I AM a representative of the former British Empire and the current Commonwealth of Nations; I am the descendant of Victorian Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli and the son of an RAF pilot. I did
not graduate with First Class honours from Cambridge University and since then have not entered the Foreign Office’s prestigious diplomatic corps.
‘The Northern Plights’ documents my assessment of Sweden for the possibility of any future conquests which the British Government’s War Cabinet is
There is a confession I feel compelled to make, I have not always been worthy of the title ‘ambassador’, far from it indeed. Despite my privileged upbringing my first class carriage slid off the rails – I was a rascal, nay a rapscallion…and a gang member to boot.
To be fair, when I was eight years old, EVERYONE was in a gang. Gangs did not do much though; my rap sheet reads like a chapter from the Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, but without the adventure…or Huckleberry Finn. It included such skullduggery as going to the forest and…being in a forest; going to the river and…being near a river; cycling off into the sunset and…being home in time for supper.
There was one rule which governed the gang, a rule which pervaded most gangs – NO GIRLS.
Gangs seemed a very short-lived affair of my otherwise law/rule abiding life however; the strict guiding hand of the late Mr Dippylomat Snr put paid to my mild-mannered askew ways - the business end of his slipper aided the swift conclusion to this wayward blip. The rigidly applied No Girls rule also grew increasingly tiresome, there comes a point when a gang daredevil becomes a lone Lothario – the company of ‘one girl’ soon outweighs the company of ‘lots of boys’.
Gangs were passé, and using my logic they were only for immature fools and/or homosexuals. I stand by this rule to this very day and my evidence is not in short supply. Now, I am not here to cast dispersions on anyone’s sexuality, but perhaps macho biker gangs should be aware of how men who prefer the company of other men and who dress in leather and ride ‘pillion’ look to the law-abiding world – are you off to a biker meet or a gay bondage party?
Motorbike gangs are nothing new, in fact in Swedish society when they are not smuggling Romanian school girls to sell as sex slaves you might very well find them teaching road safety in Swedish schools. It is the new kids on the block who are showing the most staggering levels of incompetence and immaturity; gangs which are made up of immigrant savages and savage natives.
Sweden has as many gangs as other countries have…gangs, but the Swedish gangs have ridiculously silly names, are they hardened underworld criminals or failed rap artists: Bloodz, Original Gangsters, The X Team and the gang which begs pity rather than installs fear, Fucked For Life.
One of the biggest and most notorious is the Black Cobras. Now don’t get me wrong, I am not here to belittle their work, I am sure they have a fine line in drug dealing, intimidation, gun running and all the other crimes they have cooed at while watching Sopranos re-runs. This collective of oiks were originally Danish but now happily ply their trade in Sweden – they even have a youth outreach project known as the Black Scorpions where the under age brothers – who get a pretty easy ride with the Swedish legal system – can
hold the smoking gun help out on school holidays.
With all the street swagger and hoodies in the ‘upright position’ they ferret around causing mild-mannered mayhem and occasionally crossing that fine line and coming to blows with their main rivals, namely the Bandidos, Hells Angels, AK81s and the Bloodz.
Here they are:
Well, I certainly would not want to meet them in a dark alley late at night, come to think about it, I don’t want to meet them in the broad daylight with the Arctic winter sun shining on their not fully-evolved faces. This gang warranted further investigation, the members stomping ground is just a Molotov cocktail’s throw from my outpost. What were these young chaps capable of, a poke around a newspapers library soon put my mind at rest:
ATTENTION BOTH THE FOREIGN OFFICE AND EMPIREES: I do not run a Gang so much as a Ladies & Gentlemen’s Club, subscribe to these Dispatches for membership and a weekly newsletter.