Welshman and the Great Escape

Brave: Great Escape

We have all seen the movie, The Great Escape, and cheered on Steve McQueen's character Hilts as he attempts to sail over barbed wire on a motorbike at the end (though that bit was Hollywood fiction). Certainly I was not alone in feeling a wave of claustrophobia wash over me during the tunnel scenes, as these courageous prisoners of war tunnelled their way to freedom? And who could forget the Gestapo gunning down 50 of the escapees after being told to get out of the truck to "stretch their legs" while on their way back to camp (or so they thought)?
The Great Escape has many memorable scenes and though not all based on fact, helped make it a classic. (It is easily one of Mr Jakes' favourite films). Of course the main story IS very much true and took place 70 years ago on this very day. Of those who broke out, only three reached safety, 73 were recaptured, and 50 shot. Such heroic souls! No finer example of fire in the human spirit, and may they all rest in peace.
In the photograph above, the reader can see Cyncoed~born Brian Evans (left) a Welshman who was part of this historic escape. Sadly Mr Evans was one of those men murdered by Gestapo but it fills me with pride that one of my countrymen is a figure in this glorious tapestry.

Nationalities of the 50 executed prisoners

21 British
6 Canadian
6 Polish
5 Australian
3 South African
2 New Zealanders
2 Norwegian
1 Belgian
1 Czechoslovak
1 Frenchman
1 Greek
1 Lithuanian

A Britain for Britons

Having listened to the politicians conferences (and again shaken my head at their obvious lies) and heard all of the "a better Britain" spiel, I just want to ask: a better Britain for whom exactly? We, Britons need a Britain for Britons. Never mind about Cameron giving tax breaks to his wealthy cronies and opening the gates to all and sundry. We need a Britain for US, the hardworking folk who make this country GREAT. A country where we are not spied on 24/7 with CCTV, a place we can fly our flags with pride, somewhere we are not interfered at every turn by an aggressive bureaucracy and told what we can and cannot do (within the law). What we need is a Britain of old, a Britain of the ages.
Too long we have put the needs of others before our own, too long been told to respect others while having to hide our own beliefs and pride for fear of offending those others. Walking on eggshells in the country of our birth! This my friends is an abominable truth, and change must come before our beloved Great Britain disappears in a vomit fog of alien hues and an entire culture lies dead, defeated. Oh such unbearable crime that would be! Eternal cries within the bones of a fallen kingdom. Such a fate must be averted! We must have a Britain for Britons!
Now the doubters and yoghurt knitters will say this is bigoted and even racist, but I ask; how is it racist to want a country putting its peoples first? This is all I want. I am not suggesting the UK pull up the draw bridge and keeping foreigners out. Really, I am not. I am more than aware of the contributions from others who come here to work and make a better life for themselves. The Filipino nurses, Ghurkha soldiers who fought bravely, the doctors from India, the many others who arrive because they believe in Great Britain. I have no issue with these people in the slightest, rejoice! Let us celebrate this glorious country together.
It is the spongers and thieves who come to take, take, take that boil my blood. People who, even though when discovered and proved to be 'on the game', are hardly ever punished sufficiently, and worse never sent back to whence they came! Mind boggling. Frustrating. Of course we also have the enemy within to deal with, those groups of do-gooders who are never happier when interfering with everything, seemingly oblivious to the fact that they make most peoples lives a bloody misery. We all know who they are, the types who order schools to pull down Christmas trees in case it offended those of different faiths, or fretting that nursery rhymes contain politically incorrect words. (These types can do more harm than any lawbreaker). This madness must end, or we shall pay a dear price. A much much too dear a price.

Seamus Heaney: A Huge Loss

As soon as my tea stained eyes fell upon these words, "Seamus Heaney, the Nobel Prize-winning Irish poet and playwright, has died," my heart gave a heave of sadness. Oh my words, what dreadful news to be met with after only a few clicks of the mouse. Especially for a fellow poet/playwright (though not as grand to put myself on Heaney's level) who looked on the Irish writer as a kind of Obi Wan Kenobi figure. One of the last living Master (capitol M) Scribe. What wretched news!
Life, you can be a swine at the best of times but today? Today you are double the pig.
I was fortunate enough to spend time with Seamus Heaney at a poetry reading in Swansea University back in 1998, and it was like being in the presence of someone who knew all the tricks. It was immense, like a film fan meeting Clint Eastwood if you changed the Arts. Believe me, you know when you are in the company of a great man, something in your spirit alerts you, and it was certainly true back in the Taliesin center all those years ago in Swansea.

'Tis a black day, losing such a genius poet when real poets are so rare in this world. I'll take leave to mourn and leave you with words by Seamus himself:

"Be advised my passport's green.
No glass of ours was ever raised
to toast the Queen."

Britain Rules the Sport

What a fantastic weekend of sport it has been for us Brits! Dear God, I think the beer is flowing still! First the British & Irish Lions win the Test Series in Australia with a convincing display that showed we are streets ahead of the Aussies. Then (ad this was the biggie) Andy Murray became the first Brit in 77 years to win at Wimbledon, while on the same day Northern Ireland's Graeme McDowell took the French Open at the tough Le Golf National.
Fantastic! And it was even more brilliant for the still dizzy Mr Jakes because rugby, tennis and golf are my favourite sports.
Was this one of the greatest days in British sport? Its got to be in with a shout. Heck Murray getting a slam at Wimbledon makes it special without the rugger and golf but the triple whammy made for a grand three course sporting feast. And who knows? The Ashes series (cricket) against our arch rivals the Aussies begins on Wednesday and we have a good chance of winning those too. Oh so sweet is victory after a few years in the sporting doldrums! I really do believe our success at last years Olympics kick started it all, there is definitely a bit of that spirit lingering in our athletes.
However to misquote Shakespeare, the course of true sporting highs never did run smooth, and it would seem the First Minister of Scotland, Alex Salmond upset a few people by waving the Saltire (Scottish flag) in the Royal Box at Wimbledon. I personally think it a hulabaloo over nothing, I mean Andy Murray is Scottish, what was Salmond supposed to wave? The flag of Japan? I can assure you dear reader that if Dai Jakes ever created sporting history (I can dream!) then I would be extremely angry/saddened if the Welsh dragon, y Ddraig Goch, wasn't flying.
Still I don't want to end on a sour note when people are still buzzing from such a fabulous weekend, long may it continue, long may Britain become great once more not by the hostilities of our history but through the camaraderie of sporting events.

Again The Likes We Never See

A great Briton

Charles Burgess Fry Born: April 25th, 1872 Died: September 7th, 1956
Even in his youth C.B was recogniesed as an all round exceptionally gifted person. A poster boy for the term 'clever clogs'. He excelled at a number of sports (seen above playing cricket) but not content with sport, C.B was also a brilliant teacher, politician, writer, editor and publisher. Like I said, clever clogs but a truly great Briton.
We'll never see the like of C.B. Fry again. The earth has moved, ambition shifted and all the people now are clowns. In our rush to step into the future, in our thirst to make evrything easier (mostly via internet, apps, Kindle, iTunes, etc), we have discarded real adventure and sold our soul to convenience.
It was all so different in Fry's time. You had to work and push both muscle and mind to a much greater level if you wanted to make an impact back then. Even hobbies required more spirit to pursue them. And it created character, a type on Man that could never exist today. Now its mostly copy and paste, and lily livered downloads. Convenient yes, but not very exciting.

Poison Idea

Bow to them

There is no escaping the fact that Poison Idea were big. Not in commercial terms, obviously, but in life, death, music and influence they were truly massive. Formed in Portland, Oregon in 1980 by frontman Jerry A the band seemed to get progessively more dangerous as they went along, almost deliberately pushing a lifestyle to its ultimate limits just to see what would break it. In a game of 'let's see who's the more punk' Jerry A once pointed a loaded gun at Dwarves singer Blag Dahlia and when guitarist Pig Champion died aged 47 this year it was a great loss of talent, but no great suprise.
But while Jerry A frequently breathed fire or sliced his head open onstage with broken glass, he also wrote lyrics that could rival Charles Buckowski in their beautiful ugliness, stark realism and savage honesty. And despite their seeming indolence and over-the-top drink/drug consumption Poison Idea were phenomenal musicians, capable of playing faster and tighter than any of their peers even when they couldn't stand up.
Their fans include Nirvana, Amen, Pearl Jam, Pantera, Machine Head, Turbonegro...and you if you've got any sense.

*This was an article in Kerrang! magazine a few years ago.