I protest!

At Sunday Photo Fiction we have a picture of a National Front march with a foreign registered car driving past. How good is that?

I was wandering down the street window-shopping like you do, when I suddenly found myself surrounded by people, lots of people. They were very noisy, and whilst I sometimes use an expletive or two for dramatic effect, the foul language that assaulted my delicate ears was horrible. I found myself being carried along; I daren’t stop for fear of getting trampled underfoot! Then, someone stuck a poster in my hand. I had no idea what it said. I didn’t dare look up in case I tripped. It was when someone on the pavement chucked an egg at me that I realised I was on a protest march. And with an organisation I have no sympathy for. I managed to escape down a side road.

A few days later, I was called to my head teachers office. Apparently I featured in a large photograph on the front of the local paper with a banner held high. I was severely reprimanded! I said that given the circumstances, I wished to protest and she said ‘I think you’ve done enough of that already Miss Pinkerton’. ‘Not what we expect from our staff’ she said. I thought I was going to made to stand in the corner or sit on the naughty step!

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