Biting the hand that feeds me

If you are being kept in a cage with no way out, it takes a while before you bite the hand that feeds you.

But there is a point after which you become a soulless slave unless you do.

Yesterday, I posted a video on YouTube in which I spoke my mind about anonymous Portsmouth’s relentless interference with my life and the retaliation that often ensues when I protest or report it.

I can’t continue to live like a caged animal in some kind of sadistic slavery.

Nobody in this damn town wants to talk with me about what is going on.

Well then.

I am going to start cleaning this town up by myself. (In a good way.)

I know exactly who I am going to talk with next. (No, no politicians. Someone who needs to stop being a local pest. A person who needs help but isn’t getting it. For starters, I am going to find out what kind of help would support this person best and I want to identify in which areas that person’s potential lies.)

For the record, I suspect that Gerald Vernon-Jackson simply has no idea of what really goes on in this town. He may be as “innocent” in that regard as I was when I moved to Portsmouth. (I’ll come back to this below.)

(Also read the description under the video below after you’ve watched it on YouTube.)

When I asked to speak with Mr Vernon-Jackson, I asked to speak with him and Steve Pitt and Lynne Stagg. When I was at the civic offices, I saw Lynne Stagg walk by and I looked at her. She didn’t notice me. She clearly had no idea. So why does my situation need to be kept a secret from Lynne Stagg, i.e. the situation in Portsmouth?

I had asked for Steve Pitt because he probably knows the local situation very well and I figured that Vernon-Jackson might have no idea and for Lynne Stagg because she is not into bullshit and is the kind of person who would rather DO things instead of engaging in endless waffling (which I know because of our briefly overlapping membership in the Portsmouth Environmental Forum – where an immense amount of waffling went on). I also figured that both Lynne Stagg and Steve Pitt might actually be pretty powerless and that Gerald Vernon-Jackson might be able to do more. And you can’t clean up a city without the leader of the City Council involved. (Or can you?)

For the record, when Steve Pitt wrote to me that I should come to him if I was being pestered – which was very likely in 2009 shortly after I moved to Portsmouth – I WAS being pestered but I didn’t see what that had to do with him. He described what he looked like, in his e-mail, but I knew who he was and what he looked like. 

His pub was the first place in England where I’ve ever felt welcome and at home, so yeah, you notice people in that kind of context. 

(Generally speaking, England – or is it “southeastern England”? – is a pretty hostile place.)

For a long time, he was one of the very few people in England whose first and last name I knew. I used to vote LibDem (no longer do). This is why I often contacted him and people around him after he became a councillor. I didn’t know who else to turn to. There was nobody else to turn to.

There was a period in which I thought that it was all a matter of laughing along and giving as good as you get. But it was not.

(I dropped off a copy of my latest book at the local Labour Party’s office yesterday. So now the local Labour Party knows too if it didn’t before. No, I don’t vote Labour either.)

I am done being demonised and messed with and marginalised. Period.


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