Julian Cope presents Head Heritage

Beltane 2000CE

May 2000ce

Mayday, Mayday, Mayday. Beltaneous Salutations to all ye Forward Thinking Mofos as we ooze further into Year Zero. Mayday. The Goddess Maia – Holy Mother of God. The May Bride. The dance around the phallic Maypole symbolic of the Goddess mating with the God of the Beltane – the fire of Bel, he who cannot be contained within any ‘house made of hands’, he whose ‘temple is the universe.’

With that thought alone, it was pretty funny to watch the uneducated Corporate Knobshiners Blair and the Strawman tantrum-it-up on behalf of the No Marks of McGreedia. A little preliminary detective work by those clueless non-Sherlocks and they could have seen the trouble coming a mile off. Read your Golden Bough you political zeros – ‘the profligacy which notoriously attended these ceremonies was … not an accidental excess but an essential part of the rites.’ They invite protest in Whitehall at the legendary time of the Lord of Misrule and then tut-tut when it all goes off.

So what if Ronald Mac’s Golden Arches got troshed! So Wat Tyler! British political history shows it was ever thus – and stopped them selling a few more truckfulls of their MacMuck. Trashing MacDonald’s was a magnificent political act. Surely the protesters accidentally trashing the shops on either side of Ronald’s temple is no worse than the UN accidentally bombing the Chinese embassy in Serbia because it was neighbour to an arms dump – did the media call the UN mindless hooligans? Or did they not just Cut them a little slack?

(Bogus) voices of Reason everywhere complain that such actions remove our right to protest. Bullshit and baloney. Do you have kids too? Aren’t you fed up with MacSalespitches offering free cutsie toys and models figures of this’n’that to your kids – only free so long as you sacrifice them on the altar of Ronald M. What price ‘Free’ with rainforest burgers, fries and shakes, mofos!

Me, I’m a paint thrower too so I don’t care about paint on Churchill’s statue in Parliament Square. And I love Winston Churchill. You should love him too, motherfuckers – and know this: he was a visionary of his own time and he wouldn’t have given a damn about a few uppercrusty graffitis on his statue. He’d have understood the whole deal right off. Just because we know him as forever old/fat/bald doesn’t mean he wasn’t once a freethinking righteous worldsaver dedicated to ending the pain of the black race in South Africa, the Jewish race in Europe, and the human race in the blank face of World Patriarchal Bigotry. So don’t let the indignant schmutterings of the Widow Biddycombe and Steve ‘Newbury Bypass’ Norris presuming to speak on Winnie’s behalf put you off one iota.

Namby Pambies like Blair and Straw wouldn’t have fought anybody on the beaches – they’d have invited Hitler for tea at the Queen’s just like they did with Vladimeer Puttin’ the Boot-in. Viva the Streetfights, viva Winnie the Church, viva the Lord of Misrule. Like Engels said, when culture comes crashing down only the barbarians will be there to support it. Rock’n’rule!

Fuck Capitalism. Fuck Fascism. Fuck Totalitarianism. Fuck Death Culture. Fuck Greed. Fuck ignorance.

Gimme life. And re-Define Hung Parliament!

Love on ya,

JULIAN