PETTY CRIME DOESN'T PAY.

TWENTY YEARS OF PUBLIC SERVICE.

It's such a tiny amount, eleven grand.  It's a small fortune, of course, to many people but it's not enough to risk going to jail for.  A hundred grand or a million would  seem more like it but eleven grand in dribs and drabs is neither here nor there. He would have received these monies in six separate amounts, about eighteen hundred quid a time, not even amounting to a salary, in lieu of which  he claimed it to be. And what did he do, anyway;  I watch these things as much as the next anarcho-plumber and I don't recall Mr Taylor being prominent in Lords' proceedings. Probably, like  most of them, he will have used the premises to  eat and drink like a lord and to host personal business meetings - troughing, pimping and hustling,  the real business of their Lordships' House.  The idea that eleven thousands pounds over a couple of years was an informal salary is, by any appraisal, preposterous,  that a QC would run it as a defence is utterly bizarre.

As a lawyer,  Mr Taylor must have visited clients in jail, must have smelled the piss and cabbage and despair, clocked the  screws, smugly sadistic peak-capped morons, posing about, tattooed and smirking, nasty, brutish and of course coldly, efficiently  racist.

It seems inevitable that he will go away, the trial judge, Mr Justice Slag and he were learned friends, once over, back in Birmingham,  and it'll be Failing In My Duty To The Public, BreachOfTrust, DemandsA Custodial Sentence, all that stuff that nobody ever says to the bankers, the permanent seckatries, the chief constables. Arriving at a sentence - my guess, between 18 & 30 months - Hizzoner will have to consider Taylor's previous good character - Christian, public servant, legislator, petty thief and now clown.

Leaving aside the sense of entitlement, the  institutional criminality of the Great and the Good, which Taylor, in his feeble, simpering way illustrates, this case underlines how utterly stupid these people are - lawyers, MPs and peers. Is ut any wonder we're fucked and ruined, people like Taylor at it in the legislature?  

Disowned by hostile releatives, mocked by white supremacy, derided by his fellow peers, foolish and ridiculous, one is tempted to say that John Taylor is punished enough; an unabashed right-winger, himself, though, I guess he will nevertheless  now properly learn the meaning of the bitter jailyard jibe - If you can't do the time, don't do the crime. Amen.

WORMS, YOUR HONOUR.

It's all very interesting, in a morality play sort of fashion; eminent QC and peer of the Realm, Lord John Taylor of Warwick at  Southwark  Court.

"....shitdrops keep falling on my head..."

and eminent QC and peer of the Realm, Lord Peter Goldsmith,

I know nothing, I am just a lawyer. Stupid. An imbecile.

at the Chilcott IraqFest.

Taylor, facing jail for false accounting in relation to his expenses, says that somebody told him it was alright, even if it was wrong, for him to invent a second home and claim for its upkeep and his travel to and from it, even though he didn't live there and therefore didn't go to it. He fell, he claims, among noble thieves, and who can doubt it;  Lord So-and-So told me it was alright, he bleats, through his own QC. And I'm only a lawyer and a QC myself, how'm I supposed to tell the difference between right and wrong?  If someone tells me something's legal, that's good enough for me. And another thing, I gave up a promising career, as a pisspoor lawyer, to come and work here for the Tory party without any wages;  they forced me to do it, give up being a lawyer and become a thief, I had no choice, why shouldn't I claim for something  I'm not entitled to; it's not as though I had any form of income, apart from the broadcasting and journalism. Lord John also told reporters that he had been living in the West Midlands, caring for his sick mother, when, in fact, she had been dead for six years. How'm I supposed to know when my mother's dead or alive, I'm only an eminent QC? His Not Guilty plea really does beggar belief.

If Taylor had any sense he would throw himself on the mercy of the Court or plead insanity; dissembling badly, like the rotten lawyer he is,  will see him inside;  the first black peer, in jail,  Jesus fucking wept, what a legacy, a dirty footnote in political history, a vindication,  they will insist,  of all who damned his blackness in Cheltenham, years ago, called him coon and wog, unfit -  his friends, in the Nasty Party. There is a position from which one can say Serve him right, up his own arse, Uncle Tom-ing, what does he expect from the Establishment but that if there's someone to be thrown to the wolves, it'll be him, Darky. A wider, better-tempered view would be that doubtless many deserve to be in Taylor's position, and aren't, and that his scapegoating is deliberate and will assist those bent on niggering their fellows, just like they always did.  I knew Taylor was  a fool within ten seconds of meeting him, so would anyone;  lawyer, doctor, banker and politician fools, though,  tend, normally, to get away with their foolishness, Taylor, in his rush to be Inside, hadn't realised that even first class  fools play with a deck stacked against the  second class likes of him. He's threatening to robustly question his fellow thieving peer, the one who told him it was OK to steal from the taxpayer, but who now denies saying any such thing,  should be interesting, peers and probably lawyers, falling out. Odd, how the same culture which permits Mr and Mrs Kinnock to sign-in to the Euro parliament  for two minutes, whilst the taxi is waiting outside to ferry them to a cheap flight home, for which they will claim an expensive, full-price reimbursement,  the rotten slags, also, out of the blue,  forbids poor Lord Taylor from claiming  a tiny fraction of what the Kinnocks so eagerly troughed.

Rather less pathos attaches itself to Blair's legal bumboy, Goldsmith, former Attorney General and now million pounds a year solicitor, barrister, advocat, member of an international lawyers' cartel, desperately trying to wash his hands of his former mentor, Tony Blair.  He kept me on the outside, whines Goldsmith, I didn't know what was going on.  How was I to know? If I had known what was going to happen I never would have said it's OK,  legally, for two members to defy the rest of the United Nations and just go marching into another country and steal everything and kill hundreds of thousands and torture people to death. Of course I wouldn't. I'm a lawyer for goodness sake. I guess I was just too trusting. I mean, I knew Tony, and he made me Attorney General, even though I was rubbish, and because of that, now I'm earning all this Hoon-money. And I definitely don't want to lose it, And so if the Enquiry, or anybody, really, wants me to say that Tony Blair is a mad, lying, thieving bastard who misled the commons,  is congenitally estranged from the truth and who, with his arse-companion, Big Mad Al bi-curious Campbell, cooked up a whole massive fiction about Weapons and shit then that is what I'm gonna say, I'm a lawyer, after all.  I do so solemnly swear.

If this keeps up, poor Mr Blair may come to feel like a latterday General Pinochet, ill at ease in the UK,  fearful of arrest, his dreams, which should be so leisured and peaceful and Godly, fraught, instead, with visions of disgrace and shame and humiliation and prison, bless.

SERIAL KILLER MUST DIE IN PRISON.

Iraq Ripper must die in prison, appeal court rules

Tony Blair,  the Iraq Ripper.

 

Judges reject Blair plea, and say the interests of justice demand 'nothing less' than a whole life sentence.

The Iraq Ripper, Tony Blair, will spend the rest of his life behind bars, the court of appeal has ruled. The former prime minister, now 60 and known as MoneyBags, was convicted in 2010  of murdering thousands  of  men, women and children. He was ordered to serve "whole life minimum term" last year under 2003 criminal justice legislation giving judges the power to set tariffs in murder cases. Blair  originally received 1000 life terms after being convicted of the murders of  a token 1000 innocent people after his Old Bailey trial. He pleaded guilty to a further 30,000 counts of attempted murder. A minimum term of 30 years was set before he could be considered for parole. The serial killer challenged last year's ruling by Mr Justice Slag that he should never be released on the grounds that the high court judge had failed to take into account evidence of his mental disorder at the time of the murders, or hear evidence from the clinical director of Broadmoor hospital. But the lord chief justice, Lord Slag, Mr Justice Calvert-Slag and Mr Justice Griffith Slag today rejected the appeal, arguing that the passage of time did not make his account of him being a "pretty, straight guy" at his  trial any more likely to be credible now than it was then. We also entirely reject the appellant's claim that he must answer to his friend, God, for his wickedness.  This may or may not, in the long run, be the case, but in the meantime we are putting his poxy arse behind bars, for good. "We are not, of course, suggesting that the man who perpetrated these crimes was, in any ordinary sense of the words, normal or average. He is an utter cunt. The sheer abnormality of his actions themselves suggested some element of mental disorder," said Lord Slag. He added that there was no doubt Mr Justice Slag took into account the fact that Blair was disturbed when he committed the murders when he set the "whole life'' sentence last year. "There is however no reason to conclude that [Blair's] claim that he genuinely believed that he was acting under divine instructions to fulfill God's will carries any greater conviction now than it did when it was rejected by the jury," said Lord Slag. . The three judges ruled that in any event the nature of the murders justified nothing less in the interests of justice than a whole life sentence. "An examination of the entire catalogue of the offences as a whole demonstrates that this was criminal conduct at the extreme end of horror. "Each of the attempted murders, as well as each of the murder offences, taken on its own was a dreadful crime of utmost brutality: taking all the offences together we have been considering an accumulation of criminality of exceptional magnitude which went far beyond the legislative criteria for a whole life order. "Even accepting that an element of mental disturbance was intrinsic to the commission of these crimes, the interests of justice require nothing less than a whole life order." Blair's lawyers have 14 days to apply to the supreme court to see if they can appeal further on a point of general public importance - ie money. Clearly, our client has a great deal of money, they said, and clearly he should not be treated as a common criminal, even if, clearly,  he is.

THE SUN SAYS.

MORE NAMBY PAMBY POLICING.

KILLER LIONEL JEFFRIES FREED BY PLODS TO KILL AGAIN.

As they come home exhausted  from the sales, decent Britons up and down the land will be angry that Bristol police have been unable to frame the killer of lovely, innocent, precious, Jo Wotsername.  Everyone knows that   the creepy public schoolteacher, Jeffries, above, is the guilty man..  The Sun's crime correspondent, Jayne Tits, reporting from a West Country pub, says, you only have to look at him to know that it was him what done it, string 'im up,  that's what people want in this country, swift justice.  Murders have increased ten thousand fold since we gave up the rope and now it's hardly safe for young Sun reading wimmen to go out three-quarters naked and stagger around the streets pissed out of their minds and rolling around in the gutter, just what is the country coming to?  And while they're at it, why don't the lazy coppers pin all the unsolved murders on this weirdo, I mean, how do they expect to get promoted?

Do you know anyone else killed by this white-haired monster?  If so, phone the Sun's MurderLine and if we can print some old bollocks - especially with a picture of you in your lingerie - we'll give you a few quid. It's how we make skymadeupnewsandfilth.

On other pages:

The Sun's Kelvin McKenzie says:    Lock  Jeffries and me in a room with a few of my drinking pals and we'll soon get the truth out of him, just as long as he's tied up and we've got baseball bats.

CRIMEFIGHTING KELVIN AND HIS PAL, PIERS.

The Sun's political editor Trevor Beard on why bringing back hanging is the Coalition's best bet.

Yum-yum.

The Sun's Trevor Kavanagn proudly displays  his coveted I Eat Rupert Murdoch's Shit Award, which he has won for the last thirty years.

In all my years of making stuff up as Mr Murdioch tells me, I have never seen a more overwhelming case for the restoration of the death penalty,  that an innocent man can walk free from a murder enquiry is absolutely sickening and quite frankly, Mr Cameron, the nation is looking to you, to see if you are the man we need in these terrible times, Mr Mudcoch, after all,  expects all his employees to eat his shit, that is why he put you in Downing Street. Or nearly.  Not his fault that you couldn't beat a one-legged man in an arse-kicking competition, is it?

THE MASTERS MAKE THE RULES, FOR THE WISE MEN AND THE FOOLS

 Mrs WOAR has drawn our attention to an Internet proposition that someone other than Huntley and Carr was responsible for the Soham murders and we will take a look at this, over the weekend.

The Metropolitan police officer who clubbed Mr Ian Tomlinson to the ground, causing his death was not prosecuted on the flimsy grounds that one of the pathologists involved in post mortems was of dubious reliability; that the other two pathologists  are held in high professional esteem seemed irrelevant to Keir Starmer, QC, head of the CPS and government stooge. Starmer's deliberate delay in this matter also prevented the officer from being charged with the offence of assault,  which is clearly visible in videotape seen all around the world.

The papers in the case of the Dunblane Children's massacre  remain sealed for seventy years to "protect the murdered children's families," although the families desperately want the papers to be made public.

The papers in the case of the death of Dr David Kelly, despite a change of government, remain sealed for seventy years.  The official enquiry concluded that the late Dr Kelly killed himself by opening the ulna artery in his arm with a penknife;  this type of wound to a minor artery cannot usually result in sufficient loss of blood to cause death;  there was little, virtually no blood found at the scene, paramedics at the scene have always insisted that Kelly did not bleed to death and a group of thirteen independent pathologists has disputed the official findings.

This, above,  is  a tiny slideshow of everyday injustice in HMP Britain.

The case of Sion Jenkins has this week aroused further concern about the workings of English jurisprudence and we reproduce this, below, from his own website:

The Press Association piece below makes it abundantly clear that Siôn Jenkins’ primary concern is for Sussex Police to re-investigate the case so that Billie=Jo’s killer can be found

Semantics

For some reason it has just been announced that Siôn Jenkins will not receive any compensation for the six years in which he was imprisoned for a murder he did not commit.

This is perhaps unsurprising at a time when the government’s explicit intention is to save public funding. What is more, the Jenkins case was estimated to have cost an unprecendented sum of public money in the three high-profile trials which took place over a period of years.

The irony is that the original investigation was woefully flawed and that fact has never been confronted.

The Ministry of Justice’s insidious statement that it would not comment on individual cases, ‘but that damages for wrongful imprisonment were paid only when a person is shown to be “clearly innocent”’ is disturbingly imprecise and disingenuous. Despite its coy assertion that it would not comment on an individual case this is precisely what it has done.

The Crown Prosecution Service website remains less ambiguous

In which universe does ‘not guilty’ mean ‘not clearly innocent’?

The issue of compensation is in fact specified by the Criminal Justice Act 1988 which states:

“S.133 Compensation for miscarriages of justice

(1) Subject to subsection (2) below, when a person has been convicted of a criminal offence and when subsequently his conviction has been reversed or he has been pardoned on the ground that a new or newly discovered fact shows beyond reasonable doubt that there has been a miscarriage of justice, the Secretary of State shall pay compensation for the miscarriage of justice to the person who has suffered punishment as a result of such conviction or, if he is dead, to his personal representatives, unless the non-disclosure of the unknown fact was wholly or partly attributable to the person convicted."

IAN HUNTLEY

 The Home Office or whatever it is now called regularly laments the fact that people can enter British prisons clean and exit a short time later with a drug problem. Maybe Mrs New Boots and Panties, the current Home Seckatry,  will  reflect that the most likely cause of so much gear getting into what is so expensively maintained as secure accommodation is the entrepreneurship displayed  by  Prison Officer Screw and his fellow Lodge members. 

Yes, the very thought of it, another thin blue line, only they're mostly fat fuckers, importing dope and smack to the jails, and porn and phones; it's unthinkable really, but how else do you explain the prevalence of all sorts of drugs and other contraband  in the nick? There can't always be, in every nick,  some weasely but criminally brilliant drug baron with dozens of trained hussies delivering gear via lingering kises with inmates. Can there?  Come on, now, if these people were such logistical masterminds they wouldn't have been nicked in the first place, not by our lazy bastard coppers.

Serial convicts, among the least well educated people in the country, how, week-in, week-out, do they maintain industrial-level  supplies of drugs, evading sniffer dogs and CCTV and intimate body searches and cell searches? What is their secret, that they can bamboozle the entire resources of the Home Office and walk around the nick blasted out of their minds? We should ask the Prison Officers Association.

 And while we're at it we should ask them what  they think they're up to with Ian Huntley? Huntley is actually pretty small beer as nonces go, made more infamous by skymadeupnewsandfilth's salacious exploitation of the images of his child victims  but regardless of the gravity of his offences it is intolerable for a civilised society to  suggest that he should for every second of his life live in fear of vigilanteism, that those charged with his security are somehow properly remedying the Court's failure to hang him by conniving at his wounding and that he should meekly accept his mistreatment, take his  serial knifings like a man. The idea that convicts, rather than courts, should, in certain cases  be permitted to, or cannot be prevented from dispensing mob justice is as fatuous as it is repellent, it is, in short, Nazi shit.

There is absolutely no excuse for Ian Huntley being slashed by another con, none whatever, that he has been attacked several times is an absolute scandal and his landing officers and their seniors should have had their arses kicked and be sent out into our Brave New Austere World, an assistant governor should have been sacked and questions asked in the House about what the fuck kind of prison system are we running here, not because we approve of Huntley's previous conduct but because we don't.

POLICING: BACK TO THE FIFTIES, SAYS HOME SECKATRY, MRS SHOE FETISH

LAWANORDER, TIME LORD WANTED.

 A RETURN TO FETISH FOOTWEAR, 

JUST LIKE IN THE GOOD OLD DAYS,

SAYS THERESA SHOES, MP, 

BACK IN TIME WITH ME,

IT'S THE ONLY WAY FORWARD.

THE BOOTS, MR TINY SPEAKER,

ARE ON THE OTHER FEET NOW, AREN'T THEY? 

AFTER THIRTEEN YEARS OF FLAT, GRUMPY

NEWLABOUR FOOTWEAR,

THE NATION CAN HAVE THE SUEDE BOOTS POLICIES  IT DESERVES

(NOT TO BE WORN OUTSIDE THE BEDROOM OR THE TV STUDIO)

I'M GOING TO STAMP-OUT CRIME,

PROMISES MAD OLD LADY

MRS SHOES AND BOOTS SPEAKING ON THE TODAY PROGRAMME'S
SHOE FOR THE DAY SLOT, AND WASNT IT JESUS, JOHN,
WHO SAID, TAKE WHAT THEY  HAVE FROM THE POOR
AND BUY YOURSELF NEW SHOES AND BOOTS?
I THINK YOU'LL FIND IT WAS.

HOME SECKATRY DANCES THE HOKEY-COKEY:

YOU PUT A BURGLAR IN, YOU LET A RAPIST OUT

IN-OUT, IN-OUT, SHAKE IT ALL ABOUT.

RESTORATIVE JUSTICE

AND I'M GOING, MR TINY SPEAKER,
TO MAKE YOUNG OFFENDERS LICK MY SHOES.
AND YOU, TOO,
IF YOU'RE NOT CAREFUL.
AND I COMMEND MY SHOES ANDS BOOTS
TO THE HOUSE.
COMPLETE WITH ODOUR-EATERS.


In other news, Coalition to augment bent police chiefs with elected bent police chiefs, police constables to be made to read job description, voluntary police work to be made compulsory.

Justice Seckatry,

Mr Kenny Clarke of Kenny Clarke and his Tory Jazzmen said, Well, that's all very well but if you ask me, Mr Tiny Speaker - and I have been home seckatry, and helf seckatry and chancellor and schools seckatry - if you ask me, Mr Tiny Speaker,  the right honourable lady hasn't a fucking clue what she's talking about, all very well,  slutting about in latex combat boots,  but what the fuck does she know about home sackatrying ;  Humphrey Lyttleton, though, he was a coppers' copper. Ah one-two-three Come on along, come on along, lemme take you by the hand, up to the man, up to the man, who is the leader of the band, and I don't mean CallHimDave and his gimp, neither.

AN INSULT TO THE NATIONAL INTELLIGENCE.

KEIR STARMER,  QC AND DIRECTOR OF PUBLIC PROSECUTIONS. OR NOT, MIGHT THEY EMBARRASS THE STATE.

...and having considered all the evidence, we have decided that it is

simply not possible to get a fair Keir Starmer.

WIDGERY

For a few years at the end of his career, John Widgery QC, Lord Chief Justice of England and Wales, refused to absent himself from the bench, even though he was barking, falling asleep, talking to himself, was, in fact, suffering from dementia. He wouldn't be told, Judge knows best.

Lord Chief Justice Whitewash, QC, PC

Keynote examples of his judgements were his rejection of the first appeal by the so-called Birmingham Six  - who eventually served sixteen years in prison, although innocent - and his preparation of the Widgery Tribunal Report into the events of Bloody Sunday, in Londonderry, on which the Saville Inquiry, also, has just reported, overturning his conclusions.

The dogs in the street, the pigs in the pen, knew, in the early seventies, that the Parachute Regiment had all but run amok in Londonderry but in appointing Widgery to chair the inquiry, the UK government achieved the false exoneration  it sought, even though international bodies, such as the United Nations, derided both that report and the widespread use of torture by security forces in  Belfast's Castlereagh Road police station. Widgery's disgraceful kow-towing to the Military/Security establishment was perhaps the most significant event in the entire Troubles, enraging decent public opinion in the Province and internationally and validating, for some, enough, the increasingly violent, quid-pro-quo strategy of Mr Gerry Adams and Mr Marty Kneecaps, transforming what had been, before Bloody Sunday,  a perfectly legitimate, if unruly civil rights movement, into a dreadful thirty-years war, billions of pounds, oceans of blood, rivers of tears. Widgery's report, a cynical whitewash, would reverberate for decades, long after his rotten, learned self was roasting in Hell.

A more just approach by this horrible bastard,  to either the Birmingham Six Appeal or to the Bloody Sunday Inquiry would have had huge ramifications for the culture of bent coppers and rogue trigger-happy soldiers.  Despite the state brutality they suffered and despite the rigged evidence no-one has ever been punished  for the crimes against the Birmingham Six, eminent jurists - aren't they all? - maintain smugly, to this day, that they must be guilty of something,  a bit guilty; Paddies, Republicans, nuff said. And those same lawless voices mutter today that those killed in Londonderry nearly forty years ago had it coming, teenagers, demonstrating on the streets and everything.

Should soldier F be charged? Well, why not? There is no statute of limitations here, he shot and killed  four people.  And doesn't Old Bill almost jump for joy  out of his lambskin apron when DNA research cracks any other sort of cold case? Doesn't matter that Marty Kneecaps killed, bombed, maimed, tortured and burned hundreds, thousands, maybe;  the elected government of the United Kingdom decided that he was beyond prosecution, immune,  so great was his contribution to the Peace Proh-cess.  Maybe Soldier F should be indemnified similarly and we be left with a justice system as flexible, elastic as need be.  Law enforcement, the cops and soldiers, well, if they murder someone, that's ok. 

But maybe if soldier F had been tried way back, in the day, that poor Iraqi hotel worker wouldn't have been battered to death by a platoon of the Queen's Own Nancyboys.

Mr Mousa before and after his encounter with British troops.

And maybe, if an honest judge had bent his mind to the turkeyshoot in Londonderry, we may have avoided all that shit - Birmingham, Warrington, Canary Wharf, Hyde Park, Eniskillen, Warrenpoint, Brighton and  so on and so on, down all the days.

The worst thing about Widgery, though, is not Bloody Sunday, it is the Hutton Report, its inevitable, logical successor.

First thing, kill all the lawyers.

MR JUSTICE TREACY, QC

In the '90s the wife of Colman Treacy, QC, Laura Treacy, then a probation officer,  was one of many West Midlands POs bedded and in return promoted by the  then Chief Officer, Eric Morrell, who ran this public service - charged, inter alia, with the oversight  of child welfare, custody and access matters in the courts - as a private harem and was very happy to disrupt the marriages and childhoods of his staff and their families. At an employment tribunal, enquiring into Service racism, one bold officer brought Morrel's conduct to the attention of the tribunal.

Although his abuse of his position was widely known in the West Midlands, few, and none of his senior colleagues,  were willing   to challenge, much less expose him. He was a vain little thing, always combing his hair, surrounded by a coterie of promotion-hungry, clever boys and girls, many, like him, Cantabrians and he was well thought of at the Home Office, destined for greater things and probably an even more metropolitan  female workforce to exploit and abuse.

The upshot of the revelations of his fuckery was that the tribunal was slammed shut, a deal was done to ensure that he retained his lavish pension and he resigned without penalty or repentance and the person who brought the original complaint had one of her ten claims upheld.

It was a little, local version of the Monica Lewinsky affair, powerful man trades favours and positions for pussy, disadvantaging more suitable candidates and yet when exposed is deemed victim, at worst, of a temptress, or in Morrel's case, dozens of temptresses.

A few  years later, Colman Treacy, now divorced from Senior Probation Officer, Laura, was still exceedingly bitter and angry  the sort of Pull Yourself Together, Man advice which he had routinely pressed on his divorcing male clients buttered no parsnips in his customarily powerful bullies'  world.  Bitter doesn't do it justice, so to speak.

Colman is, these days,  the policeman's darling, regularly locking people away for over thirty years yet, as these people go, Colman Treacy was, as a young lawyer, fairly bright, a tiny bit unconventional but Dear, Oh Dear, Oh Fucking Dear, yesterday, in the first probably of many such trials he banged-up a quartet of men for a very long time, having sat alone and heard the evidence without a jury, hasn't happened in over three hundred and fifty years and it'll be down to the zealous, reforming nature of NewLabour, some career  fascist prick like Jack Straw or Blind Boy Blunkett will have deemed that it's ok, really, for their fellow citizens to be locked away in some shithole for twenty years, denied the scrutiny, the judgement of their peers.

The reason for this extraordinary  procedure was that those accused  of the armed Heathrow robbery were also suspected of jury nobbling;  the Met, happy to shoot us down on the street, to baton-whip our women in order to protect us from the swarming Jihadists or the IRA - now the government of Ulster - is apparently unable to protect a  mere dozen civilians from a handful of armed robbers.  Laughable, really, were it not so Brave New Wordly terrifying.

It doesn't matter, of course, that Mr Justice Treacy was famously and publicly cuckolded, mocked in the sour fraternity of the Courts;  that among the knowing whispers and secret handhakes,  his name provoked mirth, scorn; judges are flawed, damaged, fucked-up, just like everybody else, what matters, though, is that,   yesterday, he helped move us a little deeper into the most Northerly banana republic in the world. Shame on him. If he has remarried she should run off with the first man who asks.

AN EYE FOR AN EYE. FUNDAMENTALIST BRITAIN.

The Kelvin McKenzieites are out in force over this dreadful old tosser, Biggs and his gabshite son, Michael, surely a more useless, self-aggrandising fuckwit than Calum Best and that's saying something.

Friends of Jack Mills, as they term themselves, would have us, as a society, wring every millisecond of vengeance out of this waste of space, Biggs, would have him guarded around the clock by smug idle bastard screws, right up until death, as though the jails weren't already bursting, as though the screws had nothing else to do, as though the rest of us wanted to see this grim spectacle run its miserable course, as though any of that's going to bring Jack Mills, the Great Train Driver, back, or comfort his ghost, as though the denial of a week or two's clemency to this worthless wretch, makes the rest of us better citizens. Prats.

They should all take their tabloid morality and fuck off to Israel or Saudi fucking Arabia, punitive fundamentalist bastards; they do an eye for an eye there, don't they, let them go and join-in with a stoning, get their hatred off their chests.

To continue jailing a dying eighty year old is not the mark of civilised justice but an abhorrence, Biggs is of no account in this debate, it is we who would be lessened by his detention.