K. Morris's Blog, page 778
August 7, 2014
Iraq And The Islamic State
Standing in my bedroom, the much loved pine bookcase giving off it’s scent of forests mixed with books. The flat is quiet, England is at peace. What a contrast to the situation in Iraq where madmen in the shape of The Islamic State murder and persecute Christians together with anyone else who dares to disagree with their warped view of the world. Mad men doing evil, chaos reigns and I stand, breathing in the smell of books mixed with pine, at peace in a free land.
The other day an acquaintance remarked that they felt uncomfortable in the presence of women wearing the Burka (the cloak worn by some Muslim ladies which leaves only the eyes exposed). France has banned the garment as an affront to equality, a decision recently upheld by the European Court of Human Rights despite the claims by some Muslims that the ban on the Burka in public breeches human rights. Is the prohibition a peculiarly French piece of legislation stemming from Rousseau’s view, expounded in The Social Contract that man “must be forced to be free”, (in this case those Muslims wishing to wear the Burka must subordinate their desire to “the general will” which, in France appears to be in support of the Burka ban?
Some in the UK are calling for the country to go down the French route and prohibit the Burka in the interests of “social cohesion”. One can not, they claim interact with fellow citizens when all but their eyes are concealed behind black cloth. The Burka is “sinister” and should be prohibited in public. Calls for a prohibition on the wearing of the Burka have found support among some muslim scholars who say it has no place in a modern conception of Islam, (see, for example the following recent article http://www.dailymail.co.uk/news/article-2695181/Why-I-Muslim-launching-campaign-ban-burka-Britain.html.
Others argue that banning the Burka runs counter to a long and honourable tradition of British liberty. It is, they say intolerable for the state to dictate to people how they aught to dress. The British philosopher J S Mill was suspicious of what he termed “the tyranny of the majority” and adherents of Mill’s views might well argue that to impose “the general will” or what most people would call “the will of the majority” on fellow citizens as regards how they choose to dress is illiberal. The idea of a person being arrested merely for wearing a certain kind of garment sticks in the throat of many liberals. However other liberals argue that Muslim girls and women often come under intense pressure from within their own communities to wear the Burka and, in many cases it is far from being a free choice of clotheing. Therefore we must assist such women by prohibiting the wearing of the garment in public.
Leaving aside for a moment the rights and wrongs of the Burka there is also the argument of pragmatism. At a time of limited resources is it a good use of police time to go around arresting women for flouting a Burka ban? If such a prohibition where introduced might it act as a recruiting sergeant for Islamic extremists who could portray it as persecution of Muslims?
At a deeper philosophical level can one “force people to be free?” Would prohibiting the wearing of the Burka promote outward conformity with western norms of dress but leave those who wish to wear it inwardly seething with anger?
The advance of the terrorist Islamic State in Iraq undoubtedly helps to fuel suspicion and, in some cases paranoia against Muslims most of whom abhor what is being done in their name in Iraq. We must be steadfast in our opposition to extremism (whether Islamic or otherwise) but, at the same time consider long and hard before going down the road of Burka bans and other similar measures.
August 6, 2014
Database
“But Professor we have statements from 15 witnesses confirming that Michael Marsh was drinking in the Rising Moon between approximately 5:30 pm and midnight. Mr Ramesh, the owner of the Indian Post takeaway remembers serving a very drunk man, matching Mr Marsh’s description at around 12:15. We’ve checked the takeaway’s CCTV which shows Mr Marsh getting there at 12:20 and leaving at 12:33. The post mortem shows that Amanda Jones died at sometime between 7 and 9 pm, so that puts Mr Marsh out of the frame”.
“But Inspector, Marsh’s DNA was found on Amanda’s body, in her bathroom and on one of the wine glasses. The DNA database never lies”.
“Strictly off the record Professor I’ve never trusted the database”.
“With respect Inspector, independent studies have shown the database to be at least 98 percent accurate as regards catching criminals. As you know every child’s DNA is now taken at birth and stored in vaults with security at least equivalent to that used by the Bank of England. Those with direct access to the samples are cleared at the very highest level. I can tell you the security services wanted to know about my entire personal life including my brief flirtation with a lady from the International Marxist Organisation. She was a complete crackpot but great fun in bed”.
Inspector Martha Beckett glared at the Professor. “I’m not in the least bit interested in your love life Professor! Coming back to the matter in hand I, personally have my doubts about the database. There are rumours that those independent studies where funded, behind the scenes by well known gene therapy companies and that those organisations have unofficial access to the DNA database”.
The Professor’s hands tightened around the arms of his chair, his knuckles turning white with the pressure. “What, exactly are you implying Inspector? Slander is a very serious matter”.
“I’m not implying anything Professor, I’m merely repeating what is all over the internet – the rumours that the DNA database is in bed with leading players in the gene therapy industry”.
“I don’t believe it, a policeman who objects to an organisation which makes the task of policing easier. You will be telling me next that you’re a card carrying member of the Free People Party with their crazy ideas about abolishing identity cards, destroying the DNA database and radically reducing the presence of CCTV in public places”.
“My politics are my affair Professor” the Inspector said flushing with anger. “Look Professor the fact is that a jury simply won’t convict on the basis of DNA evidence alone and they certainly won’t return a guilty verdict when the evidence shows Mr Marsh couldn’t possibly have done it”.
The Professor changed tack. “Look Inspector we have the same interests at heart. We both want to put whoever raped and murdered that poor girl behind bars for a very, very long time. We have that man, Michael Marsh. His DNA is all over the crime sceene. I’m sure with a bit of digging some at least of those witnesses who say they saw Michael in The Rising Moon could be discredited. The pub’s a known haunt of criminals after all”.
“What makes you say that?”
“Haven’t there been stories in the paper about the place?”
“If there have I’d be interested to see them”.
“Maybe I’m getting the pub confused with another place”.
“Look, Professor I do genuinely appreciate your help in this investigation, however, as I’ve already said a jury is highly unlikely to convict given that at least 16 independent witnesses will swear blind that Mr Marsh was 10 miles away when the crime took place. On the basis of the evidence I will be releasing Mr Marsh. He is, in any case “helping the police with our enquiries”, he hasn’t been charged.
—
The sound of crashing waves filled his skull. He reeled grabbing hold of the desk for support. It was always the same, the sense of drowning, of losing control. He must assert himself, show them all that he was not a mere cog grinding away, lacking all individuality in the great impersonal machine. When he killed blessed silence reigned for a while but he knew that the release was merely temporary, that the breaking waves would soon fill his head, driving him mad again.
Finding loners wasn’t particularly difficult. He usually chose alcoholics. It was easy, buy them a few cans or bottles and the poor sods would be your friends for so long as the booze lasted. A man, once drunk will tell you his life story. It wasn’t difficult for him to ascertain their personal information or at least enough to be able to tie it to the DNA stored on the national database.
Dressed in a disposable lab suit from head to foot he left no trace. He made sure to spread DNA before leaving the crime sceene. He could have left no DNA at all but given the presence of everyone’s material on the database he took the view that this would arouse suspicion, so the DNA of an innocent man was used to cover his tracks. They where alcoholics, the scum of the earth. No one really cared what happened to them despite protestations to the contrary. On returning to the lab the suit would go into the furnace together with the condom leaving no trace of the Professor’s involvement in the crime.
He had made a mistake with Michael Marsh though. How could he have known that the man would break his usual solitary habit of drinking in a sparcely populated park and decide to spend the evening in a crowded pub? Yes choosing Marsh had been a big error of judgement. He must, the Professor thought be more careful in the future.
August 5, 2014
The Last Hurrah
Thronging the doorway
“Excuse me please”. The throng parts letting me through. Sometimes a kind soul holds open the door allowing me to enter.
In all weathers the die hards stand puffing away. In summer the scent of cigarettes wafts through the pub’s open door bringing with it memories of yester year, a time when walls turned yellow with nicotine and I, a non smoker returned home, my clothes smelling of smoke, cursing the filthy weed.
The rain drives the hardy band ever closer to the pub’s sheltering doorway
“Excuse me, excuse me” I say attempting to retain my fixed smile as I try to enter or leave.
Some said the British would never stand for it, this intrusion into the rights of the individual to light up in public. But what about the liberty of the non smoker not to have his lungs clogged with poison? The latter argument won the day.
and so you stand. Not quite the last hurrah but something noble in your tenacity not to give up despite the pouring rain.
I sit enjoying a pint, thinking of the bedraggled smokers outside.
August 4, 2014
Streetwalker and Other stories by K Morris free in Kindle stores from 5th – 9th August!
My collection of short stories Streetwalker and other stories will be available for free in the Kindle stores from the 5th – 9th August!
In this collection of flash fiction we meet a variety of characters, many of whom have been deeply damaged by life. The stories range from a young prostitute who walks the dangerous streets of London to tales of vengeance and comeuppance. Serious issues of abuse of power are touched upon. Anyone who is looking for a comfortable read should avoid this book.
Purchase Streetwalker and other stories here for the UK http://www.amazon.co.uk/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4 and here for the US http://www.amazon.com/Street-Walker-other-stories-Morris-ebook/dp/B00HLRNDP4
To visit my Amazon author page please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/K.-Morris/e/B00CEECWHY/ref=ntt_dp_epwbk_0
If you read any of my books please do consider leaving a review on Amazon, on your own blog or by commenting here!
Thank you
August 3, 2014
Shop Assistant
Why risk a criminal record for so little? I mean I wouldn’t steal anyway, that isn’t how I was brought up but, if I did it would be more than a Cadburys cream egg and a couple of sandwitches. With some of them it’s the thrill I think. I mean that girl, the one just trying to leave the store now has the lot: designer jeans and expensive trainers. Maybe she stole those too but she doesn’t look the type.
“Excuse me miss can you open your bag please”.
She’s made a run for it. I’m not going to be the one chasing her. I don’t get paid enough for that. Besides the last time the manager did that he ended up with a broken nose. It just isn’t worth it. We’ve got her on camera. She won’t be allowed back in here. With some of them I’m convinced it’s the excitement. I mean who needs 15 tubes of tooth paste and 20 odd cans of body spray? She could sell it but she wouldn’t get much, know it’s the buzz with most of them. Anyway its something to tell my boyfriend when I get home tonight.
It’s that girl again. I say girl but she must be in her early 20’s.
That will be £47.51 pleas miss”.
Several boxes of Durex. A couple of packs of baby wipes (our own brand), 3 tubes of lube and loads of packs of tissues. I’m not one to judge people but she’s in about once every 10 days. Who gets through that many condoms? I love my bloke, we’re active in the bedroom (pardon me speaking so openly) but there’s no way we could get through all those condoms in 10 days. I think she’s a … you know what I mean. Perhaps you don’t because, to be fair you don’t see her coming in here regular as clockwork. I think she’s a prostitute. Can you say prostitute or should it be sex worker these days. Its so easy to offend people, sometimes I’m frightened to open my mouth. But, if she is a hooker it beats me why she doesn’t order things online, that’s what I’d do in her position. Oh I’m blushing, I don’t mean I could do a job like that but, if I did surely buying condoms online would be much cheaper.
Can I help you miss?”
“Where do you keep the …”.
“Sorry I didn’t catch that”.
“The pregnancy testing kits?”
“At the back of the store. To the right, top shelf” I say pointing.
Poor kid. She looks about 16 maybe younger. I guess you can’t tell though as some women in their 20’s look about 17. She looks worried, poor girl I hope she isn’t pregnant.
There’s John stocking up on nappies. The nappies give it away, that he’s a young dad I mean but even without them those rings under his eyes are a dead giveaway. Sometimes I think that Keith would make a great dad but I’m only 21. There’s plenty of time yet and to be honest when I see the kids throwing tantrums in the store it puts me off a bit. Only yesterday me and Jane spent 20 minutes tidying up that display those toddlers knocked over and the mother had the cheek to blame me
“Its your fault if it wasn’t so flimsy it wouldn’t have fallen over like that”.
I wanted to give her a piece of my mind but I can’t do that. I need the job so it was down on our hands and knees for Jane and me.
£3.79 please sir”.
He comes in every day. Its usually the same meal deal, a salad of some kind. Wouldn’t you think he’d get bored with pasta salad every day. Still it all helps to pay my wages and he always smiles at me. Its nice when the customers recognise you as a person not just part of the display.
Serving that blokes made me feel hungry. Its my lunch hour in a few minutes. I’m not having a meal deal. I’m sick of the sight of those sandwitches and salads, no I’m off for a burger and chips.
August 2, 2014
He Who Sups
“Have you seen my long spoon?”
“No, why do you need that bent old thing anyway? It’s caked in rust and falling apart”.
“I’m off to sup with the devil”.
“Ah, I understand, he who sups with the devil should use a long spoon”.
“Precisely so”.
“But you are God, surely the lord of the universe doesn’t require a long spoon to protect himself from the prince of darkness?”
“You don’t understand. It’s a tradition. Without tradition where would we be?”
“But, with respect, you are the supreme being, can’t you create a new long spoon?”
“But I was extremely fond of the old one. Where can it be?”
“Perhaps the devil is using it to stir up trouble on earth”.
“That is a terrible joke and unworthy of an ark angel”.
“No, seriously sire your long spoon is ideally suited for stirring up humanity”.
“You may have a point. Really it isn’t good enough. Satan should be content with that fearsome pitch fawk of his but, no he has to go and steal my long spoon”.
“Excuse me sire, what is that you are sitting on?”
“Oh, its my long spoon, heaven be praised. Oh heavens I’ll have to apologise to Lucifer, fancy accusing him of stealing it like that”.
“Well sire I guess there has to be a first time for everything …”.
What Is The Point?
What is the point? The point of what? The point of anything? Anything? Yes. What is the point of the question for, if there is no point why ask what the point is? I don’t know, why engage me in conversation if there is no point. But, you my friend asked what is the point. Indeed I did so perhaps to ask the question is, itself to assume there is, somewhere a point for if there is not why should I bother to engage in this fruitless internal dialogue? So there is a point then? Yes, maybe or perhaps I am entangling myself in overwiseness, showing off for effect. Maybe you are but, if so what is the point of such narsasistic behaviour? I don’t know, what is the point of anything? Oh I refuse to argue with you. This whole debate is, ultimately pointless. Why engage in it then? Silence
July 28, 2014
Adultery By Carol Ann Duffy
I came across Carol Ann Duffy’s poem, Adultery while leafing through “The New Poetry”, edited by Michael Hulse, David Kennedy and David Morley (Bloodaxe Books), yesterday evening. It is a powerful poem which speaks of the guilt and excitement of adultery, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3cjLftgJuuM
The Blind Victoria Cross (VC)
The latest edition of RNIB’s Vision Magazine contains an interesting interview with Lord Ashcroft about his collection of Victoria Crosses, one of which was awarded to a soldier who went blind and after World War I went on to practice law as a lawyer. For the podcast please visit http://dl.groovygecko.net/anon.groovy/clients/rnib/Vision-66.mp3.
July 27, 2014
The Choice
How dare he speak to me like that
“I’ll tell your mum, you’re lying there on your arse while that thing grows inside you. Get rid of it”.
I can’t believe it. He was walking along in the middle of London shouting into his mobile. Anyone within half a mile could have heard him. I told him
“Shut the fuck up, people will hear” but he just said that no one knows him in that part of London. That’s probably true, the chances of anyone who knows either him or me overhearing him is very unlikely, but that isn’t the point, he has no right to shout about my business all over London.
The implant is highly effective, only 1 in every thousand women get pregnant. I can feel it now, like a little match stick high up under the skin of my right arm. It releases some chemical, I can’t remember the name, which prevents pregnancy. I’m a real scatter brain always forgetting things. I’m the kind of girl who goes shopping for groceries and comes back with a handbag and makeup minus anything to eat or drink. That’s why I went for the implant, I would have forgotten to take the pill so the implant was the logical solution. It lasts upto 3 years and once inserted you don’t need to worry about getting pregnant . Well you don’t unless you are the unlucky 1 in 1000 where the bloody thing fails to work.
Funny isn’t it (not funny ha, ha but funny peculiar) that when a guy sleeps around he’s a stud, one of the lads but when a girl does it she’s a slag who can’t keep her legs shut, and we live in the 21st century! Its surprising just how many people still seem to believe that women don’t like sex and if we do then there is something wrong with us. Well I love sex, I’m 18-years-old, all my hormones conspire to make me horney. Yeah I know I should use a condom to protect myself from disease and as an extra precaution against getting pregnant. But after a night out clubbing and some gorgeous bloke wanting me and me feeling horney as fuck, well these things happen which is why, as I say I have that useless match stick stuck in my arm.
At first I thought it was the implant making me late with my period (it can be one of the side effects apparently). Anyway when I was 10 days late I got worried and bought one of those pregnancy test kits from Boots the Chemist. I nearly dropped my sample when it came back positive. My doctor confirmed the result so here I am well and truly up the duff, stuffed like a prime Christmas turkey.
I don’t want to give up college. I’m in the middle of my a-levels and my teachers predict good grades. Christ I want to be reading geography at uni not changing dirty nappies.
That hurt. He (or she) has a strong kick. Its part of me, how can I have it ripped out and thrown away like a piece of rubbish? It isn’t alive, that is what my brother says, well not alive in the sense that it has all it’s faculties. It’s just, basically a bundle of nerve endings according to him.
Sometimes, when I close my eyes I see a happy smiling little girl or boy sitting on a swing. “mummy, mummy push me higher, higher, I want to touch the clouds” he calls. Then I want to keep the baby, I can’t throw it away.
God I don’t know what I want. I always wanted kids but when I was ready, perhaps in my late 20’s or early 30’s, certainly not at 18. I can’t throw away the chance to go on to uni, but there are childcare facilities at universities now, I could study and still have the baby. But that would be such hard work, I’d have no social life. But it’s a life, how can I put my own pleasure before the baby growing inside me. No it isn’t, it’s a bundle of cells, get rid of it, don’t wreck your future over a freak accident, a 1 in 1000 freak accident when an implant failed to work.
My stomach hurts. Maybe it’s that Indian I ate yesterday. Its as though someone was twisting a knife in my guts. Will it hurt when I have the baby I wonder? You can’t have it Chelsea, what kind of life will you have and what kind of existence can you provide for a child? you can’t even look after yourself sometimes. Jesus I’ll need to go to the toilet in a minute but its so comfortable here under the sheets, I’ll get up in a moment.
I’ve always believed in a woman’s right to choose, no one has the right to tell me what I should do with my own body. Yeah no one has that right but one part of Chelsea is telling me to keep the child while the other is saying to terminate the pregnancy ASAP. I feel sick, I can’t move otherwise I’ll throw up. Lie still Chelsea, relax and you will feel better in a minute.
I don’t know who the father is. It wasn’t his fault. He had the decency to ask whether I was on birth control, I said that I was and we had sex. I guess I could find out his name if I really wanted to. He’s a friend of Linda’s brother I think. Yes I could ask Linda to ask her brother to get in touch with his mate. But then Linda, her brother and the whole group would know. I’m not even sure if I want to keep it so whats the point in telling Linda. I didn’t tell my brother. He wouldn’t have found out accept for the fact that I left the bathroom door ajar, he came in and saw the test results. Stupid scatty Chelsea.
Must go to the loo. Make a dash for it Chelsea. Oh that hurts, oh god so much blood. Oh know I think I’ve lost it, poor, poor little thing, so much blood. I’m so sleepy, just want to put my head against the sink and sleep.
“Someone help please” I call weakly.
