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This is a question Protest!

Sit-ins. Walk-outs. Smashing up the headquarters of a major political party. Chaining yourself to the railings outside your local sweet shop because they changed Marathons to Snickers. How have you stuck it to The Man?

(, Thu 11 Nov 2010, 12:24)
Pages: Popular, 8, 7, 6, 5, 4, 3, 2, 1

This question is now closed.

I don't know if this is even real, but it makes me chuckle

(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 16:38, 1 reply)
Where I used to live....
My neighbour was a bit of a cunt; a serial complainer; a net-curtain-twitching-nosybody.

I came in late one morning from a club. I pissed on his car door handles.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 16:28, Reply)
Easy Now
Where I used to work there was this film being shown; "The Passion of St. Tibulus". What can I say except that wasn't a banana.

T. Crilley
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 16:07, 4 replies)
The Apple shop ran out of iPads.
I sat outside and repeatedly set myself on fire, all the while screeching invocations to Cthulhu, pleading him to drive all those inside insane. Eventually, with a wet 'schlurp' sound and a torrent of blood and faeces, the manager relented and gave me his personal, platinum-inlaid unit, pulling it violently from his rectum. Elated, I pranced home in a cloud of eldritch turpentine-smelling smoke, cradling my prize in my wizened claws. It felt amazing, having fought for a just cause and defeated the Man. Standing outside my home was a small crowd of indigents, holding handwritten signs protesting their eviction by the government. I kicked several of them out of the way and forced the door open. As I closed it, one of them grabbed me. His eyes streamed tears as he piteously begged me for shelter. I turned up the volume on my shiny toy and pulled the door to, severing his arm at the elbow. Fucking lower classes... Still, the claw-like hand makes a nice stand for my glittering porn appliance. On-on!
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 15:54, 6 replies)
In my younger days I worked in the service department at a major car dealership, fixing cars and such...
Part of my job was to liaise with customers when there had been a problem, or some such nonsense... To be honest, I have no idea why they picked me for that job as I'm probably the most impatient and ill tempered person you're ever likely to meet, but the pay was ok so...

Anyways, there was this one "gentleman" who supposedly wasn't happy with the length of time it had taken us to fix a water leak in his car. Water had been coming into the passenger compartment at the passenger side behind the dashboard, so this meant the entire dash had to come out.

As you can imagine this takes time, and if we were to rush it we ran the risk of damage to the interior, causing a rattle, further leaks, etc so we took our time and did the job to a high standard. We were charging £90 per hour!! so quality was important.

So, a while later the owner returns to collect his car. Somewhere between paying our receptionist and fucking off, this crimson coloured little man appeared in the workshop (a staff only area for health & safety and insurance purposes) looking for "whatever cunt had worked on his car" with the objective of "strangling the fucker".. I looked for my apprentice, as it was customary to blame the apprentice in the event of a problem, but the sly cunt was busy doing his best to look busy through fits of stifled sniggering with the lads at the parts department counter, so I ended up taking the brunt of this now blue midgets angry tyrade.

To my credit I managed to keep a cool head, I suppose I was slightly amused by the figure before me, he was about half my size. I kept getting this mental image of Danny DeVito taking a shit.

The protest? After a test drive and filling the tank as a gesture of goodwill I dropped a well stewed fart in his car before parking it up. That'll teach the cunt.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 15:53, 5 replies)
School on Strike
It was 1986 I would have been 10 years old and at that time striking was in everyone’s nature in the west of Scotland. Football had recently been banned (again) at school because someone had accidentally put the ball through the staffroom window and after a few days it hadn’t, as was usually the case been reinstated – enough was enough and at lunch time we went on strike. Primary’s 4 through 7 (we kept the young ones out it) didn’t go back to class instead we sat on a wall and sung some songs, we shall not be moved was one such song a song about the smelly kid and bizarrely the chicken song, someone had even gone to the trouble of getting the words printed out. It was a nice day it lasted 30 minutes football was reinstated and we all got printouts of the chicken song as mementos.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 15:33, Reply)
I like the irony
in pictures of protests by the English Defence League where they carry placards with (and I'm paraphrasing here) "boo to Muslims"

And yet half of them have their face covered leaving only the eyes showing.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 15:33, 7 replies)
a tale of two cities
this story won't be news to anyone who's every been to the Middle East, but the 'moon on a stick' thing made me want to tell it, in the interests of perspective.

While I was in Kuwait, there were a number of protests, of greater and lesser magnitude, at polar ends of society. The working (under)class had the temerity to protest once when the water and power in their district was 'browned out', during the summer 55 degree heat and dust storms. The buses that they had to take to work were being blocked by bedouins in pickups, meaning that in order to make it out of the district they had to pay crippling fees to ride in the back of an open truck. Oh, and they hadn't been paid for something between 6-12 months, depending on the employers.

Grim. desperately, inhumanly grim.

So of course the riot police, in armoured cars, were wheeled out to show a bit of muscle, crack some heads and generally restore a degree of fear sufficient to ensure acquiescence.

Meanwhile, on the corniche, near the parliament buildings, the good Kuwaitis in their pristine dishdashas and flowing ninja suits were also protesting; chants in the streets, traffic blocked, sandals being thrown.

What outrage were they protesing?

The government, the third in 18 months, had failed to come good on a *RUMOUR* that it would wipe out all personal debts to Kuwaiti citizens.

Yes, that's right: people (I use the term out of habit, not without distaste) were protesting because they had recently gone out and bought new cars, boats and watches on credit because they thought the government would cancel their debts after the election. Crazy? No, it had happened twice before in 8 years; complete credit amnesty.

Meanwhile, indentured labourers, suicidal, desperate slaves were being beaten to death not 5 miles away demanding the right to at least *be able to get to their place of work*.

So the next time I see a hoody with an iPhone and a pair of expensive trainers throwing a brick through a window, I feel like offering him a little less moon and a little more stick.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 14:18, 3 replies)
Then theres this painful one

its about ten minutes long.

To Protest against Israel some NYU students occupied... their own canteen.

incredibly childish stuff.

(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 14:17, Reply)
I was on a protest
about three weeks ago, through the centre of Bristol in the pissing rain, with about 4000 other Trade Unionists and other people. This included a bunch of misguided wannabe 'anarchists' who turned up for a ruck with the filth, and got one when the mounted police charged in and started belting them with batons because they were allegedly displaying a "FCUK the cuts" banner. The police weren't too impressed when half the crowd turned round and forced them back off College Green. Apart from those few minutes it was excellent- a group of strangers collectively protesting, lots of support from the general public, bands playing and some great public speaking from John McInally and other TU reps.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 12:48, Reply)
It's the late 80's. I'm at art college and we've all taken the day off to go on a march protesting cuts to university funding (of all things). We are marching through the home village of some Tory politician.

To make things more lively we dress in costumes borrowed from the theatre department store. I am in a giant Hair Bear Bunch suit complete with platform shoes, giant fuzzy wig and sparkly glasses. Louis the IV is there, as is Marie Antionette.

We stop for a little rest; my feet are hurting and Marie needs to adjust her wig. There's a fire engine parked next to us with a bunch of lads up in the cabin munching on sandwiches and drinking tea.

"Hello", says Marie Antionette. "what are your views on the proposed cuts to student funding?"

"Dunno Luv, but we can see right down the front of your dress"
"Yer, Nice tits"!

"Nasty rough men", simpers Louis and we all totter off feeling rather silly.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 8:30, 4 replies)
Alt comedy coming back?
Alt comedy thrives in this type of atmosphere hopefully we'll see a resurgence.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 7:57, 3 replies)
First time writer, long time reader. Also, socialism.
In my first year at university I was immediately jumped upon by the resident socialist club. For orientation day they had parked themselves right at the entrance to the oval where all of the other clubs had their stalls set up, creating a lovely chokepoint to prey on any and every student.
Luckily for me, their representative was a real talker. The sort of guy who never shuts up or lets you get a word in, asking constant rhetorical questions and sucking you in to an increasingly emotional argument.
Also luckily for me, the only exposure to socialism I had had before then was a high school mandatory reading and viewing of Orwell's Animal Farm. So this concept of a world where all people are equal really struck a chord with me, and I embarked on that activist journey we all have upon our first days as an adult.

Now for the relevant part. It turns out that some corporation or other was putting in some rather nasty new laws and the construction unions were having none of it. I was invited to a protest with said workers, to march as part of the activist group. I was understandably nervous, expecting them all to be giant gruff men who hate black people. Imagine my surprise when they were all lovely people. Some of them even bought our magazines.

We paraded down the streets chanting stereotypical socialist slogans and booing at the bourgeois office toffs watching us from their twenty-story office buildings. Apparently a number of workers were told that they would lose their jobs if they went to the protest, so we booed them too and called them cowards. It was great fun and I really felt like I was doing something worthwhile for the first time in my life.

However, it soon turned out that these guys were doing something or other every week or so. I was being asked to help on the stall a few days a week on top of the weekly discussion sessions and various events far out of the city I had no idea how to get to. Which I would have been happier with if I didn't want to spend every waking minute of free time playing TF2 in the computer club with my geeky pals.

In the end, it was all too much and I was far too lazy. I left that group at the end of the year. Bugger wouldn't stop calling me and the fees were racking up.

Length? A few hours, never kept track.
(, Sat 13 Nov 2010, 5:44, 3 replies)

(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 21:34, 4 replies)
Protesting with Gershwin
As a student I went along on a few protests against government funding cuts to Universities. Among the many inane chants was one that went thus:

"You say cutback we say fightback!
You say cutback we say fightback!

I couldn't resist adding my own final line:

"Let's call the whole thing off!"
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 21:18, Reply)
I was there on Wednesday
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 20:32, 5 replies)
carnage, border sneaking and life
When Ontario (CANADA SUCKS BTW) made its pathetic, lame law that pitbulls were to be killed, a group of us snuck across the border and broke into the facility where they were storing the puppies, old dogs and other pits to be gassed and broke in and took all the dogs they were going to murder.
Luckily pits are not a breed that barks alot so it was not too difficult to smuggle them back across the border in the back of a grain truck we had built kennels into the truck with air hoses and then put the dogs in and covered the entire mass with marsh hay to make it look as if we were hauling just a load of cattle feed. I found out later that the kill chamber in the building was wrecked too WHOOT!!!!!!! I didnt participate in that but wish I would have.
Our group saved 38 pits that day from a death sentence caused by them just being born. I kept 3 and we found awsome homes for the rest. A couple of the older dogs went to some elder care facilities where they will be babied and pampered. One really pretty fawn and rednosed pit went to the daycare where my nephew is, there really is no better dog for keeping kids safe.
and yes anyone who believes media bullshit about pits being dangerous is either ignorant or obviously has never owned one or is too stupid to housetrain a dog.
I can post this now because the statue of limitations for intercountry theft is now up and we cannot be jailed or fined.
Ontario and all canada still sucks, best thing I ever did was move to the states. Even with Obama as president its still a better place to live then Canada was.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 18:45, 42 replies)
stupid rule in high school
in high school they made up a stupid rule meaning that you couldn't hang around in groups of more than 6 :-/ so pretty much everyone ( a group of about 1000 people) decided they weren't going to go to lessons for the rest of that day :)
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 18:27, Reply)
I Helped to Smash
up Trafalgar Square back in March 1990 when a few people got a little vexed with Mrs Thatcher(CUNT)'s Poll Tax. Almost got my Arm busted by a Pig on a Horse :(
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 18:20, 15 replies)
Housebreaking for the homeless
QOTW has brightened my Fridays for a year or two now, but this is the first time I've posted (edit. I forgot I posted once about 4 years ago, my I'm prolific!). I've been to a fair few protests in my time, although generally of the march from A to B, shout a bit and then go home variety. It's never been a major part of my life, but feel it's the least I can do.

My grandparents on the other hand...

They lived a life of political commitment, standing outside the South African consulate every week for the best part of the 80's for Anti-Apartheid for example. My grampa, now in his 90's, recently told me about some of his antics just after the second world war. A friend of his had just arrived back in Glasgow after fighting the Germans, and was appalled to see the homelessness in the city - massive slums compounded by the actions of the Luftwaffe and little rebuilding meant people were sleeping in derelict buildings for shelter. And just think, there were so many empty houses and flats in posh North Kelviside. They agreed to act. My granny and her pal pushed their prams round the West End, looking for empty properties. Duly noted, my grampa and his pals would break in, change the locks and re-house homeless families. This developed into the post-war Glasgow squatters movement. Maybe the folk would get moved on eventually, but it created pressure on the city to improve housing, and provided a little respite in the meantime.

Granny, I miss you so much. Grampa, you're still my hero.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 18:03, 3 replies)
I once threw a fire extinguisher off a roof.

(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 17:08, 4 replies)
I don't understand people who never protest about anything
Sneering at people with ethical views or who fight for better working conditions is just a sad way for doormats to cover up their own passive attitude.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 17:04, 22 replies)
New England Flydrive, March 2003
It was the buildup to the Iraq War, see. I listened to quite a bit of talk radio as I drove around, which was pretty uniformly right wing (they had some lefties on, but tended to tuck them away late at night), and gung ho.

After a week or so I decided to ring in on me mobile (using my handsfree bluetooth thing, naturally, officer) to protest. Well, to attempt to correct some of the egregious factual inaccuracies being spouted by - IIRC - Bill O'Reilly, now a denizen of the Fox News Network.

To my surprise (presumably they didn't get many Brits phoning in), I got on air. After exchanging pleasantries, we talked some on the issues of the day, I used my vast intellect to corner Bill in a trap of his own logic! Haha! Clever Me!

Just as I was about to spring the trap, he said words to the effect of "what do Brits know, laydeez and gennelmun? If it wasn't for us they'd all be speaking German!", cut me off and went to the next caller.

My last words in the conversation:
"Actually Bill, I think you'll find that the threatened invasion took place in the summer of 1940, well before America abandoned neutrality and....




What I failed to realise is that I'm a politics junkie. Bill O'Reilly, on the other hand, is a talk radio and TV host, paid to make sure his audience's short attention spans don't cause them to flick to another channel. The two were not designed to mix, and politics comes off worst every time they do.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 16:24, 5 replies)
Fair trade.
Ha ha, what a joke, a bunch of hippies pay more for their chocolate and think they're changing the world, am I right?

Oh, wait, I'm not.


(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 16:21, 4 replies)
I was at the 2008 Republican National Convention in St. Paul, MN on a client's behalf
The protesters smashed car windows, threw rocks, scrawled graffiti, assaulted police, assaulted people they thought were "Republicans" (even though many people attended who were not Republicans, and who cares if they were). I had to be escorted by police because I was wearing a suit and therefore targeted by vitriol-spewing, object casting maniacs.

What I still don't understand? These people were pacifists protesting violence and war.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 15:43, 9 replies)
My mate Mike
used to go to all the anti-capitalist rallies, usually at Gx summits. One particular protest, (I think in Prague) broke up late afternoon, so Mike and a couple of others who went across with him were at a loss for something to do. So they went to McDonalds.

Good job nobody else saw them, they would've got lynched.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 15:34, Reply)
My only protest was hardcore
After my brother blatantly cheated during a game of penalties I protested my dads decision to let the goal stand by holding my breath for almost an hour.

What he didn't realize was that I was breathing through my nose after the first punishing 30 seconds.

It didn't work and he just left me in the middle of the park with my cheeks puffed out and tears streaming down my face.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 15:14, 2 replies)
Smash the system
August 2004, Stornoway, Isle of Lewis.

Traveling through the area with friends we stopped at The Heb in Stornoway.

It's going to be a good night, according to the friendly locals. A band who used to play in the mid-1990s have reformed and are gigging here tonight.

And we weren't disappointed.

A truly ripping set, one which lasted well beyond the 2am licence agreement of the bar.

This was brought to an end in IN THE MIDDLE of a song, Rage Against The Machine to be precise.

2.10am, the police coming striding in the back door and signal to the band to stop playing.

The band oblige instantly, cutting the song short, which is fine, but the timing couldn't have been better:

"Fuck you I won't do what you tell me . . . .Fuck you I won't do what you tell me . . . . oh, yes, sorry officer."

Smash the system!
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 15:11, 21 replies)
Protesting hippy mother
In the mid 80's (when I was about 10-ish) my Mum was a right old hippy, talking to trees and making us live in a filthy caravan (t'was a shite hole). One evening she shipped me and my brother off to stay with one of her hippy friends for the night.

Whilst eating my breakfast the next morning, said hippy friend was glued to the news on the tele. The headline story was all about a bunch of hippies who had broken into a nuclear weapons base and chained themselves to stuff. Low and behold, there was my mum being dragged away by a copper right on the morning news.

I'd like to say that I felt a surge of pride, that she was standing up to the man for what she beleived in. But I didn't. I was just thinking 'ffs mum, stop being a hippy twat'.
(, Fri 12 Nov 2010, 15:04, Reply)

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