Thursday, 27 October 2011

Guy Fawkes, Where Are You Now?

There's been a measure of fuss made about the 'Occupy' gatherings.

For those of you not in the know...join the que.

From what I can gather it's something to do with banks - at least that's what the members in New Yorks' encampment are saying - but to be honest, had I not caught this in passing, I wouldn't have known.  The trouble is, my local Occupy effort consists of a handful of tents, not really in the way of anyone, barely in anybodies field of vision with a poster of Bob Marley smoking a blunt (the mass production of these throughout history must surely have contributed in a large way to the decimation of several forests) stapled to a tree and a handful of those ready-made 'crusties' that seem to be constantly available for this sort of thing:- Where do they get them?

Anyway, the point being that their commitment, wilful stubbornness and struggle to make themselves knows means they aren't a patch on the yoofs by the shops.  There they have been for a fortnight already, standing solemnly by a Guy Fawkes effigy*, asking for a penny with a curious mixture of dejection, disdain and mirthless foreboding.

When I saw their guy, slumped against the overflowing drainpipe in the St. Elmo's Fire-esque glow of the shops' Insect-o-cute, I assumed it was another one of their number as anyone of these beggars could fit the bill of a ragged dummy in ill-fitting clothing and like a Guy Fawkes effigy, I would 'ooh' and 'aah' at the sight of them on fire.

Their commitment is without question; their message is clear:- Come rain or flood, they'll be there till well after Bonfire Night, and if you try humorously to give them a penny, they'll follow you home and rape your pets with a snapped-off windscreen wiper.  Oh and it may also be an error to ask these inividuals if any of them know a jot about the gunpoder plot lest you catch them just at the point where the cider/weed/Ketamine kicks in.

*It should be noted that like all the 'Guys' I have ever seen in my town, this one too has been assembled with the minimum of materials/care/fundamental historical knowledge:- Consisting mainly of what seems to be a hoodie, some paint flecked shorts and carrier bags, all lovelessly piled up to look like about as little like a seventeenth century Catholic activist as is viable.


  1. I always thought begging was against the law in the UK. dirty little begging children should be locked up in a room with rabid dogs and a local kiddie fiddler. that way . . . umm. . bloody Thatcher!

  2. It's all this global warming, PC madness gone to Hell in a handcart.