EAT THE QUEEN with chips
hongkongfooey | 07.06.2002 17:03
On tuesday morning myself and miscellaneous other scallies decided to miss the anti-jubilee street party to support a comrade who had, the day before, been dragged off a bus and arrested for violation of parole conditions. It was a pretty horrible morning (made more so by the mother of all hang overs) sitting in court and watching people getting sentences like fourteen days for stealing some coffee from iceland. Anyway, the comrade walked so we went to the pub and planned (after a few ales) to head down to tower hill.
In the pub, however, we got a call from some mates who were in another pub and in the process of being arrested for 'breach of the peace' or some such bollocks. Damn, we were miles away, what could we do short of getting a taxi directly to jail ourselves? With some mutterings about 'a solidarity action' we headed off anyway. In Islington we came across an open fancy dress shop and purchased some fine quality animal masks and plastic crowns. Someone hung a sign from their neck saying 'CHOP, CHOP, EXECUTE THE MONARCHY'. Then we marched on the city.
The streets were virtually deserted due to everyone being in central London celebrating the reign of an old witch with murderous ancestors so we declared them autonomous zones and moved on, leaving them for the people of the area to defend.
I must admit to being a little nervous as we approached a jubilee street party. There were about seven of us dressed as royal pigs, monkeys and cows and covered in class war stickers, whilst one of our number was wearing a t-shirt bearing the legend 'FUCK THE JUBILEE'. I was fully expecting to get battered. But, to our surprise, people laughed and smiled at us as we passed. In fact, the response from the public throughout the whole afternoon was overwhelmingly positive. One million people in central London for a party does not necessarily mean one million people who love the monarchy, whatever the tabloids say.
Things were going so well we thought we might march on the tower of London. Traitor's gate seemed like the most suitable entrance so we went there and sat for a while waiting for someone to open it up and let us in. Lots of children came past and seemed fascinated by this strange group of ne'er do wells. The Beefeaters were not so impressed. Perhaps the spectre of anarchist cows come to claim revenge on the most symbolic agents of their oppression and consumption was too much for them.
Next up was the spearmen (I'm not making this up, honest). Three burly blokes with swords, chain mail, helmets and twelve foot long spears approached and proceeded to shout 'GOD SAVE THE QUEEN' whilst waving their weaponry in the air. We laughed at them and the public laughed at us. Everyone was having a great time.
It was not to last. Everyone's favourite party poopers, the cops, turned up in their van. One or two of us in pig masks were worried we might get lifted for impersonating an officer, but they just wanted us off the queen's land. One told us that they'd missed two serious accidents to attend to us. Which precisely illustrates the real role of the police - the protection of wealth and power. If your house gets broken into or you are assaulted, expect to wait several hours for the police to arrive if, indeed, they deign to do so at all. Turn up at tower hill with some anti-monarchy stuff, though, and they'll be there quicker than you can say 'paramilitary agents of oppression'.
We left her maj's manor in an orderly fashion. Then the cops proceeded to berate us in their usually inept manner, 'good luck with your gcse's' etc. At this point, a comrade wearing a monkey mask began making monkey sounds and was dragged off to be told he was going to be arrested for 'being a prick'. Apparently, people making monkey noises whilst the police are talking 'makes them look stupid', tho they seemd to be doing a pretty good job of that all by themselves.
Anyway, the anarchist gorilla was released and we headed off to bishopsgate police station to await the release of our comrades.
Respect and solidarity to everyone nicked in tower hill. The repression surrounding anti-jubilee activities this year illuminates the mechanics of the maintenance of state power as few other actions have done.
50 YEARS OF CRAP
In the pub, however, we got a call from some mates who were in another pub and in the process of being arrested for 'breach of the peace' or some such bollocks. Damn, we were miles away, what could we do short of getting a taxi directly to jail ourselves? With some mutterings about 'a solidarity action' we headed off anyway. In Islington we came across an open fancy dress shop and purchased some fine quality animal masks and plastic crowns. Someone hung a sign from their neck saying 'CHOP, CHOP, EXECUTE THE MONARCHY'. Then we marched on the city.
The streets were virtually deserted due to everyone being in central London celebrating the reign of an old witch with murderous ancestors so we declared them autonomous zones and moved on, leaving them for the people of the area to defend.
I must admit to being a little nervous as we approached a jubilee street party. There were about seven of us dressed as royal pigs, monkeys and cows and covered in class war stickers, whilst one of our number was wearing a t-shirt bearing the legend 'FUCK THE JUBILEE'. I was fully expecting to get battered. But, to our surprise, people laughed and smiled at us as we passed. In fact, the response from the public throughout the whole afternoon was overwhelmingly positive. One million people in central London for a party does not necessarily mean one million people who love the monarchy, whatever the tabloids say.
Things were going so well we thought we might march on the tower of London. Traitor's gate seemed like the most suitable entrance so we went there and sat for a while waiting for someone to open it up and let us in. Lots of children came past and seemed fascinated by this strange group of ne'er do wells. The Beefeaters were not so impressed. Perhaps the spectre of anarchist cows come to claim revenge on the most symbolic agents of their oppression and consumption was too much for them.
Next up was the spearmen (I'm not making this up, honest). Three burly blokes with swords, chain mail, helmets and twelve foot long spears approached and proceeded to shout 'GOD SAVE THE QUEEN' whilst waving their weaponry in the air. We laughed at them and the public laughed at us. Everyone was having a great time.
It was not to last. Everyone's favourite party poopers, the cops, turned up in their van. One or two of us in pig masks were worried we might get lifted for impersonating an officer, but they just wanted us off the queen's land. One told us that they'd missed two serious accidents to attend to us. Which precisely illustrates the real role of the police - the protection of wealth and power. If your house gets broken into or you are assaulted, expect to wait several hours for the police to arrive if, indeed, they deign to do so at all. Turn up at tower hill with some anti-monarchy stuff, though, and they'll be there quicker than you can say 'paramilitary agents of oppression'.
We left her maj's manor in an orderly fashion. Then the cops proceeded to berate us in their usually inept manner, 'good luck with your gcse's' etc. At this point, a comrade wearing a monkey mask began making monkey sounds and was dragged off to be told he was going to be arrested for 'being a prick'. Apparently, people making monkey noises whilst the police are talking 'makes them look stupid', tho they seemd to be doing a pretty good job of that all by themselves.
Anyway, the anarchist gorilla was released and we headed off to bishopsgate police station to await the release of our comrades.
Respect and solidarity to everyone nicked in tower hill. The repression surrounding anti-jubilee activities this year illuminates the mechanics of the maintenance of state power as few other actions have done.
50 YEARS OF CRAP
hongkongfooey
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