of something big; post-Empire Britain being too small in many of their shallow minds. Self service as opposed to service being uppermost to too many of, our so-called representatives.’
Stuart wondered what it was about Ed’s generation. His dad was the same, going on about everything and anything.
Ed continued, ‘The country’s diminished status has also adversely impacted on the confidence of the population at large. There’s a lack of British identity. The education system has failed the population. It has failed to impart historical and cultural awareness. The internationalist and non-judgemental opinions of the trendy left have dominated for far too long and done untold damage. Everything has been turned inside out and upside down. Without social norms there is no society. This is the intention of the followers of Antonio Gramsci.’
Stuart found himself blurting out, ‘Who the fuck is Antonio Gramsci?’
There was a moment’s silence. Stuart sat horror struck. What genie had he unleashed? Through his horror he was aware of Ed’s voice droning:
‘He’s the father of modern day Marxism. He was the man who set out the agenda being followed by the sixties radicals who now hold power in the west. No wonder half of Britain’s Muslims want to live under Sharia law. The long term solution for all this pent-up frustration amongst the population at large is for the politicians and the ruling elite within the country to listen to the people. The ruling elite don’t have the will to engage problems head on, preferring to tinker with the issues around the edges, continuing with the social policies which have created the problems in the first place. After all, these failed policies are those of all the main political parties which have more in common than divides them. Vested business and minority group interests hold sway. When the public choose not to vote at elections, because they feel it’s pointless bothering, those same politicians criticise public apathy. And what of minority parties who appear to be offering the public what they want? Well, these parties are labelled intolerant extremists or crackpot and, by default, the many decent voters who feel forced to vote for them are presumably the same and therefore not worth listening to. So it goes full circle. Mark my words, there will be more and more direct militant action from individuals and groups as increasing numbers of people feel they are ignored. The problem is our leaders are never truly held to account. It’s a joke the British government telling foreigners how to run their affairs; about democracy and free speech.’
As Ed pontificated they sped onwards towards Regent’s Park underground station on that bright and sunny, but cold, Monday morning in early December.
Ed parked his battered Ford Fiesta amongst all the other vehicles scattered on the road outside the station. The two officers walked over to the entrance, showing their police credentials to a police constable standing guard before heading down to the platforms below.
On the platform, Ed found the other members of his team already at the scene, sipping from steaming mugs of coffee. The atmosphere was intense as rescuers and investigators hurried about their work. The other team members had made their separate ways to the incident. His boss, Detective Inspector (DI) Russ Ward, a short man in his early thirties, was speaking animatedly to a young uniformed police constable.
Ward had been born in the northern city of Manchester. Of slim build, with dark brown hair and pale complexion, he didn’t fit everyone’s image of a police officer. A university graduate, he had gained a law degree before joining the Metropolitan Police in London. During his initial training at the Police College in Hendon, North London, his abilities had earned him the coveted Baton of Honour award for best student. However, his subordinates saw him as someone more interested in pursuing his career than