I see the Pound has fallen again today and is now valued at 1.13 GBP to the Euro. Just about every pundit knows that this is caused by the disastrous Brexit negotiations, and therefore the responsibility of the present Tory government. Tories, always at the helm of a floundering ship, when disaster strikes – read Ted Heath, Margaret Thatcher, and now Theresa May – I find it very hard to understand why people continue to support this myopic Prime Minister, and her disastrous policies. Now she is claiming that Brexit is 95% done? True, or not true, this is a statement of fiction and meant to calm rough waters. What happened to, “nothing is agreed until everything is agreed?”

If you forget all the brinkmanship, and the endlessly encouraging statements, made by past and present cabinet ministers – quite a long list of forgettable individuals by the way – it might seem that the current quality required in order to become a potential minister of state, is catatonic amnesia. Being in denial is one thing, but is ignoring the truth; to the extent and degree that the current Tory cabinet has managed to do, simply due to downright carelessness?

Pompous, self important, and lost in a cloud of their own rhetoric, should these party stalwarts be held responsible for what they say? We are all aware that a certain American president has devalued the currency of truth to a resounding zero, but Brits do not have to follow his example.

The problem now is, that politics has superseded all reasonable governmental checks and balances, to the point where running Great Britain PLC has become a kind of secondary back story. But why has this happened?

The roots of the British theatre are to be found in the church, the law courts, and Parliament. The House of Commons is one of the few places, where individuals can remain uncensored for spouting off irrelevant, unprovable, and misleading drivel, without the possibility of being cautioned by the odd rotten egg, ripe tomato, or turnip. And the confusion does not stop there, because during the past two years, and mainly due to Brexit, the British nation has been subjected to so much political rumpus, that the nation does not know if it is standing on its head or its heels; nor the truth.

But what is becoming very clear, is that the country is suffering, British business is ‘losing’ confidence – largely reflected in recent official statistics, and a Bank of England report – and although the falling Pound is good for some, for others it is a living nightmare. So, why not resign Theresa May; have a new election, put some fresh faces on the negotiators bench, and organize a referendum?

“No, I am afraid that would never do!”

Clinging on to power is a vanity issue. Calling it democracy; based almost entirely on lies and innuendo, it is clearly no longer people’s wish to pursue a tragic and destructive Brexit. Partly due to the whim of cotton tops suffering from commonwealth nostalgia – and the tribal instincts of hardcore Tory Brexit supporters – it baffles me that these people can remain so delusional, when black country UKIP supporters have completely changed their minds.

Is it something to do with appearing to be middle class? Are the home county views of the English to be honed into some sort of political psychosis by a bunch of obsessive, and incompetent Westminster political gnomes?

Perhaps Michel Barnier is right, and the UK has finally reached the status of a small country? You know what they say?

Little countries and little people, think everything is a big deal!




Goat POD 25.6mm_Layout 1

The Judas Goat, is a well trained goat, who leads lambs to their slaughter. In central and eastern Europe, sheepherders often have mixed herds, because the goat is quite a clever animal, and sheep; being rather stupid, are inclined to follow them. And people can also play this part, and lead others to their doom. Especially if their victims are greedy, selfish and vain – imagining themselves far too powerful to be manipulated – and bigger mugs than they think.

In my book Judas Goat: The Kennet Narrow Boat Mystery, just such a thing happens. It begins with the discovery of a dead man on a narrow boat, sitting in a Loyd Loom caned chair, staring into oblivion, and ends with the daylight assassination of a Chinese merchant banker on the streets of London. Why? Because this is a story about arms dealing!

Not about gun running, which is a much lesser crime, but – involving millions of dollars in international trade – the arms deals which I write about, go under the radar every day, and involve politicians, disreputable banks, and the scum of the earth.


And, although fictionalized, my story is also based in fact, because it involved the then president of Peru, president Fujimori, and his cohorts. In my book Judas Goat, I fictionalize the purchase of a squadron of defunct MIG 29s – although only one of them flew and that crashed – and a consignment of small arms for the then FARC terrorists in Ecuador. But all is not well, because DCI Michael Lambert is on the case.

There is nothing glamorous about arms dealing, although in the past Hollywood has sought to make it a nice little box office earner, with a Nicholas Cage film. However, I assure you, that any excitement there is to be had, is likely to be in the offices of a Merchant Bank. That description alone is enough to explain how most of these deals are done, because Merchant Bankers are all barter traders, and very often money doesn’t even change hands.You could be eating the proceeds of an arms deal in your lunchtime sandwich, who knows, or in your morning Cafe Latte? This is because merchant banks need to be involved in this dirty trade simply because of the large sums of money involved.

Do these noble merchant bankers sleep well at night? Well, ask the Rothschilds? One side of the family financed Napoleon and the French Republic, and the other side financed the Duke of Wellington and the United Kingdom, so what do you think?


Judicial Review A Play – PATRICK BRIGHAM LIVE

Judicial Review - Final cover

Plays are a way for writers to shout at the world, but if people won’t listen to what you have to say, that is another matter. For a while you have an audience’s undivided attention, and if you lose it, not only is it your fault, but the actors and producer’s fault too. This is because, although you may have physically captured some willing theatre goers for an hour and a half, you may well not have captured their hearts and minds.

That’s the hard bit. As many playwrights have discovered, it is not simply about challenging a tired businessman or a harassed housewife’s intellect during an evening’s performance, because you have to entertain them too! Whilst the actors suspend disbelief, and occupy the audience’s attention on stage, the playwright has to tinker with people’s prejudices, and open doors which ordinary theatre goers might not wish to be opened. You can do this by being terribly famous – Shakespeare, Oscar Wilde, Bernard Shaw, Anton Chekhov, and Samuel Becket – or you can write a play, and play tricks.

In my play Judicial Review, it starts with a court scene where the accused Sir Jerald Noakes is being sentenced. He fraudulently acquired a 50 million GBP fortune through insider dealing, and has been found guilty. A very up-to-date crime, you might say?

And, you might also be forgiven for a casual yawn – as if you were reading the Daily Telegraph in bed on a Sunday morning, with a nice cup of tea – but in this case you are not. You are awaiting sentence to be passed on a smug and self satisfied pillar of society, who has been caught out.

In my play, the fictional characters are living during a time of Private Prisons, where the wealthy are allowed to pay for their own imprisonment, and even to attach some unusual conditions, especially concerning conjugal visits.  Of course, there are added tax advantages, which have to be agreed in court, together with the location of his desired prison. Sir Jerald elects to be imprisoned at La Collonette Prison on the borders of Switzerland, and to suffer skiing; amongst other demeaning punishments, at his own additional expense.

More like a private club than a criminal court, you might say, but then we then move onto the actors themselves, who, in rehearsal, seem somewhat baffled at the contents of the play, and are looking for explanations. They are an assorted lot and pretty left wing as well. Sponsored by a Socialist Workers group, the rehearsal is taking place in a theatre within the Reading University campus.

Sir Jerald is played by a somewhat aging gay, Lady Noakes, by a tattooed lesbian, Noakes’ posh upper class barrister is played by a Jewish actor, His Lordship Judge Cohen is a West Indian actor, and the playwright, Liam McInerney, is a seething, dyspeptic socialist from Northern Ireland. So suddenly, in scene two, the audience has quite a lot to think about.

Of course the actors hate the parts they are playing. But as time goes by, the audience  also starts to become confused. As mounting angst is portrayed on stage, and the accusations – mainly centred on greed, money and expensive possessions – bandied about, we see the characters of the actors and their parts gradually begin to merge. Lady Noakes, who usually wears a twin set and pearls, and is a frightfully upper class, suddenly appears in a performance wearing ripped jeans, Doc Martins, and smoking a roll-up. Is it all going haywire?

In the end, we discover the posh self satisfied City mogul is dying, and seeking recognition for his life’s work, all he finds is deceit and contempt. His business associates turn against him, and patronize him, because he is becoming weaker by the day. But redemption is at hand, because Sir Jerald has a ‘cunning plan,’ via which he can die in peace, and by turning his personal fortune to the public good, he achieves some kind of revenge on his tormentors – his dreadful grasping family – and the unfeeling predators he has been feeding for most of his business life.

What is the moral of this play? It is simply that if we were all willingly cloned to some preconceived idea of what is normal, there would be no conflict in our society. And if one was to move that unlikely condition to encapsulate the world, peace would reign supreme. But, of course it doesn’t. Or does it?

Remember, I wrote this play long before LGBT consensus, including characters who would in their early life have been the subject of prejudice and scorn, and even – at the time – the British courts too, although not for fraud, and one has to remember that!