Its all about the MONEY, stupid!


The paramount rule of sales, selling, marketing; call it what you will, is, succinctly put; Do not, under any circumstance; piss the Client off. Do not ridicule his way of life, do not offer him a double whisky when you know he doesn’t touch alcohol, do not laugh or sneer at his beliefs, his religion, or his woman. If you follow these simple rules, and your product is worthy, and of course at the right price; you will sell, and sell, and sell again!

Readers might well wonder my point, in these days of Islamic suicide bombers, of  writing about a substantial segment of what is, still, a minority ethnic population; who are of a way of thinking which is, literally, foreign to we who are: whether we accept it or not, a Judeo-Christian nation. We have, in our midst, some 2.5 million Muslims; and of those Muslims, a fair sector who are either Salafists, who hew to the dictates of Wahabbism, exported from Saudi Arabia as part of the truce maintained between the Saudi Royal Family, and the hard-line imams of the Wahabbi sect. Part of this truce is explained by the truth that the Saudi Royals can booze, whore and betray their very faith outside of the Kingdom, but maintain the strict asceticism demanded by the Wahabbis inside the Saudi borders.

So, on to the MONEY.

Readers will have seen, heard and probably shrugged in despair as; immediately after every attack /murder / outrage within European borders over, now, many years; the siren calls from politicians, police and security authority alike that ‘it was a lone wolf attack or, ‘he or she was mentally disturbed, or, the new favourite, especially from the lefty-liberals such as Brendan Cox; this being ‘the attacker was of a far-right group, the new fascists; and therefore to be condemned twice-over. Never a Muslim outrage! Never an Islamic suicide attack! Nothing to do with his religion, nothing to do with his beliefs: he was ‘radicalised’; he was ‘brainwashed, he ‘fell into bad company!

I have a more realistic reason why the first thing spoken of by senior policemen immediately after both the Westminster car and sword attack, and the Manchester Arena carnage was to ‘reassure’ the Muslim Community (whoever or whatever they are) that we ‘shall not be divided’, and we shall be strong together, and we shall stand together; and ‘hate crimes will not be tolerated! (So that’s me told!) Just consider two huge and vital British companies,  and these companies’ contracts for vast amounts of weaponry, jet fighters and bombers, and the massive infrastructure which accompany those jets with the Saudi Government. The Al Yamamah deal, won for BAe Systems from the Saudis back in Thatcher’s days was worth a tidy £43 billion’ together with the Rolls Royce engines for the Tornadoes and the Hawks; and the follow-up contracts added up to a great deal more. So why do you think there has been a strict embargo on anyone, repeat ANYONE; giving voice to the straight truth that the suicide attacks all over Europe, the AK-47 murders in Paris, the truck carnage in Nice are from terror’s own cradle: namely Saudi Arabia, and their outriders in the Saudi-funded mosques, and the Wahabbi-trained imams who infest the sewage systems of those ‘Cultural Centres’? Is it because the Politicians, the Police and the enforcers they employ all know that the last thing that is wanted is for ANYONE to rock the boat by insulting the Saudi Royals by speaking the simple, plain, unvarnished truth?

Small but vital follow-up point. President Trump, a man noted for his straight talking, when visiting Saudi Arabia, stated that he was calling for ‘Islamic Terror’ to be banished from the Miid-East; and also singling out Iran as the messenger of terror. He specifically did not even mention the calls of the Wahabbis to kill the Kuffar (US) possibly because his $109 Billion arms deal with the Saudis still had wet ink on the parchment!

…and we confirm that we won’t be nasty to murderous muslims because….

I used to write  for A Tangled Web blogsite which focussed upon Northern Irish politics, which did, and still does, operate from a right-wing perspective. David also has some other contributors, of varying opinions and nationalities, mainly because he believes in hearing all sides, and letting the audience make their own minds up.

“letting the audience make their own minds up.”

Now there is a thought, and an ideal which is foreign to most of our broadcast media; BBC, ITV, LBC, Sky; all of whom stick rigidly to the line, ‘We cannot interfere with a killer’s human rights until he either commits to an atrocity, or carries out that murderous attack.’

Katie Hopkins was dismissed from LBC for using that dreaded phrase ‘final solution’ in the context of a tweet against jihadi terror. As my mate David said, via his Twitter feed:-


We’ll all stand together; blah-blah-repeat until eternity

I am reminded of a phrase from the New Testament, “A voice crying in the wilderness’. Seems to me that the last time when true common sense was spoken to our Masters, the speaker, my long-term hero Enoch Powell was cast out into that same wilderness by his fellow politicians and Parliamentarians.


We can write of the tripe which is spouted about diversity; and of different cultures, along with the rest of the liberal bullshit, as I have written in the past, but just remember that the same slogans as are quoted now have been used many times before, and no-one has altered our precious ‘diversity’ ideas by one comma. 52 dead, 22 dead; nothing happens! What is needed is some muslim moron to drop the magic number 2996 into the equation, and then we might see a sea-change from ‘we’re all pals together’ garbage which is spouted from, unfortunately, all of our Masters’ voices!


Muslim Terrorist? Nope, he had lost his ticket to the concert.

From the Bataclan concert attacks, through the carnage of the Nice truck massacre to the killings on the Champs Elysees. The murderous attack on Charlie Hebdo magazine was followed by the Brussels bombing: and on, and on ad infinitum. What is the pusillanimous response from so-called Government all across Europe? It is an amalgam of messages of ‘support’. Of ‘we shall not be broken’, and ‘Love is the answer’. If ‘effing Love is the answer, what was the ‘effing question?

I spotted a photo in the comments column of a pop singer’s facebook page, and I reckon it is so apt, as a true indication of what ordinary people think about the mechanical response of our political leaders (who are of course our well-armed and protected masters; but don’t ever even mention that particular fact). All the crap about ‘my thoughts and prayers to the families and the loved ones’ from snivelling religious and political leaders alike could be grouped and responded to by this one, simple photograph.

truck prayer garbage

What we want is revenge, what we want is for all these Saudi and Salafist effing imams to be slapped on a Saudi jet and sent packing. What we want is for the vaunted Security Services to do their jobs, and if some raghead even whispers the term ‘jihad’, or has ever done so in the past, he, along with all his bloody family should immediately be interned, out in the open, surrounded by lots of shiny barbed wire and anti-personnel mines: and allowed to rot! If they don’t like the way in which we choose to live, they can literally F*** Off any time they like.

But what will we get? A token sighting of Her Majesty’s Infantry in various high-profile places, where even a muslim with limited intellect would never consider stumbling anywhere in the vicinity. Infantry soldiers who will, most likely, be warned that their weaponry magazines should be empty, but with bullets available in a sealed tupperware box if ever needed; an Infantry who will be handed, with due solemnity, a yellow card on which will be printed the actions which must be undertaken ON PAIN OF COURTS-MARTIAL, before loading, aiming and firing that same weaponry. That famous ‘yellow card’, and the rules contained therein, were the bane of the British Army’s existence in the cess-pits of the IRA-ridden areas of Belfast, and of course of the bog-trotters paradise, also known as Londonderry.

No doubt, in, say, six months time, there will be a Coroner’s Inquest on the twenty-two martyrs who died at the hands of this MUSLIM fanatic, and I would lay a great deal of money on the words ‘Muslim’ along with ‘radical Islamic terrorism’ not even being mentioned! He will be deemed to have been ‘radicalised’ online, and his bomb-making expertise will have come, naturally, from the same sources. Manchester mosques? Heaven, or rather allah, forbid. The fools who inhabit these shadowy places will all have been cleared of the slightest taint of infamy, and the slow Islamisation of this once-Christian Nation will be another slow but inevitable step forwards.

More, many more will die, or suffer grievous injury at the hands and shrapnel of these religious (I was going to write ‘maniacs’, but these is nothing maniacal about these murderous bastards) killers. It is just another step along the road to the state which the Mayor of London promised; Part and Parcel of life in a major city!

Just another Thirty pieces of silver?


Engineering is the stuff which drives our very worlds. From tiny but massively-engineered micro-circuits to massive modern aircraft, from the smallest hydro-power installation to a giant dam, the one thing upon which they all depend, for safety, for longevity; is Engineering. The range of engineers is almost as long as the dictionary, because the design, and build of everything relies on their talents, from the theory to the practical. You can sit in a train as it crosses the Forth Bridge, secure in the knowledge that that structure will not fail, and send you plunging to your death, because it was, in fact, designed by cautious engineers who knew that their work had to be over-engineered; because they did not know all the stresses which might arise on their bridge, so built in sufficient tolerance so that nothing would fail.

When huge oil tankers were first envisaged, naval architects studied the various forces which impact upon their structures, knowing the forces which a compartmented cargo of maybe 150,000 tonnes will place upon the hull and tank steelworks, and plan / design / engineer accordingly. The ships were designed to transport a cargo which is inherently safe, because it takes a great deal of heat to ignite heavy crude oil, but the engineers also knew that the most dangerous time for an oil tanker is, paradoxically enough, when she is empty, because that means the all the cargo holds are full of highly-volatile and explosive gas. So they designed systems which scrub the exhaust from the engines, remove all the corrosive nasties; then pump this inert gas to displace all the dangerous gases from the empty cargo tanks. This ensures that a single spark from, say, an anode element falling from its fixing, would not cause a huge explosion.

Then imagine a bunch of penny-pinching  accountants, who know lots about cash, and capital, and risks, along with all the other bullshit; but very, very little about shipping and engineering design; and decide to modify ten huge tankers in order to carry iron ore. They spend large amounts of cash converting the hulls, but forget that iron ore is very, very different to oil. And what do you suppose they got?

Well, folks, they got this. Twenty two dead, drowned when the Stellar Daisy capsized and sank faster than the crew could reach the safety of the deck and the sea. Two survived!

Twenty-two die, and allah smiles in praise!

……and strangely enough, not once has anyone broadcasting mentioned, even once so far, the awful truth that this will be a MUSLIM terrorist attack.


Interviewers  and reporters alike, they tread and speak so carefully to avoid pointing fingers at the ONLY source of terror, which is Muslim murderers who kill in the name of their ‘Effing allah, whose name I deliberately spit upon.


The great liberal lefty lie that Muslims are all peaceable, cuddly and non-threatening will be trotted out, and all will be invited to remember that nothing has been proven to indicate that the ragheads blew up the concert. All the pious bleats that the ragheads are always blamed unjustly will be trotted out; but don’t be fooled. Our fearless political leaders, cushioned behind their armed protection, seated in their armoured limousines, have made this attack possible, yet you will not read of their involvement, of their treason against the people.You will not read the truth, excepting maybe from the BNP website.



The pious BBC will never, ever, point the finger at the Islamic killers behind the Manchester carnage, but they laud to the skies the ‘multicultural diversity’ of an Labour-inspired immigration policy which seeks to do only one thing, to dilute the indigenous white Christian population with the overwhelmingly-MUSLIM clowns who have swarmed in from the cess-pits of Asia.

The only paragraph which counts!!!

Tory Manifesto    ……page 82


A free media
At a time when the internet is changing the way people obtain their news, we also need to take steps to protect the reliability and objectivity of information that is essential to our democracy and a free and independent press. We will ensure content creators are appropriately rewarded for the content they make available online. We will be consistent in our approach to regulation of online and offline media. Given the comprehensive nature of the first stage of the Leveson Inquiry and given the lengthy investigations by the police and Crown Prosecution Service into alleged wrongdoing, we will not proceed with the second stage of the Leveson Inquiry into the culture, practices and ethics of the press. We will repeal Section 40 of the Crime and Courts Act 2014, which, if enacted, would force media organisations to become members of a flawed regulatory system or risk having to pay the legal costs of both sides in libel and privacy cases, even if they win.

I do believe that that paragraph is more important than all the rest of the whims, and whines, and head-shaking dross which fills the other pages. If they win, and I hope they do, it will show that at least the Tories will have shaken off the leaden weights of Levenson, and allow free comment and speech to rule once more in the Nation!


Update:—– Just wonder what Max Mosley said when he read that small gem?


As long as they keep it within the family!

As the old joke used to go, ‘There is nothing wrong with incest, as long as you keep it in the family’. Seems as though the Redbridge Muzzies from Pakiland have taken it right on board.


Strangely enough, I reckon that they should be encouraged to interbreed ever closer, so that they will genetically die off within two generations, and, of course, their tribal and religious ideas will perish with them.

So, no French kiss for Maria?

Readers of my occasional diatribes and wild rantings about so-called ‘sports stars’ will have gathered I am, in general, no fan of any sport. As a very young boy, I accompanied my dad and my eldest brother to a local football match, but disgraced myself, and of course; my dad and my brother for cheering the wrong team’s goal. They might as well have held up a large banner, which said ‘He is definitely not with us!’ But I digress. I accept that, to many millions, the sporting heroes are as ‘the gods who have consented to live amongst us’: those talented people whose skill, perseverance and native talent have made them great at whatever sport or game they excel in can, virtually, do no wrong: in the eyes and minds of their legions of supporters, of course. Whether in activities on the sports ground, or indeed off it, they are given a ‘free pass’ because they are ‘special’. Whether football, athletics, tennis; the top people are courted, hunted and acclaimed, and paid huge sums of cash just to get them to perform: and I just honestly do not get it. I cannot see the draw, the pull, the very reason why people, in all other aspects perfectly reasonable and normal, travel huge distances, spending ever-larger sums of cash, to watch and support a team, or an individual, who excels at the endeavour, sport, game or hypnotic event of their choice.

But the one thing which I do, in very great detail, really ‘get’ is the general attitude of sports administrators towards sports ‘stars’ when they are found to have gone beyond the rules, and enhanced their activities on the pitch, or the field, or the track; or indeed the court, by the judicious use of any type of illegal or synthetic drug. The administrators usually fall over themselves to make excuses for these druggies, using such lame terms as ‘They have served their sentence’ / they have made amends’ or any other of the totally bland words which quietly demands that everyone should forgive and forget’, or to use that other well-worn cliche ‘to move on. Its all about ‘bums on seats’, or the ‘draw of a big name’: conveniently forgetting that that same ‘big name’ has been shooting steroids for years, or injecting or swallowing the latest ‘designer’ drug which is guaranteed to metabolise out of the way of the urine testing regimes within fifteen milliseconds after the medals have been awarded.

So I am more than entranced to be able to report that the DRUG CHEAT Maria Sharapova has been notified that she will not be allowed to compete at the French Tennis Open, as the administrator (cheers, Bernard Giudicelli) has firmly stated ‘There can be a wildcard for people returning from injuries, there cannot be a wildcard for people returning from doping,’. So drug-free players can compete in the knowledge that they are only battling against other human beings, with no ‘hot sauce’ added to the mix!

Two deaths, two very different messages in Memoriam.

Just about a year ago, a woman was murdered. Her killer was either a) a hardened Neo-Nazi activist, an extremist agitator and Far-Right-wing Britain First supporter who planned this act as the beginning of the Fifth Reich: or b) a lone mentally-unstable fruit-and-nut-case, a sick and worried man who sought mental health help, but was turned away with the advice that he should make an appointment. That advice trained this sick individual’s mind towards revenge; and Jo Cox died because he had access to a weapon. She was a mouthy left-wing  Labour Party MP, and her death was immediately turned into a Left-Wing-good / Tories and Right-wing supporters evil, bad and Europe-hating nasty bastards circus; with The House of Commons recalled so that everyone could sing ‘KumbaYAH’, and tell stories about how good, and kind and caring and-on-and on-infinitum she had been. Her death was labelled, with of course the guiding hand of her lefty-breathing husband, as a political murder (I mean, what else could it possibly be; like, innit?”) but fortunately the voters of this Nation of ours were not taken in, and the Referendum vote was not swayed: but not for the want of trying!

Some twelve-odd years ago, a young Scots lad was walking down a street, he died because he was white, and because he was there. Kriss Donald, a slightly built, 15-year-old White schoolboy was abducted from the streets of Pollockshields, Glasgow, on March 14, 2004. His kidnappers were five British Muslims of Pakistani descent, intent on exacting retribution on a white male in revenge for a previous fight, although Kriss was believed to be a stranger to his five attackers. He was taken to an area of waste ground where he was finished off after being tortured. Before he died, it is alleged that he was castrated, burned with cigarettes; his eyes were gouged out and he was stabbed repeatedly. Once on the waste ground he was doused with gasoline and set alight whilst still alive. He crawled a few metres and then, mercifully, died. A walker who discovered his body the following morning was unaware that it was even human, remarking, that at first, he thought it was the carcass of an animal.

The results of the investigation was that three Muslim Pakistani men, all born in Scotland, are serving minimum sentences of twenty-three years or more for the unprovoked death of this defenceless young man.

Cox’s husband has yapped about, like a terrier after a bone, and is begging for an an hour’s postponement of all Election business, so that his mouthy wife can be ‘remembered’. I am still awaiting a similar exercise to the memory of young Kriss, whose murder was, if anything, more pointless and random that that of that dead Labour MP: or is that possibly the real difference, he was just a young Scots boy from nowhere in particular, and she was a politician?


…and the ice-cap over Hell grows ever thicker!

I believe that, in the past, the ONLY time I have ever agreed with Labour Leader Jeremy Corbyn was when he stated that it was, indeed, a nice day. We hold such opposite ideas and views, of politics, of the very definition of terrorism, of economics, of everything concerning the governance of this Nation that it would be impossible to list the entirety of our disagreements.

Taking our disagreements as read; I freely acknowledge that the leaked Manifesto rings certain bells for the starry-eyed Corbyn supporters; the ones who paid their cash to join the Party and swept Jezza to power against the wishes and will of just about all the sitting Labour M.P.s, and many Labour elders, (at least, the ones who actually think) who can actually remember the contortions which the Labour Party had to accept and accomplish before a certain Anthony Blair took them to power back in 1997.

Those, who, like myself, can remember even further back in time, to the days when large stretches of the British economy were State-run, and, far from the glistening polish placed upon the words of that same manifesto, the stark reminders of the Union-run so-called industries resound ever louder. I can remember when entire shipyards were silent, struck down by union disagreements over such intricate activities as ‘who actually twanged the chalk-filled string which denoted where the boilermaker was allowed to flame-cut a steel plate. I also recall the miners’ strike, where thousands of bully-boys were bussed to attempt to stop coal being delivered to power stations, and the near-anarchy of the Union who attempted to bring down a Government.

The manifesto, an open call to bring Marxist philosophies into play by a Hard-Left would-be Government reads pretty good to the ‘faithful’, but it is a clarion call to a failed philosophy, a beacon which leads the path to only one end; defeat on such a massive scale that should spell doom for Corbyn, his side-kick McDonnell and his Communist Momentum buddies. At least the Labour leader is honest, and has nailed his colours, the Red Flag of Communism and Socialism; firmly to the Labour flagstaff; so that no-one can allege that anything was hidden, or disguised, or merely hinted at.

The Suicide Note has been written, and all that is now needed is for Corbyn to kick the chair away by placing his name to it, and the Tories will rule for a decade or more!

Guardian columnist finds plot, then loses it!

The Guardian now can reveal: Brexit; the local elections; Prime Minister May’s ascent to eternal power (bit like Kim Jong-Un but with less bloodshed, nicer hair, and not too many rockets on display); they are all due and down to one man. Yes, it can now be revealed that Donald Trump, along with his alleged hidden backers such as Nigel Farage, American billionaire Robert Mercer, Steve Bannon, along with a host of shadowy extra players, a Data Analysis firm and, again, multiple anonymous players, caused Britain to vote to leave the European Union.

Or, so Carole Cadwalladr reasons, or believes, or asks the reader to take her fantasy notions as gospel.

If you plough through the massive threads which our Carole has spun, you will see that not much proof is printed, but lots are hinted at. I did read most of it, but blanched when asked to believe that a billionaire funded various projects and companies who stated that they could actually change the way people thought, reacted, and indeed voted. I know a small amount about subliminal advertising, which is possibly one of the tools allegedly used by the companies who took on the gigantic task of influencing British voters to leave a politicised and highly-centralised bureaucracy without fairly astute British people detecting that their thought processes were being fiddled with. Many eminent psychologists, one of whom I worked for while at Durham University, categorically state that sub-lim adverts cannot work, because all human beings have different mental thresholds, and if just one ‘hidden’ message is revealed, the resultant uproar would see the guilty advertiser bankrupted within weeks.

She claims that old-fashioned NornIrish DUP political stalwarts slapped all their cash down to fund Facebook and YouTube adverts to get their gullible electorate to vote to leave. If they did, their cash was all wasted, because the majority of Northern Ireland voted to stay within the tender tendrils of the EU.

As for the results of the Referendum, she claims that 1% of the British voting population was targeted with specially-moulded adverts. All I remember about both campaigns was the ultra-heavy threats from the likes of Cameron, Osborne and all the self-elevated ‘elite’ who think that they ‘know best’, and the fairly pedantic and stuttering attempts from the TWO campaigns trying to get us to vote ‘LEAVE’.


As for the alleged attempts to raise Theresa May to the status of a demi-goddess, unbeatable by anyone, she fails completely to mention the cack-handed manner by which our present P.M. rose to her position, which was not to make as many utterly insane mistakes as the rest of the candidates for the job; and then to ignore completely the lunacy by which the Labour Party contrived: by electing a Marxist / Pacifist / long-time rebel against his own Party’s beliefs as Leader, and then confirming the stupidity by bringing John McDonnell, a Marxist who lies about his long-term admiration for the Communist and Stalinist blood-stained figures from the past; to ensure that the Labour Party are simply unelectable.

Sorry, Carole; your thesis might help win you prizes at some weird ‘Conspiracy Theory’ get-together where the Illuminati reign forever, but as for real-life issues; you just got a large ‘FAIL’ stamped across your entry.

British sewage exported world-wide


The building pictured above is the Embassy of Saudi Arabia in London. Inside those walls, everything is subject to the domestic law of the Kingdom of Saudi Arabia, and is also the official home of His Highness Prince Mohammed bin Nawaf bin Abdul Aziz – Ambassador of the Custodian of the Two Holy Mosques. In terms of International Diplomatic Protection, if the Ambassador was to advance on a Saudi citizen, detained inside that Embassy; he would and could be able to swing one of those jewel-hilted but razor-sharp swords which the fuzzy-wuzzies so prize, and lift the head of that same Saudi citizen clean off his shoulders, and there is not a single thing that the British Government could do about it, because Saudi Law operates inside those expensive gates and walls, and that is it. The Brits could request the Ambassador’s removal, and declare him ‘Persona Non Grata’. But they would be obliged to let him travel in his armour-plated limousine to Heathrow, with only a peremptory check on his Diplomatic Passport, and he would then be able to fly away to freedom, a killer who had literally walked away free.

But all the foregoing words are mere supposition, because the Ambassador, for all I know, is totally against the use of force, and the very sight of blood might even make him faint. But the theory, the philosophy, of the Saudi Rule of Law is correct. The reason why I write these words, and the use of such an outrageous suggestion in illustrating them, is simply to express my own personal outrage at the actions of the British High Commission in Canberra, and Consulates around Australia, in furthering and promoting homosexual ‘marriage’ in a country which does not itself allow such perversions to be legalised. This is, to my mind, the outcome of the Cameron era, and the Foreign Office, itself a veritable hot-bed (to use an apt phrase) of homosexual connivance. But, because these celebrations of perversion are  behind the walls of British Consulates or the Commission, with their oh-so-careful observance of Diplomatic Protocols, the Aussies cannot literally do anything about the sewage which is being washed up in the midst of their cities.

Britain’s favourite flower comes a’callin’

My gardening techniques are, in my wider family, legendary. My late brother, himself a green-fingered fanatic, described them best as ‘Benign Neglect’. I accept that, every few weeks, I have to cut the weeds back to a semi-desert basis, and the moss thrives during the summer and autumn. I liberally spray all sorts of deadly poisons to keep the weeds down on my drive- and path-ways. When various bushes and other growing things intrude into my sight-line, obscuring my view of the roadside and of who approaches my front door, I bring out the hedge-trimmer and slash-and-hack until a respectable pile is dumped into the garden waste bin. I have absolutely no interest in planting, or trimming, or indeed watering.
So imagine my amazement when, over the past week, a glorious bunch of bluebells began to blossom next my very front door. I certainly did not plant them, but once again, Nature brings a gentle sense of order to the waste ground which is my front garden. Ain’t life wonderful, especially when random chance brings such transient beauty into my world!


Good on Geert!

I am a fan of Holland’s Geert Wilders. He tells the exact truth, which of course gets him the ritual ‘Far-right’ benediction from the BBC and the rest of the hanger’s-on. He holds the high honour of being banned from entry to the United Kingdom (later correctly overturned by Immigration Appeal Tribunal) by a certain Jacqui Smith, who was impersonating the British Home Secretary. He was heading for office in the Netherlands’ elections, but one of the Euro-clones opposing him commenced using sound-bites giving the impression he would be hard on the Muzzies; the voters fell for it, and Wilders lost out.

But, we live in hope!



‘Twas quickly done, with none to see,

Some forty-odd years ago, I was running the engineering operations of a brick factory in South Africa. The bricks were burnt in either a five-hundred foot-long tunnel kiln, or in a set series of twenty static kilns. The fire to burn the bricks was produced by gas produced by the Lurgi-process controlled burning of coal in three massive gas producers, and the temperature when burning was usually around 1200 degrees Centigrade.

Occasionally, the mechanisms whereby the coal was hoisted to the tops of the three gas producers broke down, and manual labour, in the form of Black labourers, had to shovel the coal into the chutes until the mechanical feeders were fixed. The older two gas producers had constant problems, and the task of monotonously shovelling large quantities of coal were both costly to management, and decidedly unpopular with the Black labour force, as the areas where they had to stand and work, although in the open air; were full of fumes and smoke. I had recently been promoted to run the engineering side of things, and, after standing alongside the men shovelling the coal; decided that every effort should be made to remove the problem by renewing the hoist and feed mechanisms for both old ‘producers’. But in the meantime, I decided to make things a little easier for the men doing the hard work shovelling.
I searched around, and located a full head visor-helmet which was fitted with a breathing tube, sufficiently long to get fresh air to the ‘shovelling position’; bought three, and issued them to be used immediately. I thought no more about the purchase, as, to me, it was simply a matter of allowing workers to perform their duties safer and more comfortably. The actual effect was dramatic, as, suddenly, every black labourer who spotted me as I walked past commenced smiling, saying ‘good morning’ or ‘Yeybho inkosi’, or even the Afrikaans greeting, ‘More, Baass! The opposite effect came from some of those same Afrikaners, who simply reckoned I was spoiling the Black labour force rotten!