A country is alleged to have released a chemical weapon. People roll around showing clinical signs of a nerve agent in convulsions, and these are captured on shaky video. Local observers report what they see to the media and the authorities.

I wonder if there is any “direct evidence” of chemical weapons found? I wonder if the post mortem reports show any “cause of death”? I wonder if a particular chemical weapon were tested for in tissues of the deceased, whether it would be found in “small amounts”? If it were found would it be considered to be “the likely cause of death”?

This is exactly the type of denialist shit expounded by British Government agencies and propagated by the fog of the Rhodia brethren, that saw the  poisoning of birds at Rattlechain lagoon by “a chemical weapon” being kicked into the sidelines. The link is pure economics, not “evidence.” When it’s on our soil protect our economic interests and deny the evidence, on someone else’s soil, present the evidence and protect our economic interests.

Of course it appears that the poor people in Syria have been posioned, yet on this occasion the burden of proof  presented to parliament yesterday appeared based on the eye witness accounts. The rhetoric of politicians crying wolf, (especially the religious maniac former PM),  now means that those actually being killed by WMD has become par for the course.  Britain has always lied about its chemical warfare meddling. We were manufacturing “Weapons of deterence”- LIES. Tell this to those who took part in the disgraceful Porton Down experiments- or the hundreds of thousands of animals sacrificed by the heirs of Dr Mengele in white coats.

The manner in which the British Government behaved in WW2 concerning anti gas hysteria, through leaflets etc -when it knew full well that the greater threat came from incendiary bombs containing white phosphorus, shows what contempt they had for giving people the facts. “A need to know basis” has always been the mantra of this army of Oxbridge and Etonian ponces who have manipulated the populace with their lies and dossiers through the media ever since. THEY COULD NOT STOP TRYING TO MAKE EVER MORE DANGEROUS KILLERS. THEY COULD NOT STOP MESSING ABOUT WITH CHEMICALS. WE DON’T NEED TO UNDERSTAND MANMADE CHEMICALS- JUST STOP MAKING THEM! And when finished with their great inventions- bury them underwater out of sight.  

When is a chemical weapon not “a chemical weapon”? When you have seen the effects of white phosphorus on animals and birds first hand and known them to be perfectly healthy, you come to the conclusion that it is a “chemical” that can be used as a “weapon”. I would like to see a few politicains swallow a few juicy chunks of P4 – and they may start to come to the conclusion that its use and manufacture should be banned around the world.

Some local joker has taken to stencilling images of David Cameron around the local waterways. Tory subliminal campaigning, or an arty farty piece of socialist artwork paid for by public money to “engage” people and study how they react to the images- by defacing the original work? Either way- here’s my contribution. Those butterflies, they just keep flying and causing chaos around the world. Brave Dave, You will tell me when those lambs at Porton Down stop screaming won’t you….

 Ah the sites of the Rattlechain lagoon. Plenty of seagulls and sand in late Summer. I just need me deck chair and shades and the world could role by around me.

 I nearly had a little trip down John’s Lane tother day. Raised manhole you see from those heavy sand and soil  trucks going past- complaint made to Sandwell council.

 The North embankment now looks well covered.

Firstly with the Mac met, and then with more soil to cover that up as well.

Stairway to heaven

And what was this curious bit of metal that one of the diggers unearthed and then buried- a scrap piece of machinery?

Anchors?

And welcome onto site Napoleon and Bonaparte’s Dingle cousin Fergal Klaarkey.

Still about two months of this schedueled before the real work starts- the long term monitoring of the site, and the effect that it has on returning wildfowl. The human health assessment of these works will be evidenced much later than this- well after Rhodia Solvay have packed up and gone. For some there will be no escape from Rattlechain lagoon……….

We’re all goin’ on a Solvay holiday
No more workin’ for a decade or two
Fun and laughter on a Solvay holiday
No more worries for me or you
For a decade or two

We’re goin’ where the sun shines (Al)brightly
We’re goin’ where the water’s  green- blue
We’ve seen it on a website,
Now let’s see if it’s true

Everybody has a Solvay holiday
Doin’ things they always wanted to
So we’re goin’ on a Solvay holiday
To make our dreams come true
For me and you

We’re goin’ where the the scenes unsightly
We’re goin’ where the water’s  green-blue
We’ve seen it on a webiste
Now let’s see Monsieur Clamadieu

Everybody has a Solvay holiday
Doin’ things they always wanted to
So we’re goin’ on a Solvay holiday
To make our dreams come true
For me and you

 Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.

Edward Lorenz

More chaos at the lagoon over the course of the last week, but not sure about where the theory will lead. Sand deliveries have resumed and the mountains are being piled into the mixer.

I hope it’s not CLOGGED up, ha ha ha

And don’t forget along the edges Goldmember!

The departure of the last pieces of the spud barge on Optimus Grime contrasted with the arrival of hessian and black matting.

A honeycomb structure to it, but no bees.  We wouldn’t normaly give free advertising to Rhodia/Solvays contractors, but in this case, the following PDF file explains what is going on with the North embankment works- and shows that it has nothing to do with “protecting wildlife”- more the protection of the embankment from the obvious and visible erosion and slippage that had been going on for years. NB- THIS WAS NOT IN THE ORIGINAL DISCLOSED PLANS FOR THE CURRENT WORKS, AS EVIDENCED BY THE LACK OF MENTION OF IT AT THE PUBLIC EXHIBITION IN JANUARY, OR THE PHOTOSHOPED IMAGES OF THE NORTH EMBANKMENT.

It also confirms the ludicrous assessment made in Rhodia’s stability risk assessment concerning this embankment by then contractors URS. At least someone must have had a rethink- or had it made for them behind the scenes?

http://www.maccaferri.co.uk/media/om_www/uk/Brochures/MacMat_R_Erosion_Control_Mat_Brochure_2012.pdf

And so to the carpeting of the North embankment- and the literal sweeping under it that we had always refered to in metaphor, but did not expect the site owners to actually employ. The Heyrmans, with a little new help, busied themselves rolling out longer items than they are perhaps accustomed.

The stakeholders of Rattlechain lagoon

Where are the snakes hiding?

I always knew that those Trinity Street boffs loved the devil’s element, but I didn’t know they were in league with him as well!

And also this week I had an encounter with a number of butterflies. Firstly one landed on my shoulder. A lovely red admiral male.

And then a peacock near the tunnel.

Who knows what events can unfold with the flapping of a butterflies wings, or how someone reading this blog in China may react to the production of white phosphorus and their associated effluent settling ponds being a terrible idea. If only we could read the future…………

During the lull in operations at the lagoon, a few observations were noticeable.

First, a few Canada geese have started to return to the lagoon- now that they are able to fly again after the moulting period has ended, and the goslings start to fledge.

But the level of the geotextile is not very deep at all- infact there are signs that it is rising to the surface- just as it did with the trial acouple of years ago.

around 3 metres from the edge of the North embankmet-” fancy a paddle?”

Thirdly the cracks starting to emerge in the much battered North embankment. This clearly shows after just a few short weeks and fairly ordinary weather the potential for further slippage.

Last week on their return, the Heyrmans set about adding more top soil to cover this up.

The arrival of this material via John’s Lane caused some intrigue at first. It was apparent that a large dump of spoil had accumulated next to the Rhodia fenceline on the canal side.

Curiouser and curiouser- where was it coming from?

Then I saw the arrival of a Coleman and Co lorry tentatively making its way up the completely unsuitable trackway in reverse to drop off another load.

So a waste material- albeit supposedly “inert” being deposited in an area with no waste management licence. Some people would call this fly tipping- especially when this land does not even belong to Rhodia/Solvay. Then more lorries quickly followed under the same cover. It quickly became apparent that Bonaparte- with his long arm was scooping the material over the fence- for his compatriots Napoleon and Wee willie winkie to spread over the North embankment. And I thought that the purpose of creating a wider causeway path was for this purpose?

And then the inevitable health and safety signs that people could not help but seeing- after they would have been run over by the heavy tonnage of a giant truck.

You aint on the friggin site!

But on they continued and by the end of the week a load of soil covered the North embankment- (the original soil of which is known to be heavily contaminated with a range of material has been carted around the site for dispersal- including nearer to the houses.)

All this maybe despite leaving the top end of John’s Lane like a mudbath could have been forgiven- but then the tacky deposition of loose stones to fill in the potholes they had helped create, that had obviously been left over from the reconstructed causeway path. Typical! What is it with this company and filling in holes with old rubble?

And all up the canalsideway too!

These are not exactly small bricks which leaves one asking the question who would be liable if some poor little kiddy came along and slipped and broke their arm on the surface, or came off their bikes? Those poor little kiddies on their school Summer holidays!

Then there are the trains, the boats that use the canal- and most importantly to us – the wildlife who are always targeted with such debris.

I don’t think they really care about this-Where is the Quaker spirit? But their vehicles left on their own site have glass windows in them- so perhaps they may like to kindly remove this crap off the highway. The local pauper youths in “bingo-bingoland”- (Sandwell), are not particularly that concerned at what they chuck at!

“Please Sir, I want some more”

BLACKBERRY PICKING BY SEAMUS HEANEY

Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer’s blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard’s.

We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn’t fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they’d keep, knew they would not.

I wonder if the metaphor is lost on Rhodia/Solvay?

“Great satisfying chunks of Cheddar cheese….”

BY ARTHUR ALBRIGHT’S GHOST WRITER….

 Arthur’s premonition dream -as told to me by a little bird.

“No one would have believed, in the last years of the nineteenth century, that Albright and Wilson’s affairs were being watched from the timeless worlds of space.

No one could have dreamed we were being scrutinized, as someone with a microscope
studies creatures that swarm and multiply in a drop of water. Few men even considered
the possibility of life on other planets and yet, across the gulf of space, minds
immeasurably superior to ours regarded OUR PIT with envious eyes, and slowly and
surely, they drew their plans against us…..

P4 OF THE WORLDS

At midnight on the 9th of September, a huge mass of luminous gas erupted from Klaars
and sped towards Earth. Across two hundred million miles of void, invisibly hurtling
towards us, came the first of the missiles that were to bring so much calamity to the Barnett pit.
As I watched, there was another jet of gas. It was another missile, starting on its way.

And that’s how it was for the next ten nights. A flare, spurting out from Klaars – bright
green, drawing a green mist behind it – a beautiful, but somehow disturbing sight, and a rotten smell of fish.  Whitford, the astrologer, assured me we were in no danger. He was convinced there could be no living thing on that remote, forbidding planet.

“The chances of anything coming from Klaars are a million to one,” he said.

“The chances of anything coming from Klaars are a million to one – but still they
come!”

From the Dudley Port railway station came the sound of shunting trains, ringing and rumbling, softened almost into melody by the distance. It all seemed so safe and tranquil….

 Next morning, a strangely dressed crowd gathered on the Canal, hypnotized by the unscrewing of the cylinder. Two feet of shining screw projected when, suddenly, the lid fell off!

Two luminous disc-like eyes appeared above the rim. A huge, rounded bulk, larger than
a bear, rose up slowly, glistening like wet leather. Its lipless mouth quivered and slavered
– and snake-like tentacles writhed as the clumsy body heaved and pulsated.

A few young men crept closer to the pit. A tall funnel rose, then an invisible ray of heat
leapt from man to man and there was a bright glare, as each was instantly turned to fire.
Every tree and bush became a mass of flames at the touch of this savage, unearthly
Heat Ray.

 People clawed their way off the Canal, and I ran too. I felt I was being toyed with,
that when I was on the very verge of safety, this mysterious death would leap after me
and strike me down. At last I reached Edgbaston and in the dim coolness of my home I wrote an account for my paper- The Daily Quake before I sank into a restless, haunted sleep.

Around me, the daily routine of life – working, eating, sleeping – was continuing serenely
as it had for countless years- all making lots of money for me and the Friends.

On Barnett’s Brickworks, the Klaartians continued hammering and stirring,
sleepless, indefatigable, at work upon the machines they were making.

Now and again a light, like the beam of a warship’s searchlight, swept the Canal – and the Heat Ray was ready to follow.

 In the afternoon, a company of soldiers came through and deployed along the edge of the Causeway, to form a cordon.

That evening, there was a violent crash and I realized with horror that my home was
now within range of the Klaartian’s Heat Ray. At dawn, a falling star with a trail of green
mist landed with a flash like summer lightning.

This was the second cylinder.

Abruptly, the sound ceased. Suddenly, the desolation, the solitude, became unendurable. While that voice sounded, Langley had still seemed alive. Now suddenly, there was a change, the passing of something – and all that remained was this gaunt quiet.

I looked up and saw a third machine It was erect and motionless, like the others
An insane resolve possessed me I would give my life to the Klaartians, here and now

I marched recklessly towards the Titan and saw that a multitude of black birds was
circling and clustering about the hood. I began running along the Lane. I felt no fear, only
a wild, trembling exultation, like quaking in the fear of God, as I ran up the hill towards, the motionless monster. Out of the hood hung red shreds, at which the hungry birds now pecked and tore.

I scrambled up to the crest of Barnett’s Brickworks, and the Klaartian’s camp was below me. A mighty space it was, and scattered about it, in their overturned machines, were the
Klaartians – dead… slain, after all man’s devices had failed, by the humblest things upon
the Earth, Bacteria. Minute, invisible, bacteria!

Directly the Invaders arrived and drank and fed, our microscopic allies attacked them. From that moment – they were doomed!
The torment was ended. The people scattered over the country, desperate, leaderless, starved… the thousands who had fled by sea – including the one most dear to me, my dearest Rachael- all would return. The pulse of life, growing stronger and stronger, would beat again, and my phosphorus business would go from strength to strength.

As life returns to normal, the question of another attack from Klaars causes universal
concern. Is our planet safe, or is this time of peace merely a reprieve? It may be that,
across the immensity of space, they have learned their lessons and even now await their
opportunity. Perhaps the future belongs not to us – but to the Klaartians?

To be concluded………….

Whilst delving into the archives of my loft, I happened to chance on an old book. A remarkable artifact from childhood. Opening the book, I was struck by a number of the pictures and the strange messages that were being communicated via the pages.

And so whilst the two week work hiatus continues, I thought it may be apt to catch up on the story so far.

The barmy hot weather usually brings out the dogs, but it’s a bit of a novelty at Rattlechain lagoon, though I was once told that one had “drowned” in the pool after gaining access to the site a few years ago. I wonder if there was a post mortem?

Britain’s got talent?

Now go and fetch this AW bomb

They shouldn’t have much trouble locating wildfowl bones to chew on at the lagoon. They might even get to dig holes as big as my mate Egor the body snatcher.

Dig for Victory

It looks like The Heyrmans have got some time off over the next couple of weeks to enjoy the sun. It also seems that someone from the Solvaywatch team left their costume behind on Goldmember.

The Klaar sandmixer has been upgraded- but what’s going on inside I wonder?

I don’t know if I was seeing things last week at Rattlechain, but I’m sure I saw a Moorhouse!

WHERE?

THERE ON THE STAIR

 WHERE ON THE STAIR?

RIGHT THERE.

Expatiating on a variety of weighty matters or rehearsing lines?

And here’s a cheesey video that I found. Once you listen to it once, it just gets trapped in your head. Just try it as an experiment, it won’t poison your thoughts or give you nightmares on the way up to bed. Look out for a cameo appearance from Goldmember’s Grandfather Jean Klaar Vann pram.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2fg7w49UnGA

I don’t have much sympathy for the fools who keep drowning in lakes and rivers during the hot weather after going out swimming. After the event there is usually the outcry that it is somebody elses fault and call for drastic measures like infilling. Some of this led to many areas of canal being infilled in the decades gone by, because some stupid kids decided to take a dip in the sun- and the problems of contaminated groundwater- still there.

Certainly at the Sandwell Valley this week there have been all sorts of tatooed riff raff emerging from the waters, mostly jibber jabbering on in Eastern European dialects- Colin Firth or Ursula Andress they ain’t. Level 3 heatwave sounded for the West Midlands and instead of the borough’s premier nature conservation site for nesting birds we have a friggin Roma lido. Reminds one of the ruddy duck situation- but where are Natural England?

A few years ago in Sandwell there was an excuse in part, in that the council seemed obssessed with closing swimming baths- particularly in Tipton- the water surrounded area around Rattlechain. But I’m glad to say that the council have at least in this respect got their act together with the new leader Darren Cooper recognising that they are desperately needed. Next step councillor- tackling contaminated land in Sandwell- and I don’t mean burying it!

At the lagoon this week there have been some departures. The useless “aurora” (thunderbird 4) – I said it was a false dawn- has bit the dust.

Thunderbird is go!

The seagulls are doing a good job of turning the black geotextile white.

Get scrubbing Heyrmans, and don’t forget the helpful advice from the HPA human health study issued to local residents to “use soap and water” for clearing up bird droppings in case of white phosphorus content in the faeces.

All that sand looks very tempting now for a summer dip, or a game of beach volleyball. I’m a bit concerned the Heyrmans might try a few lengths to test the depths. The PPE appears to have gone out the window, with shorts and T’ shirts.

Hoe is het opknoping?

But when they have packed up their clogs and gone clip -clippity- clop back home and ERM have sailed off back to Bristol, who will take up the monitoring mantle of the site from day to day?  Will  Solvay “be there” in case of human or avian distress in the water?

They have certainly demonstrated (as Rhodia), that they have all the “rescue” equipment necessary for the job, as this picture below demonstrates when they retrieved a dead swan from the lagoon last year. Although they claim not to have seen it in distress which would have added to the evidence of white phosphorus poisoning. We don’t believe their story.

With such a fine bevvy of babes and hunks, I have every confidence that if a youngster scaled the fence and went for a dip getting into difficulty and convulsions, the Trinity Street lifeguards would not panic but put into action their long rehearsed lines and spring forth with their red Proban trunks and boards a soaring down the Tipton Road to perform the heimlich maneuver and the kiss of life.

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=z5gVjBLrTWk

HOW DO THOSE DUTCH BLOKES PULL SO MANY BRITISH BIRDS?

No not that lot I’m talking about Goldmember and Gullit.

 Loads of seagulls- they must think the seaside has come to town with the arrival of all the sand- just need the deckchair now and the “kiss me quick” hat and some “old fart fudge”. They just can’t get enough of his giant pecker. And even a common tern stopped for a rest on his funnel.

And this young gull seems fascinated with the geotextile.

Christen it my lad!

In this week 20, Goldmember continues to pour out the sand over the Cappenslaag.

And the Heyrman’s are wearing face visors again- seemed to be a lot of scrubbing going on here, and the smell of chemicals in the air.

Sand continued to be poured and bits pulled out- obviously not as fine as they had hoped for.

Another question was answered for me this week with the conspicuous arrival of a fuel tanker- How are they powering the watercraft?

Gullit appeared to have a top up, but more questions- how is bringing a fuel tanker on site consistent with the licence and hazardous substance consent come to that?

And smoking a pipe on such a site, in fact smoking on such a site at all not really a clever idea is it?