Broadsword Calling Danni Boy

Shopping....Fu***ng Shopping – Solving the Debt Crisis

2011-03-28T22:31:00.006+01:00

Hi, Both (or All, depending on whether you see three makes a crowd and I've had a 50% increase in readership)You’ll be aware by now that there's a somewhat parlous time ahead for the majority of the populace vis-a-vis the present monetary crisis that is hitting all developed countries; the populace in undeveloped countries have had this situation since, well, forever really, so I guess they don’t know the difference and thereby don’t count...so that’s alright then ("Ha, Doris! We'll make a Conservative voter out of you yet!"). One of my comforters that has taken the place of the thumb I suck at night in order to get to sleep in my present concerned state as to where the next penny is coming from, has been the knowledge, in the words of our past Prime Minister, Gordon Brown, that those in power ‘feel our pain’; that and the considered words of our present Chancellor of the Exchequer, George Osbourne, when he told us....in all seriousness mind.... that we were, ‘all in this together’; bless.... I’ll bet all of the present government as well as all those millionaire supporters of theirs and the self-styled ‘captains of industry’ on wrecking bonuses all lie awake nights fretting over whether to use their remaining money to pay the gas bill, the rent or for the kids school meals.

So, it may come as surprise to some that the retailers, those folk who own the shops on our high street, had a bit of a moan about the drop in sales over Christmas and how they'd been hoping that the January/February sales might have allowed them to recoup a little of this ‘lost revenue’. This is, of course, a yearly bleat that we hear; never enough sold; never enough profit made; "Oh, woe, woe, thrice woe....! etc..."...move on.... Now, there are several things that come out of this and are worthy of comment (don’t worry, I’m only going to address three of them; relax) and they are below, however I would just like to say that our illustrious and gently scented Chancellor (he of the name Osbourne) confirmed much about his ability to be in his present post, together with his level of understanding of the people of this country and their plight, when he announced not long ago that a significant factor, in fact the overriding factor he quoted in the interview he gave, was that the British people had not spent so much money at Christmas ‘because of the weather’. So the fact that the money they'd put away into pension funds had been squandered by the city boys (that fuckin' arch bastard 'Cap'n Bob for one) that the banks were guilty of a level of robbery that would put the Brinks Mat gang to shame, that the level of unemployment was over 2 million and was set to rise significantly after the full impact of the shit we were in as a country was spelled out in the budget, and just how deep the cuts allied to that were going to be (and we all knew that wrist-slashing depth wasn’t even in it) that besides the fact their savings were reduced in value overnight and that every and all cost of living, food, water, gas, electric, VAT, fuel.....that it was ‘the weather’ which had stopped them spending. Hmmmm…..thanks for that, Georgie-Boy....

Disregarding the lunatic Osbourne’s statement just for a moment, with all my listed poo hitting the propeller at one-and-the-same-time, you’d think that shopping would be the last thing on most people’s minds, as indeed it was. Over the Christmas period, folk sort of cut back on the expenditure and, ergo, the shopkeepers complained about the lack of sales... Now, and as with every Christmastime (which starts in about September here in the good ole’ U of K...just as, when I went into the local M&S in January – 20th to be exact – they had the hanging boards, pop-up-cardboard cut-outs and frippery in place and pushing Easter) after the glut of gimmickry thrust at the populace is deemed to have sold insufficiently to fill-the till, the 'SALES' started, only this year there was an edge to it as the pre-sales-sales were pissy according to the sellers and manufacturers, and this (at last) brings me to the thrust of this chat.

What I fail to work out, just as I’ve yet to understand how a 250,000 ton steel warship can float or a 200 ton metal airplane can fly, is why the article in the shop, which before Christmas was worth £250, can, in the space of three days, now only be worth £75? OK, OK, I’m confused; let’s break it down.

The price is irrelevant, as is the article’s pedigree. It can be anything; a dress, a pair of shoes, a board game, a car, whatever. In all these things there’s either a fair price to pay for it or not. I mean, c’mon, EVERYONE involved in this article’s manufacture, sales, advertising, packaging, ALL of them will have costed in their profit margin; that’s the first thing they do. So, when VAT, the various profit levels, transport, shipping and storage costs have been worked out, accounted for and added together to give a retail price and the seller can offer that article, which they originally offered for £250, for £75 and, seemingly, still make a profit (a fair profit 'cos let's face it they never sell anything and not make a profit) then what's £250; daylight robbery, possibly? Is £250 a fair price to pay for this article and everyone make a reasonable living off'f its manufacture and sale or is the article overpriced and are you all a bunch of greedy buggers? Discuss. If and article priced at £250 can be sold for £75 and a profit still made then don't charge two-hundred-and-fifty quid for it; charge seventy-fuckin'-five!

I’m sure that no one involved in this article’s construction and eventual sale, in its elements of design and eventual arrival on the shelf, I’m sure none of them lost out, so how come, when it was £250 two days ago (one of which, Christmas Day no less, was not a day that calculations could have been gone in to and a realistic price arrived at for the 'SALE', so that means the 'SALE' price had been agreed several days before this....so...?...why wasn't it sold at that price then....? I'm getting confused.....sorry) I mean, how can a £250 article now be off the shelf, after just two days, for £75? That’s a loss of £175 on the original price! Now, I’m not a retail expert (“You don’t say, Doris?!”) but I don’t know of a high street shop, manufacturer or shipper that could withstand that sort of percentage loss for more than a week before going out of business. So, what this boils down to is that someone, somewhere is making a killing on everything we buy...ah, I'm catching on.....so that’s as in ‘everything’...so, taking the ‘SALE’ ideology to its natural conclusion, everything is overpriced and could be sold at a far more realistic price if only (as with most things in life) if there weren’t a queue of greedy fuckers in the line that is. In a fair democracy this would be the way forward...but we aren’t in a fair democracy in the UK; haven’t been for what seems like forever. The interviewed factory owners try and fool us into believing that they are all "just" making a living, "scraping by" and asking a fair price for their goods but, as with you, I guess, my sense of cynicism gallops to the fore with a “Yeah? Fair for who? Who’s making the profit on gold mined, cloth woven, steel manufactured…? Not the poor sods at the arse-end of the chain, that’s for sure."

Fairness would say; OK. People shied away from it when it was at its full price yet queue up to buy it in the sale...erm... Thinks; "This must give everyone involved in the article’s lifeline a very good idea of the article’s worth that would still allow us to make a fair profit. So, if we price the article at this sale level at the outset then we’d shift more ‘units’ wouldn’t we...and so our turnover would be the greater and we’d make more money, wouldn’t we? Then the manufacturing industries involved in the article’s creation (mine) would boast fuller employment because more units were being sold at a fair profit, wouldn’t they? The people that work in these industries (my workers) would have safer employment futures, wouldn’t they? So, they could earn more money than if they were having to be supported by the state or go on the streets begging or selling their bodies; they'd be making me more profit through the number of fair-priced articles I'd be selling....and if they were making more money they too would go out and buy other articles produced by other manufacturers, me included, as long as the price was fair....!!!!!!!"

Fuck me, I've solved the problems of the manufacturing world, unemployment and global poverty in one go; pay people a fair and living wage for their work and charge the people a fair price for the goods they buy......wha-hey!!!!................... Or am I missing something?

Bugger; yup, I am. First up is those involved at the final profit end of the mark-up chain i.e. US, the high street folk, together with the councils who charge the rent and rates for the premises being willing to take less in profit...(you know, buying only three bottles of scotch for the week rather than four; that sort of deprivation...?)Yup, the aggravating section from this, admittedly over simplification of the way manufacturing and fiscal policies are run globally at present, is our good old 21st century friend; greed. Gotta have the yacht, the speedboat, the seats at Monaco, the tickets to the…whatever, and so it goes on. Amazing the number of people who make money from just having money and fuckin' the rest of us over, aint it……….?

No resolution to problems here, folks, just a general confusion as to the status quo and how the riots in London over the week-end ain’t gonna change a thing; really, trust me, I know ‘bout these things. Anarchy is just another way of grabbing an unfair share of what’s available, trashing it and scrubbing out anyone else that gets in the way of that goal; greed and capitalism by another name; definitely not democracy. Be very afraid of stupid people in large numbers, folks.

Byee…..!

The Great British Forest Sell-Off

2011-02-14T20:55:00.000Z

Ha! Just when you thought it was safe to come out the toilet.......or to come out....? Yes, yes, I know, "My God, Doris, where the hell have you been?!" I'd just like to say, in my defence, that I've been really, really, really busy; honest; I have. I've published my first novel (Ladies of the Shire) completed the second draft of my next (The Quarry) productiona managed two theatre shows and performed in one, so I'd be grateful for a little leeway on this....thank you....
As you, all my many millions of readers (?) know, I tend to make infrequent visits to this blog-site, but only because it usually takes a significant event to rally me to comment. I'm like the majority of 'ordinary joe's' out in the normal world; I get on with what I have to do and, providing I don't, "Bump into the set and dressing or wave to anyone in the audience" I reckon the day has been a success. However, there have been a couple of things going on that have rattled the bars of my particular cage. One is to do with things 'theatrical' and will be the subject of a second blog in the next week..."Oy-vey! Lie down, take a Seltzer,Peter!" The other is one of urgency and I felt the need to share it with you in the hope that it'll, a) amuse you. b) feed you with information. c) cause you to follow it up and respond too. OK. Background.
The British Government is on the verge of selling off large tracts of forest to "interested parties" and 38Degrees (website) is opposing this and organising a petition. Things are moving apace and the signing of the petition is well into the 5m. There has also been a larger than average postbag at the local MP's office and I thought I'd share my correspondence with my MP (Andrew George - Lib-Dem) so that you can see BRITISH DEMOCRACY AT WORK! Read on, have patience and I'll keepyou all (?) informed as to the progress......

My first E-mail: -

We are writing to you to register our displeasure and to say how disappointed we were to discover you had not supported the vote against selling off English forests. You have no mandate from the people to take this step but it is now seemingly a "policy", a policy not mentioned in either the election manifesto or the coalition agreement made by either the Conservative or Liberal Democrat parties; this smacks of a buy-off for support granted.
The forests are not one of the government's personal assets to be traded and sold to the highest bidder, and you have no right to sell off our country by the slice to the interested few; a few who's only interest is how much they can make on the deal. Conglomerates, large institutions and foreign investors will be the main purchasers and we will be presented with a list of companies who wish to control large tracts of land for their own, often questionable ends; selling the woodland off as building plots (already happened in Surrey and Norfolk) closing off access with spurious "health and safety" orders placed on them (which is another word for allowing the woodland free-reign to choke off bridle and footpaths). The management of woodland takes time and expertise, something that is already available in the present system (talk about re-inventing the wheel). It also takes money of which we are sure the vast majority of English people would be happy to part with (in fact already do) in order to maintain the status-quo....but of course, your government, not having had the courtesy to consult the people about this major step...well, you wouldn't know, would you? It would also seem the present thinking on the cost-benefits of the sell-off would cost more than it would accrue (and in these 'straitened times' that seems very much like poor fiscal-management skills).
We therefore register our feelings on this matter in the strongest possible fashion that democracy allows by assuring you that, should this measure go through it will be the very last time we will register support for your party through the ballot box. We look forward to reading your response and seeing it matched by action.

Doris

Short-Concise-To-The-Point....huh?
Andrew George's secretary's reply: -

Dear Friend,
Thank you for contacting me about the Government's recently published proposals which are out for consultation until Thursday 21st April this year. You also asked about an Opposition debate put forward by the Labour Party in Parliament on 2nd February 2011.
That debate didn't end in a vote to decide whether or not to sell off the Forestry Estate. It was merely an ill timed (though politically opportunistic) debate on whether a Government consultation should continue until its conclusion in a couple of months time.
In fact, I was surprised that neither the Labour Party, nor those who had been campaigning about the consultation proposals said much about Government plans announced last autumn to sell off approximately one fifth of its Estate (40,000 hectares of the 200,000 hectares it owns (the Forestry Commission also leases 58,000 hectares)) on the same basis - i.e. with fewer restrictions - as the Labour Government had sold off parts of the Estate throughout the period of the last Government.
As you are so concerned about the Government's proposals, I attach a copy of the consultation document (in case you have not already obtained one). You can respond to the consultation online by going to http://www.forestry.gov.uk/england-pfeconsultation. I would very much appreciate it if you were kind enough to send me a copy of the response which you prepare by the deadline. I will also prepare a response which reflects the views which are put to me by constituents regarding the consultation.
I should also point out that although the Liberal Democrats are in Coalition Government, there are no Liberal Democrat MPs appointed to Ministerial positions in the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs. However, I am the Liberal Democrat's lead on DEFRA matters and therefore seek to work with DEFRA Ministers as closely as possible, and in order to seek a more acceptable approach to policy coming from this Department.
In respect of the consultation proposals I thought it might help if I set out some background to the policy. I am sure that you will have read that the Government believes that the Forestry Commission are 'conflicted' because it is both the regulator of as well as a major producer of timber in this country.
To reduce that potential conflict of interest, the Government is consulting on proposals to lease parcels of the whole Estate, where such a model would maintain the management of the woodland whilst protecting the public interest. Where possible charities and local communities or enterprises with innovative ideas to make best use of the nation’s woodland will be given an opportunity to take on the role of managing local woodland. This will give individuals, organisations and local authorities a much bigger role in protecting and enhancing their local forests.
Around 70% of the Country's woodland is privately owned. The Forestry Commission controls 18%. The Government's consultation proposes a long-term managed programme of reform enabling the Forestry Commission to make better use of its extensive experience and allowing those who live closest to our forests greater powers to protect them.
As proposed in the consultation document, the forests owned by the Forestry Commission will not be sold off to the highest bidder but leased. Community and charitable ownership will be encouraged. Where that is impractical the Estate would remain in public ownership. Leases would contain robust access, public benefit, historic rights and biodiversity conditions, including access rights for cyclists and horse-riders. Heritage forests, like the New Forest and the Forest of Dean will be protected, for example, by permitting their transfer to charitable trusts, if that proves feasible.
The bottom line must be, as many suggest, that the essential role that forests play in British life is retained. Ministers have sought to emphasise that these plans would not lead to a free-for-all of golf courses and housing developments. If the Government presses ahead with this after the consultation, priority should be given to environmental trusts and local communities to secure these forests and then work to protect their local environment, and not private companies making irreparable changes.
It is also important to note that the proposals include measures to prevent any diluting of the current safeguards protecting forest and woodland; including the protection of biodiversity and laws relating to replanting. Proposals for development would of course still require planning permission and licenses will still be required from the Forestry Commission when planning to fell more than five cubic metres of growing trees.
Following a number of inaccurate reports in the media, the Labour Party chose to call a debate on the Government's policy on forestry on a date when they knew the Government had only just launched its proposals for consultation which it could not bring to an abrupt halt. Whilst they were taking the full opportunity to criticise the Government for its consultation, by contrast, over the last thirteen years Labour sold off 25,000 acres of woodland with barely any protection and sought to go even further in finding ways to exploit the forestry estate for commercial gain as recently as 2009.
The vote taken was therefore inconsequential. The consultation should continue and I strongly advise you to respond, but to also use it as an opportunity to raise questions about the 40,000 hectares of forest announced for sale last autumn and which, as you will see on page 13, is not part of the consultation!
Finally, as you may already be aware, the Government has announced a significant tree planting campaign which will see one million extra trees planted across England - especially in urban and suburban areas - in the next four years; the first of its kind since the 1970s. The campaign will be carried out by the Government and the Forestry Commission and will bring together charities and conservation organisations, such as The Tree Council, Woodland Trust and Trees for Cities.
Thank you for raising this matter with me and I look forward to receiving your comments and response to the consultation.
With good wishes.

Yours sincerely,

Hm.....Long-Rambling-And-Sometime-Difficult-To-Follow
My Second E-mail reply: -

Dear Ms. ,
Thank you for your prompt reply to my E-mail which covered my deep concern over your Government’s arbitrary decision to sell off the nation’s forests; I trust I can reply in detail as you have done?
Contrary to your information, though not, seemingly, to your electronically generated reply’s information, I did not ask about an Opposition debate put forward by the Labour Party in Parliament on 2nd February 2011; mainly because I had no knowledge of it; thank you for that. I, too, was surprised that neither the Labour Party, nor those who had been campaigning about the consultation proposals, said much about Government plans announced last autumn to sell off approximately one fifth of its Estate on the same basis as the present incumbents’; secrecy and lack of disseminated information to the people is not the sole preserve of the present coalition methinks. I would guess the reason you introduced this subject was to be able to take an uninvited stab at the Opposition, as if, because I'm calling into question your motives and mandate that I'm somehow a Labour supporter. That's very ‘opportunistic’ of you...and wrong as it happens; after many years of watching all colours of government in action, I have a very, very jaundiced view of them all.
That the Labour Government has sold off parts of ‘our’ estate throughout the period of their last period in Government is beside the point. ANY government seeking to sell off large areas of woodland to outside, private interests, woodland that is welded to this country’s history and its people, would have received the same response from me, and I suspect from the vast majority of right-thinking people, as your policy suggestion has done...but only after we were informed of it. As intimated above, I was unaware of this fact (thank you once again for bringing it to my attention) and can only requote my feelings about the operation of secrecy and subterfuge that all governments operate under as the reason for my laxity in following it up. I can only comment on what I am informed of; my not responding until now only advertises that fact....oh, and “two wrongs....” etc probably apply here too). I would also add that you are seeking to make illusion (talking about the best way to proceed with a policy that has no mandate) seem more real than reality by this subterfuge.
Your phrase, “I should also point out that although the Liberal Democrats are in Coalition Government, there are no Liberal Democrat MPs appointed to Ministerial positions in the Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs” is also beside the point. You cannot evade the issue with such childish approaches as “it’s not my fault, they told me to do it”; you are IN GOVERMENT and no amount of sidestepping and wriggling will disassociate you from that fact nor stop you from being welded to the decisions taken. As far as I am aware from your published manifesto, and that of the Conservative party too, there is no mandate, no consultation and no policy announced in these documents concerning this opportunistic and underhand effort to ‘make a few quid’ by flogging off the nation’s woodland. Furthermore, were I a believer in political dishonesty, it would seem to look like payback for ‘services rendered’ to the rich and powerful who supported your ascent up the greasy pole. You were voted into office on your manifesto, as was the Conservative party and this woodland sell-off was not on it so, enough of the bleating, please.
Your paragraph about possible conflict of interest is as interesting as it is duplicitous. The Forestry Commission has been the regulator of, as well as a major producer of, timber in this country for YEARS. How come, all of a sudden it has become such a "pressing case"? Explanation, please. Conflict over what? The Forestry Commission is a government body; are we implying that there is a possible conflict of interest with the Ministers and Civil Servants involved in the running of this organisation? And if here, of other organisations too...? Surely not... Furthermore, your saying there is a conflict of interest doesn't mean that there is one. Why was it that the diligence, research and foresight to uncover this “conflict of interest” you flag up now, after only a few months in office, was sadly lacking for twenty years and was only uncovered after diligence, research and foresight by the ‘Daily Telegraph’ and resulted in the “Expenses Scandal.”? There is no need to re-invent the wheel by the ‘Government consulting on proposals to lease parcels of the whole Estate, where such model would maintain the management of the woodland whilst protecting the public interest’. The public interest is served now, with the forests belonging to the country, and ipso-fact its people as a whole, and not to selected parties. How it is run and operated may have some room for improvement, but much of what you propose will be to throw out the baby with the bath-water and doing it without a mandate from the people.
You say that ‘Where possible, charities and local communities or enterprises with innovative ideas’ will be given an opportunity to take on the role of managing local woodland.’ The proviso here is that statement’s opener; ‘Where possible...’ Who decides this? Ministers? Not acceptable, not if you want to avoid a 'conflict of interest'. And why do we need innovative ideas for what is already a rich environment? Why can't something just be wonderful for its naturalness? This constant striving for everything to be innovative, exciting, thrilling.... The very beauty and pleasure is in the woodland’s history and connection with the land and its people, in its very naturalness if you like; pleasure does not need the word "park" after it to become wonderful. Our woodland is rich because it is real, not bent, twisted and manufactured to become a parody of reality; reality is OK, trust me on that. All you have to do is put in the correct funds (that’s your job as a government) stop tinkering with it; leave it to those who understand it and our woodland will continue to be in fine fettle. They may not house the serried ranks of timber that those in Whitehall want to see (one of the reasons they cannot be trusted with its management) the rows of timber whose 'value' can be assessed, ready-reckoned, have a price put on it per capita hour of human input required to gain the best price for it; turned into pleasure parks where the natural environment (emphasis on 'natural' here) instead of being a catalyst for reflection and personal development becomes a fractured and twisted reflection of reality. Our woodland environment and its diversity is the very reason why it should be allowed, wherever possible and suitable, to grow at its own pace so that change within it is gradual and not enforced; that the species living within it also get time to adapt to changes and develop at a pace to suit them, their surroundings and so guarantee their continued survival. Where this is not possible, sensitive felling and replanting should be undertaken....oh...er...much like we have now, in fact. Nature thrives in a level of chaos, this is what gives its inhabitants the space and place to grow, diversify and develop and along with that, the people of this country have an historic affinity with their forests and woodland. Your ill-thought-out 'policy with no mandate' gives us a direct line through to the enclosures act of 1750 and onward where the division of land was in favour of the rich and powerful and denied the people of this country a fair share of its bounty.
To your statement, ‘Around 70% of the Country's woodland is privately owned. The Forestry Commission controls 18%. The Government's consultation proposes a long-term managed programme of reform enabling the Forestry Commission to make better use of its extensive experience and allowing those who live closest to our forests greater powers to protect them.’ I can only say; “What are you talking about?” Explanation please.
All of the facts in your statement about ‘leases containing robust access, public benefit, historic rights and biodiversity conditions, including access rights for cyclists and horse-riders’ we have in place already...so, we’re now proposing to re-invent the reinvention of the wheel, an excellent use of government time and money; our woodlands play an essential role in British life as it is. That you truly and honestly believe that, ‘Ministers have sought to emphasise that these plans would not lead to a free-for-all of golf courses and housing developments’ is also a deeply troubling statement. If you honestly believe that, then you should not be in government. Do you honestly mean to tell me that, if an owner of a tract of land, an owner who had supported the Conservative or Lib-Dem government to the tune of millions to get them into government in the first place and who wanted to fell areas of woodland, or shut them up to general access and build log cabins for holiday-makers, do you honestly think that government would step in and stop them? On past record (education, health, pensions, the Conservative Government's treatment of the miners, votes for sale, Lords for sale, ministers second-jobbing and acting as 'consultants' and 'lobbyists' for the very people who have a vested interest in the passing of certain laws and the delaying of others, the expenses scandal) you are not to be trusted with the care of our major institutions. And you have no need to ‘press ahead with this after the consultation’ as you have no mandate from the people, so this begs the question; “Why do you want to change it? There's something rotten in the state of Denmark, methinks. So far you have proved one thing only; that you are spending tax-payers money on re-inventing the re-invention of the re-invention of the wheel and I also repeat, whenever this 'policy' had come to light and in whatever political party guise, it would have been resisted vigorously. Yes, your tree-planting ‘announcement’ is OK; we’ll give it credence when it’s actually achieved, but, so? What do you want, a round of applause? Just for doing your job? OK, well, well-done, but don't think this is anything special. This is what you should be doing; safeguarding our nation, its people, their history and their legacy. You are our government and should be the guardians of our heritage and well-being, not preparing to sell off these precious national assets to the highest bidder as you have done and are doing with health and education.
Thank you for offering me the opportunity to respond to the consultation. I will, rest assured. What you have to understand is that the people can only respond to information given them. The subterfuge and smoke-screen diplomacy that has gone on in this move to sell forests only gives credence to the belief that ALL politicians are deceitful and untrustworthy, not true, I'm sure but the feeling is that they hide the truth behind a false reality and only allow sifted information to get through, that they speak of half-conversations as fact; and I think I may not be alone in this belief...?
Thank you again for your interest in my E-mail. I await your considered reply to this one with interest and anticipation.

Yours sincerely,

Doris

Let them send an electronically produced reply to that little sucker....

See you soon......Byeeee!

The Beautiful Game

2010-02-16T23:15:00.001Z

I, like most others in our country I guess, have found it hard to escape from the revelations, tearful partings and kiss-and-tell rumours (and a level of panic akin to an impending invasion by a superior force) concerning the alleged sexual antics, hedonism and alleged greed of the England Captain (now ex-) John Terry.

I ought to declare an interest (or lack of) from the outset: - I’m not a football lover; there, I’ve said it....whew, what a relief...!...although I used to be a very keen follower, so not quite outside the loop, I guess. I’m a Wolverhampton boy, born-and-bred (“So what did you have to be ‘a very keen follower’ of then, Doris?”) and like so many of my council-house pals, I was a regular attendee at the Molineux football ground, home of Wolverhampton Wanderers....yes, I know, “There on your own then were you?” Thank you, heard it all before, thank you... I was a scaff-bar-leaner in the Cow Shed end, took my first girl-friend there to watch a match....romantic or what....and you wonder why the relationship never lasted? That Cow Shed end is now, I believe, the away supporters end, the end near the ring-road, dual carriageway, oh; you probably all know where I mean far better than I do.

Anyway, my time was during the careers of folk like Stan Cullis, Billy Wright, Malcolm Finlayson, the irrepressible Eddie “Chopper” Clamp and games against Spartak Moscow and Honved of Hungary (was Puskas in that team? Would be happy for folk to tell me) and the winning of the league in 58. A move away from Wolves in the early 60’s (63 I think, to Brum of all places, home of arch rivals Birmingham City and West Bromwich!) when I was about 13 or so sort of curtailed my ability to attend Wolves matches as often as I used to. Then rock-and-roll bands (I was a pro-drummer, so now you can work out why I was mad enough to support Wolves) and “girls” came onto the horizon and my footie attendance rate dropped in direct relation to my rising libido. I did pick it up again at the turn of the decade (football, not my libido, you understand) but stopped going when the thugs and tossers took over in the mid 70’s, and although I’ve held an interest in Wolves’ fame and fortune over the passing years (often mis-fortune it has to be said, but, good or bad seasons, you take your home team on warts and all in my view) I have to say that I’m less than their number-one fan and indeed of football in general. My other great sporting love is cricket and you only have to have followed the roller-coaster ride that is supporting the England cricket team over the past ten years to fully understand how I could possibly still be willing to raise a shout for Wolves!

Well, to cut to the chase, I read, with interest, a couple of articles, both in the Independent, one of them by a chap who is a Crystal Palace supporter (I apologise profusely for not being able to recall your name but suffice to say that you’ll know who you are and it was a really well-written article...unlike this rambling discourse; oh, and belated (very) congrats on the game against Wolves that figured prominently in your article by the way. By all descriptions it was a top game and, win or lose, I massage my defeat-face with the knowledge that it takes two teams to make a memorable fixture...and there’s always the next time). Your article discussed, amongst other things, the merits of what football is to the people who follow a team and how the John Terry debacle has skewed the landscape somewhat.

I differ from the thrust of your article here for, in my opinion, football’s landscape has been on a severe tilt for the past 40 years and the concomitant loss of direction and integrity is and was totally and entirely predictable. I can remember all too well the late Danny Blanchflower saying in a radio interview, “The day they take the ceiling off player’s wages will spell the end of football as we know it.” Funny how those inconsequential statements stick in the memory and come back to haunt you, aint it? Anyhow, I reckon he got it just about right and we’re not just talking wages here....although, come to think, it’s a good place to start, but you have to detach yourself, stand outside of it all in order to see the obscenity of such largesse.

I think that was the one thing that startled me in the C.P. article I’m discussing, and I mean ‘genuinely startled me’, and yet the line was written with such innocence;

“The average weekly wage of a Premier League footballer is £23,000”.

I’m showing my naivety here, I know, but I had to go back and read that line another twice and then I still didn’t get it (I can hear the chants of “Who are you?” ringing out now). Even after two re-reads I still thought it was a misprint.....honestly, I did. I even texted a friend (I work in theatre, on the technical side, touring and such) and, if I remember right, I texted the quote then added something along the lines of, “...Even with 35 years theatre experience I can still only make just above the national minimum wage...fucking hell; how could I have got it so wrong?” It’s not that I begrudge them the pay-packet, honest, I don’t, and I, much like you I guess, would take the money and run, but... £23,000.... per week... average pay!!!!!! Jesus! And then we learn that Mr. Terry was making X million in sponsorship deals AND prepared to let his V.I.P. box at the ground out for a price... It’s an old song of mine, as those of you who read my irregular blog (who am I kidding?) will recognise, but I’ll sing it again; how much more than everything can you possibly want? Anyhow, back to more cerebral things.

What I am sure of is that John Terry isn’t an intrinsically bad man (I bet he’ll be so pleased to realise that I think so well of him, make his day, I’ll bet?!?!) just as George Best, Paul Gascoine, Eric Cantona, Zidane Zinadine or Maradonna weren’t intrinsically bad men.......oh, ok, stretching it a bit with that last one; sorry, but the rest still stand, and the reasons are known to us all. What footballers have is levels of expectation resting on their shoulders that would crush mere mortals such as us, much of it self-sought and self-inflicted I have to say.

They kick off with the thousands of fans that follow both them and the team, and who expect a win at every game...that’s ‘every game’. They have a level of pay that far outweighs their worth, and in many cases the ability to manage such sums ‘well’ and ‘sensibly’ is lacking too (yes, I know, ‘a cliché, Doris’; still a fact though by ANY measure and if you can’t see that then it’s about time you averted your eyes from the mirror and took a look around). They have a gang of corporate fucktresses (a sponsor by any other name) leaning on their every word, milking and bleeding them to remain corporately on-message, and which the individual players willingly go along with because, after all, £23,000 a week is so little to manage on, isn’t it? They have a posse of whoremongers (PR people) who monitor their every facial expression, nuanced comment and social observance and are ready with cover-up story, excuse and reason at the drop of every bollock, and a gang of hangers-on to fetch drinks, girls, coke, cars, whatever, and a group of calques who laugh loudest, “WOW” with most gusto and who, under normal circumstances, would drive anybody of even average intellect to distraction (am I the only person to believe that, the moment some arse in the audience begins to whoop out loud, the event switches from “wonderful artistic/sporting endeavour” to “ALL ABOUT ME!”?). These players are followed at every twist and turn of their lives by an army of reporters, spenders, hookers, tossers, pushers, pullers, good-timers, coke-liners, freeloaders, miscreants, sycophants, gofers, echo-chambers, whiners, chimers, chanters and wankers, all of them watching this individual walk the tightrope of THEIR dreams but the vast majority of them unwilling to hold the safety net too tight...because that’s what we want isn’t it? We want our heroes to be fallible and fall otherwise we can never aspire to be them; they are what we made them and that’s how it’ll continue.......unless we change it...?

With that as the challenge, I’d like to offer below my “Ten Solutions to Sorting out English League Football” with explanations (some of these options are more radical than others; forgive me if I wax on the dictatorially brutal side). What I am sure of is that what follows should in no way reduce the thrill of what everyone keeps telling me is “the beautiful game”. If what the players, managers, supporters and general hangers-on say is true and it’s not about the money then here are a few ways for us to prove it, and I also believe that English players of the calibre of Wayne Rooney, Paul Gasciogne and George Best would still have happened even with my draconian rules in place! What just might happen is we will stop the headlong rush into oblivion that money, big business and all-round greed that football is diving into: - (my prediction - by 2012 Manchester United will carry a sponsor’s name in their title and by 2015 will be playing out of Dubai.). OK, here we go:

1) All clubs allowed only one (1) overseas player at any one time on their first team and only a maximum of two overseas players in the squad. These overseas players can only be on contract for two years maximum before they have to be released and replaced.

Don’t know about you, but I’m sick of watching a football team from, well, anywhere really, that professes to be the team of some Town-City-Wanderers- Albion-Palace but where I can’t pronounce a quarter of the names of the team.

2) The rest of the squad to be made up of players drawn only from the county in which the club’s home ground is situated. If there are more than two clubs in any one county, then a player who is desired by more than one club has to go to the club closest to his home address for the first three years of his contract. After this he can choose which “county” team he plays for.

This will be a real step forward in encouraging English talent, of giving local youngsters a real opportunity to play first-class football for their team.

3) All wages to be level and equal across the board in all clubs and should reflect the wage levels present year-on-year in the country

We are striving to get the same level playing field system as far as pay and conditions are concerned in all aspects of work. The usual measure is equal pay for equal work. Well, they all play football, don’t they? At present the average weekly wage is £489. Not satisfied with the wage? Don’t play then. I am constantly told that the opportunity to play for your home team is payment enough and a real privilege; well, you now have that opportunity to prove it, and the wage level of £489 is a very decent weekly pay-packet too.

4) All advertising in and around football grounds to be stopped. No rolling signs, scrolling signs, billboard signs, or flags with signs on either in or around the bloody pitch.

Trying to watch a football on the T.V. is now an ocular challenge as the ball and players are continually lost in the fog of revolving adverts around the boards at pitch level.

5) No player to receive any pay for any product endorsement, direct or indirect. No walls of advertising behind T.V. interviews and definitely an immediate end to the wearing of those stupid baseball caps with a peak the size of a pelican’s bill and carrying an advert for some electronics company, Viagra manufacturer or alcohol brand. (Cricket and motor racing will also be included in this blanket-ban.....oh, and tennis players too; let it be known, THEY DO NOT DRINK CUPS OF COCA-COLA IN BETWEEN GAMES OR SETS; TRUST ME, I KNOW THIS FOR A FACT).

Responsible, truthful, honest, selected product endorsement will be allowed, but only such products as are used by the club in the pursuit of their business. 70% of the paid money for such advertising is to be ploughed straight back into the club and its facilities. The other 30% of all such monies is to be used to train and nurture young talent through the setting up of a Schools Training Scheme and out-of-school clubs and practice pitches. All such money spent this way is not subject to any tax.

6) A blanket ban on individual ownership of any club in any division.

Football club ownership to be divided 5 ways; 1) 50% to registered fans distributed through the registered supporters club by means of a subscription that gains the supporter a given number of shares and voting rights and an opportunity to buy further shares should they be released for sale in order to raise further funds. These shares are owned by the named individual and will be listed as “Family Shareholdings” and, as such are the total amount allowed to be held by any one family. No “Family” to hold more than 5% of the whole share issue available to that group; 2) 25% owned by playing/ground staff but no individual player or ground staffer to hold more than 5% of the whole share issue available to that group: 3) 10% owned by local business but no individual business to hold more than 5% of the whole share issue available to that group; 4) 10% to single individual ownership outside of the above categories but no individual to hold more than 5% of the whole share issue available to that group: 5) 5% to local schools but no individual school to hold more than 5% of the whole share issue available to that group.

Anyone found in breach of these share division rulings to be banned for life from the home ground and to be placed in the stocks every Saturday afternoon for a month, then, on completion of their stock-locking ordeal, be dragged by ten horses through the city streets, tied to a gun carriage wheel, have sixteen lashes with a bullwhip and have raw salt rubbed into the wounds.

n.b. All shareholders must return their share holding back to the club if they leave or are dismissed from the club and these shares are then offered for sale to interested club parties (subject to the above levels of holding). Any money made on these shares is to be given over to the individual who placed them in the “for sale” box, whether they leave of their own volition or not, unless criminal proceedings ensue, in which case the club gets all profits and such profit is added to the “Football Educational Funding” kitty.

7) Football strips to revert to the original strip that the various clubs first started out with when they joined a league. Home and away football strip to be exactly the same and remain unchanged throughout the team’s existence. If there is sufficient similarity between strips of competing teams then the oldest club will be allowed to maintain their strip and the other team required to find a new strip that is different to all others.

These strips will only be allowed to carry the player’s name and number on the back and the name of the club they play for on the front. No “Sponsor’s Message” allowed to adorn the chests of any player or official and none of those stupid fuckin’ baseball caps with a peak the size of a pelican’s bill...oh, I’ve done that before; sorry...

8) All areas of the ground to be seated and mixed in gender, age and supporter use.

As in our House of Commons pairing system for votes, all away supporters attending a ground will be required to have a home supporter vouch and sign for them to ensure good behaviour on both sides, and that home supporter be responsible for that away fan throughout the away fan’s time in the city or town of the football ground they are attending. This will be a requirement before a ticket for an away game can be purchased by an away fan.

9) Behaviour of a violent, insulting or socially obnoxious nature will be dealt with by the authorities in charge of the town, city or other urban environment where the game takes place.

Each town/city will supply and build a one acre, metal-fence-surrounded, holding pen at some point within the city/town limits (funds for this construction cost divided four ways: 30% from the club, 25% from the Police, 25% from the local council and 20% from local business). Any violence, racist behaviour, obscene chanting or the selling of weak Bovril will cause the match to be halted whilst those perpetrators are removed from the ground. All fans removed for such behaviour, along with the home or away supporter paired with them (see 8 above) will be incarcerated in the holding pen until they are claimed by their parents or other family member who will have to pay a fine of £200 before release can be effected. If no one comes forward to claim the miscreant then they become the property of the city/town to use as they see fit until such collection and fine payment has been made. After a period of six months, any unclaimed miscreant can be sold on the open market to the highest bidder.

n.b. If, due to bad behaviour, any match runs more than four hours long then that match will be deemed abandoned, no points given to either club, and a fine/levy of 50% of that match’s gate receipts, split 50/50 and to go direct to the council and police force taken.

10) On payment of an agreed fee to the given club, all football clubs will have at least one match televised during the season and no team shall be allowed to have more than two matches televised in any one season (not including international matches).

All money gathered from the televising of any football match will go into a central pool and be divided as follows: 50% to go direct to the participating clubs and split 50/50. 40% to pay for a newly formed, football ruling body (all twelve members of such ruling body to be on an “unpaid-expenses only” 2 year contract and selected by ballot and in equal parts from players, supporters and ground staff). 10% to be added to a “National Football Programme” for the promotion of fairness and sportsmanship within the game.

That’s it. Problem solved....along with how to gather Unicorn sweat and how to educate Leprechauns......... Oh, and whoever invented round shoe-laces should be strangled with a pair of them. Byee!

Education, Education, Education.....

2009-09-07T22:11:00.003+01:00

Now there’s a revelation; that those people from better off families and schools stand a greater chance of getting a job in the upper echelons of employment (banker, lawyer, doctor, etc) and thereby better pay and conditions because of ‘who’ and not ‘what’ they know! Well, bugger me! Who’d’ve thought it, eh? This has been reported as a lead article on the national radio and press bulletins on 21st/22nd July (OK, OK, I'm late; so sue me) and I’m left wondering, “Where the hell have you lot been for the last millennia?” I knew this, and I’ll bet a pound-to-pinch-of-cow-poo that you did to, so how come those folk who are supposed to be on the cutting edge of social comment think this is news? Any village idiot, discharged because they broke the regulation brain-cell quota of one by fifty percent could have told them that this is how the world works, has done, indeed, since Humgph-the-Thug, that well known Cro-Magnon cheerleader who, from the doorstep of his rain-soaked, shit-stained cave, championed the demand for what passed as civic amenities in those days to include larger clubs for anyone whose name began with a grunt, but a cessation of the supply of these said ‘persuaders’ to anyone outside of his own family unit.
For those who need further help in deciphering this seemingly revelatory statement, let’s try and spell it out with a series of statements and a few non-rhetorical questions, shall we?

1) Education: - The reason there is a two-tier education system in this country is so that the “gentleman’s club” ethos that so pervades much of our upper class adult groupings can be instilled at an early age. It allows the children (whether they are gifted or as thick as a Norman fort wall) of the upper classes to mix with those of a similar background. It is here that friendships are forged (some being forged with more questionable methods than others) so that when, in later years, these young gentlemen seek gainful employment, they will be able to go to those who were “in the class of 69” and, through their reminiscences, rekindle the ties that bind all the members of the ruling class (i.e. ‘them’….). This education system lays the foundations for the “right sort” to be included in the right ranks and continuation of the status quo by the right sort of people.

1a) The reason there is no official inspection of public schools (there’s a misnomer if ever there was one; the first example of successful spin right there, my friend) I repeat, the reason there is no official inspection of public schools is because they are beyond and above the laws laid down for the proletariat. Whoever could even consider a less than perfect education being doled out by an establishment whose pupils had been drawn from the highest in the land; only a fool, and there are no fools in the upper societal echelons, are there? How dare anyone even suggest they should be inspected? These are your betters being educated here, and they know that a degree in classics is the ideal preparation for a lifetime in government in charge of the Work and Pensions Department or the Department for the Environment. Knowing that Gaia and Uranos “got it together” to give us Zeus, Poseidon, Hades and all those other gods is an excellent grounding for being able to decide what is a liveable income for ‘the workers’…..and when you are expected to survive on the parlous wage of £45k p.a., well, one has an ideal understanding of what deprivation is, hm?

1b) The disparity between the holiday dates of public schools and the comprehensive scholars wasn’t decided on a whim. It was a deliberate choice so that the children of the chosen wouldn’t have to rub cheeks with the filthy, ragamuffin urchins spawned by the workers. It was so the beaches remained clear of crowds and the seas remained pristine and grubby-knee free. At no time has this become more important than today, when the proletariat have got a little more wealthy (due, no doubt, to them having larger families so they could either sell their offspring or send them out into prostitution). Now the ski-slopes of Canada and the Alps, the beaches of Bora-Bora and the Seychelles are within their reach, heaven forbid, and so the holiday discrepancy is even more important.

1c) Why... (you will have noticed that there are no other numbers but 1 being listed here….I think we know why?) why is there a different, strict dress code for all the many and various get-togethers our ruling elite? Could it be because this is they way they can sort the sheep from the goats, “at a glance”? I mean, how many of you reading this column (?!?!?!?!) own morning dress, white-tie or black-tie? And make no mistake, they can tell “hired” from “owned” at fifty paces, trust me, I know. There’s something in the way a gentleman wears his Gestapo outfit that just shines through, something in their swagger that sets him or her apart from the common herd, and declares “Yes, this is mine. I own it.....and you…..”

1d) Just as street language marks out, in their eyes, the fallen amongst us, so the clipped tones, elongated vowels and chinless guffaw marks out the risen amongst us. Just as street knowledge marks out for the majority of the coal-in-the-bath population, they believe, the easiest car to nick and the easiest mark to hit, so they know instinctively how many glasses of champagne one gets out of a jeroboam and which trader is as bent as them and so will feed them the information they need in order to make a killing on the stocks.

The subtle difference between these seemingly reflective lifestyles, where each is geared up to cope with its own circumstance, is that those of the street-class have it instilled into them from birth that the foundation of second-rate education they enjoy is provided by Ronald McDonald or Cadbury Schweppes or Coca-Cola and is built on the whim of their rulers; and the ruling class have it instilled into them from birth that this is their right. That they can demand sacrifice from all but themselves and that they have the power, through their close-knit and expensive education and their ‘friendship portfolio’, to be able to make, break and preside over the rules that govern us all.

My son repeated to me a line from “Boyz in the ‘Hood”, a film I’ve not yet seen due to the fact that I’ve a list of about five hundred that I know I ought to see, but most of which I know I’ll never get round to because, a) I have to earn a living for most of the hours of the day, b) that I’m 62….or is it 61….?....anyhow, it’s my birthday today and I’m a year older than yesterday and so am even more aware that I have a rapidly diminishing time-span here on this planet, and that c) I’m trying to get the next novel written (and I trust you've all bought your copy of Ladies of the Shire ? If not, why not and see me, 09.00, in my office with a full and detailed, written explanation, and where I'll repeat the website address to you until you fall over with fatigue www.peter-webb.com ) so, I'm trying to get the next novel, The Quarry, written and other things apart from movie-watching are distracting me as it is. Anyhow, for those who’ve seen it (and I guess I’ll get a flood of replies telling me I’ve misquoted it…..) the father says to the two sons,
“Why is there a gun store on the corner of every street in Detroit and not a hospital? I tell you why, because they want us to kill each other.”
Sort of shrinks all that hogwash I’ve written above into a succinct one liner, but I’d just like to say that…well, I agree….. Night X!

Russian Saying - "Where there's a trough there'll be swine"

2009-05-28T23:28:00.001+01:00

Well then, here we are then…!...bet you all thought I’d left the country; no? Oh well, I’ve not. I’ve been very busy finishing off that novel I always promised I’d write…….no, honest, I mean I have been writing that novel I always promised to write. It’s called Ladies of the Shire and will available from selected WH Smiths, Waterstone’s, local libraries (for the cheapskates amongst you) and from Amazon, but I’d much rather you purchased it through the website www.peter-webb.com as the profit margin for me is far greater that way! Never one to be backward in coming forward, me. So, you’ll be asking yourselves, what is it that’s dragged this sofa-slopping whinge-box off’f his arse and back into print? Well, bit obvious really. Anyone who’s not been living inside the lower intestine of a whale will be well aware of the tsunami that’s hit our beloved politicians in the good ’ole U of K and, because there’s been a surfeit of bile, invective and vitriol launched their way in the past two weeks, I’d like to offer another angle from which to view the recent events….as if anyone’s interested, Peter.
What’s in store for us is far more than just the resignations of a few dubious spivs in power and I’d like to open up the discussion (Discussion? This is just you spouting off, Peter, with no room for reply….Yes, you’re right; so, sue me or use the reply button) by advancing a belief that I’m sure you all had worked out many days ago. My excuse is that we’ve had a lot on at the theatre where I work recently. We had our hands full with a large in/out of a national drama production (so a gang of thesps doing their best to convince us they really are “so terribly tired doing two shows a day” and how hard they work in their chosen profession…oh yeah? Like, in relation to what? Diamond miners in Africa….swift-nest gatherers in China….rice planters in Vietnam….? Tell me about it, I’m really interested, y’ know?….) then a collaborative opera show with a cast of 200 (so a gaggle of opera singers rushing out of the rehearsal room in a flurry of crinolines and talcum powder ‘Because I can’t possibly concentrate on this VERY demanding role whilst I think I can hear the hum from a fridge two blocks away’…. It’s only thing that’s in tune, pal, trust me) and then, joy-of-joys, ballet (a throng of twirlies wanting the stage to rehearse on 24/7…Have y’ not learnt it yet then?...and every theatre space heated to 500 degrees) so I had enough to occupy my mind (it's a very small one, you understand, so it doesn't take much).
So, back to these thieving rich-folk. We’re all aware that they’ve been on the make (we now have it confirmed) for years, and it’s a given that those who’ve been caught with their hands in the cookie-jar have a level of moral fibre and social conscience that would be put to shame by Cro-Magnon man. We’ve listened to their excuses (there’s not a single one of them that, as far as they’re concerned, has done ANYTHING wrong; like every inmate in every prison in the world - including Shawshanks - they’re all innocent). Now we get the reasons; “I’m doing this to spare my family from the media intrusion.” or “I’m doing this to spend more time with my family”. Trust me, they can see the bullet coming and they want to be able to say to their respective, forthcoming employers (and there’ll be lots, trust me) that they weren’t sacked, they retired with good grace. For these politicians to say these things only makes them look more ridiculous in the eyes of the public, to rob the finances because you’re a dim-wit is one thing, but these are the folk who’re supposed to be intelligent, cutting edge, shaping our world, looking after our interests etc…..Christ, you’ve all heard it so many times before….. So, cut to the chase.
We know that to become a politician opens up all sorts of doors to the undeserving. Do you know the very first thing Duff-Cooper’s best friend said to him when he (Duff-Cooper) told him he was going to become a politician? Was it, 1) “You’ll be able to represent your constituency and improve their lot”? No. 2) “The country needs men like you to fight the battles for those who cannot defend themselves”? Nope. 3) “Excellent idea, Duff, you can make a lot of money in politics, directorships and such”? You betcha! So having had confirmed what we all knew to be true what’s the deal with the fallout? Well, gather round my little ones and I’ll tell y’. The politicians are poorly paid (£64Kp.a. ….shit money, that) and so many of them, in order to make ends meet are forced to systematically plunder the country’s coffers and take on other employment too. Must be a real bugger to have to do all this extra stuff….poor sods. For their pains, they’re the CEO’s, non-executive directors, chairmen, lobbyists, board members of all the multi-nationals, conglomerates and big businesses operating in the world today. Now, we are fully aware that they are without scruple and vision when it comes to operating in their political career, so it stands to reason that this is exactly the way they’ll operate in their business; without honesty, scruple or fairness. So, when it comes to who shall get arms, medicine, food, water, nuclear technology, all the big things that will become more and more important as this world bulges with population and the available land to support it, they’ll be the ones to cast their vote for……?
Don’t know ‘bout you, but there’s no way in this world or the next that I’d want these moral degenerates operating claims of conscience in my name. They’d sell their grannies for a shilling and, as we’ve seen in the behaviour of those who have stood down so far, they’ll stop at nothing to shift the blame and invent excuses for their lamentable consciences. These people, these ex-politicians that gain so much by being of the ruling elite will sign up to anything just so they can open up three bottles of port instead of two, they’ll use up all the earth’s resources and destroy anyone in their path (such a pleasure to hear that, at last, Dutch Shell are being hauled into court to answer the charges surrounding the murder of Ken Saro Wiwa…..but watch them fight it; it’ll not be a pretty sight….and keep a careful eye on the witnesses) they’ll use up all the earth’s resources just so they can have nine homes not eight, they’ll give out the free smokes to third-world peoples, thereby creating a power-base of third-world people with first class cancer, just so they can keep their BAT shares dealing at a high, they’ll invent reasons for a war and prosecute it in defiance off all the truths and public outcry….. The way they’ve behaved in the spotlight of politics will be as nothing to the way they’ll behave in the shadows of big business. Be afraid, be very afraid.

Thank God for William Hague!

2007-04-23T22:56:00.000+01:00

After a period of time you get immune to it or at least sufficiently anaesthetised so the stuff that flows from the political front washes over you. I guess it’s the upshot of the lethargy you get after a prolonged shout at the radio………or is it just me? There’s every chance I’ve been labouring under the misapprehension that I was just one in a million who practised this activity………? Your silence is deafening; so, just me then. OK, well, after a bout of these lungular exercises, I get to a point where I think, “Oh, fuck it, no one’s listening anyhow. Nothing changes, nothing becomes better; I’ll be off and play with the train-set.” Then just when I’ve lost the will to convince, along comes William Hague, again, and I revisit the reasons why I write these things to cyber-space.

I suppose I was given something of a fillip when I read Howard Jacobson’s column in the Saturday ‘Independent’ last week. He was espousing a level of punishment for car-driving-stupidity that I wrote about in some great detail about two years ago. Admittedly my rant was about those toss-pot, wankers-with-the-tankers who front “Top Gear” and the lifestyle they inveigle us all to join which seems to revolve around cutting up cars, crashing cars, skidding cars around race-tracks and getting something called “A Stick” to drive them at regular intervals as fast as possible………oh, and involving the one thing that Britain leads the world in producing, air-head celebrities, in the highly innovative pastime of driving a saloon car round the same track as fast as possible (opportunity going begging for a brake expert to do some serious fluid tampering, methinks). Anyhow, Mr Jacobson had arrived at a level of punishments that, if he hadn’t read my Blog, then he’d either conversed with someone who had, or I’ve been the victim of telepathic robbery as our thought processes were remarkably similar; but just remember, you read it here first. Well, I thought, so my nocturnal and sporadic scribing is being read by someone, so I’ll continue on then.

So, there I am, channel-hopping, as you do at 22.30 when you’ve just got in from work, have sat down with a mug of tea and are desperately trying to find something, anything, that doesn’t have twenty-two gob-joys booting a pig’s scrotum around a sheet of grass, when I logged on to a discussion concerning a new film, “This Is England”. Don’t know a lot about it as it’s only just been released in t U.K., although there’s been a fair bit of Pre-Release Placement (nice bit of industry jargon for you there) over the last few days. What I can say? Well, from the chat they had with the film’s director on this programme the movie revolves around a Northern-English working town and its resident skinhead population during the late 1970’s early 1980’s. Anyone who knows about this time in our “Green and Pleasant Land” will know this was the time of the Falklands War, Margaret Thatcher and the union problems.

I have to admit that I’m not a big fan of “drama with gritty realism”. We get so much of it on English T.V. these days; soaps (Eastenders, Coronation Street, The Bill) and drama series (Shameless, Sugar Rush and countless other copies) that the palate gets jaded, provided, that is, you could be arsed to watch any of them in the first instance. Those who peddle these programmes will tell us this is real life (not it isn’t, you’re dramatising something from real life; making money off the backs of those who live it) that the great divide between rich and poor is still chasmic (yes, and the money you get from making these series' puts you in which bracket, exactly?) that there are constant and thriving pockets of depravation, brutality, child molestation, prostitution murder and mayhem (yes, I know there are, but I don’t need to be shown these things masking themselves under the cloak of ‘entertainment’. I can read about the real thing, every day, in the newspapers).

I figure the people involved in these programmes all slope off to their Highgate Hovels at the end of a gruelling days filming (gruelling as opposed to……what exactly? Mining for gold in South Africa……no…er……mining for coal in China……er…no…shovelling dung from the desert floor in order to get a fire started before you have to walk the six miles to the nearest well in order to cook the grubs you’ve just dug up which do a poor job of masquerading as this weeks’ “meat meal”…yeah, gruelling, right) and, like eating the testicles of your slain enemy to gain their power and masculinity, they garner their reputations off this dabbling in what they call “the cutting edge” of “gritty drama”…………………sorry, I digress, as usual.

So, there we are discussing this film and who should put in his twopenn’orth but our old mate, William Hague. When asked if he remembers those times (Thatcher, the 70’s and 80’s) he says something along the lines of, “Yes, they were times of great hardship" (not for Hague, Tahtcher and the rewst of her oily government, I'll betcha!) "and Margaret Thatcher was an unpopular leader" (you got that fucker right, Bill!) " but these things had to be changed; we had to improve things………” And that was the tinderbox for this latest tirade.

Only a politician, and probably only a Conservative politician, could brush over that period as “necessary”, try to tell us that what followed was “OK” and that what we have now is “better”. Here was a man allied to a leader who destroyed families, community and hope; a man allied to a government who gifted the Conservative Party business cronies the freedom to take over public companies, run them into the ground, asset-strip them, cut health and safety to the bone, put the public at risk then claim money back from the same government to put the faults they’d created right. A man allied to a government who’s members (forgive the pun) shagged everything that stood still long enough, robbed pension funds, ran insurance fiddles, lied, cheated and bribed their way through the daily business of government, polluted our environment to a degree never before witnessed (all the time making sure that the perpetrators of these deeds – the Conservative Party bank-rollers - went unpunished) and screwed the health service, the fire service, the ambulance service, the coast-guard and the agricultural industry for every cent it could get......... and do you know what, when he came out with this guff, NO-ONE on that panel discussing that film challenged him!!!!!…………

OK, so what’s the conclusion? What’s the message of hope? Well, I think it would be ideal if, two days before the next general election, Margaret Thatcher keels over ‘cos the dancing in the streets that’ll take place when this happens will put paid to ANY chance of a Conservative victory as, like William Hague did to me the other night, it’ll serve as a timely reminder to populace as to just what we unleash when we get any party that has a pedigree like the one mentioned above back into power………Bugger! I think I’ve just spotted the flaw in the plan; that’ll mean the Labour government will get in again……………fuck it!

Arts funding - the level playing field philosphy of the UK

2007-03-13T22:26:00.000Z

Blogs penned by me are much like constipation really. You spend hours on the word processor, straining and grunting, the rest of the family believing you’re strangling a wart-hog in there but, try as you will, nothing will shift; then you get a shock to the system and, lo and behold, out comes this torrent of calligraphic diarrhoea and although no-one else can stand the smell you feel so relieved to have got it out. Well, figures published recently provided the enema to release the following blockage.................................

For those unfamiliar with this blogsite of mine (Ha! Who am I kidding, that anyone else reads this?) you may not know that I work in theatre here in the UK; that’s not the place where they cut folk open then realise they can’t get back in what they’ve just hauled out you understand, but the place where show-offs gather to entertain the masses (and I use the word “entertain” in its widest possible sense here). In the UK and for many years, the arts in general and theatre in particular have always struggled to gain realistic funding or real fiscal support that would allow them to provide both secure planning and by that end develop centres of artistic excellence in the provinces. To these venues (and as things so often do when you’re living on low-level hand-outs which are coupled with a limited understanding of your plight by those who have the ability to help out..........mainly because these bestowers of largesse all live in London and consider anything north of Watford and west of Guildford to be "foreign") the wolf doesn’t just come padding up to the door but enters through the cat-flap, shits in your wallet and then sets up home in the fridge.

Due to consistent under-funding, and so in their continuing straightened circumstances, many theatres have had to ask for cash injections, one-off loans and such only to be told by those who have their hands on the purse-strings that they must be able to compete in this theatrical jungle of ours, to stand on their own two feet without bleating constantly for extra funding and, if they can’t 'get their shit together' then they should go under……and many of them have. Various actors have felt obliged to support or even start up “Save Our (fill in your own theatre name here)” movements in order to gain sufficient cash to continue even in the reduced circumstances they find themselves in. Amongst these campaigns have been appeals for theatres and places of entertainment that are steeped in the history of the theatrical tradition. Theatres designed by Frank Macham, stages that Garrick and Tree walked on, venues where groundbreaking theatrical movments started off; places of high cultural, social and historic importance that serve as an important centre for recreation, social intercourse and action for the area they are situated in but who's mistake is not being situated in the right place; namely the 'circle of fame' that is central London. In their efforts to gain funding for these struggling provincial ventures, the begging of support from private individuals and local councils, running benefit shows, raffles and hosting appeals to the general public in order to scrape together the £250,000 or so the venue needs in order to stay open have all been tried.

The same can be said for theatre companies, particularly those in the small-scale sector and even more particularly those companies run by, with reference to and consisting mainly or wholly of Black or Asian members. I’m sure I’ll get a massive postbag (?!) telling me I’m wrong here (hope so.........s'lonely here in cyber-moan-land) and you’ll have to check for yourself but, apart from Talawa Theatre (London-based and didn’t they go through some deep shit to get where they are at present) Red Ladder (Leeds-based) and Tara Arts (London-based……again) I’m not so sure there are many other fully professional, black or Asian theatre companies operating in the UK at present. Black Theatre Co-operative, Temba, African People’s Theatre; I think they’ve all gone by the wayside in this supportive, multi-culturalism land of ours. In fact, I believe I'm right in saying that, for a goodly time in the early '90's' there was no professional , Black or Asian theatre company operating anywhere in the UK (certainly not in the small-scale sector at least) all the funding having been withdrawn to those innovative companies that were in operation over the preceding four or so years.

Almost without exception, venues or companies that are in dire circumstances are provincial (outside London) venues, but even in London there have been some casualties, and many are still struggling to maintain their staff and output, er, unless you happen to be the Royal Opera House (ROH) English National Opera (ENO) or Saddlers' Wells Ballet………………… For these venues and companies there is, for some reason, always a ready pot of money to be dished out as soon as the accountants squeal loudly enough; and we’re not talking a piddling £250,000 here, we’re talking millions……………and millions………and millions……. The ROH had a grant of £24.9 million in 2003 and the ENO, after a £41 million refit and an annual subsidy of £13 million had to be bailed out in 2005 with a further £10 million; think that’s a lot; read on. The ROH was only saved from bankruptcy with an increase in their subsidy of £5 million and the ENO has been bailed out (again) with a further £20 million emergency grant (and even then they cut 45 jobs) and is hoping that the Arts Council will bail it out yet again this year after a further £4 million was handed over to stop it going into receivership. Add up those figures; look at the state of regional theatre in the UK today................... then re-read ‘em and weep. Now, you may think I'm being too focused in naming the names above, that it should also be pointed out that, with the Barbican as a multi-function venue in the heart of London, the spending of a further £111 million on building the South Bank Centre, a multi function venue in the heart of London (is there an echo in here?) also deserves mention; well there it is, and yes, it does puzzle somewhat........................ Sorry, I digress; you will be forgiven for thinking, “Well, how the hell does this state of affairs whereby a bottomless pit exists for some but not others not only happen but continue to happen?” For this you have to understand how the large arts and cultural institutions are run in this country.

When you or I go for a job, an interview process is undertaken in order to ascertain just what our qualifications are; you know, a process designed to find out whether the all-pervading smell of livestock emanating from your application form really is caused by the fact that you live on farm. So, for argument's sake, let's say you do live on farm and are well qualified in the raising of various stock. Fed up with spending most of your day knee-deep in animal excrement and elbow-deep in the various orifices of sick or pregnant beasts, you've decided on a change of direction. Armed with your lifetime's experience on the farm (which is part of the food industry, it has to be said) your three GCSE's and a letter of commendation from your scoutmaster (which states that you once rubbed two boy-scouts together and started a small blaze) you've answered an advert asking for likely candidates to apply for the post of supermarket manager. On this auspicious day, and for a reason known only to the psychologically sick and which requires a deal of fluke and blindness yet to be encountered since Peter Mandelson or Cecil Parkinson were invited back into goverment following various positions of disgrace, you've been asked for an interview at that said supermarket; what chance do you think you'd stand? For reasons laid out below, I'd venture to suggest a lot less than those in similar circumstances but having one of the three listed requirements who are applying for employment within either a government department or in one of the London-centric bastions of the arts, my friend; lets lay it out simply, huh?

Within our government for instance (and yours too, probably) someone can have absolutley no knowledge of, say, theatre, or dance, or how an art gallery is run, beyond the fact that they once went to a play (well, a pantomime anyhow......when they were three) have seen an Andy Wharhol print of a Marylin Monroe original (not the real thing, you understand, but in a book somewhere or other) and attended tap lessons when they were five or six (but gave up after three weeks because it scuffed their new shoes) and yet, simply because they are in government and have happened to be on the right side of the leader of their party, be promoted to Minister for the Arts and Culture. Clearly stated for the mesmerised amongst you, this gives them overall control of all institutions and centres of artistic endeavour; the true culmination of power without knowledge. Crazy, I know, to all but the most perverted or the most stupid, I mean would you give control of a fully armed fighter jet to someone who lent you fiver when you were broke and once flew model aircraft in the local park? How this happens will be explained a little further below, but bear with me for a little longer in order to gain the fuller picture, OK? Now, back to the running of the arts in this country and of the so-called "flagship" venues (their description, not mine) in the UK.

To gain a position of board membership on any of the aforementioned performance venues or on the national council that handles the cash and decides who should get it, how much and how often, indeed, to gain even just entry into the inner sanctum of these "areas of artistic excellence" (their description, not mine) and through this a chance to move on up to C.E.O. of an arts institution you have to have one of four things. Either, 1) The ability, if you wished to commit suicide, of completing this task by jumping off your wallet, or, 2) A uniform of some sort coupled with an ability to shout at new recruits or, 3) To have no chin but an ancestry that goes back forever or, 4) Be able to dress white tie without hiring in. No expertise needed in any of the arts disciplines, just one of the four above.....this is your job interview.

So how come, in this climate of struggling provincial theatre and theatrical production, and if there are these continued fuck-ups of monumental proportions with monotonous regularity requiring the monumental payouts mentioned above, is there this seemingly bottomless well for these “premier” (their description not mine) arts venues and companies? Jesus, come on, pay attention; in any democracy, those who make the laws that govern us also adminsiter them. Their desire to visit the domiciles of the proletariat who, as far as they are concerned still live in dung huts and think art has a letter missing, is as eagerly sought out as would be their drink of a bucket of warm faeces; strange when most of them live in what many consider to be the arsehole of England but there we are, all things are relative. So, with this as their guiding principle, it's fairly obvious that most provincial theatres will continue to struggle; will continue to have to hold a bring-and-buy sale of second-hand clothes every other week in order to maintain their mission of bringing entertainment to the masses in anything like safe conditions, whilst those who insist on buying their chorus 'Armani' suits for the next production of 'Aida' because, for some twisted reason, they think the production will suffer for it if they don't (on a personal note here, my old adage that, "if the audience are looking at the cut of the cloth then the production's a flop", fits this one as well as many others). These institutions will continue to cream off a casual £10 million whenever the fancy takes them for no other reason than they can, and meanwhile those other purveyors of the arts, the ethnic or groundbreaking, the provincial or small-scale players in the game will have to fight and squabble for the crumbs from the big-boy's table................... Does my working-class mentality show in this? Probably; just put it down to a lifetime of watching our inequalities in the arts keep our challeprovincial theatre in its place and pay it scant attention, after all the Arts Council have made a career out of it………………………Now, just ask yourself again why the ROH, ENO and Saddlers Wells keep getting in to deep shit and why, fortuitoulsy, they manage to keep getting bailed out; all becoming clear now? Good.

Big Brother - Fashion Shop for the Socially Challenged

2007-03-12T23:35:00.000Z

Sorry about the delay in dropping a line to all you avid readers, I’ve been swapping my broadband supplier (from BT to Talk-Talk…………don’t ask, I’m still suffering from third degree angst burns) and these things I write take a little thought too.

Considered the fall-out from the Big Brother experience and considered a considered reply would be worthwhile, if only to assuage my own feelings on the matter; Jade…………………what a mess, huh? And even when things were going from bad to worse she didn’t know when to stop digging, and her manipulators didn’t know how to handle her lack of perception except through deceit.

That she was being briefed from outside by her Channel Four masters (and her agent/publicist too) became obvious, even to the most unobservant half-wit…… Obvious that Jade was remarkably well briefed when she entered the diary room prior to her being voted off when leaving the house, and even more so when we saw how fully prepared she was for the lack of public attendance these evictions normally provoke; unfazed when crossing the bridge with Davina McCall to just the echo of her own footfall. But, even though she had been fed information by those who are making money on her back, the media people and agents who are creaming her for a fast buck prior to moving on, she was neither a sufficiently intelligent vehicle for their priming nor the surprised but willing receptacle for our public admonition.

Right now, and probably over the past X weeks, her image crew (small shareholders in Jade Inc. to you and I) have probably been working feverish overtime in order to get Jade back on track; get her seen at the window of her home in a tired and emotional state; send her off to India in sackcloth and ashes (designed by Versace, obviously); get her to appear in something on telly that makes Big Brother look positively intellectual and where she can show her caring side (probably Fortune) and above all get her tits out somewhere in the tabloids ‘cos when all else fails in the British psyche a good pair of knockers will go a long way to a person’s rehabilitation in the public’s eyes. But that’s the obvious; the standard menu for the average punter, it’s when we turn over the stones of our own consciences that we find the hardest truths; but first lets start out by destroying a “pub fact” shall we?

It isn’t snobbery to judge Jade’s behaviour by the concepts and understandings of what is generally considered to be “society”. Those who say so are adrift in a classified sea of misunderstanding. You don’t look down on people because of their background but because of their behaviour. Eating with your mouth closed isn’t an act of the privileged classes it’s a signal of care and awareness of yourself and others.

You have to get deeper than that, try harder to sweep away the detritus of failed politics, and to hold Jade Goody up as a beacon in this travesty of failure and cruelty by politicians is to do her and her ilk the greatest disservice. To have people turning out like her is the crime; to hold her up as an icon is a greater one. All those who want to achieve and be like her should do so with the ability to conduct themselves with self-control, with articulate dignity, with an ability to complete at least one sentence in five without peppering it with a “fuck” every third word.

It isn’t contempt for the working class, its contempt for those members of any class who behave in a crass and grotesque manner; who offend and then, through their lack of social intelligence, re-offend the basic manners of civil society. It isn’t because its Jade, it’s because it’s wrong; her background is blighted with a lack of social responsibility, full of selfish irresponsibility and that’s not an excuse for such behaviour.

The discussion at the theatre where I work revolved around whether she would in fact be alive come the end of 2007 and this wasn’t one of vindictive relish but a genuine concern for what media and agents have created and that she lacks the intellect to see. When you walk into the lions den of celebrity you’d better know damn sure why you are there (Shilpa Shetty should have done a little more research, methinks) and Jade is and was singularly poorly furnished for such an adventure. Her upbringing suggests she is an eminently suitable case for therapy not for manipulation and social confrontation. The Channel Four bosses and particularly those involved in the casting of Big Brother knew that. They threw her into that melting pot precisely because she’d make “good telly”. The destruction of individuals is their role and it’s what we want to see; it’s our national blood sport; give it a year, maybe eighteen months and we’ll be watching people kill other people on telly for our game-show entertainment; it’s a racing certainty.

The ability to talk, to discuss, to reason is an essential part of everyday contact with our fellow human beings. We must have the mechanisms in place that allow us to meander and converse our way through the labyrinth of social, conversational signals that allow us to arrive at a viewpoint which is acceptable to those involved in the discussion. We need to negotiate skilfully, to reason soundly, to have the awareness not to overstep the bounds of personal propriety and, if we do to know how to draw back; and above all to know when and how to compromise. With so many people today, and sadly this does include a larger than average amount of what have been whimsically referred to over the years as “the underclass”, is that these skills are totally lacking. They move from divided opinion to open warfare in an instant, go from ask-you to fuck-you and miss out all the bits in the middle. All those skills of diplomacy and discussion, reasoning and deferment have gone.

The deeply worrying thing is that the more socially aware people in this country breed less, limit their families and have the skills handed down to them to care for those children they do have. Those in the underclass have more children; demand the life of the role models of the day and lack the self-discipline and the education required to be strong parents, to be able to guide their children in socially responsible ways. The hedonism that we went through since that arch-bitch Thatcher told us there was no such thing as community (built on a platform of suspicion and mistrust planted by tosser American psychiatrists that the gainers of power saw as their ticket to riches) has been the building bricks of this rampage to self. But we didn’t all fall for it; we didn’t have to fall for it. Those with the intellect saw through it all and made their own way, the others just followed the lead that led to the next Prada handbag.

The outcome of the Big Brother debacle seems to be that Mr and Mrs General Public have finally switched off the light on this playroom filled with under-educated hedonists and are looking further than the reflection in their Police sunglasses. I hope so for, if not, this leaves us with the inevitable end-game; of greater numbers of social and educational miss-fits and as we all know, we should never underestimate the power of very stupid people in large numbers.

Education is a fiscal right.................

2007-03-01T12:27:00.000Z

As you've probably guessed, those of you that stumble across these missives of mine, this is not a "daily blog"! There's a lot to be said for lengthy breaks between blogs; the down side is that most people think you've died (some may think that's an upside, but, hey, every silver lining has a cloud) the real upside is that the bitterest fruits of my imaginings remain stuck on the branches of my mind........sorry, waxing lyrical there, I won't do it again, promise. Suffice it to say that it takes a lot to get me to write stuff; I think on events much the same as everyone else does and I figure you have enough of your own dilemmas and daily annoyances to cope with than to have them crumpled up with my waste-paper-jottings. However, there are times...........

I think it's because I have a stunted development when it comes to socialism that the change and debate that's accompanied the new rules concerning school of choice in the good ol' U of K has finally ignited my ire and brought me back to the Blog. No, relax, I'm not going to sound off about the state of our kids' education or the plethora of new rules and regs that teachers have had to put up with, my beef is a far more wide ranging one than that. You will, however, have to put up with some background information otherwise all my international readers (?) will be totally mystified by what follows and, along with most others, think these are the ravings of a self-delusional lunatic............erm.......think I might have just shot myself in the foot there..........

The latest scam our Labour government has come up with concerns the filling of places in secondary schools (12-18 age group for those of you reading from foreign climes). As with any education system there are good schools and not so good schools and many of the rich and well-positioned members of our "fair and equal" society clocked on to the fact that 1) the poor people's children were getting places at the good schools simply because they lived in the catchment area (i.e. near to) of those good schools and so were being turned out as well educated and potentially high-achieving members of our society and 2) their children were not getting this advantagous start in life because the school they lived near resembled a mid-eighties Beiruit back street where the pupils were being turned out as poorly educated orang-utans. This must have filled them with real alarm; I mean, fancy the outcome? All of sudden these snot-nosed little urchins were being better educated than the chinless wonders of commuter-belt parents; with that as a stepping stone who knows what might happen? They could find that their darling little Tarquin deQuincey-Ryan, who's father is "something in the city" and big in gilts, is having to take orders from Bert Smith, who's father is something in the gutter but big in whippets; that would never do! So these new-money people decided to turn things to their advantage and stifle this threatened social upheaval by using the tried and tested methods that had stood them in good stead and on the throats of the lower classes for centuries; they bought their way into the game and had the lower orders sent off for lack of spondulics. Finding out where the achieving schools were they paid over the odds for properties that would put them in the succeeding-school's catchment area thereby pricing the riff-raff out of the market and claiming the area as their own. This created an exclusive school property for these dollar-snobs and ensured that it would continue to be their kids that were handing out any whippings that would undoubtably be needed in order to keep the lower orders in order.............if you see what I mean.

To stop this happening, our "level playing field government" have instigated a lottery system. This will mean that, once the school has taken up all of the local clientele a lottery system will be instigated for the remaining places; you know, put all the names in a drum, give it a shake and draw until all the positions are full; can you believe this? This is a government of adults, or so we are led to believe, and this is the upshot of their 15 years of considered ruminations on how to tackle the obvious shortcomings of school places in the UK............by turning it into a lottery? And they really think this will stop the moneyed-classes from gaining what they see as righfully theirs. Jesus, it'll just mean they'll have to offer bigger bribes to the schools in order to get their sprogs to the best ones, that's all. They've already begun by getting this "equality" government to allow them to sponsor schools..................takes some believing doesn't it, that they expect us to believe our children will get a good, well balanced education from a school funded, in the main, by a multi-national conglomerate that sells "stuff" to the masses? Have bears had their first porta-loo delivered yet? I don't fuckin' think so! That new oven for the kitchen, that new set of football strips, that collection of Shakespeare books for the new library? You want it then toe the line, buster or we'll move down the road and steal all your good teachers for that new school! All the major supermarkets do it with the chosen customers they find. Like those precious, small wine-makers the supermarket predators move in, get several small artisan winemakers to join together, modernise the process, pump it up, buy all the produce at low prices then cancel the buy-off when something else or fashion takes their fancy and leave the massively overproducing vinery with no market to sell to; the Labour party are doing it, they called them loans and dole out knighthoods, do you think the lucre-laddies won't follow suit? The one thing new money has remembered are Mr Coward's immortal words; "Camp Freddie, everybody in the world is bent".

What we have now, then, is a lottery, basically a gamble to get a good education for your children that will be bent, bribed and bullied by the Ferrari fathers and four-wheel driving cash cows who transport their offspring the four-hundred yards to school each day. As far as these models of citizenship are concerned good eduction isn't a socialist principle, it's a commodity that can be bought and sold like any other, so don't look to them to cut you break.

Pimp Debate - Another Open Letter to Maxine Frith at "The Independent"

2006-05-23T22:52:00.000+01:00

Hi, Maxine,

You may remember me; it’s Doris, the one who wrote what must have seemed an endless reply to your 'Independent' article on drinking in the UK a while back? Enjoyed the “The Pimp Debate” article in Wednesday 22nd’s ‘The Independent’ “Home” section very much and would like to take this opportunity to expand on some of the statements and ideologies expressed in the piece.

Of the six women who were allowed to voice their opinions on ‘pimp-chic’, all but one, Joan Smith, gave entirely predictable views; indeed, any semi-intelligent person would, and could, have given a fairly accurate resume of the views those five others expressed just by looking at the names and occupations of those represented. Stereotyping, you, Doris? ‘Fraid so.

Firstly, as with all things “personal”, vested-interest will always play a part, hence the offerings of Max Akhtar, Dawn Porter, Caroline Coon and Alexia Loundras were completely foreseeable in their direction of travel and destination. Could you really see any of them ever saying anything other than reported? No, nor me.

Secondly, intelligence, and social and cultural position of those interviewed will influence the outcome and opinion garnered from “the street” in any straw-poll, so in a case such as this it really wasn’t a lot of use asking the aforementioned, London Dinner-Party-Set to comment on something that’s so far removed from their id that the only possible answer you’d get, all-in-all, would be a text-book-block of self-oriented and sectionalised reply; the replies we got in fact.

It would have been far more interesting if you’d’ve asked six, 10-year-old girls from a Sunderland housing estate, from a Swansea back-to-back terrace, from a Kent council estate, or six twenty-something mothers from those same places, for this is the shop front the pimp-wares are peddled in; this is their most lucrative sales area. These people, adults and children alike, use these “styles” as a gateway into a world where they can act like they think the real people act, mimicking their style, their behaviour, their mores, their lifestyle; the Yolanda Martin-Smith’s, Runcible Mivarnna’s and Creanna DeMowlow’s from the semi-rough end of Chelsea are just playing at it………hanging out with a bit of rough, if you get my drift.

It’s the ‘Soap’ generation the cheap-end manufacturers are peddling to, and they’ll lap it up not because it’s 'chic' or because they really think this is how the world works…but because many, many people lack the necssary skills of self discipline and regulation required by anyone wishing to negotiate safely through life and instead choose to believe and go with the far more exciting option; that what’s pushed at them through their daily contact with our media is their release point into a better world…………

You can tune into any T.V. Soap at any time of the day and I’ll guarantee that, if there’s not one person shouting at another, if there’s not a woman or young girl dressing and behaving in a sexually provocative way or being abused, lied to, shagged or murdered then hold on, there’ll be a couple along in a minute. Push this button often enough and, like Pavlov's dogs it becomes the norm, these lives they read about; who’s shagging who, divorcing who, cheating on who, beating on who in Celeb Street? To the Red Tops, TV drama commissioners and MTV and other music sites it’s a staple; their execs call it, “pushing the boundaries” but we know that’s a euphemism for being more risqué than the other outlets so as you can lift the viewing figures, particularly that of the young audience; and it is predominately young.

We see Beyonce, Madonna or Jordan strutting their stuff on the various media and we know they are at work, playing a part, earning a crust, but children don’t because they haven’t developed the skills necessary for this sort of discrimination and, through our dereliction as parents we deny them the opportunity to develop those skills. We short-circuit what was once a gradual growth through childhood to adulthood and the concomitant development of the sociability, integrity and personality necessary to become a responsible adult, by allowing them to parody the “celebrities” of our substance-starved culture. When we let them dress in the clothing of the style-celebrity pimps we hold up as desirous of our attention, in spite of all the warning signs we see along the way, and by doing so we reinforce the positive application of both the style and lifestyle that supports this ideology. We choose to ignore these signs when we buy them the base-ball caps and hoodies of the Beckhams of this world, the décolletage fashions of the Jordans and Emma Buntons; we encourage our children to gob on the football pitch "like Wayne", by-pass the social skills of discussion and compromise and start punching, dispute all and every ruling given against them……in short, we get what we deserve.

The most worrying thing in all this is that every child has a parent/s that supports this ‘pimp’ industry ……and it’s a considered and calculated choice of theirs. That is to say, in case it’s unclear, people go out and buy this fashion for their children, sift through racks and racks of the stuff and suddenly cry, “Eureka!” (or more probably, “Fuck, this is fuckin-A!”) and then buy it.

So, what does this say about society? Well, unfortunately it says that those of stunted social growth think the celebs in this world have got it right when they dress their children in adult costume. They support the projected front of ‘cool’ and ‘fame’ that the newspapers and celeb mags pick up and show as “the way to go”. But the celebs of this world have the money, position, privilege and staff to be able to counter these things when they go wrong, are able to buy their way out of trouble; 22-year old Stacey from the council estate in some inner city flat with two kids and a husband/partner who is conspicuous by his absence (has been for three years now) can’t. Once she’s bought into it then the demands of a child on an already overstretched parent will form the basis for perpetuation. Lacking the intellect to realise that the “Transport Café” advert, with Joanna Lumley as a “privileged” insurance customer is not reflection of social good taste but in fact reinforces the 'coal in the bath' legend, they mimic this “celebrity” behaviour in their own way with the money they have and the goods that are pushed…or peddled…or pimped at them. We see a Jordan, Madonna or Beyonce wearing the stage clothes of suggestion on TV one day, the next day a sweat-shop somewhere in Burnley is churning that same fashion out for a fiver……..

So we get children dressed (or undressed) in clothes that are far beyond their years, wearing inappropriate clothing bearing inappropriate statements. To see the many inner-city centres thronged with skimpily-dressed, 8-10-12 year old girls bearing the logos of FCUK or statements such as “100% WOMAN-100%SLUT” written on the front of a mid-riff framing “T” shirt has all the aspects required by a poulation with more than its fair-share of freaks and sexual predators; we denounce the crime but supply the trade for it. These tribes of pre-pubescent girls can be with or without parents, it matters nothing. Their parents choose to ignore, or simply cannot see, the risks of this character formation that their children are entering into. They have neither the intellect, experience nor time to understand its implications because, in many cases the parents themselves are the result of the ‘Soap’ generation. Weaned on a diet of dysfunctional lifestyles, characters and families that our media, particularly those of the film and TV variety, have posited, and a level of social creativity that emanates from the Attila the Hun school of charm, these parents choose not to explain the behaviour and strategies used by these “actors” (key word there) that their children adulate and emulate.

Much of what Anita Roddick talks about in your article is pretty standard fodder and has been the perceived opinion of concerned people for many, many years, from when performers (and I use this phrase in its loosest possible term) like Madonna or the Spice Girls first came on the scene what, 20 years ago? The moving picture, in all its forms is a very, very powerful tool, we all know that. What is recognised but not voiced is that, in 95% of cases, the advertising and imagery that comes from and through it is man-driven. It suits men to keep women in subservient positions, to keep them undereducated, underachieving, under them…………and we choose to ignore it and maintain the status quo through our projection of "good taste" as exhibited by our children. Not surprisingly, 'Grease' is supposedly the “nations favourite musical”; it’s the one where she has to dress like a whore to get her man; I know, I know, there is willing participation from the women in the adverts and media representations that perpetuate the “female” as an “object”, but what we must remember and disseminate is that these things are only become 'real life' if we take them out of context and onto the streets; unfortunately our children are the ones that carry the billboard of our carelessness.

A Short Story for Summer

2006-05-20T22:37:00.000+01:00

Gloria woke a little before daybreak her eyelids tearing open like a fore-shore dawn and, even before matt-grey vision had claimed her senses her head was full of the day's significance.

She closed her eyes tight; tighter as if trying to squeeze out all the juice from the bloated fruit of today's choking realisation; to drain the vessel dry then curl up in the empty-shell womb; shed off responsibility. Become foetal. Protected. Detached; and in that first split-second of what was ostensibly a prolonged blink it almost worked. The simple movement of eyelids over eyes almost wiped away the reality of the awesome burden that she was about to shoulder......... Why was she?

"Why am I doing this?" thought Gloria? "I don't have to. It's not as though it's compulsory or anything. It's not against the law if it isn't done today.... it can wait; 'til tomorrow...."

The relief came flooding over her as the gap in the hedge of her moral maze was spotted leading straight to the freshly laundered fields of 'procrastinate'. It was only after Gloria had been in these imaginary fields for a few seconds that she spotted the coils of barbed-wire that had snagged her before and their idle meanderings spelt out the words, 'yesterday' and 'the day before' and 'the day before that' and Gloria knew their thorny scrawl was true.

"I can't." she thought. "I can't put it off for another day. I can't. It has to be done today; now........"

Decision catapulted her to a sitting position, her legs scything the bedclothes into rippling ecstasy as she swung them over the bedside and her groping fingers snapped on the bedside table lamp as her toes found the familiarity of slippers in residence. The lamp's blinding ferocity penetrated her skull, strobing her eyelids as the light became the chalk on night's blackboard forcing her to freeze in her actions. And as she did so, like ice creeping over a pond thoughts stole their way back into her conscious and she sat, owl-like, blinking at the inner vision of her plan's self-created deformity.

"I can't! How can I? Hm? I mean, how can I? I was the one that reared her. I saw her through all the troubles that came her way. She's only ten years old for goodness sake! It's no age! She's only ten......."

The force, the effort, the sheer bloody hard work that had gone into those ten years that Gloria had dedicated to Sandy, willingly dedicated to Sandy, rose up in her breast and showed themselves as one, single, large tear in the corner of her left eye.

"Oh please." she groaned as her throat closed in readiness, "Not tears. Not crying. Not again. I can't do it all again.........." Gloria fiercely wiped her eye with the back of her hand, pushing the tear back into its hose. She swallowed hard in an effort to close the weir gates.

"I can't do it all again." she repeated out loud as her thoughts motored on. "It has to be today; and anyway, why should I kid myself. It's what she wants, I know it is; hasn't she said so.....? Not cruelly, not unkindly, she hasn't a cruel or vindictive thought in her, not one. But it's been there. Inevitable. The barrel filling. Filling. Me, knowing that it'll overflow soon and all the time delaying the process. Tomorrow. Tomorrow; scooping out handfuls whenever I thought the distraction was sufficient to keep her mind off what I was doing. A game here, a treat there. Leaving late, leaving early...... sometimes not leaving at all......"

Those last ones Gloria regretted. Those were the times she couldn't excuse. It was a day lost for Sandy. An experience missed. But Gloria's courage was not sufficient, her resolve only front-door-famous. Once it was exposed to the sunshine of actuality, it melted like August dew.

"How can I do this wittingly? Hm? Knowingly? Well? How can I? I know what it holds. I know its brutality. Its carelessness its suddenness. I didn't get to thirty four and learn nothing." The thoughts came tumbling out as her eyes locked on to their echo in the wardrobe mirror.

"Thirty four! Gloria, you're thirty four! You can't do this! This is the way children behave when they have to go to the dentist. You can't place your palm against the door jamb, 'Mum, I've got a head-ache, Mum, I feel sick, Mum, it doesn't hurt any more.......' You're a mother... a house owner, tax-payer, all-round good egg....."

Her shoulders dropped as her mental and physical meanderings joined forces and she spoke their conclusion out loud.

"But I do feel sick, my head does ache...."

Gloria paused just a little too long for comfort and the time-space quickly had cheeks, throat and eyes well primed as she eventually said,

"........and Mum, it does hurt......"

Once more the tears enveloped her sinking eyes as Gloria sat slumped, the rivulets coursing down her face as she cried silently, just for herself........

Gradually the stream dried and she lifted her eyes from slippered toes back to her reflection in the truthful mirror. Their eyes locked once more as Gloria and her reflective self sat on the bed-edge staring through and beyond each other's expression of reflected emptiness.

'She has to go today, Gloria. You know that, don't you?' said her reflection. 'Well? Don't you?' Gloria nodded. "Yes. I know. I know I can't keep her forever....I know." She sighed, lifting the bed sheet to dry her eyes. She refrained from blowing her nose on the sheet, though the temptation was as strong as her present position was as comfortable, and sniffed her way along the landing, past Sandy's bedroom and into the bathroom where she blasted a wad of toilet roll.
"I can't put it off any longer." she repeated. "It's not fair on Sandy." With that she made her toilet and shuffled back to her bedroom.

"Choose something bright, extravagant." she thought. "Something that stands out, easily seen in the crowds. 'Oh yes; there'll be crowds.' " she repeated out loud. She flicked through her meagre wardrobe. "Hardly the Spring Collection." she murmured. Gloria finally fished out a linen frock with full skirt and busy purple-green flower pattern on top of a shot-blue backdrop. "Needs a volume control this one." she thought. "Just right. Now, make a real effort with y'self. Look good, confident, relaxed and bright." She paused, and then her thoughts ran on. "Confident, relaxed and bright? Where do I get a psychology transplant at this time of the morning?"

Gloria dressed carefully, slowly, hoping that her structured movements would alter her heartbeat from a rumba to a slow foxtrot. No such luck. When she had applied the final touch of discreet lipstick she sat back on the bed and took stock in the mirror again.

"You look pretty." said a voice behind her. Gloria turned. It was Sandy, standing in the doorway in her pyjamas. Their eyes mirror-met as she added, "Something special going on today?"

Gloria felt her inner-self burst into tears and rush into her daughter's arms, holding her so tightly that Sandy would have had difficulty breathing, as her outward-self showed this rush of adrenalin by Gloria shrugging her shoulders and giving Sandy a beaming smile.

"'Course not. No. What? Something special? No. I just haven't, you know..... haven't worn these for ages.....shame to let them grow away from me, you know?" She changed the subject with all the tact of a gin-trap. "You're up early. What's up? Can't sleep?"

Sandy yawned and stretched her arms above her head. "Not with you prowling about to and from the bathroom like a starving leopard, no, I can't. You got a tummy pain?"

"Just a bit."

"Women's 'things'." said Sandy in a peculiarly grown-up and conspiratorial way.

"Yeah." replied Gloria, not wishing to pursue this one.

There was a short pause. Sandy took a step into the room. "Or is it Dad again?" she asked.

"Whatever makes you think that?" asked Gloria, her voice showing signs of strain as her forced joi de vivre cracked at the edges.

"'Cos you've been crying." replied Sandy simply.

Gloria looked back at herself in the mirror. "And I thought no one would notice." she said. "Yes, it's a bit Daddy too. You know........"

Sandy nodded as she struggled to gather up her badly wrapped juvenile knowledge and scramble over the hurdle into the open fields of adult thinking. "I know you miss him." She stopped, frowning a little. The pause lengthened and Gloria was unwilling to break the silence. Eventually Sandy spoke. "I never knew him. I know I was only just born when he…… you know? But sometimes I can feel him, Mum. You know? Sort of part of me, in my head...." she slowed and stopped, looking at Gloria. "You know?"

Gloria gently shook her head, a fresh spring just on the verge of destroying her mascara. "Ohhh, Sandy." She smiled at her daughter. "Come here. Let me give you a hug."

Gloria opened her arms and Sandy walked across into their feminine folds as Gloria's arms entwined her and smothered her with the lifelong scent of White Musk and Camay. Sandy knew that for the rest of her life that smell would always conjure up the spirit of her mother; even then she knew it. After a long pause, Sandy lifted her head away from her mother's shoulder. "I can't ever know what you lost, but I know what he took with him." she said slowly.

Gloria held Sandy at arm's length and stared at her. "I don't know where you get these things from. I sometimes think you've never been a child, just a little adult. And what do you think he tookwith him then, Miss smarty-pants?"

"All your confidence." said Sandy.

Gloria placed the back of her crooked forefinger onto her pursed lips like a substitute dummy and closed her eyes for a second, then swallowed hard once more. Finally she raised her eyes to meet Sandy's and sighed deeply. "Am I that bad?" she asked.

"No." replied Sandy, too quickly then she carried on reflectively. "Well, yes. only sometimes you know. Not really.....just....."

"OK. OK." said Gloria. "I get the picture, you hid it well but for the pauses; I'm an untrusting, possessive mother....."

"Only sometimes." said Sandy.

"Thanks." replied Gloria. "That helps a lot. Don't forget you've a birthday in three weeks time and I'm present-buyer-in-chief. Just remember that and be nice to your ageing parent." She smiled at Sandy. "Well, like I said, it's also 'Mummy’s things' as well. Dressed and breakfast?" This second abrupt change was even less subtle that the last, but Gloria knew she didn't have the emotional make-up to be any more conversationally creative.

"But it's only ten past six." said an aggrieved Sandy as she looked across at the alarm clock that was showering under the light from the bedside lamp. "We've got ages before school." she continued. "I'll need two breakfasts before we go if I get up now."

"Well that's OK." said a slightly relieved Gloria. "You go back and snuggle down. You don't have to sleep if you don't want to. Have a doze or read a little. I'll give you a shout about half seven. OK?"

"Well, what are you going to do?" asked Sandy.

"Oh, I'll tidy up a bit, you know. Get a bit ahead. I'm really not tired. Now, you go back to bed. Go on. Off y' pop.” Gloria ushered Sandy back to her bedroom, glad of the opportunity of further time alone. "I'll give you a shout at half seven. Promise."................

"Sandy?....... Sandy! It's half seven. Walkies time."

Gloria was standing half way up the stairs, her voice directed towards Sandy's bedroom at the head of the landing. Sandy appeared from the bathroom on the right-hand side of the stairway, a towel in one hand her toothbrush in the other.

"No need to shout." she replied. "I'm in the bathroom."

"How long have you been up then?"

"Oh, 'bout ten minutes. I read a bit, then I heard you start up the washing machine..........."

"Yeah." Joined in Gloria. "I wanted to get those sheets washed and out. The forecast's good for the day........"

".......then you started washing up and I thought there'll be no hot water if I don't get up now, the rate you're going."

"Sorry." said Gloria. "Was I very noisy?"

"Enough." replied Sandy. "Anyway, I'm just going to get dressed and I'll be down."

"You want breakfast?" asked Gloria.

"Yeah. Toast 'n' Marmite."

"OK." said Gloria. "I'll start it now?"

Sandy moved back to the bathroom and called over her shoulder. "Yeah. I'm only going to be a few more minutes." She was gone.

Gloria turned back down the stairs and entered the kitchen. The knot in her stomach was as big as a pullet.

"Oh God." she thought. "I can't go through with this. If I'm like this now, what am I going to be like in....." she looked at her watch "......an hour's time?" She stood by the sink and held on to the edge of the draining board, her white-knuckle ride for the day starting just about now. "You're going to be a gibbering wreck, that's what. Now get a grip!" she said sternly to herself.

Gloria lifted the lid on the bread-bin and took out two slices from the packet. She opened the grill section on the oven and put the bread in, turning the grill on and all the while scolding herself inwardly for her attitude.

"Gloria, you have to follow it through. She has to be given a chance; Sandy has to learn to swim where there are sharks. You've not even let her dip her toe in the water up to now, have you? No. Well, you can't keep up the pretence any longer. You'll be just on the shore....."

Sandy entered the kitchen; her school uniform lacking a tie but otherwise complete, and moved towards the table.

"...........close at hand......."

Gloria's eyes fixed on her daughter.

"..........ready to dive in if a problem arises. Everybody else is doing it, did it ages ago. Now it's your turn. You have to....."

So involved was Gloria with this inner discussion that, as she was looking at Sandy crossing the kitchen, the words just tumbled out,

"......she's ten now....."

Gloria realised she was speaking out loud and stopped abruptly.

Sandy stood still and looked at her mother for a moment, then said uncertainly,

"Err.....? Yeah. That's right, Mum; I'm ten....I take it it's my turn to answer......unless there's someone else in the kitchen? No? Well, is this a quiz 'cos if it is can I ask you how long it takes for toast to burn under our grill.....?"

"Oh Lord!" cried Gloria as she caught site of the pillar of grey-black smoke emanating from under the grill.

"First sign of madness is talking to yourself." said Sandy as her mother grappled with the grill, the heat, the smoke and the embarrassment. "Second one's green hairs on the palm of your hand......"

"Third one's looking for them, I'm not going to fall for that one, Miss." joined on Gloria. "I'm too old to get taken in by that one."

"But not old enough to have learnt how to do toast." said Sandy, smiling at the burnt offerings that Gloria tossed onto the work surface. "Very reassuring." She sat at the table.

"Where do you get these things from." said Gloria. "Don't grow up so fast."

"I'll never get the chance, the way you cosset me....apart from the meals that is...."

"Sandy." said Gloria deliberately. "I don't cosset. I protect, that's all."

"I know, Mom, I know. I wasn't having a go. It's just....well... It's just....."

"I know. OK. I understand. Do you still want toast, or has my attempt to make diamonds from bread put you off?"

"No. I'll still have the toast." Sandy slipped down from the stool. "But I'll do it. I don't know how but we got up at just gone six and we're still in danger of being late."

She popped the two fresh slices under the hot grill as Gloria moved to the cupboard to retrieve Marmite and the fridge for butter.

"I don't know how we do it. We always seem to leave early or late. " continued Sandy. "There's never a nice, comfortable timing to each day. I either arrive completely out of breath 'cos you've frog-marched me to the gates with only seconds to spare, or I get there to an empty playground and a startled caretaker 'cos there's still thirty minutes to go to start time and you came all the way, but you still have time to wait at the gate for ten minutes until the other's start to arrive even though you're going on shopping or something. You’re the only mother I know, that any of my friends knows for that matter who goes shopping three or four times a week. They all think we're loaded. It's always.......always like that."

Gloria felt the tide of bile wash against the back of her throat as her stomach pumped and the adrenalin gobbled up heart space. She trembled, almost trembled, as she heard herself saying.

"Well, today, Sandy, we'll leave at whatever time you say......you name it.......I'm not going shopping........"

Sandy caught the inflection in her voice and understood the meaning but not what was meant. She needed to test the ground on this.

"Can we leave at half past?"

The request thumped home like grapeshot. There was a long pause, almost too long for comfort. Sandy caught on and tried to cover the tracks.

"It's really OK. If you want to leave at another time." She said simply.

Gloria looked at her daughter and held out her hand towards her. "Oh' Sandy. You really are the sweetest......."

Sandy leaned forward and wiped the heavily buttered blade of the knife onto her mother's open palm. "I know I am." she smiled sweetly.

Gloria looked down at her freshly buttered hand, and then started to laugh. "Sandy! You little toa....."

Sandy joined on. "What happened to 'sweet and lovely' then?"

"Nothing" replied Gloria. "Nothing." She wiped her hand with the dishcloth. "Give me the knife, handle first, please, and I'll finish it off..........."

The rest of breakfast was completed in silence, Gloria every now and then catching Sandy's eye and smiling broadly. An action that, in the present and toatlly new circumstances she hadn't quite mastered inside yet. Gloria span out the simple tasks that followed as much as she dare, but despite her best work, the small remnants of crockery were soon swilled and, before she could delay it, Sandy had grabbed her school bag and was heading towards the front door.

"C'mon, Mom. It's half past." she said.

Before Gloria could do or say anything Sandy was at the front door, its latch clicking open like the sound of the trap-door bolt in a hang-man's rehearsal.

"Wait a second, Sandy, I haven't got my handbag." called Gloria, "or my coat....."

Sandy swung the door open letting in a gasp of air through the doorway. "You don't need a coat, it's a lovely day, and you said you weren't going shopping today so what do you need a handbag for? C'mon......"

Sandy caught the look of indecision in her Mum's eyes as, her hand pressed against the doorjamb, she stood ice-carved in the doorway. Sandy trapped her tongue and moved back to Gloria.

"You Ok, Mum?" She paused a little, waiting for a response. None came. "Do you want to sit down a bit? C'mon. Let's go back into the kitchen and you can catch your breath. You've gone a bit pale. Do you feel sick.....?”

Sandy tried to move Gloria back in the direction of the kitchen, but her Mum's locked arm held her fast and prevented movement either way.

"Mum? Mum? C'mon....."

"No." was all Gloria said.

"No you don't feel sick or no you don't want to go back into the kitchen?" asked Sandy.

Gloria's voice came out flat, like that of a well-programmed automaton. "No I don't want to go back into the kitchen. We have to go to school. You and me. We have to go to school."

With that, Gloria's outstretched arm relaxed and she stepped over the threshold of the door in perfect, plank-walker style.

"Pull the door to, Sandy." she said with great deliberation. "I've got my key."

Sandy did so and then joined her Mum on the short garden pathway that led to the pavement. When she reached Gloria's side, Sandy looped her arm through her Mum's and sort of snuggled it like she would a large teddy-bear.

"Isn't it lovely and warm now?" she asked brightly.

"Yes." Replied Gloria. Her eyes held panic as her well-fooled footstep caught up with her brain and braked hard. "Oh! I've forgotten to pick up your sandwiches for lunch....." Gloria made to turn back towards home.

"No, it's OK. I put them in my bag just before we left." said Sandy.

Gloria's shoulders drooped a little as a further door was slammed on any possible escape route. Her head reverberated to the sound of her inner voices. 'Gloria! Stop it! You've got this far, now see it through and stop acting like a child!' Gloria pulled her arm and thereby Sandy's linked hand close to her side. "Don't mind me." she said. "I'm just a little.....you know?"

"I think so." replied Sandy. "What with Dad and 'women's things'. Will I get this when I'm older?"

"Yes." Replied Gloria. "Some day all this will be yours my child; well most of it anyway but just the good bits, I hope."

They left the short front drive, turned left, and walked up Reynolds Road. With each step the lump of lead inside Gloria’s shoes got bigger and heavier until she was having trouble lifting her foot for each step. By the time they turned the corner into Braydon Road where Sandy's school was it was lucky they still were arm in arm or Gloria would have fallen over with the effort. Now the noise of the traffic got louder, an aural reminder to Gloria of the real world she was entering. Odd pockets of children were around now, the youngest, or the 'snugglies' as Gloria and Sandy called them with parents in tow, others walking in small parties chattering eagerly about last night's T.V. programmes, the state of pop music or whether you could run faster than your mates to that tree and back. As they progressed along Braydon Road, so the number of children and parents grew until the pavement was awash with the heave and swell of schoolbags and caps.

"There's Kim!" said Sandy excitedly.

"Where?" replied Gloria feeling her nemesis approaching. "I can't see her."

"Just up ahead. Look. There!" Sandy pointed ahead of them, over the ocean of bobbing heads. "Can we catch her up?"

Gloria couldn't believe she was saying it, but she was saying it.

"You go on ahead, you'll catch her up a lot quicker without your ageing mother in tow."

Sandy stopped in her tracks, first-year torpedoes bumping into her so suddenly did she stand still. "What, on my own? You mean..... I can walk to school on my own....?"

Gloria bit her bottom lip and forced a smile. "Mmm. You go on........I'll just wait here a little...school's just down the road, I'll just wait here...... a little....you...go on; then I'll head off back home. That OK?"

Sandy stood there for a few seconds looking at her Mum, not recognising the child inside or out.

"Go on." repeated Gloria, "Or Kim'll be too far off and I'll have to come with you and you'll spoil the moment. Go on. This is about as far from the school gates as my confidence will allow me to stay.........."

Sandy gave Gloria a dazzling smile. "Thanks, Mum." was all she could muster. She turned to make her way down the road.

"I'll meet you outside school though." said Gloria. "I have a feeling this confidence is only on loan......OK?"

"OK." shouted the fast disappearing Sandy over her shoulder. "See you at half past....!" she was swallowed up in a gingham sea.

Gloria stared after her. Sandy's height made her visible for some while but eventually, at about the point where the school gates butted onto the road Gloria figured, Sandy disappeared from view. Gloria stepped to the side of the pavement, placing her back against the low garden wall that marked the boundary of number thirty-one's Eden. Children and odd parents were moving past her like the trackside hedgerows seen from a fast moving train. All of it became a blur as she realised what she had done, and where it would inevitably lead.

"Was it this hard for you, Mum? Letting me go?" she heard herself say, "No-one said it was going to be this hard....."

"Ohhh, Richard," she sighed, "Did you see what I did........ did you? You'd’ve been so proud and now you’ve missed it........you bastard. Serve you fucking right………"

A Celebration of Mediocrity – It’s the English Way

2006-03-24T16:09:00.000Z

Watching the Commonwealth games on T.V. the past few days has confirmed one thing for me; if ever there was a World Championship for “Almost”, then the English would walk away with it and break all previous World Records (held by them for the past twenty years anyway) into the bargain. In most endeavours you have to achieve at some level before you’re feted to the heavens as the second coming but those days, it seems, are gone. Now we’re treated to a string of interviews with the fourth, fifth, sixth placed English competitors and, like politicians losing an election, it’s seen as a victory? I guess the prime examples of this are in the music and sport industry, although film and T.V. soaps have run them a close second…..the only ‘close second’ we’re ever likely to have in any race.

In the music world there was a time when any performer worth their salt would have cut their chops on a gruelling circuit of pubs and clubs over several years before someone in a position of “ability” took notice of them and discussed a possible….that’s a “possible”….. opportunity at cutting a demo tape. Now mega-star singers and performers are churned out via pop shows run by industry insiders who are just chasing money or pussy, or both, and boys and girls are hailed as the greatest singer/dancer/sax player/opera star since…..*fill in your own choice of name here*. That guy who runs these shows, that "Stars in their Eyes" thingy, can’t remember his name, he gets a lot of attention for being unpleasant to people, gets the winner of these things to sign up to his management company…….there’s a great deal, get all the media promotion for free, sell the format of the programmes to other stations, take the money from the text-ins that follow then reap the recording and tour rewards of the performer into the bargain…… well, he may be a slithey tove but here’s a man who sees mediocrity and instead of lionising it, calls it for what it is; shit. We could do with him in the athletics field, methinks.

We’ve done what the molly-coddled generation that we’ve become always promised we’d become; “stars” without effort. Same as we can diet without cutting down on our eating and upping our exercise we believe we can achieve greatness without effort, gain riches and stardom just by being “us”, and we’ll scream and cry and rush out of the room in flurry of crinolines and talcum powder at the merest hint of criticism or any suggestion that we might, just might, need a little something called ability as well. I should have seen the writing on the wall when I went to a week-long drum workshop some years ago. Very good it was too, but, at the close of the week, the organisers had invited three record company A&R guys to come along and talk to those present (the youngsters that is, I, at forty-something then was well past it, trust me, I was) and all of them, that’s all as in “unanimous”, said the last thing they were looking for when signing someone to a contract was musical ability or talent; honest. Of course, those more savvy than me will have known that for years, I’m just a cuddly 57 year-old who still keeps the faith with the inherent goodness of the species.

Back at the Commonwealth Games, the ladies netball match between Wales and Jamaica was a classic in point. If ever there was an object lesson in what happens when the members of a rich, over-fussed, burger-fed, blame-culture reared, celebrity-mesmerised nation (that’s the UK in case you were confused) collides with a relatively poor, undernourished, struggling, career-searching nation (that’s not the UK in case you were confused) was demonstrated to great effect…….Wales lost, by the way, by about six zillion points to none. To watch the flabby, soft, pink, lacklustre performance of these Welsh ladies when placed alongside the sharp, slim, energetic, balletic performances of the Jamaican team was an embarrassment of some magnitude. Here was a team that hailed from a place where gang violence, prostitution, drug proliferation and poverty, all run by a masculine-dominated hierarchy intent on keeping women subservient …..yes, OK, sounds just like Swansea, I know…… and yet they were still able to give “our” ladies an object lesson in the art of sport played with passion, of sport played to win, above all, to win.

In interview after interview with the British contingent in so many of the recent sporting events it was seen as OK to get a fifth place, to get nothing, to “have tried hard”, and so much of this stems from the stupid, idiotic idea championed by the Labour Party and those of the “Ahhhh” society back in the nineties who foolishly believed there should never be ‘winners’ and’ losers’, just ‘competitors’. There was a backlash to this. What was lost was the opportunity for all those children who were running, jumping, skipping on the playing fields of English schools (those that Thatcher hadn’t sold off for housing developments to her cronies, that is) to ever feel the elation of winning and to want to repeat the feeling whenever possible; ever to feel the drive that coming second gives to those who wanted to come first next time and who would go on to become great; and you may not believe this but not everyone can, honest, not everyone can finish first, it’s a fallacy. Just the same as not all of us can go to university and read maths; it may come as surprise to you all……..but some of us just aren’t bright enough, trust me. It doesn’t mean to say we won’t succeed in life, just not at maths…… But by our use of the ‘Ahhh’ factor we’ve given mediocrity a stamp of approval, and so have our children because they saw their parents and teachers, those that were their role models, accept that it was OK to fall short of winning if winning meant you had to be aggressive in your approach to competition and to, in fact, beat someone else into second place. Thank Christ this stupidity wasn’t prevalent in 1939……..

Out of these ridiculous nineties, when our competitors said, “Thanks very much for settling for second place, I’ll just take that first-place rosette, if you don't mind”, the other ridiculous notion took root, namely that maybe we couldn’t win but you had to be seen to be trying hard to win, even if you didn’t. That way, if you could put on this mask of ‘trying’ and still fail then you could blame everyone else for your failures; “It was my trainer, my sponsor, my upbringing, my drug supplier……I mean, crikey, the Conservative Party had made an industry of it throughout the nineties and they were STILL hanging on to power! Nice guys finish first too, but they don’t make good copy (see below). What grew from this stupidity was a void stretching across our shortfall of ability over desire and into this black-hole the media manipulated, get-rich-quick generation that we’ve become flowered; what was needed in this snip-snap, sound-bite culture we’d donned was a face, an expression. We got it with all those pictures of footballers with their eyes bulging, their mouths open in silent screams, the veins standing out in their necks like knotted ropes that represented the ‘face of winning’ and from this platform the mask has spread to all male events on any given track and field competition space in any age group and of any ability.

That’s the problem when the sexually charged, educationally challenged, emotionally and socially stunted young men that have been raised to the podium of greatness by one piece of good work (i.e. some of our footballers that happened to score a goal at a useful time, some of our runners that happened to win an event without all other competitors falling over) become national heroes and multi-millionaires at one and the same time. Too young to appreciate, too young to articulate, too ill-prepared to negotiate they become the epitome of swaggering arrogance, with too much cash and too little sense. Unfortunately these are the very people that the young look up to. Young folk want a life without boundaries where excess is the norm and responsibility comes a very poor second to hedonism.

Seeing the strutting posture of self-obsessed footballing twenty-something’s wrapped up in lives of style but no substance is the goal to aim for and parents, eager to champion their children at all costs and by whatever means (ever been to a youth football match on a Sunday?) create the climate for this step-upon culture, where children dressed in "grown-up" fashion act in seemingly "grown up" ways, emulating the language and posture of their sporting heroes. This has spread and has become more prevalent over the past ten years in the so-called “blue-ribbon” events, in particular the men’s sprinting competitions.

The very level of testosterone fuelled build up that the men have been brought up on (I didn’t notice Roger Bannister screaming his way round the track after his sub-four-minute-mile run shouting “FUCKING HELL, FUCKING HELL, ITS ME, ME, I’M THE MAN, I. AM. THE. MAN!”) means they are primed and ready to blow up before, during and after the event. They’ve been brought up on a belief that, if they haven’t got that level of aggression then they’ll not succeed, won’t deserve to because success isn’t measured by track success but by “marketability”; ask yourself, will what I do on the track in the lead up to and end of my event make good copy? So we see sportsmen (and it is the men) put on the mask of arrogance, posture, anger, aggression, whatever for the photojournalists to capture and print on the back page of our papers. Watch them the next time an event’s broadcast and make your own decisions; there are some uncomfortable facts that can be gleaned from the procession of aggressive men screened on the tracks and fields of competitions.

Now what I’ve scribbled above may make you think that it is a recipe for competing to win? Not so. Where it falls short is the belief that, as soon as you’ve made your pile you don’t have to try any more; my parents called it laziness, we call it success and the ease with which a pile can be made through endorsements, adverts, clothing ranges indeed any other conceivable means that has nothing to do with the enterprise the individual is actually involved in, is staggering; you know the names, you’ll not need me to list them, just start at George Best and work your way forward……… I know, sportsmen are an easy target, but my fears for the future of mediocrity triumphing further over excellence go deeper than that.

I prepare for the inevitable avalanche of death threats, or I would if I thought that anyone else read these notes of mine, but can someone tell me what Keira Knightly had done prior to her appearance in “Pirates of the Caribbean”? Now, I agree, she is a very beautiful woman, she had a fine figure, a dainty turn of foot…..but as ‘an actress’ she has a long, long way to go, yes, even in “Pride and Prejudice”. I’m not comparing her, just drawing parallels you understand, but actresses such as Maggie Smith, Judi Dench and their ilk knock Knightly into a cocked hat and she’d probably admit as much too……..but only in private, you understand, you have to talk-the-talk in this world…….. I know that the others mentioned are much older, more seasoned, but they served their apprenticeship over the years growing and maturing gradually, honing their art for years before becoming that much overused phrase, “brilliant”. Knightly has been branded “brilliant” after a couple of years on screen, no stage work just the false impression of film where arse-doubles, correct lighting and the use of "angles" are the norm. She's been branded as "brilliant" by those around her who have made her what she is (we’re not talking about other actors, directors or writers here, those people who can give her the tools of the trade, no, we’re talking managers, publicists, stylists, media consultants, haute couturiers and all those other hanger’s-on, many who just want to get into her pants). If they fail, if any chink in the armour becomes visible they’ll lose their meal ticket and so the myth is manipulated, the public greed for revelation drip fed and the enigma she has been made is perpetuated until, like the king’s new clothes we believe we can see it too.

Now she may turn out to be as prodigious in her talent and output as those mentioned above, but she has a long way to go to get there in my humble opinion. Unfortunately, like so many sportsmen and on the back of one gig , she is hailed as the new queen of the screen and is hoisted up alongside those of far greater experience and talent; it’s not that she doesn't posses great talent but that she may well be denied reaching it due to being forced to peak well before time that I object to. As it is, by holding her up as “brilliant” after so little work, the bar is lowered. Now celebrity is the desired goal of a majority of youth who don’t want to gain celebrity through achievement, just gain celebrity like their heroes in the soaps, music world and sports arena. We, their audience, lose the ability to distinguish between stuff and substance, they lose the ability to become what they really, truly are, win or lose, and we, all of us, lose an opportunity to find true inspiration for our own dreams.

The Face of English Football - It's white, male and baying for blood

2005-08-19T01:23:00.000+01:00

Photo' courtesey of "The Independent" which captures so well the vein of aggression that runs through English football today.

Just think how proud their collective Mums must be. There are just over 50 "supporters" in this photo', together with that bastion of good taste and charity, Wayne Rooney, who thankfully has his back to us. Of that 50+, 5 are showing the two-fingered "V" sign (that's as in "Fuck-Off" not as in "Victory", you understand) 3 are showing the one-fingered "Up-Yours, Pussy" sign, one has his hand in the downstroke of the "wanker" salute, 1 is so incensed that he's confused by what would be the biggest insult and is flashing a three-fingered salute, 13 are at various points of the "Fuck-Off!" shout, 4 are in the various stages of the "wanker" expletive, all of them, to a man (and one woman) have the word "hate" or "kill" running through what can laughingly be classed as their "mind" and one of them is walking home with an extra £80,000 in his bank account after the game. If you could capture and bottle this venom you'd have enough vitriol to clean the rust off'f the Forth Bridge. Oh, and don't tell me, "Doris, it's not just English football that provokes such hatred, it's all over the world, y' know" 'cos that doesn't exactly make me feel any easier, OK.

I Drink, Therefore I'm Drunk...................

2005-08-11T22:48:00.000+01:00

A Open Letter to Maxin Frith of The Independent: -

Hi, Maxine,

Interesting article concerning the Faliraki syndrome destined for the UK, much of it spot-on, but the whole missing the mark by some yardage, I feel……and the fact that we already have a Faliraki drink culture isn’t really an OK reason for opposing change. Yes, we do suffer from ‘binge-drinking’ (although I always thought that to ‘go on a binge’ was to gluttonously but infrequently over-indulge in what is seen as an everyday event of one form or another; many of those accused of this convenient media-strapline do it for three and often four nights per week; hardly a ‘binge’ more a ‘habit’, I’d say). Your description of a couple of instances (the ‘village pub’ requesting lengthened hours to complete the music nights they hold and the actions of ‘sharp-suited young men’ downing pints and chasers as the London pub threatens to close) does in fact go a long way to pinpointing where several of the problems but not their solutions lie.

The fact that young men (sharp-suited or not) and women clamour at the bar for an extra pint in addition to the one they’re drinking (and the ones they’ve possibly already consumed) and a “chaser” shouldn’t beg the reason/excuse that they’re doing it because the licensing laws in this country are so moronic (they are, I agree) this is the only way they have to consume their alcohol, but should the beg the question, “why?” Why do they have the need to down at the very least two pints and a chaser in 7-to-10 minutes? (I guess we should also ask how they’re getting home, but that’s a pointless exercise as I know we’ll be told by all, sharp-suited or on their uppers, that they’re all going to catch a bus or call a taxi, 'onest, guv'). It would, maybe, be better to analyze this (.....hm, good title for a film that; now let me see if I can sort out a story for it……) event and the modern mores and background that lead to this form of expression of self. No, I’m not going to write a diatribe about “modern youth, celebrity role models, too much money, too much time and in some cases too little intellect” etc… but you and I both know that these are just some of the underlying currents that drive these ships in bottles.

The information on your local village pub is also quite revealing. There are very few instances of large scale, drink-fuelled violence and depravity taking place in villages. That’s because there’s a level of ‘everyone being known by someone’ and a certain level of self-preservation through “community”, for want of a better word, which still permeates many of these rural areas. The increase in Saturday closing in your village pub won’t lead to alcohol-fuelled violence 24/7; that’s not what the concern is about. The concern is about inner-city and large suburban areas (where anonymity is certain, cameras or no cameras and the natural progression from this extended drinking time will be to force through the legislation concerning I.D. Cards...........I'm not paranoid, just ask that bloke who keeps following me) upping their opening times, with the alcohol manufacturer’s backing and 'competitive drive at all costs' regime, resulting in the exacerbation an already unpleasant situation.

We know this to be a fact as a visit to any week-end night in any large city will confirm; your Newcastle-upon-Tyne story well illustrates this. There is no need for any more research, by 'Mintel' or any other focus group analyst; for “research” just insert “decision delaying tactic”. In probably 7 cases out of 10 the drinks industry pays for the ‘expert research’ and ‘report outcomes’ that shape policy in their own industry and government legislation. They lobby a centre of government that is hardly a teetotal utopia for favourable findings and special dispensations (viz-a-viz the tobacco industry’s helping hand in the formula one fuck-up recently and the regular budget rise in cigarette duty but not on pipe tobacco and cigars) and manipulate adverse findings made by reputable health practitioners (who really are just trying to help out with the help of the nation in most cases) by paying other well known scientists to contest the evidence, and so muddy the water, for a fee; it’s called 'marketing'. You only have to read Mintel's report on Alcopops to understand where they're coming from............its so full of "market-speak" it should carry a government spin-doctor's health warning, but it never once questions the social ideology of such beverages; they weren't employed to do that. Indeed, ten of thirty-one - or 33% if you prefer - of Mintel’s food and drink clients (that’s the folks who pay the bills) are alcohol producers and retailers; hardly going to get unbiased reports into alcohol and its effects on society from that branch of the “research” industry methinks.

City centres, as opposed to village centres, attract more people, and so attract more businesses selling their wares, and the alcohol trade is just one of the many. Just like the clubs that were fully active when the “E” craze first started, who cut off the water in the toilets then upped the price of bottled water at the bar by ten times the original price (even took the plastic bottles of water that club-goers brought with them 'cos the bouncers said they were a dangerous weapon) the drinks industry will use any and all offers, bribes, favourable reports and attractions to get their wares sold; as long as they print, "Please Drink Sensibly" on their bottles they're rid of the problems that follow. It’s not a charity, it’s a business and there’s more competition on the high streets of our cities so the offers and "specials" become inflated, magnified and hyped.

In villages with one or two pubs the problem only arises when adverse numbers of young people gather (I’ll go into the ethnological and behavioural reasons for this if you like, but I figure I’ve almost exhausted your patience as it is). One of the cases of drink-fuelled violence in a small county town that comes to mind from recent history was in Towcester, and it only gained its troubled time after the city of Milton Keynes was built. The expansion of Northampton into Weston Favell and Stony Stratford into Galley Hill, and a subsequent increase in the population of that area by around seven-fold, together with the welding of once small villages into satellite dumping grounds for East-End of London problem families was about three-parts completed when “country-town violence” made itself felt in that town. Trace back Northampton’s history and read about what it was and what it is now; it’s not a pretty story.

What increases and kick-starts (forgive the pun) alcohol-fuelled violence, alcohol-fuelled depravity and alcohol-fuelled vandalism is…surprise, surprise….alcohol! Whatever you do with it, ban it (prohibition worked well in the U.S of A. didn’t it) ration it (black market would never start up here, not in good old Blighty) let people buy it pretty well wherever and whenever they like (the present proposal for licensed premises, disorganised freeing up of laws being seized on by our supermarket chains as another way of creaming a fast buck…but I’m sure, like it says on the bottle, they’ll "do it responsibly") or give it away free for the first half-hour (even pay to get ‘em in) we’ll always have alcohol-related problems. What it comes down to is people; people, who most often should know better given their level of "education", people and their inability to ration sensible intake of alcohol over sensible times in sensible locations without incentives, and to behave with even a modicum of self-restraint after drinking; this is something that only comes with a level of social responsibility gained through experienced parenting, responsible attitudes displayed by conglomerates, honest, open-handed government, inspiring role models…need I go on? But that'll take time, and governments aren't in it for the long haul; government office isn't for ever, it's just for Christmas.

What you have to do is to lift the level of intelligence and responsibility in a huge section of the population who only wants to become famous. Does anyone really think it’ll be ordinary, sensible folk out taking advantage of these extended hours? Drinking at three in the morning because “the pub’s so much quieter then”? I doubt it. It’ll be those who’ve already had more than their share topping up before they go out onto the streets to turn some student of physics into a vegetable then return home to make their mothers, wives, partners or pets proud of them by vomiting on the carpet and pissing in the wardrobe because, “I thought it was a toilet cubicle, love; honest.”

And, if we did get 24/7 opening hours in some pubs, you only need one in every city to do it and it’ll be the area of attraction for all, that is until the other outlet owners say, "Fuck this for a game of soldiers, they're gettin' all the profit; let's get it on!" And, even after a whole day’s drinking there will always be a number of folk who’ll want to get those two or three extra ones down ‘em before they roll home; nothing will alter that mindset, it comes as part of the package of our hedonistic and careless society; a society that looks at the case of a car driver killing one or more people and takes the fact that the driver was drunk into account as a mitigating factor by prosecuting them for manslaughter. One thing it will do for sure though is increase the opportunity for violence to pursue a 24/7 timetable. Instead of being able to get off’f the streets before the pubs kick out, as now, we’ll be treated to pockets of violent and affray happening throughout the day, and that’ll further increase people’s reluctance to go to the city centres; and you only have to see that level of brutality once, just once, to know you never, ever want to see it again. That every victim whose head is used as a football by a group of piss-head youngsters ("Prop 'im up, Dave, let's 'ave another go"....Wham!) and is then used as a blow-up-bed-pump by the ringleader ('Ere, Dave, e's not squirmin' much now, is 'e? Jump on 'im again") is some mother’s son, some woman’s husband, some young girl’s boyfriend.

“Short on answers, Doris?” Yup, you betcha, but I know the present trend of curtailed opening hours isn’t working (as your article propounds) but, unlike you, I fully believe their extension won’t decrease the levels of drink-related crime one iota. I know, I know, we’ll have to agree to differ. It’s going to go through government whatever "the people" think, it’s got the backing of the drink’s lobby for a start and at the finish that’s the nature of what we laughingly call our “democracy”; our government listen to what we've got to say on the matter then do exactly as they'd planned all along. Maybe, in a couple of year’s time we’ll chat again, you and I, and you can say, “Doris, I told you so” and I’ll be glad I was wrong, you were right and the problem’s solved, honest, I will; but forgive me if I don’t hold my breath.

ATB

Doris

Rio and Beyond - A competition letter from the common man to The Masters of the Universe

2005-08-03T23:46:00.000+01:00

After looking forward so much to the Edinburgh fringe (yup, that time when our world leaders put together their own version of the Perrier Comedy Awards and gathered at Gleneagles to booze, stuff their faces and, in between schmoozing with each other, proclaim they were the starving people's saviours..........worked a treat, hasn't it?) and then being so disappointed at the outcome....yup, that prolonged silence was political-speak for "outcome"...... I looked back at my expressions of hope for the Rio conference all those years ago; you'd've thought I'd've got more sense by now, huh? Nope. I'm like so many others who keep getting shat on; I can't work out the circumference of the pan. I wrote the following for entry into some environmental story competition thing for people under the age of 17 for some self-satisfied society or other looking after endangered bricks or some other such great work; can't understand why it didn't make the final three. Anyhow, here it is........fuck-all changed really, has it?

It seems so prophetic, somehow, that the only way my voice can be heard (in two hundred words only, please) is by entering a competition; a competition that I am too old to enter............. Well, I'm about to fail on two counts; so, what's new? So many times during the last quarter of a century, I and millions like me have failed. We have failed each time we have seen countless groups of statesmen gather and "discover" theories and ideas that many of us have known and expounded for the past fifty years. For so much of that past half century we have put forward these same theories and ideas, well ahead of the days of enlightenment of these so-called informed thinkers, only to have them waved away or, more often, diluted by the Cerberus of compromise, isolationism and trade-off; and when agreement has been reached? So many times we have found the agreements wanting, the resolved decisions weakening, and the action lethargic, if it could be arsed to get out of bed in the first place that it. All too often ecological decisions are made that fit only into the maker's political lifetime, and the uniform of environmental and humanitarian responsibility is ill fitting on many.

If we, the rank and file of humanity can recognise these shortcomings, then how come you cannot? How come you, those that we have elevated to posts of authority and trust, and should know better given your education and that of those around you, how come you cannot see? From your elevated position you can look over the mountain; the majority can't. Their wings are clipped by the scissors of necessary self preservation wielded by the servants of vested interest. That is why we look to you for a faithful and open report on global conditions and an honest strategy for improvement; past experience has taught us that in the case of those reports, and on most strategies, the opposite is true. So, when once again you return by first-class travel from your well-fed conference with a bagful of empty promises, the flag of self interest flying high, corporate ideology in your heart and the 'forecast saying rain tomorrow' philosophy indelibly printed in your manifesto, how can you possibly be surprised at unrest or civil disobedience, at people who climb trees, dig tunnels or lie in front of tanks; if you can take this advice from such a one; Welcome to the Real World.

Cessation of human rights abuses, halting the social destruction of indigenous peoples or the reversing of wildlife conservation calamities do not get solved with a white-tie banquet of six courses and a gala ball. It might get people together to discuss them, but eventually they only get solved when someone identifies the countries involved, studies the environmental dynamics of the threatened species or habitat, recommends a series of measures to revert the abuse or decline, and the country in question holds up its hand and puts the recommendations into action, those that need it being funded by the rich countries who will also inevitably benefit. After all the bluff and political posturing is done it really is that simple. All it takes is for those in positions of power to recognise the abuses and announce that they, like us, refuse their consent.

Right now we are told that the people dying in all the terrorist excursions of the present and recent past, either willingly or no, on whatever side, soldier or civilian, guilty or innocent, are dying for a cause; it's a lie. All of these people are dying for nothing. Heroes? Don't kid yourselves. They're just another corpse that died alone and bloody. All it takes is for the leaders to say, OK. I've had enough of this. Let's do something else. Let's talk..... and it all stops.....no more bloodshed........really; cut out the government-backed arms dealers that use these skirmishes as testing grounds' for new weaponry, the banking-backed conglomerates that take cheaply from the poor to sell expensively to the rich, the politically-backed leaders that get away with genocide; cut them out and, ....."Let’s sit down and talk"; and despite all the rhetoric and the thousands that die for the cause, it only takes a handful of strategically placed people to say it and mean it and bugger-me it happens! C'mon. It's not a cause, the bloodshed, the starvation, the infanticide, the butchery, it's just a lack of political foresight deserving of a white stick, an underdeveloped sense of social conscience and an overdose of arrogance. It's not an admission of shame to own that you don't have all the answers to these abuses, we none of us have, but it's a shameful admission to recognise the abuse and do nothing about it.

Here, at Rio Earth Summit +5, you have been granted a further opportunity and been furnished with the necessary information and public support to soar like eagles; to rise above those selfish, earthbound contemporaries who moralise over the rights of countries whose people now want egress to the door marked "equal shares" and a right to decent lives and living as though it were somehow undemocratic to give them the components that we have. The components that would allow them the chance to cease searching the ground for grains of 'now', and lift their eyes to the horizon of 'future'. If current trends and thinking predominate, the horizon you are being shown by the politoglomerates from their false peaks of exploitation and amusement, even viewed through the most optimistic telescope, is, at best, happiness for the few, at worst a mirage for all. In Rio, you are being asked to stand next to an environmental furnace; unfortunately, many there just want you to warm your hands and bake a few chestnuts; don't be hoodwinked by them. If you have the courage to open the door, if you can stand the heat and more, to show yourselves to be good smiths, we will work alongside you; help to create a mould that this time doesn't fracture during the casting. A mould in which we can forge an empathetic, global human network where everyone succeeds with the help of the community, not the few succeed at its expense.

Throughout the past fifty years, like some of you now present, we too have attempted to open the door of that environmental furnace and been burnt for our trouble, yet we still keep returning. We return for no personal profit, just in the sure knowledge that we have got to get the mould right; sooner rather than later. What we have begun to accept, once again and seemingly far earlier than those whose finger is supposedly on the pulse of current ecological thinking, is that our energy and the supply of raw materials is fast running out. Soon we won't have enough sand to make another mould.

You say you are acting on behalf of the people. If that is so, why don't you listen to what they are saying? Listen now. If we point out to you that some people in the world are starving, it's not necessarily because our ultimate aim is to corner the bread market; if someone informs you, after twenty years of study, that tigers and gorillas are becoming extinct through hunting and habitat destruction, it's not necessarily because they deal in aphrodisiacs and are concerned about a droop in the market; if someone tells you that indigenous tribes are being lost through habitat encroachment and disturbance, it's not necessarily because they want to corner the market in ethnic art; if someone tells you they have an answer to the problem twins of a thinning ozone layer and an increase in the number of sunburn victims, it's not necessarily because they are in the fashion business and want to increase sales in the sun-glasses and sun cream market. Strange as it may seem, it could just be they are telling you the truth just because it is the truth, that if they didn't care it wouldn't matter, but they do so it does. That the tiger and gorilla are becoming extinct, indigenous peoples and civilisations are being destroyed, the global warming and the incidence of skin cancer is increasing, that "those people over there with no food and no hope of growing any" actually are starving. Ask us. Strange as it may seem you will find that we do care, that we would offer our unconditional, unselfish commitment in return for someone's, almost anyone's honest, unbiased blueprint for building another mould...... before the sand runs out.

So, with all these feelings bound up in my breast, I look for ways to express them and, after all this writing, I hear the echo of the typewriter keys and find the room empty. Once again I am faced with the only avenue of expression that could ever make a difference; the well blocked ears of the conference delegates that are here, in Rio, to carry out the people's wishes. And I know, even as I write, that the avenue is a dead-end on a distant planet for, try as I might to find a platform upon which to discuss my fears, I find only political quicksand. I search for people of quality and uncover bigotry, arrogance and isolationism; I listen for words of truth and vision and find a sound-bite philosophy standing on a foundation of platitudes and buzz-words. I look into the eyes of the delegates who reel off the pre-bargained, pre-scripted ecological messages as they pose on the steps of some architectural backdrop and, with much sadness, become more convinced in my belief that my voice will never be heard outside my own head, and that the best I can hope for is to rail at a television magazine....... through the entering a competition; a competition that I am too old to enter......

Things Never Heard in Theatre

2005-07-26T23:35:00.000+01:00

Another occasional series. Please feel free to add your own.

The Technical Rehearsal.

It looks as though there’ll be time for a third dress rehearsal.
Take your time getting back.
We’ve been ready for hours.
There’s plenty of room for more instruments over here.
The headsets are working perfectly.
The cue lights are working perfectly.
The orchestra has no complaints.
The whole company is standing by whenever you want them.
That didn’t last long.
That went SO well!
We’ve finished early so why don’t the crew get off home?
We’ve finished early.

The Actor: -

Don’t. Let’s not talk about me.
I’ve got a bit of free time; do you want a hand to unload the set?
I really think my big scene should be cut.
This costume is SO comfortable!
I love my shoes.
No problem, I can do that for myself.
No problem.
I have a fantastic agent; here, I’ll give you his number; mention me.
I have a fantastic agent.
Let me stand right upstage with my back to the audience.
No, leave the light where it is, I’ll walk into it.
Shall I take these cups back?
No, honestly, it’s my round.

The Stage Crew: -

Not at all, that instrument isn’t in the way.
We’ll get in early and do it tomorrow.
No, no. I’m sure that’s our job.
Anything I can do to help?
All the tools are carefully locked away.
Can we do that scene change again, please?
It’s a marvellous show!
I don’t need this many on the crew.
Thanks, but I don’t drink.
You’re all far too busy; I’ll push the truck onstage on my own.
That was easy.
I’ll do it right after I mop the stage.
Another props table? Certainly.
No, honestly, it’s my round.

The Sound/Electrics Crew: -

I must fix the light in the publicity office.
This equipment is far more complicated than we need.
Of course I can operate sound from here.
Be sure to keep that instrument away from the flying pieces.
All the lights on the fixed prosc. bar a foot to the right? No problem.
No problem.
I’ll do that right away.
All the equipment is working perfectly.
That had nothing to do with the computer, it was my fault.
I have all the equipment I need, thanks.
Thanks, but I don’t drink.
No, honestly, it’s my round.

The Director: -

That’s fine, I’ve got my own torch.
Leave it where it is, we’ll re-block it.
We’ll bring the crew onstage just before the author.
We’ll bring the crew onstage.
This chair’s fine, thank you.
Thank You.
We’ll use it as it is.
Let the crew have that day.
That’s perfect!
My round, are all the crew here?

The Choreographer: -

This floor’s fine.
Plenty warm enough, thank you.
Thank you.
The lights are spot on.
Leave it; we’ll fit in somehow.
One dressing room’s fine.
The costumes are perfect.
The boom positions are fine.
The wings’ space is ideal.

The Musician: -

No, the lights are fine as they are.
Of course you can have some of our space.
Foldback for the drummer? No not at all, thank you.
Do you have a waste-paper basket we can use in the pit, please?
We’ll tidy up before we go to the pub shall we?
I’ll release the “wet” into this saucer I’ve brought with me, OK?
No need, we’ll tune up at the same time as you move those pillows.
The sound is spot on, thanks you.
No thanks, I don’t drink.
No, honestly, it’s my round.

The Conductor: -

This rostrum is the perfect height, thank you.
Thank You.
No, a 14-inch television screen is just fine.
Can we make sure the band have at least an hour for their break, please?
No, I’ve done all the rehearsal I need, thank you.
A spare hour? Give it to the stage and lighting crew, I’m more than happy.
I’m more than happy.
No, don’t re-block it. If they can’t see me I’ll move.
This dressing room’s fine.

Top Gear's Best Driving Song....Excuse me, but.....

2005-07-26T23:04:00.000+01:00

.........when was "Don't Stop Me Now" by Queen EVER thought to be a "good driving song"? "Hammer to Fall", "Tie Y' MOther Down", OK, but "Don't Stop Me Now"....? I don't think so. You've obviously missed the point, again, and so I offer the first in an occasional series: -

Greatest Alternative Driving Song of All Time
Top Ten Compiled especially for the Car-Park Tossers

10 - Eric Clapton - I Shot the Red Light

9 - Dick van Dyke/Julie Andrews and those Bloody Penguins
Superchargingroadusecarskillwankersandtheirspouses

8 - Neil Young - Keep on Drivin’ in the Fast Lane

7 - Jimi Hendrix - Rainy Day, Spin Away

6 - AC/DC - For Those about to Brake (Sniff Some More
Glue)

5 - Bryan Adams - That was the Last Day of my Life
(Skiddin’ the Corvette ’69)

4 - Chris de Burgh – Drivin’ Again (I think it’s Le Mans)

3 – The Who – I Can Speed for Miles

2 – Queen – Another One Strips a Clutch

1 – Rush – Red Barchetta

An Open Letter to Deborah Orr of 'The Independent'

2005-07-14T22:56:00.000+01:00

Article Headline: "Is this the freedom they fought for?"

Hi, Deborah,
This may not be the answer (or indeed length of answer) you were expecting or would want; they're just the views of a 56-year-old fat-man, some problematic, some very leftfield and all of it befuddled and hazy. "Is this the freedom they fought for?" 'Fraid so, yes, but in a far more subtle and complete way than at first thought, and with our tacit complicity; all of us. Lets start with a truism if ever there was one; "Why of course the people don't want to go to war......but after all it is the leaders of the country who determine policy, and it's always a simple matter to drag the people along, whether it is a democracy or a fascist dictatorship.....Voice or no voice, the people can always be brought to the bidding of the leaders. That is easy. All you have to do is tell them they're being attacked, and denounce the pacifists for lack of patriotism and for exposing the country to danger." Hermann Goering said that at Nuremberg in 1946. The only thing missing from today's ideology is that he should have included a message from his sponsors..........Krupp possibly?

My father and millions like him joined up, got called up whichever and fought to give his children and their children's children a shot (forgive the pun) at a better future than he'd been offered by either his social position or Mr. A. Hitler. All would probably have been OK-ish if the development of the euphoria and sense of "freedom" that followed VE and VJ days and "an end to hostilities" (that's what we've got now, in case you were confused) had, by and large, remained in the hands of those who fought for it; it would also have helped to ensure that the pace of change remained at a speed they could cope with. But, as is the way with most if not all 'ends' of hostilities' (that word again) the powerful few who'd manipulated and manufactured the wars (you know, politicians, fanatics, conglomerates, you know, those people who gave London's - and every other city's - suicide bomber the reason to 'get it on') increased their grip on the psyche of the masses and perverted their desire for peace and prosperity into a self-serving desire for "fluff". A confused and shell-shocked nation quickly succumbed to the lure of the ad-man's brave new world, sold to you exclusively by the very British firms who'd sold barbed-wire to the Germans in 1913-14-15-16 so's our troops could get snagged on it when they advanced on the enemy trenches. Then they'd be used as bayonet or long-range, rifle target practice by that enemy after "the rush" subsided. Left to "the people", you see, the movement forward was insufficiently fast enough for those brought up in an era when the maxim was "Get on - Get honour - Get honest".... Gosh, two truisms in one Email!

Time was (no I'm not going to wax lyrical about "the good old days", relax) in my father's and your father's day, and even though they weren't in positions of power, there was a season to everything, a time for everything, and everything happening in its own timescale at the correct pace. In this way the population had an opportunity to get used to new technology, practices, social changes, new rules and behaviour alterations at a steady pace, learned of possible pitfalls along the way, adjusted their patterns of work, behaviour, fiscal power and acceptance levels, social betterment..........JEEESSUUSSSSS!!!! Too damn slow! There's no profit in patience! With the second World War out of the way and so the closing up of an easily followed profit route, there was a short-lived opening rush to re-equip and re-build the communities so badly damaged by hostilities (word of the week, methinks) that allowed them to turn a coin, but that, too, soon reached an end. Lesson 1: If you build a house, a car, a vacuum cleaner or a washing machine that lasts for a lifetime you soon run out of options for profit. At first they made things simple but then everyone thought they could do it. Lesson 2: Fluff it up in a veritable smokescreen of verbal trouser-rolling that's as obscure and as codal as Sanskrit.

The reigns of control were relaxed on a relaxing generation who now got their bread from a packet, ready sliced, dyed white and pure and lasting an astounding three days before it went stale, that and the promise of white teeth and even whiter sheets. Their circuses comprised of fancy footwork to dance bands and not the fancy footwork required to dodge bullets and new wonders were rolling off the production line and hitting the shops as fast as a bren-gun empties its clip; all that was needed was a way to keep the public dancing and dancing and buying and buying. Enter T.V., disposable income, rock 'n' roll, the marketing trick of crossing out "dog" and putting in "goldfish", "lifestyle" magazines, marketing advisors...........the list goes on and it's what we want, isn't it? Would you go back to rubbing the clothes up and down a washboard for three hours every Monday, having no buses on a Sunday, no shops open at 01.30, a 12 hour lifestyle instead of a 24 hour one.....'Muffin the Mule' instead of 'Celebrity Love Island'....? Bugger, might have slipped up there.....

The lifestyle carrot was stewed with ersatz fluff and sold to a gullible, still reeling public who believed a clean toilet and frozen dinner would be the zenith of the very freedom their folks had all fought for (somehow missing the point along the way that, if they bought the frozen dinner took it home a tipped it down the pan then they could cut out the middle man altogether). Social and political calendars were run by and for the 'Society People' (important sporting events seen as the domain of the upper classes happening mid-week, retired Major's with experience in shooting, wine tasting and ordering people about given full or partial control of the governing bodies of recreation, employment, government cabinets - much like now with politicians, where you can come out of uni. with a degree in economics, get a job as Minister for Sport (?) await the next cabinet shuffle and become the Minister for Education.....(?) - You want to see what happens if I, a production manager and struggling writer working in touring theatre, try to get a job as a head chef somewhere.....? "So, Peter, what experience do you have of cooking.....?")

The degree of separation between the haves and have-nots has always been great, but the satisfaction levels in the lower orders was fast declining as they kept buying and dancing in ever faster circles; methods of keeping them down on the farm were becoming more difficult to invent.......... Welcome the National Lottery! The maxim of divide and rule made flesh. People don't want to get rich after they're dead, no bloody good then, is it? No, they want to get rich now, "I said NOW!" and planning for generations to come was seen as passé (Sir Bob taught us that) so you may was well spend the pension fund and be done with it. You think 'Big Brother' is bad......? Just wait 'til we get 400 channels for 36 hours a day, then you'll have room to complain. And nothing you or I do will stop it, will halt it. I mean, cripes, we can't even get these so-called clever men to listen to real experts and go beyond admitting that human activity might.....that's a "might"...have had some effect on global warming and the possible destruction of our planet, so a certainty of understanding by simple folk like us of what will happen to future generations won't alter things....but then, these 400 channels.....its what we want, what we demand (more outlets for our writing, our programmes, our celebrity challenge). But more importantly and certainly its what the rulers want, the leaders that gather in Texas every two years to discuss strategies for domination (check it out, not a joke). They want and NEED a soporific and pliable population bloated on crass space-fillers and with everything else 'just out of reach'; a soporific and pliable public that's either so intent on finding enough grains of rice on the floor in order to live they've no time to glance to the horizon or else scrambling after the jackpot and prepared to sell all to gain it; Mao was right, the strength of the state is in conformity and the governments of this world have taken up both Mao's and Goering's mantra and preached it as their own; given the right signals the mob can be persuaded to do anything, and you should never underestimate the power of very stupid people in large groups.

Its heresy, but one of the reasons that our careless, oafish, brutal society that is so full of this "freedom" (or, as our politicicians keep referring to it, "choice") is on the march is because the folk who have any amount of nous limit their families and then work at bringing them up to a level that has society and sociological mores at its heart; they have the "freedom" to make that choice. Unfortunately this makes them weak because they use reason and discussion to solve problems, and you look a bit stupid when you're stating the case for a detailed examination of the thinking process behind antisocial behaviour and how best to tackle it whilst having your teeth thrust up your aresole! These others, the "thrusters of teeth", those other people basking in "choice", the fast approaching majority? Well, they "choose" to breed like rabbits and care less and less about the welfare of the brood because there's always more where they came from. They've been bought up in the corruption of the lie of freedom that says "Don't do as you would be done by, you're free to do just as you want"; it's a certain fact they'll be the majority very soon, their continuous "freedom" to enjoy state-funded fecundity will see to that and they'll be easily manipulated, easily stirred to riot and malpractice, easily blamed....the very fodder of Mr Goering in fact. But then, it doesn't take millions to rule, just one nutter in a group of "sensitives" and you've got grief-and-claret a-plenty. Walk the city-centres of a Friday and Saturday night, it just takes one........... Those children, those little 7 and 8 and 10 year-olds that were raped, in Manchester was it, by a 14 year old? They were out playing in a park..................at 21.00 hours.......?! Big Brother is their idol, Pot Noodle their gourmet sustenance, The Daily Star and The Sun their manifesto, soaps their social ethics committee and the Jade Goody's, Pete Doherty's and Tara Palmer-Tomkinsons of this world their role models. They inhabit a world where the king's new clothes are today's fashion and where children send 'round robins' of Email death-threats and every Internet connection is met with a barrage of pop-ups and advertising for fluff and porn.......because they're "free" to do so.

The corrupted freedom we have now is one that says, anything goes....an' I'll kick y' fuckin' teeth down y' throat if y' disagree!So many shit items are feted as the new something or other by psueds in DJ's with agendas as poisonous and as selfish as the power brokers; they do it for sex, for money, for fame, for notoriety, for entertainment; mostly ours. Those people who become suicide bombers can't be explained with rational thought and conceptions, they are above and beyond that. They're fed a disjointed logic, a logic that says killing disenfranchised people (just like them) with no voice or control of future events except a vote once every five years if they're lucky (just like them) will alter the way government works. (It does occur to me what would happen if these bombing factions got their way, held power and were able to do as they wished as leaders......!) In our turn, we are also preached false doctrines, ones that tell us if you lose the vote then you've still won the election (politicians) the one that tells us to be responsible for our own actions and resign if we become tarnished, "Now excuse me whilst I collect my 65-zillion pound bonus for driving the railway network/post office (insert the name of your own public service here) into spiralling debt and confusion.....oh, and a few lost lives on the way...." (public servants, and I use the word "servant" in its loosest possible sense here) the one that tells us honesty and the family comes first, "Now excuse me whilst I go and knock up my secretary" (politicians again) the list goes on and so does the hypocrisy within, and subjugation of, the masses.

Nothing we do, or say will have any impact or change the situation because we too are denied the opportunity to express our wish for change by successive governments who use "the fudge" as a political tool, the official secrets act as a get-out-of-jail-free card and tell the ignorant proletariat we, "Just don't understand how complex the situation is and that what we're doing, we're doing for your own good.........." Beware a politician who uses that as the reason for change, they'll slip in so many codicils to the bill you'll find it hard to take a dump without a licence. See, I told you it was befuddled and hazy.....'sound and fury'......... I'll close now, if you've got this far you deserve a coffee. I do read your 'Independent' column and enjoy it (there's a recommendation) but as you can see, sometimes it makes me cross..... I'll post this note on my Blogsite in the next couple of days, so that should guarantee me world-wide anonymity. Take care of y'self.

Doris

TOP GEAR - AN OPEN LETTER TO THE PRESENTERS

2005-06-09T21:13:00.000+01:00

OK, you foot-pedal fuckwits! You are the spawn of Thatcherism and I’ve had enough of watching you dodge tanks and helicopters, race each other to “Some Trendy Skiing Resort or Other”, squeal round race tracks “just to show what a good driver I am” and whinge on about how put-upon the poor old motorist in the four-wheel truck is. I’ve worked out a way to make our roads safer and less congested, apart from fucking you lot off’f it that is. I reckon that actions and legislation like those listed below are the only way to create a relatively safer and longer-lasting environment for us all (even you lot, though you don’t deserve it) and although the rules listed below won’t suit petrol-penises like your good selves, well, tough titty.

Driving a Car: - Most insurers (see “Road Tax and Insurance” below) are really reluctant to grant insurance to anyone less than 21 years of age for less than a squillion pounds……and that’s third party f&t mind…… Bearing this in mind, the age limit at which a car can be driven (see “Driving Instruction and Tests” below) will be raised to 21 years old. Anyone found driving a car before this age will be subject to a £5000 fine and a 10 year ban. If that person is in the company of others then those passengers, whatever their involvement (except, maybe, if they are the victim of a kidnap attempt..............maybe) are also subject to the same punishment.

Road Tax and Insurance: - These charges will be scrapped and added onto fuel prices reviewed annually in the budget as of now. This will mean those who use the roads most or burn vats-full of fuel by squealing round car parks with their mates will pay most towards the upkeep of our highways…………the latter just for their stupidity actually. The “tax” part of the fuel charge will go straight into government coffers, the “insurance” part of the fuel charge will go into a central fund and be spread amongst any insurers operating in this field. A sliding scale based on the percentage of the total number of driver's insured will deem how much each insurance company receives; those insuring the most drivers gaining the most payout, those insuring the least, the least payout. Each insurance company will deposit 15% of their total profit each year into a general “We’ve gone bust, sorry” fund. In the event of an insurance company going bust, the remaining insurance companies will have the now uninsured driver’s spread equally onto their books at no extra charge the car drivers’. These insurers remaining will then seek recompense from the “We’ve gone bust, sorry” fund. The only insurance level allowed will be Fully Comprehensive and all insurance companies will, in the first instance and regardless as to who is to blame in the event of any accident or mishap, be legally required to cover and pay for all legal, medical-and-claims-for-damages costs and awards of those involved in any incident. The insurance company/ies involved will then have the opportunity to claim against the guilty party/ies for financial redress, the person/s involved having their licence removed until payment is made in full for all claims. All repairs and any health and rehabilitation costs of those innocent parties involved will also be guaranteed for payment by the insurance companies. This payment will then be gathered back from the guilty party in the incident, it will be at the insurer’s expense to recover this payment; it’s about time they actually got involved in the day-to-day costs of the “driving experience”.

Driving Instruction and Tests: - In line with the “Driving a Car” paragraph above, the age level at which one can obtain a licence will obviously be raised to 21 years-of-age with a special clause inserted (to be known as the “Big Exhaust-Small Penis Codicil”) for anyone with a non-standard, large-bore exhaust on their car, inappropriate spoiler or anything other than the standard loudspeakers fitted by the manufacturer of their vehicle. All such “vehicle beautification” culprits will be required to have their car fitted with carpets that are impregnated with ‘odour of dogshit’ and these will remain in the vehicle until they get these items removed……oh yes, and anyone wearing a baseball cap whilst driving will be shot on sight, you look nothing like Michael Schumacher, you just look stupid! Anyone found driving a car before the age of 21 will be fined £6,000 and be banned for 5 years for the first offence - £10,000 and disqualified for 15 years for the second offence and £15,000, plus 3 years in a special prison (see “Driver’s Prisons” below) and be disqualified from driving for life for the third offence. All driving tests will be upgraded and the “Advanced Driver’s Test” of today will become the normal driving test entry level.

Traffic Police: - Core funding (minimum staffing levels, property bases – that’s police stations to you thick buggers – one-off capital bids, legal costs etc) to be met from central government funds; all other funding (extra staff, extra/new equipment, overtime, the Policeman’s Ball, etc) to be met from successful prosecutions, fines, on-the-spot-charges, car confiscations and subsequent sales etc, including all the fine levels listed throughout this document. Each region will have its own force and they will compete each year for a 5-million-pound prize, the winner being the force with the most successful convictions for speeding in any 12-month period.

Drink-Driving: Strategy for Reduction 1: - There will be a zero-tolerance strategy implemented. From 1st July 2005 it will be illegal to drive with ANY level of alcohol in the bloodstream AT ALL, indeed, so sensitive will be the equipment mentioned below, it may even be illegal to drive after sucking on a wine gum. To cut down on the possibility of this law being breached, research will be entered into immediately that will come up with an in-car breathalyzer that is part of the car’s ignition system. Drivers will have to breathe into a dash-mounted tube and any reading of alcohol on the breath will render the car’s ignition system out of commission. To stop other’s breathing into the tube for the rat-arsed driver, each dash-mounted tube will carry a trigger-grip that has to be held in order for the breathalyser to work which will have a copy of the driver’s palm print as part of the ignition system. The steering wheel will also house the same palm-print and be linked to the ignition allowance system. These print recognition systems will also drastically reduce the incidence of car theft. Anyone who lays their hands on awheel that dos not match their print will have a blast of purple powder showered over them that will only wear off after several weeks. This will cloud up the inside of the car making visbility zero and subtlety less than complete. All cleaning of the said motor car will be charged to the purple people which they will pay for and carry out as part of their punishment.

Drink-Driving: Strategy for Reduction 2: – Anyone found driving a vehicle with any level of alcohol in their bloodstream will be fined £3,000 and banned for 5 years for the first offence, fined £10,000 and disqualified for 10 for the second offence and a £20,000 fine and disqualified for life for the third. There will be no mitigating circumstances allowed in court, indeed no 'not-guilty' plea either; y' drank it, y' did it, now fuck off. There will be no leave for appeal and all drivers convicted for first and second offences will have to undergo and pass another, far stricter, extra-advanced driving test before being allowed back into a motor vehicle. Second conviction motorists will also have to undergo a full term of Alcoholics Anonymous strategies and teachings as well as complete a period of work for an inner-city A&E Unit.

Speeding: - There will be new speed limits put on our roads and they will be as follows: -

All roads with speed/traffic calming devices- 15mph

All other areas designated as “Built Up” and on single track/”country” type roads - 25mph

Ordinary “B” type roads - 50mph

Ordinary “A” type roads – 60mph

Dual Carriageways – 70mph

Motorways - 100mph

A plus figure of 4mph will be given as leeway for the designated speed levels on our highways. Any speed above this level is an offence and as such will be subject to the following levels of punishment.

First Offence - £1000 fine and a mandatory 3-month ban.

Second Offence - £1500 fine and a mandatory 1-year disqualification plus a re-test before renewal of licence.

Third Offence - £2000 fine and a mandatory 5-year disqualification plus 12 months community service in a local A&E unit and a re-test before renewal of licence.

Fourth Offence - £5000 fine and a mandatory life disqualification and 12 months in a special prison (see “Driver’s Prisons” below).

All fine payments will be deducted automatically from wage or benefit payments. Anyone found driving during their banned period will have an automatic life-time disqualification and eighteen months in a special prison (see “Driver’s Prisons” below). If a third-party has knowingly allowed the disqualified driver access to their car then that person will also be subjected to a life disqualification.

Car Lifestyle Changes: – There are several sections here.

1) Speed control software will be fitted to all cars to regulate maximum speeds and conform to those new mandatory speed limits mentioned above.

2) All cars will be fitted with a self-cleaning BarCode plate. This will be etched onto the underside of the vehicle and form part of a National Vehicle Register. Laser, BarCode readers will be embedded in the road’s surface at all cross-roads, “T” junctions, traffic and pedestrian lights. Any vehicle that has a BarCode that is unreadable will be subject to an ignition cut off activated at the first BarCode reader they encounter. This will render the car un-start-able until the BarCode is either cleaned or replaced. In each offence of the above the driver will be fined £6,000 and be banned for 5 years for the first offence - £10,000 and disqualified for 15 years for the second offence and £15,000, disqualified for life plus 3 years in a special prison (see “Driver’s Prisons” below) and in each case the vehicle will be impounded, re-BarCoded and sold by the police at auction. This BarCode recognition will also form part of the car’s safety features. It will have to be punched into a special key to unlock the car and fire-up the ignition/breathalyser start-up procedure. It will also help to remedy the problems police face when engaging in crime detection. BarCoded pathways will be able to trace recent traffic at the signs of accidents, murders, drugs deals and other such nefarious activity.

3) The maximum speed of all cars will be at the manufacturer’s discretion. However, on any car that has a speed capability in excess of the maximum speed limit above i.e. 100mph, there will be a two-phase safety device fitted that will allow the vehicle to be driven either in “Traffic” mode or “Competition” mode. The operation of “Competition” mode will only be activated by a special BarCode Reader which will allow the extra speed; these BarCode Readers will be placed at the entrance to all racing circuits with a reverse action triggered when the vehicle leaves.

4) Incentives to buy and use cars that can only reach the maximum allowable speed (100mph) in the shape of free fuel allowances will be offered to all car users opting for that type of vehicle.

5) Whilst understanding how dangerous and slippery pigeon-shit can be to the average driver on a wet road, the use of four-wheel-drive-off-road vehicles as regualr runabouts will be discouraged. All such vehicles will have a top speed of 30mph, will attract a fuel levy of triple the normal price paid and have to carry, by law, a loudspeaker system that announces, in the inside of the vehicle, “I’m a stupid wanker with the brain the size of a weevil and a sexual inadequacy akin to the size of one of the larger continents’” at 40dcb every thirty seconds of travel.

6) All schools will have a 1-mile parking ban placed around them, excepting, of course, for those who live in the road upon which the school is situated. In these cases and wherever possible, providing this does not interfere with traffic flow, an electric barrier will be erected at each end of the school’s road with householders having a pass in order to get them into the street where they live. As a secondary safety device they’ll have to sing that song too…… To cut down on the use of unauthorised parking in the “school roads”, each house will have its own parking bay and each school will have its own parking attendants; these last will be funded from the police budget. A red/green light will be placed on a pole at each parking bay, the correct car in that space lighting up the green light through its correct and matching BarCode. Any car lighting up the red light will have all four wheels clamped, be towed away, re BarCoded and sold by the police at auction.

7) All use of “Bull-bars” will be banned. Those people who have them fitted at the time of this law enactment will have just 48 hours to get them removed and there will be no compensation for any expense incurred; those people who defy the research into accidents and fatality levels and have continued to fit and drive vehicles with bull-bars deserve nothing for their crass and selfish stupidity. Anyone found with a bull-bar on their vehicle after this date will pay a £3000 fine, be banned from driving for 1 year, attend a six-month stint in a local A&E unit and the car will be impounded, re BarCoded and sold.

8) Parking is a vexing problem. Except in areas of extreme narrowness or in obvious problem areas (dual carriageways, motorways, islands etc), all parking restrictions on highways will be removed. There will be no double parking allowed, however, all vehicles doing so will be immediately disposed of in a portable car-crush as will any vehicle causing an obstruction; there will be no redress or alleviation for car loss and elderly members or children left in said vehicles whilst the owner “just slips into the newsagents” will be crushed along with the vehicle. If this proves to be a popular spectator sport, then the proceeds from any tickets sold will go to the Police Widow’s Federation. On all designated roads, parking bays will be laid out and meters placed on them, as they are now, for payment. To obtain a parking ticket the driver will deposit his keys and palm-print at the meter for his/her bay. This will enable the driver to park and not have to worry about losing his keys and also guarantees payment. The palm print will be read and a fixed parking fee of £1 per hour will be levied onto the driver’s bank account or social security payout centre and collected via direct debit at the end of each month. Default of payment will mean permanent loss of the vehicle involved and withholding of licence until the full amount is paid. Parking will only be allowed in these designated parking places. All other cars found parked “illegally” will be clamped (all four wheels) and owners will only have their car released when they have paid a £400 fine. If the fine is unpaid within a 24 hour period, the vehicle will be removed by the police and either sold at auction or crushed, depending on the re-sale value and the health and temper and general cash-flow of the police authority involved; there will be no storage or reclaiming of such vehicles. All semi-private parking areas (supermarkets, shopping centres etc) will also be required by law to clamp (all four wheels) any vehicle found parking outside a designated parking box. These cars will be given no leeway because they belong to the “Just Getting a Lottery Ticket” or “Just Getting 20 Fags” brigade. They will only be released when the owner has paid a £200 fine that will be donated to a “charity of the week”, the choosing of which is decided upon by the staff of the supermarket or shopping centre. If there is a refusal to pay or no payment after 24 hours, the owners of the parking lot have the right to remove and sell the vehicle through the police strategy, the money going to the charity of choice.

Driver’s Prisons: - Prisons for all those committed for any of the offences mentioned above will be built and funded direct from taxation. These prisons will house inmates who will be required to work on the highways in this country maintaining, repairing and generally looking after their upkeep for which they will be paid the minimum wage, the money being placed in a savings account for the local hospital, drug-dependency unit or A.A. base; this strategy will also release local Council workers for other duties. Prison inmates will wear boiler suits for this outside work and each boiler suit will have the nature of the crime committed by the wearer printed in large letters on the back such as; “Speeding Child Killer” – or – “Alcoholic Driver” – or – “Big Deafening Exhaust User” – or – “Drum ‘N’ Bass Driver”. There will be no general T.V. or games allowed in these prisons. All T.V. programmes will be aimed at making them better, more responsible drivers. Regular visits to local A&E units will be arranged and lectures, education programmes and all methods of health and lifestyle programmes will be an integral part of prison life. All inmates will be required to reach a grade one pass in general first aid and resuscitation techniques before being released from prison.

Road Building: - All new road building will cease and whatever roads we have now will have to cope with the volume of traffic we create. There will be no toll roads or “special highways for important people” as this will only create an avoidance route for politicians and the rich to fudge the traffic issue. Once these roads are full………they’re full; we’re gridlocked; fucked.

Car Ownership: - Each person will be allowed to own as many cars as they like. However, a premium will be levied on each car owned after the first purchase. For owners of a second car the cost of any fuel purchased and the insurance premium they pay as part of that fuel purchase for all vehicles they own will be doubled, for a third car tripled and so on. If more than one car is owned at the same address but by different family members, the cost of fuel to all householders will be doubled.

Disposal of Vehicles: - All vehicles will be taken to central government/police force controlled and owned collection points when they are no longer required; a sort of automobile’s graveyard. Here they will be stripped and crushed then recycled to make new cars. All new cars will have to contain a minimum of 65% recycled material. The service will be offered free of charge and there will be no payment for cars taken there, it will be considered part of your civic duty. The dumping of cars is strictly forbidden and anyone found doing so will be subject to a £25,000 fine and banned from driving for life for the first offence; they will be sent on a daytrip to Longleat and provide entertainment for the lions for their second offence…………

OK, that’s enough for now. The above regulations should successfully reduce the amount of traffic on our roads by about 30+% and really for very little extra cost; just a regrouping of the operating systems and a little more willingness to sort out the offenders, most of them goaded on by your toss-pot programme.

Not Dead, Just De-Composing.

2005-06-07T22:50:00.000+01:00

The "No Knee-Jerk Show" opens tomorrow.

I know, I know, I can hear the shouts of "Where are you, Doris, when we most need you?" As is the way with my writings (and I use the word in its widest possible sense) it takes me time to sort out something I consider worthwhile saying. This means I have long gaps between postings; sorry but that's the way it is. Anyhow, I've almost finished a new piece so keep watching and your patience will be rewarded..............or your sensibilities damnned by further drivel. Well drivel it may be, but it's carefully considered drivel........................

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 11

2005-05-06T15:34:00.000+01:00

11) ALL MY POLITICAL LIFE I HAVE STOOD UP FOR PEOPLE WHO PLAY BY THE RULES. IF I AM GIVEN THE OPPORTUNITY TO SERVE MY COUNTRY, I WILL ENSURE THAT AT LONG LAST THEIR RIGHTS COME FIRST.

Wrong – And sycophantic: This smacks of the methods used by Uriah Heep; to ingratiate yourself into the company by saying what you think people want to hear rather than toiling over the detail to give credence to a just and humane society that for some reason, Mr Howard thinks will be solved by a term of “punishment” in prison. “Common sense, decency and humanity are qualities which the British people have in abundance”, his words were the very qualities totally lacked by the Conservative Party he served in during its last term of office. Incompetence, dishonesty, lack of responsibility, and lack of accountability was the trademark of the last Conservative government, a trademark he supported. DO NOT VOTE FOR THIS MAN!

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 10

2005-05-04T23:03:00.000+01:00

10) I BELIEVE PRISON SHOULD BE A PROPER PUNISHMENT. BUT PRISON MUST ALSO TRY AND PUT CRIMINALS ON THE STRAIGHT AND NARROW – TEACHING THEM TO READ AND WRITE, GETTING THEM OFF DRUGS.

RIGHT-ish – But the wrong way round: By his putting in order his belief of what prisons are for, Howard betrays his fully documented but often ignored negative stance on the human condition that is fully reflected in his forays into the immigration discussion. By using negative policies, bully-boy solutions and the “might is right” tactic of social endearment, he panders to the hawks at the expense of those less able to defend themselves. Give them the necessary tools to better themselves FIRSTLY through education and self-belief and the vast majority of citizens will never become criminals and prisoners will become the “better citizens” that, for some misguided idea, Howard thinks punishment will achieve.

Notice how he continues to use populist, well-worn phrases like “straight and narrow” and passes them off as a) his own and b) by using such phrases begins a thought process that makes a connection with Howard and the reader for entirely the WRONG reasons. Notice also how he also puts the dreaded “D” word at the end and wraps it in with illiteracy and class? This way he emphasises the “them and us” doctrine talked about in earlier works of mine. He reminds us that, in his view, only uneducated drug users commit crime, not us law-abiding, decent folk. He separates us from the criminal class making us (and him) superior to them, they are the great unwashed andsuspect, we the masters of their fate and punishment. Throughout all of his proclamations on crime and prisons, Howard makes it a class issue, remember?; we work hard, they are work-shy, we’re decent and they’re dangerous, we form social gatherings, they gather together in gangs…………………the list goes on.

Howard states that, “By challenging so-called small crimes head-on, you push back the burglars, car thieves and drug dealers responsible for so much of the crime in Britain today.” Push them back to where, exactly? Where, exactly in Howard’s vision for Britain do these people fit in? In prison, that’s where. He betrays his disregard and ignorance of what a society should contain with statements like this; statements that will become a part of the Conservative policy machine if he gets even one of his bony little chicken claws of the handlebars of power.

Howard recently said, “My approach was simple: to give the police the powers they needed to catch criminals; to give the courts the powers they needed to convict criminals; and to give our prisons the space to take persistent, serious and dangerous offenders out of circulation altogether.” and he failed in all three during his time in office. Police numbers fell, the prisons were overcrowded and, as point 9 illustrated, he released at least one dangerous drug dealer.

Grandiose statements like, “They want to know that, for a change, a politician means what he says, and will be prepared to take the rap if he fails.” is something he’s consistently failed to do over the years. But then, you’ve only to look back over his political career to see that he recycles old clichés and revamps old speeches in a cut-and-paste effort, crossing out ‘dog’ and inserting ‘goldfish’.

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 9

2005-04-19T22:20:00.000+01:00

9) I BELIEVE THAT CRIMINALS SHOULD SERVE THEIR SENTENCES IN FULL.

Wrong – And hypocritical: Amazing really that someone who is supposed to be so clever (he was a lawyer you know) can have failed to see to stupidity of such a statement. I could write a load of guff about my feelings on this one, but I felt it best to leave it to the professionals, the investigative journalists who produced the following gem of information; my thanks to them for doing such an excellent job.

RECORD INVESTIGATION: PAUL FERRIS, MICHAEL HOWARD &THE DRUG BARON'S PARDON

Feb 22 2005
Tory leader in new probe on gun deal
By Richard Elias And Reg Mckay

MICHAEL Howard's political leadership is under threat from a multi-millionaire drug baron contact of former Scots gangland enforcer Paul Ferris. The Tory leader faces new questions over why he freed John Haase - a vicious gangster who poured drugs and guns on to the streets of Scotland as well as his native Liverpool.

A fresh inquiry has been launched into the scandal which saw Haase and his nephew Paul Bennett serve just 10 months of an 18 year sentence.

It was a major shock that Howard - then the self-proclaimed hardest Home Secretary in living memory - had freed two of the most dangerous criminals in Britain. The Home Office said they had been pardoned for helping to get illegal arms off the streets and providing information which helped smash a Turkish drug trafficking ring. But no one was ever arrested in the raids and within days of his release, Haase was back running his criminal empire - and claiming he had bribed his way out of jail.

Sources close to the 55-year-old allege that up to £4.5million was handed out to various people to pave the way for their release. Haase was also a close friend of Simon Bakerman, a small-time Liverpool drugs dealer, who happens to be Michael Howard's cousin. Howard was known to visit the Bakerman family regularly, especially when he went on to watch his beloved Liverpool FC. Howard has for years denied any wrong-doing. There is certainly no suggestion that Howard knew anything of Haase's alleged bribery. But now, with a new inquiry and the imminent release of Home Office records, he faces even more searching questions. Today, the Daily Record can shed fresh light on the murky deals that led to the release of Haase - and tell for the first time of how Ferris played a major role as a fixer.

Ferris spent time in Manchester after being found not guilty of the murder of gangster Arthur Thompson's son, Fatboy, in 1992. There, he hooked up with exiled Glasgow gangster Rab Carruthers, then a powerful criminal in the north-west of England. In 1993, while Haase was in jail waiting for his trial on drug trafficking, he sent a delegation to see Ferris and Carruthers. Ferris said: 'These guys said Haase and Bennett had been offered a deal. If they gave information on the whereabouts of illegal arms, they would receive a lighter sentence for the drugs. 'They wanted to know if they should go ahead with this deal. Could they trust the cops?
'Tam McGraw, The Licensee, had been playing this game in Glasgow for years. I knew for a fact the cops simply forgot about one guy's serious RTA offences. Another bloke wanted on a murder charge was allowed home from exile in Spain for one last free Christmas with his family before being lifted.

'Both deals were secured by trading arms. 'I told Haase's men that McGraw's trick was to buy these arms from dealers. These were guns that never had been, or would ever be, used in crime. 'It was a kind of double con but nobody cared. The dealers got paid,the accused got a deal and the cops looked good. Everyone won. 'During one gun amnesty, a senior Strathclyde police officer was on TV proudly presenting all the arms they had taken off the street. 'Pride of place was a Kalashnikov. When have you heard of a Kalashnikov being used in Scotland? Apart from that guy Noel Ruddle taking a maddie and shooting folk a few years ago? 'That gun and a stack of others had simply been traded and the players kept their shooters.'

Official documents show Haase and Bennett did give tip-offs leading to the recovery of a huge amount of arms including Kalashnikov assault weapons, Armalite rifles, Thompson machine guns, Uzi sub-machine guns, 80 new shotguns, ammunition and a massive load of Semtex explosive.

Sometimes the cops described the finds as 'major arm stores of the IRA'. But we now know Haase's gang planted the arsenals in various locations around the north-west of England. Customs also gave the pair credit for the recovery of large amounts of ecstasy and cannabis and the location of a heroin factory. Haase gave information on a handgun that had been smuggled into Strangeways prison in Manchester as part of an alleged breakout plan. At that time, Strangeways housed several IRA terrorists. Yet not one individual was arrested in connection with any of these tip-offs.

In 1996, Haase and Bennett were found guilty of smuggling £18million of heroin into Britain from Turkey. However, before they were sentenced, counsel for the two men approached trial judge David Lynch. They supplied him with reports from Customs, the National Criminal Intelligence Service, the police and the Crown Prosecution Service. All the agencies claimed both Haase and Bennett had co-operated following their arrests and asked that they be given a reduced sentence. Customs' case was put forward by Paul Cooke who was also Haase and Bennett's handler. Some of Cooke's colleagues were deeply unhappy at his actions. Still, Judge Lynch gave the pair 18 years, a light sentence given the amount of drugs involved. Afterwards, he wrote to then Home Secretary, Michael Howard, suggesting he may 'exercise the Royal Prerogative of mercy' for their help.

Different from a Royal Pardon - an acceptance that someone has been unjustly convicted - the Royal Prerogative is meant to be used for guilty, convicted men who have acted with great bravery on behalf of the state. Granting the Royal Prerogative is entirely in the Home Secretary's power. Howard agreed and less than a year after their conviction, Haase and Bennett were freed. But instead of disappearing, Haase continued to run the criminal empire he had built up through extreme violence.

A well-known Liverpool gangster said of that time: 'Haase had just had the luckiest of breaks and escaped going to jail till he was an OAP. You'd think he would have kept a low profile. 'Yet the day after he got out of the nick, he was peddling smack openly. It was as if he thought he was immune to prosecution, licensed to commit crime. 'When the cops didn't lift him, I started to believe his boasts that he had bribed a lot of powerful people.'

Local MP Peter Kilfoyle, in whose Liverpool Walton constituency the drugs had been found, was outraged by Haase and Bennett's release and immediately started asking questions. The night before he was due to raise the matter in the House of Commons for the first time, he received a phone call from Howard.

Kilfoyle said: 'Howard asked me not to raise the issue because lives were at stake. 'We might have been in opposition but he was the Home Secretary. Thinking he meant our police or Customs officers were at risk, I withdrew the question. Now I'm wondering if it was Haase and Bennett he meant were at risk.'

But Haase couldn't stay out of jail forever. Five years after his release, a 46year-old from Dumbarton, Walter Kirkwood, was stopped by the cops in a hire car as he sped north from Merseyside. In the car, police found a bag holding an Uzi machine pistol, a Smith and Wesson .357 Magnum revolver, 170 rounds of banned 9mm ammunition and 49 rounds of .38 illegal dum-dum bullets. That deadly cargo had been bound for the streets of Glasgow - and Kirkwood had been paid a mere£400 for the job by Haase.

At the start of his trial,Hasse roared at the judge: 'You can't try me. Only the Prime Minister can try me.' Haase's protests were to no avail. He was sentenced to 13 years in prison.
Kilfoyle never stopped campaigning for the truth, asking questions in parliament of the Paymaster General, the ultimate head of Customs and Excise. In March 2001, he said in the House of Commons:

'It is my belief that Haase and Bennett set up the arms caches in Liverpool and the smuggling of a gun into the prison. 'I ask the Paymaster General whether her department, for example, has interviewed Paul Ferris about Haase and Bennett's attempts at weapons purchases?' Kilfoyle went on: 'In Liverpool, it was generally thought that the gun caches that were given up to Customs were an insurance policy for Haase and Bennett. 'There is deep concern that Customs and Excise have been gravely misled by two practiced liars.'

Kilfoyle believes he has never received satisfactory answers - and is still asking questions on the subject three years later. Referring to Haase's claims that he bribed his way out of prison, Kilfoyle added:

'I should also put it on record that one name that is always mentioned in this context is that of a local criminal, Simon Bakerman, a man who has done time for drug-related offences. 'The allegation is repeated time after time and it merits somebody, looking into what, after all, would be a conspiracy to pervert the course of justice. 'I repeat - was Paul Ferris interviewed about the gun purchases of Haase and Bennett?'

Last night, Ferris said: 'I've never been interviewed about this matter. 'But if there is to be an investigation, let's hope it's truly independent and not another case of cops covering up for cops.'
Metropolitan Police Assistant Commissioner Tarique Ghaffur has been ordered to investigate the affair. He will re-interview all the main players, including Cooke. But this time, Simon Bakerman will be called to give his version of events. Kilfoyle added:

'It is important for the public to understand the consequences of the decision to release these gangsters, when the man who made it is asking them to vote him into the highest political office. 'It showed great incompetence. I welcome the police investigation but it will be difficult for the people of Liverpool to forgive Michael Howard or his disastrous decision that led to the city being further swamped with drugs and guns.'

A Scottish police officer added: 'The load of guns and bullets Haase was sending to Glasgow was lethal. It wasn't the first consignment of guns he had sent up here. We have little to thank Michael Howard for in granting that evil man the Royal Prerogative.'

A spokesman for Howard's office said: 'This is a matter for the Metropolitan Police but all the procedures were followed. 'He has nothing to hide and the papers will show that.'

Ends

I would say it shows a level of incompetence, bad judgement and possible nepotism in a Home Secretary who, by the very dint of his office, should have known better, wouldn’t you?

Apologies to all my readers.......

2005-04-18T17:57:00.000+01:00

So sorry not to have kept you all enthralled with my regular writings. I've been away on tour with a production of Romeo and Juliet (don't think Shakespeare, OK?) and have just returned ready to continue with my regular notes about life and the good old U-of-K (is there an anagram to be had here?) . Reason 9 for not voting for Michael Howard and a further installement of "The Making of Demcracy" will follow shortly (bet you can all hardly wait). Until then, try and be patient and read something of worth to keep your mind limbered up for my next offering.............Love and hugs. Doris.

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 8

2005-03-26T21:31:00.000Z

8) I BELIEVE THE PUNISHMENT SHOULD FIT THE CRIME.

Wrong: Such a cursory statement, lifted straight from a Gilbert and Sullivan musical, to try and cover such a diverse problem merely proves Mr Howard’s unsuitability when it comes to making valued, in-depth judgements about far bigger issues. Here is a man (I use the word "man" in its loosest possible sense) who patches together his policy on crime and criminality with a quote from an operetta! Like the majority of his speeches of late, they are just “cut and paste” efforts......you know, cross out “dog” and insert “goldfish”; it wouldn’t surprise me if he doesn’t turn up to the next Common’s debate in a sea-captain’s uniform, sword under arm telling everyone that he really should be the next Prime Minister as he’s “the very model of a modern major-general.”

Now, you may think that it’s OK to have a Prime Minister who quotes from turn of the century musical pieces in order to formulate policy; maybe you'd feel better if we had a leader who’s well versed in the plebian arts, can whistle snatches from most G&S operettas and all of Lloyd-Webber's "Cats" gig and who has an aesthetic goal based on the word "punishment" for the betterment of our society being in charge.........with ‘their finger on the button’; Coward once spelt out a truism when he wrote, “Strange how potent cheap music is”.

OK, let’s forget for a moment that the line quoted in the opening of this discussion is actually from a musical (I use the word "musical" in its loosest possible sense here too) let's try not to, destroy too many dreams by stating……IT’S NOT REAL LIFE; let’s disregard both those points for a moment.....but how would you feel if that person did something as childish as make musicals his muse for policy formulation AND then STILL mis-read the message in the song? I say, be worried; be very, very worried. You want proof…..OK, read on.

In a reprise of earlier idiocy, Howard used a line from West Side Story, "I'm depraved on account of I'm deprived" in one of his speeches to show how youth blamed everyone else but themselves for their wrongdoing and the state of the nation...........ring any bells anyone? When Howard quoted those lines I thought, “Never has someone so seemingly intelligent misinterpreted a musical’s central message so badly ". “I'm depraved on account of I'm deprived" has nothing to do with youth’s get-out clause, it’s a statement of fact; listen, Mr Howard, and I’ll try and break it down for you.

It’s a line that firstly states the inherent difficulties surrounding youth when they are rudderless, penniless, unemployed and undervalued. In a society that is framed by a winner-loser nice guys finish last mentality, that has a government who holds cheating and lying, stealing and denying as the way to get ahead in life and leaders and role models who class success as the amount of jewellery you wear and the number of times you eat out in a week. The lives of juveniles who have no hope of getting out of their circumstances are constantly held up to ridicule by the 3g society we live in………Get on, Get honour, Get honest. “I'm depraved on account of I'm deprived" is a statement that asks for help, understanding and support, a wake-up call to those who have the power to create a better society for the individual and the nation to do so…..meaningfully; to re-use your other quote from that same speech but change the emphasis, "Juvenile delinquency is purely a social disease". It’s a social disease because the germs for infection are in the bloodstream of our society after it was injected with Thatcher’s “fuck ‘em all” doctrine. It’s now a society where the individual sees only itself as important and at the expense of the majority; that it really is alright to sell arms in order for brutes to dominate the foolish masses and butcher children; s’got to be, after all, Thatcher's son makes a good living out of it and look where it's got her and him.

Society, by its role models, its ideologies and its doctrines give young people the scaffold upon which to base their behaviour and their level of care; if we furnish them with the right role models we get a good payback. As it is we furnished them with the roles and role models of Mr Howard Esq. and the last Tory government; is it any wonder we’ve got the problems we have now?

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 7

2005-03-25T21:47:00.000Z

7) THE LIBERAL DEMOCRATS WANT TO SCRAP AUTOMATIC LIFE SENTENCES FOR; MURDER. I DON’T.

Wrong: Mr Howard shows a complete lack of understanding of crime and culpability with this statement. By using such big-stick statements, he shows the shallowness of his approach but the true depth of his policies; and his political history is all the more scary than his present-day ignorance. In his maiden speech to the House, Howard told the assembled masses how he’d have no problem with the re-introduction of the death penalty. We’ve watched as the real reasons and causes for the majority of high-profile murder cases during the Tory reign (namely the lack of funds, bad management, break up of communities, loss of employment, poor housing, poor services, dog-eat-dog Tory doctrines, poor health services, means testing, poor teaching support, an imbecile for a Home secretary and a group of self-serving politicos who were shagging and cheating their way through political life and so had little time and no right to teach by example) saw them shifting the blame away from the part their own policies played in these terrible cases onto young offenders, lone parents, social workers, prison governors and others. Never any admittance that they just might have had a hand in these events; it was as if they were divorced from the happenings........Howard’s full-time strategy throughout his time in politics actually; and his unnerving ideas about how to treat our fellow human beings goes deeper…….and younger.

The vast majority of his pronouncments about schooling are negative. He talks about expulsion, corporal punishment, discipline and physical degradation, nothing about support or more specialist teachers to help those many strugglers in the classroom. He once said, “How does it help parents instil discipline if they are told that they cannot smack their children? Why can't teachers discipline disruptive pupils any more?” The man's ignorance and imbecility knows no bounds. So far off the pace is he that he seems not to know that survey after survey has proved that violence just begets violence………but then, this is the man who really thinks that “Prison Works”.

With the doctrines he spouts forth he gives us a problem for every solution, and that’s what he wants to do……Divide and Rule, remember? Every now and then he seems to realise that he’s overstepped the mark and tries to show his compassionate side, and yet trips himself up time after time, like with his bleatings about the Iraq war....."If I'd known then what I know now......" The words "horse", "stable-door" and "bolted" come to mind; that was his "compassionate side" showing itself, then getting buried pretty rapidly when he supported the continuation of the death penalty for the armed forces; that’ll make everyone serving in Iraq sleep soundly in their beds tonight, won’t it?

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter 8

2005-03-23T21:59:00.000Z

The “Top-Man” mode of approach to alleviate any attack of the munchies had been gleaned from a recent encounter with a large group of Plan’s Lions, that had been spotted disporting themselves some safe distance away, whilst our humanoid group were out hunting……again. Luckily, or so it seemed at the time, the group of lions had been in clear view, almost as if they didn’t mind being seen, and some three-hundred yards distant from the now emboldened hunters. Even those as sportingly challenged as our ancestors could run to safety if an attack was launched from that distance, and the single tree the hunters had gathered under gave them an ideal position from which to tease their permanent enemies; here was a chance for pay-back, albeit from a distance of three-hundred yards; it was sweet at any distance. So began trunk-call babbling as the gang sent the stone-age equivalent of “Yahhhhh, Booo, Bollocks to you, you fat lion-pig!” echoing across the plains………… Eventually one of the group of lions stood up, stretching and yawning, and the hunter’s attention was locked onto him in case a fast exit was called for……………

Some heard it, some even saw it, some definitely felt it as, from the uppermost branches of the tree the men were gathered under, the six-hundred-and-fifty-pound male Plain’s Lion plummeted into the assembled, pre-occupied thicket of humanoid stupidity flailing its clawful way through four of the assembled yobs before it hit the ground. It only remained for the other decoy Plain’s Lions to get up, stretch, yawn, then amble across the three hundred yards distance that separated them from their newly laid dinner table for them to enjoy an impromptu al fresco meal, all of them grinning like Cheshire’s at the fast-lane departure of those once so brave and the pit-lane remainder of these now so dead.

There was one good thing to come out of this debacle, however, for the surprise of the attack was not lost on the escaping group, and had they have been capable of having a collective thought, they’d’ve realised their stupidity in being caught out like that; but when you’re this stupid it’s difficult to think you’re stupid. Nevertheless the level of shock had made its mark on them; claw-mark in fact, on three fleeing rumps and an escaping chest. It was the entire grunt around the rudimentary fire of that night’s gathering, the element of “surprise”. Here was a potent weapon that could help in the never-ending search for a full belly, could turn the tide of failure and make something else out of it, there being no word for success then as showbiz agents and the English language was sadly lacking; however, what the opposite to failure was occurred a few days later.

Out one day, the group had been gathering berries as they struggled to find enough to eat and berries were less of a struggle than a large antelope would be, when they surprised a very irate female wild pig and her brood as she was sheltering under a particularly thick bramble. As one, the group of berry-collecting humanoids scattered leaving all to fend for themselves. Our leader of the pack, who was standing at that moment under a tall hawthorn, clambered up it in three deft movements; he quickly fell to earth with a scream as his hand found a particularly vicious and uncompromising thorn. With twelve feet between him and solid ground it could have ended badly, but fortunately his fall was broken by the convenient placing of a fourteen-week-old piglet underneath him just as it was scampering off after the rest of the family. It didn’t take long, three weeks in fact, before the correlation between the death of the piglet (and the succulent meal it made) and the surprise attack by the Plain’s Lion that dropped from the tree hit them! They had done the same thing, ambushed the enemy (lunch) from a lofty position; “surprised” it in fact.

This opened everyone’s eyes to possibilities beyond previous thinking. Our leader took the credit, and for that also that neat little blonde he’d had his eye on for a week or more, and as he departed behind his rock with her, he grunted that he’d deliberately dropped on the piglet, meant it all along in fact, that the Plain’s Lion attack had set him thinking and he’d been waiting for the opportunity to try the tactic out. He returned to the impressed group after forty-six seconds of frenzied love-making and, when it was suggested by the group that the same “dropping-from-height” tactic be undertaken on tomorrow’s bear-hunt, our leader was sharp enough to offer the signal honour of overhead tackler to his deputy, the next in line for chiefdom should anything happen to him; (over someone else’s dead body it would). Our leader’s grunting made sense, at least to them, as he described how important it was for everyone to try the tactic so that complete role-reversal became an available option to the group; and you can imagine the intricacies of the grunt in order to explain that little lot.

Not wanting to seem un-deserving of leadership (after all it’d worked on the pig) the next in line agreed. So, the following day our present leader, at a single stroke (well, four actually, the bear’s aim was off that day) rid himself of any immediate challenge and invented the ‘Double Whammy’. Those who remained, after that day, the day that would be forever known as “the bear-hunt day that claimed six lives”, had to sort out a pecking order amongst themselves before they could get organised enough to mount any fresh challenge for leadership; now, back to our other pig.

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter 7

2005-03-22T22:19:00.000Z

The importance of timing rvealed itself a couple of weeks later when a particularly succulent but young and stupid wild boar had dodged the flashing clubs of our intrepid and ever-hungry crew. Pausing only to collect the arm of one of the hunters that ventured too close (young and stupid he may have been, but this boar still had tusks and a scything action that would make Crocodile Dundee look like a pen-knife-wielding-twig-whittler) the squealing pig had scuttled through the bush, all the while chomping on the well muscled and unexpected lunch-nee-limb, and darted into a large cave at the base of a sheer cliff that had, up until the cave was found, threatened to become it’s last stand.

Our gang of still-intrepid but now very cautious pursuers had, as a man, skidded to a halt about thirty feet from the mouth of the cave. Not only were they not now a full complement in the skull-crushing-limb department (limb-nee-lunch, remember) but here they were, at the place where their prospective luncheon and missing limb had disappeared, a dark cave…… whatever the reasoning, it was very sensible to tread softly just around here. Yes, it was true, these sorts of places could act as shelters when the extremes of weather that bounced around the world at this time threatened to gather you up and flush you over the nearest cliff. They could, however, also harbour one of the many and varied carnivore’s that stalked, prowled and ambushed the landscape and who had the capability to rapidly turn a bad-weather refuge into the Stone Age equivalent of a fast-food outlet.

Unseen to the now flummoxed hunting party, our wild pig became a positively incandescent pig (albeit very fleetingly) when he scuttled along the cave-floor in certainty of a clean escape from the butcher’s-of-the-bog outside only to run into the welcoming yet terrible final embrace of a cave-bear.

This cave bear, whose stature and wrestling ability would have put Mongoush to shame, had spent some time sorting out this particular retreat. He’d made it his own, far away from the hub-bub of what passed for modern life. Here he could spend hours just relaxing, filing and sharpening his talons on an eighty-foot redwood he’d uprooted and dragged in one rainy day, making himself ready for his next blistering attack on anything that came within sprinting distance. This was one son-of-a-bitch cave bear that even gang’s of Plain’s Lions moved over for, that mastodon’s passed their next bowel movement most rapidly for. Anything with half a brain, which certainly included the majority of the human population on earth at the time, knew for absolute certainty that the swagger of an approaching cave bear meant trouble; trouble spelt A.R.M.A.G.E.D.D.O.N.; couldn’t have been more obvious even if he’d’ve carried a flag with “Imminent Death Squad” written on it and wore a white “T” shirt with “DON’T FUCK WITH ME-NOT NOW-NOT EVER!” printed on it. This was one mean bastard of a cave bear.

Snoozing gently in his cave, this bear could hardly believe his luck as he heard then viewed the startled boar’s gallop, unfinished arm all a-flop, into oblivion; the bear just lay there obscured by a rock until the hapless beast was almost past him then sent the boar to that great-pig-sty-in–the-sky with a single, brutal slash of a paw that silenced all protest, instantly, and who’s power and accuracy would’ve put a Hymac back-actor to shame.

Meanwhile, outside the cave, the puzzled group of cheap-suited huntsmen decided to gather round the mouth of the cave and make themselves ready for an ambuscade. Just how the group was divided was sorted out after much discussion……and three well-aimed blows by our leader that split the group and three ears in two. The now chastened group took up guard at various points around the mouth of the cave to await developments. It seemed obvious the wild boar would have to come out at some time in the very near future, if not to forage then driven out by its own stench. If they lay quiet and still for long enough they could gain a meal with little effort for the element of surprise was now on their side, and a wild boar would be no match for their concerted attack, particularly one laid out with such cunning as this one was………and included the New Labour Saving Tactic; “Top-Man”.

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 6

2005-03-22T21:43:00.000Z

6) SOME PEOPLE THINK PUNISHMENT IS A DIRTY WORD. MR BLAIR SAYS SHOPLIFTERS SHOULD GET OFF WITH A FINE - THE SAME PENALTY YOU GET FOR PARKING ON A YELLOW LINE. I DON’T.

Wrong – And seriously alarming: By trivialising the issue, scoring political points, Howard weakens the case for anyone, particularly himself from actually doing something socially responsible to help people who may just be in difficulties. What does he suggest we give a convicted shoplifter who has a mental instability; six months, a year, life? (At least that way they’ll not do it again according to point 4). Nowhere and in no statement he has made does Howard suggest finding out why? Why? Because that costs too much money and takes up too much time to get a result that will get him elected again. At the Co-operation to Reduce Recidivism Workshop in Helsinki it was reported, by the UK delegation, that reconviction rates of prisoners on release in the UK have remained consistently and unacceptably high for many years and the present situation labelled as a phenomenon known as the "revolving prison door". The likelihood concerning rates of crime was reported as follows:

Care as child 13 times more likely to commit crime
School exclusion 20 times more likely
Unemployed 12 times more likely

(Keep those figures in mind as you read down this file; they prove interesting, particularly in 1994.)

I quote; "The situation is even worse in the case of short-term (sentence of less than 12 months) prisoners." (Those people who were convicted for shoplifting for the first time that Howard seems to want to lock up.) "This group represents the largest proportion of prison admissions annually, and has the highest rates of adult reconviction. They also have amongst the highest levels of social exclusion and need. Their relatively short period in prison means they have received little input on offending behaviour or resettlement whilst in prison. In addition, if over 21 they are not subject to probation supervision on release. There is a real risk that prison might make factors associated with re-offending worse. Many return to prison during the same or following years."

Now, the case in point for Howard's "get tough" campaign that will probably figure in the press in the near future will be the welcoming back to the Tory fold of the serial criminal, Lord Archer, a man seemingly unable to tell truth from fiction. He will be treated sympathetically if he decided to ask to rejoin the party, to get his old job back, just like all those other criminals that Howard has such plans for when they get out after a stretch.

Prison Works? A report stated that, “While prison removes from circulation certain categories of violent offender, and addresses justified popular demands for the punishment of heinous crimes, in most cases it provides a publicly funded higher education in offending. The experience of the last five years, prisons crowded to bursting point, alongside a rise in violence and social dislocation offer evidence that radical alternatives to prison are urgently needed. We are alarmed in particular by the high proportion imprisoned for non-violent and often trivial offences, such as non-payment of fines, and we reject unequivocally the return of prison-ships and the shackling of women prisoners giving birth.” The figures speak for themselves:

75% of prisoners were unemployed before they went inside
46% had drink problems
35% had drug problems
33% had been in care
28% had chronic housing problems
15% had mental disorders
10% had tried to commit suicide
(1994 figures) Those ones I mentioned above

And these were the figures known by Howard when he was Home Secretary, yet he still continued to preach the vengeance theory of social reform, bless his little cotton socks.

So, where do you think Howard figures in all of this? Well, if you forget everything else in the previous 5 points below and the other 6 to come, remember ONE THING. Howard and the government he supported and served in laid out the foundation stones for this present-day outcome on the bedrock of criminality in our society when they destroyed communities and their livelihoods, when they overcrowded prisons, cut educational time, and preached the bang ’em up and punishment mantras, all the while trying to coerce the public into believing that prison works. All it did was alienate of whole section of our community as Howard, through lack of intellect, lack of interest and gross ineptitude swept the problem under the carpet; we’re reaping the benefit of those doctrines now. Then, through successive years of Tory government, Thatcher, Howard and their divisive policies cemented those foundation stones together to build the edifice we gaze upon today......the edifice that Howard seems to think we believe he had no part in building.

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 5

2005-03-20T21:45:00.000Z

5) ITS COMMON SENSE. IT’S HOW I WILL CUT CRIME.

Wrong – Fatuous and condescending: If it’s common-sense, then how come 50% of all prisoners released re-offend within 2 years and 36% commit crimes serious enough to be returned to prison? That’s “Prison Working” for you. Amongst our youth the fugure's are even grimmer. 70% of those in the 18-20 year old bracket were convicted of another crime within two years, 47% of them actually back in prison on another sentence. Now, I’ve been doing some maths……….That means, if every year let’s say 5,000 new people are sent to prison on top of the present overcrowded circumstances (there are 8,000 more prisoners being held in jails that the present number of prisons available can hold) and 2,500 are released from prison. Out of those 2,500 released prisoners around 450 of them are returned to prison the following year along with the 5,000 that are sent to prison, for more and more facile crimes that Howard wants to see us punished for (see below) that means the prison population is growing by 5,450 every year and, like compound interest, it’ll grow exponentially until we’re all in prison! Best get building now, Mr Howard.

As with the vast majority of politicians, Howard disregards all evidence that goes against his “grand plan”. When the then Director General of Prisons, Narey, said, "I've never seen my job as being about just locking people up. It's self-evident in terms of value for money that if we can get people off drugs, on to offending behaviour programmes and into education, then we're going to reduce crime." how did Howard respond? He gave us the socially irresponsible phrase, “We shall no longer judge the success of our system of justice by a fall in our prison population." (!) Surely a person in his position, supposedly with access to the best brains in the business could see the stupidity held in such a statement. The trick is to have a low prison population and a low crime rate, but that takes work, not knee-jerk, snip-snap media bursts of rhetoric and with his eye on the next years of power, Howard hasn’t got time for working at it. He wants the snappy answer, the headliner, the frightener; no depth, no colour, no betterment. Watch him over the next few weeks as he leaps from band-wagon to band-wagon; like a child in charge of the TV remote each new phase catching his attention for a flash statement and then on to the next………my friends, get really concerned when a politician tells you that what he’s doing to you he’s doing to you for your own good……and Howard will come up with allsorts of guff in order to win your vote. You want to know how he’ll cut crime?

1) Howard will hark back to his “American Experience” as he did in the 90’s and beyond when he spouted, “In short we need zero tolerance policing”, and we can see how well things are working out there in the good ol' U.S., can’t we? He applauded Giuliani for his stance in New York and stated the need for us, in the U.K. to “……demonstrate that there is a line people cannot cross”. So where do they go, Mr Howard, those that do cross “that line” through the reasons stated in point 1 above? Under your regime, not in our backyard, that’s for certain; best keep these ravening hordes he keeps warning us about in the ghettos maybe? Howard’s certainly not prepared to furnish these people with anything so as they can better themselves….. apart from a prison cell that is.

2) He’ll repeat that nugget, “In many ways the police, our courts and the prison service are simply picking up the pieces of other people's failures”. Notice how he skilfully shifts the blame onto everybody else but himself and politicians like him .....other people, not government, just other people’s failures. (see the background to his treatment of Derek Lewis). He tells us, “Many people now believe that they are no longer wholly responsible for their actions”, and this coming from the shape-shifter of politics. Here’s a guy who uses Gilbert and Sullivan quotes to stick a crime and punishment bill together and has so badly misunderstand the meaning behind West-Side Story (stick with me, these howlers will follow later) telling us, “Like them” (THEM?) “I have had enough of the culture of political correctness - which is designed to blur the distinction between right and wrong”. No it’s not, you imbecile, it’s there to sharpen it, to protect the abused, the slandered, the under-valued, the minority from people like you who have a “one-size-fits-all” mentality.

3) He’ll tell us “My approach was simple” (he’s not wrong there) “to give the police the powers they needed to catch criminals; to give the courts the powers they needed to convict criminals; and to give our prisons the space to take persistent, serious and dangerous offenders out of circulation altogether.” And he failed in all three. Under his guidance police numbers fell, the prisons were overcrowded and he’s released at least one dangerous drug dealer (see later episodes……it’s a goody).

4) He’ll repeatedly and unashamedly fail to listen to those with real knowledge on the subject, like Lord Corbett, Chairman, All-Party Parliamentary Penal Affairs Group who said, “The prison system is failing the public, prisoners and those who work in prisons.” He'll disregard all attempts to tell him in plain English where the problems lie, like Lord Woolf did.

a) “The Woolf Report identified overcrowding as one of the most damaging features of prison life. The recommendation that a 'cap' on prison overcrowding should be introduced to prohibit any prison from holding more prisoners than its certified normal accommodation was rejected by the government on publication of the Woolf Report.”
Nb. Today, half of all prisons remain overcrowded, and of the 24 prisons built or re-opened since the Strangeways riot, 15 (62.5 per cent) are overcrowded.

b) The Woolf Report recommended that particular attention should be given to the problems experienced in remand prisons. Although the government said that new legislation would be introduced to establish a domestic legislative basis for the treatment of unconvicted prisoners, no progress has been made towards this objective. Remand prisons, such as Strangeways, continue to bear the brunt of severe overcrowding and decrepit conditions. Between April 1999 and February 2000 the average number of prisoners held two to a single cell remained consistently high in remand prisons. For example, there were 758 prisoners held two to a single cell in Birmingham, 337 in Brixton, 471 in Cardiff, 367 in Exeter, 613 in Leeds, 420 in Liverpool, 387 in Strangeways, 319 in Pentonville, 519 in Preston and 432 in Wandsworth.
The Woolf Report recommended that community prisons should be developed to ensure, amongst other things, that prisoners serve their sentences as close to their homes as possible. Today, the average distance male prisoners are kept from their homes is 50 miles and seven per cent are kept at least 150 miles from their homes.

c) The Woolf Report recommended that the amount of time prisoners spend occupied in purposeful activity should be increased. Yet, the average number of hours per week spent by prisoners on purposeful activity has increased by less than one hour since 1990.

5) Howard will continue to ignore research and common sense that states prison overcrowding - which occurs because courts send more people to prison for longer - squeezes out education and training and impedes efforts to offer a route to a more useful life and that, until there is a costed strategy to ensure those agencies concerned with housing, social care, training and education work together effectively with prisoners, the expensive failure of the "revolving door" for the majority will continue."

6) Howard’s arrogance will override knowledgeable statements from statesmen like the Rt. Hon Douglas Hurd, "The Strangeways riot and the Woolf Report woke the public up to the formidable problems of our prisons - for a year or two. Ten years on we must wake up the public again. If we neglect the conditions in which 65,000 of our fellow citizens are held, then we are preparing the way for future crime and more victims." And from the then Chief Inspector of Prisons, Sir Stephen Tumim who said: "It seems a great pity than following the favourable reception given by the government and the media to the Woolf Report, and in particular the White Paper which followed it, so little has been done by way of implementation. The systems of contracts, of accredited standards, of greater co-operation between different parts of the Criminal Justice System, of control of overcrowding, better links with the community and families, have all been praised by each Home Secretary, but never really acted upon.”

Jeeezzzeeee.....................what you see is what you'll get. Think it can't get any worse? Read on, my friend.

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter 6

2005-03-19T12:16:00.000Z

So, the previous chapter has hopefully taught us something; namely that although any publicity is considered good publicity, that which happens after you’re dead is as much use as celluloid cat in hell.

Times moved on, huts were the new caves, mud was the new rock, language was the new grunt and a sheep still looked inviting when it quivered its tail and you weren't hungry; some things were, after all, universal, as was the need to eat, certainly once a day but in honesty as often and as excessively as was possible. In a time before circumcision probably the secondmost biggest drawback for any leader, who wanted to keep his bird, his meat and his life for longer than a week that is, was having to be involved in the bi-daily hunting activity of the tribe. I mean, here was an occupation that was fraught with danger, of the dying kind. What our semi-consolidated-in-his-position-leader needed was a strategy to allow him to stay out of the death scrum that was his equivalent of our trip to Tesco's until the hunt was brought to a satisfactory conclusion by others, regardless of casualties, but this reticence must still allow our leader a large share of the kill; not easy given the appetites, tempers and table manners of the usual killing-crew.

You didn’t need to be a genius (a phenomenon impossible to latch onto in these days of single-syllable education and diplodocus-to-squeeze-a-grape diplomacy anyhow) to work out this was where the fault lay in an otherwise pretty safe job. I mean, there was no money so no need for a chancellor to muddy the waters of authority; there was no health service so no worries about waiting lists and crabby customers moaning that, because the surgeon had removed the wrong leg and you’d have to go back in to have the correct one off, it wasn’t sufficient recompense for you to be told the patient in the next bed wanted to buy your slippers; no railways so no disgruntled passengers bitching about.........well, well everything really, no trains, dirty stations, not enough carriages, too costly, take your pick. No, the early, pre-Stone Age leader had it pretty cushy all-in-all. The only dickey moments in an otherwise trouble-free existence were these interminable, bloody, hunting forays.

Most of the youngsters enjoyed them, of course, even looked forward to them, daft buggers so there was always a core group of willing sacrifices, but the hunt needed all hands on deck to become succesful, and some of those hands had to be skillful, knowledgeable and not just used for masturbation techniques. To these older members of the tribe, and the life-of-pig-sty-luxury that was our leader in particular, the hunt was nothing more than a daily throw of Lucifer’s dice.

Today of course, being a leader means being surrounded by plush carpetry and warmth, enough ‘canapés and champers’ to sink then refloat the QE2, a willing bevy of large-breasted maidens on permananet call-out and the certainty of large wedges of cash landing in your lap at the end of an evening spent dressed in a D.J. All the preceding helps soften the blow of any enterprise built on luck and the all pervading stench of livestock. However, at this point in history, and apart from the willing bevy of large-breasted maidens and the all pervading stench of livestock that had nothing to do with bluffing your way through life, the ambience of the surroundings left a lot to be desired in these far off days when D.J. stood for Dingo-skin Jerkin and a large wedge stood………? No trays of delicately prepared nibbles in this particular casino of life; no sir. This whole precarious existence was held together by a diet that had to be wrestled to the ground immediately after grace, so a large chunk of the available “fun-factor” was removed from a pastime that already had an enjoyment factor of zero; add all this to the fact that the odds of you returning home to enjoy the spoils of the chase were well stacked against you and you have the perfect recipe for a miserable day out. If the flailing feet, slashing claws, gnashing teeth or scything horns housed in and on the fight-you-to-the-death victim didn’t get you, then the anticipation-edged, dribble-fuelled, sheer bad aim of your hunting companions probably would; it’s not hard to see why so much thought was given over to how to avoid this pre-historic, daily scratch-card by those new to power.

It was whilst out walking one day (not too far from the village in case a Plain’s Lion was about and peckish, you understand) and deep in thought (or as deep in thought as a life which revolved around the space between lower rib-cage and knees would allow) that our new leader saw a way forward on this issue; there, before him was a tree. Not that he hadn’t seen a tree before, I mean, he sctarched his arse up against one every day, just before defacating at its base and then peeing up it, but this one intrigued him, or at least in these days of limited descriptive vocabulary, made him look at it harder. As he stared, a large cloud passed over the face of the sun causing the tree’s leaves to curl slightly as the bright glare dimmed somewhat. For over half-an-hour he stood watching, which is a very long time in days when the average life expectancy was 30 years and bloody. Then the clouds cleared momentarily and the leaves stretched again, folding out gently, facing the brilliant orb once more. A further larger and darker cloud passed over the sun and once again our leader was rooted to the spot as the leaves once more folded into a shy curtsey in deference to the sun’s disappearance............and the awareness hit him like a bolt of lightening! In fact it was a bolt of lightening. So absorbed had this idiot been in this metrologoical occurrence that he’d failed to see it was a thunder cloud full of electronic malice that cast the second shadow. Luckily our gallant leader's teeth stopped the massive charge from earthing so he was able to carry this knowledge, and his molars, back with him to camp.

Once he’d scampered home and had time to sort through his emotions and damaged canines, he began to piece things together and the revelations came slowly and with difficulty, like a Virgin Express into Bristol Parkway. Those leaves had been like the tribe.......his tribe...... locked on to the shining beacon of......of strength and certainty of the sun which in his tribe's case shone on them in the shape of him...............their leader. But, when that warm glow of strength and health threatened to leave them they curled..........withered in their inadequacy of his strength and purpose. These leaves, like the men in the tribe, were the life-blood of the tree.........which represented the group. They helped make it grow..........kept it strong..........gave it purpose, but all of this ability was instinctively recognised by the tree.........by the tribe...... and its leaves to be dependant on the sun.......on him.......and the sun convinced the tree of this every time it was covered by cloud......and the tribe needed to know this was the way it worked without him..........! ‘Course, our illustrious leader didn’t think quite like this. I mean, how could a man with a brow that was reminiscent of a 1984, formula one Maclaren rear-spoiler work out such complex ideologies? No, he’d just watched the leaves curl, figured they looked like a hand gripping onto a cock and worked out that he needed to convince the tribe that, without him, they’d be nothing but a bunch of wankers. But the question remained the same; how to feed and fornicate well but get off jankers when the hunt was next called and not lose face and position.

The second flash of lightening and accompanying crack of thunder cowed him in the corner of his urine-soaked abode as he was reminded of the elemental payback of forgetfulness, but it also cleared the way for his second flash of insight namely, in order to avoid any further field dentistry, send someone else out to look at the bloody tree, or, in the case at hand, send someone else out on the hunt in his place!......... But who……and by what excuse? A valuable lesson in timing was forthcoming here as our leader realised he could do with another artist of flint and stick like at the lsat hunt. Should’ve saved him, but then, his demise had had an element of timing in it; surely there was another lesson in timing to be gleaned here?

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 4

2005-03-18T22:33:00.000Z

4) BUILD MORE PRISONS AND FEWER CRIMINALS WILL BE FREE TO COMMIT CRIME.

Right – But infantile in its content and aim. They’ll not be free to commit crime as long as they’re locked up, so, what does Mr Howard suggest, that we lock up a serial shoplifter for life? His lack of a grasp on reality knows no bounds really. It has to be said that the prison population expanded rapidly and dramatically under Howard’s guiding hand; but did he build enough prisons? What do you think? No, he gave us “Prison Ships” (see below) that wonderful export from the States. Under his guidance he kept banging them up (the Conservative version of “stack ‘em high, sell ‘em cheap”) and, as the prison population rose, the number of staff remained stationary; in 1993 it was 1.1 Staff to 17 prisoners by 1996 it was still 1.1 staff but now it was to 33 prisoners. Surely even someone as bereft of ideas as Howard could see this was a recipe for disaster; certainly Lord Woolf did when he published his “Inquiry into the causes of the Strangeways riot” in 1991. Howard? Well, true to form he dodged the bullet, used Derek Lewis as a scapegoat for the problems and came up with that slogan, “Prison Works” in ‘93’ (although, 'works in achieving what’ still remains to be answered). Woolf identified overcrowding as one of the most damaging features of prison life back then, and also concluded that the amount of time prisoners spend occupied in purposeful activity should be increased, and it was; now the prisoners had the luxury of taking part in educational and meaningful employment for 4.9 hours…………………………per week.

See, Howard’s “prison works” credo was a totally misread approach to a paper originally published by Martinson; in that paper, when Martinson wrote that, in prison, “nothing works” he actually meant it as a spur to find alternatives to this regime, a regime where nothing you can do for those prisoners whilst they remain in those degrading and debilitating surroundings works. But those with little intellect but big ideas (Howard must have been at the front of the queue when these attributes were handed out) who were seeking to impress the public and win office saw it as a green light to “get tough”.

So, with Howard banging on about building more prisons and now seemingly wanting to lock up every fourth citizen for dropping litter (see below) there’s a certain irony in Margaret Thatcher endorsing a white paper which stated that prisons were 'an expensive way of making bad people worse', a view also held by seven of Howard’s predecessors as Home Secretary (and a mass of Home Office research) but for some reason, not by Howard. Instead he gave us that gem of thoughtful plagiarism, “Prison sends a powerful message to those outside prison: crime doesn't pay”. And with that brash and easy statement he washes his hands of the responsibility, the causes and the results, and that sends an equally clear message to those who run our prisons; that we don’t care for them or their charges. By his methods we treat prisoners like livestock; doing nothing, learning nothing, promising nothing. A rise in the prison population doesn’t cure crime and you cannot build your way out of prison overcrowding.................unless you can get the Private Enterprise People involved that is. Howard's way is to hive off the prisons to your cronies in the business world, charge them a rate for doing it and, "Hey Presto", prison building, maintenance and staffing costs slashed - slap on back, well done Michael, cut taxes...... Howard loses sight of the fact that such ideas create the atmosphere in which poorly managed prisons run for profit become a breeding ground where badly supervised prison officers chalk up their level of job satisfaction by playing “Gladiators” or “Coliseum” with the inmates. So, with Howard’s ideas of tackling crime to the fore and a prison population rising to record levels under his guidance, how will Howard demonstrate his caring attitude to prisoner’s welfare?

Back in the 90’s when he was Home Secretary, did he build enough new prisons to hold the new inmates he’d crammed in for misdemeanours, increase the pastoral and educational structure in prisons, increase the pay, conditions and staffing numbers for the prison service as a whole, support the governors of those prisons in coping with this increase? In a word, ‘No’. So bad was the shortage of prison places people were kept locked up on those aforementioned prison ships (nice and cheap, that) which left prisoners sitting in cells for 23 out of 24 hours and receiving, in 1995/6 the grand total of 4.9 hours of education per week mentioned above; his methods doubled up prisoners per cell, injected a pittance in the social, pastoral and educational welfare of those prisoners (punishment, prisons are for punishment) flying in the face of research which showed reoffending could be slashed by 12 per cent if every prisoner had some form of education, ignored the increasing calls for extra manpower to cope with the overcrowding problems (that he’d created) from prison warders and governors alike, ignored the regular warnings of serious disturbances that were likely if the trend continued and obviously considered the rise in prisoner suicide rate, which according to the Home Office’s own figures shows a direct correlation between suicide rates and prison population, as a sign of his ‘success’. Anyone who can sit through a rise in one year, 1993/4 of the suicide rate in British prisons of 30% to 61 cases and not scratch his head and say, "Errrr, I think we might be getting this wrong, guys" doesn't deserve to be in charge of a whelk stall. And you know the most horrifying statistic to come out of the 93/94 prison suicide figures? Of those 61 cases 40% of them (that’s around 25 individuals) committed suicide whilst on remand…..know what “on remand” means? It means not found guilty of any crime……you know......like......innocent.

Think this is bad enough from a man who wants to run this country? Howard then compounds the felony of point 4 with a crassness only reserved for politicians on the make with point 5.

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 3

2005-03-18T22:23:00.000Z

3) PUT MORE POLICE ON THE STREETS AND THEY’LL CATCH MORE CRIMINALS.

Right – But infantile: Only a fool would say, “Put more police on the streets and they’ll catch less criminals.” Under Howard’s hand, police numbers actually fell between 1993 and 1997 by over 1000 officers. What he relied on was the “SUS” law, another landmark in criminological thinking by someone who was a lawyer, f’ goodness sake! Howard said, “.....and Conservatives will support the police when it comes to stop and search. Increased stop and search is part of the solution to rising crime.” This from a man who wants to run the country. Increased stop and search is part of the problem to rising crime. It alienates people, makes them feel picked on, distrusted and, if you’re of a non-white group you’re far, far more likely to be SUSSED and all that does is breed resentment. Howard believes that, “Effective policing depends on stop and search” and yet we all know that effective policing depends on the police actually doing the job they're paid for and being supported in this by managers and politicians keeping their fingers out of the pie thereby allowing the police to do their work properly in the first place, not hoping that a blanket “check ‘em all” will net a few criminals, no matter how many other innocent people we upset so that they can meet the government targets laid down to clinch the next election, only to see the case collapse through shoddy work and dishonest attendants.

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 2

2005-03-18T22:17:00.000Z

2) THEY’RE RIGHT – ALL TOO OFTEN CRIME PAYS.

Wrong – It may well be the only wage some of them will ever get, but crime doesn’t pay them or society. What it pays out is in broken homes, fatherless children, brutalised young people and massively over-stretched social services. By using a statement like this, Howard shows his hand early. By his every speech and utterance he seeks to create a “them-and-us” society, the old adage of “Divide-and-Rule" mentioned above. They're not citizens, they're the “muggers”, the “murders”, the “burglars”, the “rapists”, the “criminal”, the “wrong-doer”, we're the “victim”, the “law abider”; all these stereotypes figure heavily in his speeches. WE are afraid to let our children walk to school because of THEM. WE fear intimidation from THEM, the hooded youths as we walk home at night. WE feel powerless and insecure against THEM. WE’RE Decent, hard working people; THEY’RE yobs and drunken hooligans. He creates a picture of a nation of US’s cowering in our front rooms, doors locked windows barred whilst THEM, the bacchanalian hordes, this idea of a “feral” nation of youth, destroy the citadel. It’s a method he’s used countless times in the past and right up to the present day to deflect eyes from the horizon of what he really stands for. Like the red-tops, he’s not looking for solutions, he’s looking for revenge and as long as he can keep us cowering in our beds with his scaremongering he stands a chance of getting it too.

Michael Howard - 11 Reasons Not to Vote for Him - Reason 1

2005-03-18T21:50:00.000Z

Fashioned After Howard's 11-point Crime Plan
Last year, Michael Howard published an 11-point "crime and law and order manifesto" on the web. The responses that follow on this and subsequent postings here at Broadsword..... are an attempt to dissect the social amoeba that is M. Howard. Oh, and the point number one below and all the others that will appear here over a period of time are real.....not made up by me to make him look stupid....it's actually what Michael Howard believes......honest; look it up if you don't believe me: -

I BELIEVE THE PUNISHMENT SHOULD FIT THE CRIME. by M.Howard - aged, 'old enough to know better'

1) MOST CRIMINALS AREN’T STUPID. THEY COMMIT CRIME BECAUSE THEY THINK THEY’LL GET AWAY WITH IT.

Wrong: Most criminals commit crime because they are disenfranchised from society by dint of geography, social strata, personality, background or education. This “would be” Prime Minister shows, by his asinine first statement, that he is a man of little intellect when it comes to the reasons for crime; and this from a previous Home Secretary too. Like all good politicians he believes he’s making history but removed from it. When Howard and his league of cohorts, not least of all our beloved Margaret Thatcher, decided they’d reshape these islands in their own image they desecrated and destroyed communities, livelihoods and ideologies, closing schools, running down hospitals, selling off public transport and cutting the number of police during this time. What they left were ghettos of isolated communities who were left to their own devices. Abandoned by Howard’s government, these vacuums of self-esteem lacked the educational and social tools they needed to develop at the same pace as the favoured few. This presented the country with a ready-made section of the population who, fuelled by resentment, had no way, intellectually, fiscally or creatively of getting out of their position in society; they also presented Howard and Co. with the perfect "Divide and Rule" tool. Apart from winning the lottery or becoming a celebrity, the only way to keep the wheels of survival turning in these deserts of social help and become what the Conservative government said you must strive for (“Anyone who still travels to work by public transport at 30 is a failure”) is to steal. And what is all this theft for? A recent study by the Association of Chief Officers of Probation of 20,000 homes in Watford, Hertfordshire, which included extensive interviews with burglars, found that the majority of burglaries are carried out to pay debts—in fact four times as many as to fund drug or alcohol habits. Howard says that people living in deprived areas are more than twice as likely to be mugged as those living in better off neighbourhoods. Well, I say that can be easily solved; give the people living in those poorer areas a ‘better off’ area to live in then there’ll be NO CRIME after a while!

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter 5

2005-03-15T22:31:00.000Z

How exciting those early days of leading a sibling democracy must have seemed to those who achieved high office. As our political model in the previous chapter's illustrates, leadership was nothing if not exciting, even though it may have always teetered on the edge of being for a short space of time only, reappointment being brought about quite swiftly by any less-than-aware incumbent being eaten; 'lost leader' would have been a phrase coined just about now, if sufficient brain power could ever have been diverted from the chase (luncheon or sexual) and focused on such a profound thought, that is.

With the successful groups’ becoming larger hunting became more problematic for the crowd, but it was recognised by our leader that the sharing of food items became a requirement if he was to thrive and spread this seed of communal living amongst others of his kind; and one thing our man in high power wanted to do was spread his seed. To that end the killer-group, still led by our indefatigable leader but from a safer distance nowadays, began to take only a small portion of the kill for themselves before returning to base camp with the remaining spoils. This massive step forward in communal awareness would mean the non-hunting members – particularly the women – would be fit and able to continue the tribe’s growth.

Before this the culmination of the kill had instigated a first-past-the-post routine for the non-hunting members. This group, remaining within the vicinity of the hunt at a rough camp site, waited, straining for the sound of silence that signified the beast was dead and it was safe to close in. On reflection, I guess this silence could also have signalled the demise of the whole hunting group to some gang of ravening Plain’s Lions waiting by the kill site in ambush mode, thereby consigning this second wave of newly arriving, far weaker, younger, older or sissy members to the dubious position of a fast disappearing dessert; but rumbling tums often throw caution to the wind, one silence sounding much like another and those who did the killing never left a lot for latecomers.

Any hunt that was successful and completely Plain’s Lion-free (and had the animal that formed the central core of the hunt either dead or at least only twitching weakly) would be the signal for this mass of masculine hunter-flesh to fall upon the newly deceased beast, flint axes flailing, clubs kerr-banging and jaws chomping, followed as quickly as was possible by the remainder of the non-hunting group as they caught up with the slaughter-house-crew. In fact it was wise to keep moving once one became part of this melee for fear of having a limb removed and eaten by an overzealous companion. Obviously the choicest portions of the beast would be removed, fought over and devoured first. Hearts’ still palpitating, livers’ still quivering, whatever came out first; indeed those back at camp would be lucky to gain so much as a scrotum if they didn’t make the site of the kill in time; definitely not a scrotum as that was considered a delicacy even back then, claimed usually by the leader and gulped down first.

There is, in a museum in Iceland in fact, the only authenticated case of a humanoid leader choking on a scrotum. The research team who discovered the corpse worked out, by the bangle on one arm (not so much a bangle, more the spincter muscle taken from the arse of a caribou) and the crude tattoo on his other (that bore the barely decipherable marks, LIKL cut into the man’s forearm by some semi-sharp instrument, someone’s teeth probably) that this was indeed a man of substance if of poor scenting prowess, education and spelling ability. The body lies, still frozen, in an ice-coffin, the ice preserving both scrotums intact as it were. We can only surmise whether there was much of a first-aid struggle for the scrotum-choking leader. Maybe his companions tried possibly to retrieve the offended appendage; if they did so it was to steal and eat it probably, no room for sentiment where scrotums are concerned back then. So the scrotum-scrum descended as this mass of slack flesh ballooned out in the leader’s throat, our ancestor coughing, gurgling and turning blue with a trick only repeated by our most celebrated porn-stars since then. Once the lack of air had rendered four-balls into the ‘prone and still’ position one can only conjecture why the sweetbreads were not removed from the throat and scoffed down by another group member for, as is well known, testicles are a luxury for a dead man. Professor Jorgen Denser of the Faculty of Pre-History at Helsinki University, by deft and painstaking research, thinks the reason for this is the graphic way the poor unfortunate died.

As Professor Denser stated in his paper, delivered to the Geographical Society (London) 1984, and entitled, “Why Risk Assessment Confused Proto-Primates”; “The act of dying was still a much feared and awesome process back then, video not having been invented, and this man’s death throes as he thrashed around the open space in ever decreasing circles, pointing at his throat, legs and arms akimbo until he disappeared up his own bearskin must have at first frightened then intrigued the other group members.” Denser then continues. “It may even have been sufficiently intriguing for them to halt their own feeding frenzy and try to copy the dying man’s movements as they seemed almost magical in their gymnastic activity”; (Denser 1984).

Professor Denser’s theory falters here, however, as he then goes on to proffer the hypothesis that this was the point in history when disco was born. This idea is dismissed by all others at the Faculty. As they rightly point out (and up and then across the floor) a pair of white pants and a pot of paint belonging to ‘Lakoftalent Man’ had been found alongside a club, together with a torn and grubby section of sheet music, the tune of which could only have been performed by a spider monkey with a strangulated hernia. All these detractors, the other workers in this field, use as evidence;

1). The geographical position where traces of the hunt were actually discovered; i.e. atop a plateau with a one-thousand-foot drop at its eastern edge;
2). Where the frozen body of ‘Cho-king Man’, as he became to be known, was discovered; i.e. at the foot of this thousand-foot cliff; and
3). The fact that Professor Denser, two weeks after delivering this paper, up and married a fiddler crab he’d met on the beach the day before.

All of the above three points tend to give their alternative theory credence. Primitive man was fond of his food, but when lack of wind, caused by a jammed scrotum, sent the perpetrator pogo-ing over a thousand foot drop? Well another important political lesson was learnt; namely when you realise your leader is talking bollocks, distance yourself.

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter 4

2005-03-14T22:08:00.000Z

So, there we have it, the birth of political thought. Not much too it really providing a future could be guaranteed for the post-holder. The evening of the disastrous hunt, for their late artist-man at any rate, the disgruntled group sat round the camp-smoke, coughing and swapping grunts about how succulent that Giant Elk would have been. Then as if to describe the scene and thereby lay claim to becoming the first political commentator, the aforementioned 'largest member of the tribe complete with slashing club' (let’s call him “the large fucker”) points to the leader of the group and lets out a similar but deeper yell to the one late artist-man had unleashed earlier, that douses what they laughingly referred to as a fire; this is the chance the new leader has been waiting for to cut this massive specimen down to size; a feat that could, heretofore, have only been accomplished with a sickle, fagging hook wielded by someone with faint regard for their own safety.
Using the newly-doused fire as the focal point and with points, jumps, waves and grunts our leader shuts down "the large fucker" and tries to convey to all the difficulties involved in the totality of the hunt. The need for all to keep on-message as to how to conduct themselves during the final stages of the pursuit, and the very real possibility that, even when the result seems certain, they could all be Portillo-ed; which is, he explains, just what happened with their Giant Elk, the Plains’ Lion, their ex-artist-and-late-lamented-Plains’-Lion-lunch-companion and this……this……arse!
The rest of the group nod in agreement as the spin works its magic. After that little party grunt they are already well on the way to granting the leader carte blanche with the female members of the group and a doctorate in explanations. As a person they turn on "the large fucker" and brandish their clubs at him. Now, as large as this fucker is, he’s not stupid…………………remember we’re talking early man here so “not stupid” is a relative term…………and he has to abide by the democratic decision of the assembled group; made all the more democratic by the number of clubs waved at him. Expelled from the group for that night, "the large fucker" is forced to cross the floor and sit furthest away from the now doused fug-pillar. No food for him tonight………………in fact no food for anyone tonight; the group discover early on that shared responsibility is fine so long as you don’t have to share it.

Michael Howard - Truth to the Rumour that Esso have found a new Oilfield

2005-03-13T21:18:00.000Z

Profuse apologies to all my readers. I've been away for a few days, which is why you've had a drought of my razor-sharp wit and cutting-edge politcal comment. Hope the withdrawal symptoms haven't left you too drained. Went to London (the big "L") to have the opportunity to question Michael Howard (the leader of our illustrious Conservative Party) in a 5-minute, face-to-face on Channel 5 on Thursday evening. It's a live programme and they get nine people to have this opportunity; and I was one of the lucky nine. So, I got to ask him how he could say "Prison Works" (one of his favourite, overused and dogmatic statements that he first conjured up in 1993 at the Blackpool conference) when over 50% of released prisoners re-offend and 36 % of them are back inside withing 2 years. Before it came to my turn, I was privileged to watch this slithy tove in action. He's very good at the "dodge-the-bullet-shine-for-the-camera stuff, doesn't make him anything less of a shit than he is, but he's very good. He skillfully manipulated the conversation with the other questioners very well, making points when he could, looking contrite when it suited, putting on a smile that would kill a pig at forty paces; you know, regular politician.

Got to my turn and I listened to a man who was dry of ideas yet soaked with revenge. Here was a man who, as Home Secretary, gave us prison ships, cut the number of hours a prisoner was given education in the prison down to 4.9 hours................................per week, cut the police force by 1200 officers and, after making his speech in 1993 containing 27 changes to how the judiciary and police would operate from henceforth - not one of these changes mentioning anything about helping prisoners - presided over a 30% increase in the number of suicides during the 93/94 year; a total of 61 prison suicides, and 40% of those 61 suicides (that's around 23 human beings) were of people on remand. You know what "on remand" means? It means not found guilty of any crime yet.......you know..........innocent. Yet, Mr Howard seems to think his record in government was good...............only a politician, huh?

Anyhow, I got my twopenn'orth in and hopefully, when he and the rest of that hideous group of self-serving fuck-wits get a bum deal in the election this year, I'll have played a small part in his demise; 'cos you can bet y' bottom dollar when the Conservatives get the fuck off in May.....or June........or whenever then, like all packs of rabid dogs, they'll turn on one of their own (Mr Howard, step forward and take the bite in the neck.....which should be a new experience for you seing as how you've been unfavourably compared to a vampire) and the hapless sap will get the blame and the boot. Let's face it, anyone who worked under (pun intended) and supported Margaret Thatcher (remind me to tell you what happened when I met her in 1989) deserves all the bad times we can give them.

Trouble is, who the heck do we vote for? Damned if I know, they're all as untrustworthy as each other. All promising tax cuts, better services.....only a politician would think the best way to improve services to the public is to cut the workforce by 30%, the budget to run the service by a half, then offer the remainder to some city-slicker to run...........and a bag of doughnuts too, I shouldn't wonder. Be very aware when a politician tells you that what he's doing he's doing for our own good. watch this space, I'll return with more facts about Mr Howard, the Conservatives and where the best place to stick your cross might be in my next instalment.........................bet you can hardly wait...............all of you..........

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter 3

2005-03-06T21:14:00.000Z

Political Model No 1.

Leadership and Shared Responsibility.

Let’s say, for instance, that your cunning has paid off, you’ve managed to con your way to the top, past the largest member of the tribe, who’s slashing club was what passed for “a slight disagreement” back then, and now you’re a leader; a semi-magnificent specimen of a low-brow hominid and you and your mates have cornered a succulent, young Giant Elk. You’ve managed to avoid a spiking by those massive horns and visions of yourself, the leader, taking the largest slice of roast venison-and-ash, swiftly followed by unceremonious sex with anyone you feel like, are floating in your head; the Elk’s down for the count; all that’s required is for you, as brick-team leader and all-round-good-egg, to administer the last rites. Knuckle-bone clubs are sooooo last year, and you can’t help but feel a tinge of smugness as you draw out your ‘this-season’s’ flint hatchet. This magnificent tool you stole from one of the more creative but far dumber and weaker team members. He’d been living on vegetation due to his hunting inabilities until he joined the group………I mean, how do you expect to be treated when people find out you’ve been existing solely on chanting and roots? You get beaten up and your flint hatched stolen, that’s what. So, brandishing this delicate piece of flint-art with which you are about to bash in the brains of this daughter-of-Bambi, you make your advance. It’s then that the late-owner of the flint axe suffers a bout of premature-emasculation-first-hunt-fever and lets out a whoop of such blood-curdling savagery (at a volume that no-one thought possible without the perpetrator having a bowel movement, particularly on that all-fruit-diet) that it halts even your steps, thereby spoiling the fine dash of a figure you were cutting as you closed in for the kill. Unfortunately, and just forty-yards away, it also halts the progress of a very large, male, Plains’ Lion that was just wandering off in the opposite direction to this hunt (being, as he was, unaware of it’s taking place until he heard the rebel yell) to a shady spot by yonder bog to try and catch a few flies for lunch, so slim have been its pickings over the past eight days.

Now this well-maned chap has the build of a Humvee, the temper of a seriously pissed-off hornet, the patience of a well-struck shotgun cartridge and the appetite of garbage truck, and that’s on a good day. Today? Well, today is a real bad, Plains’-Lion day; in fact it’s the mother and father of a shit day, it would’ve been penned in red ink on the calendar, were they to have one, and our little group of intrepid huntsmen will have to search pretty damn good to find even a spark of gaiety or slap-on-the-back camaraderie in their soon-to-be, furry, companion. Today this lion would tackle a feeding frenzy of alligators that had the piranha squad as minders just for a morsel of slug excrement so poor has been its diet of late; then your man with the fruit-squits lets out the calling-card whoop and all of a sudden our team leader is faced with an undeniable truth; government built upon legend is doomed to proving itself one day.

All other members of the group take one step back, leaving semi-brick-man leader unexpectedly at the forefront of the party as the cuddly beast steps into the arena and surveys the still warm and palpitating, main course Elk, and the choice of hors d’erves in back of it. As our man in hiresuit costume and pouting rectum faces what seems to be a set of teeth the size of Telford, he realises that the proletariat have voted with their feet and he’s expected to claim the prize by shoo-ing away this ravening beast that looked like the role-model for Goodfella’s, bearing nothing but what was an object of beauty and envy, but is now just a very inadequate ‘short piece of stick with a bit of stone at the end of it’.

At this point in his early political career, it dawns on our leader that being top man is only O.K. so long as it doesn’t involve being eaten in the first flush of power. “Fuck this for a game of soldiers!” hadn’t been invented then, and neither had the AK47; it was however the birthplace of “political strategy”. Moving carefully backward our slight-of-build leader bows down before Fruit-and-Root-Whooping- Man and offers him the return of the flint axe. Now, if you had any brains, you’d refuse the axe with a look of disdain that says, “Do I look like I just stepped out of some hippo shit?” Unfortunately there were three things against this happening. Firstly, the pea whizzing round in a vacuum that was fruit-loop’s head was all he’d been blessed with for a brain; great for being creative, useless for being strategic. Secondly, he was totally unaware, being as thrilled as he was in getting back his beautiful axe, seeing its glint in the setting sunlight, feeling the shape of the head, the graps of the handle.......... that the leader had placed the axe in his hand then crawled behind him just as all the other gathered hunter/cowards had also taken another step backwards to distance themselves from the slight of hand and the Plain’s Lion. And thirdly, it really did seem that he’d just stepped out of some hippo shit seeing as how easily he was moved from also-ran to favourite in one swift move. It only remained for our leader with an eye on survival to give fruit-loop a hearty push towards the fuck-up-on-four-legs and the poor sucker was eaten in a trice, flint axe and all, went down really well as an appetiser. As the last of his skinny little and sadly underused legs disappeared down the chomping, Plains’ Lion-maw, it didn’t go unnoticed by his fleeing troupe of fair-weather friends that modern weaponry couldn’t come too soon. To the happily surviving leader there was a realisation that tribe top-man could be a particularly short-term occupation in its present form. To make it a job worth continuing in it had to have some form of longevity built in; at least until after the next hunt had finished.

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter 2

2005-03-04T14:47:00.000Z

Of course, the events described in the closing passage of Chapter 1 can hardly be termed “democratic”; it reads much too much like the way modern U.K. government works to be that. No, we have to move on, and so, to further the political tale on a little and in order not get too bogged down with pre-history………I mean, how much conversation concerning tax cuts and the free market economy can you have with a semi-human who’s knuckles’ still drag along the floor………we’ll leap forward a millennia or two from the above dawn of human life on earth, safe in the knowledge that they are well on their way to at least forming a fledgling democracy.

The first tribes or groups of hominids had, by cave-man times, worked out it was better to co-operate than live a single, precarious and lonely existence. To begin with, there was a greater chance of sex with a group of people than with oneself, for although masturbation is not to be underestimated as a sexual experience (after all it’s having sex with someone you love) too much of it does make the knees and eyesight weaker and, if over-indulgence takes place, can cause certain physiological changes; in such a condition, any prey larger than a dik-dik would present serious challenges for the solo hunter. No, if prey is to be, nay has to be pursued and caught, then a mob of blood-thirsty, club-wielding, gentlemen would stand a far greater chance of tackling that doe-eyed beast and avoiding damage to themselves than would our lone hero sporting poor eyesight, severely damaged knees and a sore knob. It must also be said, should a large carnivore appear on the scene alerted by the kafuffle engendered by the chase (ever the opportunists, carnivores, y’ know) there was always the chance that you and/or your companions of the hunt, when cornered, could frighten the beast away with a concerted group effort; or failing that divert the big-cat’s ire onto one of the least-able in the group whilst the rest made their escape; in other words, the first recorded instance of tactical voting.

Now, all this scampering about the bushes and vigorous exercise would certainly lead to men of brick-shithouse stature, and as is always the case in any community some would be more brick than shithouse. To be a well-built specimen a la chasse in such a group meant one could gain access to the most females, the biggest share of the available food and the cosiest sleeping place. Not necessarily in that order but certainly as near a perfect existence as one could hope for, given the brutality and built-in shortness of 'life-before-Pot-Noodle' that was pre-history; but the bullies didn't have it all their own way. To be a lesser specimen but rather cleverer than your companions also paid dividends as all sorts of tricks and wheezes could be used to gain the biggest share of the available birds, bread and beer. Such individuals as these became the ancestor of our modern-day politicians. However, back then, being big and strong meant you could annihilate your way out of sticky situations or another, seemingly well educated (we're not talking Harvard here, you understand) tribe member extracting the urine. However, if you were cunning enough, you could bamboozle this tank on legs but make no mistake, aspiring to leadership and being slight of build did have its downside…………just ask any 8-stone weakling with a double first from Cambridge who’s been approached by his petite younger sister in a pub who tells you, “There’s this chap and he won’t leave me alone, can you go and talk to him”. Donning your best Sir Lancelot pose you march across the pub only to find you’re facing something that resembles a gorilla with speech whose idea of a good meal is something that’s still moving; qualities of leadership and great debating skills are all well and good, but there are times when a Kalashnikov comes in real handy.

Political History: The Making of the First Democracy. Chapter One.

2005-03-03T21:31:00.000Z

Picture the scene, if you will. Aware that too much time spent wandering around by yourself meant you would cease to be an ancestor and become a lunch, you and the first, solo members’ of Homo erectus cautiously gather together (remember, we didn’t say who’s lunch) for your first foray into the world of ‘commune living’, pre-dating the sixties movement by some 70,000 years. Much time is spent nervously sniffing the air and pointing (much as some folk in parts of the UK do today when a train goes by) until one of this assembled shambles (let’s call him 10) bends slowly and plucks a small flower growing just outside of this nervous circle and, with benign expression and soulful eyes, offers it across the void to another member of the meeting opposite.
The man (I use that term in its loosest possible sense) who has been singled out for the honour (let’s call him 11) moves tentatively forward, arm outstretched, brow knotted in quizzical yet trusting eagerness as the proffered fore-runner of Interflora is twitched in beckoning temptation sending ripples along the stem and through the petals of the pink bloom. Gently, slowly, 11 reaches forward and his fingers’ grasp the stalk of the quivering campion, the hairs on the back of his hand flickering and bristling in paroxysms of heightened sensitivity at the closeness, the “almost there”-ness of the moment; indeed, so all consuming is this moment that 11 fails to spot the mastodon knuckle-bone held behind the back of 10 and which now comes crashing down on 11’s skull, pole-axing him in an instant. 10 looks at the devastation that was once 11, then at the surrounding group of shocked proto-primates; he grunts, points at the lifeless corpse in front of them, looks them all in the eye, grunts once more, lifts the mastodon knuckle-bone above his head and nods; my friends, we are witnesses to the first recorded instance of a political manifesto.

"What future for English Rep?” II - Joined-Up Theatre – The Nation's Employment Barometer

2005-02-28T14:39:00.000Z

There was a time when, as a result of all this in-house training (see below) this theatrical ‘apprenticeship’, a well-drilled, industry savvy workforce fell easily into place and, what’s more, took responsibility for their actions. OK, so it was mainly because they had nothing to hide behind, but clear-cut lines of operation and operatives meant those responsible were easily held accountable. If the flash-box failed to ignite (or worse still ignited, but unfortunately only the first three rows of punters) or the 20kg profile came crashing down, because it hadn’t been fixed with the correct safety devices, and pole-axed one or other soap star in a Panto (fill in your own name here and then write "I wish") then responsibility was, compared to today, easy to define and deal with. However, in the U.K. theatre industry (and in most others too) a not-so-subtle shift has happened.

At the start of their arts strategy, the Arts Council had high ideals but, over the years, as various government changes happened so did the spirit of the message, and no set of changes were as brutal and damaging to arts funding as the Conservative ones banged into place in the ‘90’s. Under this self-serving, amoral Conservative party with unclear goals and policies, lack of morals, a drought of honesty, a jobs-for-the-boys philosophy that saw cronyism at an all time high and an uncertain lifespan, theatre grant levels were cut or frozen and arts venues scrabbling for insufficient government grants became a regular sight at the end of each financial year. Like the Nazi Party in the lead up to May ‘45’, riches and treasures were distributed to the party faithful in the form of golden handshakes, huge payouts made for running services at a loss, and the broken-up, nationalised operations were dished out to 'Privately Accountable Legislature Services' investors' (otherwise known as "PALS") who took the cream, dumped the milk and left a nation with a pillaged set of public services.

What with the U.K. running on empty as far as morals, artistic endeavour and honesty were concerned, a restless art’s population clamouring at the gates for a change in this funding-fostered, dog-eat-dog, begging-bowl “strategy” and a growing number of the population who'd begun to question the government policies even more fervently, it was decided, in the finest tradition of the Romans, that a bread and circuses approach to the problem was the wisest option; on the 14th November 1994 the National Lottery was wrenched from the womb. Seen in private as the solution to the funding crisis, but advertised as the munificent gift of a rocked-out government, the people were told that all the charities (think of the smiles on those poor children’s faces) and the arts in general (think of the smiles on those poor board member’s faces) would benefit greatly from this largesse, and the great un-washed stood a chance of watching a dumbed-out West-End musical (fill in your own title here or just write "We Will Rock You") and winning a million into the bargain! Auctioned off in The Crony Suite of the Franchise Hilton, the right to run the National Lottery was given to “fellows we can trust” (for “trust” read “control”) and a different scrabbling was heard as the smell of huge amounts of money suddenly becoming available started to pervade all corners of the arts. Everone started to grab for it and it was soon realised that what you needed to succeed now was an edge; to prove to a government built on the premis that if you hadn't got a car by the time you were 30 you were a failure, that you could walk-their-walk and talk-their-talk.

Get celebrities on board, businessmen who could wield corporate muscle, city-types and bankers who could provide contact points in the Lottery-grant wars and lobby for favours; self-styled entrepreneurs began to climb out of the woodwork, proving the truth in the Russian saying of, “Where there’s a trough there’ll be swine”. However, in a short time, the theatre management were under pressure from these very shareholders, backers and assorted celebrity hangers-on they'd recruited, for with grants and funding up for grabs the stakes were considerably higher; considerably; celebrity wages and board member's egos for a start. What was needed (came the whisper) was a leaner, fitter operation that could twist and turn with each political, artistic and monetary wind. New words leaked into theatrical conversations like “Mobile Workforce”, “Multi-Skilling”, and “Flexible Working Systems. For those who don’t understand the terms, “Mobile Workforce” is a pseudonym for people who can be discharge and employed at will, “Multi-Skilling” a pseudonym for getting one person to do the job of three for a single wage payment and “Flexible Working Systems” a pseudonym for bending the office secretary over the boardroom table. In 1997 the general election consigned the Conservative government to the shit-heap it so richly deserved and “New Labour” picked up the baton and staggered off with it…………we held our breath for the wind of change and turned blue with the effort.............

We’ll be living in a true Democracy when……an occasional series II

2005-02-24T13:16:00.000Z

We can listen to the hogwash about there 'never being enough money to fund the health service, the new premature baby ward, the extra school books, the local hospice, the emergency services, the care of the environment, the care of the elderly, the protection of children, the safety of our climate, the cessation of pollution, the funding of the local recycling scheme, the safeguarding of green-field sites, the building of affordable housing, the cleansing of our water courses……………but there’s always enough for an extra gun', and reply, "Hm, well sorry, but the people of this country disagree. They say that, on moral grounds alone, you should cancel that consignment of CS gas-cannister launchers you've just ordered as there's a severe shortage of National Health dentists in the country at present; divert that saved M.O.D. expenditure there, please.".......and that's what the government will do.

I'm not paranoid, just ask the guy who keeps following me, but.....

2005-02-23T21:22:00.000Z

I was listening to the news on BBC Radio 4 tonight and the article concerning the new break-down in relations between the U.S. and Russia sort of rang bells. In my untrusting, 56-year old, cynical way I couldn't help wondering whether it was all part of "the game". I mean, after 'The Wall' came down and Gorbachev hugged everything within a continent's distance (whether they wanted to be hugged or not) the traders in arms and armament were in serious trouble. OK, so, you could sell a few aircraft to some psych-ed out dictator and plenty of small arms to just about any crazy with a claim to a kingdom (as long as that fruit-loop MT wasn't involved, that is). The Iraq saga must have seemed like manna from heaven to the large-scale arms makers. Here was a guy who could carry the weight of terror defence that missile builders' needed so much to continue their trade. I mean, he had a moustache (so did Hitler) he spoke something that wasn't English (so did Hitler) AND he had a lot of oil (Hitler didn't, but two out of three 'aint bad). It only took Tony Blair to give us the "45-minute" claim (how come the majority of the right-thinking populace smelt livestock and yet those who are supposed to be on the cusp of events cheered him to the rafters?) and the missile-and-radar builders were rubbing their hands with glee. Alas and alack, Saddam Hussein turned out to have no weapons of mass destruction (not even enough "bang" to blow off a dustbin lid, in fact) and in a sweep, the arms men were left with empty order books and a lack of machismo that shrank their gonads to the size of weevils. Cut to the chase; was there a meeting at which the U.S. the U.K. and Russia got together and said, "Lets kill two birds with one stone. We'll do a bit of sabre rattling, get the arms trade a boost for sales AND keep the proletariat weak at the knees over a possible nuclear strike." After a chat they agreed a form for how it was to progress. "Leak the information slowly, keep it in the news, split the proceeds between us, hold on to the reins of power and we'll all meet for lunch in 2008!" Nah.................can't be..........but there's a little bit of me that says, Doris, that's the way it works; keep the people scratching for grains of rice in the soil and they'll never think to look at the horizon. Don't y' just hate politicians for making you think this way...........

We’ll be living in a true Democracy when……an occasional series

2005-02-21T22:41:00.000Z

We can decide for ourselves what our taxes pay for.

Please signify your maximum of ten (10) choices and the amount awarded per choice below, please. (Where “All” is specified your tax payment will enter a “General Pool” along with others of like mind and shared amongst the recipients equally).

1. General Education – 18% made up of: -

a) Nursery/Pre-school Education - 4%
b) Infant School Education – 4%
c) Junior School Education – 3%
d) Senior School Education – 3%
e) College/University Education – 4%

2. General Healthcare – 21% made up of: -

a) All General Practice – 5%
b) All General Hospitals – 5%
c) All Healthcare Research - 2%
d) Preventative Healthcare Education – 3%
e) All Maternity Units – 3%
f) All Hospice and Care for the Elderly Units – 3%

3. Local Services – 22% made up of: -

a) All Police Service – 5%
b) All Fire Service – 5%
c) All Ambulance Service – 5%
d) All Air-Sea Rescue Services - 5%
e) All other emergency services – 2%

4. Local Government Services – 29% made up of: -

a) Water Supply – 4% (of which 1.5% to be used for cleaning water courses)

b) Electricity Supply – 4% (of which 2% to be used for alternative energy supplies and research)

c) Gas Supply – 4% (of which 1.5% to be specifically used for alternative “synthetic” gas production research and implementation)

d) All Local Government Services – 8% (of which 1.5% to go specifically towards Safe/recycling disposal action)

e) Transport (Public) – 6% (of which 2% to go specifically towards promoting use of non-fossil-fuel transport and 1.5% on creation of “public transport only” zones in city centres’)

f) Transport (Private) – 3% (of which 1% to go specifically towards safe driving and rehabilitation training for all banned/convicted motorists)

5) National Government – General Fund – 3% (of which 1.5% to be used specifically for “local surgery” work)

6) Armed Forces – General Fund – 3% (of which 2% to be used specifically for “Special Forces” training for use in front-line humanitarian aid following natural disasters)

7) Arts and Media – General Fund - 4% (of which 3% to be used specifically for “Regional” arts outlets)

That’s my 100% for this year.........how about yours?

Doris

"What future for English Rep?"

2005-02-18T20:17:00.000Z

Back in the July/August 00 issue of Stage Screen and Radio a two-page article with this heading ran, much of it bemoaning the lack of skills now available in many of the repertory houses in England, in all back-stage departments. Much like successive governments who peddle the lie that if you cut financial support by 50% and the workforce by 45% then the business will run better, the article said this drought of skills was mainly brought about by cost cutting exercises and hidden agendas that relied for their success on staff reductions and a plethora of 'buying in' and 'off the peg' production solutions; seeing things from the inside, I can vouch for the fact that things haven’t got any better. So, allow your mind to drift as I take you back in time. Whoooeeeooo! Once upon a time………………"
On leaving school the young people of this country were taken on by the employers and once in employment in the various media and entertainment operations, were dispatched to all corners of the workplace to locate left-handed spanners, sacks of holes and tubes of smoke. During these searches, which could sometimes last for years (I know mine for a 'box of sparks' did) they were gradually educated in all the technical disciplines, health and safety demands and design skills that their chosen field of employment required.
They were taught by consummate professionals in the business, and they, in turn became those consummate professionals (alright, not all of them, but you get the gist). Gradually the wheat was sifted from the chaff and a core-staff team was built up.
Throughout it all these new-comers were capable of moving from place to place because, notwithstanding each individual department manager's little peccadilloes (I have the video rights for these by the way) much of the essential training and requirements were standardised throughout the industry, so a skills base was already in place for much of the product.
‘Macbeth’ needed a dagger for Act Two-Scene One, not a rubber chicken and a Spiderman suit (oh, I don't know though) Cyrano de Bergerac a large nose and even larger sword, absolute deadlines had to be met (Your motivation for that line? Try, “We open at 8.00”) Peter Pan needed to fly safely, spectacularly and preferably not in a blackout, and every other experimental youth theatre group needed twenty large broomsticks, a lot of shouting and a red wash. Alterations needed to make the theatre production side run safer, smoother, look better? Department heads and the staff knew exactly what had to be done, where the bars needed to hang, the doors to be placed, the cable runs to go, after all they worked in it every day so they knew by use and default. The beauty of this system was that, each year, a new batch of young and eager talent came through to learn, all over again, those exact same disciplines! Through this scheme these not-so-new-boys and girls were enabled, in their turn, to pass on to others the same skills, and so the cycle continued. A guaranteed steady supply of emerging, dedicated professionals that stuck to the industry like pooh to a pillowcase and moved the arts forward at a pace where they, and in turn we, could all walk before we were expected to run; it was called, "An Apprenticeship"!

Foxes and Road Traffic Accidents

2005-02-18T06:17:00.000Z

I read with some disquiet the information outed by the League Against Cruel Sports (LACS) that out of the 30-million gamebirds reared annually in the UK, only 12-million are shot by hunters. The remaining 18-million die of either disease, predation or are killed on the roads. Broken down into rough estimates, that means around 6-million gamebirds are being mown down by traffic every year! Jesus, I'm surprised were not all skidding our way to work on the innards of these poor, hapless creatures and beginning to understand the rise in the use of four-wheel-drive school-runners; as if driving about in all that pigeon-shit isn't bad enough, we now have the anatomy of countless pheasants to contend with. Never mind game shooting or fishing, I think the LACS's next target should be car drivers'. Everyone who has an increased liklihood of having a collision with a capercaillie, a pile-up with a partridge or a smash with a snipe should be either banned from driving for life or made to drive one of those jelly-mould Mercedes. That includes those with smoked glass (obscured vision) loud exhausts the size of Wiltshire (increase in noise thereby frightening said birds and causing them to fly in fright across oncoming car's path) and any form of "dangly thing" from the rear-view mirror (distraction). That'll save millions of game-birds' lives and cut the traffic levels on our roads by around 25%.