some Sunday silliness...

This is a straight steal from Earl (link to the left - still as Bug Eyed Earl - I keep meaning to change it to his current blog identity - The Verdant Dude). The character above is Joseph Ducreux, an eighteenth century French painter. Our man seems to have had a liking for subverting the genre as he did self portraits as above grinning and pointing at the viewer and another of himself doing a dirty great yawn. Various wags have been putting captions on this self-portrait. This is my favourite. Who let the dogs out? reminds me of going to court a few years ago and securing my client's release on bail somewhat against the odds (I forget what he was charged with but he didn't look a promising candidate for bail). After being granted bail, he came bursting out of the cell area, gave an impromptu rendition of who let the dogs out? and then charged out of the court and into the nearest pub with his co-defendant for a spot of under age drinking. They had just been granted bail on condition not to contact each other.

Going back to Ducreux, interestingly he appears to have been something of a royalist and was painter by appointment to Marie Antoinette as well as being made a baron. When the French Revolution happened, he headed off to London at a rate of knots. Things take an odd turn in that he came back to Paris in 1793 where, somewhat curiously given his royalist track record, he linked up with French revolutionary artist Jacques-Louis David. Here is David's Tennis Court Oath. The French revolution is kicking off folks...

David's best known painting must be The Death of Marat. David was a friend of Marat a prominent Jacobin and promoter of the reign of terror. Charlotte Corday, repelled by the terror and fearing civil war went to Marat who spent most of his time in the bath because of a debilitating skin disease. She claimed to have a list of counter-revolutionaries for him. He thanked her and said they would be executed next week. She then stabbed him to death. As one does. Here is our man as per David, presumably with the list. Charlotte Corday was guillotined for her bad behaviour shortly afterward. I always thought that it was Charlotte Corday who said 'oh liberty! what crimes are committed in your name?' but it wasn't but rather someone obscure called Madame Roland. She was about to get her head whacked off too so one can see her point of view.

And finally for American readers - with another Hat Tip to Mahal for his industry in providing me with material, we have Triumph the Insult Comic Dog on global warming...

The Birmingham Back to Backs...

I've been meaning to blog about the Birmingham Back to Backs for ages. As some WR readers know I am now - for the time being and until life takes me, well I don't know where - living in Birmingham. Just round the corner from where I am living are the Birmingham Back to Backs. Back to backs were a type of housing created in the 19th century for the new industrial working class. They were called back to backs because the houses shared a rear wall. They were usually high density and low quality accommodation and were common to pretty much all English industrial cities. They have now all been pulled down under slum clearance schemes and the occupiers dispersed to various new estates. As recently as the 1960s Birmingham had many remaining back to backs.

Now they have all gone except one courtyard on the corner of Inge Street and Hurst Street which has been saved and preserved by the National Trust - the Back to Backs are now Grade II listed buildings. I pass them just about every day and it is fascinating. It's like having a time capsule on your doorstep. I've been around them on an open day. The courtyard has a wash house and outdoor toilets of - ahem - a very basic looking type. I was surprised to discover that these -erm - facilities were installed as recently as the 1930s. On the corner is an old fashioned sweet shop selling old fashioned goodies such as rhubarb and custard and sherbert fountains.

The National Trust has done its research and has discovered something of the history of the former occupiers of the houses and have restored the interiors in accordance with the period. The houses are laid out in various period styles from the 1820s to the 1970s. What struck me was how claustriophobic they must have been to live in with tiny rooms, narrow stairs and the enclosed courtyard. There were also shops along one side. George Saunders, a tailor from St Kitts, ran a tailors shop (it's on the left in the top pic) until as recently as 2001 when he retired. Here he is.

I love the Back to Backs to bits. It's a privilege to live by this time capsule. I discover they're even on YouTube. You can book rooms in them for overnight accommodation! Have a look at the clip. It's worth the annoying commentary.

Oh, and on a completely different topic and with Hat Tip to Mahal for drawing it to my attention, go to YouTube and search for 'Putin being criticised by journalist'. Trust me, it's worth the effort. Annoyingly, embedding has been disabled or I'd put it up here. As my informant comments 'and that man is in charge of the world's second largest nuclear arsenal'.

pink snails and Bananarama

With Hat Tip to Jailhouse Lawyer, here are some pink snails out and about in Milan. Don't ask me why. I promised some Bananarama if you have been good. Trusting that you all have been good, here they are - to describe them as 80s girl band doesn't begin to do them justice - they had ten tons of sass. This is Supremes cover Nathan Jones.

matters of law...

Keeping up this blog's reputation as a fount of legal wisdom necessitates me drawing to wider public attention one David Holyoak. He is a robber. It is my painful duty to report that he is not a good one as he is - well - so ugly he is easily recognised and keeps being arrested after effortless identification. Holyoak copped three and a half years at Bolton Crown Court yesterday for being part of a gang who robbed a Halifax bank near Preston and threatened the cashier with a sledgehammer. Holyoak was arrested following an eyewitness description of his - erm - ears. Why am I not surprised? The gang generally sound like prize numpties. They drove their getaway car straight into a tree. Doh! A no doubt smirking constabulary have helpfully advised him that he is too ugly for crime.

There is just one nagging thought that occurs to me. Holyoak is from Manchester. Surely Holyoak looks pretty normal for those parts? By further illustration, below is an ugly football XI created by some wag. For the footballingly uninitiated, the two uglies labelled Neville are brothers and come from the same part of the world. I rest my case.

Well maybe not quite - one witty - as opposed to mindlessly unpleasant - football chant is 'Neville, Neville your face is a mess' to the tune of David Bowie's Rebel Rebel. And right on cue...

That's enough ugly people. Maybe if you are all good some Bananarama soon...

theft central

The above is stolen from Catch Her in the Wry. It's amazing what a little bleeping can do. Below was - continuing the recent cat theme - stolen from Android.

Johnny Edgecombe

A story in the Guardian Family section yesterday about Johnny Edgecombe and his daughter Melody caught my eye. Way back in the late 80s and early 90s I had a very good friend who befriended Johnny Egdecombe. I met Johnny at my friend's house - he used to babysit the friend's children - and occasionally visited Johnny at his flat together with aforesaid friend. Melody was raised by Johnny after he split up with her mother when she was 14. I remember her as something of a wild child but she seems to have turned out just fine - she is 28 now and has a son called - erm - Johnny. My friend and his family moved out of London and up to Scotland and so I lost the connection with Johnny Edgecombe.

So why is he of any interest? Overseas readers will need an explanation but the answer will be instantly recognisable to any British reader of a certain age - the Profumo affair. He had a former lover called Christine Keeler. She had given him a handgun for protection against another West Indian (a phrase far more commonly used then) hustler called Lucky Gordon. She wouldn't let him in or drop him a pound for his cab fare. Johnny lost it and fired a series of shots at the lock. Johnny was arrested and then out came the major British political scandal of the twentieth century.

John Profumo (the married secretary of state for war - they didn't pussyfoot about with 'defence' as a job description then) and Yevgeny Ivanov (a Russian naval attache and spy) were both sleeping with the same woman as Johnny - Christine Keeler. Profumo lied to the House of Commons and had to go. I say he had to go for lying - which is true as far as it goes - but the sexual scandal was a huge undercurrent and at the time the idea of sleeping with the same woman as a black man was hugely scandalous to most British people. To cut a long story short things got more and more scandalous and more and more dodgy figures appeared in the narrative. It pretty much was the end of the McMillan Government and not so long after the Conservatives (under different leadership) lost the 1964 election to complete the process. A government report was commissioned and presided over by old lizard Lord Denning. When it came out - uniquely among government reports which largely you couldn't give away - people were queueing round the block to buy it.

And Johnny Edgecombe? He got 7 years as regards the firearms episode. That was harsh. He never fired at anyone or endangered life. He was the fall guy, a small time hustler who accidentally sprung open a Pandora's box of establishment scandal. He believes - and I think he is right - that he payed an excessive price for treading on the toes of the establishment. The film Scandal pisses him off bigtime too. He has been portrayed as a violent man - unfairly in my opinion - and it rankles. He was one of that pioneer generation of men from the Caribbean who had it hard - and in particular were shunned by large parts of white society and moved in the circles that accepted them. Many of those circles - jazz musicians and good time girls were somewhat dodgy. More dodgy were the righteous pillars of the establishment who took their illicit pleasures in those circles but maintained a hypocritical respectable front. Not an educated man, he has written reams on the subject of his brush with notoriety. Let's just say it needs a serious sub-editor but there is a tale to be told.

He's 77 now and seems to have achieved some sort of contentment. I had to laugh at the end of the interview where it is revealed that he was off out for the evening - with Howard Marks! I think he has done us all a favour - Johnny, I mean and not Howard Marks - by helping to end the age of deference by showing our supposed betters for what they are. Oh - some of you reading this may fancy yourselves as stoners. No you're not - you're a lightweight. Now Johnny Edgecombe - there was a stoner!

On a different topic, I saw The Men who Stare at Goats last night at the Odeon, Tottenham Court Road. It has its funny moments but in the round, I don't think it works.

Jus sayin...

Continuing on a 1960s theme - here is the sixth finger part seven (sic) from cult 60s TV show The Outer Limits. Just because.

Away for the weekend...

But to be going on with here is Detective Mittens the crime solving cat. While on the subject of cats, and with Hat Tip to Sarcastic Bastard - here is a very bad tempered one...

stiff nipples and eating your mother (sentencing cases)

Of course it has to be a London phone number - why am I not surprised? Hat Tip to Candy's Daily Dandy. Research reveal that Stiff Nipples are in Hayes (outer West London) - so to speak. I was in Hayes yesterday - for completely different purposes I say hastily.

Those who complain that I don't do enough law in this blog may be palliated by a helpful sentencing guidelines case. Okay, it's not that helpful because it comes from Russia. But it's weird. Here are the facts: man wants his mother to give him her pension money to spend on alcohol. Mother refuses. Man kills mother by beating her over the head with a brick and then a bit of the old ligature strangulation with electric cable. Man leaves mother on balcony for two days while going on a bender. Finding himself hungry on returning to the flat he - erm - starts eating her. With pasta. He complained he didn't like it much. It was too fatty. Why he couldn't confine himself to eating the pasta is not clear.

Apparently the going rate sentencewise for this sort of thing in Russia is 15 years. Our man got 14 years and 3 months. The discount was explained by the judge as (a) he had pleaded guilty - so far so sensible (b) he needed to eat -ermmmmmm, and (c) 'he was not keen to eat the meat, he was just hungry'.

WHATTTTTTT????? Presumably conversely, if he had pronounced his mother delicious this would have constituted an aggravating feature and resulted in a longer sentence.

Someone commented from New York on the Daily Mail (if you'll pardon the expression) website covering this story 'some people think it's normal to eat haggis, now that's really disgusting'.

I quite like haggis. So throw me in jail.

Fuckin' 'Ell it's Fred Titmus

Half Man Half Biscuit with 'Fuckin 'Ell it's Fred Titmus live at Frome's Cheese & Grain (whatever on earth that is). A double anorak rating for this posting I think. Just being idiosyncratic, peeps...

Continuing lowering the tone...

An interesting photo taken on Westminster Bridge. Dear meeeeeee....... Hat Tip to Charon QC

Ooh Matron!

Informative stuff from Northampton General Hospital, I'm sure you'll all agree.

Pretty Flamingo

Here is Pretty Flamingo by Manfred Mann from when the rabbit was - well - a small rabbit. And an exquisite song it is too. The cartoon accompanying it is - well - pretty bizarre. Random factoid: the guy who wrote Pretty Flamingo - Mark Barkan - also wrote the Banana Splits Song - as in 'one banana, two bananas'... One thing that keeps bugging me about the cartoon is that flamingos are pink and not yellow. As can be seen below. And yet again the 'flamingo' in the cartoon appears to be a hippo and not a bird at all, even a small yellow one. All very confusing.

The muse is not upon me...

So here is a rock classic - J. Geils Band with Centrefold or Centerfold in American. Here also is a stunning photograph with hat tip to Jailhouse Lawyer who posts a lot of wonderful photographs but this is an absolute classic of the Northumberland coast (that's North-East England for the uninitiated) with the ruins of Dunstanburgh Castle. Are the colours not exquisite?

This came to my attention from yesterday's Yorkshire Evening Post...

"Police today called for an end to an "unjustified" hate campaign sparked by a soccer thug's behaviour during Leeds United's recent match at Millwall.
A supporter of the South London club was photographed at the game on October 24 wearing a shirt belonging to Turkish side Galatasaray.

The yob's bizarre 'fashion statement' was a sick reference to the deaths of two United fans in Istanbul nine years ago.

The picture ran in a national newspaper the day after the match - and its subject was subsequently named on the internet as Darren Robertson.

But now, in a joint statement, Millwall and the Metropolitan Police have said the person in the photo is NOT Mr Robertson.

The statement reads: "Mr Robertson and his family have been subjected to an unjustified hate campaign from certain individuals and as such, to prevent this from going further, we would like to take this opportunity to confirm that the picture was not (of] Darren Robertson.

"The Metropolitan Police and Millwall FC are continuing their investigation into the true identity of the individual."

Leeds United responded to the statement by appealing for their fans not to contact Mr Robertson".

The background is tragic and the real perpetrator low life but I can't help but nominate the word 'contact' in the United response for euphemism of the year. As an answer to the low life, here is Leeds v Southampton 1971-72 season. Ole!

New Government Drugs Adviser...

Following the ejection of the splendidly named Professor Nutt as Government Drugs Adviser by Postman Pat - sorry Alan - (not to forget his black and white cat) Rabbit Disinformation Services can exclusively reveal the identity of the next Government Drugs Advisor. Talking of Postman Pat...

Pictures of Lily...

...came to mind so there ya go. It has also come to my attention that some bloke from Walsall - where else? - has become Britain's oldest father of twins, I don't wish to be unkind but isn't there something scarily bug eyed about aforesaid twins.

Volunteers

Continuing the insurrectionary mood of recent postings, here are Jefferson Airplane from way back when with Volunteers, the title track from one of the finest rock albums vever in the rabbit's opinion. Warming to my theme, and going even further back in ancient history, I've made it a double header with Buffalo Springfield and For What it's Worth. That's enough political rock stuff for now...

Charon and Minor

Because it says it all, here is Charon's posting today in full without further comment.

Wednesday, October 28, 2009 by charonqc
Imagine a country where the right to trial by jury has been undermined, where an individual can be tried twice – the rule on double jeopardy abandoned – where well over 3000 new crimes have been enacted in the past ten years; where racial, sexuality and religious tensions are said to need the protection and might of law.
Imagine a country where the chief justice and many leading judges fear for the future of justice and civil liberties because the government of that country has eroded civil liberties in the name of countering terror and has reduced support for those of limited means, and vulnerable people, to fight their corner and pay for lawyers.

Imagine a country where people are imprisoned without charge for 42 days.
Imagine a country where the right to speak freely is restricted and individuals can be threatened by lawyers who can simply telephone a judge in Chambers to restrict them from speaking out, on what may well be a matter of great public importance, to protect sectional and very private corporate interests, where attempts to restrict the reporting of the proceedings of the press are routinely granted through the use of super-injunctions and, latterly, a country with laws which allowed lawyers to attempt to restrict the reporting of proceedings in parliament itself.

Imagine a country that leads the world in CCTV surveillance with more cameras per head of population than any other on Earth.

Imagine a country where not only the police but local authorities and other civilian bodies can routinely spy on you, intercept your email, bug your phone and can intrude to examine your bank accounts and then, even for quite minor offences, can seize your assets, freeze your bank account and seize and crush your car; powers intended to tackle terror and organised crime but which now will, inevitably, be used for far less serious offences.

Imagine a country which has restricted the money paid to experienced criminal lawyers with the result that many lawyers can no longer afford to practice in the field and the quality of representation may decline as a result.
Imagine a country with over 85,000 people in jail, a country where the Justice Ministry wants yet more prisons and even considered hiring prison ships from elsewhere.

Imagine a country where the government uses the device of statutory instrument to slide controversial legislation through into law without the eyes of the public, expert commentators or members of parliament being able to see, or objective minds, to consider those laws.

Imagine a country that allows the prime minister to wage war without the consent of the elected representatives of the people…

You don’t need to imagine such a country. You are living in it.

The picture is - in case you don't know - Delacroix's Liberty leading the People.

On a completely different topic below - with Hat Tip to Jailhouse Lawyer is the millionth Morris Minor from the 22 December 1960. It is a pleasing mauve. It is also up for auction and estimates as to the likely selling price are £25-30,000 but of course wno-one has a clue. It will be interesting to see.

Beau Bo D'Or strikes again...

This is irresistible! After the postings about Griffin's appearance on Question Time and Springtime for Hitler I discover that Beau Bo d'Or (link to left) has been keeping up the good work with a clip that combines the two. Just sit back and enjoy. For overseas readers, Griffin aka FatFuck the Fascist (nice one Charon!) is the leader of a fascist party called the BNP (British National Party). It won two seats in the European Parliament this year and thus the BBC concluded in its infinite wisdom that it was necessary in the interests of political balance to have FatFuck the Fascist - sorry Griffin - on flagship current affairs panel programme Question Time. Then things got very lively. I didn't even see the programme but gather FatFuck didn't acquit himself too well including an embarrassing amnesiac episode as regards his previous holocaust denying writings.

Talking of the BBC, it may be necessary to drag law into this blog shortly as I am on BBC Radio 4 Law in Action next Monday discussing Ken Macdonald as DPP. I was recorded at BBC Birmingham yesterday. They have a dirty great dalek just by reception. I was pleased to note.

FatFuck the Dalek

Milton and the Flintstones

The thought is not original - it comes from Armando Iannucci - but deserves spreading about. The opening line from Milton's Paradise Lost 'Of man's first disobedience and the fruit of that forbidden tree...' rhymes with the theme tune to the Flintstones. Okay the first sentence is 16 lines long but that's the first bit and it rhymes perfectly.

Thought you should all know ;)

Springboard/time for Griffin

Beau Bo D'Or (link to left) - whose praises I am ever singing - strikes again! It inevitably put me in mind of The Producers - one of the funniest films ever - and Springtime for Hitler. So here it is...