Tag Archives: criminality

The Blind Leading The Blind

As I neared my home yesterday evening, a man called out from the other side of the road, “Do you have a light, please?”
“No, sorry”, I replied and continued on my way home.

As I walked on, I heard the voice of a young woman, “no, don’t, it’s a blind dog!”
Being registerd blind, I wondered what the point would be of me having a “blind dog”. One hears of the blind leading the blind. However, I, having no desire to become intimately connected with a telegraph pole or other such obstacle will stick with my trusty guide dog, Trigger!

The above occurance is far from being an isolated one. Indeed I have lost count of the number of occasions on which people have refered to my guide dogs (I am now working with my fourth) as “blind dogs”. My heart goes out to all those visually challenged dogs manfully leading their owners to who knows where. A medal should be struck in their honour and, of course the blind who entrust themselves to these fine animals should also be honoured for their … bravery!

To be serious for a moment, the evening was dark and the panic in the young woman’s voice made me conjecture (perhaps in error) that her companion might have been up to no good and, seeing that I was accompanied by a guide dog the lady’s conscience kicked in. As I say, I could be barking up entirely the wrong tree here. I was, nonetheless extremely glad to reach home yesterday evening.

There is a quiet place

The horrific terrorist attack, which took place in London on the evening of 4 June, brought to mind my poem “There is a quiet place out of reach”. Those who carried out this atrocity have “empty souls”, indeed some may doubt whether they possess any soul whatever. Had it not been for the swift action of the police, in shooting dead the terrorists, this terrible incident could have been even worse. Fanaticism and barbarism must be withstood and defeated.


“There is a quiet place out of reach
To those who hatred preach.
They prate,
And understand too late,
Or perhaps not at all,
That pride comes before a fall.

Words meaningful as a harlot’s compliment fall
On the ear
Of men who hear what they want to hear.
The truth clear
Is, I fear,
Too often lost in sound and beer.

The fanatic’s words drear
Will fill the empty soul
Of those whose goal
Is the destruction of the whole
Liberal project;
To which they object
Without knowing why.
Then, pointlessly, die”. 

A Review Of My Book “Samantha”

My book, “Samantha” tells the story of a young woman forced into prostitution in the city of Liverpool. Can she survive the brutal treatment of her psychopathic pimp, Barry or will Sam end her tortured existence in the murky waters of Liverpool’s Albert Docks?

On checking for reviews of “Samantha”, I was pleased to see that it has received a 5 star review. In a review entitled “Brilliant Short Book” the reviewer writes as follows:


“The characters in this book were bought to life by the way the author told the story. It was like a true scent of this day and age”.


Thank you to the reviewer for their review of “Samantha”. For the review please visit, (http://www.amazon.co.uk/review/R90UBPUL6H1OU/ref=cm_cr_rdp_perm?ie=UTF8&ASIN=B00BL3CNHI). To download “Samantha please visit http://www.amazon.co.uk/Samantha-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI/ref=cm_rdp_product (for the UK) or http://www.amazon.com/Samantha-K-Morris-ebook/dp/B00BL3CNHI (for the rest of the world).



Stop Thief!

Today, as on every working day, I went into my office in central London with my trusty guide dog, Trigger. On opening my emails I was pleased to see, in among the various pieces of work requiring my attention that a colleague had emailed around saying that, in honour of his birthday he had made a lemon drizzle cake and we (lucky people) should help ourselves.

The cake was, I am pleased to report most delicious. Having partaken of the delights of cake I emailed my colleague thanking him for it and saying that, fortunately Trigger haden’t managed to get anywhere near my tasty snack, (Trigger has been known, on occasions to relieve unwary colleagues of their lunches. He is, obviously working for Wait Watchers and performing an invaluable function by preventing my office from over eating, noble beast that he is)!

Scarcely had I pressed send on my e-mail when I heard a commotion – Trigger had helped himself to the remains of a colleague’s slice of cake and, irony of ironies the person in question was none other than the birthday boy. Oops and double oops! Fortunately my colleague was more concerned whether the cake would upset Trigger’s stomach and not at all about the loss of his tasty snack. Oh the joys of taking one’s guide dog into the office. Anyone for cake? I’m sure I had a chocolate one somewhere. Now where could it have gone …

A Great Article On The Story Reading Ape’s Blog Regarding The Theft Of Intellectual Property (IP)

Yesterday (21 November 2014) The Story Reading Ape’s Blog carried an interesting post on the theft of intellectual property (http://thestoryreadingapeblog.com/2014/11/21/authors-bloggers-readers-be-aware-of-intellectual-property-theft-laws/). The piece pertains to material published online and acts as a warning to authors and bloggers regarding the ease with which their (copyright) material can be stolen and used by others.

The article on Chris The Story Reading Ape’s Blog brought to mind stories of more traditional book piracy. A Chinese acquaintance tells me that photocopies of (copyright) material is rife in China, (the below article being a case in point although, it should be noted that the piece pertains to Hong Kong, not mainland China. http://www.scmp.com/news/hong-kong/article/1469753/school-busted-selling-cheap-copies-books). Some or other once remarked that “Immitation is the sincerest form of flattery”. However, as pointed out by the article on The Story Reading Ape’s Blog (see above) copyright theft is not a victimless crime, it entails the theft of another’s intellectual labours.

Those To Whom Evil Is Done

Much of my writing is based on the premise that evil begets evil or, as Auden so eloquently puts it, in his poem, “September 1, 1939”:

I and the public know

What all schoolchildren learn,

Those to whom evil is done

Do evil in return”. (See http://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/september-1-1939).

I do not contend that free will is an illusion, that we are prisoners of genetics or society. Many individuals who have experienced horrific abuse do not go on to become abusers. However the fact that significant numbers of the abused become perpetrators demonstrates that a vicious cycle can, often be set in train with parents abusing children who then go on to become abusers.

To take an example from my own writing. In my short story, Samantha, Sam is drugged and forced into prostitution by her brutal pimp, Barry. Barry possesses not a single redeeming feature. He is, quite simply a monster. Barry has, however been abused by his mother as a child (she locks him, as a 6-year-old little boy in a dark cupboard). From this ill treatment flows Barry’s view that,

“All women are bitches”.

He has experienced no love in his life and the brutality of Barry’s upbringing has destroyed the feelings of compassion which most of us, to a greater or lesser degree possess.

To take another example, in my story, The Hitch Hiker, a deeply troubled young woman exacts a terrible vengeance on men who stop to offer her a lift.

Both Barry and the Hitch Hiker demonstrate the validity of Auden’s view that, “Those to whom evil is done do evil in return”. Anyone reading much of my work might reach the conclusion that I deny the possibility of redemption, I do not. Deeply damaged individuals who have done terrible things can (and do) reform and go on to lead good and productive lives. However it does appear that a small number of people are, for whatever reason beyond help. I am speaking here of psychopaths. In contrast to most killers who can (and frequently do) show remorse for their actions the psychopath is incapable of genuine remorse (he may feign it to gain advantage but that is a wholly different issue). Barry would appear to fall into the category of psychopath, his psychopathic tendencies being derived from the abuse suffered as a child. He is, almost certainly beyond redemption.

Is Barry responsible for his actions? As a believer in free will my answer has to be yes on the basis that other equally damaged persons do not act in the manner he does.

Perhaps in the coming decades lawyers will argue that their clients should not be punished for their actions as they possess a genetic predisposition for psychopathy or, due to the lack of a particular chemical in the brain they can not be held responsible for their actions. Maybe this will happen, however (assuming such a thing exists), if certain individuals with a genetic predisposition to psychopathy commit horrendous crimes while others do not (as I suspect will be the case) then society will need to relinquish simplistic explanations for criminal behaviour and accept that “evil” stems from many and varied causes.

I am no scientist. I am, however suspicious of determinist theories whether they be Marxist or Eugenic in origin. “Evil” will, I suspect be forever with us and, in decades to come we will still be discussing why people do horrendous acts.


Despite the security at my place of work intruders have been detected. Unauthorised visitors have been found wandering the coridors without the requisite credentials on previous occasions. Action has been taken, the authorities called in and the unwelcome guests sent packing. However try as the powers that be might, intruders keep breaking through our security barriers.

Things have gone missing from the filing cabinets and drawers. The unwelcome guests are circumspect being rarely seen. They generally operate in darkness when all good people and true are safely tucked up in their beds. However, on occasions colleagues have caught a glimse of the intruders, a mere flash of movement but none the less a sighting which is logged with the authorities. I think that the time has come to call in the services of that most stern of enforcers, Mr C, for with his powerful spring, sharp teeth and claws he will, surely rid the building of these pesky mice!

Lets Abolish Copyright Law …

While browsing the web I came across an interesting article which argues for the abolition of copyright law, http://newasiarepublic.com/?p=29418. The author’s contention is, in a nutshell that content creators and publishers need to become more innovative in how they generate revenue. If authors, for example can not survive in this world of file sharing then they, basically deserve to go out of business leaving the field open to the more fleet of foot.

There exist a number of excellent reasons for opposing this perspective and one of the comments, in response to the piece,from an expert in intellectual property law, does a good job of challenging the contentions promulgated in the article. My own thoughts are as follows. Last Monday I contracted with a plumber to repair a dripping tap in my kitchen. In return for his labour I paid him £40. Imagine the situation, if you will had I refused to pay this honest tradesman. He would, quite naturally have become irate. At worst I would have been taken to the Small Claims Court for not honouring a contract/committing theft and, at best the plumber would have blacklisted me informing other local trades people not to touch that Mr Morris with a barge pole.

We are all, I think in agreement that failing to pay a tradesman constitutes theft, so why should the failure to pay for content which I or any other person has produced be construed as anything other than stealing? Maybe I am obtuse but I fail to see the difference.

I would as always be interested to hear your views.



I Don’t No Why

I must have been out of my tiny mind to do it. It was totally illogical and goes slap bang against my own interest.

I’ve cleaned for the Browns for just over 10 years. They have a lovely 4 bedroom house with a big garden, in fact its more like a field. I wish I could afford a place like that! The Browns certainly have money. He does something in the city, a stockbroker I think and she works as a solicitor. Lots of couples with that kind of money look down their noses at people like me. We are lower than dirt, the little woman who cleans up their mess. The Browns aren’t like that. £10 an hour which is well above the minimum wage and always a Christmas hamper and generous bonus come the festive season. They never forget my birthday either. A big card and something in it. Such lovely people I can’t think what possessed me to do it.

They have such beautiful things. You could write what I know about antiques on the back of a postage stamp but that grandfather clock in the wooden case, oak I think it was was beautiful. I loved the feel of the wood. It was my favourite job polishing that clock. Such a sootheing sound it made, tick, tick and the way the pendulum moved back and forth fascinated me. I’d love to own a clock like that but being a cleaner there is not a chance!

The Browns are so trusting. I’ve often seen Mrs Brown’s bag open on the coffee table her purse poking out. They trusted me. I was their little treasure, almost part of the family.

It started a month or so ago

“I’m sure I had £70 in my purse but its gone” Mrs Brown said.

“Are you sure Anne?”

“Positive. Oh hold on a minute the zip was undone when I got home so the money could have fallen out or been taken”.

“I’ve told you before darling to make sure your bag is fastened. You’re such a scatter brain”.

“Yes Robert” Mrs Brown said but I could tell from her expression that she was only half convinced that the money had been lost or stolen while she was shopping.

Once you start stealing it becomes a compulsion. You can’t help yourself. The loss of money became a regular occurance. I could see the Browns watching me out of the corner of their eyes as I busied myself around the house. Of course they never caught me taking anything, thieves can be incredibly cunning.

Then today when I came to clean the house was like a bomb had hit it. Ornaments and that beautiful clock where missing. Poor Mrs Brown being comforted by her husband while Amelia, their teenage daughter looked on helplessly.

“Jean can I have a word please?” Mr Brown asked.

“Of course sir” I said my bowels turning to water.

“Lets go into the study” he said leading the way.

“Jean what happened, its obviously a professional job. The people who broke in new the code to the alarm and there is no sign of a forced entry. There is only one explanation. I’m sorry but you will have to go. I’ve no proof of course but you are the only person who could have done this. I’ll pay you until the end of the month. Here is your money” he said handing me an envelope. “We trusted you jean. We where good to you and you betrayed our trust. Please go now” he said the pain etched on his face.

I don’t know why I did it. They are as I keep saying a lovely couple but I’ve known Amelia since she was a little girl. She has sat on my knee and rolled around on the floor in fits of giggles as I tickled her. How could I tell the Browns that their little girl was a drug addict, that she was stealing to feed her habit? I must be mad,god knows why I did it …

My Confession

I have always regarded myself as a civilised man. The idea of violence makes me feel physically ill. Life is a precious spark which should on no account be snuffed out. To commit that most wicked of acts, murder is to lose one’s own soul. To have on one’s conscience the death of another is surely the most appalling weight any human being can carry. What is done can not be undone. The flash of a blade, a slight pressure on the trigger and death swiftly claims his prize.

However we all have our limits. A point beyond which we say thus far and no further. It is a rare man indeed who when struck on the right cheek proffers the left in order that his assailant may strike that also. Very few men can follow the precepts of Christ and permit others to abuse them with impunity. I for one do not possess the saintly qualities required to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune without taking up arms and, albeit reluctantly defending myself.

I am a patient person and possess the capacity to put up with a great deal of abuse but, ultimately my patience will snap.

You wouldn’t follow the path of prudence. No you, like a fool insisted on plaguing the life out of me. All I wanted to do was to enjoy my lunch free from distractions but you insisted on making that most irritating of noises. Not content with asailing my ears you wouldn’t keep still. Next to me one moment and then in the kitchen eating my food. It isn’t as though I invited you into my home. Like a thief in the night you entered and paid the consequences of your rash actions.

I aimed taking my time. It is important to get a good shot. You tried to escape but my merciless finger pressed down and death streaked as swift as lightening and found his mark. Poor little thing your death agonies pricked my conscience exceedingly. You rolled around on the floor desperately clinging to existence but, eventually you succumbed to the wasp spray …