All Buttoned-Up Was He In His Sunday Best.

"Burials Are For The Dead.
Funerals Are For The Living."
Uncle Monty (1944 - )
+St. Oswald, 2oo8.
I don't know what they did to his body,
but he looked like he was a cooked rabbit.
His ginger hair was all dishevelled. His
face looked like the inside of a fried spud.
His ears like sprouting kale or kail. His
eyes looked like dull bullbearings as I
pulled back his closed eyelids.
His mouth was open and he'd
swallowed his own tongue.
Half-striped naked, his unstitched stab
wounds showed gobs of coagulated blood
on his chest and on his belly. His skin
colour had now turned to that of dried
white coconut and his thin lips now
sealed for time immortal.
Young was he at just age 17 as I forensically
photographed him the day after Richard
Nixon was forced to resign his Republican
His name was Robbie Adams. My task then as a
forensic photographer (and of which I became a
news photographer just weeks later) was to docu-
ment the lad's grim body on a mortuary slab and
to detail everything about Robbie's street death
from the visual evidence I could photograph
such as the stab wounds, the condition of the body,
the outer injuries so sustained by the knife attack
and whatever could tell the jury, if one was called,
about the impact of what had happened to Robbie,
who was a young wiry lad when he got in a street fight
at Carson City, Nevada, over his new girlfriend with
an ex-convict and parolee twice his age and size.
The parolee had previously been convicted in
Vermont of murder by stabbing. Robbie had no
idea of what he was getting himself into, that I
am sure. For that, he was to lose his life against
a vicious character who should never have
been let out on the streets ever again to
commit yet another dastardly murder.
As a forensic photographer, you "look" but you don't
"see." That may sound odd, but that's what I found
as I photographed and recorded homicide scenes,
suicide acts, fatal car accidents, and cases of sheer
butality and ugly abuse on children and the elderly
and what have you. One's mind learns to block out
the horror of what one is photographing in order to
produce the required images for legal purposes and
for police and coroner documentation of the crimes
of murder and/or severely injured and/or battery
by violent confrontations among other matters.
After I photographed Robbie Adams' dead body,
that took at least 90 minutes to complete accord-
ing to forensic standards, they then took his body
and drained all his blood from his body and then
embalmed him. He was then dressed and placed
in his casket of blue silk bedding and white satin
pillows for his upcoming family wake at the local
funeral director's parlor. There he was shown to
family and friends in an open casket until it was
time to be sealed for his graveside service,
and finally, his actual cemetery burial.
All bottoned-up was he in his Sunday best is
what I last saw of Robbie Adams as he was laid
to rest two days after I'd produced such death
images of him and ten days after his vile
murder on the streets of America.
Truly, Uncle Monty. +St. Leander, 2oo8.
:: For legal and privacy reasons, I have
changed the name of the actual lad in
question and also the location of his
American murder. Otherwise, the story
is true to the best of my memory ::


A Few Pictures Here of My Trip to Dead-End Belfast.

Catholic Hungerstriker Bobby Sands, MP.,
(1954-1981). He starved himself to death at
age 27 and was, and still is, an hero among
the working-class Republican community.
Myself at the Sinn Fein/Irish Republican Army's
"Garden of Remembrance" at Belfast's Falls Road.

Street Vendor Monika, 21, from Romania,
at University Road near Belfast Queen's
University. She sells "Ireland's Issues,"
published at Dublin and sold by street
people throughout the two Irelands. Many
of the women I saw selling "Issues" were
Romanian young women gypsies.
"The Provos" are seen here on one of many
wall murals scattered all over Belfast from the
Catholic Falls Road to Protestant Donegall Pass. A recent feature at Ulster has been the Belfast Wheel

set along side the old downtown Belfast City Hall. It's smaller

than the photo so deceptively makes it look alot bigger

than it really is ...

Stormont - The Northern Ireland National
Assemby - set in 365 acres of lush land on
the outskirts of Dead-End Belfast. That's
one acre of land for each day of the year ...
:: ::
For my full story on my visit to Ulster, please see below ...
Cheers, Uncle Monty. +St. Lawrence, 2oo8.


Far From Faint Are The Troubles of Belfast.

Sectarian violence, the
sinking of The Titanic,
and the annual parades
to King Charles of Orange,
seem to throb in the minds
and hearts of the Ulster
people at their dead-end
city of Belfast. The 30-year
conflict here in Northern
Ireland - called "The
Troubles" - between
Protestants and Catholics had
soon evolved into a political
and ideological confrontation
and not a religious one that the
world news media insisted was
the real problem at Ulster.
The Troubles have faded some-
what thesedays compared to
the mayhem and murder between
the various political fractions
like the Irish Republican Army (IRA)
and the Ulster Defense Force (UDF)
of the past years. What has emerged
now is a new sense of societal in-
security among many folks of Belfast
since the paramilitary groups have
given way to the regular legal and
civil authorities to handle matters
by disarming themselves in the name
of the brokered Good Friday Ageement
at Stormont, where the North Ireland
national assembly sends its elected
representatives. I hope to visit Stor-
mont before I return from Ulster.
With the decline of the para-
militiaries and its law and order
presence on the streets of Bel-
fast and elsewhere, there has
been a noticeable increase in
public disorder, criminal activity,
illicit drug selling and use, and
a fast breakdown of community val-
ues, so I am told by those I have
spent the past two days here in Bel-
fast informally talking to and of
several differing voices both in
the Protestant and Catholic en-
claves or "religious" ghettoes of
Belfast. All strangers here are
seen as an initial threat and
need to be watched very carefully
by an otherwise "friendly" people.
I've now spent some time at
Donegall Pass, the Protestant
stronghold of the city. There every-
thing about English Protestantism is
almost revered beyond words and the
flags of Northern Ireland and Great
Britain are fesstooned for all to
see. While at Falls Road at where
Catholicism and Republicism are
strongly stated and demanded. There
the language spoken is oftentimes
more in Irish Gealic than English
and to where the Union Jack finds
no safe haven or welcome salutes.
The flag of the Republic of Ireland
or Eire is what you otherwise see
and the headquarters of Sinn Fein
stands firmly on Falls Road, too.
No matter what, my feelings here
vibrated with a deadening sense of
Belfast being a dead-end place,
despite the recent political
and social atomsphere having
become alot calmer of late along
with a normalcy common to most
other UK communities. But when
I see the police stations barr-
icaded, and police vehicles
designed like armoured mini-
tanks still carreening down
the city streets, then such a
city to me is little more than
a dead-end one.
The Titanic was designed and
built at Belfast. And like
The Troubles many years
later, the sinking of The
Titantic was a human dis-
aster of which thousands
lost their lives due to the
perils of the sea and then
due later to the perils
of religious and political
conflict among the people
of Northern Ireland.
As for King Charles of Orange and
The Battle of the Boyne, I think
perhaps, and as a Englsh Protestant
myself, it is truly time to put
him and the ancient battle away
and back into the history books of
Ulster, instead of all those annual
Order of Orange parades that incite
more religious and political hate
for the sake of hatred. "Give peace
a chance," above all else ...
Belfast may look cheap, but it isn't.
Internet Cafes charge £3.00 to £5.00
per hour for web use while in London
it costs as little as 50p to a quid an
hour. At the Ten Square Luxury Hotel
they want $265.00 per night for the use
of their Bradley Suite. Or you can take
their "No Boy Package" available from
£350.00 for 2 rooms: "If you are in the
mood for some girlie indulgence,"
states the hotel's brochure, "can we
recommend you book yourself into Ten
Square, and take two Superior Guest-
rooms, choose two movies, champagne,
popcorn, chocolate truffles, and beauty
packs and revel in it." Otherwise, you
can stay there for around $110.00 in
their "cheap" bedrooms. A pint of milk
costs 39p in London but at Spur's in
Belfast they charge 59p for the same
thing. And, for a cuppa of tea £1.85.
A little pack of six scones would
usually sell for less than 99p in
London, but here at Ulster they
price the same at £1.59. So Belfast
isn't cheap. Unlike London, it has
very few blacks or so-called Afro-
Europeans flooding the pavements
here. Cellphone users are thankfully
pretty thin, too. Although Eastern
Europeans from Romania and Poland have
appeared recently on the streets, I
am told. In fact, I photographed Monika
from Romania selling the street magazine
called "Ireland's Issues" that comes out
every 3 weeks and is published at Eire's
Dublin for street people to sell. They
sell it for 3 Euro in Southern Ireland and
2 quid in Northern Ireland. Many of the
items in "Issues" are regurgitated stories
from other street publications outside of
Eire and NI. A good example of that was the
story on Dame Anita Roddick's sudden death.
On the front cover of the issue 67, Vol 5,
that I bought from the vendor - a Romanian
gypsy girl called Monika aged 21 - it stated:
"A Hand Up, Not A Hand Out." At the bottom of
the cover it further stated: "50% of Cover
Price Goes Directly To The Seller. Thank
You. To Prevent Fraud: Please Buy From
Badged Sellers Only. Please Do Not Hand
Over Any Money Until The Magazine is in
your Possession." You'd think a crime
syndicate was behind the vendors from
such palaver on the front cover ...
And, I also saw no Big Issue sellers
no matter how hard I looked while
staying at Belfast ...
I stayed, by the way, at the comfy
Victorian guest house called The Botanic
Lodge at the heart of the student community
of Belfast Queen's University. And, lovely
Cathy Malone was my nice lodge host. Break-
fast at her's was an Irish treat and none of
that breakfast rubbish called "Continental"
did I see. Oh, and Greater Belfast now has
a population of almost 580.000 residents.
Travelling from Scotland's port of
Stranraer via the Stena Line ferry to
the grim Port of Belfast, I was con-
fronted with gale force winds that
almost knocked me overboard with it
being so strong and windy along with
it still being pitch dark and raining
like catz and dogz upon my first arri-
val in Northern Ireland of what will
be my almost 1,000 mile round trip
from and to London. It was a grim
start to this rather grim and dead-
end city of which now completes my
goal of visiting all the four capi-
tal cities of the United Kingdom
- London, Edinburgh, Cardiff and
now, fnally, Belfast.
I have taken an indepth set
of photographs of Belfast while
here and I will share those once
I can upload them next week for
you all to see ... Hopefully, I'll
present a true and not a negative
image per se of Belfast via my
photos, even though I still
think of it for now as a
dead-end city ...
Greetings to you from Northern Ireland,
Uncle Monty. +19th Day of Lent, 2oo8.


Justice Is Little More Than A Seven-Letter Word.

Like caged cattle the prisoners arrived by Serco
white prison vans to face judgement or release or
further remand at Highbury Corner Magistrates
Court on a dreary and depressing morning at
old foggy London Town. I myself had arrived
to be an ordered witness at the court in the
case of rabid robbery against me from some
weeks ago while then travelling on the No. 25
"ghettoized" bendy bus in which two robbers
now stand accused of robbing me and getting
caught red-handed by four plainclothes cops
who, by sheer chance, happened to be there
on the same bendy at the same time as the
accused robbers and me ...
Courtrooms are scattered around the world.
They control and sentence millions of people
each year for every conceivable offense or
crime that humankind is constantly held to
task not to commit. And whether they like it
or not, the law is there to exact its power
over the rest of us. There is, of course, no
such thing as "justice" for it is doesn't exist,
except by perception or myth or belief that
it exists. The poorer you are, the poorer the
"justice" is. The richer you are, the oppose of
it tends to exist in the minds of the rich. But
no matter what, "justice" is little more than
a seven-letter word - period.
Courts cost billions of dollars each year to
operate at every corner of the globe. We
have every kind of courts imaginable:
Civil Courts, Sharia Courts, Bankrupt Courts,
Traffic Courts, Youth or Teen Courts, Divorce
Courts, Night Courts, Arbitration Courts, Tribal
Courts, District Courts, Secret Courts, Appeals
Courts, Ecclesiastic or Consistory Courts, Military
Courts, Police Courts, Magistrate Courts, and
above all, Kangaroo Courts, just to name a few.
I must leave now to attend the court hearing and
to present my testimony under oath regarding
the robbery against me ...
Once I've finished my eye witness testimony, I'll
then add more about what occurred inside the
British courtroom at Highbury Corner.
Sincerely, Uncle Monty. +Daffadilly Day, 2oo8.
:: UPDATE ::
Got back to the court and
shortly afterwards the fire
alarms went off and hundreds
of people were evacuted and
ordered out on the street.
After an hour and half, we
were let back inside the court
building only to find out that
most of the cases had been ad-
jorned completely. It seems all
the prisoners in the court cells
were evacuted and shipped back
to the prisons from where they
came from first thing this morn-
ing and so witnesses like me were
of no use with the prisoners and
the accused having already left
the building for the day ...
So one whole day was wasted
for nothing as I left some
seven hours after waiting to
testify before the court. I
just knew the day was bloody
jinxed ...


Electrocardiographicalisticulite ... Nice word, yep?

Whether or not I've correctly spelled the
word "Electrocardiographicalisticulite"
-- some 32 words making it perhaps one
of the longest or elongated words I've
ever seen -- is not the point here.
Rather, it's to do with me being sub-
jected to such during my appointment
at Old Thomas Guy's at the Southwark
Wing. What in heaven's name does such
a word mean? Yes, it's medical for sure
in meaning, but I'm still at a loss
to understand not only what the word
means but why such a word needs to be so
looooooooooooooong. Is there a doctor out
there who can figure out the real meaning
of "electocardographicalisticulite" in
simple layman's terms? If so, please post
here your response for me and us all ...
Kudos, Monty. +2nd Sunday in Lent, 2oo8.
:: UPDATE ::
Patti Patterson writes:
Monty dear, you've missed the 'i'
in the 'cardo' part of the word.
You'll find 32 letters in the word.
What it means exactly I do not know,
dear, but I think it is some fancy
jargon in hospitals for heart matters.
Thanx Patti. I have now corrected
the word and added the "i." Guess
you're right about the meaning, too.
Your's Monty. +Vigil of St. Wulfric, 2oo8.


Scruples So Soulfully Shrift ...

(Lat. scrupulus 'small sharp stone').
"In moral theology unfounded fears
that there is sin where there is none.
Scrupulosity may be the result of much
ascetic reading of rigorist tendency,
but more often is the outcome of
nervous distrubances. It usually
manifests itself in the fear of having
consented to sinful imaginations and
desires, of having made incomplete
confessions, and of being unworthy
of the reception of the sacraments.
It may also err with regard to duties
which it is prone to see where they do
not exist. Scrupulosity, which often in-
clines the penitent to refuse submission
to the judgement of his (or her) con-
fessor, may lead to sins of obstinacy
and despair, or, conversely, to self-
indulgence. The scrupulous, who are
discouraged from making minute
confessions, are usually counselled to
disregard their scruples and to act
in obedience to the advice of a
prudent spiritual director."
The Oxford Dictionary of the Christian
Church. Edited by Lady Margaret Profesor
of Divinity F. L. Cross. 1958. pp. 1234.
(Periodically, I shall post here
other religious
definitions that take my fancy and to which
I shall "scrupulously" share with you all ...)
In French: "Scrupuleux."
In German: "Gewissenshaft."
Truly, Monty. +12th Day of Lent, 2oo8.


It's Profits From The Poverty of Others, My Dear John Bird.

This is the first image I took of John Bird in 2oo5
The UK Big Issue's London HQ at Vauxhall
Bunch of Eastern European "Homeless" or
"Dehomed Foreigners" outside the kitchen
at London's Mother Theresa Mens Hostel.
In his two-page spread in his own magazine,
The Big Issue's editor John Bird presented his
own semantic 1,700-word opinion on the burning
issue of the continuing influx of foreigners, most
notably those coming from Eastern Europe, to Eng-
land and who then, in so many cases, soon land up
here as so-called "homeless." What he had to say
was headed by his dizzy 12-word caption: "WE
in the colourful Janet Jackson edition, No. 782.
How the Poles, Romanians, Bulgarians,
Estonians and Latvians, who have been flocking
to and flooding England, can suddenly be called
"homeless" is beyond me. Especially, since they
are primarily economic migrants first and foremost
and who oftentimes arrive deliberately with insuffi-
cient funds and skills to contribute to their own
welfare upon arriving at poruous border Britain. I
call them "dehomed foreigners" -- meaning they
freely gave up their home and/or left their country
voluntarily from whence they came -- and are thus
not homeless in the vanacular or sense to which
John Bird peppers his bloated opinion on those who
are "suffering" from poverty of their own making in
all too many instances ...
With so many jobless and unskilled Eastern Europeans
now embedded in England, such has provided a new
and plentiful and unexpected reseviour and flow of
so-called "new homeless" for The Big Issue to freely
recruit and badge to further flog its weekly publication
on the cold streets of Albion. Such is a growing threat to
the "homeland homeless" who are now confronted with
such "dehomed foreigners" and to which The Big Issue
and John Bird himself seems to be totally oblivious to ...
It seems they don't give a damn as long as they can
get to sell more copies of The Big Issue to make more
profit from wherever the pool of street vendors can be
replenished by foreigners at the expense of the
"homeland homeless." The more I read John Bird's
article, the more it sounded to me like some kind of
New Labour or Internationale Manifesto. God forbid ...
A few years ago I was hostelled at Mother Theresa's
"Home of Love." At that time, there was about 55%
Eastern Europeans staying there under the eye of
Mother Superior Sister Innocentia and Sister Timothy.
Another 15% were Africans and/or Asians; 20% were
Irish, Spanish, Italians, I guess; while the rest of us,
like me, were white British citizens of perhaps 10%.
Today, Mother Theresa's now houses 90% Eastern
Europeans ... I mention this example to demonstrate
how the local homeless have been displaced and taken
over by the unending influx of Eastern Europeans to the
UK. So great are the number of Poles now claiming
"homelessness" since they left Poland that they now
have their own Polish street paper all for themselves.
In reading John Bird's opinion, he says: "Let's help
the displaced (like all those Eastern Europeans now at
Mother Theresa's and elsewhere in England, I assume)
to become placed. They can therefore start supporting
themselves. Let's get them into the workforce. Let's
get them started on doing the jobs that are always
on offer, so that they can educate themselves and
they can educate their children." It sounds grand,
but why not pay for them to go back home instead
of them taking up all of our resources and expenses
to do what should have already been done for
them back home in their country of origin? Why
must we educate and feed their childen, too? It's
their problem, not our's. Nor is it the task that The
Big Issue is capable of taking on no matter what
John Bird's says about how it was first set up to
work with the poor and homeless. Locally, yes.
Globally, no. It wasn't set up to do that. It was
set up to make a profit, despite all the talk of
its so-called "benevolence" for the poor and
homeless ... Over the years, the poor and destitute
have brought in millions of pounds for The Big Issue
that is now tantamount to "corporate welfare" as
thousands of its street vendors make only peanuts
at best for most of them ...
So the reality of The Big Issue is first to make a
profit above all else. It's profits from the poverty of
others who happen to be homeless people. No
people of poverty, no profits. It is those
kind of people who The Big Issue depends
on to sell its weekly to the buying public.
And thus "dehomed foreigners" help propel
greater profits for The Big Issue with no labour
costs to pay for such street vendors who must
then sell the magazine in order for such a foreigner
or native vendor to even buy his or her own cuppa tea.
And thus, they're then left to the elements to survive
or not. Most do not ...
And, of course, if there's no homeless then there's
no street vendors and so no profits for John and
his Vauxhall clique and fat catz at The Big Issue.
England cannot afford to be the Nanny of the world's
poor and destitute, ad infinitum ... Many of the
so-called "poor" are social and economic failures
before they even stepped foot in Limeyland. They
come to England for one reason only -- to get
freebies galore and to get something for nothing.
They came to take, not to give ... What some of
them get once raw reality sinks in is a sobering
stint at being a Big Issue street vendor that's a far
cry from the rosy stories back home of how Great
Britain is a "soft touch" and is paved with free gold.
"Go West, Young Man," means go west to England
thesedays from Eastern Europe, unlike what it once
meant in America by going West to California during
the Gold Rush.
There is no gold rush in England only a gold
drain ... The majority of foreigners and natives
will not even see a bar of pure gold in their own
lifetime, except for those high-powered city traders
at The Square MIle and even there the gold is
losing its lustre of late for some traders due to
the global economic turndown ... Yet ironically,
performance bonuses for some company exec-
utives and upper managers are bigger this year
than last despite the economic forcasts of doom
and gloom ... It's like the sub-prime crisis never
happened in America or property prices went
wobblely as they grab bonuses running into the
billions ...
Aside from John Bird's rhetoric and posturing on
immigration, what is The Big Issue really getting out
of all of the non-ending influx of "dehomed" Eastern
Europeans or foreigners? They're getting a supply of
new alien faces on the city and town streets across
the whole face of the UK. Many of the aliens are only
physically here in Britain, while emotionally and men-
tally they're still back in Krakow or from wherever they
came from. All too many are simply "lost" - period.
Most have not adjusted or acclimatized to England
socially, economically, and culturally. And, most
never will. They're suffering from cultural lag and
linguistic inability and the disease of unprepared
poverty. They turn to The Big Issue oftentimes for
"employment" out of desperation of nothing else
to turn to to get money ... Jobwise or otherwise
they've few place to turn to ... But John Bird's
publication doesn't employ street vendors, so
such "dehomed foreigners" are still at a loose
end for a real job come at the end of the day,
even if they have a few quid in their pockets
after hours and hours on the streets trying to
sell the latest Big Issue. Yes, it does have
its bigjob offers on the internet, but nothing is
there for its street vendors even for the most
talented ones. College kidz love to work for
TBI. It's the "in" thing to "care" about the
homeless yet never having been homeless
themselves. How cute?
Language is the greatest barrier for the dehomers, aside
from the resentment against them by many local English
because they're seen as unwelcomed foreigners in a
land that is already choking to death on such vexing
people and useless Third World immigrants that have
brought with them all of their crime, all of their diseases,
all of their bad attitude, all of their tribal violence, all of
their anti-White mindset, all of their drug habits, all of
their cultural mishmash, and all of their abuse of the
immigration laws that New Labour seems mindlessly
content to let them further abuse at any time.
Ex-Labour minister Lord Turner has now called
for "no more immigration and babies" for fear of a
racist (the proper word is "racial") backlash in Britain
due to the straggering and overwhelming numbers of Third
Worlders still crowding out our country. If there is a racial
backlash -- and I think it's only a matter of time for such --
then this past Anthony Blair and present Gordon Brown
Labour Government should be put in the criminal dock
and indicted forthwith ... And if the two "B's" -- Blair and
Brown -- are found guilty, then send them to Belmarsh to
get a taste of England's top security jailhouse for awhile.
In other points regarding John Bird's 1,700-word opinion
on the role that he believes The Big Issue can and should
play in the present growing crisis of masses of EU citizens
invading Little Britain, I will take some of his points and state
what I believe are fallacious ones and some of those that
I think may have some merit. Of course, such is my own
personal opinion and is not intended in anyway to speak for
John or his Big Issue businesses. And make no mistake,
I like John Bird to bits. But I state what I believe without
fear or favour to anybody or to anything, even if I like
them to bits or not.
I will perhaps have more to say, if I have the time,
about John's article and his Internationalist rationale
to aid and abet all the newcomers from foreign parts
now polluting England like street garbage ... As
promised earlier, I have now uploaded three images
of mine as shown at the top of the page to go with
my observations.
I think John Bird's comment that has solid
merit is what he stated as follows:
"There is no need to deny that immigration
has moved from the concerns of the extreme
right to centre stage for otherwise liberal-
minded people." But what doesn't have merit to
my mind is when he goes from that arguement
to then declaring: "Surely there is something
even more important in the background. Is this
(in other words "his") magazine that you are
reading worth buying? Is it good value for
money? Is it the kind of magazine that you
want to read?" Whether The Big Issue is a very
good, or good, not so good, or bad, or very bad
magazine is totallly irrelevant, in my candid opinion,
to the rageing issue of immigration and/or de-
homed foreigners flogging the magazine on
the streets of modern day UK.
Truly, Monty. +Tenth Day of Lent, 2oo8.