The Paedophile Hunter

Why are the press so down on Stinson Hunter and others of his ilk?

They’re doing a bloody good job. They work hard, admirably, hunting down the seemingly growing number of paedophiles grooming children online.

What could possibly be wrong with that?

It’s not like they’re entrapping these people. They make it clear that the character they’ve created is under-age, so these paedophiles honestly believe they are grooming people under the age of consent for sex, knowing that it’s wrong, and it’s illegal.

So, the answer for these predators is, if you don’t want to be exposed as a paedophile, then don’t be one. It’s really that simple. You wouldn’t jump into a tiger enclosure and expect not to be attacked, so why expect to act like a filthy piece of shit and not get called on it?

As a survivor of child sex abuse myself, I welcome Stinson Hunter and the work he does. I have donated to his cause, and will continue to do so when I can afford it.

We live in a time in which more and more people are being exposed as paedophiles. There are people we admired in our youth that are now turning out to be nonces. There are politicians; people in power, who have been committing terrible crimes on an industrial scale and then covering it up.

Who can we call on to do something about this? Our police forces are stretched to their limit and beyond, and our corrupt, in-bred overlords are making it worse with their cuts and the sheer amount of administrative bollocks they keep piling on to them. They need help, because the government are stifling them, which is why I feel sad when I see police officers denouncing Mr Hunter as a vigilante and saying what he’s doing is wrong. I’m sure it’s only a party line; and that in private they actually support what he does. I hope so.

I haven’t come to terms with the abuse I suffered yet, although I am working on it. That means I still have a lot of anger, which when added to my already considerable bile and hatred means I’m a bit of a powder keg on the issue.

As far as I’m concerned, Stinson Hunter and his like don’t go far enough. If I had my way they would be stringing these monsters up and castrating them with a rusty butter-knife.

I’m sure Mr Hunter wouldn’t condone this. He seems like someone who has his own particular demons under control and is using his experiences constructively.

Stinson’s real name is Kieren Parsons; he’s 33 years old and has been hunting paedophiles for over four years. I’ve watched videos which show how he works, and it’s clear to me that he approaches his work responsibly, without trying to entrap anyone. He makes it clear to the people he communicates with that they are chatting to an under-age child. The fact that they’re not really is beside the point; they have what the law calls mens rea – guilty mind. In their minds, they are grooming a child for sex, and I have no doubt that had a child turned up at the meeting instead of Mr Hunter, they would have had sex with them.

Stinson’s latest triumph is securing the conviction of a Shropshire Bookmaker named Martin Currier. 51-year-old Currier thought he had groomed and was meeting a 13 year old girl for sex. But that “13 year old girl” turned out to be the paedophile hunter, and thanks to him, Mr Currier will now be sentenced at Shrewsbury Crown Court on 26^th March.

How can that possibly be wrong?

Currier’s lucky I wasn’t the one who turned up that day. I would have killed him. No messing; no beatings; just a steak-knife in the throat. That’s real justice.

So, rather than condemning Stinson Hunter, we should be congratulating and thanking him. He’s going about it the right way, when it could be a lot worse.

I’m sure there are fewer people grooming children online because of Mr Hunter. These predators will surely have that little doubt running through the back of their filthy, evil minds; that the child they are grooming might turn out to be Stinson Hunter, and that can only be a good thing.

Afroman's Latest Hit

In 2001, “Afroman”, real name Joseph Foreman, blamed everything he did on the fact that he “got high”. But that was all light-hearted fun, wasn’t it? You know – he was going to clean his room; go to work; go to court; eat your pussy; pay his child support – but he got high.

His new excuse is “a completely involuntary reflex reaction to people infringing on his stage space”. Yeah, I know it’s not quite as catchy, but he’s not singing it this time; he’s using it to defend punching a female fan in the face so hard that he knocked her flat on her back.

The video of the incident is quite shocking. It shows him performing a guitar solo when a female fan gets on stage and starts dancing next to him. Then he spins around and lands a fucking haymaker on her that Mike Tyson would have been proud of. And that was an “involuntary reflex reaction”…????!!!! Fucking hell – what’s he like when he really wants to hit someone?

But when you get down to it, the whole thing is just a chicken-shit act by a tosser with more ego than record sales. Hitting anybody is bad enough, but hitting a woman…? That’s just too wrong. I’m not being sexist when I say that. It’s just a fact that the majority of men are physically stronger than women, so they definitely shouldn’t be throwing punches at them. I’m well aware that Ronda Rousey would beat the living shit out of me without even breathing heavy. In fact, that’s what should happen; they should put Afroman in an MMA ring with Ronda and see how big a man he is then. I’m sure she’d be happy to oblige.

The fact is, I’m a fat bloke, and although I’m disabled I’m still fairly solid. But that punch would have floored me. It was just so vicious. There’s absolutely no excusing it. If he didn’t want her “infringing on his stage space” he could move away. I’m sure although his audience could fit in a phone box, the stage was a bit bigger than that; he surely could have moved. Then if she followed, he could be forgiven for just pushing her to the side a bit so she didn’t ruin the solo. But landing a fuck-ball like that on her…he should do time for that.

Fuck you, Afroman, you one-hit wonder. You’re a coward. Now I know why you made all those chicken noises on that one hit you had 14 years ago.

Terrorism - Who's Really Winning?

Joseph Conrad, in his book, The Secret Agent, said, “An attempt upon a crowned head or a president is sensational enough in a way, but not so much as it used to be. It has entered into the general conception of the existence of all chiefs of state…Now let us take an outrage upon –say – a church. Horrible enough at first sight no doubt, and yet not so effective as a person of ordinary mind might think. No matter how revolutionary and anarchist in inception, there would be fools enough to give such an outrage the character of religious manifestation. And that would detract from the especial alarming significance we wish to give the act…You can’t count upon their emotions either of pity or fear for very long. A bomb outrage to have any influence on public opinion must go beyond the intention of vengeance or terrorism. It must be purely destructive.”

He wrote this in 1907, and now, over a hundred years later, much of it still rings true. He’s right when he says terrorism has nothing to do with religion. There’s no religion in the world that encourages or even condones murder and destruction. But I don’t think we can still say that terrorism is purely about destruction anymore. In recent years it seems to have taken a different, more basely savage turn.

The 9/11 attacks and London Tube bombings could be described as purely destructive. On that score, the terrorists could chalk up a huge victory for themselves. But, like all terrorist victories, it was short-lived, and we all dusted ourselves off, rebuilt, and life went on.

They tried a few more large-scale attacks, but these were unsuccessful. See the attack on Glasgow airport and the shoe bomber.

So, I imagine the terrorist board of directors gathered in a cave and sat around a rock to discuss how they should move forward. This resulted in the new, more low-tech, less ambitious but far more savage and shocking campaign we now find ourselves subjected to.

It started with horrific videos appearing on the internet showing hostages being beheaded in stomach-churning detail. Frankly, that scared the shit out of me. I’ve always loved gory horror films; but I knew they were all faked. Knowing that those beheadings were real sent cold chills through me, scaring me more than any movie ever has.

The Mumbai attack sent shockwaves around the world. Every right-thinking person on the planet shuddered when Lee Rigby was slaughtered on a London street. Just weeks ago there was the hostage crisis in Sydney, and now, just a few days ago, a video appears showing a Jordanian pilot being burned alive; a video I simply don’t have the stomach to watch.

These attacks are not about pure destruction. These are far more sinister, and rather than the large, blockbuster attacks which have us agape with shock and awe, these are aimed directly at our psyche; intended to bring fear right to our homes and our daily lives. They’re intended to make us frightened to go about our daily lives; make us think we’re not safe anywhere, and can meet with a violent, brutal death just going to the shops, or grabbing a coffee on the way to work.

This brings a whole new dimension to the terrorist threat. Now we have to look over our shoulders, peer closely at the shadows in case the Bogeyman is lurking there. We regard anyone we imagine to be even vaguely Muslim with suspicion and trepidation.

The terrorists have brought Captain Paranoia to our streets. They’ve made the monster in the closet real. All those childish fears our parents allayed now walk the streets in mockery of every comforting word they ever said.

We thought we were winning the war on terror. We also used to believe in Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy…

Streets of Rage

I’ve got a daughter who’s at the age where she goes out to pubs and clubs, and I don’t think I’ve ever been so scared for her safety. She went to a club with her friend last night, and I couldn’t go to bed until she called me to say she got home safely.

It seems like going out these days is like living on a knife edge. Violence could break out at any moment. Just looking in someone’s general direction these days could wind up with a gang of feral youths beating the living shit out of you.

But it’s not just a beating anymore. It’s like they’re not satisfied unless they leave you with brain damage or serious injury. There’s also the knife problem that seems to be getting worse every year.

Knife crime is turning our streets into a war zone. Our kids are taking their lives in their hands every time they go out there.

Why is it like that anyway? It wasn’t like that when I was young. When I was young and you got into a fight, only chicken-shits used any kind of weapon. It was strictly punching and kicking along with use of the knees and the occasional head-butt. And when your opponent went down and it didn’t look like he was going to get up, then the fight was over. You did not hit someone when they were down – again, only chicken-shits did it. Also, fights were one on one back then. If you needed your mates to help you fight, then you were a poof.

When I was 14, back in the mid-eighties, there was one case where a gang attacked one chap on his own. It was big news because it was a rare occurrence, and some of the kids in the gang came from our school. It was apparently a revenge attack because the poor kid had beaten up one of their friends. So, this gang of chicken-shit tossers went after the kid mob-handed. There were six of them against one of him. They beat him to the ground and then kicked him to death.

We were all appalled at this. What kind of cowards gang up on someone and kick that person to death?

One can only imagine the blood-bath if gangs back then carried knives like the modern ones. It makes me shudder.

My local Police and Crime Commissioner is heading up a campaign in which he’s saying that knife crime is not dividing the community as the news would have you think. He’s had eight weapon surrender bins installed across Birmingham.

I don’t want to impugn his efforts. In fact, his commitment to the project is admirable. However, the only people who are going to put knives into those bins are the kind that wouldn’t actually go so far as to stab anyone anyway.

In my opinion, the answer to the problem of knife crime is to hand down much tougher sentences on those convicted. Prison itself should also be much harsher. Only when these people are punished properly will we finally make some head-way into this nation’s growing crime problem.

A Life less Lived

I wrote a will when I was 34. I felt that I had to since I was on my second wife and I had two kids from my first matrimonial horror show.

One person in the billions all over the world might be particularly bored and might ask, why was I considering my own mortality at that age? Well, the answer is that I was about to fly for the first time – and I’m terrified of flying. I was convinced there was a 50/50 chance that I was going fall from the sky in a huge fireball, and I had responsibilities.

Before you start judging me, saying how silly I am for thinking I might die, I would ask that you look at the statistics. They show that the majority of people die over the age of 30. I was 34, so I was already living on borrowed time. Yeah – I don’t sound like such a poof now, do I? Fuckin’ ‘ave it.

Anyway, I didn’t need to put my new wife in the will because she was coming with me. It was her fault I was embarking on a 12-hour nightmare to Japan because I was going to meet her family before we got married.

So, everything I had was to be split evenly between my two daughters. Right then; pen in hand, I started a list of everything I owned. What bounty was I going to bestow upon my progeny following my demise?

A house…? No; it was rented.

A car…? No; it was a mobility car because I’m disabled.

Money in the bank; or life assurance…? Nope; I spent so much time overdrawn that my bank had started charging me for red ink.

I was actually beginning to sweat by now. I’d been on this planet for 34 years, and in that time, what had I accrued to provide a legacy for my children?

Er…I had a fairly decent home cinema system and a big telly. Every studio album Queen ever made. A VHS collection that was rapidly becoming worthless because DVDs were taking over. A burgeoning DVD collection. An obscenely large collection of books. A bit of furniture. A nice pocket watch that was more of sentimental value than financial. A (single) wardrobe full of mid-value clothes. Half a dozen stamps I’d bought for 20p each and which had doubled in value.

In real terms, I had fuck-all. Fuck-all to show for my 34 years meandering around this planet.

I was depressed. I felt like a failure. Then I thought about my kids. They grew up in a nice home where they were loved. They always had nice clothes and full stomachs. They had every toy or game they ever wanted; every video or DVD. They weren’t beaten or abused. They were encouraged and built up rather than knocked down. They asked for something and they got it; I spent all my money on them – I was never one for saving. I played with them, spent time with them; I was silly for them; strong for them; I comforted them when they needed it; left them alone when they wanted it.

I tried to be a good dad.

So, why do I still feel like a failure?

Tony Blair - Total Cock

July 2014: Ex-Prime Minister Tony Blair finally opens up about his post-PM career as a global prostitute raking in millions from selling his soul and anything else to anyone who can cough up the readies. He said he’s still motivated by the same “values” as when he sleazed his way to victory in the 1997 General Election.

‘I haven’t changed,’ he said, ‘despite people wanting to say that I have changed. The same thing that motivated me when I stood here as Labour leader 20 years ago motivates me today…’

That’s probably the most honest thing he’s ever said. It doesn’t take a genius to see he was, is, and always will be motivated by greed.

When you consider the kind of people he associates with, this should be obvious to anyone. He used to be bosom buddies with Rupert Murdoch – possibly the biggest megalomaniac on the planet. They will have shared many a private moment, and – if the rumours in the papers are to be believed – they will have shared Murdoch’s wife, Wendi Deng.

So, during his lifetime commitment to grubbing as much money as he possibly could, he led Britain into war against Iraq in 2003. This was despite the fact that the sovereign state of Iraq had never attacked Britain or even threatened to. The people responsible for the 9/11 atrocities were in Afghanistan, and had stronger ties to Saudi Arabia than Iraq.

There were accusations that Iraq harboured terrorists. Pakistan has been accused of the same; as has Russia. Then there’s North Korea – itself designated a terrorist state.

This evidence alone should make it clear that Iraq had no WMDs. If they did have them then Blair and Bush wouldn’t have invaded. They haven’t invaded Pakistan, Russia or North Korea. Why? Because they really do have WMDs that they could bring to bear on us all.

Iraq was an easy target. And better still – it had oil! Black Gold; Texas Tea. The pound signs must have been rolling in Blair’s eyes. He must have been champing at the bit to send our armies over there.

The Iraq invasion was the global equivalent of the school bully taking the smaller kids’ lunch money.

Now there’s the Chilcot Inquiry into the invasion of Iraq. Established in June 2009, it’s an investigation into the reasons why Britain decided to outrage and take a huge steaming dump on the concept of international law, decency and morality and embark on an illegal war that cost over 100,000 lives and displaced 4m people.

Nearly six years later, we’re still waiting for the Chilcot Report. That’s right – six fucking years; and even after all this time, John Chilcot still can’t say when it will be published. I wonder why that is.

Well, we know that the report will not reflect kindly on Blair. Some believe it will prove what most of us already know in our hearts – that Tony Blair is a sociopathic fortune-hunter and war-criminal and should share the same fate as the man whose country he shat on.

Get Well Soon, Ted Robbins

Ted Robbins collapsed on stage the other night and is now in hospital. According to reports, he's doing well, but he has to have a heart op.
I'm genuinely sending prayers and good wishes for Ted's speedy recovery. Although we've never met, I can say from my exchanges on Twitter that the Robbins family are lovely people, not to mention amazingly talented.
I grew up watching Ted and Kate Robbins on television. They were a big part of my childhood media consumption, and being a hopeless romantic and nostalgia buff, that means I have a special place in my heart for them.
So, get well soon, Ted. Love to you all.
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