Fortunately, I’ve never been a part of a persecuted minority, although as a white Londoner my demographic is now outnumbered in my home city, so if I’m granted a few more years on this planet I might find out sooner rather than later what it is like to be surrounded in your birthplace, by invading monsters who want to wipe indigenous people like me from the face of the Earth.
That’ll be an interesting day, should it ever arrive.
I still retain a thirst for knowledge, not for the kind of stuff that you find in textbooks, but for the things you discover when you visit places and speak to people.
So, when a great Jewish friend of mine offered to give me a tour of Golders Green and the surrounding areas, in order that I could see and hear the things that are not being covered by the mainstream media, I jumped at the chance.
On Monday, I travelled on the London Underground to Brent Cross Station, one stop up the Northern Line from Golders Green.
Only a handful of fellow travellers got off the tube along with me, but the first thing that caught my eye was a pair of British Transport Police uniformed officers standing attentively on the platform.
Once I made my way to the car park, two large police vans dominated the space, and I exchanged a cheery ‘Good morning’ with a very tall police officer who looked to me like he had some considerable years of service under his belt, but had clearly looked after himself, as you couldn’t fry an egg on him. He was a very reassuring sight.
Not long afterwards, my great buddy Nigel steered his shiny black new Skoda into the car park. We shook hands, we hugged.
As a seasoned press photographer, he took one of his impressive-looking cameras from his impressively robust security cage, and we were ready to take in the sights.
Firstly, we visited the Iranian memorial to the tens of thousands of countrymen and women who were slaughtered by their own despotic, murderous Islamic regime earlier this year. No wonder President Trump wants to bomb the beasts who rule that country into submission.
Row upon row of mainly young and beautiful faces had smiled into a camera once upon a time, and now they were no more.
Only their images survive. I challenge anyone who goes to see this tragic yet glorious tribute not to be deeply moved by what you’ll see.
It is a great example of how people of different faiths can co-exist side-by-side, because it is positioned in Golders Green, a predominantly Jewish part of north London.
Many other interesting places were seen, conversations were had, and a wonderful salt beef sandwich was demolished.
Having lived in this part of London for decades, Nigel knows it like the back of his hand, so he has the ability to give full attention to his driving, while simultaneously being able to tell me what notable landmarks might be on my left or on my right. It’s a bit like getting a tour of central London from a seasoned black cabbie.
A car crashed into me in lawless Britain - then the idiot driver made matters worse | Peter Bleksley/X
As Nigel carefully drove down a road that he knew well, suddenly, from a side turning, a Mercedes reversed - yes, reversed- at a ludicrous speed without stopping, and it slammed into the driver’s side of our car.
Considerable damage was caused to both cars. The Merc then sped off, and as it approached a set of traffic lights, it traversed onto the wrong side of the road and jumped a red light.
Nigel, as measured as ever, took the same route. From a distance, we could see that the Mercedes had taken a right turn. Nigel knew that this road was a dead-end. The Merc driving lunatic obviously didn’t.
This error on the Merc driver's part gave us time to safely make ground on him, because the hit and run merchant not only took some time to discover that he had no escape from the cul-de-sac, but he also had to swing his large and damaged car around, in order to rejoin the main road from which he’d turned off.
There are many reasons why I love Nigel, one of them being that he is a wise old soul. He could have blocked the cul-de-sac, thereby boxing the Mercedes in, but he didn’t.
I’m sure that would only have escalated matters. Instead, he parked to one side and reached for his camera. There is more than one way to skin a cat.
The idiotic Mercedes driver drove back towards the main road at an astonishing speed, forcing a member of the public to take very swift evasive action.
I shouted abuse at the Merc driver, while Nigel snapped away with his camera. True to form, the Merc drove off on the wrong side of the road again.
Nigel dialled 999. Details were given. I emphasised to the call handler what a danger this Merc driver was to other road users and pedestrians.
The call handler displayed a tone of disinterest in what I had to say and made me feel like I might as well have been howling at the moon.
In days of yore, the vehicle details would have been circulated by a police radio controller to patrolling units in the nearby area.
Some of my most memorable experiences of policing in uniform were when I suddenly spotted a vehicle that had just been flagged up over the radio, and the pursuit would begin.
I very much doubt that the details of this Merc were circulated to anyone.
After all, what’s the point? The police very rarely patrol these days, and we’re all a lot worse off as a consequence.
A lovely man came towards us with a roll of gaffer tape in his hand.
The shredded rear door on the driver’s side of Nigel’s car was safely taped back into some semblance of order, so that we could get the Skoda back to Nigel’s home.
That evening, when I got back to my house, I took to social media and posted the brilliant profile photograph that Nigel had captured of the driver, together with another snap of the damaged Merc. A short tale of what had happened to us accompanied these, and the story began to fly.
Comments flooded in, and it was clear that many members of the public are very unhappy with the appalling lack of standards, courtesy and the rampant lawbreaking that we have to endure on our roads today.
Out of interest, when was the last time you saw a police officer questioning a driver by the side of the road, other than after an accident? No, I can’t remember either.
The wondrous internet and the power of social media then weaved their magic. The following morning, there was a message sitting in my email inbox that had been sent to me via my website by a delightful resident of north London. Photographic evidence supported what this man had to tell me.
The Mercedes maniac had crashed again soon after disappearing from our sight.
Two wheels of the Merc were on the road, the other two were sitting atop the roof of a now-ruined parked car. Apparently, members of the public had righted the Merc back onto the carriageway before the nutcase behind the wheel had driven off yet again.
The damaged Merc was later photographed abandoned on a nearby road, and word on the street was that the driver had been apprehended.
Nigel has fully updated his report to the Metropolitan Police, including all available photographic evidence of all collisions and offences, in order that the police can join the dots effectively, and therefore present to the court a true reflection of the seriousness of all these events.
At the time of writing, Nigel has heard absolutely nothing back from The Met. No wonder there’s a crime wave.