Nearly 40 foreigners convicted of what was once known as debauchery, but now has several categories under the new laws.

The changes were designed to stop forms of sexual abuse going unpunished.

Samleang Seila, the director of child exploitation NGO Action Pour les Enfants in Phnom Penh, has told Radio Australia's Connect Asia program the new law makes each offence more clearly defined.

"In the old law when we talk about debauchery it was very general, so sometimes for slight sexual activity it was not considered debauchery," he said.

"But now if someone commit sexual exploitation with the child, the other code will apply. So if a person does not have sexual penetration he may be charged with indecent act."

While sexual intercourse with a minor carries a maximimum penalty of 10 years in jail, an indecent act, which does not involve sexual penetration, carries a sentence of between one and three years, meaning many have had their sentences reduced.

Cambodia, along with several of its Southeast Asian neighbours, has for years been fighting its image of a sex tourism destination, and while education campaigns have helped raise awareness of the problem, little funding and poor law enforcement resources have hampered these efforts.

Samleang Seila says the new child sexual abuse laws will only encourage the paedophiles to return.

"I would make that prediction because the charges and the sentences and the new law would not give serious punishment to the paedophiles so Cambodia would become a set destination for sex with a child again," he said.

Source: ABC Radio

Whilst walking past the paper table in work, I couldn't believe my eyes.

Yup. Unless you didn't get that,

Brought to you by the most Conservative, anti-Paedophile rag ever to hit your newsagent's shelf, we have Tom Daley's secret sexy photo gallery.

What's that? Derek Stillie accuses The Daily Mail of being all-round dirty old men and fucking paedo cunts only 3 days before this article went to print? Damn fucking right.

The Daily Mail, The Daily Mail's readers and all contributors - you disgust me.

The only people who should be interested in Tom Daley are girls aged 12 to 14. No one else.

Revolting.

Goodnight, tools.

DS

Home Secretary Jacqui Smith said Glitter will be monitored by the authorities and that her "top priority" is to ensure children's safety.

She said: "I'm confident that we can protect children here and that is my top priority - the protection of children, not of offenders."

This woman is a real monster, with a complete inability to grasp reality, or show fairness where it's due. Paul Gadd, whether or not he was guilty of the crime he was jailed for in Vietnam, has done his time. Her comments quite blatantly legitimise further intrusions or violence against him. He's not worthy of protection? That's quite unacceptable for someone in her position to say - it's fundamentally unjust; she would really tar all offenders' feathers with this same brush? Ghastly. Matthew Norman in the Independent writes:

Some of you may share the apparent belief of The Sun and The Daily Mirror that this is a noble ambition; that a man with convictions for downloading child pornography here and having sex with underage girls in the Far East has forfeited the right to life, as Margaret Thatcher once memorably declared of IRA terrorists.

The vast majority, I hope and pray, will cleave to the quaint old belief that, however repugnant the offence, once released from prison the offender is as entitled to live in peace in this country, without newspapers and radio phone-ins encouraging their audiences to garrote or ignite him.

And yet it isn't a belief shared by this Home Secretary, but this should not come as a surprise. After all it was she who had to be threatened by the European Commission, EU Parliament, House of Lords and other institutions, into not sending gay asylum seeker Mehdi Kazemi back to a probable death in Iran. It also shouldn't be a surprise from a government which believes in political policing, and detaining people without charge for 42 days when no need has been demonstrated for it by anyone. She couldn't be more wrong; Paul Gadd, whatever the truth of his crimes, remains worthy of protection because he's a fellow human being.

And Jeremy Sare adds:

Timing further announcements around the time of Gadd's release has reinforced the public's false view that most sex offenders are strangers and predators. All child protection charities agree that at least 80% of offenders are known to the victim and very often are family members. For parents, grandparents and guardians, protection of our children ranks highest of our priorities. To play these political games is pretty shameful.

You bet it's shameful. And Carol Sarler in the Times adds another dimension to the damage which Jacqui Smith and her tabloid buddies are wilfully causing:

We already have 30,000 people on the sex offenders register; people who paid the decreed price for their offence and now will spend the rest of their lives paying again. This sounds as titillatingly vast a number as it is meant to sound - although closer scrutiny shows that it certainly does not mean 30,000 icons of unparalleled evil are out on the loose; among those whose details are kept and lives monitored for ever, a great many are included for nothing more dreadful than slightly under-age, consensual sex. But never mind. Keep the figure high and the hysteria higher still.

It takes a brave person in the current climate to break apart the concept of 'sex offender' into something a bit more meaningful. Yes there are truly dangerous people, but their numbers (as Boris Johnson alludes to in my previous post) are made out to be higher than they actually are through this amalgamation of all 'sexual' offences under the 'sex offender' banner. It remains to be seen whether or not the gutter media which encourages this will yet win the day:

Gary Glitter arrived back in Britain today - grinning arrogantly as he was surrounded by police.

He was immediately taken to a private room in Heathrow Airport where he was questioned by immigration officers and police.

The paedophile landed at the airport after a 10-hour flight from Bangkok, ending a bizarre week-long hunt for a country which would take him, including a series of shuttle flights around south-east Asia.

Armed officers were due to escort the convicted child abuser to a police station to sign the sex offenders register.

Richard Herring: The Headmaster's Son

White Belly @ Smirnoff Underbelly, Saturday 16th August 7.30pm

Richard Herring is always a safe pair of hands at the Fringe, even if those hands are freakishly small, like those of a 9-year old girl.

It's his 180th show and 700th year at the Fringe (probably) since he first ventured up with the Oxford Revue in the late '80s, accompanied by his future comedy partner Stewart Lee, young eyes (probably) gleaming with hope for the future.

Now he's 41 years old, overweight,* unmarried and frustrated by the progress of his career, and a seemingly genuine sense of regret at these factors has fuelled his stand-up for the last few years.

The other thing that fuels his stand-up is his whole-hearted desire to push the boundaries of good taste with fascinatingly elaborate diatribes about wanking off paedophiles, burning old people and the positive traits of Maxine Carr. When these tear an anguished howl of laughter from the audience, he grins like a schoolboy doing something he knows he shouldn't.

This year's show is largely about his time at school as the son of the titular headmaster (the wonderfully named T.K. Herring) and his attempt to work out whether he could blame both his failings and his choice of profession on this formative experience.

Herring is tremendously good value for money, a likeable performer who packs a lot of great material into an hour and rambles through it at speed.

Those of you who stalk him as I do may find bits of the material familiar. He uses his daily blog Warming Up to try out new ideas, while the increasingly wonderful Collings and Herrin Podcasts (with Andrew Collins) may have spoiled you to the novelty of seeing this nationally-known comedian in the flesh (edit: on reflection, the second half of that sentence is meaningless.)

(I think these podcasts deserve some discussion of their own at a later date.)

This is maybe Herring's strongest show since I began stalking him a few years ago. Well worth a visit.

*Better now.

Gary Glitter 'will fly to London'

Glitter spent almost three years in prison in Vietnam

Paedophile and disgraced pop star Gary Glitter has agreed to leave Bangkok for London, according to Thai police.

Glitter, who served a prison sentence for child abuse, flew to Thailand after refusing to travel to London and being rejected for entry to Hong Kong.

Thai authorities said he would fly to London later. They said he had been told no other country would take him.

Glitter sold millions of records as a glam rock star in the 1970s, with hits including I'm The Leader Of The Gang.

Glitter, whose real name is Paul Gadd, was earlier deported from Vietnam after spending almost three years in jail for sexually abusing two girls.

Glitter had flown to Hong Kong from Bangkok after refusing to fly to the UK, and had made a plea for medical treatment after saying he was suffering a heart attack.

The singer had earlier boarded a Thai Airways flight to the Chinese territory after the Thai authorities refused him entry and threatened to deport him to Britain.

Thai police had earlier told the Reuters news agency they would be "deporting him to his home country, England, unconditionally".

The BBC's Jonathan Head says 19 countries have already said they would refuse Glitter entry.

I think these [new paedophile controls] are sensible and proportional ways of toughening up what is already a very tough system Home Secretary Jacqui Smith

Julian Weinberg, a criminal lawyer specializing in dealing with sexual offences, said he did not think Glitter could be forced to return to the UK.

"The problem is that the government is powerless to be able to take steps to force him to come back.

"Things might have been very different if he was put on a direct flight back from Vietnam to London.

"But he hasn't been, and that's why we're in the situation that we're in now, and there's not much the government can do about it."

If Glitter ever does return to the UK, he will be met at the airport by police and required to sign the sex offenders register.

He will then be subject to monitoring and have to tell the police where he plans to live and if he planned to go abroad. He could also face an order prohibiting him from going near children or using the internet.

Home Secretary Jacqui Smith said on Tuesday it was her view that Glitter should be given a Foreign Travel Order (FTO) banning him from overseas travel.

Travel bans

Ms Smith has also announced plans to tighten controls on the movements of paedophiles.

Proposed measures include increasing the length of time an FTO can apply from six months to up to five years, and automatically confiscating the passport of anyone subject to an order.

At present, police are only allowed to rely on evidence from the previous six months about the risk an individual poses, but that time period would also be extended under the plans.

"These are sensible and proportional ways of toughening up what is already a very tough system. I think that's what we owe to children in this country and to children abroad," Ms Smith said.

The home secretary's announcement came after children's charity Ecpat UK accused the government of "turning a blind eye" to British sex tourists.

The charity said it was too easy for nationals convicted abroad to stay under the radar of British police upon their return.

[vodpod id=ExternalVideo.666468&w=425&h=350&fv=]

Gary Glitter is now being used as a pawn and I find it disgraceful. I find it disgraceful that a huge fuss is being made over just one man who has done his time. But rather than initiating procedures or making resources available to actually help him, Britain instead is contorting in a renewed moral panic. 'That foul paedophile' eh? Not to diminish the severity of his proven crime in the UK, but how seriously can you take a government who uses this man's reappearance as a distraction from their own incompetence? They're destroying all of our civil liberties, robbing the poor to pay off the middle class, breaking their own anti-poverty and environmental targets, but at least they can say they're strengthening the control order regime against those guilty of child sex offences (which is already incredibly tight). Is it genuinely not possible to get any perspective here? Jacqui Smith, not one known for human qualities, even had the gall to announce this on Talk Sport radio, as if she weren't shamelessly populist already!

Boris Johnson has a sager perspective on the situation. Writing in 2006 he complained:

I mean, come off it, folks. How many paedophiles can there be? Are we really saying that any time an adult male finds himself sitting next to someone under 16, he must expect to be hustled from his seat before the suspicious eyes of the entire cabin?

What about adult females? Every week there is some new tale of what a saucy French mistress is deemed to have done with her adolescent charges behind the bicycle sheds; and, disgraceful though these episodes may be, I don't hear anyone saying that children should be shielded from adult women. Do you? Or maybe I'm wrong — maybe all adults will have to carry personal cardboard partitions with them on every plane or train, just in case they find themselves sitting next to under-16s.

Even as I write, I can imagine the lip-pursing of some of my lovely high-minded readers. How would you like it, they will say, if some weird chap was plonked next to your kids? And they are right that I would worry about some strange adult sitting next to my children, chiefly because I wouldn't want the poor fellow to come to any harm.

To all those who worry about the paedophile plague, I would say that they not only have a very imperfect understanding of probability; but also that they fail to understand the terrible damage that is done by this system of presuming guilt in the entire male population just because of the tendencies of a tiny minority.

And make no mistake, the papers are 'off on one again', and will be seeking to drag public opinion with them, whatever the balance you see in the video. Paul Gadd meanwhile has just been denied entry to Hong Kong, having been denied entry into Thailand, after refusing to return to Jacqui Smith and the Home Office's kiss of death. I'm exaggerating you say? David Wilson believes not:

We also know what makes sex offenders generally, and paedophiles specifically, re-offend when they return to the community after a prison sentence. In short, they are more likely to re-offend when they are "named and shamed", hounded from pillar to post, demonised, scapegoated and pilloried because when that happens they calculate that they may as well commit more crimes because, well, they have nothing left to lose. Sadly, an unnamed police officer quoted in the Sun doesn't seem to be aware of this fact and claimed that when Gadd returned he would get a "Hell of a tough time … we'll unleash the hounds".

We don't have the right to dehumanise anyone. The police don't have the inherent authority to pre-criminalise anyone (although you try to tell them that) and Jacqui Smith certainly doesn't have the right to say:

Ms Smith today announced tighter controls on the movement of paedophiles but she dismissed a suggestion that the Government had wanted a "celebrity paedophile" to promote the crackdown and had found it "embarrassing" that Glitter had not come home.

"No paedophile is a celebrity, every paedophile needs to be controlled," she said.

She told GMTV Glitter was "despicable" and said it was "pretty hard to imagine it would be legitimate for him to travel abroad again".

So says the thoroughly despicable woman who believes that sending gay asylum seekers back to Iran is perfectly safe as long as they're discreet. Glitter's current failure to return to the UK is an egg in the face for a government more concerned with spin and blunt instruments than good policy. Try making parents responsible for their children's welfare once again, try the old (and successful) system of teaching children to risk assess their relationships with older people and strangers, try helping people who demonstrably have problems, and what about ending this ridiculous campaign (and charade) of controlling people in order to save a mythical, threatened majority. Governments mustn't be allowed to get away with such shameless diversionary tactics, certainly not at the cost of individuals, particularly the vulnerable ones, hidden away from the full glare of a greedy and compassion-free media.

It comes as the British Home Secretary, Jacqui Smith, says restrictions on convicted child sex offenders are to be tightened-- to make it harder for them to travel abroad.

Can paedophiles be rehabilitated? Can their condition be managed so they don't pose a threat to the community? Or should no chances be taken when it comes to the safety of children?

On Monday a British man, who police said was the "librarian" of a global internet child abuse ring, was jailed indefinitely. He had 241,000 indecent images of children. He admitted 27 charges, including causing children aged under 13 to engage in sexual activity.

How far would you go to make sure a paedophile doesn't settle in your area? Should convicted paedophiles be able to travel freely around the world, or should they be forced to surrender their passports?

Or are we creating a society where parents and children live in fear of a threat that is remote?

Shamed paedophile, ex pop star gary Glitter was freed from a Vietnamese jail yesterday. He has a British passport and could travel anywhere.

Toads like him should be 'world monitored'. Look at this picture and make sure you recognise him. Keep your children away from him.

     Note- he may change his appearance as he was forced to remove the wig in jail.

Manilow apparently encouraged those children in whom he saw musical promise to 'stay behind' after class for additional support. As he propped their delicate little bodies on the same stool he sat on at his grand piano, he would gently caress their hands saying ' i can make you filthy rich and a star overnight..... IF you suck my throbbing cock and let me stick it in your ear'.

The wider crisis is not in fact Manilow's latest attempt to cajole kids into the vice trade. How he was allowed to work at the school undetected, even under the guise of Bruno Jackson, remains unclear. Three years ago Manilow was himself expelled from a primary in County Durham for , in the words of forensic expert Pat Butcher ' sick fucking acts so shameful decorum prevents their true expression. All i will say is that he fucked in the head- big style' Manilow reportedly used the teeth of children of different races to substitute lost piano keys. His trumpet was also made mostly of infant flesh, and the rim of the horn was actually a preserved anus hole of a very, very, very young human being. Reportedly Manilow would appear at school drunk, erect and indecisive. A clear peadophile Manilow has been wanted by authorities for tying up children in the gymnasium. Manilow allegedly used them as a 'horse' trapeze as he flung his ageing naked body around, screaming ' i was better than elvis'

The rampant pervert has been on the run for years but was apprehended after his boyfriend, Jeff, said enough was enough.

This, in my humble opinion, is total bollocks.  Now I never grew up in a large city.  I grew up in a tiny village with no shops, one street light and a lot of farms.  We had a baker and a fish monger who delivered baked goods and dead fishes.  We had a milkman who delivered milk in real glass bottles, over which we had to put tiny woolen hats, to stop the birds drinking all the cream on the milk.  We had a ninety year old paper 'boy' called Walt who would also deliver you dead rabbits if it was what your heart desired.  We had chest freezers full of dead pigs, sacks of spuds round every corner and my mother made her own yogurt.  We had open fires and my dad regularly hacked the axe into his shin splitting logs.  We had half an acre of garden over which to roam and made dens, built fires, climbed trees and spent our lives rolling around in sheep pooh.

We grew our own fruit and veg.  We had hundreds of pets, living and dead.  We had a gang and used to roam the countryside for miles, playing in bogs and grain silos, worrying sheep, making hidey holes in teetering haystacks and doing other hideously dangerous pursuits.  We used to get regularly snowed in in the winter.  We would spend all day sledging in the fields and trying to build igloos.  We would cook our tea over the open fires when the electricity lines went down and thrash our chilblains with holly leaves.  It sounds like the stuff of story books, but it's all true.

Unfortunately it is no longer true.  Unless you move to the countryside in Latvia that is.  Life is not like that anymore, not in the UK anyway.  Even if you do move your darling children to the countryside are you really going to give them the kind of freedom that you had as a kid? Are you?  I had almost complete freedom when I was a child.  My mother actively encouraged us to leave the house at breakfast time and not to come back until tea time, or when it got dark, whichever came first.  If we were going somewhere new we had to cycle home and tell her first, but now I think about it, what good did it do her knowing that I was six miles away in a bog?  She wouldn't know how to get there, and if I were drowning, it would be way too late by the time she found out.  All that would have been left was a sole wellington boot floating near some bulrushes.  It was more for her peace of mind than anything else.

It's that peace of mind that is so elusive now for parents. I know, with utter clarity, that I would never, ever let my children have that kind of freedom now.  No matter where we lived.  I couldn't take the risk.  I understand at a rational level that with all this talk of snatching children and such like, that the actual figures for such things haven't changed really in fifty years, and I was just as likely to be strung up and tortured by a 'loner' in 1978 as my children are in 2008, but my imagination and sense of guilt are too developed. 

We live about four hundred yards from a park.  When I took the children there the other week I was a) horrified and b) slightly envious of some of the other mothers.  I follow my children round the park like a sheep dog.  I have to be able to have all three of them within my line of sight at all times.  There were other mothers, mothers that I know from school. Mothers who I know have children of the same age as me, lounging around on blankets, sunbathing and chatting to friends while their children ran around the park.  I know they're good parents.  They love their kids, but they weren't watching them.

I wanted to shake those mothers and say: 'Did it ever occur to you to think that paedophiles know that children like going to parks?  Did it ever occur to you that paedophiles don't usually come wearing flasher macs with no buttons and a neon sign on their head saying; 'I want to fiddle with your children?'  and that despite their horrible proclivities, they're obviously quite good with kids socially or they wouldn't be able to pursue their chosen hobby so successfully? If you're not watching your kid, how do you know what they're doing, or who they're with?' 

It's a big park.  There are at least four different exits to the enormous play area, which is set within an enormous park, which is full of shortcuts round the town that all kinds of people take.  How long would it take someone to reach over and snatch a child and leg it?  I am envious that these mothers clearly have the confidence in themselves and their children that this will never happen to them.  I do not have those levels of confidence.  As I said to my nine year old daughter when she complained the other day about something I had refused to let her do out of my sight line; 'It's not that I don't trust you.  It's that I don't trust anyone else.'

People seem to have the crazy idea that the countryside is a) healthier, b) less dangerous and c) has more freedom than the town.  Here's the thing.  The countryside is filthy and full of different unhealthy things than in the town.  The countryside can be way more dangerous than the town as my near misses with grain silos, collapsing haystacks and bogs will stand testament to, and the amount of freedom you're prepared to give them lies entirely within the scope of your imaginative abilities, not in where your postcode is.

If you're thinking of making the move I'd like to make one more very salient point.  It is a fact that outdoor, unsupervised pursuits for kids have now been replaced by rounds of lessons, which parents are obliged to take their children too.  Sports teams, brownies, ballet lessons, gymnastics etc.  In the town, these things are invariably within easy reach, and so are your kids' friends' parents, who can take taxi shifts when you can't.  If you move to the country, they will still want to do all the same things, only everything is further away, and you're the only one who can and will drive them there.  You might imagine yourself weaving your own jam and crocheting jackets for homeless badgers.  The reality will be you and three children hurtling endlessly down unnavigable 'b'  roads with bags full of stinking rugby kit and brownie sashes, pretending you're living the country idyll by listening to the Archers on Radio Four and cursing because every time you go behind that hill the reception cuts out.  It'd never do that on the Tottenham Court Road.

Cowell recently embarked on an RSPCC initiative to do a sponsored music vocal training course at various nursery and primary schools around the UK. His first week in Bristol saw Cowell, now a fat ageing cunt, to shove celery up his bottom and have the disabled kid eat it for his lunch. Cowell has also offered personal donations to Leed's Primary school's milk scheme. Most concerned feel this may be the last nail in the Cowell coffin, with friends and foe alike proclaiming he is finished in entertainment. Cowell says he 'will continue to buttress the love of Jim Bowen', the WIgan comedian found rimming Cowell as a teenager in Luton.

Cowell's spat with the Irish fuckmonkey Louis 'arsepipe' Walsh led to his extraordinary and infamous schism over last year's Pop Idol winner. Seventeen stone, black, lesbian and with only one boob, the Amazonian -esque Pippa Potamus, 9, Mozambique was accused of being the benficiary of positive discrimination- particularly for her winning soundless war dance which draw such heavy plaudits form Walsh- causing the cunt to utter the now immortal words in his defence of his support for Pippa; 'i like the fat birds, i'm sorry, i just really like the fat birds.

Whenasked about Cowell's latest stint in the classroom, cockmuncher Walsh, with penis spilling over into his beloved Guinness pint and with a strage smile spread across his face declared Cowell enjoyed 'so much bum love with infants he had become a major cause of global warming in the south of England'

Walsh himslef denies claims of peadophiolia, made last year during his own 'fit kinds' programme last year. Walsh, however, does concede he was the one shown on the CCTV cameras with the balaclava in the playground. In court Walsh had argued vehemently it was cold and he a had a massive spot on his face, he also claims, later dismissed in court, that his pants were too big for him. The erection, considered coincidental to the brutal assault with the chainsaw was 'like a rudder for my swings, i came only through my virtouso handling of the rotating swordfish and its dastardly gnashing teeth, it was really exciting. Chainsaws and kids, who wouldn't splash a few drops of man love to that old chestnut'. Walsh later ammended his defence, claiming the victim ran face first in his penis and the impact caused instant ejaculation.

For Cowell the horizon now looks bleak. Rejecting the accusation's over his recent debacle in Bangkok, Cowell affirms he is still on the search for that elusive x-Factor child. Baby Idol continues next week with a special feature on child racism by Trevor McDonald, showing us all how it's properly done as he abuses honkies for their hairstyles.

The 3month affair apparently started with a kiss between Hoon and Cameron at a Mardi Gras gay pride festival in Bradford in April 2008. The star-crossed lovers had been discussing Brown's fiscal stance, with Cameron criticising Hoon's party leader for high spending levels. Hoon, himself heavily implicated with the raping of Michael Portillo in Calton Hill, Edinburgh last year, said he didn't really care but if Cameron would be a hard Thatcherite he'd be a Leftist wet juicy pineapple hole lubricated upon precise specifications for maximum jubilation, penetration and naughty, nice and narcissistic sensations and yes he could call him Cindy if he liked

Recently, Hoon's parliamentary behaviour has become increasingly erratic as he steps up his personal campaign to become elected 'lifestyle campaign fascist' for the neo-SS septuagenarian group, 'We like to put fingers up our bottoms, smell them, sell them, and do you all over on crafty pension scheme infrastructure given that we soon will have all the fucking power' does not deny the charges but was unavailable for comment. Hoon was last seen on Prime Minister’s questions wearing a black lycro mask with a snooker ball taped around his mouth. Hoon, adorning a green thong, had a skull and cross bones tattoo and was wielding a plastic cat-o-nine-tails slapping Brown and generally rousing the Labour back benchers in a state of raging stupour.

Brown was asked to control his rebel and had to interrupt Cameron’s grilling form the opposite side of the house to tell ‘daddy’s little trooper’ to 'get hame and get fonky'. As Brown turned to accept his applause from his party members after surviving another steamy session, he revealed two large holes in his trousers, around the buttocks, with soar-looking red abrasion marks. Mr Cameron was excitable thoughout the session, and even knocked the microphone off the stand with his stonker as played around in the shadows. The Prince of Darkness' Budget Report comes later today

This was indeed a tumultuous day in the House of Commons history as the threesome was finally admitted by this centrist, cross-partizan trinity of love. Scenes reminiscent of a Roman Orgy with the added sentimentality of a Catholic confession, ensued with many politicans flocking to the other side of the House to make pillow talk. The usually more frigid Liberals also girated their waists heavily and drank the blood of Thatcher’s last political period, preserved in the nectar of Dave Cameron’s semen, now, with all the gusto and ferocity of a fire hydrant, was causing a deluge of sticky population paste to burst open the locked doors of the Commons and wreak havoc in London .

Of particular interest was the inner discussions of the Cameron-Brown-Hoon triumvirate, three men seemingly magnetized to each other through a deep hearted warmth and lust. Cameron was found apologized for the way they attacked Bevan’s NHS Bill, Brown said he wish Thatcher was still here to sort out the riff-raff and Hoon was being taken every which way but loose, Hoon was also the victim of a retaliatory brutal ronson assault by Portillo, dirty fucking bumlord that the ugly, swell-lipped cunt undoubtedly is.

I, in fact, wonder what to do with myself on weekends. Sure, I like to hang out with friends or be outside, scrambling up rocks or something, but give me a weekend when I don't have a definite plan and man, I start thinking about what I could do at work.

Thankfully, I have a wide open range of tasks in regards to my career. I can spend a morning fabricating metal or wood

,

fixing a skateboard

,

flirting at a cafe

,

spend my afternoons at lunch meetings

,

or lunch meetings with lots of wine

,

or site tours

,

or at electronic stores

,

or more site tours

,

and then various meetings

,

and flirting with coworkers

,

get in uncomforatable positions to take photographs

,

ride scissor lifts

,

on climb on scaffolding or ladders

(see, the deal is I kind of hate heights),

then afterward, there are work related parties and such

and so on.

I actually started this post yesterday. I was going somewhere with this, but have now forgotten why I put so many images in.

I did see the types of things people are searching for and happen on my blog. In my estimation, I would say there are a few paedophiles out there. I talk about puberty in one post and those searching are looking for something along the lines of puberty, but from a more odious direction: "gay puberty male in shower" / "hung puberty" / "boys showering".

That said, I'll never write about puberty again and in fact will change one of the images I found -- this great Russky graph of male adolescence from some old text book. It's now replaced with a picture of a turkey. And, here, I'll add in a video.

First off, I'm pretty down on child molesters. I'm not much for the death penalty and I'm pretty obviously not into prosecuting "victimless" crime. (One can make all sorts of arguments against that nebulous term of victimless crime, but that's another post / another time.) That said, I think child rapists should encounter a particularly bleak and lasting life contained in general population of some violent crime centric prison, a life that does not allow for state sanctioned death penalties and only allows for a long and incomprehensible destruction at the hands of the worst murders, rapists and psychopaths. I'm all down for the particularly inhumane torture of those who diddle children.

That said:

HEY, HOW ARE YA?!

()

So getting off work early. What do you do with yourself? I... am lost. And I head to... wait for it, wait for it...

THE BAR.

A buddy of mine met me, we ended up between a few bars, one of which was a truly hidden treasure, described somewhere online as being a good place to make a handful of bad decisions. Perfect. It's on, ostensibly, a dead end, to the side, set back from the street and in what I think is an old bank building or something. It has a vestibule with a marble floor, then through a doorway and you find a wooden bar all the way down, not much light coming from behind the bar and really the only orangish light coming from the back where two pool tables sit. Though it was Friday (by this time, we'd wasted quite a few hours and it was getting into night), and the place was tight, it's not too tight to easily move to the washrooms in back. And the washrooms themselves unbosom some more serious past to those sidling up to the old-style urinals set up from the floor and implanted into the wall, those type that start about elbow high and drop all the way down.

My buddy's friend bought me a drink even though he was a total tool. He's going to law school. Great, whatever. The girls he was with were varying degrees of friendly and one was super cool. For some reason we decided to change bars and the group dispersed. Fine by me. The place we were headed is some sort of race-fan sausage fest

and my buddy and I ended up at one of my favorite wine bars

where we met a few girls, but no one particularly mind blowing until we both saw this early-stage coug with some tool. Actually the guy was cool, I guess. Sort of drunk and friendly, a loud standard-issue guy. We spent too much time talking to his lady, which at first seemed fine and since I was running wingman, this guy Patrick, he was, sort of bears into me and tells me about women, all the while punctuating his speech with a finger driven into my chest and spilling my sancerre all down my shirt. Funny thing, he apologized each time, but kept doing it. When my buddy and I traded places, I told the woman "You gotta break up with this schmo" and probably something else about how she's too classy for a guy like that... 'cause I'm classy like that, yo. Instead of smiling, or arguing against me, she gave me a look like "I know." Bingo. So we do a bit of back and forth, me always reiterating how she's much better than friend-Patrick over there... and then suddenly, I get swung around and introduced to some hag I'd ignored an hour earlier and there stands my buddy with the hag's haggy friend. Pat whispers that the girls are wet and want to take any guy home. Mine looks maybe three months pregnant.

Downer.

I do a bit of the chat, then wander off, leaving buddy-boy to fend for himself. The washrooms are packed out, so grab my friend and try to drag him out so I can take a slash in the alley, but he begs off. Strange, he's still chatting the haggy friend. That's... cool, but I know I have to rescue the night. After finishing, I go back in and try to pull him away again, but he's too busy chatting this girl up, so I head out front and perch on some car waiting for him. He finally comes out, leans into me and says "They have pot, beers and want to fuck."

Well...

I say "Let's think about this."

And we lean there and ponder until he says "Pot, beer and fucking, man."

I ask if he wants to fuck either of those hags. He considers this an amazing counterpoint. I then ask if he wants to smoke out, which neither of us are that into. It's obvious beer could be more than enough to get us anywhere. Then, he says "Slap me hard." I do and then he says "What the fuck was I thinking? We got to bail."

I happen to have let a house across the street in college and know of a secret parking space, and since it's a fucking trendy street and late enough on a Friday night to be impossible to find parking when we came in, all we have to do now is cross the street and down the alley, turn at a ⊥ alley, c'est ça. But then... from the heavens: "Hey boys!"

We look up and hanging over the roof of this new modern house are two girls in bikini tops.

"Hey ladies!"

They're having a pool party, and the thing is, I think I know the people who own the house and these ain't them. They say they're staying at the house and that's when I see a dude lean over the edge. Odds are set spinning. Possibility of getting laid high, possibility of an orgy high, possibility of a bit of the ol' male on male high.

We do a bit more chatting back and forth with the girls and the guy, who has a bit of the gay affect, tries to convince us up. My buddy and I consider, deciding the gay guy won't mind if we hook up with the girls, almost head over to the side gate and finally decide it's time to head home.

Shit happens.

Fathers are having consensual sex with their daughters. Brothers and sisters willingly go to bed with each other. Meanwhile, mothers are using their feminity to seduce their own sons as part of daily life in Dagoretti. Located just west of the city of Nairobi, the Dagoretti area is showing acute characteristics of a population ravaged by poverty, crime, high population growth and the collapse of traditional taboos due to urbanization.

Across the world, incest is associated with broken homes, worsened by alcoholism, drug abuse, joblessness and abuse spanning several generations. In Dagoretti most homesteads appear to suffer from these vices all at the same time, hence the incest phenomenon.

“When people in Dagoretti discover that the girl next door is having sex with her father, nobody makes a big deal out of it because its a common occurence,” says Mwaura, a young man born and bred in the area. “If my friend tells me that he slept with his sister, I wouldn't be surprised because this is Dago,” adds Mwaura. Dago is slang for Dagoretti.

So prevalent is the curse of incest that Dagoretti's notoriety has spread far and wide. Many people are reluctant to marry from this area for fear of what they will discover about their partners. Societal values are upside down. Single parenthood in Dagoretti is at alarming levels, and children from such households suffer increased rates of abuse from parents or persons dating their parents.

As though that wasn't enough, parents in Dagoretti plot how to solicit funds from foreign donors in order to educate their children. As expected, the “donors” will occasionally want to visit their beneficiaries and there's no telling what happens during such encounters. Mwaura attributes the “sponsorship” mania to laziness among area residents. “People here don't want to work; they would rather spend the day drinking. So they must look for churches, non-governmental organizations and foreigners to sponsor their children's education. I know of several families where each child has a different sponsor.”

At the same time, widespread incest is worsening the scourges of alcoholism and drug abuse. Or maybe it is the other way round?

This is an incredible story narrated to the Nairobi Chronicle by a Dagoretti resident who we shall call Onesmus:

ONESMUS: “A couple of years ago, a young man in Dagoretti consumed a drug reputed to increase sexual libido. Which would be alright if the young man were married, or if he had a girlfriend. Unfortunately, he was single and living at home with his parents. On getting home and with a raging sexual appetite, the guy went berserk around the homestead, breaking things. When the mother was told what her son had taken, she decided to quench his sexual desire by sleeping with him. ‘I can't let my son continue suffering like this, I must do something as his mother,’ the woman is quoted as saying.

Nairobi Chronicle: “That is really sick. If this woman really wanted to help her son, why didn't she just go to the nearest pub and get a commercial sex worker?”

ONESMUS: “Well, maybe she didn't know where or how to talk to one.”

Cases of fathers having sex with their own daughters in exchange for cash, property and jobs are very common in Dagoretti. Some men are said to force their daughters into sex by threatening not to pay school fees. The hapless girl, eager to continue with her education succumbs to the demands and eventually, the relationship becomes a normal affair. However, the phenomenon of father – daughter sex is not unique to Dagoretti as many cases continue getting reported from across Kenya.

But why is Dagoretti so afflicted with incestuous relationships compared to other parts of Nairobi? In the whole of Kenya, the only other area that comes close to Dagoretti in the recorded and observable cases of incest is Naivasha. Both areas have certain features in common.

They are semi-urban, semi-rural settlements with a multi-cultural population attracted by low-skill but low-wage labour. Many of these people grew up elsewhere but their relocation to a new, harsher environment has meant that the traditional taboos that governed their lives are no longer applicable. Add to that the effects of poverty and an oppressive work environment with no prospects for personal growth. The prevailing social and political climate in Kenya doesn't do much to cultivate optimism either. High crime rates have made people feel vulnerable to the vagaries of fellow man.

The result is a population of people who have no feelings left for fellow human beings, not even their own family. In this bleak, Darwinian setting, money, sex and alcohol become the means to existence. Not only are they the means of livelihood, but money sex and alcohol are the ends that keep people going.

If sex is a tool and a means, then it does not matter how one gets it and with whom. It could be your next door neighbor just as much as it could be your wife or husband. It could be with your daughter, brother or uncle. It could even be with your daughter's best friend, or your son's fiancée. It doesn't matter who you hurt as long as you get sex.

With this kind of moral vacuum, the future for the young people of Dagoretti is not very promising. It can be concluded with reasonable certainty that cases of incest in Dagoretti will get worse in future. Unless somebody takes the initiative to change the moral landscape of the area, the young people of Dagoretti will abuse their children just as much as they have been abused. An initiative to combat incest could be from government, it could be from religious bodies or from non-governmental organizations. Perhaps, such a programme could originate from politicians. Any initiative towards tackling the shadow of incest in Dagoretti would be welcome.

Regardless of the moral ambivalence of the residents of Dagoretti what is happening there just ain't right.

The advantage of anonymity in Internet chat rooms has, as any concerned parent will tell you, a downside, There may be relatively few incidents of paedophile stalkers on message boards but any that crop up get a high media profile. The risk for a film maker is to add to this flame fanning and raise the fear factor up a notch.

David Slade's first feature puts a twist on the tale to guarantee word of mouth endorsements or misgivings - either way it becomes a movie to see to make up your own mind about (or if you're lazy you could just read a synopsis on Wikipedia).

The extensive use of close ups, jump cuts and unusual camera angles have a deliberately disorientating effect - adding to the ambiguity of the character's motives. Ellen Page as the 14 year old Hayley Stark is an impressive discovery - you're left wondering if she is rebellious and daring or repellent and insane.

Slade is obviously a bold new talent too but I strongly suspect that here he is merely taking the low common denominator of sensationalism to make a name for himself.

The story makes for a gripping drama but it left me feeling that the movie exploits the grey areas of a topical issue for manipulative ends rather than to pose any serious moral questions and in this respect must go down as a missed opportunity.

Take an article from the Daily Mail, it doesn't really matter which one but articles about Asylum Seekers, Drug Dealers, Terrorists, the Labour Party and Paedophiles usually work best. Most days you can find a front page story that manages to tie all of them together- that's a sure-fire winner.

Now, you must start your letter by making it clear that you refer to that article. After that, there are no rules. It's a free-for-all. What fun! All that you need to do is to copy some or all of the following phrases in any order that you like and then end the letter with a woman's name (the frumpier the better) and add the title 'Mrs' in brackets afterwards. That will convince them that you aren't one of those awful dungaree-wearing feminists that used to appear on news bulletins in the 1980s. Here are your phrases:

• "The country is full up. I'm sorry, but we can't take your riff-raff any longer"
• "One of two of these people should be made an example of"
• "These people should be made to sit up and take notice"
• "What reasonable-minded person actually objects to bringing back the birch?"
• "It never did me any harm, I can tell you"
• "These bleeding-heart liberals really get my dander up"
• "We all know that these Socialists are only out to line their own pockets"
• "I come from an ordinary middle-class family."
• "The good old British taxpayer is the mug who has to foot the bill for this"
• "Decent hard-working British people who have paid tax all their lives"
• "This anarchist's paradise where there are no restrictions on the drinking of alcohol?"
• "I am English and proud. Why is that so offensive to our visitors here?"
• "All sorts of organisations will jump on the bandwagon and cry inequality"
• "This 'Nanny state' where people aren't allowed the freedom to smoke a cigarette"
• "If those of different faiths who have chosen to live in this country can still observe their customs, why can't we?"
• "Winston Churchill would be spinning in his grave"
• "It seems the politically correct brigade have been at it again"
• "What a child needs is discipline"
• "Can someone explain to me why soft drugs are tolerated by this Labour Government"
• "I'm simply disgusted at the way in which our government expects us to pay taxes through the nose"
• "It's no wonder this country is going to the dogs"
• "It's PC gone mad" (if you want to be really creative try something that means the same in fancier words like "this is secularism in a demented form")
• "Who can blame the millions who emigrate every year?"
• "Gordon Brown and his left-wing cronies in the cabinet"
• "What a child needs is to be kept out of danger from these lecherous beasts who are seemingly waiting at every turn"
• "People who have done nothing wrong have nothing to fear from this legislation"
• "I'm simply outraged at the way in which our government fails to provide anything more than the basic services that people need in hospital"
• "I've voted Tory all of my life and this country has never needed a Tory Government as badly as it does now"
• "Is this what generations of English men fought and died for?"
• "These people want nothing more than to be governed by Germany"
• "Isn't this simply another Labour Government attempt to extract more money from our pockets for fewer services?"
• "I have worked hard all of my life and for what?"
• "An Englishman's home used to be his castle. Well not any more"
• "Oh how I wish we could let Margaret Thatcher get hold of these people"
• "Is nothing sacred any longer?"
• "What a child needs is the freedom to learn and make their own mistakes without these namby-pamby rules interfering with the process"
• "These left-wing do-gooders will destroy every custom tradition and belief that English people hold dear"

The hairdresser was right. I put wax in my hair and I don't look like a member from KISS.
Things I'm happy about today:

1. My baby is so healthy and smiley. How could someone who grew up listening to NIN's "Head like a Hole" (cue: I'd rather die than give you control) have given birth to such a gentle, peaceful soul? Of course he's not yet one, and I'll see what happens in 12 years time when the testosterone peaks again and he becomes a *gulp* teenager.

2. Living in a place where I can say or write what I want (so long as it's not about blowing up things, promoting suicide/euthanasia...can't remember what else is on that list of things that could have ASIO knocking on your door).

3. Living in a place where I can see the blue sky, blue ocean and brownish green bushland.

4. I have had access to a good education and can think critically.

5. I'm no longer in my 20s. Sure I was probably more attractive in my 20s with better hair and less lines on my face, less sun damaged skin...but I didn't have the confidence or calm or direction that I do now. Also having grown out of my baby face I attract less paedophiles. I was in a paedophile town when I was 25 and a peroxide blonde mulletted man tried to pick me up - I had some silly pig tail do and only half my body was sticking out the car window.

30s are it. I think this is going to be my decade. It's like being an improved version of the 20s you without the challenges of being only a few years away from menopause. Though I can see the benefits of being post-menopausal and not being a slave to hormones. I'm really loving breastfeeding and being pregnant. It's nearly a year and a half since I've experienced PMT!

A US chat show (Tyra) had a segment really on an 18 year old adult film actress called Summer. Nothing new in that. Except her manager is her father. And her manager is “responsible” for her grooming including her brazilian wax.

You getting the muse here? You think it is starting to sound like a porn narrative, yeah, funny so do I except this “father” gets to act out his porn fantasies - in public. With his eighteen year old daughter.

It starts off with him patronising her about ensuring she’s packed “sexy clothes” and then rounds off by telling her she shouldn’t be in a relationship as “boyfriends are not really conducive to this business”. What business? He’s taking her for her first day at one of Nevada’s brothels. His managerial advice - “Always make sure your make up is right as you have to be every man’s fantasy”. On delivering her to the brothel Summer is in tears and obviously having second thoughts - he response “the decision is made, this is what you want to do, I don’t want to sound unsympathetic but go in there and think happy thoughts”. But, thing is, she obviously doesn’t want to do this. I mean how is this not abusive and coercive? I mean what (sane, rational, empathetic, caring) father would behave in that way? (Debates about the rights and wrongs of prostition aside, that really isn’t the point I’m making here).

Is the word "groomed" grating on you, perchance? In addition, who sanctioned this young womans public humiliation?

Oops sorry, that's the porn factor.

Just beam me up Bat Woman.

The news part says:

(…) Polish was reported as now being the second language in half of Scotland’s school areas. Although totalling less than the number speaking Punjabi and Urdu as their first language, the Polish speakers are distributed across the country, while the others are concentrated in Glasgow and the West of Scotland.

then we learn that:

(…) many Polish workers that had come to Scotland were now deserting the country as their homeland was returning to prosperity. At the moment, the Polish economy is growing significantly faster than Scotland’s, and those who have returned are able to double and even treble their salaries.

That is all fine so far, even though it lacks source reference, but then comes usual prejudice and crap hits the fan.

(…) Interestingly, some don’t even bother to speak English (and this is not a blatant generalisation - only recounting two recorded incidents).

(…)In the first (dating from a year or two ago), (...) at (...) front door by shabbily dressed individual carrying rolled up (...) oil painting (...) and (...) on a scrap of paper (...) "I am Polish and cannot speak any English. I have no money and am trying to sell these paintings I have made. Please help me."

(…)an elderly female resident of one of the Clyde’s islands reported that a group of Polish immigrants had knocked at her door and were carrying a sign asking for money.

(…) Consulting the police, these incidents were described as law breaking, and that there had been a number of arrests made in similar circumstance

Look fuck. I don't care what you think. It's your blog and this one is mine. I know that when you take ‘oxy’ from ‘oxymoron’ only ‘moron’ is left.

Don’t populate image of Polish being 100% illiterate. Get some spelling classes first and work on ‘totalling’ in particular.

It is a prejudice without justification, like saying "UK is a land of paedophiles and vanishing children".

Time to wrap-up and history knocks at the gates...

Back in the 1940’s motherfucking Unions in Scotland (read :commies) were pushing Polish former servicemen fighting for them and Britain’s freedom in the WW2 to get back home ASAP - to country occupied by communists and likely for certain death… maybe even your elderly lady was one of the species.

In the 17th century we had 40,000 Scotts immigrating to Polish Kingdom for better life and we never sent them back. Some established families, respected and considered Polish for generations now...

I almost would have forgotten to mention a very curious reference. Enoch Powell's 'Rivers of Blood' Birmingham speech on immigration was allegedly trigged by a letter of an elderly woman abused by black immigrants.

What makes it so special about the old ladies in the UK?

John Reid, Home Secretary at the time, introduced the ban in 2006, and it affected 14 of the 100 hostels in England and Wales.

However, the inspectorates of constabulary, probation and prisons said it led to a shortage of places for sex offenders. They claim that this has led to dangerous offenders being inadequately monitored in the community.

Many hostels have been private homes, and are therefore located in residential areas close to schools or nurseries.

If these offenders are potentially dangerous, then why are they not locked away? The rights of children to be protected from paedophiles must come before the welfare of the criminal.

More here.