Grief: A Very Personal Testimony

I have waited to speak on this subject, in deference to Her Majesty’s Coroner, to the legal process of the Inquest system; but mainly to ensure that my beloved wife is given HER due, in reminding everyone involved that no one is above the LAW!

To be human is to feel emotion. From the sounds of sixty-five thousand voices, most of whom were hoping against hope that England would soar against the curse which has bedevilled the very idea of a series of penalty kicks resultant in an English triumph, to the sound of a trumpet sounding ‘The Last Post’. I understand the emotions which grab the very core of a human’s mind, that very thing which separates us from the animals. When Shakespeare penned those words which he gave to Henry The Fifth in the scenes before the battle at Azincourt; did he wonder, or even imagine, that somehow the miracle of ‘Moving Pictures’ would immortalise his words in film, as Laurence Olivier brought that fervour to a distinctly unimaginative army of bowmen?

Some may scorn the bagpipes, but, to a semi-detached Gaelic mind, the skirl of ‘Amazing Grace’, or ‘Flowers of the Forest’ brings a tangible moment where the skin just tightens around the back of one’s neck; the heart beats just that bit faster, the pride in those emotions surfaces for many.‘ For my wife, it was the majestic Song to the Moon from Rusalka by Dvorak, sung by Milada Subrtova. We both loved classical music. My wife veered more towards music from ballet, as she also was possibly happiest when watching her favourites. My late brother, knowing that we were due across to England on holiday some four decades ago, booked tickets to see Nureyev; and my wife thought that she was nearing ‘nirvana’, watching her hero dance to the music she adored. My own tastes veered towards the music of the masters, Beethoven, Mozart and Vivaldi. That the music she loved most was that played as the curtains slowly closed around her coffin was chosen by myself, but, IF I HAD ONLY KNOWN, that same music could have continued to sooth her troubled mind for months, if not for years.

Of all the myriad human emotional lamentations, without any doubt the most common is the expression  ‘If only I had known’. As I kissed my wife farewell, as I raised my phone and sadly snapped the last image, as I know now it to be, of my wife, as I watched her be wheeled away towards the lifts and the awaiting wards: If only I had known’.

If Only I Had Known that at least one man would treat her as just a case, not a human being but as an exercise in ridding him, and his hospital, of a tiresome presence if things didn’t go as planned. I doubt if the word ‘criminal’ even strayed across his consciousness as he phoned this unsuspecting husband, sick with worry over a hospitalised, injured wife, and entered on a long prepared monologue about how elderly people could not withstand the shock of resuscitation, and often did not survive for long, even if they recovered. The words “Do Not Attempt Resuscitation’, or “Do Not Attempt Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation” form part of both NHS and Hospital Trust Documentation”; but, as I discovered, their use is hushed, hindered, and indeed, rarely spoken out loud.

IF ONLY I HAD KNOWN that this arrogant scumbag would slap a DNACPR notice upon my frail, ill, injured wife’s bedside file, because, IN HIS F*****G OPINION, it was in her best interests to just be left to die. To die without at least a comforting hand from a man and a husband who had faithfully kept his promise, in those words which still echo down the decades “In sickness and in health,’til death us do part!”

If only I had known that the ruling Hospital document for the DNR acronym, or the more authoritative DNACPR acronym, which of course refers to Do Not Attempt Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation had not been revised for over five years, and even then was treated like another piece of hospital documentation; I would have acted and spoken very, very differently in defence of how my wife, of some fifty-three years of marriage, would be treated and respected, instead of, as she actually was treated, as a piece of garbage, to be got rid of as soon as possible!

The sheer arrogance exhibited by the Hospital Trust in its documentation is only matched by the same arrogance which infests the people whom carry out the demands and operations noted by the pages which state how the process known as DNR, or ‘Do Not Resuscitate’ is operated. The needs of both patient and of family caring for that patient are ill-served by that document, in or out-of-date as it so obviously is. Time after time, in both National NHS and Hospital, the statement is made that Patients or Legally appointed Family Members should be told and encouraged to understand the DNACPR legislation as judged to be necessary. Unfortunately, I was never, ever told that a DNAR notice featured on my Jacqueline’s file, otherwise I would have laid siege to the the bloody hospital! 

As I discovered during the actual Inquest, the DNR notice may have sped my wife’s passage towards an untimely death. She was doing fine after the operation, but her breathing became erratic, but instead of immediately administering CPR which MIGHT have aided recovery, she was left untouched by the hospital team, her progress towards death was unimpeded by any effort to sustain life simply and solely because of the presence of that Do Not Apply Cardio Pulmonary Resuscitation notice, which has the full effect of Law.

There is No Appeal against a DNACPR Document

The ONLY concession I achieved during the Inquest was when the surgeon, who actually seemed a decent enough bloke, said “The Process should maybe have been handled better!”

My own thoughts on the ‘Process’ are, unfortunately: UNPRINTABLE!

Vlad Putin is dead right on so-called Transgender kids

I really thought I would never see the day when I would totally agree with Vladimir Putin, but that day finally arrived when I read Putin’s condemnation of Western ideas regarding Transgender policies.

Vladimir Putin has claimed it is ‘monstrous’ that Western children are taught that they can change their gender.

The Russian President, speaking in Sochi, said it is ‘close to a crime against humanity’ for young boys and girls to learn about becoming transgender. 

The Kremlin leader said: ‘It is terrible when children in the West are taught the idea that a boy can become a girl.’

He said: ‘(It is a) simply monstrous moment when children are pushed to believe from early on that a boy can easily become a girl, and vice versa.

‘They are pushed to believe they have a choice, imposed while parents are swept aside.

‘And a child is forced to make a decision that can break their life.’

I disagree with the Russian Federation regarding their treatment of homosexuals, because the gay community should have a right to live as they wish, but Putin is talking about kids, about children; whose minds cannot be said to be fully formed and are therefore easily swayed that their Gender is a matter of choice. When the best medical and scientific minds state, categorically, that Sex is defined in the womb; either male or female, and no amount of propaganda can alter that statement.

The Lefty, Liberal idea is for kids as young as seven or eight to have the capacity to choose their gender; that a boy can dress as a girl because he feels as a girl, he feels feminine: or vice versa. That is bad enough, but when puberty-blocking drugs are prescribed for youngsters, when life-altering decisions are pushed upon youngsters who cannot think for themselves: well, in my view, Vlad is dead right, and these abominable decisions regarding Western children, based upon some lefty-liberal idea dredged from fantasy land, must be stopped, by Law.

No Mothers There!

It is my firm belief that we, as a nation, should go back to the Cambridge English Dictionary, so as to establish a term, a name, a noun for a female, especially these females, who simply do not deserve the Title, the honourable Name: of a Mother.

A Mother is not only the one who carries you for nine months before giving you life; a Mother is the one who brings you up, who gives her own life as an example to her child; who bandages your knee, and then kisses it better; who tucks you in at night; who worries beyond reason when you are ten minutes late, after you promised that you would be back on time from a date, or from a dance. A Mother is the one who loves you unconditionally, and would stand in front to protect you from harm.

What indeed would you call a lesbian and her ‘wife/partner/whatever’ who battered tiny Star Hobson  so fiercely that her main vein carrying blood back to the heart from the legs and organs of the abdomen had been torn, causing major blood loss. 

Star also suffered a split to the liver, a tear to the fatty attachments of the bowel and bruising to the lower part of the lungs and the pancreas. 

Prosecutor Alistair MacDonald QC said the injuries had been caused by a severe and forceful blow or blows, ‘either in the form of punching, stamping or kicking to the abdomen’. 

Sixteen month-old Star was left lying dead on the floor for fifteen minutes before this couple of monsters concocted a plan to lie to the ambulance staff, before they made a 999 call to those Emergency Services.

As the trial progresses, it would be both unwise and illegal to further comment upon the fate of these two monsters: but I believe it is perfectly acceptable to opine that to call this pair ‘monsters’ is being grossly unfair to the monsters of this world.

A Voice With A Difference

It is a sad fact today that voices which tend to speak CERTAIN opposing views and CERTAIN viewpoints tend to be swiftly silenced, especially by the tech giants who run the well-known and well-used apps.

So I wonder how long Father Edward Meeks’ voice will be allowed to reverberate across the bandwidths of the West?

I left the Church a long time back, but it does my old bones good to hear a religious voice echoing many of the thoughts which run through my mind.

The Man in question used to be an American Protestant Pastor, but didn’t like the sounds he was hearing from his own Church’s hierarchy, so switched to the Roman Catholic, which at least has held to certain beliefs, NO MATTER WHAT!

Folks, I give you the voice of One who, whatever your religious preferences are, says exactly what is in his mind, and which maybe should be on yours.

MP’s death was Assisted suicide

At this tragic time for Sir David Amess’ family, I hate to speak the truth, but his death was brought on by his own Government, the last Labour Government, and by, unfortunately,  his own, and the rest of his fellow MPs actions and inactions in and outside of Parliament.

It is said that one of Her Majesty’s crowning achievements is the continuation and strengthening of the British Commonwealth of Nations. I have always had a deep and abiding respect for Queen Elizabeth, I believe that we here in these ‘Sceptred Isles’ have been fortunate enough, for over seventy years, to have a Monarch who is truly ‘Non Pareil’. But, and I am certain that there is, and always has been, a caveat within the Governments who have ruled in Her name. They have seemingly always given preference, in immigration terms, to people who are citizens of that Commonwealth. 

Residents from Canada, Australia, New Zealand, overwhelmingly white, Anglo-Saxon and mainly Christian, people just like ourselves, have always been welcomed, mainly because they are, indeed, just like us. When in the European Union, the migrants we welcomed were overwhelmingly from Poland, a Christian Country, from all over the European Union came people mainly just like us, with the exception of Romania and Bulgaria. But, in 1997, camed the Labour secret of pulling in Diversity migrants from the farther corners and crevices of that Commonwealth; from India, Pakistan, Bangladesh: mainly all of whom were Muslim. This insane policy was carried on by the Tories, none of whom seemed to give two shits about the lunacy of dropping thousands of foreigners, with vastly differing idea and ideals, into their constituents’ neighbourhoods. 

When the British Army was fighting the IRASinnFein murderers, on both the Province and the Mainland, they  knew exactly what sort of terrorist they were dealing with. They knew about the car bombs, they knew about the IRA’s habit of shooting soldiers in the back, but they also knew that that same IRA had a healthy policy for saving their own skins. But when the first of the Muslim terror attacks began, the Army and the Police were faced with a different foe: a foe who wanted to die, as long as he killed as many as he could find within the reach of his suicide belt, all for the glory of his prophet Mohammed.

We come now to the present day, when over 17,000 dingy divers have crossed over the Channel this year alone. I would estimate about eighty percent of those arriving were young Muslim men of fighting age.Then add the estimated 25,000 bloody Afghan ‘refugees’ evacuated from that Muslim cess pit, because, mainly, their brother’s cousin’s father’s sister worked for the British Army about fifteen years ago. Add that tiny number to the three-odd million Muslims already here, the vast majority who have come, legally or or illegally, and then remember that Sir David Amess was murdered by a member of a Somali family who have lived here for twenty years, and, as one neighbour stated “’The family have been here for more than 20-years and are very quiet but really nice, friendly people. The children didn’t play out much, they always tended to be inside studying.’

The bloody Muslims cannot be trusted, their ‘effing Koran is all they read and obey. The belief is that this killer was ‘Radicalised’ during the Covid lockdown. Bollocks; remember when it was confirmed that a poll conducted, in 2005 by the Fafo Foundation in the Palestinian Authority, found that 65% of respondents supported the September 11 attacks. This desire to kill, to maim and murder is in their Koran, their bloody DNA, and the only way to exorcise this cancer in the midst of us is to perform drastic political surgery! 

Reform these insane ‘Human Rights Laws’, bring back a robust prison system, allow all forms of communication intercepts: state categorically that no-one gets out of prison early, institute reforms to Migration systems to suspend and stop any further migration from Commonwealth Countries whom we will choose, and best of all, bring back Capital Punishment for all and any Murder!

“I’ll pick up my Tie Pin upon my return from Germany.”

Late July, I wrote a post condemning the spending of some £100 millions to excavate and build yet another Holocaust Memorial, slap bang in the centre of  London. My opinion, stated at the base of my writing, was to ditch plans to build this excavated monstrosity, and go instead with the visionary idea of:- 

“What we do need is to send copies of ‘The Scourge of the Swastika’ to every school, college and University, and make them part of the Syllabus, along with a devastating video named ‘Holocaust: Night will Fall’, and the instruction should be that EVERY student should watch it, in class or hall.

In sending those two items, a simple, terrible, truthful book and a truly authoritative video, to every educational establishment in Great Britain & Northern Ireland; the youngsters who would read those truly terrible yet dispassionate words are the ones who need reminding that a modern European Nation State, along with the vast majority of its inhabitants, both civilian and military, knew what was happening, and did nothing. 

I read this morning of the opening of the Imperial War Museum’s Holocaust Gallery, and read of the Tie Pin which sounds a louder warning tone than anything possibly planned for the new Holocaust Memorial, to be sited right next to Parliament.

The Tie Pin is accompanied by the sad, terrible but truthful words from a Barclays Bank branch where a man named Marek Kellerman had deposited the pin for safe-keeping in 1939:-

Marek Kellerman was a brush merchant from Bratislava, Czechoslovakia.In 1939, he deposited this tie pin in a branch of Barclays Bank while in London on business. He never returned to collect it. Nothing is known of what happened to Marek, and all attempts to trace him have been unsuccessful. There are many like him. 

St. James Park. The new Shrine for Blood Money 

My late brother was a Newcastle United fan all of his adult life. Based in London, he would travel all over England to the ‘away’ games; and the journeys up to the ‘Toon’ for a Saturday match were taken with the fervour of visiting a shrine. He was, in the words he used, “just another Newcassel fan; nothing special”. 

But I wonder if my brother was still alive, if he would have been, in spirit at least, cheering the result of the Saudi Arabian buy-out of his treasured club?  We all saw the pictured fans, one even wearing a black-and-white checkered tea towel as a headdress, as a tribute to the new owners: we saw the cheering drunken shower parading at the stadium: all laying homage to the piles of Saudi cash reputed to be heading towards St. James’ Park.

And that last sentence really says it all. A football team, living on the thinning shreds of a past glory, losing consistently with little investment on either the grounds, or the team. A billionaire owner who just wants to recoup his outlay,and maybe make a few more millions; ties up with the leader of a Nation which goes against so many of the ideals which we in the West consider normal that Saudi Arabia appears to be almost alien. The new Leader, Mohammed bin Salman, the head of the Sovereign Wealth fund which has provided 80% of the £300 million purchase price, is supposed to be moving his country towards the West.

I wonder if “Moving towards the West’ means dropping plans to murder any more journalists who disagree with MBS, as he likes to be known? I wonder if the average Geordie ‘Toon’ fan knows or even cares that MBS planned the abduction, murder and dismemberment of Jamal Khashoggi in the Saudi Consulate in Turkey’s Istanbul?  He was persuaded to enter that building to obtain a document confirming his divorce, to that he could marry. He was drugged, suffocated, then his body was dismembered by the use of a bone hacksaw, the remains smuggled out for dispersal.

The buy-out was confirmed by the Premier League, with MBS being confirmed as being a ‘Fit and proper person’ to head the buy out consortium. I just wonder if the Premier League has ever read anything apart from the Sport back pages, and their bank statements?

NASA stands tall; No Name Change for James Webb Telescope.

I note that NASA, almost unique in terms of American Government organisations, has decided that what policies or philosophies a NASA administrator possibly had overseen in the past, should have no influence upon the right of NASA to keep his name on an orbiting telescope.

Seems as though literally hordes of LGBTQ activists and other Social Justice-minded scientists were calling for NASA to change the name of the James Webb Space Telescope to reflect the name of someone who was supposed to be against homosexuals in NASA, and was also accused by his detractors of encouraging subordinates to target homosexuals, and encourage them to leave NASA employ.

Although none have put forwards any proof that Webb was against homosexuals at all, the fact that one homosexual was fired because, he himself alleges, he was a homosexual, seems to the SWJ mob to be enough to get the name change through.

I have always been minded in my belief that the past should lie undisturbed. What a man did or was party to, a couple of decades, or a couple of centuries ago, whether reprehensible in today’s terms or not; must not be allowed to colour our beliefs in that past, in modern times. The sheer lunacy of the statue demolishers, the alleged thought processes of students who profess to be offended by a painting, a statue, or the name of the person who bequeathed the cash to build a hall or a university: they should be told, abruptly: “If you do not like the symbolism of the man who funded the building of this college; then you have the perfect excuse to depart, for we do not expect you to remain.”

So, all success to NASA, who simply refused to be bullied into a Space Telescope name change, because of some unproven allegations!

You can never find a BUS when you need one.

The tragic murder of Sarah Everard by a serving, warranted Policeman has seen the birth of reams of newsprint regarding the possibility of more attacks on women under the cover of the reality that the man stopping a woman by virtue of his showing a warrant card gives that man virtually Carte Blanche; if that man is a pervert and a rapist.

By the sinister and devious actions of one policeman, suddenly the whole balance within civic society as regards Law and Order is put at risk. As I previously wrote, the Trust between the public and the Police has long been frayed, almost to breaking point: and now the impact of one murderous clown who carried a Police Warrant Card is becoming akin to the feather falling on to an equally balanced scale which represents the Consent between the Public and the Police.

To a very large extent, the police have brought this upon themselves; for the sheer stupidities of; amongst others, ignoring the pleas of literally hundreds if not thousands of white girls and young women to investigate their sexual abuse, rape and virtual slavery caused by ONE segment of the population: namely Pakistani and Afghani men, most of whom will never see the inside of a court, never mind a jail cell; all because of worries that any stance against a bunch of Muslim rapists would be seen as ‘Racist’. Not forgetting the sheer lunacy of sending drones to spy on walkers in places where ”They shouldn’t be” according to their interpretation of the so-called Covid laws. Or the equal stupidity of charging a young man with rape, only for indisputable proof to emerge from the digital memory of his accuser’s phone and Facebook pages that the female in question was, shall we say, less than trustworthy! The list could go on, but I believe that I have made my point, which is, simply put: Trust is earned, not placed automatically.

The bus? Whilst Police Scotland brought out a measured response to help alleviate the worries of women approached by a single policeman, all the Metropolitan Police had to offer was to advise worried women to “Wave down a passing Bus”!

Trust the Police? You’ve got to be Joking!

Amongst the many anguished published pieces after the appalling murder by a SERVING policeman of a young and vibrant woman, there have been many stories about how the public’s TRUST in the various Police Services (to use THEIR vocabulary) has been weakened; or in many cases severely threatened.

My generation really used to RESPECT the Police Force wherever they lived. We accepted the low level corruptions which did exist, the free sandwiches and cups of tea, dished out to officers on the beat, because we knew that they were doing a sometimes dangerous job for a salary which was definitely not of the higher grades. But we knew that those men, and it was overwhelmingly Men, who donned those dark blue uniforms, and patrolled the streets of our towns and cities, armed only with a whistle, a truncheon, a widely-spread emergency telephone system; and a reinforced helmet. No promotions to either higher ranks, or the (allegedly) cushier job of ‘detective’ came about until the officer concerned had pounded a beat for at least three or four years, and had learned who was ‘bent’ and who was not: in their wider patch. 

But the do-gooders became involved, and suddenly the victims of crime took second stage to the bloody criminals, and prison became part of a ‘rehabilitation process’, along with the discovery that all that criminal activity wasn’t because the scum were too lazy or too thick to do a proper job: but because they had been brought up in ‘Poverty’, and hed therefore to be ‘understood’ rather than punished.

Further dilution of the Police process came about through the recruitment of ‘University Graduates’ whom were then fast tracked through the ranks, with further points being awarded if the recruit was either Black or Asian: mainly because they were ‘underrepresented’ in the various ‘Services’, and therefore has to be promoted without that vital ‘Street’ experience. Also deviants were welcomed into the Service, because really mixed-up people were also in seemingly short supply: for example we would never have seen a Caressing O’Tool in the police, never mind promoted to the highest ranks. That same Caressing whose ‘heavy mob’ had surrounded an unarmed South American bloke on a train: and were simply ordered to “Take the Shot”.

Further things took the police down an increasingly ‘politicised’ pathway, and they were seemingly given an ‘Overlord’ by virtue of a politically-biased Police & Crime Commissioner: which title is akin to a Commissar, but shorn of the Red Flag; but now gives ready access to heavy automatic rifles, and also is extremely fond of painting their police cars with rainbow bursts, presumably to further attract either the flies or the deviants.

As a signal, let us take a brief look at present-day policing,which involves attempts by a bunch of anarchists to block high-speed motorways. Now the various Police areas have been given the power to arrest these eco-loons for Contempt of Court, and sling them inside for up to five years.What is actually done? They make sure none of  these anarchists gets hurt by facilitating the traffic blocks, do arrest them: AND THEN RELEASE THESE CLOWNS TO GO BACK AND BLOCK ANOTHER MOTORWAY the very next day!

And then the questions emerge as to why a raging sex maniac was ever allowed near a Police Uniform, trusted to hold a gun, and even form part of a Diplomatic Protection Squad.

Trust! The various Governments and Home Secretaries who implemented all those changes have demolished the basic Trust which used to abound between the public and the Police, and it will take decades to repair; if ever!