This column is deliberately left blank
.
.
.
.
Sorry? What do you mean? I’m expected to write more?
What kind of place is this country becoming under King Charles III when a commoner can’t weasel a day off work through an innocent ruse? It seems only fair when so many businesses are closed, football matches cancelled, food banks shutting their doors, holidaymakers kicked out of their chalets, and politicians not turning up for work. Don’t we writers get a chance to pursue that great British invention: the opportunistic skive? Sorry, I mean “mark a suitable period of solemnity”.
However, if you insist…
I’m sure, like many people, you are feeling a mite down. It’s been another awful week after so many bad weeks. That’s why I thought you might appreciate my keeping this week’s column light, upbeat, and perhaps even a little bit breezy. It’s not just the passing of Her Majesty that’s been so emotionally draining but the changed circumstances between 1952 and 2022. In those 70 years, the world has developed considerably in terms of its media. Back when King George VI died, the idea of national mourning was premised around a media that took its time to convey the news. Sadness was conveyed in fragments, through newsreels, and people took time to travel and make the proper arrangements to express their grief. Times were more human as well as more humane.
In 2022, we have 24/7 news channels, “Skycopters”, always-on internet connections, and mobile signals up to our kazoos. The fact you can’t turn on a TV without following the journey of the Queen’s funeral cortege has been challenging and perhaps not entirely good for our mental health. And that’s before we get to the House of Commons suspending sittings during a time of national crisis, GP surgeries closing during a continuing pandemic, and operations being cancelled despite long waiting lists…
See what I mean? Light. Upbeat. Breezy.
So, perhaps this column would have been better left blank, though even a blank sheet of paper can no longer be considered innocent. Not when “potential offence” is enough to land you in pokey. It means the potential uses for the rest of this column are suddenly overwhelming. I could write anything. I don’t just mean “not my king” (though I wouldn’t) but something truly worth calling out the Met. I can feel the power surging beneath my fingertips. Anything is possible! This column could trigger the next cultural revolution or propose a different way of managing the economy by selling our D-list celebrities to Saudi Arabia (infinite supply but questionable demand). This is revolutionary talk. In 50 years in some little shack in some distant land, it will be printed out (translated, of course) and taught to young folk, indoctrinating them into my way of thinking.
Wouldn’t that be worth the risk of arrest? I think it would. Blank pieces of paper are dangerous. I can see why the government would want to ban them.
Yet if it’s peculiar how the right to protest has become a distraction during this time of national mourning, it’s only because it had previously been under the radar when it should have been front-page news. There the problem lay in it being a matter of a hard case making bad law. The government’s Police, Crime, Sentencing and Courts Act 2022 was always a problematic bit of legislation, enacting a few vindictive measures under the guise of a “fair balance […] between individual rights and the general interests of the community.” Thus far it had only made news regarding Steve “Megaphone Man” Bray who has been campaigning around Westminster for years and polarising opinion.
Bray has become something of a national treasure/peril depending on your point of view. He annoys TV hosts at the same time as he delights many viewers who welcome a bit of chaos in political coverage that can be all too uptight. He is both a unique measure of our right to protest, but also somebody who, to put it mildly, can be quite annoying. He is also an example of how these rights could never be considered absolute. Steve “Megaphone Man” Bray was far more acceptable than Steve “100W Amplifier” Bray pumping out crap karaoke in the middle of the street. But even if Steve “100W” Bray is tolerable, then what about Steve “1000W Amplifier” Bray or Steve “Sonic Emitter” Bray or… Well, you get my point.
Yet we’re not talking about Steve “Sounds Like A Small Nuclear Explosion” Bray. We’re now just talking about a piece of blank paper which caused one protestor no small amount of trouble this week. The police’s overreaction has been widely condemned, of course, but it’s a sign of where we are when folks are lifted from the street for carrying a sign, blank or otherwise. If the sign contains expletives, police involvement makes more sense than if it’s an inconvenient opinion. Yet in defending that right, does it mean we condone protesting at a funeral? Well, obviously not the funeral of the Queen. But Gadhaffi, perhaps? Sadam Hussein? Is it a blanket ban? Where do we draw these lines?
Well, draw a line we must and Kier Starmer has it right when he said it’s about respect. In any situation where there’s a right to protest there is also a right not to protest and it’s about our finding a place where both are made possible. And it is also possible to hold in mind two or more totally contradictory thoughts at the same time. It is a time of national mourning but it’s also a time when human beings are navigating many emotions, often conflicting. It’s a time for grief but also religion, politics, philosophy, and even humour. The person who suggested we now change our Post Boxes to read “C3PO” deserves one of King Charles’s new empire-free honours. The King cursing his pen was also a moment that showed that he is like all of us and that, perhaps, it is the most progressive take of the whole week. Now he just needs to make himself a sign and take his protest to the gates of the pen factory.
Write to us with your comments to be considered for publication at letters@reaction.life