Our Clipped Wings Provide A Shield of Steel.
On the safe reopening of our Demockratic Parliament. Funny how when we age we wallow in the comforts of things we protested about when we were young. The rape and pillage of the Earth, the racism, the deflections, the corruption of democratic process, we were once so determined we would not allow to happen again – at least on our watch – become a fluffy blanket in which to insulate our final years. God damn the submarines! Plough on, plough…