Skip to content


June 6, 2017

JOURNALISM is essentially an appeal for truths from those who know those truths….
Those who knew important truths – mostly police officers, the intelligence community and civil servants – bought and sold them for huge sums of money paid by journalists working for Rupert Murdoch and then closed ranks in a web of lies, deceit and obfuscation to protect themselves from scrutiny over their disgustingly dirty dealings.
They also closed ranks at a very high level to cover up the murder of a private investigator who was going to expose them, say journalists Peter Jukes and Alastair Morgan in their book Untold: The Daniel Morgan Murder Exposed, £14.99, Blink Publishing 2017.
A group of men motivated purely by money, many of whom were freemasons and former officers in the Metropolitan Police colluded with known violent criminals in closed cabals within private security companies in south London to gather intelligence which they could sell to journalists or use to influence decisions by the rich and powerful. They also “fitted people up” by planting evidence on them to get them wrongly convicted and they regularly threatened and abused people.
I asked questions as a journalist purely and simply in the optimistic hope that honesty would prevail – I had no money to offer for answers and I had no access to confidential private information which would pressurise people into giving answers.
Journalists for the News of the World as well as other red-tops, however, offered huge cash rewards (£1,500 for a page lead and much bigger sums up to £50,000 for private revelations from the rich, famous and powerful) and they employed bent coppers to bribe and blag (pretending to be officials to access private and confidential information about individuals of interest to them from organisations like the NHS, the DVLA as well as banks and building societies), hack into their computers and mobile phones to get all their private communications, and secretly place surveillance equipment in their homes and cars, follow them and report on their movements.
Police and intelligence officers, of course, were trained in these “dark arts” – covert surveillance and proactive policing methods including traps as well as access to the Police National Computer and a whole host of other state computer information storage systems is often the only way you can prove wrongdoing.
It appears that they took their expertise and “dark arts” skills to private security companies after careers in the Met and found that one of their best customers were tabloid newspapers, whose staff including disgraced Fake Sheik Mazzer Mahmood made regular private payments to them for unearthing huge amounts of private information about huge amounts of people which, of course, the newspaper management knew nothing about.
What is most disturbing of all in this book is just how easily they did it and with few if any consequences. Some of them are still at large, having evaded the law. These factories of foul and filthy corruption were unhampered by any morals, ethics or cosy sensibilities.
They socialised with each other in pubs and exchanged cash and favours – some journalists had their children’s education fees paid and were ferried around by known criminals who offered them protection as well as inside information.
Daniel Morgan discovered that this unholy alliance between former police officers, crooks and journalists included details about a drugs deal which implicated criminals and corrupt police and customs officers, say the two journalists (Alastair is Daniel’s older brother, who trained to be a journalist in order to get justice for his brother).
He was going to expose it and knew too much and had too many enemies so had to be murdered in cold blood with an axe to his head in the car park of the Golden Lion pub in Sydenham, south London, in March 1987.
The sensational book comes thirty years on after five failed police investigations and an ongoing inquiry. His murder in the dingy car park (a huge dark red blood stain remained on the ground after) is now the most investigated in British history yet still it remains unsolved despite a deluge of evidence indicating that Morgan’s business partners wanted him dead and had even talked about it with some stating that they had been offered cash for doing the deed by his business partner.
Dixon of Dock Green was a romantic myth and this book sadly strips you completely of any romantic ideas about the police and the establishment very bluntly and very, very brutally. Some of it would struggle to be accepted as fiction. Elements of it seem comical and absurd in a sickly black, menacing, Pinteresque way.
The Daniel Morgan Independent Panel will report some time in 2018 and many of the confidential information kept secret will, hopefully, be released.
This book is required reading for anyone who wants to be brought up to speed on this grim, grisly and greatly dark and disturbing tale.


June 3, 2017

I NOTICED numerous armed policemen in black paramilitary gear parading around in twos in Cardiff for the European championship final between Juventus and Real Madrid tonight and the huge iron road blocking system with gates to prevent vehicles from driving in with a bomb.
These clumsy iron barriers (the modern equivalent of a castle moat) first appeared during the NATO conference and instantly change a city centre into a military fortress. They are physical barriers which change psychological perceptions massively.
I instantly felt resentment and fear – not of terrorists and/or potential terrorist attacks but of the armed police themselves. I found their presence and the security measures both oppressive and deeply disturbing. It felt like a loss rather than a gain and it felt like a portentous, frightening and dystopian vision of the future.
I felt very uncomfortable and deeply resented the constant monitoring and surveillance in public places which people seemed, largely, to accept without raising even a murmur of opposition (again).
Crucially, mainstream media, including, of course, the BBC took a largely celebratory and triumphant tone in their reporting of the event and how Cardiff people were responding to it by concentrating on the meek and docile and we were left with the distinct impression that they were colluding with the movers and shakers by ignoring the menace of hysterical security overkill and concentrating instead on the marketing and promotional opportunities for Cardiff and Wales (never mind the threat to personal freedom and the psychological distress – think of the money making potential).
The deep fear is that you will be branded as somehow odd or deranged if you take a different view and question whether or not we need this level of gun wielding paramilitary oppression on our streets.
If it is accepted without protest that we need it for this event, then how many more times might we need it in the future? How long might it be until we have this paramilitary overkill on a regular basis and all our city centres become fortresses with helicopters flying overhead?
Three typically burly men in paramilitary black were walking outside my house one morning during the week when I opened the door to put rubbish out.
That is a highly odd and unusual sight in my street – where there appear to be no regular beat bobbies or friendly community special constables who actually know the area or gather valuable local knowledge which would help keep us safe – so I asked one of them what was up.
“Nothing to worry you, sir” he replied, contemptuously. I then asked him who they were and he pointed to the blue POLICE sign on his black shirt.
He didn’t offer his name and number or any proof of who he was and refused to confide in me in any way. That was very reassuring.
When will the police learn that if they are not willing to tell the truth to the public then the public will not tell the truth to them?
And when will the public learn that their perception of the truth can be easily manipulated and altered so that they will, eventually, be so afraid that they accept practically anything, anywhere, anytime?


May 21, 2017

BT Broadband have sent me an e-mail telling me my £100 reward card is on its way and they are activating my cashback, too.

They classify my telephone exchange with Chris on Friday when I told him he’d made a mistake as an “incident” for some reason. They of course gave the “incident” a number.

The first thing you notice when you call them is a computerised greeting with a female voice which tries to get you to summarise the purpose of your call.

It goes something like this:

Her: “Hello, thank you for calling BT. To help us to connect you to the right person quicker can you tell us in a short sentence why you are calling today.”

Me: “I’m bloody furious.”

Her: “You’re curious about upgrades so want our most expensive deal. Is that right?”

Me: “No. I’m spitting tacks.”

Her: “You fear attacks so want our extra special expensive protection package. Is that right?”

Me: “No, I’m irate.”

Her: “You need the highest possible rate so want our most expensive package. Is that right?”

Me: “No, I’m going spare now.”

Her: “OK. You want a second service for your spare room. I’ll put you through to one of our customer service advisors who will help you to set up a second service.”

You then hear a message telling you that they are incredibly busy and it may take many minutes before you speak to a human being.

I’m pretty certain that Chris had been told to tell callers like me that I didn’t qualify for a reward and hope that I’d accept it and not make a fuss. I imagine many people just don’t bother.







May 21, 2017

THE BBC has turned from good, old, loveable Aunty into bad, new, evil Uncle by threatening to report you to your boss if you post anything condemnatory or critical about them.

It explains why they want you to “register” online to receive live radio – registering your details gives them all the facts they need about you and means they can keep tabs on your online behaviour.
Comments it deems  “inappropriate, offensive or objectionable” and behaviour it deems “disruptive” will be clamped down on. What a pity they didn’t take that view when Jimmy Saville and Stuart Hall were working for them.



May 17, 2017

I SET up a direct debit at my bank with BT Broadband earlier this year after reading on the website that they offered broadband at a basic monthly rate of about £25 but with £50 cashback when you sign up and a £100 pre-loaded BT Mastercard which you could claim as a reward. You also had BT Sport free for three months and money saving wizard Martin Lewis said that it worked out at just £12 a month for broadband.

Whoopee! I thought, so hurriedly signed up with them to make sure that I made the deadline for the £100 MasterCard entitlement and I remember getting confirmation from them that my order would certainly entitle me to the pre-loaded card. In fact, I remember it being on their written summary.

I spoke to one of their customer service representatives who confirmed that I was entitled to the card. He said that unfortunately the £50 cashback offer had expired but I accepted that and took consolation that I would be getting the free sport and the £100 card.

Imagine my surprise today to be told by Chris at their call centre that I did not qualify for the £100 pre-loaded card either due to some oversight on my part. He claimed that my order was not made on an accredited BT website and I should contact Moneysaving about it.

This came hard-on-the-heels of their lie when they contacted me just before 1pm to tell me the engineer was working outside my house on the day it was installed. He did not show up until 1.45pm and he confirmed that he had definitely not been working outside my property.

The lies and lousy customer service appear to persist with BT Broadband, despite their hollow and deceitful boast that I am in good hands because their customer service is second to none. Yeah, right.

When I rang up to activate my BT Sport (plenty of bright studio lights but very little action that I want to see with hardly any live British soccer or major sporting events I want to watch) the telephone representative tried desperately to convince me that I should have a TV service from them.

I didn’t want it, I told him, but he really tried to convince me it was worth signing up for. He really did.

I wanted to use my computer but not a TV (I have cancelled my TV licence as I do not see why I should be helping to pay for Peter Stringfellow to get a free one and also object to some of the BBC’s editorial cost-cutting and political policies) so very reluctantly he explained how I “activate” (frightening action words abound in this brave new media world) my BT Sport account.

Now I am left with a broadband provider who lied about the engineer visiting my house and none of the rewards trumpeted in Martin Lewis’s glossy website have materialised.

I’ve also noticed that the technique they use when you call them is to put you on hold for inordinately long periods of time so you either forget about what you called about or get so angry hanging on waiting that you just have to put the phone down so you can live your life.

The good news is that it is just a 12 month contract and I can cancel my direct debit.

Oh, and I can ask that nice Martin Lewis to help me, too.


May 10, 2017

CHANNEL 4’s campaign to expose electoral fraud by the Conservative party took a blow today with the news that the crown prosecution service is not taking action over electoral spending allegations although one is still being investigated.

There’s no doubt that the Tories are big spenders – I think they have a deliberate system now of choosing a male and a female candidate together as a team in council elections and they bombard residents with expensive propaganda.

But Michael Crick’s expose, which Channel 4 led on, failed to really prove that they had broken the law.

It seemed to me that Crick was telling most people what they knew anyway and it was weakened very badly by the fact that other parties have done the same in the past.

Null point to Channel 4.


May 6, 2017

THOSE frightening, cold and impersonal Stalinist words appeared on my mobile phone while I travelled on a bus and tried to access Jacqui Thompson’s blog Carmarthenshire Planning Problems and More on the Google internet search engine supplied for bus passengers by Newport City Council.

It’s the modern day equivalent of Russia’s “sent to Siberia” and Northern Ireland’s “the disappeared”.

It’s like the knock on the door in the dead of night when you are bundled into a van and whisked away when nobody is awake to see it.

There is no explanation for this but we should know and we should know why it is blocked.

The site exists because I can access it on other search engines but Newport City Council, for some reason, doesn’t want me to read it. I wonder why? I also wonder what other material Newport City Council doesn’t want me to read.