So here it is, triggered in response to John Pilger's article The Quiet Death of Freedom, stimulated by two London-return train journeys these last two days, with the three hour soundtrack of The Fire this Time scorching my ears and the full text of Harold Pinter's Nobel lecture searing the eyes of my heart; written largely whilst uncomfortably seated in a frenzied waiting hall at Euston Station: tomorrow's sermon.
john davies
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