Friday, May 11, 2012
Contempt of Parliament
On home leave I was invited down to London for a meeting and afterwards we took a wander. The Editor was rather keen to take a picture of me in the lobby of Parliament, but I had forgotten to wear my prisonerben t-shirt!
As we circled past the Mother of Parliaments (a blatant lie!) I found myself becoming quite upset, with waves of emotion rushing up from the deepest part of my political soul. Was this a response to the majesty of Westminster, or in wonder at the beauty of the British democratic tradition? No. There is neither majesty nor wonder in Westminster, either in its concrete form or in the ideals which weave the lie of democracy or freedom and that tiny Guy Fawkes that resides in the spirit of all thinking people when faced with political power was stirring in my guts.
The feelings that wracked me were anger and contempt of such a power that even I was surprised. For why? Because I had a vision of my being in the lobby and collaring some political minion to ask one simple question. Where is my vote? In honesty, in my mind this was closer to "Where is my fucking vote you stinking hypocritical bastard?" You can take the prisoner out of the prison, but...
Such was my anger that I refused all efforts to get me to set foot into the precincts of Parliament. The level of my contempt is immeasurable. How dare these sanctimonious bastards sit in judgement upon us all, lecturing us on our duties and laying down penalties for refusing to abide by whatever law they prescribe? The relationship between the citizen and the State is a fragile and mutual one. I'm inclined to sue for divorce.
This Parliament refuses to abide by the judgements of a Court under whose domain it willingly comes. Why should we, then, not take this lesson to heart and treat the law as an interesting idea whose existence we only acknowledge when it suits our needs?
Contempt for this institution and its occupants oozes from every pore in my body.