“Radio? Nah, fuck it. Turn it off, Fear is your only God.”
Vietnow, Rage Against the Machine
When I was a young boy, about 7 or 8 I think, my Father used to go away for the summer. He didn’t take me, my sister, or indeed my Mum. In the four or so weeks he would be away, I used to wait religiously for the phone to ring, to see if it was him. He would phone once during his holiday, we would never know when.
When he did call, it would be collect and I would get to speak to him for maybe five minutes, as we would be worried about the bill. Then it would be another two weeks until he returned. We wouldn’t know when this would be, but we would have a ball park date; his family would just have to wait.
In one of the many heart to hearts I have had with my Mother since these dog days, she has recalled these years only once. She remembers every summer me as a young boy, kneeling on the sofa, peering out of the window for minutes, hours and days;waiting for a taxi to pull up and my Dad to jump out. She told me of how she used to encourage me to go and play outside, or bribe me with chocolate, but to no avail, I would wait, like my Father’s lapdog, for him to return.
Anyway, this book isn’t about me, its a series of beliefs borne out of my experiences. I know from a series of painful lifecoaching and counselling sessions, what these summers did to me. They made me fear. I feared rejection, I feared neglect. I feared my father would never come home, I feared he would leave because of me. I feared my Mum and sister would then hate me. I feared being alone.
I sit here 25 years later, a very happy man. And guess what? My Father did leave. It took him 6 years of surreptitious holidays to America and underhanded nights in London, but he left. My sister and I do not speak. There is too much bad blood and dark memories to be overturned at this stage. I love my Mum with all my heart and I try everyday to heal what my Father took away from her. I never will, but I will continue to try.
Something happened though, whether it was me or him or someone else, but after my Dad left, something changed. I lost fear.
I zip back into the present and recall a conversation, I have had with my lifecoach Graham. Graham is somewhat of a guru to me. Without him, my journey from being a fully-fledged cog in the matrix, to whatever I am now, would never have happened. His wisdom and bravery inspire me daily. Anyway, I tell him numerous times how I want to quit my job, but I am too scared to do it. He says, what have you got to lose? I talk about my four year old daughter and how could I be so selfish, to jeopardise her future? He says, what would your daughter rather want, you happy or unhappy? Good point.
Modern Britain is consumed wholly in fear. It is immersed, wrapped, powdered and seasoned in frightening ideas and scary thoughts. If Materialism and Media are the henchman, Fear is the ethos underpinning it all.
“There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.” -Andre Gide
I remember first moving to my small village, buoyed by the thoughts of quaint, English living; twee tea rooms and old-fashioned ale-serving pubs. Everything went smoothly, we arrived, we settled in, we relaxed. We had moved from South London where fear of the scary monsters were worse, or so you would think.
It was spring time and I was in the foolish mindset I get every year about that time, to lose the weight, I have never lost and begin a new fitness regime (I wont go into the fear of being overweight, produced by the media or henchman number 2).
So, I would diligently come downstairs at 6.30am, throw the rug out of the back door and commence ‘Insanity,’ the latest fitness craze. I would be buff in 60 days!
One day, I was slightly later than normal and came down in a hurry. More importantly, afterwards I left in a hurry, forgetting to close the back door, or indeed bring the rug back inside.
The day ran pretty normally, until I received a phone call via reception; it was my next door neighbour. Panic started to set in, fear started it’s merry theme tune. What could have happened?
After a few phone calls to and fro, it turns out that they had noticed that the back door was wide open and the rug out in the garden. Ok, but..? But nothing, they were just worried. They thought we may have been burgled (darn, scary monsters!) and went around to check, but we hadn’t been. After a series of smiles and thankyous, I continued my day, safe in the knowledge that our move to the country was a roaring success and that lovely people were generally looking out for us. Then I thought a bit deeper and thought, hang on a minute, what has just happened?
To what ends had our next door neighbours gone too, to find out 1) had we been burgled 2) that we hadn’t 3) to find out our full names 4) where indeed we worked 5) to get the number and so on. I got a bit freaked out in all honesty. In my heart of hearts, I know this is an act of true altruism (hopefully not boredom) but what concerned me more here, was the fabric of fear that had caused the phone call in the first place.
The bottom line, is people live in perpetual fear of anything and everything. It is once again the dear old government, attempting to keep people angry yet compliant. I did some further investigation in the local community and people’s perceptions. Here are my findings, handily summarised by yours truly:
There are lots of new people from London coming into the village, not to mention the Eastern Europeans. They have even opened a car wash in the village! Muggings of course are on the up. An old lady from around the corner had her bag stolen walking to the station the other day. Typical. There are more gypsies and travellers moving into the site up the road. Finally, do watch your cats, because if foxes don’t get them around here, there is a lady from the estate around the corner who likes to poison them if they come into her garden - General views I have heard by the locals
Interesting. And what underpins all of these things? You guessed it FEAR! Fear of change, fear of things being different. Well, fear for fear’s sake really.
Since living here, I have experienced, zero acts of crime. Except being threatened and punched on a cricket pitch by one of the people deemed to be a stalwart of this community that needs protecting. More on this later.
Every day, I check my phone, there is someone else in the community, moaning about more houses and more people coming into the village. They are not interested in what they can bring, just what they will take. The fabric of fear.
My community is is an easy example to use, but this is the general perception all over. People are worried about the scary monsters around the corner. In the 1980’s it was Blacks, the 90’s Asians, now it’s Eastern Europeans and Muslims who are the reason to be worried. Listen to your government! They will protect you from the threat! But how do the government continue to weave their magic spell over the masses, even in the digital age, when we have real knowledge at our finger tips? Because the digital age is being used by them, to keep us all submerged in the quagmire of fear and trepidation.
Copyright wont allow me to use the montage of Daily Mail headlines I had inserted here, but the headlines are frightening. Instructional, directive language. Subjective, racist viewpoints. Aggressive and angry style of writing. Welcome to the mainstream British media and henchman number 2.
When I was a young boy, about 7 or 8 I think, my Father used to go away for the summer. He didn’t take me, my sister, or indeed my Mum. In the four or so weeks he would be away, I used to wait religiously for the phone to ring, to see if it was him. He would phone once during his holiday, we would never know when.
When he did call, it would be collect and I would get to speak to him for maybe five minutes, as we would be worried about the bill. Then it would be another two weeks until he returned. We wouldn’t know when this would be, but we would have a ball park date; his family would just have to wait.
In one of the many heart to hearts I have had with my Mother since these dog days, she has recalled these years only once. She remembers every summer me as a young boy, kneeling on the sofa, peering out of the window for minutes, hours and days;waiting for a taxi to pull up and my Dad to jump out. She told me of how she used to encourage me to go and play outside, or bribe me with chocolate, but to no avail, I would wait, like my Father’s lapdog, for him to return.
Anyway, this book isn’t about me, its a series of beliefs borne out of my experiences. I know from a series of painful lifecoaching and counselling sessions, what these summers did to me. They made me fear. I feared rejection, I feared neglect. I feared my father would never come home, I feared he would leave because of me. I feared my Mum and sister would then hate me. I feared being alone.
I sit here 25 years later, a very happy man. And guess what? My Father did leave. It took him 6 years of surreptitious holidays to America and underhanded nights in London, but he left. My sister and I do not speak. There is too much bad blood and dark memories to be overturned at this stage. I love my Mum with all my heart and I try everyday to heal what my Father took away from her. I never will, but I will continue to try.
Something happened though, whether it was me or him or someone else, but after my Dad left, something changed. I lost fear.
I zip back into the present and recall a conversation, I have had with my lifecoach Graham. Graham is somewhat of a guru to me. Without him, my journey from being a fully-fledged cog in the matrix, to whatever I am now, would never have happened. His wisdom and bravery inspire me daily. Anyway, I tell him numerous times how I want to quit my job, but I am too scared to do it. He says, what have you got to lose? I talk about my four year old daughter and how could I be so selfish, to jeopardise her future? He says, what would your daughter rather want, you happy or unhappy? Good point.
Modern Britain is consumed wholly in fear. It is immersed, wrapped, powdered and seasoned in frightening ideas and scary thoughts. If Materialism and Media are the henchman, Fear is the ethos underpinning it all.
“There are very few monsters who warrant the fear we have of them.” -Andre Gide
I remember first moving to my small village, buoyed by the thoughts of quaint, English living; twee tea rooms and old-fashioned ale-serving pubs. Everything went smoothly, we arrived, we settled in, we relaxed. We had moved from South London where fear of the scary monsters were worse, or so you would think.
It was spring time and I was in the foolish mindset I get every year about that time, to lose the weight, I have never lost and begin a new fitness regime (I wont go into the fear of being overweight, produced by the media or henchman number 2).
So, I would diligently come downstairs at 6.30am, throw the rug out of the back door and commence ‘Insanity,’ the latest fitness craze. I would be buff in 60 days!
One day, I was slightly later than normal and came down in a hurry. More importantly, afterwards I left in a hurry, forgetting to close the back door, or indeed bring the rug back inside.
The day ran pretty normally, until I received a phone call via reception; it was my next door neighbour. Panic started to set in, fear started it’s merry theme tune. What could have happened?
After a few phone calls to and fro, it turns out that they had noticed that the back door was wide open and the rug out in the garden. Ok, but..? But nothing, they were just worried. They thought we may have been burgled (darn, scary monsters!) and went around to check, but we hadn’t been. After a series of smiles and thankyous, I continued my day, safe in the knowledge that our move to the country was a roaring success and that lovely people were generally looking out for us. Then I thought a bit deeper and thought, hang on a minute, what has just happened?
To what ends had our next door neighbours gone too, to find out 1) had we been burgled 2) that we hadn’t 3) to find out our full names 4) where indeed we worked 5) to get the number and so on. I got a bit freaked out in all honesty. In my heart of hearts, I know this is an act of true altruism (hopefully not boredom) but what concerned me more here, was the fabric of fear that had caused the phone call in the first place.
The bottom line, is people live in perpetual fear of anything and everything. It is once again the dear old government, attempting to keep people angry yet compliant. I did some further investigation in the local community and people’s perceptions. Here are my findings, handily summarised by yours truly:
There are lots of new people from London coming into the village, not to mention the Eastern Europeans. They have even opened a car wash in the village! Muggings of course are on the up. An old lady from around the corner had her bag stolen walking to the station the other day. Typical. There are more gypsies and travellers moving into the site up the road. Finally, do watch your cats, because if foxes don’t get them around here, there is a lady from the estate around the corner who likes to poison them if they come into her garden - General views I have heard by the locals
Interesting. And what underpins all of these things? You guessed it FEAR! Fear of change, fear of things being different. Well, fear for fear’s sake really.
Since living here, I have experienced, zero acts of crime. Except being threatened and punched on a cricket pitch by one of the people deemed to be a stalwart of this community that needs protecting. More on this later.
Every day, I check my phone, there is someone else in the community, moaning about more houses and more people coming into the village. They are not interested in what they can bring, just what they will take. The fabric of fear.
My community is is an easy example to use, but this is the general perception all over. People are worried about the scary monsters around the corner. In the 1980’s it was Blacks, the 90’s Asians, now it’s Eastern Europeans and Muslims who are the reason to be worried. Listen to your government! They will protect you from the threat! But how do the government continue to weave their magic spell over the masses, even in the digital age, when we have real knowledge at our finger tips? Because the digital age is being used by them, to keep us all submerged in the quagmire of fear and trepidation.
Copyright wont allow me to use the montage of Daily Mail headlines I had inserted here, but the headlines are frightening. Instructional, directive language. Subjective, racist viewpoints. Aggressive and angry style of writing. Welcome to the mainstream British media and henchman number 2.
think more and more people feel the same.
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