Inclined as I am to perfervid contrarian rant and inconsistency, yet I dare pray such scribblings as follow perhaps may furnish welcome antidote to the moralising of bourgeois liberals, and conservative cant.


Song For Jenny Marx, yes, it’s right here, right now! (Luddite Hits Correct Button)

Citizens! History has not paid due respect to Jenny Marx. Not remotely. Forty years of marriage to Karl? Seven children, only three surviving to adulthood? Exile? Poverty? Squalor? The English? Mrs Marx’s courage, loyalty, and forbearance needs must be celebrated. To which end, Ned has composed a musical tribute:  “Song For Jenny Marx.” As recorded …


collective bargaining by riot*


My name is Edward Ludd. Or Ludlum. Or Ludlam. Ned. I am also known, in machine-breaking circles, as King, General, and Captain Ludd.

I was born, so I am told, of indistinct parentage, sometime, somewhere, in and around Leicester.

A skilled weaver by trade, my livelihood was destroyed by machinery which required so little skill it could be operated by children. And was. For pitiful wages. In foul conditions. Day and night. For a machine does not eat or sleep.

Thus the mill owner grew rich at my expense.

Seeing my way of life, and so my family, destroyed, I resolved to cause trouble and thereby bring notice to my plight.

Residing in Sherwood Forest, I caused trouble in Nottinghamshire. Thence, travelling extensively, I caused trouble in Derby, in the West Riding of Yorkshire, and in Lancashire.

I found many people in similar destitution, of like mind, to cause trouble with me.

We will not rest. Our numbers grow. If justice be not done, if working folk be naught but a disposable commodity, we will cause trouble forevermore.

I am told that, nowadays, even our graves are dug by machine.

A soul will not rest in a hole dug by machine.


Remember: Cause trouble. And teach your children well.

*thankyou, Eric Hobsbawm


No correspondence will be entered into. Think it through.