THE DAILY JUSTICE.

HAVE YOU SEEN THAT VIGILANTE MAN?

At the Court of Appeal, recently, some poor, mad cow had her sentence for killing an elderly paedophile more than doubled, from three-and-a-half years to seven-and-a-half. There is no joy to be derived from a lone parent of five going to jail for any period but in the circumstances this was the correct decision, the authorities having referred the original sentence for review, considering it too lenient.

Sarah Sands, 34, is obviously more than a killer, she contains multitudes and will be known as daughter and sister and lover and most importantly as mother but for the purposes of this note killer is her role; she killed the pensioner and life-long beast, Mike Pleasted, 72, having gone to his flat equipped with a knife and  a hammer, and she is blessed already by not being charged, in the first place, with his murder. 

 It seems odd that one can - as she did - drink heavily, arm herself, visit her victim, kill him when he did not respond to her drunken demands and not face a murder charge. She was, further, unacceptably fortunate to receive a sentence of three and a half years, which might have made her parolable after twelve months or so.  There is no satisfactory conversion table  which equates the value of the life taken  with the years to be served but Ms Sands' sentence was taking the piss a bit and the Attorney General was correct to  appeal it.

At her original sentencing the court heard that by way of explanation for her lethal violence she told police:
“He was in front of me. We were staring at each other, I was poking him."
“He was looking dead in my face and he was just standing there and I don’t think either of us realised what had happened.”
 “I didn’t want to go there. He had to listen to me.”
Something, someone, some chorus of voices made her vigilante, made murder not foul, which it is,  but righteous and necessary, which it can never be.  In the age of the catcall, of Murdoch, of tweeted hatreds, of Cruelty TeeVee,  the vulnerable, like Sarah Sands, should shield their eyes and plug their ears.

 It seems that, having children of an age with Pleasted's previous victims, Ms Sands talked herself up into a drunken rage - easily done, God knows - about a beast living so close to her own LuvEm2Bits tribe - didn't LuvEm Enuff to keep herself at home with them, and one would expect them now to be in local authority care,  but never mind, Luvvin'Em2Bits isn't really about loving them at all and generally means the exact opposite,  the dreadful narcissism of the father who burdens his son with the curse of being his best friend,  the mother who makes her daughter jailbait almost before she can walk - and went to confront the now deceased with his offending behaviour, insisting that he plead guilty.  He had only been charged at the time of his murder  and awaited trial, perhaps conviction and sentence but having  several previous convictions he  was obviously guilty. 
 She started giving him a bollocking and then just stabbed him to death.  Many said she should have been given a medal. Seven-and-a-half years  is a different kind of recognition.

Now, however much we are troubled by paedophilia - and it is nowhere near enough in my view - we can't have people going around doing that, it's not in anyone's interests, especially not Ms Sands'  or her children's - claiming to protect them she has, instead, abandoned them to the dubious mercy of the local authority, to the same sorts of structures which so accommodated great public servants like Sir Cyril Smith and Sir Jimmy Savile - and it's against the law, too.

You wonder where people find inspiration for this sort of behaviour.  It's alright to say she was pissed and separated from her reason,  but not everybody just goes and stabs their neighbour to death, doesn't matter how aggrieved, how pissed they are. The temptation is to imagine her life as being grinding and relentless, a permanent,  waking nightmare of poverty, incapacity, accusation and want, an existence so miserable that the chastisement of one further down the  index of human capital provides a  momentary sense of betterment;  imagining her life, five fatherless children and an urge to drink, one can maybe understand her behaviour. It is common - but not universal - among prisoners to berate, spit on, scald, knife and kill the child molester, as if to demarcate their incarceration from his, like John Cleese and the Two Ronnies, parodying the class system.  I'm a burglar, me, an' I look up to the armed blagger, but I look down on the nonce.  Ms Sands was clearly and murderously moved  by such stratification of badness and  I daresay that her insights into jurisprudence flow from people like this cunt

Kelvin McKenzie, favourite  of the Paedophile Broadcasting Corporation

and this one. 


Murdoch bitch, Brooks.

With her sentence more than doubled by the Appeal Court, Ms Sands may reappraise her actions in relation to child protection, now that hers are not protected. She now, also, has the time to read something other than skymadeupnewsandfilth;  
I hope she does. 

IRISH NEWS.
A JOURNEYMAN TORTURER, A CAREER SLAYER OF WOMEN AND CHILDREN SPEAKS OUT ON CIVIL UNREST.

On the news of a single murder in Dublin, claimed by inheritors of his mantle, mass murderer, child killer, torturer and nonce Gerry Adams, had this to say:

“It was a brazen attack in broad daylight by criminal thugs who believe they can operate with impunity and above the normal rule of law,” he added.

You could fast, rub your lips with cocaine, squirt tramadol up your arse and fill your nostrils with amphetamine sulphate for forty days and forty nights and not in your wildest, most paranoid,  wasted, hallucinatory come-down would your frazzled, distorted, delusional, screeching mind conjure up anything as unspeakably vile as Gerry the Nonce Adams.
 
Gerry's Greatest Hits. 

Murder, murder everywhere.

Enniskillen Remembrance Day Blues.

“Our overriding aim is to ensure criminal thugs - just not us - have nowhere to run and nowhere to hide.
“They need to be brought to justice, be subject to the full rigour of the law and put behind bars where they belong. Only not me.”

The fact that so many in Ireland see this  revolting child-molesting torture-monster as their future president is reason enough to quit the EU, isn't it?


IT'S ROUGH UP NORTH.

I was told, years ago, of a case commenced in Solihull Magistrates Court.  A young Pakistani man was appearing for the first adjournment of his case.  He had arrived at Birmingham International Airport and almost immediately followed a young woman into a toilet and molested her.  His brief told the court that he was a simple young man from a Pakistan hill village and his brothers and cousins in the UK had told him that, here, white women all wanted sex, all the time, and it was upon this misunderstanding that  his offence was committed. 
 It might, of course, just have been the solicitor clutching at straws on his client's behalf, equally, it might have been true.  Certainly, in my years in the West Midlands, I saw countless groups of Asian men - in Balti houses, cash'n'carrys, bed shops and taxi firms behaving in what we used to call a lewd manner towards white women;  I even have dim memories of my early childhood in Balsall Heath, then a near-inner city slum with high immigrant numbers,  where grown-up rumour and whisper and indeed  the evidence of one's own eyes suggested that muslim men and young white women made for an unwholesome takeaway.  I doubt that any of these British-born men were labouring under any misapprehensions, foisted upion them by cousins or brothers, they were merely acting in a way for which they had been pardoned, as it were, in advance, by institutionalised anti-racism.

My old man worked with and liked what were called West Indians and they were in and out of our house,  I loved their blackness and their curly hair, which I tried, sitting on their knees, to straighten.  I would've been about six, I suppose, and easily impressed by good-natured Otherness, but my parents and siblings would hurry me past street-corner dives and shops with muslims gathered outside,  as though we were in real danger. we didn't actually have a sign in our window, saying, Blacks, Poles, Irish and Dogs Welcome, but no Muslims, but that was the multi-cultural leitmotif, you could be from anywhere, just as long as you didn't want to replicate, here, what you'd left there.

As an adult, although much attitudinally changed, I never felt easy around groups of muslim men, still don't, always thinking that they have a congenital urge to cut off my head, something I felt long before ISIL made decapitation an act of obeisance to Allah, peace and blessings be ironically upon His name. And it's only Muslims, maybe Sikhs, too, on reflection, with their knives and anger, who unnerve me.  Never been bothered by blacks or Hindi Indians.  It must be some remembered empire commonality, we enslaved and conquered the Africans and Indians, never quite managed it with the muslims, and it shows. I am just hearing a woman on the TeeVee, moaning that she's a British-Pakistani-woman, who has to fight every day for, I dunno,  something or other.  Maybe if she was just a British woman, not a hyphenated-citizen, she wouldn't have to fight quite so much;  am I  Viking-Norman-Scots-Ulster-Diabetic-British;  will somebody help me express all my -nesses, maybe start me a support group, with community leaders and funding? No, of course they fucking won't. Like many of my generation of immigrants I quickly learnt to speak Brummy on the street and at school, maintaining my Ulster-Scots Belfastese in the house, 'ncase m'mammy boxed m'ears.  I was just an infant and I understood instinctively the harsh purity of street wisdom.  

I am at a loss, therefore, to understand this present furore about Asian women being unable to speak passable English;  it is not that they can't, most people in the world can have a stab at it, English is the global lingua franca,  the language of computing, mathematics, infotainment, Coca-Cola and Shakespeare, half-way across the world people learn it by osmosis, how can it be that people living daily in Yorkshire for decades do not? The reason is that their husbands won't let them, the cunts would eat their fucking sandals rather than let their women speak English, learn Englishness.  They must speak only fluent Patriarch, and keep their eyes down.  How have we allowed this widespread spousal abuse to continue and flourish?  How much has it cost us, reshaping our own culture into that of savage mudhut-dwellers? It is not the seemingly recalcitrant women who should  be challenged but their nasty, bullying, patriarchal areshole husbands and sons who need slamming up against the wall, motherfuckers.

Things might have been better were it not for the likes of Lord Hattersley,

For more than 30 years, I took the votes of Birmingham Muslims for granted. The Muslims themselves I treated with more respect. But if, at any time between 1964 and 1997 I heard of a Khan, Saleem or Iqbal who did not support Labour I was both outraged and astonished.
My presumption was justified. It was the Muslim vote - increased by an influx of families from Kashmir, the Punjab and other parts of Birmingham - which expanded my majority from barely 1,200 to more than 12,000.


 Jack Straw,


You do know that it costs five thousand pounds a day to be near me?

Cancer, walking.

No, I think you'll find that David Cameron will give me my peerage, just be delayed a little, we are all on the same side, after all.

Before the last election, a former Blackburn police chief superintendent, Mick Gradwell,  told the Daily Mail: 
“When I joined in 1979 one of my first tasks was to police around a Blackburn nightclub where one of the issues was Asian men cruising around in BMWs and Mercs trying to pick up drunken girls. This has been going on for decades”

He continued: "You have young girls being abused and raped and yet the most senior officers, chief constables,  are refusing to comment on it. On what other subject would you get that? How many young girls have been abused and raped because of the reluctance of the authorities to say exactly what is happening?”

Straw was MP for Blackburn throughout this period and for part of it he was home secretary and justice secretary.  It is inconceivable that he knew nothing of this;  too busy, perhaps, lying his arse off, starting his own crime wave in Iraq.

 the likes of Dennis McShane,


McShane, along with Chris Huhne, one of Newsnight's house criminals.  Who gives a fuck that they robbed the taxpayer, lied to parliament and the courts, the PBC does that from dawn 'til dusk.


Oh, 'sno biggie, they're just little scrubbers....
Yes, I'm minded to agree with you.

 well, all of the New Labour criminals, happy to see any number of hostile, alien, insular, potentially explosive ghettos sprout up all over the country, just as long as they always voted NewLabour.  They can fuck any number of underage children, they're only the underclass anyway.


Last week, (August 23, 2014) Denis MacShane, the former MP for Rotherham, admitted he might have not done enough about child sexual exploitation by Asian men in his constituency because he was a "Guardian-reading liberal leftie". MacShane, who resigned as an MP in 2012 over expenses fraud for which he was later jailed for six months, told the BBC he was never directly approached by anyone with allegations of child abuse during his 18 years as an MP.
Yet he "probably" didn't do as much as he could have done and should have "burrowed into" the issue, he said. "I think there was a culture of not wanting to rock the multicultural community boat, if I may put it like that."
from the Guardian.

Things might have been better were it not for the likes of the PBC, which, even today, barely reported the sentencing, in Bradford, of a dozen Asian beasts, preferring to run on the news bulletins an advert for a new album by someone called Rhiannon.  In America. Things might have been better if the cops, all over the country, had not so shamefully and improperly described the victims of these gangs - when they acknowledged them at all -  as complicit, conspiring in their own abuse, worthless fucking bastards, the police, 

 
I am quite happy to offer a full and unqualified opportunity, I mean apology, for whatever it is and accept full responsibility.  What's that mean? Well, whaddaya think it means, it means fuck all.

always up to their arses in theft and drugs and porn and pimping, framing people up, blaming a twelve-year old for provoking her own gang-rape, 


Resign?  
Since when's incomopetence been a resigning matter?

lest worshipful brethren in high places be called racist, lest the chalice of vibrant, diverse, multi-cultural horsepiss be o'erturned and those who drank from it seen as knaves and fools, beasts and bastards. That thin blue line which is the only thing separating  us from utter Decency.

Chief constables, MP's, cabinet ministers, councillors,  journalists, priests, prelates and the national broadcaster, all turning a blind eye to racially motivated hate crime, sex crime, drug trafficking and violence, perpetrated against our most vulnerable,  by our most despicable, and telling us that even to mention this epidemic is unhelpful.

Talking about this, earlier, someone raged What would these fuckers do, how would they feel if this happened to their mother or sister?
The answer, of course, is that they would kill them, for bringing shame upon the family. 

Nobody can tell me that they wouldn't, because I know that they do;  theirs is a primitive, brutal esprit de corps, in which woman is less than the enemy, just a chattel to be used, most of the time it is white women but these Islamic men, now approaching us in force, will rape and kill any woman, some of them will, anyway, enough of them.


It is  not as though we suffer a shortage of native paedophiles, is it, the legislature, the courts, the churches, the PBC, they're all bursting at the seams with nice, middle class, white child sex offenders, maybe we should deport some of them to Pakistan, shift the balance of trade, as it were, in Sin, back in our favour. 

We are told that the overwhelming majority of Muslims,  Brit-borns and immigrants,  only came her to very kindly help us out, with the NHS, and to pay lots of tax, and to care for us when we age.  If you believe that, you'll believe anything because  the need, the really pressing need for nurses and doctors and income tax is not here but in the countries which they have abandoned,  the countries from which they would siphon-in as many of their friends and relatives as possible to, using rules framed by filth like Straw, make us strangers in our own land, apostates of an alien, sexist, patriarchal, hand-chopping religion. These people, like all immigrants, are here for themselves,  they don't give a fuck about their own countries, why should they, when we will help recreate them here? With roads and plumbing.

Although her victim, like the majority of sex offenders,  was white as she, we can see how and where Ms Sands climbed onto this filthy carousel, can't we, 

and she doesn't know the half of what we know, here.
She simply sees that the bad people are often treated better than the good people.

If a nation state does not buttress and defend its borders it becomes ungovernable,  the more rapidly when those who force entry aim not for co-operative assimilation but domination.  That government and the authorities should have conspired in this madness, to the extent of silently pimping our children is almost unbelievable, almost. 

THE WAR ON DRUGS.


Towel-folder minor, with Towel-folder major, aka Junky George, inset.

George Osborne's younger brother, Adam,  a convert to Islam, is in a bit of a scrape with his professional regulatory body, the GMC has suspended him while it examines charges of improper conduct with a vulnerable patient, a posh term for noncing.  Like the politicians, the medics get to police themselves, one of the perks of the trade so's nothing too radical ever happens to the miscreants. And Adam  has form for this, only last year, as well as for forging prescriptions for an unnamed family member. I suppose that having a doctor in the family, even one, like Adam, good for fuck all, can be useful.

 It's the sort of thing junkies do, blag scrips off friends and relations.

I wonder who it is, the unnamed family member.