Last Orders For The 'Whine Merchants'
Time and again, though, these responsibilities are abrogated by officialdom in a manner that simply defies belief. Children placed in council homes 'for their protection', or because they are 'at risk', frequently find themselves at the 'mercy' of a regime wherein bullying and abuse are common. Old people, hoping to see out their twilight years in comparative peace and safety, are mocked, harried and beaten, sometimes precipitating their demise. All at the hands of 'care workers'!
When Islington Council first discovered that a number of its children's homes had become, in effect, combined drug dens and brothels, its immediate course of action was to gag the press and 'cover up'. Never mind that pimps were brazenly escorting under-age girls up west for the late shift. Never mind that every substance from pot to crack was being smoked, swallowed or injected on the premises (and that was just the staff!). That could all be dealt with later, once the inquisitive glare of reporters had been diverted elsewhere. Consequently, the 'Evening Standard', which had received detailed information about the scandal from sources within Islington Social Services, was served a 'gagging order' preventing it from publishing its scoop.
Noone, at least, had the temerity to suggest that it was in 'the public interest' to suppress this expose of Islington's catastrophic ignorance and incompetence. But laws introduced to protect the identity of children 'in care' were invoked to protect the identities of the criminally negligent managers. Fortunately, a later court judgement found in favour of the newspaper, and it was able to inform a shocked public that abuses that would have shamed a Victorian workhouse were rampant in London in the 1980's.
It further transpired that Islington, pursuing then-leader Margaret Hodge's 'radical agenda', was so sensitive to the possibility of committing an '-ism' of any sort that it felt unable to investigate the backgrounds of its children's homes' staff, despite the fact that they were in almost total control of disturbed and vulnerable youngsters. Accordingly, paedophiles with convictions for the most revolting offences against children happily applied for vacancies in the safe knowledge that the right-on brothers and sisters of Islington distrusted the police and wouldn't bother to check their references.
Most disraceful and unforgivable, however, was the council's refusal, once the "catalogue" of offences had been uncovered, to release details of those involved to other local authorities, thereby enabling the sick perverts to satisfy their unnatural urges elsewhere. The 'rights' of the deviant are protected at the expense of children's innocence. It is the logic of the madhouse!
Now, all these years on, we learn that nothing has changed: all the vital lessons from Islington have been ignored, and later outrages forgotten, while the secretive, dogmatic, politically ultra-correct world of social services survives intact. John Bennett, ú60,000-a-year director of Northumberland social services, has been granted 'early retirement' on health grounds despite the fact that children in two homes under his jurisdiction were sexually abused, assaulted, and strapped face-down to their beds at risk of suffocation. Mr. Bennett ignored a 1987 report that one of the homes was "an accident waiting to happen" and lied to government officials by denying that so-called 'pindown' techniques were being used...why is he being allowed 'early retirement'? A terse statement to the effect that "you're fired!" would seem more appropriate.
Frankly, the world would become a safer and fairer place if every 'social worker', 'empowerment officer' and 'special needs counsellor' was rounded up, placed aboard a rusting container ship and sunk in the middle of the bloody ocean! These indoctrinated do-gooders, their thick heads full of the latest psycho-babble, roam about the country in the belief that every village has a coven, every family a dark secret, and every man a twisted urge. The Rochdale and Orkney satanic abuse cases revealed the frightening mentality of this latter-day 'thought police': a copy of 'The Devil Rides Out' is proof of guilt; and possession of a shepherd's crook means you are the ringleader. Children who denied they had been abused were not believed; while the wildest fantasies of others were solemnly accepted as gospel truth. All the while, where was the real suffering taking place? In their social services departments' very own children's homes!!
Heaven knows, we live in troubled times in which to bring up children. They do not deserve the attentions of the creepy zealots and lunatic idealists mentioned above!
The latest outcry over the division of the National Lottery spoils concerns a projected ú50 million grant to The Tate Gallery, renewing the argument that the capital is getting all the dosh at the expense of the regions.
As a native London WASP, this has become a rather uncomfortable issue. It is true that the capital has many more cultural institutions than, say, Manchester, Glasgow or Cardiff. London is by far the largest city in the UK and is the gateway to Europe as a whole for millions of tourists. In terms of taxation, London is a big loser to the rest of the country, so I do not view the uneven distribution of Lottery funds to be as iniquitous as some commentators suggest.
The more pressing complaint, therefore, is that the proceeds are going not to "good causes", as was the idea in the beginning, but to the "arty-farty" opera, ballet and theatre. For a government that is forever justifying botched privatisations and 'fat cat' salaries by mere mention of the words 'competition' and 'market forces', it seems remarkably magnanimous towards the arts, now that the money does not have to be found from Treasury coffers. Such largesse is naturally resented by the pigeon fancier from Barnsley whose only knowledge of Wagner is from re-runs of 'Hart to Hart'.
The delighted beneficiaries are at pains to insist that their new productions of 'Turandot' or 'Swan Lake' are heavily patronised by salt-of-the-earth, "gor blimey, 'guv" types in flat caps. Hmmm...! I have yet to see groups of Millwall fans congregating outside the Royal Opera House for a good night out; nor do I think The Tate Gallery would be the natural venue for a works outing. But leaving that aside for the moment, should more money go to "good causes", especially medical charities? Overwhelmingly, the answer is yes.
Mrs. Virginia Bottomley's intemperate attack on 'charity whingers' proves that she is as hopelessly adrift of public opinion at the Heritage Department as she was at Health; indeed, were a contest to be held for 'Least Popular Human', Ginny would be "well in"! It is fanciful to suppose that the various big charities would manipulate cynically the effect of the Lottery on their own fund-raising activities simply to try to snatch a slice of the pie. I am quite prepared to believe (a) that their takings are down; and (b) that the vast majority of punters would prefer their donation to reach 'Cancer Research' before 'The Welfare of Abyssinian Tea-pickers' or 'Action on Real Sexual Equality'.
The public knows where the money should go; Ginny thinks she knows where the money should go; but Gowrie and his ridiculous ilk don't seem to have a clue. They've completely lost the plottery!
jointly to Ken Humphries (33) and Sam Turner (27), both unemployed - one of whom is pictured left chatting to Sheffield Wednesday's Kevin Pressman.These pathetic inadequates still believe it is amusing to invade a football pitch and threaten to kill the opposition's goalkeeper. Mr. Pressman displayed admirable composure and restrained himself from cuffing the oaf about the head. Hopefully someone else will do so soon.
There tends to be only one 'result' from such behaviour: the team you claim to support is punished. If three points were docked automatically for threatening a player on the pitch, I would imagine Messrs. Humphries and Turner would be anywhere but The Old Kent Road tonight!
Nominations for æ***t of the WeekÆ to: WASP@londonmall.co.uk
In our search for the vanished stars of yesteryear, we pose this crucial question:
Whatever happened to Sir Clive 'C5' Sinclair?
Last week's most plausible suggestion, relating to the disappearance of Joe 'Shadduppa Your Face' Dolci: "...owner of a pasta bar in Wollongong, Australia".
Suggestions to: WASP@londonmall.co.uk
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