Thoughts of an Anarchist

ooooeeeooo I look just like Buddy Holly
oh oh and you’re Mary Tyler Moore
I don’t care what they say about us anyway
I don’t care about that!

Okay, so I logged on to Google today and I happen to see this headline:

The actual story turned out to be a man chasing a robber away from the store he was shopping in with a bag full of bleach which contained a single lettuce, but oh, such wonderful headlines. Other gems found in recent months have included ‘MPs in Dining Room “Misuse Probe”‘ and ‘Documents Reveal BBC Dyke Drama’, as well as various other amusements.  

In actual news (with actual graphs) we have discovered a new planet, which makes my inner Sci-Fi nerd do triple jumps and gives me a little squee of excitement, and there are debates over whether Harry should be sent to Iraq. Now let’s just ignore how we’d all love it if the monarchy happened to accidentally get blown up (actually, that’s probably just me) and think a second:

• Harry goes to Iraq. The opposition, as promised, make him a target.
• Harry goes out on patrol. Possibly gets seriously disturbed by things he sees.  

Harry either decides to go home or not. If he does, what do we do; decide ‘hey ho we were wrong’ and withdraw him, meaning it really is one law for the rich another for the poor? Or leave a young man to rot in Iraq; a young man who happens to be third in line to the throne? Let’s assume we leave him there, whether by his choice or not.

• Harry goes out on patrol. Many people are blown up due to the opposition trying to blow Harry up.

Harry is either captured, killed, or eventually returns home.

• If Harry is captured, Jesus, people, think of the consequences: a member of the royal family in enemy hands. You thought the Iran thing was bad with a couple of unknown soldiers? We’ll be recieving him in bits! The war’ll spark up again! Death! Etcetera!
• If Harry is killed… we lose a young man, a nation mourns, people say ‘O shit’, and rather than withdrawing our troops, we fight again for revenge.
• If, against the odds, he survives (and let me just say how slim the chances of this are, as it’s dangerous enough for an ordinary soldier or even citizen in Iraq, let alone an actual political target serving on the front line) we get a prince, maybe even someday a king, who is a hardened fighter, who has learnt to kill, and who is possibly severely traumatised by what he has seen. Call me strange, but that is not who I want as a leader.

If Tony Blair announced he wanted to serve on the front line, we’d go bezerk! Now, I appreciate Son of the Prince of Wales and Prime Minister of Great Britain are hardly the same thing, but the point still stands - Harry will be endangering both himself and his fellow soldiers by being out there, and indeed his country. ARE WE INSANE? Withdraw him before it’s too late!

I obviously don’t want to make it one for the rich, another for the poor. I’d much rather we had no monarchy at all. But the fact remains that as long as we have the monarchy they are there to serve us, not endanger us. And regardless of who he is, Harry is a 22 year old, and nobody that age - if indeed we ever are - should be able to throw their life away. It’s a senseless waste of human life and the sooner we realise that, the better for all of us, and for all those people in Iraq.

I may not agree with what they’re doing, but I salute them nonetheless.

Abs x

 Have literally no voice, as in can’t speak at all, can’t make noise.

Do this, though, people, because it’s really quite accurate and takes a few moments.

miss you x

April is National Poetry Month, so when you see this, post a poem you like on your blog.

NOISE, BY POOH

Oh, the butterflies are flying,
now the winter days are dying,
And the primroses are trying
To be seen.
And the turtle-doves are cooing,
And the woods are up and doing,
For the violets are blue-ing
In the green.

Oh, the honey-bees are gummingOn their little wings, and humming
That the summer, which is coming,
Will be fun.
And the cows are almost cooing,
And the turtle-doves are mooing,
Which is why a Pooh is poohing
In the sun.

For the spring is really springing;
You can see a skylark singing,And the blue-bells, which are ringing,
Can be heard.
And the cuckoo isn't cooing,
But he's cucking and he's ooing,
And a Pooh is simply poohing
Like a bird.

            A.A. Milne

So, I am actually rather ill, again, meaning that not only have I not slept since about 10 yesterday morning, as I got zero last night, and I mean zero, I have also spent a large time of the week being sick and other wonderful things I shan’t tell you. Now, this is very inconvinient for a number of reasons:

1. I am very close to my French Speaking exam, and could really use the practice. I think.
2. It’s bloody painful and quiet upsetting. There have been tears.
3. I feel like a complete wimp for staying off school.
4. I also have to do quite a few other GCSEs, and these will require both knowing things and revising - in some subjects, like science, I really need those lessons…
5. I’ve missed MORE Drama rehearsals.
6. I wanted to go to Dingle’s this evening.
7. Most of all, I’ve really missed all of you so much, and it’s been impossibly boring, and I love you guys so much and I never notice it so much as when you’re not here, or rather when I’m not there.
8. I missed the six months through illness. And I am so, so sorry. I love you.
9. The other reasons repeated, but louder.

Also, I have read far more than is good for me - ow. back in a second.

Back.

Ow.

Where was I? I don’t care, I’m so tired and I can’t sleep.  I miss you guys.

I can only offer as comisserations the ‘cat macros’, which I discovered recently, and they make me laugh, SO DEAL: