Yes, I meant to say that because I'm angry. Are police allowed to abuse children? Only if those children are protesting which - I really thought, I really did think - that any citizens of this damned country could do. March peacefully. Carry banners. Protest. Disagree. You know that kind of thing.
But I should have remembered the miners. I should have recalled that square in China where the tanks rolled in. We thought we had the right to say no to something that affected us.
Well, we were sadly mistaken, weren't we?
"It's the coldest day of the year, and I've just spent seven hours being kettled in Westminster. That sounds jolly, doesn't it? It sounds a bit like I went and had a lovely cup of tea with the Queen, rather than being trapped into a freezing pen of frightened teenagers and watching baton-wielding police kidney-punching children, six months into a government that ran an election campaign on a platform of fairness. So before we go any further, let's remind ourselves precisely what kettling is, and what it's for."
That is from here:
My children weren't there, but they might have been because they think that you can protest, you can carry banners here and that the police just stay on the sidelines making sure that everything is OK.
They'll know different when they read Laurie Penny's feature.
They'll know that abuse only happens when social workers say that your parents are abusing you. They'll know it's one big CON that government cares for you. Any government. They care only for corporations. The little guy can go get kettled.
I hate this country. I've never said that to you, my dearly once-loved, beautiful country. I hate you.