The prolific young protest journalist, Gilly Pound has sent us this report of yesterday’s protests. It will shortly appear in the blog section of the New Statesman’s website.
I must admit that yesterday a part of me did not want to go and protest. I was worn out and hungover after spending last night being extremely young and liberated (I had sex). Nothing, however, that couldn’t be cured by a rolled up cigarette. I lit it up, and wandered off to join the protest.
A sea of drums and placards greeted me as I arrived. I spent a few minutes chatting to friends, and then, very suddenly, a police officer came up to me and clattered me to the ground with his riot shield. The hard greyness of the pavement poignantly symbolized the bleak future stretching out in front of my generation. And then, from out of the blue, a young handsome man charged into the crowd upon a white stallion and pulled me to safety.”Wasn’t that scary?” I asked him. “Well” he said, “it’s not half as scary as the government’s refusal to seperate retail banking from investment banking”. I smoked another rollie.
The drums continued to beat. As the protestors let out a wail of anger, the wind carried beyond the phalanx of riot cops now assembled in front of us. By 4 o’ clock we were imprisoned in a kettle, without access to food, water or warmth. We burnt placards and newspapers to keep warm, their flames rising against the glittering background of London’s financial centre. Then, however, things made a turn for the worse.
The chief constantable recited some words and waved his hands towards the crowd. Suddenly a storm of hailstones began raining down upon us. I rolled another cigarette and then thrust my press card into the face of a nearby police officer. “Who authorised this?” I demanded. “Section 63 of the Terrorism Act permits the casting of aggressive spells in public order situations” he casually replied.
By the time the hailstorm subsided we were soaking wet, and my rolled up cigarette had been snuffed out. But still we were too angry, to furious with the betrayal of our generation, to even consider going home. The skies darkened and tensions inside the grim kettle mounted. Then, however, things became deadly serious.
A medic announced that there was only enough oxygen left in our section of the street to keep us breathing for another hour. If we didnt’t break out of the kettle we would suffocate. Some younger protestors began to cry. The rest of us, however, began to organise. As I rolled up another cigarette, the young handsome man on the white stallion positioned himself in front of the highly tooled up phalanx of riot cops. And then with the cries of banshees we stormed through police lines and to safety, ready to protest for another day.
I’m especially worried by the tendency I see amongst some of my peers to play with a sort of cutesy opt-in faux-fifties retro-domesticity, when the battles of Friedanite feminism are far from won”
Did he really say that? I saw it in a review and assumed someone was taking the piss.dan hancox said:The smashing of glass in Millbank Tower marked the first shattering of capitalist realism and the forging of a new mind-phase...
it’s just me, on my own, traveling in second-class
I could have gone and worked in PR
I do this because I can
I feel I have a duty to live as freely as I possibly can
few choice quotes from Penny about (among other things) being on 'tour'
maybe being a bit unfair as they are taken out of context, but even still, jesus
what a load of hippy shite - if everyone thought this is it would be open season for every paedo, rapist, soap-dodging weird anarchist (sorry, couldn't resist ) goingI feel I have a duty to live as freely as I possibly can
'I do this because I can' shows a remarkable amount of honesty. Probably accidental though. Meanwhile the rest of us carry on in our shitty part-time shop jobs and temporary contracts, if we're lucky. Isn't it great we've got her to speak for us?
.Until then, I’ll keep on writing and talking and watching the star battles on television, because it’s longing like that that sets us free.
That's a bit racism.If this particular talk were happening in Italy, someone would have turned around and laughed in this guy’s face. In Britain you'd have had a bit of cross muttering followed by quietly furious people coming up to me after the event to ask if I'm sure I'm okay and isn’t it shocking, which is British for "this is fucked beyond belief". But this is Germany, and the room is an orgy of polite silence.
'I do this because I can' shows a remarkable amount of honesty. Probably accidental though. Meanwhile the rest of us carry on in our shitty part-time shop jobs and temporary contracts, if we're lucky. Isn't it great we've got her to speak for us?
I have lots of these, in fact my brain seems to have a bit of a flatulence problem.I think these are what Bill Maher describes as 'brain farts'.
Indeed the only times I have ever felt the need to comment on what class I travel has been the few occasions I went first class. Normally because it worked out cheaper.she'll even travel in second class whilst doing so
that to me seemed like another accidental bout of revealingness, I mean what normal person refers to themselves as 'travelling in second class', it's a superflous statement unless you are used to, or think you are entitled to, travel in first class everywhere
“One can’t help wondering whether, if you’re scared that people will find out how much you earn, you may be earning too much.”
Hey, Laura understands precarity, as she juggles her twenty-two grand-a-year weekly columns and her Vintage book contracts, forced to flit between her "little hovel room" in The Lez's poky little £400k Shepherd's Bush pad and Molly's boho apartment just off Wall Street, churning out breathlessly'I do this because I can' shows a remarkable amount of honesty. Probably accidental though. Meanwhile the rest of us carry on in our shitty part-time shop jobs and temporary contracts, if we're lucky. Isn't it great we've got her to speak for us?
Penny said:Right, I'll be in New York and functional in about 30 hours. Where are the relief efforts happening and how can I help?
Saif Gaddafi has spoken on that programme before so they aren't too choosySlightly disappointed to learn that Laurie Penny's penned in to speak at the LSE in the Ralph Miliband programme
Hey, Laura understands precarity, as she juggles her twenty-two grand-a-year weekly columns and her Vintage book contracts, forced to flit between her "little hovel room" in The Lez's poky little £400k Shepherd's Bush pad and Molly's boho apartment just off Wall Street, churning out breathlesslyfabricatedreimagined reportage like some latterday matchgirl simply to put vegan foie gras on the vintage distressed rustic country cottage kitchen table.
how can I help?
Funnily enough, she's (publicly) keen as mustard to get her sleeves rolled up for something that's all over the media
I'd also like to see what her idea of 'next to no money' really means.
Penny 1st November said:Right, I'll be in New York and functional in about 30 hours. Where are the relief efforts happening and how can I help?
Penny 2nd November said:Brooklyn I am in you. One more day then suitcases unpacked and book writing begins in earnest