Creating your own personal abstract button.

48 Hours in Time, the response to the response would of aroused maybe but one grin in me surrounded by the desire that reading was not a thing at all, but we Libertarians do not mind what goes to the blog, all opinion and silliness are welcome , do we have to enjoy it? No. But after draft 1, a shower of democratic feeling reigned we should together look to edit the critique of IWW practice, Sharp political argument shrouded in the ridiculousness

It was voted no less! Those wilsoned would return with the collective power of Rupert Rung. Rupert Rung surely should have been the Jewel of The IWW’s idealist eye. Bill Haywoods Lover. After all he is imaginary either existing or not existing at the same time. As a Worker? He holds 3 jobs. As a person of the world? He muses in Chinese Restaurants and baths in the warm thoughts of the German peoples of Bonn. Primed for non-sensual polemic Rupert did divide her into his constituent’s parts, The Father, The Son and The Hegelgeist and enter reality as the psychedelic Bolsheviks, on this appearance it seems the jagged knife of bureaucracy has plunged inwards and no longer will Rupert Rungs wrath be outwards but instead a delve into his own mind.

There were valid criticisms to be made of the Hippocratic Libertarians, Rupert represented a Working Class core not invented after PHD’S, their employments came at the behest of Capitalism not organisational whim. Controversally The question is correct why would they apolitically reject these young workers from putting on a workshop? How more grass roots do you want it? But how long can the abstracted anger at the left go on as all too fatally The PB’S stand to be a reflection of what they hate. Yes it may have been a Friends gathering but hardly a criticism Rupert can dish out, he does not even have friends only the division of his personality that if pushed can produce 5 and a half distinct characters some of these he represses to become an ever more dwindling set of voices.

What scares them of Rupert? They heard tails of the socially awkward, the deep intense eye contact it gave Bill in the act of fellation, the way he dumped us a free man after his trial, do we carry on a Jilted Love, no room for sex in the economic. Move on or be lost, the angry denunciation of the left were of their time but the words spat out now apply equally to our mind, we do not stand for anything, we are nothing new. There is a place for abstract blog posts, but to believe they constitute any form of political movement is the saddest of the all the lies we tell ourselves. Why don’t we begin with question where does Art and Surrealism fit into the Political Question?

We are presented with an opportunity as Working Class peoples to create something genuinely revolutionary, as we are in Unique position to raise the questions in Practice of how we break down the separation between Work and Life, Artist and Worker, Manual and Mental not from a position of privilege where we choose to take low pay work. We never explore the key challenges we find have arisen, example how to act in work as a revolutionary and break down the veneer of small talk social conservatism.


But if the first track is to be continued where we console our irrelevance in stomach lining of our bourgeoisie equivalents, one section of Rungian mind will wither away (Probably the most unproductive part anyways) Lets see the one year publication as An end to one section of our history and Tuesday evening to be the beginning of a serious Political force to spread silliness, ridicule, surrealism into the left and the working class. The IWW rejection is ridiculous social politics and laughable libertarianism but we the parts of Rupert’s mind are no less guilty and the latest action of releasing the statement undemocratically angers Haribo.


There is room for everybody In Rupert Rungs One Big Love Machine and Let it never be forgotten.

In this bar, all the bugs light up …. A open letter to the IWW

Last weekend the psychedelic contortionists attempted to revisit the public circle through a small purple door fitted at an obscure angle at the bottom of  a wall that’s half falling over, in the form of the IWW’s  Libertarian festival. 

What you will witness here is the Psychedelic Bolsheviks being “Andy Wilsoned”  as they are banned, no platformed (or any other more polite phrase you’d like to use that implies it was more innocent than it was)  from the festival ….. as the IWW displayed the true unshakeable strength  of their “libertarianism”   (oow there’s too many cows standing on my shoulder)

At the approach of this kind of syllogism we are at once seized with a feeling of boredom.

jump down here , there’s stairs or a ramp if you desire it… here are the original exchanges , followed by the pb’s open letter to the IWW (Incongruous wind waffles)… :

PB original workshop proposal 

The revolutionary subconscious: Breton hour and the Dictaphone

Against the separation of art and politics. Against the separation of mental and manual labor.
Which jammy dodger would you be?
What motivates us? How can we develop it? Is multitasking progressive?
Careerism and where can we find it?
Some upside down bins on wheels with whisks for faces.
What does the way we act at work tell us about ourselves?
Join us for social awkwardness, inorganic forms of communication, an attempt at automation painting and creating our own art.
either that or finger painting.

IWW reply

Thanks for your event summary. The committee organising the festival has had a look at it and we feel that this is not a suitable event for the festival. We appreciate the effort you’ve gone to in putting together a workshop for the day. However, with Libfest we are aiming to present a very accessible and engaging form of community organising and libertarian politics. Much planning has gone into this to keep the political aspect rather minimal and laid back, so we feel that a workshop with ‘social awkwardness’ and ‘inorganic forms of communication’ does not fit with the angle of the festival.

We apologise for the disappointment and hope that perhaps we can co-operate in the future in a different context.

When we want to see an oak, we are not satisfied to be shown an acorn instead.

You ( a foot extends down from the sky and from beneath the toe nail  the Psychedelic Bolsheviks appear) as the Industrial Workers of Wokingham held a libertarian festival, giving your own bands a stage on which to perform in front of your mates and migrating birds for those 13 hours. As an attempt to reach out beyond your tight-knit red-brick sect, you put a call out for stalls and workshops. We responded and offered you a workshop. So we move on, not too swiftly as we want to be able to pull faces at each other as we pass,  but not as slow as some people would like either. 

Iron onion shillings .

Down with social conservatism … The swirly things that squash inwards , burlesque granary Fridays , can you pick up YOUR plate with YOUR chopsticks? No more squeezing baby …

flake hog peal my skin, if i don’t get my cream on it, i’ll blister

I’ve just been thinking about the subject of selecting ties (not that it’s something we’re particularly accustomed to. i knew a man once who had a tie built up of novelty pigs in a grotesquely intense collage, he was my dad) . The idea was if all the ties had little mouths and did simultaneous speeches and chants about why they should be picked while you’re in the middle of deciding which to wear,  trying to influence your choice with their proposals and promises…

Ties with mouths

(Ties with mouths)

If you paint this frogs brain i’ll polish all the cutlery in your manor

Big dreams and cannelloni (vegan of course) were on the menu for a festival of libertarian;

Instant Ubik has all the fresh flavour of just-brewed drip coffee. Your husband will say, Christ, Sally, I used to think your coffee was only so-so. But now, wow! Safe when taken as directed.

3 workshops a drag of dirt and sand,  marshmallowed into absence, no more or less precarious than it was before. 

Great opportunity to meet others and get involved, but not for those we deem outside the parameters. Face something new or go home, go home it was resolved. Thank god Sheffield graduates stay around the city, it makes it easier to ignore the communities that exist before. Not that we’re arguing that people shouldn’t have a bird’s eye view photograph of the Millbank “riot” in their bathroom in a light blue frame that matches the nautical theme that they’re really trying hard at.

That’s it; I’ve had enough , i don’t want to see anything else about biscuit boffins on social media… I’m sitting with Lol Coxhill for the rest of the night … sometimes there is a need to smoulder restraint

Ill soap cherry dream

Ignore the poor, carry on as before.

“He who integrates is lost”.

Did the IWW manage more than the gathering together of it’s members and friends for a brief glimpse for what it might be like at the audacious art space, but a little less crowded and a lot less audacious?


“Cup Tea, rakes all to withers”

What fear did our description of a workshop set rolling in your heart?   Our Id dances as we are refused, perplexed and rotated by your formal belated response, failing as you did to say much in your email beyond; we do not want you. You fell between the boneless flaps of finger with the mild-mannered diplomacy correctly associated with bureaucrats, that we simply can not trust. We have little time for the practice of being “tactile”,  whereby we conceal our true opinions in favour of respecting the social etiquette of bourgeois society to appease everything , instead lets just say nothing and walk around nodding .

This middle class fear of truth, not wrapped in candy floss, pats on the back and compliments, bores us. Get to the point and show us something new. Tic-Tac-Toe is harder than naughts and crosses, any level-headed individual could tell you.

It is on that basis that we really couldn’t keep our britches on, feeling that we had to defend our delinquency.

“What the hell is that?” (my Brothers girlfriends’ review of this.)

The truth is it must be the task of the revolutionary to degrade conventions that keep us at arm’s length from each other , pretending we find fulfillment in talking about our favourite supermarket products …”i prefer coconut milk with a high level of coconut extract”… oo yeah . The forms of thought are, in the first instance, displayed and stored as human language. As well as a critique of the political, a damming of the cultural malnourishment, we’re expected to suck with a content smile and a rejection of the subdued “sensible” basis we’re expected to interact with each other on .

A proposal where people dare to suggest creating art through improvisation?..get out your squatters lubricate them in your uncles armpit marinade, bash them ,kick them , quote Bakunin at them…a dastardly thought; that we should be open to new forms of meeting structures , after all the left is doing just fine as it is … ah wait


We’re not trying to recreate the Cabaret Voltaire , but something new …

By no means do we hold ourselves up as oversized beavers with golden pocket watches entangled in our teeth that claim to have an unlimited wealth of  knowledge concealed in a capsule stored under the eye lid, but, with the little we do understand of the world it occurs to us that the idea of  “keeping politics to a minimal”  is a  fucking ridiculous one.

Being ridiculous is promoted in the fridge that we’re inviting you into, but only in the extreme as a means of pointing at the point. We support ridicule, ridiculousness and the ridiculous. but not this.

Tofu na-nan , your sleeping in my crochet

Unique global warning you’ve got on your spoon…. if you haven’t figured it out yet, this is a rant about the unreliability of public transport .

Reducing our analysis and opposition to the structure of capitalism purely  to economics ignores the fact that it permeates every aspect of private and public life (pubic log flume? eeewww). Without our idea’s containing an understanding of the totality and how everything relates to everything else , we find ourselves trying to blow bubbles, with no bubbles.

We’ll fix all the holes on this wooden ship together

what happens, says

“that’s what a kitchen is really, just a conglomeration of squares and cuboids with different functions, this one shoots fire out of it’s top”- Sam “the last duck tape on the roll” Boon

We can talk about anything we want,  really we can , Napoleon Murphy Brock , asteroids, decimals and tentacles . Not just the narrow lines drawn up in meetings of the left that we’re encouraged to repeat , so we’re consistent and singing off the same hymn sheet . It becomes important to turn the hymn sheet upside down and add your own notes in crayon.

We’d rather have all the workshops be the IWW’s than “be a showcase of the vibrant ideas, music, culture, film and organisations of the libertarian left.” The IWW is the show, they will answer all your questions , replying to each one in a different accent , developing a new character every time.

“the feet of every single dancer were bleeding, even though they were all experts” – O C

it’s quite a response this, isn’t it?  Kevin Coster wasn’t as great in Robin Hood as you thought… cloud muser . we all liked it when we  found out that Tony Blair was being operated by an out of date egg that sat in an arm chair inside of his brain with levers to move his arms and legs, a type writer to feed him his terrible speeches and a contraption that you blow into, to  control his eyes (eggs aren’t very good at blowing). It was all satire, by an egg.

“Hey let’s all read Kant in the top of my Grandmothers mill….”   “Fuck off!”

One of the most stink out loof rock things about your statement is your opposition to “social awkwardness” and “inorganic forms of  communication” ,  all we were really conveying is the forced nature of these kind of events, facing the material reality that “awkwardness” is inevitable and we’re not going to get over that under current conditions no matter how good our “people skills” are (and ours sometimes lean towards unacceptable).


summer time situationism in Barbados .

tina's teeth , buckle foundry

welcome to the Ray Collins mercury bookcase have a good look around, don’t be alarmed if you find jam on some of the pages , people round here eat and read, in the craters lies the best stuff….

Don’t you ever forget: libertarianism is forming committee’s to debate which political groups qualify to be given a chance to discuss their philosophy alongside ours, uphold that mantra and you will carry the tradition far.

“Don Van V really set the standards, man”

Our epoch is a birth-time, and a period of transition. The spirit of man has broken with the old order of things hitherto prevailing, and with the old ways of thinking, and is in the mind to let them all sink into the depths of the past and to set about its own transformation.

janitor disc, your sat on my orchestral pillow

we leave you with this final thought, does humour belong in politics?

A slice of Marmite for a slice of toast : a review of Eugene Chadbourne

(I was under the impression that the Solar Eclipse that occurred yesterday was scheduled as a 7 day anniversary of Eugene Chadbourne playing Café Oto , but apparently that wasn’t true so I made the decision to produce the following)

*Warning :the Psychedelic Bolsheviks are not “professional critics” and some of them refused to wear trousers as children*

waaaaa wwoooooooo

Let’s share germs , that’s how we’ll develop our idea’s ..

“1,2 ….. fuck that…. 5”

Derek looks spooky in that deck chair.

the process of getting to London was a difficult one in itself, it felt similar to what I envision bathing a python in cream may feel like ….slippery with odd textures. A coach that was overcrowded , late, as the coach started out and had wheeled on pavement for several time units the sound of an orgasm rang through the coach, presumably from a technological device followed by the arguably less sensual tone of the drivers Scottish accent who informed us that we had to go back to where we’d just come from due to two passengers forgetting to get off. ..

skipping some….

a young American couple sat in front of me with thoroughly shampooed heads , flopping over each other in a moon formation , I spent the majority of the   j  o   u   r  n  e  y  starring at their scalps while in my peripheral vision I experienced brown and green tree’s flying into each other some bizarre shit lofi time lapse .

At last my back don’t hurt..

I hadn’t heard Doctor Eugene until late 2014 , it’s to my own embarrassment that I admit that , though the problem here is really so many people haven’t heard of Eugene. Proof that the flan whoopers who are most prevalent in their genre’s or popular music in general do not get there from simply being the most talented , original or unpredictable but from something else… I think you know what …. ..  (the voice whispers: marketing and a cleverlymanaged commodity)

When I did finally hear him it felt as if it was something bigger , more significant than just listening to another musician that repeats a similar formula to dozens of others that have found that to be what people want to hear . It felt like quite the opposite , a musician who played what he wanted to hear and allowed music to be a vehicle to experiment  in a way “your not suppose to”  ( just had a thought about Rib Eye Steak, having a food called such a thing makes me wish that we had eyes in our ribs , faces for eyes have become tedious) …  Eugene pushes boundaries and mocks genre without the pretentious annoyances and pointlessness of things like “Sound Art”  (Out of Lunch did a rant about this recently , you should read it if you want to) . He plays with sausages and farts out moons , incorporates silliness to be a radical tool that challenges the monotony and etiquette of music’s standards , he ridicules boredom with unrestrained movement on his guitar , throwing all the most inappropriate ingredients into the cooking jug , without plastic wrappers removed  , out of date and still in bottle, jar and basket.  Scribbling all over my mind with all the fun of blowing raspberries on a cow’s stomach  on acid while it gently strokes your head with its hoof … o yeah, hoofs everywhere with Chadula’s sound ..

Country music for people with a impatient “Punk” kind of attitude , Country music that will make you scream “yes , you just fucking did that,yes” at your record player ,  scrambled improvisation and sincerity that the bourgeoisie want banishing from culture. An attack on the conservatives grip of the Country tradition in both idea’s and form , music that threatens to expose all previous preconceptions of “far out, man”. An obsessive that constantly uses music to represent that he believes in turning the world as we know it upside down, a socialist who was accused of “being a direct threat to the American way of life” by the Reagan administration .


Shall we talk about the gig?

Sure , why not man ..

o yeah right

shall I start now?

yes, stop hesitating this is foolish

ah yes oo , here goes

The sweet stuff went down at Café Oto , before arriving I had great hope that this was a posh way of saying “Café Otter” and that there would be free roaming otters staggering around the premises that interact with the music and the audience could place them on different parts of Eugene’s body while he  played , upon arriving to the venue there wasn’t a Otter standing by the door moodily smoking a cigarette and giving me hostile glances as I had hoped. Statistically there was no Otters to be seen at all. ..

Chad-bear was sat behind his desk with out his signature glasses  but with all new  piercing eyes selling cd’s In socks along with own dreams that he’d preserved, upon first seeing him I felt that he’d probably be a great storyteller , the kind that could retell experiences in a way that would be valuable and engaging about alligators and absurd situations in some wooden shed with cushions and old magazines all over the floor (although I can’t guarantee that seeing him would produce the same kind of feeling in you)

Onion Plumbers, surround me …

there was sounds produced for around two hours broken up with a talk with Hegelian wizard cobbler Dave Black (no relation to Bob black, thank fuck) who told me he thought the guitar was all real groovy and Owen Jones was a swinging vicar (undeniably true). Waiting for him to start I felt such a genuine excitement that I could feel my toes juicing up and worried that I might throw my dick through the crowd while he played . When he started his Banjo introduction to the lullaby chamber I was caught up in the contrast between his blue shiny shirt (I wanted to get up and rub the shirt through my fingers while the banjo acted as a theme track to me doing so ) and his silver head whirls.

I felt my head heading pulling from side to side as he went through his Friday 13th set about needle dropping and cold gravy without hesitation we can claim that Chabourne is the best guitarist on the green and blue ball, it’s not hard I just did. The way he does covers of songs that have no interest to me and makes them incredibly  refreshing and off the radar of its original form makes me shake me head violently from side to side with my tongue throwing saliva all over your dinner..

He did Beefheart’s hearts mirror man or at least  the lyrics with what seemed to be a unrelated made up  guitar which was delightfully confusing , though apparently a member of the audience said he was very “Beefheart”, what does this mean ? A pathetic attempt to make sense of it all through a poor comparison, Chadbourne sounds like Chadbourne , there’s really so little  imitation that it becomes needless to group the sounds he produces with other musicians, he stands as something by his self (as does the Captain).

Perhaps the most absurd point in the set, the pinnacle of the absurdities was a medley that combined 1967’s psych roulade with detestable modern pop , with Love’s, “Red telephone ”  and Katy Perry’s “Roar” , ah the unity of opposites yes, Marx had something to say about that didn’t he…. Eugene did it in the most genius of fashions , all while wobbling side to side alternating feet like a baby struggling for balance amongst it’s feet.

He sprayed a similar kind of magic when he covered popular girl group TLC , with a rendition of their song “Unpretty” with a broken guitar solar system and angular improvisation in the middle where he repeated their lyrics “can’t believe I’m tripping” over and over as he elongated the song and flew it out of its original proportions , to an uneasy ditch of string squeaking and staggered leopard dodging .

the whole set was full EC’s ten finger banjo rumbling ,cartoon faces and twitches ,honest sweat that requires two shirts, voice changing and him licking his fingers to rub the base of his guitar to produce mouse song, yet I couldn’t help but feel disappointed that for Eugyular it seemed to be more tame than I had prepared my myself for , I expected more of an explosion that opened up the music and manifested itself all over my body and face , more  of the abstracted tangents that jump from tree’s into countryside ponds throughout Eugene’s records , even though at points I did find my eyes creasing and widening in amazement , such as when he seemed to interact with noises in the environment to shape his music improvisation around the bar noises and the percussion of heels walking across the floor.

From the perspective of a sic year old Mordecai wrote on a sheet of paper that he thought the songs were too similar , too long,  though considerations should be made that this is the kind of six year old that refuses to except being bored , constantly grappling  it , the kind of six year old with no time for the diplomatic mincing of words, the kind that will tell you to get out of his fucking house when he’s had enough (the kind of honesty that the left keeps in the wardrobe). What I see as one of the fundamental brilliances of EC is that he produces the kind of  fun that is impossible not to engage with because there’s no way of ignoring it’s ever changing erratic ridiculous nature, the kind that can successfully like up to the enhanced imagination of a child . At the Oto it just seemed there was more of a singer / song writer approach, though, the very fact I felt disappointed with this only highlights that Chadbourne has no intention of trying to impress the consumer and that his whacky balloon , electric rake, falling off a cliff speed antics aren’t something forced to make himself look “Avant-Garde” but are absolutely genuine … those monkeys gunna be dancing all day.

I’d go into the bottom of a rabbits burrow , listen to some one talk about Zizek (urgghh la ) to see him again, as many times as the opportunity existed, his music turns Zebra’s into candy and I’m never stopping taking it.

After the gig there was shouts of “Penis” in the tube station then as  Whiskey laced my intestine I was shown a Chad record I was yet to have heard before “Country Music in the world of Islam” ,my brain turned the opposite way around within the confines of my Skull I felt like it had some how built on my previous understanding of Eugene , I wanted to sink into a grapefruit with him inside that grapefruit with me , playing as he plays.

Crumple me up Cindy, I’m ready for the bin!

You can’t really expect me to lay on Beefheart’s moustache all day, I need to grow spots for a new form of fish, they just put in the order , Crumbs.

Let the liberals keep Dylan, the revolutionary freaks got  Chadbourne .

Tune in, Queer it , Organ- ise



Spontaneity : the cauldron Melvin made his soup in

Nathaniel sit down,

                                        you can eat the chair your sat on ;

                   its made out of delinquent creativity and cream, you can play the guitar backwards if you want ,

                                                                               the rules of “professional artistry” are bollocks in any case …

The morning has been spent this far fantasising about what the outcome would be if James Chance and Swamp Dogg were to collaborate , I can only imagine that the result would be the creation of a new planet or listeners turning purple and developing horns on the stomach that sporadically spat out different forms of the egg . With the restraint of time being against us on pondering such questions a report is due, scrapp slarrkk ar ca….. I always thought of storing my radio in cous cous but then i felt that this was being eccentric.

A January evening where the book about Marx and Christianity went above the book about Christianity and sex, though the decision was made based on the title of the chapters……………I’m about to. After fleeing the scene of discussions around Luxembourg and Lenin a chat was chased down the stairs and under a bench as the members of the PB’S attempted to share Guy Debord quotes with it , the cats unwillingness to form a united front for such a purpose outlined the political climate we found ourselves in , we did a temperature check among members but ,non of us really understanding the purpose or implications of this autonomist tool and lacking a thermometer nothing happened . In search of an outlet for our activity that was less distasteful than a stage invasion of Ed Millibands speech at the Labour Party conference dressed as Ralph Milliband , we found our selves at Montgomery Hall, a institution reserved for people with “talent ” , unapologetically breaking this notion we made an unauthorised entry to the premises , we found a stairwell with a picture of a mushroom and a zig zag where we were bunged up a plenty and took aim on structuralists , what followed was a 7 minute improvised sound reading of society of the spectacle and notes on dialectics spliced and fumbled on our chins and under our toes , a performance with no audience, a performance for the producer not the consumer . This continued until the point where we were interrupted by the enemy of the noppy nakar and the public improviser  , the Private Security guard , the following conversation took place:

SG: “Errr what are you doing ?”

PB NN : “Reading…”

SG:” are you here with the pantomime group upstairs?”

PB NN:” We’re here with the reading”

SG: “You can’t just be in here “

PB NN: “Where can we read then?”

SG: “You can hire a room”

PB NN: “How much?”

SG: “£25 an hour”

PB NN : ” We’ll give you 90p?”

***At this point we were escorted from the site of our creative bumble ,condemned to the cold, ostracised  when all we wanted to do was read (over the top of each other in loud and quiet ways , experimenting with delivery and intonation) instead we went for Funky Pie and confused our politics further. 

With the intent of perpetuating an already existing feud, let us flick a bogey in a U shape that reflects the nature of “Nine different types of Industrial Pollution ” and create a new slogan that we’ve spent months in the lab breeding , a complex formula for the Higginsian Sun Raists :

“Fuck Seymour, Yes to Chadbourne !”

Until next time wear your hair, Like Rod Sterling or Jeanne Lee, you can do it, its your hair ,we shall be distracted trying to develop a  orchestra of improvisers based solely on teeth squeakers and the rattles of toddlers…

The article in Pictorial form for those who find it more accessible (you’ve got a vegan accent, I have?) :

rupple end elk

“Why wasn’t I born with Orange skin and Green hair…” Swamp Dogg

Planting Plan C’s Plants for the Plan; Turkish delight is a misuse of rosewater states Amy Leather

Who exactly was Chunga seeking revenge on and why?  the other Ben told me he didn’t like mystery, but ,mystery in such a context provokes my attention , do intentions mean anything if their boring as fuck? I’ve spent a fortnight running away from Fleetwood Mac already.

I’ve been told  i should watch blade runner alot recently, i still haven’t.

We were at an event this weekend inventing some kind of link between us and people we have nothing in common with, except no link was made and all in all that might play in our favour. I kept thinking about a clip from the documentary about Townes Van Zandt “Heart Torn Highway” , where Townes is playing various songs , between songs he makes conversation with other mouths in the room , they give stories and take laughs, there is a man  i most of the time he sits crossed legged, hands  interlocked on the knee at the top of the cross ,  a cigarette chain-smoker , eventually he becomes so moved by the music he hears ge  gets emotional , some time before this he says “I wasn’t angry , I just didn’t want no more whiskey ”  this man is Uncle Seymour Washington,  this will be the best part of the article don’t read any further !


Should we apologise for disagreeing with someone? of course  not , making a stand on something can be more important than building sand castles to please eveyone , Plan C could perhaps keep this in mind. Who was the worst band of the 90’s ? Pearl jam surely must be considered as contenders , if they can’t do it no one can.

I saw people in Marx t shirts and Syndicalist merchandise but i heard very few mentions of class struggle, to plan c is class struggle scary, possibly , some people that talk about class struggle are scary, is this really relevant?

I forgot about my potato salad.

“Anyone who claims to have read Capital volume two, you should punch them in the face for lying” – Keith Fissure

“Workers don’t read” – Gareth Lane

 When i was younger i could never get over how frequently Charles Dickens used the word Melancholy , he was clearly trying to impress someone  :oop a weddw

It seemed at Plan c  that alot of people were all trying to impress each other , they could never be impressed by us .

Paint splatters and a black and white photograph, we are out of control just like you. We proved ourselves as the most worthy of academics and expect up to 3 platforms at historical materialism  each year. We struggled to put our shoes on and we were reprimanded for our inability to cut cucumber a consistent size .

Blinking hell why is no one else attempting to understand why creche is so much more engaging than speaking to  the grown ups?

Only joking, lovely people really, just the kind of people that like to have


Breaks are elusive

they are set in timetables

with the intention of giving you a rest

a rest from the abundance of meetings

just when the meeting is getting too dry and stale

a break is in balance to intersperse, your inorganic interactions with meeting environments

for a much more mundane and productive human interaction

yet what good is a break if we must wait 3 hours for the next one

who thought that we’d want to sit for so long

having said that what good is a break if one does not attend the meetings

breaks just became the busy parts, when people crowded around our bench

where sat a tripping warrior, waging what war, who knows, but as they said to me,

after moving their head round and round only inches from my face, nodding, retaining eye contact for minutes rather than seconds, rolling their tongue around their face, and licking stairwells on the way past


the answer for me sadly was no, not like a resounding and defiant meaningful no, but a slightly disappointed no with a self-involved sigh

while asking questions suggests that plan c, are no longer convinced that they have the answers, there’s little point leaving things open if you spend 79minutes introducing a topic by which time anyone who had any answers, even in part, has utilised most of their mental energy retaining their concentration for such a marathon amount of time. And so discussions became less discussions and more well executed preplanned contributions with as much nuance as possible, even where unnecessary. I guess it’s like those people that mow the lawn every week cause it gives them something to do on a sunday, you know they don’t read or watch a film cause their the type of people that need to feel active, but it’s not really that productive.

Nuance is good, but too much is nauseating.

I was informed that the trajection of plan c could be compared to that of some disillusioned marxists, but from a more academic approach to politics. Unfortunately their trajection had somewhat gone over my head, and while I agree anxiety is being excabated by current structures in work, it does not answer the fateful question of, what is to be done? Oh god I can’t believe I just asked that.

The AMM felt they had an answer in their meeting, from Out OF Lunch he claimed more of the same from the AMM, the Psychedelic Bolsheviks (or is it BP?) and Luke (for some reason the amm are big fans of his too, we’re undecided on him so far). One PB member disagreed adamantly, but no alternative was offered, and out to lunch rambled and interrupted, one comrade out of his depth not knowing at all who Hegal was, began an argument which was lost in miscommunication and died a death that wasn’t soon enough, he left, I don’t think he’ll come back. They’ll stick to plan C and the pictures of people fishing.

Dave black chipped in with YEAH, when asked a question, perhaps his bluff had been called on his philosophical rhetoric so hard to follow, so to cover his back just agreed. No one would know.

We like to know the class and economic background of the left, we don’t know Dave Black’s yet, we will find out somehow, and that will decide for some of us, how much we do or don’t like him.

Some of us like the marxist-humanists, but perhaps because we are too ill informed to disagree, I wish I could retake my philosophy module in my A levels, i’d get a much worse mark but i’d enjoy writing the essays so much more.

I’ll do the economics and you do the philosophy, and never the two shall meet.

CLR James is rated by lots of people that disagree, do they take different parts of his writing and run in different directions, or do they just take what they want form his writing and ignore the elements they don’t like. Maybe it’s just “good practice” to say you like James even if you disagree. What did James think of Shachtman? Did they both like their salsa mild? Picante?

Have you read this Kittens magazine? It says nothing but it’s got pictures of baby cats on it, who needs politics when you can put a cat on it, chat bullshit that massages yours and your allies egos and win other people to the notion that politics is damaging unless you’re in and around kittens. I’ll come back to kittens, i’ll read it back to front, and write some more on it, but probably not.

Would it devaule the importance of the meeting on safe spaces if I stated that part of my criteria for a safe space is having signal? Would this be a nuance too far, suspecting not for plan c.

there was often trouble with the coffee, kept running out, and people didn’t know to take it to the kitchen to get filled up, humans socialised ‘ere ain’t that good at communal spaces at the moment.

Did creche for a while, got left alone with 7 children, seemed dodgey too me.

A child gave me a slice of pizza, I think it was supposed to be for the other children though. It tasted pretty good.

While others tripped, note taking began, the occasional question and unrelenting demands on the part of others. The notes had to be filtered as there was too much crap, reordered, paraphrased, NEVER ONCE but TWICE, always paraphrase twice. After much shifting rejigging and a couple of times completely editing the quotes to make them funnier, a poem was formed and delivered by out OF lunch, fairly well despite dyspraxic investment in the presentation of the script;

Don’t you dare write on my map

Do you remember the Fig Jam?

S’get my Juice

I can’t get from that second to this

A Hologram!

A Holograph

Plants and Shit…

Grow from the Ground

I looked in the mirror

and saw myself

as a young man


Bass up or Bass the fuck out

I’ll lead a workshop to ruin!

Superstructure is cool, but the base needs to fuck off

Get the fuck off my map

Are we tackling this problem dialectically?

Some of us has fallen into you

Is Andy Wilson

The Karl Marx of this?

At least a protagonist.

…Just tell him I had a rough night.

Spending time seeing if things are alarmed

Thinking about making TEA is part of the process!

I think everyone is on a cliff

I feel like I’m on someone’s T-shirt

What do I smell of?

Probably rabbit shit.





knocking around?

Of course he’s gotten

it written down.

I don’t think we have

any relevance to

the movement.

What! About what? Left eye? What?!

Deep into my face. Deeper into my face.

Left in the mirror again

it was just my left eye





I saw myself and I had two

Left eyes.




Noticeable facts are worth noting. Out of place- an overwhelming sense, of not belonging, there is no hope for me to do a phd, told there was jobs in science, not sure where they’ve gone. The level of accommodation at plan c was actually impressive, the marxists, espically the ones from london, tend not to look after each other. You get feed up north, claim sheffield and leeds, we’ll put that to the test soon.

Have you noticed how my writing style throughout this article has become more conservative more grammer more paragraphs more structure, do you think I move to the right as I type?

The question to be asked is can plan c form an actual plan? If so will they share with the rest of the left, like they distributed chores in Edale. Until a plan is formed plan c will remain a beacon of post-anarchism luring wannabe radicals on to the rocks of nuance, where there shattered limbs will repair around the existing rocks until they too make up part of the rock face.

Also who were the other people on acid, and do they have a regular supplier? Perhaps best not to answer this one on out blog, given the heavy police surveillance we experience on this blog.

how much can you text before your politics fall apart?

how much can you text before your politics fall apart?

You will be working with scientists in a reformist union,
where will you find your key campagins,
from outside yourself?

From a demo outside Brain COX,
the BIG bang?

Does the whole of Sussex hate us?

He spat apple on my crotch
then picked it off.

and lennism
are UNscientific terms

do we hate science?

Science was an
ideological driving force
in bourgosie revolution

so must we negate sciences initial negations?

I will make us
acorn stew
for winter

So typical of you to use a word you’ve just learnt while reading,
around what is to be done,

and we love
Obscure banners

who are you ISJ editorial board?
you’ll havve to wait for my part of plan c

We hate falsification,
We hate Science


enforces of serious
are losing
the battle

i give you full creative freedom, ‘cept
make sure you use the picture
haha, what do you mean which one?

shut the fuck up

names for groups that don’t exist

You never told me!
about the science fair!
why are you there?

This is defiantly the priority of the 7th international

I’m inclined also to believe
that ideology is dominant over the economic

alienation drips away in the rain
drip drop

interact with people……


Drawing to the Captain. (An essay on pouring your heart out irresponsibly )

The following documents an eventful night that started with the question “are we Leninists? ” and ended with the protagonists finding that they had more thoughts inside their minds than any A level sociology text book could have predicted …

“put the sword down”

Taken away from the formalities of pressed lips and fingers in the air indicating to speak , it proved ,as it allows has, that the level of politics was heightened without the oomp pa pa pressure of stuffy meeting seriousness , a tendency to be adventurous with  the idea’s we communicated (like a child that drops it’s ice cream in the grass and picks it up to lick again out of curiosity) prevailed.

(interrupted by the need to tell a fan that our bodies are beautiful)

Cider was choosen unwisely, then we parked our rinky dinks in what we can only assume was an illegal Shisha establishment , from there we marched to the finish line , we arrived there at 2:30 am (is my mum singing about a mass strike as she walks past me? irrelevance!) with the conclusion that there’s more to the communist tradition than having read Chris Harman (bet you couldn’t have guessed that one)

So are you ready,  buckle your knee’s , the Happy Mondays are here ..

Nope , Humour

these are  the minutes taken from the night described ( a night lacking pies or any other kind of pastry  product) , it in no way represents what was achieved on the night, but we are selfish so we want to keep it for ourselves :

live fast, die young , I’ll neck 50 of these

Has anyone got any pets we could take to the vets in the morning?

the greatest sentence of the 21st century

O look the mensheviks won’t let us print Iskra

Why are these so Loose

homage to Jim Higgins in a play

can we call it the death agony of the IS tradition

Teeth (thigh slap , over the map)

don’t blog, make a book

Bob black is a wanky life stylist

Micheal Viks got put in prison for fighting bulldogs

if you take Reichs conception of class consciousness , does that mean we couldn’t catch a mammoth?

these are concentrated times

i don’t eat enough food to go swimming

I was going to take whey protein but thought it a bit macho

this man’s grown a nose while this music has been playing

get them made

Stop idolising Ben Watson….



Quick, pick up your hazel nuts before the rabbits pounce on them ( and i thought the left was rift with opportunists).

Well story time has ended and picket lines will always be a great place to tell a story.

Tune up, Tune out, Queer everywhere