The International Paralympic Committee are a disgrace

Oscar Pistorius has been found guilty of the culpable homicide [manslaughter] of his girlfriend Reeva Steenkamp. The International Paralympic Committee's response?

"... if he wishes to resume his athletics career then we wouldn’t step in his way – we would allow him to compete again in the future.”

Source The Guardian

That's right. Kill your girlfriend and once your trial's over you'll get a fuzzy welcome back hug. Notice how Craig Spence from the IPC didn't even have the decency to use Reeva Steenkamp's name; the woman whose life was stolen by Pistorius? She doesn't matter because according to some other man at the IPC; Pistorius was a “fundamental ambassador” for London 2012.

There's this assumption that oppressed groups would be sympathetic to other oppressed groups. Given that disabled people like Francecca Hardwick, Olivia, Ben & Max Clarence, Alex Spourdalakis, and Caitlin Wentzel are routinely killed for being disabled, you'd think a body representing disabled people would have a bit of sympathy for another group of people routinely killed for existing: Women. In South Africa in 2009 a woman was killed by her partner or former partner every 8 hours. While in Britain a woman is killed by a man every 2.36 days.

But, no. I would say "most oppressed groups don't care about the oppressed groups that they don't belong to;" except the International Paralympic Committee works with disabled women too! Though it's noteworthy that the IPC is chaired by a man, and both spokespeople praising Pistorius today are men.

Most people would think of American Football as quite a brutal sport. Yet the governing body the NFL have banned Ray Rice indefinitely for knocking his partner out cold in a lift. Truly astonishing that they have more human decency than the IPC.

The most ridiculous thing is that the IPC routinely exclude disabled people from competition for having the wrong sort of impairment. If you've got any diagnosis other than:

* Cerebral palsy or a brain injury resulting in similar mobility impairment,
* Spina Bifida or other spinal cord damage,
* Missing limbs,
* Achondroplasia (many other forms of dwarfism like osteogenesis imperfecta are deemed unacceptable to the IPC),
* Visual impairment, or;
* One of the very few types of learning difficulty the IPC deems acceptable.

Then you will either be classified out of competition, or banned from competing entirely. If you have the wrong type of diagnosis; the IPC deem that a crime worthy of excluding you from sport. But if you take a woman's life you're perfectly welcome to compete.

Returning to Craig Spence's statement; he unbelievably said:

“Oscar’s done a great deal for the Paralympic movement. He’s been an inspiration to millions..."

Everything's inspiring when you're a cripple; from putting on your own underpants to taking someone's life. I'm sure he's inspired dozens more men to commit domestic violence now that they know they can shoot their partner repeatedly and get treated fairly lightly by a justice system geared for men.

For most of my adult life I've been deeply saddened that I was classified out of the Paralympics for the crime of having an impairment that the classifiers have taken a dislike to. But you know what? Today I'm fucking proud that the IPC aren't speaking for me when they say that he'd be welcomed back into the fold of the Paralympic movement.

♫...And I shouldn't be here, without permission. I shouldn't be here...♫

"I wish you'd never been born."

I remember the Sunday morning a couple of years ago when a well-known pro-eugenics tweeter was banging on about how babies with genetic conditions shouldn't be born. Despite claiming he was not disablist towards disabled people once they'd done the getting-into-the-world thing, all I could see in those tweets was that he wished I'd never been born because I have a genetic condition. He might have blocked me on Twitter so he can't see me; but I still see him RTed into my timeline frequently (something he said is actually 4th from the top in my timeline as I type). I'm constantly reminded that someone that thinks the world would be a better place without me in it is so well liked among the people I respect enough to follow on Twitter.

I remember all the times I've read that "parents on benefits shouldn't have kids. They shouldn't have kids other people will have to pay for." That includes my parents. So these people are saying that I should never have been born because my dad was forced out of work and onto benefits by impairment not long before I came along (my mum became a housewife when she married my dad because that's what women did in the 70s). I haven't just read it in the right-wing press. I've heard it from people I know. I've even heard it from other disabled people.

They may not have directly used the words "Lisa Egan should not be here," but it was what I inferred from their statements.

I remember the times my father said it to me when I was growing up. He was, and still is, someone that demands to be the centre of attention at all times. When I was a child my mum prioritised me over him and he resented the little brat getting more of his wife's attention that he did.

It's a powerful statement that haunts you; knowing that people think you shouldn't be here.

I remember a very long time ago seeing a mother on the news with her young child saying that if she'd known her daughter was going to have Spina Bifida she'd have had a termination. That child knows that not only is she unwanted, but she's so unwanted that her mother desired to tell the country about it. Her main passion was dancing to pop music; and at her age (IIRC she was about 4) that should have been all she had to worry about. She shouldn't have had to have heard from the people closest to her that they'd prefer her not to be around.

This week there have been 11 living children hearing all about how they shouldn't have been born. In the unlikely event that there is an afterlife where you look down on the world you left behind; there are a further 6 children hearing the same words.

The press is full of stories about how Mick Philpott's children were only born to milk the welfare state. Right wing commentators are queueing up to appear on the news to talk about how families shouldn't have so many children. There are, of course, plenty of people claiming that people living on benefits shouldn't be having children at all.

The most hurtful thing has got to be that these 17 children have been singled out by someone at the heart of government, the Chancellor, as being "a lifestyle" that needs to be "handled". Not human beings deserving of respect. Not people that have lost siblings. Not lives that have been cut short. But a problem that needs to be "handled" by government.

When I've read in the press that parents on benefits shouldn't have kids I knew they weren't talking about me directly, they were talking non-specifically about a group of people I happen to belong to. The same when I read tweets about how babies with genetic conditions shouldn't be born. But this week, all week, there have been 11 children hearing very loudly and clearly every time they turn on their TV that they - those children whose father is Mick Philpott - should not have been born.

I can't even imagine how it feels to be told on the front page of every paper, and on every news bulletin, that you - specifically you - should not exist because of someone you happen to be related to. Someone you didn't choose to be related to. And at a time when you're grieving for the loss of your siblings to boot.

Should He Stay or Should He Go Now?

Sometimes a news story is so big people use the expression "you'd have to be living under a rock" in order to have not heard about it. In the case of the Jimmy Savile story that has exploded this month; I'm pretty sure that even the woodlouse living under that large pebble in my garden has a basic understanding of the case.

The BBC is holding two inquiries into what happened. Obviously the first is in to how such a sex offender was able to carry out his crimes right under the BBC's noses. The second is into why 11 months ago Newsnight canned an investigation into these crimes.

Peter Rippon, who was responsible for cutting the Newsnight exposé, has stepped aside. Over the last 36 hours I've read several things along the lines of:

Rippon shouldn't fall on his sword. All he did was can a Newsnight investigation after Savile's death. He had nothing to do with the perpetration of the crimes.

.

The thing is: He unwittingly might have done.

When Savile's victims started coming forward the police undertook an assessment of Savile's crimes. They couldn't launch a criminal investigation because they couldn't prosecute someone that'd been dead almost a year.

But almost 3 weeks after the allegation floodgates opened the police turned the assessment into an actual criminal investigation because the allegations implicated Savile's fellow paedophiles that are still alive.

We don't know who the co-accused are. The police aren't releasing that information because it would jeopardise their inquiries. All we know is that they're still alive and so potentially still raping children. If Newsnight had aired the film 11 months ago then these allegations would've come to light nearly a year earlier and his co-accused could've been caught that much sooner, potentially protecting any of their victims this past year.

Rippon's disgusting attitude towards women and belief that paedophilia isn't "the worst kind of sexual offence" are quite evidence enough that he shouldn't be responsible for a news show. Because news does happen to women and children too; you know. But the fact that he could have blown open this news story a year earlier and in the process potentially protected victims of paedophiles proves that there's really no place for someone like him in investigative journalism.

Do you ever realise that you have a talent, and then think "Actually, I'd have been more than happy going through my whole life without knowing I could do that."?

My most recently discovered skill: Covering over with bin bags gaping holes in the passenger sides of cars where a large piece of glass should be.

Yes long term blog readers, I am once again the victim of crime. For those of you that haven't been reading since the very beginning, just after I started keeping my blog a friend had her bag stolen from under a table in a pub in Soho (while she was drunkenly demanding hugs from Someone Off The Telly), and it happened to have my cashcard in it. And victim support wrote to me and offered me counselling for the trauma.

"Why would anyone want to break into Lisy's car?" I hear you cry. I mean, even if there was anything valuable in it, you wouldn't be able to spot it because of the huge piles of litter.

The villains spotted something shiny on my dashboard. Had I left twinkly, valuable looking earrings? No. That shiny thing was a laminated piece of paper. That was all they took.

I mean, for fucks sake! Be a self-respecting criminal, have some self-esteem! Take the radio, the CD's out of the glove box. Hell, even steal the £95 Specsavers sunglasses (though, of course, the prescription may not match yours, but you've already demonstrated your glass smashing skills). Stealing something that cost Camden Council about 50p to knock up seems pretty fucking pointless, you no-brained nutsack.

You could even be a nice criminal and steal some of the empty Diet Pepsi cans and Ginsters Pasty wrappers that clog up my passenger footwell.

But, your pointless theivery means that I now have to pay £100 excess (or is it £50 now I've turned 25? I can't remember) to replace a piece of glass, just so you could get your mitts on something that you could've made at home if only you'd paid studious enough attention to Blue Peter. Pathetic little wanksock.

OK, so that piece of laminated paper means you get a better parking space. But, surely, with the energy you exerted in breaking into my car, surely you could just walk from one row further in the car park. I'm amazed you could be bothered to patrol the streets of Islington looking for crip-owned cars. But maybe you already know that the police are even more apathetic than you, and they "don't bother checking for fingerprints on just a car."

There's even a website whose ad on Google promises:

Want a Blue Badge?
www.UK-Driving-Secrets.com Get one even if you're not disabled New guide reveals secrets. £17.95!

Though, I'm sure the guide probably suggests "scout round Islington looking for cars displaying Blue Badges. Smash, grab."

And I have the joy of knowing that not only do I have to pay the excess, but also, first thing tomorrow morning, I'm going to get a parking ticket for parking right outside my own house without having my blue badge on display. Hurrah.

All for 50p's worth of laminated paper. Doesn't that make you feel so great about the world we live in.

Though, I am slightly comforted by the knowledge of the torture that the thief is going to face. Yup, the blue badge has a photo of my face on the back. And I pity anyone that has to look at that.

I am officially a victim of crime.

Yesterday I went to the recording of It's Been A Bad Week with two friends, and then down the pub afterwards.

Someone managed to steal K's bag from under our table, despite the fact that we never left it unattended at all. My cashcard was in it, thus, not only is she I victim of a crime, I am too.

I don't feel violated, or even inconvenienced by it. But I think my new title "crime victim" warrants me some sympathy, just for the sake of it. I do however find a tremendous irony in the title of the radio show we'd just come from.

Despite the nice visit to Charing Cross police station, yesterday was a fun afternoon. Much alcohol was consumed, yet I have a ridiculously high alcohol tolerance so remained very sober. Meh.

Christmas is approaching too quickly. I've only just written the cards I need to post, and then realised I didn't have enough stamps. Oh well. Anyone who knows me should expect to receive a Christmas card from me sometime around new year.

I'm off to Clacton On Sea, which is apparently the sprout capital of England. This is possibly the last time I'll write anything this year as I'm volunteering at one of the Crisis shelters as soon as I get back for 3 days, and if it's anything like last year, I won't have the energy to switch on my computer between shifts.

Merry Crimbo!