Jan 162015
 
  • Aberdeen Voice wishes to alert readers that the following article contains strong language. It is the considered opinion of the editorial team that the writer’s experiential account and the style in which his views and thoughts are expressed are best served by presenting his contribution as intact and true to the original text as possible.

By Greg Chaos.

Greg (3)When I first visited Uganda in January 2011 it was to do charity work. I was to be looking after children in an orphanage and teaching English and Mathematics at a primary school.
I’d recently split from a long term partner. My job prospects seemed to be disappearing down the toilet quicker than my latest bowel movement; causing perpetual skintness.

I was constantly inebriated because it was only thing I actually enjoyed doing… I needed an escape and I needed to do something with my life. At the time; this was the answer.

I knew about Uganda’s Anti-Homosexuality Bill before I left. To me it came across as typical right-wing, nonsense legislation, passed by some idiot in power; which eventually would be quashed. I’d thrown myself into learning everything I could about the country in the 7 weeks between me deciding I was going and getting on the plane.

Despite the Bill, I’d decided to go anyway. Half way through my stay a friend sent me a video which had just aired in the UK, on BBC3. In Uganda my connection was poor and it would have taken me several days to download so I decided against it and watched it when I got home. I was shocked that the nation I’d just been to (and couldn’t wait to go back to) was the source of this homophobic hate. Naturally I thought; “well, they’ve clearly picked the biggest nutters they can find to put into this”.

I’m talking, of course, about BBC3’s ‘World’s Worst Place to be Gay?’ presented by Radio 1 DJ Scott Mills; a gay man himself.

Throughout the next 12 months I would strategically plan to set up my own charity which was to help orphanages and community based projects in Uganda. I had fallen in love with the country. I was going back. I watched ‘The Last King of Scotland’ countless times so I could feel as close as possible to the place again.

But I was going to address the homophobia and I would not be caught dead supporting any cause that was homophobic in any way.

I dedicated all my time to finding out about LGBT in Uganda. All I could find were the troubles. There was nothing online based around meeting anyone and helping any causes. When the penalty is potentially death, it’s understandable that most people don’t have the rainbow flying high.

In January 2012 I returned and immediately noticed a spectacular difference in the place. Perhaps it was because my eyes had been opened and I was seeing past the bullshit, who knows.

One of my first experiences of homophobia was the hostel I was staying at. I had become acquainted with one of the women who worked there. We’d hooked up and I asked her if she fancied going to dinner the next night. Despite her trying to take me to the most expensive restaurant in Kampala, (a fact I found out later on that night), we went to an Irish Bar called Bubbles for some pub grub and a piss up.

GregEquator featIt was my first real chance, so I asked what she thought about the anti-homosexuality bill. She did everything she could not to answer the question. By the sounds of things the staff at the hostel had heard the foreigners complaining enough about the bill to not mention it… or at least to avoid confrontation about it.

She wouldn’t give me an answer. All I got out of her was ‘Jesus this and Jesus that’. The usual sentiments you’d expect from someone who lacks the ability to think for themselves. So I told her straight; “I’m Bisexual, does that bother you?”

After explaining what bisexual meant, she responded with the strangest question I’ve ever been asked about my sexuality.

To this day it still stops me in my tracks when I think about it. She grabbed my hand and said “Well why don’t you change? You can change.”

It took me a few seconds to register. The mixed feelings of outrage, complete shock and then the all-important guilt; which was quickly shaken off and replaced by sheer pride. I asked why I should change and witnessed the bigotry flow like blood from a stab wound. After half an hour of the usual God Nonsense and her ignoring my Atheism, I gave up and told her we should part.

I went to the bar to sink some quick vodkas and smoke a few fags, still trying to shake off the residual shock and rage.

Apparently insulting me wasn’t enough and she came in to find me. Apparently “this date is over, I suggest you go home or do whatever, but leave me alone, I don’t want to see you” wasn’t clear enough. She asked me for money for her taxi home and I’ll let you guess what my final words of the evening were.

After a few days I travelled to the city of Masaka; about 80 miles South West of Kampala.

I had been based here the previous year and was quite familiar with the surroundings. It’s a smaller city with a population of around 75,000, A lot calmer than the some 2 million of Kampala. I met with a friend who had offered me accommodation for a few weeks whilst I set up my charity. His community based projects included libraries and a small local bank for loans to help build local infrastructure. He had even come up with units to harness the natural gases from farmyard dung to be used for cooking stoves.

This man is (and to this today remains), in my mind; a Saint. He rose early every day to teach classes and stayed late every night to run his projects. His pay is meagre and he lives a simple life. The only remaining child of ELEVEN brothers and sisters, his determination is unparalleled. So it greatly pleased me to find out he had absolutely no quarrels with sexual orientation. (In fact he was curious and asked questions on the matter. I actually suspect he may be queer himself). He would come to be the only shoulder close by at one point.

Over the next few weeks my social interactions with the people around me diminished. I would always try and approach the question of the bill and refused to shy away from it as I felt I had done the year previously. Something I felt ashamed about. As the weeks continued I could see I was being taken less seriously because of what I had confessed.

Ugandans do this thing where they laugh and smile profusely when they’re having a serious conversation with someone and believe themselves to be right, even when they’re not.

Greg (5)Whilst doing this the other person in the conversation is usually visually distressed or down hearted. It is, to say the least, infuriating.

I feel that I was probably seeing the better side of it all. These conversations were with men and women who both worked for this man’s charity, so they have probably heard this all before from the foreigners who’ve come across to work for the charity and spoke against the bill in conversation.

I would later turn out to be correct.

After a few weeks I finally relocated to the programme I had worked with the previous year in a village just outside of Masaka. In a room full of cockroaches and with rats running on the rafters above you while you try to sleep; it’s not the nicest in the world, but it’s a bed for the night or 3 weeks… as it turned out.

The owner of this particular orphanage is (as has now been proven) a money grabbing useless bastard. He is out of the closet in every country around the world it would seem, except Uganda; which is why I haven’t mentioned the dickhead’s name. He arrived a few days after I did, returning from America where he had been touring for almost a year.

This former Pastor had been giving sermons at churches and Universities around the States for literally thousands of dollars per session. Sometimes up to five or six times a week, for 11 months. In case you’re not aware, the exchange rate in Uganda is incredibly low. You could live for a year pretty comfortably on a budget of £3-4,000. Easy. That’s nights out, 3 meals a day and rent if you find the right place and strike up a deal.

The children he ‘looks after’ drink dirty water, wear rags and sometimes don’t go to school because he doesn’t pay the bills (despite owning a fucking school as well). They sleep on piss stained mattresses despite the fact I had replaced these a year before. Turns out they were carted off to his school as he could make more money having a boarding section.

In the end I confronted him about all of this and we parted ways. Before doing so I did get the chance to chat with him about the LGBT Rights in Uganda.

Even after divulging my own orientation he wasn’t keen to let anything go, despite his sexuality and the fact that his sermons condoning same sex relationships are plastered all over the internet. He should be commended slightly for his work within LGBT, although he is not known for it in his home country (and would probably be shunned if he was).

The man commands a lot of respect within the community around him because of his work; the orphanage and the school. However these are a complete joke compared to the luxury houses he owns, the cars he drives and the meals he eats. He’s the classic example of the rich not wanting to sacrifice an inch so that those under him can have a better life.

Greg (2)Whilst in the local bar one evening, drinking away my blues with my pal George (the local raging alcoholic with a gammy arm who delivers dirty water for a living, who just happens to not be a homophobe as well) I was confronted by a local man who I already knew had a distaste for mzungus (white people).

He had overheard me talking to George, I assume on the issue of the bill, and had begun to shout at me. But this time it was different. There was no mention of the bible in this man’s rant.

This time it was pure hatred. We tossed words back and forth before the bar owner threw the man out for being too drunk. Roberta (the lady whose house was actually the bar) spoke little English but recognized that the man was on one of his Anti-Mzungu tirades and chucked him out.

His friends weren’t impressed with me either, however on that particular night the choice between drinking and homophobic hate was in the end determined by their thirst and they sat quietly and glared at me. Having had a few drinks (I wasn’t hammered; just tipsy), I was prescribing to the “fuck ‘em” philosophy. It wasn’t until I sobered up that I realized that the quarter mile long walk home in the pitch black would have made me easy pickings.

You have to remember we were only a year removed from the murder of David Kato (the gay rights campaigner and Uganda’s first openly gay man) who was beaten to death with a hammer in his bed. At the very least I would have got my head kicked in and, to be honest; looking back on the situation, the only thing that probably stopped that from happening was that I wasn’t a local.

Had I been, I think it would have only been a matter of time before I was attacked. This all might sound overly dramatic, but I saw the look in those men’s eyes, I don’t think they even knew I was queer, but they did hear my support against the bill and that was enough to get them angry.

After parting ways with the village I had a week to kill before I returned home. I visited a few different projects and did some good work in the time I had left, but by this point my spirit was well and truly broken. It was becoming clear that throwing money into these causes wasn’t going to be the answer because the same problems would arise and the cycle of poverty would simply continue instead of changing for the better.

I was drinking with a guy I’d met the previous year, he knew and had no issues, however this could be linked to me paying for most of his drinks. At £1 a bottle I didn’t really care.

He was a street worker. Basically he’d wait outside the shopping centres and people would come to him looking for a particular fabric or dress or whatever. Instead of them looking for themselves, he’d go and buy items from several different shops. Sometimes travelling as far as Kampala for them. A strange profession but one that fed him.

Greg (6)I met him on the street with two other lads; his friends/co-workers or whatever; and one had said something along the lines of “here’s your boyfriend” in a sarcastic tone.

These two lads must have been about 19 or 20. I shot them a glare to let them know I’d heard them and that the next words from his mouth would hurt.

They shot a glare right back before my friend took me away and it settled on its own. It seemed that throughout all age groups there was hatred.

Before retiring on my last night I spoke just generally about my time in Uganda with the owners of the Hotel I was staying in in Kampala. A German couple, of Indian origins. They’d lived there for a good few years. Every now and again, when you’d walk past their room, the door would be ajar and you’d see their clothes hung up all over the room and one of them lying in bed. They were at that age where they didn’t seem to give a shit anymore.

They’d been together for some 40 years, if I recall. So why they chose to live in Uganda, I will never know. I really should have asked. Every now and again you’d see them in the reception area sitting side by side watching TV; one with a hand on the knee of the other, both with walking sticks. It was a stark contrast to everything I had seen going on around me because after all, these were enemies of the state. They were a Gay Couple.

Footnote:  I have picked out a few of my negative experiences and pieced it together as best as I can. Please understand that every situation I put myself into, excluding the verbal attack in the bar in which I defended myself, I did so as calmly and carefully as possible.

The goal was never to create enemies, it was to create friends and try and show that LGBT is a natural way of life because we are seen as some sort of evil in Uganda. My only aim was to help, not to incite more hatred, and I did it for as long as I could humanly take it.
Please also note that all names and some places have been omitted or changed in order to protect the identities of those in Uganda from their Government.

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Jun 242014
 
paul robertsonport

Paul Robertson

By Paul Robertson.

Pride season is upon us and cosmopolitan cities across the world will shortly be celebrating the contributions of their gay populations – from London to Tel Aviv, from Berlin to Toronto.

This year is as good a year as any to go along to one if you haven’t already ticked that off your list.

It’s not all about half-naked male models gyrating on flamboyantly-decorated floats – although that is a particularly enjoyable aspect.

My personal hope is that when Pride Scotia rides into Edinburgh this year, we will take stock of just how far the LGBT community in Scotland has come – from decriminalisation in 1980 to the passage of a bill allowing gay people to marry just last year.

I hope, also, that we will take a moment to consider what the referendum on independence for Scotland might mean for our community.

Amidst a lively debate on independence, it has been difficult consider just what becoming independent might mean for LGBT people living in Scotland. The announcement this week of a draft Constitution for an independent Scotland provides us with that much awaited opportunity to engage as a community in the debate.

Scotland is no egalitarian utopia. Societal attitudes remain stubbornly conservative in some parts of the country and LGBT people still do face discrimination and homophobia in everyday life.

However many in the LGBT community will be heartened to see that sexual orientation has been named in the draft Constitution as a specific grounds upon which discrimination will be banned. Should Scotland become independent and that constitution adopted – our country would be only the second in the world to provide a constitutional protection for LGBT people. That is of enormous symbolic value.

A new Scotland that places protection for the rights of all people at its heart will be an achievement that we can all share in, particularly communities like the gay community which has faced such adversity.

LGBT communities around the world continue to struggle for the most basic of rights. Whilst we in Scotland have spent the last years campaigning to have our right to have our love for each other recognised, LGBT people in Uganda or Russia have been struggling to have their right to even live be recognised.

The struggle for basic human rights for all in the world remains the biggest challenge of the 21st century. It is not a fight that can be won with nuclear weapons or military might. It is expressions of soft power, of exemplary commitments to human rights, and of positive engagements with groups and governments that will move societies across the world to recognise the value of each human life.

Yes LGBT Aberdeen PosterFrom our groundbreaking law on equal marriage to our commitment to enshrining the rights of our LGBT Scots in a constitution; I have become convinced that Scotland has an important contribution to make for LGBT people living all over the world.

What would the foreign policy of a new Scotland be focussed on? Bombing Middle East countries or vociferously pursuing the human rights of the world’s marginalised peoples? Supplying dictators with weapons designed to kill and oppress or supplying groups with the resources needed to bring positive change to their societies?

A mould of a new Scotland is emerging and it is one that we can all contribute to shaping.

I believe wholeheartedly that we as an LGBT community should grasp independence with both hands – not just to secure a Constitution that protects us and offers a final confirmatory victory for equality for ourselves – but so that we can strive to secure those rights for others around the world, too.

LGBT people in Aberdeen have the opportunity to engage in this debate at a special event What will independence mean for LGBT rights? being held in Cheerz Bar on Saturday 28 June, 2pm to 4pm.

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Feb 072014
 

By Suzanne Kelly.

February 4, 2014 – BrewDog launches the world’s first protest beer – ‘Hello My Name is Vladimir’.  Within 24 hours the flagship Aberdeen bar had completely sold out of its stock of ‘Vladimir’ both bottled and draft beer. 

“Hello My Name is Vladimir mocks Putin’s discriminatory legislation ahead of the Winter Olympics in Sochi”

Brewdog Vlad sqScottish craft brewery, BrewDog has today launched Hello My Name is Vladimir, a craft beer apparently ‘not for gays’ that carries an image of the Russian premier wearing make up on the label.

The ale is the world’s first ‘protest beer’, aiming to support LGBT communities by undermining the potential of the Winter Olympics to deflect attention from Russia’s recent law banning ‘homosexual propaganda’.

  • 50 per cent of profits from the sale of Hello My Name is Vladimir will be donated directly to charities that represent oppressed minorities around the world.
  •  BrewDog has also sent a case of the limited edition beer to President Putin himself.
  • Hello My Name is Vladimir is a 8.2% ABV double IPA containing Limonnik berries, an ingredient regarded by some Russian hunters to enhance sexual performance in men.
  • As well as claiming the beer is ‘not for gays’, the label carries a garish Warhol-style image of Putin wearing eye shadow and lipstick and suggests the beer ‘may contain traces of sarcasm’.
  • The Putin-inspired double IPA is the latest in a long line of BrewDog beers making an impact during major events. In 2012, the brewer launched Never Mind the Anabolics, a beer laced with steroids, mocking Heineken’s sponsorship of the Olympic Games in London, whilst in 2011 BrewDog’s Royal Virility Performance beer was laced with herbal Viagra to mark the Royal Wedding and ‘take the wheels off the bandwagon’ being ridden by breweries manufacturing saccharine celebratory beers.
  • Hello My Name is Vladimir will be available for £2.89 per bottle in all BrewDog bars and brewdog.com from 4th February 2014.
  • BrewDog is trying to mount global social media pressure on Putin using the dedicated hashtag #NotForGays

James Watt, BrewDog co-founder commented:

Vlad-Label-copy-3“We sincerely hope that when Vladimir Putin is tired from a busy day riding horses with his top off, grappling with burly men on the Judo mat or fishing in his Speedos, he reclines on a velvet chaise longue and has one of his handsome helpers wet his whistle with a glass of Hello My Name is Vladimir.”

“As Hello My Name is Vladimir is clearly marked ‘not for gays’ we should bypass the legislation introduced by Putin outlawing supposed ‘homosexual propaganda’, so Vlad shouldn’t have an issue with it.

“He might even invite us to ride bareback with him in the Siberian mountains.”

“It’s been our mission at BrewDog to upend the status quo in whatever form it occurs.

“Whether it’s the stranglehold the mega brewers have had on beer production in Europe over the last 50 years, or in the case of Russia, the sick legislation that discriminates against millions of its citizens.

“Our core beliefs of freedom, integrity and passion drive all our actions. Since we started in 2007, we’ve always striven to strike fear at the heart of the gatekeepers and establishment, the launch of Hello My Name is Vladimir is simply a continuation of that tradition.”

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Feb 282013
 

Voice’s Old Susannah takes a look over the past week’s events in the ‘Deen and beyond. By Suzanne Kelly.

Could spring be around the corner? The weather is improving, a ‘the green shoots of the economic recovery’ (as the Tories used to say) are nearly as vibrant and dynamic as the blue-green dyed grass on Trump International’s  4th hole.  Old Susannah has been taking advantage of the warm weather, and had a few lovely coastal walks recently.

On the 16th I walked around the Menie coastline with a friend from Aberdeen Voice.  The Trump international people have accidentally locked a few gates shut, almost as if to discourage walkers.
No doubt once this is brought to their attention, they’ll remedy the situation.

I guess this will have to wait until the Maloney-Baloney honeymoon is over.  Which it will be soon enough. 

Elsewhere further down the coast I had a pleasant jog/run around the Torry lighthouse and Nigg Bay.  With the good weather lots of people were enjoying themselves on the coast and at Torrymelinos.  How wonderful it will be when the industrial harbour extends itself into these SSSI areas filled with protected wildlife.

We here in the Radon City can be proud of one of our environmental records which no other Scottish city seems to be able to match these many years; more of our city streets show up in the lists of top ten most polluted Scottish streets than any other city can manage.  Result!

According to the latest from  Friends of the Earth, Wellington Road, Union Street and Market Street are highly placed for various forms of air pollution.  Well done.  http://www.foe-scotland.org.uk/news030213 .

As we know, that sort of environmental nonsense doesn’t count for much around here, especially if there are jobs to be created and money to theoretically be made (for a few anyway).  We could have done even better if we’d have got rid of those old trees in Union Terrace Gardens and put up some concrete (sorry – granite).

Even further still down the coast, Old Susannah had another walk with a friend on Lunan Bay.  It was ‘underused’.  I’m sure it could be put to more practical use and made more crowded; perhaps a golf course and a few  hundred homes would do the trick.

The area is rather spoilt at one end of the bay, as an old, boring red structure looms over the scene.  It must have some health and safety issues, and probably should be torn down for a shopping mall.  Apparently it is called the Red Castle, and in some boring old past time some guy named William the Conqueror built it (bad job, William, it’s falling down).

Then other guys named  Robert the Bruce and William Wallace used it, too.

I’m sure people visiting Scotland aren’t interested in this kind of thing, and would rather shop and eat – let’s hope Visit Scotland and Scottish Enterprise can spend some of our tax money on a nice development study for Lunan, like they did for the Menie Estate.

Overall, things are just a bit confusing this past week in the Granite City, the McCote d’Azure (formerly known as Balmedie, now famous for its turquoise dyed grass), and the wider world.  It’s hard to know where to begin with all the exciting developments.  But I’ll make a start.  Here are some definitions relevant to this week’s current events.

Inappropriate Behaviour: (mod Eng phrase)  conduct which is beyond what is accepted in societal norms; often sexual, unbalanced and/or aggressive in nature.

They say you should never discuss religion and politics. At the moment, that philosophy would leave almost nothing to talk or write about.

We’ve had the shocking spectacle of people of the same sex  in love wanting to get married.  Thankfully, our most senior religious figures have been there to condemn this outrageous concept, leading by example.  None other than the UK’s Cardinal Keith O’Brien was one such outspoken guardian of our morals.  Well, until recently.

O’Brien was at first slightly tolerant of homosexuality; then he came out (as it were) against same-sex marriages.  Now his behaviour is being called ‘inappropriate.’ O’Brien apparently had a more liberal outlook in his early days climbing the greasy pole of church hierarchy.

However, his views on same sex marriage included quotes such as:-

“The empirical evidence is clear, same-sex relationships are demonstrably harmful to the medical [yes, he  really said that], emotional and spiritual wellbeing of those involved, no compassionate society should ever enact legislation to facilitate or promote such relationships, we have failed those who struggle with same-sex attraction and wider society by our actions;

and apparently,

“Down with this sort of thing;

and,

“Careful now.”

O’Brien is now resigning because of alleged  ‘inappropriate behaviour’ towards other priests.  If Old Susannah understands correctly, this  means he can’t vote for the next pope, who is resigning immediately (from a scandal-riddled institution), possibly because of some kind of scandal about to break.

I’m not one to knock the churchgoing or bash the bishops, but I’m starting to get a sneaking suspicion that there may be some flaws in the very fibre of the church.  Whether or not he went around saying ‘Drink!  Feck!  Arse!  Girls!  Boys!’ is yet to be confirmed or denied.  But it looks as if someone is up for a de-frocking (in an appropriate way of course – I think the ‘inappropriate’ in the church will be told to ‘frock off.’).

Inappropriate behaviour in the religious spotlight at the moment also seems to include financial inconsistencies, which if a group of men take vows of poverty while living in palaces surrounded by art treasures and wealth could just be a problem.  I’m sure any missing money was just resting in someone’s account.

Inappropriate behaviour, sex scandals, child abuse, ignored abuse, lying, financial inconsistencies… these are not just the domain of the religious; the LibDems seem to like a bit of it, too.  I wonder if a nice cup of tea would help.  G’wan.

Inquiry: (modern compound English noun) 1.  to examine a situation and learn lessons to avoid a repetition; 2.  to issue a big, baffling report at the end of a few months’ of expensive taxpayer-funded testimony which clears the government of wrongdoing.

Nearly as clearly as the above situation, we have the case of Lord Rennard, and what the LibDems knew, didn’t know or suspected.  Nick Clegg gave one of his straightforward interviews to save the day and let everyone know where the LibDems stood.

From his statement we can determine that yes, Clegg knew of abuse rumours, but no he didn’t really know anything, but yes, the police are investigating, but no Clegg  did not look into it when it arose, but yes, it was ‘all a long time ago’, but no Clegg and the LibDems ‘cannot provide a running commentary on every shred of speculation’.

And they say the guy is wishy-washy and prone to u-turns.

He told Sky News:

“I understand there are many people who appear to want to act as self-appointed detectives trying to piece together events that happened many years ago, but the only way that we are going to get to the bottom of the truth, the only way we are going to ensure that the women whose allegations were broadcast on television last week are properly listened to, the only way were are going to establish exactly what happened and who knew what and when, is by allowing the two investigations that I established immediately after the Channel 4 broadcast to do their job and, indeed, to allow the police, whom we have now approached, to do their job as well.

“And in the meantime I cannot and my party cannot provide a running commentary on every shred of speculation about events which happened many years ago.”

Clegg does in his words ‘want to get to the bottom’ of the truth.  What he’ll do when he finally hits rock bottom is another matter.  Better late than never, though.

Still, with two government inquiries announced, we’ll have the truth in no time, just like we did after government inquiries into the sexed-up dodgy dossier that got us into the Iraq war, the mysterious death of Dr Kelly, the petrol pricing inquiry, and so on.

But as Nick Clegg helpfully pointed out a few times to the press, the scandal and abuse was ‘all a long time ago,’ (so it can’t really matter).

You have to wonder why the victims of sexual abuse just don’t pop down to a friendly police station and report abuse.  What could be less traumatic and simpler than finding a sympathetic, understanding government institution to get swift, fair justice?

Operation Sapphire: (modern English compound noun) a Police initiative in south London to address sexual crime.

Result!  A South London police initiative to help victims of sexual crime!  No doubt they would treat victims with great dignity, understanding and offer support.

Or, as came out in the news this week, they could just tell victims that the police wouldn’t be interested in getting any justice, and they should just forget it.

I guess they think this is a great way not only to keep the reported crime statistics low, but also to save taxpayer money on costly trials and even costlier jail sentences (not that many rapists get convicted anyway).  That’s what they seemed to think anyway, as they helpfully, sympathetically told rape victims not to press charges.  Brilliant.

“The Independent Police Complaints Commission (IPCC) said Southwark Sapphire unit in south London “encouraged” victims to withdraw allegations to boost detection rates.

“The Metropolitan Police said substantial changes had been made.”
http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-london-21586786

It looks as if at least one accused rapist who was let off the hook went on to kill a couple of children per the above report.  Well, stuff happens.  It’s not as if there is any reason to think a violent sexual predator would pose a long-term threat, is there?

Let’s face it, being a police officer can be stressful.  I hope these victims of violent crime can think about the effect their stories might have on the police before they go around upsetting them by making allegations.

Back in 2009, the UK had the worst rape conviction rate in Europe. It seems some people in power might want to keep it that way.
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/law-and-order/

I hope these little definitions will help to give everyone the faith in our institutions that they deserve.  As the ConDems will be the first to tell you, ‘we’re all in this together.’  Indeed we are.

Next week:  a look at some great letters I’ve received from government branches, hopefully an update on the SNH’s plans to shoot 700 deer in Scotland out of season, and more definitions.

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