Thou Shalt Not Kill - Dan Le Sac vs Scroobius Pip

I love these guys!

I first heard of them a few months ago when they released 'Letter from God to Man' and I went and looked for them on the web and found their YouTube channel with loads of Dan Vs Scroobius goodness.

This track is a remix of the original featuring additional lyrics by Posdnous from De La Soul (responsible for one of my all time favourite albums, Three Feet High and Rising) who gives the track's theme his own spin.

I find that Scroobius Pip's lyrics hark back to why I originally loved rap. This was back in the day of Public Enemy and KRS One who were abrasive because they spoke out against the failings of society instead of glorifying them.

Not only that but it's funny too!

'Thou Shalt Not Kill' by Dan Le Sac Vs Scroobius Pip - My New Favourite Song!

The Tale of James' Steel - A Random Story

It was time for a review once more. Every few years those on long sentences were brought before a parole board and they were deemed worthy to re-enter the human race.

I came in before James did. I saw him when he first arrived and I don't think I was wrong in saying he deserved his place here more than most.

Although he hadn't actually murdered anyone yet, you could see in his eyes it would only be a matter of time. I guess some wise judge saw the same and decided to put him away before he actually got round to doing it.

20 years hard labour on the hot plains of Texas usually takes the fire out of most bellies, but not before they've spent their fury in some manner.

James had a bigger attitude than a hen hunting foxes and he took it out on everyone. No-one knows what made him so angry. He never told that part of his story. The only thing we knew about was what came next.

We became cellmates and I got to know him. At first it was like treading on eggshells. He didn't want to trust me, but eventually, as is my talent, I was able to get him to accept my presence. After a few scrapes together we got even closer.

I remember one morning in particular, he started a riot in the yard. The screws kept their distance as much as they could. Unfortunately for one he got too close to James and was soon availed of his right to use his arms.

After disabling the unlucky guard he turned his newly aquired rifle skywards to start a gunfight.

Now to me a gunfight in a prison yard is like shooting fish in a barrel. No sane man would ever allow himself to be cornered into a situation like that.

Blow me though if James didn't have a plan. Either he was very observant or he had an accomplice, but he managed to find himself in the one position that was covered from fire from all points. Not only that, but there was an apparent way out for the athletically talented.

After drawing fire to that spot for a while he musta took off through some high placed air vents that led through to an unsecured spot.

Even though he got caught not long after leaving, the warden lost his job for that and James got to spend a lotta time in contemplation on what he did.

Now I have to say that I wasn't just an observer of these events. I had a pretty big hand in some.

For instance, I was the one who picked up the rifle to continue giving cover when I saw what James was up to. I guess taking some of the heat for him got his trust more than any fancy words.

Pretty quickly I became his wingman on the occasions when he was allowed to mix with others. One or two spats involved his protecting me.

Most of these other conflagrations were pretty evenly spread between fellow inmates and and our jailers. He believed fervently that every man was equal no matter where birth and privilege took you.

Eventually, as time went by the fires of his youth dimmed to be replaced by cold, hard steel. He'd seen a lot in his time here. People had come and people had gone. All sortsa people. He'd seen inmates mistreated and screws abuse their power. The cirles of power flowed and rippled through the yard and canteen with every new arrival.

The concept of hard labour even got replaced with the principle of reform.

The old ways had given James a way to rail against the outside world, the new ways now offered him a chance to deal with his own internal conflicts.

The changes were slow at first. He didn't believe that anyone was really there to help and he didn't think that any of the programs would really change anything.

At first I guess that was true.

Somebody, somewhere had decided that teaching us criminals to be better people would reduce crime. James held the view that teaching those with power and money to be better people would reduce crime. Those that actually came into to run the programs had different ideas again. Usually involving Jesus.

Eventually, more practical, thought out courses started to get run and although numbers were low, James would attend every one, dragging me with him.

Somewhere deep inside I guess there was still a fire burning, but this time it was for knowledge. He sat through a number of exams.

It was like being back in school, which wasn't something I cared for. It was something to pass the time though and occasionally the tutor was female meaning I found it hard to keep my mind on the subject anyway.

So I basically followed his lead on everything.

As time went on he started trying to enthuse others to get educated and give themselves a chance. I think this idea of reform had stuck with him. A lot of people owed a lot to him as he rallied inmates to better themselves. I think he wanted them to have the confidence to stand up for themselves when they got out and not feel browbeaten into feeling inferior and therefore not feeling like they were entitled to a better life.

He was an unsung hero.

Few people messed with him at this stage. For those who were too hardened by their years of crime, but had at least acknowledged some regret at their actions, they actually started to back him up in recruitment and eventually all courses were fully subscribed.

Who'da thunk!

When I had a chance to look back at all this I was sure that next time we came up for parole in the new system we would be free men. We had changed so much, but James especially so.

His appointment was before mine. I saw him go in and time went by. I'm sure they would be going through and looking at this achievements over the last few years, the positive changes he brought about, the increased reputation for the prison.

I expected him to be leaving tomorrow on the same bus as me.

Time passed and then he came out. His head was held high, but there was something in his eyes, he wouldn't look at me. Surely he had been given his freedom? If he hadn't what did that mean for me? Was he going free, but I wasn't?

I waited for my moment in a state of agitation. I wrung my hands in anticipation before entering the parole board meeting room.

They asked me a number of questions about my time here and I did my best to show them my reformed character and also paid my dues to James who had led the way. The moment came when they passed judgement.

I was a free man!

I couldn't believe it. After all these years.

I had no idea what I would do on the outside, but I felt equipped for it. Would James be coming with me?

Rushing back to the cell I needed to find out what had happened and what was wrong with him.

Finding him there calm and collected I guess he had come to terms with whatever was warring inside him after he had left the parole meeting.

I asked him how it had gone. I couldn't believe my naivete when he gave me his answer.

Tomorrow came and I reluctantly said goodbye to the place that had been my life for so long, finding it harder to do so knowing James may never get out.

'Don't worry about me.' he had said, 'I'll find my place here and continue what I've been doing. They'll never break my spirit and hopefully I can be influence on the youngsters that come in and make sure they never come back'.

On the bus back to wherever I replayed it all in mind. I had known the man and his character was greater than those with the power to free. Hopefully, one day a man will no longer be oppressed because of the colour of his skin.












Character:reform Plot:selects Resolution:bigoted


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Now playing: Jimmy Cliff - Wonderful World, Wonderful People
via FoxyTunes

Ambitions No.1

The Last Bus Journey - A Random Story

He sat at the front of the bus, facing sideways across the aisle.

People got on and off right in front of him but he didn't notice them. He was lost in another place, another time.

Everything had gotten so difficult lately. He'd finaly left High School behind and taken a course at the local Art College to get his degree. Except it was nothing like he'd expected.

He was all on his own with no support. For the first time in his life he was having to stand on his own two feet.

He was falling badly. There was nothing familiar. There was no comfort in his new classmates. Everything was hostile to him. Even the lessons themselves.

Who was he supposed to talk to? He wasn't supposed to have the kinds of thoughts that raced through his mind.

He had been brought up to be a good, Christian boy. He wasn't supposed to think about girls, they only wanted sex. He wasn't supposed to hang out with guys as they just used drink and drugs to have fun. The only people he was allowed to mix with were those his Mother deemed suitable.

These were the children of good Christian parents. They weren't at all like the other kids he came into contact with. At least that was what he was told. Experience showed him otherwise. What was wrong with him, he thought. Why did he feel like he was the only person trying to live a godly life.

He didn't swear. He didn't drink. He didn't take drugs. He hadn't had sex. He wasn't violent.

He was considerate. He put other people first. He was always helpful. He'd read the whole of his Bible twice already and could even remember certain chunks of it.

So why did life feel so crap?

It was a hot day and the bus driver had left the doors open just in front of him. He looked down at the road passing by at great speed and imagined throwing himself out of it.

'Why would I do that?' he asked himself. 'I'm doing okay with God aren't I?'

'If so why are you feeling so empty?' a voice inside him said.

The bus pulled to a stop and a girl got on board. He immediately looked at the floor, so as not to tempt himself with impure thoughts by looking at her. Even as he did so, he couldn't stop himself from looking at her smooth, shapely legs as she walked by.

'Look up', the voice inside said, 'look her in the face.'

'I can't', he said, 'she might see me looking.'

'Won't she want you to look?'

'I'm not lovable. I'm not good looking. If I look half as bad on the outside as I feel on the inside I can only expect nothing but pity, never love.'

'Then look out through that door again.'

He looked

'If you're so worthless then why not throw yourself out. No one will miss you.'

He screwed his eyes up tight and tried not to scream out loud on the bus. He tried to put all the pain in a bubble and push it far down inside him where he wouldn't have to deal with it.

This time it wouldn't work. The bubble cracked and the pain flowed back.

A tear fell from his eye, followed by another. He buried his head in his hands to hide these tears from those on board.

He knew they were all looking at him losing it but he wouldn't sob. He would never give them the satisfaction. He might not of been able to hold the tears back but there was no way he would utter a sound.

'So this is your life, eh?'

'Things might change.'

'How?'

'I don't know. But God has a plan for me. If I keep doing what he wants then I'll find out.'

'How do you know you're not just crazy, listening for God's voice?'

'I...I don't know that I'm not crazy. I believe I'm not crazy. Hope is all that I have left.'

He wiped the tear tracks away now that he had gotten some semblance of control back again and lifted his head to look out of the window. Without thinking his body tensed and tried to throw itself out of the moving bus.

He caught it just in time. He tried not to look down the rest of the bus to see if anyone had noticed him half rise from his seat.

'I can't believe I nearly did it!'

'Maybe you're not as sure in your hope as you thought you were?'

'What else can I do? If I kill myself then that's definitely the end and I don't want to undo all the effort I've put into being good and send myself to Hell by default.'

'So you're chicken then? The thought of eternal hell is greater than the hell you've made for yourself in this life?'

'No...maybe...is that so bad? From what I understand you can't change your destiny once you're dead. You've only got this life to set you up for the next.'

'And you're so sure there is a next life.'

'Yes. I can't imagine there being nothing more.'

'So take a look at that girl then. Make the most of this life.'

'I can't. There's no point me looking at a girl if I'm not capable on following through with more.'

'Meaning?'

'What's the point of initiating a conversation with a glance when I can't talk to the person afterwards.'

'Live dangerously. Play it by ear.'

'But I know I'm not going to get on with them because they'll probably want to go to a pub or a club for a date and I don't drink and I don't agree with the songs that they play at these places.'

'So you're effectively talking yourself out of it?'

'No, I'm just saving disappointment all round. What's the point in starting a friendship with someone when you know that it'll fail in the end.'

'You have no friends?'

'I have those I grew up with, but I feel uncomfortable around them these days. I'm sure they probably notice, but I can't help it. To be honest though they don't judge me nearly as much as I judge myself.'

'So what has God given you that equals all that you've given up?'

'I don't think it works like that.'

'What do you think would happen if you started doing all the things that your peers seem to enjoy?'

'It would be very enjoyable I'm sure, but it would be a case of partying on the fast train to hell.'

'If it's all bothering you so much why not talk to your Mum or your Pastor about how you're feeling?'

'I'd just be a disappointment to them. How can I love God so much and yet still have these feelings and thoughts that I know are wrong?'

'I guess you're right there. I'd imagine they'd throw you out of Church for thinking about girls and wanting to have sex with them. Everyone knows that Men should only marry virgins and that women only have babies when God says so.'

'How do you get to that point? How do you convince a girl to like you, let alone marry you?'

'What do you think?'

'I think that God just brings the right person into your life and it all falls into place.'

'Without you having to do anything?'

'Pretty much, yeah.'

'I think you're going to have to show a bit more backbone than that to get what you want.'

'I can't though. I'm not strong enough to do this. Girls are formidable people. They don't need guys. We should feel privileged that they even want to be with us.'

'Where did you get that from?'

'I grew up with a bunch of feminists.'

'Feminists and Christians? You should be the perfect guy then.'

'I'm trying. The girls I like always seem to go for the confident guys or the bad guys though. Don't they see that those guys would never love them like I would?'

'Exciting or boring, which would I choose? hmmmm.'

'Is that it. Is that why I'm on my own.'

'You already know this. That's why you're talking to yourself.'

He looked up and found that everyone was actually looking at him this time.

'Yes you were talking out loud.', said one passenger.

The bus pulled to a stop again and he jumped off not caring where he was. He would walk the rest of the way home.

The tears were back again.

He walked as fast as his legs would carry him, trying to dodge people on the pavement, only occasionally having to push his way through a few by bumping shoulders.

He wanted the ground to open and lose him forever.

'If only someone else would kill me. A car could hit me, or I could get mugged or something...something else where it wasn't my fault. If it happened like that then I wouldn't be to blame and it wouldn't be suicide.'

'Are we here again? I thought you decided that God was going to fix things for you.'

'It still doesn't stop the pain though. It's the pain, the awareness of what I haven't got that makes everything unbearable.'

'Doesn't God give you peace?'

'Kind of.'

'Is that a yes or a no?'

'I feel a peace that I'm on the right path, it's just every step I take on that path is so hard.'

'Do you want to give up? You know you can give up without killing yourself. Just stop doing what everyone tells you to and make your own decisions.'

'I am making my own decisions.'

'Why are you a Christian?'

'Because my Mum took me to church and wanted me to make a commitment, so I did.'

'Why can't you make friends?'

'Because my Mum wouldn't like me hanging out with someone she doesn't like.'

'Why can't you talk to girls?'

'Because I'm afraid I'll treat them badly just like my Mum and all her friends were badly treated by their boyfriends/husbands.'

'So your decisions are all based on what you think other people want. Specifically your Mum?'

'It seems that way. But it's only because she's given so much to me.'

'Sounds like she taken away more than she could ever have possibly have given. Don't you have any self-confidence?'

'If I did I'd just be like everyone else.'

'But you want to be like everyone else?'

'No, I want what they've got, but I want to get it in a way that will mean something and last forever.'

'You can't go on like this. Something has to give.'

'I know.'

His journey was at end. He had reached home after all, still in one piece.

He went in and ran upstairs to his bedroom. His defence against the world.

'I can't go back to college. I'm not ready. I just can't cope with all those people smoking, drinking, taking drugs, talking about sex and probably doing it too. It's like a big carrot hanging in front of me, taunting me. 'How strong are you?''

'So you're just going to hide here.'

'What's the point of me ever leaving. I'll still go to Church, its where I feel comfortable. The people there are generally safer. Maybe it'll just give me some time until I can figure out who I am and what I'm going to be.'

'They'll be winning. Those you're running away from. They are the ones who are going to go on and have rich lives full of experience after experience.'

'I just can't do it. I'm not that strong. I just have to be grateful to be alive and take it from there. Some days the pain isn't so bad you know. I just wanted my life to be art college and then go to do some kind of Graphic Design degree and become an artist. I'll just have to find some other way of doing it.'

He lay there, apart from the world. His world had come crashing down and broken his spirit. Things were never the same from then on. It was a slow process of rebuilding but eventually opportunities arose and he felt able to take the necessary risks and get a life.

During this time he looked back and although things had been tough and painful maybe there had been someone watching over him after all.

He was never quite sure who's side they were on though.













Character: breakdown Plot: cracks Resolution: supervise



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Now playing: Levellers - Hope Street
via FoxyTunes

Regrets No.2

Happy No.2

The Hunter Hunted - A Random Story

I held my hand tightly to my shoulder as I crouched down behind the fallen tree.

The shot had just grazed my left shoulder. My shirt was damp with the blood I was trying to hold back. It was nothing serious. I would live.

I needed to be careful now though.

The blood would light a blazing trail straight to me should they use dogs or have decent tracking skills.

My original plan would have taken my escape route via the river. That would be too dangerous now. I was safe for the moment. As the sunlight skimmed off the tops of the tall and ancient trees there were nothing but shadows down here now.

This time of year was perfect for what I do. Every year I would perform the ritual killing at sundown. It got easier for me every time despite the increasing scarcity of suitable individuals. This time I’d gotten careless. Even though I’d scouted the area before making my move I’d been spotted just after slitting my unsuspecting victim’s throat where he stood.

I’d counted three at the camp, two that had stayed as this one wandered off to find firewood. My victims are all self-selected. Anyone stupid enough to still come to these woods and go off alone, knowing this is my time, deserved to die. Maybe they thought they were better than me?

On this occasion they were right.

There was a fourth hidden in a tree. I had watched them set up camp. There had been no fourth person there. This meant that they had come prepared. They had sought me out. It made sense now.

As I’d watched my first victim slide down my body to the ground I saw the red dot on my chest wavering over my heart. I moved immediately, diving for cover, but I heard no shot apart from thud of the bullet in the tree behind me and the splintering of wood.

I ran and heard them give chase. Even when being pursued I made myself hard to follow. With the adrenaline coursing through everything was heightened and in slow motion and every move I made was borne from the care and instinct I’d built over the years of hiding and stalking.

My attackers split up, trying to outflank me, instead I attracted the attention of one and he followed me. I knew every inch of this forest and how to turn against my pursuer.

I stood over him revelling in the irony as this so-called hunter was a caught in one of his own instrument of torture. As he writhed in the bear trap which was now clamped to his leg he screamed for mercy. I had none.

He had seen me so I had to remove his ability to see. I went behind him and dislocated his shoulders. Then I moved before him again. Tears streaming down his face in pain and terror. I plunged my thumbs right into his eyeballs. As sometimes happens I get caught up in the power and thrill of it all and not content to just take his sight I claimed his life too. With a small movement I pushed my thumbs further and into his brain.

My mistakes continued though and before I had time to wipe my hands a bullet whistled passed my ear a second later I felt the pain in my shoulder. It was time to run again.

Here by the tree I stopped to gather my thoughts. Before I ran I had looked down at the body as it fell backwards. Its jacket had slipped open and there, clipped to his belt was a federal badge.

This changed things. They would not be alone. There had to be backup.

Oh well, of this course meant they were not my usual type of victim, but I’d never slaughtered this many before. I accepted the challenge.

I thought out my new plan of action. The river would wash off my scent but they were bound to have agents somewhere upstream and downstream to cut off any escape.

Improvising, I doubled back. Slowly, but steadily, I moved through the undergrowth keeping an ear out for my would-be hunters. These men must be trained for stealth and with me on the run they must be feeling confident. That meant they would probably underestimate my own skills at staying undetected.

That’s when I heard him.

Even though they were stalking me they still maintained radio contact. Stupid. Even though they kept it quiet I could easily pick it out from the natural noises within this glorious wilderness. This would be easy. I had been doing this all my life.

It all started when my father had taken me hunting with him one Fall. His aim had been to show me how Man was master over all. Then, in one unfortunate moment, he couldn’t even master his rifle and shot me point blank. In the face.

I survived, but fate obviously had a greater plan for me. Once I had healed, my father became my first victim.

It never got boring. Taking away a life is the biggest rush you could get, but this wasn’t about me. This was for a higher purpose.

Catching the attention of the radio guy was easy. I rustled a few branches and snapped a few twigs as loudly as I could. He turned and I let him get a glimpse of me before I moved away enticing him to follow. There was a brief chatter on the radio and in a few seconds the noise of a helicopter started to overpower the background hubbub, but he started after me, as I wanted. The helicopter would not get here in time to help him.

I led him towards one of my bolt holes in the forest. I crept silently into the small space under a tree root and felt around. There it was! My bow and arrow.

On the floor, I slid into a comfortable position and waited. As soon as he appeared I let fly. Bam! Right through the throat!

Radio that one in!

This left only one of the original four. I would have to be happy with what I had accomplished and live to fight another day. There was no reason to put myself at further risk.

The further I moved away from the river and back to civilisation the more chance I would now have of escaping. I had broken their lines as they tightened their grip elsewhere.

Lost in my thoughts I got careless again. Now I was caught!

I had moved into a thicket not realising a uniformed agent was already using it for cover. Had I been alert enough I would never have missed the signs. He pointed his gun at me and circled around to cover my way out. It seemed my mission had come to an end.

I shouldn’t have lost faith.

Instead, the very thing I sought to defend came to my aid. Seemingly from nowhere a grizzly bear attacked the agent. With one fierce swipe of its paw the agent’s head came flying off. His body dropped to its knees then fell forward, still holding the gun.

The bear looked me in the eye and I bowed my head in thanks. It showed no further interest and, after licking its paw, moved back out into the wild.

Since receiving my injury so long ago I had seen things so clearly. Someone had to stop the hunters from taking more precious life in the forest. With my miraculous survival from what should have been a fatal accident I realised I had been chosen to eradicate the threat of the hunter from nature. If my father had taken my life people would have treated him like a criminal and yet animals were allowed to be slaughtered indiscriminately in the name of sport.

Now every hunting season I come here for one night and get revenge for those who could not fight for themselves.

The wildlife has taught me many of its secrets so that I may return year after year to instil fear and fulfil my role as the forest’s guardian and turn the tables so that I can hunt the hunters.









Character: damp Plot: Format Resolution: Repeated

Anger No.1