Asylum From the Queen-AN URI-NATION

Asylum From the Queen

Scribble
a brand new day again/happy New Year
Camp Double Zero
Amsterdam

Eliabeth the Queen
Various Listed Buildings

Dear Elizabeth
It is raining again Elizabeth the Queen and I am afraid to come out of
my tent in case I turn into a duck, a duck comes into the tent or I end
up swimming in a river or ducks.
I am writing to you again as my social worker has not yet received any
copies of strange, funny and wonderful letters that were sent to you.
Not even any true letters that were sent to you, your majesty. I cannot
understand why you have not sent any yourself, Elizabeth the Queen. It
will be nice to collate them all into a book to raise money for
children. I thought you liked children, you have had four children.
What about strange,funny and wonderful letters that have been sent to
them or the original letters. You can send them to my social worker,
Julia the Social Worker, Springfield Hospital, Teak Towers, 3rd Floor,
61 Glenburnie Road, Tooting London SW 17

There is another reason for writing to you Elizabeth. I am in Amsterdam
because I am seeking asylum from you personally. This preceeds my last
letter to you with references to the punk band THE URI-NATION and
various songs such as WE ARE THE QUEEN WE CALL THIS TREASON and THE
QUEEN MOTHER, FAILED SUICIDE BOMBER. I have to state again, these songs
were uri-nations by a man called Ryan who tried to exploit me into
singing for the band. Much like Malcolm Maclaren exploited anarchy. I
want to confirm from you, Elizabeth the Queen whether men that visited
me on Friday 31 May 2002 at about 10pm were from your palace.
Funnily enough, in the last couple of weeks before that date I had been
receiving various e-mails with offers of work on cruise ships. Mostly
musician type work. Anyway, that Friday night, I was preparing to go
out to a fancy dress party when I heard this horriffic clamour at the
door and 'Open the door in the name of the Queen.' I went to the door
and saw to huge figures, one black and one white, two Yeaoman of the
Guard. They saw me, excused theirselves and walked off. Maybe it was
the policeman's uniform I was dressed up in to go to the party or the
fact that I was improperly dressed. I did not know what to believe,
Elizabeth the Queen. Did you send these men to arrest me, perhaps
charge me with treason and perhaps hang me. Correct me if I am wrong
here Elizabeth. Is it not true that a person of deranged mind cannot be
hanged for treason? You should remember that or you may be put in
prison for hanging me. Maybe those Yeoman were just on there way to the
fancy dress party and just knocked me up to wind me up. Or maybe that
man Ryan sent me to the door as intimidation. He always saw himself as
some sort of King. That is the other reason I am in Camp Double Zero to
escape that man Ryan. I am also here as a respite from those wretched
voices of 'ah, stay, go and star, star, star.' Perhaps you would like
to visit me. If you do, don't bring any minders please.

Before leaving for this camp I was on a bus reading a book called
Social Anarchism or Lifestyle Anarchism by a very nice man called
Murray Bookchin. Like yourself, Elizabeth the Queen, I have got a
freedom pass giving me access to all six zones in London, on tubes,
trains and buses. I have got my pass because of my disability unlike
yourself who have got your pass due to your age, your majesty. While on
the bus I was looking out for buildings I could squat with like minded
people to set up social centres. These are to be centres for the youth,
the disabled and the elderly like yourself Elizabeth the Queen. Perhaps
you would like to open one yourself Elizabeth, you do not need much,
just a good locksmith or crowbar and a few mates to sort out the
utilities. I was on my way to e-mail various disabililty groups and
transport groups with respect to the slow erosion of our Freedom Pass
in many London Boroughs. This has become more difficult to get over
time and apparently the Royal Borough of Kensington and Chelsea is one
of the worse in this respect. Did you have any trouble getting yours
Elizabeth? With this in mind I intended to e-mail various groups to
suggest a march through central London to both defend and extend the
Freedom Pass. I have already walked around seventeen police vans around
Tralfagar Square seven times with the photo copy of my freedom pass on
my back and the text'Call me a cab but with cuts in the taxi cab scheme
for all disabled people and cuts in the freedom pass for many would you
want to get on your bike when on drugs.' Yes, Elizabeth, I do take
medication for my condition leaving me often drowsy and so it is
dangerous for me to ride a bike. It may also mean that it may not be
deemed legal for me to drive a car and I would have a problem getting
the insurance anyway. Contrary to popular belief, there is no current
plan of action for any disability group to stop underground trains
before they reach certain stations, Victoria, Waterloo, Kings Cross,
Euston, Heathrow, Bank...All Change.....before 9am on a Monday morning.
Nor to stop the trains in the stations before that one. Not that it
would make any difference to you Elizabeth the Queen as I have never
known you to use the Underground, not even with your freedom pass.
There are rumours that you go out on night buses dressed down as a
pensioner to drinking clubs. No one would believe these rumours as the
state pension would not pay for such drunken luxuries. Mine's one pint.
There are rumours that you dress down as a pensioner at Christmas to
drink with the homeless. No-one would believe that too. With the
Christmas box for someone on state pension the same for fifteen years
at ten pounds I cannot see how you could manage that either. Mine's a
Irish Whiskey double.
We are far too responsible to stop the tube network on a Monday morning
in order to protest against cuts in the disability travel permit as it
used to be called. We will instead be organising a series of marches to
support and extend this freedom pass both in London and in other areas
of the country. We may even prompt some protesting abroad, I will look
into this while I am in Amsterdam. We will be reccomending that the
traffic light in many areas or roads be delayed so as to give more time
in the red or stop position. This would give elderly or disabled people
the time to cross the road, some may have cars themselves. It would
also slow down traffic making the roads safer for children. I am sure
you have problems crossing the roads yourself, there cannot be red
carpets all over the UK. Such a method of slowing down traffic would be
far more effective that traffic humps and not interfere with the
suspension of many cars. Also on the board will be compulsory car share
schemes for larger companies and local authorities as well as pick-up
buses for the staff. We would also like to have a higher second road
tax for households with two cars. Finally, we will be looking at
changing the starting time of schools to 8 am to reduce rush hour
traffic caused by the school run. This could also reduce the crowding
on public transport. All change.
Anyway, while stuck on the bus and thinking about the UK's traffic
problems I heard a familiar voice singing some song about reclaiming
the Queen Mother's body. I looked up to see it was not Public Enemy
Number One but Public Nuisance Number One, yes your majesty, that man
Ryan. He was singing because he was busking. He bawled out his
lyrics;

The Queen Mother, dead in Windsor
No Royal doctor, can ever save her
Our NHS, will reclaim her
In four quarters, heart, lungs, kidneys, livers

The Queen Mum's body lies a-moulding in the State
The Queen Mum's body lies a-moulding in the state
The NHS transpants and resuscitates
Our song goes chanting on and on and on
Our song goes chanting on and on and on

My man Trotsky, some call him bolshy
Queen Mum's liver. keeps us in vodka
My man Puff, some call him Daddy
Her heart and lungs get us higher and higher and higher and
higher

The Queen Mum's body lies a-moulding in the state
The Queen Mum's body lies a-moulding in the state
The NHS transplant and resuscitate
Our song goes chanting on and on and on
Our song goes chanting on and on and on
Our song goes chanting on and on and on.

"Hello Scribble," Ryan asked me," Are you still on that mental health
section? What is it called section 117(2) or something? Isn't it
supposed to give you better access to day centres, colleges and work
training? Are you getting any of this since you moved Scribble?"
"No Ryan, why do you ask?"
"Well I could give you some training for work in pop music and perhaps
get a grant from the government for doing so. Anyhow, I heard that
protest song you made against the mental health sections. With some
musical rearrangements and lyrical rewriting I reckon we could do very
well."
Not again, I thought to myself.
"Look Scribble, is it not part of your mental health section that you
are supposed to see someone from the system at least once every six
weeks?"
"Yeah, if they have enough staff available."
"Than does that in effect mean that you cannot even leave the country
on a holiday, let alone to seek residence in another country without
your social workers permission? Could you not be dragged back to the UK
and slammed into hospital? How does that make you feel as an Asian
person who may want to explore your origing or go and live in
India?"

"Look Ryan, I am aware of the implications. In fact my section also
states that services should be culturally relevant. As such I have
asked for work training in Asian music, cookery, literatue and
language. I have argued with my key worker that this will help to
psychollogically reidentify myself with some of my missing culture as a
product of mixed and divorced marriage and race. At the same time I
have stated that I may like to go and live in India perhaps as an
ancilliary nurse or as a social worker. Here, rather than working
against the system I intend to make the system work for me and for
people like me. I do still get these voices of 'go, stay, ah and star,
star,star' which do give me my disability and also give me a good
amount of welfare benefit both in my pocket and in the bank."
"You will achieve nothing and get nowhere. Why don't you work with me
to get what you want? Why don't we rework that song and with some
others release it as a CD. You could promote the CD by performing a
tour in Europe, Germany maybe. Than you could go slightly insane be
dragged back to the UK and hospitalized. I am sure this would generate
plenty of publicity and money."
"Look Ryan, I am really disinterested in being a pop star. I would
prefer to have my mental health section quashed by review or by taking
the mental health services to court. This could in itself create its
own publicity."
"Ok, Ok I may have gained access to some of your funds but that was our
URI-NATION project. Now we are beginning another project, let us call
this FREEDOM. In fact, I could scan your freedom pass and use it for
promotional t-shirt design with slogans such as-FREEDOM IS INNOCENT,
FREE FREEDOM, FREEDOM IS NOT A SHOP, FREEDOM IS NOT A FREE RIDE. I
think we should call the band FREEDOM PASSES."
"Your freedom or mine?" I retorted and I was about to hop off the bus
and escape the whole situation when I heard, tickets please, tickets
please. It was the inspector and I showed him my freedom pass trying to
hide it from that man Ryan. I saw Ryan smile and lick his lips knowing
that he had seen which local authority had issued the pass

Two days later I was in my flat playing the CD and protest song that I
had made over two years ago.

'The mental health act laws putting people on a section
Rough justice and a policing a health discrimination.'

Even with my CD playing I could hear a man shouting outside;

'Doctor in the hospital
Doctor in the Queen's castle
I steal the Royal grief and body parts
For public display at body works.'

I knew that was Ryan and he sounded in dangerous mood. I did not want
to call the Police as I felt they wanted to arrest me since my last
letter to you Elizabeth and the commotion with the Yeoman. I called an
ambulance. I told them that I was deluded and thought I was a bird and
that I could fly away to India. I could jump out of my window to India.
While I waited for the ambulance I
managed to pack a few clothes, a tent, a sleeping bag, toiletries and
various papers such as passport, bank details and ready cash.
I also packed the CD with protest song. The ambulance took me to the
A&;E department of the North Middlesex hospital from which I flew to
Amsterdam. I suppose I could of flown like a bird to India except I did
not. I am sitting in the camp, wafting marijuanna smoke and writing to
you Elizabeth the Queen. I wonder if I should write to my social
worker, inform her of where I am and send her a copy of the CD as well.
I would request for her to section me in about six weeks time by which
I would of had the CD loaded on my mates pirate web radio station
piratedashradio and completed a few club dates. I am sure she would not
mind being included in the plans as she probably thinks some of the
mental health sections are rubbish as well. The staff are even unable
to carry out mental health sections that they also disagree with. While
thinking about this I got the voices, 'star, star, star, star.' I
looked up at the sky an had another idea. I thought of writing to my
consultant to see if he would support me staying in Amsterdam and
getting support around taking marijuanna to help me with my depression.
It is legal here in Amsterdam for medical purposes and would mean that
my welfare benefits could also be maintained for sometime.
Did you send those Yeoman of the Guard to my flat Elizabeth the Queen?
If you did, could you please send a letter stating this to the above
address and also detailing that the purpose for this was to try me for
treason and hang me? I am sure this would be sufficient for me to gain
asylum status in Holland. It would also prevent the release of such
uri-nations as WE ARE THE QUEEN, WE CALL THIS TREASON THE QUEEN MOTHER
FAILED SUICIDE BOMBER and IT'S OUR GOLDEN JUBILEE. Failing this can you
just write to your friend Queen Beatrice to tell her to look after
me.
I am sure those Yeoman had nothing to do with you and I shall be able
to return to the UK. If this is so than I will stay in a tent by the
lake on Clapham Common where I shall go fishing without any hooks. This
will be cheaper than a campsite. I will disguise myself perhaps as a
police officer, of community police warden or maybe a traffic warden so
that Ryan cannot find me. There is an area close to the lakes on
Clapham Common which is reserved for public speaking mainly on
political matters. Like a twin to Speaker's Corner in Hyde Park. Here I
will begin to do some sensible protest political poetry. Maybe you
might like to join me Elizabeth the Queen. After all, it is a free
country. isn' it?

HAPPY GOLDEN JUBILEE TO US ALL
SCRIBBLE XXX

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