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Fashions from Paris. Fabrics from S Customers f

A message from HM Department of Trade a

Singapore. Stainless steel from China. from Britain.

and Industry (Mostly Trade) (Mostly Imports)

"What's the use of being young if U ain't gonna grow old?"




The worst two months of David Cameron's career.



Vol 3

Issue 31

CONTENTS The race for the future of the world continues: overused circus metaphor ahoy.




Timewatch recaps the biggest nonJapanese nuclear disaster in history.

Why Hillsborough still matters.





Editor's Shriek by John Wirstham-Harte This might sound like a weird question - well, let's not beat around the bush, it will - but is God trying to finally reveal His existence once and for all, in a disturbing and roundabout fashion? It's just that so many great and talented people have died so far this year - and we're only a third of the way through - that it's genuinely starting to seem supernatural. We're only mostly kidding here - when Victoria Wood and fucking Prince died on successive days, both completely out of the blue, the 2016 phenomenon ceased to be a source of semiamused bafflement and instead became downright frightening. The cherry on top was the loss of Michelle MacNamara, crime writer and wife of Patton Oswalt, at 46, in the fullness of life, out of nowhere and for absolutely no reason at all. If this carnage really is a message from God, then that in particular can only be translated as "I am a fucking maniac; fear not My wrath, for I have no need the shelter it provides; fear not My reason, for reason is a restraint to such as I; instead simply fear Me, for I am above and beyond wrath, above and beyond reason; this is My sport." The only thing that's kept us from losing our minds completely (other than the fact that they were lost long ago) is reality's usual steadfast dedication towards absolute mundanity, which rather suggests that it is all one big, intensely dispiriting coincidence. Still, we kind of hope it really is God's way of proving He exists, if only because that would eliminate the worst aspect of most random death: the impossibility of catharsis. Not that punching God in the face is an action any of us are likely to take, even if He does exist, but it'd be nice at least have a target, if not the ammunition.

Publisher: M.H. Editor: John Wirstham-Harte Contributors: Ronnie Beardsley, Gareth Manford, Thierry Henry Thoreau, Willard van Omnomnom Quine Associate producers: Peter Beeston, Andrew Coldrick, Alex Csar Nick Higgins, Christopher Lyons, Rhys Marshall, Chris Oakley, Jacob Smith, Patrick Stratford, Juliet Wakefield Executive producers: Steven Bride, Maxim Grunewald, Neil Murton, Craig McLeod, Sean Quinn, Sarah Sea, Craig Thurston, Will Tudor Designer: Mel Christgold Art director: Jops Adverts by Guy de Chipboard FOR BOB THE FISH MAGAZINES Head of Production: Congorilla Managing Editor: John Yes Chairman: M.H.


All copyrights acknowledged. Any copyrighted materials are used for the purpopses of comment and review. No attempts have been made to supersede existing copyright. This magazine is released under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution Share-Alike 2.0 licence. Unless otherwise indicated, all materials are used without permission. No direct profit is made from the distribution of this magazine. All advertisments are parody unless otherwise indicated. No affiliation should be inferred with any products mentioned therein. This magazine created to the sound of "N.E.W.S". Dummy photo by Boris plate photography by Ron Brown.



SINCE 1964


TESTING Pigfucking dough-faced over-privileged leader of Her Majesty's Government David Cameron has just experienced the worst two months of his political career. And the referendum campaign has only just started. This could be a fun summer. Words: Gareth Manford

Passion 1. (n.): A suffering or enduring of imposed or inflicted pain; any suffering or distress (as, a cardiac passion); specifically, the suffering of Christ between the time of the last supper and his death, esp. in the garden upon the cross.


t's often forgotten that schadenfreude is supposed to be a bad thing. It means "shameful joy", after all. You're supposed to be ashamed of yourself for revelling in someone else's misfortune. In that respect, what we've all been experiencing over March and April with regard to David Cameron possibly fails to qualify as actual schadenfreude, because it's hard to feel shame about the implosion of a political career that's done so much harm to the entire country. The Germans need to come up with a word for "tactless but justified joy".


What with seemingly every human being with talent or worth being systematically murdered in order to rob the world of hope, and Donald Trump by now only stoppable by a last minute hail-mary at the convention, we need some light relief, and David Cameron's woes have provided it. He's often seemed to have some kind of a messiah complex - not unlike his template, Tony Blair - but in the last couple of months, it seems reality finally decided to indulge the metaphor. Unfortunately for him, it was Easter. And thus did Britain bear witness to the Passion of David Cameron.





t started with Gideon Osborne's latest budget in March. His 2012 effort was immediately labelled - by Ed Miliband no less - as the Omnishambles budget. It deployed all of Gideon's usual tactics: kicking the submillionaire class in the face while failing to invest in anything other than the already rich. Next to the 2016 budget, it looks like a bolshevik revolution. In Omnishambles II, everyone gets fucked, with a splintered fencepost.


lot, if not most of Cameron's current woes can be traced back to one stupid decision: to announce prior to the last election that he wouldn't be fighting the next one. We've pointed out the idiocy of saying something like that before in these pages, but really: if there's a more efficient way to sabotage your own premiership before it happens, don't tell Jeremy Corbyn. We can only assume that Cameron was no longer expecting the Tories to win the election. Much like the pollsters. Sadly for everyone, they did. Anyway, the budget didn't just deal a potential deathblow to Gideon's leadership hopes. It also sparked off a departmental civil war, the timing of which (right when the one about Europe was starting up) was, of course, purely coincidental.

T David Gauke, the anti-matter Denis Healey, yesterday. (Credit: Hansard)

It wasn't even competently evil; over the course of a couple of days, more plotholes emerged in the budget than the average Michael Bay film, the largest of which, a giant absence of ÂŁ4.4 billion, was caused by an immediate U-turn over "Personal Independence Payments" - the mealymouthed new name for Disability Living Allowance. When Parliament convened for an Urgent Question on the subject of how the fuck Osborne planned to balance a budget with a gaping ÂŁ4.4 billion hole in the middle of it, the Chancellor of the Exchequer was nowhere to be seen. Instead, one of his henchmen - David Gauke, a gritty, modern re-imagining of Denis Healey - was thrown in at the deep end while Osborne reportedly hid in the toilets, cowering in a cubicle. Unless he just had a massive sack of cocaine in there and lost track of time. Either way it's not particularly professional, especially for a Chancellor of the bleeding Exchequer, and especially when he's trying to sell himself as a potential new party leader and Prime Minister.

he resignation of Iain Duncan Smith was one of the most gratifying moments in the Cameron premiership to date, if not the most. Most of our staff have been brutalised under Count Orlok's stewardship of the benefits system, which he ran as a horrific medieval prison of which he was the Governor and Torturer-in-Chief. While things aren't likely to get much better under Steven Crabb and his midlife crisis beard, at least literally Satan isn't in the cabinet anymore. He claimed he was resigning in protest at the Omnishambles II budget's horrendous cuts to the DWP - because of a moral objection to their impact on benefits claimants. He even went on the Andrew Marr show to demonstrate his heartbreak at the impact of these cuts. He even managed to cry over the plight of some of his own victims, despite seemingly containing no bodily fluids whatsoever.

The budget wasn't even competently evil, being more full of plotholes than the average Michael Bay film.


This was of course bollocks. Iain Duncan Smith is no more capable of sorrow over the fate of anyone below upper-middle-class status, and most people above for that matter, than a cow can mourn for the flies it swats with its tail. We've also seen examples of Duncan Smith openly laughing at the fate of his victims, including the woman who uses her spare room for which she is charged extra under bedroom tax - to hide from her abusive husband. What's more, those incidents far outumber the ones where he got all unconvincingly weepy about the suffering he himself had caused under the doctrine that being poor is something for which you deserve punishment and not help. This man is the protege of Norman Tebbit, remember - and shocked even him. So no, Duncan Smith's resignation was not motivated by a sudden attack of human decency, because he has none and, in fact, completely lacks the capacity. No, this was an entirely tactical resignation carefully designed to humiliate Dave in the build-up to the EU referendum.


ot that the referendum is the sole motivator. In fact it's something of a pawn in and of itself in the bigger game to which everything else seems to keep returning: the leadership of the Conservative Party. Dave's main rival is, of course, his old Eton fag and fellow Bullingdon Bumchum Boris Johnson: less qualified (even) than Cameron, but more charismatic and savvier with the public image. Given that Cameron used to do PR, this is a bit of a surprise, but then he was the PR man for Carlton Television. Boris is using the EU referendum - which, let's face it, is a frivolous waste of time - as leverage to get himself into Number 10 as quickly as possible. Coaxing Iain Duncan Smith into sparking a full-blown civil war is presumably phase two. God knows what Duncan Smith has been promised under Boris, but we fear genuinely fear - that in return for his loyalty now, Boris will appoint him Home Secretary. If for no other reason, Boris must be stopped.

Of course, Nosferatu being anti-EU is no surprise to anyone. But it was a bit of a shock when Boris outed himself as supposedly in favour of Britain's depature from the Union. This is despite having written an entire article for the

A Disney version of Johnny Rotten, yesterday. (Credit: ITN)

Telegraph explaining (correctly) that most of our problems don't actually come from "Bwussells" and that leaving the EU won't instantly solve Britain. Three years later he is claiming the exact opposite, that all our problems will and can only be solved by leaving the Union. What's caused this strange alchemical change in Boris? The fact that Dave is on the other side, of course. Here is an opportunity to go toe-to-toe with him and establish his face as the face of better-than-Cameron ahead of the leadership contest. It's also a big boost to the Vote Leave campaign, whose face up to then was Michael Gove's.


ove is also tipped to figure in the leadership election, although he's said he's not interested and wouldn't be very good at it. We definitely believe at least half of that. It was looking like a straight fight between Gideon and Boris until Gideon flamed out so spectacularly with this budget and started the dominoes falling that could still lead to the fall of David Cameron. Fortunately for him, he's managed to distract the press and population of Britain by deliberately conflating criticism of Israel (from Labour at least) with anti-semitism. In this endeavour, Boris was all too happy to help. As, it seems, was Ken Livingstone.


Clown at Midnight



As the home stretch of the primary season finally approaches, Trump's nomination looks unpreventable. Which is not to say they won't try. Words: Willard Van Omnomnom Quine


nd so Endgame approaches. This bitch of a primary season is finally entering its last few miles. Mathematically it might not be certain, but in effect we have our candidates. On the Democratic side, there is no longer any stopping Hillary Clinton (barring what stopped Bobby Kennedy, and let's not go there) - she will be the first female Presidential candidate for a party worth a damn in the history of the United States, to the surprise of almost someone.

Cruz/Fiorina '16 already has bumper stickers and T-shirts and a logo for a campaign that in all likelihood won't happen.

The punchline is that the running mate is Carly Fiorina, the former Hewlett Packard CEO whose only previous political experience is failing miserably to be elected senator in California, and then failing miserably in this Presidential campaign as well. It's not quite the equivalent of a drowning man tying himself to an anchor; more like he's tied himself to someone who drowned first.

It might be mental, but it got the message across. It helps that that message is that Cruz is mental, of course. He genuinely seems to believe he can still win based solely on the fact that, under the strict first-past-thepost rules of engagement, Trump hasn't actually won yet. That didn't stop David Cameron in 2010 and it won't stop Trump from claiming legitimacy. Not that Cruz has it completely wrong; he might not be able to overtake or even catch Trump from this position, but he - possibly with Kasich's help - can still prevent Trump from crossing the line, leading to

Meanwhile, after sweeping the east-coast outposts of Maryland,

the delicious prospect of a contested convention. The convention is where

Pennsylvania, Delaware, Connecticut and Rhode Island, Donald Trump

the delegates do their actual electing, where the choice is actually made.

hasn't outright won (just yet), but he has managed to block the routes to

Like the electoral college, it's usually a rubber-stamping session; they hold

the nomination of either of his two remaining rivals. The only way

a big vote to formalise what the primaries have already decided. But if at

anyone other than Trump is the Republican nomination this year is if the

the end of the primary process, Trump still doesn't have the clear majority

convention descends into all-out war. Which is why this is the first time

of delegates that he needs, they might need to vote again - and in a second

Cruz and your friends at 2SUNS are praying for the same thing.

round, everything changes. For a start, half the pledged delegates are wiped clean of their pledges and freed to switch their support to someone

For his part, Cruz has reacted to his mathematical elimination from the

else if they so choose. The situation turns into an old-fashioned Tory

actual contest by cutting the last few frayed ends of the rope and finally

leadership contest. This is Cruz (and Fiorina)'s only hope: Trump doesn't

losing all contact with the real world. Faced with the prospect of defeat,

make it over the line and Cruz sneaks in at the convention. He doesn't

something his massive ego simply can't process - like a Penrose triangle,

seem to have realised - thinking as he does that he's a unifier of some kind

it's comprehensible only as an impossibility - the Cruz campaign has

- that he's not that much more popular than Trump among the GOP

abandoned sanity altogether.

establishment, being as he is just as much of a swivel-eyed lunatic - more so. And on the Convention floor it's the establishment who hold sway.

Apparently convinced he can still win, in defiance of the mathematical

Maybe he'll parachute himself in, but he won't be their choice. And if

basis of reality itself, Cruz has named himself as the party's great uniter

they suspend the rule that says they can only choose from candidates

no matter how far behind he is. And then he announced he had a big

who've won at least 8 states - and they almost certainly will - they can

campaign announcement. Obviously he wasn't dropping out, so what

pick almost anyone; they could go for (as they keep threatening) Paul

could it be? Turns out, he'd picked a running mate. Despite not being the

Ryan - who keeps saying he doesn't want the job and seems as confused as

nominee, despite not having half the delegates he'd need to become the

anyone to find himself suddenly the moderate - or Mitt frigging Romney,

nominee, and despite the fact that it is mathematically impossible for him

who unlike Ryan would be happy to serve, or hell, conceivably Bob

to become the nominee, he's picked a running mate.

Dornan. If they really want to lose, Dennis Hastert. So that's why Cruz is still in: because he thinks he can still sneak in

It's not entirely unprecedented for a candidate to choose a potential VP

through the back door. And he can, but he shouldn't be so confident as to

before the numbers are in - American Jesus Ronald Reagan even did it,

pick a running mate. In all likelihood, neither of them are going to be

picking Richard Schweiker for his false-start 1976 bid. The difference

running anywhere. But a word of warning: sixteen years ago, Cruz

there was that Reagan hadn't already lost - he was narrowly beaten at the

was an integral part of the legal team that got George W.

last minute by the incumbent President Ford. Picking Schweiker was an

Bush into the White House without having to

attempt at a hail-mary of sorts, promising to add a moderate to the ticket

win the election. If he can get

to make up for Reagan's more swivel-eyed right wing idiocy. And it failed

Bush there, he can get himself

before they could print up more than a handful of pin badges.

there. Sanity or no sanity.




TIMEWATCH 1986 Thirty years ago, the nuclear worst case scenario happened: a power station went into meltdown, caught fire, and effectively killed hundreds of square miles of Ukraine. What exactly actually happened at Chernobyl, and is it really a good reason to give up on nuclear power forever? Words: Thierry Henry Thoreau

when the wind blows 15


here's a famous television advert (promo, PSA...whatever) for Greenpeace that came out a long time ago. Directed by David Bailey and scored by Vangelis, it depicts a funeral in a grey, washed-out world, where the body is interred within a pill-shaped lead casket by mourners wearing black hazmat suits, complete with airfiltered masks, into a cemetery consisting of an endless row of identical graves, all marked with a trefoil of a circle flanked by three blades at sixty-degree angles. The last shot is a seemingly endless pan backward, reminscent of that of Richard Attenbrough's Oh What a Lovely War, revealing to the audience a vast plain of graves, partially obscured by the swirling grey radioactive dust of the future (specifically 1999). Then, serious-minded white serifs on black: "Nuclear Power. Is it worth the risk?"

nuclear power station, how easily such an accident could happen despite all the safeguards (with particular reference to the shoddy job done by the cowboys who built the plant in the first place - see also Deepwater Horizon) and the terrifying lengths to which the authorities would have gone to cover it up, even as the cancer rate soars and babies are born with feet in their chests.

It's extremely well made, memorably bleak and highly powerful. It's also not The inevitable result of nuclear energy, yesterday. (Credit: Greenpeace) unlike a load of old bollocks in its he China Syndrome was released to good reviews and message that disaster is the inevitable result of any use of a decent box-office on March 16th, 1979. Not a nuclear power whatsoever; that it is guaranteed by its very fortnight later it happened for real. Sort of. nature to make the entire world over into a decrepit, dust-


covered radioactive wasteland. Puddings were over-egged somewhat. Nuclear power will not ipso facto destroy the world; it's dangerous as fuck, to be sure, but not to the extent that to use it is to die - unlike, say, nuclear weapons. The advert's knee-jerk apocalyptic tone is more understandable when you consider the timing. It came out in 1987; it was made in the immediate aftermath of the Chernobyl disaster, and started playing in cinemas and the like in a world still scared shitless of anything made of atoms - which was problematic. In that brief window of history, it seemed a lot less like knee-jerk scaremongering and more like level-headed analysis.


ears over nuclear power were first sparked into something co-ordinated during the Carter administration, when - in the wake of the Oil crisis - steps were made to find some other potential energy source, one which they wouldn't have to invade the Middle East every five years to sustain. Nuclear fitted the bill - it was allAmerican and amazingly efficient, and actually quite safe except when it wasn't. Those times when it wasn't, and the implications thereof, came into focus in the Spring of 1979. First the film "The China Syndrome" was released, depicting the potential outcome of a minor accident at a


A nuclear power station exists in a very, very fragile balance. The electricity is generated by forcing a nuclear reaction of the same kind that happens billions of times a minute in the sun through an atomic pile (active ingredient: usually uranium or plutonium). Just like in the sun, this generates a fuckload of heat, which is transferred to some water, turning it into steam, which then turns a turbine which generates the electricity. Simple. Except that the atomic pile is naturally blazing hot, in addition to being radioactive as all hell. It's therefore kept relatively personable by a load of coolant liquid, usually more water. The core needs to be kept in this coolant all the damn time or you're fucked. The "China Syndrome" is a complete lossof-coolant incident - in which all the liquid runs out entirely, leaving a lava-hot and extremely radioactive ingot entirely exposed to the elements. The heat nuclear fission generates is such that very little can stand in its way for long. Hence the whimsical term "China Syndrome". Without the coolant, the core burns steadily through the ground, theoretically until it comes out the other side in China. Except it doesn't work like that; instead, as soon as it hits ground water, it explodes into a colossal cloud of carcinogenic steam which permeates the atmosphere, and whatever city the plant was in is dead. That's why there is

no (functioning) city called Okuma in Fukushima Prefecture anymore. At Three Mile Island, the core descended a mere (but not as mere as it sounds) centimetre and a half closer to China, triggering the release of some radioactive materials into the atmosphere but, as it turned out, not enough to have any long-term health effects. It was scary, and offputting as far as the public image of nuclear power went, but not sufficient to scare us straight. That would have to wait another seven years.


t's not 100% clear precisely what happened at Chernobyl on April 26th, 1986, for the simple reason that the only people who know for sure what happened were the first to die while it was happening. We know enough, however: it happened during, with jet-black irony, a test of an emergency routine to cool the reactor down that was something of a work in progress. The problem was that the Soviet-designed nuclear plants had a design flaw. Even after a total shutdown, the reactor kept right on pumping out heat, and therefore still needed to be cooled even though (doh) the power's off and there's no therefore coolant flow. For this purpose, they had three backup generators running on diesel, but they were less than ideal because they took a full minute to start up properly. A lot can happen in a minuted with a nuclear reactor emitting 700MW worth of heat, and so they tried to come up with something to fill that one-minute gap. They hit upon using the last drops of power from the steam turbine, as it was winding down. They figured they could get another 45 seconds worth of work out of the coolant pumps that way, leaving just 15 dry seconds before the backups kick in. That was much more acceptable.


rouble is, it didn't work. They tried it three times, and

couldn't get the necessary power out of the windingdown turbine. On April 26th, 1986, they tried it for the fourth and, as it turned out, final time, on reactor number four. This was apparently sprung on them late in the day, because they were woefully underprepared and made several mistakes, not least of which was deliberately turning off the safety systems, and then compounding the error by powering the plant down almost entirely, instead of just to a quarter capacity as the experiment required. With the plant powered down and no safety systems to tell it not to, bubbles started to form in the coolant water, restricting both its physical flow and the flow of neutrons, thereby increasing the power output, and forming even more bubbles to increase the power even further and create even more bubbles - a positive feedback loop that

eventually developed into a massive power surge which sparked a colossal explosion that tore the centre of the power plant apart. The thousand-ton chunk of lead covering the reactor core flew away. Radiation flooded into the atmosphere. And then the core of reactor 4 detonated with an explosion even bigger than the first in a shower of red-hot shards of graphite.


t's impossible to give an accurate death toll for Chernobyl. 31 people were killed directly in the fires and of radiation sickness in the following months, but thousands more died of various cancers and thyroid conditions that were either caused by the fallout or one hell of a coincidence. The laugh-a-decade International Journal of Cancer estimates a potential forty thousand cases of cancer could be linked. An entire city was emptied. And of course, the nuclear power industry took a major PR hit. Greenpeace and the like now had something specific to point to as the horrific consequence of nuclear power. An actual disaster, with explosions and irradiated countryside, does have a way of gripping the mind. Not In My Backyard became Not In My Back Continent. The notion of nuclear power wasn't killed off, far from it, but it became a lot harder to comission new plants with images of the ghost town of Pripyat in people's minds. But we think even Captain Planet might think turning our backs completely is a little bit extreme, especially since instead of running to clean, renewable energy like solar or hydroelectricity, we took shelter in good old fashioned fossil fuels, which are even worse than nuclear. Nuclear power is actually damn close to perfect in terms of efficiency and cleanliness, and it isn't even inherently any more likely to go wrong than any coal or oil-fired power station. It's just that when it does go wrong, it goes apocalyptically wrong. If a fossil-fuel power station catches fire - say Didcot B in 2014 - it's a disaster, and people die, but it doesn't render the land unihabitable for the next century or more. It's fixable. The station can be back up and running within a couple of years and nearby towns and cities don't need to be abandoned at all. That's the biggest drawback nuclear power has, and in all honesty we have faith enough in human ingenuity to imagine it's surmountable with some truly psychotic safety measures. Whether the marketplace will allow them is another question, of course. But it's worth looking into. Even if it's still inferior to solar power.


And the sun shines now

The 96 Liverpool fans who died in the Hillsborough disaster have finally been exonerated of all wrongdoing in their own deaths. Here's why it still matters.hse Words: Ronnie Beardsley



he number 96 is on the verge of losing all meaning. The

officers' signatures were forged in order to punish the miners on

first thing we saw when we looked at that metal pin-badge

general principles rather than for anything they'd actually done.

was a lemniscate bisected by the letter S. The number has been passed around for so long it's easy to get numb to it and forget what it represents: people. 96 people. And again, it's been stated


hen all 95 Orgreave trials collapsed in 1987, more than one of the lawyers involved darkly muttered that the

and repeated so often that even that is in danger of not sounding

SYP had previous where the fabrication of evidence was

like a lot anymore.

concerned. Four years later, they did it again, this time to cover up their own catastrophic mistakes and incompetence.

Imagine your average church hall. Could you fit 96 people in there? How busy was the last jumble sale? Probably not that busy. Fill that hall to

With the similar horror of the Heysel disaster only for

capacity in your head. That many people died on

years earlier fresh in everyone's minds, they wove a

April 15th, 1989, just for wanting to watch a

narrative based on it. Heysel had been different, a

football match. And then add some more people

full-blown riot caused by (ostensible) Liverpool


supporters that had destroyed part of the stadium and killed over three dozen people. Liverpool "fans" were

That's why this matters, for one thing; dozens

to blame for that and Liverpool - and English football

lost their lives over nothing more than the FA

in general - were punished for it. But where Heysel

Cup, and in an entirely preventable fashion. No-

was caused by some drunken pricks, Hillsborough

one need have died at Hillsborough, but some

was caused by police incompetence, and that simply

tragic mistakes were made - and then covered up by a police force concerned more with their own ego and image than their jobs. And nothing

wouldn't do. The underclass might start thinking they A badge yesterday.

could do something about their oppression. Besides,

(Credit: Reuters)

they didn't want to have to face consequences. So they

could have harmed that image worse than appearing responsible

created the story of "tanked up yobs", as the fuck-faced Bernard

for the deaths of ordinary working Britons. The class war was

Ingham put it in that letter, trying to get into the ground without

raging on, and Hillsborough, horrible though it is to contemplate,

tickets, kicking open a gate and pouring in, overstuffing the

was a part of it.

stadium. All entirely fictional, and all eerily similar to things they


said about the Orgreave miners in the aftermath of that. his was a time when the police were all but explicitly enforcers for Thatcher and her establishment allies.

The establishment's supporters ran with it, of course, culminating

Scrapping the bespoke praetorian guard that was the Special

in "THE TRUTH", for which Kelvin MacKenzie had his

Patrol Group fooled no-one. It may have been four years since

morlocks at the Cun truly push the classist boat out: drunk

the Miners Strike ended, but no-one had forgotten the battle of

Liverpool fans beating up "the brave cops", stealing corpses'

Orgreave, or the arresting picture of a mounted policeman

wallets, and of course most famously pissing on first aiders. None

swiping his truncheon at the blameless Lesley Boulton. That

of which happened. All the footage demonstrates that everyone

image had only been published in one newspaper at the time -

in the stadium was too traumatised from shock to do anything

and that was the Morning Star - but somehow it had made it into

like that; the ones together enough to do anything other than curl

the public domain by 1989. If you weren't a fan of Thatcher - a

in a foetal position are all desperately, and no less importantly

congregation which by then was growing almost by the minute -

instictively, trying to pull people out of the crush, or tearing down

then you could reasonably consider yourself the enemy of the

advertising hoardings for makeshift stretchers.

police forces of the United Kingdom. MacKenzie has "apologised" for being taken in; "in some strange Orgreave, of course, is in South Yorkshire. The police force that

way [he] got caught up in it all too". Not good enough, especially

fought the biggest battle in Britain's last Civil War was the same

given the number of similar non-apologies he's given and smugly

police force that, the inquest found, failed in its duty of care at

withdrawn in the past. Bernard Ingham refuses to comment at

Hillsborough. The connection is more than just geographical:

all. Strangely the closest to penitent is David Duckenfield, the

after Orgreave, the same force did much the same thing to its

man in charge at the time, the man who fucked up the worst, the

then-enemy. Not that the miners are innocent of all wrongdoing,

man most directly responsible for 96 deaths. He at least stated at

but the men arrested in the immediate aftermath by the SYP -

the inquest that he recognises that he failed, and offered what

spookily, 95 of them - were. Evidence against them and even

seemed an extremely sincere apology. Even then, he balked at the word "negligence". But what counts is this: the jury didn't.



"THE NEWSMAGAZINE THIS WORLD DESERVES" If this is your first issue, then go ahead and read the previous 30 issues (plus specials), because they're all good. And most of them are bigger than this issue. The Thatcher special is particularly half-decent. We're also quite proud of the Election 2015 one. If you didn't thoroughly despise the experience, you might consider donating via Patreon, helping to keep our editor alive and warm for the forseeable future. Plus, you'll be supporting other work from the Bob the Fish stable, including The Hard Sell (the programme all about adverts) and other documentaries about the history of television. And you'll get access to exclusive content and stuff, and (as we've already mentioned) our editor won't starve to death. Oh, and because it's Patreon you can give as much or as little as you like. Like a buck a month. Every little helps. Visit And if you don't want to do that (because you're a tightarsed bastard with the compassion of a mantis), then at least spread the word about this magazine so maybe some nice, generous people find it? You penny-pinching fuck?


An authentic Johnson collectors plate 100% Pro-Semitic Guaranteed

"Picanniny's Journey" With watermelon smile and bare feet, huddled underneath his umbrella to protect him from the torrent of monkey shit, this adorable little brown boy's on a trek for the greatest experience of life - he's off to meet the Queen! All he needs is a flag to wave - a British one, of course! He doesn't have one of his own! We daresay he doesn't even know what a flag is! Unless his village has some sort of crude symbol that they daub on a lion skin, tie to a stick and wave over their heads when they're hunting the next village over or whatever it is they do!* This wonderful image, hand-painted by L.S. Mitford (on a canvas which is then scanned by a giant computer that creates a massive stencil for a machine to spray through at an endless conveyor belt of cheap crockery) can be yours for only INSERT RANDOM NUMBER HERE CHECK LATER! *Please note that this is only racist ifyou take it out ofcontext, for example by quoting it word-for-word in a news article

YES, I want this lump of crap! There's something terribly wrong with me and I don't much care what it is. I understand that I need send no money now, but I do not necessarily understand that I need send absolutely all the money in the world later. Name Address

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I understand that this product is in no way racist, and the left-wing press and the biased BBC are just taking it out of context if they say they are. Boris Johnson is a nice man and the best Prime Minister Britain has ever had/will ever have (delete as applicable). I am over 18 and vote. Signed

Send to: Johnson Mint, 4 Matthew Parker Street, London SW1H 9HQ





2SUNS #31, SPRING 2016

Profile for Bob the Fish Magazines

2SUNS Issue 31, Spring 2016  

David Cameron has the Easter from hell and it's mostly his own fault! Trump and Clinton basically get chosen; Cruz doesn't take reality for...

2SUNS Issue 31, Spring 2016  

David Cameron has the Easter from hell and it's mostly his own fault! Trump and Clinton basically get chosen; Cruz doesn't take reality for...