Comrades!

In contrast to the day of the Lord, which, it is said, shall come like a thief in the night, the Turtle prefers to adopt the tactics of Janet Reno's federal agents, bursting through the gates at dawn and armed to the teeth -- yet still managing to speak softly and persuasively as we wish you all a very happy May Day. As ever, International Workers' Day remains the Turtle's favourite public holiday; indeed, our fondness for the irreducibly Gregorian 1 May festivities must mark the limit of our commitment to the French Republican Calendar, whose other virtues we so tirelessly trumpet.

The Turtle has been quietly studious this month, publishing a few valuable words. A trio of new articles adorn our pages: Raj Patel has skewered the media coverage of April's World Bank protests in Washington DC; Dave Renton mourns the passing of Tony Cliff; and James Murphy tests the boundary between revisionism and reaction with his interesting discussion of how good things really are in Britain these days, despite the fact that everyone feels miserable.

Some people, however, do go too far, and British Home Secretary Jack Straw's intervention on the opinion pages of The Guardian last week is a case in point. Straw tried to claim that a suitable way of honouring the memory of Bernie Grant was to press full steam ahead with New Labour's distasteful immigration and asylum policies. "It's what Bernie, I think, would have wished", he wrote, words which secure him the Second Voice of the Turtle Comrade of the Month award for May 2000. These accolades give recognition to the Heroes of the Counter-Revolution, those who delight in tugging at the loose threads of the magnificent tapestries our Stakhanovites labour to weave.

There is no new Stakhanovite of the Month this month, alas, but we do carry over to the new month our endorsement of Ken Livingstone in London's Mayoral Election, and we urge those of you who are able to cast your ballots for Red Ken. And when that election is out of the way, and when Palash Davé's film is broadcast on Channel Four on May 11 (plug, plug), we promise to refocus our attention on international issues, ending our recent and slightly disproportionate preoccupation with parochial matters British. To help with this adjustment, the Turtle's Chelonian Salute goes out this month to the G77 Summit recently held in Havana, whose Declaration we shall shortly be posting on the site, and which we urge you to study with care.

Once again, this month's Superstructural activities have been complemented with new instruments of agitation within the Turtle's technological Base. The Turtle has a new toy that enables us to see exactly how people have arrived at the site, and what they do there. We're surprised, for instance, at the popularity of our e-edition of the Port Huron Statement in the Library of the Turtle. Others, however, arrive at our door with altogether different expectations. Yahoo has referred surfers looking for "bras front opening", "upper body strength", and "sex schoolboy". Fortunate was the visitor who was looking for "Cicciolina Porn" and found a pathway to satisfaction in Martin O'Neill's classic essay, "Motorways, Modernism and Matchplay".

With that happy thought, we sign off for another month with the usual encouragement to supply whatever dark, lustful and faintly left-wing thoughts are scurrying round your dirty little minds. The Turtle is very happy to print erotica masquerading as polemic, vice-versa, and anything in between, as well as the usual mixture of Articles, Dictionary Entries &c. And it is high time we published another batch of Book Reviews. As well as soundbites for the Adage Archive and nominations for our Salutes, we're also now looking out for new pillars of reaction to hails as our Comrades of the Month, so please send in any stomach-churning soundbites from the right that cross your path. Our subscription list continues to swell, more and more are flocking to our banner, and so, with the certainty of the impending revolution in our hearts, and fairly-traded caffeine coursing through our veins, we cry out --

Avanti popolo!

The Editors of the Turtle