#Milton Keynes Shopping

[tmcphotoblog]

Apple Store Milton Keynes, England, United Kingdom

[junk-culture]

the other day my dad and i were talking offhand about the state of modern musicTM and too many middle class bands etc etc and i mentioned the jam at one point and he (a jam fan) was like "ah but even they weren't Properly working class were they..... growing up i was much worse off than paul wellers type of family...." etc. and like. on one hand its ironic that that sort of thing is exactly what the jam/tsc/weller preached against like. it should always be unity against the man rather than macho infighting over who's more oppressed but at the same time it is a little funny. because paul weller himself never actually had a job besides music did he. like correct me if im wrong but being in a successful band was his first actual job wasn't it. he already wrote some of the best lyrics of our time regarding class struggles and whatnot so i guess we can only imagine what he might have written if he'd actually worked in tescos and woolworths .

[sefurnitureoutlet]

Furniture Delivery Milton Keynes

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[33max]

winter warmers ☃️ - day one, lingerie

max/daniel, 921 words, mostly sfw (only one cock mention and one hole mention)

Max is not usually shy. Daniel knows this and has experienced first-hand exactly how not shy Max is. There have been times when Daniel has been showering and Max has barged right in to take a piss a couple of feet away. A few too many times where Max has told Daniel, in excruciating detail, about the food poisoning he caught from a dodgy kebab shop in Milton Keynes. And more recently, he’s not been shy about how much he likes it when Daniel puts him face down on the mattress and pulls his ass cheeks apart to tongue at him there.

So, Daniel doesn’t know why Max is so tight-lipped about this particular thing. As far as kinks go, this is probably closer to the vanilla side of the kinky scale.

But Max is still shy about it. He blushes whenever Daniel brings the subject up. Once, he even choked on his mostly empty gin and tonic, coughing loudly until Daniel dropped the conversation and instead started patting him on the back.

The thing is, Daniel is like a dog with a bone. From the moment he first brought it up with Max and it elicited cherry red cheeks and a spluttering dismissal from his boyfriend, Daniel has thought of nothing else.

Two things are certain.

Max Verstappen wants to wear lingerie.

And Max Verstappen is too proud to admit it.

So Daniel takes it into his own hands, and starts searching for the most perfect lingerie set he can find for Max.

Choosing the right colour is hard because as far as Daniel is concerned, Max looks good in everything. But it’s important he gets this right.

Orange seems too obvious.

Red seems too predictable.

Navy blue is too close to Max’s work attire.

White would look lovely on Max’s pale skin, but Daniel is looking for something with contrast. Something that will stand out.

He sees a forest green set online and immediately starts entering his credit card information because he knows Max will look gorgeous in this colour. Milky white skin underneath forest green lace.

It has a corset, panties and a garter belt. Daniel doesn’t even bother to read the price tag. The price doesn’t matter when it’s for Max.

When the set arrives, Daniel spends a long time deciding how he is going to gift the set to Max… who probably still thinks he has successfully shown little interest in any sort of lingerie. After much deliberation, Daniel ends up leaving the set, wrapped up in a fancy gift box, on their bed for Max to find.

That way, Max can spend some time looking at the details without pretending to be uninterested in front of Daniel. He can run his fingers over the lace and hold it up to his body and maybe even try it on. So, as desperate as Daniel is to see Max’s reaction to the gift, he knows he needs to let Max process this by himself if he ever wants to actually see him in the lace.

Not that Daniel is counting but it is exactly forty-three minutes after Max walks into their bedroom and finds the lingerie that Daniel hears a faint “Daniel? Can you come here?”

He doesn’t know if he walks or teleports to the bedroom, but the next thing he knows he is standing in the doorway looking at Max, who is completely naked clutching the gift box tightly to his chest.

“Do you like them?” Daniel asks, letting his eyes roam over Max’s exposed skin. He’s so hot.

“No,” Max lies, but it’s with a small lopsided smile. His cheeks are pink.

“Are you sure?” Daniel laughs, eyes trailing to where Max’s cock is chubbing up between his legs. Twitching.

“Will you help me put them on?”

Daniel doesn’t answer him, it’s a silly question, and he is already practically vibrating with anticipation. Instead, Daniel walks towards Max and carefully takes the box out of his grip.

“Let’s get you all dressed up,” Daniel says, leaning in to press a line of kisses along Max’s collarbones. “You are going to look so beautiful in these, baby. I bought them just for you.”

Max lets out a tiny breathy moan.

“How long have you wanted this?” Daniel can’t help but ask. He’s been dying to know.

“I don’t know,” Max blushes harder, his cheeks so pink. “Always.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Max shrugs. “I didn’t want you to think I was weird.”

“Maxy, it’s totally normal. It’s a normal thing to want.” Daniel reassures. “You could be into almost anything, and I’d be into it too because you like it.”

Max blushes harder.

“Baby?” Daniel says. He’s very aware that Max is still completely naked, and he is fully clothed, he doesn’t want Max to feel too exposed so he will drop it the moment Max looks even slightly overwhelmed.

“Itsnotjustasexthing!” Max blurts out, before turning away, his eyes firmly avoiding Daniel.

It takes a few moments to process what Max has said. It’s not just a sex thing.

“Max, baby, look at me.” Daniel says, “Even more reason to let yourself wear them.”

Max’s blue eyes search Daniel’s until finally, those words seem to sink in.

“Ok?” Daniel asks.

“Ok.”

“Let’s get you in these panties,” Daniel says, tickling at Max’s sides.

Daniel is right. Forest green is Max’s colour.

[wethotcrazy]

SYMPATHY IS A KNIFE (vi)

pairing: Yuki Tsunoda x Fem! Driver! Reader

word count: 1267

part 6. just something short and sweet for tonight, as i have to finish uni homework. i hope you guys enjoy. also cant wait to watch quali and the race later the anticipation is getting to me. thats all happy race day everyone

part i part ii part iii part iv part v

The first time Yuki saw YN at the Program, she carried herself like she already belonged in Formula 1. While other drivers tried to make themselves bigger with false bravado, she didn't need to – her presence filled the room naturally. Those intense eyes of hers had sized up every driver, every engineer, silently calculating the challenges ahead.

Yuki remembered the exact moment their friendship began. During a particularly dry briefing about fuel management strategies, he'd muttered under his breath, "If we save any more fuel, we might as well push the car ourselves." The room had stayed silent except for one sound – YN's unexpected laughter. It had started as a snort she tried to suppress, then evolved into a full belly laugh that lit up her entire face. The serious facade had cracked, revealing something genuine underneath that matched the passion in her eyes.

They'd gravitated toward each other after that. Long debriefs became more bearable with shared glances and subtle jokes. They'd stay late comparing data, YN explaining corner entry techniques while Yuki shared brake balance insights. Their competitiveness pushed them both to improve – neither wanted to be outdone by the other.

When they became teammates in Formula 3, it felt natural, like pieces clicking into place. They developed a rhythm – YN's analytical approach complementing Yuki's instinctive racing style. Even their engineers joked they could predict each other's feedback before either spoke. After particularly good races, they'd celebrate with convenience store snacks, sitting on the pit wall and dreaming about their future in Formula 1.

The years when they raced in different series had been strange. Yuki would find himself checking YN's race results before his own, watching grainy livestreams of her races whenever he could. She'd send him detailed messages about his performances, always ending with some variation of "You're going to make it to F1 before me, I just know it."

He still remembered every detail of telling her about his AlphaTauri contract. They'd met at their old favorite chip shop in Milton Keynes, and he'd barely gotten the words out before she'd launched herself across the table to hug him. "I knew it," she'd said, her voice thick with emotion. "I knew you'd do it." When she'd pulled back, her eyes had shimmered with unshed tears of joy, filled with such genuine pride it had made his chest ache.

But then came the reality of Formula 1 – different schedules, different countries, different priorities. Their constant communication dwindled to quick messages and reaction emojis to each other's Instagram stories. He'd still wear her team's cap during race weekends he wasn't driving, and she'd defend him fiercely in interviews when journalists tried to stir up drama. But gone were the late-night data sessions and shared dreams on the pit wall.

Sometimes, during particularly lonely nights in far-flung hotel rooms, Yuki would pull up old photos from their junior days. YN in her first Formula 4 car, both of them covered in champagne after their first Formula 3 podium, the grainy selfie they'd taken the night he got his F1 contract. He'd trace the evolution of her smile in each picture, from the intense rookie with something to prove to the confident driver she'd become.

He thought about texting her more times than he could count, wanting to recapture that easy friendship they'd had. But what would he say? "I miss when it was just us against the world"? "Sometimes I catch myself looking for you in the paddock even though I know you're racing halfway across the globe"? Instead, he'd send another emoji, another quick congratulations, and try to ignore the growing distance between them.

The neon lights of Singapore streaked across Yuki's hotel room walls, casting shifting shadows that matched his restless thoughts. His phone screen glowed with notifications – messages congratulating both him and YN on their double points finish, her first podium dominating F1 social media. P3. She'd finally done it.

The champagne had long since dried on his race suit, but he could still see her radiant smile as she'd stood on that podium, trophy held high above her head. The way she'd looked down at him in parc fermé, eyes shining with accomplishment, had stirred something deep in his chest – feelings he'd tried to keep buried under the weight of professionalism and friendship.

Rolling onto his back, Yuki let his mind drift to that pivotal moment in their junior days. They'd been analyzing data after a particularly grueling test session, YN's hair falling to her face as she leaned over the laptop. She'd been so focused, breaking down every apex, every brake point, completely lost in the pursuit of perfection. When she'd finally looked up, catching him staring, she'd given him that soft smile that seemed reserved just for him. That was the moment he knew – knew that what he felt went far beyond admiration for a fellow driver.

He remembered telling her about his F1 contract, how her eyes had lit up with pure joy, how she pulled him into a fierce hug. Even then, chasing her own dreams, she'd been genuinely happy for his success. That was YN – competitive to her core but never letting rivalry poison their friendship.

When she'd finally gotten her own F1 seat, Yuki had watched her try to navigate the pressure with grace. The media scrutinized her every move, questioning whether she deserved to be there, whether she could handle the physical demands. She'd answered them all on track, letting her laptimes speak louder than words. Still, he'd seen the toll it took, caught the moments when her smile would slip in the garage, noticed how she'd grip her steering wheel a little tighter before qualifying.

Now, lying in his hotel room, Yuki's phone buzzed with another notification. It was a photo from their team – YN kneeling beside her car in parc fermé, eyes closed, forehead resting against the nose cone in a moment of pure emotion. His thumb hovered over the screen, tracing the outline of her figure.

He was proud of her – so proud it felt like his chest might burst. Proud of how she'd fought through the day, how she'd defended against more experienced drivers, how she'd proven every doubter wrong. But beyond pride was something deeper, something that had grown from those late nights comparing data, from shared dreams and inside jokes, from years of watching her pour her heart and soul into every lap.

The city lights caught a drop of moisture on his phone screen, and Yuki realized his eyes had welled up. He wanted to tell her everything – how seeing her succeed made his own accomplishments feel brighter, how her determination pushed him to be better, how sometimes he caught himself watching her in team meetings instead of the presentations. How somewhere between shared convenience store meals and podium celebrations, she'd become more than just his teammate or friend.

But tonight wasn't about his feelings. Tonight was about YN's triumph, about years of hard work finally paying off. Tomorrow they'd be back in the garage, professional as ever, pushing each other to go faster, to be better. And he'd keep these feelings locked away, grateful just to be part of her journey.

He pulled up their old photo from their junior days, the one where they're both covered in champagne after their first shared podium. YN's smile in that photo was the same one she'd worn today – pure joy mixed with fierce determination. Some things, he thought with a slight smile, never changed.

here are some of the tags: @floweringanna, @hiraethberry, @holendernik, @oooom4arie, @burnhampeaches, @dying-inside-but-its-classy

let me know if you want to be added to the list :))

[superm4ks]

I think this a good time as any to share what I think H0rners big brain been cooking for some time, especially after the Spa fiasco wid Danny ric and allegedly big sponsors having to step in to save Checos seat ((Im skeptical of those reports but they not really the point, Checo bringing Liberty, and rbr, a lot of money from very intense LATAM pockets never been a secret, and it does matter in the cost cap era, its just how things are. Plus replacing Checo not something that keeps Horner up at night believe it or not, and that's where my word vomit comes in)).

I been sitting wid this 1 for some time, but mind u its all speculation on my part and mostly incoherent because my brain is completely fried these days. But stay wid me 😭😭. Adrian Newey leaving-- not just because of how it was announced, the way it was dealt wid internally, the shit he's been saying to press now ((he's tired and needs a break but been shopping around for teams like he's bored on hinge)) -- was , imo, more of a statement of distrust. In the rbr project, but mainly in Horner. He no longer believes Horners ability to succeed, he prolly already knew the rb20 as an evolution of the rb19 had its set of obvious limitations when it came to suspension once the field closed up, he knew they were headed down a difficult type of season, he took a step back, he saw the cracks begin to delve deeper and deeper into nastiness between the Verstappen camp and Horner, he saw Horner refuse to take accountability while Max very pointedly and UNLIKE all the other red bull drivers refused to express his unconditional support for Horner. Quite the opposite, Verstappen began making threats. Centering the importance of the car ((!!!)) and a stable environment, not Horners innocence or lack thereof. He doesn't care about that, as long as hes got the people and the car to work wid. Keep that in mind.

But back to the Newey divorce . Adrians one of the most important figures in motorsport period, he knew he had better options, perhaps some financial motivations, why not, he said thank you, I don't trust you anymore, goodbye. So here falls a core, original pillar of Milton Keynes, arguably one of the most successful aerodynamicists of all time. 1 of Red Bulls bishop, gone. Still, they rallied behind Wache, they said Adrian hadn't been part of development for some time, their factory remains strong, they can fill in the gaps, rbr is STABLE, sure sure sure.

Imola, Canada, Spain. We all hold hands wid Max and play pretend for a lil bit. Verstappen factor and all that bullshit. But for some reason, Max delivers the same conclusion every post race presser. This car is falling behind. We are starting to struggle. The sim data and the on track data don't correlate. This car is not gonna win constructors. Idk how the fuck its even the WDC. CHECO of course appears to be driving for my cousin's bumper cars themed birthday party so we can all point and laugh and marvel at how a driver known for his experience and who's won races and gotten poles to suddenly drop to fucking p6 in the standings. Surely this is the worst driver of all time. Surely.

Austria. Rbr pit stops, already looking kinda iffy since the beginning of the season, hit a new low. Lando, wid a single good overtake, wins the race, effectively beating Max on track. Max didn't let him. And he came out of it with a points advantage too, because he made a choice regarding his driving and how he wud defend his position. In a better car, that's never a choice he has to make. But the car isn't on par wid Mclaren. Rbr factory development has, quite clearly, stalled. Upgrade packages go backwards.

Hungary. Yeah. Everything is stable and the car was good and Max was beyond delighted of course.

So, that's stable environment gone, competitive car gone, and now off goes Wheatley to fulfill his tp destiny. Somebody , who, once upon a time, was rightly identified as the guy who wud replace Christian Horner due to the severity of the allegations made against him. Yeah, remember when Horner shud have fucking been fired? But Horner stayed, Newey left, and Wheatley left. To disconnect these events is, imo, a lil bit insane. Wid Wheatley gone, that's red bulls bishop n2 fallen. I think its fairly reasonable to assume somebody wid 2 cats in Monaco is straight up not having a good time anymore.

So, where do Checo and Danny ric and that fucking seat come in. They're all part of this dance, but I think in a way that's been fairly misinterpreted. See for a long time now, prolly since he signed Danny ric to do tiktoks, even before Vcarb became a thing, Horner has not been looking for a replacement for Checo. He's been looking for a replacement for Max. Ik, again, this is me letting the voices take over. Lemme say some unhinged shit before u call the cops. Max is an impossible teammate. U cant match Max on pace over an entire season, u cant prioritize a driver over Max when it comes to development, u cant tailor a car to somebody like Checo ((which , because Im so fucking money on this, is what Horner has just claimed he's gonna start doing post Spa)) and not Max, because, simply put, the car will be slower. Max can drive faster cars, he can deliver the poles, he can give rbr a fighting chance, he's been doing that shit, wid more or less success, all season, most of his fucking career actually. Now, who do y'all know who also qualifies very well, likes a pointy car wid a shit ton of oversteer and recently been caught discussing rb20 failings wid Verstappen himself. Danny ric. And Danny ric, like Checo, is very much in the Horner camp side of things. Danny ric, rn, comes wid bonuses of loyalty and trust and maybe a lil chip on his shoulder that Verstappen quite simply does not have, or cares to have because that brother is trying to get his fourth championship, not survive f1. Danny ric comes as a success story for red Bull amidst very trying times for the brand, the silver son who bent the knee and came home to warm hugs and big smiles after nearly getting fucking taken out back in a farm by Zak brown. U put that brother next to Checo or Lawson or whoever u also have the bonus of not having one of the best drivers of all time absolutely refuse to finish behind them, which can be a lil bit annoying if the car is shit too.

Horner is a stingy, extremely egocentric asshole, who prolly shudve been fired a long time ago, and he's not the team principal I thought he was. Horner's strength as a tp came from standing on business for his WDC once the going gets hard. He's doing none of that this season, at least not for Max. He's just a man, and at the end of the day, he's got the pride and insecurity of one, too. If he thought Newey was expendable, well sure u already have a bald man in the team who gives a fuck ((????)), if he thinks Wheatley is expendable, that's pointing towards a more personal type of dutch centric trend, because if he thinks MAX is expendable ... if this 2023 Merc stinking ass fucking season is headed the way I think its headed baby. I wish him good luck .

[agendabymooner]

if not for you ! daniel r. x ofc (måneskin member! ofc) // toto w.

SPIN OFF for COLOUR ME YOUR COLOUR and RUSH

"there'll be no spring if not for this love of mine"

summary: posts and tweets exchanged between lester and others during the baku race weekend as she babysat toto and tilly wolff's children. OR chaos ensues in the paddock and the hospitalities as the wolff kids and an asshole ex-lover (is he really?) made their presence known to almost anyone

content warning: character-centric, mentions of questionable man, appearance of characters not yet shown in the series colour me your colour, toto wolff being canonically fashionable, use of explicit language, faceclaims used for the kids, danny is full on babygirl in the instagram comment section. f1 drivers being messy.

note: sorry for the awol guys, i was walking my fish. tomorrow is the start of the canadian gp 2023 and i am sad that i am not there. maybe next year when i have the money? or maybe when i work for pr. who knows. since i'm not there, i'm just celebrating and writing this.

ALSO!! should i do a blurb or something relating to lester babysitting the paddock kids- like the wolff kids? i've started on it but...

enjoy xx

masterlist

[first image dialogue: i don't normally look at the time because i dress faster than this. i even dress ren and tia for less than seven minutes and they're always dressed nicely for their music classes]

[second image: if they're dressed ten minutes after, that's not my doing; toto dresses them and he struggles a lot. he mostly gets them ready if he's taking them to work or if i'm off to a meeting in milton keynes]

[third image: we've made a lot of trips to ralph lauren and tommy hilfiger because he thinks that he can just mix and match the clothes that we got there for the bunch. said it's a "capsule wardrobe." that's what happens when you're married to a fashion expert, i suppose.]

[fourth image: you'll be able to know if he dresses them once you see the jumper/dress shorts/trousers combo or the dress/jumper combo. you'll know he did the preparing if tia's hair is put in place with a hair clip. she loves it when her papa puts in barrettes in her thin hair.]

tagged tillywolff, mercedesamgf1, redbullracing

view 32142 more comments

carlossainzjr ay, i didn't know they were running a barber shop! i need a haircut

tillywolff i don't recall buying that toy set for them 🧐

charles_leclerc maman said to get it for them so it can remind them of their mamé pascale

tillywolff thank you so much for taking care of ren and tia! i've been told they enjoyed being with their zia lori. maybe you can take care for adelmo next time? liked by loressandro

loressandro i will definitely set up a playroom for the next time!

landonorris thank you so much tillywolff for the best hairstylist ever 😇 i got the best trim in the grid right now and no one can outdo it

mercedesamgf1 boss is asking who's responsible for allowing one of the wolff puppies drink red bull? just asking for research purposes 😊

charles_leclerc maxverstappen1

lewishamilton maxverstappen1

user1 LMFAOOOO not lewis and charles snitching on their in-law 😭

charles_leclerc user1 i need to be in toto's good graces again.

maxverstappen1 it's a red bull water bottle 💀 stop trying to push me back at the starting level mf charles_leclerc

user2 those kids are so toto coded 🥰

user3 if you can survive lando, you can survive the wolff kids 🙌 liked by loressandro

danielricciardo if you can survive the wolff kids, you can survive our kids 😘 liked by loressandro

thomasraggi_ yeah but try surviving her kids 💀

ykaaar you're about to have the BEST years of your life, danny

ethaneskin alessandro-ricciardo kids bout to treat the tracks like mario kart deluxe 🤡

loressandro guys please... this is the only man who's willing to put up with me. stop scaring him away

danielricciardo i'm not scared, i am challenged 😎

landonorris danielricciardo mental health wise? bc same.

danielricciardo when are we having our little ricciardo??

loressandro depends if your swimmers are still working in few months or years. also if you stop laughing at your own nephews and nieces, dickhead

danielricciardo got it ma'am. anything just to have your kids <3

[redsbrainrot]

Fairytail characters in the UK

- Lucy would’ve grown up upper middle class fr - family shops at Marks and Spencer’s and Waitrose

- She 100% went to an all girls private school

- If the friend group were planning a day out in London she’d drag them all to Convent Garden

- Natsu is council estate roadman, and he’d probably live in Luton HAHAHA

- Would spend his spare time at either a skatepark or maccies

- Gray would also be a roadman but from the north like Yorkshire or Newcastle

- Spends his free time at greggs

- He would definitely be hitting that blue razz elf bar

- Erza would be lower middle class, but richer than most of her friends - so she can shop at Sainsburys but meanwhile her friends go to Asda

- Juvia would be Gray’s chav girlfriend, but one of the sweet chavs

- Makarov is a corner shop boss man selling vapes to minors

- Mirajane would also be a sweet chav

- Gajeel would live in Milton Keynes

Part time jobs:

- Lucy: boots

- Erza: sainsburys

- Gray: tescos, maybe greggs

- Natsu: maccies

- Juvia: Lidl/Aldi

- Mirajane: wetherspoons

- Levy: Waterstones

Bonus:

[shineon3]

Me and Mine (Serial Killer!Daniel AU)

(Now with a playlist!)

If these walls could talk (989 words)

Max remembers, vaguely, someone telling him to always, always, knock before entering Daniel’s motorhome. Right as he opens the door, Max wishes he remembered. Or: Baby faced Max meets seasoned serial killer Daniel

Read on ao3

Blood On My Name (5,321 words)

Not everyone in the paddock acts like they knew Daniel was some sort of violent threat. In fact, Max’s father acted like the older driver was some sort of particularly insignificant insect he stepped on while walking. Daniel did act like Jos was the most disgusting being in the whole world whenever they did cross paths, to be fair, so yeah. No love lost there. Max knew, with undeniable certainty, which one of them was more dangerous. Yes, his father may have hurt him for things as insignificant as breathing wrong, but the blonde had once seen his boyfriend murder a man in cold blood, all because he was rude to random girls. Jos Verstappen just couldn’t compare. Daniel knows how bad he is. Daniel doesn’t hurt innocents. And Daniel absolutely loathes child abusers.

Read on ao3

In The Eye of a Hurricane (there is quiet) (5,175 words)

Two weeks later, they’re in Milton Keynes, enjoying a nice brunch before their respective meetings with Red Bull. Max had tangled their legs under the table, and the sunlight filtering through the window made him look so soft that Daniel wanted to pick his camera and fill the memory card with pictures of his boy. Max is the one who gets the call. He steps outside to take it, surprise and shock bleeding through his body language. Daniel watches over him until he comes back inside the small coffee shop, flashing him a small smile. “Good news?” “ Great news,” Max’s grin widens. Or: Love, healing, and all the ugly in-between.

Read on ao3

[thesparkofrevolution]

My Elden Ring merch finally arrived and I’ve got it added to my Etsy store! This was also super self serving but I hope other people like it!

[lewisinho]

scrapping the trip to brackley. considering hitching a ride to milton keynes to steal newey’s red notebook instead. might visit a local photocopying shop as well. initiate spygate 2.0 for the good of the public interest

[sefurnitureoutlet]

Furniture Delivery Milton Keynes

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[dailyanarchistposts]

Animal liberation

There’s a certain volatility to resisting oppression in all forms. This is exactly the kind of project that can easily run away from you, vastly exceeding one’s familiar terrain. Let’s do our best to keep up: throughout the last decades, one of the most distinctive developments amongst social struggles in the West has been a dawning of concern for other animals and the environment. Many radicals have been keen to drag their heels, passing off the oppression of nonhumans as irrelevant to our prospects for revolution; the Left, after all, is firmly rooted in the humanist ideals of the Enlightenment, something unquestioningly reproduced by Marxism as well as orthodox anarchism. Yet the weighty tradition of a bygone era is no excuse for closing down possibilities in the present. The critique of social hierarchy, besides deepening the scope of human liberation, applies just as well beyond our own species boundary: animal and earth liberation are no less integral to the new revolutionary mosaic than any other aspect of the struggle.

The first half of the greening of revolution – animal liberation – can be traced somewhat to the onset of the radical animal rights movement in the UK. As early as the 1960s, hunt saboteurs had been intervening to disrupt bloodsports across the country, focusing on the legally sanctioned practice of fox hunting. From the outset, this cultivated an understanding, realised by so many liberation struggles in the past, that the law was designed to protect the exploiters and therefore had to be broken. This brimming emphasis on direct action – on achieving political goals outside of mediation with formal institutions – was then gradually applied to an ever broader spectrum of targets. Not only were hunts targetted whilst underway, their facilities and vehicles were often sabotaged as well, the point being to prevent the hunt from beginning at all. During the early ‘70s, one group of hunt sabs based in Luton – calling themselves the “Band of Mercy” – even began attacking hunting shops, chicken breeders, and vivisection suppliers. Perhaps most memorably, in 1973, the Band burned down a vivisection lab under construction near Milton Keynes, pioneering the use of arson for the purposes of animal liberation.

Such activity soon gave rise to an even more formidable threat. In 1976, members of the Band of Mercy created the Animal Liberation Front (ALF), calling for the application of sabotage tactics to prevent any form of animal exploitation. More of a banner than an actual organisation, anyone can do an action and claim it as the ALF, so long as they adhere to a few basic principles. Lacking official members or branches, the front is composed mainly of small, autonomous affinity groups; acting in the style of a clandestine guerilla movement, participants strike mainly under the cover of darkness, only to subsume themselves back within the population at large. This informal, leaderless terrain of struggle is exactly what allowed the resistance to proliferate so effectively, all the while minimising the risk of state repression. Hundreds of thousands of raids have been completed worldwide, liberating countless animals from the facilities that enslave them, either by transporting them to sanctuaries or simply releasing them into the wild. No less, those profiting from the misery have suffered incalculable losses, with the companies targetted – vivisection labs, livestock breeders, fur farms, factory farms, slaughterhouses – often being driven straight out of business. The vast majority of these raids have resulted in zero apprehensions.

Amidst a steady decline in courage and militancy from the Left over the last decades, groups such as the ALF have often been exactly the ones to keep the flame of revolutionary struggle alive. Rather than biding time with parliamentary procedures or marches that go in circles, the ALF refuse to wait for historical conditions to improve, instead setting out to immediately begin dismantling the physical infrastructure social hierarchy depends upon to function. We’re faced with an age in which power has no centre: revolution isn’t merely a matter of storming palaces, but also of confronting this order of misery on every front, especially those most blatantly ignored in the past.

Every single day, literally millions of animals are confined, mutilated, and killed for the purposes of food, clothing, entertainment, physical labour, and medical research. Were it humans being massacred as such, the death count would exceed that of many holocausts – merely in a matter of hours. Of course, it isn’t humans on the other side of the barbed wire, so we turn our backs to their wretched treatment, quite confident such concerns just don’t matter. Yet that’s quite the grave response: what on earth if we’re wrong?

The most influential case for the baselessness of this indifference came from Peter Singer in the book Animal Liberation (1975). Centring on a seminal discussion of the notion of speciesism, the term is there defined as “a prejudice or attitude of bias toward the interests of members of one’s own species and against those of members of other species.” To this liberal definition, we could add that speciesism, aside from manifesting in the dispositions of individuals, is strongly rooted in a pervasive ideological framework – reproduced by institutions such as mass media, the law, and public education – that serves to detach humanity from the enslavement of billions of animals. Indeed, many professed radicals continue to cast aside the topic of anti-speciesism, even if they’re committed to fighting oppressions like racism or sexism. Yet that makes little sense, given that each of these relies on the very same logic: a particular group is morally excluded not on the basis of their actually held capacities, but simply because they appear to be members of a different biological category. Clearly we would reject this kind of reasoning in the case of assertions of white supremacy over non-whites – skin colour just isn’t a morally relevant quality. What needs to be noticed, though, is that speciesism operates in almost exactly the same way; the only difference is that it singles out species, not race, as the relevant biological category.

That said, few would admit to maintaining such a crude speciesist outlook. The assumption here – again, as with white supremacy – is that the relevant moral exclusion is grounded in science, not prejudice. In particular, the capacity to reason is normally singled out as the prime candidate for justifying human supremacy. Such an approach contends that, rather than relying on an arbitrary biological category to distance ourselves from other species, we’re instead doing so on the basis of our actually held capacities. But this commonplace justification is really nothing more than a ruse. Far from being an inherent aspect of human cognition, the capacity to reason is merely a trait that most of us hold (and to varying degrees). There are many humans who lack the capacity for abstract cognition, such as ordinary infants and adults with certain mental disabilities; however, no one serious about fighting oppression would take that as an excuse for their moral exclusion, especially not if it meant treating them as we do other animals. That can only mean that rationality isn’t what we really care about when making moral considerations – rationality is just an excuse. The thing that matters here is sentience: the capacity to feel both pleasure and pain.

It should go without saying that sentience is accessible not only to humans, but also the vast majority of nonhuman animals. Nor is the kind of sentience involved here some watered down version of the human experience. Many or even most animals lead extremely rich emotional lives, characterised intensely by all the highs and lows that colour our own states of mind, including excitement, joy, awe, respect, empathy, boredom, embarrassment, grief, loneliness, anxiety, fear, and despair. In other words, access to all the feelings that have defined the best and worst moments of our lives – that determine most fundamentally whether one’s life is worth living – vastly transcends the boundaries of our own species. Animals are aware of the world, and of their place within it; their lives are intrinsically valuable, irrespective of what they can do for us. To morally exclude them on the basis of species membership is only the kind of thinking that sets aside skin colour as a valid justification for human slavery. But we can’t deny the logic of domination in one case whilst relying on it so whimsically in another: animal liberation must be fought for just as ardently as we fight for our own.

Anthropocentrism was suited to an age in which most believed God to have created humans in His own image, commanding us to “have dominion over the fish of the sea, and over the fowl of the air, and over every living thing that moveth upon the earth.” Come the 21st century, however, numerous leaps in human understanding – the Copernican revolution, Darwin’s theory of evolution, Freud’s theory of the unconscious – have significantly dethroned the idea that human culture somehow inhabits a world apart from Nature. Clearly we differ from other animals in many of our cognitive abilities, but this is a matter of degree, not kind; our evolutionary history merely upgraded the mental functions already present amongst nonhumans for millions of years, rather than conferring humanity with radically unique capacities. Other animals are able, if only to a lesser extent, to grasp language, demonstrate self-awareness, use tools, inhabit complex societies, appreciate humour, and enact rituals around death. Not only that, many seem to easily outdo humans when it comes to the capacities of memory, navigation, and sociability. In terms of ecological integration, finally, any notions of human supremacy start to get embarrassing: bees pollinate so many of the world’s plants, phytoplankton photosynthesise half of its oxygen, fungi and bacteria are the primary decomposers of organic matter. And what of the human contribution to the planetary community? The highlights include climate change, radioactive waste, and the Great Pacific Garbage Patch. Apparently narcissism marches in lock-step with incompetency: the idea that Nature somehow requires the imposition of human order has only ever meant her ruination, and that all too clearly includes our own.

To make something explicit, though, note that it’s not humanity that’s laying waste to the very fabric of life. Vulnerable human groups hardly stand to benefit from speciesism; animal agriculture, for example, is the leading cause both of water pollution and carbon emissions, besides being responsible for some of the most atrocious workplaces on earth. All so that capitalism can supply its human captives with so-called “food” loaded with growth hormones and antibiotics. In essence, all creatures who find their home on this dear planet, including those oppressed within our own species, suffer in common at the hands of a disease – equal parts antisocial and ecocidal – called social hierarchy. This is the moment to abandon our speciesist assumptions, from which the disconnection of human and animal liberation struggles results. The struggle for liberation admits of no final frontiers.

[cathkaesque]

hiiiiiiiiiiiiiii I just wanted to quickly promote my wonderful sister's Etsy shop, she makes wonderful little Vocaloid, FFIX Genshin and Izutsumi pins prints and stickers so if you're into that I'd definitely recommend having a little look!

Her work is absolutely gorgeous, I have a lot of her Izutsumi stickers and can confirm they're really good :) She ships internationally too!

[charlesandmartine]

Friday 15th November 2024

A relaxing first night in our miner's rest. This is a very comfortable and well equipped property. There are 3 units in total here at number 12, and I suspect that through Airbnb, the guests are mainly connected to the mining industry. Mount Isa has been one of two major domestic sources of copper since 1953 when it became a one-stop shop for copper production — mine, concentrator, and smelter all next door to each other. Twenty percent of the Mount Isa Mines personnel live in the town, with most of the remainder working in supporting industries. One percent of the world's copper is mined here. Sadly, controversy is mounting because Swiss company Glencore, is planning to cease copper mining here next year and smelting here by 2030. A lot of government involvement here clearly with jobs at stake, the profile of this is pretty high. A town of nearly 20,000 people depends on this industry for its future. New open cast copper mining opportunities are proposed for Cloncurry 100kms away, but a decision is pending for 2026. Big challenges ahead, I guess.

Our first stop this morning was to the Tourist Information Office to find out what needs to be done around these parts. The must do event was the Hard Times Mine Tour, departing 13.00. We were offered concessions, so what's not to like? This was 10 am, so we had some time to kill, which we used highly productively looking round mining exhibits. Then, before the mine tour was to commence, we crossed the road to the City Lookout, which commemorates the spot where in February 1923, John Campbell Miles, a prospector, by chance spotted some yellow and brown rock, which when split open was black and honeycomb colour. When samples were analysed in Cloncurry, the results showed high levels of lead and silver; cerussite, a lead carbonate. And from this, a mining industry in Mount Isa was born. From this lookout, we could survey the whole of the city, from mine to the retail areas, to residential streets. Viewing the tree lined grid system roads, it was like looking down on Milton Keynes with a big dirty mine in the middle of it; the ever present tall copper and lead smelter chimneys overseeing and dominating the skyline!

Now it was time for our two and a half hour tour of the mine. This facsimile 25m deep mine was dug out in 2003, designed by the mayor and experienced miners to be as accurate a copy of a real mine, in size, equipment, procedure, sound, dirt etc. An experienced miner of 45 years of service led the tour. We started by descending into the ground in an authentic lift. Clothed in bright orange overalls, helmet, helmet light, boots we emerged into the darkness of the pit head, and we all turned on our lights, boarded a pit train and taken to a muster junction control area where tokens were kept, one for each miner monitoring and accounting for all in the mine. As a muster point, it was a place where lunch would also have been taken. We were lead on foot through the tunnels, having demonstrations of mine drilling equipment through the ages. All of it was extremely heavy; all rock mined by explosive and then moved onto trains. It is not a career for the faint-hearted. I felt tired just looking at the drills. The drill action was more of a hammer and chisel; bang and turn chisel, bang, turn etc. These old drills still worked as intended as we held onto an operating one, we were very aware of the weight and vibration, experiencing just how tough a job this would be. Drilling horizontally into the rock face would have been exhausting in extreme heat. Drilling into the roof almost impossible, but a team of two men would drill sufficient depth into the face, charge all the holes with explosive, clear the section, ignite through a chain reaction and extend the tunnel by six feet every day. Loose rock was removed to the surface for crushing and mineral extraction. As we moved through the decades, the work became more productive with heavier mechanised equipment until you reach the equipment of today which can use high pressure water or lasers to drill into the rock in readiness for explosive. More productive, certainly, easier work? I don't think so. Powerful ventilation fans, trains, massive dumper trucks, hammer drills, and explosions must have been deafening, working 6 days a week, 12 hours a day. Our guide, Steve, after a lifetime in the industry, would not wish to change anything, but regrets now the damage to his health having been diagnosed with the miner's disease silicosis, losing part of one lung and the knowledge that soon he will need to be on oxygen.

Such an excellent authentic afternoon spent being shown and having demonstrated a way of life totally alien to anything within our own experience, by someone who has lived through it himself and was able to patiently portray it, often humorously to us. Great value, and we were served hot pasties and coffee.

ps. We got to keep the overalls, so dead useful if we decide to take up mining at some point. Steve wanted the helmets back!

pps. As we sat enjoying our evening SB and nibbles, we watched plane after plane leaving Mount Isa from its tiny airport. Like many mining operations, a percentage at the workers are FIFOs, fly in, fly out Friday. It's clearly a nice town, but not that nice.