New revolutionary short film regarding the decline of the tie, the City of London, the decivilising process & medieval torture…
Archive for Video
War is all around, comrades. DON’T TOUCH THAT FUCKING CAPPUCCINO!!
I am delighted to have presented this landmark 1,468th edition of the groundbreaking series of re-educational short films, The War On Postmodernity.
Watch it. Take it in. Do not sprinkle chocolate powder on top of it. You shits.
Some people accuse me of being a rebel without a pause, willing to revolutionise my limbs against anything I find.
Well, maybe. The purity of Total Revolution is attractive, if a little abstractly implausible.
But I don’t take many prisoners.
Norbert Elias wrote extensively in The Civilising Process about how the medieval development of courtly manners, etiquette and other micro-rituals created a framework in which a contemporarily recognisable form of civilisation could develope in the modern word.
A Total Revolutionary should seek to throw all that out of the window, with the dirty bathwater of functionism.
And with that in mind, enjoy this act of profound rebellion by none other than Mother Nature herself:
South Londoners! We have a cancer in our midst. Prepare for the lumpectomy of truth.
I have met some real rascals in my time. Imperialist swines. Sinking-ship-jumping rodents. Stupid fools in positions of privilidge. Progress-blocking traditionalists. But I don’t think I’ve ever come across any one man to so encapsulate all these enraging qualities in one worthless human existance…
Ladies, Gentlemen & Transvestite Streetwalkers… I introduce you to perhaps Britain’s – and certainly South London’s – worst elected representative, Pete Montague MP of the Conservative Party.
Here he is, the toffee-nosed fool, spreading misunderstanding & confusion on the campaign trail in Lewisham…
And again, this time self-brushing his own political body with the tar of quasi-racism…
And, worst of all my dear comrades, is this abusive insultation he recklessly threw my way via Twitter earlier today:
@FreeSouthLondon I have watched your videos and admired your balls. You do appear however to be a sort of gypo leftie which I cannot abide.
The people of South London deserve better than an abusive idiot like this. This Thursday, spoil your ballot. But if you live in Montague’s constituency, I strongly suggest you soil it.
And I challenge you, Montague, to a public debate in Brixton. Let’s take it to the street. Keep it simple. Keep it real. Just you, me, a couple of soapboxes, a few television cameras, scores of journalists, a few hyperlocal bloggers, a handful of overly excited hecklers, some bigotted woman, a strong police presence, MI6 snipers on the roof and some bemused rastas.
I’ve received a few complaints about the music used in my revolutionary re-educational short film The Gentrification of Clapham?…
Angry, of Tulse Hill, and Frustrated, of Woolwich, both complained that I used pop. songs with no link to South London. Instead, my music came from Sheffield (ABC) and Louisiana (Dr. John). My response is as simple as it is eloquent. Fuck off! South London is an international multicultural melting pot of various influences. Indeed, my choice of Gris-Gris Gumbo Ya Ya is symbolic of this. I comprehensively explain this in the bastard video. Stupid cunts.
Sneering, of Tottenham, pointed out that the opening credits music, The Lambeth Walk – something of a national anthem, wasn’t even written by South Londoners… To which I respond thrice. 1. We classify them as a revolutionary converts to our transpontine brilliance. 2. I actually used a French recording of it for the video- Le Lambeth Walk. In a fucking French accent! Stick that beautiful lump of multiculturalism in your pipe and choke. And, 3. Do you think the English Defence League stop to worry about Richard The Lionheart being gay?! Course not!
I, Wolfgang Moneypenny, took a revolutionary tour of the Clapham Common area last week. Here, pulsating with the roaring flames of truth, is the video of said event. It is something fairly remarkable. Intense. Never before have I felt so alive, so in love with my beautiful transpontine motherland. The dualities of South London literally came vigorously alive on tape. Several innocent bystanders shat themselves with joy/fear.
Oh well! You have to guillotine a few eggs to rape an omelette.
Today I attended a counterprotest outside the UK Immigration Control crib – Lunar House in Croydon. Countering what? I hear you ask…. Countering a protest/electioneering dampsquib/whatever by British Imperial goon squad, the BNP.
Whilst it was initially tense, with a brief bit of scuffling…
…it has to be considered a bit of a failure, a non-event, for the BNP. They had less protesters, made less noise and went home earlier. As we used to say at school, PUSSY’OLES! This was like two rival football crowds. We outsung them. Had more “fans”. And, I fancy, will ultimately win the league. The league of political outcomes.
They chose Lunar House to make a very negative statement about immigration. But I LOVE immigration. I believe in and adore multiculturalism. Open the floodgates! South London benefits from immigration, South London needs immigration. South London IS immigration.
And if the BNP represents Britain in any way – even just as a freakish extreme – then my resolve to lead South London to independence from THAT vision of Britain is stronger than ever.
However, as brattish & British & essentially racist as the BNP may be, I have tried to understand them. I can understand the fact they are miserable, confused, scared little cunts. That’s okay. In the roar of the furnace of postmodernity, we all lose our “roots”, what we hold onto, so I can see how they’ll cling to something, anything, desperately, pathetically. Like a tired old two-century-old nationalism of a fake relic-state.
And I essentially still feel the same sadness for them, shamefaced little teats of sourest milk. But my tolerance lessened today.
Today, some of the incidental behaviour of BNP protesters made me realise that Nick Griffin is the acceptable face of the BNP.
He’s the acceptable face because so many of the others aren’t. Sieg heil-ing, gauntlet-running, ignorant fuckers. Bother boys. Of course, a handful of the counterprotesters are of a similar hooliganistic leaning (see the above video) – and someone needs to point out to the red flag brigade that there isn’t working class anymore and the four-decade-rotted death of their simplistic Marxism!
My hat might be from an era of Enlightenment scientific teleological thinking, but my politics aren’t.
But I fear the deeply-troubled cunt-looking-for-bother is far deeper ingrained in the BNP, making them as a whole group – if not as a half-polished political turd – still very compareable to the likes of the National Front. FreeSouthLondon is predominantly made up of frustrateted young males who feel disenfranchised. But we’re not absolutely reprehensible cunts. Same socio-economic blah-blah-blah. Why the difference?
And another thing. Fascist spies. Coming over to our group photographing our faces, presumably for websites like Redwatch, the purpose of which being to hunt the ragtag smörgåsbord of antifascists. Well. Sods. I, the great Wolfgang Moneypenny, am not scared of you. Here I am, my beautiful face:
Come and find me at the FreeSouthLondon Anarcho-Situationist Commune. We’ll settle things man-to-men. I’ll take at least eight of you slags at once. And as you fuckers lie bust-up, semi-conscious, quivering like cardiac-arresting pigs-in-mud, I’ll smear my pre-ejaculate over your lips as a revolutionary coup de grâce.
EDIT: Channel 4 News report on the protest and “nazi principles” within the BNP: http://www.channel4.com/news/articles/vote_2010/bnp+members+ampaposhold+nazi+principlesampapos/3616387
Well, well, well. Stockwell. There’s a tremendous synchronicity to the events of the last week. A General Election has been called and establishment politicians have poured out to meet “their” people. I too am a politician. Of the soul. And that same week I commenced meeting my people. I started canvassing hearts, minds & revolutionary spoilt ballots in sunny Stockwell.
My host was community figurehead and fellow member of “the South London twitterati” (according to @est1859) Jason Cobb, who blogs at the wonderful OnionBagBlog. It is he who is responsible for photographic, video and audio truthblasts (see bottom of the post).
It was during this trip that I had one of my fairly regular profound realizations. I shall call this one The Stockwell Question. You see, Stockwell is… nice. Give me Stockwell with its cardboard-mass-reproduced iconic bus station its muralled bomb shelter over any part of North London any day of the tenday revolutionary week.
Stockwell is the kind of place that showcases the gentrification of innercity South London isn’t isolated. It’s a process sweeping through huge swathes of South London. On the most immediate level, South London is getting what she deserves after decades of toil. But on the imaginative-revolutionary level, this is the shackling of South London’s revolutionary potential into a normative hegemonic global project of postmodernity.
To burn, or to earn. That is the question. The Stockwell Question.
Artefacts Of My Tour
Ah, Stockwell is one of the few places in South London deemed worth of having a tube station by the estabLIESment. But these few crumbs brushed from the table of centralisation will forever be compromised by the tragic shooting of Jean Charles de Menezes. RIP.
The Stockwell bomb shelter, decorated with a mural featuring South London’s own French revolutionary Violette Szabo.
Outside the iconic and cardboard reproduced Stockwell Bus Garage. Once glorious. Now trashious.
When Jason told me he wanted to take me to “the Priory”, I thought he was an MI6 agent. But before you could say “Michael Foucault” I realised it was a public house, where we recorded this interview on the subject of South London independentis politics:
And why not settledown with your loved ones, with your favourite Meantime brewery drink and perhaps a few Brixtonian herbals for the kids and watch the video of my Stockwell tour:
My good friend, the artist Nicholas James Albert McArthur, has produced a video of his artwork. We met at college, and have remained comrades ever since. His is one of the finest members of the South London diaspora. I salute him. And after viewing his work, I’m sure you will too.
Or, for a better hi-res version, view it on vimeo.
It has been pointed out to me by a number of angry e-mail writers that my previous post, a short film which featured my revolutionary toetappingly catchy Mothering Sunday rap video “Respect Your Mum”, could be possibly misunderstood as a patriarchal and misogynistic attempt to propagate the – clearly incorrect – notion that women should be restricted to subservient positions of domesticity.
I understand why the piece of music, innocently intended as nothing else other than a heartfelt Mother’s Day tribute, caused offence…
So I want to say to you, yes, that I have behaved badly sometimes. Yes, it is true that I was on rowdy movie sets and I have done things that were not right which I thought then was playful but now I recognize that I have offended people. And to those people that I have offended, I want to say to them I am deeply sorry about that and I apologize because this is not what I’m trying to do.
And anyway, if you’re looking for rap songs to criticize for misogynism there’s plenty bigger bitch-ing fish to fry.