Jemisin builds worlds. Her characters live full lives, play roles within and battle against social structures, and have complex cultures and beliefs. The worlds themselves have origin stories (whether true or not), and their own geologies and geographies. Like most fantasy authors she creates worlds that contain powers unlike our own, but unlike most fantasy authors her characters do not try and save the world order. Jemisin’s worlds, like our own, require change.

Fantasy and science-fiction has long been dominated by white male authors. That they should write mostly about struggles to preserve world orders, and of colonising other (often ‘empty’) worlds, is not too surprising. But Jemisin is a black woman and, in her own words, has

“…no particular interest in maintaining the status quo. Why would I? The status quo is harmful, the status quo is significantly racist and sexist and a whole bunch of other things that I think need to change.”

Jemisin challenges our expectations of what a fantasy novel can be by determinedly writing women of colour into a genre that for too long has given us an endless procession of white male saviours. Rather than saving the world, her characters participate in disorder, seeding and supporting changes that are intended to bring about the destruction of hierarchies, the end of long-standing regimes.

In The Fifth Season we meet Damaya, Syenite, and Essun, girls and women living in a world at risk of breaking apart, who accept or reject to varying degrees their places in a strictly ordered society. The power some characters possess is of an ambiguous source, little understood and tightly controlled by institutions that seek to use those able to wield it for their own ends. The events of this first book alone (The Fifth Season is the start of a trilogy) are epic in scope, and the emotional and physical changes wrought on the people and world are enormous.

Likewise The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms. The first book in The Inheritance trilogy begins with Yeine, a young warrior unexpectedly named heir by the grandfather who cast out her mother. Thrust into a power struggle far from home alongside enslaved gods who are as flawed and troubled as their mortal creations, Yeine fights to uncover her mother’s secrets and for the survival of herself and her people. The isolation of Yeine, the unnaturally inhibited power of the gods, and the ruthlessness of the politics creates an atmosphere of tension and latent horrors that build up to an explosive conclusion.

In all of Jemisin’s worlds characters are of different races and sexualities, have different cultures and beliefs, and uphold or resist the world order in different ways. Importantly, characters are never lone individuals. They may be isolated, but every character comes from somewhere, was at least once part of a community. They have personal and collective histories, come from wealthy and poor families, from powerful and weak communities. They have personal desires but also familial loyalties and rivalries, and such depth of character allows for subtle motivations.

Because characters are fully rounded they are highly relatable, and within Jemisin’s books are characters it is impossible not to care deeply about, sometimes in spite of deep flaws and unconscionable actions. She writes characters with whom the reader experiences joy and agonies, and for whom the reader finds themselves wishing for the catastrophic break-up of the world. Change can be violent, but it is sometimes necessary.

Jemisin has, within a short few years, written books that will surely be a major influence on the genre. Like her characters, Jemisin has challenged the status quo, defied expectations, and dealt a decisive blow to those who wish to keep their ‘world’ conservative, white, and male. Our world is more than that, our fiction must be too.

The Inheritance Trilogy begins with The Hundred Thousand Kingdoms, continues with The Broken Kingdoms, and concludes with The Kingdom of Gods.

The Fifth Season is the first of The Broken Earth trilogy that continues with The Obelisk Gate. The concluding book, The Stone Sky, is due for release later this year.

I quickly found my apprehension to be unwarranted. The very first panel opened with the assertion that London’s growth was build upon “one of the greatest crimes against humanity”, and from then on the exhibition was unflinching in showing how, to this day, the wealth of London and the UK is directly linked to the trade of enslaved men, women, and children.

The displays are extremely well laid out, with a lot of thought given to how such a horrific subject should be explained to children. I thought the questions posed to children were excellent at demonstrating how normal people do monstrous things. (E.g. Was this man… (a) a celebrated gardener, (b) an important and influential businessman, or (c) a man who bought and sold men women and children? The answer to which was, of course, all three.)

The panels that show the links between British commerce and the slave trade are particularly good –extensive business networks implicating those who at first glance would appear unconnected. A map of the trade triangle states that in the eighteenth century “half of all Africans transported across the Atlantic into slavery were carried in British ships”; it is impossible to see the displays of ceremonial staves and fine china, the pictures of elaborate buildings, without understanding that British wealth has its foundations in the enslavement of people.

Near the displays of fine china is a case containing the diary of a plantation overseer, a machete, and an iron collar. The overseer writes in a detached, matter-of-fact way about unimaginable punishments. This part of the display seemed to me to be surprisingly small. This may be an understandable choice to avoid torture porn, though if it is a choice it is one I’m conflicted about. I don’t want to see such objects, but I vividly remember doing so when I visited the Slave Museum in Juffureh, Gambia, and the visceral reaction I had to seeing them is one that will stay with me – you may be able to disengage by not fully reading some text but you cannot avoid the horrors such objects evoke.

That tentative criticism aside, the sound and visual display that plays every fifteen minutes is hugely affecting, and a week later I can still hear the voices that echoed around the exhibits.  I was also pleased to see that though abolitionism was covered, the influence of the Haitian revolution and the campaigning of freed Africans was given due prominence. That the British abolitionists were not portrayed as unquestionably moral was also refreshing, instead noting how they dissociated themselves from campaigns of self-liberation, and how Wilberforce, while against the slave trade, was opposed to the immediate end of slavery. (He was also opposed to women becoming involved in the abolitionist campaign – he failed, and women are noted to have been influential in the Anti-Slavery Society finally supporting an immediate end to slavery.)

If there was one other display I would have liked to have seen it would have been some information on the research done by the Centre for the Study of the Legacies of British Slave-ownership at UCL. This research showed that slave-ownership was not exclusive to the upper classes, that “widows, clergymen and shopkeepers; ordinary members of the middle-classes” also owned enslaved people and received compensation when they were freed. The exhibition is good at showing how Britain’s wealth today has its foundations in slavery – showing how widespread slave-ownership was would, I think, help in demonstrating that its legacies are not just to be found in the City or the ports, or in our institutions, but in our culture and society as a whole.

The London, Sugar and Slavery exhibit is one of nine permanent exhibitions at the docklands museum. If you have time for only one of them, make it this one.

In the UK the only grounds for a divorce is the irretrievable breakdown of a marriage. This can be established by blaming your spouse of unreasonable behaviour (or accepting blame yourself), by living apart for two years and agreeing to end the marriage, or by living apart for five years and divorcing with our without spousal agreement.

In the case mentioned above, the woman, Tini Owens, petitioned for a divorce on the grounds that she is “desperately unhappy” in her marriage, and that her husband, Hugh Owens, has treated her like a child and has been mistrustful and insensitive. Hugh Owens disputes this and says they still have a few years to enjoy together, a statement which surely backs up the allegation that he is insensitive and treats his wife like a child, as if she is incapable of making her own decisions. The judge concluded not only that this behaviour was to be expected, but also that being “wretchedly unhappy” is not grounds for divorce.

This case highlights the need for no-fault divorces in the UK, though even under our current system whether there is blame to be apportioned over the breakdown of the relationship or not should realistically be inconsequential:  if one party wishes to trap their spouse in marriage then they are abusive, and that should be grounds enough for a court to grant a divorce irrespective of anything else.

The length of time currently required for a no-fault divorce is, its defenders say, necessary to uphold and protect marriage as an institution, and to ensure that marriage vows remain meaningful. This ignores (perhaps wilfully) the fact that the institution of marriage is one which explicitly grants men power over women. Women are still more likely to take on the responsibility of the home and childcare, and because of the wage gap it often makes financial sense for them to do so. When mothers do return to work they are more likely to work part time in lower paid roles, and are less likely to be promoted. Such inequalities mean that men are often in control of household finances, leaving women financially dependent.

In the Owens’ case, the husband’s refusal to agree to a divorce, and the judge’s refusal to grant one, means that Tini Owens must wait five years to end the marriage. Whether she is financially dependent on her husband is unclear from the reports, but if she is that will mean five years of living with a man who knows she is unhappy and wants her to continue to be so. Even if she is financially able to live a separate life the fact that she is legally bound to a man who wishes her trapped and unable to move on is unacceptable.

It must be enough that one party wishes to end a relationship; the law should not provide the means by which someone can be forced to stay in a relationship against their will. As it is the institutions of marriage and law continue to protect emotionally abusive spouses, consciously ignoring the potential for serious consequences on the health and well being of those forced to remain married.

That the show remains upbeat despite the worsening political landscape is indicative of Josie’s determined optimism.  But post-referendum her hopefulness is angrier, tainted with grief and coloured by the realisation that her left politics are not shared by the majority, that many people do not view this government as an enemy.

Having mapped her gigs to find they are all in areas that voted remain she is aware that she is preaching to the choir. She chastises herself for her complacency, for not persuading enough people to vote differently – feelings that may be familiar to many. But I think at times preaching to the choir is no bad thing; just being in a room full of people sharing both laughter and anger is uplifting, and resistance requires hope. And importantly, while her audiences may agree with her stance on the EU referendum, they would perhaps not so easily agree that the owning of more than one home is immoral and that all landlords are bastards (she is, of course, correct on this).

I think one of the things I like most about Josie is her receptiveness – she says that she values kindness, but it is evident that she wants to do more than sympathise, she wants to learn of struggles in order to stand in solidarity with those who struggle. When I first saw Josie in 2010 I remember her quoting Black Panther Fred Hampton, “the people’s law is lovelier than lovely”, and in ‘Something Better’ she promotes the actions of Black Lives Matter UK, praising their blocking of a runway at London City Airport. It is so refreshing to see a public figure praise direct action when it is current and local, rather than reserving such praise for when it is historic, far away, or both.

Despite all I liked about the show it would be remiss of me not to mention the couple of moments that I found jarring. There was no mention of Labour’s complicity in many of the government’s actions, or of how the Tories have built their policies on foundations laid by Labour. This may simply be a choice of focus, but with a call for unity on the left I’m not sure this is the case. Yes, unity is strength, but we must be careful who we unite with. Why should we unite with a Labour Party that opened Yarls Wood, and that carved ‘controls on immigration’ into stone? And why should we support a Labour leader, socialist as he may be, when he speaks at a SWP event after stating he would not? (Josie didn’t mention the SWP so perhaps her call for unity didn’t include them, but just in case, let’s be clear that we should not unite with a group that covers up rape, we must centre survivors.)

That said, Josie’s recognition of her own privilege, her use of her platform to promote activist groups, and her obvious desire to learn more and do more, meant that those jarring moments did not cast too big of a shadow on the rest of the show.

The central message I took from ‘Something Better’ is that hope is active.  Below is a list of groups that Josie talked of on stage and promoted in the programme, groups whose activities sustain hope:

Black Lives Matter UK
Sisters Uncut
Welcome Project
Help Refugees UK
Arts Emergency

If you have the chance to see Josie perform, take it. And find your seats promptly for some pre-show karaoke and a great support act, Tez Ilyas.

Written by Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton, each episode of this darkly comic anthology series is a thirty minute short film. The only link between them is that every episode is set within ‘number 9’, be that a house, a room, or a train compartment. Inside No.9 has made me laugh, cry, and too afraid to turn out the lights. It is seriously unmissable television. Here are three reasons you should watch.

Genre defining and defying

The anthology format gives Shearsmith and Pemberton the chance to play with genre, showing off how well they know the conventions, deftly switching between tone and style, always with dark humour.

The first series included a silent episode of a farcical burglary, not filmed in black and white but still largely monochromatic with black-clad burglars in a white modernist house; a gothic horror (an episode that scared me silly on first viewing); and a five act episode set in a theatre, mirroring Macbeth.

But it is not only explorations of well known genres that Inside No.9 does well. Among the best episodes is series two’s ‘Cold Comfort’, the screen split three ways with fixed camera footage, and episodes where the genre isn’t clear until late on are also highly effective.

Great casts

The anthology format allows for noteworthy casting in a way that is unlikely to be possible for a series with recurring characters. The silent episode ‘A Quiet Night In’ guest stars Oona Chaplin in a reportedly accidental homage to her grandfather, and the first series also includes roles for Katherine Parkinson, Timothy West, Gemma Arterton, and Tamsin Greig.

Pemberton and Shearsmith often appear in the episodes too but they don’t write only for themselves, appearing in supporting roles and frequently giving their co-stars the best lines. Alison Steadman and Jane Horrocks had stand out roles in series two, and the Christmas special (technically the first episode of series three) starred both Derek Jacobi and Rula Lenska.

Series three then is sure to include some great star turns, though admittedly they’ll have to go some way to outshine Sheridan Smith’s performance in series two…

Twisting unpredictability

Sheridan Smith starred as the eponymous Christine in ‘The Twelve Days of Christine’. This episode is the best thirty minutes of television I have ever seen. Watching a show without knowing the genre in advance is quite disconcerting at times, and this is used to brilliant effect in this episode; tightly scripted and brilliantly acted you are kept guessing until the final few moments – the last scene making sense of all that has come before it.

Though ‘Twelve Days of Christine’ stands out, each episode of ‘Inside No.9’ delights in the unexpected. They all have the capacity to surprise, and though there are often red herrings there is never a contrived ending – the clues are always there. Such carefully planned stories make the series very re-watchable – seeing how the pieces of the puzzle were laid out before you as entertaining as trying to spot them the first time round.

Given my love for the show I’ve been repeatedly surprised by the number of people who haven’t yet heard of it. If this includes you, tune in to series three. Each episode stands alone so you have nothing to catch up on, but you still have every reason to watch series’ one and two.

The next episode of Inside No.9 is due to air between 18^th and 24^th February, exact date to be confirmed.

The study included four experiments to test the children’s perceptions of brilliance and how this affected their interests. In one of them children were asked to identify who they thought was the intellectually brilliant protagonist of a story. At five years old children chose a protagonist of their own gender the majority of the time. At aged six to seven, all children were more likely to identify a male protagonist.[1]

The study does not suggest why these gender stereotypes emerge at this age. But I’d speculate that the children’s ages are notable – at five years old these children will have just begun formal schooling. At five years old children are beginning to learn to read.

The majority of protagonists in children’s books are male. This holds true for stories where the main character is an animal (indeed animals are nearly always given male pronouns) and when animals are identified as female they are often drawn with gender signifiers. Such stories and accompanying illustrations enforce the notion of male as default, strengthening the associational learning of gender norms.

Associational learning is key to our socialisation in early childhood, and the imposition of gender norms begins immediately. The strict imposition of gendered clothing and toys, coupled with negative reactions for violating these norms, means that children are primed to notice and accept supposed gender difference and to see them as significant.

A child of five, just starting school and beginning to read, is therefore conditioned to see the protagonists of their stories as situated on either side of a gender binary, and to take their attributes as characteristic of their gender. Judging by books alone, boys are more likely to be seen as adventurous, inventive, brave, and competitive. Is it any wonder then that by aged seven girls are less likely to see themselves as such?

The lack of female representation is far from the only problem. People of colour are woefully underrepresented in children’s literature, as are LGBTQ families, and indeed any family that does not fit within the nuclear ideal. Children who do not see themselves reflected are denied role models, and cis white boys are never required to empathise with anyone different.

If we wish to have a more equal society this must be challenged. When choosing books for children we need to seek out books that centre on girls, on people of colour, on LGBTQ families. Because those who wish to maintain the status quo know that the socialisation of children is a vital fight. When the Daily Mail expresses outrage over a book with a transgender character, or at a book with a character who has gay parents, they do so to protect and strengthen cis- and hetero- normativity. They do so under the guise of ‘common sense’ and claim that children are ‘too young’ to understand. But socialisation is happening either way. To not actively teach your child that there is no such thing as a normal default human is to risk that they will not accept others and also sets limits to their own possibilities.

The societal acceptance of binary gender and gender roles are vital to the far right. If men are perceived to be more intelligent it is easier to push women back into the home, for men to make decisions about women’s bodies. When people of colour are not represented in our literature and our media it is easier to identify them as ‘other’, as ‘outsiders’. When the same is done to LGBTQ people and relationships it is easier to label them ‘deviant’. We cannot permit this to happen – we must take an active role in ensuring the current norms are challenged.

And so when choosing children’s book look beyond those with white male protagonists, and when you read aloud change characters’ pronouns.  If you have book recommendations, share them – I’ve started a list below, I’d love to know of many more before my nieces and nephews have their birthdays…

[Importantly, remember it’s not only children’s books that are dominated by cis white male characters (and authors) – so vary your own reading too.]

Children’s books

Amazing Grace – Mary Hoffman

Handa’s Surprise – Eileen Brown

Rosie’s Hat – Julia Donaldson

And Tango Makes Three – Justin Richardson

[1] The paper does not make any mention of gender nonconforming children.

Cultural memory of the war, and particularly of 1940 when ‘Britain stood alone’, has been cited for years first to convince us and now to assure us that Britain does not need the EU.

British commentary on the EU is typically obsessed by the war: the EU is dominated by ‘expansionist Germany’  and ‘Britain alone’ is brave and standing against those who would take away our sovereignty. The war is used to strengthen a particular British identity, to set us (a very qualified ‘us’) apart from the rest of the world.

What is this identity? It is one of togetherness, of standing against an enemy larger than us and doing it with humour and determination, everyone ‘pulling together’. Public memory of 1940s Britain is of the home front, ‘the people’ are white and English-speaking, culturally and ethnically homogenous. When this wartime identity is asserted in regard to Brexit, it is done so in order to implicitly criticise deviations from it.

And yet this 1940 wartime identity of the isolated British is spurious. Cultural memory privileges particular memories and narratives over others and so it determines not only what we remember, but what we forget[1]. Brexit might mean Brexit, but when it comes to the Second World War alone doesn’t mean alone.

The Battle of Britain was fought by airmen from fifteen different countries. The RAF roll of honour names 2353 British airmen and 574 from overseas. The Polish airmen in particular are remembered for their skill in combat, Unit 303 recognised as the most successful fighter command unit in the Battle of Britain. However, by focusing only on the airmen, we miss the true scale of the contribution by people of colour and of international participants. There were, for example, 10,000 Caribbean and 14,000 Polish servicemen and servicewomen in the RAF.

Many of the European servicemen and servicewomen in the RAF were exiles and refugees. Those who were not European were part of the British Empire. It is difficult to reconcile the view of Britain alone with the knowledge that Britain was the political centre for a quarter of the world’s population. (Indeed Kojo Koram has argued that Britain has never even existed as a nation, never mind one that stood alone.)

Cultural memory of war marginalises and excludes those who do not fit into the identity of the white, English-speaking, home front. (And to be clear I’ve mentioned only the servicemen and women of the RAF for brevity’s sake, not because the RAF was an exception.) It is important to note that a white wartime Britain also erases the people of colour present in Britain prior to 1939: immigration in the public memory then becomes ‘new’.

Post-war Britain encouraged immigration, but did so while constructing a post-colonial national identity of war-winning white British solidarity, masking the loss of national power that came with the end of Empire. The marginalisation of non-British and non-white communities from cultural memory pre-1945 continues to allow exclusion and marginalisation. This has been evident in the Brexit campaign (and for many years prior), when ‘the British at war’ have been venerated as exhibiting the true British identity – and if to be British means to be white, then the acceptance of others into that community becomes less possible.

It is important then to challenge the popular narrative of wartime Britain ‘standing alone’ and of the validity of the war time British identity. For with Brexit on the horizon our future is set to be built on the memories of a past that did not exist.

[1] Cultural memory of the war does not shape itself spontaneously of course, but is shaped, for example, by acts of public remembrance. This is particularly obvious every November, when any public figure who refuses to wear a poppy (i.e. refuses to conform to a specific act of remembrance) can expect to receive a great deal of criticism.

The privileging of particular narratives is clear in the breaking of the Enigma code – this may have been done at Bletchley Park, but it was not until 2014 did Britain acknowledge the contribution of the Polish code-breakers who made the first breakthrough.

 The plot is outlined in the first few pages of the book so I don’t think spoilers are an issue. However there will be some minor spoilers for Marge Piercy’s Woman on the Edge of Time.

When I first read Slaughterhouse-Five a few years ago I hadn’t read any other Vonnegut and didn’t know what to expect. As a result I initially read it as science fiction, accepting the existence of the alien Tralfamadorians and the time travel until quite late on. This time I read it from the start as the experience of a man coping with trauma.

Billy Pilgrim has survived the firebombing of Dresden. His memories and delusions interrupt his present, and the Tralfamadorian perception of time, pre-determined and simultaneous, allows him to live with what he has witnessed. Billy is numb from his experiences and, accepting he is powerless, responds passively to every occurrence in his life. He makes one decision in the entire novel – he stays voluntarily and briefly in a mental hospital shortly after the war.

This one decision brought to mind the protagonist of Woman on the Edge of Time, Connie Ramos. Connie, like Billy, is ‘unstuck in time’. Unlike Billy, she is held in a mental hospital against her will.

Connie may not experience a singularly catastrophic event such as the firebombing of Dresden, but her life is a series of daily traumas. Her present time is the same as Billy’s – 1960s America – but her life is wholly different. Billy lives comfortably, wealthy from an inherited business, successful in his career, and is the patriarch of his nuclear family. Connie is poor, constantly faces racist and gendered violence, and is forcibly isolated from her daughter.

Connie’s escape is to the future, to Mattapoisett, a post-racial and post-gender anarchist community. But this future is not predetermined. Progress does not lead inexorably towards a better world but is dependent on the actions and decisions of individuals like her. For Billy, all time exists simultaneously – every event that has happened in the past is happening now and will happen again.

How they perceive their world has a marked effect on their actions. Connie, in spite of her powerlessness, is the more hopeful character. She has little voice but is determined to shout, and Mattapoisett provides her with hope and a reason to be bold. She has limited ability to make decisions and yet she uses each opportunity, seeing the value and necessity of small acts of resistance, of the possibility of their accumulation.

Billy is actually relatively powerful, but he doesn’t believe in his ability to change anything. His voice is silenced, numbed by the enormity of his experiences. The starkest example of this is when, as a prisoner of war, an American Nazi attempts to recruit him and his comrades. Another soldier speaks out in refusal and so Billy remains in the camp. His submissiveness in going along with the decision of the group happens to protect his innocence, but you can only assume that this is not the case for other soldiers, for other Billy Pilgrims. Billy is easy to empathise with, but he is devoid of hope.

While Connie recognises passivity as complicity, Billy does not (perhaps cannot). Connie acts, despite knowing she is likely to be ignored. Billy makes no active choices, and yet being ignored is something of an aberration for him – something that happens only when he speaks of Dresden.

For those who are not white wealthy men, being ignored is not confined to talk of controversial acts of war. And when I thought of Connie Ramos I found that Billy lost some of his innocence. His passivity may be an understandable coping mechanism, but it is one that helps prop up the same systems of oppression that are responsible for Connie’s daily traumas. It is also one that allows future children (including Billy’s own son) to be sent to war without justification.

I assume most people reading this have read Slaughterhouse-Five. If you haven’t read Woman on the Edge of Time, do. Structurally they’re very different, and though the latter is not quite so quick a read it’s definitely worth the time. While Vonnegut shows us that helplessness breeds passivity, Piercy shows us that acts of resistance bring hope.

Incidentally, in the introduction of a later edition (an edited extract of which is available here), Piercy writes that most women’s utopias are anarchist. If you’re interested in such an argument as to why this should be, I’ve written previously on why the dismantling of gender roles requires that the state must be dismantled too.

I set up this blog in 2011. I made six posts (four of them good) and abandoned writing just under a year later. I am going to try again, this time with less ambition but more commitment.

My earlier blogs involved a fair amount of research and a long drafting and redrafting process. New blogs, while hopefully not wholly uninformed, will inevitably be rougher and less in depth. But if I can prove to myself that I can write regularly then maybe I can convince myself to complete a longer piece again sometime in the future.

More often than not upcoming entries will be on less serious topics than my earlier writing. That said, given the awfulness of last year and the consequences that have yet to hit, I am sure that some weeks I will rage-type (and then more calmly edit) an entry. But I also expect to write about TV and books and other things that make me happy rather than furious.

And I’m looking forward to quite a few things this year. I want to read Hag-seed, The Good Immigrant, and What Is Not Yours Is Not Yours. I want to read, watch, and cry at A Monster Calls. I want to watch the third series of Inside No.9, and of Catastrophe, and the second series of Flowers. I want to write a blog that is sometimes escapist, sometimes serious, and always updated every week.

I want to write. I intend to write.

I’ll see you at the weekend.

Remember the expenses scandal, when MPs had moats and tennis courts serviced, and some got done for false accounting? Bad apples.

Remember Mark Kennedy, the undercover cop whose actions mean that 55 convictions are now deemed potentially unsafe? Bad apple.

Remember Simon Harwood, currently on trial for the death of Ian Tomlinson? Bad apple.

Remember the police present at the death of Smiley Culture, who refused to be interviewed or provide any information? Bad apples.

Remember when the IPCC lost 100 lawyers in mass resignation, citing the IPCC’s rejection of evidence & favouring of the police? Bad apples.

Remember when the UKBA was found by a study to be homophobic and sexist, using strip searches to humilate and ogle? Bad apples.

Remember when the newspapers tapped the phones of victims and grieving families, in order to have exclusive stories? Bad apples.

Remember when newspapers paid the police for information? (Remember when the police sold information to the papers?) Bad apples.

Remember when the PM employed & socialised with (ex)editors of such papers? When they said “we’re definitely in this together”? Bad apples.

Remember when the banks manipulated lending rates, furthering their own interest by fraudulent means? Bad apples.

Remember that in the past few years we’ve seen scandals in parliament, in the police, in banking corporations and in the press. Bad apples?

It’s just a bad apple said the branch. It’s just a bad branch said the roots. It’s just a bad tree said the forest, it’s just a bad forest said the soil…

This series provoked two responses, offering further evidence of corruption in the police:

The cover-up of hundreds of rapes committed against police colleagues and civilians (link provided by @boutmycolumn)

And the murder (and subsequent investigations) of Daniel Morgan (link provided by @_JamesDavies)