Tag Archives: Douche

Paris: The week that we decided to care.

This is a difficult article to write; the equivalent of tap dancing on egg shells whilst adorned in steel heeled cowboy boots.

Paris

It revolves around the tragedy of last week’s Paris shootings, but is not intended as retrospection of what occurred, those ostensibly responsible (Isis), or the fact that their artillery and vehicles were almost exclusively funded by the USA and allied nations. That narrative has been reported, debated and raked over en mass.

This is an article to skim the surface of the event; the manner of broadcast and way in which social media has once again set in motion a slew of fads, anti-fads and hash tags, as supportive naivety threatens to stray from organic empathy.

 

The key points in my personal reaction to the coverage

 

I do not take umbrage with anyone who places a French flag upon their Facebook profile picture.

One war or act of terrorism having fewer casualties than another does not make compassion less legitimate, or incongruous to the event.

Media outlets are guilty of deliberately fear-mongering in order to promote their agendas.

Social Media increasingly sculpts the way in which people conduct themselves following tragedy.

Praying may be well intentioned, but to use it in lieu of substantive support  is the equivalent of throwing a penny into a wishing well.

Equally, stating that the terrorists were screeching prayers as they committed atrocities does not mean that well intended prayers should suffer that stigma.

Governments reducing people’s freedom even further or being violently reactive will bring Europe and the US closer to a Universal three-tiered state in which human beings could conceivably become little more than caged vermin.

 

War Magazine

I’ve dreaded signing into Facebook this past week or so. Everybody seems to  have two rusty cents to share regarding the Paris shootings. Usually from a superficial perspective.

This generally leads to a chain reaction of statements, thumbs up, disagreements, and self-anointed keyboard correspondents who to the uninitiated rubber necker have vast knowledge of geography, religion and politics.

The precious few may well do, but most are tantamount to Russell Brand firing his hollow, multi-syllable integrated rhetoric at Fox News presenters who want to talk about his hair (or in  the case of Facebook play Candy Crush). This is an ignorance virtually all of us share, but many refuse to acknowledge.

99% of said arbiters are blinkered by social media’s addictive ease of access. Whether it’s the aficionado who declares it time to shoot all Muslims and bomb the shit out of Syria (Thanks Mr Trump), or the one who’s furious that people aren’t taking into account other wars.

The BBC have gone into overdrive in their attempts to cash-in on those 129 deaths that occurred six days ago. Radio One aired a programme about UK citizens joining Isis, while the BBC website pondered: “Paris shootings: is London next?”

Their coverage, alongside a petition that proposes to close UK borders until Isis are abolished – a petition with more than 431,000 signatures already, have tossed fuel onto a counter-productive fire that could threaten our liberty. In addition, Home Secretary Theresa May has pledged to intensify security, all it needs now is the Geordie Big Brother narrator.

There is clearly a lot more to this tragedy than the tapestry woven to date. The parallels of recent army training in Paris with the massacre that unfolded is one of many factors that have left pockets of humanity sceptical, as has the touted banning of all conspiracy theorists from the French capital.

As for me? I’m just a fucking writer in a cocoon 400 miles away. Wanting to assist, but not sure how.

Written by Dom Kureen

As a young rapscallion stranded on an Island, my time is split between writing, performing spoken word, wrestling alligators and delivering uplifting pep talks to hairdressers before they prune me. I meditate and wash daily when possible.

The curse of Prince William

Are England cursed when it comes to football at major tournaments, or is it simply a case of the reverse Midas touch from Prince William? Dom Kureen ponders.

Having witnessed their male counterparts struggle to impose themselves at every tournament of note since 1998, England’s women headed to Canada for the 2015 World Cup with limited expectations.

Many weren’t convinced that Mark Sampson’s team could even progress beyond the group stages, with a 2-0 opening game defeat at the hands of France adding credibility to that argument.


Turning Point

From there it became an adventure; 2-1 victories against Norway, Canada and Mexico, including a 25 yard strike from the brilliant Lucy Bronze, providing highlights during a glittering run which saw the Lionesses reach the Semi-Final stage, where they faced current holders Japan.

Despite playing their best match of the tournament, England were this time on the wrong end of a by now familiar 2-1 scoreline, courtesy of two debatable penalties and an unfortunate 92nd minute own goal from the outstanding Laura Bassett, who had marshalled England’s defence superbly throughout the contest.


Big Willy Style

The defeat came on the same day that Prince William decided to stick his pointy beak into matters that don’t concern him, overloading the squad’s head with blatant fibs about them having united the entire country (a ridiculous claim that can’t have been taken seriously by anyone with half a brain), who were all staying up to watch the matches (usually kicking off at around 12.30am.)

Just over a month earlier Mr charisma vacuum had cast his poison onto another team’s dreams of glory. “Wills” gloated about being a die-hard Aston Villa fan, providing a pep talk with his extensive knowledge of the game a day before their FA Cup final appearance in May. The result? Arsenal massacred them 4-0.

Prince William
Madame Tussauds were running out of poses for their dummies

The Duke of Cambridge may seem perfectly noble in these gestures of good will, but to see an entitled drip scurrying to become the self anointed (monotone) voice of the nation’s throng of sports fans is little short of ridiculous, serving as an unwelcome distraction to events, particularly that Wembley final where the infatuated TV production team insisted on panning to the guy every couple of minutes.


Stick to guarding the palace…

All I ask of the future king this summer is that he steer clear of Andy Murray matches at Wimbledon, avoids any Ashes cricket this summer and gives the athletics World Championships a wide berth… Although he’s still more than welcome to pledge his full, unequivocal allegiance to Aston Villa FC, specifically moments before their encounters with Newcastle United.

I am able to form enough incoherent, scrambled sentences myself without some follically challenged nitwit with an alluringly punchable face acting as spokesperson for me, as he attempts to piggy back on anything approaching British sporting success. At least David Cameron waits until after they’ve failed before extending empty hearted commiserations.

If either of those men breathed in the general vicinity of a cacti it would wither and die.


Final Plea

Infect the media by all means with your droning, rehearsed rhetoric; anyone not entirely devoid of wit can flip a channel or throw a Doc Martin boot through a screen rather than stare for days at footage of a door to ascertain whether you named your kid George, William or Henry.

Just leave sport, art and anything else not related to your royal remit out of the PR circus.

Written by Dom Kureen

As a young rapscallion stranded on an Island, my time is split between writing, performing spoken word, wrestling alligators and delivering uplifting pep talks to hairdressers before they prune me. I meditate and wash daily when possible.