Friday, 20 September 2019

The Philosophers interlude with Bramble and Bracken.. and Finale

It was a glorious September morning in Glanrhyd as Bramble and Bracken headed back from their walk. Bracken sitting on the front step, looked quickly at Bramble and asked "Where does Martyn go during the day?

Bramble replied, " He goes to a place called Asclepius . It's thousands of miles away. I have been there three times. I am sure you will go there when you are older"
Bracken looked back and asked " What does he do there? "

Bramble replied "He talks a lot and I sit on people's knees. Once I went to a Philosophy course. When i disagreed with what they said I farted"

"Does he do anything else?" replied Bracken. Bramble smiled " He is a political activist. And he goes on and on about Kippers and just recently he told me that if I was badly behaved he would get Jo Swinson to explain to me how she had nothing to do with austetity"
Bracken looked up and said " What's this thing called Brexit?"" Bramble quickly said " It's an expression of a religious faith I think"

Bracken glanced around again and peered under the gate " Where do you think Martyn is now Bramble ? I heard from Tilly from Tawe Park that some Dire Wolves saw him in the Polaris wagon in Torfaen.

He anxiously asked Bracken, "Will he be home to walk us tonight.? "
"I am sure he will" replied Bramble." I dont think he had too much to do. He told me he was overthrowing late capitalism, proclaiming the Democratic Socialist Republic of Ystradgynlais and winding up the political right"

"Oh'l laughed Bracken "that sounds mild to me. Quite mild in comparison with taking us for a walk and cleaning up our pooh "

Bramble replied quickly " it sounds just the same to me. I think you are too young to see the similarities. Martyn likes cleaning up the crap He told me he was throwing them into the dustbin of history"

"Why do some people not like Martyn? " asked a worried Bracken.
Bramble laughed and said " Every saint has a past and every sinner a future" The two dogs roared with laughter and fell asleep. In Port Talbot Robert Miller still slept on.
As the dogs dreamnt on of Summers without end, the Red Flags were being raised everywhere and the crowds were gathering. Little did they know that the finale was coming to crescendo upon that curious day in October..

The Philosophers Tale . The Finale...

As the RSS and the Torfaen Irregulars fell into both self loathing and a curious mutual madtabatory projection the forces of the Left rallied. Westwards from the Millenium Stadium Graham and the forces of the Ecosocialists moved through South Wales towards Swansea. From Torfaen the Polaris wagon pushed back the confused remnants of the Seven Sisters Security force. In Bonymaen and Llansamlet the Labour activists reached a certain road of a certain Football coach.
In the Melin the ruins of FAN hall still smoked wildly as another former football coach muttered in his delirium to the Gauleiter of Resolven. Each muttered over and over again " it was all Shrewsburys fault...'

As the Sisters of the Night conjured another cone of power Nick and Dr Danielle still laboured on cleaning Port Talbot Deluded and Abused of even more homophobia and racism.
At the RSS Labour Camp in another part of Swansea the Liberal Democrats still dreaming of Saint Swinson and of the equivalence of the Left and Far Right laboured on. . those who argued with them were dismissed as misogynists who felt threatened. And so caught between the cosmic forces of a titanic battle the moderates remained in the slaughter house imprisoned partly by their own two dimensional thinking and the conditioning they had been given by their captors. Like horses controlled by an imaginary electric wires the Fib Dems remained imprisoned unknowing and uninformed.

On the Leavers of Swansea Facebook page the same trope echoes on. The threat of the foreigner ever present and ever growing into Schrondinger"s Immigrants who can both work and claim benefits simultaneously and who clearly exists but who has never been met except by the man a friend met down the pub.

Makanowsku in London wanders into more diverse and deranged conspiracies speculates on a species of shape shifting Marxist aliens who live inside a hollow earth and who masquerade as the global elite. Robert Miller still sleept on little knowing that he has missed the entire day .. he mumbles in his sleep, farts loudly and returns to his role as the Rip Van Winkle of the Aberavon Estate

As all these individuals and events unfurl and develop the bolt of power from the Swansea Valley crashes down completely destroying the remnants of the RSS a great pall of smoke rises up and forms the words "We got our country back". The wind blows this quickly away as faint voices can be heard whispering " we are slain yet we got Brexit"

Martyn muses to himself and reflects on the journey home. His thoughts settle on the nature of reality. He thinks as follows.
"In the hours that run like rabbits history repeats itself first as tragedy then as farce. As we glance down at the characters acting out the drama upon this October day. We are entitled to ask if the events are allegory, satire or indeed an intersection of Brecht and Kafka. So I leave that answers for the reader to decide.

As we see them in the drama of this day we find that uncomfortable thoughts arise and disturb us all. If we were to take the characters of the far right as cut out figures taken from a child's comic of the 1970s we could place upon them the cut out costumes of the SA and the SS. The political figures of our time could easily wear the personas of Von Papen, Hindenburg and of Rohm and Himmler. There are even those who through my satire or allegory become more alarming and threatening than ever. The winterhilfswerk with the homeless. , the pretense of honouring the veterans, the use of the term "patriot" and the authoritarian style of the sportscoach was echoed and hinted in Weimar amongst the freikorp and the proto Nazis. These models appear in the psychological and political outlook of the Torfaen Irregulars and amongst the RSS while the crypto fascist is hidden within opaque, hidden and brooding. Perhaps they themselves do not know where their instincts come from. Perhaps it comes from a collective unconscious depository of Ur Fascism that creeps into their souls as they sleep and dream. Remember that though there is much humour in this story and mockery that this too was how many people laughed and mocked the Nazis till it became too late.
The figures of the conventional right look on these events and behaviours uncomprehendingly and fail to see the trajectory of history

In my allegory or satire the first instinctions of the conventional right is to see the far right as a means to stop the left. They would welcome the EDL and DFLA as means to stop the Corbynistas of Momentum with the same glee that Von Papen and the German ruling class used the Nazis to destroy the left in Weimar. But as the revolution of the Far Right developed it ate it's own children. In Wemar as in my story the same happens to the conventional right and the moderates . Yet in describing farce I provide a warning...

Martin's stream of consciousness ended here and as events moved on the drama continued.
Meanwhile on Abertawe Chitters Roy has finished his purging. Good old Jo K is posting a meme that says "Have a lovely Revolution Chitters and keep that politics away" Charles Wally Watkins begins writing an article for the Bay Magazine entitled "Martyn Shrewsbury Anti Christ and Marxist..
The Polaris wagon drops Martyn off in Ystradgynlais and the day is over. It's time to take Bramble and Bracken for their walk. It's been a good day..

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