THE DEPRESSIVE RANTINGS OF A SCHIZOPHRENIC

It looks like fatwa will be issued for author Sebastian Faulks after describing the Koran as just 'the depressive rantings of a schizophrenic' with 'no ethical dimension'.

Sebastian read the Koran while researching for his new book 'A week In December', which will be available next month.

Here's what he had to say:

'It’s a depressing book. It really is. It’s just the rantings of a schizophrenic. It’s very one-dimensional, and people talk about the beauty of the Arabic and so on, but the English translation I read was, from a literary point of view, very disappointing.

'There is also the barrenness of the message, I mean, there are some bits about diet, you know, the equivalent of the Old Testament, which is also crazy.

'But the great thing about the Old Testament is that it does have these incredible stories. Of the 100 greatest stories ever told, 99 are probably in the Old Testament and the other is in Homer.

'With the Koran there are no stories. And it has no ethical dimension like the New Testament, no new plan for life. It says ‘the Jews and the Christians were along the right tracks, but actually, they were wrong and I’m right, and if you don’t believe me, tough — you’ll burn for ever'. That’s basically the message of the book.'

I don't see anyone complaining when people say offensive things against the Holy Bible. In fact, it was only a few weeks ago that people were invited to deface the Holy Bible at Glasgow's Gallery of Modern Art.

I've read the Koran and have formed my own opinion of it. I suggest everyone else should do the same (it won't take long), then come back and leave a comment to let me know what you think.

SLAVERY REPARATIONS

A Harvard professor got arrested by Cambridge Police a few weeks ago.

Fred Reed was a police reporter for one of the large Washington newspapers.

Fred published a weekly online column in which he got to say the things his editors would never, ever have let him write in the paper. The following is an essay regarding the failings of a system and a culture. Please note that he elegantly describes the mood of many Americans and he does so without prejudice.


Slavery Reparations ..........by Fred Reed

On the Web I find that Henry Louis Gates Jr., the chairman of Afro-American Studies at Harvard, is demanding that whites pay reparations to blacks. It's because of slavery, see. He is joined in this endeavor by a gaggle of other professional blacks. I guess he'll send me a bill, huh?

I feel like saying, "Let me get this straight, Hank. I'm slow. Be patient. You want free money because of slavery, right? I don't blame you." I'd like free money too. Tell you what. I believe in justice. I'll give you a million dollars for every slave I own, and another million for every year you were a slave. Fair enough? But tell me, how many slaves do you suppose I have? In round numbers, I mean...say to the nearest dozen. And how long were you a slave? Oh. In other words, I owe you reparations for something that I didn't do and didn't happen to you. That makes sense. Like lug nuts on a birthday cake.

Personally, I think you owe me reparations for things you didn't do and never happened to me. I've never been coated in Dutch chocolate and thrown from the Eiffel Tower . I'll bet you've never done it to anyone. I want reparations. Kind of silly, isn't it?

But if we're going to talk about reparations, that's a street that runs in two directions. You want money from me for what some other whites did to some other blacks in another century?

How about you guys paying whites reparations for current expenses caused by blacks? Not long ago blacks burned down half of Los Angeles , a city in my country. Cities are expensive, Hank. Build one sometime and you'll see what I mean. Whites had to pay taxes to repair Los Angeles for you. You can send
me a check.

Now, yes, I know you burned LA because you didn't like the verdict in the trial of those police officers. Well, I didn't like the verdict in the Simpson trial. But I didn't burn my house and loot Korean grocers, or burn down a city.

Over the years blacks have burned a lot of American cities: Newark, Detroit, Watts , on and on. Now add in the fantastic cost over the years of welfare in all its forms, the cost of all of those police calls people had to make, for cells and jails and security systems in department stores.

I can't live in the capital city of my own country because of crime
committed by blacks. Toss in the cultural cost of lowering standards in everything for the benefit of blacks. See what I mean?

Now, I'd view things differently if you said to me, "Fred, blacks can't get anywhere in a modern country without education. We know that. We need better schools, smarter teachers, harder courses, books with smaller pictures and bigger words. Can you help us?"

I'd say, "Hallelujah! Hoo-ahh! Not just yes, but hell yes. Let's sell an aircraft carrier and get these folks some real schools and get them into the economic main-stream." I'd say it partly because it would be the right thing to do, and partly, because I'd like to add you guys to the tax base.

The current custodial state is expensive. I'd just love for blacks to study and learn to compete and stop burning places. But is it going to happen? You may not believe it, but I, and most whites, don't like seeing blacks as miserable and screwed up as they are.

I spend a fair amount of time in the projects. Those places are ugly. It's no fun watching perfectly good kids turn into semi-literate dope dealers who barely speak English. It just plain ain't right. But, Hank, what am I supposed to do about it? I can't do your children's homework. At some point, people have to do things for themselves, or they don't get done. Maybe it's time.

I'll tell you what I see out in the world, Hank... I think blacks are too accustomed to getting anything they want by just demanding it. True, it has worked for over half a century. Get a few hundred people in the street, implicitly threaten to loot and burn, holler about slavery, and sadly, the Great White Cash Spigot turns on.

Thing is, whites don't much buy it any longer. Most recognize that what once was a civil-rights movement has become a shakedown game. Few people still feel responsible for the failings and inadequacies of blacks. Political correctness keeps the lid on -- but everyone knows the score. Which scares me, Hank.

On one hand, blacks hate whites and incline toward looting and burning. (The whites you hate are the ones who marched in the civil-rights movement. Ever think about that?)

On the other hand, whites quietly grow wearier and wearier of it. Not good Hank.

On the third hand (allow me three hands, for rhetorical convenience), blacks keep demanding things. As I write, you demand reparations for slavery. Blacks in Oklahoma (I think it was) want money for some ancient race riot. Other blacks reject the Declaration of Independence , blacks in New York hint broadly at burning and looting over a trial, yet more demand the
elimination of the Confederate flag, and the federal equal opportunity apparatus, which means blacks, want to sue Silicon Valley for not hiring nonexistent black engineers. That's a lot of demanding for one month, Hank.

What happens if whites ever say, "No"?

Now, how about you? You've got a cushy job up there at Harvard, and you can hoot and holler about what swine and bandits whites are. I guess it's lots of fun, and you get a salary for it to boot. But don't you think you might do blacks more good if you told them to complain less and study more?

For example, if you want blacks to work in Silicon Gulch, the best approach might be to find some really smart black guys, and get them to study digital design ~ not Black Studies (as you teach). That's how everybody else does it It works. Then blacks wouldn't feel left out, and racial tensions would decline. Sound like a plan?

Just out of curiosity, how many hours a week do professors of Afro-American Studies spend in the projects, encouraging poor black kids to study real life sho-nuf subjects?

LIVER AND PINEAPPLE PIZZA

A little something that was sent to my phone today. I just had to put pictures to it and share with you

CARDIFF SOLDIERS MOTHER IS BANNED FROM ASIAN POST OFFICE

On August 18th 2009, Mrs Davis attempted to send her 21 year old son, who is serving in Afghanistan, a parcel from a Post Office run by a Mr Khan in Ely, South Glamorgan, Wales.

Mrs Davis' son left for Afghanistan at the end of July for a six to eight month tour of duty. He has only been able to call his mother once in the weeks since he left.

When Mrs Davis went to her local Post Ofiice to send her son a parcel she was told she was banned because her son is fighting with the British Army.

What right has this 'man' got to stop a woman sending parcels or letters to her son. He is fighting in a dirty war and may never return.

We must BOYCOTT muslim businesses. DON'T use their shops or taxis.

DO NOT put money into the pockets of the likes of Mr Khan.

UPDATE - TAKEN FROM THE GREEN ARROW

In today’s multi-cultural, politically correct society, Mrs. Davies didn’t know where to turn. The post office and the shop at the end of the road is a vitally important service to the local community and she was bewildered at being made to feel an outcast in her own country by an immigrant who was in a position of having the power to do so.

It was suggested to her ‘off the record’ to contact the BNP as being the only people to offer her support. We won’t tell you just who suggested this as you’d be surprised and it would cause quite a problem where he works, but Mrs. Davies subsequently contacted South Wales BNP with the story of her situation and the film-clip of the interview with Mrs. Davies is shown below.

We tried to contact Mr. Khan to ask for a statement by telephoning him at his post office premises on 029 -20591511, but apparently he is away in India at the moment. We spoke with his manageress though, a June Thomas who is carrying out his instructions in the meantime, but she just said, ‘No comment’.

We don’t know why Mr. Khan should feel he has any authority at all to dictate to British Mothers in this country that they are not allowed to post parcels to British soldiers serving in Afghanistan. Maybe you should ask him for yourself.

Whatever is said about Blair’s illegal warmongering in Iraq and Afghanistan, one thing is for sure, these conflicts involving our British soldiers are different from anything before.

In previous wars, wherever they may have been, at least when our boys returned past the ‘White Cliffs of Dover’ they knew they were home and safe amongst their own people. They could depend on the support of their own people and that the home fires would be kept burning in their absence.

Now of course, in nuLabour’s Britain, in 2009, things are different.

It’s one thing that in Afghanistan the enemy include Taliban fighters with Yorkshire and Midlands accents, even perhaps with the odd Aston Villa tattoo. It’s another thing too, when wounded British casualties arrive back at Selly Oak NHS Hospital (because the military hospitals have been closed down) to be verbally abused by similar people to those that wounded them in the first place. Or when the same type of people blowing our troops to bits with roadside bombs in Afghanistan, can be found at home fast-tracked into positions of authority and power, such as magistrates, politicians, police, teachers and even sub-postmasters. Large tracts of inner-city suburbs and elsewhere have become foreign, alien communities demanding ever more political influence and power within British society.

What on earth have we allowed our country and ourselves to become ?

Footnote by Green Arrow

Please can I urge all readers to pass this article on to every single person in your address book, every single forum you visit, every chat room you enter and leave links in every online comments section of the press. Thank you kinsmen.

POST OFFICE RESPONSE FOUND HERE

NEW DERBY BNP NEWSLETTER

Click on image to enlarge

For those of you in some parts of Derbyshire, the new DERBY BNP NEWSLETTER is about to hit your doorstep.

The newsletter will accompany an information pack which gives all the information needed to join the British National Party.

Read it and see for yourselves that the British National Party is the ONLY party for the British people.

If you are not in Derbyshire and would like an information pack please go to the British National Party site where you can request one.

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UNOFFICIAL BRITISH NATIONAL PARTY CHAT

I don't know how many of you know about our room on Chatroll. We have been open a few months now and have 156 members.

We chat about anything and everything and everyone is welcome, unless of course you are there to disrupt. If that is the case then you will be ejected from the room.

Once you have registered with Chatroll and logged in you can share videos, music, sites, articles and lots more. We have a quiz a few times a week and you can chat in real time, in the same way as you can on msn.

We are a happy bunch and if any of you would like to come over for a chat then just follow this link...

Unofficial British National Party Chat

See you there :-)
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THE NEW LABOUR PARTY WEBSITE

Today, I was directed to one of the funniest sites I have ever seen – thelabourparty.

Go take a look.

IT CAN BE A LONELY ROAD

Listening to Nick Griffin’s closing speech at the Red, White & Blue brought home what is happening to me. He said something along the lines of BNP supporters, members, activists and candidates making sacrifices because of our beliefs. Never was a truer word said.

Just over a year ago, my father made a comment about me being a member of the British National Party. He said I was a racist. I didn’t get angry. No point in that. What I did was to hand him a Voice of Freedom, an Identity magazine, a few leaflets and a compilation of short movies I’d taken from YouTube and put to dvd. I told him to go home, watch and read, then let me know what his opinions were. He came round the following week and told me that he hadn’t a clue that these things were happening in our country. He said he didn’t think any of the material was racist.

Over the next few weeks he asked me questions and at one point he said he would like to come to a meeting with me. I was so happy that I decided not to take him to my next meeting but the one after. Mr Nick Griffin would be the speaker. I told my father that Nick sometimes does a question and answer session and if he had any doubts or concerns he could put the question(s) forward. He appeared to be looking forward to it. A week or so later I rang my father to give him the details of when and where we would be going. He said he had changed his mind because he didn’t want to be associated with Nazis. I was gob-smacked. I didn’t push it and told him that was fine.

Over the next few times I saw him and my mother, I didn’t mention it. The June election was nearly upon us and I was busy with BNP stuff. He started to have a go at me for no reason whatsoever. I asked my mother if she thought I was a racist, to which she replied ‘No of course I don’t’. My father never said a word, so I knew what he thought, even though he knows I use the Indian chip shop, have a couple of Sikh friends and a very good half-caste friend. Obviously, I can’t be racist, can I?

The next few weeks were crazy with work and I didn’t get the chance to see them for more than 5 minutes at a time. The local and Europeans passed and the RWB was two days away. This, I suppose, is where my story should start.

I rang my mother on Thursday 13th August to ask her if she had anything she was getting rid of but would be fine for the tombola. She said no. It was at this point that I could hear my father ranting in the background. I asked my mother what he was saying but she said she didn’t know. Then I heard my father shouting ‘We are not giving you anything that will raise money for the BNP’. My mother then said my father wanted a word with me.

I remember every word. The conversation went like this:

Dad: (Shouting in an angry tone) ‘Just answer me one question’
Me: (Calm) ‘Go ahead’
Dad: (Still shouting and angry) ‘Do you believe the holocaust happened?’
Me: (Still calm) ‘Of course I bloody do.’
Dad: (Surprised) ‘Oh’ (pause) (Angry again and starting to spit froth) ‘Well your leader doesn’t’
Me: (Still being calm but starting to rise to the challenge) ‘Here we go. I see you’ve been speaking to…’

From that point on my dad was screaming down the phone at me. He wouldn’t let me get a word in. I have always had respect for my parents and never argue back, but for once I played him at his own game and screamed back at him, eventually putting the phone down.

I knew exactly who he’d been speaking to, his new-found buddies in the pub. He has started to frequent a solid Labour pub - on a Saturday evening - in a once solid labour area. He also speaks to the newly elected Conservative Councillor. For once, Labour has something in common with the Conservatives; their hatred of the rise of the British National Party. My father spoke the same on-liners that come from their ignorant mouths. He has no knowledge of the British national Party so he can’t argue their corner. I thought my father was far wiser than that, but I was wrong. He is just another of the sheep people who take the opposers at their word without having the gumption to check it out for themselves.

I have had no contact with my mother or father for a week now and don’t expect I will for a long time. It will be eating away at my mother, I know this. I passed my father in the street today and neither of us spoke. I am standing my ground and I will not make the first move. The day he comes to me to talk instead of shouting I will listen and respond. Until then he can stew in his own juices.

That man, my father, would have fitted in nicely with the cowardly, baying mob outside the RWB; the scum that spits in down-syndrome children’s faces and slaps other children. The scum that is supported and funded by other scum. Scum like David Cameron who my father voted for in the last election and scum like our local MP Judy (I’m a communist and proud) Mallaber.

The point of me writing about this, apart from getting it off my chest, is to show what sacrifices we as party supporters are having to make. It is very difficult at times. The hours spent on laptops researching, organising and attending meetings, creating videos and blogs, and just getting the word out there for the people to see by commenting and emailing. And of course the arguments, the failed marriages and the breakdown of families. The BNP ARE my family and as I left this years 10th RWB I felt a sense of loss.

It can be a lonely road but it will all be worth it in the long run; the day will come when the BNP will rise to power and get this country back on it’s feet.

That time can’t come quick enough for me.

BNP MEMBERS TRAVEL TO THE RWB 2009 ON UAF BUS

Video and report taken from 1kewldude2 blogspot

What would we do without the U.A.F eh?

Thanks for the free lifts from various locations including "Harwich", well appreciated ! Thanks to these kind people, members were able to make it to the 10th Anniversary Red, White & Blue Festival. A great weekend had by ALL. Thanks to ALL those within the BNP, the activists & members for all their hard work and of course the UAF for laying on the free bus services.

Members identities hidden for the usual reasons (i.e UAF thuggery).

TAXPAYERS MONEY WASTED WHILE OUR SOLDIERS COME HOME IN BODYBAGS

Wales BNP's Roger Phillips speaks out about the waste of public money in funding a police helicopter to monitor the BNP's Red, White & Blue annual family festival. The helicopter buzzed above the RWB site for the whole weekend.

As Roger rightly points out, the money would have been better spent helping our boys over in Afghanistan.

BNP WELCOMES A NEW MEMBER THANKS TO UAF AND OTHER ASSORTED ANTI-DEMOCRATIC FREAKS

Nick Griffin talks about a lady who joined the BNP after the unwashed freakshow of UAF arrive in Codnor and abuse locals.

UAF SCUM SPIT IN DOWN-SYNDROME BOY'S FACE

I was going to start the day by finishing off my account of the Red, White & Blue family festival, but after hearing some news this morning I’ve changed my mind.

I want to tell you of a couple of incidents that happened over the weekend that I have only just got to hear about. One of the people involved is someone I know.

Here goes…

On Saturday, as one of our senior members was trying to enter the RWB site, his car was attacked by protesters. This senior member has a down-syndrome teenage boy. The protesters spat in the young lads face whilst calling him a Nazi. The boys father, as you can imagine, was furious and the boy distraught. The police did NOTHING. Spitting at someone is supposed to be a criminal offence. IT IS ASSAULT, yet the police took NO ACTION.

Since when has a down-syndrome child had any politcal views?

And now on to my next story…

On Sunday, a fourteen year old girl nipped to the shop. She was smacked in the face and left bruised and hysterical.

When are people going to wake up and stop voting for scum who allow and encourage this behaviour. Gordon Brown, David Cameron, Peter Haine and our local MP Judy Mallaber, ALL back these violent scumbags.

It is time that EVERYONE sent their MP an email AND a letter to let them know of our disgust.

DO IT NOW!

THE RED, WHITE & BLUE BNP FESTIVAL, PART 4 - SATURDAY NIGHT

Late on Saturday afternoon another friend of mine managed to get on to the RWB site after hours of trying to get in. I had the chance to disappear and do my own thing as one of my chatroll friends, Bear, took over for half an hour. I was enjoying myself so much checking the stalls and buying things to send to my American friend that I collared Councillor Cliff Roper and his wife into taking over from Bear. This gave me more time to check out everything that was on site.

My American friend Lisa has the same views as us so I bought one of the signed limited edition cards of Nick Griffin specially made for the Red, White & Blue. Last year I sent her a RWB t-shirt which now hangs in a frame in her hallway alongside framed pictures of The Beatles and Paul McCartney. I also got her some BNP rock, or candy, as she calls it and some picturesque cards of Derbyshire. She loves that sort of thing. Lisa, when you read this I want you to know that I can’t wait until you come over next June. (Don’t tell anyone but she’s bought her ticket already and I know she’ll be bringing me some Reeces Peanut Buttercups, yummy!)

Anyway, back to my story. I don’t know where they came from, but by the time I got back a couple of young girls were running our stall. I was only too glad to let them. Firstly because it was hot and I was tired, but more importantly it gave them something to do. It gave them responsibility and they thoroughly enjoyed being ‘grown up’. They spent the rest of Saturday and part of Sunday running the stall and taking cakes and slices of melon to quench peoples thirst, round the crowd. They did a brilliant job and earned plenty of cash to chuck into the Amber Valley BNP kitty.

Later on, my friend Paul and I had a walk around, grabbed some food and went into the political marquee to watch the comedian, Mad Frankie Waller. The evening’s fireworks had been cancelled because of the wind but Frankie was so funny. Contrary to what the BNP opposers think, Frankie wasn’t telling racist jokes. He was actually telling jokes that centre around our own people; Richard Barnbrook being one recipient. Everyone left the show on a high and went off to do their own thing.

I was dead on my feet by this time so said I was going to go back to my tent and have an early night. Paul, who had only popped on site for the day decided to stay over and we went back to my tent. We had a chat about the day’s events and tried to get some sleep. Sleep was never going to happen. I was just starting to nod off when I heard the loudest snore, followed by another and another. Who the hell was it? Arran was in the next tent and he was one of the offenders but there were two more. As one snore ended another one started. It was one long and constant snore. Oh no. There are two things that annoy me. One is smelly feet and the other is… you guessed it, snoring!

No matter how hard I tried I just could not get to sleep so in the end I got back out of my sleeping bag and reached for a biscuit. Chocolate is always a comforter but it wasn’t working and there’s only so much chocolate you can eat before throwing up. At one point I was going to get out of the tent and kick Arran through his tent. That’d stop him but it wouldn’t stop the other snorers. I couldn’t go round kicking the other snorers. Or could I? I could always ‘kick and run’ and hope they didn’t spot me. No, I decided it wouldn’t be a good idea. Knowing my luck I’d fall over the guy ropes. They’d be sure to spot me then along with the people whose tent I’d just managed to rip down in the process.

So, me and Paul decided we would just have to wait and hope they’d shut up. We sat chatting to drown out the noise and laughing about things that had happened that day when something ‘pranged. Someone had tripped over one of the guy ropes. I heard a voice asking if he could come. It was DazG, another friend from our British national party chatroll room. He’d been next door in Lippy’s tent but she had fallen asleep and now he was bored. All the excitement, lack of sleep and a few cans of Stella is sure to get to you. I said of course he could come in. The cheeky bugger asked me if I was dressed and I told him in a stern voice ‘Of course I am.’

I would like to say that DazG entered my tent gracefully but he didn’t. It took him 5 minutes to open the door – with my help – and then he sort of nose dived, fag in one hand, can in the other, into the tent and nearly crashed through and out the other end. Now, I don’t mind people drinking, I love a few myself, but when you are sober and someone is pissed they may as well be from another planet.

We spent the next hour talking about… Well, to be honest I have no idea. It was sort of garbled jibberish with me repeating ‘Ya what?’ every two minutes. The next thing I know is DazG’s can of Stella was on the floor of the tent. He was swinging his arm around, gesturing, and over it went. Not that much beer came out. The damage was done by the onset of something that resembled an erupting volcano. Stella froth foamed out at an alarming rate and me and Paul dived for the can. Paul won and I nearly got a black eye by banging into him.

It was about 2am and I was not amused, but I kept my cool. After all, he didn’t mean to do it and let’s face it, we all do it. I decided that he spilt it so he should clean it up and sent him off to get some tissue from Lippy’s tent. I thought that by the time he got there he may have forgot WHY he was there and forget to come back, but he didn’t. As he was attempting to get out of the ‘door’ - small tent entrances are nothing like a door. More like a catflap – DazG lost his balance, fell with one hand on the floor and the other hand, complete with cigarette, heading towards the roof of the tent. I grabbed hold of his fag hand, grabbed the fag and wouldn’t give it him back until he had left the tent.

He was back quicker than I thought with something in his hand. He fell through the door once again, somehow managing to miss the puddle of Stella, and handed me a pile of tissue. Not just any tissue. He had retrieved it from the bin by the look of it. It was covered in… something. I have no idea what. No way was I going to use that to wipe my bedroll. God knows what germs were on it. I had some toilet roll so I used some of that. When it was dry I asked Paul to turn the bedroll over just in case it was still damp. The other side would be dryer.

Underneath was a lake of Stella. All over the sewn in base of the tent. Every time we moved it was spreading further and further. How the hell were we going to clean up that lot? We could have done with a boat pump, there was so much of it. So, off I sent him again. In the meantime I used more toilet roll to soak it up, followed by babywipes to try and get rid of the stench of sour alcohol and stickiness.

When DazG returned, I decided it was time to get rid of him. As lovely as he is, I knew I wouldn’t be able to relax. He’d either set us alight or drown us. Then I heard a lovely sound. Lippy was stirring. I told DazG I needed to go to the loo and that Lippy was awake again. Paul also said he need the loo. Daz said he was coming with us.

The toilet block nearest to us had four toilets. It was about 100 yards away and we had to walk between lots of differently sized tents. This meant there were guy ropes everywhere. When I bought my tent it came with an accessory pack. A torch that you fit on your head was included and I had hung this up in the tent to act as lighting. I took it down to guide us to the toilets. DazG was slower and less sure footed than us – you would be after copious amounts of Stella – and he tripped yet again over a guy rope.

We finally got there and I entered a cubicle. That meant that three others were empty. For some strange reason DazG decided to ‘go’ in the hedge right next to a cubicle and when I came out, there he stood, manhood in hand – it was either to small or too dark to see it - only just managing to miss his can of warm booze. We made our way back to the tent, made our excuses and DazG staggered towards Lippy’s tent. Paul and I spent the next half an hour listening to Lippy telling him to fuck off into the other bedroom and leave her alone.

Finally all was quiet. No snoring and no DazG to babysit for. But we still couldn’t sleep. Someone was walking around with a torch lighting the tents up. Maybe it was security, I don’t know, but it was bloody annoying. So there we lay in our sleeping bags, over-tired and wanting to sleep but not being able to. By now it was well passed 3am and it was freezing cold.

Paul’s sleeping bag is shaped like a mummy. He is well over six feet tall and to fit in it fully meant that he couldn’t move his legs. I was ok because mine was oblong shaped. Plenty of room in mine for a midget like me. We started talking about how we would create a new range of sleeping bags designed to keep you warm and allow more freedom. The idea of having arms sown into a sleeping bag turned into the vision of an oversized romper suit made of pink fluffy material, complete with fluffy tail and bunny rabbit ears. We were in hysterics. It’s strange how when you are so tired your imagination runs wild. We laughed at the thought of the uaf outside jumping around in these romper suits shouting their usual stupid one-liners. At one point I must have fallen asleep for a split second while talking, because I woke up still talking and wondering if the sentence fitted in with what I’d said previously. It was definitely time to shut down and recharge. We were talking crap and our batteries were drained.

The next thing I knew it was four hours later. It was 8am. People were bustling about, the monstrous noise of the portaloo was in action and my eyes felt like I’d gone two rounds with Mike Tyson.

To be continued…

THE RED, WHITE & BLUE BNP FESTIVAL, PART 3 - THE PROTESTERS

The streets were quiet, but as we entered Codnor, which is about one and a half miles away from the RWB site, we spotted two protesters. They were early. They shouldn’t have started gathering until 9am. That is what the ‘peaceful protesters’ had arranged with the police. Where we surprised? Of course not.

The journey into the site was lovely. The Derbyshire countryside is beautiful. I went to my tent for an hour and lay there wondering what today would bring. It was another glorious Summer’s morning, we were at our yearly festival and NOTHING was going to spoil it. Especially a bunch of unwashed, drug addicted, violent, brain-dead misfits.

As the day passed I grew more tired. Not once did I hear the protesters, but outside it was a different story. News was beginning to filter through. Lewis hadn’t come back and I was worried he was caught among the baying rabble outside the RWB. It took him seven hours to gain entry to the site and it took another friend four hours. They kept trying to find another entrance, leaving and returning to get in.

But we are true British patriots. No matter what, our members were determined to get in and get in they did…

Police on horseback were trying to stop the protesters advancing and trying to block the streets to stop our members gaining entry. They were fighting with the police but only nineteen were arrested. The police allowed them to form a deep line across the roads and our people were sat in their cars unable to move neither forwards nor backwards. Some of the BNP members got out of their cars and decided to form their own line across the road, but the police forcibly made them get back in their cars. A local resident was so disgusted with the protesters that she carried out cups of tea for our people.

Another local resident was not allowed to visit her dying father. A police officer was reported to have told her that she ‘had to wait’. Someone reported to the police that they thought they saw one of the scum pass a gun. The police officer said he couldn’t do anything unless it was used. There were stories of protesters pounding on cars and smashing windows and atm machines in the surrounding area so we couldn’t get any money. But the worse story was of a man and his distraught daughter, surrounded by the screaming uaf scum. The young girl was in tears as the boot-boys funded by the Government and Unions using taxpayers money, screamed abuse.

But the one thing that really is disturbing is that instead of the police arresting the scum, they moved them on only for them to return and rejoin their fellow zombies. I call them zombies because of the similarity in their behaviour. A crowd of unwashed, brain-dead nutters, arms outstretched, chanting the same line over and over again while trying to get at their goal. The only difference being the zombies want to eat brains to survive, whereas the uaf and friends (or is that fiends) are not quite sure why they chant their rubbish. Brainwashing at its finest.

Inside, we were oblivious to it all. The only nuisance for us was the police helicopter that spent the whole day hovering above and around us. Personally I didn’t see the drone they had announced they would be using, but I heard some say they had. The only time we had rain was for an hour or so while the scum were protesting. We had a laugh at the thought of them hurrying off home drenched and scared they may get clean.

The only scary moment we had was when the wind blew the marquee so hard a wooden cross-section snapped and security evacuated everyone. We were all allowed back in, in no time and the speakers commenced their speeches, thanks to the brilliant ground staff.

We were originally going to spend the night once again in my local pub but I decided I wanted to stay in my tent. Why bring a tent if you are not going to use it?

And so I did and Saturday was one of the best Saturday nights I have had for a very, very long time.

To be continued…

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THE RED, WHITE & BLUE BNP FESTIVAL, PART 2 - OLD FRIENDS

As Lippy and I walked around the marquees I thought how well laid out they were. Each area of the country had its own marquee and flags adorned avery stall. The marquees are provided so that each area can raise money for its branch. It is not mandatory to have a stall but it is another way of getting to chat to people and make a few pence for our cause. Leaflets cost money, especially the profession type that we use, so every penny comes in useful.

One of the first people I came across is also one of my favourite British National Party friends. He is one of the founders of The British Patriot, the new online shop that opened its doors last week and he has been a British National Party member for many years. His stall in the Welsh marquee was quite big as it contained many of the items from The British Patriot. We had a quick hug and a chat and then off we went for a bite to eat and to look around all the other marquees before I returned back to run the Amber Valley stall.

I managed to find most of my friends, some who I’d only spoken to online, but one was missing… The Green Arrow. We had never met before so I was dying to put a face to the man behind the words. A little while later someone came over to tell me that The Green Arrow, GA for short, had returned from walkabout.

What a wonderful man he is. He is witty and smart and such a flirt. He told me how beautiful I looked even though I knew I looked awful. I HAd been working non-stop for the past two days shopping, cooking and gathering the items for my stall. He knows how to make you feel good about yourself.

Later that evening after we had closed our stalls a few of us arranged to meet. Some of them had arrived in a camper van. Of course Amber Valley Borough council not only took away our alcohol and entertainments licences as they had the previous year, they had also banned caravans and camper vans from the site. Not a problem. I had already told them they could drive to my house, park up and we could go to my local pub for a few hours. And that is what we did.

There were five of us in all. After a short walk we arrived at the pub to a warm welcome from the landlord and landlady, Billy and Kate. A couple of others from the sight rang and asked for the postcode so they could come and join us and we spent the rest of the night in the busy little pub talking about anything and everything. We finally left around 3am and I collapsed into a deep sleep feeling comfortable in the knowledge that I was surrounded by good people.

The next morning I was woken by Roger yanking the duvet off me and shouting at me to get up. We had overlaid. At 7am it suddenly clicked. We needed to get going as soon as possible in order to avoid the protesters. I quickly brushed my teeth, had a wash and after screaming at Lippy to hurry up, rushed outside and jumped into the camper van.

I am not good first thing in the morning. I am one of those people that needs time to wake up before I can get into the swing of things. It usually takes me around half an hour. This morning was different. Roger could see we needed something to get us going and we spent the journey listening to the Sex Pistols. It was deafening but we didn’t care. We were singing at the top of our voices and looking forward to the day ahead.

A combination of British National Party opposers had threatened to disrupt our festival in any way they could and to stop British National Party members from getting onto the site. They tried that last year and failed miserably. Would they succeed this year?

To be continued…

THE RED, WHITE AND BLUE BNP FESTIVAL PART 1

Last night I got back from this year’s Red, White & Blue family weekend festival feeling drained, both physically and mentally. What a weekend. I met up with old friends and made many, many new ones.

So much happened in those three days that when I got up this morning to write my blog I just didn’t know where to start. Because of this I am going to treat it as a diary and start at the beginning…

My journey began on Friday afternoon when Councillor Lewis Allsebrook arrived to take my friend Arran and I over to the RWB site. It was a beautiful, hot day, we were laden with camping equipment and the items needed to set up the Amber Valley stall. There was so much that we didn’t think we’d fit everything in, but we managed it.

The roads leading up to the Denby Lane turn-off were busy with it being a Friday, but once we hit Denby Lane it was easy going.

I noticed that where previously the Union Flags were displayed outside houses, there were none. Not one. They had been removed, obviously in preparation for the arrival of the so-called ‘anti’-fascists; the Government and Union funded great unwashed. I can’t say I blame them. After all, who wants their windows smashing simply because they are showing their pride in being British?

On reaching the RWB site we were greeted by security who do a fantastic job in keeping us safe from the opposing scum. Lewis drove us round to our pitch where we dropped off our camping gear before heading to the East Midlands Marquee. Here we unloaded all the items we had brought to sell to raise funds for the Amber Valley branch. I set to work organising the stall while Lewis drove off to fetch his tent.

The plan was that Lewis would return in a couple of hours, but Lewis loves his television programmes and decided to return early the following morning before the protesters had arrived. That didn’t happen, as the protesters arrived much earlier than they had arranged with the police. More of that later. I still have Friday to finish first.

I sold a few things over the course of the next few hours. On offer were cakes, books, PlayStation and PC games, jars containing bags of sweets, slices of melons and bottles of water, among other things. I still had my tent to erect so I decided to leave a note on the table asking people to place their money in the BNP box provided. I can honestly say that it is safe to do this as the BNP attracts honest people.

It was at this point that I noticed how many campers there were; there were hundreds of tents. Virtually every tent had at least one flag flying from it. Some were attached to guy ropes, but the most impressive were flying high above on poles. It was a wonderful sight to see so many patriotic people brought together in one spot and I just knew I was in for a great weekend. Like-minded people with the same ideas and ideals.

I need not have worried about setting up my tent as my friend had already erected it for me. By this time I was wondering where one of my friends, Lippy from chatroll, had got to. I had saved her a pitch so she could be next to me. She had been held up in traffic and arrived an hour or so later. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw the size of her tent, but was astounded when I saw what else she had brought with her.

Lippy’s tent would have suited a family. It certainly wasn’t what I expected a single woman to have. It took four of us to erect and when we’d finished she said we still had to attach the awning. She opened the back of her van and it was packed solid with camping gear. She had one of those fold up foam beds; the type that folds into a chair when not in use, pillows, quilt, sheets. There was a huge gas bottle, full kitchen complete with all the utensils you expect in a normal kitchen including a wash bowl. The list was endless, but what made me laugh was the amount of clothes she brought. We were only spending three days and two nights and yet Lippy was prepared for any event. She even had choice of jackets, ranging from a smart knitted coat to a more sophisticated silk evening coat.

When we had finally managed to get everything out and into her tent we decided we’d go for a walk and try to find our other friends from the unofficial British National Party chatroll. We headed for the adjoining field which housed the marquees.

To be continued…

BNP RWB 2009

BNP PROTESTERS ANGER AT POLICE RESTRICTIONS

A tense weekend lies in store for residents of Codnor, Loscoe and Denby as the annual British National Party Festival takes place, with campaigners vowing to stage a massive protest against the event.

Protesters against the Red, White and Blue festival have promised a bigger turn out than ever and say they are angry at police plans to restrict their rally to Codnor and a designated protest point near the site only.

Festival host and party member Alan Warner has said any trouble will come from opponents of his party rather than people attending the festival.

Acting Assistant Chief Constable of Derbyshire Police Steve Cotterill said: "Our main aim for this weekend is that it passes off peacefully and any disruption is kept to a minimum. We will not tolerate violent
or aggressive behaviour or criminal acts.

"We are asking people involved in the procession and protests to follow instructions of police officers in relation to orders that are in place. We will warn people if we feel they are breaking the orders and if they ignore us they face the possibility of arrest."

The police and Amber Valley Borough Council have succeeded in getting trespass assembly orders made in relation to the site of the festival, preventing groups of protesters going on the land.

The protesters have been told they will be allowed to march from Codnor Market Place down Codnor Denby Lane to a pre-designated protest site near the festival.

Protest organisers have expressed anger at the plans, saying people will be able to arrive at the festival through Denby without even being aware a protest against it is taking place.

One of the protest organisers, trade unionist Pete Radcliff, said: "Our initial objective was to be visible to the BNP members coming into the area and to make clear they are not welcome here.

"We are not happy about being corralled into one area of the borough and still hope to meet with the police where we will again give our reasons for being allowed to congregate in more than one area.

"We understand some major international fascist figures are coming in and it is wrong that they can swan into this area of the country and think they are welcome when that is not the case."

Mr Warner said: "I know the police have cameras down the lane and are going to be sending the helicopter up to film. They do not really tell us what they are doing.

"None of it will affect us on the site. It is members only, it is not open to members of the public, and it is a private do – I do not understand why the council feel they can get involved.

"I will be targeted afterwards as I have been for the last three years, but the show goes on. I am expecting a bigger turnout this year as it is the tenth one and we have just got two MEPs elected."



• Alfreton Road will be closed at its junction with High Holborn Road between 8am and 6pm on Saturday and a diversion will be in place via High Holborn Road and the A610. There will be vehicular access for residents.



Several footpaths in the Codnor Denby Lane area will also be closed over the weekend.

Section 12 of the Public Order Act 1986 has been used to impose conditions on the public procession, which will take place between Codnor Market Place and Codnor Denby Lane.

The protest march will set off from Codnor Market Place at around 11:45am on Saturday, and will follow the A6007 Heanor Road, Codnor to its junction with Codnor Denby Lane where it will turn right into Codnor Denby Lane adjacent to Crosshill Church. It will then continue along Codnor Denby Lane, to the area identified as the designated protest point, where it will halt.

At this location, a further public assembly may take place until 2pm, at which time the procession will turn around and return to the Market Place in Codnor via the same route.

The procession will be marshalled by the event organisers and accompanied by police officers.

Section 14 of the act has also been utilised to identify Codnor Market Place as a designated area for public assembly prior to and following the procession between 9am and 5pm.

Finally section 14a of the act has been invoked to prevent trespassory assemblies around the area known as The Bungalow in Codnor Denby Lane and the adjacent lands to an area that does not exceed a radius of five miles.

This part of the act prevents anyone trespassing on private land because of police fears that there may be disruption to the event and disruption to the community.

All the legislation has been used to prevent serious public disorder, damage to property and serious disruption to the life of the community.

All the orders run from 9am Friday August 14th to 4pm Sunday August 16th 2008. Anyone not abiding by the legislation may be liable to arrest.

Ripley & Heanor News

STOP THE FASCIST UAF

You have one more day to book your imaginary place on one of the uaf coaches.

I laughed so hard when I read the Green Arrow's blog that I decided to copy and paste the whole thing to my blog...

Do not forget NOT to wash if going to the RWB on a UAF coach

Right, I know some of you get a great kick out of travelling up to the RWB on the UAF trade union funded coaches and I know that the information you gain is good stuff but this year you have to be a little bit more careful.

And as you already know, the trade unions are throwing away a considerable sum of their members money by sending 42 coaches (not the 60 they say) up this year. As
usual most will be empty like last year other than for the paid trade union activists and SWP members who have to attend or face a slap off Draylon Bonnet.

Now some of you made the mistake last year of bathing the night before and some of the older male BNP members shaved in the morning before leaving and as a result faced awkward questioning on the coach. These are stupid mistakes so think first please.

If questioned on the coach have your answers already prepared. You know nothing about politics but student/union rep said it would be a good day out and it would give you a chance to see Codnor.

If you have hand luggage with clean clothes in say that you understand there is a charity shop in the town and they are for donation.

If really stuck say "Sorry man - I just scored and it is good shit brother". The occasional "Right on" never fails, so use liberally.

Show your street cred and say that Red Leb is better than Black Moroccan as the poor buggers who make it have to put melted car tyres in to make any money.

If asked if you would like a "line" then refuse straight away and call the coach steward. Real UAF supporters just do not do cocaine - that is for filthy capitalists. You only do speed or brown if asked.

Carry a bottle of white lightening cider (tip 50% out before leaving) this will show you are a REAL red. Also carry a tobacco tin with some used drug syringes in to show you care about the environment. If possible try to show off a tobacco tin with a Marijuana plant on the cover.

Try not to stare at some of the others on the coach no matter what their appearance.
16 stone men with 2 day beard stubble and wearing a short skirt is not unnatural
to these people. If these men are crying over a run in their stocking do not laugh at them but say you "feel their pain".

Now they will be on the look out for BNP members having fun with them, so when boarding the coach, attempt to walk like a zombie from Shaun of the Dead and pretend you are deaf.

If someone says "Good Luck today Sir. Hope you have a pleasant Journey", ignore them and get on the coach. Do NOT reply "Why thank you. I wish you also a pleasant journey", otherwise you will be toast and wind up having to pay your own fair to the RWB.

If you are sure you are being watched - immediately denounce the watchers as being "Nazis" or "Racists". Tell a coach steward that you heard them saying that Searchlight had the right idea and that the UAF were really faggots with no balls for street activity.

Now let's practise getting on the coach.

"Have a nice journey Sir".

"Feck Off".

Good you are learning. See you on the coach.


Update

Just had a call from Patriot Products, whose stall will in the BNP Wales Marquee, they are sorry but will not now be selling the self inflating Dreylon Bonnet blow up dolls as advertised.

Apparently the dolls were so lifelike that their egos inflated beyond safety limits, causing the body to swell up to the size of a Barnes Wallis Bouncing Bomb.

Also, female UAF members who do infiltrate the RWB family festival, will not be permitted to enter the dog show after the lesbian Denise Fatthighs was disqualified last year, after winning the Butt Ugly Dog of the Show award.

Answering Yes to the Question: "Are you a real Dog?", whilst true, is not in the spirit of the competition.

BRILLIANT!
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Nick Griffin: An Audio Response To Birmingham Troubles On Saturday : The British National Party

Nick Griffin: An Audio Response To Birmingham Troubles Yesterday : The British National Party

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