TRAPPED IN A MASONIC WORLD

five hour gun battle with the loyalists. Three people were killed in the clash, Robert Neil, a 38-year-old
Protestant, died instantly when a shot fired from the church bounced off the pavement and hit him in the
spine.
James McCurrie, a 34-year-old Protestant, was shot dead on Beechfield Street, and Henry McIlhone
who died from his wounds two days later, was a 33-year-old Catholic, helping to defend Short Strand,
when it‘s alleged he was accidentally shot from the republican side, however, McKee maintains that
McIlhone was shot by loyalists. - Then as we know, an IRA bombing campaign soon came to the mainland
of England in the early 70‘s, starting on the 8th March 1973 when they conducted their first operation in
Britain, planting four car bombs in London, though only two bombs exploded, killing one person and
injuring 180 others. Ten members of the IRA team, including Gerry Kelly, Dolours and Marian Price,
were arrested at Heathrow Airport trying to leave the country.
And as a direct result of those events, not forgetting the Battle of St Matthews, and all the other
continuing troubles in Northern Ireland, - that it was a bad time in the UK to be at school with an Irish
sounding name, in a predominately Protestant area and country that was technically at war with the Irish.
And it was teachers such as this bloke, known as Mr Waring, who would deliberately dig out and humiliate
kids of Irish descent. He was a bully of man, big in size, and who would pull me aside, I was only between
9 and 11 years old, when he would then drag me down the stairs and push me into a deserted cloakroom,
pull down my trousers, then underpants and whack the living daylights out of my bare arse, using one of
he‘s size 11 rubber plimsoll‘s [trainer], - this form of punishment was termed getting ―the slipper‖.
I‘m sure I wasn‘t the only kid he did this to, but I can‘t recall anyone else ever talking about it. I might
have been a bit cheeky, though I honestly can‘t recall what wrong I ever did to deserve the level of
violence I encountered from that beast of a man. But it was his form of ―Corporal Punishment‖, which
was perfectly legal in those days, and surprisingly it wasn‘t until as late as 1987 it was outlawed in state
schools. At certain times he would use the cane, as did other teachers, and our head master called Mr
Williams, always used a cane, which would be dished out for the slightest thing, such as running along the
corridor, or talking too loudly in class. In his office, he had them proudly mounted on the wall like a rack
of shotguns, whereas instead of the size of their calibre, they were displayed in variants of diameter.
I was around 7 years old when I was first punished by a teacher called Mr Rodney, - and why is it I
remember the names of the wicked teachers, but completely forget the names of the nice ones? Rodney
was a Jewish music teacher, and his favourite choice of weapon was a Ping-Pong bat. He would thickly
chalk on a ‗Star of David‘ pattern on both sides of the bat, then bend you over his knee and proceed to
directly thrash you on the arse and on the outer of your shorts, trousers or skirt with six of his best, which
in turn would leave the impression of the ‗star‘ well and truly impregnated into the material so everyone
knew you had been punished, including your parents when you got home. – By this teacher Mr Waring
having this ―legal‖ form of torture to hand, it worked on a multiple of levels, - one, it was of course a
deterrent to the other kids, two, he hated the Irish, - as he would shout aloud in the class whilst taking the
daily register; ―McCann‖, that‘s not an English name is it, - ―O‘Brian; nor is that is it?‖ And as he did
so, he‘d nod his head in your direction, which was the cue for the other kids in the class to laugh at his
supposedly funny jokes.
My surname is clearly Irish/Scottish sounding, though I was born in Hackney hospital, in the East-end
of London. My father was too born in London, as was his parents. My mother was born in Sligo,
Southern Ireland, and came to England when she was 15 years old. And thirdly it must have satisfied his
child molesting sadistic fetish of being able to whack a child‘s bare bottom without the threat of being sent
to prison, - as he would get sexually aroused, and you could quite easily see his arousal. His breath stunk
and produced volumes of saliva that sprayed everywhere as he barked at you, beads of sweat would run
down his brow, as he would flip back his Bobby Charlton cows-lick style of haircut, which would fall back
down over his eyes following each and every whack he gave me, - six of his finest seemed suffice to
satisfy his sickly perversion. He never touched me sexually in anyway whatsoever, but the bastard
physically and psychologically really hurt and damaged me on numerous occasions, and of course it
mentally scarred me, and perhaps why I‘m still angry with these kind of monsters today.
And just this kind of example alone, shows me the vast differences between the sorts of people that
make up our fucked up societies, - whereas I couldn‘t even dream of doing what those kinds of fiends done
to me and millions of other children all over the country, and throughout the world, no matter what the law
was, or is. I couldn‘t bring myself to wanting the belt the bare arse of a tiny child, and especially so with a
size 11 rubber slipper or cane. Why in my eyes, you might as well kick the fuck out of the poor kid in
front of the class, as I‘m sure that would have certainly acted as a deterrent to the others, and the recipient
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