Welcome back to all my readers

As predicted, April 14th 2022, the day of my sentencing for again causing gross offence with a satirical song, I was handed almost the maximum term: 22 weeks, eleven of which to be served at HMP Bronzefield near Heathrow, west London, and the rest ‘on Licence’.

Exactly the same as last year: sent to jail on Maundy Thursday, meaning that my first week was spent without access to my own money, without canteen supplies and, worst of all, without access to a telephone.

I repeat: exactly the same scenario as last year. I was unable to reach my family for almost an entire week and only found out after Easter that my mother had been rushed into hospital – as had happened also last year.

My plea for bail, pending Appeal — — including two official complaints to the Lord Chief Justice — took an extraordinary six weeks to be heard, and was rejected on grounds that I would be eligible for early release ‘on tag’.

Again: exactly the same as last year, no tag was granted and I was kept behind bars until the end of June. Following this latest unsuccessful bail hearing, my Appeal against both conviction and sentencing was listed to be heard at Southwark Crown Court, the day following my release, June 30th.

It quickly became apparent during my stay that efforts were afoot to bait me into committing some further offence, for some form of ‘racism’, whilst inside. Mindful of events that affected author, Hervé Ryssen, during his spell in prison in France, I stood my ground, clarified in writing my position and made sure to keep a record of events.

My final ten days were spent in isolation owing to an outbreak of the flu’ (now rebranded as Covid19.) On day five, mass testing on my wing returned a positive Lateral Flow test.

The day of my release, after being forced under duress to sign five pages’ worth of ultra-strict Licence terms basically insinuating that I would be a terrorist, I was told that I would have to wait till lunchtime for a medical certificate stating my ‘Covid’ status, because the Head of Health Care hadn’t yet arrived for work…

Finally, I made it to my first meeting with Probation and was told to go home and rest, and that they would call me.

I was quite poorly for the next few days, with sickness and vomiting – as if I had been poisoned. But I survived.

My initial sentence is now fully served, although I am bound by Standard Licence until September 2023 – unless I am successful on Appeal, now adjourned until November 3rd – thanks to Covid.

Many thanks also to all for your messages of love and support. I will get round to replying to everyone, eventually.

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In light of the total silence from certain prominent individuals representing groups here in England, who claim to champion rights to free expression, I accepted to work on new lyrics penned by my long-time co-author, the hugely talented Gerard Menuhin.

The new song is a follow-up to an earlier number, produced in November 2020. Something of a marathon at eight minutes long, I sing the role of Michele Mainwaring, aka Countess Griaznoff, aka “Lady” Michele Renouf.

Politics, they say, is a dirty business. The question needs to be asked: why is it that my former associates belonging to the Britnat Social Club (including leaders of Patriotic Alternative) have nothing to say about my latest conviction?

The unavoidable conclusion is that they have been working alongside my accusers from the start.

The song that saw me jailed again from Easter to the summer solstice was about Tommy Robinson – despite the judge’s remarks. Only recently did I learn that Robinson’s wife is, apparently, a niece of the late Richard Edmonds… This would explain why, following my first conviction, Edmonds’ advice to me was that I should try to rejoin the Labour party(!). It also helps to clarify his later hatchet job, published by Hope Not Hate satellite mag, Heritage and Destiny, shortly before another of my Court hearings back in 2019.

News of Renouf’s latest gallivanting in fancy dress occasionally soils my inbox. No surprise that these forwarded messages urge correspondents to share some self-publicising clip on Twitter.

Gerard’s latest lyrics were sent to me whilst I was in prison. His and other letters were – exactly the same as last year – withheld by ‘security staff’ who found the content ‘inappropriate.’ Perhaps the c word? I don’t know.

Learning the lyrics by heart and filming (in a wig!) was fun, as have been my few private performances for friends. This version is far from perfect, but it’s a decent enough performance with just a couple of snags towards the end that I managed to patch up using equipment that I currently have at hand.

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It is surreal enough, being the granddaughter of a British soldier who fought and died for his country and having been sent to jail for testing the limits of free speech – for which, I was always told, my grandad sacrificed his life. Those so-called patriots who decided to throw me under the bus are, to reuse a term employed by Labour deputy, Angela Rayner, scum. Despite all their posturing, it seems not in their (financial) interest to actually want to challenge the prescribed narrative concerning WW2.

I have now been jailed twice for singing satirical songs. My right to express myself publicly (and indeed online) as a performing artist has been taken away. This removal of my rights under law has been rubber-stamped by a corrupt Criminal Justice System, and ignored by ‘patriots’ who appear to still believe that Tommy Robinson is the messiah.

If Tommy had any mettle about him in this case, then he might, as one Twitter user suggests, offer to pay my fine. Tommy supported Count Dankula aka Marcus Meecham, yet has nothing much to say about my unique case. Asides the gaslighting and slurs, labelling me a ‘retard’ is unhelpful, as well as downright hypocritical.

Contrary to the facts, several of my original accusers — among whom are two of those who testified against me in Court — now seem to be suggesting that I was jailed for harassment, rather than for causing gross upset with satirical songs. This and other issues not mentioned above are due to be raised with the relevant authorities prior to my November appeal. Until then, once again many thanks to all those with the guts and gumption to lend their support. I hope you enjoy the new song.

Dig Down Deep & Tell Me More Lies

Tell Me More Lies is the theme from my 2016 Edinburgh Fringe show of the same name, banned for being ‘too political’. Lyrics by Gerard Menuhin, author of Tell the Truth and Shame the Devil.
Dig Down Deep was composed for my very first Edinburgh show Girl with the Guitar in 2011, and equally performed as part of my 2015 show Autumn’s Here. This is a slightly revised version.
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An early birthday gift has arrived

Some of you will know that, last year, my birthday was spent behind bars. This year, thanks to one immensely kind and generous friend, a far nicer birthday present arrived early – a digital piano.

It’s a Yamaha Piaggero 32 and has six and half octaves of semi-weighted keys, great speakers and a very decent range of sounds. I am over the moon.

If I could get my hands on the large repertoire of professional backing tracks still in police possession, I would be able to entertain until next year’s birthday.

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A farewell song for Henry Hafenmayer

Left, German dissident Henry Hafenmayer; right, a traditional German song taken from the collection preserved by Max Friedlaender in his major 474-page opus (Cotta, Stuttgart 1902).

Translation of song lyrics:

Brethren, let us exalt wisdom!
Sing songs, fiery and beautiful.

News of Henry Hafenmayer’s early departure came as a shock. He died two days before I was sent back to jail after losing on appeal (my sentence thus extended.) I had no idea, until last week when I was able to access my mail again.

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Un chant d’adieu pour Henry Hafenmayer

À gauche, dissident Allemand Henry Hafenmayer; à droite, une chanson traditionnelle allemande, tirée de la collection rassemblée et conservée par Max Friedlaender dans son opus majeur de 474 pages (Cotta, Stuttgart 1902).

La traduction des paroles:

Frères, exaltons la sagesse !
Chantez des chansons, ardentes et belles.

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Weighing my thoughts on imperial measurement

British imperial measurement contains within itself the beauty and mysticism of the natural world.

Seven weights, each the double of the one before. Seven tones for each of the major and minor scales: respectively, do re mi fa so la ti and la ti do re mi fa so – and indeed any of the other heptatonic scales (dorian, mixolydian, ect.). And let’s not forget the seven days of the week.

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Accused without being served

Court double-faults with poor service

Despite various excuses made over the past four months by the Courts and Tribunals Service as to why I had not received any official notification for the new trial against me, supposed to begin Friday, February 18th, the fact remains that the document delivered electronically, last Thursday 17th, with less than a day’s notice, was the first time I had set eyes on any official summons to attend trial.

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My humble apologies for not being Jimmy Carr

I humbly apologise to everyone for being me.

Perhaps, if I had told a joke about the Roma Holocaust — or sanctioned a millennia-old goblin-banker stereotype for Hollywood movies based on a children’s book series — things might be different: I would not again be facing jail time for causing ‘gross offence’ with another parody song.

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Offensive speech: viral Netflix sales or jail?

Readers will have no doubt seen the latest Cancel Culture Controversy concerning British comic, Jimmy Carr. I won’t go into details here, only to point out that Carr has been criticised and condemned, whilst no doubt laughing all the way to the bank.

Coming shortly after wokedom’s outrage over Whoopi Goldberg’s comments on race, it seems that cancel culture is truly out of hand.

For something different and distant from all the noise, here is a song I wrote in 2009. Let Love In is a Latin number; the lyrics speak for themselves and have, at least from my own perspective, stood the test of time quite well.

Let Love In – Music and lyrics ©2009 Alison Chabloz
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