Today was a Riot!

I danced with a girl who danced with a boy who danced with a girl who might have supported a banned organisation

Went to the demo today. More in the spirit of an observer than an active participant. Casting my writerly eye over it, or whatever. Two demos, really. First the trudge from Russel Square to Whitehall; then the protest in Parliament Square.

The atmosphere on the march was jovial and friendly. I didn’t have a placard or anything, so just strolled along. I don't do chanting. Quite a youthful crowd, with a few oldsters.

All fairly good natured, but then I saw a guy being arrested for carrying a sign that read, ‘I support those who support Palestine Action.’ A small sub-crowd gathered to heckle the two police officers doing the arresting. One of them looked like he was struggling a bit with the intellectual challenge of working out if this guy really was a terrorist for supporting those who support terrorists.

Later on I was chatting to a police officer, and I asked him if he thought it was a terrorist offence to support someone who supported Palestine Action. He had no idea. 'It's a play on words, innit,' he said. I then asked if I supported the guy who supported those who support PA, was that a terrorist offence? He began to move away. I think he pretended something was coming through on is earpiece. We've all done something similar. I asked his colleague the same question. He smiled, shrugged and said nothing.

There was a small counter-demo, a mix of Israeli flags and some EDL type nutters with St George crosses. I wandered over to have a chat, but the police weren’t happy.

‘I’m not really on the march,’ I said. I’m just, you know, observing.’ ‘Ah, but you were clearly… you were definitely marching. I demonstrated a casual stroll. ‘Is that marching? Really?’

Anyway, there was a red-faced union jack waver furious about something, but I never got the chance to ask him if he was one of the wife beaters they have at these things.

The counter-demo people were playing some kind of Zionist rap song, and the biggest cheer of the day came when something went wrong with their sound-system, and turned it to a comical helium noise, and then static. I’m opposed to supressing any views or arguments, but it was a blessing to the ears when the rap stopped.

Took about an hour to get to Whitehall. I left them there as it looked like a long wait for speeches, etc, and I pretty well knew what they’d be saying, anyway. So then I walked up to Parliament Square. Many more police here. Felt like man-to-man marking. I think I’d missed a flurry of arrests, so it was mainly quite calm. I talked to any police officer who was willing, trying to stay friendly, and engaging them in an open discussion. There wasn’t much policing to be done at that stage, and most of them were up for it. The majority were clearly baffled by the whole thing. Policing a riot/demo involves group solidarity, based on seeing the other as threatening and dangerous. Us v Them. Stick together, lads. So you’d see their face muscles tense up as they surveyed the mob. Then loosen again, when they realised it was mainly old grannies and men with walking sticks, and the main danger was getting your toes run over by a wheelchair.

One amusing moment came when eight officers of, shall we say, various shapes and sizes, tried to carry off a frail old git. They had to put him down so they could rest every three or four yards, while the crowd laughed at them.

Many of the police were gigantic fatties, and even though I’ve got a hamstring injury, I guessed I could have knocked off one of their caps and run off safe from risk of being caught. There were also a few midgets, and I admired the Met for its commendable diversity policies, as it seems that they’ll take pretty much anyone these days, which is great.

But, still, the atmosphere was generally quite pleasant. Carnivalesque. There was a conjoined pro-abortion demo, which played some cheery, pro-abortion music. I feared that some officer might forget where he was, and try to dance with a large black lady, the way at least one of them always used to do the Notting Hill Carnival. (Do they still do that?)

I took one photo of a solitary demonstrator in the midst of a ring of officers. He had the terrorist placard. But he was standing in front of the statue of Millicent Fawcett, and the police didn’t seem to know what to do. The optics would have been terrible. Of course it would have been better had he been a woman. (I looked her up, and Fawcett wasn't one of the terrorist Suffragettes, but a more peaceful Suffragist. But, still …)

I last went to a demo in Manchester in 1984 or so. There were several big riots, as students tried to stop Michael Heseltine, Leon Britton, etc from speaking at the uni. I didn’t really agree with that, as I think all arguments should be debated. But I went along. I threw a paper aeroplane vaguely towards Heseltine (I think). I’ve a memory of it sticking in his leonine hairdo, but that could be illusory. The Manchester Police became notorious back then for importing the brutal policing techniques developed by our colonial police forces – particularly Hong Kong. It was fine beating foreign protesters to death, but there was some disquiet when they used the same tactics to beat the living shit out of UK students. Anyway, compared to that, today’s riot was very un-riotous, and I enjoyed my day. Got my 10,000 steps in, and then some. The cause is good, the legislation insane

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