The tectonic political plates of the United Kingdom are shifting and it’s about to cause the most violent vibrations that this island nation has ever experienced. On EU referendum day 2016 we measured the size of the seismic spikes and on that day it was 52% for leave to 48% for remain. But all those who took part know that the result could have been different if the ballots had been cast a week before or after. The fluctuating polls running up to the vote left the losers feeling sickened once the results came in. The leavers celebrated and then they mostly scattered and hid from the responsibility to actually effect the change for which they argued. Within a day of the result, Boris Johnson and Michael Gove had gone from loud to almost mute about the U.K.’s future political direction. Daniel Hannon fled to an extended holiday, Andrea Leadsom flopped in the Tory leadership struggle, and Nigel Farage applied to become German. The main voices of the leave campaign were suddenly as shaky as the ground on which Brexit was built.
Your awkward Montgomery Burns-like hunch suggests a lifetime of sadness which has left you looking down into the abyss of dark ethical choices. Your voting record in the UK parliament contradicts the person that you claim to be. If we travel back fifteen years then you’re voting against human equality, yet now you claim to be a reliable bastion of ethical and moral conviction. Where was that conviction the day after Grenfell? Mothers burnt to death with their children in arms and your moral authority falls away when you cannot look the survivors in the eye, or even show them support. Instead, whilst you are a leader, the community had to help support each other in a beautiful display of anarchic love. Where was their leader? She was sneaking out the backdoor in an effort to avoid the existence of these poor people once again.
In 2002, John Kersey was living with his mother, father, and sister in Enfield, London. He was a 30-year-old pianist who was struggling to find his place in society. He had been to university to study music and had started to record copyright-free classical music, mainly work from the lesser known composers of the romantic period. The internet revolution would change John Kersey’s life considerably. In July 2003, John Kersey would purchase his first fake online diploma, to become a "Doctor of Education," from Saint Regis University for $1681.00. Saint Regis was later exposed as a "Diploma Mill," also humorously nicknamed as a "Goativersity." The effort to expose Saint Regis was led by a Professor of Physics at the University of Illinois named George Gollin. Professor Gollin was a force to be reckoned with. In September 2003, Professor Gollin wrote a paper in the form of a slideshow presentation entitled "Unconventional University Diplomas from Online Vendors: Buying a PhD. from a University that Doesn’t Exist." In the piece, he exposes how the diploma mills were functioning online, compares the website design of real and fake universities, and supplies a magnificent portfolio of evidence to back up his accusations.
The leader of the Royal Borough of Chelsea and Kensington Council, Nick Paget-Brown, should be the first arrested for the Grenfell Tower fire and the local authorities immediate response. The responsibility for the Grenfell Tower fire is currently being batted around all the guilty parties. But the Conservative head of the local council Nick Paget-Brown has shown a complete lack of respect to all local residents. In his YouTube video entitled ‘Meet the New Leader’ which was uploaded 23rd May 2013, Councillor Paget-Brown sets out his vision for the future. He doesn’t once mention the safety or security of his council constituents, instead, he talks about cost cutting and cracking down on department spending. He speaks of remodelling and reshaping the post-war estates to make them ‘attractive’ places to live. In this 2013 video, on the Kensington & Chelsea YouTube channel, Paget-Brown talks of increasing the quality of the housing for residents but says nothing about increasing their quality of life.
National voting has become a yearly endeavour in the United Kingdom. The election day rain filled the puddles that the democratic minded sploshed through on their way to the polling booths. The local church is being used to cast the votes for my part of Cardiff North. As you approach the building you can see the University Hospital of Wales just across the Motorway. I hope for every person who loves the NHS to be casting their ballot today, but I have as many doubts about this democratic process yielding a good outcome for the people. My polling station had an old gentleman greeting people in the doorway, making small talk with those locking up their bikes, which will soon help whisk them to a day of work. As always they can’t find my address straight away. The kind lady checks for me on the polling list repeating the name Vedmore verbally until her pen stops next to my details. As always I receive my ballot and I take it to the partitioned booth to stare at it intently. I know my choice like most folks, but I always take my time to read the ballot. I triple check where my pencil mark should go just incase I fuck it all up and vote for the Liberal Democrats. A mistake I had made two general election ago which led to the dreaded LibCon coalition less than a decade before.