The Angry Exile: More alco-nazism.

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, 15 May 2009

More alco-nazism.

Christ, this is so depressing, not least because I find myself agreeing with Gordon Clown.

Setting a minimum price per unit of alcohol at 50p would save 3,400 lives a year without hitting on the moderate drinker, MPs heard.
Gordon Brown has already rejected the idea saying it would 'punish' the moderate drinker but this argument was 'specious' and 'selfish', the Commons Health Select Committee was told.
Researchers at Sheffield University said a 50p per unit minimum would add just £12 a year to the drinks bill of the moderate drinker however someone drinking at harmful levels would be forced to pay £163 a year more.

I have to be honest and admit that I expected it to have come from one of the usual fake charities, though I'd be surprised if they don't come out of the woodwork before long.

In a speech on Tuesday Gordon Brown said: "We are going to bring in a new mandatory code on the sale of alcohol – not as some have asked bringing in a minimum price, which would punish the majority of responsible drinkers – but to tackle binge drinking, targeting the kind of promotions – like "drink all you can for a fiver" – which can turn some town centres into no-go areas."

Gord you tool, you don't even need to do that. No-go areas are down to two things: the over indulgence of an irresponsible minority and the failure of the police and courts to deal with them properly. Let the market sort out the prices and the promotions, and then get the police to arrest those who allow themselves to get out of control as a result. No pressure, just when they can find time away from harassing motorists, guarding Jacqboot Smith's main home/second home/sister's home, calling her a third world dictator and beating up protestors and innocent bystanders.

But in evidence to the Select Committee, Mike Craik, Chief Constable of Northumbria, Association of Chief Police Officers (ACPO) Lead for Licensing said he supported a minimum unit price.
"The evidence is clear and unequivocal.
"It even accommodates the slightly specious and not least selfish argument around punishing the moderate drinker. I don't quite buy that and that is my personal and professional view not necessarily the ACPO view.

As I said, try arresting the troublemakers. The responsible majority of people can get off their dials and be no trouble at all. The rest should be encouraged to spend their Friday and Saturday nights somewhere where there's no alcohol. Prison for example.

In Scotland ministers are already considering introducing a minimum price per unit of alcohol.

Which suggest the Nats are as big a bunch of authoritarian pricks as the rest. Poor bloody Scots, what the fuck have they done to deserve it? Other than vote for the bastards of course.

Dr Petra Meier, of Sheffield University was commissioned by the Department of Health to evaluate the effect different policies would have on drinking levels and associated harm.
...
Dr Meier told the Health Select Committee the 50p minimum would prevent 3,400 deaths and reduce the number of hospital admissions by 98,000 a year.
Harmful drinkers are defined by Government statistics as someone who drinks around 3,600 units a year.
...

These numbers wouldn't have been pulled out of Dr Meier's arse, would they? It's not like there isn't a precedent for it, is there?

Moderate drinkers are those who drinking within recommended levelso of less than 14 units per week for women and less than 21 uinits [sic] a week for men. Harmful drinkers are defined as more than 50 units a week for men and more than 35 units a week for women - levels that experts say it likely to lead to negative helth consequences.

That'd be the same 21 units for men and 14 for women that, as the Devil said, were made up on the spot over twenty years ago. So I think my doubts about the reliability of any claims of X thousand prevented deaths, or hospital admissions, or hangovers, or drunken shags, or whatever, have some justification. Perhaps if I drink a whole slab of beer this weekend it'll sound more convincing.