Archive for the Postmodernity Category

Pre-Memoriam: Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre

Posted in "Tradition", British Empire, Dualities, FreeSouthLondon, Gentrification, Indigenous Culture, Postmodernity, Protest, Southwark with tags , , , , on August 23, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

Today I visited an old friend. An old friend on death row. Haphazardry may have delayed the execution by two years… but they are definitely beyond reprieve. Bulldozers and cranes – a particularly savage deathodology – will rip them apart in 2012.

South London is a world leader in bittersweet concurrent dichotomies. She is at once central and provincial – or, to use the sociological language, both core and peripheral. Andfore, I willfully believe, beautiful/ugly for it. Much as the Virgin Mary is both saint and slut, South London too straddles seemingly incompatible dualities at once. And where else could be the epiphany of such be but our Cathedral of now & then, good & bad – the Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre.

I set off from my Anarcho-Situationist Commune expecting to find a wreck. A useless shell echoing faintly with former glories & nagging regrets. Elephant & Castle Shopping Centre, sentenced to death for someone else’s crimes: the post-war town planning of modernity’s rationality. Knock it down. And dance upon its grave immediately with the hoisting of a new contemporary development.

But… my friend was… alive! Vibrant. Vivid. Vivacious. It’s a mess, certainly, a mandarin-enraging crumblejumble of not-neatness. What we have is an abandoned 1960s brutalist shopping mall – there is something of the post-apocalyptic here – but like fungus growing in a dampridden flat, life starts anew. The 20th century supermarket meets the medieval village market. Stalls selling crap, fabrics, tat, bits, bobs, gloriously delicious foodstuffs, boomin’ reggae vibrations, and general material titillations, have, over long years, popped up hicklety-picklety/fractal geometry/in your face/what a lovely place. From a ridiculous beginning – an absolute failure – South Londoner’s inherent transpontine truculence (a fair reaction to being an unwanted appendage) has seen them make something of nothing.

This is the exact kind of thing, a sort of “natural” or “chaotic” multilayered living-irony, a kind of playful fractal mix, that inspires postmodernism. But South London’s organic analogue dualities are under threat from a hypercapitalist hunger to continue their project of rationalised – McDonaldized – postmodern homogenuous designed dualities. And to think that hypercathedral of pomo, the glass’d & steel’d mall-centric Redevelopment Project, is going to knock this beauty of a social hub down into dust… Put bluntly, this grand artefact is going to be literally destroyed because the likes of Starbucks and Gap can’t be arsed opening up in a heterodox shopping centre.

This isn’t a call to arms, although I wish it could be (and I am bloody tempted to chain myself to the beautiful red E&C statue when the bulldozers finally come). Rather, I am documenting the faint echo of an already lost possible future. Oh, the pathetic tides we are swept along in.

So, Elephant & Castle is threatened with the ghosttownisation of homogeneous rationalisation. The irony is (and my word don’t they love lashings of it!) that the implementation of this project – “Europe’s biggest” (as was Auschwitz) – will kill what it hopes to recreate. Stupid bastards.

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New Digital Drug Threat

Posted in "Tradition", Drugs, FreeSouthLondon, Greater South London, i-Doser, Indigenous Culture, North London, Postmodernity, Protest, Revolution, South London with tags , , , , on July 17, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

South London has many enemies. North London. The British Imperialist State. Postmodernists. Spanish Royalists. The old bill. Milton Keynes. Smart-Alec satirists like Chris Morris. The hitherto unrealised threat of SS Zombies.

But if there’s one threat that appalls me most, it’s the drug threat.

Too many times I’ve seen a potential freedom fighter drugbuggered in a fuckshop doorway, startled, halucinating, begging for le coup de grâce

Too many times I’ve spent myself in the desperate mouth of some wide-eyed crackwhore. A wasted potential wife and mother of revolutionary cannonfodder. Tragic…

It’s heartbreaking for a revolutionary nationalist to see his people end up like this. Every drug-related death in South London is a splattering of vomit-choke on the sacred transpontine flag.

Over the last decade I have been involved in numerous anti-drug efforts within our glorious half-city.

Transpontine Anti-Rectal Transportation (TART) was a movement aimed at raising awareness and general panic about the smuggling of drugs by placing “packages” (packages of drugs) in the anus of a drugmule who would then fly into Gatwick and spread drugfilth round South London.

South London: Achtung! Coke Kills (SLACK) was another awareness-raising drive centering around the white powdered devil, cocaine. Briefly reached the nationals after we staged the death of  a 6 year old girl in Camberwell. (NB: allegations that I stole the money raised in Liverpool following the girl’s “death” were never proven, so please stop e-mailing me about it).

Heroin Only Troubles Proletarians And Not The Suburbs (HOTPANTS) is a brave and on-going campaign loosely inspired by Theodore W. Adorno. It is aimed at protecting South London’s revolutionary heartlands from “smack” whilst encouraging it to run riot like a syringed demon through our decadently bourgeois outskirts (Richmond, Purley etc.) so that it may encourage the creation of an elite revolutionism akin to the hedonistic culture of Weimar Berlin. Or, at the very least, stop the fuckers voting Tory.

But now, the drugs have evolved. And so must our efforts.

Here’s our new enemy: http://www.i-doser.com/ Looks silly, doesn’t it…? Might even be a practical joke. But it isn’t. These sick geek bastards have somehow managed to digitize the effects of various drugfucks into mp3 audio files, which they sell. And not only sell, but sell AT A PRICE.

So, what happens? i-Dosers, as the addicts are known, lay motionless – presumably starkers naked as well – with headphones on while listening to some crazy shit called “binaural sound clips” from the online filthdealer, for 10-minute periods. Possibly more. Give them time and I’m sure we’ll hear reports of whole fortnights spent drugfucked listening to a Wagnerian Ring Cycle of bleepbleepbleep braincraze. And just imagine the pressure sores from the headphones.

And how long until the phrase overidose comes into usage? Well, there it is. I’ve fucking coined it.

Here’s a video of a young man getting headfucked off his tits…

Doesn’t look fun, does it kids?!!

So, come on my transpontine motherfuckers! We need to do something about this latest threat to our revolutionary potential. E-mail me at freesouthlondon@gmail.com (I’ll have the drugfilter ON) and we’ll arrange the trashing of a computer shop.

I’m going to spend the weekend going round South London throwing a warm blanket round anyone with headphones and then take them to the temporary i-Doser Rehabilitation & Re-Education Unit at the Anarcho-Situationist Commune.

Peace & Love. And a War on Drugs.

(Read more about it here, here & here.)

Note: Mr. Moneypenny would like to state that cannabis, marijuana, skunk, funky cigarettes etc. are NOT drugs. They are important parts of our transpontine culture, and to fight against it is akin to genocide. And Mr. Moneypenny would like to further rally against recent allegations that he got very stoned the other night on a mere half of a small joint. That is an insult to his Caribbean heritage.

Radio Free South London

Posted in "Tradition", Belfast, British Empire, Change We Can Believe In, Dualities, FreeSouthLondon, Indigenous Culture, Media, Northern Ireland, Postmodernity, Radio Free South London, South London with tags , , , , , , on June 2, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

Mr. Reggie Chamberlain-King

In this exert from my slot on Radio Free South London (more piratical than a Cornish pasty with a hook for a crust) I interview West Belfast’s favourite intellectual and future Philosopher-King, Reggie Chamberlain-King. We discuss politics on both sides of the Irish-Thames Sea(s). This will be of particular interest to (1) the Northern Irish, (2) South Londoners, (3) fans of hot exotic genius, and (4) all women of breeding age and intact apparatus.

For those of you used to me giving the so-called great & good the run around on my previous radio interviews (including former Prime Minister Tony Blair, professional vague feminist Germaine Greer & disgraced footballer Wayne Lampard) you’re in for a shock. The fabulous Reggie probably wins this heavyweight contest of international jousting. On points.

Wolfgang Moneypenny & Reggie Chamberlain-King on Radio Free South London by RadioFreeSouthLondon

The Hyperreality of Coffee

Posted in Brixton, Change We Can Believe In, Coffee, Indigenous Culture, Postmodernity, Protest, Revolution, South London, Video with tags , , , , on May 24, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

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.

Why I Refused To Go To The Orwell Prize

Posted in Art, British Empire, Central London, Change We Can Believe In, Decadence, FreeSouthLondon, Media, North London, Postmodernity, Protest, Revolution, South London with tags , , , , , on May 19, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

I was offered a last minute invite to the Orwell Prize, the increasingly famous political writing award ceremony dancing, er, I mean built upon the memory of George Orwell’s work. I didn’t accept the invitation. In fact, the thought of going filled me with a profound counterrevolutionary nausea.

I don’t need to go to the privilidged core of the International Bourgeois City of Central London to hobnob with a load of self-promoting establishment-reshaping educated intellectualagencia types to be told how bad life is going to be for everyone else.

I don’t need to suckle that untrustworthy info-nozzle. I get my information from the streets. And, recently, a complicated system of demographically questionable focus groups. But predominantly from the streets.
It’s only a few physical miles away from tonight’s privilidged core event, but a metaparadigm shiftwards whole bunch of miles (metaphorically).

Spinning in his grave. Possibly. I don't want to upset any religious types, but I'm not convinced the dead can literally spin.

I remain, dancing, nonchalantly on the cusp. The wrong side of the butterknife. The free thinking cowboy rounding up the joint herd of Truth & Hope in the wildest of liminal zones.

Also, I have toothache.

Tesco Villages: The New Wave of McDonaldized Invasion?

Posted in East London, FreeSouthLondon, Greater South London, Postmodernity, Protest, Revolution, South London, Streatham, Tesco, Woolwich with tags , , , , on April 27, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

Yesterday, reports emerged of plans by Tesco to set up four purpose-built supermarketcentric mini-villages in south-east England. Two of which would be in innercity South London (Streatham & Woolwich) and a third in Greater South London’s Dartford.

It’s a bit early to comment, The Times article that was mainly responsible for heralding this information to us Great Unwash’d was criticized by some on Twitter for being poorly researched.

However, in terms of defining the mood and patterns of our contemporary era, I will say this much: It is very noteworthy that this report is so plausible, so believable. It seems typical of both Tesco and the generic behaviour of successful business models in the post-industrial period.

As an anarcho-situationist dedicated to protecting South London from the homogenising anonymity of postmodernity and/or contemporary capitalism, these plans worry me deeply. I therefore extend an olive branch to the people of Bromley-by-Bow in East London, the fourth planned site of this potential Tesco-ization.

(Oh, by the way, Tesco Value cheesecake is absolute crap.)

The Gentrification of Clapham?

Posted in 34496088, Art, British Empire, Change We Can Believe In, Cheesecake, Clapham, Coffee, Dualities, FreeSouthLondon, Gentrification, Gumbo, Indigenous Culture, London Underground, Postmodernity, Protest, Revolution, South London, The Clapham Effect, The Lambeth Walk. Oi!, Video, Vox Pop with tags , , , , , , , , on April 19, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

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.

THE COUNTER REVOLUTION: Childhood Memories of Sport #1

Posted in FreeSouthLondon, Indigenous Culture, Postmodernity, Revolution, South London, Sport, Streatham, Tooting with tags , , , , on April 7, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

“Now in the summer, I could be happy or in distress, depending on the company…”

(Today I have started exploring how three separate and seemingly unimportant childhood experiences of sport went a long way to forging me, both politically and as a man. First up, it’s a brilliant memory from a school sport’s day…)

A hot South London summer’s day. Such heat (for we are closer to the equator than the rest of London), oppressive midday rays only partially apologized for by mild evenings. I am nostalgia-visioning what for many people must be an abiding seasonal memory of childhood and adolescence: school sports days.

The chaotically edited highlights of my memory have these institutional rituals taking place always in body-cooking heat and nuclear blast blinding brightness. Every year. And I remember sports day being… boring. And a little embarrassing. Which amounts to a damning verdict coming from someone like myself more interested than most in sport.

In retrospect I can say that sports days were formulaic and sterile. Nothing interesting would happen. Or at least the events weren’t designed in order to facilitate such things. But one day, one glorious sports day, in an act I shall tentatively label ‘symbolically rebellious’, something very interesting (even profound) did indeed happen.

It was, I think, the sports day at the end of Year 9, so I would have been 14 years old. A hot furnace of a day – of course. I remember taking a big frozen bottle of water (for the heat) and an archaic Walkman with a cassette tape of the Sex Pistols and Public Image Ltd. (for the boredom). It was the usual dreary sports day. Mind-numbing… until two school friends from my default social circle of geeks and oddballs lined up for the 1000 meter race. Their names: David and Mustaffa.

Whilst not exactly lacking in physical prowess, they were distinctly definable as part of the ‘boffin’ set. Their appearance at the starting line in all-white PE kit was immediately uncomfortable on some level (and I perhaps felt a certain lost camaraderie for some of us oddballs had deliberately wormed our ways out of competing).

But they exploded from the start, running an unexpectedly fantastic race, accelerating into an early lead against the chasing pack. They continued, careering their way along the curved oval athletics track.

Already, by the halfway stage, they wre too far ahead to be challenged. But suspiciously they ran side-by-side – as a unit the pair were competitive against the rest, but not individually against each other. A thought struck me – are they going to subversively finish joint first on purpose? Such a thing caught my imagination, and the simple fact two boffins were absolutely hammering the race had captured the attention of many others.

Their legs trumbled thunderous ploughing poundations against the dirty orange track. An ungainly prowess, but it made handsome progress. Nearer and nearer the finishing line, still together, clearly conspiratorial in this neck-and-neckedness. Comrades. I found myself convinced that they were indeed going for the seditious joint finish, and I began to worry that some arsehole cultural arch-conservative of a PE teacher would tenuously/fictionally declare one or t’other as The Winner by a nobbly knee or unchewed finger nail. Just to, y’know, fit in a bit with what is expected… what is “traditional”… what sport (supposedly) is and should mean. Sport’s deeply ideal (and ideological) claim of binary simplicity. The cherished winner/loser dichotomy, an old imperial duality oh-so-worshipped within the cathedral of St. It’s The Taking Part That Counts.

Now, the end in sight! Only a few feet away from the finish… But they suddenly slowed down. What the…?! Within spitting distance of their supposed goal their winning running motion jams for a heartbeat and with a gust of uneasiness springs into reverse. Rewinding what had been only seconds earlier but with mad goggle-eyed laughing faces superimposed. THEY WERE RUNNING BAKWARDS. They were running backwards AWAY FROM THE FINISHING LINE. Running backwards away from the finishing line AND LAUGHING THEIR HEADS OFF AT THEIR REBELION.

Gloriously, confusingly unsharklike… whilst a PE teacher howled a banshee harpoon of unaccepting rage. Everyone watching was for a brief delicious moment most befuddled and shocked. And then many of us laughed. I especially laughed, roaring a Henry VIII thigh-slapping aeroplane take-off of a loud cackle. I delighted in their micropolitical two-fingered salutation of disdain to teachers and ‘normal’ kids alike.

However, it is only now, some thirteen years later that I come to remember this cultural artefact  and begin to think of it as something profound, something genuinely rebellious, something thoroughly interesting and not merely whimsical…

I have suffered a lack of appreciation for the powerful potential of aesthetic/spectacular rebellion for far too long. I blame it on a rather amateur 6th form hangover productivist bias. I am now coming to understand the significance and meaning of consumption. Thank the Lords!

David and Mustafa played with sport. Which is apparently what we all do. Okay, okay, we play along with the rules of a particular game (dare I say language game?! Ha ha ha!) and we most definitely buy into the cherished simplicity-claim of sport idealists – winners & losers. But by teasingly subverting this game (both the race and the whole sports day event), by making a spectacle of unsport, they established a very established and popularly consumed order. It was like themost successful postmodernist architecture. It was like Situationist pranks. Small-scale, yes… But! It was brilliant. It was revolutionary. It was very exciting. And I’m glad I was there.

So… what does this mean for wider sport. I enjoyed an anonymous South London sports day having one mere event… mocked. What about everything else? Well, to put it generally… The logical conclusion is thus: I, the subjective Me, Wolgang Moneypenny, wants to see sport deviated, abused, convulsing with self-doubt and hedonistic experimentation! But not totally. These wild chaotic abandons – the unsport – can exist only with the context of sport. The ideal of sport. The ideology. The rigid institution. The Hobsbawmian invented tradition so passionately defended by the stupid PE teacher.

Thus, the loneliness of my voice is appropriate. To an extent. There is room for countercultural manoeuvre within what would remain a believably sporting-ideal framework. And, I believe, a necessity. Sports greatest moments are often entwined with some aspect of unsport, ranging from the gloriously remembered sporting-failure of the 1970s ‘Total Football’ Dutch teams to the mid-race ecstatic celebration of Usain Bolt. By adding such things as Eric Cantona attacking the Crystal Palace fan and the attractions of football hooliganism to this list, I merely consider myself the extreme avant-garde of something already discernable.

And to put it specifically… If the final of the 2010 FIFA World Cup came down to a penalty shoot-out, and the final penalty was clearly and deliberately missed with a wild 45 degree miscued hoof into the crowd – a bravely audacious act of cultural terrorism – I for one would cry with joy at the profound heterodox glory of it.

(He, the footballer-terrorist, would of course have to go into hiding as his country would issue a worldwide sporting fatwa. I would happily be the Bono to his Salman Rushdie…)

This General Election: Spoil Your Vote!!

Posted in British Empire, FreeSouthLondon, General Election 2010, Postmodernity, Revolution, South London with tags , , , , , on April 6, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

Even this 9 year old boy realises voting is worthless...

Election time! Exciting. Politicians in a mud wrestle of pretended importance. Not that I’m saying there aren’t important issues over which the party’s disagree. For example, I’d not want to be a homosexual under the Tories… (though I hear there’s a lot of that about). And aspiring creative types would be wise to vote Labour, given the record funding for the arts (indeed, our last – sadly failed – attempt to blow up Westminster Bridge was entirely funded by an Art Council street theatre grant).

HOWEVER. These things are mere details, little insects clinging desperately to the underbelly of the albatross of history. There is a lot more profundity to fight for, and Brown, Cameron and the murderous double-agent Clegg offer nothing but more of the same. And you know what The Same will include? The domination of the United Kingdom over oppressed regions. The full throttle race towards hypercapitalistic postmodern homogeneity.

Tina. Tina! Tina? TINA!! There Is No Alternative.

Or is there…?

South Londoners and associated comrades. I urge you all know to follow my lead of liberation: SPOIL YOUR VOTE. Deface that ballot paper before popping it in the ballot box. Wreck it. Rip it. Colour it. Burn it. Glitter it. Eat it. Blow your nose on it. Gods above! You could even fuck it.

After the election results come in, I will piece together the 600+ constituency results, totalling together the national number of spoils. If the number is high my dear comrades, it will provide us all – especially me – with a revolutionary mandate.

So! Come on. Do it for yourself. Do it for the future. Do it out of respect for your mother. And most of all, do it for the revolutionary will of South London. SPOIL YOUR VOTE!!

The American Apparel Riot

Posted in East London, FreeSouthLondon, Postmodernity, Protest, Riots, Sasha Grey, South London with tags , , , on April 3, 2010 by Wolfgang Moneypenny

Have a look at these daft buggers, as reported by the BBC News website. Alerted by an online promotion, 2,000 bargain-hungry shopper-rioters descend on Brick Lane’s (in *spit* East London) American Apparel store and… fight. Ten policechaps were injured. For what? Some clothing.

It’s 21st Century Postmodern Riots. Ladies & gentlemen, welcome to yesteryear’s nightmare future! To all those who claim my raging South London nationalism is backwards, that my struggle against the homogeneity of transnational hypercapitalist culture is unprogressive, I say: here’s my middle finger. Stick it up your dehumanized arsehole!

She perhaps has a right to fight for some clothes, but all the other morons can fuck off.

Posto-scritumimus: Please some give that poor girl something to cover her naked gleaming breasts! That wee shockpatch of pubic hair isn’t going to keep her warm…