Unwanted Pontifical Rings of the Prinknash Abbot. By Uncle Monty.

Unwanted Pontifical Rings
of the Prinknash Abbot.
By Uncle Monty.
+
Pilgrims to the 1906, Anglican-founded, Prinknash
Abbey, which is now under the Episcopal jurisdiction
of the Roman Catholic Diocese of Clifton, will no more
find robed Benedictine monks to warmly greet

and welcome them there.

+
In June, the few remaining monks left the abbey
and the 65 year-old abbot, Father Francis Baird, OSB,
then decided to auction off the unwanted pontifical

rings and religious paintings to help raise funds to-

wards the operation and preservation of the nearby

English monastery at the medieval St. Peter’s Grange.
+
Among the rare items at the Simon Chorley auction, set
for September 18th, 2oo8, at the old abbey grounds, is an
18-caret gold pontifical glove ring (shown above) bearing
the cameo portrait of Pope Pius VII (1740-1823) that
was the Abbot’s once often-kissed ring by visiting
pilgrims and clergy to his abbey.
+
Gold Episcopal Ring

Two amethyst and diamond gold Episcopal
rings (with one illustrated above) are also set

to be auctioned off along with an Art-Deco,

1934, hammered-texture chalice by

Hart of Campden.
+
Abbot Baird hopes to raise about £3.000 or $6.000,

but I suspect the gold pontifical glove ring alone to

fetch almost that let alone another auction set for by
the Prinknash monks for November in which such a

19th century replica painting of Fr. Angelico’s Three

Angels -will be offered to the highest bidder.

Frank Salisbury’s 1940s oil painting Divine
Manifestation: The Shrine of Humanity

will also be sold by bid at the same Nov.

auction which is expected to attract

many of the Church's hierarchy.
+
The Monks

England has now become such a non-religious Christian
nation that places like Prinknash Abbey must close due
to fewer and fewer modern folks wanting to commit
themselves to religious orders. Plus, the astronomical
cost of keeping such an abbey going is so prohibitive
among other problems like the coming end and finale
of “The Church Age.” Such is being seen with the
over-reaching rise of the global Digital Age and the
all-consuming secularisation and criminalization of
every aspect of our daily lives. Along with the non-
teaching of Christian values at home and school in
the present and broken and sick society that is sadly

England today. The rise and spread of radical Islam,

New Age beliefs, hideous witchcraft, creeping

Freemasonry, and open marchers of non-belief, in

post modern Britain will put pay to Christianity sooner

or later unless there is a national spiritual revival against

such detrimental forces now at work. Most folks these-

days don’t give a bugger, anyway, while the country

keeps going down the drain, morally, spiritually,

economically, politically, and nationalistically.
+
The Abbey.

+
I may just pop-up at the auction, if I can get a
ride there. So that I may also visit the abbey at
the same time and meet perhaps the abbot, too,
and take some photo-images that I will find there.
Hopefully, the auction will get off to a rousing
start and raise some big bucks for the monks
and the medieval grange. At least, I hope so ...

http://www.prinknashabbey.org/
+
Faithfully, Uncle Monty.
+Eve of 16th Sunday after Trinity, 2oo8.
+

Catching Rabat's Raree-Show. By Uncle Monty.

Catching Rabat's Raree-Show.

Story and Photos By Uncle Monty.

***

Just before Contessa Maria and me headed out for our 8-day
Safari to West Africa’s former Upper Volta, I spent a day
or so "Catching Rabat’s Raree-Show."
***
And, what a wonderful raree-show it was indeed that coincided
with the start of Morocoo’s two-day national commemoration of
"Fete de la Jeunesse." I’d never before seen Moroccans at play like
I did at the beaches and medinas of the their capital city of Rabat.
They seemed to let loose and show themselves at their friendliest best.

***
Photographically, I was in for a feast of images that I captured with all
due respect and at sometimes wonder and awe for I had not expected
Rabat to be a place of such at all. I first had thoughts of the mundane,
not the merriment of the people of the ancient Almohad empire that
has evolved from the 12th century into what is today’s Rabat royal
city of King Hassan II with his well-guarded royal palace to prove it.
***

Photoview of one of the world's largest Islamic cememteries.

Stumbling first on one of the world’s largest Islamic cemeteries

(seen above) right next to Rabat’s downtown holiday beaches

at where thousands had gathered to splash and surf with their

families and friends, I was stunned by the sheer contrast of the

living and the dead. While over 10.000 people lay dead still at

the beachside cemetery, just yards away I saw thousands

of the living enjoying their care-free holiday.

I couldn’t help but think that one day many of them would
also be dead and buried at the very same spot at where
they now played and were basking in what was almost

100-degree heat. So, let the living yet live

and let the dead be dead …
***

Four of Rabat's Menswear Photomodels.

For those sex-starved American and English women, I might

suggest they, too, gad off quickly to the Rabat beaches to find

such male fashion hunks tanned to their full masculine manliness

that would make them droll and throb on the spot with utter
ecstasy and envy.

***

They happened upon me did the menswear photomodels
has I was taking photoshots of the rock formation just yards

away from the Islamic cemetery. As soon as they saw me, the

guyz zoomed on me and wanted to know if I was a European

fashion photographer. Pity, no. Within minutes, they began pos-

ing on the same rocks for their photoagency and I was told I was
free to photograph the ongoing print advert they were making.

And so I did. Usually, most photoagencies strictly exclude

others from freely photographing their fashion models when

they’re on location or doing photosets. Maybe they just liked
my pretty face and fancy cameras to let me photograph them

and to somehow help promote them outside of their North

African homeland. Or simply because everybody was in a

jolly holiday mood and so they just let me photograph for

the hell of it. They were a wonderful set of Moroccan guyz
to me and who spoke and joked in fluent English while

most local folkz I met spoke only Arabic, French and/or

Berber with perhaps a little pidgin English of their

own thrown in for good measure.

***

I found that catching Rabat’s raree-show was like

opening many Xmas gifts to find out what was inside

each of the wrapped boxes. Each box contained a

new delight for me at opening my eyes to Morocoo’s

real royal city and her pretty friendly people that I

otherwise was not aware of until I ventured wherever my

feet and my eyes took me without any precondition or

fear. I felt utterly safe and free to go here and there at

Rabat as if I was indeed a local resident of the city.
***
Islam's Friday Prayer Day at Rabat.

Friday Prayer Day was still Friday Prayer Day despite the two-day
relaxing national holiday as the Muslim faithful attended their local
Rabat mosques in droves. With the prolong heat of the late summer,
most of the mosques had opened their doors wide open to counter the
sweaty heat. So by chance barred Christian folkz like me could see
right inside the mosque for a change. Thus, a golden opportunity was
there for a curious shutterbug like me to snap a few images of the on-
going prayer ritual that I discreetly recorded at Rabat. Morocco is
quite progressive compared to other Islamic states like Iran and Saudi
Arabia. Women are emancipated for the most part and the country is
a Sunni variant and not Shi'ite, I discovered. Loyalty to the king him-
self seems to be the benchmark of their Islamic faith. Most businesses,
stores, and even the local buses, display photographs of the past and
present Kings of Morocco. The king is revered in the country much like
the British ones were of the past in Great Britain and now much faded
with rarely any display of even the present queen of England, except
at embassies and government ministries. While aiming to be equally
religious and secular, Morocco is still a "benevolent" police state
at where the police – Surete Nationale – and military apparatus is
ever present at every level of the society and at where every citizen
must carry a valid national ID card much like what Britain’s New
Labour government wants now to impose and inflict on all the people
of England at the outrageous cost of billions of pounds and all in the
catch-all name of fighting Jihad terrorism. Ironically, and viciously,
the biggest terrorist is oftentimes the state itself. Look to America,
modern Pakistan, Burma, and Israel for clear examples of that.
***
Of Rabat's glistening French past ...

Rabat’s glistening French past is seen in the above memorial
column I found of Moulay Youssef, Sultan du Maroc, (1912-1927).
Hardly any statues or columns (like the one I photograpghed above)
exists in Morocco or in Rabat or at Casablanca at where I later
stayed upon returning from the West Africa safari to the former
Upper Volta with dearest Maria, who departed then to New York.
Somewhat away from the beaches now, I enjoyed going to the
various rug, wholesale goods, antiques, and body shop districts of
the royal city to see how the other half lived in a city that isn’t the
the cleanest of places and with sidewalks designed by neglect to
break your neck if you don’t look carefully at where you step.
Although it's not so dangerous and broken as I found at Albana’s
capital of Tirana when visiting there earlier this year.

And wherever you go in Rabat, or in any other Islamic town, there
is always someone else watching what you do … especially when
photographing. When the old beggar I saw told me he’d never
had a photo taken of himself, I quickly convinced him to let
me photograph him with a 10 dirhams coin (about $1-) and
the result was my picture of him shown below. His old lady,
moreover, watched in agony at the thought of him being
photographed for the first time. He ignored her remonstrated
pain. He carried a smirk on his face, once I’d done my deed.
***
His first ever photo ...

Elsewhere, I found the North African labourer (seen
below) so tired out that he took himself a little and
well-deserved mid-afternoon nap at the rug district
of Rabat. He’d helped loadup the truck with those
heavy and newly machine-made colourful rugs that
Rabat is well-known for making since time immortal.
Some of the trucks I saw would have been ticketed,
fined and hauled off the road by the Brit cops and and
England’s maddening and crazy health and safety
goons. In Morocco, they’d have been told to go
and stuff it and then to bugger off … Bravo.
***
Taking himself a little mid-afternoon nap at Rabat.
***
Then onto the body shop district I went by foot. At the
car number plate shop – next door to the quaint Russian
Orthodox Church – I soon found some new Rabat friends
who eagerly wanted me to photograph them as they came
rushing out the shop after they'd seen me at the church and
greeted me with traditional Arabic exchanges of cheek-to-
cheek hugs and kisses. Inside the shop, I was invited to
record them making car license or registration plates
with the father of the family (second from the left), his
two brothers, and his three sons as shown below.
When the father found I was from England - or as
they usually refer to such as “Britannia” – he kissed
me again on both cheeks and said the British were the
best people in the world. Really? Well, I’ll be damned.

At one of Rabat's License Plate Shops.

Just less than mile away from the guyz at car plate
shop, I then photographed below the typical scene
from one of the old neighbourhoods of Rabat.

Many of them are run down and the level of
poverty can clearly been seen with the blind,
disabled and the elderly sick being forced to beg
on the dirty streets for whatever little money
they can get. At Rabat, public begging is rather
very passaive compared to say Marrakesh and Fez
at where the beggars never seem to come to an end.
You give to one and a whole herd then come at you.
I'd almost say the Rabat beggars are even polite.

A typical Old Rabat neighourhood.

***
It seems everywhere you go in Morocoo, the king and
the government have huge swags of land, property,
and buildings with unlimited armed soldiers appointed
to stand guard around the clock against the local
common folk. In many ways, it’s rather feudal and
obscure by modern European and American ways.
While at the same time, Morocco is, nevertheless,
pro-American and pro-Western business and is
politically-in-arms with the West against Islamic

terrorism and Jihad insurgency. To say the country,

however, is Westernized at the domestic level is a

rather fallacious and broadsweeping assessment of

Morocco in my view after visiting the country for the

third time in as many years. Being pro-West and be-

ing Westernized are two quite different kettles of fish,

I think. My lack of photographs of Rabat womenfolk is
due to the Islamic cultural prohibition against such

even though I saw some pretty seductive ladies to

include in my camera's eye. Again, it tells us

Morocco isn't so Westernized after all. But that's

just fine with me in many respects because the

West has become so decrepit and so immoral to-

ward women and open sex. Plus, I like Morocco

precisely because it isn't culturally and historically

at all like Europe and USA. I'm not fond, any-

way, of going to visit carbon-copy countries.

***
The Kasbah of the Oudayas at Rabat.

My story and photographs here of "Catching Rabat's

Raree-Show" only scratches the surface of Morocco's

wonderful capital city of about two million residents.

***
I hope I have given you a tiny whiff of the city and
the enticing nature of it. But the best thing to do is to
simply take a visit there and you'll find you don't have
to stay at such an expensive place like the standoffish
Bulmina Hotel at where Maria insisted on staying at
almost 100 quid a night. Just doors away we could
have easily and safely stayed at Hotel Mon Foyer
on the same Ave. Med V, No. 285, for a splendid 20
euro per night. Not so fancy for sure, but a good
buy for those of us who don't have a fortune to
spend acting like rich Limeys and Yankees.

Your's, Uncle Monty.
The Eve of Ramadan, 2oo8.
America's Labor Day.

Coming Next: My 3-Day, 1.615-Mile,
Bus Ride From Casablanca To Paris.

I'm now back after two weeks to continue posting
my new stories and photos on my personal blog.

Thank you so much everybody for the many e-mails
and messages I received while in North and West Africa
during my holidays there with Contessa Maria, who,
yet again, has so generously underwritten my hols
and expenses without even a murmur ... Maria,
you're just so wonderful and kind beyond all else. I
say: "Thanks a million," like Bob Hope used to say.
***

:: DIANA ::

Passing by almost silently yesterday was the 11th

anniversary death of Diana, Princess of Wales. I

happened to be in Paris yesterday and I thought how

sad it was that so few today of the "Peoples Princess"

now mark her passing without a single thought of her

tragic and untimely death (or killing) that took place

at the same Paris tunnel I happened to pass thru

myself just yesterday ... How quickly we forget?

:: Uncle Monty ::

***

OVERLAND TO UPPER VOLTA. By Uncle Monty.

Overland To Upper Volta.
By Uncle Monty.
.=.
Standing right here at Morocco’s Sunni and mosaic

capital of Rabat, we’re now about half way, give or

take, on the first leg of our Swahili's safari tour of

driving another 1,800 miles overland to Ouagadougou,

the French-speaking capital of Burkina Faso that was

once known as central West Africa’s Upper Volta.
.=.
For Maria and I, we’ll go thru three or four more
countries and geographical hotspots like the Western

Sahara, and onto Mauritania (at where the military coup

by Mohamed Ould Abdelazizat at the capital Nouakchott
took place just over a week and abit ago with its elected

President Sidi Mohamed Ould Cheikh Abdallahi still be-

ing detained by the coup leaders, who have been widely

condemned around the world) and then arriving at Mali,

before we finally reach inside the former Upper Volta.

.=.

It will take us three or four days or more, I

guess, to arrive there in our convoy of seven or

eight British Land Rovers and American Jeeps.

The overland convey includes armed drivers, an
experienced African guide, and a tour navigator.

Plus, an healthy backup of two 4x4 American jeeps in

case we have a mechanical breakdown or a road accident.

There’ll be about 15 to 18 other presently unknown

Europeans and Yankees joining us as global travel-

lors to this rugged frontier of boiling hot days and

its intruding aeon of aridity.
.=.
Being European and American travellors requires great

caution from being sitting ducks for those who may seek

to perhaps rob us on the waffle-like highways of deep

desert and blowing sand storms. In Mauritania itself, a

number of French tourists have been robbed and re-

portedly killed already this year. Worse still is the real

fear and danger of being kidnapped for ransom or

for some political motivation of those African and/or

Muslim rebels who are likely to see us as nothing

more than pawns or pure white “colonialists,” which,

of course, we’re not. We’re just globe trotters look-

ing to experience a new travel thrill with all its

various ambiance and dark entanglements. And

seeking, too, to expand our experience of seeing

these parts of Africa we’ve not seen before.

We come unarmed, unlike our Safari drivers.
.=.

A scaled-down map of where Maria and I

will go overland to Upper Volta from Rabat.

Whatever, we’re right off to Upper Volta and come

what may we’ll all surely arrive there hopefully in one

piece. And, hopefully, a lot more wiser about Africa and

her different people and her indigenous culture and her

amazing wildlife by our own first hand and upfront

encounters while journeying thru inmost West Africa.

We will not be hunting the rare and beautiful creatures

we hope to see and photograph. Those who come to kill

by hunting need not come with their rifles and shotguns

near us. We support the preservation of all wildlife

and not the slaughter and wanton killing of such.
.=.
Ah, we do have just one vacant seat left if you’d like to

join us here. But please, don’t bother to come with us

if you don’t have at least a potful or pocketful of Brit or

Yankee dough of about $US6.400 - or £3.200 -- for your

rear seat which is the cheapest. The two front ones, the
most expensive, have already been booked and taken

by none other than Contessa Maria and me. Thankfully,

she’s already paid for them. Such then is not for skinflints.

.=.
So here we come, abit intrepidly I must say, to Upper

Volta’s old tribal capital of Ouagadougou at where at least

44 gold miners died underground last week due to the

bloody goldmine collapsing on them thru very heavy

rainfalls. Sad for them. See ya then, all from there …
.=.
See ya all on my return, Uncle Monty.

+Murdered David Adams, 17, 1985-2oo8.
...

At Morocco's Rabat.

...

I want to personally thank

James Higgins of Chamberlain De Broe

for his kind and generous financial gift to me
for my West Africa hols. Thank you so much

James … You’re much like Maria, much too

generous and much too kind to an old and

‘potheaded’ fart like me. Kudos to James ...
:::
Overland To Upper Volta. By Uncle Monty

::
:: BLOG NOTICE ::
::
While here in Africa, I shall be taking a much needed
break from my blog for the next couple of weeks unless
something drastic or major happens that will drive me
to instantly blog on whatever that may be. Otherwise, I,
Uncle Monty, bid you all a nice holiday and/or a work
break that we all need from time to time. That

time is now for me and perhaps for you.

So happy days are here again.

...

So byebye and toodaloo, Uncle Monty.

+Florence Nightingale, 1910-2oo8.
:::
Yet, another UK immigrant wedding this
week at the same RC church from last week.

Yet, Another UK Immigrant Wedding.
Story and Photos By Uncle Monty.
::
This week’s immigrant wedding was alot less showy

and alot less costly than last week’s matrimonial do

costing an estimated $18.000 to do. But, there was

by far alot more folkz at this week's do than last.

I photographed at the same RC Church this week

like I did last week. However, I took my cameras

this time upto a third floor window to view and

photographed from some 150 yards away from the
church itself. Such was unlike standing close to the

parish door like I did before in the pouring rain to

record my first immigrant wedding event in the
UK. So in less than a week I have now seen and
recorded two African immigrant weddings in full
bloom. Both weddings are among the growing

numbers of immigrants marrying in order to

legally stay in the UK.

.

The latest figures are some 35.000 to 40.000 such

immigrant and illegal immigrant wedding taking place
around the country at this British summertime alone.

And, the weddings numbers continue to grow unabatedly.

Black weddings are a booming industry in the UK

thesedays, so it appears, due to the swelling numbers

of masses of Third World immigrants that Britain’s

New Labour has opened the door freely to them.

::

My question, among others, is where do they get all of

the money from to pay for such expensive weddings

when they have arrived from their Third World habitat

to the UK mostly penniless and without jobs just only

a couple of years ago? I just wonder how they get the

money to do it all? Other than that, how come that the

UK is now being swamped by immigrant and foreigner

weddings? Here I present some of the following answers

as to why ...

::
Three major demographic factors have
simutaneously occurred in Britain under New Labour’s
governmental and state control, and their wreaking tenure,
that has decisively and negatively altered forever the very
character and very essence of England during the past
ten years or so.
::
First, the black ghettoization of most of our
country’s larger city and towns is by New Labour.
Secondly, the foreignization of almost every aspect
of the British job market has resulted with the huge
influx of foreigners and immigrants of every type
from all regions of the world to the UK. Again, such
is due to New Labour’s insatable aim and desire for
a multicultural and and multiracial "New Britain."
Today's school kidz in Britain speak 240 different
languages with English not being their Mother
Tongue for the most part. And thirdly, the horrid
Eastern Europeanization of England by our un-
voted membership in the European Union (EU),
which New Labour first promised to let the people
vote on, but then renegued on it much like much
of New Labour’s constant zigzags and U-turns on
so many of their potty and grandiose political, social
and economic pronouncements. No wonder more than
a quarter of million Brits, each year, flee and forsake
their own country to go and live any where else but
inside of New Labour’s Broken -"New Britain."
...
Family and friends waiting for the bride and groom
to take their stretcher limo ride to their honeymoon.

In the meantime, more immigrants and foreigners are marrying
like crazy all over England. Some estimated 10,000 marriages are
bogus or sham each year by immigrants and foreigners in the UK.

And, of course, they're having their pounding pregnancies and

big babies at England's expense and far above and beyond
what their demographic numbers and representation
should truly be. The UK has now become the modern
concubine of the world, too. The number of babies born
out of wedlock to immigrants and foreigners in the UK
is almost an affront to the moral and responsible
decency and social properness to those who are first
the home grown English people and now imposed host.
...
Friday, by the way, instead of the usual weekend, is
now also finding to be more the day when weddings
take place in the UK, according to the Ecclesiastical
Insurers Direct. So expect to see more useless and
upperty immigrant and foreign couples choosing to
then tie-the-knot on such Fridays in the future.
The vexing problem with such people is that they
always use more of our resources and our wealth
than what they are worth and more than whatever
peanuts they bring with them. The focus of improv-
ing the quality of our society is the least thing to
concern them and their desire to grab whatever they
can get for free is all they care about. They always take,
but rarely give back unless it's of a negative kind like
all of their growing street crime, all of their dangerous
diseases, and all of their dreadful and alien cultural
mishmash. Many of them are little more than free-
loaders, spongers and scumbags. New Labour
seems propelled to rewards those like them.
That's why they still keep coming to "New
Britain" by the illegal truckloads and what
have you. They then help to make Britain
even more broken than it already is.
.=.
Now taking a needed break, Uncle Monty.
+Wm. and Catherine Booth, Founders
of the Salvation Army, 1912-2oo8.
...

...
Parker House's Streetwise
Punk Jay Thompson, 40.

:::

E-MAIL LETTER FROM NEW YORK.

From my Aussie buddy Earl Hemphill.

---

G'Day Monty, I went on a free walking tour yesterday of

the financial district in NYC and got a lot of insider information

about how something called the "stock market" works. If only

you knew what our churches were playing at .......... New York

is going well. The weather has been not too humid which is good.

As well as my wife settling into her job we have managed to find

a flat in Queens - I claim the title as the "Earl of Queens" -

apparently the TV networks over here are not so keen on a

comedy show with this title however ("King of Queens",

hope that wasnt lost on you). Hope the (big) issue is still

selling and that you have picked up more customers.

---

It is really the plastic society over here. They double bag

everything. We bought some toothpaste the other day and

they double bagged ! it. We go to eat somewhere, while ad-

mittedly cheaper establishments, and they will serve the

food on plastic plates with plastic cuttlery. If they have a

green revolution in NYC they will have to start by single

bagging and charging for an extra bag. While I have

always known from my previous visits to this country

that it is a tough society to live in for the maganilsed,

an interesting report in the NY times today

illustrated this. It was talking about an avenue which

extends through harlem and has many fuel stations.

While these fuel stations are self service people will go

to the pumps and offer car drivers to fill their tanks

with fuel for tips. I am also surprised at the lack of

charity outlets we see here. In London before leaving

we dropped much stuff off at the local charity outlet.

We are wondering what we can do in NY - the salvos

in Manhatten are all we have been told about or

seen at the moment.

---

America offers a lot in comercial

products. A good ex! ample is the footcare I could

easily find here in terms of availability of different in-

soles when I hurt my foot as apposed to UK availability.

While everyone expects (or at least me) that America

is the world leader in everything they have a long

way to go in commercial transactions. For instance my

wife is currently getting paid by check, not for want of

a bank account. Unbelievably to get the bank account

transaction setup we needed to get froms filled out

from the employer and bank so that this transaction

can take place. Fortunately we got the internet up as

soon as we moved into the flat. Anyway its a strange

and unforgiving place but I call it my home away

from home ..... is that the UK, Ireland or Aus .....

I cant remember now. Oh yeah thats right

I say. G'Day Monty. Catchya Earl ...

---

Just got Earl's unedited comments above on arriving

here at Morocco's capital of Rabat. It was so good to

hear from him after being such a good friend and

customer at my Covent Garden pitch. Glad, too, he

arrived okay at The Big Apple at where I once lived

for awhile myself at the Upper Eastside.

Stay Kool, Uncle Monty.
"Earl Hemphill" ehemphill@lycos.com
To: thebiggerissue@k.st Date:
Sun 08/17/08 06:58 PM
---

Castrate The Bugger. By Uncle Monty.

CaStRaTe ThE BuGgEr.
By UnClE MoNtY.

...
Whatever “glitter” he may have once had, Gary
Glitter is now nothing more than a dirty old man.

...
He’s to arrive back in England next Tuesday on
his deported journey from Vietnam at where
he was convicted of having sex with two de-

fenseless female children of ages 10 and 11.
How dirty and sick is that for a 63 year old
male pop star like Glitter -- whose real name
is Paul Francis Gadd – and who is obviously
old enough to be some child’s grand-dad?
I just shudder to think.
...

...
Paul Gadd will be met by the British cops on
landing by air on his long flight from SE Asia
to Britain. He will not be greeted at the airport
like a popular VIP pop star, but rather deser-
vedly as another kind of “VIP” of the kind I
can only call a “Very Important Pervert,”
that I, frankly, think he is.
...

...

To want to have sex with a child or

an animal and then act out such a sick

perversion is simply an immoral

abomination no matter what kind of

society that kind of dangerous person

lives in. Even the most liberal and/or

primitive societies place a strong taboo,

and rightly so, against those who com-

mit such sick acts. In some places, such

acts can and do result in the death

penalty. I don't say hang the man, but

I do say castrate the bugger like Gary

Glitter and those who behave pervertedly

against children and animals of any kind.

...
...
The problem with such a sicko like Paul

Francis Gadd is that he has money and

royalties from his past stardom that ensures

he can pay off those he must for doing what

was wrong to the children he molested in

Vietnam. To accept such money from such a

pervert only helps legitimizes, in my view,

the filthy acts he must have performed for

his own abnormal sexual gratification. He

robs the child of their innocence and then

pay the parents off. That's sick, too.

...

...
What is much worse about Gary Glitter
is that he has committed "soul murder" of,
and against, the child by his imposed adult
sexuality and psychological molestation
and emotional abuse of such fragile and
unsuspecting victims of his. No amount
of his filthy money can truly compensate
or truly redemm the immoral and illegal
violations he has already committed
against a child, here and there, of age
10 and 11. That's why I say, castrate the
bugger so that he'll keep his filthy hands
off such children in future ...

...
...
Honestly, Uncle Monty.
+BVM, 2oo8.
...

Day Outting With The Pofolk. By Uncle Monty.

Day Outting With The Pofolk.

Story and Photos By Uncle Monty.

***

Gale force winds with their torrents of biting cold gusts

greeted us on our day trip to England’s Old Town of

Hastings. The large and agile seagulls above us glided abit

uneasily with the big blowing winds. At the seaside town,

The Promenade was a gusty spot to safely watch and see

the huge waves violently attack and lash the almost

empty summertime beach. A little later, thunderous rain

also pelted us relentlessly during its short downpour.

The Old Merry-Go-Round on the beach had been caut-
iously dismantled the night before due to the weather
forecast that was pretty grave. Those gales force winds
would have taken the thing and smashed it to
smithereens within no time at all.
***
England's Rocky Hastings.

While the pofolk -and me struggled to walk against
the forceful and lifting winds, our only escape was
to ducked inside some half-forgotten lollipop shop
or a grubby and fleecing amusement arcade. Some
did, while others took an early lunch to be inside and
sheltered from the winds at one of the many seafront
cafes and restaurants. They then felt, no doubt, quite
safe from those gale force winds which seemed to
last forever and a day.
***
A Glimpse of Hastings' violent waves at beachside.
I myself headed on foot to St. Leonard's some 3 or 4
miles west of Hastings at where the famous 1066 Battle
of Hastings was fought over 900 years ago. But the battle
is still indelibly marked in the profound history and per-
haps, to some degree, in the national psyche of the
English people. You can read all about the battle:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Battle_of_Hastings
***
View of Hastings from the east.
***
The youngest of the pofolk was only age six and the oldest
of them was “only” 89. Her daughter was 68. Her grand
daughter was 44 and her great-grand-daughter was age
12. There was in all about 55 pofolk -on our annual day
outting that our Tenants' Association provided free for
all tenants in good standing. I was one of them. How, I
don’t know. I guess it's because I always pay my rent
on time and when it’s due. Most of the pofolk, like me,
had been to Hastings with the same group last
year, too. And many the year before.
***
Forlorn boat seemingly left to wither away at Hastings.

***
For those who may not know, the word “pofolk” derives from
American slang to refer to “white poor folk,” either folksy or
thrashy or trailer park-type. Such terms were used especially
in the Depression Era by then Southern Negroes when they
saw very poor or destitute whites. A redneck or a white
shearcropper are good examples. To “make a -pomouth” was
someone who made out to be poor or “po” or to stimulate
poverty when in fact they were not poor at all. I really love
American slang for such gives awhole new meaning
to so many common words.
***
Subway Mosaic at England's Old Town of Hastings.
***
What is nice about Hastings and St. Leonards is that
you can easliy walk pretty well everywhere within
both of the seaside towns without having to drive or
use public transport. That's if you prefer to walk and
save money. It's healthy, too.
***
I had planned to write more about the "Day Outting
With The Pofolks," but I don't have alot of time to
do so due to other things taking my time right now.
What I have done is to add more photos at least.
Hope you enjoy them ...
***
Out For Cold, For Sure, at St. Leonards.
A Note on Teutonic Injustice.
By Uncle Monty.
---
A German court at Dusseldorf sentenced Mike
Konrad, 29, to nine months imprisonment for
having slept in a railway terminal locker for
9 years. He made the locker his home after
walking out on his girlfriend back in 1999.
Mike was then only 20 years of age. To send
him to jail for 9 months is a crime by the court.
Instead of imprisoning him, why in heaven's
name could they not have found him some
kind of hostel or better still some kind of home
he could call his own? The money the German
Government will now spend to put him unjustly
behind bars could well have been spent on
helping the homeless man that he is. I
thought the Nazis were long dead, but it
seems a few are still around sitting in a
Dusseldolf court sending Mike Konrad to
prison for simply being homeless, first and
foremost. The court should immediately
release him and he should file suit against
the court with the European Rights Com-
mission or whoever handles such cases of
blatant injustice. I read the story in the free-
sheet London Life -just last night. I was so
peeved after reading what they did to him
in Germany. The nation should be
ashamed of itself ...
---
"Free Us From Freemasonry" is another
story I'm writing and will appear after
my summer holidays ...
---
Also, my upcoming story of "Old Photos of British
Bishops" will also appear in the Fall or in the autumn.
I will post some never before seen images of British
Bishops from my rare and own late 19th and
early 20th centuries photographic collection.
---

Your's, Uncle Monty.

+Jeremy Taylor, 1667-2008.

---

A Decade of What New Labour's Mindless Mass Immigration Has Done to the UK. By Uncle Monty.

A Decade of What New Labour's Mindless

Mass Immigration Has Done to the UK.

Story and Photos By Uncle Monty.
--

Dozens of dazzling dresses and rented dapper dark blue morning
coats were all part of the showy trappings of the estimated cost
of £18.000 for the immigrant wedding which was officiated
for the bride and groom by their local parish priest.
--
The setting was almost like something out of Zululand

rather than out of England as the scores of wedding guests

came flowing in their bright and indigenous African costumes.
Rain came down like buckets of water, too, and so a variety
of English brollies covered many of their 160 heads of
immigrant black.
--
Two gleaming white stretcher limos and a off-white 75
seat-fitted char-a-bang, were also parked very closely to the
Church front door. The three white drivers were waiting and
fidgeting inside their vehicles for the newly-weds, shown above
in my caption picture of them, to appear and depart soon after
the Service of Holy Matrimony had been properly performed

and completed under Roman Catholic rite.

--

Catholic priest instructing two of the

wedding participants on the ceremony.

--

Their hired wedding photographer and their videographer
were the professional faces to watch out for in order for me
to also be ready to record what was to be my first immigrant
wedding in the UK. Once they showed their white faces,
I knew then when to have my own cameras ready as I
stood outside in the pouring rain for well over an hour and
a half to be sure I could capture all the comings and goings
of the bride and groom. Along with all their wedding trap-

pings and their invited guests, who were mainly black,

of course, with a small smattering of about 7 or 8 white

New Labour-type guests.
+
The immigrant wedding I photographed indicated the clear
and mounting evidence, yet again, of a decade of what New
Labour’s mindless mass immigration has done to the UK.
The number of immigrants marrying in England in order to
legally stay in Britain now runs into the thousands upon
thousands each year. Immigrant marriages has become a
booming business for wedding photographers and stretcher
limo operators all over the country. The flood of such
weddings has also alarmed the Church in its fear of being
used and hoodwinked, which it has, by more and more

illegal immigrants who seek to marry and then stay

by having lawfully been married in the UK.

--
During the rain respite, some immigrant wedding guests

waiting for the newly-weds to come out of the church.

--

The biggest and most protracted immigration onslaught
in the history of All-England has now been committed by

New Labour over the past decade. Some argue that with-

in that time alone, New Labour has admitted more Third

World immigrants – over 1.4 million of them and still

counting - than all the combined numbers admitted at

any previous time over the past 100 years to the UK.

The number of immigrants is staggering and mind-

boggling to the point of no return to which New

Labour has deliberately inflicted upon the British

people to satisfy its own perverted political agenda

that has now negatively impacted and altered the
very face and the very fabric of my Old England.
--
Young preacher (centre) of All-Nations Christian Centre

at immigrant-dominated London’s Elephant and Castle.

--

What New Labour has also done is to turn England into

what can best be described as the “New Zululand.”
The national convulsion and retaliation has yet to come

for what Britain's New Labour has done by their insane
years of uncontrollable mass and criminal immigration. But
in the end they will pay heavily by facing punishing years
and years of forced political wilderness. They can then only

blame themselves due solely to the irrational African policy

of the prime ministerships of the ilk of Anthony Blair and

Gordon Brown. The elected henchmen of New Labour should

be hunted down and isolated for ever and a day for what

they've done to what was once me beloved and lovely Eng-

land. They have rob me in broad daylight of my very own
country that I have been forced now to share against my will
and instinct with all manner of foreign and alien people that

Blair and Brown seem always to love while I utterly detest

them all. I don’t want to share my own country with any-

body else other than with my very own English people …

That, I really only wish to do. Send everybody else

back to where they bloody belong ...
--

Photo in shop window that I've turned

and used by my own graphic design.

--
Do they ever check to see what dangerous diseases

and/or criminal records such immigrants and foreigners

may have before New Labour just widely opens the door

to let them in to freely bring with them all their deadly

diseases and re-curring criminal activities with them? And

who gave New Labour the elected authority to flood and

saturate my country with such lowcasts without first

obtaining the consent and will of the British people?
--
I’m not going to throw a lot of statistics at you, but here
are a few that tells something of the immigration onslaught
brought upon us by New Labour. Under hideous An-

thony Blair, almost 1 million British-issued EU passports
were granted to Third World immigrants in the UK over
the past period of ten years. One in five babies born in UK
are to immigrant and/or foreign mothers. The number of

children also born out of wedlock by such outsiders in the

UK is at an all time high. No wonder our maternity wards

cannot cope easily with any more pregnant immigrants and

EU foreigners, who can then obtain British benefits for the

child that oftentimes goes into their pocket and not always

into the mouth of the hungry child.

--
Last year, 281.000 asylum seekers flooded the country
mostly from Africa and the Middle East. An estimated half-
a-million illegal immigrants are at present walking around

freely in the UK to do their thing like murdering, robbing,

and assaulting us. Yet, New Labour just denies such things.
--

From my informal observation post at London's

Theatreland, I am amazed at the number of mentally-

ill immigrants and foreigners I see almost daily walking

the streets aimlessly. They're broken and lost people,

who should never have been admitted to England in the

first place. But again they are without first checking

the mental status of such ill-immigrants. Also, I see in-

creasingly those who are not working and are perhaps

homeless or displaced due to hopeless cases of severe

alcoholism and bedevilling drug addiction. Once

they're here, we are forced to take care of them. But,

why should we? As I've said before, England cannot

and should not be "The Nanny of the World," anymore.

We've had a bellyfull of it, haven't we? I think so ...

--

By the time someone yelled “NO … Nooooooo,”
I’d already taken my pictures at the London

headquarters of The Somalia Order of Cherubim

and Seraphim. So sorry, deeeeeeeeear folks …

The Order is headed by the autocephalous

primate known as "His Most Eminence Baba

Aladura E. Olu Okeyemi, JP." He's also

called "Moses Orimolade VII."

--

The African Diaspora should not become the burden of the 21st century white man. But old leftist folks like Blair and Brown have taken it upon themselves to burden and thrust such upon the British nation come hell or high water. The African Diaspora is a global phenomenon that brings with it all that is not good for the West and The First World, despite the arguement that such a diaspora brings economic benefits to the countries that host such immigrants. Such is absolute rubblish, if we look at what its done so badly to the housing infrastructure, educational standards, and social cohension that once existed so well when we were a relatively immigrant-free nation. Skyrocketing murder rate, black-on-black, and black-on-white crime is everywhere in England now. Immigrant youth gangs also plague us that stems from the tribal violence and attitudes especially of rural Africans. They bring with them all the baggage that damages the new society to which they are admitted, either legally or illegally. Unlike the Jewish Diaspora of the past, today's immigrants are primarily economic migrants and not the persecuted ones of the Nazi tyranny. Indeed, I suspect that many of the so-called asylum seekers in the UK thesedays are no more than just manipulative phonies that New Labour first encouraged and is now biting its own tongue at such bangwagon immigrants. Yet, we are again forced to feed and clothe such phonies without swiftly sending them back to where they first belong and not to be a continuing burden on the British taxpayer. Will New Labour ever listen? Of course not ... Only when it is finally booted out of office will it then listen, but too late.

In the meantime, immigrant and foreigner weddings will continue to flourish. Our crime wave will continue to go up and up. Our nation will still be flooded with more and more useless immigrants. Our schools and society will continue to go downhill by the radical changes to the point that we become more and more Afro-Britain or "The New Zululand."

And finally, I feel more and more like a foreigner in my own country than ever before. I am now under constant and growing threat from those who I didn't invited or want in my English homeland. One day they'll become the majority in London alone -- just check their immigrant fertility rates -- and the ilk of Blair and Brown will be so happy with their fat government pensions while the city burns like never before since the Great Fire of London ... all the immigrants and foreigners have then become British citizens and all the original British citizens will have then become the bloody foreigners in what once their own country. It's coming and make no mistake about it ... England is doomed at each step of its broken identity and its broken society that will never heal to its former glory and civility that was my beloved homeland and now taken away from me by the raw radicals and screaming leftists of Britain's shameless New Labour. To hell with them all, I say ...

Truly, Uncle Monty. +John Henry Newman, 1890-2oo8.

--

"Every where I turn now in England, I cannot escape New Labour’s mindless and criminal mass immigration. Our schools, our hospitals, our parks, our prisons, our courts, our local government, our housing estates, our swimming pools, our streets, our shopping centres, our churches, our neighbourhoods, our maternity wards, our car boot sales, our bus stations, our mental institutions, our public transport, our leisure centres, our GP surgeries, our asylum and refugee units, our funeral homes, our gratis NHS services, our post offices, our ASDA and Tesco food stores, our pubs, and our very way of life, are now invaded and mostly grabbed for free by such derelick and useless outsiders. And still more of them are coming under New Labour by the boatloads, the trainloads, the planeloads and the busloads at every turn either by fair or foul. While New Labour applause itself, I bitterly cry. They're taken my country and now made it closely "Afro-Britain." I just detest the sight and loudness of it all. I really do." You wrote that in an early piece. You are correct except for including pubs in the list. I don't see the English pub that I go to every few nights a week with many others from other places except my locals. I live in a small community in Kent. We do have a few Poles and no more that two or three black people who come once or now and then. I read your follow up story on immigration. Much like you I don't like it at all. I used to vote for Labour. I have not decided who I may vote for in the next election. However, I can tell you now who I will not be voting for again. Take a guess? Keep the good work up. Like you say, "give them hell ... " England forever, Tony Cummings. 13 Aug. 2008.

***