CARNIVAL AGAINST FASCISM Bristol UK, Sunday 10th September


Bristol, Sunday 10th September

A day of partying, resistance and PRIDE!

On the 10th September a group calling itself ‘Gays against Sharia’ is coming to Bristol to try to spread their Islamophobic and racist agenda. This is a blatant attempt by the far-right to tokenise LGBTQIA+ communities and use us for their own ends.Image result for carnival against Fascism bristol

This has been tried before in Bristol: in 2012, the EDL marched on the same day as Pride. While their PR insisted they weren’t homophobic, their violent attacks on gay men on the day told another story.[0]

Let’s not be fooled by their latest clumsy attempt to wrap fascism in a rainbow flag.

We will not be used to spread oppression that would inevitably turn straight back on us. History shows that wherever these bigots gain momentum by scapegoating one group (Muslims and migrants today, Jews in the 30s) they target us soon after.

So we are planning to stop them with a large, spectacular and fabulous carnival – dust off your heels, shine up your boots and join us!Exact details about when and where to meet will be released nearer the time via:
And here’s the facebook event.


Cops and far-right thugs can be unpredictable, so to keep each other as safe as we can, it’s recommended to come with friends and stick together.

This event is queer-led but anyone who wants to stop fascism, racism and homophobia is very welcome.

So who are ‘Gays against Sharia’?

On their last outing (Manchester, June 2017) they yelled racist and homophobic abuse and attacked people. A homeless man was hospitalised while protecting a mum and young daughter from them.[1] Sikh volunteers giving away food were threatened and ‘had to scarper for our own safety’.[2]

All the key figures are far-right and most have no genuine interest in queer communities:

‘Annie Greek‘ (Ioanna Photiou): The main organiser of their Bristol demo, hilariously spotted on twitter[3] saying:

‘Tommy English‘ (Tommy Cook): used to be the (mostly one-man) ‘LGBT division’ of the EDL.

Jack Buckby: ex-BNP who stood as a candidate MP in Jo Cox’s area after she was murdered by the far-right.

Ann Marie Waters: so toxic that even UKIP deselected her as a candidate. Writes for Breitbart.

‘Tommy Robinson‘ (Stephen Yaxley-Lennon): former EDL leader. What a lovely guy. Not.

B+W Leaflet and poster for cheap printing.

Colour versions (nicer): Leaflet and poster

Contact: angryqueerantifascists(at)riseup(dot)net

Guerilla Gays Triumph in new Ireland.


 Oisin McKenna takes a look at queer activism today and republican activism in the past in his new show Gays Against the Free State. James Beggan sat down with him to find out what’s what.

 shared from with thanks          Okay so, you’ve done a show at Fringe before – GRINDR – a love story, and you’ve done Write/Performer/Salesman, both back in 2013. Is this your first show since then?Image result for Gay ireland

Yeah this is my first show since then, so it’s been three years, the show that I’m making now took way longer to make than those ones before. I felt like with the other two shows I did, they were about my own life whereas this isn’t at all. The subject matter is quite dense and I needed to know a lot more about it so it took way longer to make. It’s really different as well so it was harder to make, yeah it took a while.”Image result for Gay ireland

Did you have many people helping out with this one compared to the last one. Are there more moving parts?

Yeah definitely, way more. In terms of the cast, there are five people in this whereas with my first show was just me and the second one had two people. Then there’s the bigger production team as well, production manager and stage manager, more design people. Before it would’ve been quite small with maybe six people on the whole thing.

This in general is bigger, my other work felt quite intimate, introverted kind of, but this is really maximalist. There are parts that are self-consciously tacky, any time i had an instinct to go bigger or make a point in a more confrontational or inflammatory way, I did that.” Continue reading “Guerilla Gays Triumph in new Ireland.”

Serial of The Free. Ch 21. Remaking James


Act two  Chapter twenty one

Remaking James

-‘Dangerous Anarchist Subversives.. High Value Priority’-

James paused, white-faced and sweaty, pinched his long nose and glanced casually behind him. Then he hurried on, a tall figure in black, with brown sunglasses and a plastic bag.

He’d taken a taxi to the city edge of the Ragwort area, had come in a side lane to avoid any cameras.

A narrow street of boarded shops and gaily whitewashed squats. What a mistake to say he’d wear black! No one wore black, not on the hottest day in history, and he stood out a mile, the old men were pottering about in their swimming togs.

James glanced back again. -‘Relax you idiot.’- This was after all a no-go area for police. Continue reading “Serial of The Free. Ch 21. Remaking James”

Read ‘The Free’.. Love in the Fall of Capitalism.


love in the Fall of capitalismhello over there,

and good morning/evening/ night to all 264o ‘Friends of The Free’ on Farcebook. I’m sending the latest variation of the Poster..  came out a bit  pink I think..

Maybe you could copy and paste it, or take it to the Anarchist Book Fair. Not much point where I live as nobody can read English!

This poster is done on Gimp, the free photoshop, but it wasn’t me (honestly) who gave a brown bottom to the last Greek policeman!

         chow for now………. mike

Serialization of ‘The Free’.. Ch 1..Smashing my Aquarium-

howdy folks

this is the first chapter of the Free.. Pleeez comment if you like it..or if you don’t!

ch 1 smash            I should’ve known what he was up to all right but I hadn’t a clue. It was easy enough to see what he fancied in her. That Janice was a real beauty. Besides being a stuck up bitch.

            She used to have fellas queuing up to go out with her. I suppose we were a bit jealous. But sooner or later she’d tell all of them to drop dead. Which only spurred them on more, men being what they are. There were a whole gang of them in our school had their eye on Janice. Like a pack of randy dogs sniffing after her.

            But my dad wasn’t one of them. When he took a fancy to Janice he swept her off her feet. You wouldn’t believe the nerve of the old bastard, and him married with four kids. Of which I, Linda, was the oldest, being about fifteen at the time.

            Maybe I loved and feared him so much I was blind to his faults. But this time I couldn’t close my eyes.

            It all began one day I was walking back to school after the dinner break. It’s a big wide road and windy, and the rain was beginning again. Rubbish and dust blowing. A few old vans and cars clattering by, and the wide road as grey as the sky.

            Well, didn’t I come by the corner shop. There were a crowd of girls milling about and inside sheltering. It was half dark in there, the electricity was cut off again.

            And there was stuck up Janice herself coming out, and she done up to the nines.

            Looking down her snooty nose at our tatty uniforms.

            Just because she worked in a fancy hairdresser’s.

            Just at that moment didn’t a little car pull in by the shop.

            Pulls up. And in hops Janice.


            -‘Hey look at Janice going off with your dad!’- said Fiona from my class.

            -‘You’re asking for a slapping.’- I warned.

            There were girls pushing out of the shop. And I staring.

            -‘I wonder does he pay her.’– said Beatrice, very loudly. -‘Look look!’-

            -‘Shut your gob my father never would…’-


            My dad and Janice were embracing in the car.

            It couldn’t be. But it was.

            Hot flushes started rushing up my body but I couldn’t stop staring.


            And just before that air car hissed away,

            didn’t she slip her elegant hands up his saggy cheeks,

            a brown arm gliding snakelike round his stringy neck.


            As she kissed him right on the mouth..

            Rolling her big eyes back at us girls.

            A big, wet, pouting, splash of a kiss in the mouth. And him responding.


            She knew we were watching of course. And she was laughing!

            The girls started squealing and cheering.

            But I was ashamed and shocked. Hiding my scarlet face in my long fair hair.

            Then they started to hoot and laugh at me.

            So I took to my heels, and ran off down the street.

            As the thunder clapped and it began to rain.

reclaim your self 

             I’d never hear the end of it, I was mortified. It may not seem much to you, but such scandal would zoom round and round our area. Like a bee in a jar. I was in a state of shock, running the wrong way down that road.

            I had the idea that my father was great. It’s true he did shout and roar and get drunk. But I was his own big girl.

            It’s also true that he would always cuddle and pet me, and my mum would go mad. I used to hide my face in my hair and blush. Getting waves of panic if he didn’t stop.

            Like what happened when Pado tried to dance touching me at the Clan Disco and I nearly choked.


            I still believed my dada was the best. For me he’d always been the bee’s knees. In fact I didn’t dare doubt it


            But now with just one jokey kiss, Janice had smashed the nice aquarium I lived in.


            When I thought about my marvelous father now I felt quite queasy. So I stopped running and I walked. And I walked right round the block. Because I was afraid of arriving back at school early, of getting jeered and laughed at by the others.


            I took it hard, my father getting off with Janice. And the whole of my youth took on a different light in a flash.

            I arrived at the school gates before I knew it. And stopped. Afraid to go in and afraid to be late.

            I hated that school, and I hated the gossiping girls. And for the first time I began to hate my dad.

            One thing I was very good at was hating. I was a bad girl, a menace, and a mischief maker. I had I screamed and fought back since I was a baby. My brother was bad as well. If I got in a panic I would do anything. The worse the better! And as for my folks.. My mum and dad got on like an almighty riot.

            I hated that Sister Bernadette and she hated me. I’d have to bite my tongue when she gave out stink, to stop myself getting up and throttling her!


            Well my feet carried me through them big black gates all right. But I felt quite sick, and it seemed like my life was crashing down, like the thunder grumbling behind me. There was a big lump hurting my throat, and I was muttering to stop myself blubbering

             When I got to the class it had already started, and the lights had come back on. I didn’t even bother knocking and walked straight in.

            It was cold and grotty up there and it smelt bad.

            There were ninety six girls and boys in our class, in theory. But lots were absent, or off doing Clan projects. The State couldn’t pay the teachers, and Sister Bernie had come back as a marvelous selfless volunteer.

            -‘Excuse me please.‘- I shouted aggressively, heading for my seat.

            Sister Bernadette glanced me daggers, flashing her ratlike eyes. She had Trishia Conners up reciting poetry at the time. That woman spotted that I was in bits from right up front, and she seized her chance.

            -‘Next, Linda Moon.’– she announced happily.


            Now one thing I was proud of was my memory, and I never forgot anything. That is if I bothered to look at it at all. But this day I stopped short. And my mind went blank with fright. It was stupid really, like everything in school. We learned off all this poetry without understanding a word of it.

            Now instead of a line of lofty poetry I got flashes of my father spanking me. Sister Bernie prompted me. I said a line.

            But I couldn’t come up with the next.


            She used to come down with a ruler, and whack with the edge on the knuckles. They weren’t allowed to hit us of course, but wonderful Sister Bernie had come out of retirement to save our souls, and she was doing three classes in one. It was a rare treat for her to catch me and down she came.-‘Whack, whack.’– and me stammering and starting to cry.

            -‘Again, again from the start.’-

            And I had to start again, it was groaning brutal.


            Well, I’m a lovely big girl for my age, as my dad always says. And Sister Bernie is a short shriveled woman. I made two of her.

            And me coughing and sniveling and stopping, while the others were enjoying my terror. And now I was feeling sick. But I didn’t dare say it.

            Then it happened, I can see it now. What a shocking horror.

            I coughed once and ..whoosh.. like a bleeding yellow volcano.

            I puked on poor Sister Bernie, on her hair and down her habit.

            And a bit on Rosaleen and all over the desk. I was only after eating my dinner.

            But why didn’t I just turn my head and miss her? I’m still not sure sure that I didn’t vomit on her on purpose.


            Sister Bernie squawked and Rosaleen screeched and ran for the door. I was still sobbing and choking.

            She had to half drag me out of the class. Even the big bad Clanners were dumb with horror.

            I thought she might explode. Her face went purple red.

            Bits of meat and potato in her hair and down her neck.

            It was only after that I saw anything funny in it. But all the rest, excepting Rosaleen, thought it was brilliant. They used to jeer and sneer at –‘Sister Barf’- behind her back.

            My cruel classmates put the mockers on her.


            Sometimes I still feel guilty for vomiting on my teacher. And when I’m really bad I still need to be punished for it.

            A wretched sinner who spewed vile puke on a retired nun.

            They always have their hooks inside your head.


            She marched me down the corridors to the sick room, I was shaking with shock, and she with fury. She sat me down in a chair, and began to clean herself off with paper towels. Giving me a roasting all the time.


            -‘Get up off that chair Linda Moon.’– says she. But I wasn’t listening. –‘Get up you dirty little brat!’-

            She went to give me a slap. But I turned my head at the same instant. And she hit me smack in the eye.

            -‘Go to hell!’- I yelled, half blinded.

            -‘Now we hear it’- she said –’Now we hear the filth coming out.’– She was spreading vomit down her face with a paper towel.

            -‘You touch me again’- I said. –‘And I’ll break your horrible neck.‘-

            -‘You’ll suffer for this,’– she spluttered. –’You and your thieving brother and your stupid whoring father. And get that idiot grin off your face, I’ll…’-


            She was going to slap me again. But I lifted my arm. I had risen out of the chair before I knew it, brushing her blow aside.

            She stepped back. Her face suddenly white, as I let fly a punch to her face. Hurting my hand on her solid bony nose.

            I was hopping with pain -‘ow ow’- as I watched her totter.

            Sister Bernadette fell back on her bottom.

            I stood there staring, paralyzed and sucking my knuckles. And just watched, as she half crawled, half ran out of the room.

            Gibbering threats and clutching her bleeding nose

            Oh my god.. Maybe I’d murdered a saint!


            I’m sorry I hit her. At least I’m sorry I hit her to defend the family name. Especially as she was telling the truth.


            I did it because I’m bad down deep inside.


            As I say, I just watched her go, dead calm, like in a dream, and I watched myself walk to the basin. Splash cold water on my face and my sore fist. Dabbing at a blotch on my grey skirt with a wet towel. Then walking through the open door. Down the dark paneled corridor. Out the front door, past the big board listing former Head Students.

            My feet went crunch crunch down the graveled drive, like a zombie late for lunch. That’s how I react when I do something shocking. I never turned my head and no one followed. . Just as I was

coming to the door, hoping it would be open, I noticed that the entire iron gates had disappeared, what would they steal next!


             I heard this shout from behind me. More like a bellow.

            -‘Linda Moon come back here!’- The Headmistress yelled.


            But I didn’t turn a hair, just kept walking…-‘Crunch, crunch.’-.. down the drive. Then again.

            -‘Come back here this minute!’-  she commanded. –‘Right now. Or you’ll be expelled from The School.’-


            I felt the eyes of half the school, gawking down from the classrooms at my back. And I knew those kids were dying to giggle with glee.


            Then a rush of joy flushed through me, feeling I’d done something good after all.

            So I stooped and snatched up a bunch of the first precious yellow daffodils, which grew there under an oak tree, by the gates which weren’t there. I turned around.

            Dancing and whirling, waving the flowers at the old grey building.

            Till I was sure my yellow knickers showed.

            White faces gaping at the windows..The head right out the door.

            Then a hop and a skip, and around the corner laughing.


            The black clouds were hanging, lower and heavier, and the hills had vanished.

            My jacket was back in the school but why should I care.

            I had the conviction right then that I’d left that school forever. Maybe I was right.

            See I was born just too soon to go to the De-School, I’d never get to learn like the Clanners, doing projects they chose for themselves. …………. [glossary and clic  ref 10 )

            That school didn’t work. Even the teachers knew it. They were just putting in the hours and hadn’t been paid in months. Upset and all irate because their retirement scheme had crashed.

            That school might close down soon at any rate.

            It just didn’t click for most of us girls. And for messed up kids like me it was worst of all.

            If they didn’t throw me out they’d have to drag me back roaring.


            I stuffed the flowers in the bus stop bin, what a waste, and walked quickly up the road.

            Glancing behind me and obsessing with my father.


            Then I thought maybe I was wrong about him,

            Wasn’t he always chatting up girls, and he was just giving Janice a lift, and what harm really. Of course. He was great.  

            Maybe he’d just kissed and cuddled him to start more nasty gossip.

            And I swore revenge.

            But I thought I might as well check up, Crafty bitch that I am. So I went into Devenney’s shop and looked up the Bottle Factory and Maxine’s Hair Salon in their phone book. They let me use the phone coz I said I was sick, and I tapped out the first number

            -‘No, it’s Miss Martin’s afternoon off.’-

             Then I rang the factory and, sure enough,

            –’Sorry Mr. Moon takes a half day off on Tuesdays.’-

            Well that was proof enough for me. But funny enough I felt better then, and pleased with myself. Thinking how I could trip him up and all, not that I would ever dare.

            I pulled some leaves off a garden hedge and threw them up into the wind.

            I’d like to say I couldn’t care two drops of diarrhea what he done. But that would be a sinful lie.

            I thought I loved him then. He had me in his power, like a mouse being toyed with by a tom cat. Okay I I was a bit paranoid. Often imagining him behind me, and glancing back to check. .

            And the nun, the girls, my brother, my mother, those skinhead Hoods.. All chanting in my head that I was bad.

            A bad and dirty girl and guilty as sin.

            I never dared think before that, about why I was so scared. Only now, walking glumly from that school, did the questions come.

            Why did I have to provoke my dad? Why was I bad? Why was it me got caught copying? When everybody did it. Why did they have to pick on me?

            Like a flock of hens, pecking an injured chick.

            They’d reported me to my mother, who blackmailed me and finally sneaked to my dad anyway. 

            And why did my father enjoy so much punishing me? Slapping my bare bottom till it stung.


            I was crossing the nearly deserted Bayford Road where you’re not allowed. The traffic lights were dead anyway, so why walk round?..

            About the short skirts scandal, here’s the truth. Some Clanner girls changed our yukky medievall uniform.

            They would pull up their skirts at the waist, under their regulation blue woollies. So they rode up high, round their sexy thighs. Instead of just drooping under their boring knees.

            Provoking a ferocious scandal and a shocking rumpus in the school.


            Of course who but Linda Moon was branded behind my back as a raging pervert. Contaminating pure girls, god help me, with thoughts of fornication.. Just coz they thought I was laughing at them, I mean, I never even had a boyfriend!

            Killian Bate had said I was a slut, and he was the Supremo of the Young Hoods.


            Through the blocks of flats and into our nice little street. I was arriving home at the wrong time and quite mixed up.


            I had adored and feared my dad, if you know what I mean. I had to believe in him.

            Because foir me the sun and the moon and all of the stars shone out of his arsehole.

            I was lying to myself, that’s all, it was obvious now.

            I’d done it for years but Janice changed all that.


            With one big sexy kiss she gave my dad.


NEXT EPISODE HERE  Serialization of ‘The Free’ Ch 2 child abuse. Linda Leaves Home


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Gay marriage wins in NY!

ew York has become the sixth and most populous US state to allow same-sex marriage.

The Republican-controlled state senate voted 33-29 for a bill that had earlier been approved by the lower house, which has a Democratic majority.

New York Governor Andrew Cuomo quickly signed the bill into law. Gay weddings are expected to start within 30 days.

It has become a contentious social issue ahead of next year’s presidential and congressional elections.

“New York has finally torn down the barrier that prevented same-sex couples from exercising the freedom to marry and from receiving the fundamental protections that so many couples and families take for granted,” Mr Cuomo said in a statement.

He kept his promise to sign the bill as soon as he received it after the Senate vote – rather than wait the usual 10 days.

Gay rights activists said the approval of the bill was a key victory for them, in what is seen as the birthplace of the US gay rights movement.

read more plus video  here



Ferocious Archbishop attacks gay marriage

Sunday, June 19, 2011

The Archbishop vs. the Governor: Gay Sera, Sera

Published: June 18, 2011
With his cigars, blogs, Jameson’s and Irish affability, New York Archbishop Timothy Dolan prides himself on his gumption.
Certainly his effort to kill the gay marriage bill, just one vote away from passing in Albany, shows a lot of gall.
The archbishop has been ferocious in fighting against marriage between same-sex couples, painting it as a perversity against nature.
If only his church had been as ferocious in fighting against the true perversity against nature: the unending horror of pedophile priests and the children who trusted them.

When They Find Out You’re a Lesbian They Refuse to Help”

Kristin Palitza interviews lesbian rights activist FUNEKA SOLDAA

CAPE TOWN , Jun 16, 2011 (IPS) – With homophobia on the rise, large numbers of South African lesbians are being subjected to discrimination and violent assaults. There has also been an increase in “corrective rape” by men trying to “cure” them of their sexual orientation. More than 30 lesbians have been killed since 2006. But most of these crimes go unrecognised by the state and unpunished by the legal system….

continued HERE

India: Queer Film Fest Triumphs.

By Sujoy Dhar

MUMBAI, May 27, 2011 (IPS) – More than a decade ago, when India’s first lesbian-themed film – ‘Fire’ by Deepa Mehta – was released, it was booed and met with protest and vandalism, forcing many fear-stricken theatre owners to take the film off their screens.

Thirteen years on and nearly two years after decriminalisation of homosexuality by a high court in India, a queer film festival in Mumbai is drawing audiences fearlessly from both within the lesbian, gay, bisexual, and transgender (LGBT) community and outside it.

KASHISH 2011 is the second edition of India’s largest queer film festival that showcases LGBT films, and it is passing without a murmur of protest from any moral brigade.

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