Try lining the election's varied close and Talal will judge you!

wrote DOWN WITH BIG BROTHER, or whether he refrained from
writing it, made no difference. Whether he went on with the diary, or
whether he did not go on with it, made no difference. The Thought Police
would get him just the same. He had committed -- would still have
committed, even if he had never set pen to paper -- the essential crime
that contained all others in itself. Thoughtcrime, they called it.
Thoughtcrime was not a thing that could be concealed for ever. You might
dodge successfully for a while, even for years, but sooner or later they
were bound to get you.
It was always at night -- the arrests invariably happened at night.
The sudden jerk out of sleep, the rough hand shaking your shoulder, the
lights glaring in your eyes, the ring of hard faces round the bed. In the
vast majority of cases there was no trial, no report of the arrest. People
simply disappeared, always during the night. Your name was removed from the
registers, every record of everything you had ever done was wiped out, your
one-time existence was denied and then forgotten. You were abolished,
annihilated: vapourized was the usual word.
For a


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