A Rump Parliament

On Monday I was at the Palace of Westminster during an historical moment: for the first time in over 300 years the Speaker of the House of Commons was facing the axe by a pack of mercenary wretches. Speaker Michael Martin, like most other defiled MPs, had until a week previous thought he was entitled to his entitlements, as spectacularly evidenced by the one Tory Grandee who had billed the taxpayer for cleaning his moat. Moat cleaning had become not the exception but the rule, for it was revealed that nearly all MPs had been lubricating their drawbridges for years on the taxpayer dime. You could not make this stuff up, so I took my camera with me in the hopes I would get a glimpse of the moment.


The Mother of Parliaments, the Lord's Temple and a Den of Thieves.

Below centre is the Peer's entrance, the Sovereign's entrance is to the far right.

King Richard the Lionheart in the Old Palace Yard

The Old Palace Yard where Guy Fawkes was Executed for the Gunpowder Plot

Across the Street from this Oliver Cromwell Statue was a large Tamil Tiger demonstration, which had nothing to do with what was currently happening inside Parliament. However, one protester did catch my attention...

...This man. My Kind of Protester

"Shyster MPs Must Resign"

"Amnesty and Peerage for the Whistle Blower"

Oliver Cromwell: "In the name of God, go"

Oliver Cromwell, 20 April 1653

It is high time for me to put an end to your sitting in this place, which you have dishonored by your contempt of all virtue, and defiled by your practice of every vice; ye are a factious crew, and enemies to all good government; ye are a pack of mercenary wretches, and would like Esau sell your country for a mess of pottage, and like Judas betray your God for a few pieces of money.

Is there a single virtue now remaining amongst you? Is there one vice you do not possess? Ye have no more religion than my horse; gold is your God; which of you have not barter'd your conscience for bribes? Is there a man amongst you that has the least care for the good of the Commonwealth?

Ye sordid prostitutes have you not defil'd this sacred place, and turn'd the Lord's temple into a den of thieves, by your immoral principles and wicked practices? Ye are grown intolerably odious to the whole nation; you were deputed here by the people to get grievances redress'd, are yourselves gone! So! Take away that shining bauble there, and lock up the doors. In the name of God, go!