Anarchists Do It In Style…

January 23, 2010

Anyone who fancies a good day out should get themselves to Yorkshire Anarchist Group (YAG) launch lunch at Bradford’s 1in12 Club on Saturday, 6th February (now starting at 11am)…

It’s refreshing to see something a little different happening in the anarchist community. It’s going to be tongue firmly in cheek with waiter service, Red & Black serviettes and even limited edition YAG beer mats! Not to mention the irrepressible, Mr Ian Bone!!!

It seems posh dinners are something of an anarchist tradition: as Damien Engine said on Ian’s blog…

This is brilliant and coincides with something i’m reading – a great biography of Bakunin by Mark Leier (put it on your post-christmas lists comrades). It seems that in the 1840s or whenever, radicals regularly had political meetings under the guise of great banquets – this to confound the anti-political meeting laws. Av it! Banqueting is the revolutionary way forward. Want to break through to the masses? Get banqueting! Why should those rich fuckers have all the pies?

One of the organisers, the wonderful Dr Peter Good of ‘The Cunningham Amendment’*, has just updated the itinerary…

There are some last minute alterations to the Dinner…

11am. Meet for pre-drink-drinkies in the 1in12 club bar.

Add to menu: “olive nero anarchismo” Dinner begins promptly at midday.

I’ve spoken to the accounts department and they are happy not to charge comrades who can’t meet the £2 cover.

Pablo he ask: “In my day I hitch the hike to meetings in Milano. Prego.”

*Only available by mail, send a donation : The Cunningham Amendment, 1005 Huddersfield Road, Bradford, West Yorkshire, England, BD12 8LP.


4 Responses to “Anarchists Do It In Style…”

  1. Michael said

    Anarchists should spend some time living in Somalia and find out what it’s really about…!

  2. “Anarchists should spend some time living in Somalia and find out what it’s really about…!”

    Hmmm, perhaps you should find out about anarchism by reading Kropotkin instead of watching Batman. Anarchy is about mutual aid and free society, not dog-eat-dog chaos. Somalia is simply capitalism stripped of all veneer and refinery.

  3. It had as always been a strange few weeks truth is an encumbrance, or a wearisome burden, and for the boy who cried wolf more so.

    Day after day, day after day,
    We stuck, nor breath nor motion;
    As idle as a painted ship
    Upon a painted ocean.
    Water, water, everywhere,
    And all the boards did shrink;
    Water, water, everywhere,
    Nor any drop to drink.
    He prayeth best, who loveth best
    All things both great and small;
    For the dear God who loveth us,
    He made and loveth all.

    Poet Samuel Taylor Coleridge, written in 1797–98

    As the earthquake took hold, The True face of imperialism is showing it,s racist self in Haiti. Under the mask of humanatarain aid it took Matthew Price to awake him into the reality of there plight in one of the most haunting radio broadcast it was as though a ghost had walked through him, the truth of his own self become once more a shadow as he got drunk Friday night at the last weekend of The Shakespeare pub, recovered on the Saturday, the privileges of life become to clear and then on a Sunday he crept around the derelict Woollen Signs Sheffield the thoughts he could not remove from the suffering in Haiti, the grand hypocrisy of humanity in moments like this he could smell the bullshit, on Sunday night he got so drunk in a vain effort to run from himself it was no use.

    He woke Monday hungover feeling more down, drink and fucking Bipolar do not seem to get along it was a rough day of paranoia each noise was 10 times more than normal, He had to face loved ones though he had once more trespassed against them, it was neither of any fucking use to sit down, the last truth session in the grave yard had somewhat backfired on himself, so like a cat who had been out all night he made his appearance then left, the disagreement was only half an hour of we went at least he got a hug, but not to delude myself in moments like this was hard.

    There he was stuck inside myself with the blues, giving front all was well, then life has this fucking ugly habit of kicking you when you are low, Haiti kept coming into his head, so what if he was at a station in the cold winter of Jan, he would get home to his very minimalist home, he could goto bed on his own not amongst the dead awake to food love life. He had the privilege to eat food and drink, He could ignore some of the conversation, but like an hammer blow to the head what he had worked out was told to you once more, at the time it was the boy who cried wolf so the spoken word was not even going to register.

    The ugly habit of kicking him when one is low come back for some more he got on the bus back to the very minimalist home just simply laying on the bed, he fell into an half sleep the tears on his face, it was now Thursday, he had to get from this low, a day of just playing music Radio Four and Six and reading, adding to his the project The Big Ego Orchestra and a walk in the late afternoon.

    Waking in a better mood The PMT had gone, though the pain was still there, it would take the extinction of capitalism to ensure the survival of the species, sometimes the company of the self was what was needed, he had planed a walk so on Friday night he had met a friend to get some images from Woodiside there was 20 and very dark in there context, another disgruntlement and by 8 0 clock he was home, it was simply made up for on Saturday a walk out to Mother Prioress Carmelite Monastery Kirk Edge High Bradfield he never knew about, it was a wonderfull winters day of sunshine there was still some snow on the ground, stooping at the pub in High Bradfield a walk around the church grounds, then onto Bradfield Water Works a walk onto the former Claremont House where in the summer of 2008 three men stand to have a piss, down the drive in the overgrown grounds was Claremont House, we was on our way to Hepworths it would only be in 2009 we would find Claremont House on a return to Hepworths and what a find, in Dec 2009 he was told of work going on to clear the grounds.

    Sleep should have taken over but another night of his body in pain, his mind was on fire though he should ha slept like a baby, then Sunday loomed and the ghost of inhumanity was to pass through him once more, meanwhile people call him a selfish thought less cunt, so what the fuck are the looking at in the mirror each morning, time to rid ourselfs of this albatross named capitalism.

  4. Michael said

    Lefties are sooooooo long-winded…! Bring back the days when we’d go to market or a neighbour with nothing more than a pair of spare boot laces and hope someone will exchange them for a chicken. Money is truly the root of all evil;)

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