Medicinal Cannabis, and Me

9 March, 2021cannabis, the hippyAnxiety, cannabis, Depression, medicinal cannabis, NHS, the hippythehippy

clear glass jar filled with kush — Photo by Add Weed on Unsplash

I have been wanting to write this up for a while, it all happened before Xmas. It’s a good story, with some fun twists and turns, a few unexpected personal details, a flashback to the early 1980s, and a surprise ending. Here we go.

Part One

Medicinal cannabis was legalised in the United Kingdom a couple of years ago, but it’s uptake, and availability until recently, has been limited.

Professor David Nutt’s organisation, Drug Science, created Project Twenty21 which has the ambitious aim of registering 20,000 medicinal cannabis patients by the end of 2021, to assemble a database demonstrating the efficacy of medicinal cannabis treatment for a wide variety of conditions. It is a very noble aim.

The first hurdle one must leap to access medical cannabis in the U.K. is financial. Medicinal cannabis is expensive, in many cases more so than black market equivalents. Plus there are additional costs associated, including consultant fees, which are also not cheap.

Project Twenty-21 approved products, and clinics aimed to keep these costs down for certain selected products, but this subsidy doesn’t cover the entire range of products available domestically. Additionally, there are admin fees, prescription admin fees, and postage, or delivery fees. It all adds up. Many people reconsider at this point, as it can be cheaper to medicate via the black market, or to just grow your own.

The other barrier to accessing treatment is that you must meet the following criteria. You need to suffer from a qualifying condition. There are a wide range are on that list, including chronic pain, and anxiety. And you need to have tried two licensed pharmaceutical medications that were ineffective in improving your condition.

I was initially sceptical of all of this, but Project Twenty21 caught my attention. I have used cannabis medicinally for nearly 40 years, to cope with crippling anxiety, and varying degrees of suicidal depression. My mental health has benefitted greatly from my cannabis use, it has saved my life countless times over the years. It still helps me to this day.

If you would like more information on how to become a patient yourself, and learn more about the costs of consultations, and the available products, check out Cannapedia. It’s a great place to start. There is also a very lively subreddit on Reddit for UK Medicinal Cannabis patients. You can peruse many posts from patients, sharing their real experiences, both good and bad, of accessing treatment.

It was interesting to read about the experiences of others, along with the hiccups people were encountering.

For example, even though the United Kingdom is the world’s number producer of medical cannabis, nearly all the products currently prescribed here are imported. That’s meant that people have had long waits to receive their medication. Availability is slowly improving, and soon, more domestically produced products will be licensed.

Besides costs, there were also some complaints around the clinic admin side of things, many were slow to respond, or weren’t that helpful. The industry really is in its infancy here, and there is definitely a learning curve for patients, and practitioners alike. The system is far from perfect, but it is the only one we’ve got. It is certainly a step up over having no legal options, but of course it could be improved.

Much of what I read was positive, especially about the doctors who staffed the clinics. They are all experts in treating people with medicinal cannabis, something you will not easily find anywhere in the NHS. I am not going to name the clinic I contacted.

I have been speaking to my current GP about my medicinal cannabis use for years, much to her amusement. The Endocannabinoid System wasn’t discovered until the 1990s, it wasn’t in medical school textbooks when my doctor was in medical school. I’d bet you there isn’t much in those text books about it, even now.

I am fairly certain that underneath many, if not all of my physical, and mental health issues, is a cannabinoid deficiency. It’s why I feel, and function better when I nourish my endocannabinoid system. The NHS is way behind in understanding this, and Project Twenty21 aims to provide evidence to change their views.

Having read about obtaining a prescription, I decided to pursue one myself. I rationalised that it would be worth the additional expense to finally explore legal options, and the legal protections of a prescription. And I was certainly curious about trying legal products.

Currently, legal cannabis dispensaries provide various strains of cannabis flower, and cannabis oils, in various strengths, and THC/CBD ratios. Nearly all the flower, or bud, have black market equivalents, and names, but the idea is that medicinal production maintains quality, and consistency.

I met the criteria for access via Product Twenty21. The easiest condition to pursue treatment in my case, is anxiety. My GP would not argue with that diagnosis. And I had tried two licensed medications to treat my anxiety a very long time ago, so that box was ticked as well. My only concern was that I had tried them in the early 1980s, when I lived in America.

I did some research into the clinics and they all seemed fairly similar. Some of them are owned, and run by the medical cannabis producers themselves, and they are known to try to steer you towards their own-produced products. As long as you are aware of that, it didn’t seem to be a big issue, so I chose one based on cost.

When I applied, I contacted them directly to confirm that my US medical history wasn’t accessible, and was told as long as the two licensed medications I tried were mentioned in my medical history from my current GP, it would not be an issue. It didn’t matter when or where I tried those two medications, so my concern was unnecessary.

I booked a telephone appointment with my GP to discuss all this, and told her I wanted to access medical cannabis. She immediately, almost like a reflex, told me she can’t prescribe cannabis. Sigh. I know that, I told her. I wanted to access a private prescription, and all I needed from her is a summary of my diagnosis, and care regarding anxiety, which included a mention of trying two licensed medications when I was living in America in the 1980s. My GP was happy to provided this, but it took a couple of weeks.

I was excited, for the first time in my life, I was going to have access to legal cannabis. No more hiding In the shadows, I could finally speak up, and be a very public advocate without fear of arrest or judgement. I was going to be respectable. And first the very first time, fully legal. This was going to be life changing. This was going to be good.

End of Part One.

Part Two

brown and white padded armchairs — Photo by R O on Unsplash

A couple of days after I submitted my summary of care to the clinic, I heard back from the patient coordinator. It was the same one that told me everything would be fine when I spoke to her initially.

I thought she was ringing to book my first consultation. She wasn’t. She rang to tell me because I had no proof of trying those two medications, they could not offer me a consultation. This was a gut punch, and a complete contradiction of her earlier advice.

She went on to explain that the clinical director reviewed my application personally, and said it was too much of a risk for them to help me, because if they were ever audited by the regulators, the paper trail demonstrating my suitability could be questioned.

The patient coordinator said I could try to get my 40 year old records from America. Or there was still one other way they could help me, and that is if I got my GP to write a recommendation that my condition may benefit from medical cannabis.

Thinking about my medical records from 40 years ago, sent me on a little detour journey into my ancient US history, from my own distant past. You can come along too.

I grew up in America, and between the ages of 17 and 19, I saw a psychologist, and then a psychiatrist, for anxiety, and depression.

I am 58 now, I was 13 years old when I had my first suicidal thought. Cool, huh? Quite frankly, it is a minor miracle that I was able to make anything of myself in life, but a couple of things helped me early on. Discovering cannabis at the age of 18 was one of them, and another was the first psychologist I saw.

The first shrink I saw, the psychologist, was a really cool guy who helped me lot. He was a big, boisterous, physically imposing man in his 60s, with a sharp sense of humour, and a great approach. I really liked him, he was super progressive. He treated me like an adult, and listened to me. I made progress under his care. And he gave me great advice, that still helps me to this day. I wish I kept seeing him, who knows how much more I would have improved?

So why did I stop seeing him? Even now, the reason makes me laugh, because you have to laugh, don’t you?

Periodically, my parents would join for a session, and at one of these meetings, the psychologist pretty much told my mother that her overbearing, controlling nature, was my biggest problem. And just like that, almost to prove his point, she stopped my weekly sessions with him immediately, and found me a different doctor. Told ya it was funny.

I didn’t like this second shrink nearly as much. He was a psychiatrist, meaning he was a medical doctor, and could prescribe.

He was also very cold, and Freudian, so his response to almost every question was this. “Well, what do you think?”. I think for a hundred bucks an hour, you should answer my goddamn questions. I did not get much out of my sessions with him, but he was far more acceptable to my mother, so there was that.

He prescribed me Xanax for my anxiety. I did not like it, it made me feel nauseous, and dizzy. He then prescribed Valium, which I did like, maybe a little too much, but the dosage was way too high, they were 10mg. They made me too sleepy, and weren’t a viable long term solution because I couldn’t function on them.

two woman sits on sofa chairs inside house — Photo by Toa Heftiba on Unsplash

I was lucky, as both drugs are extremely addictive, and I could have ended up hooked on pharms at age 19. Instead, they put me off all psychiatric meds, and I have not agreed to a psychiatric prescription since. That psychiatrist was also the first to offer me antidepressants, back in 1982, but the other drugs had already put me off, and I declined, as I have countless times over the years.

It amazes me, even today, how quickly doctors offer people antidepressants. Go to your GP, tell them you’ve been feeling down, and see how quickly they offer you a prescription. No, don’t. I know they help some people, but I also know they harm others. Cannabis is a lot safer, and can be much more effective.

In 1981, I tried cannabis for the first time. I was still seeing the first guy, the psychologist. I remember talking to him about it, telling him how good it made me feel. He was never judgemental, he just told me not to get caught. Excellent advice!

I didn’t know it at the time, I didn’t understand it at the time, I didn’t even have the vocabulary to express it at the time, but I was self medicating with cannabis before I even knew it was a thing. All I knew was that if I smoked it daily, I felt normal. I could function. So that’s what I did, that’s what I have done, and that’s what I still do today. Back then, I worked full time, and went to college full time, at the same time, all while smoking weed to cope. All I can say is it worked for me, and still does.

I hadn’t thought about my early mental health history, in a very long time, but when I was dealing with the medicinal cannabis clinic, I went there. I had to. Turns out it is a key part of telling this story, of my experience in trying to access medical cannabis treatment. And that story is not done yet.

I decided to try to access my medical records from the early 80s in America.

I remembered the name of the second shrink, the psychiatrist who prescribed the two medications in late 1981. That’s nearly 40 years ago, what were the chances the doctor was still practising? And would he still have my files? I was about to find out.

I googled his name, and the name of the town where he practised. And I found him, and his phone number, and even a photo. I recognised him, though obviously he was a whole lot older.

I had no idea what I was going to say to his receptionist. “Hi, I was a patient 40 years ago, and I am trying to access medicinal cannabis in the backwards United Kingdom. They need proof I was prescribed a couple of drugs that were useless back in the day. Can you help?” At least they would be accustom to a bit of insanity in a shrink’s office. It definitely felt insane.

End of part 2

Part Three

happy birthday to you wall art — Photo by Andy Holmes on Unsplash

I dialled the psychologist’s phone number in New Jersey. Immediately, I was greeted with a recording, telling me the number was no longer in service.

My old psychiatrist must have retired, he would have been in his mid to late 70s. In that moment, getting my old records went from being incredibly unlikely to definitely impossible.

My absolutely last chance, according to the patient coordinator at the clinic, was a recommendation from my doctor. Having had it take weeks just to get a summary of my care, I was not optimistic at all, but I felt I had to try.

I booked another telephone appointment with my GP, the first of several in this round, to discuss it further with her. She did not feel comfortable recommending medicinal cannabis, though I explained to her repeatedly that what she was actually recommending me for was an assessment, from someone whose speciality is medical cannabis.

I like my GP, a lot, but my experience in dealing with her regarding all of this, is precisely why Project Twenty21 is so vitally important. The NHS still has a lot to learn when it comes to medicinal cannabis. The stigma, and ignorance needs to be replaced with data, and facts.

Finally, I sent my GP a letter. An abbreviated version is below. I’ve removed some personally identifying info, and some boring bits.

Dear Dr. – ,

It was good to speak to you yesterday, thank you for phoning.

I didn’t feel like I put my case for a referral to you very well. As this is all complicated, and in a new area of medicine here in the UK, I thought it would be best to put it all in writing to clarify the situation.

I am trying to join Project Twenty21, which is run by Professor David Nutt’s organisation, Drug Science.

Project Twenty21 aims to register 20,000 medicinal cannabis patients within the next year, to gather more data on the effectiveness of cannabis for a wide range of conditions, including Generalised Anxiety Disorder, which is my diagnosis.

As I have told you, I have used cannabis medicinally for nearly 40 years, and it has been remarkably, extremely beneficial to me for my entire adult life. The majority of patients accepted into the study have previously self medicated, so I am far from unique in that regard. To join Project Twenty21, I would be assessed by a specialist from the private clinic, and if deemed suitable, I would be prescribed a cannabis product precisely calibrated to my condition and needs.

At present, I source my medication via the black market, which means consistency and quality are often issues for me, and those would vanish, if I had a prescription for a medicinal product.

At this point, my only route to an assessment is a referral from you, I am not asking you to prescribe cannabis. All I am asking you to do is provide a referral to the clinic for an assessment by their specialist. It would be up to them to decide if I am suitable to join Project Twenty21 and receive a prescription.

While I appreciate you may have some scepticism regarding medicinal cannabis, I can assure you from decades of personal experience and research, that it is extremely effective, which is why the laws have finally changed in the UK. Rather than try to convince you myself, you should look into Dr. Raphael Mechoulam, one of the world’s leading experts on medicinal cannabis. He is an amazing and fascinating man. I hope you will read this article, I think you would enjoy it.

For me, this isn’t about getting high, I can do that now. This is about treating my anxiety (and depression, though that is not part of the study yet). It’s about finding the exact right balance of THC, CBD, CBN and terpenes, and being able to reliably ingest the correct dose daily. It’s also about harm reduction, as the prescribed products will be of pharmaceutical quality. And as this is a private prescription, via a private clinic, it will actually be more costly to me than the black market initially, but my health and well being are worth it to me, which is why I am trying so hard to make this very beneficial life change now.

In my conversations with the patient coordinator at the clinic, they have all but told me I am exactly the sort of patient they wish to study in Project Twenty21. All that is holding me back is bureaucracy. I understand the NHS is behind the curve when it comes to medicinal cannabis, and that is what Project Twenty21 is trying to address, by amassing a wealth of patient data as quickly as possible. I very much want to be a part of this study, so I can help bring the NHS into the 21st century on cannabis. It can help many more people, it’s not expensive, and it is extremely safe. And the UK is already the world’s largest producer/exporter of medicinal cannabis. It is quite frankly shameful that it is not in wider use domestically.

As of this writing there are only 2 patients in the United Kingdom with prescriptions for cannabis provided by the NHS. Both had to fight hard to receive them. At present there are around 2,000 patients receiving cannabis privately in the UK, I very much wish to join them. This is all still fairly new ground to navigate, so I totally appreciate your position and situation.

If you’re interested, here is a summary of the state of UK medicinal cannabis, from the industry itself.

I have tried to lay out my case for a referral as clearly as possible, and with as much detail as possible. I already know cannabis helps me. I know that a prescription would allow me access to proper products, manufactured to a consistent pharmaceutical standard, and it would eliminate all of the biggest risks of my present cannabis use.

You mentioned you wished to discuss this matter with your colleagues, I hope this letter reaches you before you do. Please feel free to share the contents with them.

I spoke to my GP again the following week, and she agreed to add this single line to my summary of care: “In view of all of the above, I am happy for (him) to be assessed by the medicinal cannabis clinic”. That was it, that was exactly what the the patient advisor at the clinic said I needed.

I submitted the updated summary of care to the clinic. For the second time, I thought I had met the requirements set out for me. Only this time, for sure!

End of Part Three

Part Four

green kush with black container — Photo by Ndispensable on Unsplash

The astute amongst you may have already deduced where this story is going. You won’t be disappointed. Unlike me. I was very disappointed. Still am.

The clinic said no, again. The patient advisor gave me very bad advice. Again.

A doctor’s referral is of no use without proof that you tried two licensed medications. Where have I heard this before? I tried two licensed medications, Xanax, and Valium, and they were not effective in managing my long term condition. What I lack is a piece of paper from 40 years ago confirming this in writing.

I appreciate my situation is unique, and unusual. I have lived in London for 30 years, and this is the first time I have felt penalised for growing up in America.

When I moved to London in 1991, I was 28 years old. It never occurred to me to get my doctor’s notes from my GP, never mind a shrink I had seen 10 years before that. It never crossed my mind, I was young, and reasonably healthy back then. No GP here ever asked for my American medical records. It never came up. How was I supposed to know something I never thought about would come back to bite me in the ass when I least expected it?

Clearly the rules to access medicinal cannabis in the U.K. are arbitrary. Why not three ineffective drugs? Why not one? Why any at all? Cannabis is hardly an experimental treatment for anything. Why do there have to be any barriers to access it in this system, if all the barriers do is prevent you from even speaking to a clinician?

I wasn’t refused a prescription after a considered consultation with a doctor specialising in cannabis. I was refused the chance to even discuss the possibility, because of these arbitrarily constructed rules. I never spoke to a doctor. And it looks like as of now, I never will.

Let me put it another way. Because I can’t prove I that I really tried two pharmaceutical medications that were ineffective, I am not being allowed to speak to a specialist doctor about a safer medication, that I already use, and know from 40 years of continuous use, is extremely safe and effective. That’s just crazynutsykookoo.

Like I said in the letter to my GP, this isn’t about getting high. I can do that now. This is about accessing an appropriate treatment, that I already know is 100% effective, in the safest way possible.

I was given really bad advice. The clinic’s patient advisor advised me poorly. Maybe she was inexperienced, or badly trained. Perhaps they work on commission? I have no idea, but I would like to think that it was simply her enthusiasm to help me, that resulted in me being twice misled.

I ended up wasting not only my own time, but my GP’s time as well. I even apologised to my GP, when I had to speak to her about an unrelated matter recently. She was gracious about it, but I doubt it left her with a good impression of the our domestic medicinal cannabis industry. And that’s a shame. The sooner the NHS backs medicinal cannabis, the better for everyone.

If the clinic had said straight up, your records are abroad, and you don’t have them, so you don’t have a chance, you wouldn’t be reading this now. My expectation was to be turned away, and I would have accepted it then without question.

Instead, the clinic gave me hope, twice, and then snatched that hope away. I was really looking forward to trying what is available legally. I was really looking forward to seeing what a specialist would recommend.

Though I had a bad experience, I still 100% support anything that helps people, and decriminalises them too. One legal cannabis patient in the U.K., or one million, or ten million, it is all positive progress in the right direction.

Just because I got burned by a weirdly arbitrary system, doesn’t mean thousands of other people aren’t being helped every day. They are, and I can still be happy for them.

I could try to game the system. With my mental health history, it would not be difficult to get my GP to prescribe me a couple of drugs for anxiety. Heck, I thought about asking her to prescribe me one Valium tablet, and one Xanax tablet, just to prove a point. Yep, took ‘em, and they still don’t work. But no, that’s not me, that’s not how I roll.

I approached this, as I approach everything, with total honesty and transparency. I don’t think the clinic thought I was lying, the point for them was if they were audited by their regulators, it could leave them exposed. The industry here is still very new, they don’t want to give anyone the slightest excuse to question anything. I understand that. I understand their caution, that’s why this was literally the first question I asked the patient advisor. I anticipated this, and was repeatedly assured it was not an issue. Turned out to be the only issue.

My own reality hasn’t changed. I still self medicate, I’m still an outlaw patient. That won’t change, much as I would prefer to be legal. I am dependant on cannabis, the same way someone with diabetes is dependant on insulin. And I take far worse drugs for other chronic conditions. Hey ho.

The system is entirely too restrictive, anyone should be able to have a private consultation with a cannabis specialist, if they, the patient, believe they would benefit from a private prescription. Wouldn’t that just be considered, sensible compassion?

You can buy aspirin over the counter. Aspirin is more dangerous than cannabis. People sometimes die from taking aspirin. No one has ever died from taking cannabis. Almost everything is more dangerous than cannabis. Cannabis is safe and effective, I know this from decades of Personal Use. There is no reason why cannabis shouldn’t be a first choice treatment for many conditions.

And on the off-chance that someone from one of the many cannabis clinics in the U.K. happens to read this, might you be so bold as to offer me a consultation? I have been as transparent, and honest here, as I would be in real life. Though my first experience was less than satisfactory, I still have an open mind regarding the future. Can you restore my faith in this system?

I hope you enjoyed my sorry tale of medicinal cannabis woe. I think the system will improve in the future, and become less restrictive. My own personal anecdotal evidence is all well and good, but when Project Twenty21 has 20,000 detailed case studies, no one will be able to ignore the evidence any longer. Here’s hoping that day arrives soon.

Doug

the northlondonhippy

@nthlondonhippy

After a 30 year career as a journalist, working for some of the largest news organisations in the world, including Associated Press, and Reuters, and 15 years as an overnight duty news editor for BBC News, Doug – the northlondonhippy is now a full time writer, hippy, and drug law reform campaigner.

Doug is also the author of “Personal Use by the northlondonhippy.” “Personal Use” chronicles Doug’s first 35 years of drug use, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry, and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!

Doug’s next book, “High Hopes” should have been published by now, but it is hard to write a book about remaining optimistic in the face of adversity, during a global pandemic. Try it yourself!

For the last year, Doug has spent most of his time hiding away from a killer virus. Bet many of you have too.

You can find Doug – the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy.

Dachau and my Dad

28 April, 2020the hippyDachau liberation anniversary, the hippythehippy

Wednesday, 29th April 2020 marks the 75th anniversary of the liberation of the Dachau Concentration Camp. The hippy reflects on his father’s firsthand account of that day.

Dachau Visitors Centre
Source: https://www.kz-gedenkstaette-dachau.de/en/your-visit/opening-hours/

My father was part of the US Army battalion that liberated Dachau, the very first Nazi concentration camp. It was the location of some of worst atrocities ever perpetrated by humans, against other humans. According to historic records, during the 12 years it was in operation, Dachau housed over 200,000 prisoners, and more than 40,000 of them were murdered there. These were horrendous war crimes, committed on an industrial scale.

My father didn’t like talking about the war. As a young boy, I found the idea of war fascinating. I would often pester him about his experiences, but he was almost always reluctant to talk about them.

When pushed, he would say the war changed him, that he didn’t feel able to come back home straight away when the war ended. He felt too savage. He said he had seen too many horrible things, and couldn’t return to his normal life straight away. He needed time to adjust, so he volunteered to stay on as part of the provisional government, tasked with the denazification of Germany.

My father did have two go-to war stories, for when he was put on the spot, and I heard both more than once over the years. One concerned a serious injury, when a mortar shell exploded near him, and the shrapnel sliced into his neck, barely missing an artery. He was stitched up and sent back to the frontline. It left a scar you could still see. He received a Purple Heart medal for this incident, but he didn’t put in for it for many decades, and only received it in his seventies.

The other story he would tell was even more dramatic. While on patrol in the Black Forest, a Nazi soldier jumped out from behind a tree with his rifle trained on my father at close range. The Nazi pulled the trigger, but his rifle jammed, giving my father the opportunity to shoot and kill the Nazi instead. That jammed weapon spared my father’s life. My father called it fate, and said the incident left him shook. He knew he was very lucky to survive this brush with death.

Dachau Sign
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dachau_concentration_camp

You will notice I keep using the word Nazi, rather than German. I’m doing this because my father always made this distinction. He liked the German people very much, and he said they were mostly very kind to him. But he hated, with a capital HATE, all Nazi soldiers, and especially, and specifically, the ones that tried to kill him. I never thought that was an unreasonable view for him to hold.

My father was my hero when I was a kid. He was a man’s man, who could, and did, charm everyone he met. He could do everything. He rode horses, flew planes, and piloted boats. He could hunt, fish, he was a top marksman too. He could do woodwork, construction work, fix plumbing, fix cars, fix any engine, you name it. My best description of him is this: Picture Ernest Hemingway, but without the literary talent, or crippling alcoholism. He even looked a bit like Hemingway. That was my dad. He was hard working, capable, honest and decent, even if he was often emotionally distant.

My father’s name was Henry, but everyone called him “Mac” and he passed away in 2004. During the war, he was a Master Sergeant in the US Army. He told me he was offered several field commissions, but he always turned them down. When I asked why, he chuckled and asked me why I thought they were being offered on the battlefield. I thought for a moment, and I realised it was because the officers he had been asked to replace had been killed in action. My father said he didn’t want to end up like them, so he remained a Master Sergeant for the duration of his deployment.

My father was born in New York City, in 1921, which means he would have been 100 years old, next year if he was still alive. He was orphaned as a baby. His mother died due to complications from childbirth, the day after he was born. And his father left him with a foster family, then disappeared himself, never to return. He didn’t have the best start in life, and in many ways, this defined him. He was as self-made as a man could be.

My father married his first wife straight out of High School, at age 18, and they had their first child a year after that. I always thought he married so young to create the family he never had. A few years after that, America finally joined the war, my father voluntarily joined the military, and he was shipped out overseas. And by the age of 23, he was helping to liberate Dachau.

Contrast that with me at 23. I had just dropped out of university, again, and I was freelancing as a production assistant for MTV in New York. I wasn’t married, I had no children, and I hadn’t killed a single Nazi. Compared with my father at the same age, I was a loser, and a child, and not even a very successful child.

My father spoke German, and because of that, I chose to study the German language in High School. Every two years, my school sponsored a trip to Germany, for ten days of culture and sightseeing, while immersed in the language. But that wasn’t the appeal of the trip. The appeal was beer. The drinking laws in Germany were different from the USA, and it meant I would be legal to drink beer there. The motivation to go was strong.

When I was 16, in 1979, I went on the school’s Germany trip, and my father came along as a chaperone. I was worried his presence would curtail my legal, yet underage beer consumption. I was in touch with my teenage priorities. Now, I couldn’t imagine the trip without him.

Travelling in the olden days of the 1970’s was different than it is today. For starters, it was still relatively expensive, and overseas travel was rare. The flight to Germany would be only my second ever trip on a jet, and my very first abroad. And as it was a school trip, being organised as cheaply as possible, we didn’t even have direct flights.

Our journey began with a coach ride from the Jersey shore, to JFK airport in New York. We first flew to Iceland, where we had a very brief layover at the airport. That was my first time on foreign soil, and we didn’t even leave the airport at Reykjavik. The second leg of the flight didn’t even land in Germany, but instead in neighbouring, tiny Luxembourg, which was the second foreign country I ever visited. I spent maybe an hour there, at baggage claim, and on yet another coach. And it was that second coach, which finally brought us to our destination, Germany, my third new country that day. The journey took over 16 hours and was exhausting.

Sitting here now, in April 2020, trying to recall details of my first foreign trip, and I find myself prodding the recesses of my memory. I remember many of the different places we visited, like Neuschwanstein Castle, and the site of the 1972 Olympics in Munich, but my most enduring memory of the trip, is our visit to Dachau. Seeing online photos of the camp now, and they have a certain familiarity to them. A digital restoration of my faded memories.

Growing up in the 1960s and 70s, you heard about “the war” a lot. Not Vietnam, which was the current war back then, but the big world war. It weighed heavily on the minds of my parents’ generation. Heroic WW2 films were broadcast on TV constantly. And “The Diary of Anne Frank” was required reading in my High School. We knew the Nazis were the bad guys, but actually seeing Dachau for myself, brought it all home.

Dachau Crematoria
Source: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dachau_concentration_camp

Our group was led around Dachau by a tour guide. We saw the rows of foundations where the wooden barracks once stood. We saw the crematoria, and the gas chambers. There was also a small museum. We were all very solemn, the enormity of the atrocities still evident.

At the end of the tour, my father took me aside and we found a spot outside to sit down. He seemed to be particularly subdued. He cleared his throat and told me he has been here before, in 1945, and this was his first time returning. Of course, I knew he had fought in Germany during the war, but at the time, I wasn’t aware of many details. He had never mentioned Dachau to me before. My father seemed surprised that he was having an emotional reaction to being back, like he wasn’t expecting it.

He went on to tell me that he was amongst the first US soldiers to arrive at the camp. And he recalled his shock at the conditions, and the physical state of the prisoners. He described them as living skeletons, just all skin stretched tightly over bone. We’ve all seen the photos, they were on display at the small museum on-site, but my father’s description felt more visceral to me. I could see in his eyes, that he had witnessed unspeakable things that day.

And then he told me something that really stuck with me, and it was a detail that I never thought to look into, until recently.

My father told me that they captured all the remaining camp guards, those that hadn’t fled as his unit arrived. He said that rather than take the captured guards as prisoners, he and his colleagues, made a different choice. They gave guns to some of the liberated prisoners, and allowed these former prisoners to march the camp guards away from the camp, into a wooded area nearby. A short time later, the former prisoners returned, but the camp guards did not.

I won’t lie, at 16 years old, I thought this was incredibly cool, like something out of a Hollywood film. Proper rough justice, a moral choice, an eye for an eye. Those Nazi guards ran a death camp. Whether they were following orders or not, they were still mistreating and murdering people on an industrial scale. They got what they deserved. End of. As a teenager, the world was still very black and white to me.

I was surprised my father opened up to me so much, that day. He rarely spoke about his feelings, but I could see sharing this story with me wasn’t easy for him. I could also see that sharing this story was necessary for him, like he was unburdening himself.

After a brief, awkward silence, we were bundled back on to the coach, and we left Dachau. We finished the trip, flew back to America, and got on with our lives. I tried to ask my father about this incident again, several times, but all he would say, is “I already told you all I remember”, as a way to cut me off. I never got any more details, but the story stuck with me.

Flash forward to a couple of months ago, and I noticed the 75th anniversary of the liberation of Dachau was approaching soon. Of course, my father’s story popped into my head, and I realised I’d never actually looked into it.

I Googled three words, “Dachau guards killed” and this Wikipedia article was the first result: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dachau_liberation_reprisals

While it doesn’t confirm every detail my father gave me, it does confirm his overall story, that between 35 and 50 Nazis were killed in the post-liberation reprisals. I’d never doubted my father’s story, but it was still interesting to read other accounts of that day.

What happened at Dachau, what my father said he did there, was a moral and just response to grossly immoral crimes against humanity. Allowing the prisoners to mete out their own extreme punishments, was just a tiny step towards rebalancing the scales of justice. Two wrongs may not make things right, but sometimes you still need to take that eye in return.

When I ask myself, would I have done the same thing, under the same circumstances? Maybe. How can I know for sure? My father was a tough, confident, self reliant man at the age of 23. I wasn’t. I would never have considered joining the military, I grew up in the shadow of the very divisive Vietnam war. I’m a lover, not a fighter. I wish I was as tough and battle-tested as my dad, but I’m not. The horrors I’ve experienced over my 30 year career as a journalist, even as a non-combatant in war zones, are pale in comparison, relative to what my father went through during the war.

My father has been gone for nearly 16 years, and a day doesn’t go by that I don’t think of him. Sometimes, the reminders are small, others are more significant. And I can think of nothing more significant than the Dachau liberation anniversary this week. It wasn’t just a major, historic event, it had a very personal significance for my father. And after our visit to Germany in 1979, for me too. I miss him a lot, and know I always will. When people talk of the greatest generation, I always think of him.

My father in 2002, at age 81
(Source: Family photo)

After a 30 year career as a journalist, working for some of the largest news organisations in the world, including Associated Press and Reuters, and 15 years as a duty news editor for BBC News, Doug – the northlondonhippy is now a full time writer, and hippy.

Doug is also the author of “Personal Use by the northlondonhippy.” “Personal Use” chronicles Doug’s first 35 years of drug use, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry, and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!

You can also find Doug – the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy

It’s OK to be afraid

16 March, 2020High Hopes, the hippycoronavirus, High Hopes, the hippythehippy

We are living in unprecedented times. Nothing has come close to what we are going through right now, with COVID-19. And it is going to get worse before it gets better.

It’s OK to be afraid.

I’m scared, but then I have read that I have reason to be scared.

Hypertension, high blood pressure, which I have, is one of the leading risk factors for death from the coronavirus. My risk of death is 5 times higher as a result of my high blood pressure. I take pills to manage it, I monitor my BP frequently, and it is under control, but it still increases my risk of death.

Old age is another risk factor, I am pushing 60. The older you are, the more at risk you are. The NHS is not equipped or resourced enough to deal with this pandemic. Five cases out of 100 infections will require intensive care and we simply do not have the beds, the ventilators, or the staff to cope with what is about to come.

I am assuming if I catch it, I am going to die and I don’t think this is an unreasonable view of my situation. And a death at home due to respiratory failure, is a death I do not wish to contemplate. So yeah, I am scared.

It’s OK to be scared.

I am full time carer for my partner, and have been for the last few years. If something happens to me, she is on her own. So I can’t let anything happen to me. So I won’t.

Last year, I had a breakdown myself. It was a bad one. Though be honest, have you ever heard of anyone having a good one? It’s not something I have mentioned much online, so far.

I nearly checked out of life last year, I was really low. I am saving the details for my book, “High Hopes”, assuming I survive long enough to finish it, and anyone is left to read it when I do.

For the first time in over 20 years, Mrs. H and I are in a position where we can move out, leave London and take it easy. And this stupid virus is fucking it all up.

I planned on house hunting in March and April, and if I found a place, moving by June. Clearly none of that is going to happen, if I am self isolating like an old person for the next few months, or longer.

If this pandemic hit a year ago, I would have simply and quietly surrendered to it. But a year later, with new found freedom, determination and some rare optimism for the future, and I want to do all I can to survive.

I think the government advice so far has been far too weak. We are in the period where people are walking around infected, without showing symptoms, and spreading it. We can slow this bullshit down.

Our Prime Minister, Boris Johnson is not letting this pandemic interfere with taking weekends off, and he has not been seen for a few days. That’s probably a blessing, since all he did during his last press conference is tell us that everyone we love is going to die. Not exactly channeling Churchill there, is he? Can we get Boris an empathy coach?

Now is the time for social distancing and self isolating. Don’t wait for the government to advise it. And no, clearly I am not a doctor, or expert, but I have a lot of common sense, and that is what I am using to guide me and my decisions. If the government won’t exercise good judgement, then we will need to do it for ourselves. Just look at how other countries are coping and the fallings here so far, become more apparent.

It’s OK to be frightened, it’s OK to be scared. None of us have ever experienced anything like what is going on now. The unknown is scary. Our leaders indecision and inaction, is scary. And potentially dying from this horrible virus, or losing loved ones, is scary too.

We can do this. We can survive. Common sense, and caution. If you can stay home, do it. If you need to go out, keep lots of distance between you and anyone else. Act like you have it already, and act like everyone else does too. And wash your damn hands! A lot!

It’s OK to be afraid. I’m a grown-assed man and I am scared. But I am not going to let my fear rule my life. I am going to survive this, and so are you! And hopefully, when we all come out the other side, we can keep making this world a better place. Just hang on to your optimism, we are going to need all we can get!

For the last year, Doug has spent most of his time hiding away from a killer virus. Bet many of you have too.

You can find Doug – the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy.

I was a background artist on the BBC’s Ten O’clock News

4 March, 2020"Personal Use", cannabis, cannabis evangelist, drug use, High Hopes, legalisation, the hippyBBC News, High Hopes, personal use, the hippythehippy

***(Photo taken Sept 2012, on my first NBH nightshift)***

I have worked in the media for the past 35 years, the last 30 as a journalist. But the role I am most proud of, is my work from 2013 to 2019, as a background artist on the BBC’s Ten O’Clock News.

I didn’t start out at the BBC as a human prop in the background of the network news. From 2004, I worked there as a senior broadcast journalist too.

When the network news teams moved from Television Centre, into New Broadcasting House, in the spring of 2013, I got to make my on-air debut as a background artist. We don’t like to be called extras. Using that word only diminishes us.

There’s a good chance you might have spotted me during one of my many recurring appearances. I played “journalist rushing between desks”, a role I put my very heart and soul into, night after night.

I joined the BBC less than a year after I left Associated Press Television News. I worked at AP for around a decade, as a field producer, cameraman and news desk editor.

When I left AP, I had only one career goal, to work for BBC News. I eventually wangled an introduction via an old friend to the right person and started freelancing in the Spring of 2004. I got my first contract in the autumn of that year and was a member of staff until earlier this year, when I left their employ.

BBC News initially hired me as a World Duty Editor, working on the foreign desk, and I started out on the nightshift. Fifteen years later, I was still only working nights, and still working in effectively the same job. That’s half of my thirty year career as a journalist. Go me.

It wasn’t easy, joining the BBC later in life. There was so much jargon and BBC-speak, that I felt lost for the first 6 months I was there. And it is just so big. There was a lot to learn to do my new job. I was lucky that a couple of people, and one in particular, helped me get up to speed in those early days. Otherwise I would never have lasted long enough to become a background artist, when the time finally came to have that very small, yet vital on-air role.

**(That’s BBC News foreground artist/newsreader Fiona Bruce on-set, with background artists/journalists behind him)**

If you’ve watched BBC News on TV in the last 7 years, you no doubt noticed that behind the main set where Fiona Bruce sits, is the actual BBC newsroom. That’s where I worked, that’s where I sat. If you think the CCTV surveillance is bad where you work, imagine having it broadcast to millions of people, night after night, in high definition.

When we first went live from NBH, everyone was extremely uptight about what those of us in the background might do. Journalists are notoriously unpredictable, just ask any politician.

We were discouraged from standing up and we were told not to wear bright colours. On one of the early broadcasts, someone had a hi-vis vest on, as they were preparing to depart and cycle home in the dark. It stood out, like hi-vis yellow is meant to do. But it was noticed by management, and hi-vis clothing was quickly banned from our shop floor. I think it still is to this very day. I hope that’s not a trade secret!

For the first couple of weeks, a squad of spotters patrolled the newsroom floor during BBC One network news broadcasts. They were in direct contact via radio headsets, with managers watching screens in the gallery. It was the spotter’s job was to quickly rush over on command from the gallery, to point out when people violated the rules of behaviour in the background. Mainly they just barked at us to “get down”. A lot. It was weird. I bet they had experience working as baby wranglers on a nappy advert before this gig.

As I mentioned, I only worked nights, and the Ten O’Clock news went out within the first 90 minutes of my arrival. In that time, I really would be rushing around, trying to speak to people who had been on all day, asking them questions, about what happened while I slept. Once they went home, that was it, I was on my own, so it was always good to get as much info as possible from them.

I had an actual, operational need to be in constant motion. So my character, “journalist rushing between desks” had motivation and a rich and complex backstory. I hope you agree it allowed my performance to be more multilayered, nuanced, and convincing.

The patrolling spotters didn’t like me, or care at all, why I had to move around during the news. I was yelled at more than once, to “get down”. It was about as much fun as it sounds.

When they told me to “get down” I had to constantly resist the huge urge to jump up on the desk and shout “gimme a beat!” and then do my best choreography. But then I would remember I was a short, fat, bald, middle-aged guy, with zero dancing skill. It was always a crushing blow.

What was worse, is for maybe the first 6 months of being in the new building, my colleagues were constantly telling me they spotted me on TV during the news.

It was always the same. My shift would finish around 7am, I would pass someone on the spiral stairs, or near the revolving doors, or outside on the piazza, and they would say, “I saw you on TV last night”. Or “you sure looked busy buzzing around behind Fiona”. Or my personal favourite, “you looked like you were in a hurry last night.” Of course I bloody was! I was “journalist rushing between desks”!

As nice as it was to be complimented by my peers for my convincing performance, in truth I would have preferred to have never been spotted. I never asked to be a background artist. I was happy enough, just doing my real job as an overnight, duty news editor.

My specialty at BBC News, if I can call it that, was breaking news. When something unexpected or unforeseen occurred in the middle of the night, that was when I got to shine. Earthquakes, plane crashes, any disaster really. And high profile deaths too. Good news never happens in the dead of night. Only bad.

In my job as a duty news editor, I was responsible for organising the BBC’s initial response to big, breaking news and I’ve dealt with a huge range of stories, from the 2004 Boxing Day tsunami in Asia, to the Grenfell Tower fire in 2017 and many, many more. If you watched any TV news in the last 30 years, there’s pretty good chance you saw something I had a hand in covering. That’s not a boast, it’s just a fact.

And even though I’ve lost track and count of the number of major and minor events I have covered in the last 30 years, they have had an accumulated effect on me. How could they not? Professional detachment can only get you so far.

I still find it hard to let go of the enormity and horror of Grenfell, and I still have the occasional nightmare about it. And it still hurts many years later, to think about friends I’ve lost in the line of duty. There is a personal cost to my former line of work, and everyone ends up paying for it, eventually.

After a period of ill health last year, and my subsequent recovery, I decided to leave the BBC. It wasn’t an easy decision, but I know it is time for me to move on. I’m a full-time hippy now, something I have secretly wanted to be for a very long time.

I will cherish my time at BBC News, and as a journalist. It was great place to work, full of smart, dedicated, hard-working people. And even though new challenges and adventures hopefully await me, I know I will miss that very special time when I was a background artist on the BBC Ten O’Clock News.

I understand they have had to recast my role. It wouldn’t be the BBC News without someone portraying “journalist rushing between desks”. I wish my replacements nothing but success and all the best, as I do to all my former colleagues. I will miss you all.

Doug – the northlondonhippy

4th March 2020

Author’s Note: Feb 2025 – Been meaning to update this for ages. I thought I had a breakdown, that’s why I left. I even told people that I had one, I was really transparent about it. The only issue is, I eventually learned that it wasn’t a breakdown. It was clusters of focal seizures, both simple, and complex. I suffered from focal seizures for a few years before my neurologist and I worked it out. They preceded a series of tonic clonic seizures that nearly killed me a few times. I gave up my job at BBC News before I had the full picture. and a proper diagnosis. I now have Right Temporal Lobe Epilepsy. I 100% don’t recommend it. I regret leaving when I did, as the BBC is one of the few employers I can think of that would have made reasonable adjustments to my job because of my epilepsy. I miss working more than this sentence can convey. Hey ho.

“Personal Use” is available as a digital download on all platforms, including Amazon’s Kindle, Apple’s iBooks and Barnes & Noble’s Nook. The paperback is available from all online retailers and book shops everywhere.

You can also find Doug – the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy but only if you look really hard

Copyright: All words and photos are copyright the northlondonhippy…

…except the screen-grab of BBC News, which is used fairly without permission, but with affection.

Another countdown

27 February, 2020"Personal Use", cannabis, cannabis evangelist, High Hopes, the hippyHigh Hopes, personal use, the hippythehippy

[wpcdt-countdown id=”714″]

Sixteen years ago, on the 4th of March 2004, I posted my first ever entry on the original northlondonhippy Blogspot blog. It was a long, rambling piece, introducing myself. It didn’t get seen by many people, but it kickstarted this thing that I am somehow, still doing. Sixteen years later, I am still pretending to be a make-believe hippy online. The pretending ends, next week.

On 4th March 2020, exactly sixteen years to the very day, I will be publishing a piece online that pretty much identifies me. It’s an extract from my forthcoming book, “High Hopes”, which is the follow up to my first book, “Personal Use”.

If you know me in real life, then you will learn I am the hippy. And if you know me online, then you will find out who I really am. Everybody’s finding out something, even me. I’m going to find out if I can really be a full time hippy.

I’m ready to start working again, so once this piece goes live, you can hire a hippy. Details will be available here on my website of what I can do for you, and your media organisation. Yes, you can hire a hippy. Everyone should have one on retainer, because you never know when one will come in handy. I’m a handy hippy, and I represent real value for money. Ask me about my loyalty scheme and hippy reward card.

While I am still expecting a collective “so what” from the wider world to my public revelation, should there be any media interest, I will be available to any and all media organisations that might wish to speak to me. Don’t all queue up at once!

Doesn’t matter how big or small your outlet might be. For the first fortnight after publication, I will say yes to any legitimate requests that I can physically do, in person, on the phone, or via Skype. But check this, as it is really important. After the two weeks are up, I won’t agree to just anything, and will only say yes to things that meet my new criteria for life.

What’s my new criteria for life? Simple, I will only turn up if I can have some fun, or do some good. No good? No fun? Then no hippy. No joke.

From now on, I will be writing and campaigning full time. This is what I do now. I will have more to say on this, once my piece goes live, but I will remain open to any and all opportunities. If I do this right, you will all be sick of me in no time. Maximum effort for maximum exposure.

I will also be offering all media organisations in Britain free training for their journalists with my new course called “Covering cannabis accurately in the age of legalisation”. Having spent the better part of three decades in British newsrooms, I can tell you that the general standard of cannabis knowledge is extremely low and woefully inaccurate. I aim to change that. I’m not going to teach any controversy, as the great British press manufacture plenty on their own. I will teach facts, science, and history, and I will give them an introduction into what a legal, regulated market looks like.

The UK is way behind the rest of the world when it comes to cannabis, and I don’t want to see us be the last country on earth to sort this out. If we really want to unleash the true power of global Britain, then the legal cannabis industry needs to be a part of it, for us to reach our true potential. Why do you think so many other territories are jumping on the cannabis bandwagon?

You might have noticed the countdown clock near the top of this page. When it hits zero, at midnight on Weds 4th March 2020, my new piece will go live online, here on my site. You don’t need to stay awake to read it, it will still be there in the morning, when you wake up. And so will I. And you all will know a lot more about me than I ever expected to tell anyone. Things change, I changed too. Wish me luck, I am going to need it. And I apologise in advance for the disappointment.

Hippy Highlights

While you wait, you can check out some of my recent output on this list of hippy highlights:

REVEALED: The Shocking Link Between Tea and EVERYTHING BAD! – If you only read one thing on this page, read this one. It’s one of my most popular recent pieces.

The night Princess Diana died (Extract from “Personal Use”) – I didn’t kill her, I only felt like I did

Surviving the Climate Apocalypse – Great news, you can survive the end of the world, if you are rich enough

Politi-hippy 3 – The death of Polti-hippy – There is a part one, and a part two, but this is the best part.

A Question of Character – Or lack of it, in the case of our current Prime Minister.

Branding Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats – They made some mistakes, and paid for them on election day

Hating String Beans – They are now my favourite vegetable, but that’s not really what this is about

The Personal Risk of “Personal Use” – After my appearance on LBC, I wrote about being interviewed by James O’Brien

Why I Suck at Twitter – You should still follow me anyway

I Live in a Dry Country – I mean the UK, because weed is still pointlessly illegal

The northlondonhippy is an author, cannabis evangelist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for 16 years. In real life, until recently, the hippy was a senior multimedia journalist working for a large company. With over 30 years experience of working in broadcast news, the hippy’s now left journalism to embark on a career as a full time hippy.

The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details his first 35 years of drug use, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!

The hippy’s next book, “High Hopes” will be published in autumn 2020.

You can also find the hippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy but only if you look really hard.

I’m a full time hippy now

8 February, 2020"Personal Use", cannabis, cannabis evangelist, decriminalisation, drug use, High Hopes, legalisation, Politics, society, the hippycannabis, cannabis evangelist, news, the hippythehippy

It might not seem like it, just yet, but I am now a full time hippy. Yay! The countdown clock has ticked down and for the first time in a decade and a half, I am now unemployed.

I spent the last 30 years working as a journalist, mixed media really, but mostly TV news. The last 15 years was for the same company. It’s one you’ve heard of. but I’m not revealing it, yet. I’m not revealing much of anything, now. I’m still waiting for my final pay cheque. Once that’s banked, then I can pull back the curtain. I’m crazy, but I’m not stupid.

I will be publishing a piece in the next couple of weeks, which reveals my identity. Somewhat.

Spoiler alert: You will get my first name, and you will find out where I used to work. I’m still a nobody, my name won’t make a difference. I will still be the northlondonhippy, but I want to claim my real-life identity publicly, anyway. I have wanted to do this for a long time.

There will be a companion piece, which lays out my goals in my new role as the UK first self-proclaimed, cannabis evangelist. It’s not a crowded field, but I still want to make my mark. Hallelujah and amen to that!

Now that I have the freedom to operate a bit more openly, I want to spend the next few weeks getting some advice, I want to contact some people I admire who fight to reform our drug laws, plus some campaigners in other fields, and some media folk too. I want whatever I end up doing to have some impact.

When I wrote and published “Personal Use”, I had no expectations. It was a fun, secret side project. I used to joke if I sold a million copies, I would quit my job and be a full time hippy. I haven’t sold a million, not even close, yet here I am.

So while you wait for me to do whatever it is I am going to do, here’s a selection of 10 hippy highlights to keep you entertained:

REVEALED: The Shocking Link Between Tea and EVERYTHING BAD! – If you only read one thing on this page, read this one. It’s one of my most popular recent pieces.

The night Princess Diana died (Extract from “Personal Use”) – I didn’t kill her, I only felt like I did

Surviving the Climate Apocalypse – Great news, you can survive the end of the world, if you are rich enough

Politi-hippy 3 – The death of Polti-hippy – There is a part one, and a part two, but this is the best part.

A Question of Character – Or lack of it, in the case of our current Prime Minister.

Branding Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats – They made some mistakes, and paid for them on election day

Hating String Beans – They are now my favourite vegetable, but that’s not really what this is about

The Personal Risk of “Personal Use” – After my appearance on LBC, I wrote about being interviewed by James O’Brien

Why I Suck at Twitter – You should still follow me anyway

I Live in a Dry Country – I mean the UK, because weed is still pointlessly illegal

The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, cannabis evangelist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy was a senior multimedia journalist until Feb 2020. With over 30 years experience of working in broadcast news, the hippy’s now left journalism to embark on a career as a full time hippy, writer and cannabis evangelist.

The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!

The hippy says his next book, “High Hopes” will be published in 2020. The hippy says a lot of things.

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy but only if you look really hard.

Politi-hippy 3: The death of politi-hippy

12 January, 2020Brexit, Politics, society, the hippypolitics, society, the hippythehippy

You won! Get over it!

I feel like screaming this at the Brexiteers who continue to hurl abuse at people on the left. They are suffering from a brand new thing, that I have dubbed SWS, which stands for Sore Winner Syndrome.

It’s like the home team beat the away team at football, but all the home team fans jumped on the away team’s bus, just to continue the abuse all the way back their hometown. Not cool. If I won something, I would be happy. The winners of our recent election, don’t seem happy at all.

Seriously, you guys won. Get over it!

You get your Brexit, you get a toxic, incompetent government, with more cruelty, and more austerity. What more could you want?

You own Brexit now. You own the next 5 years of this parliament, enjoy it. You’ve got no one else to blame. You won. We lost. Get. Over. It. Don’t be sore winners. It’s unbecoming of your massive victory.

It already feels like a 100 years ago, when we went to the polls last month and handed Boris Johnson this huge majority.

Well, I say “we”, but there were a lot of us who didn’t vote for Boris’s Tory Party and we are all still here. Fun fact: more of us voted for remain-leaning parties than leave-leaning parties. And how did that work out for us? We still lost. Fragmentation of the remain vote, like life, is a bitch.

The Tories only increased their vote share by 1% nationally, yet they won tons of seats. They seemed to get just the right amount of votes, in just the right places. It’s almost as if someone was showing off, just how skilled they are at voter manipulation, by demonstrating the economy of their abilities.

Voter manipulation is easier than everyone thinks, because no one thinks it works on them. Guess what, like any repetitive advertising, it is extremely effective.

Here, you can take my super-fun, three question quiz:

1) What kind of chicken is “finger lickin’ good”?

2) What do Weebles do?

3) What is the “real thing”?

Answers: 1) KFC, 2) they wobble but they don’t fall down, and 3) Coca Cola. I bet you knew all three answers, as any good consumer would. Advertising works!

I grew up in front of the television, advertising certainly worked on me. Brand new kids cereal, gimme! Brand new toys, gimme, gimme. Vote against my own interests as an adult? Why not! You can be easily swayed. We all can.

Anyway, that’s my theory. I suspect the same tools used by Cambridge Analytica to deliver the Brexit referendum result, have only been refined and improved to the point where an increase of 1% vote share, in just the right constituencies, is achievable through machine learning, AI and a whopping great big data set.

And the far right are employing these tools all over the world. If the left has any hope of ever getting anything done, they need their own dodgy dark tool box. It’s not hacking, it’s voodoo, it’s data science and algorithms, and a Facebook advertising platform that allows micro-targeting at such a granular level that you can literally flip votes as needed.

One of the saddest things I kept hearing from the campaign trail, is the repeated refrain that former Labour voters switched to the Tories because they felt the country needed a change from Labour. Huh? Labour haven’t been in charge of the government for 10 years, so what exactly were they changing from? Instead they voted Tory, the party that has been in government for the last 10 years, but they are expecting a different outcome. Mr. Einstein, what was it everyone says you said again, about insanity?

Look, I get it, we lost. Remain lost, Labour and the LibDems lost. We are leaving the EU at the end of this month, no ifs, ands or buts. And probably a year after that, we will get that hard, no-deal Brexit that Boris is so keen on, as the transition period won’t be extended. There is no chance of a comprehensive trade deal in a year. Shall we stockpile supplies for a third time? Oh we shall, we shall!

None of this matters. The Great British public doesn’t care about the truth or reality any more. Boris will lie and tell us that everything is fine, and a large number of people will believe it. Lies are comforting in an uncomfortable world. Trump knows this too. Don’t like reality? Then create your own twisted version of it instead.

For example, Boris has banned the word Brexit after the end of the month. Brexit will be nowhere near finished, but if he eliminates the word, he eliminates the problem. He’s like Thanos with the Reality Stone. Reality can be whatever he wants it to be. Yay!

Who will the Tories blame when the economy tanks? I guess they will just tell us it’s all Jeremy Corbyn’s fault, for not losing hard enough. If Corbyn was a better loser, we wouldn’t be having all these problems. Stupid Corbyn!

Here are some random observations from the now dearly departed, Politi-hippy:

I was right about the branding of Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats, their messaging was way off the mark. They performed worse than even I expected. And I certainly didn’t predict Ms. Swinson’s loss. Rather bizarrely, LibDem MP and current peer, Lynn Featherstone, liked and retweeted this piece, which was highly critical of her party. I’m guessing she didn’t read it, but if she did and still retweeted it, then wow. Just wow.

I was wrong about tactical voting. I had hoped it would save us. It didn’t. We still lost. We could have toppled Tories, but we didn’t.

Labour had so many problems, that I could write a series of books based on them all. I won’t, plenty of other people will do a better job than I ever could. The biggest issue to me, was the lack of unity within the party that was publicly revealed within minutes of the result. The split, between the centre and left wings of the party, will probably kill off Labour in the long term. They are a spent force, just check out the cavalcade of mediocrity trying to become leader. It looks and feels hopeless for them.

During the campaign, I made a shit-ton of shitty graphics and shit-posted them on Twitter. I briefly increased my reach on Twitter as a result. I went from being an absolute total nobody, to a just plain old total nobody, but in spectacular fashion.

Here’s an overview of my a normal hippy month on Twitter, from last April. Remember, I suck at Twitter.

As you can see, I sent a whopping 60 tweets for a measly 13,000 impressions.

Here’s another typical hippy month on Twitter, from October. Slightly better but still not rocking anyone’s world.

This time, 98 tweets, for nearly 30,000 impressions. Still not setting the world on fire, not by a long shot. And look, I actually lost followers.

And then, witness the birth of politi-hippy. For around a month during the election campaign, I made a bit of an effort with original content in the form of the aforementioned shitposted graphics. Doing this improved my statistics significantly.

I sent a over 1,000 tweets, racking up around 700,000 impressions and I gained 40 new followers. While it is a big change for me, it’s still a drop in the bucket compared to anyone with name recognition and a decent follower count. I used hashtags, I tagged famous people, and I replied to tweets from well established accounts.

I had retweets and likes from a wide variety of notable people, including Glen Matlock, the original bass player for the Sex Pistols, and Bianca Jagger, the well known human rights campaigner and first wife of Mick. The Times columnist, India Knight, liked one of my graphics too.

Ultimately, none of this had an effect on anything, other than giving me a fun new hobby for a month. It did show me that getting anywhere on Twitter is a lot of work for very little reward.

Our side lost, my efforts online had zero effect, so politi-hippy is now crossing over to the great beyond. And with this final piece, indeed you are witnessing the slow death of politi-hippy.

I started out this campaign by asking how many children Boris Johnson has fathered. We still don’t know. Our Prime Minister is the Jonny Appleseed of jism, he is the human lawn sprinkler of spunk. He could have a hundred little blond, floppy-haired sons and daughters out there, for all we know, and no one would care. We now have a deadbeat dad in charge of the entire country. Cool.

I really expected Boris’s first bit of legislation passed by his new, giant majority, to be a ban on court mandated paternity tests, but no, they went for the Brexit withdrawal bill instead. Maybe that paternity test ban will be next? Who can say.

But from now on, I’m back to being the plain, old, normal version of the northlondonhippy. I want to reform the drug laws and get cannabis legalised. That’s my issue, that’s what I will campaign for, hard. I’ll leave the rest of real politics to the grown-ups, or for what passes for grown-ups in today’s world.

I was able to update one of my fun graphics, so it is valid for the next 5 years. This is the last official act of politi-hippy, before he draws his last breath. Sharing it is a public service. Enjoy!

The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, cannabis evangelist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a senior multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in broadcast news. Soon, the hippy will be leaving journalism to embark on a career as a full time hippy, writer and activist. This is not a drill.

The hippy says his next book, “High Hopes” will be published in late Spring. The hippy says a lot of things.

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy but only if you look really hard.

Countdown till I am full time hippy

10 January, 2020"Personal Use", High Hopes, the hippycannabis evangelist, countdown to freedom, the hippythehippy

[wpcdt-countdown id=”616″]

This counted itself down at midnight on the 8th of February 2020.

Let freedom ring!

[wpcdt-countdown id=”616″]

Politi-hippy 2 – hippy’s revenge

7 December, 2019Brexit, Politics, society, the hippy, UncategorizedBaby Yoda, Boris Johnson, Brexit, Donald Trump, politics, the hippythehippy

I’m going to tell you flat out, from the start, there is no revenge. I’ve never done a sequel to one of my pieces before, and I really wanted to nail the title. I’m not out to settle any personal scores, I just wanted to get your attention. Did it work? Are you reading? Cool.

As I mentioned in my previous piece, Politi-hippy, I have been swept up in this stupid election we’re stuck with this month. I wrote a couple of pieces about the campaign, one about Boris Johnson’s utter lack of character, and the other on the poor branding choices made by Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats.

The whole thing is really stressing me out, and I know I am not the only one. My coping mechanism is that I started making weird, funny graphics to express my quiet rage. I’ve made like 50 of them in the last week or so. I am ever so slightly obsessed. You can find half of them on the the original Politi-hippy post, including the 6 panel Baby Yoda series. No baby yoda is safe from Boris Johnson’ Tory party!

I’ve been sharing them on Twitter and at least one of them has gone viral enough that you may have actually seen it. It’s this one:

Yep, that was me. Basic joke, simple format, internet gold. Who knew? And here I’ve spent 15 years trying to come up with original material. I don’t mean to sell myself short, it’s a decent gag, but hardly my best. In my own defence, I posted it not long after the interview finished on TV, so my timing was very good. Sure, it’s uncredited, and I doubt many people will see me claim credit here, but that’s ok. I like making people laugh.

I’ve never gone viral before in any meaningful way, so this was a new one for me. I knew it had been successful when I saw other people posting it all over the place. The truth is, I suck at Twitter, but in the last week or so, I’ve learned how to suck at it less. Go me!

I went on to make a bunch of graphics around Donald Trump’s visit:

Similar format, another basic joke. Private Eye should hire me, when I am a free agent again. They won’t, I’m too expensive, and I doubt they pay in weed anyway. Will work for bud, just putting that out there.

I made a bunch for the Trump visit, but that was the best one. I did try some other jokes with the graphic, this is the only other one that seemed to land:

And I did this one, too, which seemed to do better with Americans than British people. And it’s funny, because it’s true. Allegedly.

Trump and Boris did meet, but you didn’t get to see it, until now:

Trump left early because a bunch of bad kids were gossiping about him, including his very best friend, Boris Johnson. Here’s what that looked like:

I even did an arty one, with a fancy-pants literary quote, that I had to Google because of my vague memory and piss poor American education:

Once dumb Donny ditched NATO, I shifted my attention to what I think is the key to this election, tactical voting. There’s far more of us, than there are of them, but we are fragmented. We need to be smart. Are you smart? Of course you are! Smart people vote tactically. We all might prefer different parties, but who we like is not nearly as important as who we defeat. We need to vote the Tories out! Feel free to share any graphic I’ve made, no need to credit me.

If you’ve made it this far, thanks and well done you! Since I started posting all these graphics, I have increased my visibility on Twitter exponentially. I’ve had tweets liked and RT’d by a former MP and peer, the ex-wife of one of the world’s most famous rock stars, newspaper columnists and the original bassist from the original punk rock band. That’s why I will be back to tell you all about this and more in part 3 of the Politi-hippy series, Politi-hippy-Post-mortem, coming as soon as I can, after election day. And man I can’t wait till election day is done!

As a special treat for making it all the way to the end, here are 4 bonus, extra graphics that I’ve only just started sharing on Twitter. You can share them too.

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy but only if you look really hard.

Why I suck at Twitter

7 December, 2019societythe hippy, Twitterthehippy

Twitter, then and now.

This was originally published in August 2011. I haven’t edited it all, reposting it now, because 8 years later, I am not really that much better at Twitter. A lot of this still applies.

I love Twitter, but I fear my love for it remains unrequited.

I’ve been properly on Twitter for about two and a half years. To be more precise, as of this writing, I have been using Twitter since the 31st of January 2009, which works out to 931 days. I used howlongontwitter.com to calculate that, I didn’t count it up myself.

In that time, I’ve found Twitter to be indispensable and addictive and while I am not the most prolific tweeter you will meet, I constantly read my timeline. I must dip in and out of it a thousand times a day.

What I don’t do is tweet or interact with other people enough. That’s why I suck at Twitter.

My tweets tend towards feeble and offensive (but original) jokes that probably make people laugh uncomfortably, if at all.

I also tweet, or rather retweet stuff about legalising cannabis and other drugs, because that is my pet cause.

Occasionally I may tweet something that I feel strongly about, like the recent riots in London.

I tweet about what I’m watching on TV sometimes and the weather occasionally and even the odd food-related tweet too.

In other words, I’m not unpleasant or rude, just probably not that interesting. That’s why I suck at Twitter.

I’m anonymous online, by choice, mainly because I am so open about my own cannabis use and as its status is currently illegal, anonymity allows me the luxury of honesty. I like to pretend this stance furthers the cause of legalisation, but I’m not always convinced it does and that’s a subject best explored another day. This post is about Twitter.

The other reason I remain anonymous is I prefer to be unknown. I am not seeking attention for myself. If you Googled my real name, you wouldn’t find me anywhere online; I’m not on Facebook, LinkedIn, nothing. And while I have worked in the media for more than two decades, I’ve managed to avoid having a byline, screen credit, nor any mention of my real name and that has been intentional.

What it means on Twitter is I don’t use my real name or a photograph of myself as my avatar. That is why I suck at Twitter too.

I’ve come to the conclusion that I suck at Twitter for the rather silly reason that I have been sucked into thinking about follower numbers, something I have managed to avoid until now.

I’ve never really been bothered by how many people are following me, I haven’t done anything ever to intentionally gain them, never asked for them, begged for them, nothing like that. I’ve just tweeted when I felt like it, followed people (and accounts) that have interested me and that’s about it.

I’ve always found it a bit distasteful when people tweet about the number of followers they have, in whatever context.

“I need 27 more followers to reach 500, help!”

“Please RT this [insert celebrity here] I really need more followers urgently!”

“I gained 57 followers today, all because [insert celebrity here] retweeted me.”

Worse, is seeing celebrities tweeting each other and exaggerating their worth by bragging they have the most followers. I find this rather tragic.

Worrying about follower numbers is a mug’s game and sadly in the last week or so, I have become that mug. Here’s why: I’ve recently noticed a few people I know online, who started on Twitter when I did, now have double or treble the followers I have. I am a victim of comparative maths.

I know its silly, I know its meaningless, but its been on my mind recently.

This is not meant to be a moan or a complaint, everything I’m telling you is observational and self-critical, but not a whinge or backhanded plea for more people to follow me. I’m just trying to understand what I am doing wrong on Twitter.

What am I doing wrong on Twitter? Loads, it would seem.

There are quite a few people I follow on Twitter, who don’t follow me back. I don’t mean celebrities, but normal people, like you and me. Well, more like you probably as I don’t come anywhere near being normal.

The lack of follow-backs from people I like perplexes me.

Sometimes, I scroll through my own tweets and read them back, to see if there’s something in them that makes people not want to follow me. Nothing leaps out.

I think I’m fairly pleasant, thoughtful and I’m true to myself. So what could it be?

The lack of a photo and a name is off-putting, but my anonymity policy is not going to change until weed is legal. End of, as the kids today say. Its a reason, but that alone can’t be the only reason.

I don’t interact or tweet enough, but guess what? I’m probably the same in real life, being mostly a loner and misanthropic with it.

If you’re shit at life, you are going to be shit at Twitter. This shouldn’t come as a surprise to me, but it does.

How can I be more socially successful on Twitter than I am in real life? Answer: I can’t.

Quite oddly, I think I am probably more shy on Twitter than I am in real life. Often I do think about responding to other people’s tweets, then I think better of it and don’t. I don’t like tweeting negatively, if I disagree with someone, however strongly, I tend not to say anything. And if I do agree with someone, I don’t want to seem sycophantic, so I don’t tweet.

On the rare occasion when I do tweet someone and they don’t respond, even with the simplest of acknowledgement, then I am crestfallen and I think the fear of that often prevents me from interacting with people too. Maybe you know what I mean, maybe you think that’s a lame reason, but its true.

Whenever anyone tweets me and they are polite, I always make a point of responding. I always try to thank people for RTs too, as long as I’ve noticed they’ve done so. I guess I just try to treat people on Twitter as I would like to be treated.

I suck at Twitter because I suck at life. I’m starting to believe I’m not particularly good with either pursuit. That’s not a happy conclusion.

Or, I could take the tack that I’m not unpopular on Twitter, I’m just undiscovered.

The best lies I tell, are the ones I tell myself.

If you do follow me, well done you for finding Twitter’s best kept secret! You are truly a person of excellent taste! You have keen, discerning eye for the hippest and coolest, that your average nobody tends to pass on by without a second thought You’re a trend spotter and a trend setter!

Ah-hem.

I’ve pretty much accepted that I will continue to exist in Twitter obscurity, while others around me zoom ever higher. I’m ok with that.

I take a lot from Twitter, I’m quite greedy in my quest for knowledge, I just feel guilty sometimes that I don’t put enough back into it. I’d like to entertain and inform more people, but that’s not who I am, not in real life, not online. So it goes.

These truths should be self-evident, but its taken me nearly 1,300 words to get here.

So now you know why I suck at Twitter. And now I do too.

The hippy’s book, ‘Personal Use’ details the hippy’s first 35 years of recreational drug taking, while calling for urgent drug law reform. It’s a cracking read, you will laugh, you will cry and you can bet your ass that you will wish you were a hippy too!

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy You can find out for yourself just how badly I suck at Twitter. And why I don’t work in sales.

Politi-hippy

26 November, 2019Brexit, Politics, societyBaby Yoda, general election 2019, Labour, LibDems, politics, Toriesthehippy

I have been a bit General Election obsessed since this one was called. I’ve had a lot of time on my hands too.

So I wrote about Boris Johnson’s utter lack of character.

And then I wrote about how I wish I could support the LibDems, but I can’t. Luckily, I don’t need to, but I would if it made tactical sense. I don’t hate them, but I should support them more than I do.

And I made a bunch of very shareable graphics. Have you shared any of them? There’s still time, and there’s plenty of choice, so choose one that expresses your own personal style! I especially recommend choosing one from the ‘baby yoda’ series. Confuse your political enemies with his cuteness. They’re not branded to me and I am making them publicly available. Go crazy, they are free!

Now that I’ve published all of these in one handy place, I am going to chill the fuck out. We will have a result soon enough, but I don’t think any of us are going to like it. And chances are, a lot of these graphics may still be useful for our next election, coming in Summer 2020!

The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, cannabis evangelist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a senior multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in news. The hippy is finding this election campaign really depressing and stressful.

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy

Branding Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats

15 November, 2019Brexit, Politics, societybranding, general election 2019, jo swinson, Liberal democrats, mediathehippy

By all rights, I should love the LibDems. They want to stop Brexit, and they want to legalise weed, two things I would like to do, too. I really should support them, but I don’t. I can’t. Not this time.

Do you want to know why we are having a General Election right now, and not that mythical second referendum on our membership in the EU? Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats refused to join a government of national unity because of their twisted dislike of Jeremy Corbyn.

All a government of national unity had to do was sort out a referendum. Their agreement on the terms of a caretaker administration, would have included a ‘no new legislation’ clause. In other words, all they would have done is maintain the status quo until the referendum and then the subsequent general election. And then maybe, Brexit would have finally been sorted, one way or another. Instead, we get a general election around Xmas. Ho ho ho.

Swinson’s attacks on Corbyn have left me cold. Don’t get me wrong, I am not a huge Corbyn fan, but I do respect him. He is one of the most consistent politicians I’ve ever come across, with policies that would be popular with people, if they got to hear about them. But instead, the negative campaign run against Mr. C consists of personal attacks and twisted facts. But Jeremy Corbyn doesn’t trade in personal attacks, so it’s all very one sided and unfair.

I have nothing against personal attacks, if they are warranted. For example, Boris the bully from the Bullingdon Club, has earned the personal attacks aimed at him. I really want to know how many kids he thinks he has. No one can ever really know for sure. He’s a racist, and a liar. Those are undisputed facts, unless you drink the Kool-Aid served up by the Tories. Then you dismiss the overwhelming evidence of Boris Johnson’s utter lack of character, and you press on.

Jo Swinson would say she attacks BoJo and Corby equally, but it is a false equivalence and you can’t lump them both together. If anything, I bet Swinson’s voting record is more closely aligned with Johnson’s than Corbyn’s.

If you Google Jo Swinson, the first suggested search term is ‘voting record’. It’s not pretty reading. Austerity, the bedroom tax, and university fees, to name just a few of her greatest hits. She was part of the Tory-led coalition, which is the root cause of many problems we have in our society today. Go Jo!

I didn’t live in the UK in the 1980’s, but I know plenty of people who did. They are not fans of Maggie T, not by a long shot. I can’t imagine Ms. Swinson’s campaign for a statue in Thatcher’s honour is a vote winner either

Ms. Swinson says that she wants to stop Brexit and I believe that is true. She also wants to increase the LibDems seat count, which is also true. The problem is where these two goals collide, like in Canterbury and High Peak, where the local candidates stood aside, to allow another remain supporting party a free run at the seat. Jo Swinson”s Liberal Democrat’s won’t allow that, and have imposed new, outside candidates to take their places on the ballot. It seems that the need for seats outweighs the need to stop Brexit, as that is their primary priority. It is extremely disappointing.

One might say that because I am a north London media, liberal elite, that I would automatically support Labour. There is a kernel of truth to that. I don’t like to brag about my liberal elite status, but sometimes, when I go to McDonalds, I supersize my meal…AND I upgrade to a shake. But only sometimes, I’m not rich, like that uppity Jacob Rees-Mogg. I heard when he goes to McDonalds, he supersizes, he upgrades to the shake and he gets a McFlurry too. Not one of those little bitty mini ones either, but full sized. Shhhhhh, don’t tell nanny!

The reason I mention my media background is because I am coming to the point of this piece. “Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats” is terrible branding. I feel like some PR agency pulled a fast one by appealing to her vanity and turning her into the literal face and name of the party.

Have you see the bus? Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats’ Bus. Have a gander:

I can just imagine the creative agency’s pitch meeting. Have you ever seen the Monorail episode of The Simpsons?

“Jo, you have tested through the roof with our focus groups. People love you! So we want you to be the face of the campaign. Every leaflet will have a small headshot of you on the front, and a larger photo of you on the back!

And have you seen the bus? A close up of you, full bus height! Gorgeous! And, are you ready for this, you will love this! We are going to rebrand the whole party as “Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats!”

A breathless, jubilant Jo Swinson’s shouts, yes, yes, yes! Where do I sign?

I can actually envision this being very close to the truth.

And when I first heard about this new branding, this was my immediate thought, now expressed in graphic form:

It sounds like a band name or an improv group struggling to break through at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. It makes the party sound like her personal possession and plaything. And that shit is plastered all over her campaign bus! It’s a branding faux pas on an epic scale. It’s the ‘New Coke’ of political reinvention.

I’m lucky, my local MP is as anti-Brexit as they come. My MP voted against triggering Article 50, and yes, my MP is a Labour MP with a sizeable majority. But I still checked a tactical voting website to see what they recommended. And you know what, they recommended I vote Labour for the best chance of stopping Brexit. I was going to do it anyway, but it’s nice to know it’s tactical too.

If I lived somewhere else, where voting tactically for a LibDem candidate made sense, of course I would do it. They’re not a bad bunch of people, even if their election branding is bad this go-round, and they have a history of propping up Tory governments. What matters most in this election, is stopping Brexit. Sky News have nailed the branding, they are rightly calling it the “Brexit Election”.

All of our votes count, but they really, really count this time. Your vote matters, do your homework, work out which party in your constituency is best placed to win and stop Brexit. Then hold your nose if you need to, but vote for the party helps Britain remain in the EU. Your county’s future depends on all us, including and especially, you.

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy but only if you look really hard.

A Question of Character

3 November, 2019Politics, societyBoris Johnson, general election, politicsthehippy

Do you know how many children our Prime Minister has? Does anyone?

Even Wikipedia is not sure, just take a look. It says he either has 5 or 6 kids. That’s extremely vague and it is somewhat disconcerting to me, that no one knows the answer.

Why hasn’t anyone in the media asked Boris Johnson about this? It seems fairly basic to me. If you can’t trust a man to tell you how many children he’s fathered, how can you trust him with anything else? If you misrepresent this, what else are you not telling the truth about?

I appreciate it is a complex question, and the answer is probably not as straight forward as you might think. And I would suggest, that there is more than one right answer to this question, depending upon how the question is framed.

If a journalist asked Boris outright, how many children he has, I expect he would reluctantly provide an answer. This answer would become the number of children Boris acknowledges and it would solve Wikipedia’s conundrum for them. We would have an answer we could attribute to the Prime Minister, and that would end the debate. Except it wouldn’t.

It wouldn’t end the debate because there will be another answer, to a slightly different question, and that number would be higher than the first. The problem with this number, is it will only be known to Boris and his attorneys, as it is the number of children Boris supports financially. Those pesky court-ordered paternity tests are an annoyance, but reaching a settlement with a non-disclosure clause probably makes it all alright. So this number is out there, but it will remain a mystery.

The third number, which is the actual number of children sired by Boris, is unknowable. The only being in the universe to have this answer, if he or she existed, would be an omnipotent god. Even Boris wouldn’t be sure. There will be terminated pregnancies, there will be paternity denials, and there could even be some children born, that have no idea he is their daddy.

Put it this way, if you are aged somewhere between zygote and around 40 years old, and you have floppy blond hair, an innate ability to say random things in Latin, and your momma never told you who your daddy is… Odds are your daddy is Boris Johnson.

Boris is a born liar. Boris lies so much during the day, that sometimes when he gets home at night, he is just too darned tired to lie to his girlfriend. He lies about everything. He was sacked from the Times for lying. He even lied to the father of a sick baby girl, about the press not covering his hospital visit, while the cameras were in the room and filming! Boris even lied to the Queen. He just can’t help it. Boris lies, the way the rest of us breathe, naturally, and without much thought. Lying is his gut instinct, go to strategy, to get himself out of everything. And he doesn’t seem to mind when he gets caught.

Why is the media so complicit in all of this? How can a politician be given a pass on issues of trust? If you can’t trust a man to tell you how many children he has, how can you trust him on literally anything else?

Character matters. Honesty matters. And it starts with a really simple question: Mr. Johnson, how many children do you have?

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy

Hating String Beans

27 August, 2019"Personal Use", cannabis, decriminalisation, legalisation, societycannabis, legalisationthehippy

String Beans Photo by Sonja Langford on Unsplash

The first time I ever saw a string bean, I was 13 years old. I was dining with my family in a small, local restaurant, when a plate containing string beans arrived at our table.

When I say string beans, I mean long, thin, immature runner beans, you may call them something else, fine beans, green beans, you might even call them haricot vert. I’d never seen them before, because my father absolutely detested them and they were banned from my childhood home.

I don’t think I can overstate just how much my father hated string beans. He hated them with the sort of passion usually reserved for ex-wives, rival sports teams and politicians. He despised them, hard.

So when his steak arrived at the table and he gruffly ordered the server to return it to the kitchen to have the ‘green vegetable’ scraped from his plate, I didn’t understand, because I didn’t know what string beans even looked like. It wasn’t until my mother explained that I realised it was the aforementioned and disgustingly offensive, string beans. My parents had a good laugh at my ignorance, even though they were the direct cause of it.

I tried to understand why my father, a grown man, could find a vegetable so repulsive. He eventually explained that when he was in the army, he was forced to eat them on a regular basis. A tinned, tasteless, mushy version of them was slapped onto his mess tray, day after day after day. He said he made a promise to himself, that once he was out of the military, he would never, ever eat or even look at another string bean for the rest of his life.

Because of my father’s hatred of the dreaded string bean, that was my only encounter with them, that fleeting glance, before I reached adulthood. I hated string beans by proxy. My dad would eat almost anything, he ate pickled pigs knuckles, for God’s sake! If he didn’t like string beans, they must be foul and disgusting. It was the only sensible conclusion and I accepted it as gospel and never questioned it. It was the gospel of vegetables according to my sainted father.

Flash forward to years later, and I am a guest at a friend’s home for Sunday lunch. We sit down for the meal, and guess what was on my plate? That’s right, the evil green beans, which I hated only by reputation.

As an adult, I had a more open mind, and I had worked out that my parents weren’t always right, so I decided in that instant, to taste the string beans.

I loved them. They were crisp, flavourful and delicious. I took another forkful and savoured them. These are good, I thought. These are really good. And I spent my whole life until that point, avoiding them, because of my father’s insane dislike of string beans. String beans are now one of my favourite vegetables, lightly steamed with a little butter, salt and pepper. Yum!

There’s another vegetable with a bad reputation that is also undeserved: The Devil’s Lettuce. How’s that for a segue? This was always really about cannabis. Everything for me is always about cannabis.

Chances are, if you are anti-cannabis, you are hating it by proxy. You have learned to hate cannabis by channelling the hatred of others and have no first hand experience of it yourself. Lucky guess?

More likely, you have been force fed anti-cannabis propaganda your entire life. But unless you’ve experienced it for yourself, tried it yourself, you won’t really know the truth.

Perhaps I am wrong and someone you respect, someone with authority on the subject, has told you the truth, that cannabis is extremely beneficial for a variety of reasons. And if that is not true, let it be true from this point onwards. You just need to respect my authority on the subject, because I have been a daily cannabis consumer for nearly 40 years, a journalist for 30 years and I am the author of the book, “Personal Use”. This is exactly what I am telling you, that cannabis is good.

You have been lied to repeatedly, for your entire life, about cannabis. We all have, and the lies continue to dominate any discussion about weed. The only difference, is now it is easier to call out these lies, because some more sensible governments have taken steps to change their laws. We know with certainty that cannabis decriminalisation and legalisation improve things, and more importantly, doesn’t make anything else worse. It’s a win-win. Yes, yes.

I didn’t know how good string beans were until I tried them for myself. It seems obvious on the surface, but I was indoctrinated from an early age to hate the little green wonders.

We’ve all been indoctrinated to hate cannabis, to fear it, to expect the worst of it, and none of it is true. Cannabis is analogous to coffee, a mild drug that can be consumed safely on a regular basis. That said, you can die from caffeine poisoning, but you would need to consume an amount equivalent to your body weight in weed to do the same. And even then, it would probably be easier to just drop it upon your head from a great height to kill you.

Cannabis is safer than aspirin. I say that a lot, but for only one reason. It’s true. Yet no one complains if you self administer an aspirin, but self administer some cannabis…Oh wait, you can’t, because it is not legal for very much right now.

One of the many mistakes made in pursuing medical cannabis in the UK, was insisting it be on prescription. I prefer the California model, of therapeutic use with a doctor’s recommendation. Or without a doctor’s recommendation, I’m easy. You wouldn’t need a doctor to recommend taking aspirin, would you? So why would you need one for self-administering cannabis?

Some campaigners have tried desperately to exaggerate the harm cannabis can cause, trying to offer legal, medicinal cannabis as the solution. The only harm actually caused, has been by this mendacious stance and it has set the legalisation movement back.

Cannabis is cannabis, medical cannabis and recreational cannabis, are both the same cannabis. And if you grow your own, at home, that is cannabis too.

You will get no argument from me regarding the quality of some black market cannabis vs cannabis cultivated in a legal environment. I would much prefer something that has been safely grown, tested and certified as being good. I’d also be willing to pay tax on it. But please don’t lie and try to tell us that there is a genetic difference between the two.

Weed is weed, there’s good quality weed and there is shitty weed. Not all legal weed is good quality, and not all black market cannabis is shitty…but you’re more likely to get excellent weed in a legal environment and more likely to get crappy weed on the black market. It’s just simple economics and good old capitalism.

For most people, legal weed in the UK wouldn’t make much difference. The estimated 5 million people who consume cannabis regularly, would continue to do so, only without fear of arrest. And higher quality products would be available to adults. The rest of the people, those who don’t consume cannabis, are unlikely to start or notice much of a difference in their lives.

Certainly, that won’t be universal, some people will experiment, and of those who do, some may enjoy it or find it beneficial to their health and continue to consume it, but the number won’t rise significantly. How do I know that? I know it because that is what has happened in places where it has already been legalised.

And this will blow your minds, the demographic that comes around to legal cannabis the most, is older folks, in my age group, 40s, 50s and 60s. (My age is somewhere in the middle of that, so I am ahead of the curve.)

We already have a large cannabis market in the UK, but it is untaxed and unregulated. There is an existing customer base as well, who would be thrilled to see this black market legitimised and legalised. This isn’t about creating a new market, it is about improving our existing one and bringing it into the light. We have nothing to fear from this conversion and everything to gain.

I will let you in on a secret. I already smoke good weed, and enjoy quality edibles, some even home made. But I’m not doing this just for me. I’m doing this for you. You deserve to know how good cannabis is, you deserve to discover for yourself, how beneficial it can be.

Let me put it another way, I am a dual national. I don’t make much of it, but I am, British and American. I could sell up, move to Colorado, or California, tomorrow, if all I wanted was to smoke cannabis legally.

I want more than to just consume cannabis legally. I want the country I’ve lived in for more than half my life, to benefit from a legal, regulated cannabis market. London is my home, I want to give something back to the city and nation that has given me so much. I could easily jump ship, and save myself, but I don’t want to do that. I want to see the laws changed here, for the good of everyone. That’s all I’ve ever wanted, but I am planning on trying a whole lot harder in the near future. This is my calling, like a vocation, just a really cool one. I want to make it my life.

Don’t let cannabis be your string beans. Don’t hate it because others hate it. If you want to find out for yourself what the fuss is all about, go for it. If you don’t like it after trying it, that’s cool. But if you do like it, that’s even cooler. And if you don’t want to try it, that’s cool too. All I ask is that you please kindly be supportive of the millions of us who do dig it. And please educate yourselves, learn how to spot the lies. I promise to do what I can to help with that.

The northlondonhippy is an anonymous author, online cannabis activist and recreational drug user, who has been writing about drugs and drug use for over 15 years. In real life, the hippy is a senior multimedia journalist with over 30 years experience of working in news.

You can also find the northlondonhippy on Twitter: @nthlondonhippy

A busy hippy

5 August, 2019Brexit, cannabis, Climate Change, Climate Crisis, decriminalisation, drug use, High Hopes, Politics, societyBrexit, cannabis, climate change, climate crisis, Climate Emergency, decriminalisation, drug use, first moon landing, High Hopes, impeach, politics, societythehippy

You might have noticed in the last few weeks, I’ve been more productive than usual.

I’ve been a busy hippy.

I’ve had some free time, so I decided to solve some big issues.

For instance, I highlighted the truth about cannabis. Don’t blame weed, it is tea drinking that is the real cause of everything bad.

Want to survive the Climate Apocalypse? I figured out how it can be done. First, you need to be super rich.

Brexit lives at the bottom of this very deep hole

I had a free hour, so I solved Brexit. It’s not pretty, but it gets the job done. You can thank me later.

I shared my memories of the first moon landing. I was 6 and a half when it happened, but I still came up with a few obscure details.

I wrote to Grandma Hippy about living in a dry country. She is imaginary, and she lives in Colorado. She digs edibles. I do too.

I received my first 12 hour Twitter ban. I tried to fight the power, but the power of stupid prevailed.

And, my fellow earthlings, I tried to convince everyone that we are all Citizens of Everywhere. It’s our only hope.

There’s not a lot to be optimistic about these days, but we can all distract ourselves from the mess we’re in. My distraction, ironically, is hope. Don’t lose hope, we can all help make things a little less miserable. This is my attempt to do just that.

northlondonhippy.com

The internet's favourite fake hippy!

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Branding Jo Swinson’s Liberal Democrats

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Hating String Beans

A busy hippy