EYE WITNESS STATEMENT.
 BOMB SCARE, IRATIONAL.ORG

 Witness Statement. undated

 I was returning from work at the Advertising Agency in central Bristol, 
 where I was employed as a copywriter only a few minutes walk from my 
 apartment. It was dark. I was walking down the driveway off Park Row in BS1 
 which led to the two twin apartment blocks of Irving House and Terry House, 
 named after the great classical actors Henry Irving and Helen Terry, who had 
 both performed at the theatre (known as The Irving) which had been situated 
 on this site before being demolished in the 1950's or early 60's to make way 
 for the apartment buildings, which were of a desirable nature with a 
 resident mix of private rental and owner-coccupier.

 I had been working late on the Panasonic account. As I walked came down the 
 driveway towards the entrance of my building (Irving House) I met a friend 
 of quite recent acquaintance (F.M.) who was working at the time for a design 
 company for whom I had done some freelance writing.  She seemed a little 
 anxious and perturbed by something she had found in the back of her car. She 
 said she had not used the car all day and that it had been parked in her 
 space, which although covered, anyone could access. As we met, she told me 
 that there was something which looked like a bomb in her car. The back 
 window on the off-side was already smashed, and she seemed to think it 
 possible that the bomb-oject could have been placed in the car through the 
 broken glass. i looked at the bomb, which F.M. had, without seeing what it 
 might be, taken out of the car and placed on the ground beside it. It was a 
 metal box, with a small digital clock-timer, with visible wiring. This 
 occurred in the midst of a period of ant-vivisectionist bomb attacks in this 
 very area of the city of Bristol, close to the Uiniversity of Bristol which 
 had been targetted for its high-profile experiments on animals. This 
 short-term bombing campaign, using devices of relatively low-explosive 
 capability, had nonethless caused considerable damage, as well as acute 
 embarrassment to Avon and Somerset Constabulary, who had been seen as 
 ineffective, and who had even been held responsible in some quarters for the 
 injury to a small child in one of the bombings, when they failed to find the 
 device after having been given considerable warning time and indications of 
 its wherabouts. By coincidence, I had involved, through the Ad Agency, with 
 the damage-limitation program and public relations response, which had 
 become necessary in large part due to the ALF bombings, which had 
 highlighted the Force's weaknesses when confronted by serious revolutionary 
 action. When I saw the device I shrugged my shoulders; I have to admit i 
 didn't mind if it was a bomb or not. emergency always did turn me on. She 
 askedme what I thought she should do, if she should call the Law. I have an 
 idea that she had already decided (perhaps quite a long time ago) to do so, 
 but i said yes anyway: I wanted to see what would happen. Either way, it 
 seemed like the only way to proceed. Firstly, F.M. said she was going to 
 phone the one person whom she thought might have put the device in her cer, 
 for a range of Trickster reasons you would have to ask him about. she came 
 back almost right away and said she couldn't get through. 'Go call the cops, 
 then,' I said, and she did.

 Very quickly, in just a few minutes, the first squad cars arrived on the 
 scene, soon followed by all the beat officers in the area and further 
 car-loads of constables. They took a look at the device. I had ignored their 
 command to stand way back up in the street and lingered arounbd, watching 
 their response. I could not help laughing when I saw policement take their 
 helmets off and run for their lives, one saying 'I'm getting the fuck out of 
 here!'  There seemed no room for doubt in their minds. total evacuation of 
 both apartment blocks had been ordered and the street above blocked off. By 
 now there was police everywhere, flashing blue lights, that sexy emergency 
 atmosphere which i hung around and revelled in for a while, despite all the 
 shouting to get clear. Up on the street (a mani city0centre road) it was 
 chaos. A road block of police vans, yelow and black striped tape, officers 
 by the van-load - ever officer available.

 the bomb squad had been called, but they had to come all the way from some 
 military establishment somewhere, one of those army towns, and it was going 
 to take them the best part of an hour to get to the scene. During this time 
 all the apartments had been emptied and all the residents were led up the 
 driveway to the cold safety of the main street by the 24-hour garage where 
 all the police vehicles were parked. F.M. was sitting in one of the vans, 
 and I sat with her and heard some of the statement she gave, a staement as 
 vague as I can imagine.  She played it blank. Eventually the bomb squad 
 turned up, parked their jeep and some sort of ARV and went slowly down the 
 driveway, on foot, to do a reconnaissance. Even these experts in the field 
 could not tell if the bomb was real or not. They decided to do a controlled 
 explosion. It was a pleasure, nothing heavy or huge, just a little kiss of a 
 blast. For a while longer I jus took in the mergency atmosphere, watched the 
 lights, the traffic pile-up, the cops running here and there. Things slowly 
 calmed down; they always do. But for a couple of hours it was an authentic 
 work of conceptual terrorism, as lovely as any I've seen. Very 
 sophisticated.

 This Statement is subject to No Law.
 The only blood on our hands is the blood of creation