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My Bullingdon Club anecdote.
I was made redundant from my apprenticeship at 19 in 1987 so following Norman Tebbit's advice and got on my bike to look for work.
In 1988-89 I ended up on my arse living in a bender on Port Meadow Oxford.
In 1988-89 I ended up on my arse living in a bender on Port Meadow Oxford.
Being young and fresh faced, rather than claim Social Security, I used to blag the commuters at Oxford train station with a sob story.
As I was walking up and down I had an arrangement with a beggar, I would watch out for him and him for me.
Solidarity see.
As I was walking up and down I had an arrangement with a beggar, I would watch out for him and him for me.
Solidarity see.
One evening I heard him shout so ran over to see him grabbing and putting out a burning £20, after punching the lad who set fire to it.
When I got there him and his three mates took off as there was now two of us, cowards that they are.
When I got there him and his three mates took off as there was now two of us, cowards that they are.
The validity of my story can be easily checked because that Bullingdon boy will always remember being punched by someone with "Fuck Off and Die" tattooed on his forehead.
The moral of the story is,
There has always been a Class War and it is those bastards that wage it.
The moral of the story is,
There has always been a Class War and it is those bastards that wage it.
