It was a very English demonstration. At Westminster tube station a half dozen or so demonstrators had gathered.
"You can't do that here, love", plaintively, "you need to go up on the street"
"But I'm waiting to meet a friend"
"Oh....Well... all right then"
My daughters and I hurried on up Whitehall where we had a very satisfactory morning: What do we want? "FREE TIBET!", When do we want it? "NOW!"
The procession was shambles, the torch bearers completely obscured by rings of goons and policeman, every inch of Whitehall lined with protesters. The Olympic torch disappeared into Downing Street, and faced with chanting and derision, it left ignominiously by the back exit. Police sweated, demonstrators broke through and we chanted and sang. China, China, China: OUT! OUT! OUT! Stop the killing... IN TIBET!.... Stop the torture... IN TIBET!
"Well, really", opined the man next to me, who had changed into a dragon costume extracted from his ruck sack when the torch was in sight, "we should attempt to prevent torture everywhere"
I was too busy videoing to answer: