Folks keep banding around the word ‘rape’ to explain how they feel, but paying tax is not ‘rape’ and although the dwp assessments are cruel, vile and wicked neither are they ‘rape’. Ye it is a word used in bygone days for various meanings, even with a little legendary terminology such as in ‘the vikings “raped” and pillaged’. But the reality is that the word rape is about an act of sexual attack in order to hold power over someone. Its not sexual gratification, not passion, not sexual frustration, it is purely abuse, assault and battery, of the most absolute intimate nature by a powerless person wanting power over someone else. It is akin to all abuse only in someway worse for it strips a person of their self worth, their confidence and makes them feel vulnerable, valueless, objectified, belittled, angry and scared. It destroys some and effects all.
Every kind of abuse is terrible, none is better than another, all steal something of their belief in humanity from the survivor, but so very often victims of abuse feel guilt, many knowing their attacker / perpetrator, they feel shame and we all can sit here rationalising it because we know its not their fault, not their shame, those belong solely to the aggressor, but surviving abuse shakes at best or at worst destroys rationale.
So please folks before saying you have felt as if raped when something negative happens, just have a little think and use a more appropriate term. I can only imagine the feelings of any abuse survivor and hope few of you have experienced it.


Cold calling

Sorry to have to go on about this but cold calling, especially to the ill, elderly, disabled or anyone thats routine is out of sync with societies usual 9-5 rota is not just a nuisance but can cause huge amounts of physical, emotional and yes mental distress, worry or even worse.

These people making the calls likely work on commission and have little thought nor empathy for those they ultimately end up harassing. They may only make one call about a fabricated accident, or old boiler but once one company has a number many more also jump in upon the bandwagon.
If folk have already anxiety and depression, even not answering the calls can push folk over the edge with worry. A unrecognised number can develop its own story in someones mind, as can a withheld one.
I know sometimes working for these companies is a last resort, but its not an acceptable one.
The telephone preference service has no teeth especially for foreign registered companies or scams from outside the UK.
Why is there not proper legislation against such activities? Because sadly many members of the government and their friends and yes family benefit from the companies carrying out such immoral practice.
It is not bloody good enough, but sadly pails from so much other corruption from these vile creatures that currently have such power and control over our lives and future.
So this is yet another marker of my opinion of the vile Tory Government and the neoliberalism supporters before them.
Profiteering before humanity!
Jonesy Jones

British historical

There is nothing wrong in being proud of our heritage and culture. Today is St Georges day the patron Saint of Christian England. People rightly want this to be as recognised as St David’s day or St Patrick’s day or that of St Andrew. It is part of our heritage.

Its only xenophobia and racism that we should shame. It angers me that the right wing neo nazis constantly try to steal our identity. All humans need history, whether its right or wrong. The Americans (immigrant Americans not the indigenous folk) prove that. Without cultural identity they either retain their ancestral ones eg the ‘founding fathers’ the Irish, the ‘Italian’ but then shun togetherness and inclusion, or they invent their own using extremist morality and actions. Its a messed up world. We cannot always judge our preceeders by their actions within their time, but we can always judge the greed and cruelty of those lording it over everyone else.
Aristocracy, Barons, Royals, and now the Corporations that make up the worlds establishment.

British or not?

So is my bike British? Granted its a Suzuki GS engine, the wheels and forks are Suzuki too. But the frame was built in England, it was put together in England, the seat came from China, the leads are British, the Battery Chinese, painted in Britain, the rubber for tyres possibly Indonesia, (I dunno) handle bars British, switch for horn British, the list goes on.

The point being I truly do not know of any modern vehicle where every component is British, Chinese, German or the like. Components are sourced from all over the globe. Yet for some reason calling my chopper which was built in Britain, that due to the builder is actually a piece of British motorcycling history is deemed as wrong, yet a Triumph built in the East is ‘British’.
Its all pedantics I guess, in reality it was built on earth, using earths resources. So its kinda same as me, not completely belonging to any nation, a bit of a mongrel, a thing/being of this planet. Nothing else really matters. Its made of metal and plastics as are all (ok most) bikes, I am made of flesh and blood as are most (ok all) humans!
So is it British? Probably as British as you or me, does it really matter? Nope it is fun, makes me giggle and I love it, kinda like my folk!
Jonesy Jones

The self indulgence of chronic illness

Warning Not meant to be a self indulgent or whinging article but may well seem so. Therefore if you do not like such words I suggest you move on now!

Every morning I wake up hoping to have a positive, pain free and energy filled day. I have things I planned and want/need to do. I have chores and then social needs to fulfil.
Sadly I have chronic illness. This means in my case due to several debilitating conditions from Crohns Disease, Diabetes, Fibromyalgia, Neuropathy, SVT of the heart to anxiety and depression brought on by the other illnesses and the effect upon my life, I cannot often fulfil any of my commitments to even myself let alone others.
Yes I do have good days, days where all aligns so for a while I can pretend to myself and others that I am not ill, that I am a healthy 50 odd year old blokey, but I am never ever pain free.
I cannot be somewhere and decide yep I will stay over at a B&B because I am likely not to have any meds with me (twenty odd tablets and lots of injections daily) but even if I have may not be able to vacate the room on time or at all the next day.
I may often agree to come along to an event or party but sadly am probably unlikely to get there, even if pain levels do allow such ideas , my social anxiety or lack of self worth may not.
When folk say every day is a struggle they are telling the truth. I have to argue each morning for a reason to remain here, luckily as a parent the weight of the discussion is usually stacked in favour of remaining alive, but often its close and I am not ever sure of the outcome.
Remember these illnesses caused me to end a career I loved, stripped my self esteem and took all I saw as the important side of me. I now have no self confidence and even those brief pipe dreams I do get are often quickly dissolved by either my own fears of not being good enough or the decisions of others that I am a liability to their social group.
Its not ever long for those that say they understand to drift away, sometimes it seems on an aggressive rip tide.
The reason I started this article with the warning is because so many times those on social media that disagree with my views will post that they ‘unfriended’ (a facebook word for fell out with) me because of my self indulgent wining or whinging rants. Sadly for them I do use facebook and other media to share my experiences, sometimes people in the same position will relate to my words and gain a recognition that they are not alone, other times folk with no such challenges to their lives may see that there are people who are ill and are not just pretending. You cannot see m illness, not by looking at me. I look like a middle aged chap with his own views upon expected fashion.
Yes I do ride a motorbike on good days, at I may ad my consultants orders as it is gentle exercise that does not challenge my body but encourages movement! Those who have never ridden may not realise that. But you do not pedal a motorbike nor if you ride right do you hold its weight. Even then its rare i get out.
I am made to by society as are all disabled to feel guilty for trying to live on my better days as a pose to existing often in a pain, exhaustion and depression induced purgatory upon the rest.
This is but a small snapshot of my life and that of many others. There are many others far worse off but when in that constant daily pain, when you are physically and emotionally drained, cocooned in your enclosed enforced prison that home becomes it is difficult to remember that. I/we do become self indulgent, I/we do moan, for life often is but that existence, though with luck a sprinkle or two of living does occur too.
So again sorry if my words miff you off, sorry if I offend you by not committing or letting you down, but sadly every day, yes every single day I let me down. That is my life, but I have no choice, you cannot ‘unfriend’ yourself, well not until the day comes where I finally lose the argument!
Jonesy Jones
Triker Poet

My hate

Why am I frustrated? Angry? Pissed off? Suicidal? Maybe because all my life choices have gone and my life is marginalised as are those of so many others. I no longer count. I pretend I can keep going but do not think will be for much longer. This is no longer my world! Not my reality. Chance of ever thriving now zilch and no longer prepared to just exist.
I could earn my keep. I worked hard to get my career. I was damn good at it.
I hate not working. I hate not coping. I hate constant pain. I hate spending a day trying to live then paying for it ten times over with all my reserves. I hate breaking down, i hate not remembering, I hate collapsing, I hate not being able to be comfortable, I hate not being able to bear clothes or sheets on my skin, I hate pity, I hate guilt, I hate accusations, I hate having to claim the entitlements we work for, I hate society, I hate now, I hate that I am full of hate, I hate me!
Make sense? Does to me.
No pity or ‘hugs’, do not say chin up, man up, pull yerself together! Do not minimise my grief for the future I planned, the past I lost!
Don’t like me posting this? Me neither, but its letting it out right now or …….. So feel free to move on, you don’t need to read my words, to comment or respond. No one owes me anything. The world owes me nought. My debts cannot be paid.