I'll confess that I was a bit dim as a child. The neighbourhood kids who took me out were older than me and infinitely more sophisticated. Autumn and winter were prime begging season, despite the bitter Yorkshire cold and the agony of chapped bare legs inside Wellingtons: In November there was Penny For the Guy, then December had us stumbling through Give Me Some Figgy Pudding and We Won't Go till We've Got Some. We didn't actually want Figgy Pudding. No-one wants Figgy Pudding. There's always left-overs of Figgy Pudding after the Christmas Feast. Jamie Oliver has this recipe which involves spreading old figgy pudding, left over mince pies, grated apples and chopped dark chocolate over filo pastry, rolling it up, brushing it with egg wash, baking it and serving it up with custard. Prior, no doubt, to heaving it into the bin.
Ma mère, not being native here nor to the manor born, was not keen, but, after I earnestly explained about Guy Fawkes, Santa Claus and the Baby Jesus, she let me go with the older kids. I believed all three were gods. A sort of Winter Trinity. When I was taken to Lewis's in Leeds to visit Santa Claus I was absolutely terrified, especially when invited to sit on the god's knee and tell him what I wanted for Christmas. (It was a train set. I had in mind a miniature railway with platforms and villages that I could set up in the garden. We had a big garden. After all, why wouldn't a god be able to give me such a thing of wonder? And he had asked. I got a model railway - but it was a little thing, with a circular track.)
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| Probably worth a fortune if I had it now. |
I digress. Back on track now (see what I did there?).
Of the Trinity of Guy Fawkes, Santa Claus and The Baby Jesus, it turned out that only one was real. The terrorist who attempted to blow up the Houses of Parliament, complete with legislature. Remember, remember, the fifth of November. Gunpowder, treason and plot. We have not forgot. Still burn the poor man in effigy, he who had avoided the vicious sentence of execution of being hung, drawn and quartered by jumping off the scaffolding in order to break his neck before they got down to the disembowelling bit.
Anyway, the world not being confusing enough, we still tell lies to children, presumably in order to set them up with the requisite degree of gullibility for adult life.
One who has made a living by exploiting gullibility is Zack Polanski, the Leader of the Green Party in England and in Wales (in Scotland we have our own nutters).
Zack reclaimed his surname from his family's efforts to avoid anti-Semitism by changing their surname to Paulden after escaping to England in the early twentieth century from Europe. He didn't like his first name, either, despite sharing it with King David of biblical fame, deciding that Zack was just more Jewish. Polanski worked with the theatre company DifferencENGINE as an immersive theatre actor, including appearances in The Hollow Hotel and The People's Revolt (in the Tower of London). He taught at the Academy of Live and Recorded Arts and the National Centre for Circus Arts. Polanski sang for the London International Gospel Choir. He also worked as a hypnotherapist. Pretty cool guy, you might say, taking in the almost-beard and the gap-toothed grin. Unfortunately, his fancy led him into politics. Initially attracted to the Lib Dems, he put his name forward in the Richmond Park by-election held in December 2016 but the selection list was restricted to local residents. According to Private Eye, Polanski was dismayed at the decision and requested the decision be reviewed, feeling that the party was not interested in what he could contribute as a "gay Jewish renter". I think he meant home renter, not rent-boy renter. So off he hopped to the Greens, where he has done very well - on 2 September 2025, Polanski was elected as leader of the Green Party in a landslide, with 85% of the vote share.
The problem is that Polanski is simply not a serious politician. Are any of them? Aren't they all just careerist chancers? Aye, right, but Polanski may well understand stage craft, know what sells with the general public, be a fluent communicator and hypnotist, but he doesn't understand economics. Again, do any of them? Isn't it all made up nonsense? Well, to an extent, but this man, setting out his economic stall on the Laura Kuenssberg politics show this morning, has all the hallmarks of a man who has set himself to believe six impossible Green mantra things before breakfast and is going to tell the world about them, however divorced from reality are his economic plans around borrowing, investment, bond markets, and challenging the economic status quo. Zack tells us that inequality is the biggest crisis Britain faces, it is causing a divided and unstable society and Britain needs an alternative economic paradigm. He wants a wealth tax not to reduce borrowing to fund the undertakings of the state, but to reduce inequality and stop billionaires from hoarding assets. He thinks borrowing more is a good idea - borrowing money into existence - (where have we heard that before) and is ok because we'd be borrowing from the Bank of England, which we own. Jeremy Hunt, former Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Andy Haldane, former Chief Economist at the Bank of England, looked on, aghast.
Our Zack makes Rachel from Accounts look like a safe pair of hands. I'm eagerly awaiting her budget on Wednesday.
The train shudders, a carriage of damp coats and muttered sighs,
Santa lumbers in with a sack of toys and mince pies,
Zack Polanski waves leaflets like semaphore for the just,
And Guy Fawkes sits glowering, smelling of sulphur, muttering “Powder or bust.”
The train rattles through drizzle, its tannoy announcing delays with the cheer of a funeral bell. Three unlikely passengers share a compartment:
• Zack Polanski, Green Party deputy leader, clutching a reusable coffee cup.
• Guy Fawkes, smelling faintly of gunpowder and damp cellars.
• Santa Claus, chubbily cheery.
Santa: “Ho ho ho! Free gifts for all, though the elves are striking over pension reform.”
Polanski: “Solidarity with the elves. But perhaps we should electrify the sleigh, cut emissions, and pay them fairly.”
Fawkes: “Bah. I say burn the sleigh, burn the triple lock, burn the timetable. Only fire wakes the nation.”
Santa: “But if you burn the timetable, how will children know when I arrive?”
Polanski: “We’ll publish a transparent schedule, with community oversight. And fewer plastic toys.”
Fawkes: “Plastic toys? I wanted barrels of powder.”
Santa: “Powdered sugar, surely. For the gingerbread.”
The train lurches. A commuter drops his newspaper, headline screaming about wealth taxes.
Polanski picks it up: “See, we need systemic change. Not just fireworks.”
Fawkes mutters: “Systemic change tastes better with sparks.”
Santa offers a mince pie: “Gentlemen, perhaps revolution can be sweetened. The economy’s simple — give gifts, spread cheer, and hope the elves don’t strike before Christmas.”
Polanski (earnest): “Santa, that’s charming, but we need systemic fairness. Elf pensions, sleigh electrification, and a green industrial strategy. The economy must serve people and planet, not just stockings.”
Fawkes (snarling): “Stockings? Pensions? You patch a corpse with slogans. I sought to blow the chamber sky-high, not balance its books. The economy is corruption in coin form — it deserves fire.”
Polanski looks hard at Santa - "You must be a billionaire. All those toys. A mansion at the North Pole."
Santa, smugly replies: " Ho, ho, ho. You'll not tax me, lad, I don't live in your jurisdiction. And if I did, I would move out of Britain sharpish."
Polanski: "If you don't want to pay your tax, good riddance to you. And to your polluting reindeer. Tax the billionaires, invest in renewables, and stop pretending mince pies are fiscal policy."
Things are looking uncomfortable when the tannoy announces: “Passengers for Compromise Halt, please alight.”
Santa and Polanski shuffle off, still quarrelling about electrified sleighs, cutting reindeer poop emissions and elf pensions.
Fawkes remains seated, staring at the tunnel ahead, whispering:
“Redistribution? I redistribute ash. Your reforms are lullabies for the complacent. I would light the fuse again — the economy is a powder keg, and Parliament its vault.”
Now the carriage is dim, rattling through drizzle. Only Guy Fawkes remains, rigid, eyes like flint, muttering about powder and corruption.
The lamp flickers. A hush falls. And then — impossibly — the Baby Jesus appears, swaddled, radiant, seated opposite him.
Fawkes (startled, then grim): “A child? Yet not just a child. You too were crushed for defiance. You too were a martyr.”
Jesus (quiet, piercing): “I was born into poverty. You sought to blow up the Chamber; I sought to overturn the Tables. Both of us faced power, and both of us were silenced.”
Fawkes (leaning forward): “Then you understand. The economy is corruption in coin form. It deserves fire.”
Jesus (firm, but gentle):“Just remember, remember - martyrdom worked well for both of us."
The train rattles on, carrying only two passengers: one with powder, one with parables.
They sit in uneasy alliance.
Outside, the stations blur past. Inside, the whisper is shared:
“The fuse is eternal. The economy itself is the powder keg. And the politicians ..... devils in disguise.”
So, as Britain doesn't have a blasphemy law, I've been able, with impunity, to introduce the Baby Jesus into my Learn Economics 101 with Zack Polanski and Santa Claus. (A fail grade will result in detonation by Professor Fawkes.)
Again, as Britain doesn't have a blasphemy law, you'll not be surprised to learn that Hamit Coskun's conviction for a religiously aggravated public order offense for burning a Quran outside the Turkish consulate in London has been overturned on appeal. He was found guilty by Westminster Magistrates’ Court and fined £240, with a £96 surcharge. The CPS used that catch all public order offense in lieu of a blasphemy law. We have a similar catch-all offence category of Breach of the Peace here in Scotland. One chap was found guilty of Breach of the Peace by dancing naked in his own house, to the offence of the lieges. Honest, not invent.
At sentencing, the Bench stated that while burning a religious book is offensive, it is not necessarily disorderly, but the timing and location of the act made it so. Mr Coskun, who had experienced a tough time with the religion of peace in Turkey, had also shouted "Fuck Islam" which the Bench found prejudicial towards Muslims. In support of how offensive it was to ordinary, peaceable Muslim citizens,
Moussa Kadri, 59, pictured above with knife prior to attacking Mr Coskun, saw him setting alight the text and shouted "hang on a sec", before going home to collect the knife. Launching himself into the fray to protect his religion, as he put it, Kadri yelled: "I'm going to kill you" before slashing at Coskun with a knife. So excitable, these foreigners. Kadri was sentenced to 20 weeks in prison for protecting his religion, suspended for 18 months.
So, all well and good. The nasty CPS who brought the non-blasphemy-law prosecution in the first place, were firmly put back in their box by Mr Justice Bennathon, sitting with two Justices of the Peace. In 15 closely-argued pages of remarks, summarising the law and case law, he overturned the original conviction. He stated:
"There is no offence of blasphemy in our law. Burning a Koran may be an act that many Muslims find desperately upsetting and offensive. The criminal law, however, is not a mechanism that seeks to avoid people being upset, even grievously upset. The right to freedom of expression, if it is a right worth having, must include the right to express views that offend, shock or disturb.
We live in a liberal democracy. One of the precious rights that affords us is to express our own views and read, hear and consider ideas without the state intervening to stop us doing so. The price we pay for that is having to allow others to exercise the same rights, even if that upsets, offends or shocks us. "
I said you would not be surprised that this ridiculous conviction was overturned. What should surprise you, though - and which downright shocked me, is that the CPS has launched an appeal in the High Court against the acquittal of Hamit Coskun, no doubt with reckless disregard to the taxpayer's (that is, mine) money. The CPS just won't give up - they are determined to introduce a blasphemy law (but only in respect of Islam) through case law. Root and branch reform needed.
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Honest Not Invent, Vent Stack, Ishmael’s Blues, and the latest, Flush Test (with a nice picture of the late, much lamented, Mr Harris of Lanarkshire taking a piss on a totem pole) are available from Lulu and Amazon. If you buy from Amazon, it would be nice if you could give a review on their website.IIshmaelites wishing to buy a copy from lulu should follow these steps
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Link for Hardcover : https://tinyurl.com/je7nddfr
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With the 15% voucher, PB (including delivery to a UK address) should be £16.84; HB £27.04.
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