner in which it was investigated, that made me appeal. I admitted that I am content to allow the complaint about the mythical CI Lowther to lie, though I did point to the absolute lack of insight and contrition by ACI Hall, which to my mind constitutes serious professional misjudgement, leading me to question her suitability for any role in the Police.

My specific complaint about the inquiry into Doyle's bullying and intimidatory conduct towards me is the utter disinclination of Northumbria Police to research the content of his Twitter account, where his abusive posts were simply hidden by him protecting his account. This prevented me from presenting compelling evidence of his bullying and intimidatory conduct towards me and made me wonder exactly why he was not compelled to show his tweets to the investigating officer. I also queried why Doyle claimed, when interviewed in July 2020, that he had left Benfield a year previous. In fact, he left almost synchronously to that interview and, in December 2019, had been the leader of a witch hunt against me that saw me banned from the club. Doyle proves himself a liar here and the sloppy approach to the investigation by ACI Hall allowed him to get away with this.

Secondly, I pointed out in the most strident terms possible that I am appalled Doyle was allowed to make the value judgement that my tweets were "offensive," and this not be challenged when he said it, or in the subsequent evaluation of my complaint against him. It is further evidence of his personal vendetta against me, as is his interpretation of the events of 2 December 2017, when he, as a serving police officer, shows his approval of an attempted attack on me by several known risk supporters. It is my contention that Doyle is a swaggering, unprofessional bully of limited intellect. Therefore, I believe Northumbria Police's investigation, as conducted by ACI Hall was not fit for purpose. In an ideal world, I'd like them both facing criminal charges or, at the very least, a professional disciplinary hearing. If they want to fob me off with an apology, I want a face to face one. This case needs investigating properly to eradicate this miscarriage of justice.

But if I do get justice for this one, there are still other cases to deal with. Remember how I started off this piece with an account of how the first day of spring was ruined by 3 Neds and 4 hopeless Coppers? Well, New Year’s Eve just gone wasn’t that great either. I headed into Tynemouth to get some last minute things for the Hogmanay gargle and, on entering the Co-Op things went awry. Obviously the incident of last June had a negative effect on my privileges in the NE30 area, but I hadn’t suffered direct discrimination until the cocksucker who I’d had the run in with, tried to fling me out of the shop. I stood my ground, so he dropped his arse and called for the Pigs.

Now, if you still think I’m paranoid, why did it take 2 coppers in vans to come screaming up Front Street to sort this? And what a pair they were; 2242 Duffy was a stunted, spherical brain donor, while 8020 Oliver (no, seriously) was the tough guy. His Paddington hard stare at me was the most pitiful attempt at intimidation I’ve come across. Although, to be fair, he was engaged in fairly heavy duty flirtation with the cocksucker in charge at the time.

Following 20 minutes of hard man, fat woman interrogation by a pair of the thickest polis I’ve had the misfortune to meet since that clown Pilgreen threatened to take me into custody the night before my mother’s funeral, they left. I wasn’t going to take their shit, so I biked it down to North Shields sty to make a complaint. Turns out, the only way to do that is to pick up the battered Freephone outside and dial 101. Three different call handlers failed to get anyone to come down and see me, so I was left with no choice but to fill out an online complaint. I did so and, to be fair, the Professional Standards (don’t laugh) investigator hasn’t done a bad job, though March 29^th was the deadline for her to respond to my answers to her questions below.

1.      What was it that made you believe the person serving with the police’s words or actions were discriminatory?

I may have a different set of values and social expectations than serving members of Northumbria Police, or indeed the force as a corporate entity, but I would expect that innocent civilians who have broken no laws and are behaving in a co-operative way would be spoken to with a degree of respect and calmness, rather than the hectoring, intimidatory and indeed accusatory fashion that PC 2242 Duffy used in the entirety of the incident outside the Co-Op. When she asked what “the likes of you” were doing in Tynemouth, it was clear to me she was referring to my cultural identity as a Rastafari. PC 8020 Oliver may not have been quite as fulminating as PC 2242 Duffy, but the look of contempt and intimidation he gave me, obviously not recorded by his bodycam, showed the utter contempt he held me in.

2.      Do you feel that the person serving with the police made assumptions about you because of your protected characteristic? What were these assumptions? How did they impact on the actions of the police?

I feel that both officers made judgements about me; PC 2242 Duffy made her negative judgement about me on sight, because of my cultural identity and that it was reinforced by her response to my unwillingness to adopt a subservient attitude to the police. PC 8020 Oliver had a friendly and almost flirtatious encounter with the Co-Op manager and set his brows in a steely grimace of rebuke when seeking to badger me for my presence in Tynemouth.

3.      Did you note any differences in the way you were treated compared with others?

I was the only person presenting as culturally Rastafari in Tynemouth as I could see. I was the only person cajoled, browbeaten and bearded by the two officers.

4.      Did you note any differences in the way that this person serving with the police behaved compared with other persons serving with the police (either on this or other occasions)?

Over the past decade, I have been subject to repeated harassment from Northumbria Police, from both Newcastle and North Tyneside scions. In particular, the zeal with which the police have sought to investigate a litany of unfounded, mendacious allegations made against me by Elaine O’Connell-Gray and Robin Fisher, as well as David Caisley, that has seen me pursued, detained and interviewed on about a dozen occasions.  As can be seen, despite the incessant, intimidatory tactics of Northumbria Police, not one single allegation has resulted in so much as a caution; the actions of the officer who arrested me at Mr Fisher’s request in January 2017 (I do not have her name), plus the grievous conduct of PC 8151 Pilgreen in September 2017 are enough to demonstrate the severity of the persecution against me, as should the two reports I made of assault against my person in January and May 2020, neither of which were investigated.  Northumbria Police have a policy towards me that is repressive and intimidatory; it is from such a culture that the officers’ actions towards me sprang.

Now in contrast, whenever I’ve had cause to ask for the help of the police, the response has been considerably less than adequate. In December 2013, I was mugged on the Metro between Wallsend and Hadrian Road, where the attackers escaped. I pulled the emergency brake and the cops came. Unsurprisingly, the CCTV on the train didn’t work and the cameras at both stations missed taking any images of the 3 of them who jumped me. Case closed; unsolved. Shoulders shrugged; I was left to deal with it. In May 2015, outraged by the Greville Janner case, I finally plucked up the courage to report my mother for the years of sexual abuse I’d suffered as a child. I didn’t do this simply for my own sake, but for other potential victims. However, despite having clear evidence of my mother and sister’s extremely close relationship with a notorious resident of Dolphin Square, who boasts of being a worldwide authority on Lewis Carroll, nothing came of my statement. Seems abundantly clear to me that some families get better protection than others from the constabulary; looks like I’m not inside the tent. Indeed when my sister was finally warned as to her conduct towards me by Northumbria Police, I rather feel it was more a case of a word to the wise from another one of the gang from around the camp fire, than a case of helping a victim. The police in Newcastle and North Tyneside simply do not respond with any degree of professionalism when I require their assistance; am I paranoid or are they incompetent? Or worse; corrupt? It’s up to you to decide.

5.      Was there anything about the person serving with the police’s language that added to your concern? Did anyone else witness the incident and were any comments or reactions expressed to you at the time or since?  What was the impact on you? How did it make you feel?

It was their tone of voice rather than the carefully chosen words of PC 8020 Oliver and the limited, infantile vocabulary of PC2242 Duffy, as well as their menacing, intimidatory body language that concerned me. The fact they effectively kettled me in front of the Co-Op meant there were only a few onlookers, none of whom could hear the verbal intimidation I was being subjected to. This incident made me feel worthless and oppressed. It ruined New Year for me.

6.      What would you see as a good outcome from the complaints process?

The reason why Northumbria Police are so despised by the average citizen is because of the way they conduct themselves in matters such as this. It’s all about power trips. It’s all about social control.  The strategy they employ, often at the behest of their benefactors, involves harassment, persecution and intimidation of those who do not unthinkingly obey them, or pay tribute. Northumbria Police deny the right to freedom of speech; they violate human rights and degrade those who oppose them. I will not remain silent and allow them to persecute me any longer. I would like a verbal apology, delivered in person, by both officers.

Unsurprisingly, there was no contact, either by phone or email, on March 30^th. No doubt there will be some prickly, confrontational response in the days to come, justifying their indolent inaction, as a prelude to another whitewash. Whatever; ACAB.