News very recently in: the Tories have yet more reason to squirm over expenses scandals today. Today’s Newsnight - immediately preceded by Sunny Hundal on Liberal Conspiracy - revealed that Caroline Spelman paid her nanny from her parliamentary allowance.

Spelman charged for the nanny, Tina Haynes, as a secretary between May 1917 and 1998. She may run into problems on this, however, given that the nanny’s sole claim to secretarial work is that she once passed on a message from William Hague.

Newsnight made a big fuss about it: presumably they think it could bite. I’m less sure. Spelman will be asked to pay the money back, and will do so if she’s any political sense. The party will dismiss it as ancient history, a silly mistake by a new MP (hah…). At a push, Spelman will get kicked out of the shadow cabinet and sneaked back in when the fuss has died down.

And it’ll be forgotten about.

That mightn’t be true if Labour pushed the accusations a bit more. But can they? Labour’s not exactly clean when it comes to nanny related indescretions (Ahem. Mr. Blunkett, please stand up…) and expenses fiddles. They risk raising old ghosts if they keep this on the agenda too long. So they might let it conveniently die too…

What this might do is shatter Cameron’s attempts to portray the Tories as a cleaner alternative to Labour. Conway looked like a terrible isolated case a few months ago. The twat Staines’ recent revelations regarding (gah, horrible phrase there..) Conservative MEPs’ similar behaviour, and now this, bring that judgement into question. Several expenses scandals - several serious expenses scandals - have come to light in the space of a year. The Tories look less squeaky clean and more an increasingly accurate replica of New Labour.

I bet Cameron wasn’t thinking of this when he made that “heir to Blair” quip…

EDIT: And that’s the narrative shaping on the internet too. This is already up on her wikipedia entry:

On June 6, 2008, Spelman came under some controversy when it was revealed that in 1997 for one year she paid her child’s nanny, Tina Hain, from her parliamentary staffing allowance. Spelman claims that her nanny was also her constituency secretary and hence why she was paid from the public taxpayers’ purse. This latest claim comes as the Conservatives‘ Leader in Europe, Giles Chichester resigns among claims he paid money through a company of which he was a paid director for and furthermore, the Conservatives’ Chief Whip, Den Dover, was forced to resign amid claims he also paid for his family for 9 years at a cost of £750,000 for alleged secretarial and office work. Perhaps ironically, David Cameron has tasked Spelman with reviewing the use or rather misuse of parliamentary allowances by MPs and MEPs.

I wonder how long that’ll stay up.

Staines, predictably, has decried this as another example of “snouts at the trough.” The pingback on Liberal Conspiracy from Lib Dem Voice is entitled “Conservative Expenses Scandal spreads.” More may well be coming from the liberal/left blogs. And just wait for the usual “bloggertarian” rage. It’ll come…

Oh. And did I mention silence on all fronts from Iain Dale?

As you may have noticed my usual write-up of the now reliably monthly Anonymous protests of Scientology failed to materialise, this owing to a simply massive amount of work I’ve got to deal with. This, however, is beyond my ability to allow pass by.

I was there when the Anon who calls himself Epic Nose Guy but I preferred to refer to as BeakFag got summoned, as was a journalist from the Guardian. The Church of Scientology had, as it has done many times before, seemingly possessed an insidious influence over the police and thus they were taking the hard-line on us. No usage of the word “Cult” was allowed in any sign, but this proscription did not prevent us from yelling it at their UK cult headquarters constantly.

The underage ENG, however, refused to submit to this apparent splash of theocracy and the first I knew of this was when a sudden surge of motion occurred towards part of the balcony which most of the anons were to be found on. It was first assumed that the “Swastiget” planned by 711Chan was taking place, but thankfully we were spared such idiocy although it was widely assumed that the chap getting his details taken was an /i/nsurgent, for a time.

It quickly became apparent, however, that instead we had an innocent young anon being cornered. The entire process was watched over by a former Scientologist who I mentioned during my last write-up, in addition to the journalist who I mentioned above. Both of them seemed perfectly friendly and the bravery of the underage protester was considerable.

I found the conduct of the police highly disturbing at this stage of the protest. No insults were made towards any followers and the word “Cult” has been used by a judge in reference to the cult during his summary on a case concerning them. The free expression of the protesters was blatantly disregarded and it seems concerning that the police would be willing to act as the lackeys of the Co$ legal department. It was somehow made even worse by the total tolerance displayed by the Metropolitan Police during the second part of the protest at Tottenham Court Road. There they were friendly and charming as ever, not minding our cult signs a jot.

At Queen Victoria, meanwhile, the tone was serious and concerning. An attempt to lighten the mood was made by changing a massive sign draped over the ramparts from “SCIENTOLOGY = CULT” to “SCIENTOLOGY = BAD?” but really to me the affair was rendered slightly grim by the police faggotry. This was a disturbing breach of free expression and it heartens me to see that Liberty have involved themselves.

For those of you interesting in learning new memes this entire affair is what is known as a “Footbullet”. As in “Shot yourself in the foot”. The Church of Scientology seems to specialise in these and this is no exception. Their efforts to crush the truth and prevent criticisms being aired outside its doors resulted in a lengthy article {which may well be published in tomorrow’s print edition} being placed upon the website of a national newspaper’s website.

Furthermore I fully expect the case to be thrown out of the courts, giving us a perfect mandate to use the word at our discretion come the next protest. This, however, is less of a win as it might seen given that this was pretty much what we had prior to all of the oppressive nonsense kicked in…

Despite these conditions influencing it the day was one filled with joy and victory. The scientologists seemed more depressed than ever and Angry Woman was, once again, angry.

Although our numbers were roughly the same as in April’s reduced showing this was almost certainly due to exams the protesting was vigorous and half the street at TCR got blocked off again. On this occasion I was doing some duties beyond leafleteering, assisting in the purchase and distribution of “Delicious lollies” to the anons, which took a surprisingly short amount of time thanks to high demand. I gave out 60 but by the end of the day a total of 206 had been bought and given out, largely funded by a single veiled anon who also brought along hand-fans.

There was also, of course, a truly epic amount of cake and music and lulz. A high-point was delivering the call of “Anonymous, what is your profession?” from the top of an escalator and hear the standard reply from a horde ascending it behind and beneath me. I also could not fail to notice that while the Scientologists handed out under a dozen leaflets, most of which were immediately ripped up to delight the crowd of anons, my vast wad of warning pamphlets about the cult left my hand in about ten minutes or so.

(All pictures belong to a variety of Flickr accounts, all courtesy of Anonymous, none belonging to Mr. Fenby. Aim the OSA attack dogs elsewhere, kay? Thanks to Anonymous and Anonymous for the pics.)

It seems unlikely now that the prosecution will be dealt with before the next protest and at present it seems not to matter much. The Church of Scientology is bleeding member and money and seems increasingly more of a laughingstock than a threat. It remains a wealthy organisation {just consider its recent “Sponsorship” of YouTube, which must at least have cost it millions} and one that has a startling lack of ethical standards. But increasingly it is diminishing as a source of fear.

Given that it has been less than half a year since the declaration of hostilities began this seems like a sterling achievement, although there is much work still to be done. I would hope that a considerable part of this is those that matter asking exactly how a police force allowed itself to become quite so cuddly with a criminal organisation, and would urge them strongly to do so loudly.

The question is asked in the Spectator this week.  If Fraser Nelson’s blog post is anything to go by, the article itself might well be worth reading.  Purnell, of course, would not be able to launch a coup.  But he could easily coast on the back of one instigated elsewhere.  Chris Huhne, not renowned for backstabbing, has twice made decent efforts to capitalise on the departure of his leaders and he continues to come across as the good guy.  Purnell could easily have a go, and if he failed to reap the rewards he would always have another chance.

The media is hideously fickle at the moment.  There is no narrative consistent enough to gain the momentum to unseat Brown.  Like a cat toying with a mouse, Brown is repeatedly being given the freedom to run to arm’s length before the great paw of the British press clutches him back in again.  The claws are outstretched just enough for the mouse to know their presence.  Like that wonderful scene in The Lion King where Scar is challenged “didn’t your mother tell you not to play with your food?”, the media’s best response is silence.

Brown has weathered this latest storm, but he will find the next one far more difficult.  Like a ship with a hole above the waterline, Brown can coast in settled seas.  But the waves will lap again, and anything approaching the mess of the 10 pence tax fiasco will be devastating for him.  He has no new by-elections he could win, no more people to bribe, no money left to borrow.  It is then that he will have to jump ship, or someone will have to sink him.  Purnell could just be Labour’s lifeboat.

Of course is Brown fights the election, the whole dynamic will change.  Not until the full results were known could anyone make a sensible prediction.  Purnell will take comfort in the fact that he can sit out of leadership for a fair few years yet, waiting his turn until the party fortunes are looking sunny again.

The GLA met for the first time yesterday. The most active element of the day wasn’t the Assembly - which rumbled its way along much as usual.

More vocal opposition was left to the angry mob predictably and joyously gathered outside of City Hall variously calling for Richard Barnbrook to be shunned, kicked out and/or swiftly castrated. Equally predictably, Barnbrook played the victim. Unconvincingly, of course. He was probably confused as to whether he was meant to be St. George or the maiden…

Unfortunately, some are likely to believe Barnbrook. His case here is basically sound. Much as we hate it, he was elected to the Assembly. To deprive him of his seat would be to disenfranchise the 5.33% who voted for him - and he’d play that for all it’s worth. Mainstream politics will be painted as corrupt and hypocritical, and the BNP will solidify its hold on that 5.33%. We can’t afford that.

Instead, we must focus on more elegant solutions with which to screw Barnbrook. The first is simple: just let him do his job. Elected BNP officials have an unsurprising tendency towards ineptitude. Anecdotal evidence suggests they rarely bother to turn up. In areas where BNP councillors have been elected, they’ve usually lost their jobs quite soon.

Given Barnbrook’s bumbling performances so far, I see no reason to think he’ll be any different. Anyone who can look at that St. George’s Day video and see a competent man needs an eye-test. And possibly a labotomy.

So Barnbrook may well perform badly anyway - and cause a drop in the BNP vote, all on his own.

The GLA can help him there. Far from excluding him, they should give him jobs. Lots of them. Jobs on dead-end committees; jobs where he has to work with the non-whites and gays his party hates; jobs which will repulse him so much he’ll contemplate quitting. Put him into close contact with Bengali community groups, with Muslims, with representations from the RMT. Include him - but make sure he’ll hate that inclusion much as he hates all inclusion.

Yesterday’s vote on Deputy Chair would be a great example, were it not (I suspect) entirely accidental. The Tories put up a non-white candidate, Tony Arbour. The leftie grouping on the Assembly put forward Darren Johnson. Barnbrook voted for Darren Johnson.

I don’t think he knew Johnson is gay. His facial contortions might have been entertaining otherwise…

The more situations that are engineered like that, the more Richard will feel like a turd (hah…). And so his work will decline, and with it his share of the vote.

The dust has settled from election night(s), the result of which as been a major leap for Tory hopes for the next General Election. But the local and mayoral elections have been something of a dress rehearsal for the next General Election, expected in 2010. Gordon Brown wasn’t ready to risk his reputation in October last year, the Tories were nowhere near ready to mount a serious challenge, and the media was nowhere near prepared for modern election broadcasting. Thursday’s coverage proved that.

Last year’s local election coverage was fairly poor. As has been noted elsewhere, the BBC excelled themselves with what was once the tame domain of Peter Snow’s Swingometer, now under Jeremy Vine’s control, showing such enlightening animation as the infamous Ming’s Bling charade.  I was watching the live feed from 18 Doughty Street: no animation, but a bit of banter.  Crucially, 18 Doughty Street was getting results in faster than the BBC.  While they wasted their time with lowest common denominator broadcasting, the bloggers got on with delivering results.  For a political nerd, awake at 2am to hear results they could gather more fully a few hours later, it became clear that the BBC was wasting my time.  You might think they would learn from their mistakes.

They tried.  A trio of bloggers were introduced by Emily Maitlis once and hour or so, along with some informal chat with lurking politicians.  Iain Dale certainly used his presence to good effect, but the BBC failed to use him.  He was rapid-firing results onto the web, providing a far more useful tool than the BBC’s graphics, which flashed for a few seconds after a long delay.  PoliticsHome, too, was delivering solid results very swiftly.

But the two real winners of the evening were ConservativeHome and PoliticalBetting.com.  ConHome, through its network of contacts, was giving accurate results quickly, with a degree of presentability and professionalism missing from other non-mainstream sources.  They had the courage to call a win for Boris Johnson before anyone else had; the Evening Standard only ran a front page story on a special late edition when Tessa Jowell, among others, had made it clear that she thought a Livingstone victory highly unlikely.  ConHome used the Cover It Live software Scribo has tested in the past, providing a community feel to their operations.  This use of liveblogging, aside from a more conventional live results update, was an excellent balance, providing comment and speculation in an informal conversational style, while also keeping the more established rapidly-updating blog for presenting results.  In this, ConHome gave the best balance of results delivery and all-night enjoyment; I gave up with the BBC’s coverage and stuck to the blogs after a while.  ConservativeHome has established itself so well because its editors understand what people want from their website; it continues to grow in the right direction because it perfectly meets the desires of its readership and genuinely responds to them.  It’s close enough to the heartbeat of the Conservative Party to be of use (liveblogging from inside CCHQ, for example), but is divorced enough to ensure it does not become a collective yes-man (calling a Boris Johnson victory 24 hours before CCHQ had hoped).

One cannot forget PoliticalBetting.com, though.  PoliticalBetting stands alone as providing decent analysis of polls without stuffiness.  The huge number of comments under each thread is indicative of this - although I confess to rarely reading them.  PoliticalBetting was worth refreshing as results came in, but I found the longer-term commentary far more interesting.  The MORI/YouGov debate has been fascinating, showing how the unconventional internet polling firm can deliver far more accurate results than standard, established practices.  There is an important train of thought that suggests the Johnson victory would have been less likely had YouGov not provided the Evening Standard with six consecutive polls going in his favour - but the accuracy of YouGov’s final poll proves their sampling techniques.  As the only polling company predicting a Johnson win, one must consider the relative accuracy of national polls - YouGov’s last national survey found Labour 18 points adrift; an errant dodgy poll, or the most accurate one to date?  PoliticalBetting has been a must-read in the run-up to the elections, and will continue to be in the time leading up to the next General Election.  Charting the Labour decline will be a delicate balancing act, but one must trust PoliticalBetting to provide the most pithy and helpful analysis around.

It is a shame that the BBC let themselves down with the increasingly banal election night coverage.  The idea of importing bloggers to the format failed to liven the programme up - which is a particularly poor effort considering the fact that the viewers of 2am are concerned with results, not a quick chat with Emily Maitlis.  Having heavy-hitters from each party wheeled out to sit in the studio is a tiring gimmick: none of them are going to say anything of any value, simply spinning their stories in valuable time that could be used to give viewers the results they are smoke-screening.  It is a scandal that, especially after the Ming’s Bling disaster, the BBC failed to quality control their hyper-graphics set.  The Wild West theme to Nick Clegg’s graphics was as irrelevant as it was cringeworthy: Jeremy Vine in a cowboy hat firing a pistol at hologram tin cans does not come across as particularly successful.  I have no interest in seeing a presenter dress up stupidly and put on a forced accent to, eventually, tell me nothing new.

The real winner in this election was the New Media.  The blogs get 10/10 for effort, with the odd thing to improve for 2010, when technology and professionalism have progressed a little further.  Maybe LabourHome can get its act together next time, too; it could be an invaluable resource, but is currently a bit of a waste of space on a blogroll.

The local election results have put Labour into third place, giving them their worst election result for 40 years.  The Tories are riding high on 44%, and the LibDems are more or less stagnant.  So, where next for the three major parties?

Labour

Labour has taken a thorough beating.  There is no escaping the fact that voters have turned away from Labour in their droves, leaving hung councils all over the country.  Labour’s losses have been biggest in south Wales and the Northern industrial towns.  The mood of the South has already shifted.  Labour needs to act dramatically to prevent a Tory government: the cabinet needs refreshing and a whole raft of new policies need airing.  The only way to meet a desire for a breath of fresh air is to provide one: Labour needs an “interim manifesto” and needs charismatic leaders to implement it, acting like a party newly elected from a decade on the opposite side of the House.  Only with this kind of radical thinking can they stave off a general election pounding in 2010.  There are three concessions if this plan fails: first, that the coming disaster will not be quite so catastrophic; second, that a solid Labour legacy would be left; and third, that the (relatively speedy?) return to government will see skilled young ministers with experience and vision in equal measure.

Liberal Democrats

With Labour’s fast sinking, the LibDems needed to capitalise on the best chance they will get for perhaps a decade.  I have long argued that the LibDems can and should be in second place: Thursday’s results have achieved that.  But the LibDems have not earned their victories here, and Labour could manage to reclaim ground against them.  If Nick Clegg and his party is to begin actively earning such leads, he must forge an identity as one of the three parties - not the third party.  They must behave like a front-runner, producing full manifestos and speaking of a real belief that they can win.  Clegg has failed to make any news with policy changes or party identification.  A complete package laying out what the party believes in, a run of top ten policies, a logo change, and a ditching of that gaudy yellow corporate image, combined with an advertising campaign, would begin to set them apart.  If this sounds a bit like what the Tories have recently done, it should: Cameron’s use of PR has been brilliantly effective, and the LibDems should shamelessly follow their lead.  Providing, of course, that a genuine serarate identity is forged.  The party needs reform, but I firmly believe it could be in second place nationally before too long, and mounting an effective opposition to the Tories.  As the Tory slogan now runs, “you can get it if you really want”!

Conservatives

These elections have been something of a “go to your local elections and prepare us for government” moment for the Tories.  I believe Brown has reached his tipping point - the point at which regaining a poll lead is implausible, although not impossible.  The Tories are getting the vote out, but these new voters are by definition volatile.  Also, there are still more than enough apathetic voters to put a spanner in any party’s works.  The Tories must therefore fight to retain their share of the vote.  Their victories here will be seen as a test: if they perform poorly (factoring out further Brown failures), they will be heading for some hostility two years down the line.  In short, they may have peaked too soon.  Given the Westminster electoral system’s propensity to lift Labour artificially, the Tory majority may well be slim, and therefore volatile.  The Tories cannot be complacent.  I do not expect the public image to slide, but, behind closed doors, a creeping complacency may take them by surprise.  Nonetheless, one must be quite clear that the weather looks very rosy indeed for the Conservative party.

Much as the groups in question may detest the phrase “There’s no such thing as a free lunch” might go far in describing Love Music Hate Racism. In exchange for the performances on offer you are expected to turn out and vote for anyone other than BNP. Not to much to ask, for sure, but the sort of groups that care more a bout this much more than anything are perhaps not likely to be typical Tories. This was made pretty clear as the moment the Bethnal Green train station a loyal lady of the SWP handing out fliers proclaiming “Stop the BNP” one the hand sided over and “Vote Left List” upon the other.

That she was a loyal SWP member was an assumption of mine, of course, but a fairly safe one and something quickly concerned when I asked her. She admitted {confessed?} to membership but demurred when I asked “So you’re the SWP then…” Apparently the Left List consisted of a majority of non-SWP but curiously when I asked around none of these elusive Left Listed non-Socialist Workers were in attendance.

Given that they had been instrumental in the organisation the last time around their presence was hardly a surprise, but it was surprisingly heavy but rather forlorn given that they weren’t able to call themselves what they were this time around. Why they didn’t just drop the pretence altogether when it became clear that they weren’t going to be able to pretend to be Respect is beyond me.

Irrespective of my dislike of the party as an edifice, though, the trend of every SWP member I meet being immensely nice and totally approachable held true. After warily asking if I was a member of the Galloway faction of Respect in a rather wary fashion and receiving a response in the negative the guard was dropped and she spoke in earnest about her experience of the Tower Hamlets schism of November last year. According to her it was nearly entirely the fault of Galloway and although there were differences caused by the “Electoralism” {the SWP like their “-isms” a lot} of the Galloway faction but it seemed like the two groups were to be reconciled until Gorgeous George fouled everything up repeatedly. This I could entirely believe given Galloway’s diplomatic skills but her absolution of the CC was a tad suspicious, so far as I was concerned.

She sneered at George’s magnificent bus and claimed that he had lost his activist base. Given that by the time I arrived there was nobody around to represent him she most probably had a point there.

This was especially true as the Respect Coalition was amongst seemingly a handfull of parties not represented: most obviously absent was the BNP. Besides this was UKIP and its splinters, the Conservative Party and the LibDems. The last were the most surprising but perhaps they just didn’t have their act together or their eye on the ball.

Besides them, though…Seemingly nobody.

The left was out in force and bunched up together in all its unshifting diversity and shabby splendour. The sheer quantity of groups contained in so small a space was quite something to behold. Besides the aforementioned Socialist Worker Party there was the easily but not oft confused Socialist Party, International Socialist Resistance, the New York newspaper Militant, Revolution and probably a few others I have forgotten. The former group were out there first though and after getting me to sign a petition I decided to engage in a quick talk with one. I considered RL trolling {the aforementioned SWP by the station had been told “Actually I’m pro-fascist” by a bearded man as I passed by} but decided instead to get into their ideology a little. She seemed very passionate and gave a quick list of people appropriate for the SWP. Apparently this included students, which rather surprised me. It seemed that, upon probing, her definition of someone not of the proletariat covered people who went into the city in suits or worked for banks, which certainly less inclusive than I had imagined. Indeed she went so far as to call me a “Working class man” which I found a very pleasing, as well as certainly a first.

She said that she could not see the two sides of Respect ever being reconciled but seemed happy enough, as they all do. The SWP is nothing if not active and despite the high turn-over it has constantly had people out doing things, even if they are mostly non or counter-productive. They were a heavy presence throughout the day, having three tents and a balloon inside the festival proper and numerous stalls in the socialist walkway.

I did my best to speak to all the socialist groups around, all of them offering me a newspaper. ISR I sort of forgot about but Militant was being offered by an elderly man who I found quite charming. For the sake of clarity it should be explained that this was not the Militant who attempted to take over the Labour Party from the inside during Thatcher’s reign, which also had a newspaper called Militant which it used to defend itself from claims of entrism using with the line “Militant? That’s not a faction, it’s an in-party newspaper”, but instead the version which began in New York in the late 1920s and has been published internationally since, with a short intermission in the 1950s when British Stalinists stamped down on all their rivals. This I learnt from the chap selling the things, who was reluctant to describe his ideology, or the paper’s, initially but then said that although some would call them “Communists” he deemed the terms “Marxist” and “Socialist, revolutionary socialist” to be more appropriate. He was opposed to the Stalinites, especially since the aforementioned shut-down performed by a bunch of thugs following their brutal master’s lead. They were also opposed to Maoism although were very much in favour of the Chinese Revolution. The rather strange disconnect between the event and what directly followed was rather curious, but barely distinguishable from the standard Marxist stance on the Russian Revolution. Apparently the paper took a firmly internationalist stance {utterly appropriate for any Marxist group, I would argue} and was connected with a group that operated in support of the remaining Communist countries, such as Cuba. They seemed harmless enough and it was quite impressive that their organ had been running for so long, perhaps having been bolstered by the true “Crisis in capitalism” that followed.

Perhaps that also served as an admission of failure: after making so little headway in creating an American revolution after so long and having witnessed various crises encountered and overcome by capitalism perhaps it should have become clear to the publishers that they were making an error somewhere.

Perhaps that is being unkind, however, they had at least turned up which was more than could be said for George Galloway’s Respect Party. This left two groups that I had an interest in: Revolution and the Socialist Party. Unfortunately I opted for the latter first and thus got swept away to a meeting in the opposite direction to the former. This was an exceptional pity, especially given a rumour that Fenby had told me. The exchange I had planned would run as follows:

Me: I hear from reliable sources that you have orgies. Is this true?

Revolution: Yes. Yes we do.

Me: That’s my sort of socialism, where do I sign?

Instead though I approached the SP, who were packing up shop and heading off for an informal gathering of those interested in the anti-fascist struggle. Or at least that’s how they’d put it. The Socialist Party seem to define themselves in contrast to the SWP, who they dislike considerably. I found that, as is often the case, getting along with this bunch was less a matter of agreeing with everything they said and more a matter of insulting the right people. Jibes about the SWP, honed by reading the blogs from the rest of the Left who are entirely united in their loathing, went down very well and it was considered impressive that I’d read the blog of A Very Public Sociologist. I was packed off to the meeting with a woman named Naomi, who apparently shared my interest in observing far-right groups and was amused at the forum infiltration I staged earlier this year.

We walked across the park and it was revealed that the Socialist Party were in fact Militant renamed and operating autonomously after its failure to ascend to the Labour Party’s head. They clearly considered this a pity and deemed it a consequence of Labour lacking “Internal democracy”. When asked if they were Trotskyites she confessed as much, something which made the clear and obvious division between them and the SWP even more curious. The reason was for suitably esoteric causes, with the Worker Party apparently doing it wrong when it came to Trotsky. They lacked internal democracy, much like Labour, used the term “State capitalism” that the SP consider a contradiction in terms and use method that the Socialists deem ineffective. They also thought that their methods against the BNP {“Smash the BNP” petitions and so on} were ineffectual since they weren’t working with the masses enough. They weren’t keen on Antifa’s approach towards taking on the BNP either, since they focused upon the actions of their own group instead of getting the public involved.

Their approach was more focused around getting people to oppose the far-right to get whistles and arrange themselves to outnumber and scare away the hard-right activist. It struck me as a rather absurd prospect, especially when she told me about how they had had what can only be described as a BNP-drill, but apparently it proved effective and they had managed to get their city head quarters shut down, which rather reminded me of Scientology’s retreat from the efforts of Anonymous in part of Germany. A lot less lulz, though.

The Trotsky connection was interesting, though. Apparently there was even a third Trotskyite party, which I forget the acronym of. They of course felt that only they were pursuing matters in the correct fashion, with their international focus and their masses-focused approach and superior democracy. I still found it rather strange, though, that even those following the same ideological off-shoot of an ideology which is hardly popular as it is could not develop some form of unity. There is presently no comparable party on the left to the British National Party, despite the conditions. At present there is a discontent with the extent of the wealth of a tiny minority in Britain that is far from confined to the usual suspects, indeed it has even spread beyond nationals such as The Independent and stirred the pages of The Times and Daily Mail. This combined with the continuing mess of the Iraq War, a “Crisis within capitalism”, union action and an international trend towards socialism and the left that has touched everywhere from America to Cyprus {although sadly missing Italy} the conditions in Britain are ripe for a strong socialist party to emerge. As it is the largest and most promising party has torn itself into two in a fashion that would have made the National Front wince and the remnants are now squabbling amongst themselves.

Perhaps aware of this but doubtless having felt this way for a while longer the Socialist Party, probably knowing that it isn’t really up to the job, advocates the creation of a “New worker’s party” that includes the unions and can act as an alternative to Labour, which is a goal it shares with various other elements upon the left. The odds of this occurring are minimal and almost certainly doomed to failure while FPTP remains in place. Some may see this as as fine a defence of the system as any but personally I find it a bit of a pity.

The socialist, incidentally, was also from Tower Hamlets; which seems to be something of a Vatican City for leftists. Her take on the Respect affair was not favourable to the SWP, as I’d expected, and her recollection was that the CC’s role in the split had been far more active than SWP activist #1 had claimed.

The meeting was an informal affair that consisted of two SP-ers talking about the BNP and their efforts against it. It seems that in response to LMHR the BNP were organising an effort, reminiscent to the “Rock Against Communism” drive undertaken by Blood & Honour in reaction to RAR, which the Socialists dubbed “Love Music Love Racism”. They intended to picket the event, although were limited in terms of options owing to the event occurring upon private farmland owned by a BNP member. After this they opened the floor to any questions or points, with everything feeling friendly and democratic, all as it should be.

As a supreme irony while this was ongoing Lindsey Graham took to the stage, visible clearly across the field over the vast screens. Her rhetorical style was a lot more harsh and abrasive but she clearly mattered about defeating the BNP, which was enough, really.

Meanwhile the softly spoken Socialists had a blonde man making a point, starting immediately be quoting Trotsky. The point was pretty simple: for every 10 people the fascists put out on the streets there should be 100 communists, if they put 100 out then 1000 communists should present. This piece of Trotsky-tech was met with approval but personally I found the tactic put the entire affair in a new light. I knew that the original Rock Against Racism had been organised by the SWP, at least partially, along with the unions {as was LMHR} but had no idea that this was following explicitly the suggestion of the influential communist revolutionary. Although I doubted many in Victoria Park were aware of this either they had certainly been counted.

The dependence upon the words of wisdom provided by Bolsheviks seemed considerable, though: much of the activity pursued by the Socialist Party was dependent upon it and even though they claimed that their efforts to make it relevant and in context was superior to “Some other socialist groups” {a weak code for “The SWP”} this I found rather peculiar. Not exactly a breach of the authority fallacy but still rather too close for my comfort. It also triggered a recollection of Scientology again, in this instance their dependence upon “LRH” {socialists like acronyms about as much as Scientologists} and his “Tech” for every activity and method. Still, the Socialists of either party seemed a nice enough bunch and frankly the risk of them actually beginning a revolution is about as great as that of them forming a government.

My suggestion for them was something inspired by the aforementioned infiltration: they’d raised the point of the BNP seeking respectability and I suggested that getting a look of the inside, footage and photos, would assist their efforts to unveil this. They were wary of the idea as it would require a volunteer. I certainly wasn’t prepared to shave my head.

After this a Labour member suggested that the party’s opposition to his was not unfounded but rather excessive. They agreed that there were many Labour Party members who pleased them but that the party’s lack of democracy made their presence futile. Their stance on the Greens was more favourable but, like the SWP, said that they should have had a “Class basis” for their party. This raised my other concern with entire affair: woeful liberal that I am I deem people as entirely undefinable by the category which they “Belong” to. This is not the case with these socialists, perhaps mainly due to them all being some form of Marxist. Their opposition to racism seems to be mainly based around the ideological argument that people ought to be defined not by their racial identity but their position in society and wealth. To me this seems to be barely anything of an improvement, and not only because I fear some of the revolutionaries might disagree with SWP lady #2 concerning which class I belong to. If the opposition was purely to bigotry then all would be splendid but as it was it seems that many of the forces arranged against the BNP, especially those organising this affair, were instead suggesting simply switching one prejudice for another.

The unease I felt with the entire affair was compounded by the rather alarmist proclamation of “Don’t vote Nazi” flashing across the screen. Given that we were attending an event named “Love Music Hate Racism” I doubted that most of us would be inclined to vote for the BNP anyway and fear that simply proclaiming them to be national socialists would help. As it happens the BNP does seem to be headed by a surprisingly great number of Nazis, or at least admirers of that grim regime. This obviously indicates them as utterly unsuitable for power {not least because they allege nationalism while harbouring fondness for an expansionist government that intended to make Britain a Germany colony} but it does not reflect upon their membership, which is increasingly growing convinced that the claims are unfounded slurs.

But it is, perhaps, possible to worry too much about politics, especially given that the event is largely one for music and that was what almost everyone was there for. Bearing this in mind I took my leave of the Socialists and went off to enjoy myself.

The stages were divided between the main stage, other stage and dance tent, all of which were devoid of sponsorship thanks to the unions. Unfortunately the planning was a mess since the programs failed to tell you which stage between other and the tent bands were playing in, let along when.

So I’m afraid that I can’t identify one of the bands I saw, although I shall call them The Same because they were utterly indistinguishable from every other identikit indie outfit out there, although I shall forgive them for they had a song which I enjoyed immensely.

I moved on to the dance tent, which featured a massive queue but proven worth it thanks to having Skream and Benga on the decks. It’s strange to consider that since the original RAR, that was filled with roots reggae {rightly castigated by Julie Burchill for rampant homophobia} the amount of black music created has been truly immense. Hip-hop, drum&bass, dubstep and bassline are just the ones I enjoy. For all of these genres it was not exclusively
black artists involved, simply a disproportionate number. Much of the audience are white, however. This leads to youth culture effectively being antithetical to

Skream and Benga are perhaps the epitome of the difficulty the far-right encounter: although both operative as producing DJs in their own right they were today upon the stage together. Skream is a white who with his shaved head could probably pass as a skinny skin. Benga is black and packs a mean ‘fro. Together they make a potent partnership, producing a brutal, murky dubstep wash of depth and rumbling intensity. The heavy noise kept the crowd grinding to the fierce grooves and together they worked to create a vigorous assembly of snaking beats.

Dubstep keeps the bass heavy throughout and beats vicious, although moving at a blazing crawl. This resulted in a swaying, shuffling dance motion from people who were perhaps still a bit uncertain of how to reaction to it, despite giving a hollering response to the strongest tunes. Not being too up on my Dubstep I didn’t recognise much besides the most notorious tunes but in many instances the sound was immediately enjoyable.

They were joined for the last few tracks in the mix by an MC, who filled the gap of the left by the entirely instrumental tracks that they created. This is a common trait of Dubstep {besides Burial} but besides the darkness, beat structure/focus and speed it is nearly the only one. It still very much feels like a genre defining its identity, although the unmistakably joy-inducing melancholy mood is never shifting, and this results in its creators having a type of liberty and license not open to many.

They closed with the aforementioned Burial’s Archangel, a strong contender for the finest single DubStep track ever created, although irksomely quiet and bass-devoid as they were being “Get off-stage” hints for over-running. This was nothing compared to the treatment of who was to follow.

The reaction to hearing that we were to receive a d&b work-out was exuberant, and that it was to be delivered by DJ Hype received even greater joy. To give you some impression of his skill I need only say that while attending the night where Fabric was taken over by Pendulum and filled up with their selected acts their own set was one I missed the {lengthy} DJ section of since I was too stunned by Hype to realise that they were on. This is unremarkable but the interesting thing was I didn’t feel like it was a massive pity.

Easily one of the most respected figures on the d&b scene Hype is not a flamboyant performer, which only serves to emphasise the skills that serves as a solid foundation for his reputation. The shift in mood was palpable and it was highly striking to observe the shift from firm and rocking dance moves to the all out rapid raving that suited the swift break-beats blasted out. The genres are similar in tones but the delivery of the older is far more thrilling on its own level. That one being total absorption into motion. The rippling sub and only occasionally relenting beats of Hype drove the crowd into a thrashing mass, assisting along the process by a strong MC who led the call&response chant of “When I say DJ, you say Hype” that follow the jockey wherever he goes and generally contributed to the crowd’s mood.

A master at his craft Hype often triggered moments where the collective assembled before him staggered reeling from his offensives during lulls and then surged forwards in total rapture, self seeming to fade as the mass leapt ecstatically and the beats struck fast and firm. In-between these motions there was dance-moshing and shoving of a scale and ferocity certainly not seen during the Dubstep display.

Hype continued to work his craft until suddenly the show was abruptly ended. It seemed that the crowd had packed the tent far too lightly and none other than the police had demanded the music cease. There were furtive discussions between the organisers and the MC and Hype, an immensely long pause occurring before finally the MC proclaimed that we would receive more so long as we all took a step back, especially those around the tent flaps. There was a distinct failure to do so, although many within the tent retreated none around it left, so after a few more requests of the same the MC lapsed into silence.

I was not departing until the set was through but the pause dragged onwards, with Hype himself finally taking the mic to explain “It’s not me, it’s them. I’ve got 2 hours lined up.” After another stretch of purgatory most inside the tent had gotten bored and wondered off elsewhere. Only a dedicated cluster remained and finally the MC returned with a beam of “Four minutes” and Hype honouring us with an exclusive set. The screen behind him had ran out of animation to display and gone blank but this was a matter of no consequence.

The crowd’s devotion was total and the tunes superb. After what felt like considerably more than four minutes the show was finally brought to a joyful close and we quickly filed out as the tent was disassembled. Damon Albarn’s new band The Good The Bad and The Queen were playing upon the mainstage, including Paul Simonon who was perhaps the only performer present when the entire affair began. Unfortunately I was rather distracted by the sight of a brightly coloured figure from across the other side of the park. I had a woeful suspicion over who this could be and pelted across the green to find myself sadly correct: Patrick Wolf was just finishing the last lines of Magic Position when I arrived, proclaiming “Love Music, Fuck Racism!” exuberantly as the fiddles struck to a halt.

Irked at Hype again being too skillful and enjoyable for my own satisfaction I headed back to TGTB&TQ. They introduced a horn section while I bought a cornetto, with Albarn once against proving his musical polymath abilities.While they performed rappers joined them and spoke before finally a man I believed might have been from The Specials played us his own arrangement of Ghost Town, which was performed by an urban singer who took far to long to get on with it. This closed the festival and the talented compare urged those of us legally capable into the polling booths on May 1st.

And then it was done, a horde of assorted but mostly young anti-racists heading off through the park and then through Hackney, a mixture of all races {it reminded me of the Underage festival that had occurred in the same green, only adding inner city blacks and asians to the white indie kids} merging and mingling.

Whether the downfall that befell the National Front soon after RAR will be repeated by the BNP after LMHR remains to be seen.
Just as long as we can stop them clawing a foothold now there’s a strong chance they’ll tear themselves apart. Much like their predecessors {or the Republicans, for that matter} only momentum holds them together. We have a strong chance now, perhaps our last. And by “we” I mean everyone, really. Anyone who feels that they are distinguishable instead of defined by their race. You could even vote English Democrats or UKIP and fend off the true threat.

Given that they are dependent upon a tiny turn-out to win any power at all and feed their delusions of representing the “Silent Majority” of Britains a park filled with their opponents gave me hope. They’ve changed their name and to some extent their targets but what’s within remains the same. “As long as our own cadres appreciate the full implications of our struggle there is no need for us to do anything to give the public cause for concern”, said Nick Griffin. So it’s up to us. “We must at all times present them with an image of moderate respectfulness”. But we aren’t fooled, we can tear that open. We’ll beat the bastards yet, just like we did last time around.

From: Gerry Fenby
To: Ali Gledhill, Douglas Johnson, R.E Vamp
C.C: The London Electorate

Subject: The Consequences of a Boris Mayoralty

Gentlemen:

I found myself in an uncomfortable position today. Loitering at a bus stop*, I was ambushed by an enthusiastic, bouncing woman of indetirminate middle age, clad in a Back Boris shirt. Her mouth moved, but no sound came out.

I removed my ear-phones, grudgingly. Tories, especially happy Tories, don’t qualify as important enough to interrupt Portishead under normal circumstances.

However, she seemed insistent.

“What?”
The Boris-bot beams. She remained bizarrely cheerful throughout the episode, given how surly I was.
“Would you like to meet Boris Johnson?”
“Um…”

You appreciate the dilemmna facing me, I’m sure. I loathe Boris. I find his current vacuity worrying; the old politics it covers offensive; and his attempts at humour dully unfunny, reliant more on the reader’s (simple) mindset than his skill. Perhaps he is a charming and sensitive man in private - but his public persona could be charged for inciting me to violence against it.

On the other hand, I could hardly pass up a chance to heckle the Twa Tory - could I? Your blogger fell behind on those stakes a fortnight ago, when Douglas thrust a Green Party leaflet on a bewildered BoJo after a hustings. Another incident - this time, with the possibility of a watchful journalist catching it - would hardly go amiss.

So…

“Yes, why not?”

The woman beamed, again, sickeningly, before skittering off.  I followed - into a calvacade of idiocy.

The clown and jester epithets usually applied to Boris strike me as loosely accurate. It was hard to miss the merry circus, ambling its way down the high street. First came the mindless groupies: vacuous placard wavers screaming in adulation at the approach of their bumbling hero. They thrust leaflets, they wave banners, they cheer. One of them even had a song about stopping Ken, the lyrics of which weren’t worth remembering.

Then the real spectators: the press. Bustling along, walking backwards, cameras going over and over. I half expected one to fall over and damage themselves - which, cruel as it sounds, would have ruined the walkabout spectacularly.

Then came the ringmasters: slick, stressed-looking men in suits. They kept a discrete distance from the main attraction, trailing a few yards behind the shambling main attraction. I do wonder what purpose they actually served here. Walkabouts are one of the few places that managing BoJo must verge on impossible - as demonstrated by the ambush where Boris gave away the real cost of his plans for buses. He’s there to talk to people, and there’s virtually nothing they can do to stop that. Unless they control the crowd, of course…

Strangely, the only figure that actively detracts from the circus metaphor here is BoJo himself. Ambling along, slightly hunched, eyes hazy, arms out in front - he was doing his very best to appear serious. He shook peoples’ hands firmly, earnestly looked them in the eye, nodded his head very seriously. That he looked like a badly stuffed toy with difficulties comprehending the world only served to move him further from his previous, clown like image. A figure of fun, perhaps - but only because he looked so bloody ridiculuous.

My heckle didn’t go to plan. I let loose my first shout - an off-the-cuff jab about the cost of buses - entirely too early. It wasn’t in his face; it was through the back of a few. His minders, loosely grouped around him, performed their only overt role of the walkabout and steered him quietly away to a collection of screaming groupies elsewhere. He found himself assailed with handshakes, not heckles.

I, meanwhile, found myself attacked from all sides.

“You shouted at Boris?  How could you?”
“Look! A Commie!”
“How could you? He’s such a Legernd!”
“Boris!”
“He’s such a Legernd! How could you?”
“Boris!”
“What are you, the only Labour supporter in the borough?”
“BorisBorisBorisBorisBorisBorisBugh…”

Fool that I am, I decided on an argument. Rounding on one of my detractors; a young woman (depressingly) of about my own age in a Back Boris shirt.

“Yes, I heckled Boris. So?”
“He’s Boris, how could you…”
“Why shouldn’t I heckle him?”
“Because…”
“Why should I vote for Boris?”
“Because…”
“Because?”

An awkward, angry pause. I suspect most Boris Backers - especially in an area as upsettingly blue as this - aren’t used to being reminded their candidate has few policies worth speaking of. Forcing them to say:

“…because he’s not Ken!”
“So?”

This one genuinely puzzled her, I think. The frustration in her face morphed into a confused mix of bemusement, fear and loathing. Rather fun to watch…

“Because…because he’s Ken!  Hes a crook!  He’s corrupt!  He hates cars!  He…he…”
“Neither corruption nor theft have been proven. What he’s definitely been accused of - employing a small clique of ex-extremists he knew in his youth - is no different to Cameron’s front bench.”

Note that I didn’t deny Ken hates cars.  There’s certainly no proof to show he likes them - a sentiment I’m inclined to share, if I’m honest…

“He…oppresses poor Venezualans and does deals with dodgy dictators!”

And at that point, the Boris Backer lost the argument. Attacks on Ken and Chavez infuriate me; something I imagine my opponent realised fairly soon…

“Really?  I’m not sure who you’re talking about.”
Splutter.
“Chavez!”
“That’s a strange figure to pick as a dictator and oppressor of the poor. Very few dictators run in elections, or accept the results of referenda that don’t go their way - as he did. Very few prole-haters engage is heavy nationalisation and redistribution of wealth - as he has done. You moan about the cheap oil deal - if it’s so damaging, why is the quality of life in Venezuala for the average individual so much higher than it was before Chavez? Wealth and power have been transferred from a very small rich elite into the hands of the majority. All very funny for a dictator, I’d say…”
“But…”
“And now, contrasted with your dear Boris, who opposed the minimum wage…”

At this point, she gave up, outraged that anyone could think Boris was a bastard. It worries me slightly that she even tried…

What worries me most, though, was how well BoJo went down with the crowd. He simply wasn’t an impressive sight - and yet they loved him. Admittedly, they were a partially picked crowd from a very Tory borough…

But it raised the spectre of Boris winning nonetheless. He might just do it - even if the most recent polls predict otherwise. The possible consequences would, I fear, be disastrous:

1. Anarchy in City Hall: Boris may well be serially incompetent. He’s never run anything but the Spectator (”Actually I think you’ll find it was 50 people, 50, not 20…”) - and there’s no evidence to suggest he did that well. I refer you to Matthew Parris on BoJo’s tenure as editor:

I must challenge Ken Livingstone’s complaint that as former editor of a small right-wing magazine, the only administrative decision Mr Johnson ever took was choosing a restaurant for lunch.

This paints an exaggeratedly hands-on picture of the Boris management style. His secretary did that kind of thing. You were just lucky if Boris came to the lunch.

Given the sheer amount of work involved in being Mayor, I suggest Boris may cock up. Spectacularly. I further suggest this will not be good for London.

And it may well lead to our next, more frightening option:

2. Boris becomes a puppet for the Tories: Boris has allowed himself to be managed all campaign. Except on a few, notable occasions - the public disagreement with Cameron over immigration being the most prominent - he’s done everything his minders have said. Those stressed looking men in suits from CHQ have him on a leash, and they probably aren’t keen to let go - in case Possibility 1 occurs. The GLA becomes a front for national Tory policy, and the electorate gets an early taste of why it shouldn’t vote Cameron.

3. Boris is largely incompetent, but tries anyway - while trying to avoid management by central party: The most likely, I suspect. Boris is a bumbling fool - but that’s not stopped any of them in the past, has it? The likelihood is that he’ll try to implement his policies, come up against unexpected difficulties or opposition, and collapse - as he has done whenever he’s been seriously questioned in public. At the same time, Cameron and the Conservative Party will have realised this, and will be trying to manage Boris as best they can.

Boris, however, is said to resent this management - and claims he’ll stand up to Cameron. If this is the case, a running battle looks to ensue between Boris and his old chums from the Bullingdon. Which may prove something of a distraction…

4. Boris defies all expectations and is competent: By far the most worrying possibility is that Boris is competent, and will go on and implement policies in the vein of his past writings. For the uninitiated, these generally express hardline Thatcherite views wrapped up in bad jokes. The 80s would return, just in time for the Depression…

None of these prospects entice me particularly. As such, in the event of a Boris victory, I suggest international revolution - or at least, fleeing the capital for four years.

Yours in deepest disgust,

Fenby

*I should say waiting here. But, being male and under 20, I’m inherently suspicious and quasi-criminal in the eyes of the population - thus, loitering. Probably with intent.

Last time I went to watch a televised debate, it was the BBC’s Question Time programme. Today’s ITV Mayoral debate - to be broadcast tomorrow - was a very different experience. The organisation was poor, the audience was loud, and the questions were planted. A genuine debate I think not. A valuable experience, though, it most definitely was.

After a very long time queueing, we were ushered into the studio with a slightly banterous security guard. Admittedly this was not the most enjoyable part of the evening; he thought he was being funny when he was searching my bag, asking if I had brought a sword with me. I’ve heard that one before. Before long we were ushered into seats by a really switched-on usher who didn’t quite grasp that filling a row from the aisle outwards is not the most sensible way to get people to their seats. Ten minutes of musical chairs later, we were settled and ready to start.

The production company had other ideas. ITV had over-allocated tickets, as they are justified in doing, which left many people disappointed outside. The early bird really did get the worm this time. For those of us inside, the heat was mounting as the studio lights glared down on a large audience. A number of reserved seats remained to be filled, but as soon as they were taken the show got on the road.

It soon became clear that those sitting in the reserved seats were the least camera-shy. Or, to put it less bluntly, the correlation between people asking questions and people sitting in reserved seats was roughly 100%. They all had prepared, written questions. They all had a cause to raise in some pseudo-aggressive manner. Having been told so many times that “we, the audience” were leading the debate, I found myself tempted to expose the sham question-asking. It was utterly unnecessary: you need not sex up a TV debate when viewers are already viewing it! I wonder how many people turn off their TVs thinking “I don’t want to see any more of that debate because the questions are not nearly as direct and vitriolic as I would like”.

My temptations to heckle were clearly not contained to myself: the audience was almost encouraged to shout as they pleased, and a huge number of people in the audience took pleasure in obliging. At times it became clear that the heckling was preventing debate: the candidates were often left finishing their arguments under total cover of miscellaneous grumblings. When Ken Livingstone issued some slur or other towards Boris Johnson there was an immediate wave of applause, followed by a loud and sustained “boo”, topped with random yells of “Boris! Boris!”. There were a few occasions where the candidates were clearly refusing to be taken on an issue, but the cries of “answer the question, Boris!” did nothing to progress debate. For his part, Alastair Stewart made sure he got answers without behaving like Paxman. It was a genial, slightly less than high-brow affair, and Stewart filled his role perfectly. Top marks for him.

To judge the prospective mayors is a more difficult task. I remain convinced that none of the candidates is truly worthy of this great city, and remain reluctant to express support for any of them. But this evening’s performance has consolidated my opinion in some areas and shifted it in others. Ken Livingstone is most in control of facts and figures, but he has a sad tendency to accompany them with half-truths and outright fallacies. Boris Johnson knows Livingstone’s lies inside out, but is shaky on his own spending plans (whilst pretending to be “consistent” on the issue). Brian Paddick performed much better than usual: he was more calm in fighting for airtime and sounded like a typical LibDem on Question Time, seeking out applause. A marked improvement.

Some nutjob asking a question (rehearsed, from a reserved seat) said that she thought Enoch Powell was right about immigration. While the audience was “oooh!”-ing and “boo!”-ing, the candidates were fighting for the chance to answer first. Paddick won, and received his best round of applause of the night. He is becoming much better at these sorts of events, and given that he has only been in politics for five minutes it is to his credit that he has learned so quickly. Paddick certainly gets top marks for effort.

The debate demonstrated amply that the three candidates featured passionately want to run London for the next four years. It would be deeply unfair to suggest that Boris Johnson is uninterested in London: he’s arguably more in touch with the aspects of London life that mean most to people. It is telling that his applause came mostly from statements of objection to simple observations about London life: Ken Livingstone can claim to have lived in London all his life but he does not have the same cultural affinity with it. That said, Mr Livingstone has a far better grasp of London politics - hardly surprising when he has dominated the leadership of it for decades, despite a period of rest after Thatcher prevailed over him in the GLC. Brian Paddick, it seems, cares little for much aside raw policy; including arguing his case. His performance today was better than previously, but it would be unfair to pretend that he is an overnight master of PR.

The debate ended and the planted questioners were asked to stay behind (presumably to get paid?) while the rest of us left the studio. A glorious line of silver Prius cars adorned the road outside. One had a card in the window advertising its customer as one “B Haddick”. That rather sums up the campaign, I think.

The nature of the current efforts of Anonymous against the Church of Scientology has yet to have any obvious influence upon the core nature of the target but has already rendered almost unrecognisable both the average critics and the previous absent face of Anonymous.

Previously critics of the religion were a dedicated and largely middle aged selection of those brave and tenacious enough to tolerate the infamous “Fair Game” policy {revoked in name only a few decades ago and still in de facto operation since}. They were often vigorous campaigners and mostly entertaining eccentrics, as well as those who had suffered most from the church’s policies. For the most part they exposed the inner doctrines rather than attacking the religion openly, mainly aiming their attentions at the Church rather than faith. Although with their Usenet presence alt.religion.scientology and personal websites the old guard anti-scientologists were perfectly adept at using the internet the shift of “Web 2.0” left them rather behind. They did, however, pave the way for what was what to come through providing the vast amount of information readily available to all interested online. ARS was responsible for leaking the infamous OT 3 documents, which included the now notorious Xenu theology. A large amount of this currently informs the Wikipedia articles written on the topic of the strange religion and the brutal organisation that acts as its guardian. Without what came before the present campaign would be an impossibility. Be this as it may the similarity they bear to it is minuscule. Anonymous in its present manifestation, and previously, is largely a youth movement that depends entirely on new networking methods to spread its efforts, having been began with a YouTube video and since been publicised heavily on the same, with pictures of the vast-scale raids being posted up on Flickr and, in a meeting of the old and new school, daubing Operation Clambake’s URL “XENU.NET” across a visible section of Drawball.

Anonymous’ former nature is, if anything, more distinct. The term came into existence owing to the imageboard 4Chan’s distinctive trait of leaving everyone who posts upon their /b/ “Random” board anonymous. It is highly likely that the forceful and total lack of any identifiers, even e-monikers, contributed substantially to the extremity of the content posted their and the seeming lack of any form of inhibitions and netiquette present. The efforts of those while operating outside of their confines invariably simply termed them all as a collective of what all individual posters were named. Anonymous consisted of whoever was online and there was never any way of being certain as to exactly this was. When not exchanging porn or memes they tended to entertain themselves through spilling out onto the rest of the internet for thrills and lulz. Their motto ran “Because none of us is as cruel as all of us” and at times they seemingly lacked any form of restraint or mercy. Passwords were hacked, real life locations and phone numbers found, death threats issued, entirely unprovoked flames were hurled at targets such as an underage teen who posted bestial photos of herself and dog. A feminist who mused on a forum that it would have been better had her pornography viewing teenage son been aborted was hounded off of the internet. A paedophile was found and arrested, much the same treatment was delivered to someone who told /b/ about his plans for a school shooting/bombing accompanied by a picture of his firearms. A haughty leukaemia sufferer was mobbed with mockery for his arrogance and pretension. A schoolboy who had shot himself after having his iPod stolen had his Facebook and MySpace flooded.

This reached its epitome on a break-away image board, 711Chan, where the only acceptable motivation was “For the lulz”. Breaches of this near nihilism was committed by “Moralfags”. Amongst their greatest achievements was embedding strobe GIFs into a forum for epileptic sufferers and triggering seizures.

The striking thing about this set-up was its similarity to Scientology. They spoke largely in esoteric jargon that outsiders would require a glossary to understand, with much the same being true of Tom Cruise’s references to “SPs”and “KSW”. They had no respect for traditional ethical systems much as Scientologists are told to be wary of “Out-ethics”. The major difference is that while Scientology intends to “Clear the planet” and thus save the world, while the Chans had no such high illusions. Another difference was generational: the Scientologists see fit to legislate against those that defame their Church. Even although hosted upon the dreaded “JewTube” (Anonymous loathed all that was conventional and mainstream, be it Gaia Online or Ebaums World) the removal of the notorious Tom Cruise interview from the site after legal action was threatened enraged the Chans. Project Chanology consisted of an alliance between the important Chans to destroy the Church of Scientology. This was directly triggered by the litigiousness of the Church, which Anonymous viewed in as much disdain as the efforts to enforce “Digital Rights Management”.

Shortly after the Party Hard protests of March 15th, however, this functional coalition collapsed completely. 711Chan had long considered the surge of “Newfags” the initial video declaring war had attracted to be unfavourable. They were deemed (quite correctly) to be moralfags, epitomised by Mark Bunker who implored Anonymous to abandon their tactics of blankfax and DDOS attacks. Effectively he called for an end to the approach of /i/nsurgency, an approach to which 711Chan, amongst others, was strongly dedicated. The influence which he had was considerable, drawing much of Anonymous away from the guerilla tactics that had previously been the norm. The new form of Anonymous swiftly emerged: dedicated to the task of destroying the Church many were ignorant of their collectives previous manifestation and most demonstrated a focus never previously displayed in Anonymous, which tended to have a fickle mood and a minuscule attention span. /b/ was largely abandoned due to the swift deletion of all that is posted there, which occurs instantly once the 10th page on each board is past. Instead they adopted old school methods: Enturbulation is a large and traditionally used forum and IRC is amongst the most old-school of chat systems. The new Anonymous members are largely those who have been interested in Scientology for a considerable portion of their short lives and see Anonymous as as much a tactic to evade Fair Game as an established entity. In as much as it is defined it is considered a collective with a shared goal and membership of inherently concealed identity. Whereas previously the defining picture had been a headless suited man (still a prominent symbol) now the Guy Fawkes mask dominates.

This chasm came to a head when 711Chan was overwhelmed with drama between those wishing to continue and end Chanology, with the latter camp far stronger due to its long-standing disdain for all new and moralfaggotry. The /xenu/ board was purged and hidden (the URL is active but the location unlinked on the main site) and the IRC channel #xenu killed (although replaced with #xemu, an alternative spelling for the same alien overlord). However it became apparent that they were incapable of killing the new faceless being, despite all their protests of Anonymous’ bad name being defamed: Enturbulation proved resilient to efforts to down and an attempt to perform a Denial of Service upon the newly formed 315Chan resulted in a disastrous, hilarious backfire that caused 711Chan to go offline. The wisdom of launching an attack on a website sharing your server is limited.

/i/ planned a large raid on the Xenu.net to be found on Drawball but failed entirely in ruining visibility, their puerile defacements being swiftly cleaned away. The URL remains perfectly visible from 100% zoom. 315Chan remained standing but has since been felled, although this is a limited loss given the rarity of its usage.

Against this background of inter-chan warfare and strife the April 12th protests loomed in importance. The theme of Operation Reconnect most likely contributed substantially to the unpopularity amongst the Chans, given that it was selected to attract media attention rather than enthuse the Chans. This was certainly achieved, with the Observer and Reuters on this occasion picking up on the story along with various local and foreign national news broadcasting services and presses. This was at the cost of reduced turn-out, although it is likely that this was contributed to by the fierce forecast which I, as always, failed to read as well as April being holidays for students, which it is likely constitutes a fair proportion of Anonymous.

Regardless, when I arrived (at some point after noon, I’d been to Fabric the night before and this made for rather a sleepy time at some points) I observed around 300 anons were present. There was, once again, delicious cake present and indeed a piece was given to me just as I arrived. Memes were also out in full force, although we were lacking on this occasion a Longcat poster. More than compensating for this though was a the now legendary Xenu.net trailer, which was driven past the Church, and later the centre, by a promotional van. Who exactly hired the thing out is still unknown but whoever it was that stumped up the cash certainly managed to keep us enthused and made the entire affair additionally joyous.

The protest was set up much as last time, with the surprisingly convenient balcony filled with milling anons and delicious cake. We were strikingly lucky in getting this and despite the disconcertingly deep pit between it and the pavement it made a perfect place to get an overview of the protest. The Scientologists were huddled inside and the door occasionally, amusingly, blew open the door slightly a few times, meaning that one had to stand there holding it shut. Various music was played, including the obvious Rick Rolls as well as a remix of certain snippets of the Lord of the Rings soundtrack that I had first heard on YouTube the day before the protest and had great fun dancing to. The self-appointed “Happiness Officer” stickered me to certify me as happy.

We soon moved on to Tottenham Court Road, on this occasion the police had used their horses to block off a street leaving us to funnel in the same direction to the tube. Once again I saw the rush of people flowing across the Millennium Bridge and found it a pity that we hadn’t flyered it. The flood of anons was less powerful but still pleasing. We were told on this occasion to turn off all stereos as we headed through the ticket barriers, which was irksome but the massive amount of leafleting that happened to those who past us on escalators more than compensated. There was no in-tube raid upon this occasion since a fail anon wearing face-paint said that people would complain (as if that ever changed anything about the tube before!).

The initial plan had been to flier on the side of Tottenham Court Road we weren’t allowed onto last time. Before we came into the view of the police, that is. As it happened many were distributed but the police let us hand them out on that side of the road anyway as well and the Scientologist presence consisted of a tight cluster and some people randomly off in Camden instead of them lining the street as they had done last time. They formed an odd bunch, hanging around in a superfluously large cluster that basically let us yell memes at them more efficiently. The saddest of the bunch was an old boy who seemed to have been given no leaflets and thus just stood there forlornly staring us as he stood on the street doing nothing.

The rest of the Scientologists were in their usual positions, with bald man missing but the cameramen all in position and filming us, as usual. Angry woman was there, as well as the classy broad none of us have come up with a name for yet who spent much of the time she was there filming us. The most notable point about them became apparent after the police decided that the street blockage was too great to be tenable and, as in February, shifted the barriers forwards to block off half of the Road. The previous protest had been the longprotest, which had its advantages but was certainly no match for being quite so close to the Scientologists and getting the thrill of obstructing all of the traffic. From this distance we could see quite distinctly that there was a far greater impact than on previous occasions. As always they had undergone a slight shuffle so that the same faces were not on offer, one new man was hefty of frame, burly and good looking in an early middle age kind of way. But all of them seemed far less oblivious than previously, when they had done their best to pretend that we were not even there despite standing en masse right in front of their eyes.

Fake smiles seemed to be the order of the day but these faded swiftly. The woman with camera seemed the most animated, we really appeared to have got to her as she was mouthing to the crowd at some points, waving her hands at us to get a bigger reaction for photos at others and mouthing the words to Rick Astley when we blasted it in the direction of the centre.

The ex-scientologists I previously mentioned being present at the last raids were on this occasion both more numerous and given an opportunity to talk to the gathered anons. I saw two of these, the first being a friendly looking chap giving a vigorous speech on a poor mic. His talk was bizarre but only enough to reflect the utter oddness of Lafayette Ronald Hubbard’s writings. Apparently Scientologists do not accept evolution, or at least not from apes, but instead believe that humans used to be creatures named Boo-Hoos and Weepies that were fish-like, beach-dwelling creatures that were terrified of birds and this primal fear formed the source of all emotional discontent in the modern day homo sapien. I had never heard of this before and spoke to him once his speech was done. Apparently he was talking about low level doctrine since the vast majority of Scientologists never reached any OT, let alone the OT 3 which we were quoting at them. According to him most blew long before then and he simply wished to use Hubbard’s early teachings to encourage this process.

He also told me that he had encountered hallucinations after auditing, as did everyone. Not of the beach-dwellers but another character who resided in Hubbard’s writings. This was, again, something entirely new to me but something utterly common. I asked whether we would establish a long-standing problem for the Church: if OT3 was to be revealed to those who reached it then surely the harm them if they’d heard it from us first. He said, however, that as so few reached it this would only cause a few problems.

This was something that I had considered and it made me wonder about the effectiveness of much of our tactics. Certainly Anonymous was left rather muddled by the mixture of RL troll urges and the desire to help the Scientologists. Although we told them to reconnect in a firm chant we also said “Nobody likes you” and yelled “We’ve got better leaflets”. Naturally “C-U-L-T” and “That is a chicken/church/casino, that is a cult” point-chants were also heavily present. Generally attempting to mock and bait them mixed with making an effort to lure them into the outside world. This is perhaps inherent in any effort of Anonymous. We do not forgive, we do not forget but we are fickle.

The Scientologists, however, seemed to be connecting with us more than previously but still seemed very much opposed. This was displayed most clearly when camera lady began to beam and jump for joy when the hail began. No doubt this was a pre-planned demonstration of the infamous “Cause over MEST” than the higher OT levels obtain and it truly was horrifying to experience, dispelling all doubts about Hubbard’s claims to give his most accomplished followers super-powers. The power and persistence of this cosmological onslaught really can not be understated, it battered us heavily and caused all the Anons to huddle closely together beneath all umbrellas, ending up totally covered but still very cold. The Scientologists retreated from the streets and into their org, sheltered but incapable of distributing their leaflets for a time.

The reaction of the Anons beyond sheltering in huddles (one took to a phone booth and wrote a sign saying “I lost the game”) was striking: rather than departing they simply hid, waited and remained. Indeed we even crafted the most amusing chant of the day, pointing to the skies and then the centre to say “Hail, Xenu!” After it a defiant cry of “We’re still here” broke out. The Scis noticed this and seemed rather disappointed.

Their leaflets were obtained and seemed to have been altered since last month, being highly glossy and seeming very expensive indeed. Certainly an improvement in almost every way, but it did give Anons an opportunity to read out some of the 24 “precepts of Scientology” in a rather mocking way (“Do not steal” was especially a favourite, along with “Be trustworthy”). The girl formerly known as awesome azn anon was on this occasion identified as “Save Point” and having set up bins for anons to dispose of “Dianetics and other rubbish” in after the hail ceased was to be found picking up rubbish off of the blocked-off road to save litter-pickers the efforts and our reputation. True dedication from an awesome anon.

Speaking of which Anonychickenonymous was back and dressed as a Starship Trooper. Being a total ethics fag I disapprove of the cruel KFC but the chips I appreciated. Apparently they spent well over £300 on the stuff, which was all collected from anons chipping in together. The entire thing rather had the feel of anarchy, indeed seems to be a fine instance of it. Everything we contributed was brought along save the mystery truck, all of the signs homemade and all of the fliers and stickers from the same source.

Happy from our survival of the rain {indeed, my sticker had been swept off of my coat by the force and thus the officer issued a replacement} we emerged and filled out the same amount of space as we did before, with the Scis showing up outside again as well, the old chap finally finding a use and holding an umbrella but oddly only doing so after it had stopped raining, going back inside and taking it with him shortly before it started to drizzle as well.

To conclude the day a speech from a former Scientologist was given. I had actually not believed me when I had asked him who he was after a brief interview with a journalist and he said “Oh, I’m a scifag” but it turned out that this had been the truth. He gave a moving and rousing speech that effectively pwned the Scientologists still inside with their own doctrine. The impact was so great that once we got the Internet Hate Machine (which had been set up on the crowd barrier directly facing the Church) plugged in and playing Camera Lady lasted about ten seconds before turning on her heel and darting back into the Org. It seemed that our ex-sci was there to “Speak his truth” despite the best effort of Angry Woman, apparently a SeaOrg member, and his own sister’s attempt to “Handle” him.

There were only a few minutes left until the protest ended shambolically but in a glorious fashion, the Scis clearly shaken and a strong happy mood washing over us. We had been filmed by window man for much of the protest and I gestured for him to hug me, his initial confusion resulting in the ex-sci, who’s name was James, giving me a massive embrace to show what I meant. For a moment I was convinced that we had actually coaxed him out as he headed downstairs but when he left the org he turned sharply to the left and walked away instead of crossing the road towards us. “It’s not too late!” I cried as we headed off to the pub.

There I engaged in a fascinating conversation with the ex-scis and another anon, with the younger one James being only a few years older than myself and the other having been 12 when her father joined the Church in the 1960s. James told us more about his experiences within the Church, where he had been born and lived until a matter of months ago. He showed us a text from his sister attempting to “Handle” us and told us that at that time he was no member of the SeaOrg and was looking into a number of different things. He seemed a bright and intelligent man and made no secret of the fact that he had benefited in some ways from Scientology, especially in the introspection it promoted. He was also amazingly nice, even buying me a pint. Apparently though the auditing courses had caused him problems as he had failed to progress yet the Church struggled to find anything defective about him, which presented something of a paradox given that the tech is perfect in Scientology doctrine. He had been forced to disconnect to his sister and father after his mother had been declared a Suppressive Person but resisted, meeting with his sister despite the wishes of the CoS and enduring her efforts to handle him patiently, not allowing her to discourage him from attending the raid. The second ex-sci had had a worse experience of the Church, having had a father part of SeoOrg and thus ending up on Apollo, one of the numerous rustbucket vessels Hubbard spent his dupes’ funds on. Her experience seemed to consist largely of scraping paint and tedium, with various intermissions of total misery such as being locked away with a friend in the hold as a security risk after talking to Greek boys. She remembered Hubbard as a nocturnal type who wrote a good deal, which reminded me uncomfortably of me.

Speaking to those who had suffered due to the church face to face was not something entirely new to me but devoid of my mask and in the comfortable setting of a pub (well, comfortable once I had acquired a seat) it made it especially hard hitting.

Once they left I went to hang with the various anons present. It turned out that they’re pretty much all young and all immensely geekish. The pub contained most of the more dedicated types but there was no srs bsnss, just everyone enjoying themselves and having a good time, besides one twat bombed out on magic mushrooms who everyone disliked and is an effectively inevitable element of any movement that doesn’t exclude anyone actively. They were a fun bunch and the girls surprisingly attractive for a geek meeting. The talk lasted for a long time and the spillover of memes into RL was made complete by the toilet graffiti reading “Poop ‘08” with a reply of “LOLWUT?”.

Eventually we walked past the Church and home, giving the Scientologists a wave as we went by. There was quite a lot of talk on Enturbulation after the protests of numbers falling and it is still a long haul if they are going to destroy the Church completely. But the ex-scientologists both told me that the efforts of Anonymous had left them feeling empowered and invigorated, as well as generally far more willing and happy to speak out. The theme of Reconnect may have caused us woe with 711Chan and the rest but frankly the people who we attracted with it are worth any number of lulz-seeking /i/nsurgents That the movement has helped them confront an institution that damaged their life and speak their stories about the harm it inflicted on them makes it entirely worthwhile and even if it fades away entirely before the next month if its achieved than then I’m happy with the outcome.