on 25th may this year, when the queen visited parliament for the state opening, several democracy village citizens attempted to get past massive security and scale the building with banners. just one (known as "Sky Warrior") succeeded, and here is their rather inspiring and wonderful first-hand account of the day.

Sticking my head out of the tent I peered towards Big Ben. The hourly gong had been our companion for a number of weeks. We had grown used to it, at 7am the daily rush to city offices had begun. There was an air of tension around the village. Democracy Village had been set up on the 1st of May 2010, traditionally known for being International Workers Day, following the arrival of the May Day parade a section of the march broke off and proceeded toward Parliament Square, the seat of power in the UK containing, the House of Lords, Westminster Abbey and of course the Houses of Parliament. This collection of activists from all backgrounds, Anarchist, Communist and Socialist arrived with a common purpose, to end the war in Afghanistan and the needless daily slaughter of combatants and civilians alike.

Four weeks later and we were still there, dug in, manning battle stations and already conducting operations of direct action, we had be awakened by the Police conducting a search, apparently looking for bombs. We had been pre-warned by the Police that this would take place, to ensure the safety of the head of state. The 25th of May was the day the Queen had opened Parliament, an over the top ceremony more suited to times past. It had been a major victory for us, having been convinced our removal from the gates of power would have been conducted long before this day.

There would be four of us attempting to scale Parliament which, had only be accomplished on two other occasions. To scale the Houses of Parliament. This was the first day of the new government, security would be tight.

All of us realised that the risk of being shot was very high. There was initially an uneasy silence only broken by some feeble attempts at black humour. It was never far from my mind that running at the Palace of Westminster with a rucksack on ones back is a sure way to commit suicide by cop. We were later to find out that these cops were on high alert for terrorist attacks. Whether or not these threats were real was irrelevant. The people holding the Heckler and koch machine guns believed they were a clear and present danger.

The previous night I had packed my rucksack with everything I believed I would need, water?, check! food? check!, banner?, check! rope ?check! , a bottle for pissing in ??? check check and check.

The plan involved dressing as workmen, hard hats and high visibility jackets, the tactics ? to descend the perimeter wall with the aid of a ladder. Simple!! The difficulty lay in the fact that the first person over the wall had to jump.

Having travelled across Westminster Bridge around 745am to a building that we had secured a week or so before, this building we were using to store equipment. During our trip across the bridge we were joined by our friend Steve, one of the dozens of homeless alcoholics whom had been drawn to the camp from the very beginning.

With Steve in tow trying to keep up with his bad leg, I reflected how we were breaching the SOCPA legislation, Serious Organised Crime and Police Act, when I scanned the crew as we walked over the bridge, it dawned on me this was neither Serious or Organised.

Since Fathers for Justice and Climate Camp protested on Parliament, there had been a review of security. However, having watched the Palace for a number of weeks it was apparent that there was a loop hole.

On the Westminster Bridge side of Parliament, there was a wall with a 20ft drop into a walkway, running along side this walkway was a further perimeter fence and countless CCTV. The Palace had been under going some maintenance work and was covered in scaffolding. Something that would be ideal for placing a banner and holding our protest. On Westminster Bridge was a constable with the Metropolitan Police, his job was to prevent our cunning plan. We had others ideas and a belief in what we were doing. The main purpose was to raise awareness with the pubic about the ongoing pointless slaughter in the Middle-East. A war the British Government had entered based on lies and a strategy of ignoring the overwhelming feeling that this was an illegal occupation.

I know all about illegal occupation and brutality from armed forces, having spent my formative years growing up in Ardoyne with a couple of miles radius of Ardoyne where you had a one in four chance of being killed as a result of the conflict if you were a young male.

With those sorts of life experiences taking part in non-violent protest against war and for justice is not a difficult transition. This however as I have already mentioned was not without risk. Here we were walking towards a very alert Westminster Bobby, in construction outfits not realising that we were already receiving a lot of attention from the local police having been arrested numerous times since May the first. They knew who we were.

All credit to the policeman on duty alerted to our presence we noticed that he began to radio in some information while looking in our direction. Having reached the traffic lights I hear the words 'abort!! abort''', to which I replied 'just go!!!'. It was too late, we had wobbled and been compromised.

Plan B kicked in, which we hadn't actually planned but that's besides the point. Here we were all dressed up and no where to go. We crossed the road and it crossed my mind that the theme tune to The Benny Hill Show would not have been out of place, we decided to enter the Underground station on the opposite side of the road, which had a number of exits including one right at the side of parliament. The very place that we had planned to jump over the wall.

On exiting the station our friendly Bobby was there to greet us. His suspicions proved correct, and our stealth with a thing of the past. We climbed the stairs and begun to retrace our steps over the bridge. This time I was focused. I remembered I had everything I needed in my rucksack. This was the time. The universe was conspiring to help us. What's the worst that could happen?

this was a time for taking the fear and turning it into adrenaline. Bellowing the magic words Go! Go! Go! I got on the wall and jumped onto the trees.

Thump! Crack! Snap!, not the sound of your favourite cereal but the sounds one makes while breaking the branches of a tree all while parachuting without the parachute.

I was in! Fuck! This was it! I looked up to be greeted by the funniest thing I had ever seen. One activist dangling from the wall, one hand being grappled by the Bobby and the other two being restrained, including the ladder. For a moment I thought he had transformed into an octopus.

The seriousness of the moment returned, by now armed police would be responding to a breach in security. I couldn't hang around I had everything I needed and a determination that I was doing the right thing. I ran to the corner of the building which was at the end of the walkway. Our plan had involved using a ladder at this point and that was now in the hands of the police. Adjacent to where I was attempting to climb there was a security gate behind which by now had arrived two Westminster police who were screaming and shouting for their colleagues to open it. To my left was the a wall the other side was a long drop into the Thames River. Having attempting to climb up the corner I quickly realised that the moss was making it impossible. A quick scan of the wall and I noticed two places where I could put my hands and feet. The only problem was that it would require walking along the wall, one slip and serious injury would be certain. Taking my time I got to the wall. And begun to hand over feet make my way along the face of the building. By that time an activist had arrived with the other big banner. For those of you who have been involved in high risk situations like this will know that what goes up, must come down and by this time I was nearly exhausted, the initial rush of adrenaline had subsided and here I was faced with one last push to the scaffolding and with a fellow activist trying to hand me a banner. Deciding not to take the banner, I took four or five deep breathes and cleared my mind. With the last big push I was up. At that very moment the gates flung open and my friend was tackled to the ground. We had done it!!!. This may seem like an odd thing to say, but now I could relax. I knew that I was untouchable for the time being. They wouldn't come near me without the specialised rope team and that was a few hours away. Climbing the scaffold I found a place to sit had a smoke and some water and proceeded to put up the banner I had in my rucksack. 'WE RESPECT THE SOLDIERS BUT WE DON'T SUPPORT THE WAR'

The irony in this was never far from my mind. Here I was an Irish Republican, whose Father Sean was an Officer Commanding in the IRA during some of the most violent periods in the history of the North of Ireland. What would he think about all this? That didn't matter, I was clear on my motives I lived, breathed laughed and cried in a violent society for most of my life. Having first hand experience of conflict and its legacy. I wanted peace more than most.


Sky Warrior