Im not posting to QOTW again until the question changes!!
*sits in a huff*
(Miggyman, Thu 18 Nov 2010, 12:37, 3 replies)

I’ve been on a couple of marches. And the same thing happened on each occasion.

March starts OK then you reach the place where the police have decided the riot will be. You can tell where this is because the side streets will be blocked off and the Rossers change from uniformed cops to riot filth with numbers removed and faces covered. Finally they block the route of the march its self. You can’t go backwards due to the weight of people, you can’t escape up a side street because they’re all blocked off. As the front gets pushed into the police lines they give a helping hand by smashing you on the head.

When the inevitable happens the filth can claim they where only reacting to the violence to the of the crowed. Funnily enough the media, politicians and police have been happy with this approach for generations. It was only when the police introduced ‘kettleing’ where they cut up protests into managed groups, stopping the crush and violence, that mainstream commentators took notice that peaceful protesters where being detained without cause.
( Ring Of Fire A petty, drooling belming butthurt retard., Thu 18 Nov 2010, 11:54, 42 replies)

I went on a protest march once...
...when I was at Cambridge, because the colleges had colluded to put up rents. The richest college even admitted they didn't need to (Trinity - owns a fair chunk of the UK), but were simply doing it in order not to annoy the other colleges.

All was fine, and I was enjoying the shouting and chanting, until we came to a stop near a pub, and some random punter* shouted from the beer garden "Rent rises? How many of you are wearing designer clothes? My heart bleeds".

I thought he had a point. Never been on a protest with which I have some sort of half-hearted agreement ever since.

*EDIT: please note, punter as in customer, rather than man on a punt. Given the location that needed clarification...
( prince-igor si tacuisses, philosophus mansisses, Thu 18 Nov 2010, 11:13, 3 replies)

Power to the people
In every Socialist’s repertoire is the magnitude of the Flint Sit-Down Strike. As described by the BBC, it was “the strike heard round the world.” For 44 days, the workforce of Flint’s Chevrolet plants refused production and wouldn’t budge until they, the workers, had the company’s ear. This strike led to the formation of the UAW and the domination of the labour unions (and the rise of the Middle Class) within the United States, forever changing the dynamic between workers and capital.

My grandfather was a part of this strike. Being a budding Liberal, I asked him what it was like. “Lots of hookers, beer and poker,” he said.
(TheSnark oh, c'mon, like you didn't see me coming, Thu 18 Nov 2010, 9:22, 6 replies)

Get what you pay for
I see that french tourists staged a sit in on a Ryanair plane which couldn't land at a Paris airport (Beauvais? Never heard of it) due to fog.

They landed in Belgium. Well as they came from Morrocco, that's near enough in my view.
Get the fuck off the plane you snivelling frogs. Next time take a sodding proper airline which lands where you want to go rather than save a few euros.

Teach you for taking an Irish airline too.

/rant
(Suck it and Sea, Thu 18 Nov 2010, 9:20, 10 replies)

Skye Bridge Tolls
I was one of the many, many people who protested against the tolls on the Skye Bridge by refusing to pay. Went to court over it and everything, got the first "Not Proven" verdict of the trials.

Other people (most of the teachers at my old school, for example, so we're not just talking about dole scroungers and layabouts) have criminal records - because under the New Roads and Street Works Act - brought in specifically for the Skye Bridge, but applicable throughout the UK - it's a criminal offence (not a civil offence) to refuse to pay a road toll.

Never mind that under EU law if you put up a toll bridge there must be a toll-free bridge within a certain distance. Never mind that it was the most expensive toll bridge in Europe (and possibly the world) starting at £6 per car, each way - and another £6 if you're towing a caravan, or any other sort of trailer. Bang goes all the tourism. The Private Finance Initiative scheme was backed by the Bank of America, which syphoned off around 80% of the money taken, meaning that it would have been over 100 years before the bridge was paid off.

In the six years since the tolls were removed, Skye's economy has *slowly* started to recover. In the ten years that tolls were charged ("The tolls are the equivalent of the cost of the ferry, adjusted for inflation" - yes, but why are we paying a ferry fare to drive across a bridge) the local economy was totally destroyed, and it will take a long time to get back to where it was pre-1995.

Length? Not long enough to pay six quid for, definitely.
(gordonjcp, Thu 18 Nov 2010, 8:07, 21 replies)

"Well, it's a Fish Shop, isn't it! " ...
shrieked the seventh horrid orange-hued haridan of my first morning on the job at a non-descript Midlands greasyspoon ... "So I'll have bloody fish then!" I briefly considered tweeting at Stephen Fry, telling him to hang up his hat as Britain's greatest living wit, as a worthier recipient had just been found.

"And, I'll have it ba''ered!" (best approximation of that God Awful skank inability to pronounce the letter T).

So, I picked up the choice remains of last week's cod and proceeded to belt the shit out of the counter.

Not much of a protest really, but I was well jack of it.
(Que?, Thu 18 Nov 2010, 3:00, Reply)

I Fought the Lesbian Alliance
They came with their implements of self-love and I countered with the bible, tearing out the pages and folding them up tight and then flinging them with a rubber-band and one of them hit a lesbian in the nipple and she exploded. It was very exciting and I used to think about it often during the dial-up days. That is all.
(sorry., Thu 18 Nov 2010, 1:12, 1 reply)

What an utterly depressing Question
Roughly half the replies feature right-on, retired radical types crowing about "earning their left wing stripes" fighting the police on some thinly-attended march protesting the colour of Thatcher's knickers. Lots of backslapping and mutual masturbation from old brazier burners reliving their war stories. Thanks for all your hard work. The world's just fucking terrific now, isn't it? Job done. The other half seems to be a mix of recycled Father Ted gags, a couple of lame puns and some sophomoric debates tailing off into nothing. And a good story about a blind man breaking a dog molester's thumb.

Fuck this. I'm off to the park to look at trees.

All together now:

"What do we want?"
"EVERYTHING IN MODERATION!"
"When do we want it?"
"AS SOON AS IS REASONABLY PRACTICAL!"

EDIT: And a sizeable minority of snarky, smugly superior, post-ironic posts (a bit like this one) mostly complaining about how protesting never fixed anything. The park was lovely by the way, though it was a bit windy.
( Scrumper, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 20:49, 9 replies)

Mum's on strike
Due to a few greedy bankers and my own lack of motivation to get a better job, I'm stuck living with my parents for the moment. This is mostly alright, I chip in with the bills and help out around the house from time to time, and my parents are pretty easy going.

One sunday afternoon I'm sat on the xbox when my mam bursts into the room, she's angry and shouting that she shouldent have to put up with this crap or look at that arsehole. She's not making tea or ironing all day apparently.

I go downstairs to see what's happening with tea. I ask my dad what happened. "I put deal or no deal on for a few seconds, then she went mental."
(Mong goose, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 18:08, 4 replies)

I once fought the law.
It didn't go well.

Better get back to the hot sun; those rocks won't break themselves.
(StapMyVitals wouldn't mind a bit of that, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 16:46, 2 replies)

My great-grandmother was a Sufferagette.
Which makes me glee every time I see the likes of Jodie Marsh, or Coleen Rooney.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 16:15, 12 replies)

The only protest story I have
My paternal great grandfather(hyphen?) left his home country when he thought they were going "a bit too far." His act of protest was leaving Germany in 1936-37. His sister stayed though, and she married Hitler*.

*Not entirely sure, different sources say different relations. Sister, aunt, cousin, even niece have been suggested.
(CactusZack Shaved his coin purse on, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 15:51, 3 replies)

Has anyone seen this?
www.facebook.com/?ref=home#!/video/video.php?v=1653011133967&oid=126393880733870&comments

I think if they did it, it could cause more problems than it solves personally...
( Turquoise Hexagon Sun has just dropped acid on, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 12:59, 2 replies)

Gordon Brown once came to my uni
I gave him a damn good boo-ing.
( Peapod Has returned to the fold on, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 12:12, 1 reply)

Kind of a protest
I read of a plane hijack once which went like this:

"Take this plane to Lebanon!"
"We're already going to Lebanon."
"Oh. Well, hurry up then."
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 11:38, Reply)

Ethelred's inspired me to re-post this - I'd never considered it a protest
Nekkid Woman:

My ex-stepmother is far too worthy, self-righteous and power-happy to do anything other than make an utter fool of herself in absolutely everything she does. She is also so egotistical she is prone to create rather disturbing, bordering on the abusive, but ultimately in hindsight terrifically funny scenes like that detailed below, as a result:

When I was about 14, I'd got to the stage that I was decorating my room and generally turning into a bit of a punk/goth, so there were a lot of drapes and "arty" pictures in my room.

My wardrobe door was a bit tatty, so one day when I passed a shop selling long, thin posters, I decided to get one to cover it.

The one I chose was of a topless woman standing by a deep red velvet curtain, holding a black rose, by a white marble plinth thing (I make no apology - I was 14 - full of poetry and wobbly-voiced sincerity).

I put it up and that was that.

That evening my stepmother knocked on my door, opened it a crack, and told me "Vagabond - I don't like your poster. It's demeaning to women so I want you to take it down and throw it away."

She'd obviously planned this, as I played straight into her hands.

"It's only a naked woman - it's nothing to be ashamed of."

"Oh YEAH?!" she replied "Well if you want to see what a naked woman looks like, HERE IT IS!" and she burst in, in her birthday suit.

She danced around the room several times, tore down my poster, tore it into little pieces, threw the little pieces all over the room, and ran out.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 11:29, 7 replies)

"I'm not going to do your washing or ironing ever again!"
This bellowed from the psychotic "stepmother" (see my Blood post for explanation) after I got upset, with the washing machine, which ripped my new jeans.


She took this annoyance with the inanimate, rotating cleaner of fabrics, as a personal attack on the quality of 'her housewifely duties' (her words). She went into the usual rage of screaming like a 3 year old, slamming doors and generally making a pathetic arse of herself.

I retreated to the safety of my room, only to be followed by what I can only describe as the Indiana Jones Temple of Doom rolling rock, only that it was going uphill and arguing with itself. It might even have included me in the ranting, but I'm not sure.

She then blocked the doorway, impressive idea when I'm sat on my bed listening to music, before demanding that I do my own washing and ironing forever more.

"Fine."
"Good."

Two weeks later, I had a pile of washing on the landing next to my overflowing washing basket, when she broke her protest and washed and ironed it all.

What she didn't realise was that, as I was moving from house to house a lot, I had an awful lot of clothes found in different cupboards and wardrobes. Even now I have around 60 T-shirts, so, including work clothes, I could have continued her own protest for a good few months (although I was starting to question when the pile would actually start to stink).

Length? I moved out about 3 weeks after she'd finished washing and ironing the pile.
(Ethelred is watching cheese grow, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 11:06, Reply)

The thing is ...
They protest and protest, but they love it really.
( Je suis un vagabond is an unfunny, up your own arse middle class knob, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 10:37, 3 replies)

..Stephen..
a friend of mine.. Is very very gay indeed.

He's stuck it to the man more than a couple of times... or so he claims anyways.
(wankymcwankwank Eels, tobacconists, hovercraft and bouncy bouncy., Wed 17 Nov 2010, 8:54, 3 replies)

Chips.
Chips.

I knew something was wrong the moment the metal hatch clattered ceilingward. Senga the dinner lady (for that may very well have been her name) looked … different. Her face had lost it's wholesome greasy patina; her hair, instead of the usual oil-slicked dirty yellow rat tails, stood proudly from her head in a glorious, hairsprayed peroxide pouf. Her habitual vinegarish expression had been swapped for one of horrified bewilderment. But for that day I wouldn't have thought it possible to look pale under a half inch of Superdrug own-brand foundation in shade no 6- blaring tangerine.

“Chips please, Senga.”

She glanced nervously down the line of 500 or so ravening youths. Her bottom lip trembled, her mouth gaping open and shut uselessly like a landed trout's before finally forming the terrible words-

“There's nae chips.”

The news hit me like a physical blow. “Nae chips?”

“Naw,” she said, shaking her head slowly “Nae chips.” She gestured to a poster on the wall. “Healthy eating initiative”

And there it was, in black and white. Comic sans*, no less. 'Healthy Eating Initiative'. With diagrams to illustrate what foods should be eaten, and in what proportion. Most of them were green. Beside the pie chart of oppression hung a menu of today's choices- baked potato with tuna, or pasta with tomato sauce. Served with salad or vegetables. Vegetables!! Not a chip in sight.

This was years before Jamie Oliver's school food shenanigans, so I could only assume the new head master had acted on his own initiative. The new head was full of progressive ideas. Unfortunately his catchment area was a patch of central Scotland where nobody had been employed for thirty years, the children played tig with hatchets, and -critically- chips were the staple food.

“Haw!” I said, elbowing the lad behind me to get his attention, “there's nae chips!”

The rumour spread like wildfire up the queue.

“Nae chips!”

“Well, whit is there?”

“Fish, just”

“Whit, battered fish?”

“Naw just fish fish”

And so on until it reached the end and a voice piped up “Well, fuck that! Ah'm no hanging around for nae fish!”

Obviously this was the popular sentiment, because 500 ravening youths, moving as one, voted with their feet and poured out of the lunchroom, past the dumbfounded head master and his deputy (a battle-hardened brute of a PE teacher, who unlike the head had cultivated the cynicism needed to wrangle wee buggers like us). Me being the first in, I was the last out. As I passed I heard the deputy say to the head

“Ah told you no to take away the chips.” And as he bulldozed his way through the departing pupils, I swear I heard him add “You daft cunt” under his breath. Chips were re-instated the next day.

Length? The queue for the chip shop stretched all the way round the corner.




*Anything printed in comic sans is bound to be bad news. If comic sans had been invented 70 years earlier it would, without a doubt, have been the official font of the Third Reich.
(Timorous Beastie, Wed 17 Nov 2010, 2:53, 23 replies)

Not a protest as such
... but used to raise my hand when coming out of Tooting Broadway underground station.
(FUXTIX Not my words, Carol, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 23:31, 7 replies)

The Real Champion
Is it true the pinnacle of my feeble protest career is getting on the TV news by standing at a podium on the steps of the Utah State Capitol Building and shouting to the world that unless Salt Lake City mended its evil ways, its air pollution would soon outstrip Los Angeles' (a demonstrably-false statement, by the way, given the lower population, higher winds and cooler temperatures)? I must not be trying hard enough!

I've always admired the real champions of protest - the Sixties radicals. But by the time I arrived in college, they had all departed.

Except one fellow. He had decided to become a more-or-less permanent student and was busy getting a second Ph.D.: this time, in nuclear engineering, so he could be an effective advocate against nuclear power. He brushed his teeth and hair with indifference, and you couldn't see his apartment's carpet because it was covered in discarded newspapers, but, unlike anyone around, he did have one shining 60's protest moment: he got his picture on the front page of the Denver Post for leading a vigorous anti-Vietnam-War demonstration at the University of Wyoming! And how did he achieve this minor journalistic miracle? Yes, you guessed it! He controlled the megaphone!

You've got to control the megaphone! It's that simple!
(Perv With A Dog had his eyes pecked out by scrub jays on, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 22:01, Reply)

How to render any protest invalid
1. Invite the socialist workers party to print signs and march with you shouting unintelligble crap through bullhorns.

The signs are instantly recognizable and effectively tell standers by that your protest is completely meaningless and has been hijacked by workshy dole scroungers and postgrad humanities students.
(MagicMoose, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 20:27, 7 replies)

I don't have a protest story, so...
...in protest to this weeks QotW. I'm just gonna list comedians who I don't find funny and reasons why....

Russell Brand. Just find him a twat and he has an annoying voice. Don't see what Katy sees in him.

Jimmy Carr. And again, just find him a twat.

Alan Carr and Justin Lee Collins. JLC is okay sometimes, but both of them together just makes me want to hurl sick everywhere....mostly into their eyes, and then drown them in my sick.

Anyway, Enjoy the rest of your evening. :D
(Dante licked your nipple on, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 18:35, 41 replies)

Get a job you bum.
I quit a job because an 'assistant manager' kept hassling me about being clean shaven. My notice said 'I can't work with these people.' The boss said he understands, gave me 2weeks pay + my remaining holiday, and a glowing reference.
(Surfeit, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 18:15, 2 replies)

Scab!
I went on strike for 3 days a few years ago in protest of my Local Authority employer eroding the terms and conditions of my job. Then i saw my pay packet minus the 3 day's wages and faced the hassle of having to pay my pension and NI back into the system.
Now I'm a scab.
(bettyginger and no-one else wanted to play in my cannibal cafe, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 17:19, Reply)

Domestic Disharmony
My ex once went "on strike" in response to a perceived lack of attention / respect / whatever the hell she was having a paddy about that week. She refused to do any washing, cleaning or cooking.

Unfortunately, since I cooked at the weekends anyway, and she was a borderline OCD anal retentive while I'm more the Dave Lister / superslob type, I didn't actually notice any difference before she cracked and gave up the "protest".

Result!
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 15:14, 1 reply)

On the receiving end
My fiancé has a guide dog. On account of the fact that he is blind.
Walking in town one day, a real looney toons animal rights twat shouts at him that guide dogs are all suffering and miserable and grabs the dog's harness and attempts to take the dog from him. My fiancé responded by grabbing the bloke's hand and twisting it round sharply at the thumb joint. The bloke let go and yelled like a girl, then beat a hasty retreat, followed by passers by who objected to someone assaulting a blind man and his guide dog. So indeed, he was correct, there was suffering, but it wasn't the dog.

What makes it amusing is that a) my fiancé has been instrumental in changing some of guide dogs for the blind's attitudes to certain training and health matters when he felt they were not in the animals best interests and b) both he and I have been quite active in the animal rights department over the years, but never ever through violence or man handling people going about their business or to the detriment or safety of either animals or humans.

However, no matter what you do for the causes you believe in, there will always be some genuinely mental dick head who will do shit like that and make you, by mere association, look like a lunatic. But being on the receiving end was surreal for him under the circumstances to say the least.
(womanwhocanonlylivewithdogs, Tue 16 Nov 2010, 15:13, 9 replies)