The thin edge of the Wedge

Who's the underdog?

Jude BuntingJude BuntingIsn't it time we had a look at our legal system? Civil Rights lawyers are meant to uphold our civil rights. Judges are meant to give sensible judgements - not simply keep to the letter of the law. In that case we may as well use computers. The acknowledged dangerous terrorist, Abu Qatada, is released on under house arrest. He cannot be sent to Jordan in case his human rights are compromised but he is allowed to organise and recruit in his cosy, taxpayer funded London home. Or, is his home bugged? I doubt it as this would also compromise his human rights. Our jails are full of heroin yet our soldiers are dying in Helmand province to try to control drugs which fund the Taleban.

A pretty businesswoman, Sarah Des Rosiers has been dragged through the courts at great expense to herself and ordered to pay a frumpy Muslim called Bushra Noah, £4,000. This was obviously a set up. Ms Noah had tried 25 hairdressers and had been refused a job. Who bets that Ms Desrosiers was the only one unfortunate enough to mention the headscarf? Bingo said Noah and friends and trooped off to the nearest friendly legal aid department..


Improving society

Think before you speak

Safe in their handsSafe in their hands
Not so many weeks ago a senior policeman started a debate on the lines that ALL teenagers are horrid little things and so cannot have a drink until they are 21 years old. This idea, if passed into law, ignores the fact that a family Christmas would become a rather frigid affair if the law were obeyed and thirsty teenagers were present.By the way, they are not as little as you might think and, now they are grown up they spend so much more time away with their friends, it would be so lovely if we could all sit down together now and then. However, by contrast,a family celebration could become a rather furtive affair if father in an expansive mood poured his offspring a glass of wine: "pull the curtains Dad, you never know".


The new Salem witch trials

bus I went to an all girls' school. At 8.00am of a weekday morning the top deck of the 152 double decker was filled with giggling schoolgirls. Every morning at James' Road a man got on and came upstairs. There would be subdued squeals and a dashing about. One day I was sitting on my own and he sat beside me. He seemed very old, quite scruffy in a long beige gabardine mac and a bit whiffy. He seemed to be breathing deeply, his hand shook and kept seeming to hover over my thigh. I would move my leg away and he would put his hand down. Then the deep breathing would begin again and the hand would hover. I realised something sexual was going on but just gulped and kept my legs as far away as possible. I made sure that I never sat in a single seat again.

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