VUCAJ CHILDREN - THEY BELONG TO GLASGOW CAMPAIGN LAUNCH
Mood:  caffeinated
Topic: Anger Is An Energy.
VUCAJ CHILDREN - THEY BELONG TO GLASGOW CAMPAIGN LAUNCH - ACTOR, DIRECTOR PETER MULLAN TO LEAD THE CAUSE



Public Meeting details: 6.45 pm, Thursday 20 October 2005, STUC Headquarters, 333 Woodlands Road, Glasgow G3.



Speakers include: Peter Mullan, Robina Qureshi, Politicians, friends and neighbours and school friends of the Vucaj family.



To confirm your attendance, email home@paih.org.



Peter Mullan, Glasgow’s award winning actor and director, will lead the launch of a new campaign designed to return the recently deported Vucaj family back to Glasgow and Scotland.



Called “They belong to Glasgow” Campaign, Mullan will introduce a film and speak about his recent trip to Albania to meet the Vucaj family at a public meeting to be held at 6.45 pm on Thursday 20th October 2005 in the Scottish Trade Union Centre, Woodlands Road, Charing Cross, Glasgow G3.



Footage of the trip and an interview with 13 year old Saida Vucaj will be shown and Peter will be joined by politicians from across the political spectrum and young friends of Saida, Elvis and Nimet from Drumchapel, Glasgow.



The campaign objective is the safe return of the Vucaj family by any legal means possible.



Robina Qureshi, Director of Positive Action in Housing, who led the recent Albanian trip jointly with Peter Mullan on 9-12 October, said today:



“These children have lived in Glasgow for five years. Saida was only seven when she arrived. She is now 13 and her and her two brothers, Elvis (18) and Nimet (16) consider themselves Glaswegian and Scottish. We are determined to organise their safe return to our city where they were welcomed and educated. I plead to First Minister Jack McConnell and Scotland’s Parliament to help them to return. This is their home, not Albania. Saida, in particular, is in danger. Child trafficking for prostitution is rife in Northern Albania where they have been returned to. We need them back now before it’s too late.”



Peter Mullan added:



“Saida, Nimet and Elvis Vucaj belong to Glasgow. They think like Glaswegians, they talk like Glaswegians. They have been forcibly kidnapped from us and transplanted into a country that can best be described as pre-industrial. Their new home is an empty hovel on a Northern Albanian mountain that was ransacked in their absence and is the direct line of a major sex trafficking route leaving them unspeakably vulnerable. These young Glaswegian kids have been taken from us and abandoned to a life of unimaginable despair. One of the few men who remain of the village stepped forwards to the kids when we were with them and asked what they were doing there. The kids said they didn’t know - they were Scottish. He opened up a weird toothless smile and said “You must go. Stay here and you die”. All we ask is that these children are brought back to the only home that they know, Glasgow!”



Meeting details: 6.45 pm, Thursday 20 October 2005, STUC Headquarters, 333 Woodlands Road, Glasgow G3.

All I have to add to the above is that we have stacks of room in Glasgow and I'd like to keep the Vucaj's, they seem like a nice bunch.

Cheerio

Orange Madness And Kapranos Goes Aristo
Mood:  caffeinated
Now Playing: Christine-The House Of Love
Topic: Anger Is An Energy.
Evening,

As long term readers will be aware I am a martyr to my nerves so you can imagine the state I was in yesterday when a Drumcree style siege occurred yards from Clairwil towers on Glasgow's High St. There I was minding my own business, parading about my house in a kimono imagining I was a geisha when I heard an Orange walk pass. I went to the window only to confronted with a very smart flute band being followed by the scum of the earth. The scum of the earth then proceeded to make monkey noises at two black students who had foolishly decided to cross the road at this point. I have to say I was very disappointed by the shiny new anti racist police failing to respond to this at all, especially as I was hanging out the window shouting 'baton the fascists.'

Anyway after that the whole situation descended into farce when the walk tried to continue straight down the High St rather than turn the corner onto Bell St.It was fucking hilarious,police vans screeched across the High st and blocked them in and a fifteen minute stand off ensued.A few of the band tried to break through police lines whilst the rest of the band played top and totally non-bigoted tunes like 'Follow Follow' and that shite about
'being up to the knees in fenian blood'.And people wonder why I despair for humanity.

Moving on to posher matters, I read in todays paper that Mr Kapranos from Franz Ferdinand has purchased a mansion in Dumfrieshire. I have no objection to this in principle, the man is entitled to spend his wages how he likes, I just wonder what made him leave Glasgow. After all there are a fair few mansions scattered about our outskirts and some very swish houses in the suburbs. Could it be that he wants to live somewhere nice, perhaps somewhere you can walk about unmolested by junkies? This is what gets my goat about these people,42 year old,
rich boy Kapronos can swan about writing songs about his junkie pal Robert Anderson whilst the rest of us who live here need to put up with Mr Anderson's thieving ways and Kapranos/Derbyshire is miles from the consequences. Of course if any of the members of Franz Ferdinand really wished to help their 'misunderstood' junkie pal they'd pay for him to go through rehab rather than buy mansions.Instead they write derivative wee tunes to show off about being pals with a real life junkie.

Cheerio

I Fucking Hate...
Mood:  irritated
Now Playing: I Won't Back Down- Johnny Cash
Topic: Anger Is An Energy.


Evening,

Am I the victim of a prank? Am I on a newly revived version of Beadles About? Candid Fucking Camera?
Almost from the moment I stepped out of bed the public have been doing their level best to send me doolally.

There I was on the bus reading the Metro and enjoying the peace when a disgusting man sat behind me and proceeded to sniff as hard as he could then swallow audibly. I was close to vomiting by the time I got off the bus three stops early. In the rain. If I die of pneumonia during the night It will be all his fault. Why can't these people carry hankies?

Later after all the stress I decided to purchase 20 fags (Kensitas Club if you want to give me a treat). A simple transaction with a polite shop assistant you may think. And it would have been until that fucking crazy frog thing started going off. My God I'd been wondering for ages what sort of vermin voluntarily put that abomination on their mobiles. Now I know. It was a very small and quite cute old granny. I was about to beat her to death and stuff her phone up her snatch, when she explained her grandson had put it on and was refusing to remove it for her. Apparently his idea of a joke. The poor woman was puzzled and frightened by the 'ugly wee thing' and was surprised to learn it was supposed to be a frog. I am happy to report that a chivalrous young ned stepped in to change her ring tone and peace was restored.

However I didn't spend the whole day at the mercy of minor irritations. Readers there was a moment of sheer joy. My irritating work colleague has made a complaint about the workforce! Now everyone wants to kill him. Apparently we're not doing enough to make him feel 'part of the team'. He finds this particularly upsetting because in his last job he was victimised for 'being a man' by an office full of women and thinks it is starting again. Apparently 'modern women' think, and I quote,'it's cool' to be nasty to men. I was forbidden to tell him that whatever else he was victimised for it certainly wasn't being a man. I was also forbidden from taunting him about being forced out a job and driven to a nervous breakdown by a bunch of girls. For God's sake does it never occur to him that he's a sleazy, irritating, gullible, simple-minded incompetent prick and that might just be why people don't like him.

Well I'm off to gasp at vegetable molestation. I am glad to see someone's getting some.

Cheerio