An aliens view of the sort of populist crap served up by Tommy Robinson and Farage.
The Cleansing – (The Sequel to Judgement): Amazon.co.uk: Forsythe, Ron: 9798278914952: Books
Chapter 18 – Joy and Fury
Beheggakegri watched the great protest with a building elation. These Hydrans were such chumps. You had to laugh. Look at them in their fancy costumes, chanting like primitives. How had these cretins actually managed to harness electricity let alone master nuclear fission? Hard to believe. This is just what was needed to show them up for what they were. That stupid Commander Chameakegra would get hers yet! He’d see to that. This was the proof that he needed. These primitive twerps were demonstrating quite clearly that they weren’t worthy, weren’t capable of being civilised. They were playing right into his hands.
He went back to watching the idiots prance around in the sunshine soaking up the ridiculous speech from that prize moron and chortling to himself over a particularly amusing part while shovelling Limo’s delicious dainties down his oesophagus. Grrndakegra was proving to be a genius. The lunar and camp crises were fading into the past. Life was looking up.
Grrndakegra was on the bridge of the Quorma when the message came through. She pretended to be too busy to answer so shunted it on to record. Beheggakegri’s signature appeared on her communicator his bloated features coalescing in the air. Grrndakegra winced at the sight of the dribble of sort kind of purple creamy juice that was oozing down from the corner of Beheggakegri’s mouth along the crevices of his mandibular plates. That same purple gunge was clogged around his yellowing fangs. She frowned in disgust. Didn’t he have any standards? This guy was running UFOR for heaven’s sake. He could at least have made himself presentable. She did not have to disguise her grimace of repugnance as it was on record for which she was grateful.
‘Grrndakegra,’ Beheggakegri purred, ‘I wanted to congratulate you. I am watching the Hydran protest. Five hundred thousand. Who could believe it? You’ve done a great job. What a bunch of fools. I’m keeping a record. When it comes to the final reckoning we can use stuff like this to sort them out. We’re going to take them down. Well done. Keep it up.’
Grrndakegra considered the short message. Was that supposed to raise her morale? Was she supposed to feel pleased that he’d recognised the success of her scheme? It niggled at her. How had this moron gained such power? How was he still there? What a repulsive creature. Here he was telling her that they needed a record to use against them. What the gruthul did he think she was doing it for?
Grrndakegra took a few minutes to cool herself down and get her scutes under control. Only when she was a satisfactory blue did she fashion a reply – short and succinct.
‘Keep watching. The best is yet to come.’
With the speeches over, the crowd suitably roused, it was time to march on the detention centre.
With Billy and Charlene leading, flanked by Foxy, Debbie, Denby, John, Kathy and Cheryl they set off towards the camp. Banners were held high and placards raised as stewards with loudhailers led the crowd in chants:
‘FUCK THE LIZARDS! FUCK THE LIZARDS!’
‘WE WANT OUR COUNTRY BACK!’
‘OUT LIZARDS OUT!’
The sound echoed off the buildings and as they snaked out into the country roads on the way to the camp the chanting roared into the sky and seemed to echo off the clouds.
Arrival at the base was an anti-climax. No barbed wire, electric fence, turrets or even a hedge – just an invisible barrier that seemed to encircle the large camp. Not even any guards to hurl abuse at. The protest was being kept at a distance. Obviously a second barrier closer in kept the inmates from coming out to exchange words with the protestors. Groups of inmates could be seen gathering against the inner barrier, gesticulating and shouting. Unfortunately the barriers appeared to deaden the sound so it was impossible to make out what was being shouted. The few lizards that could be seen seemed completely unperturbed.
The protestors peered in at the rows of pristine barracks seemingly made of some functional plastic substance. By now the inmates were gathering in large groups shouting and gesticulating from within. There did not appear to be any restraint on their movement or any attempt to control them. The odd Giforian lizard could be seen moving between the huts. A few lumbering Leff were standing at the end of one of the huts. A few Xercs were up on the roof doing some maintenance work. A Marlan and a Jerb joined the Leffs but none of the aliens seemed at all interested in the massive Hydran protest outside the barriers or what the inmates were up to. They stood in conversation without so much as a glance towards the angry chanting mob.
Outside, the protestors raged in an impotent show of fury. The fact that there was no focus or response seemed to rile them up even more. They bashed at the barrier with their placards, fists and boots. They hurled abuse at the aliens; shouted greetings and futile promises to the inmates. Then they began searching out stones to hurl at the barrier, attempting to find how high it extended. Nothing got through. It went higher than they could hurl.
By this time the rage was in danger of burning itself out. There was nothing they could do. All their ranting, wailing, chanting and insults were falling on deaf ears. The protest was in danger of collapsing like a damp squib.
That’s when the counter demonstration came into sight. They too carried placards but they were of a different nature – PEACE AND LOVE, GIVE PEACE A CHANCE, A BETTER FUTURE. They chanted but were not dressed up in union jacks or waving flags. They looked like a rag-tag bunch of escapees from a hippie love-in.
These peaceniks were only a few hundred, marching arm in arm but they made a considerable racket.
At first the two groups met in a stand-off. A thin line of police separated the two and Stewards were trying their hardest to keep control.
Abuse was hurled back and forth, accusations and derogatory remarks as both sides pressed against the poor police attempting to keep control. Things were rowdy but within limits. Placards waved, fists shaken, insults hurled, nothing really serious.
Then, from the back of the anti-alien crowd rocks started being hurled, heads were blooded and the mood changed. From being rowdy it rapidly turned violent. There was nothing the police or stewards could do. A rain of missiles, fists, boots flew, placards were used as clubs and spears. Screams, yells, rallying calls and hysteria rent the air. It did not take long for the counter demonstrators to be overwhelmed, trampled and forced into desperate flight.
Howls of victory were hurled at the ragged remnants as they fled the scene, along with rocks and abuse. Adrenaline ruled.
By the time police reinforcements reached the scene of the battle it was all over. The ambulances arrived and injured were seen to. The unconscious, wounded and hysterical were carted off and order resumed. No fatalities but many nasty wounds, gashes, broken limbs and fractured skulls. The fighting had been intense. But once the focus was removed the inflamed emotions soon settled. It hadn’t lasted long but the repercussions would last a lot longer.