Well Done Lads

Well done chaps.



http://cumbrianpatriotbnp.blogspot.com/


The politically controlled Crown Prosecutions Service brought and persisted in trying to convict Cumbrian Press Officer Clive Jefferson of driving the BNP tannoy car - "Without being in proper control of the vehicle" - during the May elections, earlier this year in Carlisle.

The case hinged on the accusation that Clive was driving while using a hand held microphone, an accusation made - incredibly - by someone looking out of his bedroom window, up his large front garden and over the road! Not a police officer, not another driver or even a concerned pedestrian, no but someone looking out of a first story window. No other complaints, at all, were made during the six hours of tannoying that day. It gets even more bizarre as it unfolds - the whiteness rang the police to complain and this caused every CCTV camera in the city to be alerted and track the BNP tannoy car around the city culminating in a riot van and "back up", being directed by CCTV operators into intercept positions where they stopped the car with full sirens and flashing lights.

The "case" came to its conclusion today, on its third airing, when the witness told the court that the driver - had a beard, the car was green, the numberplate was GEMINI and there was a roof rack on the car - ALL TOTALLY WRONG and that he wasn't actually concerned about the driving on the day in question but thought it might be worth mentioning to the police about the incident. A hour of CCTV footage was then scrutinised by the full court and the first defense witness, BNP Cllr Tony Carvell, was called to give evidence that he was the person talking on the tannoy.

The magistrates then stopped the trail, saying there was no need to have the other defence witnesses give evidence as there was no case to answer.

The press were at court throughout the trail and asked Mr Jefferson for a quote afterwards. Clive told them - "A crime was committed today, not by me but by the CPS for bringing and pursuing this case when clearly I had done nothing wrong. Its political persecution of the worst order and has cost the tax payers thousands, if not tens of thousands of pounds. In a time when young girls are being raped in a string of attacks in West Cumbria , using police, CCTV, courts and resources on un winnable political witch hunts is literally criminal.!"

The Drug Wars and Immigration

The three articles below reveal the reality of immigration on Europes streets.

Mnay immigrants, as we all know too well, use the asylum process and open borders of Europe as a way to establish the links of international drugs gangs.

They come to the UK and Europe with the aim of forging new markets in our countries, but by so doing come up against established indigenous drugs gangs or other immigrant drugs gangs.

This results in the street wars in the articles below.

Immigration is the primary trigger for these gang conflicts, and the more immigrants we import into Europe and our nations the more the drugs trade grows and the more the drug wars grow.

Note how the Hells Angels are blamed for the violence. The Hells Angels are merely defending THEIR streets, the streets of their homeland.

As the lefty writer on the Guardian says - " As we say in Danish: "Why didn't we fix the roof while the sun was shining?"

The problem you idiot wasnt the roof, the problem was that that a deluge of immigrants rained down that flooded the house itself and undermined its foundations.

The roof was fine, its just that the house was flooded.

When you invite guests into your house you are free to tell them how to act in your house, what they are allowed to do whilst inside your property and also at liberty to ask them to leave at any time.

Our house is not their house.

They are guests - and like all guests when they overstay their wlecome then they should just piss off back where they came from when told to piss off.












http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2008/sep/19/denmark

Denmark's rotten secret

Copenhagen is reeling as local youths with Turkish, Palestinian and Pakistani roots fight a drug turf war with the Hells AngelsAll comments (87)

Jakob Illeborg guardian.co.uk, Friday September 19 2008 10:00 BST Article history


Norrebro, the neighbourhood in Copenhagen where I grew up, has for years been plagued by criminal youth gangs whose members are increasingly drawn from the Turkish, Pakistani, and Palestinian communities.

It wasn't always like this; indeed Norrebro used to be seen as an example of how integration in Denmark was working – but that's not the case any more. As competition for the lucrative drug trade has increased, there is a sense of fear and mistrust between the communities and integration is non-existent.

To exacerbate matters, for weeks Copenhagen has witnessed an intensifying war between the notorious motorcycle group, Hells Angels, and the drug gangs. Bullets have flown and many residents are abandoning the troubled area.

Compounding the drug turf wars is a nasty streak of racism. The Hells Angels are currently recruiting prospects to "rid Denmark of the Muslim menace". Meanwhile, their opponents are seeking new members to "eliminate those who want to eliminate us".

A network of violent gangs is operating around town, directly targeting the "fortresses" where Hells Angels hang out. The Angels' response is typically unrestrained: "Hells Angels are a motorcycle club that bothers no one, but if someone steps on our toes we'll stamp back with a vengeance," they said on a website.

Despite these claims, the Angels are no angels. For years they fought an armed war with another motorcycle gang, the Bandidos, vying for control of Copenhagen's criminal markets. Scores of dead later, the conflict cooled down.

If the original motorcycle gangs consisted of misfits, this is even more true of their new enemies. Isolated from society, these kids' only claim to self-esteem is violence. Several well-meaning local groups and individuals have tried to reach out to these youngsters, but all attempts have failed and many of those who tried have had to move out of the neighbourhood, fearing for their personal safety.

Copenhagen and Denmark has turned into a hotspot for racial tension. Immigration is the single most populist political issue. Affluent Denmark has dramatically failed when it comes to integration. With Europe's most stringent immigration laws, an insistence on monoculture and assimilation, the once-pragmatic Danes have increasingly isolated themselves.

The famous Danish photographer, Jacob Holdt, who in the 1970s documented racism in the US and said in today's Politiken newspaper: "Denmark is today more racist than America."

Frightening indeed, and a largely self-created problem. The current centre-right government – supported by the nationalistic and right wing Danish Peoples party – has since 2001 marginalised and stereotyped immigrants.

The troubles on the streets of Norrebro can be traced back to that approach. This is not to defend or excuse the community's violent response – parts of the area are now a total no-go area and even the Danish Broadcasting Corporation is staying away from certain trouble spots as journalists have been threatened with beatings if they film in the area.

How did it come to this? Denmark has been through a decade of years of unprecedented economic growth. Our society is much fairer than the British with far fewer class divisions. As we say in Danish: "Why didn't we fix the roof while the sun was shining?"

The answer, unfortunately, is that there was no will to do so. An unwelcoming host will usually find he has impolite guests. This is the case in Copenhagen right now and it is hard to see how things will change.




http://politiken.dk/newsinenglish/article566476.ece


The Hell’s Angels biker group is experiencing a flood of new applications for membership, in particular for its support group AK81. The group normally receives only few enquiries in its web-based guest book, but the past week alone has seen 250 queries.

Seventy-five of those enquiring have asked to become members of the AK81 group, or to be invited to Hell’s Angels parties in order to gain affiliation.

AK81 is a support group for the Hell’s Angels. The acronym stands for the Danish words Altid Klar (Always Ready), while 81 are the alphabet numbers for H and A.

Showdown
The increase in membership enquiries comes in connection with a showdown in recent weeks between immigrant groups and the Hell’s Angels as well as shows of strength by Hell’s Angels members who have walked the streets of Copenhagen and Århus en masse.

The Hell’s Angels home page has introduced a special AK81 page providing direct mail to the group, thus preventing police from being able to track approaches.

Going fast
A concerned police force has, however, registered the flood of interest in being recruited to what is termed the Hell’s Angels ‘mini-army’.

“We are worried that this is escalating and involving more and more people,” says Deputy Chief Superintendant Jørgen Isalin of the National Investigation Support Centre.

“It’s all going very fast now and there is no doubt that more and more people are joining. This is also happening on the other side too where large numbers of anti-social youths are supporting criminal immigrant groups who cause trouble in the streets and are provoking the Hell’s Angels,” he says.


Last month the conflict between the two groups cost the life of a young man. Since then the showdown has become more open, with shots being fired, hand grenades lobbed and marches in which the gangs show their strength.

“First of all it was the other groups that bothered the Hell’s Angels. Then they started AK81, and now they feel strong enough to arrive at parties, pubs and techno parties to show off their insignia. That is something the other groups won’t accept,” says Isalin.

It has not been possible to get a comment from the Hell’s Angels.






http://www.forbes.com/afxnewslimited/feeds/afx/2008/09/19/afx5448112.html



NAPLES, Sept 19 (Reuters) - Immigrants rioted in a southern Italian town on Thursday after six Africans were shot dead at a tailor's shop, in what police said they suspected was fallout from a drug-related turf war.

Dozens of rioters smashed windows, flipped cars and threw rocks at police, calling for justice and accusing law enforcement of racism for assuming the victims were drug traffickers.

Television footage showed young men wielding metal bars halting traffic and making motorists leave their vehicles.

'We want justice. It's not true that our murdered friends sold drugs or were mobsters,' one protester told reporters.

Police say at least six hitmen sprayed 130 bullets at the men late on Thursday in Castelvolturno, a town of 20,000 northwest of Naples, apparently using a Kalashnikov automatic rifle as well as smaller weapons.

It was one of the bloodiest shootouts in recent memory blamed on the Camorra, the Naples version of the mafia, and stunned a region long used to violence from organised crime.

The six dead were from Ghana, Togo and Liberia, and between the ages of 25 and 31. A man from Ghana was wounded in the shooting, Italian media reported.

'The arrogance of the Camorra has reached intolerable levels,' said Sandro De Franciscis, president of the Caserta province which includes Castelvolturno.

Cardinal Crescenzio Sepe, archbishop of Naples, called for an end to the violence.

'Put down your guns. What you use to kill people today will kill you and your families tomorrow,' Sepe told reporters. 'As long as these killers are not defeated we will always have a cemetery filled up by hate and with violence.'

The Heroin Trade and BBC Asian Radio Attack on the BNP

Image - opium poppies being harvested for opium in Afghanistan by member of Islamist Taliban.



Interesting radio show on the BBC asian radio network which talks about the BNP anti-heroin leaflet which blames muslims for the heroin drugs trade with a free speech supporter defending our right to campaign on the issue and various near the knuckle comments about whites and the bnp by racist asians.

A very good commentator defends free speech and the right to campaign on the issue.

The radio article can be found here ;


http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/console/b00dh8gh

The Sinking Of The Nancy

This engraving, by C. Grignion after Dighton, and published in The Universal Magazine, records the production of The Tempest at Covent Garden in 1776. Miss Brown was the maiden name of Mrs Ann Cargill (c.1759-84).




The Sinking Of The Nancy.






When the full moon illumes a storming sky,
And a spring tide rides abroad, angry and high,
Upon the wild bleak shores of West Rosevear,
That windy scilly island of wild sea birds,
Basking in the gulf stream off the Cornish Coast,
Fisherman still at sea say you can hear,
A faint oratorio, the song of Titania,
From that dark comic opera of Henry Purcell,
Drifting and lilting within the wailing wind,
As the restless ghost of miss Ann Cargill,
Floating amidst the flotsam of ancient cargo,
Escapes the drowned wreck of The Nancy,
Driven to its cruel doom in a winter storm,
Her most precious treasure cradled in her arms.



From scandals in Britain she had fled
With Captain John Haldane snug in her bed,
Securing her freedom within his wooden walls,
Of the sailing ship he commanded, The Fairford,
Ploughing the waves as it sailed to the East,
Cannons primed for any pirates it may meet,
Until she docked amidst the cotton clippers,
Whose masts rose like a forest from the waters,
Upon the shimmering sands of busy Bombay,
Then at the whim of the whig William Pitt,
Who took umbrage at her social conquest,
Again she was forced to leave India and flee,
From the wealth and fame that she had craved,
Adored and feted, but abused and defamed,



Upon The Nancy with the wind in her sails,
Returned to England with her fortune made,
The ship was filled with treasure in its hold,
A precious cargo amassed, a fortune in gold,
Her whole life ahead of her, glory and fame,
Merely a mile from shore, the tide shifts again,
With the shore in sight the storm took her life,
As it sunk The Nancy before the harbour lights,
The back of the boat broke with a loud groan,
The timbers snapping as if brittle bone,
The crew sank screaming beneath the waves,
As Ann and John boarded the last boat left,
But were washed into the waters by the tempest,
Then vanished swiftly from site, into the night.



Now when a winter storm wracks the night,
And white horses crash the black rocks,
Of Rosevear Island, that lies empty still,
Then she can be seen in a white chemise,
Floating in her shift amidst the waves,
As a pale rose adrift upon the foaming waters,
Amidst the dead of the sea's slaughter,
Bobbing as apples in a wooden barrel,
Drifting in the tide, trapped in the channel,
Some say they have seen her climb the rocks,
Singing to the baby she holds aloft,
And all who have heard her distant dirge,
Never forget her sweet and mournful words,
As the song of the Fairy Queen fades away.

The War Poets

The war poets.




If only poets waged wars instead of warriors,
And revolutions fought with rhymes not rifles,
Then no pale bodies would be broken in battle,
Or the innocent killed in cold blood like cattle,
No more ravens and reporters to rob and plunder
All those ‘victories’ that fools call their blunders,
No more would city streets where civilians sleep,
Be pounded into pyres of dust and rubble,
By jets that drone like wasps overhead,
Instead words would be the only weapons,
Deployed in the name of attack and defence,
And poems regarded as the mightiest battalions,
Arrayed in ranks to fight upon plain white pages,
Instruments of art waging far nobler forms of war,
Than that which has shamed man throughout the ages.




Festooned with bandoliers of ironies instead of bullets,
Hurling grenades of rhyming couplets, that stun and startle,
Instead of sundering limbs with shrapnel and high explosive,
Poets will mercilessly bombard the armies of their enemies,
With artillery shells of savage invective and vicious verses,
Where the only metres lost or gained, and the only fame found,
Are not in carved acres of blood soaked ground,
But in the lines of clashing rhymes and lyrical paens,
For the poet opens fire armed only with a pen,
And ink, not blood, flows in the struggle of syntax,
For instead of feeding hungry bullets into greedy guns,
The poet kills with a poesy, simple sarcasm and puns,
No more will troops be marched from mired trenches,
Straight from parade grounds and into deaths clutches,
For the line of fire that widows wives and kills fathers,
Will no longer await the fallen just beyond the wires,
The front line will be the war against lies and propaganda,
That the politicians and journalists plant as dark seeds,
In the killing fields and pages of their newspapers.




The hunting ground of the poet is the soul,
For his IED’s are made with well placed words,
That sudden devastate the enemies sense of self,
With a thundering implosion of bright insight,
That leaves the body intact, but the soul broken,
The aim of the poet is to kill the killer within,
And free the free man from his inner prison,
Leaving the will of the warrior wounded,
But the mind of the man, awake and pellucid,
If formed with skill and wisdom, words wound,
Far deeper than mere flesh, lodging deeper than bone
With shrapnel that cannot be removed with a scalpel,
Slowly killing the heart and mind of its carrier,
When it shifts deep within and crosses the barrier,
Travelling into dreams and daylight visions,
Crippling the conditioning that creates abstractions,
Turning the other side into machines and monsters
Fit only for the flies, constant culling and killing.





Beware the unarmed poet who sings the Glam Dicin,
For his is the dark power that kills from within,
His poems are a gaesa that will make him a king,
And humble all warriors who dare stand against him,
For a satirist is more dangerous than a wounded lion,
His words can bring down kings with secret laughing,
And his most dangerous dragon is a well aimed word,
That infects and pollutes the minds of all who heard,
As like ash upon the snow it stains with doubt,
The honour of a hero, snuffing the divine light out,
Raising boils upon the face of an arrogant lord,
Who in a moment of madness dared draw his sword,
For poets can kill and their very words can maim,
Humbling the arrogant until accursed by name,
So if wars are to fought and honours to be won,
Let poets take up arms and the battles begun.

The New Guard

The New Guard.




When liberty lays naked and defiled,
Stripped of all her powers and reviled,
By the black hand of either friend or foe,
Who plot low treason in high places,
Conspiring to usurp the constitution of our nation,
Whose sacred words were so written,
With the blood of our forefathers,
Who fell to defend their rights hard won,
Through wars and glorious revolution,
Then all free men must rise,
And form from amidst their own ranks, A New Guard,
Sloughing from both limbs and mind,
The unseen chains of apathy and deference,
That allow tyrants and traitors to reign unopposed,
And with grim determination, unceasing strive,
To replace the rule of might with right,
And restore liberty to her eternal throne.

The Regime

The Regime.




One day they will surely come for you,
The same as they once came for me,
For if you live and if you breathe,
Think and read ( but do not believe ),
Then your freedom is a threat to someone.


It is not enough to obey the law,
One must BECOME the law,
You must surrender yourself totally,
In the service of lies,
Or else you will be silenced,
Or else you must die.


For there is no liberty anymore,
Someone, Somewhere, is watching you,
For every signal you send is intercepted,
There no longer exists the introspective,
On paper and tape, or on disc and card,
Are built the walls of the prison yard.