The Ultimate Vampire Resource and Directory

By Stanley Collymore



From the very first moment that I saw you I instantly

became aware of the tremendous impact you were

having on me and which, as I gradually got to

know you, I insightfully realized was the

commencement of my love for you;

then as I suitably wrestled with

that welcoming thought it too quickly dawned on me that

you for your part were evincing reciprocal emotions for

me. Delightedly, I encouraged these; and buttressed

by my growing feeling for you, which you fully

endorsed with you sympathetic motivation, I

energizingly pressed on. Two individuals

in love with each other and, moreover,

most cheerfully and constructively

prepared to dauntlessly explore

the very enthralling and most

exhilarating possibility of

physically, in addition

to emotionally being

dedicated friends

and amorously

committed

lovers.



At the time both of us were young students enrolled at

the same university college and most propitiously

had discovered, as it happened, that we were

also on the identical course of study that

eventually on our individual and, of

course, successful graduation

would fittingly enable us to joyfully, eagerly and

constructively embark on our carefully chosen

careers as dedicated graduate teachers; fully

aware in our doing so of the multiple and

challengingly exciting responsibilities

which that prospective achievement

on our part would entail for both

of us as we accordingly set out

on a brand new start as part

of the expected and fully

acknowledged gamut

of the continuum of

our still decidedly

in progress but

exciting even

so personal

journey.



At last together romantically while simultaneously

and happily sharing the same study course that

would enable us to earnestly and properly

explore, adjust whenever this was

necessary, and most crucially

all through this academic process be that better

informed to scrutinizingly probe, precisely

complement, and also consolidate our

thoughtfully arrived at conjectural

theories, now through detailed

and scrupulous examination

adeptly transformed into

obviously irrefutable

conclusions, was

champion for

us entirely.



Absolutely inspirational and thoughtfully satisfying in

every possible way yet so uncomplicatedly engaged

in without any fuss; pleasurably and naturally

welcomed, warmly embraced and actively

encouraged by family members and

friends alike whose instinctive

trust in our individual and reciprocal choice

of each other as prospective spouse and

life long partner to each other were

appropriately matched by their profound, most

generous and heartfelt wishes that markedly

were unreservedly, plainly, altruistically

and comprehensively, fully manifest

in the process, merged with their

supportive allegiance to our

future, well-being and, of

course, our mutually

shared happiness.



Happy as two courting blackbirds willingly ensconced

in a Clammy Cherry tree and, accordingly, in our

very own fortunate and convivial environment

thoroughly composed and entirely carefree

in our promising and positively at home

situation as any two self-assured and,

metaphorically speaking, ardently attached love

birds deeply and devotedly in love with each

other could possibly be, we congratulated

each other on our shared good fortune;

none the less never forgetting in our

united celebration and privileged observance our

grateful thanks and profound appreciation to

God Almighty for graciously allowing us

to have and equally pleasurably enjoy

together this incredibly privileged

and fairly unique relationship

that together we had rather

fortuitously managed

to chance upon.



Our individual honours degree successfully completed

and our respective job interviews likewise finalized,

all that now remained before we commonly and

expectantly embarked on our particularized,

promising and encouragingly rewarding

teaching careers was our enormously

anticipated, joyously planned and

personally pledged to be unforgettable

graduation ceremony and celebration; the wonderful

encapsulation of everything, both productive and

enduringly transformative in our lives, that had

happily and thankfully transpired during our

course of study, our truly delightful times

together and, of course, the impending

expectations we reciprocally had not

only on account of us for the very

last time departing our learning

institution and understandably

reflectively musing on them

but also, as we confidently

and with the maximum

of self-assurance and

vigour, were about

to boldly venture

into the future.



Deeply in love, as evidently we were, we were all the

same equally quite matured and highly responsible

enough to know that marriage, home-building

and having children did not normally or, at

the very least, shouldn’t sensibly happen

accidentally or even purposely of their

own accord, but on the contrary had

to be both astutely, assiduously

and positively worked on if developing these objectives

were ultimately to be fruitfully achieved. And those

were the salient criteria that we most carefully

imbued and determinedly tasked ourselves

would be our personal and reciprocal

benchmark and that unwaveringly

from which we would never

ever permit ourselves

to consciously

depart!



But unknowingly and quite disastrously for us the omens

would and did ignobly conspire to ruin our brand new

start; for having purposely and mutually decided to

accept teaching positions at different schools, a

situation freely motivated by neither of us

wishing to metaphorically as it were get

under the other’s feet professionally

at the very beginning of our teaching careers,

that’s exactly what we went on and rather

consensually did. An altruistic move

but despite that, as subsequently

happened, one with very

unforeseen and dire

consequences.



For with my highly capable first aid training which was

markedly complemented by a vast amount of personal

experience that those who were present and actively

involved with my fiancée during that time in the

school’s gymnasium where she was working

in her dual capacity as a P.E. teacher didn’t,

of course, possess; I was explicably but

deeply regrettably not there to save

her life when ironically from a previously medically

undiagnosed and, as a result, an unconscious of

physical illness: namely epilepsy, triggered a

severe epileptic seizure which caused her

limp tongue to block the conduit to her

oesophagus. A state of affairs that in

trained and knowledgeable hands

would’ve been easily rectified

and thus have saved her life;

but in its place, and in the

visible absence of such

skilled assistance my

treasured fiancée

most unhappily

choked and

unluckily

died.



© Stanley V. Collymore

30 November 2015.





Author’s Remarks:

Lorna was 23 years old when she died and like the both of us was in her second year of teaching when that happened. A brilliant scholar, she was also a prolific and very talented poetess and from her school’s report an excellent teacher as well.



Sorely missed, deeply loved and forever remembered!

By Stanley Collymore



Philip Hammond is a brain-dead asshole and psychopathic

retard, and if this sociopathic political degenerate were

properly recognized as the animal that he discernibly

is he would simply on account of his indefatigable

toxic behaviour alone most certainly long ago

have been permanently, and fittingly so, put

out of his misery. But unfortunately since

he’s been incorrectly diagnosed and additionally tolerated

as a probable human being and such vital action isn’t at

all possible as legally human beings, whether real or

in Philip Hammond’s case patently imaginary, can

not practicably be either sensibly euthanized or

colloquially put down under British laws, as

acknowledged animals are and can be; the

case for Philip Hammond being disposed

of or, if you prefer, put down as it were

while not altogether insurmountable,

as I see it, is even so a bit awkward

legally; therefore most regrettably,

but hopefully only temporarily,

Philip Hammond unhappily

and quite detrimentally

in the process for all

of us, still lives on!



And frustratingly the only recourse alas around this, is

if a couple of borrowed David Cameron’s false flag,

jihadist and Useful Idiot terrorists consented to do

us an unexpected and most appreciative favour,

and in their demonstrably effective manner

competently liquated this narcissistically,

tiresome and rabid dog that perniciously

contaminates our allegedly green and

pleasant country, Blighty. Or alternatively, I suppose,

a lone wolf assassin could in the interim do the job

for them that every intelligent person rationally

knows, and that straightforwardly expressed

fully accepts must uncompromisingly be

done in relation to our fatuous, wholly

incompetent, and among those well-

informed segments of our British

population quite au fait with all

of this the easily recognized

and intensely loathed and

unendurable scumbag

politician and rather

bizarrely selected

British Foreign

Secretary who

just happens

to be Philip

Hammond.



But Philip Hammond both psychologically and genetically is

such an ingrained village idiot that even the highly dubious

“status” which comes nowadays with the job of British

Foreign Secretary he’s been given by an unrepentant

mass murderer David Cameron, but that Philip is

even so totally unfit for as he is for everything

else of any consequence under the sun other

than preferably quietly disappearing and

doing himself in – and it’s a perfectly

safe bet that he’ll probably make a

bloody hash of that as well – yet

persistently he carries on

deluding himself in

his pathetic and

imbecile fantasies that

he’s actually something

of importance, quite

indispensable and,

additionally, of

unchallenged

and flawless

notability.



I’m deliberately eschewing in my conclusion of this most

odious and egregious specimen of unknown biological

origin the term “someone” in relation to Philip

Hammond having previously substituted in

its place the word “something”, as in no

way am I convinced that Philip Hammond

is either human or something remotely anywhere near being

a humanoid creature. And frankly I don’t think that any

self-respecting lone wolf assassin would in normal

circumstances want to or expend precious time

and resources on murdering an acknowledged

nobody like Philip Hammond, as obviously

there wouldn’t be any kudos in it for them

doing so; and furthermore would rather

counterproductively from the private

perspective of their impressively

estimable and well-merited and terrifyingly induced

status as ruthless killers needlessly compromise

this carefully acquired position of theirs that

would then indisputably make this entire

activity quite infra dig too. Analogous

to principal British royals fulsomely

supported in this stance by their

legions of subject-sycophants,

unbecomingly expected but

imperiously rejecting all

propositions that they

individually agreed

to wipe their own

backsides after

they’d made

a personal

outing to

the loo!



© Stanley V. Collymore

23 November 2015.





The Author’s Thoughts:

I’ve been exceedingly fortunate that from birth and throughout my growing up years, right into adulthood and presently so I’ve had a string of very prominent and influential mentors that have voluntarily and gratefully on my part had a tremendous and enduring input in my life and furthermore have vastly contributed in a multiplicity of ways with their enormous skills, unquestionable intelligence, savoir faire, profound compassion, humanity, impeccable integrity and consummate compassion in assisting me to become the person that I am and for their sakes and my own will carrying on being the person I am. However among them all one individual has been most paramount in all of this ever since she took me from the arms of the midwife that delivered me into this world, proudly handed me to my mother, and stalwartly has consistently been there for me ever since. That individual with whom I’ve bonded in a manner that words are inadequate to express is my maternal Grandmother. And in the numerous engaging and interesting conversations coupled with the pearls of wisdom she has communicated to me over the years, far too many to enumerate here or do justice to, among them were these two.



I was never under any circumstance to hate anyone as this would be counterproductive from my own perspective since I’d not only be wasting valuable time and precious energy on someone that was absolutely worthless and not deserving of any of these but also by obsessing with that individual I would in effect be handing over what was and should essentially and firmly stay my agenda to that person who would by de facto means, even if they weren’t actually aware of this, nevertheless be allowed by me through my doing so to cloud and determine my judgement about them. The second piece of advice among the two that I earlier referred to was that I should never at any time intentionally wish anyone harm irrespective of how absolutely repugnant they were, for even though I was a Christian and in my religious and cultural upbringing certainly knew the difference between good and evil I none the less wasn’t God and should never at any time arrogantly arrogate that Divine responsibility to myself. However, having acknowledged that, there wasn’t any harm, no pun intended whatsoever, in asking God during my private prayers to Him to impartially review what I personally considered should necessarily be done to that particular individual and let God make the appropriate decision.



And consequently at no time during my life have I ever departed from these more than suggestions that my delightful and immensely astute Grandmother most affectionately imparted to and firmly inculcated in me; and I’m not about to deviate one iota from any of them now, regardless of what the provocation is or how loathsome these individuals are. And while this poem has in it only one named individual, Philip Hammond, the sentiments that unapologetically are expressed by me here are also characteristic of his PM David Cameron, their combined Cabinet; additionally 90% individually of those verminously infesting both houses of parliament, the civil service chiefs, most notoriously the supposed First Division and especially those in the MoD; as well as all those who’re obsessively imbued by parasitical nepotism, risible narcissism and demented arrogance liberally emanating from highly incompetent jerks like Bruce Keogh, purportedly NHS England Medical Director, and handed jobs they’re completely unfit for and should never, even in a million light years, have been considered for let alone find themselves in.



In conclusion there’s David Cameron and in response to his frenetic warmongering, and this from a lowlife, parasitical scumbag who has never in his privileged life worn a British military uniform of any kind but as he ramps up his bogus patriotism doesn’t mind in the least others dying to unjustifiably keep slime balls like him in power, I’d like to quote a response from M. Scott of Newcastle Upon Tyne who writes: “In telling MPs to act like Churchill and not Chamberlain David Cameron is displaying a selective memory. As First Lord of the Admiralty prior to World War I Churchill began mobilizing the British fleet without the consent of Foreign Secretary Edward Grey, Prime Minister H.H Asquith and was influential with his militaristic posturing in coercing the Cabinet into a war that would take millions of innocent lives. Something our politicians would do well to ponder on as they trip over themselves to imitate him.”



I would like to add that it was Winston Churchill, long before Saddam Hussein was born, who was the first person ever to calculatedly order the gassing of the Iraqi Kurds and pledged to wipe them all out; he was also responsible for introducing and assiduously implementing what world widely knows as concentration camps when he employed these to liquidate the Boers of South Africa, with the overwhelming number of these causalities being specifically targeted women and children, and accounts for why he was so detested by the Boers, even the apartheid loving ones, of South Africa. And it must also be pointed out that when the Germans carried out their first two holocausts in Southwest Africa, then a colony of theirs, at the start of the 20th Century and almost 30 years before they again initiated another holocaust but this time in Europe it was the sadistic methods employed by Winston Churchill in South Africa that the Germans emulated. The evidence is there and I’ve personally read the German archive evidence freely available in Germany and done so in their original and contemporaneous German text. And at no time have the Germans dismissed the facts or sanitized them that these barbaric activities of Winston Churchill were other than what they incorporated in their Nazi concentration atrocities and that they owed their implementation to what the British under Winston Churchill had done in South Africa. So go check these out for yourselves!



Lastly, Winston Churchill isn’t and never was any hero, war or otherwise, to me! But instead was a pretty nasty, arrogant and bloodthirsty bastard. And when I was in the Royal Air Force my Commanding Officer, who had no time for him either, confirmed to me the same information told to me by volunteer Caribbean and notably Barbadian RAF fighter and bomber pilots during World War II that it was quite commonplace for the orders that Churchill gave to be readily and completely ignored by many of his Commanding Officers, particularly in the RAF, as they knew perfectly well they were either unworkable or downright stupid, and instead they assiduously carried out their own successfully designed and implemented operations and were extremely clever with it. For well aware what a lunatic narcissist Winston Churchill was then, and throughout the rest of his life come to that, they cleverly and publicly gave him the praise for what they had brilliantly conceived and superbly executed; and being the arrogant fucker that he was Churchill lapped it up, arrogating to himself kudos that were completely underserved by him and consequently developing this personality cult and myth around himeself. Even the inspirational poem he once used to impress the British public with his oratory was written years previously by a Black Jamaican whose work Winston Churchill plagiarised and never gave him any credit for.



But those pulling these ploys didn’t mind for they had a job to do and as long as it was effectively done that was all that mattered. And as a former RAF man myself with top secret classification accreditation and moreover as someone who had access to requisite documents and additionally spoke confidentially to proper Commanding Officers who were in charge then – and not the odious hubristic and full of themselves motherfucking idiots that now “run” the RAF and the rest of our so-called Armed Forces, in effect US lackeys, the British Armed Forces under treacherous, brain-dead cunts like Nicholas Houghton is a fucking joke; and who when I’m in England I wouldn’t care to see the control of my local council public lavatory entrusted to! Let alone anything else. I know what the reality was then during World War II and the lead up to it and don’t much care for the fiction and myths surrounding it. And as far as I’m personally concerned the best thing Winston Churchill ever did was when he dropped dead! And if assholes like David Cameron and many of you out there want to hail him as a hero be my guest. But I’ll tell you this straight up I have more respect for Adolf Hitler than I do or would ever be persuaded to have for scum like Winston Churchill or David Cameron wrapping himself up in the mantle of his like-minded privileged and lowlife piece of shit! Britain didn’t win World II because of Winston Churchill but did so in spite of him!

By Stanley Collymore



For our incomparable leader Mr Jeremy Corbyn – who we

don’t need meaningless or disingenuous titles attached

to him to recognize or accept either his compelling

astuteness or his greatness – and with attendant

heartfelt sentiments similarly bestowed on

all present and prospective members and

the several fully-fledged supporters of Momentum. And to

our adversaries, detractors and critics: genuine or simply

naturally delusional, unlike you, we comprehensively

know, entirely understand, methodically appreciate

wholeheartedly respect, and steadfastly support

with every fibre of our body the precepts of

genuine democracy – not the sham mirage

which is passed off by odious charlatans

as such – and, importantly too, won’t

depart one solitary iota from any of

them. And that’s why we’ll eventually win and you,

unless you transform your antediluvian, untenable,

wholly unlawful and quite discriminatory ways,

will unavoidably and deservedly lose. For put

bluntly and compelled to face glaring facts;

as you inevitably must, time, justice and

irreversible change are most definitely

on our side as is political momentum,

which likewise is with us. And only

doltish losers or those that clearly

and fatuously are ensconced in

their fantasy, virtual reality

world totally removed, as

that is, from all real life

situations predictably

won’t ever be able

to grapple with

or understand

any of that!



© Stanley V. Collymore

13 November 2015.





Author’s Remarks:

Politics should be about tackling serious and other key issues that impact on the daily lives of the citizens of the countries involved and where the politicians who’re democratically entrusted with such power apply it to conscionably deal with these issues in a mature and adult manner, and not aspire to joining or becoming members of ludicrously antiquated and privileged secret clubs that in reality have nothing to do with democracy or how effectively that country should be run; and I’m referring here specifically to the Privy Council. Unfortunately, however, that invariably is far from being the case and is itself often compounded by the fact that should anyone deviate from this accepted norm he or she rather than being seen as a welcome breath of fresh is on the contrary treated as a dangerous pariah and outcast that in no circumstances should be tolerated let alone belong to that assumed privileged club.



That’s exactly the position that Jeremy Corbyn found himself in and because he does see such behaviour as utterly reprehensible, refuses to countenance or indulge in it, and furthermore makes his views unambiguously known in relation to such matters is therefore viewed as a dangerous threat.



Now sensible and intelligent people don’t buy any of this nonsense and to assume or even assert that in the 21st Century this absurd form of outmoded behaviour should be seen and accepted as the fulcrum of civilized behaviour is rather nonsensical to say the very least. And popular though this conduct is with the overwhelming majority of snouts in the troughs MPs, Simon Danczuk among them; current or ex-public service officials financial pimps, of the “calibre” of John Scarlet, and the plethora of those that enthusiastically collude with each other and additionally go to great lengths to safeguard their own paedophilia practising, condoning and the intense safety of their friends comparable activities not only speaks volumes about these persons that in all conscionable terms constitute the individual and collective elements of the detritus of humanity that they undeniably are but also, in my opinion, equally demonstrate just how sick the country they infest is.

By Stanley Collymore



I’m already fully acquainted, if you really must know, with

what they instinctively think of and, what’s more in turn

are explicitly saying about me in the court of public

opinion in connection with you; and earnestly

taking this matter into consideration and

specifically in relation to the situation

that I embarrassingly find myself in and bearing in

mind, too, all the attention that quite obviously

it has been having, who really in their right

mind would then logically want to view

what these people have consequently

wholeheartedly embarked on as

in any way provoking; irresponsibly undertake

to question their impassioned reasoning or

honestly blame them for reaching what

irrefutably from them, and by any

level-headed deduction, is not

only a decisive but also a

singularly arrived at

and unanimous

decision?



For even as those who previously were completely

unaware of this personal situation affecting me

but could now clearly see that those who all

along and moreover had collectively and

persuasively been assertively pointing

the finger of conviction strongly in

my direction as a direct response

to my unquestionable accountability which was

noticeably recognizable to everyone whose

principled objectivity that person was

willing to put on show, certainly

had entirely good and quite

valid reasons in store, in

their well thought out

judgement, that led

unflinchingly to

them doing so!



For to put it bluntly, and as I assuredly knew, they

most definitely had the goods on me knowing

perfectly well, as they unmistakably did,

what my track record on this specific

and amorous subject matter, as it

directly related to you then, was

and had always been; and furthermore in their

resolute estimation of all this had also and

correctly assumed how it positively in

their perceptive eyes accorded with

the decisive conclusion that they

had confidently arrived at and

therefore were unyieldingly

and wholeheartedly quite

geared up to defend in

relation to their own

integrity and, quite

perceptibly, also

their defining

judgment

on me.



So what other course of action in the stated circumstances

that I was starkly faced with could I either seriously or

realistically have embarked upon doing, seeing that

there was no earthly possibility much less so any

truly convincing way on my part that I could

have disagreed with those eyewitnesses

sound and patently unimpeachable

findings? Except, of course, to

publicly and straightforwardly admit to what’s now an

open secret to just about everyone there is; and with

any real hope of securely extricating myself from

the emotional abyss I was clearly in summarily

throw caution to the wind and myself along

with it on the mercy and hopefully too the

impartiality of the court’s jury, and with

the balance of probability in this rather

tantalizing and amorous review of me

delicately poised, it’s true, between

my wining or losing their empathy,

unconditionally plead guilty to

having always been, still am,

and inexorably will always

carry on being eternally

and most enjoyably

in love with you!



© Stanley V. Collymore

12 November 2015.





The Author’s Thoughts:

Ever since Eve coquettishly tempted and quite obviously as well most skilfully and successfully managed to get a massively turned on Adam, evidently and passionately stimulated by what she was physically doing to herself, to sumptuously, quite pleasurably for both of them and, as a by-product of her expert seduction technique on Adam but equally in that intimate process between them set off a sort of procreative chain reaction which subsequently led to generations of human beings, and the same goes for every one of us who’re currently here, being born with more or less the same distinctive inclinations, to greedily eat her apple – incidentally the first recorded account of cunnilingus in the history of human kind – among many other things which Adam gratifyingly did to Eve and ecstatically relieved the sexual cravings of both of them on that auspicious occasion at the dawn of humanity, generations of their human descendants have in one way or another tried to emulate them.



To say they’ve all been pleasurably successful in their enterprise would be a gross overstatement, since as a consequence of the very personal nature of their individual activities trying to glean the unvarnished truth about these would, to put it mildly, be a massive and unrewarding enterprise, as the truth factor couldn’t reliably be depended upon. So instead rampant speculation takes its place and anecdotal evidence becomes the basic framework on which subjective judgements are made. However, whether the real truth does emerge or not what really matters is how each individual in effect adjudicates on his or her own sexual leanings or involvement, and with whom. What terms we choose to either individually or collectively apply to those sexual yearnings: lust, sowing one’s wild oats, abstinence, promiscuity, celibacy or even the general and amorphous one of love.



And who’s to say which of these terminologies or among the several others not listed here that one has the right to apply to him or her when it specifically, directly, individually and even uniquely affects just them? After all it’s their personal life; and as long as they’re unquestionably a compos mentis and consenting adult legitimately doing what they opt to, what business is it of anyone else judgementally, other than with the person with whom they’re personally, physically or emotionally involved? Is that love? Your guess is as good as mine unless it personally affects you!

By Stanley Collymore



For those of you genuinely in love and whose chances of

lovingly and successfully being able to freely live and

mutually share your combined lives together in a

constructively loving partnership or the sacred

union of matrimony as you conscientiously

hoped would be the case in your personal

relationship, but in their place had these

aspirations cruelly challenged, venomously impeded

and gravely in danger of being dashed through the

persistent bigotry and vilifying hatred of those

whose utterly sickening and racist objections

are based and focused entirely on nothing

more than these opponents repellent and

categorically perverse opposition to the

noticeable difference in skin colour and racial origins

of the parties involved. Advice: stick unyieldingly

to your guns and original resolve; don’t in any

way let yourself be intimidated by narrow-

minded coercion, and decisively in no

given situation be either tempted to

or actually submit to what clearly

is orchestrated oppression and,

consequently, apprehensively

allow yourself to succumb

to unjustified defeatism

by throwing the towel

in, and as a result let

such odious people

regrettably win!



© Stanley V. Collymore

6 November 2015.





Author’s Remarks:

It has always been a source of disdainful amusement to me to observe people who’re evidently incapable through any mechanism, fair or foul that one can surmise about, of altering the situation they get so hot under the collar about but which in actuality isn’t to any sensible or intelligent person a problem at all, since it is and has always been abundantly clear that the “problem” which is generating such angst in the minds of those who’re obviously and even openly fanatically obsessed with it, that when looked at impartially isn’t a problem at all other than in the sick minds of those who’re preoccupied with it.



Race and one’s skin colour are two such human and natural variants that promptly come to my mind. And why anybody other than a brain-dead imbecile or a purblind moron would really want to, let alone compulsively utilize their time, personal effort, energy and even their own economic resources with what’s essentially the asinine preoccupation of something which they had absolutely nothing to do with, even in respect of themselves far less so other people, and significantly can’t change however much they might fantasize about such an absurdity is frankly beyond me. Yet bizarrely there is no shortage of such people who thoughtlessly and in defiance of all sanity carry on regardless with their ingrained and pernicious acts of risible lunacy.

By Stanley Collymore



You weren’t planned it’s true and your mother as is well known

to you was white and your father Black; your mum was also

an engaged woman. However, her personal status wasn’t

self-evident initially as she never told me any of this

and I knowingly through fear of losing her chose

not to ask or check it out even though I did

suspect from occasional and inexplicable

acts of her personal behaviour that

obligatorily she was linked, to

put it mildly, to someone

else matrimonially.



But even so I willingly dismissed that as being of no

consequence to me as this suspected other man

involved, I told myself, was a complete

mystery to me and, furthermore,

I earnestly wished to keep

it that way as I hadn’t

met him, didn’t know who he was, had similarly

and firmly embedded it in my receptive mind

and thus staunchly convinced myself that

it was also highly likely that whoever

he might be he was likewise

and absolutely in the

dark about me.



So why, I deliberately persuaded myself, should I

then in those given circumstances unnecessarily

or even unreasonably either for his sake or

my own intentionally open up a can of

worms or, mixing metaphors, a

Pandora’s Box of uncertainties

that could either seriously

or, at its worst, irreparably undermine or

even cause inevitable harm to the then

existing status quo of what he and

I, put bluntly, were genuinely

unmindful of, pretended

didn’t exist or simply

and categorically

didn’t want

to know.



And against that delusional backdrop I purposely and at the

same time self-centredly, I now quite willingly admit,

chose not to stop the pleasurably sexual and deeply

emotional relationship I was having with the

woman that totally unplanned, both on

her part as well as my own, became your mum;

telling and thoroughly convincing myself as

every like-minded person who has ever

been profoundly smitten by love will

do, that I too in the case of your

mother was heads over heels

in love with her anyway

and consequently what

we were consciously

doing didn’t only

feel good but

was equally

perfectly

okay.



Nineteen years old both of us and at a time when the

legal age to independently get married without

having parental consent was twenty one we

very soon realized that while my family

generally and both of my parents

specifically had no objections

to us doing so if of our own

free volition it was what

we actually wanted to do and

similarly like the two of us – your mum and me –

were diametrically opposed to your pregnant

mother killing her foetus, in other words

you her unborn daughter, by having

an abortion, the same humane and

distinctly moral attitudes were

markedly lacking however

when it came to most of

your mum’s family members as well as

several of her closest friends in the

nursing profession that she like

me had happily taken on as

her preferred career, and

who individually, as

well as collectively

now relentlessly

pressurized her

to abort her

pregnancy.



Principally among these callous disparagers and adamant

naysayers was your own maternal grandfather who not

only explicitly voiced his racist objections about me

and your mum’s continuing relationship, cruelly

claiming that it was destined to go nowhere

if he had anything to do with it, but also

rigidly insisted and doubly made sure that as far

as he was concerned any anticipated marriage

between your mother and me would quite

relentlessly be thwarted by him, and

furthermore for the time being was

definitely out of the question as

he would uncompromisingly

and legally prohibit it by

refusing his necessary

parental permission.

And that’s exactly

what happened!



Meanwhile, as a strict condition of easing your mum’s

utterly compromised but all the same still accepted

athough clearly stressfully tolerated presence

within her own family she was told that

she would have to agree to visibly

disguise her pregnancy for as

long as she possibly could to presumably, of course, stop

herself in her present condition from occasioning her

family assumed and predictable societal disgrace

if her unfortunate condition became generally

known within the community, thereafter to

sensibly and secretly decamp to a home

for unmarried mothers far away from

the vicinity of her own community

and ruefully remain there until

inauspiciously she had given birth to

what her critics: not only those on

the outside but equally too in her family and

most ironically and rather risibly as well

inside that unmarried mothers’ home

pitilessly perceived as and nastily

denigrated - whenever they

condescended to make any

reference to you – as

your nigger-loving

mum’s bastard

and unwanted

half-caste

baby.



I was promptly notified of your entry into our world and

allowed by the very empathetic and Black matron of

the North Riding maternity hospital where your

mum gave birth to you. to joyously see you

the day after you were born and most

thankfully on an unimpeded basis

afterwards permitted to carry

on doing so during your

mum’s stay there. But

this arrangement

came to an abrupt end however on the transfer back to

the unmarried mothers’ home where your mother

and you would stay until arrangements had

been finalized and you were taken into

care: a strict prerequisite for your

mum being fully accepted back

into the bosom of her family

once you were finally out

of the way. Meanwhile, I was permitted just the

one visit, as this transition rapidly moved to

its fruition, by the female warden at this

unmarried mothers’ institution whose

unhelpful and bigoted opinions on

Black-White relationships and

all offspring stemming from

them she condescendingly

somewhat superciliously,

singularly, and most

offensively made

unambiguously

evident to me.



I wanted to adopt you and with my parents and entire family

wholly supportive of me in this specific design of mine

I made a formal request to do so that was summarily

turned down; for although there was not a crumb

of doubt in anyone’s mind that I was indeed

your biological father, devotedly loved

you and additionally had from the

very beginning voluntarily and

wholeheartedly accepted full responsibility for all

my several paternal obligations, even being the

one who in mutual collaboration with your

mum had given you your Christian and

also my Surname proudly placed on

your birth certificate when at the

local registry office I proudly

registered your birth. But clearly alas none of this

didn’t matter one iota, nor the fact that all of my

relatives both saw and totally regarded you as

family as they welcomingly looked forward

to formally inducting you into our familial

ranks, thanks to those whose decision it

was to make in relation to my adoption

application and who in their outright

delusional, white supremacist and

sick frame of mind unbelievably

reasoned that having you grow

up in care organized by white

and economically motivated

strangers was much better

than having you entrusted

to the tender and loving

care of your own Black

and biological family.



Thinking that they had a better nature to which I could

logically appeal and in that sense throwing caution

to the wind in my earnest and optimistic zeal to

win them over, I pleaded vainly with them to

rescind their most unhelpful decision or at

least to allow me the humane chance of,

unconstrained, having a close paternal

relationship with my own daughter. But alas this private

request was similarly dismissed with the pathetically

lame and wholly unconvincing explanation that it

was “in the child’s best interest” for her not to

be confused; and moreover growing up with

and surrounded exclusively by whites, as

she was, the entire basis of her cultural

orientation as well as her unassailably

having in her mind a preset British

European and a white Caucasian

cultural identification would in

their opinion, they resolutely

construed, be sorely diluted

and even acutely damaged

by the pointless injection

into my daughter’s life

of a far-reaching and

primarily unknown

Black component.



To all intents and purposes then they’d not only won but

had equally taken observable satisfaction both in their

victory, as well as them rubbing salt into my gaping

wound; but, even so, I was steadfastly determined

not to be arbitrarily or soul-destroyingly undone

by these ferally-disposed, racially entrenched,

delusional and white supremacist mindset

Caucasians. And that while in their eyes

what human rights I may have had

in relation to you my daughter was the uninfringeable

lawful compulsion of maintenance payments to you,

which incidentally from the very beginning I had

wholeheartedly, consistently, would steadfastly

keep on doing and all this most willingly too;

I studiously pledged to myself that having

remorselessly been shut out of your life

in the way I was that in spite of how

long it took, and if necessarily too

totally into your adulthood, you

would ultimately know from

me that I had not forsaken

you and that now as then

I shall eternally carry

on being your loyal

and profoundly

adoring Dad!



© Stanley V. Collymore

3 November 2015.





Author’s Comments:

The absolutely brilliant, exceedingly principled, thoroughly well-informed, thrillingly entertaining, spellbindingly communicative, a comprehensively superb human being and the most unforgettable, regrettably late and profoundly missed British historian, writer and renowned Africanist Professor Basil Davidson in his universally acclaimed, and quite deservingly so, Africa documentary series captivatingly, meticulously and impeccably truthfully outlined the history of human habitation across the British Isles and most specifically so, and from the perspective of this commentary of mine, our island home Britain prior and subsequent to its detachment from mainland Europe; and doing so thankfully without an intimation of the customary conceitedly embellished, fabricated and downright lying versions of British and other histories too arrogantly and demonstrably portrayed and so characteristic of the writings of many other white Caucasian, and particularly, British historians and especially where Africa and its Diaspora are concerned; as it simply wasn’t Professor Davidson’s forbidden or inclination.



I don’t need to add anything either in terms of providing confirmatory information in relation to what professor Davidson has written or for that matter in respect of any supposed elucidation of any of his works; for how dare one even with the best of intentions in mind seek to or could seriously think that something that was already brilliantly outstanding in every respect, a par above excellence and furthermore constituted the explicit genius of Professor Davidson need improvement of any kind?



Personally, I wouldn’t dream of ever embarking on such a task since it would be a monumental and unrewarding quest and quite literally be tantamount to trying to teach one’s granny how to suck eggs. But for the express benefit of the legions of ill-informed, downright ignorant, patently stupid or brain-dead, self-absorbed, risibly delusional, intellectually challenged and the largely white Caucasian populace of the British Isles with their fanciful and deeply ingrained notions of what for them the word indigenous absurdly means and additionally who the first inhabitants of the British Isles were and where they actually came from; who subsequently followed them there; how long they stayed independently and culturally apart or chose to merge with other communities; when all of this happened and what meaningful contributions or otherwise this continuum of migration to Britain and its outlying islands over several millennia to the present day made to what the United Kingdom is today, that you our supposed “indigenous” white breed in 2015 advisedly acquaint yourselves with the instructive writings, films, historical documentaries and the other excellent and detailed works of Professor Basil Davidson.



That detailed and vital introduction was to slam on the head and dispel the manufactured and preposterous myth that Britain always was and as such uncompromisingly, methodically and non-deviatingly must promptly revert to being the rightful bastion of all-white exclusivity that it previously was. Far from to tell you morons out there who revel in this nonsensical stuff how to get your personal kicks. But I’ve news for you, and frankly must tell all of you that you’re incontestably barmy, for Britain was never such a place. And barring a hypothetical or even an actual ethnic cleansing holocaust that those of your sick mindset like to fantasize about and that would be globally resisted and vigorously defeated, such a scenario is unlikely ever to happen. But what the hell? If you pillocks like living in your fanciful virtual reality world totally divorced from the actual realities of life and it’s how you manage to get your rocks off – then dream on, I say!



This poem is factually based on an actual occurrence which at the time and previously wasn’t by any means a unique situation. Since for most of the 20th Century this is precisely how the offspring of Black-White relationships were treated. And prior to the 1960s it was distinctly commonplace for a white mother in a relationship with a Black man whether she was married to him or not, and how stable or otherwise that relationship was, who became pregnant to have her baby statutorily taken away from her, placed into care or else be exclusively palmed out to white foster parents, never Black ones, while the child’s mother was medically sectioned, no matter how unwarranted in every respect, medically and conscionably, such action was, but to utterly sick white minds she had to have something wrong with her to have got voluntarily got involved with a Black man in the first place; and this hapless mother was invariably and usually permanently confined to a “lunatic” hospital, while everything humanly possible and compounded by zealous official backing was studiously and psychologically done to socially engineer that child to reject its black identity and absorb for the sake of “whitening” itself, mentally and in terms of its own later procreation – the breeding out of its blackness in other words – submit to the same practices as were carried out with Aborigine children in “civilized” Australia.



Ironically, the hospital where the child in this poem was conceived and which was created in 1847 on the outskirts of the City of York as a lunatic asylum and had mushroomed not only into a huge but also a comprehensively sustainable mental hospital with everything from its own farm, enormous grounds, private laundry facility, shop and even a church and had itself been the longstanding “home” to some of those aforementioned white women who had been sectioned there, was also the place where the parents of this child first met and both worked as psychiatric nurses there. I wish I could say that the rearing and youthful upbringing of this child was a satisfactory one; but it wasn’t. And predictably most of what happened to her clearly wasn’t her fault. However, she did eventually turn her life around, found someone that loved her for who and what she is and reciprocally fell in love with him. They got married, have been happily together for years and have a family of their own. All of which she has pleasurably and gratefully been able to share with her biological father who never gave up on her, and with whom just after her 21st birthday contact was made.

COMMENTS

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masterc
13:59 Nov 04 2015

Interesting

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