Saturday, 26 March 2011


Another day, another dollar, another serial rape case in court. London has had rather a run of these disturbing cases in the past few years and along with the fear and havoc they bring to people's lives, they have one other thing in common...the Metropolitan Police has fucked them up royally.

The organisation entrusted with protecting and serving the most vulnerable people in the country's capital has time and time again proved that as soon the crime involves a penis, they can't cope. With a combo of disgust, misogynisy, hypocrisy, inepititude and intransigence, accompanied by two fingers firmly stuck up at anyone who has the misfortune of becoming the victim of a sex attacker, they have managed to leave a trail of cocked up investigations that have destroyed lives, terrorised communities and left John Worboys, Kirk Reid, Robert Napper and Delroy Grant amongst others to attack hundreds of women (and men) over the past twenty years alone. These cases have been all over the press, discussed at length in the media, formed the basis of a restructuring of the Met, given the public a new view of their police force and kept the Independent Police Complaints Commission in business almost single handedly in the past three or so years. But the information they have imparted to anyone who has reported a rape in Greater London in recent years, hasn't been at all shocking. We have known for years through personal experience that when it comes to investigating rape, the Met can't organise a piss up in a brewery.

Saturday, 5 March 2011


I recently watched David Cameron and Iain Duncan Smith do their double act as they announced their sweeping Welfare Reform Bill. Aside from ruining my lunch with their smarmy tones and chummy air, the whole thing piqued my interest for many reasons.

Mainly because right now I am entirely financially dependent on state benefits. I receive Income Support with a disability premium along with Housing Benefit and Council Tax Benefit. The welfare state is my safety net, but we're not so much friends as frenemies. It keeps me fed, clothed and with a roof over my head, but it has also been one of the biggest stresses and sources of uncertainty and fear in my life in the last six or seven years.