Posts Tagged Crime

Is this Britain?

Is this Britain?

This country is being turned inside out. From those in the establishment being caught up in the fallout following the scandal surrounding the odious Jimmy Savile and his army of degenerate cohorts through to almost daily tales of the underclass running riot in the inner cities, one cannot get away from the rising stench. Crooked parliamentarians, low-level crime, police officers tasering elderly blind men. Read the rest of this entry »

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Oligarchus russius

Oligarchus russius

No, I am not going to start off another rant against the steaming stream of Balkan Gypsies who may take up residence on otherwise peaceful and clean riverbanks. For the rubbish taking up residence here also includes those loaded with way too much money for their own and everyone else’s good. Read the rest of this entry »

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I’m so Dizaei…

I'm so Dizaei...

…my head is spinning.

Top Met chief Ali Dizaei ‘bullied web designer and falsely accused him of assault’

Why does this complete and utter fuckwit continue to make the news? First he’s accused of taking bribes, procuring prostitutes and taking drugs – only to accuse those who were on his case of “racism” (yes, that good old bugbear). Now he had been found to be abusing his powers in dealing with a website designer who simply wanted to be paid for his work.

Dizaei has somehow been able to worm his way out all of his other self-inflicted muddles, no doubt as a result of both his litigiousness and the Met’s desire to focus on political correctness and keep people like him in their high-flying jobs. If he is found guilty in this most recent escapade, I would sincerely hope that they cast aside the inevitable shrieks of “racism” and finally give him the send-off he deserves in the form of his P45.

Of course, the old Dizaei rascal will probably end up writing another book about how badly treated he has been. The poor, poor lamb.

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Can somebody please…

Can somebody please...

…put this obnoxious bastard away once and for all?

Doherty faces heroin charge after court arrest

There must be one single crazy reason why “singer” Pete Doherty is not languishing in a cell right now; either he is made of Teflon, has an exceptionally good lawyer, or is in some way intimate with those high up in the legal profession. If anybody else had managed to string together the list of offenses that this unwashed little turd has racked up – from driving misdemeanours through the various drug-related charges – the key would have long been thrown away.

Having been charged with drunk driving, Doherty was slapped with fines amounting to £2,050 and an eighteen-month driving ban; given that he would probably blow this amount or more on a drugs and alcohol and that he could probably afford to be ferried around by a private chauffeur, it’s all pretty meaningless. It’s pretty clear that he doesn’t give a shit – the fact that immediately after being released he was arrested for heroin possession says it all. I am also certain that he’d just get into another car whenever he wants to – ban or no ban.

It is worth noting that the charge Doherty faced was not simply one of driving under the influence; he had also been driving with neither a licence nor insurance, and – from what I can gather from the article – had been carrying controlled substances as well. There’s also suggestions that he was involved in a hit-and-run accident that left a pedestrian injured.

You really do have to wonder how and why this blatant oxygen thief is still out there in circulation; every time I see his pallid, greasy face I want to take to it with a blunt instrument. Repeatedly.

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“Good Night.”

"Good Night."

This is what I would be saying if I encountered a burglar in my home, was able to overpower him. After caving in his vacant skull with a 40mm Bofors shell. If necessary, I would chase him away and administer this treatment in the street, save he come back with his mates to finish the job.

To neutralise this threat should be my right; after all, I would have been simply sitting at home minding my own business and the burglar would have made the conscious decision to break into my home to steal my property or worse. It’s a no-brainer, surely?

Well, not in the case of businessman Munir Hussainwho confronted an intruder, chased him outside and then pulverised his head with a cricket bat. Fair enough I would say – so long as the stroke was administered with a cultivated brutality á la Graeme Smith. Front foot forward, a smooth and even backlift, and a clean sweet strike over the ropes. One would have thought that would have been that: call the emergency services, have them scrape the shit and blood off the ground, job done.

But no. While Walid Salem – who had a list of previous offenses as long as both of Andrew Marr’s arms – was released back into public circulation, Mr. Hussain and his brother who also waded in have been given thirty and thirty-nine months in gaol respectively. Surely this fact alone serves to explain why people take such action? If the justice system protected the victim rather than concentrate on the rights of the criminal, ordinary people would have more faith in it. If the police dealt with these cases firmly and in force, people like Mr Hussain would not find themselves being cornered into taking such aggressive measures.

The usual liberal talking heads – the sort of people I’d describe as the organic butternet squash risotto brigade – have been quick to come down on the side of the judge who meted out these ridiculous sentences, and more often than not have thrown around terms like “vigilante”. I would suggest these people – including Antonia Senior, the author of the linked Times article – take some time out to look up the term.

Senior has attempted to present both sides of the argument in that familiar condescending, patronising way: she is – by her own admission – doomed to cling to her liberal credentials but yet at the same time feels the need to understand why some people would rather choose to serve up a knuckle sandwich or worse to a burglar as opposed to a cucumber one and cup of free trade herbal tea:

“A small band of the liberal elite makes the laws, disputes them in court, writes about them in papers and chatters about them on the box. It makes me both relieved and squeamish — relieved that my nice, liberal view of the world prevails, and squeamish that its execution is so inherently illiberal and anti- democratic. It’s a “we know better” political philosophy whose only defence is a plaintive cry, “But we do!” What’s the logical, intellectual justification for our stranglehold on this democracy? There is none that I can think of; I’m just glad to be on the inside, looking out.”

Of course, the giveaway line comes at the end of this paragraph: Senior and her ilk are just “glad to be on the inside, looking out”. You would just need to add “of the window in my ivory tower” to this in order to get the complete picture.

Mr. Hussain was hardly a vigilante; he didn’t go out hunting for these criminals in some modern British suburban version of Death Wish. His home was violated, and the offenders were chased down the road and received what can only described as their just desserts. The only parties doing the planning were the Walid Salem and his pals; the victim’s reaction on the other hand was one of pure rage, the instinctive gut reaction to witnessing his home being invaded and his wife and children being threatened.

The story has of course been made far more dramatic by the fact that the bat used to batter the criminal was broken in three places; however I’d say this is more to do with the quality of modern bats than either the hardness of the criminal’s skull or the force of the blow. I very much doubt this would have happened with my father’s redoubtable Gunn & Moore Autograph – though if anyone tried to pull the same stunt I’d keep the bat for its intended purpose and happily introduce them to one of the two 40mm Bofors shells I have sitting by the television instead.

Critics would naturally be quick to condemn, and would no doubt argue that having chased the criminals away, I should let them go. Why? So they can bring back reenforcements while the police take ten hours to arrive? Nah. If I thought for even a second that I might be setting myself up for a bigger fall, I’d make damned sure my light-fingered friend wasn’t going anywhere.

In Munir Hussain’s case, the incident began not when he landed the first blow out in the street, but when Walid Salem made the conscious decision to invade Mr. Hussain’s house. As far as I am concerned, once this rubicon has been crossed the criminal forfeits all rights. By choosing to engage in criminal activity they are sowing the seeds; it is they, and not the victim, who should be made to reap the whirlwind.

I am sure a majority of ordinary people – who simply want to live their lives and be left alone – would think the same.

If one might wonder why the police would take so long to deal with an ongoing burglary, it might have something to do with their having to deal with a high-priority backlog of speeding tickets – or a lack of resources caused by their needing half a dozen officers to “subdue” a female Italian art student before holding her for five hours in a cell and issuing an eighty-pound fine. Well, it’s one more for the statistics, eh?

For the love of God.

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A quick one…

A quick one...

No news:
Australia: British backpacker Jamie Neale silent as questions about his ordeal grow

How can someone survive for twelve days in such extreme conditions only to emerge looking as bright as a button with a few cuts and bruises? Sounds a bit fishy to me. Before the press start handing this imbecile silly money for selling his story, they should check out every single last detail first.

Bad news:
Pickpockets and bag snatches rise 25 per cent, British Crime Survey shows

I wonder if somebody somewhere will look at the influx of Romanies from Balkan and Eastern Europe and put two and two together… Erm, probably not. It’s a damn good thing I don’t travel much on the tube, though – I wouldn’t put it past one of them to try and pull off the sheep trick.

Good news:
Cherie Blair has suspected swine flu

Couldn’t happen to a better person, though we shouldn’t be surprised given that she has had her snout buried in the trough from the start. Let’s hope that it is the most virulent strain and the pillarbox-mouthed, cat-hating, money-grubbing wicked witch passes it on to her equally odious husband. Ugh!

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When in Rome… or Romania?

When in Rome... or Romania?

Just this morning I happened to read what would otherwise be a rather horrifying story about a spate of racist attacks in Northern Ireland which led to over a hundred Romanians fleeing their homes for the sanctuary of a local church.

I say “otherwise” because I know better – and that behind this pall of fetid smoke lies a fire that has been slowly burning across much of Europe for centuries. Read the rest of this entry »

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The drugs trade

I have written on this issue on numerous Internet forums and bulletin boards, usually in response to “recreational” drug users who frivolously bang on about the fun they have on Friday and Saturday nights with friends, loud music and a bag of the infamous “Colombian marching powder”. Here’s a recent snippet.

Ultimately, what people just don’t get is the misery that the drugs trade actually creates. Everybody from your loaded snorting merchant banker through to your common street crackhead believes that the only issue concerns their own rather pathetic little lives, but the truth is that this industry’s tentacles stretch far beyond the cocktail party or dark back street alley. They reach back to countries like Bolivia and Colombia, where the fate of entire populations are in effect determined by this criminal racket.

Then we have the media and celebrity types who bang on about world poverty, free trade coffee and the like, only to go home a do a couple of lines of coke. It was hilarious, for example, to see Kate Moss wearing one of those ‘make poverty history’ wristbands – only to later see her getting busted for snorting a drug that creates untold misery in the very countries these campaigns are supposed to help.

Personally I’d have the manufacturers and dealers eat their product with gusto. And if there was any sign of a lack of enthusiasm, I’d force it down their throats with a stick.

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Personal responsibility

It really does irk me every time I read or hear about some story where someone has taken an unnecessary risk and as a result has come a cropper, only for a cavalcade of people to empathise with them. It irks me even more that when I point out the obvious fact that taking risks exposes one to additional danger, I am often accused of suggesting that the victim somehow “deserved” it.

In the clear and objective light of day such this accusation is, of course, abject nonsense; more than it being a case of my being callous and unfeeling, it is a simple matter of people not having any idea on what constitutes personal responsibility. What next, suggesting that a person who walks out on the streets of South London with a sign on his back saying “I have a mobile ‘phone and a hundred quid, please mug me” is simply unfortunate?

A story in case is that of the Italian hitchhiker and “world peace” activist murdered in Turkey, discussed here; it is clear that while this woman didn’t “deserve” to be murdered – nobody in their right mind would suggest that – it is pretty bloody obvious that she was taking an unnecessary and dare I say it stupid risk in trapsing around an Islamic country dressed as a bride.

The same applies to drug (ab)users – in a post on a popular bulletin board I (perhaps rather callously) described the death of former children’s television presenter Mark Speight as being “no great loss” – on account of the fact that he was a useless druggie who was out of his head on a cocktail of illegal substances while his fiancée – also a useless druggie – was boiling to death in the bath at the time. I was taken to task for showing a distinct lack of empathy, but I ask you – who in hell can empthaise with such a waster, and worse still, a waster who then chose to take his own life because he couldn’t face up to the fact that were it not for his and his fianceé’s nasty, sordid habit, they would both be very much alive today?

It’s as if nobody has any personal responsibility for their actions any more, and that somebody else – society, the weather, the neighbour’s dog – is somehow to blame. And that the rest of us should be welling up and feeling sorry.

Well, no.


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