London Student

Anonymous got trapped in a huge kettle last night

Mattha Busby
6th November 2015
6 min read

A clandestine network of activists and hacktivists somehow inspired anarchy in the West End last night coming from far afield to take their grievance and anger to the government.

On Trafalgar Square, we waited for the state sanctioned 6pm start time for the march and a newsreel style neon image menacingly warned us that “failure to comply is an offence.”

Revolutionary slogans screamed into the dark as we departed down Whitehall where marchers stopped to hurl porcine insults at David Cameron. There were several thousand by this point and about a third were wearing the infamous V for Vendetta-esque masks. After concluding David and Gideon probably weren’t going to come out and deny any of the piggish accusations flung at them the protest headed on then quickly veered off course onto the Great George St. corner of Parliament Square. The Police swiftly organised themselves into a “cordon”, a word that was repeatedly used to describe both a cordon and a typical kettle, and the protesters stood their ground. After a standoff which lasted about seven minutes, the Police started to demand the crowd retreat and had mounted officers reinforce their positions, and it all kicked off. Missiles were thrown as the crowd surged en masse, pushing the Police line back at least 20 yards. Some managed to break the cordon as batons were wielded and full on fights broke out. The crowd were only dispersed after they got surrounded and kettled.

Everyone had reconvened underneath the London Eye where, in a bizarre, almost slapstick, twist the protestors formed an impromptu “cordon” either side of the Police, who were vastly outnumbered and seemingly at a loss of what to do next as flustered sergeants audibly barked contradictory orders at their subordinates.

After several brief scuffles we headed up Northumberland Avenue back towards Trafalgar Square where a bunch of protesters who’d been separated greeted each other like long lost siblings.

The police funnelled the protesters through the north-west exit of the Square adjacent to the National Gallery where another standoff ensued before they made their way to Piccadilly and Leicester Square chanting “Whose streets? Our streets.”

As they surged onto Cranbourne St the theatre-going bourgeois looked on with bemusement and a hint of intimidation. The protest at this point was almost entirely peaceful but entirely manic.

After stopping to jeer the attendants of a film premiere in Leicester Square the crowd, segments of which began to resemble nothing less than an angry mob, headed through Victoria wreaking havoc – and set fire to a police car.

It was only a small bunch who smashed stuff up but the rest of the marchers didn’t seem to object. That said, many were keen not to cause a ruckus outside small businesses.

The route was made up completely off the cuff now and after a brief shouted ‘discussion’ between those at the front of the demo we went past St James’ Palace and on to Buckingham Palace despite misgivings of some, exclaiming that was “where they trapped us last year.”

The procession down the mall was met by a cavalry line broken with laughable ease as fireworks and bangers forced horses to scatter and buckle.

It all seemed more like the Paris Commune rather than a Thursday night in London. After belatedly realising they lacked the firepower for an insurrection a la palais we headed back towards Green Park tube station.

“Tory scum” chants deafened the silent majority as the ever thinning group (now in the hundreds as opposed to the low thousands) went through Regents St. and Fouberts.

At this point I witnessed rogue Policemen taking cheap shots at the protesters they were walking side by side with. That being said I also saw one Bruce Lee wannabe drop kick a Policeman through a metal fence, seemingly without provocation.

The Police were once again hopelessly outnumbered on Hanover and Regent, caught in between a rock and a hard place as protesters joined in a chorus of “Who’s kettling who”.

With little option out except a baton charge, the Police ran at the hacktivists and arrested stragglers on Little Argyll St.

To a casual observer the cops used really disproportionate force as the 9pm cut off time for the protest got nearer.

After a short detour to Great Portland Street tube with Police cordons around Regent and Oxford Streets the group, which now just a hardcore, marched back towards Trafalgar Square pausing only to scorn Merlot sipping yuppies.

Nelson’s Column was mobbed on return to the Square as fireworks erupted from its base. The Police were advancing at this point and a humongous kettle seemed inevitable as the remnants of the protest began to be choked.

Many stayed to face the wrath of Section 12 after a beatbox freestyle created a focal point for the group. The Police converged upon those who remained, keeping them kettled into the early hours.

About fifty protesters ended up being arrested in London.

Many of the marchers epitomised the disaffected, disenfranchised late teens and 20 somethings who find little future for themselves here.

What is for certain is that we’re sick of shit jobs at Costa, Cash Converters, money lenders, bookies and fried chicken shops.

Most of us have a wry exhaustion at trying to fight the Conservative Party and only feeling the state’s grip tighten.

Many of my compatriots, however, just wanted to kick off, smash up a police car and make some noise. Sister events were held all across the globe from Guatemala City to Brisbane.

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Mattha Busby

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