The mystery of who stole Freddy Mercury’s birthday cake is finally solved.

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beckyfury_wibbleywobbley_nov2016

John Fleming and I went to the Wibbley Wobbley on Saturday night.

It was Malcolm Hardee’s old boat and has been squatted by an art collective. John said Malcolm only nicked cars and they’ve nicked a whole boat and that Malcolm would have approved.

The squatters had hung protest banners outside, so we took our own banner which said KNOB OUT! (one of Malcolm’s catchphrases) and hung it with the others.

The tribute banner’s initial position...

Which is the equivalent of putting flowers on your mate’s grave.

I had spray painted KNOB OUT! earlier in the day on an old bed sheet on my own boat and hung it to dry by the busy tow path in Camden.

A lot of people ushered their children past very quickly.

Those that didn’t spoke approvingly about it as a protest against Donald Trump.

Context is everything.

Back on the Wibbley Wobbley, John presented me with a copy of Malcolm’s autobiography I Stole Freddie Mercury’s Birthday Cake.

I Stole Freddie Mercury’s Birthday Cake

It has a picture of Malcolm as a cherub or angel on the cover.

Greenland Dock is where Malcolm died. He fell in the dock and drowned – as the story goes – weighed down by pound coins ‘stolen’ from his own fruit machine and, when his body was dredged from the dock, he was still clutching a bottle of beer.

So the mythos goes.

Given this back story, I thought it was a very poetic and appropriate place to be handed a copy of Malcolm’s autobiography. Especially as the front cover has a Malcolm as an angel.

John gave the squatters a copy of the book too.

I tried to stop him but he was insistent.

Becky Fury performs an adequate turn

I performed an adequate turn. Quantities of pirate juice 1 and 2 – a dubious home brew distinguishable only by colour – were consumed and a band played some music. Me and John recorded a Grouchy Club podcast.

But the most interesting part of the night was spent. So we left to catch the last tube.

On the way to the station I needed a piss, so I popped in a nearby Weatherspoons pub.

Weatherspoons likes to commemorate local characters.

There was a picture of Malcolm with the birthday cake story underneath.

Local boy Malcolm Hardee stole Freddie Mercury’s £40,000 birthday cake. When the police raided, there was no evidence of the cake because it had been donated to a local old people’s home. 

Becky Fury with her ‘new’ Malcolm Hardee award

I told John: “There’s a picture of Malcolm Hardee on the wall. With the story about stealing Freddie Mercury’s birthday cake.”

“In the women’s toilet? he asked. “That’s appropriate.”

I spoke to my friend the street artist Stik and told him about my evening and that Freddie Mercury’s birthday cake was stolen by Malcolm Hardee.

“Can you get me a copy of the autobiography?” he asked. “And I’ll send it to Brian May. I’m sure he’d love to finally know what happened to his mate’s cake.”

 

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Calais Refugee Crisis update 8/10/16 — beckyfury

I had a nose around the Calais jungle yesterday. I was going to avoid writing this but the guy i got a lift with decided not to give me a lift back because he got jealous i was talking to one of the refuges. Which was really could have been really dangerous but actually lead to a really fun day of extreme tourism in the Calais jungle. Ladies, Don’t believe the hype about rape gangs. The Calais jungle is full of well fit guys. Ladies (and gentlemen too if you are so disposed) We should all go there on a coach trip.

am headed to the jungle. I get offered a lift by posh mr x and his world music covers choir.   I heard them practicing at the warehouse. They are fairly accomplished but they sound really really white. The think about all the communities in the refugee camp. They start singing something from the lion king. Are we really going to go into a sudanese refugee community and sing culturally appropriated  traditional african folk songs. accompanied by two posh white white men, I playing a traditional african tribal drum and another one on acoustic guitar. Why don’t we all just black up? I think to myself. Lets get some Bob Marley dread hats and mumma africa earrings. If we are going to do cultural appropriaion. Lets really do it. They start on a Bob Marley cover. Have these people not suffered enough. I think I think. I think about about “The jungle.” I think about the one on the news. I think about the well meaning middle class twats. We are going to get to get killed. I think. I go along for the ride anyway.

We get to the jungle. it looks like a cross between a generic third world shanty town and Glastonbury festival. I feel quite comfortable. A sudanese guy wearing a hoody and nike airs comes up to us. He looks at middle class white man with the acoustic guitar.  Are we going to make party?” He’s looking at the posh white man with an acoustic guitar and he doesn’t sound convinced. There is a large group of twenty or thirty man gathered. i think about the sun newspaper reports about immigrant rape gangs The choir begins serenading them.  The guys gathered look unimpressed but they tolerate it and even offer unenthusiastic applause but they don’t kill us. Which is more than we deserve.

A Citroen Bellingo arrives. It’s full of donations, part of the constant trickle of little vans and cars that arrive at the warehouse. Like the Dunkirk flotilla they cross the channel but this time its not little boats but little cars and hire vehicles. That same spirit that made Britain so great. People practicing random acts […]

via Calais Refugee Crisis update 8/10/16 — beckyfury

Calais Refugee Crisis update 8/10/16

A Citroen Bellingo arrives. It’s full of donations, part of the constant trickle of little vans and cars that arrive at the warehouse. Like the Dunkirk flotilla they cross the channel but this time its not little boats but little cars and hire vehicles. That same spirit that made Britain so great. People practicing random acts of kindness and compassion on their day off.

I help unload a people carrier that has arrived stuffed full of donations. I ask Dave, the driver if he’s been here before. “14 times” he says. “My wife jokingly calls herself a Calais widow. I keep coming back because I am compelled by the story, I cant walk away from it. The first time I came. I was building a makeshift shed at the camp a Syrian man came up and said. My wife is pregnant. Can you help me to build a shelter her. I did what I could and I went to bed that night and felt so satisfied. It was the the most meaningful work I’d done all year, I mean I work in computing. It pays my bills but this is what gives my life the meaning I didn’t know was missing.”
A hire van arrives driven by a well dressed young Muslim man and two friends. “We’re three mates that got together because we wanted to do something to help.” He explains “We sent up an Indigogo page and did a whip round. We’re filming it for you tube so the people who helped can see exactly how and to spread to spend the word.” The operation is super quick and they’re off before I have a chance to ask their names.
A 4×4 arrives pulling a caravan. It is driven by Sandra from Wales who has brought her husband and her three kids. I ask her why she has come. “We usually go on holiday to a little cottage in Wales but when I found out about the children in the camp disappearing I just couldn’t go on holiday. I felt so strongly I needed to do something to help so myself and my husband and our two older boys came here. We didn’t bring our youngest. Not last time anyway.” She laughed. “We didn’t know what the situation was. We didn’t want him disappearing too but it turns out its fine here. Its amazing in fact. Theres here’s a sense of community. It’s a such a rare place.
An ernest gap year student is enthusing about how many new best friends and flapjacks she made today. I feel my jaded, cold heart melt a little more. I can understand why, beyond just the satisfaction of doing something positive that people come here.

I nearly finish editing when I remember I’m meant to meet people from the warehouse in the pub. I pop down to say “Hi” and then explain I’ve got to get back to finish some writing about why people are here. A sharply dressed guy  pipes up.” I’ll tell you why I’ m here. I work in advertising.  My parents never had much money. My Dad said to me; Why are you wasting your time on refugees, you need to look after yourself first. You’re not far off that yourself.”  ” I’m from a working class family. We didn’t have much but there a people here with so much less. Is that the soundbite you’re after?”
The Calais refugee warehouse acts as focus for compassion and it is a distribution point for random acts of kindness. To get involved. Click here.

http://www.calaidipedia.co.uk/what-how-to-donate

Does the milk of human kindness have a shelf life?and other updates from Calais crisis frontline.

l get a taxi to the ‘Auberge des Migrantes warehouse merci.’ The taxi driver looks at me ‘ Pas No Problem’. My French is terrible but I understand the intonation. I didn’t know the French did irony. It clearly is a problem. A big one.
It’s a small town. A sign on the wall of ‘The Aubege’ says the camp now numbers 10188 people,  its population has increased 12 percent in the last month alone.
The French authorities have failed to respond to this humanitarian crisis and as a result the ‘ Front national,’ the only party who appear to be addressing the issue garnered 55% of the vote.

Possibly as a response to this The camp is to be ‘ cleared’ the end of the month. There’s rumours in the press of the destination of its 10,000 inhabitants dependent on political bias. The Express in England recently reacted indigently to reports that refugees were to be rehomed at the expense of French nationals but this is just another rumour. The truth is no one knows.

No one knows what will happen beyond the eviction. No one, in the camp, no one at the warehouse, no one in Calais has been told what the plan is. Which would suggest there is no plan according to Auberge warehouse veterans, ‘There is no plan’ There is no plan to deal with the 10,000 people in the Calais Jungle once they are forcibly evicted from their makeshift homes.

There is a pile of ninty or so pop up tents in the warehouse ‘For use in case of emergency eviction’ Is this the only contingency plan to deal with all these people? There is another sign on the wall of the auberge. ‘Eviction wish list’ it reads. ‘Wanted, pop up tents, rucksacks, suitcases and mobile phones. So there is a plan.

On the wall there is a sign
‘There are now 1,022 unaccompanied children in the Calais jungle.
In May Under the ‘the dubs agreement the uk said they would rehome 387 of these children.
So far none have found safety under this act. On Friday at 5pm in the office. there will be a letter writing session. Send a letter to your local MP informing him of the problem. I’m unsure what use this will be and given the historical record of MPs in the UK possibly counter productive.
122 children we are informed in the morning went missing after the last eviction.  The discussion moves briskly on. There is no further speculation about what happened to those children or if the French authorities have done anything to try to locate them. The focus is on helping those that are here. Now.

‘Are the Red Cross not supporting people here? I ask at Auberge veteran X.’ No. Just my opinion but possibly because theres no money in it for them or because someone has told them not to get involved.’ I thought the Red Cross was an Independent NGO..’There are only amateur NGOs in Calais keeping people alive’ .

Inside the warehouse two cute girls are hanging off a palette truck and giggling and  trying to mauvere boxes of something just out of its sell by date into a battered transit van which is also past its best. ‘j’le lait d’ici. It says on the tins. My French isn’t too hot but I’m guessing it translates to the milk of human kindness. Like a lot of the goods here and the donations. Past its sell by date. Like the jungle and the authorities. There’s just two little amateur NGOs in Calais trying to distribute what little is left of it to go round.

You can help do that here.

http://www.calaidipedia.co.uk/what-how-to-donate

snog, marry, avoid. may,corbyn, farage.

Snog, Marry or avoid. May – Snog Theres some people who you might sleep with when you were drunk and then sneak away whilst they’re still sleeping, so you don’t have to talk to th…

Source: snog, marry, avoid. may,corbyn, farage.

snog, marry, avoid. may,corbyn, farage.

Snog, Marry or avoid.

May – Snog

Theres some people who you might sleep with when you were drunk and then sneak away whilst they’re still sleeping, so you don’t have to talk to them the next day and Theresa May is one of those people.

I had a weird crush on George Osbourne. Maybe to some people thats not weird as he’s rich and powerful and not that bad looking but it wasn’t that so much that got my interest  but the video of him gouching out on cocaine during prime ministers questions . It gave him a fallibility that made  him look almost human (Almost) . Also the joke he did during the budget. Not the Facebook meme where he was holding up the budget box and it appeared to have fallen open revealing a collection of butt plugs and gimp masks. (This didn’t happen to my knowledge, well not in public anyway, although who knows what George actually had in his budget box.)

I’d like to think theres at least one extra large butt plug, I mean you cant get all your joy from shafting the poor.That would be a little vanilla. For a Tory.

Back to Geroges budget box joke. He tweeted picture of an empty budget box, which had a cat in it. Like he was saying, theres nothing for you in this budget box poor people, (no dildos this time the shafting was purely metaphorical ) But what do poor people like? Cats. So heres a picture of a cat; poor people. You like cats. Which is quite a funny Tory joke if you avoid the socio/ political context and all the misery and death. Which is why Tories are just a snog, if they’re that awful to people they’ve never met could you imagine the repercussions if you forgot to do the washing up. I think Georges decision to leave the cabinet wasn’t purely political. He’s a natural sub and Theresa May is clearly a top. Grovelling at Mistress Mays feet probably wasn’t something that turned George on, thats sort of thing is best left to the electorate.

Theresa May, she’s quite sexy, for a Tory. Get to snog Theresa May and all your christmas’s or Wintervals have come at once. Now where’s the pan scoured and the vim. I need to scrub myself, I feel so unclean.

Corbyn- Marry

Regardless of what happens within the labour party Corbyn (and everyone that have supported him, which is how he’d want it phrased) Have shifted the parameters of the political debate in this country.

Corbyn is the nominated figurehead for a desire to move politics the limitations of the establishment narrative. Thats the sensible stuff out of the way.

Jeremy Corbyn stint as leader of the current labour party could be likened to a rebound fling with an unsuitable partner after the break up of a more sensible relationship. In terms of labour leader he’s like the boy that your mum would never let you go out with but you eloped with anyway and now you’re pregnant and alone. (Hopefully thats not how the story ends.)

Cameron fucked a pig. Corbyn made love to Dianne Abbott in an Eastern European cornfield. I’m not making cheap jibe by comparing Dianne Abbott to a pig, (honestly I’m not) I’m drawing a parallel a vile and a noble and romantic. (its up to you to determine which is which.)

Making love to Dianne Abott in a cornfield, like Joko’s bed in for peace, even if it didn’t act like that apocryphal butterflies wing, even if it wasn’t that summer of love spirit  that  staved off nuclear winter (for the twentieth century at least) It didn’t harm anybody. Dianne Abbots bum, though big couldn’t have impacted that much on the farmers profit margins.

Corbyn is constantly maligned by his opponents for not supporting trident. Maybe he doesn’t need a nucular big nuclear penis. Maybe he’s comfortable with the size of his penis. It’s not the size of your nucular arsenal that’s important. It’s what you do with it that counts. Decommission  it. Would  be my suggestion.

Maybe the hippies were right? Who wants mutually assured destruction. Mutually assured seduction is a far better idea where no one wants to make the first move because they know that their passions will be too consuming and it is the petty considerations of the ego that will be destroyed rather than humanity. Why are we stockpiling weapons to destroy the human race, to be fair we’re doing a pretty good job without them. All arguments are equivillantly pointless. War never solves anything. Its peace that does that and forget what you were taught in school. The cause of the first world war was that Tsar Nicholas 1 skived on his turn to do the washing up).

Farage-Avoid

Farage. I’ve been out with enough alcoholics to know to avoid Nicholas Farage. If he wasn’t continually drunk he’d do something more worthwhile with his time than leading a neo fascist political party as a front  for his moronic pub-stool political opinions.

He crashed a plane, and somehow survived, probably because he’s so full of wind he acted as his own airbag. The telegraph think Farage should be given a knighthood for “Giving the British people their freedom” A ridiculous statement. Everyone knows that the only reason you get a knighthood these days is because you’re a nonse.  “Give the British public their freedom”. Another meaningless hyperbolic statement from the Brexit stable. It sits beside the phrase “We want our country back” and “Im not a racist I just don’t like Muslims.”

Farage  is better looking, posher and more of a charmer than his predecessor, the boss eyed Nick “poster boy for ethnic purity” Griffin but (and getting back to the tenuous “snog, marry, avoid thread) both ‘men’ have micro penises which is why they hate blacks. Nigel Farage is a very bad lay. He doesn’t know where ‘The Clitoris’ is. When asked about its whereabouts he suggested it was a peninsula in bongo bongo land.

Nigel Farage is not just an idiot. He is the idiots idiot. He is the worse kind of idiot, the paradoxical intelligent idiot. Like Donald Trump. He knows his audience. He knows they are idiots and he doesn’t care. The applause of idiots will do. Like Trump, he knows to win a debate you just need to act like you won. The idiots won’t know any better and they wont care. Like playing chess with a pigeon. Make all the intelligent moves you like but Farage will just strut around and shit all over everything and the idiots will applaud their champion.

When it comes to the question of snog, marry or avoid Farage is best avoided, but if you met him in a pub id imagine he’d be fairly entertaining company for an afternoon. At least he has bothered to have an opinion on something. it gives me something to disagree with.