Archive for April, 2009


Review: Ultravox, Hammersmith, 24th April, 2009

Viewers who are aware of my peccadillos will be aware that I have a certain….um…passion about the music of Ultravox. So this review isn’t really going to be that critical, lol..Anyway, its more of a ‘what I did on my day in That London.’ sort of thingy.

So, for those that don’t know, a little bit of history. Ultravox started waaaaaaaayyyyy back in the early to mid 70’s and went through a few name changes until they settled on Ultravox.  They had a deal with Island records and came up with three albums..then the deal ran out. The singer, John Foxx left the group, as did the guitarist. So the three remaining members, Warren Cann, Billy Currie and Chris Cross went on the hunt for a new lead man. It was suggested to them that they might like to get Midge Ure involved.. They then went ahead and became incredibly succesful, being one of the most influential bands of the eighties. Their track, Vienna, is considered by many to be the definative track and sound of the eighties.

In November 1988  the band split as they’d slowely drifted apart.

And I never go tto see them in concert. Oh, I’d seen the Monument video, yes, and seen their stint at Live Aid, but that was it. Ever since I discovered the band in 83 – yeah, I came late to the party, blame my mother – something about the sheer power and poetry of their music appealed to me. It wasn’t just hard edged pop or rock with synthesisers. There was a classical element to it which struck a chord with me – no pun intended.

Over the years I’ve been to Midge Ure solo concerts, but, well, no offence to Midge, it just wasn’t the same – and rightly so. Midge solo is a very different sound to Ultravox and damn good in it’s own right.

However, Ultravox reformed. The 4 members from the eighties’ line up got back together and have been playing a string of dates across the UK. And last night they camed to Hammersmith, to what many have called the band’s spiritual home, the Hammersmith Odeon – or HMV Apollo as it’s now called – blech.

I’ve never been to a ‘proper’ gig as such before and the fact it was Ultravox had me bouncing off the walls for a few days beforehand. Jo and I met in Victoria and tubed it to Hammersmith. Jo needed to collect her ticket and when she did found a lovely little surprise – vip passes that would allow us to the vip lounge and the after show party. Both of us, truth be told, were a little..hmm…surrealed out just by the fact we were seeing the band – seeing their name on the front of the venue was a warming, if odd moment. Anyway, not managing to get tickets to the pre-gig ‘Voxgate’ meant we had to pop to a local boozer – and my Bod, we actually discovered decent pub grub! It actually exists!

After a couple of rums and the grub, we popped back to the venue to find the street outside packed with people. The band had sold out Hammersmith. We eventually got in and bravely fought our way to the merchandise fortress. Then we dug out a couple of certain passes and popped up to the completly empty vip lounge, LOL. To be honest, it was just what I needed – some time away from a large mass of people, as my brain was edging towards ‘panic-mode’. That and my legs were a lil wonky and so the provision of the Sofa of Extreme Comfort in the vip lounge was a blessing, lol.

We missed the support – apologies for that, but took our seats – which were rather good uns – in anticipation. The stage darkened…

And the ‘tinks’ began.


What a great way to open a show, a huge wall of sound blasting out a wonderful instrumental track that every fan knew. My face started to break into what can only be described as a dazed smile. A quick look at Jo had me realising that any hope for an inteligent response off her would have to wait for a couple of days. The crowd had got to it’s feet, everyone at a sold out Hammersmith just eagerly awaiting the time of their lives.

Billy Currie

Billy Currie

The crowd cheered when Billy popped forward with his fiddle  – a long held iconic moment for the band. After that, We Stand Alone and, alas, despite UN Resolutions to the contrary, I started to sing.

I can only apologise.


Billy, Midge and Warren

Billy, Midge and Warren



I’m not going to go into it track by track, there would be no point. Nearly all the hits were there – I may be wrong but I think only We Came To Dance and Love’s Great Adventure were missing. They played nearly all the Rage In Eden stuff, nearly all the Vienna stuff – including some choices that some have found surprising – Your Name (Has Slipped My Mind Again) being one of them – with a wonderful swinging lightbulb on the screens behind the band.

Cloistered Shadow.... :P

Cloistered Shadow.... 😛

Midge Ure

Midge Ure

Warren got to do his Mr. X vocals, proving he still has one of the deepest voices in music, lol. The audience was incredibly lively and totally into it, each track being greeted with a roar, and finished with huge applause. The band themselves looked like they were having a whale of a time, smiling, beaming even..  Midge’s voice was probably the strongest Ive heard it live. Yeah, there were a couple of little hitches – soemthing happened with The Thin Wall and during the encore of Sleepwalk Billy’s Mac decided to conk out, meaning no solo from him.

Billy Currie with orgasm face, lol

Warren Cann to the left and Billy Currie with orgasm face, lol

Chris Cross (no, really...)

Chris Cross (no, really...)

The crowd sang along happily – it was a joyous event – blasting out One Small Day and Hymn. Then the final song; The Voice, long a favourite of fans at Ultravox concerts. Tbh, I don’t think I’ve ever seen or heard three drums being snuck onto front of stage greeted by such a huge roar from the audience. You see, the band finish The Voice by beating the living daylights out of the drums – its a show stopper. They didn’t let us down.

THE Voice

THE Voice

Midge Ure

Midge Ure

billy avec violin

billy avec violin

And so the show finished. Time had flown by – to be honest it felt dreamlike – I’m still wondering if it actually happened, lol. Being in that audience felt almost like being in a huge congregation of a gospel church. I had a simpley wonderful time, fulfilling a teenage ambition.



Buggered if I know what I’m going to do now, lol.


Silent march for the Jersey victims


On April the 25th 2009 at 12 noon there is to be a silent and peaceful march from Peoples Park to the Royal Square. The march will be in support and acknowledgement of victims of child abuse past and present across the world.

On October the 21st 1996 up to 300,000 Belgian citizens took to the streets wearing white ribbons and arm bands as a symbol of hope which became known as “The White March”. It was not only a march for hope but also a silent peaceful protest against their governments handling of the of the Marc Dutroux case which bears many similarity’s, not only to the way our government has handled the child abuse scandal that has hit Jersey, but the way child abuse is handled by some governments across the world.

We would like the Jersey White March to be non political or critical of our government or police investigation. We believe it will be an opportunity to show abuse survivors and the rest of the world that the good people of Jersey do not condone abuse of any human being – child or otherwise.

Abuse survivors, across the globe, have had theirs and their family’s lives torn apart, wrecked, and destroyed, not only by the heinous abuse they have suffered at the hands of their abusers but the wall of silence that inevitably surrounds the taboo subject of paedophilia.

This March has the support of the Care Leavers Association (CLA) and the Jersey Care Leavers Association (JCLA) Please give this march and all abuse survivors your support and show the world the good people of Jersey DO care.

We would ask that if you are able to attend the march that you wear something white, a symbol of hope.

If you are a blogger and support abuse victims around the world, please copy and paste this into your blog for this Saturday, the 25th April.


A Big Finish…

Viewers may be interested to know that I’m going to be starting to review Big Finish audio plays. Since I’m not on the WhoCast I’ve somewhat fallen behind with reviews of their output, which is a shame as they’re always enjoyable, even if occasionally they do get it not quite right.

So, shortly, and when I’ve had time to actually listen to ’em, I’ll be playing catch up and reviewing the UNIT series, Dalek Empire: The Fearless, Orbis and A Storm of Angels. If you already have these, then dust ’em off and have a listen again and see if you agree or disagree with my ramblings. I admit the reviews won’t be as good as in audio as I do work better with someone to bounce off – Im no writer, really, lol. But whatever you think of ’em, please do comment on the relevent blog entry, think about what your gonna type and lets get some healthy debate going. If you don’t already have ’em, well..either wait to see what folks think, or jump into the deep end and get em. Remember, Big Finish have a download service which is very good.

Ok… I go now to do listening…..


Planet Of The… Er… Dull…

Ok, I admit it. My Fan Gene won out and yes, I feel cruddy for it.

Not just cruddy for being unable to stick by my principles, but also…dear Bod….Is THAT why I sold out?

Was it actually worth it?


Very much NO.

Planet of the Dead starts off just fine…nice lil theft, mad doc dave popping on a bus – with a carefully placed Easter Egg to remind folks of when this is broadcast – cos face facts, with easter being a floating event we’ll never be too sure…obviously someone in Pope Arsehole’s dept can’t be bothered to actually find out when one guy was nailed to a tree… Yeah, I know, it’s based around the lunar cycle…makes complete nonsense of organised religion which is, face facts, complete nonsense. Oh, I have my beliefs, I just hate them to be organised…

Ahem..I digress..

The lil iddy biddy bus goes through the tunnel and piff paff poof, suddenly we’re in Dubai.

What a waste of money. Dear Bod, how the hell can they justify it. Seriously..a few nice pics and thats it. Sorry, but I reckon it’s almost a criminal waste of money. They should be bloody ashamed. In fact, get RTD to repay the money out of his salery. Im not a RTD knocker – yes he has his faults, but then so does anyone and I certainly couldn’t write stuff like he does… but really..this was one extravagance too far.

Anyway. The bus passengers are…well…non-entities, really. Just there…well…um…look, there was a nice lady who’s only function was to warn Proper Dave that naughty type things will be happening a little later in the year, so don’t forget to tune in. The only other possible function for the passengers was as a reflection of ‘Midnight’. This time there’s faith in Proper Dave and he succeeds without any sacrifices and being clever helps him rather then turns em against him. Anyway, why bother with Ugly People on the bus when you have Lady Posh Totty to flirt with and spend 45 minutes congratulating each other on how good you both are? All Proper Dave seems to do in this story is ask himself what something is and then give chunks of exposition. Thats in between the flirting, of course. I don’t mind a sexual Doc…but the story must come first.

So..well..the Dubai stuff and the story around it are a complete waste of time. Dull, dull, dull. Other charecters forgotton about, a Doc thats just there to tell folks whats happening and not really anything else…sorry Gareth, it just didn’t work.

Except for one superb addition to the mythos.


And his Bernards.

Oh, what a joy that charecter was. How utterly wonderfully played by Lee Evans. We badly need to see more of Malcolm, d’ya hear me MN Vast Toffee??? Truly a spiritual descendant of Sgt Osgood. Mind you, this and Torchwood have now shown that UNIT, (Thats the UNITED NATIONS Intelligence Taskforce!!), is a very…hmm, hard edged organisation. This is understandable, but it doesn’t sit well with our cosy Lethbridge-Stewart days. I don’t see Brigadier Courtney pulling a gun on his own science advisor just cos he wants to wait a sec. Pulling a gun, yes..but Great Uncle Alistair always had a modicum of sense. Even in the Three Doctors!

So, all in all, forgettable. Bar Malcolm and the fact that all that money was wasted.

Damn shame.


Charlie and the Neglectful Owners….

I am, aptly, writing this with my youngest cat, Sebastian, on my lap..which makes life interesting, lol.

Right then, just to show folks just how horrible and selfish some people can be…

About, what, 3-4 years ago I was around my neighbours – lets call her Bert. Now Bert, as Im sure you’ll be aware by now, has a thing about cats which is probably greater then my own..she dotes on cats. And one day I saw her in her kitchen with tears dripping down her face. She pointed to her front garden. Slowly skulking around the garden was a very, very thin black and white cart. Its fur was matted and muddy. It obviously needed worming and de-fleaing and a thorough check up with a vet. There was no doubt about it, a cat in the state he was in was very obviously a stray. I managed to approach it, picked it up – the poor little thing was far too weak to put up any resistance. I took him home, popped him in my bedroom away from my own cats, and called the Cat’s Protection League.  I couldn’t clean him up myself, but they said that they would clean him up, get him checked over by a vet etc and I said that I could provide a home for him, once he was ok to let around my own mob.

The upshot of it was that he came home to me. The first night he slinked into the lounge, ignoring the outrage from my lot, jumped onto my lap and started to purr. he was still in a wretched state. Cleaned up it was obvious his fur had been falling out, he was on pills and I later found out that he had a mouth virus that would need steroid treatment for the rest of his life.

I eventually got to the stage of letting him out. And toddled off…. Hmm, I thought. I followed him down the road to a house that he seemed to kknow well. So I knocked on the door. The people there, despite their daughter’s happiness to see him, denied he was theirs. He belonged to a friend who had called him Charlie after the drug – witty, huh? But Charlie certainly knew his way around their house. I spoke to the woman and she continued to deny owning him. I told her what had happened and that I could provide a home for him. This she was only too happy to agree to. After all, Charlie wasn’t her cat, was he? Just as well, I thought, or Id have the RSPCA out on her.

So Charlie lived with me and showed his gratitude every day. He was quite elderly and he cost me about a grand at the vets over the time he was with me, but he was worth every penny. Ironically with all that was wrong with him, he died of old age.

Skip forward to a couple of weeks ago. My neighbour – lets call her Bert – has a ginger cat and over the past few months Id noticed a miniture version of this cat hanging around at all hours of the night and day. This tiny little female ginger cat – a very rare thing apparently – decided that it was going to start visiting Bert. Bert’s front window is always open during the day as she, like me, has a cat that’s too daft to know how to use the catflap. So this tiny ginger thing was dashing into her house, yowling its head off and polishing off all the catfood that was around. The little thing was incredibly thin and starving hungry. This became a regular, daily thing. At night it would bellow at the window to be let in. And considering all that bert has been through of late, it was a great way of perking her up a little, even though we knew that there would come a crunch time when the cat couldn’t come in – it was pregnant.

Today a note gets put through Bert’s door, stating that bert is trying to steal the cat, keeping it in overnight and threatening to get the police involved. Well, once we’d stopped laughing, we went around to the house the note had come from. Guess what? It was the same place that Charlie had apparently not come from. Bert explained there was nothing she could do and that the cat was just barreling her way in to get food etc. But the woman was not happy. She looked at me and accused me of ‘doing the same with one of her other cats’. That was when I got narked and told her that she’d denied owning Charlie and if Id have known Id have got the RSPCA out to her for neglect. That shut her up. It’s obvious that they see this female ginger as a cash cow – it’ll be kept pregnant as much as possible. The garden is covered in dog muck from the huge Rottweiler they own – a dog the cat is scared of. Naturally, this ginger cat isn’t the property of this woman, oh no. It belongs to her boyfriend who is away….. Her animals never seem to belong to her.

Lies, neglect and agression. Lovely people. I doubt this is the end of it…there’ll be more trouble yet for Bert.


The Five Tonys…..

So, today marks the 20th aniversary of me leaving Jersey and moving to the UK

Odd feeling, to be honest. As much as I detest what Jersey has become, I do miss the old place something terrible. Or am I just missing the nostalgia? I mean, I occasionally watch Bergerac just to see the place. Of course, it’s nothing like it was – its changed a hell of a lot since I was last there.

I originally moved over to Manchester. It was blazing sunshine in Jersey, so I wore a tshirt and very light jacket….when we arrived in manchester it was snowing. Typical, lol. Since then work has moved me further south, firstly Milton Keynes, Flitwick, Bound’s Green (where M. Khan is still, so Im told, bent), Pimlico… Then to Crawley. I’ve made truly wonderful friends and learnt the value of friendship. Ive run around caves hitting people with make believe swords. Ive got very drunk. I’ve got very drunk lots of times, now I think about it. I’ve worked as security, a driver, a door to door sales blokey, a call center chappy. I’ve loved…maybe not wisely in some cases, but well. And I have cats.

In short, life.

Hmm….not bad, I suppose. Oh, in case your wondering about the title..well…I recently found out on Friendface, that there is more the one Tony Gallichan!!!! I was mortified and needed a nice cup of tea! In fact theres a Gallichan group! Its a bit dave Gorman-y if you think about it too long, but hey, we get to laugh at people who can’t pronounce our name, lol.

And now, apologies, but this has to be done – its The Law….


One day I shall come back, yes, I shall come back. Until then there must be no regrets, no tears, no anxieties. Just go forward in all your beliefs and prove to me that I am not mistaken in mine…

(and cue grams…)



From the Horse’s Mouth…

Right, this entry is essentially copy/pasted from Stuart Syvret’s blog. It details just what happened yesterday. Please take a mo to read it. Cheers.



A day of Arrest, Lies and Harassment.

It’s very early on Tuesday morning.

I’m trying to explain, briefly, given how tired I am, what took place this past Monday.

In “The Jersey Way”.

All I can do is provide you with a brief narrative at the moment. With a little background information.

I, and those of my constituents I have been working with in respect of the Jersey Child Abuse Disaster, know – all too well – the utterly corrupt, stagnant and Kafkaesque environment we contend with in Jersey.

We are faced with a massive variety of corruptions – entrenched and virtually unchallengeable – within this little fiefdom ruled by an elite made barking-mad by dint of zero challenge to their abuses of power over the centuries.

A state of affairs Jack Straw seems entirely content with.

The inevitable disintegration of the credibility of the Jersey oligarchy has been triggered by the Jersey child abuse disaster.

And it is that issue – amongst others – I have been fighting to expose; fighting on behalf of a wrecked and abused cohort of my constituents – who have been repeatedly betrayed over the decades by “authority” in Jersey.

And as though any further proof were needed of just how stagnant and corrupt the “system” in Jersey is – we come to what Bill Bailhache enacted against me today.

I’m happy to say, under oath when the need arises, that everything have done as a politician – especially in the context of the Jersey Child Abuse Disaster – has been in the public interest.

And – indicative of how corrupt and stagnant power is in Jersey – it is me who feels the weight of the oligarchy’s displeasure.

Today, at 9.00am, I stepped out of my home to go across to my car to get my iPod.

I had taken perhaps three steps when four unmarked police cars descended upon me, with a total of around eight police officers.

In a scene like something out of a New York cops & robbers TV programme, I was surrounded, a cop grabbed my arm, and told me I was under arrest.

I hadn’t planed to leave my home that day, so hadn’t’ yet showered, shaved or put on smart clothes. I was just going to get my iPod.

Obviously, the cops had been planning this for some weeks, and on this particular occasion, had – for reasons I’ll explain later – been waiting outside my home for me to leave the premises.

So I stepped out of the door and the mob of cops descended upon me as though I were a terrorist or a drug dealer.

I knew, instantly, what was going down.

The lead cop grabbed my arm, and told me I was under arrest; I asked what for, and he said data protection offences.

I asked him who had authorised this action.

He would not respond.

He and his colleague stated they were taking me under arrest to the police station.

Being dressed scruffily, I asked if I could, at least, get a clean T-shirt.

Four of the cops quickly rushed me into my home so I could get a clean T-shirt.

At that point I asked the lead cop for a copy of the search warrant.

He initially said, ‘yes’ – but within half a second – after having semi-reached into his jacket pocket, said “no, actually, we will give it to you down the station”.

No search warrant was, in fact, issued, and concomitantly, no such search warrant was ever furnished to me.

I was rapidly taken from the house and placed in an unmarked police car. I wanted to make a phone call with my mobile, but it was taken from me, and I was denied use of it.

Whilst being driven to the police station, the ransacking of my home began by an army of police officers, as though I were a terrorist or drug-dealer.

Two points should be noted.

The act of arresting me in a pseudo- emergency manner was plainly an abuse of power, an abuse of process and an unambiguous breach of my human rights as guaranteed under the European Convention on Human Rights.

As had been made clear to the police – a priori – some months earlier, I would have been perfectly content to attend the police station on a voluntary basis, should the police feel they had any need to interview me.

This offer was ignored.

And secondly, the searching of my home in the manner undertaken was plainly unlawful and a criminal act.

So I was taken into the police station, and put through the standard procedure for admitting criminal suspects.

I asked if I could make my phone-call.

I was – and this was recorded – told that I could not make a phone call. Instead, if I gave the admitting officer a name, they “would phone the person for me”.

Under the circumstances, the name I asked them to phone was a journalist at the Jersey Evening Post.

I took the view that the most important thing I could do from a public interest perspective, was ensure that word got out that the oligarchy have started arresting anti-establishment politicians and searching their homes.

I was then stripped of my possessions – mobile phone, wallet, etc – and was left in only the clothes I was wearing, though even then, my belt was taken from me, so had to walk around holding my trousers up.

I was held under arrest in the police station for approximately seven hours – with around an hour & three quarters spent being interviewed, and the remaining time being locked in a small, ground-floor arrest cell.

I must give thanks to Hiren Mistry and Advocate Philip Sinel, who ditched their day’s work to assist me.

During the interview, I responded “no comment” to every question I was asked.

Hell – I thought if it’s good enough for ex-cop child rapists like Danny Wherry – then I must be OK for me.

Notwithstanding repeated requests, I was not supplied with the “search book” which is supposed to itemise everything that was seized from my home during the day-long search.

In fact, as the time in my lonely cell wound on – the excuses for not providing me with the search book expanded.

This reached the point at which I was told a copy would be left for me at my home, for me to view if, and when, they released me.

I was eventually released – but no description of the seized items was left at my home.

I asked the police officers if I was going to be held overnight, could it be at La Moye, Jersey’s prison, rather than the cop-shop – as I had a load of my constituents who are abuse survivors there, and I needed to make another visits to them.

Well, I mean it’s all tax-payers’ money – so one should maximise efficiency.

When eventually released, I wasn’t allowed out of the front door – because some of the Jersey media were there, and the cops wanted to try and minimise the PR damage, so they sent me out – still clutching up my trousers, and carrying my bagged possessions – from the van entrance.

But fortunately, the media were wise to this stunt and filmed me coming out the door and walking towards the car-park.

I met the journalists, and gave them my account of events.

For all those hours I was left locked in a windowless, airless cell, there was a ladybird trapped with me. I was able to catch it in a paper cup and to take it out with me and release it into the grass.

No doubt, I and others, will have a great deal to write about during the coming days, so I won’t go into detail now.

But just reflect on these points.

I have been subjected to a massed police raid, arrest and a total home search.

I have been locked in a cell for 7 hours.

I was lied to by the cops on several occasions.

I was denied my Rights.

They initially told me they had a search warrant – then said they wouldn’t show it to me at the moment of arrest, but would show it to me at the police HQ.

To this moment no such search warrant has been even shown to me – let alone furnished to me in copy form.

I also repeatedly asked for the identity and hierarchy of those who had authorised this action against me.

I was told I would be furnished with that data – but in the event, I was not supplied with it.

When arrested, I said I wanted to make a phone call.

They told me I had no right to make a phone call.

On admission to the cop-shop, I repeated my request to make a phone call.

The cops said that I couldn’t – and that if I gave them the number of the person I wanted to be contacted, they would call them on my behalf.

Only around four hours later did a cop finally acknowledge that I had a right to place a personal phone call, so I rang Ben Queree, a Jersey Evening Post journalist.

Whilst explaining to him what had occurred, the cop in attendance grew increasingly agitated and put me under quite improper pressure to end my phone call.

The call was ended as I was explaining to Ben Queree that if they kept me in overnight, I wanted it to be at the Jail.

The cop lost patience at this point and said “this is absurd”, and required me to end the call.

About an hour later after another lock-in, I was simply told I could leave.

Several strange events took place at this stage.

I was, again, told I would be given a copy of the seized property itemisation – but was given no such document.

I asked when they were going to charge me – or declare me free from suspicion.

They told me that I “will remain under investigation” – effectively, indefinitely.

And bizarrely – given all the cautioning and questioning they had put me through – they took those last 60 seconds or so to tell me that I was under investigation, and under caution, for “harassment” – this obviously because I’ve been exposing – on my blog – the malfeasances of people like Bill Bailhache, Michael Birt, mass—murdering psychopaths, child rapists – ex-cops amongst them – and a variety of senior figures who have perverted the course of justice by concealing such crimes.

So let me summarise the day’s events in happy, sunny Jersey.

I’m the only politician trying to expose decades of child abuse.

For my pains, I step out of my home this morning and am immediately arrested by a grouping of eight cops in four unmarked police cars.

The said cops lie to me by asserting they have a search warrant. Only hours later citing some part of police arrest procedure which is designed to enable emergency searches of property.

The Jersey cops thus carry out a manifestly ultra-vires and criminal search of my home – unlawfully taking property.

In doing so, they utterly ignore the relevant Articles of the data protection law which state – quiet unambiguously – that in the case of a supposed need to search premises in connection with alleged data protection offences – they have to obtain a search warrant.

A warrant signed either by the Attorney General – Bill Bailhache – or a Jurat.

But not wanting to do that – Bill Bailhache instead advises the police to circumvent the law requiring a search warrant, and instead to abuse and misapply PACE so they can search my home after waiting for me to step outside my door.

So here I sit – trying to recover from the day’s events which were inflicted upon me because of my attempts to fulfil my political duty to my constituents – and to oppose and expose child abuse – and the criminal concealment of such abuse.

And all this whilst a variety of child batterers, child rapists, and those who have concealed or failed to prosecute such crimes – remain scot-free and un-harassed.

Fascinatingly – the cop leading this persecution of me is one officer Minty; a man who is, by all account, deeply enthusiastic in this action against me.

Interestingly – he is also the very self-same police officer who has been furnished with evidence – and extremely well informed witnesses – to the effect that a Minister of the States of Jersey has criminally abused his position to take kick-backs for supporting planning developments.

Yet Mr. Minty – and his very good friend, who he leaks information to – Bill Bailhache – regard the brazen corruption of gangster politicians to be “not criminal offences”.

But, somehow, these two titans of law enforcement and ethics feel a pressing need to mount a massed-raid on my home, turn it upside down, leave filth on the carpets, leave fragments of food from the up-ended bins laying in the kitchen floor, arrest me, hold me for 7 hours in a locked cell, seize my property, terrify my constituents and abuse and cast aside the due process of the law.

It really isn’t difficult – is it – to see why this collection of shysters wanted to unlawfully suspend the Chief of Police, Graham Power.

Straight cops are the very last thing these adherents of “The Jersey Way” need.

Perhaps now they’ve attempted to intimidate me, they think they’ll be able to start taking bribes from tow-truck operators again?