On 'left-wing' authoritarianism

Red Pepper magazine is hosting an event on Wednesday night in London which aims to go some way to clarify the various strands of worries and queries that people have about the state of left wing political movements. As well as the obvious matters to debate - the question of left unity (which I've already discussed myself, and will likely come back to at some point) and what impact the Occupy movement has had on the prospects of the left-wing - it also covers what I feel is a hugely important issue:

How do we avoid repeating the authoritarianism that blighted the socialist project in the last century?

I feel this is a hugely important issue to address, as it may be the greatest stumbling block towards a more successful left-wing. Not only has the 'socialist project' as it is referred to failed - in a European context, at least - but, when it did collapse, the people, even those loyal to the USSR up until then, were disgusted at the rotten innards which spilled out. Now, communism and socialism - anti-capitalism in general - is synonymous with Stalinist gulags, with mass starvation, with the atrocities of the Khmer Rouge.

This is, of course, a willful misrepresentation of what left-wing politics actually stands for. In fact, there is an attempt by right-wing commentators, especially in America, to redraw the traditional political spectrum, whereby 'left' is shorthand for 'authoritarian', and 'right' is immediately parallel to 'freedom' and 'democracy'. Hence the placing of fascists and nazis at the left side, while the right is populated with conservatives, libertarians and neo-liberals.

Obama, who is, in social-domestic terms, liberal-left, and right wing in everything else, is frequently portrayed as a communist who wants to take away your freedom by increasing taxes slightly. Glenn Beck and his ilk are the ones who portray themselves as the defenders of freedom (the freedom to live in a country where you are shot with an unlicensed gun or die of a curable health problem because you can't afford health insurance).

Dan Hodges article for the New Statesman gives several examples from the British media, where this redrawing of the political spectrum has increased of late. Iain Dale, for example, gives it the old 'the clue is the phrase 'National Socialism'". There was also a flurry of articles defending Dr Rachel Frosh, a recently-elected police and crime commissioner after she tweeted the below picture:

Hodges makes an important point in his article - 

Hitler wasn't a socialist, nor was he a conservative. He was a political mutation.

Hitler was part of the burgeoning wave of fascism which was sweeping Europe after its creation by Mussolini in Italy. It disregarded the traditional opposition of capitalism vs socialism for a more populist, catch-all version which cherry-picked from everything. It had roots in left-wing politics, but it had roots in right-wing politics as well.  Like all power-mad dictators, Hitler basically made it up as he went along.

Moreover, he had a skewed vision of what 'socialism' meant, and the relation to Marxism. See, for example, this interview from 1923, reprinted in the Guardian as part of the 'Great Interviews of the 20th Century' series:

"Why," I asked Hitler, "do you call yourself a National Socialist, since your party programme is the very antithesis of that commonly accredited to socialism?"

"Socialism," he retorted, putting down his cup of tea, pugnaciously, "is the science of dealing with the common weal. Communism is not Socialism. Marxism is not Socialism. The Marxians have stolen the term and confused its meaning. I shall take Socialism away from the Socialists.
Socialism is an ancient Aryan, Germanic institution. Our German ancestors held certain lands in common. They cultivated the idea of the common weal. Marxism has no right to disguise itself as socialism. Socialism, unlike Marxism, does not repudiate private property. Unlike Marxism, it involves no negation of personality, and unlike Marxism, it is patriotic.We might have called ourselves the Liberal Party. We chose to call ourselves the National Socialists. We are not internationalists. Our socialism is national. We demand the fulfilment of the just claims of the productive classes by the state on the basis of race solidarity. To us state and race are one."

To redraw Hitler as a socialist, and therefore damn all socialists by association, is either a deliberate action in the absence of proper arguments - like, for example, an argument refuting that capitalism is in crisis - or the bizarre thoughts of a close-minded idiot. Either way, it remains a feasible thing to do because history shows the allegedly intrinsic connection between anti-capitalism and authoritarianism (this also leads to the mistaken conclusion that capitalism is intrinsically linked with democracy and freedom).

Admittedly, the left wing connection with authoritarianism is not the sole result of propaganda by right-wing newspaper columnists. The actions of the 'socialist' (state-capitalists, in reality) governments of the USSR, China, Cuba, and more are, of course, horrendous, and, I feel, a betrayal of what anti-capitalist politics can, and should, mean. I find this especially important to note as we move through the era of neo-liberalism, whereby capitalism combines a recklessly free market with a strong state which is designed to nurture the growth of this 'free' market, and stifle opposition to it. Socialism is now the definable democratic model.  

But, concerning the historical examples of totalitarianism: what they can serve as are reminders of the incorrect way to apply to works of Marx, and others, to real life. There were aborted attempts at establishing capitalism throughout history, and the current mode remains riddled with flaws. History is there to be learnt from, and, importantly, to be cast off, as so not to cloud our judgement today.

The university is a factory - shut it down!

Our temporary occupation here should be considered a warning shot: this campus was always ours, and we will not allow management to terrorise our community any longer. 

We call on all staff and students to join us. To reclaim the spaces of our campus. To strike. To occupy.

The university is a factory – shut it down.

Statement from Sussex University Occupation 

The introduction of £9,000 a year fees in English universities has inevitably forced the marketization of the educational establishments. They are, contrary to any sensible or moral approach to learning, now opportunities for profit. This is the goal, ultimately, of neo-liberalism; not only to chase 'growth' and profit to further than logically possible, but to undermine and crush any dissent towards it. Neo-liberalism is the fusion of a free market with a strong state - the latter allowing the former to flourish by force. 

Universities are cultural and social centres, as well as ones of learning. From the earliest years of education, schools and colleges also operate on this basis. This is further being undermined by the coalition government, as they push for on-line learning to disrupt student movements coalescing and growing on campus.

The recent occupations at Sussex University - one on-going, and two flash occupations - protesting at the privitisation of 235 jobs - those of cooks, cleaning staff, janitors - shows that the student movement is alive and well, despite the best attempts of the NUS to neuter it. Pictures from their Twitter account show speeches and marches to be well attended, and have already attracted the likes of Owen Jones, Laurie Penny, Caroline Lewis and Josie Long.

What is important about Occupy Sussex is that it shows that the student movement can surpass it's pre-occupation with the fees. The initial protests in London, and around the UK, were given a focal point by this, but they melted away when the cap was taken up. As the pillars and foundations of education are attacked, so must the student movement react and fight battles on all fronts. 

We can also see the rejection of the decay of university life in the growing actions of members of the Letters Of Public Terror group, who reacted to the stifling  anti-social aspects of their university and their management with a campaign of graffiti [PDF].

The rejection of neo-liberalism and marketization within universities, and within education wholesale, must be at the forefront of any struggle which aims to combat these destructive economic systems. Education establishes patterns followed throughout life - results in high school can dictate everything. Similarly, the indoctrination of life as a ruthless hunt for profit begins here. 

The university is a factory - shut it down!

Philippe Petit: Perpetrator of the Artistic Crime of the Century

On a cold, windless New York morning in August 1974, French street performer Philippe Petit stepped onto a tightrope and into history books. The rope was stretched between the twin towers of the World Trade Centre, over one thousand feet in the sky. He spent over forty-five minutes on the wire, without a security harness or any form of support, taunting the police officers sent to arrest him, while stunned commuters gazed up at him from below. One passer-by later referred to him as a 'highwire dancer', because 'walker' simply would not do his flamboyance and confidence justice. Philippe himself stated that he 'wrote with his body in the sky'.

Their amazement will come as no surprise to anyone who has seen pictures of his walk – from a distance the wire becomes almost invisible, as if he is walking on air. Even without this illusion, the image is still jaw-dropping, and immediately iconic.

Born in 1949 in Nemours, France, he was less than a conformist, getting himself expelled from several schools before dropping out altogether. It took him only a year to train himself to wire walk, doing tricks like back flips, jumping trough hoops and using a unicycle, and became an established street performer, and pick pocket, on the streets of Paris. While plying his trade on a slack wire in Washington Square Park in New York, he came up with the idea of taking his performance to the next level - traversing the sky over famous landmarks across the globe. It was in the early seventies that these walks took place – firstly between the towers of the Notre Dame Cathedral, and then between the pylons of the Sydney Harbour Bridge. After being apprehended by the Australian authorities, he pick-pocketed the arresting officer, and stole his watch. As impressive as these daredevil feats were, they were only the stepping stones to the walk that would make him famous.  

Petit had spent most of his life waiting for his chance to walk between the towers, ever since he saw a newspaper article about its construction as a teenager while living in Paris. In interviews he has constantly spoke of the event as if it is fate, like two lovers destined to meet – 

‘didn't choose it. It chose me. So here I am - a prisoner of something I love.' 

Later, he discussed the operation - planned over the course of six years - as a bank job, a heist, and with all the meticulous research and preparation that it involved. He employed 'inside men', and referred to it as a coup. This reflects an interesting mindset of Petit - his idea of himself as a roguish criminal. He used to pick pockets, and when he met the director James Marsh, when the two collaborated on Oscar-winning documentary Man On Wire, Marsh noted that Petit explained how he could kill a man with a copy of People magazine, and then proceeded to rob him.

Petit has, since that day, became a more enigmatic film. He still walks occasionally, such as over the Niagra Falls in 1986, a recreation of Charles Blondin's stunt. The most he has come into the spotlight was after the release of Man On Wire, where he discussed the planning and executing of his coup. He largely dodges the question that he gets the most - why? His stunt, his art, propelled him into that category of performers and artists who are asked constantly why they did what they did. Bill Drummond and Jimmy Caulty will forever be asked why they burnt a million quid. Petit will always be asked why. He once answered 

'I see three oranges, I juggle. I see two towers, I walk.'     

Film Review: Nostalgia for the Light

9/10

Nostalgia For The Light, Patricio Guzmán's latest documentary about his native Chile, is a poetic, phenomenal work of both genius and horror.

Guzmán begins the story describing his childhood love of astronomy. From here he moves to the Atacama Desert, a strip of land which covers over 100,000 square miles, and the preferred destination for professional astronomers because of the clear skies above it. Working around the astronomers on the floor of the desert are archaeologists, who trace the history of the area through fossils and etchings in the rock face. A parallel is drawn between both groups, as they try to peace together the past from the scarce clues left to them. Both also attempt to answer fundamental questions about the purpose and origin of life and of humanity.

From here Nostalgia winds in another group who are seeking answers about the past - relatives of political prisoners who disappeared under the Pinochet, their bodies scattered in the vast desert without markings or a proper burial. Despite the seeming impossibility of the task, they continue their search - a new body is found every once in a while to keep their hopes up. Guzmán conducts heartbreaking interviews with some of the searchers, as they describe how they often find just part of body (the result of corpses being buried and re-buried to make finding them even more difficult) but are still able to find a morsel of closure in a foot, or a jawbone.

No matter what strands of stories Guzmán is following - they intersect each other throughout - the film looks consistently stunning. The images of far off solar systems and constellations, as seen through powerful telescopes, reveal twisting spirals of immense beauty and colour. Even as a harsh contrast to this the never-ending dunes and rocks of the Atacama look beautiful, in their own unforgiving way. At various points throughout the film flecks appear super-imposed over the images, like specks of dust floating in a ray of light.  It is never clear what they represent; glistening stars, sand whisked by the wind, or the memories of the lost bodies buried in the desert, floating in an emptiness.

The collage of images and sound, perfectly fitted, recall Godfrey Reggio's Koyaanisqatsi: A Life Out Of Balance, with the legacy of the Pinochet regimes crimes against humanity that give Guzman's work a drive, and an emotional tie.

It is indeed this legacy, and the reluctance of Chile to confront it, which Nostalgia For The Light aims to tackle. We are enthusiastic when astronomers and archaeologists peer back into the distant past, and pick away at unsolved mysteries, and yet a more recent past, the Chile of the dictatorship, is largely ignored. One woman who is searching for the body of her brother says that her, and the people like her, and referred to as 'Chile's leprosy,' and they are marginalized for literally digging up the past. As Lautaro Núñez, an archaeologist, notes, there are still people alive today who helped to murder the political prisoners, and who helped dispose of the bodies. And yet they do not come forward, and do not help the relatives find the closure they yearn for.

Guzmán's point recalls the old saying "those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it". We need an understanding of the past to live in present. Whether in the stars, or the earth, that is what we are searching for.

The treatment of Mario Balotelli, and football's fight against racism

There is perhaps not a player in the modern era who has attracted as much media attention, good and bad, as Mario Balotelli. At times he seems to court it, matching wacky antics with phenomenal talent - a former manager of his, Roberto Mancini, said he would be as good as Cristiano Ronaldo and Messi, if only he could focus his energies into playing.

 

During his time at Manchester City the British media focused largely on the antics, the laughs - like the time he wandered into a college in Manchester looking for a toilet, or the time he drove around the city high-fiving fans after winning the Manchester derby. They also looked at the two contrasting sides of his playing - the talent, which saw him set up the goal which gave Manchester City their first league title in decades, and the flaws, which saw his almost conspire to lose City the league when he went rogue in a match against Arsenal, getting sent off for a tackle that could have broken an opponents leg and generally causing his team more hassle than good.

 

He's since moved to AC Milan, where, unfortunately, most of the coverage has focused on the racism he has encountered. Most recently fans of Inter Milan (who Balotelli played for before moving to Manchester) abused him during a game against Chievo. This is not the first time that Balotelli has been the target of racist abuse from fans, both at club level and international when playing for Italy, and it is likely that the Inter fans attitude to him has soured since he joined their big rivals (as happens with just about any football player). Although he has not been at the club a month, there is also another controversy concerning his race - Paolo Berlusconi, brother of Silvio and vice-president of AC Milan, referred to Mario as '...' - 'the family's little n-----'. The club released a press photo of Paolo and Mario shaking hands during a training conference, but it is difficult to see how the incredibly offensive remark can be easily glossed over. Not only because of the use of the n word, but also by the connotations of making Balotelli sound as if he is owned in some way by the family, a fact exacerbated by the rumours that AC Milan signed him to give Silvio Berlusconi a boost in the forth-coming Italian election. Not only has he been racially abused in his time at Milan, Balotelli is also being treated as a commodity, a piece of arm candy.

 

Racism in British football, that we know of, happens, by and large, in isolation. Last season the English Premier League saw two major race-based controversies - Luis Suarez of Liverpool, and John Terry of Chelsea, both found to have racially abused opponents during matches, and both given bans. Subsequently, support was shown by both Liverpool and Chelsea fans to their respective players, although both men are now booed at just about every ground they visit. The media is therefore surprised when this new-found tolerance is not replicated across Europe. Before England were due to travel to Euro 2012 in Poland and Ukraine the BBC ran a documentary about the level of racism that occurs at club level in these countries, largely due to the prevalence of neo-nazi groups in the Ultras section of each team's support. In Spain, accusations of racist insults by several Barcelona players began to drip out, before, more and more, it became apparent that racist abuse by players in Spain, and especially in El Clasico, was to be expected. It was part of trying to put off your opponent. Again, in Italy, a pre-season game between AC Milan and Pro Patria was distrupted by fans of the latter team racially abused Kevin Prince Boateng.

 

While often players attempt to shrug off the insults, Boateng took an approach which shocked everyone, and propelled the game from no-mark friendly to one which prompted headlines across Europe - he walked off. After hearing monkey chants whenever he was in possession, Boateng kicked the ball at the fans who had abused him, and walked off. His team followed him in solidarity, leaving players of the Pro Patria to reprimand their owns fans at the touchline.

 

This is perhaps the most radical and significant step taken by a player to combat racism. Their shirking of tackling the abuse (which is understandable, given the pressure that players are under) leaves it to governing bodies such as Fifa and Uefa to tackle racism, which they are hugely ineffective at. The usual incident pointed to here is that of Nicolas Bentnar, who was given a fine of £80,000 during the Euros for exposing his branded underwear (this article contrasts that incident with other major fines given out by football governing bodies). This is more than any team has ever been fined for racist abuse by their fans. In the eyes of Uefa and Fifa, making monkey chants at players is bad, but advertising a non-sponsor during a match is even worse. For all the claims to want to remove racism from football, their paltry actions undermine them straight away. Fifa seem to maintain that by getting players to wear 'Kick Racism Out of Football' t-shirts before a game will indeed kick racism out of football. It hasn't, and it won't. Sepp Blatter, the comically inept and corrupt head Fifa, also refused to back Boateng in walking off, while maintaining that he against racism, and wanted it removed from football. of  The lack of positive action from governing bodies, I believe, means that players who have been racially abused will want to ignore it, and play it down, as they have no one to back them up.

 

The actions of Boateng and his Milan teammates is incredibly important. It shows the only way in which football can effectively tackle it's racism problem. If the withdrawal of football itself does not stop the fans - and this, unfortunately, is likely, as racist fans have shown time and time again that the docking of points, or issuing of fines to their teams does not stop them - then the withdraw of football from Fifa will. It will disrupt to product, and thus the revenue. The AC Milan game against Pro Patria was an insignificant game in footballing terms - anyone without a keen interest in either team is unlikely to have known it was going ahead - but imagine if it happened in a high profile league game, or even Champions League game. If Balotelli, or Boateng, or any other player, is abused during the up-coming Milan derby and both teams walk off, what will happen then. Perhaps very little, it may lead to more walk-offs, and, at that point, Fifa will have to act. It is shameful that it would take them to that point, but it is better than not reaching there at all.

Film Review: Django Unchained

5/10

Quentin Tarantino's historical revisionism continues with Django Unchained, which offers his view on the end of the slave trade if it had to deal with Christoph Waltz and Jamie Foxx. How does Django impact on his later films? Is Jules Winnfield a distant relative of the grovelling man-servant Stephen? If so, does this mean that all of Jackson's characters in the Tarantino canon as related in some way? Trying to tease out the relationship between each character is ultimately more than actually watching Django, which overstays its welcome and lapses into a turgid second half.

 

For most of the film, Waltz is the star, playing sophisticated European bounty hunter Dr King Shultz who frees Django so that the former-slave can help him track down a trio of brothers who are wanted by the state for murder. Their partnership works out, and they continue to work together so that they can free Django's wife Broomhilda, who was bought by psychopathic plantation owner Calvin Candie (Leonardo DiCaprio). DiCaprio has won deserved acclaim for his role, and he gifts the film's second half it's only good scene, as he saws open the skull of a former slave to 'prove' the inadequacy of black people as a race.

 

Tarantino has always been indulgent, but never as bad as DU. A scene with a proto-KKK gang falls flat with Tarantino attempts to mock them. Before they attack Waltz and Foxx, the lynch mob stop to adjust their masks - they'd been cut earlier that afternoon, and evidently not very well, as they complain that they can't see out of the eye-holes  The scene is admittedly humourous at first - the suggestion that the Klan picked their infamous outfits not based on any tradition or superstition, but on a 'what do we have available' pragmatism - but the joke is dragged on and on, killing the humour and ruining the rest of the scene. It certainly can't have been made, Sideshow Bob stepping on rakes-style, to pad out the running time, which stretches to almost three hours, and features a last half hour (essentially Act 3.5) which is completely pointless, seemingly only existing to resolve the plot which could have been wrapped up earlier, and to give Quentin his inevitable cameo - as a slaver who, like every other character in this film, uses the n-word in a manner in which the casualness only adds to the discomfort. 

 

Which moves us on the main point - is Django a racist film? The film is scattered indiscriminately with racial epithets, (most estimates count them at a rate of one per minute). Often the word is used descriptively, in the same way that someone would use the term 'African-American', which has led some to suggest that, in this context, it is not offensive. A similar situation comes about in Hemingway's Fiesta: The Sun Also Rises, where he uses the word numerous times to describe a black boxer who he is praising. He is not calling the name a 'n-----' to offend him, simply as a way to identify him. This argument falls flat, however - that word is loaded with a history and context which cannot be removed, and so, regardless of the intention of the usage, it is markedly offensive. It may perhaps be even more offensive used like this, as it contributes to a normalisation of the word which ignores the racist context in which it was created and used.  

 

The film is most problematic in regards to race, however, in the relationship which Shultz has with Django - although he frees him, and largely treats him as an equal (although pays him less from their bounties they collect), Waltz still technically his owner, and Django still has to operate within the master-slave social relationship. Therefore, Django is merely enabled by the white character to undertake his quest of saving Broomhilda. This task itself is also one of a personal vendetta, and not aimed at attacking the slavery system as a whole - the slavers are merely to ones who stand between the couple. Twice in the film Django is involved in freeing a group of slaves - once when he is first bought by Waltz, and again in the second-to-last scene. Both times he simply unlocks their shackles or their cage and leaves immediately, leaving them stranded in a hostile wilderness. The film is not, as it has been referred to as, an anti-slavery film, as much as it is a revenge film set in the time of slavery.   

A Personal View on Scottish Independence

At a Yes Scotland event I attended in Falkirk, a local SNP councillor emphasized the need for the pro-independence movement to appeal to people on a personal level. There is an unbridgeable gap, in many respects, between politicians and voters. Politicians peddle empty phrases for votes; but your friends and relatives actually do care about you, and so their arguments are driven by compassion and genuine belief. I agree with this, which is why I will now tell you a personal reason as to why you should support Scottish independence.

The Falkirk Wheel officially opened in 2002, after stumbling over the usual obstacle course laid in front of large projects like it - costs escalating, dates not met, and, in one case, an act of vandalism which set the entire building programme back a few months when it was almost complete. 

Although it does not sound very grand - more like a crap Ferris wheel intended to weakly ape the London Eye - the Wheel is in fact a triumph of engineering and ingenuity. It was built as part of the Millennium Project, linking the Union Canal (which runs from Edinburgh to Falkirk) and the Forth and Clyde Canal (which, as the name might suggest, links the Forth and Clyde Rivers (which supply Edinburgh and Glasgow respectively) and was probably intended to operate in a similar way to the Pamana Canal). This has reinvigorated an archaic form of transport, stopping the canals from lapsing into disrepair along with the industrial landscapes they used to supply. The Wheel itself is built in such a way that it can make a full rotation using the same amount of energy as it would take to boil a kettle. And, as the only rotating boat lift in the world, it is a huge tourist attraction, which is a further boost to the local area.

The opening of the Wheel was a Big Deal in Falkirk - so much so that the Queen herself was invited to the grand opening. It was the first time she had been to Falkirk since, I think, the seventies, and she did not return until last year, to attend the opening of Forth Valley Royal Infirmary in Larbert.

On the day the Queen visited (with the Duke of Edinburgh) I was forced to go. My gran is a staunch monarchist, but my grampa was busy on the day (he works for a charity which runs boat tours on the Wheel for school kids, residents of old peoples' homes, and people with disabilities, so when the Queen visited he was actually on the Wheel itself) and, as she cannot drive and does not like to get the bus, my mum had to take her. And I, being a child of school age who could not be trusted in the house on his own, had to go along.

Currently I am a republican - at the time, although I did not have a clear idea of politics, I probably felt much the same - if nothing else, just to be a contrarian.  So, I was less then pleased at having to spend to afternoon waiting for an old woman to flick a switch to pretend that she made the Wheel move. In reality, the Wheel had been operational for about a week beforehand, and, like C-list celebrities have at Christmas light switch-ons, the button she pressed was entirely for show.  

The Queen's car, surrounded by a fleet carrying her entourage and security, drove into the car park, edging towards the crowd, which numbered near one thousand. Security guards cleared a space, and they drove to a podium close to the switch laid out for the Queen. As she got out of the car, the crowd cheered, and her and Prince Philip waved. He smiled, and she did not, ensuring that she remained committed to the British stereotype of a 'stiff upper lip' and a complete suppression of emotion, something that probably goes some way to explaining her popularity in the UK. She said a few words (I cannot remembered what they are, as they were fairly unremarkable, and the sound system crackled only when it did not muffle her voice), pressed the switch, and the Wheel started to cheers and applause. The Queen again waved, and discussed something with the chief engineer who had oversaw the entire project.

The crowds were again parted so they could drive away, and me, my mum and my gran found ourselves lining the walls of this corridor - the Queen would be driving directly past us. As the car came, I made a decision - instead of waving or clapping, I turned around and stood with my back to her. It was a petty thing to do, but, as an 11 year old, there was little else I could do.

My mum or my gran never saw that I had turned around, so when the Queen's car drove by I was still standing with my back to her. In amongst the cheering, and the general positive commotion  I heard the car stop. As I turned around, the Queen was exiting the door of the car nearest to me. She walked up directly to me.

"What do you think you are doing?" 

I was too intimidated to reply.

"I will ask again - what do you think you are doing?" She sounded angrier the second time. She was leering over me, and I could smell her breath, even feel it warm my forehead slightly. A man behind me, probably oblivious to what was happening, shouted on me to shake her hand.

Then she slapped me. The force - the shock - of her gloved hand knocked me to the floor. I looked up at her, still angry.

"Get up, you insolent little boy." The crowd had been silenced, I could hear the way she enunciated every syllable with disgust. I slowly rose to my feet, only to be struck down by her again. This time it was more like a punch. She leaned down and grabbed the neck of my jacket, lifting me to my knees only to punch me again, several times, about the face and head. She let me drop to my knees. Inspecting her glove, she said:

"So first he turns his back to one, and now he ruins ones glove with blood and... mucus." The knuckles of her glove were spotted with a mixture of blood, snot and tears, which also coated my upper lip and part of my shirt.

Prince Philip's left hook took my by surprise. He had been lurking behind the car, watching with glee. He knew his place, and he knew when to get involved. He help my arms behind my back as the Queen worked my body, and them my face some more. He warned the people around not to interfere, or the same would happen to them. 

The Queen eventually stopped, spitting on my before getting back in the car. I was lying prostate on the floor, attempting to pull myself into the fetal position. As he walked away, Prince Philip aimed two kicks at me - once in my kidneys, then, after he stepped over me, turning to boot my front. I felt a blunt pain in abdomen - he had aimed for my genitalia. They got back in the car without a word, and drove off. Slowly the crowd dispersed. 

Now, that story about the Queen is not true. 

But I think it tells us all we need to know about our relationship with the monarchy.