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[glenpeters-blog1]

Racists and Fascists out of Dalston! Shut down LD50 Gallery!

In the last week it has come to light that an art gallery and project space in East London is being used to promote fascists, neo-Nazis, misogynists, racists and Islamophobes. LD50 Gallery is based at 2-4 Tottenham Road in Dalston, in the middle of one of London’s most diverse neighbourhoods. Over the past year the gallery has hosted high-profile speakers from the American “alt-right”, including people who promote white supremacy, eugenics and violence against immigrants. Materials produced by the gallery have consistently drawn on fascist traditions ranging from 1930s Nazi aesthetics to contemporary “neo-reactionary” politics.

The gallery is using the cover of the contemporary art scene and academia to legitimise the spread of these materials and the establishment of a culture of hatred. LD50 even managed to infiltrate Goldsmiths University in South-East London, just before the gallery’s events and shows became openly racist. In the past year, LD50 has been responsible for one of the most extensive neo-Nazi cultural programmes to appear in London in the last decade.

Last week a number of artists in London exposed what has been happening at the gallery. The gallery has responded by leaking the identities of these artists and their supporters to far-right neo-Nazi websites and issuing legal threats. It continues its production of far-right materials.

It is imperative that this is not allowed to continue, that the gallery is shut down, and those responsible for it understand that their views are not welcome in our diverse city. The materials produced by the gallery, and the culture they promote, are a real threat to many of the communities living in Dalston.

Please share this information. Join us to leaflet against the gallery on the corner of Tottenham Road and Kingsland Road next Saturday (25 February) at 11am.

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Written by, and starring me, and also the brilliant Adam Woollard alias Shuffle-T. Directed by Theo Marlow. 

[glenpeters-blog1]

Luck Man

By

Glen Peters

5th February, 2017

FADE IN:

INT - OFFICE. DAY

Nine suited men sit round a long desk in a plush office. One man, GARY (late 30's, handsome but rough around the edges), stands before the others, and talks passionately beside a whiteboard, gesticulating, and pointing at the charts, and graphs on it.

GARY

And that's why as a company we must stop selling earbuds. I'm sure you'll agree with my conclusion that we could successfully pivot to help alleviate rural poverty in the developing world. Thank you.

A smattering of applause from round the table greets GARY's conclusion. At the head of the table a man, the BOSS (50's, Trump hair, stony expression), in clearly the most expensive suit in the room, waits until GARY is halfway down to sit on his chair before raising one hand, which silences the applause, and makes GARY freeze, still not sat down.

BOSS

What's the name of this company?

Hands shoot up around the table.

GARY

Earbuddies. 

BOSS

If you don't want to sell earbuds, you won't have to.

GARY

We're changing direction?

BOSS

You are. Pivot towards the Jobcentre. You're fired. My father sold earbuds. His father sold earbuds. 

GARY stands and walks to the door followed by the BOSS's tirade.

BOSS (shouting)

As did his father before that. My ancestors were making earbuds for the fucking Romans! That spear in Jesus's side was a prototype giant earbud -

CUT TO:

EXT. STREET - SAME

A busy central London street, people in raincoats or under brollies hurrying past, traffic unceasing on the road

GARY leaves the office, and rain immediately starts falling.

GARY

Beth's going to kill me. She's really going to kill me.

CUT TO:

EXT. GARY'S HOUSE - SAME.

Rain falls on a quiet residential street. A soaked GARY walks up his drive, and takes out his keys. He breathes deeply, and unlocks the front door, and goes inside.

CUT TO:

INT. GARY'S HOUSE - SAME

In the hallway, against a line of coats that are hanging against the far wall, a man, JEFF (30's, tight jeans with turn-ups, which are round his ankles, and trendy hair) and woman, BETH (20's, hot, long hair stuck to her face with sweat, tight dress hitched up over her hips) are fucking standing up. They're very loud, and haven't heard GARY enter.

GARY

I'm home.

BETH screams at the sound of his voice, then looks at him over her shoulder.

BETH

Why are you home now?

JEFF

It's not what it looks like, mate.

GARY

Looks like my best friend fucking my girlfriend, Jeff.

JEFF

OK. I walked into that one. It is a teeny tiny bit what it looks like.

BETH (passionately to JEFF)

Don't stop!

JEFF

No?

GARY

No? You could have a breather.

BETH

Why aren't you at work?

GARY

They didn't like my moonshot idea.

BETH

You bloody idiot! I told you not to mention that. How will we pay the bills now big shot?

JEFF

It is pretty irresponsible man.

GARY

Maybe Jeff can help you with those now? Anyway, listen, I better go as this is kinda killing me.

GARY leaves. The sounds of fucking follow him out.

CUT TO:

EXT. GARY'S HOUSE - SAME

GARY posts his keys through the letterbox. Thunder crackles overhead. He walks away from the house.

GARY

Should've picked up my coat. Would've been awkward reaching though, with them fucking against it.

CUT TO:

INT. OFF-LICENCE - NIGHT

GARY, absolutely sodden, and looking totally bereft, places a pack of four beers on the counter, and hands a five-pound note to the ATTENDANT (20's, huge, bearded man with spectacles).

ATTENDANT

This is a Scottish note.

GARY

This is Britain.

ATTENDANT

This is England.

GARY

Within Britain.

ATTENDANT

I can't accept it.

GARY

It's legal tender.

ATTENDANT

It's toilet paper. And we sell that here.

GARY

I don't have anything else.

ATTENDANT

Then you're out of luck. Unless. 

GARY

Unless...?

ATTENDANT

Look at me. Girls won't. (beat) I'm so lonely. I haven't had a blowjob since I was a teenager. 

GARY

You'll get there champ.

ATTENDANT

Do you find me attractive?

GARY 

Well I'm straight, so...

ATTENDANT

Answer the question.

EXT. OFF-LICENCE - SAME

Sat in the rain on the tarmac forecourt of the off-licence/garage, GARY cracks open a beer and goes to drink but is interrupted by a SCRUFFY MAN (60's, tobacco stained white beard, ragged clothes, and taped up shoes).

SCRUFFY MAN

Spare any change mate?

GARY

I have five pounds in the whole world. You can't want that?

SCRUFFY MAN

Why can't I? It's five pounds more than I have.

GARY hands over the fiver.

SCRUFFY MAN

What's this? Monopoly money?

GARY

It's fucking legal fucking tender.

SCRUFFY MAN

Can I have a beer instead then?

GARY

You know what? Take them all, clean me out. I've lost my job, I've been fired, I'm homeless (trails off, despairing)

SCRUFFY MAN

If I had a quid for every time that had happened to me, I'd buy a scratch card.

GARY stands and walks from the petrol garage/off-licence. When he has gone a short distance, he falls to his knees and looks up at the rain.

GARY

What next?

A lightning bolt flashes from the sky and strikes GARY.

GARY crawls away groaning.

GARY (in a pained whisper)

What are the chances?

A second lightning bolt strikes GARY.

SCRUFFY MAN runs over.

SCRUFFY MAN 

You should put that shit fiver on the lottery.

GARY groans.

SCRUFFY MAN picks up GARY, and walks him to the garage.

GARY

He doesn't accept Scottish money in there.

SCRUFFY MAN 

Yeah he does. I'll get five scratch cards.

CUT TO:

EXT. OFF-LICENCE - SAME

SCRUFFY MAN and GARY use their fingernails to scratch, and each lottery card is a winner, though only for a pound.

SCRUFFY MAN 

You're the luckiest man in the world.

GARY

Yeah, that's me. I'll use my powers to change this world for the better.

SCRUFFY MAN

Can I have the scratch cards then?

A deep, and sinister laugh booms from the darkness, and then sputters into a coughing fit, and a CAT (5, black with white paws) stumbles into the light besides LUCK MAN, and SCRUFFY MAN. They stare at the CAT, their fear changing to disgust and then sympathy as it finally hocks up a fur ball.

LUCK MAN

You alright?

CAT

Fools! The great and mighty lord Karkagath approaches! Your puny powers will not save this doomed planet! You're fucked!

SCRUFFY MAN

And he sent a cat to warn us?

CAT

It's not a warning. That suggests you could avoid destruction. You can't. I'm intimidating you.

LUCK MAN (from SCRUFFY MAN's cue)

It's less intimidating when you explain it.

CAT

I'm sowing despair.

LUCK MAN

Well, you're a good looking chap. 

CAT

Thank you. I was going for abominable.

SCRUFFY MAN

Would you like a treat?

CAT

What were you thinking?

SCRUFFY MAN

How about some catnip?

FADE OUT

FADE IN

EXT. OFF-LICENCE, SAME

The cat plays with the catnip, the two men watch, and then SCRUFFY MAN pulls LUCK MAN aside.

SCRUFFY MAN

You see all sorts of shit living on the streets. I wish I could say this is a first for me.

LUCK MAN

You've heard a cat talk before?

SCRUFFY MAN nods slowly.

SCRUFFY MAN

Last week in fact. In Tottenham Hale. It's making sense now. You're not alone.

LUCK MAN

No. You're here. And the cat. I guess he counts.

SCRUFFY MAN

I mean you're not the only one with powers. I met a woman in Tottenham Hale. She had an especially small head. But that wasn't her power. She could fly.

LUCK MAN

Fuck. Really?

SCRUFFY MAN (nods conspiratorially)

But only knee high. Still, I know where she is. I could help you find her.

LUCK MAN

Lead the way.

End