Politics, UK

Britain dutifully bows down to the ruling elite.

Left in New Zealand

Congratulations to the people of ‘Great’ Britain for voting the ruling elite into power yet again. You certainly do know your place. Now they have a mandate to treat people with disdain and contempt, for the next five years. I always thought people in the US were dumb, but there is a new kid on the block vying for the title. How can a party offering no credible policies, with a history of inflicting misery on millions, with a leader who hides in a fridge when things get mildly difficult remain in power. I could glibly say you get what you deserve, but that would be grossly unfair to the millions who can see through this charade of thinly veiled fascism.

It would appear that many people from where I grew up in the north have had a lobotomy, believing all that the billionaire controlled media had to say pre-election…

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Labour, Politics, UK

Few thoughts following 2019 General Election results

It has been a month since the disastrous election results came out on Friday the 13th December, a true day of horror that will haunt the UK for at least another five years. The loss hurt more this time because, after the encouraging results of 2017 GE, one would have expected Labour to go further. This was followed by a revolutionary manifesto. They had the youth voters, or the “youthquake” how they invented the term in the polling day. On Thursday as the news poured in on the social media that people queued up since morning to vote, the hopes soared. People were voting for a change then! They were indeed, but for a change that was unthinkable. First time in many years, at times in a century, the Labour seats were wiped out even at their safest heartlands. The euphoria that built up during the day, quickly evaporated at the pace of a burst balloon, when the exit poll showed the Tory landslide. There was no doubt that the predictions are not going to be far off, but there was a slither of hope that the marginal seats may swing to Labour. They didn’t.

It’s hard to explain how the next few days went. On the personal front, the Christmas was coming, my daughters were excited about the prospect, we were going away for a few days, and we were looking forward to spending a longer Christmas break this year. In the middle of all this excitement, the results left a big hollow inside me. I could not stop thinking about the results, could not think about the betrayal of the voters who would be the worst hit by the Tory austerity policies, I could not feel more angry about the media that brainwashed the gullible voters of an imaginary enemy, and I felt angry about Labour for not doing enough to convince people of the dangers of a Tory government. I looked up at various Labour member forums and the feeling was about the same across the board. Some started to smell a rat how postal vote counts were all messed up, how Laura Kuenssberg almost gave away that postal votes showed a Tory lead…but it was clear that no judicial steps would be taken. When it failed to nail the criminals spewing misinformation during Brexit campaign, these petty postal votes would not have mattered much to guarantee a thorough investigation. This post is mainly about the thoughts that were going through in my mind as the aftermath of Labour’s worst defeat in recent years.

First, I thought why on earth Labour agreed for the election before Christmas. I think I knew the answer straight away. The opposition in the parliament already had a strong position in the cabinet regarding Brexit debate. Labour probably thought if they can increase their seats, it will make it even difficult for Boris Johnson to get a deal with the EU. So I can anticipate that many inside Labour wanted Jeremy Corbyn to give in to the calls for a general election, possibly from the activist factions. It didn’t help the situation by the Libdem aka the Remain party, who expected all remainers will be voting for them. On the other side, the xenophobic and racists had already colluded so their votes don’t split. But on the progressive front, the disagreements continued that cost many seats in the end. It is commonplace on the left spectrum of politics, in the UK, in France, in the US — the left doesn’t come to a common ground and compromise on their principles. This was apparent in the Labour manifesto. Despite knowing how it will be accepted in the right-wing media that feeds the brain-fodder to the British electorate, Labour did not compromise on its offering. Nor did they run a campaign of fear and lies, as did the Tory campaign, led by the brash idiot. So, that would be something to take away from this campaign — a clean campaign and a brilliant and groundbreaking manifesto, only to be overshadowed by Brexit.

But thinking about the future was even more painful. I wondered if Labour would win any future election or will turn into the role of the main opposition, with a diminishing representation in the cabinet, with lesser influence on the divisive government policies. Part of me just wanted to give up on politics. Especially because during this election period I was involved a lot in the social media campaigns, debates, researches and carefully going through the manifesto of the two major parties to understand the fundamental differences between then. All my efforts were felt to be wasted on a lost cause. Also, the glimmer of hope for a Labour resurgence disappeared with the election results, knowing Jeremy Corbyn will have to go now, which would mean shifting into reverse gear in the socialist agenda for the party. The results were also an eye-opener to understand how deeply divided the country is. Probably it always was, but Brexit brought the division to the surface. And this made me feel resigned knowing the situation is only going to get worse with another five years of Tory government and they’ll use all means to spread their propaganda of fear. I just thought of stop thinking about politics, concentrate on family and life. But I knew the answer already why I won’t do that. I would become one of the millions of indifferent people who think their view doesn’t count. And then regret for years to come that I did nothing.

So that thought was soon changed into anger and a feeling of betrayal. Betrayal of the working class population against a manifesto that put their interest at the heart of it. And more you heard about them, more frustrated you got. Someone voting Tory because they like how Boris Johnson looks! He looks like a pig who has just been jet-washed! Then you have people in the north of England who are saying they wanted Brexit done, so they voted Tory only this time and will go back to Labour. Couldn’t help thinking it was not going to the cinema and deciding on sweet or salty popcorn. As most of the public services are at the breaking point, and poverty and inequality constantly on the rise, that idea seemed laughable and dangerous in equal proportions. I could not believe how gullible someone can be to make such a decision. And I thought for a moment — let them suffer. If they can’t spot the wolf in sheep’s skin, let them suffer and they’ll realise the hard way why on earth they voted in a Tory MP. But that stage of anger only lasted momentarily as I start to question if it was the gullibility of the people or was it desperation that drove them to make such a momentous decision? Perhaps they hoped for a Brexit will end all their misfortune. The vote was driven by desperation to get out of the mess we are in, except for the fact that they chose to rely on a hopeless and heartless party.

Finally, at the third stage, the pragmatism kicked in. Giving up taking part in politics or having an interest in politics was not an option. It’s one of the core principles that define me and I could not simply let go of the hopes I garnered since a long time ago. Turning my back to people who will suffer the most was also not an option. Fortunately or unfortunately my life is at a stage where until something else drastically change our situation, the election results will have little impact on our life. That’s not true for the millions, especially in the deprived north. This will also prolong a Labour recovery because the Tories will attempt to retain those seats irrespective of the Brexit outcomes. So money will be invested in the region from their magical money tree, and people will vote them again by seeing the initiative, which might mean another Tory rule in 2024! What they won’t realise is that the Conservatives’ main agenda is to deprive communities of investments, so they main appear to be investing but will surely take the money back from peoples’ pockets. So what I thought I will be doing, despite sounding cheesy and somewhat plucked from a B-rated film, is not to let the fire that’s burning within be extinguished. A loss is soul destroying but it only makes you resolute. I felt that it was high time to regroup for 2024. And work towards a Labour Party with a united front, a lot more concerned at the perils of people but also more visible, and vocal to debunk the lies and bias in the media.

So come 2020 and it’s business as usual for me now. 2019 is gone, and the era of Corbyn is over. It’s time to move on and choose a Labour leader who would live up to the legacy of Jeremy Corbyn, as well as win back the confidence of the perennial Labour voters who shunned them this time. It’s also time to give up on Brexit and consider that it will happen and ensure that the living conditions of the EU nationals in the UK and the UK citizens in the EU are not in any way compromised in the process. And finally, I would want to see the start of transformation from the grassroots level. It’s about participation in the local communities and interests where the fightback will need to begin, not in the social media or closed-door meetings. With the arrival of 2020, I was finally able to put the horror of the election behind, and feel hopeful that 2024 will be a different story. It will, but if we only start acting on it now.

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Fiction, Humour

If Muggles did magic – Harry Potter spells on daily life

Ever since I finished reading Harry Potter books, I often felt sad that we can’t do magic, and in certain situations, I felt I could have done with some of the magic spells from the books. Especially while travelling hundreds of miles, I wished I had a portkey. It’s from that chain of thoughts, I thought what if us, muggles, knew magic as well? What would we have done with our skills? Would we have been cautious and careful about magic, like most wizards and witches? Or, would we have made magic banal by using in our daily life? My prediction is for the latter. So let’s have a look at most of the memorable spells, charms and hexes from the Harry Potter books and how, once the initial euphoria was over, muggles would butcher them to make them suit in their day to day life. We could use the spells as follows:

Accio: Summoning Charm; used to summon objects toward the caster (usually from a long distance)

 – Fetch the remote left on the TV unit when you just sat down.
 – You’re in a day out and realise you didn’t bring baby nappies.

Aguamenti: produces a jet of water from the caster’s wand

 – Fill the paddling pool in the garden when you have no hose.

Alohomora: used to unlock and open doors

 – First spell learned by the burglars.
 – When your car door is frozen.

Avada Kedavra: the Killing Curse

  –Never. Except cockroaches and biiiig spiders.

Bat-Bogey Hex: causes the victim’s bogies to enlarge, grow wings, and attack the victim

  –On most of the Tories.

Bubble-Head Charm: creates a bubble of air around the caster’s head and mouth, acting as a breathing apparatus

  –When you’re on holiday and don’t want to spend money for snorkelling.

Caterwauling Charm: causes a loud, high-pitched shrieking noise when encountered

  –Intruder alarm. Bye bye Chubb.

Cheering Charm: causes the person upon whom the spell has been cast to become happy and content

  –The labour MPs who can’t make up their mind whether to leave or stay.

Colloportus: used to magically lock a door and prevent it from being opened by non-magical means

  –All your doors and windows when you’re going on a holiday especially if you live in North London.

Confringo: Blasting Charm; causes items the charm comes in contact with to burst into flames

  –If you’re burning an effigy.
 –To light a log fire or the barbecue.

Confundo: Confundus Charm; causes the victim to become confused and disoriented

  –Again, most of the Tories (Hang on! They already are!).

Crucio: causes the victim extreme pain; one of three Unforgivable Curses banned by the Ministry of Magic

 – Again, it’s not needed.

Descendo: causes the target object to move downward

 – The flour tin on the top rack in your kitchen.
 – If you play cricket, nobody will hit a six.

Diffindo: Severing Charm; causes the targeted object to rip or tear

 – The tangled mess of wires and cables for appliances you no longer use.

Disillusionment Charm: hides objects and humans

 – On the refugee boats.

Engorgio: Engorgement Charm; causes objects to increase in size

 – McDonald’s cheeseburger.
 –Women may use it on other objects 😉.

Episkey: used to heal minor injuries

 – A frequent spell at every school and nursery and household with children.

Evanesco: used to vanish object

 – To hide the stash of porn when your mum comes in.
 – Hide the pack of cannabis at security checks.

Expecto Patronum: used to cast a Patronus (a physical manifestation of one’s most positive feelings)

 – Remainers, when surrounded by demented Brexiters.

Expecto Patronum
Source: Imgur/Most Vital Images

Expelliarmus: used to disarm another wizard

 – If you live in north London, a daily spell against the hammer and machete wielding gangs.
 – Disarm toddlers wielding sharp objects – knitting pin, fork.

Homenum Revelio: allows the caster to detect human presence

 – When you’re walking down the street and you feel that you’re being followed. 

Impedimenta: Impediment Jinx; prevents the victim from approaching the caster

 – On Britain first and Tommeh supporter thugs mainly. 

Imperio: removes the victim’s free will and ability to make decisions for him- or herself

 – Hmm, the 17.4 million I guess, but you’ll need a time turner as well. Or on Boris to hold a second referendum.
 – On children having a tantrum on the shop floor.

Impervius: causes objects to repel outside forces, such as water

 – Dominos pizza in a rainy day.
 – Tommy Robinson may use it often to avoid milkshake missiles.

Incendio: creates fire

 – Light up barbecue and fireplace.

Levicorpus: a nonverbal spell that causes the victim to be dangled upside down by his or her ankles

 – Definitely JRM and Farage to start with.

Locomotor: causes an object to rise and move at the command of the caster

 – On dry laundry to let them fly into the laundry bag. Also on utensils and cutlery from dishwasher to cabinets.

Lumos: projects a beam of light from the user’s wand

 – During power-cut and when you need to go in the loft.

Morsmordre: conjures the Dark Mark

 – Brexiters if there is a no-deal Brexit.

Muffliato: used to prevent conversations from being overheard by filling the ears of those nearby with an unidentifiable buzzing noise

 – In front of your kids when you need to talk about presents or birthday parties.

Obliviate: used to hide memories

 – When you cheated and worried that truth might spill out.
 – Also, on your kids when they spotted something expensive and you know they’ll ask for it on Christmas.

Permanent Sticking Charm: causes objects to permanently stay in place

 – The wobbly table with one shorter leg.
 – A scotch tape on Boris Johnson’s mouth. And the rest of his cabinet.

Petrificus Totalus: Full Body-Bind Curse; temporarily binds the victim’s entire body, thus immobilizing him or her

 – Used by police instead of taser.

Portus: turns objects into Portkeys

 – The possibilities are endless. Go on holidays without paying, watch your favourite game from the stadium.

Priori Incantato: creates an “echo” of previously performed spells

 – Police when they want to find out if you’ve been up to no good.
 – On wands of naughty kids in school.

Protego: Shield Charm; rebounds minor to moderate hexes, jinxes, and spells upon their caster

 – Britain first and Tommeh supporter thug gangs, when they have tantrums and throw things.
 – Tommeh and Farage can use them to avoid the milkshakes.

Reducto: Reductor Curse; breaks objects and in its strongest form has the ability to disintegrate them

 – Crack open walnuts, coconut.

Relashio: causes the victim to release whatever they are holding

 – When you want the toy your sibling is playing with.

Reparo: used to repair broken objects

 – Must use for household with children.

Rictusempra: Tickling Charm; causes an extreme tickling sensation that disables the victim

 – On Brexit party MEPs. They will become a laughing stock. Wait, what?

Riddikulus: spell used when fighting a Boggart; causes the Boggart to transform into something the caster finds humorous

 – On most of the Tory and Brexit party members.

Scourgify: used to clean objects

 – Clean the household. Bye bye Fairy and Cif.

Sectumsempra: spell that causes deep gashes on the victim’s body

 – On the joint of beef or lamb, or on veg.
 – At operation theatres.

Silencio: used to make something silent

 – Women when in a group 😉.
 – All other noise creatures – dogs, parrots, children, men in pub.

Sonorus: magically magnifies one’s voice

 – When you’re calling your kids and they pay no attention.

Stupefy: used to stun a victim

 – Alternative of taser for police.

Taboo: a jinx that can be placed upon a word so that when the word is spoken, a magical disturbance is created which alerts the caster of the Taboo

 – 17.4 million.
 – Downstairs.

Tergeo: used to remove matter (blood, dirt, etc.) from an object

 – All your meat and veggies before cooking.

Unbreakable Vow: causes the vow being taken by the witch or wizard to be inviolable with the consequence of death if it is breached

 – When you want to diet but it normally doesn’t last more than a week.

Wingardium Leviosa: Hover Charm; causes an object to levitate

 – Taking children to bed who would insist on being carried.
 – Lifting furniture when you’re hoovering the house.


The following link has been used for obtaining the list of Harry Potter spells

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Brexit, Politics, UK

People’s vote march: A few thoughts on why, how and what’s next

I did not go to the people’s vote march on the 20th. I should have. It was a remarkable day, and it would have felt involved being part of the movement I have supported since the catastrophic day of 23rd June 2016, which some refer as the Independence Day of the UK. This post is not about them; they get enough media exposure anyway, through their fucked up mouthpieces — Daily Mail, Daily Express, The Sun — they can carry on their tantrums. This post is about Remainers, and the last straw of hope that the Brexit car crash may be avoided. Few thoughts crowded my mind thinking about the sheer spontaneity of the event.

Brexit reversal will not be undemocratic:

This is reportedly the second largest gathering of people, taking part in a rally. The scale of the gathering reflected the extent of anger and the extent of distrust in government. The Leave campaign has been complicit throughout in baffling the voters who sat in the fence. They broke several electoral law, made false promises that disappeared on the day the results came out. If these factors alone wasn’t good enough to repeal the result of the referendum, as the political parties hid behind the democratic process, the huge turnout does point out that people are genuinely worried about the uncertainty of the outcome and the government hasn’t got a fucking clue either. If the whole scenario is in utter shambles, is running another vote going to be so undemocratic? I saw a great example last Saturday, that British people were once given a choice to name a boat, and the democratically chosen name wasn’t selected and they gave it a different name. And that was a fucking boat, while we are talking about the future of 60 odd million people! If the democracy doesn’t allow its people to reconsider a wrong decision, the word democracy has lost its meaning.

Posted by The Crisis Actor on Wednesday, October 17, 2018

JC—where were you?:

I have been a staunch supporter of you since your name floated as the labour leader prospect. I have even renewed my membership to vote for you during the leadership challenge. However, your involvement, or lack of it, on Labour’s stand on Brexit, is deeply disappointing. I know politics in national level is a lot trickier than student politics, like turning up like a star at Glasto. You need to weigh the party’s stand with voters, unions and the future direction of the party. From a left-wing politics point of view, EU fosters capitalism, which I believe is the main obstacle behind your decision not to go completely against Brexit. EU has its follies but is a much better place to be after the next election when Labour will win than in the post-Brexit UK. If Brexit fails, it would be because of the callousness of the Conservative party, not because of Labour’s stand in it. Thinking beyond the capitalist perspective, the concept of EU is about collaboration amongst the member states, eliminating barriers to businesses and to its citizens, encourage social cohesion across the union. The post-Brexit UK, on the other hand, will replace the supposedly domineering EU with cockroaches like Boris or JRM, who’d undo all that has been achieved in the past four decades of membership. I’m pretty sure your silence is part of a big plan, and Labour is waiting for the moment; but once the deadline is over and we end up in a No-deal Brexit, there is no coming back. By not taking a stand Labour has already allowed too much time to the Tories to regroup and reshuffle. This rally would have been the perfect moment for you to declare that Labour is now aligning itself to the second referendum. Or were you worried that your silence had already caused much animosity from the people who joined the march? Believe me, that’s the less-harder position to be in, rather than looking at the same crowd to vote for you in the next general election. You were the elephant not in the room in the crowd of 700 thousand attendees, and your absence and lack of acknowledgement for the second referendum was deeply missed. There’s time to change, but not a lot of it. Tick…tock…Tick…tock…Tick…tock…

EU—Take notice of the EU solidarity:

What has been noticed since the Brexit negotiations began is the role of the EU. And that’s entirely the fault of the pig-fucker David Cameron government to drag the country into this nightmare. Without any preparation, needless to say, the meetings must have been a delight to the EU negotiators. However, the rhetoric from EU came across as if they want to set the UK as an example, of what happens to the dissidents who dare to undermine the EU. It was not very vitriolic at the beginning, but as it turned out that just like during the time in the union, UK want to pick and choose the clauses and benefits they want to keep while leaving it, the criticisms from European leaders became harsher. Undoubtedly, that bolstered the nationalists in the UK who mainly voted Leave, but it also put a few Remainers off – considering their choice if there was a second referendum. Ultimately, if there is a No-deal Brexit, UK will suffer. But it won’t cease to exist. It will clutch at straws to keep afloat for a while, striking dodgy trade deals with rogue states like USA and Saudi, but after a decade or so, the balance would be found. But that’s the worst case scenario. That has a tremendous cost associated with it. And for that acrimonious split up, there will be a cost to the EU as well. The March showed that the UK has not transformed into an EU-hating, protectionist, nationalist state and there are plenty – probably the majority if the vote was conducted on reality and not on fairytale promises – who stand by the common goals of the EU and want to be referred to as a citizen of the EU, and British and European identities can coexist. These people are fighting their corner, as much as they could, in order not to scupper the future of the millions by the Tory profiteers. They don’t need the word of encouragement from the governments in the EU, but in the war of the words and the bravado between the two sides, let the leaders on EU states not lose sight of these efforts from inside the UK and dissuade the only people who can prevent the huge cost to both sides.

Working-class=Racist, Youth=Remain:

Some very common generalisations were found in the Remain camp since the vote. First one was that the old people cost us the Brexit. That myth was debunked soon after, although some still maintain that view. Perhaps it’s true that the older generations mainly voted Leave, but it’s also true that the number of youth voters was a lot higher who didn’t bother turning up for the vote. Also, they thought that all under 30s who didn’t vote would have voted Remain. I haven’t seen the statistics of the absentee voters, but needless to say that all the youth wouldn’t be from the same social class, they would be from an array of social, cultural, economic background. Considering the fact that even some university students end up as Tory scum, it’s unlikely that the absentee youth alone would have created enough swing in the balance. It would be preposterous to assume that only the uni-goers would vote Remain and the rest wouldn’t. Perhaps the section of the population who have experienced and benefitted from the European integration would be more likely to support the union, and perhaps the percentage is higher amongst the youth who went to uni. But that’s just another stereotyping with no statistical backup. The second one is on race and religion. Brexit vote is ultimately decided on xenophobia. And there are some more cliched stereotypes observed in the last two years. That the white working class is against European free movement. Perhaps that is correct. Perhaps most of them voiced concerns about the influx of skilled and unskilled labour from Europe. Because they were the worst affected segment of the population, at least apparently. Because the migrants were an easy red-herring to deflect criticism from the real perpetrators. There is also a speculation along this line about the disenfranchised north. That basically stems from a higher distribution of the white working class population in the region. However, none of this is entirely true. Looking at the results, rather than north, the decisive results were in the south. Below London, most of the constituencies voted Leave — an area with much less working class and much more middle-class population. So what went in there? Did the class who benefits more from the union turn their face away from it? Why? For more profit? Probably true, considering the same regions are predominantly conservative heartland as well. So the vilification of the white working class may be too unjust, considering the fact that irrespective of their location, they are indeed disenfranchised. On the other hand, since London voted broadly Remain, due to its multicultural character, it’s assumed that a multicultural population would vote for Remain. Again, a generalisation. The main factor was xenophobia of two types — about The unskilled Eastern European labour and about the Muslim refugees from the Middle East and North Africa as well as possible influx Turkish people if they were to be added as a new member. While the Eastern European labourers raised economic concerns to be seen as drain to our resources, mainly by the working class who need the resources the most and they don’t get it, the prospect of the increase in Muslim immigrants touched a nerve for many communities. It was not just economic concerns, but also the cultural, religious and security aspects that turned out to be pivotal. To the sceptics, every Muslim immigrant was seen as a potential terrorist and this view was not only shared by the white Christian population but other communities as well. When you’d think multicultural concentrations would unanimously vote to Remain, such factors played a large role, when the result was decided on a knife’s edge. All this shows is racism, xenophobia is rife in today’s British society and for reasons far greater than Brexit, these inner demons need to be faced and banished.

Note to the liberals — Take to the streets:

The March was an enormous success. It predicted 100,000 attendees, but on the day there were nearly 700,000. It made a bold statement that we are behind a union with the UK in it. A bit too late though. Although the gesture is emphatic, and I’m hopeful that it’ll make an impact on the process to reverse it, but being realistic we are two years too late. Remain voters, including me, have been too complacent about the result. Just as the government brochure that said fuck all. Granted that the Leave campaign was meticulously funded and run by people who are losing out because of the EU legislation, it doesn’t take away the fact that the Remain camp did nothing to persuade many Leave voters who sat on the fence and on the day decide on the toss of a coin. “Someone else will” is the mentality we have seen, and I’m equally critical of myself. Apart from stating to anyone whom I discussed Brexit with that I’ll be voting In, I barely did anything. Apart from curbing the desire to set fire to every Leave poster I came across, knowing who it represented, and what it represented. I think in today’s world, the space for debate is getting squeezed down, and rather than a constructive discussion, we are too keen to say “I’m right and you’re wrong. And that’s the end of it”. Probably because we haven’t got time. Time to think, time to discuss, time to synthesise. Probably the liberals think there’s no point in talking to nationalist idiots. Apart from all other factors why we are here today, it’s us to blame as well. This march should have happened on 20th of June 2016, not on the 20th of October 2018. To show solidarity towards a unified Europe. To show how many people who cared for this issue. To show everyone undecided that there are millions who are on the right side of history. To help them realise that if you want to reform the system, first you have to be a part of it. So next time, maybe in the next general election, let’s not hide behind “someone else will”. Make your voice count as if it was the last time because if you don’t, you’ll be helping UK cave into another disaster. Then there will be no point of arranging another march two years on. Act at the moment, just as the Leavers did.

It’ll be one of my biggest regrets of not doing enough to prevent Brexit. And not going to the march on 20th of October. But I hope there will be another march when Article 50 will be withdrawn. To celebrate over the scheming Brexiters. Now, I won’t miss that!
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France, Life experience, Travel

Holiday from hell — journal of a misadventure

I seldom write about travel, and when I do, it’s only about spectacular experiences. I have never written about misadventures that caused so much anxiety and grief that I wonder why we carried on when things started to go wrong. But when you have such an experience that lasted from the time of beginning the journey to the very end, and beyond, I thought on the hindsight, it was an adventure worth remembering, even though we were not that amused when it all happened.

It began when we started our journey to France on a mid-June Monday. We had already moved from our Kent home, so we stayed overnight in Ramsgate. In the morning, as we left for the ferry from Dover, it was a last minute dash because of the roadworks along the way. As we were waiting for the ferry, I realised we forgot to book the European breakdown cover. I made a last minute frantic call to the breakdown provider (I had three covers those days, don’t ask me why and how!) and selected an option that was slightly high priced but provided more cover. To be honest, that was the best last minute call I’ve ever made; if I hadn’t done that, we probably had had to come back without the car. So with the breakdown sorted, we set sail on the way to our destination, Normandy. We planned what we’d do each day, and had a busy schedule ahead but we were sure that we were going to have a great time. Only if we knew what lay ahead of us.

Here, I’d flashback to the week before we started our journey. I was on M25 on my way home and I suddenly felt the car lost all its power. As if it went into a limp mode. The car was only over a year old, so you don’t expect a major fault to develop. The breakdown mechanic couldn’t fix it, but he reset the warning light and asked to start and see if the traction is back. It worked. So I thought it was a freak incident and I must have done something to cause that. The dealer could not have a look in such a short notice, so we decided to carry on with the plans and get the car fixed later.

Coming back to 20th of June, we did the usual. On reaching Calais, a trip to Adinkerke to buy cheap tobacco and Speculoos, a quick trip to Carrefour Mivoix and late lunch at the McDonalds there. With all that done and a cranky terrible two, we headed for belle Normandie. Except that we were running a bit late and looked like we wouldn’t get to the campsite before 8:30 pm. It was a long drive but that never bothered us. Not until the things started to go wrong very quickly. We were approaching Boulogne-sur-mer on A16 where the road goes on an incline. It’s not steep by any means, but the car generally needs to work harder. Whilst on that section, the car lost power again! Second time within a week. I exactly knew what went wrong when the engine warning flashed on the dashboard. It made me panic a bit. A breakdown on a foreign country is a terrifying prospect, let alone that happening on the autoroute meant we’d have to pay highway authority the fees to be towed away from the autoroute. So I decided to carry on driving at 50mph until we reached the next exit. Thankfully it was a country road and I carried on driving for a while before we stopped on the verge. My satnav said it’s a place called Beuvrequin. I remember the place we stopped, with houses on the right and the other side of the road, had vast fields.

Beuvrequin, verge/footpath where we stopped


Beuvrequin, view on the other side of the road

After we calmed down our crying daughter, upset that the holiday might not go ahead, I called the breakdown agency. I reported the breakdown and was told that the wait time is about 45 mins. Being parked on the pavement by a country road was not the best of the places, especially getting stares from people who had to go on the grass. A few minutes later, I received a call from the French contact from the breakdown company, telling me that they cannot send assistance because during my application I said we’ll be going to Belgium and then France. So, tow away will have to come from Belgium, and they don’t to towing across borders. Infuriated and anxious, I called the UK number, and after explaining the situation, they said we should get assistance and they will arrange with the French colleagues. Another 15 min later, which is almost an hour since I was told that the assistance is 45 min away, I received another call from the French number saying they are sending breakdown van and it’ll be coming around 5:45 pm. By then, I doubted any garage will be open.

The breakdown truck arrived slightly earlier than we were told. As expected, the mechanic didn’t know a word of English. I thought that would be ideal to practice my French. I probably would have, if I knew all technical terms. I didn’t even know what brakes are called. Anyway, the guy picked the car on his truck and asked us to go in the truck to the garage. I think that was the highlight of the day and my daughter loved travelling in a truck. We went to a garage in Boulogne-sur-mer. He met another colleague who had a computer to connect to the engine management system. They decided that it’s beyond their knowledge and learning that the car was under warranty, they said the work can only be done in an Opel garage. By that time we gave up our hope to get the car fixed that day because it was already nearly 6 pm. The mechanic said he’ll take us to their garage to keep the car overnight and we can arrange the taxi pick-up from the garage. We were offered a replacement car or stay in a hotel and get the car looked at the next morning. I was confident that it’ll just be resetting the alarm and we’ll be able to drive on. So we chose the hotel and waited at the garage. The taxi came around 6:30 pm to take us to the hotel in Boulogne.

Hardy Maurice garage
Source: https://www.ville-stleonard.fr


Hotel ALexandra in Boulogne

The hotel was pleasant and it was located close to Boulogne city centre. We walked down to a square called Place Dalton and had a nice dinner, trying to forget the headache we’re about to have the following day. The following day we had nothing to do but wait for the updates from the breakdown company. So we were just cooped up in the room. About 9 am we received a call saying that the breakdown garage will take the car to the nearest Opel garage. I thought it would be done in minutes, so our hopes of having our holiday soared high again. But that state of euphoria didn’t last long as a follow up at 11 am confirmed that the car was still in the garage. The agent said she’ll call me back shortly. When she did, it was even worse news. Opel garage was fully booked and they wouldn’t be able to fix it before Wednesday or even Thursday. At that point, we thought we’d had enough and started thinking of cancelling the holiday and go back home. As a last ditch attempt, we demanded a replacement car. After waiting another 10 minutes for a callback, we were told that our only chance was if we left the hotel immediately because the car hire place they use will be shut from 12 pm. It was already getting towards 11:30 am. So we picked all our tonnes of luggage, waiting for the taxi. Then the taxi dropped us at the wrong place, which meant we had to drag all our luggage and a toddler across a busy junction without crossings. When we arrived at the Enterprise Cars office, there was only one employee, waiting for us. It took another half an hour to get sorted. But in the end, we had our car.

I wish our story could end here, but it wasn’t unfortunately. Our understanding of the breakdown cover was that we get the hire car until the time we are ready to return to Boulogne on our way back. On Wednesday afternoon, as we’re exploring the American war memorial in Colleville-sur-mer, I received a call from the breakdown company that our car was fixed and they want the hire car back. Shouting or swearing is normally my cup of tea, but if I lost my temper that day, I’d expect people would have sympathised with me. I kept my calm but said that they are expecting me to make a 600 km journey because they screwed up a breakdown repair. It also seemed like the day of our return, Saturday, is only for the Car buyers at the Opel garage and the repairs department is shut. I was told very sternly to go back on Friday to which I refused, agreeing to pay the difference for an additional day of car hire. Half an hour later, I received another call that the garage had been very understanding and made a very rare exception of opening the repair garage on Saturday.

With the good news that the car was fixed and that we can get on with rest of the holiday, we felt relaxed then and enjoyed the rest of the days. Except the fact that Normandy is where it rains most in France and it rained really bad the week we went there. Unlike previous caravan holidays, we opted for tent that time, and the floor was filled with water because of the leaks in the floor sheet. We spent most of our stay in the tents mopping the floor, wet feet, soaked trainers and a damp tent. Despite this little inconvenience, I felt the time in Normandy was much more enriching than in Paris. Just when we were about to enjoy the holiday, having lost nearly two days, it was over and it was time to come home.

We started with plenty of time in hand, thinking of collecting the car early so we could go to the cheap wine store in Calais. We got to the Enterprise Car place at about 12. But then we realised that they are shut in Saturdays and we needed to drop the keys at a hotel opposite the car hire place, past the big junction. Les Gens de Mer — the hotel looked quite nice as we browsed the lobby and menu while we waited for the taxi. The taxi arrived late, and we were on our way to the Opel garage near Outreau where our car was getting repaired. When we got there, the manager said everything was done and they are getting the car ready. It did surprise me a bit because the car was ready on Thursday. We waited nearly 45 minutes before we were given the keys. We were at the last minute rush again, trying to get cheap fuel from Carrefour and head for the ferry. That was the beginning of another nightmare journey.

Hotel Les Gens de Mer
Source: Agoda.com

As we headed back to Calais, I noticed that the tyre pressure warning sign came on. I was not too worried at the beginning, because sometimes if one tyre had less pressure than the others, the sign came on. But as we went closer to Calais, I started to get more and more worried as the pressure kept on dropping. When the other tyres read 38 psi, the fourth tyre was at 25 psi. There must have been a leak, I thought. But where would that have happened? The car has always been at the breakdown garage or at the Opel garage. Did they just find out and handed me a car with a leak? Surely they can’t be that unscrupulous! But everything signed that way.

So we went back to Carrefour, filled the tank and put some air in the faulty tyre thinking it might have some problem that’s going to fix itself. When we boarded the ferry, I left the car with 35 psi on the tyre and hoping that it should stay like that when we reached the UK. 90 minutes later when we came down to the deck, I couldn’t believe my eyes. The tyre was completely flat. And we had landed as well, so we didn’t have any time to change the tyre. It was a Saturday afternoon and most of the garages would have been shut by 4 pm.

Now I made a faux pas at that moment. I had the option to come off the ferry and get the tyre changed with the spare tyre. We could have then driven home because our spare tyre is a full spec one and there is no speed restriction. Silly me, I didn’t remember that at the moment of madness when I thought if I take too long changing the tyre, and something else is wrong, I might lose the last chance to get home that night. So I decided to drive on to the next open garage, which was Kwik-fit. As I drove on the alloy wheel, the sharp and annoying screeching deafened our ears despite the windows were up. I was worried that there will be damage to the wheel as well but it was a relief that there wasn’t.

Kwik-fit changed the tyre straight away and we also got another tyre which was getting towards the legal limit. After that, we hit the road, hoping to get some dinner at Bluewater or Lakeside, places that we used to visit often but missed a lot when we moved. After a filling dinner, with our daughter falling asleep in the car, we finally felt that after all this, the holiday is coming to an end. But there are more twist in the tale that one can imagine. Just because everything had to go wrong on that trip, as we were on M6 nearing Coventry, my daughter woke up and started crying. We didn’t want to stop, being so close at home, and as I tried to accelerate harder, BANG! The engine warning light came back on and the car won’t speed beyond 50 mph. The sting in the tail that was waiting for us before we reached home. So all that fuss at the Opel garage, did they do sod all apart from puncture the tyre? Nevertheless, my daughter’s incessant crying made me carry on rather than stop and ask for another breakdown. I just pushed the pedal down and used the downward slopes on the road to speed up and use the momentum to drive the car at a higher speed as the road became flat or went up. Without much difficulty, we reached home, bringing a close to the worst travel experiences we ever had.

Like many stories have an epilogue to the end, the tale of our misfortunes does not end there. I had to take many days off as I was unable to commute to work while getting the car fixed. Back then, I was doing a commute of 300 miles! During next few days, the car was repaired, and the fault reappeared almost immediately at times. In the end, it took a call to their grievance line to report the issue to get the technical team involved, who sorted the problem. One of those days when the car was broken down, I had to hire a car to go to a meeting in London. There, as I was trying to get on the Hammersmith bridge, I was caught at the box junction and was fined £70. Now the car belonging to the hire company, they received the fine notice first. By the time I received it, I couldn’t appeal online, so I had to send it over email. I then got the email address wrong and was then facing a court action since the first notice was received much earlier and the normal 2 weeks response window had gone. This dragged on until November. So nearly 5 months after that week in June, we put an end to the dreadful journey, but before that end, I had to pay out the final amount which had since doubled.

So, there we are, our story ends here. Terrible experience to sum it up. And I believe we won’t forget it very soon. Yet, the good memories will last longer. Visit to Utah, Omaha and Juno beaches, our daughter’s excited walk in the sand, the American war memorial and its deafening silence at Colleville-Sur-mer, the Bayeux tapestry, Caen, beautiful village of Beauvron-en-auge, riviera of the north Deauville and Trouville-Sur-mer, surreal grace of Lisieux abbey, sunrise over the trees at our site in the middle of nowhere at Château Le Brévedent, the quaint villages Le Pin and Blangy-le-château near our campsite, the bridge at Le Havre — the memories are countless and one day, if not already, they will outweigh the dreadful experience about the journey.

Just as I finished this with a positive spin, I remembered to add one last note about our holiday from hell. The year this happened was 2016, and I guess we all know what happened that year between 20th and 25th June. Yes, Brexit. That happened while we were on this holiday as well. Before we left, we were all confident that it was just a paper exercise to finish off UKIP, and in fact felt smug to see the smiles disappear from the leavers’ faces. On 24th when the results came out, we were going to Trouville-sur-mer. The entire day was spent in disbelief, then frustration and then anger, as all the lies started to surface. Brexit was the pinnacle of the catastrophes that week and I believe it was symbolised by everything that went wrong with the car. It was a nightmare, getting a simple thing done took forever, service on both sides of the border was equally appalling, and above all, since it happened, things were never the same. You live in fear that things will go wrong again, and so it did. The car proved my premonitions, and Brexit will go the same way. I think there will be a time in future where all good and terrible memories will fade away, and we will remember the journey just as our own Brexit disaster. I think that should say it all.
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Equality, Politics, Socialism

Two observations on equality inequation

We were just returning from our week-long break in Paris. The day was hot, at times in mid-thirties. We anticipated cooler weather in the UK. When we reached Folkestone, the temperature didn’t plummet. I thought for a brief moment that it was perhaps the wrong week to be on holiday. It would have been better had the weather here been worse.

But that thought made me think further. Why is it that the weather had to be worse here to make a holiday abroad seem more pleasant? Is it because spending all the money and effort for a break away from the usual cold and damp weather now seemed worthless because anybody who stayed here enjoyed the sun just the same? And is it not the same problem with wealth? No matter how well off one seems to be, they don’t feel exclusive enough if the others had what they have. That we are not happy with what we have got, no matter how much it is — isn’t that the first symptom of inequality of wealth? Sunshine is ubiquitous, just like all resources on earth that we exploit, but we all want a bigger share. So when we look in contempt at other people for being wealthy and not doing enough to help the poor, we should look at ourselves as well. WE, are part of it, and it needs reminding all the time if we even hope to make a difference one day.

The day after, we were eating Father’s Day dinner in a restaurant. It’s not a Michelin star place, but a chain restaurant mainly catered for middle-class clientele. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation at the table next to us. A middle-aged man, his Aussie partner and opposite them sat a young man of early twenties with headphone on the ear and a woman about the same age. It seemed it was the boy’s family and the girl was the girlfriend. They were talking about the Grenfell Tower and the young woman was vociferously explaining the shortcomings of the councils, the legal implications, where Labour was wrong, where Tories were wrong. She sounded compelling and had won the debate at the table.

Yet, her argument, albeit filled with facts and legal jargon, lacked a basic factor. It lacked empathy for the families that were ruined — the human factor in the equation of the accountabilities. She is a Uni student, and with her knowledge, I wouldn’t be surprised if she was doing politics. I thought of the time if she became a politician. She could present an excellent speech but could still be totally aloof from the people she’s standing up for.

The political elite of this country, irrespective of the party, has this issue of connecting with the common public. If not all, the majority of them, especially the party frontbenchers, hails from a privileged upbringing, and learned politics as theory and analysing the history rather than following the first principles of politics — understanding people. And by not understanding the public or by making the public think that politicians are above their class, it alienated public from most mainstream politicians and paved paths for opportunistic populist parties. The image of one Nigel Farage holding a pint of beer comes to mind.

Brexit results showed the danger of populism and the permanent damage it’ll inflict on the course of UK’s future. It’s about time that the mainstream parties start diversifying their candidate portfolio. Some barriers have been broken in recent years in terms of politics and inclusion of candidates of various background, but classism is another hurdle to overcome. Social engineering in UK public service is a fact, and unless these prejudices are removed, a politician will never be representative of the public they are meant to represent.

And this realisation brought home the two random thoughts together. We live in a society where we are taught seek more, have more than others. Our actions define our future, and others’ as well. Until we reach a point where we learn to think differently or our inherent tendency to create inequality is neutralised by a system fair to all, we will not be living in a society we can be proud to be a part of. And to achieve an equal society, equality should not be devolved or merely representative, but the equality which will be entitled, ubiquitous.

But then, will it ever happen? After all, sitting here, writing about all this rather than doing something about it, I’ve just followed the benevolent socialist bandwagon, who talks about reforming the world but does nothing.

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Politics, short story, UK

A Remoaner’s Parable for Brexit

A good friend once told me this story:

There was a devout man. He prayed to God every day and thanked him for his existence on earth. He always believed that if he was in any kind of trouble, God will help him out. And so God did. One time when his child had a fever, and he prayed and prayed. The next morning his child was cured completely; he even went to school. Or the other time when he ran into debt and after praying to God, he had the dream and found an untouched scratch card lying inside a book, and he won enough money to clear his debts.

One day our devout man was working in his office. It started to rain heavily around the lunch hour. The people thought the rain would stop soon. But it carried on, and the water started to rise. The banks of the river nearby had burst, and a flash flood followed. There was a TV in the pantry area in the corner. In the middle of share price displays, there was a woman on screen with an angelic face, announcing that everybody should leave the area straight away. Everyone in the office packed their bags and rushed to leave the building. Everyone but our friend. He started praying, so the disaster would stop. Colleagues tried to dissuade him, but he was firm in his belief. His colleagues thought he was mad, but he knew God will help him.

Half an hour went by. The water is gushing inside the building. The devout man is still asking God to put an end to this awful weather. There was a loud honk outside. A rescue truck is rescuing stranded people to take them up to the high ground. Our friend looked out of the window.

“Hey there! Come downstairs, there’s nothing to worry. The water isn’t deep. We got you”
“Thanks, but I’m fine here. God will save us. You should pray as well“
“What nonsense! Come right now, we got other people to rescue and the water is getting higher”
“God will make it all stop. You’ll see. You carry on, help the others“
“You moron!“

And the truck drove away. The man went back to his prayer. Half an hour went by. The ground floor is under waist-deep water. A big siren and flashing lights outside. A fire engine is passing by. It comes to a halt as the fireman noticed the man looking out of the office window.

“Hang in there fella, we’ll get the ladder to you!“
“I don’t need your ladder. The God almighty will soon put an end to this.“
“What a load of rubbish! Get on the ladder now. We can’t stay here long, water will get in the engine“
“You save yourself, my friend. God will save me. He always had in the past“
“Good luck to you on that.“

And the fire engine went away. The man was feeling a bit anxious now. Is God not happy with him? Has he done something wrong? “I promise I will pray more, dear God! It’s just the thoughts about work and family distracted me lately. But I will, once again, be your true servant“. He started praying more feverishly. Half an hour…then an hour went by. It’s getting dark, and there is no sign of the rain to stop. The water has come up to the first floor. Our man went to the roof, so God can save him. “Ah, I see. He probably wasn’t planning to stop the rain. It must be a boat, like Noah’s, that will save me. I know now why God waited for so long. He wanted the water to rise so he can send the ark“. The man suddenly felt that God hadn’t forsaken him, and he was too blind to see it. He watched out for the boat, but was disturbed by a very loud whirring noise again —

A helicopter is circling over the buildings. Our man is suddenly flooded with shining light from the helicopter. They lowered the rope ladder, to rescue the last few stranded people. A booming voice came from the copter

“ Hello there! Grab the ladder carefully and climb up inside”.

The man thought that wasn’t the way he expected the help to come. And he refused. The pilot explained that he won’t be able to come back and he must escape. But our man refused. There will be a boat soon. The helicopter flew away.

The man started praying again. Minutes went by, then an hour. The water has risen to the roof. He is standing facing the sea of water that engulfed all buildings around. He is suddenly panic-stricken. That God wouldn’t help him this time. He started wondering what sins he had committed that God is annoyed with him. The water is rising fast. It’s up to his ankles, then waist and in a few more minutes he was standing with his chest underwater. He held on to the handrails, knowing it’ll all be over in a few minutes. Faces of his wife and son flashed in front of his eyes. And that all his prayers didn’t manage to move God, that was more hurtful. He felt betrayed. With water almost up to his neck, he lets out a desperate howl

“Why dear God did you abandon me? I have always been faithful to you. What have I done wrong? Please help me!“

Suddenly there was a bolt of lightning. And a few more. The dark sky was lit up with electric blue flashes. Then, as our man looked up, the silhouette of a man appeared, and God spoke,

“Fucking idiot, who do you think alerted you of the flood, and sent you the truck, fire engine and the helicopter? I think it’s better to have no followers than blind ones like you!”

He disappeared in the clashing and colliding clouds. The water isn’t rising anymore. The devout man gazed at the sky, awestruck.

“I was right! My lord has saved me again. I saw his face! I’m glad I waited until the very last moment” – he thought.

And then, there was a loud sigh, then out came a big wave, and the man has washed away into nothingness. Even God had had enough of this delusional moron.


Over 17 million people voted for Brexit out of 46 million electorates. Within the first hour of the shocking morning of the 24th June, it was clear that all the promises and dreams of claiming back the glory land were a farce. The first lifeline was the desperate call for a second referendum. The second, the utter chaos that followed in the Tory and UKIP camp, as their bunch of lies came to light one after another. Then there was the High court and the Supreme Court ruling for giving MPs a vote to trigger Article 50. There were options for a soft Brexit with access to the single market and free movement. And then the vote. The final say before it was all over. And it was. Thanks to the deluded 17 million, thanks to the jokers Farage and Boris, thanks to the scheming Daily Mail and Daily Express, and finally thanks to the bloody three-line whip from Corbyn, the fucking show is finally over. There’s no more lifeline; only the grim future with a racist molester as the main ally for the UK. Or possibly the only ally left. The road to perdition starts here…

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