Beer My Dear

I've just been to see Mark Steel, the comedian. I didn't just pop round to his house, of course. He was doing a gig in the back bar of the Civic Hall (which didn't impress him much, nor me, in the harsh light of sobriety). He was, though, very funny, once he'd got past the opening 'is Walsall the local rivals?' spiel. I did learn from him, after nearly ten years, the difference between Brummie and Black Country accents, and he explained Marx's theory of alienation by using the phrase 'here come the little fuckers' about apple pies. I will be incorporating this into my lectures at every opportunity.

It cost £12 to see Mark Steel make me laugh and think for two solid hours. In the bar, I bought 3 bottles of Corona, each one containing exactly half a pint. This cost me £10.20. So according to the Civic Hall, about one hour and forty minutes of well-known, witty and talented Mark Steel is worth one and three quarters of a pint of average lager. It is certainly the most expensive beer I have ever drunk. I've signed petitions about all sorts of terrible events and worthy causes, but I'm furious about this one - it's just so eye-gougingly expensive. To the barricades!

(Sorry about the Marvin Gaye reference in the post's title. He won't mind. Because his dad shot him dead).

Reading matters (the activity, not the town)

I almost forgot - I finished Mark Steel's What's Going On? It's rather wonderful, thanks to his personal and political breakdown. Just as he was falling out of love with the SWP (ugh, splitters), his relationship fails utterly and miserably - the book is his account of this surreal but educational period - such as soaking up applause at the BAFTAs then returning home to sleep on the sofa. It's a fascinating and genuinely emotional read, as he picks apart the ways we fall quickly and easily into, then slowly and horribly out of, love.

I only ordered a couple of books this week - Buchan's Mr Standfast (rightwing interwar pulp designed to shut up Johnny Prole) and another Adam Roberts novel. Result!

New Labour's moral void

I always disliked and distrusted Tony Blair and all the New Labour gang. Mark Steel records a conversation which encapsulates everything that was (and is) wrong about them, in his book What's Going On?. It's from Robin Cook's The Point of Departure, which I haven't read.

Roy Hattersley: 'Why are you sending your son to a selective school? After all, with all the advantages of being the son of a prime minister he'd do well wherever he went'.

Blair (paraphrased): I don't want my children to end up like the kids of Harold Wilson'.

Hattersley (paraphrased): 'One of Wilson's sons is a headmaster and the other is an Open University professor'.

Blair: 'Well, I would hope my sons do better than THAT'.

So there you have it. Not a thought, apparently for his daughter, but most of all, total contempt for the concept of public service, fulfilling endeavour in education or any occupation which doesn't involve massive amounts of money and selfish ambition. Wealth and status, as Steel points out, are the only acceptable ambitions for New Labour and their friends - which makes them indistinguishable from the Tories.

Poor Mark Steel

I like him, and his politics. But now he's on Radio 4 mispronouncing Merthyr Tydfil and making his opening monologue one about how funny Welsh words are and anti-Englishness. That'll do a lot for national relations - are the Welsh the last people it's OK to mock for their language and accents?

Ah - his liberal instincts have kicked back and he's reminding people of the radical past of the Welsh language and talking to a Welsh-speaker while gently mocking her.

And after his initial (compulsory for metropolitan types?) mockery - he's produced a funny and informative account of radical Merthyr, site of the first raising of the Red Flag: ending with the credits yn cymraeg.

Oops, I Did It Again

Oops. I went out to buy a birthday card and accidentally bought 4 more books: Ackroyd's retelling of The Canterbury Tales, Mark Steel's What's Going On?, Mark Radcliffe's Thank You For The Days (I interviewed him once - what an incredibly decent, kind man) and Madresfield: The Real Brideshead, because I know the area and quite like some of Waugh's work.

Meanwhile, while I buy books and write essays on blended learning, my heart's in London, where comrades are expending their energy in ineffectual but fun ways.