"Unprovided with original learning, uninformed in the habits of thinking, unskilled in the arts of composition, I resolved to write a blog”
` This is every word of the evidence given by witnesses to the alleged racist incident at Nottingham Castle. The evidence was given, to the external independent inquiry, commissioned by the Trustees of Nottingham Castle and is extracted directly from their report dated 24th January 2022 It exposes a number of important points about... Continue Reading →
This stunning, dramatic, magnificent portrait, by Ken Currie, hangs in the Scottish National Portrait Gallery in Edinburgh. It portrays Scotland's principal forensic anthropologist, Professor Dame Sue Black. It is an enormous canvas, 9 feet by 6 feet, which the artist has entitled "The unknown man" It captures Professor Black at the very height of her... Continue Reading →
This is every word of evidence given by witnessess who appeard before the independent external inquirey inot a "racist incident" at Nottingham Castle.
Poor Yusuf, murdered in an Edinburgh basement Jazz bar! In fairness, this was not advertised as a tribute act. But still, without that rich rolling velvety voice…… And Yusuf has a pharsing of his own, undulations that were, are, unique to his style I could not bear witness to the murder, I left early for... Continue Reading →
I walked into the cellar of this small Scottish baar, just across from Edinburgh's Catholic Cathedral, and I discovered the next poet laurette! He might not make it, seeing as he's Irish, but the audience were adamant and unamimous in believing he has that level of talent. I mean, who the hell writes a poem... Continue Reading →
This was dreadful. Ten minutes in and I knew I had made a mistale and wasted the price of the ticket. Initially the sound was very low requiring some in the audience to adjust their hearing aids. Thirty minutes into the performance I would have paid to leave, but I was stuck in a tightly... Continue Reading →
This was a very sad piece of theatre. Shakespeare sad. A tragedy, on a stage upon which we all played a part. From the reluctant welcome of the original black Windrush passengers, bus drivers, NHS workers, pushed into low standard accommodation, rooms, crowded and cold, to the hostile environment created by Theresa May, to the... Continue Reading →
No one tells stories quite like an Irishman. And what tales to tell, Neil O’Shea, down at Venue 34 on Cockburn Street, tells us of Wilde and Joyce, Shaw and Synge, Yeats and Swift and Percy French. Seven of the greatest writers in the English language, all of them Irish!His portrayal of Christy from Synge’s... Continue Reading →
I did not quite know what to expect of this show. After all, who is it who thinks Afghanistan is funny anyway?About 10 or so minutes into the show it occurred to me that what it was. It was a bloke in a pub, who’d been to Afghanistan, and who was a lovie, and who... Continue Reading →
Wow! This was simply thrilling stuff. Martin Luther King Jnr., in his Memphis hotel room, talking to his biographer, recalling his life, his inspirations, his struggles. Taking phone calls: the FBI, harassing him, recording him, bullying him. Stokely Carmichael about the tactics of the great march on Washington, his wife who has heard the FBI... Continue Reading →
A brilliant idea. The lost and wandering ghosts of King Hamlet and "alas I knew him well" Yorik, arguing, debating,mocking each other as they discuss a way to frighten the shite out of the castle battlements guards and annonce tot the world that King Hamlet was murdered most foul.. It's funny and poignent witty and... Continue Reading →
I got myself involved in a small controversy over there on Twitter. I was reading a fairly vigorous thread from a group called “Staff of Colour”, about their many grievances against their employer, who is Nottingham Castle. The specific nature of their grievances is quite difficult to discern, but I’ll come to... Continue Reading →
I got myself involved in a small controversy over there on Twitter. I was reading a fairly vigorous thread from a group called “Staff of Colour”, about their many grievances against their employer, who is Nottingham Castle. The specific nature of their grievances is quite difficult to discern, but I’ll come to that later. They... Continue Reading →
This post is a follow-up to “Why the call to boycott Nottingham Castle is wrong” Available here/ Rather predictably, because I sought to throw doubt upon the validity of the call to boycott, I have been identified as a white man and declared to be a racist. In fairness, such a charge is always... Continue Reading →
The Boycott is an extremely powerful tool. An extremely powerful word. To call upon the general public to withdraw from commercial cultural and social relationships with the target of the boycott requires exceptional grounds to be justifiable. Originally it was used against Landlords evicting their tenants in Ireland. It was the 19th-century form of... Continue Reading →
It was a strange phone call. It could have been from a geriatric dating agency for old codgers like me. But in fact, it was a clinical questionnaire for a forthcoming MRI scan. Still, for a confused person, and I am quite often confused, you might understand why I was getting a bit excited: Are... Continue Reading →
The nationalists, in Scotland, are in the driving seat and appear quite unstoppable in their determination to take Scotland out of the United Kingdom and to go it alone. They hold nearly all the cards for the coming “consultative referendum” and, presuming success, the inevitable actual referendum that will follow. Scotland may become independent without... Continue Reading →
The principal factor that sealed my vote in the Brexit referendum was that of the “democracy deficit”, so widely evident in the politics and accountability of the European Union. There is no academic analysis of this deficit that can adequately explain or motivate sufficient anger or concern as to make it a central feature of... Continue Reading →
I prefer the sound of Christian bells To the cry of the muezzin The sacred hymn to the sung adhan Rectors rather than imans The steepled church to the minaret, The oaken pew to the woven mat But our gods are both the same.
Yer fart more frequently with age It just ‘appens There’s nowt about it to be done With age Yer lose control of your audible bum
Broadsides - A collection of bits and pieces 