Month: August 2007

Kenneth Foster – the best news I thought I’d never see.

I spent my train journey home tonight writing a furious diatribe to the state of Texas on the death of Kenneth Foster. It was probably the angriest thing I’ve ever written, and I was fully prepared to throw it on the blog tonight as soon as I got the news I had been dreading.

I’m almost tearfully happy to tell you that I’ve just dumped that piece in the trash. 

Kenneth’s death sentence was commuted to life by Governor Rick Perry this afternoon, on the day he was scheduled to be executed.

I’m a little drunk and a lot emotional at the incredible news, so I’ll let Michael Graczyk of AP take up the slack…

HUNTSVILLE – Gov. Rick Perry accepted a recommendation from the state parole board and said today he would spare condemned prisoner Kenneth Foster from execution and commute his sentence to life.

Foster had been scheduled to die tonight.

“After carefully considering the facts of this case, along with the recommendation from the Board of Pardons and Paroles, I believe the right and just decision is to commute Foster’s sentence from the death penalty to life imprisonment,” Perry said in a statement.

“I am concerned about Texas law that allowed capital murder defendants to be tried simultaneously and it is an issue I think the Legislature should examine.”

The seven-member parole board had voted 6-1 to recommend the commutation.

Perry did not have to accept the highly unusual recommendation from the board whose members he appoints.

Foster was the getaway driver and not the actual shooter in the slaying of a 25-year-old man in San Antonio 11 years ago.

Foster acknowledged he and his friends were up to no good as he drove them around San Antonio in a rental car and robbed at least four people 11 years ago before the slaying of Michael LaHood Jr.

“It was wrong,” Foster, 30, said recently from death row. “I don’t want to downplay that. I was wrong for that. I was too much of a follower. I’m straight up about that.”

Kenneth’s commutation is of course just the tip of the iceberg. 5 men are scheduled to go under the needle next month. Texas is still head, shoulders, chest and belly above every other US state in the numbers of men it sends to the death chamber every year. The fact that Rick Perry has seen sense in a case that reverberated around the planet should not make this the end of the story. I should of course mention that Gov. Perry also mentioned the Law of Parties in an aside as something that needs to be looked at by the legislature. I absolutely applaud that move, as Texas is the one state of the union to feel free to use that controversial ruling in capital cases. 

However, for now I’m going to simply breathe a sigh of relief, and offer a toast to the luckiest man on God’s green earth today. 
Kenneth Foster, say hi to the rest of your life.

Don’t stop the signal. Keep an eye on the shenanigans of them crazy Texans by visiting the Texas Moritorium Network, campaigning to end the death penalty in Texas.

Yippeekiyay, melonfarmers. 

Comics Britannia

I’m posting this as a reminder more than anything else.

BBC Four will be screening a season of programmes on British comics starting on September 10th. This will include Johnathan Ross’ nearly already legendary Search for Steve Ditko, and a three part retrospective with, oh just about everyone. Alan Moore to Leo Baxendale. To say I’m planted in front of the whole lot (even the 60s Batman screenings!) would be to seriously underplay my excitement.

Can’t wait. Cantwaitcantwaitcantwait.

Kenneth Foster: the clock’s still ticking.

Kenneth Foster, the Texan sentenced to death for a murder he did not commit, is due to be executed tomorrow. It would appear that Texas Governor Rick Parry is more than happy to allow Kenneth to go to his death on the advisement of a law that was never supposed to be applied in capital cases, in a trial that was deeply flawed.

Here’s my initial post on the subject, and please check the comments too.

The latest updates, including an Amnesty International condemnation, can be found at the Save Kenneth website.

Please, visit that site, read the story, and if you feel that there’s anything you can do to protest this utter travesty of justice, do so.

Goodbye, New Piccadilly

Dreadful news from the Independent on Saturday. The New Piccadilly restaurant, the cathedral of caffs, run by Soho character Lorenzo Marioni, has lost it’s last attempt to keep the bulldozers from its doors. It will close for good on September the 22nd.

Such a damn shame. The place is an absolute gem, and has always been a joy to eat in, chipped formica tops, see-through coffee mugs and all. Since 1951, it’s been a place for everyone from Soho gangsters to stars of stage and screen to sip froffy coffees and enjoy the spag bol and chicken. I’ve eaten there many times, always with friends, and it’s always been a bit of a treat. Somewhere to go when we want to feel that all is right with the world.

And now the landlords, Windmill Developments have decided to knock it down to make way for a “mixed-use block.” Another mall-type mash of cafes, offices and stationers. Another chunk taken out of Soho’s soul. If there’s a Starbucks in there, I swear to God, I’ll be so mad I could just … leaflet or something.

Calls for the New Piccadilly to be listed, like it’s compatriot in East London, Pellucci’s have fallen on deaf ears. English Heritage, having no interest in it’s unspoilt interior, have looked only at the shabby bricks and mortar that encase it and deemed the place unworthy of saving. Even Westminster City Council have deemed the cafe’s architectural quality as not good enough to be preserved. Once again, profit shouts louder than history. Adrian Maddox, author of the book and website Classic Cafes says, “Very individual places run by characters like Lorenzo are an irritant in the way of turning our streets into huge, faceless malls.”

I’ll be making a point of going there at least a couple of times before Lorenzo shuts off the big neon EATS sign for the last time. I’ll be having the usual. Steak pie, chips and beans, strawberry milkshake.

Funny how sometimes even a simple thing like lunch can make you sad.

Incidentally, the article that inspired me to write this in The Independent On Saturday seems to be unavailable on their website. Straaaange. Have a browse round the Classic Cafes website I’ve linked to above. Plenty of nice pics. If anyone’s interested, I’ll scan the article and post it on the blog.

It’s The Most Wonderful Time Of The Year…

Happy teens, studes, A-Level celebrants and the occasional adult are skipping merrily to a field on the outskirts of Reading tonight, anticipating three days of fun and frolics during the last big rock concert of the year. What they’ll be met with is … well, a swamp, actually. Many of the campsites regularly used for the Reading festival were underwater this time last month, and it’s taken a huge effort to pump them out to the point where tents can be pitched. The going will, in horseracing terms, be soft to heavy. By Sunday night, it’s going to look like the Somme out there. If the fragrant darlings I’ve seen tripping out of Reading Station over the last couple of days are anything to go by, most people seem spectacularly unprepared for the conditions. If you need to make a quick buck, get down to Richfield Avenue sharpish with a van full of tent liners and wellies. The youth will snap them up. The weather report is for a sunny weekend.  The primordial slime will be nice and warm then. Who knows, we may see new forms of life evolve from the mire, although we’ll probably mistake them for Razorlight fans at first.

As you can probably tell from the snarky tone, I’m not going this year. Although there are always bands I’ll be interested in seeing, there really wasn’t a decent enough bill to make me feel the urge to spend money and dig my kagoul out. It’s been a bit of an uninspiring year for music in general, and the festival circuit seems to have reflected that. Nope, this year I’m staying at home and listening to the music drifting up the hill in my garden, with a cheap beer and a home-made burger. Heaven.

One Of Those Days

Grooooan. Serious dose of Sunday head, facilitated by alcoholic misbehaviour on Friday. Lately, though, C and I seem to be finding a routine where we both end up doing as little as possible over the weekend. That, tied into the poor excuse of a summer, means the garden looks like a bombsite, and I’m never in the mood to do anything about it. Still, the spuds and onions coming out of it are tasty, so I shouldn’t gripe too much.
Sunday afternoon. Soft rain outside. Up to my eyeballs in tea. Traffic’s Mr Fantasy on the stereo. It’s gonna have to be the Small Faces next. Lazy English psychedelia for a lazy English day.

CAFFEINEBLOG: Nothing Succeeds Like Excess

Readers, I have a new heroine this morning. Jasmine Wallis was hospitalised after downing seven double espressos in a row while working in her family’s sandwich shop.
She says she didn’t realise they were doubles. I say she was just after that sweet sweet rush. And boy did she get it.

She said: “My nerves were all over the place. “I was crying in front of the customers and had tears streaming down my face.”

After going home she experienced frightening physical symptoms.

She added: “I was drenched. I was burning up and hyperventilating.

“I was having palpitations, my heart was beating so fast and I think I was going into shock.”

Oh, OK. So that’s unusual then. Maybe that’s why I’ve been getting strange looks from my clients lately…