Vibes And Pressure

If you have read any of my pieces you may be aware that I haven’t got the fortitude to sit down and churn out one piece in one sitting. At the rate things are going in this world right now, not finishing a piece of writing, is liable to render all your thoughts irrelevant because of the simple fact that information is being spread so quickly. When I watched the scenes on the news during the riot I had a similar feeling to what I had during 9/11 or 7/7. (Note to any new readers; I am a conspiracy theorist extraordinaire, I scare myself sometimes) I was seeing it all with my own eyes but something was not quite right. For one thing the news coverage of the “revolution” was rather strange. On the evening of Monday 8 August they were showing the same images over and over again. Okay, so there may be an issue with scarcity of footage, but I can only watch the same “mindless thug” looting or fighting with the Gestapo…..I mean the Metropolitan police force before I start to transform like the Hulk into my conspiracy theorist alter-ego. The bottom line is repeating the same image over and over again has an effect on your psyche.

If I recall the coverage there were a few types of images that were prominent. 1. Fires burning but hardly any being put out. 2. Looting with no police. 3. Youths fighting with the police (The brave ones out front, in their hoodies, whilst the police were in full riot gear) 4.The Aftermath (i.e. destruction, destruction, destruction.) It seemed by the reporting methods that there was an agenda when the riot were being reported and in many cases the riots that were reported never actually happened in the way the newscaster stated.
Nowadays when I watch the news a little method that I use which helps me to “read between the lines” is to imagine that I’m watching a film and ask myself “what is it that these actors need us to believe? (It’s fun and it works every time!)
In the case of these riots or “disorder” as the police try to term it, they want us to believe that our young people are out of control in their hoodies, and they want to kill, maim, burn, loot and pillage. From my recollection there were reports of riots and/or looting in Camden, Chalk farm, Ealing, Bayswater, Hackney, Woolwich. I even heard that they were planning to attack the mass ritual Olympic site.

The plot read like a Hollywood disaster movie. Our “leader” was away on holiday apparently the third one this year, no doubt taking a break from the incestuous relationship he was having with the police and the media. Correct me if I’m wrong but just before these riots hit, the tabloids were in phone hacking city. The right wing on the big fat political bird was taking the flak for the shit that went down when the left wing of the political bird was in power. (Please note that both wings are on the same bird, so you really have to choose the same tired old chicken when you vote) He stayed away whilst Tottenham burned, following the murder of a “gangsta” who came from the Broadwater Farm estate. Hindsight is great thing but I honestly thought that there was going to be a riot after I heard Mark Duggan had been shot. My reasoning? The amount of civil unrest and general dissatisfaction that authority faces is increasing around the world. We’ve seen, in this country the student riots against fees and the wave of uprisings in the so called Middle East. We have all seen with our eyes the power of the people and what it can and will achieve.
In days of old, our leaders would be out front charging into battle but now they are pampered and protected. When SamCam’s husband came back, he started all the tough talk, and promptly held an emergency meeting with the rather sinister name of COBRA. It’s an acronym for Cabinet Office Briefing Room A. (I wonder what goes on in Cabinet Office Briefing Room B? Not much I presume, and COBRB doesn’t quite have the same reptilian ring to it)

Now the courts are issuing draconian sentences for looters who committed crimes against property. I’m not condoning burning people’s homes, and acts of violence against small and private business, but stealing from JD sports or Carphone Warehouse? While it’s stupid and petty, it’s hardly evil. The media have demonised looters and rioters, to the extent a mother even informed on her own child.
On the evening of the day after the shooting, I drove up to the stretch of road were Mark was assassinated (Yes I said it. Before you dismiss me a conspiracy theorist extraordinaire I quote my good friend Mr Wik Pedia, An assassination is "to murder (a usually prominent person) by a sudden and/or secret attack, often for political reasons."[1][2] An additional definition is "the act of deliberately killing someone, especially a public figure, usually for hire or for political reasons." So that’s why I have decided to call it an assassination. Is revenge for the killing of a police officer political enough? Not sure? Okay, you call it what you want.

Mark came from an estate where during a riot following the death of a member of the black community a police officer was brutally murdered and no one has ever been convicted.(If that’s not a political motivation, I’m a conspiracy theorist extraordinaire) Anyway, as I was saying I attempted to drive up past Blackhorse Road and the road was blocked off. In my mind I was thinking “why have they blocked off such a large section of the road?” According to the reports that were put out following the killing, Mark was said to have fired first. To me that sounded fishy, but if that was the truth it would have been an open and shut case, and we would conclude that Mr Duggan was suicidal. I‘m not condoning police brutality, but remember we are in a country where the police killed an electrician who walked into Stockwell tube station, so firing rounds at armed police (who no doubt need little excuse to fire) is a sure fire way to get your arse well and truly killed.

When the first reports came out stating that Mark had shot at police I thought the likelihood of that to be dubious. The police allowed that version of events to be circulated, knowing that not to be the case. As the shooting happened in broad daylight, all any witnesses would have seen was the police executing a seemingly innocent man. The thing is; there was a wave of misinformation by the media, after Mark was shot. For at least 3 or 4 days all we heard was that he had shot at police, and the fact that one of the police had a bullet lodged in his radio. It turned out later that the bullet was police issue and Mark had not shot at the police.
When Jean Charles De Menezes was shot it was said that he had run away from police down into Stockwell tube station, wearing a bag with wires coming out. It later turned out that he had been followed into the underground station after he had used an oyster card to get through the barriers. (Not leaped over them as it was first reported) When the police cornered him they shot him eight or nine times in the head in front of passengers who probably though Halloween had come early. I picked up on the similarity between the murder of Mark Duggan and the murder of Jean Charles De Menezes. This similarity was way the media allowed lies about the shootings to be circulated to the public.To me, coupled with the level of dissatisfaction with authority in the world at present, shooting someone from the Black community with a connection to an estate where there was a riot following the death of someone from the Black community equates to a march/protest at the very least and another riot at the worst.

The looting was the result of the perception that the police had lost control of the situation. In my opinion the police never lost control of the situation. It was rather a case of them relinquishing control .My belief is that the looting in Tottenham and Wood Green was allowed to happen. There were military Police at the junction of White Hart Lane and Tottenham High Road at approximately 5am on the Sunday morning. We had received “Intelligence” that looting was going on in Wood Green but the authorities did nothing to prevent it. It would have taken one police car, one armoured black military police vehicle to drive down and stop the looting in Wood Green. News of this spread swiftly and the rest is history. This has now created a climate where people are being criminalised for theft of minor items or in some cases stealing no items at all, and the prisons are filled to the brim, all in time for the Olympics. A little too much orchestration if you ask me but what do I know?

The current climate is one of economic and political uncertainty. The Student riots, the upheaval in the Middle East and all the marches against the cuts are evidence of the tension. We have also seen unrest in Greece, Spain, Italy and Portugal. The government would have us believe that the riots were perpetrated by materialistic young people who didn’t care about the death of Mark Duggan. I believe that there was a great deal of opportunism mixed in with a general disillusionment with the system. The fact that ‘normal’ people who had never gotten in trouble with the police before have now been caught up in the penal system is very ironic. I believe that the ‘system’ is aware that there is genuine anti-government sentiment in the air. In one dastardly chess move, we now have a climate where the police have an excuse to increase their powers and the public have almost consented to this. The papers were showing images of ‘thugs’ caught on camera and encouraging people to ‘shop a moron’ they are actively trying to create a climate where we are doing the snooping and the detective work for the police.
Those involved in the riots were acting out what many had been feeling for a long time. In my mind, they were like an aspect of (my) subconscious energy taking the law in into their own hands. It’s funny how the police are now running around picking up people and pushing them through the courts for committing the same crimes that founded America and most of the old British Empire. To dismiss the underlying irony is dangerous. The looting was in most part against property and large stores. With all the talk of cuts in spending and government debt, many people feel they are being ripped off in the UK today and that sentiment was one of the factors driving the unrest. I recall when petrol prices started rising astronomically a couple of years ago there was a blockade carried out by lorry drivers and the prices dropped, accordingly. Petrol is now over £1 a litre and we are in more testing economic times now than we were then. No blockade, no complaints just acceptance.

The other issue that these riots bought up was the issue of race. I watched as the media attempted to racialise events. The murder of the three young men in Birmingham was one of the most poignant moments for me in the media coverage of the riots. Three young men of Asian origin were tragically killed when a car was driven into them following a brick being thrown into a car window. As far as I am aware the suspects for those murders were all black, but from my understanding there are long seated tensions between the Black and Asian communities in some parts of Birmingham. The media quite rightly highlighted the dignity of the father of one of the young men who was killed and then they went on to show solidarity from different communities against the looters/stroke rioters. I saw and heard stories of Sikhs in Southall, the Turkish community in Hackney and the broom wielding community in Clapham, who were predominately although not exclusively white. There was not a media representation of the resistance from the Black community. The Black community was either perpetrator or victim. The images showed rioters of all ages all races and of both sexes. The multiculturalism that supposedly won London the Olympics was now turning on the government. Black culture was blamed, rap music, even the slang spoken on the streets, blackberrys and Facebook were also accused. The latest that I’ve heard, Ken Clarke said it was caused by, and l quote "a feral underclass" . Wow!!!!!Are you hearing the language? The mention of class is ironic because these riots were defiantly fuelled by inequality, whether real or perceived.

I see these events as symbolic of the changes in consciousness. As they say change is the only constant. The one thing we can be sure of is that the world needs more balance, and the amount of energy that it’s going to take to create lasting real change is probably directly proportional times about 100, to the amount of energy it took to create it. So let’s see if we can all be part of the change.

Peace and Love DM

The other day I read an article in the metro. In fact it was an interview of Grant Morrison; he is a popular comic book writer. Many of the statements that he made in his article were particularly resonant with me. To be quite honest article was quite strange (which says a lot about me) He spoke very candidly about being visited by inter dimensional aliens, about dabbling in magic and the occult, he spoke about Voodoo and advised readers not to get involved with it.

He said that he felt that it was too “Culturally specific" and felt that people shouldn't dabble with it as it was only suitable for people who lived in a certain context. He recognised that the Voodoo Gods were African Gods that had been warped into something people could use. It was a real indication (well to me at least) that things are changing energetically in the world. I thought that it was a very matter of fact interview. Now, increasingly the stuff of science fiction is becoming science fact and no one seems to be batting an eyelid. To me (at least) this is becoming more and more the case.

The other thing that he said was that magic works. I was thinking "wow! All of this in a daily newspaper" (and free one at that!)

On one level you could argue that technology is a form of magic. I remember when my mother first saw me using Skype. "Who are you talking to?" she asked gingerly. "Are they in the computer?" To a person who is not technologically minded the idea of speaking to someone through a computer screen is bordering on mysticism.

If you look at new smart phones (no free advertising here!) the technology works in a very intuitive way. The best technology is always simple to use even in its most complex intricacies. The interview also spoke of the Voodoo Gods as being scary and savage. (That's one thing that was consistent. The demonization of African tradition)

Yes there is definitely something afoot. You know this when you start getting multiple coincidences, on two or more levels. To me that shows that something has shifted. I don't exactly know what this shift is but it’s almost as if the split between the mental and material realms is starting to blur. That old cliché "be careful what you wish for" is starting to ring truer than it ever has been.

You may not believe what I am about to say but I am going to say anyway. Hopefully you will feel the truth in my words. The other day I was on the train and the door to the adjoining carriage was open so I decided to try an experiment. Like any self respecting metaphysical student I whole-heartedly believe in mind over matter. I sat in my seat and concentrated all of my non-existent telekinetic powers on the door and in my mind I chanted the mantra “close close……” and to my surprise the door started to close, so much so to the extent where I was like “What the f*ck” is going on here? Who’s messing with my head?”

I hear all you skeptics shouting out “Whatever! It was just the motion of the train that moved the door of the train not the power of your brain” and to some extent this may be the case but, that is not really the point. Call it a synchronicity or a coincidence but the timing was perfect and in was very meaning full and relevant to me.

Anyway just so I can prove my point to all you naysayers here’s a bit of timeless Hollywood wisdom….. Remember that part in the Matrix when the kid was bending the spoon and Neo tried but couldn’t do it?

“Do not try to bend the spoon that is impossible; instead only try to realize the truth”

“What truth”

“There is no spoon”

“There is no spoon?”

“Then you’ll see that it is not the spoon that bends, it is only yourself”

There you go, now how’s that for a water tight argument? And if that doesn’t convince you of my telekinetic ability, nothing will! ;)

Peace and Love

DM

I never ever thought I’d write anything like this. I was Facebook free for three years, even though I opened my account in 2007. Truth be told, I only opened the account to see my friends wedding pictures. I went to Antigua and had a wonderful time bar the loss of my phone and all my pictures (losing phones is a recurring theme in my life) so the lovely bride said to me
“Open an account on Facebook, I’ll put all the pictures on there!”
I thought nothing of it, being able to ogle all the pictures was great, but when I started getting emails about every last fart that my friends did, I started to take offence. (Yes I now know you can switch off that function but I didn’t at that time) The final straw was when I saw photos of myself in my beachwear from Antigua on the Internet. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not a prude nor were the pictures embarrassing or obscene. I just wondered if it was right to have your picture displayed to potentially the whole world without your consent.

Old-fashioned pictures would end up in a photo album and really now, who looks at photo albums? Let’s be honest, when someone gives you a musty old album to look through, we look at it to be polite, often before the end of it our eyes have glazed over and all the pictures have merged into one hazy mess, but pictures on Facebook? We over indulge in them and all their 10-megapixel glory.

So I deactivated my account and thought that was the end of it. Oh foolish pride. There I was walking tall thinking “Facebook, who needs that? I have real friends in the real world, I don’t want to be part of the matrix”
Famous last words. Many phrases come to my mind, kettle, pot, black or if you live in a glasshouse do not throw stones.

As it transpired I needed to contact someone in South Africa, so after a few cumbersome emails he’s like “Yeah contact me on Facebook” and he gave me his profile name. Upon reading the email I thought, “excuse me sir I don’t do Facebook” but as I had a good excuse I went to check it out. I thought my account had been deleted so I would need to open a new one, so you can imagine my horror when my old account reared its ugly undeleted head and smiled at me! All the pictures all there with unconfirmed friend requests from friends’ non-friends and randoms. At first I felt guilt towards all my friends, folks who I had abandoned and left in limbo having not accepted their requests to be my virtual digital buddy, I frantically started confirming people hoping that I hadn’t offended anyone. I promptly stopped when one my friends said to me in real life “look at you adding people like a madman” I thought about it. I’m sure nobody is really offended if I don’t add them, they don’t really care do they? (Actually I suppose they do. I have sent requests to at least two people that I really do know and they have ignored me, I am actually quite bitter)

So I closed the account again, or should I say deactivated it. Now here is one of the sinister things. The account is just deactivated, so it is still in cyber space but people can’t see it. As you try to close it asks you why you want to close it. I was thinking, why I want to close my account is none of your fucking business Mr Facebook. But it’s a question you have to answer so I put my reason as “other”
Its final twisted temptation before it becomes comatose is to show you pictures you are tagged in and say “so and so will miss you.” It’s like the monster in the movies that is left for dead after a long gruelling battle then suddenly springs back to life with its last dying breath and grabs you by the ankle.

Images of lovely memories almost made me give in, I stopped before I hit the deactivate button and looked at my friends pictures of fun in the sun, then when I realised I was being emotionally black mailed, I hit the deactivate button. “Be gone foul beast of social interaction!”

So fast forward to November 2010 and after meeting new people at home and abroad, coupled with the start of a period of unemployment and that darned Facebook iphone app,(I have since lost my iPhone) the devil made work for my idle hands. I found myself back on Facebook. I could hear my evil account saying, “Sucker, weakling, I knew you’d be back” It knew I’d be back but can honestly say I didn’t. Why else would it only allow you to deactivate it and not be able to delete.

Once again I started confirming all the waiting requests. I laughed when one of my real friends said “Its taken you three years to approve my request” I shuddered when one of my non-friends said “You are lucky, its taken him five years to approve mine” (I am still not 100% sure of who she is)

Being back on there has given me some positive things, it’s made me realise how much I enjoy writing again. It’s made me realise how funny and witty some people are, it’s made me realise how much technology has the ability to shape culture. I was in the supermarket and I over heard two young people talking, when I say young I mean anyone who is too young to remember life without mobile phones. They were talking about someone’s Facebook “Status” They spoke about the status as if it was a true reflection of the person’s inner being, I can’t remember the whole conversation but it was something like “She was really angry with him because she said so on her status”. Status=Reality=Scary.

I do find it strange when people update everything that they do. A old school friend of mine once put on her status “I’m going to take a bath now” after all the mockery (“is that your first one this year?”) her excuse was that she typed it by accident following a telephone conversation. I’m not sure which is more alarming, writing that by accident or writing it on purpose.

It got me thinking about how much people reveal about themselves knowingly and unknowingly on Facebook. With me being an armchair psychologist, I am quite careful about what I post, nothing too that is too militant. I don't wish to offend anyone and I don't think its the appropriate forum for a certain level of debate. My friends and non-friends must be thinking that I have too much time on my hands because at the moment I am in light-hearted comment overdrive. I don’t have a job at the present so I have a (tiny) excuse, however as I am a bit of a conspiracy theorist I can’t help thinking that there is something a bit sinister about a system that coaxes you reveal so much personal stuff, does it get stored somewhere? When big brother goes for lock-down mode will Facebook tell him who the "real revolutionaries" are?

Facebook highlights to the fact that we have at least three parts to our psyche, how we see ourselves, how we wish others to see us and how/who we really are. I suppose in an ideal world to those closest to you all three should be the same, but in everyday life things are different. How many of us go to work and project the image of a professional in a “role” then come home and smoke all the weed we can get our hands on! Facebook is definitely about how we want others to see us, so its quite interesting what people choose to reveal. I suppose it’s a social utility so for the most part people want to show their fun side, but there is also a lot of ignorance, and I find that people can also be overly critical, harsh an quite judgemental sometimes, often more so than they would be in real life. Everyone gets ten tons of courage when they’re behind a computer screen. For a supposed multi-cultural modern world we live in some of the racism I've seen on You Tube comments is appalling.


So I am going to enjoy my time back on Facebook and I am not going to be ashamed of it, hopefully I’ll get bored someday but until then, I’ll be adding people like its going out of fashion. I still admire those who have been able to resist, I think in a way that’s a small sign of strength of character… Anyway, I'm done now so I am going to check my Facebook page.......... I am a self –confessed Facebookaholic don’t judge me!

@me “Get off Facebook!”

So once again it’s freezing in London, yes, absolutely fucking freezing. One of the things that I love to hate about London is when Arsenal are playing at Emirates stadium and I’m trying to get home. I’m not a football fanatic but I grew up nearer the better team in North London so I prefer when Tottenham fans obstruct my journey home. (I swear I’m not a fan)

It was Wednesday the 19 February 2011, approximately 23:30 at Seven Sisters station. There on the platform, I watched as a couple stood waving their Arsenal flags. You could feel the effervescent energy that they were emitting. They were both happy that Arsenal had won. Arsenal had beaten Barcelona at home. I didn’t watch the game, I couldn’t care less what happens to Arsenal, but, as usual, Arsenal fans have to throw everything in your face, so there they were, right in the middle of Tottenham, in the middle of the night waving their Flags, just because Arsenal had won.

She was stunning. Tall slim with almond shaped eyes; eyes so deep and dark that you could quickly and easily get lost in them, very lost. She was the truth, at least she seemed like she was. Her only deception was the waist length hair that she owned. It was her property I’m sure but it somehow seemed out of place. So much so that I thought she was European from behind, it was that long.
Her companion was equally matched. He was tall, deep brown and well built with a heavy baritone voice.

The chemistry between them was apparent. It made them brazen enough to keep waving those flags. I looked at them and heard parts of their conversation. I remember thinking that she must be faking her enjoyment just like she’d fake an orgasm if she ever got bored. I was secretly cynical, my chauvinism was alive and well and I couldn’t believe that she enjoyed watching Arsenal as much as her present demeanour suggested. She was happy and it was real happiness but I couldn’t work out if it really was because of the football or because she was so beautiful and was in the company of someone she cared for deeply.

The train arrived and we boarded. As the doors closed, and the train moved the flags continued to wave (yes the song was in my mind too) past Bruce Grove then up to White Heart Lane. Like I said before I’m not a fan so I wasn’t offended but you can’t be waving an Arsenal Flag going through White Heart Lane. It’s not the done thing. Yes, I said it, “You can’t wave Arsenal Flags in Tottenham Just because you look good.”

They continued, sitting there looking good like a black Barbie and Ken. Their conversation revolved around Arsenal. By the way, I had been totally wrong. She wasn’t confused by the offside rule. This chick knew her shit. She was no shrinking violet, she could hold her own with the big boys and from the confidence in her tone and the intelligence in her eyes she would’ve given any male fan a run for his money.

Misconception number one…busted.

Ken had started a conversation on his mobile, while Barbie sat next to him in all her radiant glory, contented, and without a care in the world. Opposite them about two seats away sat an older man, greying and bald but huge in stature and powerful. He had just come from a night out because he was hopelessly drunk, leering over a pretty blond girl that sat directly opposite him. His charm was sufficient it seemed, because even his drunken stupor was not enough to chase her away, she didn’t move seats…until she had to get off.

When she left, his drunken mind looked for more attention. I find that’s what happens to me when I get drunk, I chat rubbish to anyone who’ll listen. He began his slurring onslaught at Barbie and Ken. It turned out that Mr Grey was a Manchester United fan. He reluctantly congratulated Barbie and Ken on their win. They were a trio, knee deep in footballing conversation, and I was lost.

“I‘m not being funny,” he slurred as he looked at Barbie in bemusement, “ I can understand why a man would be interested in football but a woman? Isn’t there better things that you’d be interested in?”

“Like what?” She had answered this question before.

“Knitting” Ken’s retort was accompanied with a cheeky grin that materialised on his face as he spoke.

I found the answer funny. Barbie just looked at him and rolled her eyes.

Mr Grey went on with his shameless drunken interview.

“So do you two argue when you get home” He had obviously picked up on the chemistry that everyone else could feel.

“Yes we argue sometimes”

“Not about football I bet, so what do you argue about”

“Normal stuff I guess” she paused “er………..he’s my brother”

Misconception number two, busted.

“I knew it was too good to be true!” said Mr Grey

Too good to be true? That was a was strange thing to say. At least I thought so. As if the notion of a couple both enjoying something like football together was unusual. The mind-set we are all sometimes guilty of, that assumes being in a relationship needs to be based on conflict and argument. Who wants that? There are better things to fight against than the man or woman that you’re supposed to be trying to love.


Ken burst out laughing, “Don’t we look alike?” They squared their faces together. They did look alike in a subtle kind of way; actually it really was quite obvious.
It’s so easy to stick to tried and tested thought patterns, stereotypes and foregone conclusions; we live by them every day. Often without thinking twice………..

As I got near my stop another Arsenal fan had crawled out of the woodworks and joined in the foray. It was all too much to bear and I was glad that I was getting off.

So the morals of the story are:
1.Never judge a Barbie by her hair.
2.Never judge a Ken by his Barbie.
3.Never think that love is supposed to be unhappy.
4. Never ever wave an Arsenal flag as you ride on a train through White Heart Lane. (The cheek of it! I swear I’m NOT a fan!)

I had to write this. I had a vision which was the impossibility of the first African team to get to the final four in the World cup. The first World cup in Africa. And then it dawned on me. That horrifying feeling that my vision really was too good to be true. The shattering of a dream. It did, for a moment feel like Africa had become one huge unified continent. In London, the Black star flags flowing proudly from cars and not one, unlike the England flags, broken off by the force of the wind, strewn at the side of the road.

In reality the glory of a continent in the arena of sports denied by the the new "hand of God" It was almost as if Suarez wrenched the title from Maradona and took away the power that created his legend as the mystic manager that was destined to lead Argentina to further World cup glory. Suarez takes the title, Argentina crashes out and Maradona resigns. Very fitting. Somehow I think "hand of the Devil" is more apt.

It is Ironic that even though we all serve the same God, the winners always sight God's power for their win and the losers are left to find a romantic justification for the loss, or just blame the Devil. The Roman Catholic Church has spread its tentacles all over Africa, and all over South America, but is now losing its right to legal immunity. Losing the self appointed right to harm people and get away with it. It will be very hard for the Church, but as John Blood states in his piece, times are indeed changing, and I think its about time those walls came tumbling down. Now, back to football.

As a bearer of the Black Stars flag, I noticed that there was a gathering of Africans in all shapes and sizes behind Ghana. Many people had become honorary Africans. The team always stressed that this was being done for Africa, their continued progress was for the whole of Africa, and it seemed that the people started to believe that. Victory against Uruguay and progressing to the final four on African soil was not about Ghana, it was win for Africa.

To lose in such a dramatic fashion was, however, all about Ghana. I noticed the commentators were surprised that so many other African nations were supporting Ghana, so the bitter sweet pill of hearing the words "its the end of the Africa dream" were especially resonant to me. They are still ringing in my ears now. Was it really all a dream? Did the African really have a chance? All the other promise of Africa had gone out in the early stages of the competition, surely Ghana couldn't do much better? Surely they couldn't make footballing history in Africa.

See, when you play with fire, you get burnt, this is logical. As Africans we are always playing with fire. Everything that is unique about Africa we tend to take for granted or we use a tool to generate revenue or we allow others to use as a tool to generate revenue. This is the game we play and it really is so much bigger than football.

I watched the game when Ghana beat the USA. It was wonderful for African football, not only because Ghana beat a much better USA team than they did in 2006, but also because the Americans, in true Hollywood blockbuster style had several million supporters across the Atlantic in the old US of A, (apparently their games had the highest viewing figures) and a star studded line up in the stadium including Bill Clinton and Mick Jagger (who quickly switched to his England Shirt after the USA lost) The profile of African teams and Ghana a footballing nation was raised.

Anyway I'll let you into a secret, due to my affliction with the deadly dis-ease Procrastinitis, I wrote this article in two sections. The latter section is written with the hindsight of being aware that Uruguay's volleyball team are now out of the running to win World cup, after a spirited battle with the Dutch and a goal awarded against them that should have been offside, I almost found myself rooting for the volleyball team and prayed for them to call on the "hand of the devil" but they changed tact and decided to play football instead (I am starting to sound bitter aren't I)

It would have been nice to see a little variety in the World cup final and that was why it was such a shame that Ghana went out when they did. After seeing the result of Uruguay and Holland, I had a crazy feeling (without trying to sound like a disillusioned England commentator ) that due to sheer ram hearted determination Ghana could have beaten Holland on the day, had it not been the for the antics the Uruguayans and/or Asamoah Gyan's penalty miss. The anti-penalty, I haven't mentioned that have I, I put that miss down to pressure, although I do have the weak hearted tendency to be a little too forgiving.

Asamoah Gyan had now transferred the dreams of the entire African continent into his foot. In seconds before he took that penalty we had all planned our celebratory dances and which party we were going to and how long that party would go on for. All the owners of the Ghanaian bars and clubs in London rubbed their grubby mits together thinking of the all the money that they would be making though the reckless abandon of the crazed legions of fans. Hell, even the Turkish shops in London that were near to Ghanaian outlets would make a killing, as we all know how randomly supportive the Black pound is!

We were all on the edge of our seats literally waiting for that inevitable goal, from Algeria in the North through to Nigeria in the West and Angola in Central. Once the ball hit the cross bar all our dreams began to swiftly unravel, and no doubt there was utter maniacal but short lived jubilation on the streets of Montevideo (yes I have been on wikipedia, but I bet none of you could state the capital city of Uruguay until now and it is such an interesting word, no?)

In the Democratic Republic of Congo, 230 people were torched to death in a village called Sange after a petrol tanker crashed and caused a huge fireball. Many of the victims were in a cinema watching the game. So many variables. I wonder what stage of the the game the accident occurred at? First half? Extra time? if Ghana had won without going into extra time would all those people have left the cinema at a different time?

So now we have reached the finals and the end of the world cup, Africa's almost crowning moment. My prediction was that an African team should, would and could be in the final, the first on (pseudo) African soil, but I was wrong. So much for my clairvoyance, I need more training.

I read a story about a "psychic" Octopus called Paul, who is incarcerated in a Zoo in Oberhausen, Germany. He has, by predicting Spain's win against Germany maintained an 100% accurate prediction rate in all Germany's games during the this world cup.

They put a container with octopus food, (whatever that is) in the tank with a flag of each nation on each container, and which ever he goes to to denotes his prediction. Apparently he had an 80% prediction rate in the last European cup, his only error was picking Germany as the winners against Spain in the final when Spain actually won. By picking Spain again I bet the the Germans were hoping that he was wrong again, but he wasn't. Maybe he's taking the piss with his a jailers. He predicted correctly all Germany's wins against Australia, Ghana and England, the loss against Serbia and the final loss against Spain. I wonder how he would predict a draw?