!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! BREAKING NEWS: ANGUS THE PSYCHIC PONY HAS GONE FOR KAUTO STONE IN THE FEATURE RACE, THE 1520 QUEEN MOTHER CHAMPION CHASE...!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
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Show posts MenuQuote from: muppet on March 10, 2012, 07:09:33 PM
Catríona Ruane: You need to swing more to the left Enda.
Enda: You need to learn how to serve.
Quote from: give her dixie on March 10, 2012, 02:15:18 AM
Only a couple of weeks ago, the leader of the DUP was at the McKenna Cup Final in Armagh in a PR exercise to show how we are "Moving On". Plenty of photo's, and good TV. Yet, when it comes to this band parade, his party supports it.
Since Himself and McGuiness milked the shit out of the McKenna Cup, then maybe they could be in Armagh once again together on St Patricks Day and stand together as a St Patricks Day parade moves around the town, and then 40 bands later in the day.
Tell us then how we are "Moving On".....
Oh wait, no chance of that happening as they will probably be standing beside Obama, telling the gombeems listening that we are "Moving On" as they wear shamrocks.
Pathetic, the whole fecking thing, and the losers are the genuine people who want to live together and put this nonsense behind us.
Quote from: Myles Na G. on March 06, 2012, 07:10:13 PMQuote from: glens abu on March 06, 2012, 08:46:54 AMIf ever you wanted evidence that Sands (or his editors *) already had one eye on his status as republican legend, look no further. The use of a curlew as a poetic device is well documented in Irish literature and Sands (or his editors) slip it in here to signify the loneliness of the long distance hunger striker. The litany of republican martyrs is also no accident: this is a statement designed to place Sands alongside those same martyrs, to link their struggle with his. (This was at a time, remember, when the republican movement was facing mounting criticism from a nationalist community sick of 10 years of atrocities).
Friday 6th
There was no priest in last night or tonight. They stopped me from seeing my solicitor tonight, as another part of the isolation process, which, as time goes by, they will ruthlessly implement. I expect they may move me sooner than expected to an empty wing. I will be sorry to leave the boys, but I know the road is a hard one and everything must be conquered.
I have felt the loss of energy twice today, and I am feeling slightly weak.
They (the Screws) are unembarrassed by the enormous amount of food they are putting into the cell and I know they have every bean and chip counted or weighed. The damned fools don't realise that the doctor does tests for traces of any food eaten. Regardless, I have no intention of sampling their tempting morsels.
I am sleeping well at night so far, as I avoid sleeping during the day. I am even having pleasant dreams and so far no headaches. Is that a tribute to my psychological frame of mind or will I pay for that tomorrow or later! I wonder how long I will be able to keep these scribbles going?
My friend Jennifer got twenty years. I am greatly distressed. (Twenty-one-year-old Jennifer McCann, from Belfast's Twinbrook estate, was sentenced to twenty years' imprisonment for shooting at an RUC man).
I have no doubts or regrets about what I am doing for I know what I have faced for eight years, and in particular for the last four and-a-half years, others will face, young lads and girls still at school, or young Gerard or Kevin (Bobby's son and nephew, respectively) and thousands of others.
They will not criminalise us, rob us of our true identity, steal our individualism, depoliticise us, churn us out as systemised, institutionalised, decent law-abiding robots. Never will they label our liberation struggle as criminal.
I am (even after all the torture) amazed at British logic. Never in eight centuries have they succeeded in breaking the spirit of one man who refused to be broken. They have not dispirited, conquered, nor demoralised my people, nor will they ever.
I may be a sinner, but I stand — and if it so be, will die — happy knowing that I do not have to answer for what these people have done to our ancient nation.
Thomas Clarke is in my thoughts, and MacSwiney, Stagg, Gaughan, Thomas Ashe, McCaughey. Dear God, we have so many that another one to those knaves means nothing, or so they say, for some day they'll pay.
When I am thinking of Clarke, I thought of the time I spent in 'B' wing in Crumlin Road jail in September and October '77. I realised just what was facing me then. I've no need to record it all, some of my comrades experienced it too, so they know I have been thinking that some people (maybe many people) blame me for this hunger-strike, but I have tried everything possible to avert it short of surrender.
I pity those who say that, because they do not know the British and I feel more the pity for them because they don't even know their poor selves. But didn't we have people like that who sought to accuse Tone, Emmet, Pearse, Connolly, Mellowes: that unfortunate attitude is perennial also...
I can hear the curlew passing overhead. Such a lonely cell, such a lonely struggle. But, my friend, this road is well trod and he, whoever he was, who first passed this way, deserves the salute of the nation. I am but a mere follower and I must say Oíche Mhaith.
* Sands' later communications are significantly better on the grammar front than some of his earlier stuff. In one earlier comm, he says 'I was took to Castlereagh' He also refers to 'them days'. He continues: 'I must have wrote you articles...' Yet by the end, he's waxing on about curlews with hardly a grammatical mistake in sight.
Quote from: Evil Genius on March 01, 2012, 10:37:26 PMQuote from: glens abu on March 01, 2012, 10:49:26 AM"Our revenge will be
1st March 1981 Bobby wrote in the 1st page of his dairy
Sunday 1st
I am standing on the threshold of another trembling world. May God have mercy on my soul.
My heart is very sore because I know that I have broken my poor mother's heart, and my home is struck with unbearable anxiety. But I have considered all the arguments and tried every means to avoid what has become the unavoidable: it has been forced upon me and my comrades by four-and-a-half years of stark inhumanity.
I am a political prisoner. I am a political prisoner because I am a casualty of a perennial war that is being fought between the oppressed Irish people and an alien, oppressive, unwanted regime that refuses to withdraw from our land.
I believe and stand by the God-given right of the Irish nation to sovereign independence, and the right of any Irishman or woman to assert this right in armed revolution. That is why I am incarcerated, naked and tortured.
Foremost in my tortured mind is the thought that there can never be peace in Ireland until the foreign, oppressive British presence is removed, leaving all the Irish people as a unit to control their own affairs and determine their own destinies as a sovereign people, free in mind and body, separate and distinct physically, culturally and economically.
I believe I am but another of those wretched Irishmen born of a risen generation with a deeply rooted and unquenchable desire for freedom. I am dying not just to attempt to end the barbarity of H-Block, or to gain the rightful recognition of a political prisoner, but primarily because what is lost in here is lost for the Republic and those wretched oppressed whom I am deeply proud to know as the 'risen people'.
There is no sensation today, no novelty that October 27th brought. (The starting date of the original seven man hunger-strike) The usual Screws were not working. The slobbers and would-be despots no doubt will be back again tomorrow, bright and early.
I wrote some more notes to the girls in Armagh today. There is so much I would like to say about them, about their courage, determination and unquenchable spirit of resistance. They are to be what Countess Markievicz, Anne Devlin, Mary Ann McCracken, Marie MacSwiney, Betsy Gray, and those other Irish heroines are to us all. And, of course, I think of Ann Parker, Laura Crawford, Rosemary Bleakeley, and I'm ashamed to say I cannot remember all their sacred names.
Mass was solemn, the lads as ever brilliant. I ate the statutory weekly bit of fruit last night. As fate had it, it was an orange, and the final irony, it was bitter. The food is being left at the door. My portions, as expected, are quite larger than usual, or those which my cell-mate Malachy is getting.the laughter of our childrenthe Unionists having to make room for us at Stormont, so that we may help them to administer British Rule in Ireland..."
We'll never forget you, Jimmy Sands