The Mask Of Tyranny I As I lay abed in Bruges A wild story flashed across the news, With great anger forth it made me, Rail against such travesty. II First I saw the Horseman Plague And he was dressed as William Hague, Smug he was, completely fake; Seven spooks slithered in his wake. III All were rabid; no surprise! Drunk on the wine of wild surmise The chalice emptied to the lees Each did his very best to please. Sowing untruths and disease. IV Now came War who did prefer The Battle Dress of Obama; His false words, for he spoke well, Turn’d to unmanned drones which fell V Upon the families in the ‘Stans - No foreign blood will soil his hands - Every one a terrorist, Their bodies are now blown to bits. VI Comes Clapper next all armed with lies He swears on oath this Chief of Spies, Committing wilful perjury He is allowed to go scot-free. VII So many shiftless goons appear, To tell us we have nought to fear Unless we have got ought to hide From electronic ears and eyes. VIII Last came Secrecy: upon An invisible horse, seen by none. Nor any thing of him could we see, Bedecked in all his finery IX Yet he cantered proud and tall A head at least above them all And when he spoke all fell in thrall ‘I TRUMP YOUR RIGHTS, YOUR PRIVACY AND LAW!’ X So saying he dismissed the throng Forbidding them to gaze upon His opaque mask of secrecy: “For there are things YOU MUST NOT SEE!" XI Ministers, judges, soldiers stayed And with his minions thus arrayed They moved against the Written Word: Nor any single demur heard XII As the invading army passed Each was required to kiss its arse: To render ALL without exclusion, Concealing nothing from intrusion. XIII Phone calls, emails, clickstreams too! The unrestrained demands just grew For fear of fear they bravely sought An end to all seditious thought. XIV And ev’ry citizen afraid Was gripped by this insane charade, Fearing his neighbours and their Gods: Cowed before law, supine as dogs. XV Came forth the ministers and spies Adorned with D-notices and lies - The willing goons who did agree To render all to Secrecy: XVI ‘Now we have the perfect weapon To control the population; Our ideals bankrupt, message sour, Give us Fear and War and Power!’ XVII Lawyers and judges soon agreed To fall in step, in thought, in deed As ravens in conspiracy Quoth - ‘Render ALL to Secrecy.’ XVIII In cheerful tones they cried with glee ‘Render ALL to secrecy! No evidence need be submit By Masters of the Internet.’ XIX And Secrecy, that veiled horseman Slyly knew how he had won: For Fear will bring forth Victory O’er those who hazard Privacy. XX Well he knew the data centres Of the World were his to enter, First emails, searches, then the rest: Call metadata, SMS…. XXI Spooks pried into every corner Vacuuming each piece of data, Boundless informants ueber alles: "O Tempora o Morales!" XXII Yet one among the spooks laments His conscience pricked, this penitent, Knowing his master’s schemes are wrong He boldly flies to far Hong Kong: XXIII ‘Your People have no privacy. I spied for milord Secrecy Everything you write and say Is filtered by the NSA!’ XXIV ‘All his ministers and his courts Do his bidding without thought Cloaked in dark hypocrisy And now they will come after me’ XXV Saying thus he blew the whistle, Telling Greenwald and MacAskill Of all the spooks behind the scenes. Snowden starts to spill the beans: XXVI From Congress covert programs hidden With the knowlege of Booz Allen; Verizon were handing over Call metadata to Obama! XXVII Then Facebook, Google, and Yahoo, Microsoft and Apple too: Accessories before the fact Of FISA and the Patriot Act. XXVIII Yet one by one they all denied The ugly truth: they had complied! While purblind judges sat on hands In Star Chambers across the land. XIX As Snowden’s truth spread far and wide Lord Secrecy rose up and cried: “There is no place upon this earth Where ye can live or hide, henceforth" XXX "Ye shall be hunted and refused Asylum for your subterfuge. A #life of exile your reward For humiliating Your Lord!”

The Rogue - A Novel I'd done a few odd jobs for her in the past. Leastways for somebody who had hired on her behalf. The first time I hadn't even been aware of the identity of my actual employer. Never once met the lady. The second time I'd made it my business to find out. Naturally, I'd seen her before. That artificially whitened face had been plastered everywhere over the years. Now in her early fifties she was already what you might call a dowager of the Silver Screen and the source of a good deal more mystery and speculation than was usual even for those gilded folk. I'm not at liberty to mention her name even now, but it won't be hard to figure out who it is we're talking about here. I wasn't exactly looking forward to it but it ranked as one of the more interesting encounters I was likely to have in recent months. My phone had rung at home which was unusual. I wasn't in the habit of giving out the number and kept it ex-directory. In my line of work it's essential to maintain some kind of private time. Pretty rich you might think, given that I'm paid to pry into the private lives of others. Anyhow, it was a late call and a drab brown male voice of the type that could only belong to some late-middle aged legal amanuensis came into my ear. There was a slight crackle on the line. "Mr. Joubert, allow me first to apologise for calling you at this late hour. My name is Draper and as you may know I work for Ms. ______". he said with the kind of overblown politeness that ordinarily belongs to a butler on the Boulevard. Now I hadn't known who the hell he worked for until he told me but I let that go. There was an overlong pause before he continued, as if he expected me to say something other than "Uhuh." He started up again. "There is a delicate matter which Ms. ______ wishes to discuss with you personally, to which end I am authorised to arrange a meeting between you and she, should you be agreeable. As you have worked for my employer before you will know her terms are very generous and in the matter of payment I am further authorised to offer you the sum of five hundred dollars in return for your attendance tomorrow at 110 am sharp. Do you agree Mr. Joubert?" He put the emphasis on the first word and correctly pronounced my name for the second time. I had him pegged as a legal eagle, or maybe more of a buzzard. I replied. "Sure." Again, that pause as if I was supposed to offer some kind of commentary, but this wasn't a ball game. "In that event we should be obliged if you would come to Ms. ______'s private residence at 31430 Broad Beach Road, Malibu." he added efficiently. "Fine." I replied. I wasn't wasting words. This time no pause. Just the click of the receiver being replaced. I held on the line long enough to hear the second click and purr of the reactivated tone. What you might call an interested third party. I have only the one telephone in my apartment. I was willing to bet that retired movie stars have several. So the mysterious Old Girl wanted to size me up for a job did she? Times weren't particularly tough but I could sure use the folding money just for putting in an appearance. That aside, add just a soupçon of intrigue and #life somehow always looks a little brighter no matter how dark the ground is. Mostly, I guess I just didn't have anything better to do. It was late, I was tired, I had a meeting. I undressed, washed and went to bed in that order. It wasn't the least bit interesting.

Behold The Sun King at The Enquiry "All human things are subject to decay, and when fate summons, monarchs must obey" - John Dryden He twists and squirms to turn the truth around, an empty vessel making hollow sounds, he rails against this temerity: he is the victim of lese-majesty. He suffers not the questions of this Poppin Jay and turns to his advisers in the fray: "Canst not thou make him end this fucking thing today?" Alas, The Sun-King cannot hold his tongue (It matters not since he is so seldom wrong) He affects the sentiments of The Everyman whose views he seeks and yet eschews his company, preferring the elite. His privacy he guards, none other has the right, not murdered children, nor criminals in flight. All are equal subjects before the invading might of every spy dispatched into the night. When power meets power no quarter's asked but very often given, each silent wish is gained (though for not ever striven). Nor is there mystery to this; as he enriches us so he is enriched. For at his court he has met them all: Prime Ministers before their fall, now court jesters, fools enthralled, once called upon but now required to call. He does not seek for favour, there is no need - all must already know and then take heed: "Ye must look into The Sun if ye should know my mind" commanding with a gaze or gesture, coin of kind, this one-eyed king doth think his subjects blind. He has no victims, can do no wrong; he is a force of nature, proud and strong; he does not stoop to deal with the Affairs of State - that's for his ministers to debate, it matters not and is dismissed with wave of hand. The Sun-King has no concerns but to increase his lands. Each man may kill the thing he loves - The Sun King loves The Sun. Can e'er a king fly to close? Answer came there none.

Gravity When my mum used to ask why my clothes were on the floor of my room I would always say "gravity, mum. It's gravity."

Trebles All Round.... ...for the guys and girls at instagram who are now all instamillionaires. Doubtless their great app will now turn into a polished turd at the hands of Arsebook. Presumably all our photos are now ©Facebook 2012? Anyhow, if Facebook could just see their way clear to offering even a fraction of the instagram price to the makers of Opus, some of my dear friends could retire early. Go on....