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Free Cornish Army Picture
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Apr. 29th, 2008 @ 12:21 pm
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Now I have a scanner that works I can at last post some non-digital photos. Here's an old black and white photo from 1974.
The picture shows the victorious Free Cornish Army taking control of Launceston police station. For those unfamiliar with the Great Cornish Uprising of 1974, the story's here. Launceston was the first town to fall to the FCA. Truro followed an hour later.
I'm the one on the left and, as you can see, my uniform owed as much to Batman as it did to Che Guevara. Ah, the seventies when even the freedom fighters wore capes.
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It's official - I'm a revolutionary freedom fighter ... and possibly a terrorist
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May. 29th, 2006 @ 12:09 pm
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I was googling the other day - as you do - and found that Zoominfo, 'the search engine for discovering people, companies, and relationships,' has outed me. Whereas other people are listed as belonging to worthy organisations like University College, London or The bureau of Land Management, I'm listed as a member of The Free Cornish Army.
I await a phone call from Homeland Security.
But as Zoominfo says:
"ZoomInfo, the premier summarization search engine, delivers fresh, comprehensive information on over 30 million business professionals and 2 million companies across virtually every industry. How do we do it? Well, at the risk of being boastful, we have incredible technology that this guy and this guy and this guy invented. ZoomInfo finds, understands and extracts information from millions of online sources such as Web sites, press releases, electronic news services and SEC filings and summarizes the information into a comprehensive format. Basically, ZoomInfo creates structure out of the chaos of the Web."
So the incredible technology extracted the words Free Cornish Army from an interview I'd given at the Baen website, decided the word 'hoax' was too chaotic and, being revolutionary software, decided to list me alongside Che Guevara as one of the great bearded revolutionaries of the twentieth century.
For anyone who hasn't read my account of how I might have created this army and accidentally liberated a small country - which I did give back - the full account is here: http://www.humor.me.uk/mambo/index.php?option=com_content&task=view&id=27&Itemid=42
As the legendary humour magazine, Punch wrote, "A splendid hoax."
If you want to see what Zoominfo have found out about you, click the link and enter your name:
http://www.zoominfo.com/About/
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How to Create Your Own Nation State (continued)
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Dec. 25th, 2005 @ 10:43 am
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(Part Five - Mobilisation)
Carrying on from yesterday. Everything was now in place. The media were talking about the Free Cornish Army, the police were issuing statements, people had seen the pictures and read the headlines. Expectation was in the air.
And very soon on the roads.
It was time to mobilise.
Now some people say that students are, by nature, apathetic and that only a small minority will ever get out of bed to attend a political rally. (Shakes head) Not if you promise undying fame, a castle or two to storm, and the possibility of appearing on the telly.
We filled the coaches. It looked like a Che Guevara impersonators rally. Except for our contingent of maritime students who were impeccably dressed in their naval uniforms.
Cunning plan number two. Our first objective was the bridges. After all this was the original plan. To set up customs posts on the bridges across the Tamar. Everything else was just back-story to give credence to their existence. So, we dropped off the maritime students at the bridges with a handful of paramilitaries for support before heading into Cornwall.
This was the cunning plan. The maritime students looked like customs officers. The uniforms gave them credibility. When they stepped out into the road and held up a hand people would stop. And stop they did. The police helped enormously by sending along observers to make sure nothing got out of hand. Their silent presence led that extra degree of credibility. Imagine the scene. You're a driver heading towards a bridge. First you see the traffic slowing, then you see the police car, then you see the customs officers stopping traffic, then you see the masked men in olive green and dark sun glasses, then you remember what you'd read in the papers. The Free Cornish Army. The Day of Action. The mobilisation of the Cornish nation....
It worked brilliantly. The customs officers handed out temporary Cornish visas (signed by J. Trelawny, President of the Republic of Cornwall. And told the drivers about the safe routes to follow ... and the no-go areas where the fighting was still intense.
Meanwhile, the rest of us split into two brigades and marched on Truro and Launceston. At Truro the brigade seized the town square, formed into ranks and addressed the crowd who were completely taken in by the fervent rhetoric denouncing the imperialistic English and chronicling the great victory of the Free Cornish Army ... right up to the moment the speaker took off his beret, whipped out his collecting tin and declared Plymouth Rag Week officially launched.
At Launceston we stormed the castle which incensed the man on the gate. Not because we were an invading army but ... because we hadn't paid the entrance money. Even in the midst of insurrection some people have a hard time letting go of their job:)
A great day and we all got on the telly.
And even got a mention in the legendary humour magazine Punch who told their readers:
Just before we'd left London on our 1000 mile car tour of the South-West, the Daily Telegraph had told its readers that the police were investigating the activities of the Free Cornish Army. The Army, it seemed, had a six point plan for Cornish Independence and claimed to have 40 fully trained units ready for action. A document, now in the hands of the police, attacked the use of Cornwall by people from other parts of Britain and noted, grimly, that violence had worked elsewhere. There were also pictures of masked soldiers charging over a hill side.
Dickinson felt we ought to infiltrate its ranks. I think he had visions of being called to the Palace, at the end of the tour, to be knighted for bravery above the call of duty - plus, of course, well-paid appearances on Parkinson, Harty, News at Ten, and This Is Your Life. Alas, the Free Cornish Army turned out to be a joke. The "soldiers" were students from Plymouth Polytechnic publicising their Rag Week. They dressed up, while we were there, in combat jackets, berets and field boots and stopped motorists at vantage points like the Torpoint Ferry, to demand passports. Tourists were given a "temporary entrance permit" bearing a Celtic cross surrounded by the words Republic of Cornwall. A splendid hoax.
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How to Create Your Own Nation State (continued)
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Dec. 23rd, 2005 @ 04:12 pm
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(Part Four - How to knock the General Election result off the front page)
Carrying on from yesterday ... we'd mailed the second press pack, shown them the photographs, announced the Day of Action...
Would anyone bite?
The first inkling of a close encounter of the molar kind came the next day. I received a phone call from the Sunday Bastard reporter who'd twisted my words the previous month. 'Are you planning anything new for next week's Rag Week?' he asked. 'Anything major?'
I bit my tongue. I could feel a surge of cutting sarcasm approaching critical mass. I could have said, 'like gambling all the charity money on the favourite in the Grand National.' But that wouldn't have qualified as sarcasm as we had actually discussed the matter the previous week at a Rag meeting. Cedric, in a flash of non-train related thought, came up with the idea that we should put the lot on Escargot at 8-1. We laughed. Two weeks later Escargot romped home at 8-1 proving that not only truths can be uttered in jest but cunning plans too.
Anyway, back to the phone call. 'No,' I replied, 'just the stuff I told you about.' All this said with an air of casual indifference while thoughts of 'I am not a revolutionary freedom fighter' were beamed down the phone line.
He phoned the police next. Which brings me to note number five to all prospective revolutionary leaders - first, get the police on your side.
Something we'd done on Day One. Cleverly arranging a meeting with the Devon & Cornwall Constabulary to talk about Rag Week - the times, the dates, the route we were proposing for the parade of floats, the ... er insurrection.
Always a sticky moment I find - bringing up one's plan to ferment revolution, storm castles, seize bridges and commit the odd treason or two in front of the local constabulary. But they took it very well. 'It's just a small revolution,' I added. 'Only the one country.'
'And it is for charity.'
Not only did they sanction the revolution - as long as we kept them informed at every step - they agreed to play along - especially with the Press. They'd tell anyone who asked about the FCA that they were fully aware of the situation and an investigation was underway. Something told me they might have had similar experiences with the Sunday Bastard as had I.
So, on the Thursday there was this small matter of a General Election - Harold Wilson, Ted Heath, the miners - you might have heard about it. Close result, everything pointing to another election having to be called within months. You can imagine what the headlines would be the following Sunday.
Wrong! The Sunday Bastard had only one story on their front page - 'THE WEST'S SECRET ARMY' - and a huge picture of four masked freedom fighters charging over a hill. More on pages 2, 3, 5 and seven.
The nationals picked it as well - on the inside pages but prominent. Everyone loved the 'torches of freedom' sentence. But not many printed the photo. In hindsight - note number six to all revolutionary leaders - we should have sent the tabloids pictures of the FCA bare-breasted Amazon brigades. In which case we'd not only have received a front page spread but probably had them switching their allegiance from the main political parties in favour of those 'plucky buxom Cornish gals and their just struggle.'
But that's nit picking, for The Free Cornish Army had arrived. Stage One - credibility - had been achieved. We were headline news, the major topic of conversation on local radio and ready to implement Stage Two. The Day of Action.
Which is, of course, another story. One that will have to wait until tomorrow
(continued next day)
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How to Create Your Own Nation State (continued)
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Dec. 22nd, 2005 @ 10:57 am
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(Part Three - The Sunday Bastard)
Carrying on from yesterday ... we'd mailed the initial press release, now we had the pictures.
So, back we went to Truro (plain clothes this time - which for me in 1974 was purple jeans tastefully flared to almost cover the platform shoes, a frightening amount of primary colours above the waist, and more ginger hair above the shoulder area than one would believe possible)
And off to Fleet Street went the pictures accompanied by a new proclamation. Not only were the Free Cornish Army openly training in Cornwall (see accompanying pictures) but we were planning a day of action on March 7th.
We also sent the press pack to the local and regional papers. One of the papers - which for legal reasons I will call 'The Sunday Bastard' - I had tangled with before.
Cue authorial flashback: A few months earlier I had been interviewed about the upcoming Rag Week by a reporter from The Sunday Bastard. 'What are you planning?' he'd asked. 'Anything new this year?' Naturally I didn't say a word about our intended liberation of an adjoining country. But after a long list of proposed activities I mentioned we'd also hired a train to London - a commercial venture quite common in the West Country to take shoppers/sightseers to the capital for a day. Cedric's idea - he slept with a model train under his pillow.
The reporter suddenly became animated. 'Isn't that the day of the League Cup final at Wembley?" he asked. It was. 'So Argyle fans could take the train to watch the team in the final?'
This was an absurd question. Plymouth Argyle, the local football team, had reached the fourth round of the cup but hadn't the slightest hope of making the final. If there'd been a cup for never having won a cup, Argyle would have been first in the queue to receive it. But I thought I'd humour him. He might be a fan. So I agreed. 'Yes, they could.'
On Sunday the paper devoted a whole page to the interview. Along with the catchy headline. STUDENTS GAMBLE CHARITY MONEY ON ARGYLE REACHING FINAL.
It was my first and last newspaper interview. No one believed I was the aggrieved party. It was just the sort of thing I would have said.
But revenge is a dish best served on the front page. And the Sunday Bastard was about to pay big time.
But that again is another story. One that will have to wait until tomorrow
(continued next day)
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How to Create Your Own Nation State (continued)
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Dec. 21st, 2005 @ 02:32 pm
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(Part Two - The Photograph)
So, following on from yesterday's account - we'd sent out our first communiqué and the seeds of revolution, not to mention the torches of freedom, were respectively sown and alight.
But would anyone take notice? Probably not, which was why I had phase two prepared and ready to roll out. We'd announced our existence, now we needed pictures! Words could light a thousand torches but only a picture could launch the ships.
So a photo session was arranged. We'd gather together a half dozen or so burly students, dress them up as paramilitary freedom fighters and take pictures of us training for combat.
An excellent plan which started with an enthusiastic response. This was the 1970s and we all had our Che Guevara posters and, being men, loved to dress up. Volunteers had to be turned away. Only if we'd called for an army of transvestites - or possibly Glam Rockers (this was the 70s) - would we have had a more enthusiastic response.
A photographer was found and the next day we arranged to meet over the border - attention to detail again - for a day of yomping across the countryside and candid photos.
What to wear? My wardrobe was decidedly thin on olive green and khaki. I had a tie-dye suit in orange, yellow and purple - excellent camouflage for crawling through flower borders...
I decided to go for the green parka and accessorise with a black scarf to wrap around my face. And shouldn't I have a weapon of some sort? This being England, weapons were not exactly thick on the ground in our student flat. So I improvised and decided the shiny metal extension tube of our vacuum cleaner looked just the kind of weapon a hardened freedom fighter might train with until his gun arrived.
I was young.
And queuing for the Cremyll Ferry with a length of metal pipe in my hand. What had seemed a good idea at the time appeared less so when a group of soldiers arrived at the ferry. Note to all revolutionary leaders - when planning the route to your training camps pay particular attention to the location of army bases. The Cremyll Ferry was right by the gates to the barracks of 42nd Para.
A second note to all revolutionary leaders - if you're looking for a place to hide a long metal tube quickly don't thrust the object down your trousers. It may seem a quick solution at the time - especially if you're beset by a sudden and unexpected influx of soldiers - but there are consequences. Not the least being that it can draw unwanted attention.
We collected on the other side of the ferry. Eight stiff-legged freedom fighters. Our initial plan had been to arrive and depart unseen and unremarked upon. Instead we drew more than the occasional glance. What were eight stiff-legged men doing walking off into the bushes?
Training to liberate Cornwall from centuries of oppression was probably not the first thing that flew to people's minds.
Out of sight, we divested our trousers of our mighty weapons and wrapped our faces in scarves and neckerchiefs. And then yomped, posed, crawled through the undergrowth, charged across fields, and nodded sagely as great wisdom was imparted to us by our 'training instructors.' The photographer snapped everything.
The next day we waited expectantly for the pictures. And were shocked.
Note number three to all prospective revolutionary leaders - ban white handkerchiefs from all photo shoots. I couldn't believe it. There we were - running, crawling and being active all over Cornwall - and yet in every picture someone was stood to the side blowing his nose.
Fourth note to all prospective revolutionary leaders - you can't look menacing while blowing your nose. The nose blower in question was my co Rag Chairman and housemate, Ceddie, who had asthma, hay fever and a cold - and probably a note from his mother. Now, maybe I should have realised that the name Cedric and 'hardened freedom fighter' do not often share the same sentence. But he was a friend.
'Don't worry,' said the photographer we can cut him out. Which he did, selecting an excellent close-up of four burly freedom fighters charging across a field - not a handkerchief or nasal spray in sight. The freedom fighter in the foreground - a 6' 2" rugby forward called Big John - would be later dubbed by the media as 'The Big Bugger.'
But that again is another story. And one that will have to wait until tomorrow
(continued next day)
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How to Create Your Own Nation State
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Dec. 20th, 2005 @ 02:46 pm
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(Or ... the real story of the 1974 Cornish revolution)
It all started at a Rag Conference in 1973. I was the newly elected Plymouth Area Rag Chairman (that's UK-speak for student charities supremo) and I was on the look out for two things. One, the bar. And two, the charity stunt to end all charity stunts.
Which is why my ears pricked when I heard someone talking about a really cool stunt they'd organised the year before. "We set up a customs post on a bridge and charged people a toll to cross over."
An interesting idea but why would anyone pay money to a group of students blocking a bridge? This was my embryonic author's brain kicking in - where was the back story? Why the custom post and why that bridge? What the stunt needed was a good dose of credibility. A reason for people not only to stop but to expect a customs post to be on that bridge.
World building 101 - and why I became a teenage freedom fighter. Not only did I have the Che Guevara poster but I had just the very bridge - several of them in fact. Plymouth was on the English side of the Tamar River. Cornwall was on the other side. Now if I could convince people that Cornwall had seceded from the United Kingdom...
No problem. A little research uncovered Mebyon Kernow - the Cornish Nationalist Party - who were fielding candidates in the upcoming general election. All it needed was someone to overhaul their policies - far too tame to interest the national media - and spice up the rhetoric. And we needed something visual - costumes. And so the FCA was born. The Free Cornish Army.
First we had to announce our existence. And second we had to have something to announce. So I formulated a six-point manifesto. Nice simple demands that everyone could understand. And, more importantly, had that stamp of authenticity. These were exactly the demands that a radical band of freedom fighting Cornish nationalists would make.
I forget the complete list but it went something like this.
1. Cornwall to become an independent nation and part of the Commonwealth.
2. Seizure of all 'foreign' owned holiday homes in Cornwall and handing them back to homeless Cornish folk.
3. Cornish to be reinstated as the official language of Cornwall and taught in all schools.
4. And probably a Cornish pasty allowance to be given to all families:)
Then, as all revolutionary governing councils do, we hit a dialectical problem that threatened to split the movement. Who in the British Government were we supposed to inform of our unilateral declaration of independence? The Home Office - wouldn't that mean we accepted that Cornwall was part of the UK in the first place. The Foreign Office - would they even know where Cornwall was?
So we sent our demands to both. And, of course, the press. We took the train down to Truro to make sure we had a good Cornish post mark - attention to detail is everything - and posted our packages. I added an extra paragraph or two of revolutionary rhetoric. Explained how for years we had tried the ballot box but had reluctantly turned to the gun. That we had forty fully trained units waiting to be called into action. And that the torches of freedom have been lit throughout Kernow and we will not see them extinguished in our lifetime. This was the sentence that the national media would quote extensively. But that's a story for tomorrow.
(continued next day)
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