East Germany in racist Neo-Nazi shocker - Tell us it isn't true Bugsy

That particular pfennig dropped just after I'd posted.

I guess I was really thinking about the poor sod in Brotherton Lad's post, who didn't need a passport to get in - then they built the wall overnight, and couldn't get back!
He lived in East Berlin and was visiting his mother in West Berlin. He simply chose a bad day to go home. Berlin would have been somewhat different to movement between the DDR and BRD in 1961. I understand that until the Wall was built people moved freely around the city but the flow tended to be east to west.


Merkel's family move east when she was a baby was in 1954 when the circumstances were significantly different to the state of play in the 1980s. Her parents seem to have come from Berlin and Danzig, so a move east after theological training in Hamburg would make family sense.
 
[My bold in your post] I presume you mean me with your question about living in the GDR. I've always been a committed Socialist, and when I was given the opportunity to move to Berlin, Capital of the GDR from West Berlin, I decided to take up the offer. For all the very real shortcomings of the political system there, first and foremost the dire lack of genuine democracy, I really liked living there. It was a very egalitarian, intensely communal and inclusive society, notwithstanding that the "Nomenklatura" lived in a different world. For normal folks like me, life there was ideal.

Neo-Nazis in the GDR have always been around. While I was there in the late 1970s, they were generally regarded as a bit weird. The GDR was an anti-fascist society, but the myth generated by the GDR authorities that there were no longer any (neo-)Nazis in the country is just that; a myth. Things got worse after Gorbi came to power in the Soviet Union, and from about the middle of the 1980s on, because folks, especially the youth, were expecting far-reaching changes in their own country. Things got even worse when the GDR banned the Soviet magazine "Sputnik", which was reporting openly about all the wide-ranging socio-political changes in the Soviet Union.

The Stasi was clocking all that and sent regular reports to the Berlin HQ warning about such developments, but they were all dismissed by the Politburo because they were still on their "anti-fascist trip" and couldn't contemplate being wrong about it. Instead, everything was described as acts "hooliganism" and not neo-Nazi activity.

You're also wrong about the shite first hitting the fan in Rostock-Lichtenhagen in 1992. While there were also anti-contract-worker riots there (against the Vietnamese, whose country had refused to take them back), the initial flame was ignited in Hoyerswerda on 17 September 1991. That went on for about a fortnight and, because the Old Bill did very little, it inspired similar riots in place like Cottbus (where I was living at the time), Weißwasser, Magdeburg, Bautzen to name just a few.

The neo-Nazi activity is still a huge problem in East Germany, but it was initially ignored by the mainly Wessi authorities there, because West Germany has always essentially been a pro-fascist, racist country.

MsG
Could you explain to us how as a alleged ex British soldier you were invited to live in the socialist paradise?
 
I met one British bloke in his 50s or early 60s in 1990 flogging East German gear down by the Brandenburg Gate - he had crossed over into the east some time in the late 1950s because........he didn't really seem to know. Inf type, thorough pumping by the Stasi followed by job, flat in East Berlin. wife and 30 years of close supervision/surveillance care of the MfS (yes, an issue wife)
 
Not Mozambique, but the Ubermensch did have a colony in Namibia where they tried their hand at genocide for the first time...
Poisoning water wells wasn't it, followed by a touch of drive them into the desert to die. This is the charming

chappie.
von trotha.png
In fact one of the German units involved in the massacre of the Herero and Nama people, the 21st Dragoons, later went on to play a part in the Armenian Genocide when embedded with the Turkish Army.
 
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DaManBugs

LE
Book Reviewer
No, don't stop him. I want to know about his fantasy girlfriend Gisela Capitain (incidentally Bogsy, spelt with a 'C' not a 'K' in all references that I can find. Born 1952 and all the information quoted by Drugsy can be found in Wiki with the aid of Google Translate.
(Picture of Gisela here, but it bigged itself up enormously when I pressed “quote”. No idea why.)
I suggest that it's more likely that you were making picture frames and cups of tea than giving Gisela the benefit of your boxing hardened squaddie body.
Deary me, Dorky_Boy! You really are an extremely malignant little shit, aren’t you? You’re so obsessed with your mission to “discredit Bugsy at all costs” that you spend your precious time cruising the internet, desperatedly trying to find something you can (hopefully) use against me. And what came up in all those hours you spent looking? I misspelled Gisela’s surname almost four decades after we were an item. How totally fückin’ unhinged is that, eh? Just what exactly is wrong with you, mush?

Just what do you (hope to) gain from all your fanatical effort? More to the point: why is my life and what I've done any business of yours at all? Let me tell you, kiddo. Because you’re hopping mad, indignant and thoroughly outraged that I refuse to pay you the “rispeck” you feel I should be paying to you by right (because you are you and deserve it). You’re going out of your way to “prove” to others (on ARRSE) that you’re obviously “superior” to me by desperately attempting to discredit me wherever you can – even if you have to employ blatant untruths to accomplish it.

It’s a patently childish tactic based on: “Look what “X” does and what I don’t do!”. Your main problem with that, Dorky_Boy, seems to be that, until now, you’ve not even successfully managed to actually convince yourself of that fact (let alone others); which is why you continue with your irrational and strangely disturbing “campaign”. Have you ever actually contemplated just growing up, kid?

Anyway, I’ll indulge you and deliver a multitude of facts that will take you (or your equally deranged ARRSE vermin buddies) some time to research. Gisela and me. By the way, she’s five-foot-nine, in case you’re interested, Dorky-Boy.

How did we meet? I used to frequent a disco by the name of “SO36” in the Skalitzer Straße in the district of Kreuzberg, West Berlin. They played a mixture of punk and reggae there, and I’m a sucker for reggae. The disco regularly featured live punk and reggae bands from the UK. Brit squaddies discovered the place somewhere in the middle of 1979 and Joachim (Achim) Schächtle, one of the co-owners, and who knew I was ex-British Army, asked me to keep an eye on the lads. That wasn’t actually necessary, because they never caused any fuss, no matter how pissed they were. My friendship with Achim started when there was an Old Bill raid on SO36 (I’ve no idea why) and we both had to bang out of the nearby emergency-exit rather sharpish because we were both tooled up.

Sometime towards the end of 1979, SO36 featured a punk band called “The Warm Jets”. Apparently a couple of them were ex-members of “Cockney Rebel”. I don’t remember all that much about the group, just that the lead singer was a blonde fella with slicked-back hair called Paul and the lead guitarist was a Pole. Because the lads spoke no German, Achim asked me to be his interpreter for the three nights they were appearing. That caught the attention of Martin Kippenberger, a so-called “artist” who’d recently secured himself a stake in SO36. He (Kippenberger) decided to invite The Warm Jets to a restaurant on their second night and I tagged along as their interpreter. The whole party, consisting of about 20 of us, then repaired to Kippenberger’s gaff in Segitzdamm (I believe it was number 8, but I could be wrong there). That’s when I met Gisela Capitain.

Because I was rather, er, “intellectually detached” at the time, having helped to smoke the 20 grammes of solid I brought to the party, I declared myself unfit to drive and Gisela graciously offered me a place in her bed. That was the start of it.

Gisela’s parents were away for Christmas 1979, and so we celebrated together in Selb, the city of Gisela’s birth. Her father was apparently some sort of doodi at “Rosenthal Porzellan”, also based in Selb, Northern Hesse. I’ve no idea about Gisela’s mother or what she did for a living.

A few more facts for you to research, Dorky_Boy, in your relentless pursuit of the “superiority” you so passionately crave, but don’t actually have. But back to West Berlin! Kippenberger’s gaff was a commune at the time in question. That commune (again, at the time) comprised:

Martin Kippenberger. A real “wannabe” artist and total pain in the fückin’ arse, who had many contacts in the West Berlin art world at the time and used them to further his own, entirely self-centred, objectives. No-one knew where he had his money from. There were various guesses that he'd won the lottery at some point or was the beneficiary of an inheritance, but no-one knew for sure, including Gisela Capitain.

Gisela Capitain. A primary-school teacher when I got to know her. Her room in the Segitzdamm commune had swing-doors with windows in them, through which “interested parties” used to observe us shagging.

Hella Utesch. Hella was a contemporary (and good friend) of Claudia Skoda (she of the marvellous woollen jumpers) and specialised in producing leather items (jackets, waistcoats, trousers, etc) in accordance with the ancient Native American craft of joining the parts with thongs, and not with stiches. That gobshite Kippenberger once complained bitterly to me that he’d invested 20,000 Deutschmarks in Hella’s enterprise, but, at the time, hadn’t seen a “Pfennig” of profit.

Klaus Krüger. At the time I met him in Segitzdamm, he was the drummer for the German group “Tangerine Dream. He was mostly away on tours at the time Gisela and I were an item and I never got to really know him, apart from shagging on his bed.

OK, Dorky_Boy! Off you (or any of the ARRSE vermin) go! I’m really looking forward to what you (or the other gobshites) manage to dig up.

Wow! Diss gonnabee phon, indeed!

MsG
 
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Nice story Bugsy. Did all this happen when you lived in the East? 'cause I distinctly remember Kreuzberg being in the West. Also I doubt very much that you frequented a club in Kreuzberg "tooled up" unless you were police or Turkish!
 
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I never had any problem wandering around Kreuzberg...........nor felt the need to be 'tooled-up'......strange that
 
I never had any problem wandering around Kreuzberg...........nor felt the need to be 'tooled-up'......strange that
I once carried a screwdriver in Charlottenburg, but that's another story.
 
........ha! Fooled you, sometimes in Spandau I had a wooden bratty fork tipped with currywurst sauce - incidentally, I never found the ballet there, just a railway yard
 
Deary me, Dorky_Boy! You really are an extremely malignant little shit, aren’t you? You’re so obsessed with your mission to “discredit Bugsy at all costs” that you spend your precious time cruising the internet, desperatedly trying to find something you can (hopefully) use against me. And what came up in all those hours you spent looking? I misspelled Gisela’s surname almost four decades after we were an item. How totally fückin’ unhinged is that, eh? Just what exactly is wrong with you, mush?

Just what do you (hope to) gain from all your fanatical effort? More to the point: why is my life and what I've done any business of yours at all? Let me tell you, kiddo. Because you’re hopping mad, indignant and thoroughly outraged that I refuse to pay you the “rispeck” you feel I should be paying to you by right (because you are you and deserve it). You’re going out of your way to “prove” to others (on ARRSE) that you’re obviously “superior” to me by desperately attempting to discredit me wherever you can – even if you have to employ blatant untruths to accomplish it.

It’s a patently childish tactic based on: “Look what “X” does and what I don’t do!”. Your main problem with that, Dorky_Boy, seems to be that, until now, you’ve not even successfully managed to actually convince yourself of that fact (let alone others); which is why you continue with your irrational and strangely disturbing “campaign”. Have you ever actually contemplated just growing up, kid?

Anyway, I’ll indulge you and deliver a multitude of facts that will take you (or your equally deranged ARRSE vermin buddies) some time to research. Gisela and me. By the way, she’s five-foot-nine, in case you’re interested, Dorky-Boy.

How did we meet? I used to frequent a disco by the name of “SO36” in the Skalitzer Straße in the district of Kreuzberg, West Berlin. They played a mixture of punk and reggae there, and I’m a sucker for reggae. The disco regularly featured live punk and reggae bands from the UK. Brit squaddies discovered the place somewhere in the middle of 1979 and Joachim (Achim) Schächtle, one of the co-owners, and who knew I was ex-British Army, asked me to keep an eye on the lads. That wasn’t actually necessary, because they never caused any fuss, no matter how pissed they were. My friendship with Achim started when there was an Old Bill raid on SO36 (I’ve no idea why) and we both had to bang out of the nearby emergency-exit rather sharpish because we were both tooled up.

Sometime towards the end of 1979, SO36 featured a punk band called “The Warm Jets”. Apparently a couple of them were ex-members of “Cockney Rebel”. I don’t remember all that much about the group, just that the lead singer was a blonde fella with slicked-back hair called Paul and the lead guitarist was a Pole. Because the lads spoke no German, Achim asked me to be his interpreter for the three nights they were appearing. That caught the attention of Martin Kippenberger, a so-called “artist” who’d recently secured himself a stake in SO36. He (Kippenberger) decided to invite The Warm Jets to a restaurant on their second night and I tagged along as their interpreter. The whole party, consisting of about 20 of us, then repaired to Kippenberger’s gaff in Segitzdamm (I believe it was number 8, but I could be wrong there). That’s when I met Gisela Capitain.

Because I was rather, er, “intellectually detached” at the time, having helped to smoke the 20 grammes of solid I brought to the party, I declared myself unfit to drive and Gisela graciously offered me a place in her bed. That was the start of it.

Gisela’s parents were away for Christmas 1979, and so we celebrated together in Selb, the city of Gisela’s birth. Her father was apparently some sort of doodi at “Rosenthal Porzellan”, also based in Selb, Northern Hesse. I’ve no idea about Gisela’s mother or what she did for a living.

A few more facts for you to research, Dorky_Boy, in your relentless pursuit of the “superiority” you so passionately crave, but don’t actually have. But back to West Berlin! Kippenberger’s gaff was a commune at the time in question. That commune (again, at the time) comprised:

Martin Kippenberger. A real “wannabe” artist and total pain in the fückin’ arse, who had many contacts in the West Berlin art world at the time and used them to further his own, entirely self-centred, objectives. No-one knew where he had his money from. There were various guesses that he'd won the lottery at some point or was the beneficiary of an inheritance, but no-one knew for sure, including Gisela Capitain.

Gisela Capitain. A primary-school teacher when I got to know her. Her room in the Segitzdamm commune had swing-doors with windows in them, through which “interested parties” used to observe us shagging.

Hella Utesch. Hella was a contemporary (and good friend) of Claudia Skoda (she of the marvellous woollen jumpers) and specialised in producing leather items (jackets, waistcoats, trousers, etc) in accordance with the ancient Native American craft of joining the parts with thongs, and not with stiches. That gobshite Kippenberger once complained bitterly to me that he’d invested 20,000 Deutschmarks in Hella’s enterprise, but, at the time, hadn’t seen a “Pfennig” of profit.

Klaus Krüger. At the time I met him in Segitzdamm, he was the drummer for the German group “Tangerine Dream. He was mostly away on tours at the time Gisela and I were an item and I never got to really know him, apart from shagging on his bed.

OK, Dorky_Boy! Off you (or any of the ARRSE vermin) go! I’m really looking forward to what you (or the other gobshites) manage to dig up.

Wow! Diss gonnabee phon, indeed!

MsG
Bugsy, why did you lie about your mother?

Bugsy, why do you keep changing the amount of time you spent in East Germany?

Bugsy, why did you lie about your fathers time at home?

Bugsy, why don't you seek medical help for your constant attention seeking?
 
Deary me, Dorky_Boy! You really are an extremely malignant little shit, aren’t you? You’re so obsessed with your mission to “discredit Bugsy at all costs” that you spend your precious time cruising the internet, desperatedly trying to find something you can (hopefully) use against me. And what came up in all those hours you spent looking? I misspelled Gisela’s surname almost four decades after we were an item. How totally fückin’ unhinged is that, eh? Just what exactly is wrong with you, mush?

Just what do you (hope to) gain from all your fanatical effort? More to the point: why is my life and what I've done any business of yours at all? Let me tell you, kiddo. Because you’re hopping mad, indignant and thoroughly outraged that I refuse to pay you the “rispeck” you feel I should be paying to you by right (because you are you and deserve it). You’re going out of your way to “prove” to others (on ARRSE) that you’re obviously “superior” to me by desperately attempting to discredit me wherever you can – even if you have to employ blatant untruths to accomplish it.

It’s a patently childish tactic based on: “Look what “X” does and what I don’t do!”. Your main problem with that, Dorky_Boy, seems to be that, until now, you’ve not even successfully managed to actually convince yourself of that fact (let alone others); which is why you continue with your irrational and strangely disturbing “campaign”. Have you ever actually contemplated just growing up, kid?

Anyway, I’ll indulge you and deliver a multitude of facts that will take you (or your equally deranged ARRSE vermin buddies) some time to research. Gisela and me. By the way, she’s five-foot-nine, in case you’re interested, Dorky-Boy.

How did we meet? I used to frequent a disco by the name of “SO36” in the Skalitzer Straße in the district of Kreuzberg, West Berlin. They played a mixture of punk and reggae there, and I’m a sucker for reggae. The disco regularly featured live punk and reggae bands from the UK. Brit squaddies discovered the place somewhere in the middle of 1979 and Joachim (Achim) Schächtle, one of the co-owners, and who knew I was ex-British Army, asked me to keep an eye on the lads. That wasn’t actually necessary, because they never caused any fuss, no matter how pissed they were. My friendship with Achim started when there was an Old Bill raid on SO36 (I’ve no idea why) and we both had to bang out of the nearby emergency-exit rather sharpish because we were both tooled up.

Sometime towards the end of 1979, SO36 featured a punk band called “The Warm Jets”. Apparently a couple of them were ex-members of “Cockney Rebel”. I don’t remember all that much about the group, just that the lead singer was a blonde fella with slicked-back hair called Paul and the lead guitarist was a Pole. Because the lads spoke no German, Achim asked me to be his interpreter for the three nights they were appearing. That caught the attention of Martin Kippenberger, a so-called “artist” who’d recently secured himself a stake in SO36. He (Kippenberger) decided to invite The Warm Jets to a restaurant on their second night and I tagged along as their interpreter. The whole party, consisting of about 20 of us, then repaired to Kippenberger’s gaff in Segitzdamm (I believe it was number 8, but I could be wrong there). That’s when I met Gisela Capitain.

Because I was rather, er, “intellectually detached” at the time, having helped to smoke the 20 grammes of solid I brought to the party, I declared myself unfit to drive and Gisela graciously offered me a place in her bed. That was the start of it.

Gisela’s parents were away for Christmas 1979, and so we celebrated together in Selb, the city of Gisela’s birth. Her father was apparently some sort of doodi at “Rosenthal Porzellan”, also based in Selb, Northern Hesse. I’ve no idea about Gisela’s mother or what she did for a living.

A few more facts for you to research, Dorky_Boy, in your relentless pursuit of the “superiority” you so passionately crave, but don’t actually have. But back to West Berlin! Kippenberger’s gaff was a commune at the time in question. That commune (again, at the time) comprised:

Martin Kippenberger. A real “wannabe” artist and total pain in the fückin’ arse, who had many contacts in the West Berlin art world at the time and used them to further his own, entirely self-centred, objectives. No-one knew where he had his money from. There were various guesses that he'd won the lottery at some point or was the beneficiary of an inheritance, but no-one knew for sure, including Gisela Capitain.

Gisela Capitain. A primary-school teacher when I got to know her. Her room in the Segitzdamm commune had swing-doors with windows in them, through which “interested parties” used to observe us shagging.

Hella Utesch. Hella was a contemporary (and good friend) of Claudia Skoda (she of the marvellous woollen jumpers) and specialised in producing leather items (jackets, waistcoats, trousers, etc) in accordance with the ancient Native American craft of joining the parts with thongs, and not with stiches. That gobshite Kippenberger once complained bitterly to me that he’d invested 20,000 Deutschmarks in Hella’s enterprise, but, at the time, hadn’t seen a “Pfennig” of profit.

Klaus Krüger. At the time I met him in Segitzdamm, he was the drummer for the German group “Tangerine Dream. He was mostly away on tours at the time Gisela and I were an item and I never got to really know him, apart from shagging on his bed.

OK, Dorky_Boy! Off you (or any of the ARRSE vermin) go! I’m really looking forward to what you (or the other gobshites) manage to dig up.

Wow! Diss gonnabee phon, indeed!

MsG
Sounds legit.
 
like i say, i stay away from bunfights...and sorry, before i go on, the keyboard on this computer is right fucked...but this is as good a place as any to pose a few questions which continue to dog me.

ok, it's not that difficult to understand the underlying psychological problems behind walting, nor the fact that the military, and special forces in particular have a hypnotic attraction. reasons for doing it may vary from egomania, delusions of grandeur, schitzophrenia, ptsd or whatever it's called today, wanting to attract pussy, trying to con people out of money.....there are plenty. what i don't understand is that bearing in mind that 95 percent of walts are going to wither under even the lightest informed scrutiny, why the fuck do they choose to come on here of all places to indulge their obsession.....

i've eperienced someone like bugs in my social club in devon.....tony tornado...incessantly claimed to have been a tornado pilot despite not a single person believing him...but otherwise fairly normal. now, i'm not for a moment saying either he or bugs is normal, but how can people persist in delusions despite countless people blowing the cover....beyond me...drives me to drink...
 

DaManBugs

LE
Book Reviewer
It not only "sound legit", comrade! It is legit! I defy anyone to present any and/or all of their alleged " recriminations" against me. Just a thought.

MsG
 
It not only "sound legit", comrade! It is legit! I defy anyone to present any and/or all of their alleged " recriminations" against me. Just a thought.

MsG
Given your proven story telling over the past few years, I'd say the burden of proof is on you. In the mean time I'll chose not to believe a word you say.
 
like i say, i stay away from bunfights...and sorry, before i go on, the keyboard on this computer is right fucked...but this is as good a place as any to pose a few questions which continue to dog me.

ok, it's not that difficult to understand the underlying psychological problems behind walting, nor the fact that the military, and special forces in particular have a hypnotic attraction. reasons for doing it may vary from egomania, delusions of grandeur, schitzophrenia, ptsd or whatever it's called today, wanting to attract pussy, trying to con people out of money.....there are plenty. what i don't understand is that bearing in mind that 95 percent of walts are going to wither under even the lightest informed scrutiny, why the **** do they choose to come on here of all places to indulge their obsession.....

i've eperienced someone like bugs in my social club in devon.....tony tornado...incessantly claimed to have been a tornado pilot despite not a single person believing him...but otherwise fairly normal. now, i'm not for a moment saying either he or bugs is normal, but how can people persist in delusions despite countless people blowing the cover....beyond me...drives me to drink...
I grew up in one of the pubs in Ludgershall, where we had an excellent Walt. Let's call him Lee. Well, that was his name. Ex SAS (on the balcony, obv). Any conversation was dominated by how fast/brave/strong/fast/clever he was. As the beer went down, the lip went out, the elbows went out, and the bull just flowed out.

Funny thing, no-one called him out. The sport was to act impressed and see how outlandish the stories could get. It was his brother we felt sorry for; he used to sit on the bit of the bar by the window going beetroot and looking visibly embarrassed.

Funny thing, we had a WWI vet who was missing an arm and an eye, and a chap by the name of George 'Dusty' Miller MM who was an ex parachute regiment RSM who'd served in Normandy as regulars.

Lee? He was a welder in REME who'd been SNLR'd for being a tit, and couldn't seem to hold on to a job.

Edited to add: Lee's appearance was the most comic thing of all. He was as thin as a pencil with a huge ginger afro. He looked like a malnourished version of Charlie Chuck.
 
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It not only "sound legit", comrade! It is legit! I defy anyone to present any and/or all of their alleged " recriminations" against me. Just a thought.

MsG
You lie about lots of things, why should anyone believe you now?
 

DaManBugs

LE
Book Reviewer
Given your proven story telling over the past few years, I'd say the burden of proof is on you. In the mean time I'll chose not to believe a word you say.
Hey, Murf's_Whore, take it easy, fella. No burden on me, but rather on those who "accuse me". Nuff sedd.

MsG
 
[My bold in your post] I presume you mean me with your question about living in the GDR
Why do you imagine it is all about you? It didn't mention you, there was no lying or fantasy involved so why on earth would you think it was about you?

Ah, got it... because you weren't the centre of attention you made a pathetic 'look at me, look at me, please sir look at me' lunge for a little desperately sought after attention.

How many months did you actually reside in the GDR? The truth this time even if it is different to your previous multifarious claims / lies.
 

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