MEDiA: The Titfield Thunderbolt, 1953

What a strange film! Strange, that is, by modern standards, rather than those of the day. Filmed in ‘glorious Technicolor’ – it was the first Ealing comedy filmed in the new format – it’s a picture postcard fantasy of a certain time in and idea of England.

In essence it’s a comedy about the beginnings of ‘heritage’ railways; as The State withdrew from steam locomotion, the public stepped in. Apparently it’s even based on a real Welsh example, which was allegedly the very first such heritage line. It’s noteworthy that this is a whole decade before the infamous Beeching axe would fall.

Stanley Holloway as Walter Valentine.

Visually it’s beautiful, a celluloid time-capsule. And it’s also quite sweet in how it portrays the era. There’s a just-post-WWII ‘Blitz spirit’, as when the passengers of the train all pitch in to get water, after the dastardly bus crew get Harry Hawkins (Sid James) to sabotage the water supply.

There are some thumping great ironies in there, as well; witness, for example, when there’s a joke about how, if the railway makes too much profit, it’ll be nationalised!

Modern history has demonstrated, over and over again, particularly under Toryism, that losses are usually nationalised (i.e. passed on to the public purse), whilst profit is privatised.

The Vicar and the drunk, crewing the train.

There are also all sorts of moments – for example at the public meeting, when Squire Chesterford (John Gregson) makes the case for the railway (as opposed to bus/road developments), on the basis of how it’ll change the nature of Titfield – that reflect what was considered, at the time, to make for a ‘good old fashioned’ British Utopia.

In this instance that revolves around the fear, also present in George Orwell’s very different 1984 (‘I am a name, not a number’!) that old country lanes will be tarmac’ed, and houses be numbered, rather than named.

Of course the quaint old trains were themselves, at one time, the harbingers of a modern industrialised doom. But now they are – and evidently even back in ‘53 they were – the stuff of ‘olde England’! There are many other little interesting insights into certain visions of how life was then (the squire and the poacher!), what constituted progress, and what makes for the ideal life.

Lovely old Bedford bus.

One of the things I like most about this film is the saturated slightly gaudy colour, AKA Technicolor. It’s very like the intense colouring of some design and illustration of that era. And so many things, from the clothes, to furniture, cars, trucks, etc, are, or rather were, so much more aesthetically pleasing than the vast bulk of modern mass-produced tat we are surrounded by now.

For example, the old Bedford bus, of the villainous rivals of the loco’ lovers, Pearce & Crump, is gorgeous. I absolutely adore the upholstery fabric inside the bus:

Dig that old fabric!

It has to be admitted I was only half watching this delightful old film, whilst Teresa and I played our Sunday afternoon Scrabble game, in between World Cup match viewing. I, or we, really ought to watch it again and give it my/our full attention.

It seems to me a good solid old-fashioned dose of ‘50s period fun. Balcon-era Ealing film at its cosily British best. I’d definitely recommend it.

SPORT: Football, World Cup ‘22 – Day 2, England vs Iran

Bellingham celebrates his first World Cup goal.

I managed to get home early enough to catch the England Iran game yesterday. I missed the first ten minutes or so, and arrived back during what turned out to be a marathon time-out, due to the Iranian goal keeper bashing heads with one of his defenders.

This wound up adding 14 or 15 minutes of extra time to the first half. Is that a record?When I got home I knocked on our neighbour’s door, knowing he had the day off, and thinking watching the footy on the social might be fun. It was. Too much fun, in the end!

The match itself was goalless when I arrived. But, once play resumed, the goals started coming thick and fast. I think it was 3-0 by half time. Not the dull game I had worried it might be.

Saka – scored twice – celebrates.

In the end we wound up having dinner round there; I picked Teresa up at the station, and Regina very kindly fed us all. The only bum note was my excessive intake of alcohol (ah, the irony!*). I bought a couple of cases of Shipyard Ale, on a two-for-one (almost) promo’, at Sainsburys. And then drank way too many cans.

Now I’m paying for it. With a hangover, and a gassy bloated tummy. Aaargh…. How I hate being an idiot! Still, at least the football was fun.

* Qatar tried banning booze altogether, upsetting sponsor, Budweiser. I’m still not clear what the situation is! Here’s something on the subject.

Pickford and Kane celebrate.

Amazingly, with six goals, Kane – instrumental in a few of them (feeding Sterling the third goal, and Rashford, the fifth – on his third touch! – for example), and still key to our success – didn’t actually score any of them. He must have been both very chuffed at the result, and a bit gutted not to be on the scoresheet. Speaking of which:

England
J. Bellingham 35'
B. Saka 43', 62'
R. Sterling 45+1'
M. Rashford 71'
J. Grealish 90'

Iran
M. Taremi 65’,90+13' (P)

Taremi’s first goal for Iran was superb. His second – a penalty – prob’ shouldn’t have been given. But you can’t begrudge him or Iran their two goals, in the end. England’s emphatic dominance and victory were still more than adequately reflected in the final result.

How good was it to get off to such a good start!? Amazing.

And, amidst all the political controversy, it was lovely to note that Jack ‘Calves’ Grealish dedicated his goal (England’s sixth of the match!) to a young fan:

Grealish meets Finlay.
A celebratory move is agreed upon…
… and, very sweetly, a promise is kept.

BTW, the politics of the region once again made itself apparent: the Iranian players didn’t sing their own national anthem – which caused Gary Lineker to make the observation that it was ‘a powerful and very significant gesture’ – and there were protest placards in the crowd, with slogans such as ‘Iranian women’ (in ref’ to the death in custody of Mahsa Amini).

On a lighter note, I met Miklas’ pet rat (very cute!), and had a go on their Carlsbro e-kit. I was so drunk and the kit is set up for southpaw Chris… I could barely sit on the stool, never mind play!

MEDiA: Hallowe’en – Taste The Blood of Dracula, 1969

It is All Hallow’s Eve. Teresa decreed that we have pumpkin soup, followed by pasta and a Hammer movie, and rounded off wi’ pumpkin pie. Fab! So it is we settled down to a rich repast, and Taste The Blood Of Dracula!

Three and a half stars is actually quite a high Hammy House of Horrors score, from me. Whilst there’s definitely something I love about the whole über-kitsch vibe of their films, they are at the same time pretty trashy and low budget. But I guess these ‘faults’ are also part of their charms?

The settings are sometimes quite good, and this is such a one, with some decently spooky, or even just plain atmospheric, locations. The combo’ of ye aulde togs (clashing with the late ‘60s barnets!), period paraphernalia – from gas lamps to pony and trap – and a decidedly autumnal vibe (wood’s carpeted with golden brown leaves), all conspire to give the film aesthetic heft.

The acting is very mixed, ranging from the high camp overblown melodrama of Ralph Bates, in the role of Lord Courtley (and not forgetting some lesser but similarly sliced ham from Roy Kinnear, at the films’ outset), to surprisingly decent turns from Anthony Higgins (billed as Anthony Corlan) and Linda Hayden, as the vamp’-crossed lovers, Paul Paxton and Alice Hargood. Christopher Lee has, perhaps surprisingly, a fairly minor part as the titular Dracula; his antics had Teresa chortling merrily several times!

Courtley and his acolytes summon Satan!

The daft plot finds a trio of hypocritical Victorian gents in search of illicit thrills. Their chief is the appallingly odious William Hargood (Geoffrey Keen), abetted by the moustachioed Jonathon Secker (John Carson), and the hapless hanger on Samuel Paxton (Peter ‘Cleggy/Wallace’ Sallis).

A chance encounter in an East End brothel leads them to take up with the arrogant rake, Lord Courtley. A Hellfire Club type chap, who persuades them to sell their souls to the Devil, but then loses them at the very moment that gives the film its catchy title. It’s quite deliciously rifikvukits… erm… ridiculous!

Inevitably there must be hot babe interest. And this is supplied by the ‘kids’ of these hypocritical Victorian Pater Famili-asses, who are involved with each others families’ siblings. Linda Hayden n particular really is enchantingly gorgeous, in a softly and plumply innocent way!

A true Hammer babe!

Like most Hammer movies, the plot really isn’t worthy of the energy required to synopsise it. It is a quintessential ’McGuffin’, a term Hitchcock created to describe an irrelevant plot-driving conceit. All that’s required are the ingredients for a devilish bouillabaisse: antique settings, some darkly supernatural baloney, earnest heroes, evil villains, and buxom wenches, and some ketchup or jam, in vivid but not very blood-like red.

It proved to be perfect viewing for the evening. Mildly diverting, with just the right atmos’, and even providing the occasional chuckle.

Must check out Vampire Lovers!

All the cleavage and heaving bosoms got my thinking about the Hammer Glamour book, and similar titles dedicated to the groovily painted posters. Some ideas for stuff to decorate the home with, perchance!?

MEDiA: Toast

I’ve been aware of Matt Berry since seeing him in Garth Marenghi’s Dark Place. Up until now I’ve found his (always exactly the same) character – loud, brashly self-confident, etc. – for example, in The IT Crowd, rather annoying. But somehow, here, with a show that’s all about him, that same boorish self-love works much better.

Indeed, I have to confess I found this, when I binged on the first three or four episodes, very funny and entertaining.

Berry is also a musician, which is a mixed blessing in respect of this series. His theme music for the series – ‘Take My Hand’ – is terrific. But the song interludes embedded in the individual episodes are rather poor. Maybe that’s intentional? But for me it doesn’t quite work. And it makes the series, otherwise quite slick, a bit clunky.

Toast and his nemesis, Ray Purchase.

But all in all, Toast’s ludicrous self-regard helps propel him through various very silly scenarios, in which we can also enjoy numerous other ridiculous ‘luvvies’, admirably. Not an out and out classic. But very funny and enjoyable.

BONUS BALL

This slightly Bond-themed episode may be my favourite of series one. Or maybe not? Like all the episodes, it made me laugh a lot. But it’s also pretty lame. Somehow it builds its own crappiness and lameness into the fabric of the show itself.

One thing that really strikes me, whilst watching this – indeed, whenever I see Matt Berry perform – is what a truly dreadful actor he is. Genuinely. He is always exactly the same. His vocal delivery is always the same, a kind of pompous declamatory tone.

He sounds like he’s doing an impression of a British male actor from the 1940s or ’50s, but he’s forgotten exactly who.

One of the chief threads that runs through the whole series – and indeed all Matt Berry character’s I’ve ever seen – is Toast’s lothario lifestyle. And as a sex-crazed ‘deviated prevert’ myself, I can’t help but warm to this aspect of his delusional self-love. M

Toast enjoys Mrs Ray Purchase.

Mind, he’s not delusional as portrayed here, frequently getting his oats (always dressed in his vest!), usually doggy style! And frequently with the wife of his arch rival, Ray Purchase, another dreadful moustachioed ham.

MEDiA: Hong Kong Phooey, 1974

A sudden wave of nostalgia swept over me, recently, in the guise of the theme song from Hanna Barbera’s Hong Kong Phooey theme song.

Recently, well, today, to be precise, we watched almost all of the episodes whilst child-minding for my sister. I actually dozed off for a considerable portion. And then I had to help cook the evening meal. So I didn’t actually see as much as I’d hoped to.

Now, back home, I’m watching from the start again. And it’s really silly! Not amazing, but just kind of fun, especially as a dose of nostalgia.

Scatman Crothers.-

Scatman Crothers’ voice is perfect for Phooey, somehow approximating in vibe to his half-closed eyes when in Penry mode: mellow, relaxed, and winningly self-confident, despite his hopeless incompetence. Blissfully unaware that his triumphs are all accidental, or brought about by Spot, the cat, or other helpful characters.

Penry and Spot.
The hapless Sgt Flint, centre.

Sgt Flint is endearing, as a gruff, dim and bear-like flat footed-copper. And Rosemary? I loved Rosemary way back when. And I find I still love her now! ‘Your lovable lady fuzz’!? Delicious!

Switchboard sweetheart, Rosemary.

The stories are ridiculous. Never was a ‘McGuffin’ less relevant to the enjoyment of a show! It’s all just an excuse to have Phooey (and frequently Spot) goofing about in crazy situations. The charmingly doofus Phooey, with his correspondence course book of Kung Fu up his sleeve, is undoubtedly where the charm lays.

For a cartoon with such a short run, it seemed to hit some kind of nerve, such that it’s remained on screens ever since it was made, way back in ‘74. And I find, that whilst I’m now far older, I still have a soft-spot for this mild mannered janitor/superhero, and his sidekicks, Spot, Flint, and very definitely, Rosemary!

MEDiA/MiSC: Thoughts on the Christchurch shootings.

An infamous image: Australian Brenton Tarrant turns his cam on himself, during his murderous live-streamed rampage.

Yesterday, whilst reading online about the recent Christchurch mosque shootings, I watched two clips from the shooter’s infamous livestream footage.

The first was an approximately 5-6 minute segment in which he – Australian Brenton Tarrant – drives to the location of the first of his two attacks, a Mosque in Christchurch, NZ. This first video clip contained no graphic violence. I saw it on a British online mainstream news website (I forget which network it was).

Like so much POV media one can see these days – and there’s a lot of it online, from extreme sports stuff to the body-cams of cops or soldiers in shoot outs or combat – the initial impression is one of everyday banality; man in car drives around, talking to himself/his assumed audience.

Interestingly, what this live-stream ‘selfie’ video culture does, is make real a narcissistic fantasy we all share, to differing degrees, re the interest (or lack thereof) others might take in our ‘private’ lives.

Here, however, beyond the immediate everyday banality, there are a number of worrying things to be seen and heard: the ‘first person’ view reveals the driver is wearing combat gear; the passenger seat is strewn with firearms (the weapons themselves covered in weird white writing); something in one of the footwells flashes continuously[1]; the driver’s talking in a manner calculated to alarm anyone who isn’t a racist lunatic feeding on a diet of conspiracy theory bullshit; and a weirdly eclectic playlist of music – including the pop song Fire, a British military march and a Serbian song popularly known as ‘Remove Kebab’ – accompanies the whole bizarre scenario.

Less than a week after these shocking events, which occurred on March 15th, 2019, I spent about an hour or so reading a number of versions of much the same content, splashed across multiple online mainstream media outlets.

Frustrated at their uniformity and lack of detail, I decided to try digging a bit deeper. The result was that I found a longer version of Tarrant’s footage, which appeared to contain the entirety of his first attack. Most of the images in this post are screen grabs from this longer video.

Behind the wheel, some of Tarrant’s sizeable arsenal can be seen on the passenger seat.

The homicidal zealot exits his car, intent on killing. Note combat gloves.

One of the most horrifically iconic images from the livestream; approaching the Al Noor mosque, Tarrant prepares to open fire.

A chilling view, Tarrant hunts for further victims, in the mosque car park.

The location where I found what I think is the full livestream video (about 15 or so minutes?) – bestgore.com, an infamous shock site [2] that has subsequently closed – also featured a large number of user comments, mostly of an appalling sort that I won’t dignify with further attention.

What I will do, is say a few things about having seen this video, a video that most corporate sources, from governments to the media itself, quickly sought to suppress. More on this latter issue later.

One of the strangest and potentially alarming things, to my mind, and this probably reflects the saturation of media violence one is so inured to in Western culture, is that – and I guess this will surprise and upset some people who know me – I wasn’t really very shocked by the violence in itself. Why? Well, apart from the already mentioned jaded/overexposed aspect, it all resembles those very popular POV video game shoot-’em-ups.

I knew, or at least believed, that what I was witnessing was real [3]; appallingly so. But it doesn’t look any more real than countless scenes from films, or the action in many popular first-person shoot-em-up video games. Popular entertainment has revelled for so long now in much more overstated and gory violence, and to such an intense degree, that the real thing sometimes looks, ironically, ‘less than real’.

When there’s so much deliberately pornographic violence out there – from Tarantino movies to the endless quest for shock-horror baseness that underpins entire careers (Rob Zombie), and spawns such things as the Human Centipede franchise (leaching into popular culture to the extent that the latter is referenced in The Simpsons!) – in the mainstream media, the real thing, rather like a trip to Niagara Falls (which, unlike US style mass-shootings, is something I’ve experienced), winds up having less impact, even when it’s ‘real life’.

Much of the media I read before seeing the unexpurgated footage talked of ‘deeply disturbing’ footage of ‘men, women and children’ being shot. The quality of the video I saw was not HD, but blurred and grainy. And the helmet or head-cam POV makes it harder to see things clearly. Pretty much all the individuals I could make out, on first viewing, appeared to be adult males. [4]

There is one notably unfortunate woman, who crosses Tarrant’s path outside of the mosque. How he dispatches her is, perhaps somewhat strangely – given she is just the one person, whereas the men he kills are many – one of the more disturbing parts of the video. He shoots but doesn’t kill her. Leaving her wounded in the gutter, audibly crying out for help. A little later he appears to drive over her prone body. Is she dead yet? We don’t know. Clearly the callously sadistic Tarrant doesn’t care.

Tarrant pleads guilty to all charges via video-link to the court.

Aside from this lone female victim, one of the only moments that seemed less ‘abstract’ and video-game like is when someone inside the mosque makes a desperate attempt to run past Tarrant. In doing do their head/face pass very close to the headcam. This gives a momentary semblance of individuality and humanity to what otherwise appear as random undifferentiated bodies. It’s hard to see what happens, but I don’t think this brave but terrified individual escaped alive.

Amongst the tsunami of sickening verbal effluence posted in the comments at bestgore.com, one or two people posed a counter-view. I mention these comments again because I concur with one or two points some of the more sober commenters made about Tarrant: one concerns the obvious hypocrisy of a white male of Australian nationality perpetrating such a ‘race-war’ style crimes in another similarly colonised land, New Zealand.

Tarrant published a ‘manifesto’ (a cut n paste hodge-podge of racist right wing memes and conspiracy theories which I’ve read about, but not actually read) in which he seeks to explain/justify his actions. According to summaries of its contents it’s a familiar toxic mix of far-right white-supremacist nonsense (Great Replacement Theory type stuff). In it Tarrant describes muslims and immigrants as The Invaders.

Not having read his ‘manifesto’ I don’t know if he addresses the fact that, if you follow his own logic to it’s natural and inevitable conclusion, the Maoris of NZ and the Aborigines of Australia ought to be out en-masse, rampaging through the churches and shopping malls of those nations blowing the very real white colonial Invaders off ‘their land’.

So the first critical point has to do with Tarrant’s appallingly limited , indeed, moronic lack of understanding of human genetic diversity and movement around the globe.

The second has to do with his m.o. In the footage after the first massacre, he drives off at some speed, through the streets of Christchurch, presumably en route to his second killing spree, and says a few things.

One of the things he mentions is leaving unused ammo lying around. Another is, I think, not being as methodical and thorough in his slayings as he’d like (I think he may also mention something about the victims being mostly adult males).

In this latter reflection he refers to his totally one-sided murder-spree as a ‘firefight’. Clearly, in his poisoned mind, he’s in a battle. But, obviously, a firefight requires that your enemy is also armed, and firing back. A firing squad is not a firefight! Nor was Tarrant’s brutally one-sided butchery.

Mid-massacre, Tarrant returns to his car, to re-equip; this is what’s in his boot. The red fuel canisters were intended for use as petrol bombs.

Click here to view a video synopsis these events.

And this brings me to the core of what some of the less demented commenters on bestgore.com were concluding: Tarrant is clearly a dumb and deluded coward. Many men turn their frustrations on themselves and commit suicide. But some, like Tarrant, turn their anger cans frustration on the world.

From serial-killers to warmongers, such folk seek to displace the sense of threatened inadequacy they feel in themselves, by manufacturing a conspiracy they can go to war against.

And for Tarrant, as with disturbingly large numbers of extreme right-wing racists, this is a war that he seemingly happily feels can be waged by the armed against the unarmed. A ‘war’ that includes as legitimate targets not only the apparently ‘fair game’ of adult males, but also women and children.

His manifesto is where he allegedly sets out why this is so: Islam seeks to displace Christianity – I don’t know where his ‘facts’/figures come from (if he has any?), nor if they have any relation to reality or not – and ‘they’, the ‘Invaders’, aka Muslim immigrants, are outbreeding whites.

According to those who have read his bilious outpourings, Tarrant specifically justifies the killing of children in terms of a strictly utilitarian argument: kill as many as you can now, including children, so your own kids have less to kill further down the road. The cold logic of such ideas is, to me, as shocking as the acts it prepares the ‘believer’ for.

Whilst on the subject of belief, I once read a rather difficult book (difficult more for its stodgy academic style than it’s disturbing content) called Believe And Destroy, which aimed to examine how and why intelligent people willingly murdered fellow humans in pursuit of Hitler’s Nazi racial policies.

The author, a Spaniard named Ingrao, reasoned that Nazism worked like a religion, cultivating a sense of belonging, and also a sense of ‘faith’. Together these would prepare believers for the transition from ordinary law-abiding citizens into mass-murderers.

I’ve also read books claiming that the category or concept of ‘race’, as commonly understood, is a false one, in terms of ‘true’ scientific categories. Whatever the reality of this latter point may be, certainly Churchill put it very well when he described the alleged reasoning behind Nazism as ‘a perverted science.’

And here we get to the rub: for Tarrant his killing-spree is justified as being an attempt to actively coerce evolution in the direction of favouring his own supposed in-group, which he identifies in terms of race and religion, i.e. white Christian.

But, of the trio of Abrahamic religions born of Jewish decent, it’s only the founding branch that, as far as I know, holds to a specifically ethnic tribal/clan/blood view of belonging (God’s chosen people, etc.). Christianity and Islam are, in theory/by contrast, open to any and all (even Judaism has evolved to the extent that non-Jews can ‘convert’); as long as the faithful meet certain criteria – wide and varying, depending on the particular sect/brand of any given religion – then racial origin/identity is irrelevant.

Temel Atacocugus survived being shot nine times by Tarrant!

Sam Harris, in his book The End of Faith, makes a cogent and I feel very reasonable argument as to why people might reach a point of saying ‘this far but no further’ (or, more bluntly, ‘at this point we go to war’), over how one is free or otherwise to live. Harris’ vision pits a basically rational humanist one against the devout religious believer. And I share his basic views.

It’s kind of facile and, much worse, potentially very misleading, to observe that Harris and Tarrant share some aspects of thought process: an enemy is perceived, and a stand against that enemy is taken. Crucially and very significantly it’s where they part company, massively, in how those boundaries are negotiated, how differences might be resolved, and how such social visions are manifested in personal action, that shows the gulf between their outlooks.

Harris hopes that a secular culture can grow robust enough to collectively deal with such threats, whereas Tarrant seeks the ‘lone wolf’ path of the individual terrorist, of whatever race or creed.

What all these ideas begin to reveal are complex multifaceted problems: to those who admire Tarrant’s actions – a frighteningly larger number than many would wish to believe – he’s fighting fire with fire, and taking on a personal role/responsibility, something they believe liberals like Harris comfortably abnegate, instead delegating such action to others (law enforcement, the army, etc.).

And they argue further, that liberals and intellectuals and suchlike – known disparagingly these days as ‘woke’ or ‘snowflakes’ – are like the appeasers of Hitler, failing to see in the rise of fundamentalist Islam it’s real degree of intent and threat.

If you hear some of the talking heads interviewed in Richard Dawkins far too short and overly simplistic TV series The Root Of All Evil, you might well think, as I did at the time, uh-oh, there really is a danger of Islam seeking to overthrow ‘The West’. Certainly Islam, the adolescent to Christianity’s father figure, and Judaism’s grandfather figure, can oft-times appear the most juvenile and belligerent of the three branches of Abrahamic religious descent.

Scrawled all over spare ammo clips, white-supremacist Christian vs Muslim graffiti. Tarrant’s weapons and body armour were covered in such texts.

When I hear someone like the American ex-New Yorker convert to radical Islam (I don’t recall his name), in the aforementioned Root Of All Evil, ranting about ‘your women’ being ‘dressed as whores’, it is worrying. It ought to be merely sad, suggestive of, in his case, unresolved developmental and relationship issues.

It’s much the same problem we encounter in Tarrant: personal inadequacies are cloaked under a mantle of perceived societal threats. Strange fantasies evolve, allowing the individual to act aggressively in seeking to make the world conform to their damaged perceptions. Or, failing that, exacting revenge on a world they feel is letting them down.

It’s stating the obvious, I know; but tragedies like the Christchurch massacres just go to prove that, even if categories such as race or religious creed are perhaps redundant or fallacious, they remain potentially fraught and divisive ideas.

I often read things, for example I recently read Against Hate (Emcke), or before that the far superior Better Angels of Our Nature (Pinker), which appeal to reason as the way to resolve these problems. I hope fervently that this is how we proceed. But the pessimistic part of me does worry about where we’re currently headed…


NOTES:

NB: These include some stuff added much later than my original drafting and posting of this stuff, most of which was first written in the week after the events of 15th March, 2019.

If you’re interested in how the NZ government reacted to and dealt with the livestream footage that Tarrant put out, and which was viewed a lot online at the time – some of which I saw – and for some time after the events, read this.

It’s also worth knowing that people seeking to distribute the video in NZ have been jailed for their actions, under the legal codes to which the above link relates.

This still from Tarrant’s livestream video shows him firing through the front windscreen (whilst driving!).

[1] This turns out to be a strobe light weapon-fitting, used to disorientate ‘targets’, making them easier to dispatch.

[2] Hosted by Mark Marek, an Eastern European guy living in Canada, bestgore.com achieved worldwide notoriety when Luka Magnotta posted his home-made snuff movie ‘One lunatic, one ice-pick’ to the website.

[3] The bestgore.com posting of Tarrant’s livestream footage was littered with comments suggesting the video is faked. Most of these comments were, it was clear from the context, not worthy of the slightest attention. One or two, however, did make mention of a section in the film where Tarrant fire one of his guns through his own front windscreen, with – they allege – no discernible effect on the glass. On first viewing it did look that way. I must admit I did find that surprising and weird. But close study of the still above suggests one can see window damage, in the form of cracks. Tarrant also fires through his left passenger side window at one point, and the glass shatters, as you’d expect it to. The whole firing through the front windscreen bit makes me think that if he is indeed doing what he appears to be doing, then he presumably knew that he could do so. Me being a firearms dunce, having almost no experience with them, I would’ve assumed that one ought not fire in an enclosed space (ricochets, flying debris/shrapnel, etc.). Perhaps the weapon has such a high-velocity it can be fired through glass or whatever without significant deflection? And perhaps it’s simply that the video resolution is sufficiently poor it’s hard to see the holes the bullets make in the front windscreen? Anyway, as far as I’m aware, the overwhelming consensus is that Tarrant’s footage is, tragically, all too genuine.