Allons, Enfants!

Let us now celebrate one of the best days of the year for democracy – a day when the downtrodden finally rose in arms and started to break the power that had always set its foot on their necks. Today is Bastille Day.

It was not a quick revolution nor a clean one – the real ones never are – but it was, by and large, a successful one. The old monarchy tried to return after the new upstart monarchy was defeated. Eventually both their powers petered out and people took more of their lives into their own hands.

They’ve been conquered since, and then liberated and have conquered in their turn, and are facing  more of it  – as all Europe does. But then Europe has always faced strife since before the Roman Empire – none of it is new.

I take comfort on Bastille Day in reading  Tom Paine’s ” The Rights Of Man ” and am inspired by our Marianne in the liberty cap. It is a good day for cheese and wine and paté.

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Hold The Bright Green Banner High!

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Forward against the forces of backward! Rise from your downtrodden position and assume an uptrodden one! Join in universal solidarity with the Lime Revolution!

No more landlords! From now on we will all be lime lords! Respond to the call of the lime! Step into the lime light.

Best of all, this is a revolution that can claim a true Australian as inspiration. The Round Lime, or Citrus Australis is a a large shrub that grows in the Beenleigh area of Queensland. And we all know what else comes from Beenleigh…rum…How much better could it be!

And we can count on support from India, Indochina, and Mexico. Freshly squeezed lime juice is a key ingredient in the cuisine of all these areas.

I need not mention Key lime pie…

Cells of limeists will be formed in cellars, universities, and bars all over the nation. Drinking of margaritas, gimlets, and Rickeys will be ritualised until all the delegates are lying on the floor. The Citrus manifesto will be published in 4 languages; English, French, Hindi, and Gibberish.

Note banner on page is for the Ministry Of Lime – Photographic division.

I Plan To Be Revolting

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I plan to be revolting after October of next year and I suspect there are a lot of other people who will too.

You must not get me wrong – I don’t really want to have soviet control of our suburb and the thought of a collective farm tractor is much less desirable than my little Suzuki Swift. But the chance to organise the gullible and subject them to polemics and poleaxes is nigh-on irresistible. I plan to trotsky out a whole raft of ludicrous pronouncements and watch the masses swallow and follow them.

Now I know people will say I am a hundred years out of date, but they said that about Lincoln in 1964 and look how well he has done since then. In fact, a great many soviet vehicles at the end of the twentieth century looked like 1864 Lincolns. I hope to bring the fun and glamour of revolution, starvation, murder, and pillage to our modern society and then move on to repression and slavery. The sailor’s uniforms look cool, too, and you should see what we can do with cinema posters…

There will be some spoil-sports amongst my readers – there always are, witness the uproar that arose over the human sacrifices. All I can say is – didn’t we have a fine crop of maize last year? I’m not an overly religious man, but a couple of thousand live hearts torn out of the chests of prisoners seems to be a small price to pay for really good corn on the cob.

I doubt it will come to that with red revolution. We may lose a few landlords and merchant bankers, and the water supply may only be available on Wednesday, but think of all the wonderful revolutionary street theatre plays that we will have instead of tramcars. And the psychological youth training scheme – the Jung Pioneers – will lead to a positive revival in the red scarf trade. Marx my words, the proletariat will be falling head over heels to rally round us with pitchforks and clubs…and as soon as I can see them coming, you are in charge.

I have been asked whether there will be show-trials, and if I can going to send out a casting call. Basically, yes, and no-one need feel left out. Don’t be anxious about calling us – when we want you, we will come and get you. I should sleep with warm clothes if I were you.

I have also heard questions about what has been referred to as an inevitable backlash from the right. This is no problem, as the Backstabbers Guild Of Australia has invested a good deal in the establishment of freikorps, Iron Defence Leagues, and New Guards. With a bit of good management it should be possible to enjoy unrest and bloodshed until well into 2023.

 

Is My Black Shirt Ironed, Dear?

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Well, I am proud of myself. I read a genuine fascist book last night and did not throw it into the fire, though I was tempted. I must be maturing.

The book – ” the Battle of London ” – was apparently printed in 1923 in Great Britain by a firm called Herbert Jenkins. The back of the book lists some of their other publications and a mixed lot they are, too. They range from 7/6 novels to 3/6 poplars. One of the latter is P. G. Wodehouse’s * ” The Inimitable Jeeves “. You can even get down to 2/6 potboilers. I would imagine the difference in the prices is, to some extent, due to bindings and paper.

” The Battle Of London ” is cheap enough in itself – the sort of light card and cloth binding that signals the era – a book to be found on the shelves of a boarding house in a seaside resort. In my case I found it in a secondhand bookstore in Margaret River – odd enough location for any reader but a surprising treasure trove.

Well, to put it simply, the author called himself Hugh Addison but was really Harry Collison Owen – a sometime British Army officer and editor of a soldier’s paper in the Balkans in the 14/18. Couldn’t tell you what Mr. Owen liked, but I can tell you what he disliked; communism, labour unions, soviet Russia, and postwar Germany. He also disliked Bolsheviks, Jews, Asiatics, and Germans.

Rather surprisingly he liked Italian fascists and possibly Americans, though that might be a misreading of one of his characters.

The novel told of a communist plot to take over England in the 1920’s and the battle to stop it – centred chiefly around London. I suspect Mr Owen was enamoured of the German freikorps of the time as well, though he came to mentioning them and similar paramilitary groups on the continent only as introduction to his own invention – the ” Liberty League ” and the ” Iron Division “. British freikorps.

He set the plot going, then spun it out in the most melodramatic of boy’s adventure scenes. He let the forces of Red Terror advance and succeed and then beat them back with his own heroes. In the end he latched onto the interwar fear of aerial bombing and destroyed Westminster and Berlin with German and British triplanes respectively. All it took was one air raid on each city – I suspect Owen either could not think how to conduct an air war or just ran out of paper.

The most illuminating part of the book was the way Owen wrote about Asiatics and Jews – I’ll not repeat the insults and epithets, the slurs and calumnies. He was contemptuous of Germans and Russians to start with but settled that shortly by saying they were misled by ” other races”.  He did write an American character into the story and managed to attach a general racist attitude to him, but it was chiefly to sew together the English-speaking nations against those he considered lesser breeds.

Well, it was just a book, and a cheap one at that – I cannot see this having got over the 3/6 mark. And it was a long time ago and events have long since proved it to be false, but it was still a damnable thing. I wonder if it, and others like it, were the food that nourished Mosley. Did it fuel hatreds in other people?

Still, I read it through, and that is saying something. I’ll lend it to a friend with a warning, but I don’t suppose it will do him any harm. I would not lend it to susceptible people, however, any more than I would press the Protocols of Zion or Mein Kampf on them. I have no desire to start them out on freikorps re-enactment in 2019…no need for New Guards.

  • P.G Wodehouse. Now there was a staunch Englishman who would never have fascist sympathies………………..

Zumba – A Place In The Sun

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It is heartening to see that yet another outpost of colonial oppression has succeeded in throwing off the shackles of the oppressor and is striding forward into the light of a new era. No longer under the jackboot of tyranny , the people are awakening from a ling night of sorrow to joy. With the enlightened leadership of the Saviour Of The People, science and technology will emancipate the masses and usher in unrestricted peace and benevolence. Can I stop now? My bottom hurts.

I’m sorry if the introduction was a little overblown, but I got a bargain on a job lot of propaganda from the ” New Era” bookstore when it closed down in 1991 and I have been trying to use it up ever since. There is only so much revolution I can insert into a Facebook posting or an advertisement for cameras and I like to make the most of my chances.

I note that yet another person has fallen victim to the Zumba Curse – one of my Facebook friends needs hip surgery after incautiously trying to do the Zumba national dances. I think the same thing accounted for my wife’s knee and it meant a small amount of surgery and a large amount of running around her at home. I can’t tell you the number of times I had to get my own beer while she was just sitting there swathed in bandages…

It has always been thus with Zumba – even during the all-too-brief colonial period when they were sensibly ruled by Switzerland. Sited as they were between a German Colony and  Portuguese one, and given the unfavourable nature of the climate, terrain, and population, it is amazing that they came on as well as they did. While other sections of Africa may have had the reputation of being the ” White Man’s Grave” or ” The Heart of Darkness”, Zumba was never able to gain such favourable publicity. The closest it ever got to international fame was when an image of the capital ” New Gossau ” was shown during a magic lantern show in the Winter Palace and  the Russian Tsar Nicolas II broke wind. It has been downhill since then.

To give them their due, the Swiss authorities did their best to bring civilisation to the colony. They introduced hydro-electric railway trains and carved clocks and the concept of the fondue. While the trains have stopped running due to an absence of tracks ( A visit from a hungry Italian scrap-iron merchant after the war), and the clocks are generally fused due to the high humidity, the fondue continues to this day. It is the preferred method the locals use to cook other people. Tribal wars tend to be festive affairs and no-one seems to go hungry. Missing, yes, but not hungry…

The impression that the opening paragraph gave was of revolution – this is somewhat false. Hardly anything revolves in Zumba – see the note about the carved clocks and the humidity. Zumba is not an oil nation, and has little opportunity to lubricate anything – even the wheels of power. The glorious rise of local governance is chiefly due to the Swiss packing up their suitcases and leaving. Having got as much out of the place as could be reasonably be expected they got themselves out. During the years of colonial rule the chief export of the colony was a native berry that could be used to cure diahorrea – the development of Lomotil and the realisation the diahorrea was actually preferable to living in Zumba meant that the Swiss had no motive to stay. One morning the natives staggered out of their huts to discover the white cross flag and the local administrator gone with only the bin-full of cheese and chocolate wrappers at Government House to show they had ever been there.

It is to the credit of the native Zumbites that they filled this vacuum in power by themselves in an orderly fashion. The largest family in New Gossau invited the second largest family to a feast and offered to share power and a particularly tender brace of teenagers in chili sauce with them. The offer was accepted and the new government was formed. New Gossau and the river lagoon that it overlooks have been renamed and a new map drawn for the high school. In this connection, it must be remarked that there may still be some influence of colonial times in the psyche – new Gossau became Stein Am Umbubu and the lagoon is now known as the Blurksee.

Zumba has a new export industry now – professors of native dance – you’ll see them all over the western world – maiming and crippling wherever they go. Swiss-Federal Pharmaceuticals and the Schmertz Corporation  – major Swiss producers of artificial knees and pain relievers – have come on board enthusiastically and are subsidizing the industry. Times look bright for Zumba!

Those of you looking for Zumba on the international political map should be aware that as yet they have not been accepted into the United Nations. Actually they have not asked to join. They looked at the current members and crept softly away. You can see the country from the air if you look for the small discoloured patch between Angola  and Tanganyika.

Thanks for visiting, folks. Be sure to try the umbubu before you leave.