1970s DJs vs 2018s UK Govt & Stooges

The radio is in the hands of such a lot of fools trying to anaesthetise the way that you feel
“Oh, then, he must be talking about fools like me,’ bubbles Tony Blackburn artlessly across the airwaves.
Yes, Tony, precisely fools like you; even though, having apparently aired the idea, you still don’t know what the hell is going on.
That was late October, 40 years ago exactly – and the song is ‘Radio Radio’ by Elvis Costello and the Attractions.
And we could be talking about people like John Humphrys or Andrew Marr or any number of others in 2018. They just don’t get it. Fools that they are – or, possibly stooges – they don’t know what the hell is going on.
There is a revolution going on out there.
The British Broadcasting Company has been shown to be a sham. And everyone knows it. They even admit it themselves that everyone who works for them in any meaningful capacity is vetted by MI5.
As a nation, we are being broadcast to by a bunch of fools whose main qualification is that they pass the MI5 vetting process.
And whose side are the MI5 on – not the nation’s, but the vested interests of the British Establishment.
And of course the same goes for the mainstream media, owned as it is by corporate players with their shared Establishment interests.
So there you have it. You are paying good money to be shamelessly lied to by people who despise you and the truth.
Not only that, you are electing people who actually form the main phalanx which protects and actually advances the interests of the multi-media corporate Establishment.
Wow, and there was I calling an innocent Radio 1 DJ a fool!
But ‘the revolution’ you ask, where is it?
Right in front of you.
The recent attacks in the corporate media on intellectuals are reminiscent of those launched by the fearful ruling classes in twentieth century totalitarian states. When they know that they are in danger of being found out for all the lies they have been propagating their last vestige is to destroy the good character of those who utter the truth. They know that they have lost the battle and can only fight a rear guard action. You saw it in the USSR. And now you are seeing it in the UK.
The ruling class have lost all credibility.
As have their lackeys.
A new generation of independent journalists and investigators are not waiting to be vetted by the state secret service before airing their thoughts and findings to the wider world; and the intellectuals in the universities are hitting back by use of the world wide web.
That is the revolution.
PS just as this bunch of self-congratulatory nobodies (with maybe one or two exceptions) were found out to be a bunch of bullying, talentless, over-reaching, predatory criminals
so will this lot be found out to be the same
Trust me


The Righter You Are The Wronger You Get

Question_Cover_for_KindleThe text heading my FB page is not meant to be nearly as clever as it may appear; rather, it was suggested to me by the name of a Joe Walsh album from the seventies: The Player You Are The Smoker You Get – a kind of gibberish that at the same time sounds quite substantial (Players were a favourite cigarette brand). I might have easily typed The Writer You Are The Reader You Get; or, more likely, The Righter You Are The Wronger You Get.
If you click on it, that Russian hotel sign says POLIST, which is the name of the river flowing through Staraya Russa, and is the place I stayed during a 2001 trip in search of where my own personal favourite writer, FM Dostoevsky, conjured up The Brothers Karamazov.
When you are reading a text that fails to jar with you at all (as Bros K did till Book 9 and Dmitri’s guilt-trip), then by definition you and that text are in perfect harmony. If you enjoy reading something that is hate-filled – however well written – or is conceptually idiotic then you really ought to consider what type of person you have become. If you could step back and re-read that text and assess what it contains objectively, then you could know just what the words say about you. At least as you were at the time of the original reading. Looking back over all the texts that have chimed so perfectly with you over your lifetime will tell you a lot about yourself and what has driven you ever since conscious existence has been yours to enjoy. Well, that’s my maxim anyhow.
The inserted photo is of me reading at the entrance to the Church of the Nativity in Bethlehem.

Novels by GLYN F RIDGLEY @ Amazon

Peace Pact (Pax Cultura)

peace pact banner
The symbol above – which has sometimes been used as the site icon – is The Banner of Peace designed in conjunction with the so-called Roerich Pact, and was designed by the Russian artist of that name (Nicholas Roerich 1874-1947).

‘The Banner of Peace symbol has ancient origins. Perhaps its earliest known example appears on Stone Age amulets: three dots, without the enclosing circle. Roerich came across numerous later examples in various parts of the world, and knew that it represented a deep and sophisticated understanding of the triune nature of existence. But for the purposes of the Banner and the Pact, Roerich described the circle as representing the totality of culture, with the three dots being Art, Science, and Religion, three of the most embracing of human cultural activities. He also described the circle as representing the eternity of time, encompassing the past, present, and future. The sacred origins of the symbol, as an illustration of the trinities fundamental to all religions, remain central to the meaning of the Pact and the Banner today.’


The historic monuments, museums, scientific, artistic, educational and cultural institutions shall be considered as neutral and as such respected and protected by belligerents. The same respect and protection shall be due to the personnel of the institutions mentioned above. The same respect and protection shall be accorded to the historic monuments, museums, scientific, artistic, educational and cultural institutions in time of peace as well as in war.

‘The history of international treaties shows us how many of them were relevant and applicable to the times in which they were signed, but then lapsed into irrelevance. The Roerich Pact, however, has kept its heart and its life, and is linked to the needs of today’s chaotic world as much as ever. In so many countries we see a deterioration of cultural values and a disregard for the right of all cultural treasures to have their own continued existence, forever protected and unimpeded. We see destruction of life, property, and the inheritance of the creative genius of the nations. One can only hope that a greater awareness of the importance of humanity’s cultural heritage will increase, rather than deteriorate. There is no greater value to a nation than its culture.’

‘The Roerich Pact was first agreed to by twenty-one nations of the Americas and signed as a treaty in the White House, in the presence of President Franklin Delano Roosevelt, on April 15, 1935, by all the members of the Pan-American Union. It was later signed by other countries also.’

(from the Roerich Museum website)


Reading on the road

Thinking about what to take away with me to read on my trip across Europe, made me think about what it means to be a reader. To be honest, what I’d like is a whole series of very cool reading where you can just sit back and enjoy and go along with the experience and not have to be concerned what’s going on in your mind at all. The same as listening to music. Or maybe even driving. There must be a whole bunch of people out there who’d actually like this. Or possibly not. People seem to like feeling anxious. As though being anxious makes them important.
Anxiety makes you forget about the world-reality – makes you feel wrapped up in yourself. A lot of reading material seems deliberately produced to make us feel like that – it sells: the news, Twitter, Facebook, thrillers…they’re all designed to arouse fear and increase anxiety levels…coffee, too, actually…believe it or not; that is part of making a whole nation continually be on tippytoe… Movies are the same. Constant high anxiety.
So, a whole series of reading material which has a rhythm and content that actually removes the reader from those high anxiety levels and enables them to escape and forget themself and that chitty-chatty environment might actually be very good for the individual – might well soothe the soul and bring it back to a personal level of being removed from fear. No need to visit or sign up to a guru or an online course or enlist in some philosophical movement – all you’ve got to do is sit back, relax – open the text…and read…be free…
None of which has actually helped me to decide what I will bring away. Not yet, anyway. Maybe just some good tour guides…


Of the Road

I can’t set out on a six-thousand mile road trip across Europe without giving it a moment’s thought.
Why am I going?
Because I can. At fifty-nine, I have very nearly lived out all my cat’s lives and am simply amazed to still be here and in a position to just GO!

Since it’s the sixtieth anniversary of that great spiritual opus On the Road, which its author described in a letter as ‘…a story about 2 Catholic buddies roaming the country in search of God…’ I could use this as a reference point. If I do, it will be as a point of departure – with no pun originally intended; but there for all to see. Miles-wise, JK covered about twice this distance, over three years, and the same trips often repeated. Jack was half my age.

Am I searching for God?
No. Been there. Done that.
Am I a Catholic, even?
Hell, no!

Going with a buddy?
You bet. The best buddy ever – my missus (lapsed RC).
(A previous road trip we undertook recently through wintry southern California and Arizona in a beat-up old Chevrolet Astra van is re-told in ANSWER.)
This one is different…
We’re going in the summer and we’ll be going through lots of different countries (inshalla) – about fifteen or so, and in a circular motion rather than there-and-back. So that ought to make it more interesting, by my reckoning – culturally-speaking.

Kerouac: ‘Oh, where is the girl I love?’
Me: Beside me.
K was looking for kicks; I’ll be looking for…the midnight sun.
K was looking for sex (as I said this morning: A whole year of this…!)

And so, the road beckons – and, god-willing, we’ll be on the ferry out of the UK come early June.

Ah, yes, now I recall why I am going – to escape this benighted country with its lying politicians and media before it separates itself off from the rest of Europe and we’ll all need visas and passes to get around.

(Except I won’t, because I am actually…

irish passport




Smack-heads #fukus

Looking at the hapless faces of Trump and his cohort Mad Dog Mattis, the May-bot and M. le Financier Macron as they dissembled over their supposed motivations for bombing a proud nation and its long-suffering people, I was very much reminded of those awful authoritarian parents and teachers – guardians of the natural order – way back in the fifties and beyond who would line up their much weaker charges and, before commencing to beat them with sticks and canes, announce:
‘This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you.’
Such hypocrisy! The claim that what they were doing was for the victim’s own good..!

Fortunately, ideas of social justice have moved on – you can now go to prison for beating minors. However, these political overlords appear to be caught in a post-colonial time warp, harking back – and wishing to revel in – a time when it was perfectly okay and legal to beat and brutalise subordinate populations.
Thank goodness most of us have moved on.

Now we have to rid ourselves of these political throwbacks and monstrosities.
Hopefully, soon, the only place you will come upon them will be as waxworks in museums – or maybe some kind of virtual zoo-circus, or TV comedies where the memory of them will provide a good set of laughs as we get on with the business of living together as one – as the brothers and sisters we all are!

In the meantime, we can begin by all opening a Twitter account and following alternative news sources and political and economic viewpoints.
Personally, following the illegal strikes on Syria this weekend at the behest of our antediluvian smack-head politicians, I was greatly heartened by the tweet of Elijah J Magnier telling us that ordinary Syrians were dancing on the streets of Damascus as a response to those foolhardy and belligerent attacks, along with images of people gathered together and waving their national flag alongside those of Russia and Iran.

The USA, UK, KSA and Israel, along with with other countries of NATO, had already all-but lost the proxy war on the ground in Syria, with the jihadists driven back by the Syrian people and its representative army, so that by committing their cowardly bombing of these same individuals and their infrastructure, these groupings have now lost any semblance of authority they may have once held.
Now, they resemble those old bent figures of yesteryear thrashing around with their sticks and demanding they and their worn-out moral code be taken seriously, ignorantly misunderstanding that the rest of us in the world have heeded lessons from the past in our own modern – enlightened – way.


Yellow Shoes

I dreamed of yellow shoes last night, and guess what..?

yellow shoes

‘Dream about yellow shoes represent your desire to travel and change your current place of stay’ (dreamingandsleeping.com)

‘Yellow Shoes
Yellow shoes represent the path to wisdom’ (dream_meaning.net)

🙂 🙂 🙂


Boots…er, I mean BOOKS available from Amazon by
Glyn Ridgley

27 Countries (count ’em)!

This is the vancar we’re going to set off in.fiat doblo And this blog is now going to become Old School.
When I ask my international language students where the word BLOG comes from they never know – and it’s likely that a lot of us forget – a BLOG is a ‘web log’ – and that’s what from now on – or at least when the trip begins – this blog is going to be…a log put out on the web from the road.
And it’s going to be an amalgamation of sights and sounds and thoughts political, mystical and social that just pass through the blogger’s mind – just as, in fact, this blog was always supposed to be.
It’s going to be a story.
I am no expert in anything – but I am tired of being expertised to by a whole bunch of know-nothings who are out there expounding as though they really do understand what’s what concerning Europe…Well, THEY ONLY SOUND LIKE THEY DO.
That is part of what this blog is all about and always has been – and especially is from now…
Oh, yeah, those 27 countries…I’ve been to Ireland, France, Spain, Portugal, Greece, Italy, Benelux, Germany, Austria, Denmark, Sweden, Czech Republic, Slovakia, Poland, Hungary, Romania, Bulgaria – so that’s already over half of them – but that means a lot I haven’t and don’t know about, and I look forward to seeing some of those previously visited countries once again,…
This trip is all coming about due to Brexit, remember, so that by around this time next year I may not – as a UK citizen – be able to visit any of these countries without some kind of pass or visa. (As it happens, I have a way out – a trick up my sleeve – . Be that as it may…)
To start with, we’re taking the ferry to Hoek van Holland and heading north-eastwards…to form a triangle containing Amsterdam, Tallinn and Podgorica. That’s the plan.
First, there’s a whole lot more to organise – like what to do with the house…
In a future blog, I’ll try to give my starting position re Europe and the UK’s imminent departure from within its ranks.

Comments will be very warmly received.

In the meantime, here are some books of fiction I’ve written – all available from local bookstores or online, hardcopy or digital, and none of them particularly expensive.


That elusive 27th anniversary present

Okay, so there is no particular anniversary associated with 27 years of marriage…
Not to worry, I can recall that day very well; if I were to exchange a gift with my partner it would be made of shell – since the meal after the ceremony took place in a restaurant called L’Escargot.
I see Iggy Pop is playing at Finsbury Park festival this summer. That might be a pretty appropriate commemoration place-wise – except my missus don’t like him overmuch…
Or how about a trip to Russia – where we first met…on a language course..?
To be honest, I cannot believe the crap that is coming out about that country all over again. Blimey! We spent the sixties and seventies believing ordinary Russians were ten-feet tall and had two heads. Brezhnev and his Politburo cronies were about the only Russians shown on our TVs, as they watched from their Kremlin balcony at the marching soldiers and military hardware being paraded before their very deadpan eyes. We were all expecting a nuclear war to begin at any time…or, at the very least, some kind of invasion – maybe like the Nazi blitzkrieg of the 1940s…
Actually, we knew nothing about Russia or the Russian people, except they were OUR enemy.
That was why I had to visit the country as soon as the possibility arose; what I found was a generous, welcoming people as non-plussed concerning UK politics as ourselves. In fact, they were so welcoming that we returned – as a married couple – the following year to help set up an English language school, the first of its kind in the USSR, apparently; and we were present during the collapse of that Union…but that’s another story…
Since then, I have returned on several occasions – the last time on behalf of a language centre operating in Siberia and, always, have received the self-same warmth and kindnesses of the original occasion.
Our UK government is pulling the wool over our eyes when they tell us the Russians are a threat to our way of life – they were telling us exactly the same story all those decades ago, and they were wrong then as they are wrong now. For Brezhnev read Putin. They only WANT the UK population to believe that Russia is an imminent threat in order to divert our attention away from the very real lack of good governance that they are providing; and of course they want to invoke patriotism – or jingoism – as a means of getting people to pull together behind them, regardless of the lies they tell. (Who on earth came up with the idea of having Jerusalem as the 2018 athletics anthem – with all its messianic connotations?)
So, that elusive 27th wedding anniversary present…
I know!
We’re going to travel around the other 27 EU countries in our van before Brexit occurs and visas will be required by UK citizens to get around…
Happy Anniversary, Darling!

We want war

How do you think it feels being an American general..?
You wake up in the morning hungry for war.
You constantly hark back to Vietnam and refuse to accept that your military lost that particular extended conflict – it was the politicians’ fault – and you wonder how you can make sure the same outcome never occurs again.
You consider how greater carpet-bombing would have laid greater waste to the entire country and silenced entirely those commie Vietcong; how a better manner of winning hearts-and-minds might have worked out…
And then you ponder how you might apply all these ways of thinking right now in Syria, say, or Afghanistan – or in some other theatre of war…say, IRAN!!! Or – better still – RUSSIA!!! (China will have to wait.)
Conveniently, you forget what carpet-bombing did to the Korean peninsula in the early 1950s when the military’s efforts laid waste to the entire country of North Korea to the extent – by your own calculations – there was nothing left to bomb…and yet the DPRK re-emerged, more resourceful than before, having learned their own lessons (that the USA cannot be trusted), just as the Vietnamese people re-emerged from their underground warrens after you had destroyed all that existed above with your chemical and conventional weaponry…
And then you get to dreaming about the A-bomb…
All you need now is an excuse – and, oh, lookee here…our friends at UN, SIS and BBC are lining up the perfect opportunity…

If ever a piece of so-called reporting from a major media source warranted being called ‘a piece of war-mongering’, this is it from the BBC. Shocking journalism at any time from any national news organisation.


usa bombing syria
US bombing of Syrian target (Huffington Post)