The front page of the newspapers today were carrying the story that a few â€˜activistsâ€™ from Greenpeace had managed to evade intensive security arrangements clustered around the Houses of Parliament, scaling a floating crane to unfurl a banner that read Tony *heart* WMD. This annoyed me for a few reasons:
The main one was that after a hard dayâ€™s office work I felt no particular affinity and certainly no support for people who spend their days plotting for ways to ascend giant climbing frames, squatting in flats and tie dying their clothes ready for airing their unwashed armpits in sight of the house of government. I hate crusties. I seriously resent the fact that I have to graft hard for every penny that ends up on my table, turning my hair grey through endeavours designed to provide for an incredibly unaffordable London mortgage, while these fuckers piss around smoking roll ups and moaning about the capitalist state. Yeah great capitalist state that picks up your benefits tab, lobs you a load of housing benefit, and puts you through hospital when one of your mates, scabbed out on acid tries to remove your scalp with the top of a tin of beans. Iâ€™ve got no time for people whose main protest is to disengage, sit outside trying to piss in and quoting French philosophy. Without struggle there can be no revolution.
Iâ€™m also annoyed about the imposition of the WMD message itself. It just shows how out of touch these clapwits are, harping on about getting rid of the nuclear arsenal when there is absolutely no chance that it is going to happen. Didnâ€™t you cunts know weâ€™re at war? Donâ€™t get me wrong, getting rid of weapons of massive destruction would make me pretty happy, itâ€™s I just would rather we addressed some more practical concerns first. Hell, why not even try to address something where we could make a difference? Lets stop the build up of aggression over Iran. Lets curtail this madness in Afghanistan. Lets get out of Iraq. Principally, lets try to affect change, where change is possible.
The other thing is WMD? What the fuck? Is that my top concern? Am I not more concerned about some irate Birmingham mosque dweller strapping themselves up with home made explosives and a biscuit tin and sending me or my close acquaintances, commuters one and all to the great tube line in the sky? I think youâ€™ll find I am.
Oh yeah and the fact the banner was addressed to â€˜Tonyâ€™. I hardly think the leader of Labour personifies the governmentâ€™s and the Conservativesâ€™ support of keeping nuclear weapons. I hardly think itâ€™s just Tony, sitting round going â€œyeah, I love atom bombs me. Brown, how much money have we got in the back for another neutron test in the Pacific? Lets fit a nuclear reactor under Stonehenge. Hell, Cherie any chance of some depleted uranium with the chicken hot pot tonight.â€ I hate the simplification of government policy into an attack on one personality. Tony *heart* WMD â€“ itâ€™s like a slogan from a photo next to another photo of Britney Spears falling out of a car in Heat magazine.
Finally, Iâ€™ve got no time for Greenpeace. a) they are â€˜run by crustiesâ€™ as described above, which is pretty tough given theyâ€™re a bunch of shit pant wearing hippies rubbing linseed oil into everything and student weekend activists popping ecstasy tablets and salvia divorem and talking about repression. Untested virtue when your mum pays for your beer means nothing to me. However, the thing I canâ€™t forgive Greenpeace for is that b) they spend years harping on and on about (often totally legitimate) environmental concerns, then go invisible on the whole thing round about the time everyone is starting to hear their tune. The last couple of years have seen more focus on the environment from scientists, politicians, business leaders and the public than ever before, but I canâ€™t remember seeing Greenpeace making any meaningful statement on the matter for all of that time. These days they confine their activities to pulling stupid stunts, rescuing lone seals, and dressing old tramps and earth mothers up in lycra suits to send them running round oil platforms and scaling cranes like the bastard child of â€˜Fathers from Justiceâ€™ and that pig-fucker Otis Ferry. Don’t even get me started on that cunt.