Halley's Haggerston

Ian Duncan Smith appointed Work or Else & No Pensions Secretary

2010-05-12T10:47:00.000-07:00

I know I've been out of circulation for a few hundred years & that I come from an altogether more penetrating, serious, scientifick, philosophical, cultured, enquiring, not 101% alienated turkeys voting for Xmas, period of human (& otherwise) herstory. But I keep hearing the following statement by the media's assorted Senior Political Correspondents:

"People seem to forget that politicians are human beings as well."

Could anyone enlighten me as to what this means? Is it under the cover of a platitudinous cliché', actually a detourned Situationist slogan, exposing politician's as metamorphosed Kafkaesque bugs? Adroitly sealing off any chance of change or radical democracy, because it's the law of the jungle that 101% of human beings once they become politicians (as well as human), turn into dogs eating dogs. So best just sit back and watch and not get involved. As I type, a screaming against the sky, landing burning all the bridges - The UBS Bridge Academy - I can see Stephen Pinker in my minds eye,
licking the index finger of his right claw and making a North to South vertical motion in the air. 1 nil to us! Game over. A smirk, rifling electrical rain, genetically lighting up his luxurious, Renaissance-pomaded, slate blank, Chubb locks. An end of herstory Eyjafjallajokull throwback.

0% tolerance

2010-05-11T16:26:00.000-07:00

I know I've been away for a few hundred years, but I'm interested in our weekly newspaper, The Hackney Gazette. 1 column I always read is Police Watch by Hackney Chief Superintendent, Steve Bending. In their current 6th May Gazette edition, Steve talks about Hackney's much heralded dramatic drop in crime statistics:
"It's important there is honesty. Gun crime has increased in Hackney by 29% in the last year...Gun crime figures include offences that may not involve the use or even the showing of a firearm, so these figures need to be seen in that context. That said, while the number of occasions when firearms have been used is relatively low, it has risen, particularly in the last few weeks."
Steve then goes on to explain all the wide-ranging police initiatives that are tackling this terrible problem. Operation Spoke is interesting:
"Officers taking a zero-tolerance approach to non-endorsable cycling offences, such as cycling on a footway."
As I said, I've been away for a few hundred years & come from the cradle of western enlightenment & call me a radical, non-conformist, scientific genius, born & bred in Haggerston, but doesn't zero tolerance mean no tolerance whatsoever? Is that good? It's not is it. It's barbarism.

The best of times. The worst of times. I'm back!

2010-05-09T11:07:00.000-07:00

Citizens, I'm back! Many apologies for the enforced absence. Much to tell. I was requisitioned upon an instant by the worlds leaders, to demonstrate my hollow earth theory in tandem with my diving bell and put the volcano out in Iceland!
So many adventures in the last month, I can't wait to tell you all!
It's not all been good news though. Far from it. Mary has ignominiously cold-shouldered me, well more than cold-shouldered told me I'm 'sick' and to never speak, look or...what else is there?...again.
She's joined a new post-feminist movement that, like Stacking™, is sweeping Broadway Market!
Led by a gnomic enigma, shrouded in mystery - Looser Summers, Mary has thrown me out of what has been my Live/Work space since the 17th century & has thrown open her doors to this Post-Feminist commune. With massive financial backing from Ann Summers (rumour is that Ann is none other than Looser!) & The Avon Ladies. They are calling themselves the Avon Pink Pamper Party!
Summers has started her own blog - Cattle and Mutton & is attracting a lot of interest from the likes of Andrew Boff & Hackney Independent. Apparently she's a safe pair of hands, doesn't mind taking a back seat position but is quietly & ruthlessly climbing the greasy pole...
You wouldn't recognise my old place. The place where I discovered My Comet, amongst other ground-breaking enlightenment discoveries, has been exorcised of what Looser Summers in her hugely popular txt manifesto:
R U cumfrt? Chanj's Wong! L8rs!
Via Feng Shui. They threw all my papers & research, everything defenestrated out of the window & straight to the bottom of the Regents Canal!
I am on my uppers. But I am not defeated. I am sleeping at the moment in a skip on London Fields & living on some really quite delicious cheeses. Trouble is on the weekend all the 30 something coke heads get into the skip for a wheeze and talk dilettante rubbish all night & morning & afternoon & evening & night & morning & afternoon & evening & night & morning.
So undeterred, I am writing this on one of the few remaining thingamajigs that let you look at the web & send emails for free. You know you get them at stations and wherever. There must be a catch bu

Political correctness goes mad on Broadway Market!

2010-04-14T10:01:00.000-07:00

I come from The Age of Enlightenment. A time of restless inquiry & rational rejection of ignorance & taboo. So I know not what to make of this foul slur. My application to run a stall on Broadway Market this Saturday has been rejected! Out of hand! By the 2 erstwhile Kray twins:
James Ó Nuanáin, 32, compares Broadway Market to Ridley Road Market: “I think it’s more like Ridley than any other market [in Hackney], but a little bit posher, so it doesn’t compete with Ridley. It’s a little bit more expensive but a similar sort of thing – you’ve got clothes and you’ve got food.” When asked if local people use the market, Ó Nuanáin says, “Well – locally living people … we’ve got cheap fruit and veg, and there are plenty of deals on the market but it is perceived as the Marks and Spencers…”"…Rather than Morrisons,” says Alistair Maddox, 23.
I should have known it, East-end gangsters barrow boys always in the enders preach zero tolerance. Cos @ the eastenders of the day geez, it's all about family innit? I should have known that just because I get my weekend purely medicinal tincture from 'Rocky' outside the Cat & Mutton every Saturday, that does not mean that E8 is ready for really radical Libertarian Entrepreneurship! Oh no! Here's the note I found stuffed through my aperture this afternoon after I'd imbibed an eel @ Cookes. My daily surrogate Leopold Bloom kidney - The eel kicks in presaging epiphany...Oh Gerty, I love yr limp...Oh let me take my limp cock out &...the eel squirming on the rocks, the waves of Regents Canal crashing...and in a corner of the lock-keepers house a woman with 1 leg only the size of a babies, shuffles, carefully hitching up her stays & adjusting her gossamer stockings...

There are many young solvent, solvent abusing parents in E8 now who grew up listening to Michael Jackson, humming 'Everyone's gone up the moon' & reading Alice getting swallowed up by the Red Queen, who have money to burn and no aesthetic taste whatsoever. I just wanted to run a fun kiddies novelty stall, retailing 101% organick & wholesome children's pole-dancing kits. Augmented with children's lacy lingerie, push-up bra's & 9 inch solar powered Rabbit vibrators for under 16's. Something for the weekend, Benny Hill, Carry On, Confessions of a Thimblerigger, saucy postcards, Brian Rix, Stephen Milligan - Just an end of the Beckham Wharf, millennium, 2012, Olympic, sporty range of infanto-erotica! Great for getting to grips with obesity! And an edu-porno aid, helping to impart the often excruciatingly embarrassing parental explanation of the birds and the bees under Late Capitalism!
- Soon dear child.....You want to now how soon my sweet? Not for a long long time! Don't worry my child, you are 13 now & you have so much time...the birds and the bees won't be gone until you have got the key of the door...You've never been 21 before! Ha! Just think, if you have any concept of language, mimesis, love, tolerance by then, keep practicing stacking those placcy-cups! And I'd just tap your knee every so often & see if it responds! Grow your fingernails for scrabbling & like conkers dip them in vinegar. In fact dip your whole body in vinegar, twice a day to be sure, the gig is you need to be as tough as old boots. And a bit like Bruce Lee or David Blaine able to endure, but this won't be an illusion, god no, start sleeping on a bed of nails! Although I presume there will some vestiges of ideology & power still - a kind of postmodern Dark-Age, End of History - try & trick your metabolism somehow into getting your 5 portions a day from darkness...You'll be in my place then - a proud, probably a ticcing, spasmodic, uncoordinated - try & check out Merce Cunnigham wriggling about to John Cage...'Dancing with a dolly with a hole in her stocking, her knees keep on knocking, with a hole in her stocking, her knees keep on knocking etc - disorientated -'Where are we going? I don't know! When will we be there? I'm not certain, all i know is I am on my way!' - parent, blushing all over 24/7 101%! Either that or depending on various variables, angle of collision, stuff about the black sun
[Go and have a look at this . I do. I gaze, sometimes for over a minute at a time! I know it sounds crazy to you...Pardon?...Who am I?...I'm your dad...Where was I...Sorry? You don't know where I am...Ok...alright dear child let me talk, you just vegetate nuclear-digitally on stand-by...The black sun. It haunts me. It's the only whiff...What's a whiff?...Well whiff is a slang word for smell my child...What's a smell?....Just let me continue & I'll take that question next...Please now, Ssh!...Of matter & motion, not instrumental consummation, I get nowa-FOX©-days*...you by then my child may be - but be is a complex matter for philosophical, moral & ethical debate that the greatest thinkers have deliberated over, but it's 99.999% inevitable, that the closest intellectual pursuit to those heady head-heights when you are a parent, if your lucky will be... I-spy/Eye-spy.
- I, I-spy/Eye-spy with my CCTV of an eye...... Nothing..... beginning with...........Nothing!......Oh shit! I've done it again! Sorry! Over & over & over again...Where was I? Or if you're really lucky then Sudoku may survive! We all love puzzles! And you can be any age & stack!
A pink-eyed albino, a blind & paralysed Hamm, whispering into the knee-gill of yr osmotic, a placebo. Who will grow up & want to be a gazebo!

More

and

more

gaps

Like Chapter XXXIII Page 147 of The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy

But with more white space even Christo could wrap up with white space!
But dear child of mine, I can tell you this - What you don't know won't kill you...

*Todays word Nowadays was sponsored by FOX©:

...........FOX©!.........
......FOX©!-FOX©!
..FOX©!-FOX©!FOX©!

The Halley's Comet Pole Dancing kit™, includes an extendable pole, frilly garter, and DVD to demonstrate sexy dance moves. It also features Broadway Market fake money (The Hackney £™)-dubbed Cat & Mutton Dance Dollars™, to reward budding private dancers.

But now my live/lab/loft/mews is surrounded by a angry mob of 30-something, freelance, mortgaged up to the prostrate, superannuated, Pro-Amnesics™, bored out of their tiny...they're tiny...what? I can't remember...! Whatever, I'm a gonna! They're so into Killer App mode they think I'm Gary Glitter! They need a life/work executive life-coaching app to survive! They're a WYSIWYG flashmob! Like the Santamob™ @ Xmas. Augusto Boal please speak up now via your lush greying locks! They are persuaded it's an advert for a mobile phone company and they might get a half day's freelance rimming. They loiter on the self same street corner, every day waiting to be plucked from obscurity...

- I'm Edmond Halley you fools! Don't you know who I am?

What?.....What? Can this really be 2010? The baying mob are shouting back at me!

- You can Stick your Comet up your Arse Halley! Fuck off before we fire you into outer space!

Those bastards @ Broadway Market have ruined me! I blame Sir Michael Wilshaw! Always blame Wilshaw! But, a little bit like ex-Hackney Downs scholar, Maurice Micklewhite AKA Harry Brown - "Citizen turns vigilante against thugs!".
Like Hegel, in need of turning opposite via - the identity of identity and difference, that like cannot be exchanged for like: how the determinations of reflection identity, variety and opposition pass over into contradiction. The differing concepts of equivalence as between formal logic on the one hand, and dialectics on the other. Mathematics defines an equivalence relation as one having reflexivity (A = A), symmetry (if A = B then B = A) and transitivity (if A = B & B = C then A = C). Let us look at each formal-logical component of equivalence in turn. (It must be said however, that ‘=’ is the kernel of dialectics in mathematics, and a full study of its nature would require a comprehensive study of dialectics.) Reflexivity: The Law of Identity, A= A. Outside the context of the definition of the symbol, =, this law is a useless tautology which leads nowhere – except in so far as ‘A on the left’ is not the same, but the opposite of ‘A on the right.’ That is, the meaning of the law is the identity of opposites – the statement that every single concept contains two opposite sides. In the formal-logical interpretation that everything is equal to itself, it is either a barren and useless statement leading nowhere, if taken abstractly, or, if applied concretely, wrong and one-sided, since A also not = A. (source) - then the right way round :
Citizen turns vigilante against thugs!

I killed Sir Michael Wilshaw! Or did I?

2010-04-14T04:04:00.000-07:00

Sir Michael Wilshaw, Head of Mossbourne Academy circa 1949

I murdered Sir Michael Wilshaw on the canal-bed of the Regent's Canal on Saturday. I shot the Sheriff of Hackney Skools. It was a mercy killing. I did it for the future generations of Hackney yoof. Our only hope for revolution - enquiring, rebellious, full of passion & anger & hatred & disdain...that bastard was in the front-line of an all-out assault - putting the young working-class to the sword, by rote! So I caved his head in. This mediocrity, this bully, this over-paid authoritarian tin-pot dictator, the Michael Caine of pedagogy, had been given his head as Chief Head and now his head is a dilapidated mess. Another bit of lost Hackney heritage in the depths of the alluvial navigation...

The Sun. World Exclusive!
HEADMASTER Sir Michael Wilshaw swings open a classroom door and 30 smartly dressed pupils stand to attention.
“Good morning, Sir,” they say in perfect unison, before launching into a mantra which marks the start of every lesson.
“I aspire to maintain an enquiring mind, a calm disposition and an attentive ear so that in this class and in all classes I can fulfil my true potential.”
It is one of a series of strict rituals which must be observed every day at the Mossbourne Community Academy.
Others include: No mobile phones, no MP3 players, no gum chewing, no rudeness, no lateness and no bullying.
Children must also raise hands before asking questions, address teachers as Miss or Sir and form orderly lines at the end of each break time. Failure to comply invokes a range of strict sanctions including Saturday detentions. The ethos of zero tolerance and extreme respect has helped to transform the school in Hackney, East London – one of the capital’s most deprived boroughs – into a centre of excellence. Now Tory leader David Cameron is keen to learn lessons from the school, which educates 800 pupils aged 11 to 15.
(Inset) Keen ... happy pupils at Mossbourne...
He recently chose Mossbourne Community Academy to launch a manifesto to free schools from “a bog of low expectations” and bring back a culture of respect to classrooms. Sir Michael, who was knighted for services to education in 2000, says the secret of the school’s success is straightforward.
He says: “You can’t do anything without good behaviour because some children in areas such as this come from unstructured homes. Fifty per cent of our children are entitled to free school meals and 34 per cent are on the special needs register.We have children who live on estates with one parent, little money, no employment in the family and they are exposed to violence and gangs. Although their lives at home might be difficult, when they come here they feel safe because we create a disciplined environment for them. It’s a formal, traditional structure but it liberates children who otherwise get trapped in chaos. When they step over the boundaries clear sanctions are applied. If a child is cheeky to a teacher they may be required to stay behind until 6pm or even come in on Saturday morning. The rules are made clear to pupils and parents and they accept them. But, equally, there is lots of praise for children who do well.”
Sir Michael, a highly respected teacher of 40 years’ experience, has earned a reputation for turning tough schools around. In 2004 he was chosen to launch Mossbourne Community Academy – one of Labour’s flagship academy schools. Academies are free from local education authority control and private sponsors give a maximum of £2million in return for a large degree of control over the school’s curriculum, ethos and staffing.
Sir Michael says: “The new school was built on the site of the old Hackney Downs School, which was closed down and demolished in 1995 after being dubbed the worst school in Britain."

Hackney Downs
Just before its closure, over 70 percent of the boys spoke English as a second language, half came from households with no-one in employment, and half the intake had reading ages three years below average. Things came to a head in the 1990s, when the school made national news by being described by the then Conservative government as the 'worst school in Britain'. Eventually, as a result of direct government pressure, the school was forced to close in 1995.
The decision remains controversial to this day, opponents of the closure pointing out that Hackney Downs was singled out for special treatment by the government, and that its academic results were not significantly worse than many other inner-city comprehensives, especially considering the problems it had inherited, including the steady 'decanting' of problem pupils—who had frequently been expelled from their original schools—to Hackney Downs. Ironically, this process may have started because of the school's good reputation.
Notable alumni
* Steven Berkoff, actor, playwright, director
* John Bloom, 60s tycoon
* Eric Bristow, World Champion Darts Player
* Sir Michael Caine (Maurice Joseph Micklewhite, Jr.), CBE, actor (attended in 1944-1945, when he was evacuated to King's Lynn during World War II)
* Cyril Domb, physicist
* Abram Games, graphic designer
* Dalton Grant, high jumper
* Jerry Pam, Hollywood Agent and Member of the Finance Committee of the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences; publicist of Sir Michael Caine[2]
* Maurice Peston, Baron Peston of Mile End, English economist
* Harold Pinter, CBE, CH, and 2005 Nobel Laureate (attended from 1944 to 1948; evacuated to Cornwall during World War Two)
* Lt. Col. F. J. Roberts, editor of the 'Wipers Times'
* Norman Rose, biographer of Sir Winston Churchill
* Barry Supple, Emeritus Professor of Economic History, University of Cambridge, and a former Director of the Leverhulme Trust (attended from 1942 to 1949)
* Sir Stanley Burnton, Lord Justice of Appeal and Fellow of St. Edmund Hall, Oxford
* Roland Camberton, Writer
* Alexander Baron, Writer
* Ivor Compton, founder of the Hall of Cards chain which later merged with Hallmark Cards.

Except...rumours have begun to reach me...that oh no...The Learning Trust, in anticipation of assassination attempts on Sir Michaels life, have been accepting 'resting' actors from nearby Working Links, a wonderfully run commercial tight ship/pedalo oar of the UKplc's New Deal New-Seekers programme - 'We want to teach the world to skivvy in perfect harmony!' & r offering free prosthetic Sir Michael jowls fitted at no extra cost, apart from 2 weeks dole + elocution lessons from Jamie Oliver's avatar tongue in a skip @ Sainsbury's. They've have been fanned out all over the borough as political decoys, counterfeits to Sir Michael Wilshaw, taking the bullet for the great man for £64.73p a week - deductions on a strictly non-profit zero tolerance commercial basis:

Perhaps the most famous political decoy, soldier M.E. Clifton James successfully impersonated General Bernard Montgomery ("Monty") for intelligence purposes during World War II .In 1940, James acted in an Army production called When Knights Were Bold and his photograph appeared in an Army newspaper with a remark about how much he resembled General Montgomery. As a result, he was approached by actor David Niven in May 1944. Niven, then a Colonel in the Army Kinematograph Section, told James he was wanted to impersonate "Monty", as this would allow Montgomery to be somewhere else, so confusing the Germans.James had to learn Montgomery's gestures, mannerisms, gait and voice and had to give up smoking. Because James had lost his right-hand middle finger in the First World War, a realistic replacement was made. Even his wife had to be deceived and was both kept in the dark and sent back to Leicester. Once he was trained, his trip as "Monty" was to Gibraltar and from there to Algiers. "Monty's" presence succeeded in confusing the Germans in regard to the invasion plans. James was later the subject of a biopic called I Was Monty's Double starring James himself in (of course) the double role as Monty and himself.

So it's possible the man who's head I smashed & pummelled like an old pumpkin into a million dessicated pieces into the Hackney briny, was not that jumped-up bully boy Wilshaw!

~~~~~~~

I grow more alarmed by the moment that Sir Michael Wilshaw is still alive and that I have brutally butchered a feckless, doley-scum, ne'er-do-well, who no-one will miss and was taking up to much precious carbon! Especially after this video arrived via another anonymous floppy disk secreted I know not how in my undercrackers as I went out (incognito, fearing a dragnet) promenading up & down Broadway this morning...It had this inscribed in blood on the back of a 'Vote Boff 4 Major!' corrupted sticker.

Communique #1. The Angry Brigade #2.
£0 Reward offered for the first person to reveal details of where Sir Michael Wilshaw lives.
Stacking. Beans & Toms. Or mushy peas. Or Alphabetti Spaghetti. Orelse.
All that Stacking's making me itch!

. . . _ _ _ . . .

2010-04-10T11:32:00.000-07:00

Help! For gods sake can anyone hear me, fucksake! I mean can anyone read this!
. . . _ _ _ . . . !!!
I'm stuck on the bottom of the Regent's canal!
. . . _ _ _ . . . !!!
If anyone up there can read this & went to meet me opposite the Cat and Mutton yesterday, I'm really sorry! I got up early and gosh it was hot! It was so hot! I walked along the towpath and everyone was talking about how hot it was. It was really really hot! And you can't stay in bed when it's that hot. You've got to get up and-and-and feel just how hot-hot tiswas. Hot!
So I went for a stroll in the hot heat and joined the early tongs drinking real-lager in the Ghastlyopilis's dotted tweely hither & thither. The heat of the sun! The windows were open and the hot-hot sun slanting through & dappling the, it does what it says on the tin-varnished, spit & sawdust tofu floorboards. Lit up the lit-up like they were Jeeves in the Junior Ganymede Club!
It was so hot! I just sat in the hot slanting sun calculating the motion of the organick dust motes that the landlord had-had the enterprising idea of selling in bags. Just like you get yr weekly bag of cokers in. And was flogging them for £3 a bag. He's sold hundreds! It's turned into a craze that's swept Broadway like poppy fields in Afghanistan! It was fantastic to see all these indolent, infantalised 30-somethings, snorty-sneezing dust into each others IDs, in a kitsch ritual, like a joint confetti wedding & full-honours ashes-to-ashes cremation on a wind-swept quad within the confines of Wootton Bassett barracks, or more Zola-istically - millions of begrimed-faced chimney sweep urchins straight out of Great Expectations...24/7 surveillance postcoded spyro-giro'd within Dante's concentric circles & 'Referee, substitution! Off you come & disappear Shakila and we're bringing in from N16 - X-factor IT-girl straight to wok! Ladies & Gentlemen, can I introduce to you - Back from a Gifted & Talented 6-month indenture @ The Super-Soaraway-Sun! Sponsored by Levi Reggie-Reggie Roots! Whilst in Wapping she was filmed wapping Ashley Cola avec Jean Marie Le Pen & simultaneously multi-tasking the evolutionary rats off ships of Stevie Pinker's shaggy linguine Pacman-amania-grrrl-Barnet-helmet + by rote in her Bruce Chatwin journal...Oh Bruce. His rubbery lips pursed & oh so cultured, 'tap', 'Sold to Squinty-Addas-Abbaba avec delicate poise on bequest of Oil-Magnet Sheikh A.N Other! Such culture! A late Gauguin left sock to you Sir! + a free copy of the book wot Brucey rote via Roger Casement - Under the Black Cock: "culturally the central characters are Welshmen, with the surname Jones"....Oh Jonesy,not the black again! Oh pot the black again please Jonesy!:
And we immediately make her - Mossbourne Academy Headgirl! With her prize-winning Jane Bowles Morocco trip!
'The day was a huge success thanks to the commitment of staff and the gifts and talents of our incredible students.'
Our? Headgirl joins! V clever incorporated suck up. A 101% calculated & committed lickspittle talent, who will swallow deep & speak clearly into the Head of Year's microphone every time, salad days but not salad cream of course, olive oil sap rising like Alistair Campbell, to the top. Who has zero tolerance respect for idiots who don't fit in - she calmly whores her coagulates with £XXX's/Ability Plaza/charismatic as Mark Anthony says of Caesar:
The very dice obey him
And in our Sports my better cunning faints
Under his chance
with a Fulham smile, wondering what all the fuss was about. + early pinpoint accuracy in nodding agreement, I'll suck you off yr a Tory Lord or Ed Balls Balls Balls Balls & they came in search of paradise & found it on Hackney Downs!...you have zero tolerance for raggamuffins & on Day 1-Year Zero, you cleave! Permanently excluded from Hackney's spotlessly clean new Academies for doing a number 2 in a cubicle designed by Norman Gurkha-Penile-Foster, you shithouse! Freud? Oh yes, good family, urbane, mildly eccentric, dogfood, what a bloodhound, dearest Clement, what a clod! Bet these vile curs have never even heard of R Mutt, let alone Pedigree Chum! But thanks to the Foucault sale or return benevolence of various unelected, jumped-up, authoritarian, 50's throwbacks, goosestepping around Hackney still fighting hard the cold war - these little tinkers have been given a second zero-tolerance chance to live under the 2012 Olympic stadium land-grab & shovel the various highly toxic & contaminated soil from centuries of plague, pestilence & the conglomerated occult slag deposits of the worst excess of up until then the most rapacious passage of human history, the industrial revolution. Into I LUV HACKNEY recycling bags & then crawl through an escape tunnel they've helped design & make with the expert decking advice of Hackney resident & star of Tommy's DIY Survival, Tommy - big-gob, stick his cock up yr arse in the shower & then later force you to drink a bottle of Pernod when yr 12 wot a right larf - Walsh, over the borough boundary & a clamber up & out, unfortunately 25 yards short, coming up right in the middle of Gay Pride, so use a rope & casually camply saunter 100 yards into a corner of Victoria Park reserved for dogging, lacerate bag, & bobs yr Tommy/David 'Dispersal' McCallum from the Great Escape, wicked uncle Walsh - proceed to covertly deposit the lot in the main lung of our great neighbour & Olympic partner, Tower Hamlets & let them sort it. 13 weeks of that, 8 til 6 & then the lucky pups, 1 day getting used to daylight again & then whisked off for an indefinite stay in a holiday camp in the sunny west called Hotel Du Feltham! What larks eh Pip? What larks!
Tiring of these a little (that shows my age!), I wandered on & almost immediately bumped into undoubtedly the most important man in Hackney Today! A Knight of the Realm! The Headmaster of Hackney! The man single-handedly responsible for turning the pedagogical tide away from the militarisation of education, 101% surveillance & curtailment of any manner of deviation for an authoritarian pigiron-discipline! This most enlightened of men that would make Socrates come over like that dodgy second-hand car saleman Sir Jack Petchey! Thank god he's been drummed out of Hackney and they refused to allow him to have an Academy named after him! The shyster put this up on his website as if this was somehow tapping into the dominant ideology and Alan Sugar was an Enterprise Tsar! And not evidence the man is a common criminal and always has been!
"In 1937 a 12-year-old Jack was prosecuted at East Ham Magistrates Court for working under age. The prosecution evidence was that Jack was carrying vegetables, i.e. tomatoes, the defence being that tomatoes were a fruit - not a vegetable. The case was dismissed!"
Oh forget all that shit! There's neither air or time enough...
I'm gurt-big-belljar-on-me-head-butting the touchscreen on my mobile - trying to txt! But it's coming out like a barrel-full of woodpeckers trying to rewrite Cain & Abel by ~~Geoffrey Chaucer~~ Jeffrey Archer!
blblblblblb bl blblbl blblblb bllllblbl bllbl bllb bllllb blbl...
Luckily, I was just about able to Hoxton-kiss the mobile touchscreen & activate the 101% organick killer-app I got the other day from a fantastic new stall that's just opened in Alternative Broadway Market™(1)! A lock-up gaff just round the back of Cookes Pie & Mash Shop (The world famous cockney eating hole & the major influence on the bulk-artist Rachel Whiteread)
It's called 'The Drowning-Dismembered-Discombobulater™'!
It's an amazing widget! When drowning, or alternatively practicing eco-apocalypse drowning by holding yr breath, after 30 seconds of continuous lack of oxygen to the brain, this novelty-app kicks in!
And whilst it can't save your life, via Jacques Derrida, it puts into txt-speek yr final thoughts! It's both fantastic fun, of immense Book of the Dead-Sociological interest (Baldrick's interested in using it for a 1-off Time-team Dive! Special!) and will prove(2) a boon for the just-in-time-delivery of a will. Which may or may come in handy during Armageddon.
Hang on...I'm runnin gout of air...Ok, I'll cut to the...hang on what was that?
That was a bloated body on the bottom of Regents Canal! With a bowler hat rammed down over his boatrace!
Oh god!...not long left...So I met Sir Michael Wilshaw, the Pedagogical King of Hackney! Cogitating, in his characteristic peripatetic manner, in homage to his moral & 'How to Live the Good Life' role-model Socrates. Scuttling through Hackney's sidestreets to avoid being recognised or as he put it in his deadpan, Doctor Death (his biggest educational influence) Ur-Middle English-Middle-earth, estuary-sewage whine:
- These chavs do a Blakelock on moi!
Micky, as he implored me to call him, is planning to foist another utopian educational experiment on the poor & v dangerous yoof of Hackney v soon:
The Mark Trotter Memorial Midriff-Bayonet-Plunge
Bootcamp Day & Nite Tixilix™ Nursery™(3)

...Oh God!Only 3 secs left! Hurry Edmond tarry not!

Soicollaredmichael&toldhimaboutmydivingbell
&wouldheliketotakeadivewithmeandexchangee
ducationalideasaboutRousseau
RobertOwenASNeil'sSummerhillRDLaing
Chris-dreams are definitely not made of this-Woodhead...
andsowedidbutMichaelsWilshaw
itturnsoutissofullofshitthat
we'vegotstucktoalltheshit
atthebottomofRegent'scanal
andwe'restuck!
If&whenIgetupfromhere
I'mgoingtodoaCharlieBronsonDeathWish
onthisbastard!
Infactwhydon'tIdoitnow!!!
Michaelmeoldmucker!
Michaelcrawloverhereabit
Iwanttowhispersomethinginyrshell-like!
WHACK!

(1) Btw, RIP the Hackney-born simian situationist Malcolm Macdowell, who was planning to open a new haberdashers on Broadway Market modelled on his 70's Kings Road placcy-bag emporium SEX, but updated for the Noughties: SHIT!
(2) Prove' is maybe pushing it at the moment. The jury's still out really. Well not exactly, the jury came back within 5 minutes & recorded a unanimous verdict of Guilty on Drowning-Dismembered-Discombobulater™ inventor, Andrew Boff. Who turned up at Hackney Town Hall recently with a freshly typed transcription of Boff's spiritual-guide & aboriginal of Broadway Market - Spirit, in which 'Spirit' bequeathed all of Broadway Market and all properties in a 911 yard radius to 'His Greatest Babylonian Student' - Andrew Rachman Boff via the Drowning-blahblah™.
(3) As a publicity tie-in, Michael & his Think-coffin, panopticon, zero-freedom, fighter-thinkers @ Edubiz™ based @ Michael's off-shore (situationisted in a secret location somewhere in the foothills of Woodbury Down, that Jamie Carswell sorted out for a 'few bags of raw onions to munch'.), Special Needs Double-Bubble Public(but not very)/Private(very-very), Barbary-Ape charity colony: Planet of Sin-Sink-Estates, are attempting to make contact through Doris Stokes with JG Ballard & his best mate in Shepperton, Benny Hill. To see if they can knock an opera-oratorio-advertising campaign together for the new nursery. A cross between The Atrocity Exhibition & Ernie.

Meat & Organick Greet Me!

2010-04-09T04:45:00.000-07:00

I shall be touring Broadway Market tomorrow @ around 2pm, talking to stallholders, speculating & sharing genius with my studets & cronies alike.
You have an opportunity to be there!
I will be outside The Cat & Mutton Ghastlyopolis @ a round 2.11pm, scoring drugs.
I will be in disguise so I probably won't look like this:

Maybe more like this:

But frankly who knows & who cares, science will be the winner after all at the end of the day it always is...
But now I need to study the spots on my skunk.
Halley is thinking. Do not disturb!

Dive! Dive! Dive!

2010-04-08T10:41:00.000-07:00

Sometimes I read 2 things @ once. It seems churlish and disrespectful in the extreme not 2 dive into cut-up geniuses like Laurence Sterne, William Burroughs & Bavid Dowie & fully integrate them into one's own split, spliced, fractured, chopped & ravaged quotidian interpassivity.
So today on a whim I carefully planned to randomly pick up Capitalist Realism by Mark Fisher & the March 2010 edition of Hackney Neighbourhood News - Your local policing & community safety newsletter.
And proceeded to read them out loud whilst moonwalking across the Regents Canal in a prototype diving bell I've constructed, in a preliminary rehearsal of a potential reenactment of the leader of the Agapemonites, John Hugh Smyth-Piggott, who had some fifty 'soul brides', proclaiming himself the new Messiah in front of a hostile crowd of Hackney locals in 1902, being challenged to prove this by walking across Clapton Pond.
In 1690, Halley built a diving bell a cable-suspended airtight chamber, open at the bottom like a moon pool structure, that is lowered underwater to operate as a base or a means of transport for a small number of divers. The pressure of the water keeps the air trapped inside the bell. Halley suffered one of the earliest recorded cases of middle ear barotrauma.
I have a bad ear now but it was worth it! Although this was a complete coincidence, this was synchronicity, this was serendipity, I planned it, this was: The art of living underwater: or, a discourse concerning the means of furnishing air at the bottom of the sea, at any ordinary depths + Some consideration's about the cause of the universal deluge + An easy demonstration of the analogy of the logarithmick tangents to the meridian line . . . containing the solution of a curious problem, relating to navigation, proposed. (source)
The results? No results? Of course not, I'm a scientist!

This is in part a consequence of the inherent resistance of certain processes & services to marketisation. (The supposed marketisation of education, for instance rests on a confused and underdeveloped analogy: are students the consumers of the service or its product? [More of that to follow EH])...What we have is not a direct comparison of workers performance or output, but a comparison between the audited representation of that performance and output. Inevitably, a short-circuiting occurs, and work becomes geared towards the generation and massaging of representations rather than to the official goals of the work itself. (p42, Capitalist Realism)

Crime in Hackney at a ten-year low
Mayor of Hackney, Jules Pipe said: "I welcome the latest evidence that crime is continuing to fall...While statistics might seem remote from people's lives, a drop in crime figures represents fewer victims of crime." (p3, Safer Hackney March 2110)

"This reversal of priorities is one of the hallmarks of a system which can be characterised without hyperbole as 'market Stalinism'. What late capitalism repeats from Stalinism is just this valuing of symbols of achievement over actual achievement." (p42/43, Capitalist Realism)

a drop in crime figures represents fewer victims of crime
a drop in crime figures represents fewer victims of
a drop in crime figures represents fewer victims
a drop in crime figures represents fewer
a drop in crime figures represents
a drop in crime figures
a drop in crime
a drop in
a drop
a

The world turned upside down! Yr tongue turned inside out!

2010-04-07T10:50:00.000-07:00

It tickles me that young people I meet up & down Broadway Market - I can't get a word in edgeways they jabber-jabber on & on scared shitless of the Pinter-pause arriving unannounced presumably mainlining on sundry mammalian pineal gland hallucinogens - think that all I do every day since coming back to Agostone is write this blog!
Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha shitpricksbastardsmorons! Hang on I thought I turned my Tourette2txt killer app off......shits!.........pricks!.........ok, that's better. No-no-no, you'll find me, a miller - working, researching & inventing 18 hours a day in my live/work lab just off Laburnham Street!
Actually, you won't find me, unless you break the door down, cos I don't do anonymous & nothing shall come of nothing with all yr yadda yadda yadda.
But as a free taster, a gratuity morsel of the organickly deep fried droopy-Uranus trad-Scotch batter on yr £9.11p
During this period in Glasgow, West worked as an ice cream van driver. On 4 November 1965, he accidentally ran over and killed a four-year-old boy with his van.
West, an uncouth man whose personal habits included munching raw onions as if they were apples.
Fred West Memorial Multicultural Tutti-frutti Onion Bhaji!
In Punjabi, Bhaji means "Brother", usually elder brother.
John West may have used his dustcart to dispose of the bodies and belongings of victims who are as yet unknown, or to get rid of parts of the bodies of the nine victims whose dismembered remains were discovered buried in the house and garden at 25 Cromwell Street. When John West was arrested for alleged rape in 1994, police who searched his house found more than 100 pornographic videos. Frederick West claimed that John was ''heavy'' into pornography and liked to tie women up and beat them. His brother treated women ''like a dog'' and become violent when they rejected his advances, Fred West claimed. Retired John West, 54 - twice-married and the father of four children - hanged himself in the garage at his Gloucester home on November 28 last year, the night before a jury at Bristol Crown Court was expected to return verdicts at his trial on rape charges. John West had denied allegations that he raped Anne Marie West, his brother's eldest daughter, some 300 times during the late 1970s at Cromwell Street, and had denied once raping another teenage girl at the house. The suicide of John West - who admitted to having had an affair with his brother's wife Rosemary - mirrored that of his brother. Fred West hanged himself on January 1, 1995, in Birmingham Prison while awaiting trial on 12 charges of murdering women and girls, including his daughter Heather, 16, and eight-year-old stepdaughter Charmaine.
Here is something I'm working on at the moment!
It's in prototype form so beer with me, but basically if my calculations are correct, and they usually are - look do you think it's easy for me to shop @ Comet! Many people nowadays over the age of 18 months are showing signs of imminent discombobulation, presaging Alzheimer's, dementia etc.
My stargazing black-sky thinking surmises that a kwik killer app 2 download 2 yr iPhone that would rearrange this growing hemorrhoid of gibberish would sell like cakeshot!
I'll leave the diagnosis & astronomical (See that screaming against the sky? Voom!) cost of caring for the Forest of Dean of deadwood, braindead, turkeys voting for Xmas on May 6th, 2 other philanthropic entrepreneurs to wring a few million quid out of in these dark days where money=madness.
Personally, I favour the dictums of Malthus & The Childcatcher from the Fritz Laing & Ken Loach fillum, Chitty Chitty Bang Bang, for a quick & entertaining final solution/cull. But of course, modernised for todays more sophisticated consumer tastes & produced on a commercial basis as a 'You've been Framedesque' gameshow! Downloadable on a weekly pay-as-you-go subscription basis.
Eschew the obvious Big Other overtures of Harry Hill, Denis Norden & Jeremy Beadle - There's actuary a 50% chance Justin Lee Collins would host it brilliantly for sure! He's a safe pair of pasties! Have you ever seen him drop the coin he's flipped on Heads or Tails? No! Many underestimate the difficulty of multi-tasking the flip & catch, whilst simultaneously creating a simulataneously thrilling yet unbearable lightness of simultaneous being of the dead hand of history. More specifically the back of the dead...the dead...what exactly is the back of the dead hand of history called?
- What is the opposite side of palm of your hand called in English? I am unable to find a word in English meaning that.
- I don't believe there is an English word that refers to the opposite side of your palm. I would just call it the top of my hand and some people call it the back of your hand.
- I don't know about the english term or layman's term of that but i know the medical term since i am a medical transcriptionist. It is called "dorsum".
- Some says that the name of the back of the hand is called ubulus, but there is no dictionary reference to it. It is called Back!
...The hello-hello it's good to be back dead hand of history moulting simultaneous (done with 1 of Justin's classic, hilarious just in time - 'It's the meat John West reject, that makes John West salmon the best!' cod JR Ewing accent) Ruth Lea shower scene suspense!
- You called tails.......And.....it's........................
.....................................................................
.....................................
................................heads
My only concern about Justin & I know Justin is aware of this & is working as mucho pizzal ecteral off as is bovinely Bristolianly possible. Given the current preposterous ethical constraints of the Hippocratic oath & those damn pigmy scientific dinosaurs [obviously not Jurassic!]! Who, for instance, still think that the Mos Eisley Cantina scene from Star Wars is science fiction!
Justin has a gurt big headpiece:
"You''ll never get a gurt big 'ead like thine
In a tiny lickle hat like this!
The odds is all against thee
I should give 'ee a miss!"
The Wurzels
Sigh. Said Air Balloon Hill-head hasn't a hope in Hanham Mount of fitting within the confines of the mobile phone screen arena. I don't care how nano the components get! Quantum! Size of a meme! It won't budge! There'd be no room for social networking! Forget a keypad, Justins head would be the touchscreen. We may have to get Nick Park to mould Justin's bonce out of plasticine. And 1-D him. But we'll cross that virtual USB Bridge Academy E8 - Change is better than...than a ...I can't remember...Good! When we call in an airstrike to take it out! That would be a good way to start The Man in the High Castle X-box reload wouldn't it...the ideas just flow like water under a...
...Permit me a minor diversion, but could anyone enlighten me on what the words of Me Ol' Bamboo, sung by Caractucus Potts from the classic gritty Dali & Bunuel documentary, Chitty-Chitty Bang-Bang, actually mean?
Chorus:
When punting on the beautiful Thames
Caractacus:
You use a sturdy pole.
Chorus:
To protect their fair complexion
Caractacus:
Ladies use a parasol.
Chorus:
It's useful in the underbrush
Caractacus:
To have a hefty spear.
Chorus:
Right!
All:
But what we do with an old bam-boo
Makes everybody cheer!
Whatever...Please take a gander at a practical preview of what my new invention could do. It's not perfect to be sure! Like, is the name I've thought up catchy enough? It doesn't feel as easy on the tongue as Halley's Comet. Lenin railed against those who had painted the trees outside his office window multi-coloured. Road me! Rail me! Tube me! Train me!
- All theory, dear friend, is grey, but the golden tree of actual life springs ever green.
The Edmond Halley Right the Wongs of History Generative Gammer Difference Engine Killer App. AKA - Broken Biscuits!

Cider I up Landlord!

2010-04-04T08:10:00.000-07:00

I thought I'd try another Arse! blog using my new organic, bio-degradable, puddle-based, Zola Budd carbon footprint, exclusive to Broadway Market - The 101% Astrology:Tourettes 2txt Killer-App! That was installed on my mobile yesterday, via satellite & wind-turbine Arse!
Arse! I'm at this moment sitting on the low wall of All Saints Church Haggerston, with a bottle of Diamond White 101% organic cyder. Ever since the outrageous hike in the price of zyder since the budget, this nectar in retrospect arrives renewed afresh on one's palette like the Farmers Market fermented juice of the gods, pickling yr gullet.
But to be sure, top of the morning cunt! non of the cider made in Hereford or Taunton matches the Irish stuff! They are the undisputed Finnegans Rainbow of the alcoholic apple, served chilled whilst on the rocks! It's worth visiting the homepage of the by very far away stuffed emerald tigers of iced cider, Magners. 'There's Method In The Magners.' For, if you don't fill in a box stating where you live and your date of birth like any staggers credit card transaction, you're not even allowed in to see the contents of the website! Only a company absolutely convinced of the superiority of their glider would take such a high-risk approach to potential customers. It's a business lesson that hippy-go-lucky, Tribal Nation™ stallholders on Broadway Market would do well to learn, but with love, respect, organically craven & in a holistic, organic - get up, leave St Werbourghs city farm @ 6.66, be in E8 @ just gone 8! Onc.Then the big end goes on Gary Mabbutt the campervan.
I have yet to taste the Swedish cider Kopparberg, but by all accounts it is the Catherine the Great of ciders! Which she liberally imbibed as they lowered Horse down from the ceiling for their afternoon cuddle. Until tragically, the attendants lost their grip on the ropes suspending Horse after washing their hands with cheap boiled soap imported from London...manufactured unfortunately by my father shitslipshit also called Edmond fuck!
Fuck! It was of course not Henry V but Catherine who uttered the immortal lines:
Hoarse! Hearse! A Kingdom for my Horse! And find me that cheapskate bastard who sold me the bag of rat fat he called Cat & Mutton Soap-on-a-rope! Aaaaaghfuckshitarse!

So if ever you go down to Cork by the sea
Stay out of the ale house and take it from me
If you want to stay sane don't you dare take a sup
Of that devil drink cider called Johnny Jump Up

The End of the World News! Arse!

2010-04-03T07:36:00.000-07:00

OMG! Arse! Tourettes2Txt whatthefuckisthat? I'm blagging this post Live! & direct from Broadway Market, Arse! on my mobile telephonic apparatus, so bare with me, Arse! if there r any mustard gas cos they didn't have this potlatch in 1666 an i'm also fucking cunting using an organic, bio-degradable, puddle-based, Zola Budd carbon footprint, exclusive to Broadway Market - The 101% Astrology:Tourettes 2txt Killer-App!
:¬(), lol™Arse!
The Police have closed Broadway Market the cunts! It's hemped off. The market was fair-trade organick buzzing with expectation this morning, when a rumour spread like the inevitable destruction of Gaia, that Spirit or the spirit of Spirit or the coconut man formerly known as Spirit had returned and was somewhere on or near The Market!
A frantic search entailed, which I must say felt more like a Hue and Cry as if Mumia Abu-Jamal had escaped death row, than the return of the second coming of the prodigal son, the founding father, the progenitor of all our dreams to make Hackney, Goa, not Gaia.
Andrew Veitch downed a huge bottle of whisky - the kind that gets filled up with punters spare coins for blind-dogs in a shit Hackney boozer until some clever Robin Hood smashes it & redistributes £19.11p + 1 used condom & an index finger - in 1 gulp & began howling: 'He'll spoil the party! He'll piss on everyone's ontological smoothie the 1-Love, I&I On&Onanistic, Jah Rastafari, Babylon shite he spouts! Put 1 of these fucking Spirit bags over his head! He's a fucking nuisance! A terrorist! Kendo Nagasaki! Where's Charlie Collins? Charlieee!
Andrew Boff, soon to be knighted um, King of Hackney... And the man who has championed Spirit's cause, right from the very moment it was as clear as an egg is not an egg, (that's being Stalinist, eggs come in all shapes and increasingly expensive sizes) that Spirit had not a hope in Hackney of staying in his shop, and that the very process of kicking him out, would if 'we' don't mm queer the pitch...enable sundry/saturday parasitic vermin to organically coin it.
Boff quickly commissioned an off-duty police helicopter off soulmate Brian Paddick of the backyard & has dropped thousands of flyers over The Market like a massive inter-racial money-shot! Churchill-like in Sydney Street, disseminating the blackest of black propaganda -think Simon Hughes in Bermondsey & his homophobic smearing of Peter Tatchell in 1983 (if Spirit is not Jesu, then maybe Tatchell is, for publically forgiving that bastard, there's no way I would, I'd have got Charlie Bronson in...):
Asked by the Independent whether he was gay, he replied: "No, I'm not. But it absolutely should not matter if I was." On Thursday, Mr Hughes said his reply had not been untrue, saying his relationships with both men and women meant he was not easy to "pigeon hole". But he said: "I apologise if I misled people, I apologise if I unintentionally gave the wrong impression."But I hope people will understand why people in public life try to put that sort of fence around them."And I hope they will understand that it shouldn't disbar people - not just me but anyone else - from public office or doing a job which I want to do and want to do well." Mr Hughes was elected to Parliament in 1983 in a bitter by-election battle in Bermondsey against gay Labour candidate Peter Tatchell.In one election leaflet, the Liberals presented him as the "straight choice".
The flyers are suggesting that Spirit was no longer the same man! He has variously been: Possessed by fleeing Haitian zombies, a Philip K Dick automaton, a bit like that bloke who said he'd drowned in a canoe, MP Shiel & the Kingdom of Redonda, Billy Wilder's The Fortune Cookie - where Walter Matthau's crooked lawyer fast-talks Jack Lemmon into an insurance fraud. Or even like the CPGB full-timers who got summoned to Congress in Moscow & returned able to speak perfect Russian but with no English whatsoever & necked a bottle of vodka a day slurring to the wife with slashing motions, to shave their backs.
But if Spirit was not here, where was Spirit? Who was the Spirit that was here that no-one could find? That's where the Filth came in! Called by The Broadway Market Tenants & Residents group on the grounds of there being a state of National Emergency in the Principality of B-M!
The most obvious place Spirit would attempt to spirit himself away or seek Spiritual sanctuary like the Dalai handreared Lhama, surely would be the Fin and Flounder. The place he rightfully calls his x-home. Except of course it isn't! Going on & on about 'natural' justice, how tiresome is that! It's a fucking Market for godsake, it doesn't matter whether yr selling snakeoil or organick oliveoil! He won't accept the British legal system (the best in the world I hasten to add), which has repeatedly found against him in his bid to circumvent the iron law of property!
If Spirit had won his case, just imagine all the different buildings dotted round Hackney that were formerly schools, libraries, laundries etc, that obscenely now house luxury bhurgers who weekly munch exorbitant burgers in the comfort of their gated luxury hutch. All that land that was grabbed could be grabbed back! What! The compulsory & immediate requisition of Hackney council-owned buildings that were sold off without the citizens of Hackney agreeing? It would be the end of the Market, the party, the organick granary bun-fest comrades! The end of the fucking world!
No! No! No! Find where Spirit is and shoot the fucker!

Yet hours have passed and still no sign of Spirit...

And then in an inspired move, Hackney's Churchill - Luke Akehurst was Ironsided onto the crime scene and called without hesitation for the Ghostbusters! The Spooks! Harry Houdini! Anyone actually, who could locate Spirit & debunk the Spirit-myth, without of course revealing the extent of the charlatanism, skulduggery, buried bodies & recycled brown paper bags containing some mm, quantitative easing.
Tony found Spirit. When he heard over the fence, that Boff was offering a reward of a field of organic cucumbers for Spirit dead or alive! He smelt a new smoothie coming on & pinball-like bounced his glass eye up & down & round & blurted out - 'Spirit's holed up in me shop!'
Spirit oh Spirit! What a falling off was there! Instead of coming back as Jesus, Odysseus, Paul Gadd, unrepentant & triumphant - Spartacus heading for yr spiritual home opposite the Cat & Mutton, you clamber down from Tony's roof into the very bowels of the Greatest Hackney Occupation since The Vortex in Stokey...actually that was 2 years later wasn't it.
But Spirit is not coming out! He keeps shouting out through a bollard that he is 'Doing an Eli Hall!' and that he has taken the 2 most beautiful & peaceful members of the Broadway Market community, The Gaffers - James Ó Nuanáin & Alistair Maddox hostage! And that, if he is not returned to his rightful place as the sole & only purveyor of foreign muck on The Market within 3 hours, 'The 2 cockney wide-boys bastards get it!'
Let no-one be in doubt, Spirit is serious! Mad of course, but serious. We've all heard and endured the awful blood-curdling screams & howls of anguish coming from 1 of poor James or Alistair's orifices, it's not that clear which...If only it were the hatchet he was burying! No, Spirit is systematically burying various very expensive organick produce he liberated from The Market earlier, (people were either too kind, too polite or shame-faced to ask him to pay materially not Spiritually out of his non-existent, hard-earned. They buried Bob Marley in a paupers grave! Hang on no, that was Jacob Marley) slowly but surely, one by one, deep, deep, deeper down, down where the sun doesn't shine...Aaaaaaaagh!...(I think that was Alistair, you begin to pick up the different timbres of the screams after a while).
The last thing I heard Spirit declaim through his bollard was - 'Time to play hide the sausages, bratwurst, deep-fried saveloy! You name it, it's going up their arse! Give me my emporium back now!'
And that's where we are as I blag to you now via my bastard shitting mobile. There's an impasse, a stand-off. Like Jesus in Arimethia, Spirit's in Tony's caff. We await the the symbolic rock being rolled back! The roof being lifted off by the Scotch Guard, who are wheeling about now in the fading light - helicopters, parachutes, unmanned drones, tactical airstrikes, covert intelligence gathering...
I can just see now the star of the Dragon's Den & International Celebrity, Hot-Pepper Jerk Sauce Manufacturer - Levi Reggie-Reggie Roots! Along with other influential figures from the black community - Jim Davidson, Lenny Henry (aka Ainsley Harriot), who have been brought in specifically to talk Spirit down or out & flog various Water-rats, Celebrity Squares, 1984 Grand Hotel Brighton freebies, because after all this is a Market! If we ever forget that & get ideas above our stall, where would we be? Walter Benjamin lugging 10.000 pages of The Acades over the Alps & still committing suicvide, that;s where! And now conjoined by the spawn of good people from the Divine Church Kingsway International. Who's Pastor, Mumbo-Jumbo-Burstyerheadlikeayam Jnr, has started to holler & bear witness...
Oh Lord, this is the moment of Judgment! A Revelation! Day shall turn forever to Night! T'is Spirit's 2nd Coming! Not bad for an old man who worships the Dwarf Sallasie! Good taste in pets & moors though! The End of the World is Nigh! Let our Holy Kingsway Buckets ooze & overbrimmeth with filthy lucre! Not water into wine my friends! But Holy-Buckets into Nigerian Rolls Royce's, kidney-shaped swimming pools. And kidney-shaped kidneys wrenched out & fed to Murder Mile for anyone who crosses us! Hallelujah! Praise The Hoard!

Subintimal wire dissection is a well-established method for traversing difficult vascular occlusions.

2010-04-02T13:08:00.000-07:00

- Daddy?

- Yes Son.

- Where is the coconut man Spirit?

- Like Zeus on Mount Olympus, Spirit lives in the sky, he's gone to the place that is best, he's having a well-deserved rest, perched upon yonder Stamford Hill. I know that he is looking sagely & benignly down upon us as I speak. We who have inveigled his workplace & environs & once he was out of the way shamelessly created & traded on his mythic reputation & are now stacking them on their edges...Son, he fondly calls us all his Broadway Market Community of Total Rarseclarts! What an inspirational spiritual spirit Spirit is!

- (Organick, Olympic, Broadway Market he knew & loved & schlepped past with his boyhood comrades Maurice Mcklewhite & Earth Kitt , Heritage, Pinter pause)

.......................................................................................Daddy?

- Yes!

- Why are there so many stalls selling cheese in the market?

- Good question son. Listen & Learn! You won't get this taught to you by those commy-pinko's at the UBS Bridge Academy I can tell you! I overheard the 2 Gaffers who manage The Market who everyone adores & who are the Dead-Sea-Scrolls-of-the-Earth say, "You can never have enough cheese stalls on a Market geez! 1 day soon they're gonna cum in fucking handy know what i mean!"

- (101% natural longueur) I don't get it, why Daddy?

- Lookshutthefuckupwillyouyrnotevenmineyoulittlebastard! (quickly runs finger across throat, rolls eyes & distends tongue )

- Aaaaaaaaagh!!!

Am I a dog? Exclaimed the Schnorrer with dignity

2010-04-01T08:22:00.001-07:00

They've market-tested the Markets, free-sample tasted the Markets, they know the Markets, they play the Markets, they understand the Markets, they believe in the Markets, they mutually co-exist with the Markets, they make it up on the spot - it's a carefully rehearsed shtick, there is no remainder, no remainders it's all fresh off yon rickshaw, a gentle reminder squire - my back-pocket, if you must in me palm or have you heard of the Hoxton kiss? We drink in The Macbeth, what a fuck ing boozer!

"Broadway Market manager, James Ó Nuanáin, 32, compares Broadway Market to Ridley Road Market: “I think it’s more like Ridley than any other market [in Hackney], but a little bit posher, so it doesn’t compete with Ridley. It’s a little bit more expensive but a similar sort of thing – you’ve got clothes and you’ve got food.”
When asked if local people use the market, Ó Nuanáin says, “Well – locally living people … we’ve got cheap fruit and veg, and there are plenty of deals on the market but it is perceived as the Marks and Spencers…”
“…Rather than Morrisons,” says Alistair Maddox, 23, Ó Nuanáin’s assistant.
“In many ways we would rather do a Ridley Road here but if we were doing a Ridley Road thing here then all the people round here that use Ridley Road or Chapel Market would be coming here instead so it would hit those markets, ” says Ó Nuanáin."

It's a diabetic tightrope, a dianetic balancing act these 2 boys are doing single-handed, Jake-the Pegged, spinning plates (or go Green & eat it out of yr hands), in the here & now, not there, here, where? Here, go there if you want but expect the Broadway Market Community to shun you you scab, pariah, organick turn-coat!...4 the benefit of all of us in North London really, just to get the Markets dead right, well not 101% right, that's the beauty of it really, honestly, why else would we be doing this? It's hard gfraft! You lot just like to moan & organick carp, you never do anything! Smile! Want a taste? No, no probs. Yr barred! Only joking squire...where do you live, just doing a Broadway Market Community User Survey - Baron Alan Sugar palmed us 5k out of his Sustainable Confidence recycled-101% Mandelson-Ordure-Hors D'oeuvres-Potty-Tractatus-Logico-Philosophicus: Make up what is the obviously the case if there weren't a hardcore of persistent naysayers & traitors; & yr postcode please? Tick A, B or C - Aaagh]Do you Love. Blah]Really Love. Coxcomb] Wish the whole of the world was like {or if you prefer, just was) - Broadway Market. Attila the Hun]Tick as many boxes as you feel appropriate. Borgias] Tick-Tock the mouse ran up the clock. Carswell] - Tic Attention Deficit...pardon?
Like Jacques Derrida & Cousteau - 2 words or 2 winkles - but 2+2 does not equal 4! Everything is in motion, matter is in motion, the price of organick bread can not and will not remain the same. Only connect! Broadway Market is and is not like Ridley Road, there's no getting away with it, no way round it, no 2 ways about it...
And these 2 entrepreneurial big-hitting latter-day non-identical 11 years difference Kray twins have big-plans! Think Stan Laurel, Cary Grant & Stephen Fry, running off to join the circus, they've been trawling Eastern Europe for new acts to organick the stalls...Dragons with 1 eye of the tiger and 1 of the eagle, they want things with a bit of pizazz! Draculaaaa! Something a bit different to yr run of the organic-heritage-restored-at-tax-payers-expense-hand-
pumped-mill-on-the-floss-outskirts of Hebdon Bridge (sans skirts) produced £5 loafs. Those are yr basics, for the locals, what is needed now is something more than the annoying banality of that double-bass boy, bring on the jugglers! Play with fire! Ladies & Gentlemen! At no expense, behold the future of Broadway Market!
The Kings of the Schnorrers!

TV Star Justin Lee Collins @ Broadway Market this Saturday!

2010-03-30T08:45:00.000-07:00

Jesus Christ, incredible news! My old adversary, puritanical meddler & original gameshow host, John Wesley tells me that Justin Lee Collins, is as we speak, making his way leading a convoy of pilgrims/contestants/Pecunia non olets (money smells gurt lush!)- It seems a new breed of working class entrepreneurs have emerged since the credit crunch in Bristol. They urinate into pots which are then emptied into closed swimming pools. The liquid is then collected from public latrines by unemployed/able work-fare customers, lunatics & ne'er-do-wells, where it's sold and served as a valuable raw material for chemical processes like cider, Brains faggots, Bristol Cream, Robin Cousins, The Wurzels & Concorde and to whiten togas. Never slow, correction, always slow, like the whole bastard boring place, Bristol Council have begun levying a tax on the urine. The scheme is not without problems however, last week, just round the corner from where JC grew up, the accumulated urine burst through the deep end levee of Speedwell swimming baths submerging Fishponds, the birthplace of avant-garde Saxophonist Evan Parker! A dirty business, money for piss? Justin licks the gold coin - Non olet! This doesn't stink!
- Hanham Mount, East Bristol - real rebel country! And heading for Broadway Market to commandeer a stall outside The Dove this Easter Saturday by hook or by crook & picking up more and more followers as he goes! My god!
And Jesus (J-C) went into the temple of God, and cast out all them that sold and bought in the temple, and overthrew the tables of the moneychangers, and the seats of them that sold Doves, And said unto them, It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves.
We await with baited breath...
Sally, having swallowed cheese
Directs down holes the scented breeze
Enticing thus with baited breath
Nice mice to an untimely death
...what JC will bring to the Broadway Market Monster Organick Easter Orgy, but let's hope he brings just some of the flippings of his smash-hit Channel 5 gameshow - Heads or Tails!
Five's thrilling prime-time game show where a million pounds is up for grabs on the flick of a coin. Heads or Tails? You decide... Justin Time Delivery and some celebrity guests are on hand to join the contestants on their incredible journey.
Quite, so, you decide...Should Andrew Boff live or die? Heads or tails? You decide! Should there be a 100 foot red, gold and green statue of Spirit erected in the middle of London Fields like the Angel of the North, Christo & the sublimely talented conceptual shyster John Frankland (Remember this maxim: What Hackney needs least Hackney always gets) the Rrose Selavy of The Mabley Green Boulder & The Shoreditch Park Boulder the 2 magnificent world-heritage Hackney 2012 Olympic-Duchamp Readymades, that like Broadway Market & The Ocean venue have caught the imagination of fleating-bleating bespoke-wharf-mews-hub, silo-quango-√ √ √ √ √ √√ √-Climb every mountain, ford every stream, follow every rainbow, until you find your dream!-Suits ~ Step right up & call me Gerry Mander! & who go to the to the tallulah Tired of London, Tired of Life website & gorge on rocks, it's non-stop 24 hour mayhem!
Frankland has elected to leave the Hackney Boulders as they were found in the quarry, bearing the scars of their manufacture by the explosion that blasted them from the rock face. Frankland’s boulders owe more of a debt to the Duchampian Readymade or the Neolithic standing stone, than to the types of sculpture and statuary that are more commonly experienced within civic parks.
Heads or tails? You decide...
In a similar D-D-De Man, Duchampian, Derridarian, Detonate-dem! Unreconstructed-Not constructive-Deconstructive spirit of Spirit stylee, have a look at this Johnny Morris of videos that hopefully provide a Masterclass in:

"what is left when beliefs have collapsed

at the level of ritual or symbolic elaboration,

and all that is left is the consumer-spectator,

trudging

through the ruins and the relics." (>source<)

J-L-C you at Broadway Market this Easter Sat on an Incredible Journey!

E8 Artful Dodger Mona Lisa Thief Caged!

2010-03-28T08:38:00.000-07:00

"A philosopher produces ideas, a poet poems, a clergyman sermons, a professor compendia and so on. A criminal produces crimes.

The criminal moreover produces the whole of the police and of criminal justice, constables, judges, hangmen, juries, etc.; and all these different lines of business, which form equally many categories of the social division of labour, develop different capacities of the human spirit, create new needs and new ways of satisfying them. Torture alone has given rise to the most ingenious mechanical inventions, and employed many honourable craftsmen in the production of its instruments."
Marx ~ Theories of Surplus Value

Are you warm, are you real, Mona Lisa
Or just a cold and lonely work of art...

Sell Tell Pork Pies About It And They Will Come!

2010-03-27T12:41:00.000-07:00

Today @ Broadway Market. Outside The Fin & Flounder, the right and proper replaicement to Spirit's overpriced, gone & best forgotten red snappers. A Pilgrim genuflects before The Aboriginal's live/work Lab - Spirit's spiritual home before it got spirited away by Bolshevik Mafiosi. A confident prediction - Like Canterbury after Chaucer, Stratford Upon Avon after Shakespeare, Watford's in-store Radio Top Shop after Paul MacKenna - "Close your eyes, you're feeling sleepy, listen..... carefully..... TWO SHELL SUITS FOR A TENNER!"
Thanne longen folk to goon on pilgrimages, and palmeres for to seken straunge strondes, to ferne halwes, kowthe in sondry londes; And specially from every shires ende of Engelond, to Broadway Market they wende, the hooly blisful Spirit for to seke, that hem hath holpen, whan that they were seeke.

The Kris Hedayat Story. Gritty Social Realism returns!

2010-03-26T07:46:00.000-07:00

On the day that ITV announce that they are cutting The Bill after 25 interminable years! Watch this Police! Cops! Action! Drama! Loachian, Dali & Bunuel mongrel documentary! And ponder on Nature! vs Nurture! - Should we axe Steven Pinker? Head or tails? You decide!

"Beginning in the 1970’s, the mission of modernism was extended by the set of styles and philosophies called postmodernism. It was more Marxist and far more paranoid.
Once we recognise what modernism and postmodernism have done to the elite arts and humanities, the reason for their decline and fall become all too obvious. The movements are based on a false theory of human psychology, the Blank Slate.
They fail to apply their most vaunted ability – stripping away pretence – to themselves. And they take all the fun out of art!
Modernism and postmodernism cling to a theory of perception that was rejected long ago. Young children prefer calendar landscapes to pictures of deserts and forests, and babies as young as 3 months old gaze longer at a pretty face than at a plain one.
These artists and critics fail to acknowledge another feature of human nature that drives the arts: the hunger for status.
The problem for artists is not that popular culture is so bad but that it is so good.
As for sneering at the bourgeoisie, it is a sophomoric grab at status with no claim to moral or political virtue. The fact is that the values of the middle class – personal responsibility, devotion to family and neighbourhood, avoidance of macho violence, respect for liberal democracy – are good things, not bad things. Most of the world wants to join the bourgeoisie. Given the history of the 20th century, the reluctance of the bourgeoisie to join mass utopian uprisings can hardly be held against them.
A revolt has begun, coming together in a new philosophy of the arts, one that is consilient with the species and respectful of the minds and senses of human beings.
A growing number of mavericks are looking to evolutionary psychology and cognitive science in an effort to re-establish human nature at the centre of any understanding of the arts.
I will conclude with the overtures of three fine novelists.
Iris Murdoch. A.S. Byatt. John Updike.

The economy is in better shape today than it was ”
Steven Pinker - The Blank Slate p401-419
Magnificent and timely! The Daily Telegraph

"The whole Darwinian theory of the struggle for life is simply the transference from society to organic nature of Hobbes’ theory of Bellum Omnium Contra Omnes (the war of each against all—ed.), and of the bourgeois economic theory of competition, as well as the Malthusian theory of population. When once this feat has been accomplished (the unconditional justification for which, especially as regards the Malthusian theory, is still very questionable), it is very easy to transfer these theories back again from natural history to the history of society, and altogether too naïve to maintain that thereby these assertions have been proved as eternal natural laws of society."
Percy Engels - Dialectics of Nature, Moscow, 1954

Darwinian Man, though well-behaved,
At best is only a monkey shaved!
W.S Gilbert

Discipline and Punish!

2010-03-25T09:57:00.000-07:00

Today, 25th March 2010 the school truancy rate is at a record high and has shot up by 44% since Labour came to power, government statistics revealed. The rise is despite ministers taking a tougher line on absenteeism, prosecuting 9,500 parents and fining thousands more because their children regularly skip school. {source}
Christine Blower of the National Union of Teachers said: “There are no magic solutions to hardcore truanting.“Despite schools’ best efforts, hard-to-reach families will remain hard to reach.”
Overall, 67,000 pupils of all ages skipped part of school on a typical day because of truancy, family holidays, illness and other reasons, the statistics suggest. Apart from sickness the most popular reason for absence, authorised and unauthorised, was for family holidays. Six million school days were lost as parents took their children out of class to go away outside of term when travel costs are lower. (source)

Pupils are monitored by CCTV cameras as frequently as inmates in prisons and passengers at airports, research shows. {source}

The Panopticon is a type of prison building designed by English philosopher and social theorist Jeremy Bentham in 1785. The concept of the design is to allow an observer to observe (-opticon) all (pan-) prisoners without the incarcerated being able to tell whether they are being watched, thereby conveying what one architect has called the "sentiment of an invisible omniscience."
Bentham himself described the Panopticon as "a new mode of obtaining power of mind over mind, in a quantity hitherto without example." {source}

The Panopticon

The UBS Bridge Academy, E2

Standing alone on Saturday afternoon scientifically observing, whilst simultaneously devouring the holistic, homeopathetic, 101% organick, locally-sauced Cough-Linctus curry I'd purchased for £20.12p from the Florence Nightingale Olympic Crimean War Recipe Stall on Broadway Market, who radically incorporate upanishads learnt from goa's in India & Ancient Greece by incorporating pederastic athletics into sore throats this might hurt say aaagh, whilst eschewing any Imelda Marcos-like carbon footprint by ladling the stuff straight into the beseeching alms of your outstretched palms - a macro-ritual akin to suffering a bed of nails or a skip for the night in Trafalgar Square cuddling up to stolen out of date technology with a liberated defrosting cuttlefish poking out of yr top pocket.

phzzz I overheard a late 20's, early 30's, mid 40's, going on 60, anyone's guess man, sporting tank-top, winklepickers, deerstalker, x-British Gas overalls, day-glo pink sideburns, revolving mop-top al a allah allelujah Alan Ball studs: 'His cartilage has gone', an attache case Graeme Greene used as the inspiration for The Quiet American and a first edition of The Wasteland with original dust-cover shrink-wrapped in plastic unopened & unread - braying to himself/hands-free about how much money he had just made by selling Cadbury's off to Kraft. and what a disaster it was for UK plc & UK chocaloholics!
It made me think. About crime mostly. And what great writers & chroniclers of the East End would make of this place. Arthur Morrison, George Gissing, Alexander Baron, even Dickens.
Later on after picking up a ginger bread man from Percy Engel's to fill me up & ascending the stairs to my laboratory opposite The UBS Bridge Academy I espied a little beggar making off with The Mona Lisa! I gave chase...cornered & chastened, he relayed to me his story. His name was Kris Hedayat and this is what he told me:

"Try & fucking understand the psychological effect it has on you when you're constantly being stopped by the police close to your home & questioned. It's humiliating, frightening, it's literally disturbing – it's gets inside your head. You can't sleep, you start to doubt, lose confidence. 'Zero Tolerance', is exactly what is says on the tin, it's deeply intolerant.
The police question you - 'Where are you going?', 'Who with?', 'Do you know X or Y?'. I didn't realise at first the real implications of that last question, until a more savvy friend pointed it out. You're being invited to grass, to inform, to become part of the police machine. If you say you know X, next time they ask you, 'Did you see X on Friday out with Y?'. And then they play the ridiculous 'good cop, bad cop' routine - 'Hi Kris, how's it going?', but next day they make out they don't know you from Adam! They want to get inside your head, compromise you, get information out of you. All the time! You go outside, you could be stopped, you could be arrested, a night in cells or fitted up, God knows!
Think about it. How would you cope? Would you be the 'ideal model citizen' the church, police and the state demand? Would you respect authority, your elders, when from a young age you realise you're just being played? Unless you 'fess up you're nothing. And even if you do, you're just a tiny little cog in a nasty machine that could decide to sacrifice you at any moment. Because who cares a shit about you! The world is just full of double-think, mind-games to f*** you up!
My brother Sadegh is 21, he's already£25,000 in debt to a bank to pay off university fees, the unemployment figure for young people is now 20%! People I know are being murdered. I walk along Broadway Market on Saturday's and look at the herds of self-satisfied faces and feel sick.
But now it's our fucking turn! You've pissed on us, tried to kill us, lock us up, harass us, keep us out of sight of the tourists long enough! We're coming to get you! Over the walls, under the stalls, climbing Adelaide Wharf, Off/On-Broadway, Vyner Street- Bistroteque, The Victory: "like those cardboard faces at which she remembered gazing as a child in the window of a certain dim shop kept by a mysterious little man in Kingsland Road." Chapter 8 - Victory. Józef Teodor Konrad Korzeniowski.

The Industrial Camouflaging Unit

2010-03-23T19:18:00.000-07:00

I need a job. And fast. What savings we brought with us are worth practically nothing in the current cosmos. And there's surely no better silo to one-stop-shop at than REM's through the pages of the only other thing apart from bookies pens that come free in our Caligulaville; Veritas: Hackney Today. The featured job in the current edition is:

Affordable Housing Monitoring and Development Officer
Directorate Neighbourhoods & Regeneration
Service Area Regenerations & Planning
Salary £35,055 - £37,851
Shift Pattern Full Time - 36hrs, Monday / Friday

Securing the best housing services for Hackney residents

Now that Jamie Carswell has fired off to Tower Hamlets maybe there's a chink of light after years of clinkers.

There seems to be a category error though.

James Simpson, The Housing Association & Partnership Officer, describes the job as "a new role." And that, in the process of liaising with Hackney's shtick - systemic, endemic, all-pervasive nepotism & cronyism, sharks & 'Because I'm worth it' 'doers', x-council officers & councilors who have lashed together parasitic charities, trusts, consultancies, instantaneously megalithic Quangos worth billions, wide-boys like Jack Petchey, slum landlords, on-shore, off-shore, We're 101% sure! tin-pot lacquered Greens with dreads & braces who 'Save Money 4 Business!' sharks, bulls, bears, lickspittles, Mark Thatcher-doppelganger invade-Africa Malthusian scum of the earth, global Mafiosi, copywriters specialising in Millennium-Olympic-Wharf lingo, second-home MP's. Ed Balls, Isaac Leibowitz & Paul Thomas, can you tell them apart? Church Street estate agents who operate as if they're Sir Walter Raleigh courtiers laying coats down over the backed-up sewage feature abutting yr new farmers market cum-mews-cum converted lunatic asylum Olympic, Twin Tower, Tianamen Square, Stasi-Khazi - "And the winning name-the-shithouse entry comes from little Jamsie Carswell an aged six & a half, who says he has just moved to Hades, but thinks the Gents Tower should be called...wait for it...Mark Trotter Wharf!..(prolonged clap). So lets see what the Ladies entrance will be called...it's...Stamford Hill Station After Dark Tower!" A magnanimous noble & morally uplifting gesture you so poorly deserve considering the way they're about to get you so far into mortgage debt you actually feel yr a millionaire called negative equity -

{this is a stub & will be extended}

"We can deliver more when we work together,"

This is a statement so benignly uncontroversial & yet -ing overestimates an ineluctably dialectically benign cowboy job on raising the roof straight off what the Jules Pipe has been going on; keep that feeling of ~ what the Luke Akehurst are you doing up at this roll-up Sunday morning stood on the Downs? Or yr still awake talking coke/shop/shop/coke & you begin choking up 60's bruitist concrete like broken biscuits, as another-another-another tower block got demolished ~ that I feel a need for reflection; if they're that shit why are most still left standing?

The irreal reality here is much, much more complex than one first imagined. So much so that One has begun writing in the 3rd person to affect a lack of engagement & a cynical deterministic behavioural method a la Stephen Pinker, Abraham Maslow, Carl Rogers, Basil Bernstein & even including the hotch-potch of will to power & fairies in the Steiner skools - Be free One's children, run free! Until yr 7 & Shh! Concentrate! Concatenate! Conjugate! Sprouting up all over Hereford in the wake of Fred West. Because the Tories are more than happy milking the cash-cow in the hydra-headed mad-cow borderlands, where folks munch 2 whole raw onions in their sticky 6-fingered claws, didn't we have a lovverly time the day we went to Bangor and all for under a pound Diddlely-Bump-Terrara, bowling along the street; setting up hippy boot-camps, anything! And anyway they do it Organic dirt cheap on a shoestring, well - felt, pipecleaners & shoestrings - & if necessary crack the Chris Woodhead whip enough they're so glad of any attention to their knitting-pattern, woodlander-volk, hokuspokus they'll do it buckshee all for the love of it! And for those free-range poultry inputs you get guaranteed outputs - destabilised pedagogy, rote curricula, teacher pay-cuts, slashed pensions & draconian working conditions! So who cares, give them their wacky blue-eyed, Teutonic, theosophical, ~~refreshed~~ dehydrated phrenological head - they're just harmless fruitcakes anyway with authoritarian leanings, One has kein problem!

{this is a stub & will be extended}

It is essential that you include a supporting statement, addressing how your skills, knowledge and experience would enable you to meet all aspects of the post, as indicated in the job description and person specification.

Closing date for applications 9 April 2010

One doesn't have much time to apply, & so much knowledge to discover! But Edmond Halley is at this very moment seeking a job of employment that fits with no remainder, 101%, this very same post - by the way what happened to the post, it never arrives. Like no other constellation in the galaxy as if designed for One by Urizen! Let the application download begin! Tick the boxes, here One comes!

Here Comes Everybody!

The Edmond Halley Biscuit!

2010-03-22T12:23:00.001-07:00

Imagine my surprise when I found these biscuits, the Turkish version of the mini Moon Pie, which originated in the coal mines near Chattanooga, "They are legendary, they are mythical, but above all they are delicious.", displayed in a reduced to go display unit near the counter, in the shop on the corner of Whiston road and Kingsland road, just yards from where Edmond was born! And Eddie has such a sweet tooth!
But ever the Enlightenment scientist Edmond has taken the biscuit & run with it. He is at this v moment outside applying Kepler's advanced elliptical Laws in a revolutionary smoothie-combo with an acoustic muffler for high volume fluid flow utilizing Heimholtz aka a bhodran + his as yet not fully understood theory of the Hollow Earth, grid-locked satellite space travel via where the fuck is Chipping Sodbury sat-nav; aka - show me the way to go home I'm tired and I want to go to bed, Newtonian physics apples/biscuits - William Tell, William Hill with Happy Family David Cooper or Widgerey whatever underneath Club Labyrinth 4 Aces spanking new luxury waterside wharf on Dalston Cross, pre-memory shards of Althusser killing his wife, Burroughs, etc - raining down variegated Swedenborgian gnostic Desperate Dan mad cow-pie crusts applied to the spheres of the mallow, quantum lozenge Sumerian coinage & language - they came in search of paradise & found it theory, the Big Bang, boom or bust, 3rd wave moon-faced Kristeva & Steinham or even Steiner in Hereford via Fred West in Much Marcle munching raw onions bowling down the street, Fishponds lido Toffler futureshock & Moncrieff trade cyles, Aleister Crowley stuck up Beckton alp on alpenstocks with his cock out, David Niven's tache composing The Moon's a Balloon sans Erroll Flynn a ce moment cos he's gone down the oceanliner plimsoll line avec Alan Minter eyeliner in drag, Trochi on a barge in Glasgow, the Vanilla Subliminal Kid & rum & raisin malteeser small round lead shot blobbed muscle memory within Jung's mythic archetypal sex mandela nonsense, amongst other sundry dark materials, to be erotically mined almost certainly in Valletta.
Your chance to see a genius at work!

Blame everything on this bastard!

2010-03-21T07:16:00.000-07:00

Last night I took an early evening stroll and had a pint of Luwdennstradengraudestruasser @ The Dove for £7-90. Sipping v tentatively avec rumination, I collided with someone who it seems is something of a local legend, 1 Vivian Bolus.
He had a lot of interesting things to say about Broadway Market & Hackney in general. But what he was most keen to impress on me was what he described as a simple sample; call it a note to self, an aide memoire, a voudoun fetish, a Balzacian occult La Peau de Chagrin, a knot in yr hanky, a bit of bitter stone in the heart sardonica a la Leopold Bloom interior monologue (kidneys, Gerty etc), something to get you to sleep at night which you chuffing well need what with all that coke exterminating the middle ground Golden Ratio blah-blah that you scored off a kid who lives on Ada Street who could get shot for his pains & apropos nothing yr related to Goldfinger doing 6 months unpaid indenture to the super soaraway Sun that daddy's paying for to get you a nepotistic start up the greasy pole & end up in a pile somehow in Chipping Sodbury, humming some beeping deracinatia stuck in yr addled bonce, a reverse parapraxis, a hermeneutic alembic, a badge on yr trendy lapel that go's perfectly darlink with yr ridiculous Satrean superannuated swamp-plastered viscous barnet - When in doubt blame everything on that bastard the village idiot, the former Deputy Mayor of The Borough of Hackney, Jamie Carswell - A total fucking shit!
Go take a walk round Woodberry Down estate & weep.
Go take a walk round Kings Crescent estate & weep.
And so the long and short of it was as we bade each other farewell with hearty assurances that we meet again v soon over a Leimeisterstraussevonwillemreichvicebier & chew the Organic cud, Vivian's parting shot was a request for me to ask if anyone could run a simple sample stall on Broadway Market simply selling non-biological biodegradable Tea-Shirts made from 99.99% real tea! Starting price @ £99.99, a bit of bitter barter here & there, of The Village Idiot who came to town & did a Coventry on Woodberry Down & Kings Crescent &...then flounced off to Tower Hamlets when they wouldn't make him Mayor of Hackney! Jamie Carswell Mayor of Hackney! My godfathers! Not even Pipe & Ackhurst are that stupid! Or is there something more? Where's the dosh buried? Where is the inevitable Trotter-shaped skeleton buried? What was that rowing boat at dusk in the gloaming on East Reservoir doing & what was the black bundle it was tipping over the side? Plop! A still surface. Design as pictured above.

Come the end it won't be pretty!

2010-03-20T07:16:00.000-07:00

The Broadway Market Organic Gold Rush of ~~1848~~ 21st century, began when organic gold was discovered by Boff & Co in E8. News of the discovery soon spread, resulting in some 300,000 men, women, and children coming to Hackney from the rest of the world. Of the 300,000, approximately 150,000 arrived by sea while the remaining 150,000 arrived by land.

Around the beginning of the Organic Gold Rush of ~~1848~~ 21st century, there was very little law regarding property rights as Hackney Council was bankrupt & was looking to sell off all their Citizen's hard-fought assets pronto. Hackney was forced to quickly develop various institutions - The Learning Trust, Renaisi, Hackney Homes etc. The solution to the property rights problem was a first-come-first-serve basis with the right to claim jump on abandoned sites. (source)

"The Lord don't like it here...!

NEW! Pesto & Armageddon - The Directors Cut

2010-03-19T05:58:00.000-07:00

The video they tried to ban!

Edmonds Diary

2010-03-18T08:42:00.000-07:00

I was born and come out of the Spirit of Enlightenment & Theodor Adorno's criticisms notwithstanding, I'm as happy as a grass-reared pig in organic shit with the cut & thrust of polemic & as Roy Bhaskar called it - Dialectic: The Pulse of Freedom.
So I'm glad that Andrew RealOne Veitch has responded to a comment I made on the Hackney Citizen website (scroll down). I have subsequently replied and am looking forward to plumbing the depths & uncovering the nebulae of Andrew Veitch's learning.
As his website explains - "His fields of expertise are medicine, the environment and chemical, biological and nuclear weapons."
Splendid! A perfect polemical partner for Edmond Halley! And with those areas of expertise entirely suitable to represent Broadway Market...
Oh, and just as I was returning this morning from the market with my daily loaf of bread, a young woman bumped into me blushing, made her apologies & moved on. I thought nothing of it until taking my waistcoast off upon my return, I found a floppy disk that somehow had found its way into my underpants! It had a post-it note stuck on that just read:

James Ó Nuanáin & Alistair Maddox - The Gaffers!
(Play in wide-screen)

And then this video was all that was on the disk. I am unclear as to its meaning & intention. Is it to do with this? Can anyone help me?

Spirit owns Broadway Market!

2010-03-17T07:35:00.000-07:00

I was one of the natural philosophers who came together under the aegis of the Invisible College which later became the Royal Society of London with the motto:

Nullis in verba - take nobody's word; see for yourself

So, watching my new Spiritual confidante Graeme Archer's epic speech at the Conservative Conference over & over & over again, 1 out of many memorable phrases stuck, struck.

"In the immortal words of Kevin Costner - Build it and they will come!"

Delivered with such passion, these words certainly deliver the kind of high octane Organic smoothie available on Saturday mornings up and down Broadway Market!
Not having heard of Kevin Costner, I eagerly looked the said thespian up and sought to discover rationally the sustainability of the source of Graeme's immortal just on time delivery.
Horror! The Horror! Check, double-check, triple-check...veracity,veracity, veracity! Graeme manipulated the original quote for his own designs! The quote from the fillum (a fillum that features lots of men wielding 18 inch lengths of wood for no good reason I could understand) The Field of Dreams, is actually:

"If you build it, he will come!"

Why has Graeme dissembled? What is the meaning of this flagrant disregard for accuracy? Not 'they' Graeme, HE! HE! It's as clear as the organic quince on your face what this means! There can only be 1 HE - Spirit! Build it and HE will come! Spirit will come to Broadway Market! Spirit will return! When though? It must be soon...

Will Spirit return to Market this Saturday? Perhaps. But more likely surely is Easter Saturday! 3rd of April 2010. Spirit borne aloft amongst all his flock! A triumphant return to his home, his kingdom on earth! To come and hence never to leave!
Build it and he will come!

My time has come to visit planet earth!

2010-03-16T15:44:00.000-07:00

One tries to remain humble, but one cannot help look for any impact one's toil & oh so insignificant scientific discoveries have had on the modern age, even in modern popular music...

Edmond's Diary

2010-03-16T07:02:00.000-07:00

There's a spectre haunting Broadway Market!
An apology. In Search of Origins.

I want to say sorry to everyone I offended yesterday by hinting that the Broadway Market Community only just tolerated Spirit, were glad to see the back of him, and had another coconut man Charlie Collins to wander blessing every money grabbing development that came along. This is not true.
Yesterday on the street of Broadway Market I was apprehended by young Graeme Archer & sundry other vibrant 30-somethings out taking the freelance air. They were at pains, went to great lengths to tell me just how much Spirit represents the Spirit of GV that is BM. In fact, without Spirit there is no, would be no BM! Spirit is BM and they are only following in the spirit of Spirit's pioneering spirit!
I could not help but be moved. Occasionally the spirit of sceptick scientific revolutions courses too boldly through my veins - Leap! Dive! - and I jump or plummet to the wrong conclusion. What was that flash across the sky? I got a friend in Jesus. So you know that when I die he's gonna set me up with the Spirit in the sky. Oh set me up with the Spirit in the sky. That's where I'm gonna go when I die.
It's obvious to even a non-believer like me that Spirit is alive! Spirit's spirit is being kept alive by a group of dedicated followers maintaining a round-the-clock Broadway Market vigil on Saturdays rather like the non-stop picket outside the South African embassy during the years of apartheid.
So inflamed did I become by the zeal and passion shown by the likes of Graeme Archer that yesterday outside the very shop that Spirit began his extraordinary act of commercial defiance, paving the way for scores of other pilgrims similarly inspired by Organics to jump into Spirit's sandals that they all smilingly knew they could never fill, I underwent some kind of spiritual rebirth!
Graeme showed me the video again of his remarkable speech at Conservative Conference. And this time through his clipped merchant-skool tones I heard the good news. Spirit is alive! Spirit was the aboriginal! He set down his yams, saltfish, ackee, scotch bonnets & coconuts - a pioneer! He had a vision! Everyone mocked! But who's laughing now? Everyone! Everyone is happy, there is no reason not to be.
People remember what happened to Spirit and how badly he was treated by Gordon Brown, they will never forget, oh no, especially when it comes to the upcoming local elections! But would Spirit have wanted...does Spirit want people to walk around with long faces, give up the ghost and go back to the bad old days? You can bet your bottom dollar he wouldn't...doesn't!
So smile! That's the Spirit! Be happy! Spirit is alive! Long live the coconut man! Who the children still ask after! Where is the coconut man daddy? And Daddy goes down on his haunches, looks his son straight between the eyes and says:
- Son, Spirit was here first. And now it's Ours!
In the immortal words of Graeme Archer @ Conference:
I believe that the Community of Broadway Market want to open their gates once a week and live with Spirit!
If you are still a non-believer in The Spirit, I urge you to visit The Broadway Market website, where everything will become clear.

Edmond's Diary

2010-03-15T09:44:00.000-07:00

It's been such a busy time for Mary and I since we came back to Haggerston. This weekend was a veritable social whirligig! Meeting old friends and associates, out late at parties and generally catching up on everything that's happened since we've been away. So much has changed in such a short time that's for sure! Mary & I hardly recognise the old place!

We looked for Spirit the coconut man, but he has (left). Fortunately he has been replaced by Charlie Collins, who everyone seems to like more than Spirit although they never seem to come out & say it. But frankly I'm not convinced of the cat.

"Walking around the town centre today in his bright red hat and colourful tie, a broad smile spreads across Charlie’s face as he surveys the block of 34 new flats that will be named after him – Collins Tower. The construction has had its share of critics, but Charlie is delighted with the way it is all coming together." (source)

Also met young Graeme Archer, apparently an up & coming intellectual & habitue' of Greenwich Village that is Broadway Market. Mary & I are so excited at getting involved in the philosophical, scientific, political & cultural debates & polemics that must be constantly fermenting, brewing & spewing forth from the packed bars, cafes', holistic massage parlours, temporary autonomous zones, streets & gutters of GV that is BM.

Yet I was unconvinced about Graeme Archer. Mary fair split her sides at Graeme when he explained how he & his associates were going to abolish the Arts Council to allow consumers to decide which theatres and museums get funding. After Graeme took out his laptop & proudly showed us his appearance at the Conservative Conference talking about Spirit & BM, I joined in the guffaws & we politely made our apologies & left - Mary growling under her breath about the foul alchemy & duplicity of those who pretend they can make the iron law of property under capitalism disappear & the malodorous rentier class & oleaginous shopkeepers...

“The small shopkeeper,” wrote Marx in “The Class Struggle in France,” “rose up and moved against the barricades, in order to restore the movement from the street into his shop. And when the barricades had been destroyed, when the workmen had been defeated, when the shopkeepers, drunk with victory, turned back to their shops, they found their entry barred by the saviours of property, the official agents of financial capital, who met them with stern demands: ‘The bills have become overdue! Pay up, gentlemen! Pay for your premises, pay four your goods.’ The poor little shop was ruined, the poor shopkeeper was undone!”

Don't hold your breath...

2010-03-14T15:49:00.000-07:00

Did Halley invent the diving bell when he was 64? Aristotle talked about using bronze tanks to submerge men in deep water.

Halley spent hours at the bottom of the Thames, improving & improving & improving his design. Eventually he spent four hours down there! Although it did give him awful pain in his ears.

Nautilus is a shop on Mare Street, Hackney. They stock diving and snorkeling equipment - masks, wetsuits, flippers, goggles, oxygen tanks.
Nautilus - a diving shop just half a mile from Halley's Haggerston...must be more than coincidence surely...

Broadway Market explained by Tristan Tzara

2010-03-14T09:54:00.000-07:00

UBS Bridge Adademy Sports Hall & Dada

2010-03-14T09:50:00.002-07:00

"This new independent state-maintained academy for 1,150 pupils aged 11-18yrs will specialise in music and maths, putting into practice the belief that there is a great bond between the two disciplines.
The scheme builds on BDP's successful 'schools without corridors' concept which maximises social cohesiveness, and develops the idea further to provide a 'school without columns'."

Butterflies (Broadway Market open tomorrow!)

2010-03-12T14:10:00.000-08:00

This is a New Movement!

2010-03-11T09:53:00.000-08:00

These are a people of an entirely New Type!