The Man Who Sold Britain Part 3: Bookburning (Peace Movement Ch.9)

Peace Movement Chapter 9

The Man Who Sold Britain

Part 3 : Bookburning

     A surreptitious meeting where a few middle aged, old friends have come together to share their old precious pornographic videos and DVDs. Only three of them possess any in these days of censorship. Somebody has snitched. There is a knock on the door. The police have arrived to make arrests and pick up the videos and DVDs.

     Later a couple of police officers had an illicit viewing of the recordings before they are due to be destroyed. One officer felt a strong flush come to his cheeks as the unfamiliar but exciting material was shown, and strong stirrings below in his pants. It had been a while since he had seen much material as strong as this, and he did not want some of his keener colleagues to detect his natural interest. Some female colleagues were particularly quick to complain, so he made sure he made no humorous comments. And one or two religious zealots of Pakistani background would definitely dump him in trouble if he showed any sign of appreciation or interest. He wished he could have watched some of this privately at home, but it was some years since that might have been possible. He could lose his job or far worse for the crime of possession. He wished he did not have to do this job, but to request to do other duties would have placed him under suspicion too. Best thing to do was to do his job, classify the severity of the material with his colleagues, and pass it on to be destroyed.

   There was a knock on the door. Andy switched on his bedside lamp. Who could be knocking at this time of the night. It was only one o clock. He must have been asleep for barely an hour. He felt the shiver of fear. Could it be burglars? But they would not knock so openly on his door, and there were so few burglars in this present time when the punishments finally had been made to fit the crimes. No one in their right minds would risk arrest for burglary in a time when victims of crime could insist on the chopping off of fingers, ears, toes, feet, hands, sometimes death, depending on the severity of the crime. He relaxed as he reminded himself that he was safe from burglars. Was some relative ill or in hospital? Then why had they not used the phone? It could not be that then. He was at a loss. A neighbour in distress perhaps, or possibly some late night revellers being mischievous? It was not so late after all. But then again there were no late night revellers any more; it wasn’t allowed any more. The peaceful night’s sleep had become sacred. Oh well there was no way of guessing. Nothing remained but to go downstairs and open the door. The knocking was becoming more insistent, louder. It must be important.

      He swivelled onto the edge of the bed and switched the light on.  He didn’t want to go downstairs barefoot so he reached for his slippers on the floor near the bed, but could not find them instantly. He saw them further down the bedside and pulled the back of the slippers over his heels so they wouldn’t fall off in the rush to get downstairs. By now somebody was battering heavily on the door. He wondered what could be the matter! It sounded like an emergency, but he was worried now. He hoped this was not an attempt to burgle him or a local gang up to no good. In rising panic he decided to look out the window. He didn’t want to let criminals or violent intruders in. He saw a police car at the roadside, light flashing, and there was a police officer in unmistakeable helmet in his garden. Partially relieved, he wondered what they could want. He called for them to wait, not wanting them to batter his door down, which seemed a likely possibility given the banging he could hear. He came down the stairs, still dressed in his pyjamas, and unlocked the front door. Two of the policemen, one white and the other looked Pakistani or Indian, stood before him.

     “Are you Andrew ……? You worked for the Daily Truth newspaper until last year, as a  journalist?”

      “Yes. What is this about?”  He had worked for the newspaper for many years, but as its readership declined and certain other newspapers moved more towards views more in keeping with Middle Eastern and muslim perspectives the paper had struggled with court cases of libels, and regarding blasphemy laws and human rights, which had been brought wherever opinions were given in the paper which could be contested by any sort of legal action. The paper found itself having to pay for top lawyers to defend them whenever strong opinions or even suggestions had been made which could be construed as being against the interests of certain middle eastern nations or political movements, or too supportive of old Israel or the Americans. He had a sudden feeling of guilt, as if he might have transgressed in the way his paper had and might be answerable in the same way, but he couldn’t immediately recall what he might actually have done wrong.

     The two officers said, “We have a warrant to search your apartment, and another one to bring you in for questioning. This will be an official arrest so that you can be brought in for questioning.” The police these days seemed no longer to offer the opportunity to voluntarily come to the police station to answer questions. Many old rules and methods seemed to have changed in the last few years, thought Andy. The two officers barged in without waiting for a polite acceptance. Another two were officers, one white, and the other again looking Pakistani or Indian, followed the first two, ensuring that even if Andy had wanted to run out of the house and get away, he would not have been able to do so. They arrested him, reading him his rights. He was confused. What was this, why? They were not all police. Somebody had led them here -–local religious zealots. He was accused of blasphemy and would apparently be accorded a fair trial. He did not know what he had done wrong. Somebody had possibly found those articles he wrote a few years ago. A real serious shiver now went up his spine because he realised he could be in big trouble. He had tried to hide those articles knowing that it would not be wise for the religiously sensitive to know of them. Somebody had got it in for him and had snitched to the police.