We were stopped by the FIT during the 2005 Edinburgh G8 actions at the junction between the A823 and the A9. I had just driven about half a mile away from a gate to the G8 conference centre (the one in Gleneagles village) where the police gave a statement to the press about the demonstration that had been planned for the following day, which the police said was banned.

When I said “we” I didn’t really know the other person traveling with me, I had only met him two days before at a meeting in the camp for Indymedia reporters. He seemed genuine enough so we agreed to do stories for Indymedia. - he had a video camera and I was going to write the text..

We knew it was the FIT that stooped us, because, well, they introduced themselves by saying, in an almost clownish manner, “We’re the FIT. Do you know hat that is?” I answered, “Yes.” They asked us what we were doing, to which I replied that we were reporting for Indymedia and had been at the main gate with all the other journalists and TV crews. Next he asked us where we were staying, we answered the camp.

I then told them that the police had only just questioned us at the gate and spent about an hour searching my car. They didn´t question any of the other journalist at the gate, or search their cars; I was singled, so they said, because the guy with me had been filming the police look-out tower which had been pt up for the, still illegal, Sunday demo, and the “boss”, as they police called him, ordered that my car be searched.

. The police were quite friendly, when they searched my car, which was completely full of camping gear, food, and other rubbish. Their opening question was, •Just tell us where the drugs are first, and thee wont be any problems. “. I was tempted to say: do you have a pair of gloves, or up my Garry Glitter. However, my wit deserts me during moments of tension.

.The FIT too were friendly when they stopped us about an hour later. .

They asked our names, and then one of them disappeared for about 5 minutes, almost certainly to radio in and do computer searches, although they would immediately know who I was because the car is registered in my name. We waited in the car. When he came back he asked me what sort of stuff I wrote for Indmedia;. I replied satire on the police and activists. He seemed satisfied with my answer or completely disinterested in me and didn’t ask anything else.

The FIT copper then turned to the Video guy sitting next to and spoke to him though the passenger side window which was completely wound down,. He asked him if he was actually “in Indymedia”, which I took to mean was he one of the editorial team or techies of a collective. ’He grabbed the guy’s T-Shirt and pulled it quite aggressively to get a look at the logo on the front, and said: “Hey, what’s this. What have you got on your T-shirt?” He repeated this, as he tugged at his T-Shirt, pulling the Video guy forward in his seat This behaviour seemed a little odd because they had been very friendly up until then..

While this was going on, with his other hand that is his right, the FIT copper grabbed the Video Guy´s left hand, which was almost hidden from me between the passenger side door and the Video guy’s body. I didn’t see anything exchanged between hands, but the FIT copper kept his right hand clenched afterwards as he walked away after telling us to go, as if he might be holding something.

(From the true Adventures of Harold Hamlet)

You couldn’t call it harassment, except for the T-shit pulling episode, which seemed out of place and staged. So probably they knew who I was, but didn’t have any record of the other guy, and so they were interested in finding out a little more about him, and tried to scare him a little.

The only ting that remains to be said is what happened during the drive to the village, a few hours earlier,

When we set off the Video guy expressed an interest in the sites for the blockades to which I commented that I knew fuck all about. As we were driving, and getting close to the G8 site, I told him that I hadn’t been to any of the meetings/workshops because I wasn’t intending to take part in blockading.

He then pulled out a small piece of paper which he said was a list of the planned blockade sites. I glanced across at the list which contained several items., and chucked him my Ordinance survey map of the area so he could locate them, and I though, maybe pay a visit, because we had little better to do at that point. He said said something to the effect that we could drive to them. I wouldn’t have used the word “Recky”, if the other had later claimed in court because I was reporting for Indymedia, but maybe I would have said “Do a Becky or even a Reggie…, or something. I don’t remember now.

Looking at my large scale ordinance survey map he said: “That’s good no pencil marks, otherwise you might get arrested for conspiracy.” (Good bit of advice for anyone, including me at the time. As well you might give way where the treasure is hidden).

Just after that there were loads of police about, parked by the roadside and driving around, so I turned off and found a pub. The beer wasn’t remarkable, probably because I had bought a half pint: even good beer tastes like swill in half pint glass, they can never get the head right and it’s always flatter. My advice is never buy a half-pint of beer, it’s like drinking champagne out of an egg-cup, although a half-pint bottle is OK, but drink it straight from the bottle.

There was a TV in the bar, and, coincidentally the local news came on which reported that the police were about to make a statement at the gate to the G8 conference in Gleneagles village about the “banned demonstration” on the Sunday. The TV pictures showed a large group of journalists waiting. Now we had a purpose and a legitimate one too – we were indymedia journalists. So we got directions from the Barman and set off to Gleneagles village.

As we arrived at the gate, I wound down my window, and asked the coppers where we should park. We’re journalists, I said. They directed us to a space on the road-side.

You know what happened after that, nothing remarkable until we were driving away from the FIT and I asked the Video Guy if he still had the list of Blockade sites, and suggested we could now go to a few. He said he had lost it to which I commented the list was probably a load of bollocks anyway, or disinformation, because the people I have come across who have organized blockades in the past, I think, would never reveal exactly where they were going to blockade days before they were due to take place.

That was it. Not a very interesting story really, a routine stop by the police in a very high security zone, close to a main gate where world leaders were meeting. .Maybe when the did a check on my car registration, and then name, it would have revealed I had been arrested a few times at demos, and been charged and convicted of assault on a policemen (I just knocked his Helmut off after he’d rugby tackled me then whacked me a few times, that’s all, at a Menwith Hill, independence day demo.).And I’d been on the telly a couple of times denouncing police tactics, and written some quite heavy agitation


What´s more the FITs role in intelligence gathering also includes handling infiltrators, and speaking to them during protests and marches to get intelligence from them. Maybe a few words or they pass then noted, during a little scuffle. Of course they’ll use mobile phones too. This I think is one reason why they want to get close up on demos. They can be friendly and chat. Pick up names, and then take information from their infiltrators, which of course they always have. This information ca be about immediate or latter plans, or the name of someone, or what they have heard. Etc …

I could be wrong though; perhaps the Video guy didn’t pass the note containing the list of blockade sites to the FIT officer in what seemed like a staged scuffle. And yes, he could have lost the list too. Who gives a shit anyway?

In the end we drove back to the Indymedia centre in Edinburgh that night. I was going to keep an eye on this young man, but I wasn’t allowed in the IM centre. I guess I had been banned because I had got in to a fight with another Indymedia guy (The infamous Italian anarchist – The Wolf) It had been late, and we’d both had a few beers and were under a little stress. I suppose it was my fault more than his, because I struck the first blow. That’s out of order I know, so fair enough – the ban that is

It just seemed a little ironic: this prossible infiltrator walks straight into the IM centre without any trouble, and I, who had a good story, and information about the route of the demo, probable police tactics, etc, and wasn’t allowed in.

So no hard feelings, especially to the Wolf, a-woooh!, whose hair-do I messed up a little in the scuffle we had.

But was I fitted up by the young guy with the Video camera.

Good luck to the Wolf et al, on the Camp for Climate Action at Heathrow. Keep um peeled. Oh, and keep it legal, unless you can’t.


Yours as ever

Harold Hamlet.

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