The Angry Exile: Stupid law

The Hangman

Into our town the Hangman came,
Smelling of gold and blood and flame.
And he paced our bricks with a diffident air,
And built his frame in the courthouse square.
The scaffold stood by the courthouse side,
Only as wide as the door was wide;
A frame as tall, or little more,
Than the capping sill of the courthouse door.
And we wondered, whenever we had the time,
Who the criminal, what the crime
That the Hangman judged with the yellow twist
of knotted hemp in his busy fist.
And innocent though we were, with dread,
We passed those eyes of buckshot lead --
Till one cried: "Hangman, who is he
For whom you raised the gallows-tree?"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
And he gave us a riddle instead of reply:
"He who serves me best," said he,
"Shall earn the rope of the gallows-tree."
And he stepped down, and laid his hand
On a man who came from another land.
And we breathed again, for another's grief
At the Hangman's hand was our relief
And the gallows-frame on the courthouse lawn
By tomorrow's sun would be struck and gone.
So we gave him way, and no one spoke,
Out of respect for his Hangman's cloak.
The next day's sun looked mildly down
On roof and street in our quiet town,
And stark and black in the morning air
Was the gallows-tree in the courthouse square.
And the Hangman stood at his usual stand
With the yellow hemp in his busy hand;
With his buckshot eye and his jaw like a pike
And his air so knowing and business-like.
And we cried, "Hangman, have you not done
Yesterday, with the foreign one?"
Then we fell silent, and stood amazed,
"Oh, not for him was the gallows raised."
He laughed a laugh as he looked at us:
"Did you think I'd gone to all this fuss
To hang one man? That's a thing I do
To stretch a rope when the rope is new."
Then one cried "Murder!" and one cried "Shame!"
And into our midst the Hangman came
To that man's place. "Do you hold," said he,
"with him that was meant for the gallows-tree?"
And he laid his hand on that one's arm.
And we shrank back in quick alarm!
And we gave him way, and no one spoke
Out of fear of his Hangman's cloak.
That night we saw with dread surprise
The Hangman's scaffold had grown in size.
Fed by the blood beneath the chute,
The gallows-tree had taken root;
Now as wide, or a little more,
Than the steps that led to the courthouse door,
As tall as the writing, or nearly as tall,
Halfway up on the courthouse wall.
The third he took -- we had all heard tell --
Was a usurer, and an infidel.
"What," said the Hangman "have you to do
With the gallows-bound, and he a Jew?"
And we cried out, "Is this one he
Who has served you well and faithfully?"
The Hangman smiled: "It's a clever scheme
to try the strength of the gallows-beam."
The fourth man's dark, accusing song
Had scratched our comfort hard and long;
"And what concern," he gave us back.
"Have you for the doomed -- the doomed and Black?"
The fifth. The sixth. And we cried again,
"Hangman, Hangman, is this the man?"
"It's a trick," he said. "that we hangmen know
For easing the trap when the trap springs slow."
And so we ceased, and asked no more,
As the Hangman tallied his bloody score.
And sun by sun, and night by night,
The gallows grew to monstrous height.
The wings of the scaffold opened wide
Till they covered the square from side to side;
And the monster cross-beam, looking down,
Cast its shadow across the town.
Then through the town the Hangman came,
Through the empty streets, and called my name --
And I looked at the gallows soaring tall,
And thought, "There is no one left at all
For hanging, and so he calls to me
To help pull down the gallows-tree."
So I went out with right good hope
To the Hangman's tree and the Hangman's rope.
He smiled at me as I came down
To the courthouse square through the silent town.
And supple and stretched in his busy hand
Was the yellow twist of the hempen strand.
And he whistled his tune as he tried the trap,
And it sprang down with a ready snap --
And then with a smile of awful command
He laid his hand upon my hand.
"You tricked me. Hangman!," I shouted then,
"That your scaffold was built for other men...
And I no henchman of yours," I cried,
"You lied to me, Hangman. Foully lied!"
Then a twinkle grew in the buckshot eye,
"Lied to you? Tricked you?" he said. "Not I.
For I answered straight and I told you true --
The scaffold was raised for none but you.
For who has served me more faithfully
Then you with your coward's hope?" said he,
"And where are the others who might have stood
Side by your side in the common good?"
"Dead," I whispered. And amiably
"Murdered," the Hangman corrected me:
"First the foreigner, then the Jew...
I did no more than you let me do."
Beneath the beam that blocked the sky
None had stood so alone as I.
The Hangman noosed me, and no voice there
Cried "Stop!" for me in the empty square.

Maurice Ogden

Friday 23 January 2009

Stupid law

Elavi Dowie is a criminal. He has been caught not once but twice, and the enormity of this is so shocking it's probably worth sitting down, standing around in Manchester selling CDs. This guy actually had the temerity to stand in one place committing his crimes for hours at a time, and clearly this is too much of an affront to civilised society for the authorities to ignore.

Manchester City Council spent £3,000 on prosecuting Elavi Dowie, 31, for twice breaching a 19th century law on street trading.
The law allows traders to spend up to 20 minutes on the city's Market Street. But CCTV footage proved that on one occasion Mr Dowie was hawking CDs of his music for 35 minutes, while on another he stood at the same spot for several hours.

Seriously, what the fuck is the point of this? First there's the ridiculous arbitrary limit implying that 19 minutes and 59 seconds is fine and 20 minutes and 1 second isn't. Why? The average branch of HMV doesn't move at all and trades for a good 9 hours a day or more, yet nobody fines them for it. Is this just because Mr Dowie is getting away without paying rates because he has no premises? I wouldn't be at all surprised.

A spokesman [for Manchester City Council] said: " ... Mr Dowie's activities were illegal and we have a duty to protect consumers, particularly during the current economic climate.
"Consumers who buy products from illegal street traders are unlikely to get their money back if they make a complaint."

And what happened to caveat emptor? And how come car boot sales are allowed given that you're not going to get your money back there if you accidentally buy a shitter? I'm not denying that Mr Dowrie was breaking a law, but what a stupid fucking law.

He said after the case: "I was basically going up to people in the street and explaining to them about my music. The CD only cost £1 and people were willing to buy it."

Yeah, ok, I do get annoyed by people coming up to me when I'm out and about and start trying to sign me up for a gym or flog me an aircon unit or whatever, but if blanking them doesn't work then a polite no usually does. And if all else fails a good solid "piss off" will be effective, though personally I prefer to fake interest and waste as much of their time as possible before walking off. But here's the thing: while Mr Dowrie may have annoyed some people I think it's safe to assume he didn't force anyone to buy a CD (and being only a quid it's not a big deal if it turned out not to be that flash). And where's it written down that we're all guaranteed not to be annoyed when we go out? What Mr Dowrie was doing was little different in effect from legal street traders, charity collectors, and any number of clipboard wielding pests doing market research.

Did no-one ever think that maybe prosecuting someone for something really fucking trivial under a piece of antique legislation might not have been in the public interest, not to mention a world class waste of time and money and a potential PR embarrassment? I reckon this boils down to a bunch of twats being shitty just because they can. The fact that the cost of bringing the case was three grand and Elavi Dowrie was only fined 300 just goes to show that they're useless shitty twats as well.