The Angry Exile: Useful idiots.

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 October 2009

Useful idiots.

Useful to the BNP that is.

Yeah, go UAF! Nice work, fucktards. You could have blanked the twat and made the whole thing a non-event beyond the 'Minor Politician Makes Tit Of Self' column filler that would have been my ideal, but no, you had to turn up and try to prevent him getting into the studio. I don't know how accurate Griffin's claim that the Labour Party financed groups of protestors to come from all over the country - I'd have thought it's probably bollocks actually - but the signs weren't home made jobs slapped together quickly for a spontaneous protest. Nope, they were done properly by the usual suspects: UAF and Socialist Worker*. Cretins.

Traffic outside Television Centre in White City, west London, ground to a halt as hundreds of campaigners demonstrated against Mr Griffin's presence on the Question Time panel.
Speaking after entering the building, Mr Griffin said of the protesters: "I was rather expecting that."

Fucking hoping for it, more like. Oh, it didn't entirely play into there hands, sure. I'm sure Griffin and the BNP were hoping for more and the best case scenario for them might have been Griffin making a delayed entrance because of being unable to get past the protest safely and eventually joining the panel after the show had started. But unless he makes himself look comically retarded on TV - and I'm still waiting for it to hit YouTube and hoping that he comes across as being the Old Labour style leftist with added xenophobia that he is - the news will show protestors trying to silence and intimidate the BNP. That's probably not a bad result for Griffin.

Why are these Unhinged About Fuckwittery clowns unable to see the damage they're doing to their own cause? Why do people have to keep pointing out that behaving like fascist bullies to those you perceive to be fascists makes them look like the victims, and why the hell isn't it sinking in? Why can't they see that they've become what they say they hate? And rather than try to deny a legitimate, albeit loathsome, party and its leader their right to voice their opinions why not let them speak and expose themselves for what they are, maybe stirring in a little ridicule?

I know the Downfall parodies have been a bit overdone what with Hitler ranting about fucking videogames and so on, but this one was appropriate and closer to what made the originals good.

UPDATE: From the Beeb:

Welsh Secretary Peter Hain, who had tried to stop the broadcast, said: "The BBC should be ashamed of single-handedly doing a racist, fascist party the biggest favour in its grubby history."

Some people have been saying that since the 1990s, only not about the BNP. If Purgatory exists I'd to think yours and Nick Griffin's is to be chained together for eternity, you boff-haired, censor happy, orange cunt.

* Those buggers love protesting and are practically guaranteed to put in an appearance. If you can't get Socialist Worker to pitch up for your protest then you're either not doing it properly or you're the Countryside Alliance wanting the hunting ban repealed.

1 comment:

JuliaM said...: "Why are these Unhinged About Fuckwittery clowns unable to see the damage they're doing to their own cause? "

Because they care not a jot for 'the cause'. They want a riot. That's all.

The UAF is made up of people who want to scream abuse, throw things, and give one lone man a kicking with about 500 of their mates along in case it turns nasty.

They're football hooligans who don't actually like football.; 23 October 2009 at 15:46