OMG! I Have Offended The ‘Progressives’!

Campbell mergedLast Friday I started receiving tweets from a Denis Campbell @UKProgressive. A complete stranger to me (thank God!), it was immediately apparent that he is a friend or colleague of Phil Parry at Wales Eye. Some of these tweets are worth repeating here (click to enlarge), the full exchange can be found either on his Twitter timeline or mine.

It seems that Campbell along with Parry and a Dario Llinares are the self-proclaimed UK Progressives. (Though Campbell has a North American accent.) They have a blog, or rather, some kind of news feed, with most of the news – perhaps unsurprisingly – coming from the USA. Better yet (for the masochists among you), these three produce a weekly podcast of comment on politics and current affairs as The Three Three MuckrakersMuckrakers. Not a name I would have chosen, but there you are.

If you’ve got the stomach for it, a list of their podcasts is available here. And here’s a YouTube link to one on Ukip. It was posted over four months ago but has attracted just 130 views, most of which – to judge by the comments – have come from outraged Kippers. Anyway, this whole podcast concept strikes me as being very, very weird. It’s basically three blokes talking to each other, on film, and somehow believing that out there, in the big wide world, somebody cares. I’m holding a £20 note that says there is nobody out there who gives a fuck about what these three self-deluding tossers think about anything.

Something else worth noting is that while I have no doubt they would describe themselves as being anti-war and against militarism, especially that daemon of the Strangelove era the Military-Industrial complex, Campbell does love his martial metaphors and allusions – “When I go into battle against the inept Govt here . . . @WalesEye covering my back!” And “Shoot at one, you shoot at us all.” (Now there’s a thought!) All this from a keyboard warrior; no different to me, you might argue, except that I haven’t always been one.

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Then, on Sunday, I received a strange tweet from another unrecognised source, which simply read Parry kids tweet#SonofaVermin. I eventually worked out that it must be from Parry’s son. (The boy’s command of the English language is on a par with his pa.) On Monday I received a similar tweet from – presumably – Parry’s daughter. Rather surprised by these interventions I responded to both with the tweet on the left. To explain the reference to ‘Vermin’. This is the word I used to end my previous post. I used it because anyone familiar with Welsh political history will know it’s a word employed by Aneurin Bevan to describe Conservatives. I believe the actual phrase was, ‘lower than vermin’. I then received a few more tweets on the ‘vermin’ theme, presumably from friends of Parry’s kids. I was very Chris Waredisappointed to see Parry rope in his kids and their friends, but then, if the man can report me to the police for things I haven’t done, and get his fat friend on Llais y Sais to repeat those lies, why should I be surprised at anything? Can I now expect a hostile tweet from his Auntie Gwladys? (‘He’s being nasty to me, Auntie Gwlad’.)

Monday saw someone else join in the attack with a series of tweets from a Chris Ware, who lives in ‘Penarth, UK’. I soon established that Ware belongs to the Cardiff menutter tweetdia bubble. The Labour-supporting Cardiff media bubble. We had a fairly heated exchange which Ware concluded by reminding me that “the world has far bigger problems than these tiddly ones in Wales”. Our exchange was obviously being followed because one of Ware’s tweets was re-tweeted twice – once by Phil Parry and once by, er, Wales Eye! Early in this exchange there was an interjection from Wales Eye, favourited by Ware. I publish it, and my response, on the left. (Click to enlarge.)

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I think we are dealing here with the slithery, sneering, self-righteous soft Left that wet its knickers when Tony and Cherie arrived in Downing Street. In Wales they preach ‘internationalism’ as a way of avoiding the mess their party has made of Wales, preferring to waffle impotently about things over which they can have no influence and then condemn as ‘racist’ anyone wanting to make things better for our people in our country. Because of course, to even suggest that Wales is less than perfect is to condemn the record of their party.

These creatures are to be found everywhere, they almost form a ruling class, representing no one but themselves . . . and of course, the Labour Party, ‘Welsh’ Labour, that rag-bag of third-raters that serves no useful purpose beyond being colonial England’s agent, in return foProtic Labourr which it is allowed to dish out the funding and the jobs to its supporters.

Given that Protic is Labour, as are Parry and Shipton, and so probably are the other two Muckrakers, while the latest poodle to join the attack is most definitely a bruvver, this probably explains why Parry and Shipton have been reading through my blogs, checking old photographs, following my tweets, looking for something to use against me in the hope of discrediting me and what I write about the Labour Party. The only question is whether they’re doing it off their own bat, or whether somebody in the Labour Party has had a word, and asked them to go after me.

Either way, I’m fairly certain now that these attacks on me from Wales Eye and Llais y Sais are retaliation for my attacks on the Labour Party. That being so, I shall not waste any more time on Parry and his gang unless they go too far or unless there are developments in other quarters. With an election approaching it’s only right that I concentrate on putting the boot into ‘Welsh’ Labour, and doing it hard and often.

Helping A Man In A Hole

FOR THE BENEFIT OF PHIL PARRY AT WALES EYE,
WHO CLEARLY NEEDS ME AND MY BLOG FOR INSPIRATION

 

It was a cold and dark January day threatening snow when (the late) Glyn Rowlands and I drove down to Lampeter in the vehicle I’d just carjacked. (Took me ages to get the bugger out, and then another ten minutes to get used to the disabled driver controls.) To break up the journey we set a couple of holiday cottages ablaze on the way down. At one point we got chased by cops but we forced their car into a hedge just outside of Llanrhystud. Oh, the fun we used to have in those days!

Arriving at Glandenys it was wonderful to see the stately pile look so warm and inviting. We were stopped at the gates by members of an elite unit of the Free Wales Army who, together with their dogs, were patrolling the grounds. We were escorted up to the main entrance and there he was, our host – Commandant Julian Cayo-Evans of the Free Wales Army, looking every inch the officer and the country gentleman.

We were ushered into the big dining room where everything was prepared for the ceremony: the roaring fire, the flickering candles casting their eerie shadows in a room full of invited dignitaries. There was the KGB representative, a man from the IRA Army Council, an imposing individual from ODESSA with an eye-patch (surely not Skorzeny!), a top capo from the Chicago Outfit, and assorted emissaries from Argentina and other countries that had a beef with England. In fact, there was very little space to move in that vast dining room. Additionally, there were of course many high-ranking FWA men.

Before the ceremony began there was the customary mingling, small talk, and exchanging of business cards. I found myself in a fascinating conversation with a charming fellow from the Orient. I’m not sure if he was trying to sell me a rubber plantation or offering me his sister in marriage. (The hand signals are very similar.) Whatever, not being sure what I’d end up with – and having no need for either – I smiled politely, declined his enticing offer, and insisted that we have a skinful next time he was in my neck of the woods.Medals

All the while the drinks flowed, and before John Barleycorn could take his disruptive hold of the proceedings our host called for everyone’s attention. “Friends, comrades, even those of you who’ve just turned up for the booze, we are gathered here today to present our comrade Jac with his medals”. “Hooray” went the shout around the room, “Good old Jac” was heard echoing from the throng.

I stepped forward – careful not to trip over the entrails of the virgin we’d just sacrificed – and stood facing our Commandant. “Jac” said he, “you’ve been an absolute bastard lately, and to show our appreciation I am presenting you with these medals”. Well, I was overcome, tears welled up as I thanked Cayo and the assembled host . . . among which I could see the man I had previously been talking with, still making hand signals, only this time it looked as if he was propositioning me! But as I say, the gestures are easy to mis-read.

The ceremony over, we all got down to serious drinking. The man from the KGB jumped up onto the long dining table and did a Cossack dance before falling off onto the prostrate figure of a Salvation Army Colonel who’d overdone it on the single malt. Next it was the turn of the Papal legate to denounce, in Latin, the evils of drink, whilst emptying his second bottle of Sambuca. Everybody was having a great time, but then we noticed that the snow was now falling rather more heavily and so, despite Cayo’s insistence that we stay, Glyn and I grabbed a few bottles and staggered to the car for the trip home.

What a trip it was! First we knocked down a couple of old ladies on their way to chapel in Felinfach, then we hit a cow just outside Aberaeron! I know we shouldn’t have been in the field, but it was snowing and we were pissed. After that things got a bit better . . . though that cyclist in Aberarth was definitely asking for it. We got through Aberystwyth without hitting too many pedestrians and eventually reached home. What a day!

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OK, maybe it wasn’t quite like that. But the day I got my medals was certainly a snowy Sunday, and Cayo and Glyn were definitely there, but after that it gets a little hazy. It was all a long time ago . . . but not too long that it can’t be twisted by a vindictive little bugger with an ignored blog who relies for readers on his fat friend at Llais y Sais and other contacts in the colonial media.

I cherish those medals; I wear them at Cilmeri and to old comrades’ funerals. They belong to a time when it looked, if only for a while, as if we Welsh had re-discovered our self-respect, and decided to stand up for ourselves. Sadly, that bright dawn of the 1960s was soon overtaken by the reaction to it, to the point where, today, people who really should know better believe that our sham devolution is some form of self-government. When in truth it is the antithesis of self-government; more decisions about Wales are taken in London today than ever before. And all the while, those who claim to love Wales refuse to challenge the system that is making us a minority in our own country.

And the medals, what were they for? That’s between me and men who are all dead. Better men than the despicable scribblers who denigrate and ridicule those who are unable to answer back. Vermin!

Now I KNOW I’m Doing Something Right!

As you might guess, this (originally short) post is a follow-up to my previous one, I Must Be Doing Something Right. It seems that Phil Parry at Wales Eye and Martin Shipton at Llais y Sais just won’t let go . . . though their persistence is not to be compared to slavering pit bulls, more like drowning men clutching at straws. FWA combined

Yesterday afternoon I received a tweet from Fat Boy, you can see it for yourself on the right, together with my response. (Click to enlarge.) Yes, I was flippant, partly because I have difficulty taking the man seriously and also because I’d caught some bug that had me in bed by seven o’clock. I should have guessed that this was the prelude to another attack on me but, as I’ve said, I was feeling rough and on my way to bed.

Refreshed by fifteen hours of sleep I powered up my computer this morning to learn that after I’d gone to bed Shipton had tweeted again, this time about paramilitary Shipton JJ combinedactivity and John Jenkins. His tweet and my response can be found on the left. (Click to enlarge.) What was it all about? I soon found out thanks to an e-mail from a supporter directing me to a tweet from Phil Parry at Wales Eye. (Below.) Again, I replied, and again, the response was somewhat flippant because, quite frankly, and with the best will in the world, I regard the man as an arsehole.

Anyway, it seems I am a “controversial commentator” (thank God for that!) and I support a paramilitary organisation. Which organisation would that be? I certainly support the various Kurdish militias fighting their people’s many enemies, but somehow I don’t think Parry is thinking of the Kurds. Given Lard Boy’s tweets yesterday we can safely assume that tomorrow, Wales Eye will run a World Exclusive! that I, Jac o’ the North, Swansea Jack, Royston Jones, supportWales Eye paramilitary combed the Free Wales Army . . . an organisation that ceased to exist around 1970.

This Earth-shattering news will be taken up by media outlets around the globe, Muscovites will stop complete strangers in a Red Square blizzard to ask, ‘Have you heard about that bastard Royston Jones supporting the Free Wales Army?’ And the response will be, ‘That’s nothing, I’ve heard he used to go drinking with that Cayo Evans in Lampeter’. Before they both shuffle off safe in the knowledge that President Putin would know how to deal with the likes of me. Then again, the coverage might be limited to Fat Boy at the Western Mail. In fact, I’m prepared to bet that the uptake will be limited to Llais y Sais.

So what’s going on here? It started off with Wales Eye, from out of a clear blue sky, attacking me in this concoction on September 2nd. A week or so later Wales Eye ran another piece about the persecution fantasies of Jacques Protic due (allegedly) to something I’d written about him, and this resulted in a North Wales Police enquiry. Then Wales Eye told us that I had been reported to South Wales Police for launching a ‘racial hatred’ petition . . . a petition that I did not launch. (But, understandably, Wales Eye neglected to tell us exactly who reported me.) This lie was then repeated almost verbatim by Martin Shipton in the Western Mail, and in WalesOnline, even though I’d put him straight. (See below.) Now it seems I am to be ‘outed’ as a supporter of paramilitary activity, a member of the Free Wales Army, and an admirer of John Jenkins. (Thank God they don’t know about that statue in Aber’!)

Shipton request combined

What sort of an arrangement is this that sees one of Wales’ most respected journalists (though not respected by me, obviously) acting as researcher for a vindictive blogger? Does Trinity Mirror plc pay Shipton’s salary for him to behave in this demeaning manner? But then, Shipton and Parry are both Labour, and Trinity Mirror has a record of supporting the Labour Party in Wales; who can forget the short-lived Welsh Mirror that crept from under a stone in the wake of Labour’s failure to gain a majority in the first Assembly elections of 1999? This rag was nothing but a platform for Paul Starling Parry, Shipton compositeto spew his hatred for all things Welsh, dressed up of course as ‘combatting the evils of nationalism’.

With an election approaching, is Trinity Mirror doing ‘Welsh’ Labour another favour by targetting me? For those tempted to answer with, ‘You’re not important enough, Jac’, I would answer that I’m obviously important enough for the chief reporter of Llais y Sais to sift through my blog postings, check my photographs, and to monitor my tweets, looking for anything that could be presented as remotely incriminating. It’s clearly a concerted attempt to discredit me and, by extension, what I write. So why is it happening?

Anyway, the whole point of writing this was to prepare my easily shocked readers for the news that tomorrow, on the Wales Eye blog, ace investigator and top notch political analyst, Phil Parry will break the news that I supported direct action. This will then be relayed by his fat friend over at Llais y Sais. And that, my friends, just about sums up the dire state of what today passes for ‘the Welsh media’. Stop Press: Here’s Parry’s World Exclusive!, in pdf format (saving you having to pay to read it). Oh, yes, make sure you’re not eating anything, otherwise you might choke laughing.

P.S. To save certain ‘journalists’ unnecessary delving into my past I shall set the record straight on a few things.

  • I did not sink the Titanic, honest!
  • I may have met Gavrilo Princip at a social event.
  • I was not responsible for the Wall Street Crash.
  • I played no part in the invasion of Abbysinia.
  • I never served in the SS . . . well, not before 1944, anyway.
  • I was never a hippy in the 1960s (though I did wear flares).
  • I did not kill JFK, it was the New Orleans Mob (I was with the Chicago Outfit).
  • I had no hand in the break-up of the Beatles.
  • I was nowhere near Watergate.
  • I have no idea where Jimmy Hoffa is buried (God bless him).
  • I did not invade Las Malvinas The Falklands.
  • I had no involvement in the collapse of the Soviet Union.
  • I am not related to Slobodan Milosovic (try Protic on that one).
  • I was never formally introduced to Saddam Hussein.
  • I did not vote Yes in last September’s Scottish independence referendum.
  • I have recommended you both for the very highest awards your profession can bestow.