Securicor

I wrote this at Brest airport on the 6th of April 2026.
Today is Arielle’s thirteenth birthday! FFS! that rushed buy in the blink of an egg... the squeeze of a snail's shell! Zoom......ed by!

Here I am in Brest airport on my way to New York, to be with...in... an... other space. The Tannoy annoys, the warnings are vague and often absurd, in fact, they are mostly ridiculous.... a never-ending stream of new worries to worry about...the not-so-subtle imposition of a Panopticon state....as we passengers scuttle and slide through a non-stop circus of security checks.... to ensure that we are secure. Not mentally or existentially of course.... it's just that liquids, electronics and other stuff cannot travel with us....the list increases and now our eyes, face, fingertips and other stuff must be stuffed into databases that are base and baseless...to ensure our safety of course... an assault course of onion peeling and mockery. It could reach the point where we must unzip our chest so that they can shove their gloved fist into us and have a good old rummage about. Re-arrange our internal fixtures to suit their Ikea planning....some quick assembly shelves can be inserted... stacked with data and ornamental plastic flowers perhaps?

We are the robots the electronic gate whispers in my ear as I enter the cloistered docking bay....not sitting on the....watching the tide roll away. If I don't line up correctly I'm corrected and realigned in a jiffy whilst simultaneously doing a show and tell with my Jiffy bag full of harmless liquids.
Securicor cares, Securicor scares....Securicor scares the shit out of you....do you wanna come closer? I'm a private in a private army, Im a private in a private army....and so it goes...on.