Maybe I'm feeling a bit grumpy because I'm ill and temporarily deaf (Demented, if this is a tiny portion of what you're stuck with, my respect for you has risen even higher), but some things have really ground my gears recently.
Chief amongst them are Ant'n'Dec. Now, if you're not a UK-based reader, you may be asking yourself who or what AntnDec are.
They are Death. By this, I'm making an analogy with Western films, rather than the very dignified Death of Pratchett's Discworld, or the good sport of Bill and Ted's Bogus Journey. In Westerns, just before the final showdown, a little man with a tape measure runs up to the hero and the villains, measuring them up for coffin size. It's a moment of comic relief. The man is always a little cracked and fussy, and he momentarily relieves some of the tension associated with a violent, possibly unjust death.
AntnDec are similarly ubiquitous. They were poor child actors in a Geordie children's home drama called Byker Grove. Then they became poor quality pop stars as PJ and Duncan, on the basis of their cuteness and strong regional accents (a children's Robson and Jerome, perhaps). After that, it was off to the BBC to present The Ant and Dec Show, then to Channel 4 to do Ant and Dec Unzipped… Before long, they were presenting CD:UK and SM:TV, hugely popular ITV Saturday morning kids' shows. They've since spread like a rash, presenting Ant and Dec's Saturday Takeaway (during which, as executive producers, they shared responsibility for 'taking away' a large amount of money from viewers who rang into closed premium competition lines), Pop Idol, I'm A Celebrity Get Me Out of Here, Britain's Got Talent (it hasn't) and Ant and Dec's Gameshow Marathon.
They are, in essence, the face of a doomed and desperate TV channel. They have no skills, only accents. They pop up, grin inanely, utter something along the lines of 'why-ay' (a Newcastle greeting) and attempt to draw your consciousness away from the emptiness you are contemplating. They are that man, measuring you up for your coffin. It won't help.
There's a lot more. I was awake all last night, occupying my mind with this stuff, but it's all slipped away.
Wednesday, 16 December 2009
In my absence
In my absence, many things have appeared in my brain which would have occasioned a cyberrant.
Amongst them, of course, was Tony Blair's announcement that he'd have found some other excuse to invade Iraq if he'd definitively known that there weren't any WMDs (which he must have known anyway).
It's not, of course, a surprise that he'd have done this. There are two aspects of the interview which are classic Blair.
1. The 'I did what I thought was right according to my conscience' routine. It's evasive and unacceptable. I could punch my mum and claim that I was being true to myself. It's no defence. Ken Macdonald, the former Director of Public Prosecutions, rightly called it a 'narcissist's defence', and he's right - the only validation, for Blair, is Blair. That's a total rejection of objective standards, law and democracy.
2. There's an inquiry into the Iraq war on (a bit of a whitewash, but at least it's on). Did Blair say these things to the inquiry? No, he bloody didn't. He did what he did right through his premiership: sat on a sofa in a TV studio, answering questions from unqualified light-entertainment presenters. He never hid his contempt for Parliament, and he never went on the serious news shows, like Today, Newsnight or Channel 4 News. Instead, he oiled his way onto shows like Richard and Judy. This time it was Fern Britton, most famous for hosting This Morning, Ready Steady Cook, Soapstar Superstar, Magic Moments, and Mr. and Mrs., alongside a host of other hard-hitting political shows.
Amongst them, of course, was Tony Blair's announcement that he'd have found some other excuse to invade Iraq if he'd definitively known that there weren't any WMDs (which he must have known anyway).
It's not, of course, a surprise that he'd have done this. There are two aspects of the interview which are classic Blair.
1. The 'I did what I thought was right according to my conscience' routine. It's evasive and unacceptable. I could punch my mum and claim that I was being true to myself. It's no defence. Ken Macdonald, the former Director of Public Prosecutions, rightly called it a 'narcissist's defence', and he's right - the only validation, for Blair, is Blair. That's a total rejection of objective standards, law and democracy.
2. There's an inquiry into the Iraq war on (a bit of a whitewash, but at least it's on). Did Blair say these things to the inquiry? No, he bloody didn't. He did what he did right through his premiership: sat on a sofa in a TV studio, answering questions from unqualified light-entertainment presenters. He never hid his contempt for Parliament, and he never went on the serious news shows, like Today, Newsnight or Channel 4 News. Instead, he oiled his way onto shows like Richard and Judy. This time it was Fern Britton, most famous for hosting This Morning, Ready Steady Cook, Soapstar Superstar, Magic Moments, and Mr. and Mrs., alongside a host of other hard-hitting political shows.
Oops
Forgot the most exciting bit. I met The Krankies. They seemed cranky. And they read The Telegraph. Ugh.
Heeee's back! Sort of.
Hello again. I've so much to share with you, but it will all have to wait.
In the last few days I've:
put on a dinner suit and bow tie
visited the hallowed turf of Stoke City
seen more van Goghs, Holbeins and assorted other famous paintings
confirmed that Adam's girlfriend actually exists
lost all hearing in one ear.
Thanks to that last, I'm off to a health centre rather than help with the 6th form conference I should be teaching on.
Meanwhile, I just want to check on two people. Winter and Stupid Fat Hobbit: give me a sign of life.
More later, if I'm not having my ears amputated.
In the last few days I've:
put on a dinner suit and bow tie
visited the hallowed turf of Stoke City
seen more van Goghs, Holbeins and assorted other famous paintings
confirmed that Adam's girlfriend actually exists
lost all hearing in one ear.
Thanks to that last, I'm off to a health centre rather than help with the 6th form conference I should be teaching on.
Meanwhile, I just want to check on two people. Winter and Stupid Fat Hobbit: give me a sign of life.
More later, if I'm not having my ears amputated.
Friday, 11 December 2009
So, farewell then
It's the last official day of term. I've seen and been phoned by many students and there's an air of good will about the place. To ensure its continuance, you've earned a break from my humourless ranting. Apart from the habitual weekend break (this week enhanced by a charity ball), I'm off to visit my personal banker for Monday and Tuesday.
No, not as a one-man lynch mob: the gentleman in question is a distinguished friend, despite his possession of two model light sabres. Who'd have thought he works in the IT department?
I won't be back at work until Wednesday. As the proud possessor of an enhanced CRB form, I'm considered safe to present some poems with Zoot Horn, to an audience of literally several enraptured sixth-form students.
Have a good weekend.
No, not as a one-man lynch mob: the gentleman in question is a distinguished friend, despite his possession of two model light sabres. Who'd have thought he works in the IT department?
I won't be back at work until Wednesday. As the proud possessor of an enhanced CRB form, I'm considered safe to present some poems with Zoot Horn, to an audience of literally several enraptured sixth-form students.
Have a good weekend.
Kneel before Steve Bell
As usual, Bell captures the horror of the Tories' hypocrisy perfectly. He's one of the justifications for The Guardian's existence.
We are overcome (repeat)
From the pen that brought you Hard Rain, Masters of War, The Lonesome Death of Hattie Carroll and many, many more…
Here's a track from Bob Dylan's Christmas album. Is it a) a former genius's descent into senility or b) a sly and sophisticated joke. Perhaps even c) Bob having a laugh.
I'm starting to think that our own LP is going to stand up quite well. We had another session last night - good backing tracks laid down, but technical errors precluded us from laying down vocals. Thankfully.
Here's a track from Bob Dylan's Christmas album. Is it a) a former genius's descent into senility or b) a sly and sophisticated joke. Perhaps even c) Bob having a laugh.
I'm starting to think that our own LP is going to stand up quite well. We had another session last night - good backing tracks laid down, but technical errors precluded us from laying down vocals. Thankfully.
All about ancient Egypt
Despite being the butt of several of his jokes, The Guardian loves The Thick of It as much as I do. Here's their round up of highlights. If you don't like swearing, you're a f. u. … etc.
Want more: it's all here. It should tide you misanthropes over the festive period.
Want more: it's all here. It should tide you misanthropes over the festive period.
Tally-ho, chaps
Political floor-crossers are always suspect: rats joining a floating ship. Those moving from Tory to Labour are especially suspect, because the exemplify New Labour's obsession with suck up to the mega-rich. There was a sense that the party didn't examine their political beliefs at all, so keen were they to make political capital from the defection.
Amongst the most egregious of these turncoats were Shaun Woodward (multimillionaire, stately home, butler, MP for one of the poorest places in the country) and Quentin Davies, a brash multimillionaire, portly man who epitomised the Tory Squire tradition. Their reward: ministerial jobs, jumping the queue ahead of qualified, loyal Labour MPs with a history of commitment to the party's beliefs. In most cases, more commitment to the party's values than the leadership, but that's a whole other rant.
So anyway, you can take the men out of the Tories, but it's clear you can't take the Tory out of the men: Quentin Davies, we discover, has claimed from the taxpayer to pay some of the cost of repairing the bell tower on his stately home. At last, Labour has a pig to rival Sir John Viggers (you paid for a Georgian-style floating duck island) and Douglas Hogg (moat repairs, which was a wonderfully Norman touch). Perhaps Davies is a sleeper, a Tory secret agent who laid low until he could do maximum damage…
Amongst the most egregious of these turncoats were Shaun Woodward (multimillionaire, stately home, butler, MP for one of the poorest places in the country) and Quentin Davies, a brash multimillionaire, portly man who epitomised the Tory Squire tradition. Their reward: ministerial jobs, jumping the queue ahead of qualified, loyal Labour MPs with a history of commitment to the party's beliefs. In most cases, more commitment to the party's values than the leadership, but that's a whole other rant.
So anyway, you can take the men out of the Tories, but it's clear you can't take the Tory out of the men: Quentin Davies, we discover, has claimed from the taxpayer to pay some of the cost of repairing the bell tower on his stately home. At last, Labour has a pig to rival Sir John Viggers (you paid for a Georgian-style floating duck island) and Douglas Hogg (moat repairs, which was a wonderfully Norman touch). Perhaps Davies is a sleeper, a Tory secret agent who laid low until he could do maximum damage…
Laugh riot, Victorian style
Ms. E-mentor's Victorian Vision caption competition reminded me of one of my favourite cartoons, by JW Taylor and published in Punch, the famously unfunny British 'humorous' magazine, now happily defunct.
This is the only online version I can find - sorry it's so tiny, but click on it for a slightly larger version. I'll have to scan my larger one in.
This is the only online version I can find - sorry it's so tiny, but click on it for a slightly larger version. I'll have to scan my larger one in.
'We like the plot, Miss Austen, but all this effing and blinding will have to go'
Definitely Friday today
OK, now I know what day it is. I even know where my towel is (sorry, nerd in-joke there).
Here I am, in the office again before the start of the working day. I should be swimming, but there's a long and fascinating paper on the condition of post-communist Poland to proofread for a colleague.
Here I am, in the office again before the start of the working day. I should be swimming, but there's a long and fascinating paper on the condition of post-communist Poland to proofread for a colleague.
Thursday, 10 December 2009
How was the budget for you?
I'll be ever so slightly worse off, but not enough to make any difference.
In a move which will please Adam, bankers' bonuses aren't being taxed. The banks will be taxed 50% on their bonus pot. Hopefully the result will be that bankers are paid a regular salary which will be eligible for tax (bonuses aren't), leading to more responsible behaviour and more income for the government to spend on public services like, er… bailing out banks.
It wasn't much of a budget - the signals were more important than the economics, but there were some interesting bits, like funded internships for graduates without the money to do unpaid internships (which lots of rich kids do). That will certainly benefit some of my students.
In a move which will please Adam, bankers' bonuses aren't being taxed. The banks will be taxed 50% on their bonus pot. Hopefully the result will be that bankers are paid a regular salary which will be eligible for tax (bonuses aren't), leading to more responsible behaviour and more income for the government to spend on public services like, er… bailing out banks.
It wasn't much of a budget - the signals were more important than the economics, but there were some interesting bits, like funded internships for graduates without the money to do unpaid internships (which lots of rich kids do). That will certainly benefit some of my students.
Marvel at the arrogance!
Kevin Pietersen is an England cricketer, formerly captain of the team and well-known for his lack of self-deprecation, shall we say. He's almost as good as he thinks he is.
He was born in South Africa and switched allegiance because he didn't like that country's attempt to turn cricket from a whites-only sport to a mixed one by reserving places for black team members.
There's an argument to be had there, sure. However, if you were a white South African with some previous racial disagreement, would you pose for a doctored photograph reclining in Barack Obama's Oval Office chair? To advertise Brylcreem?
Mmm… racially sensitive.
He was born in South Africa and switched allegiance because he didn't like that country's attempt to turn cricket from a whites-only sport to a mixed one by reserving places for black team members.
There's an argument to be had there, sure. However, if you were a white South African with some previous racial disagreement, would you pose for a doctored photograph reclining in Barack Obama's Oval Office chair? To advertise Brylcreem?
Mmm… racially sensitive.
Musical odyssey
I should probably update you on the process of the Meisterwerk. Dan and I got together in Neal's absence last Friday to lay down some tracks.
Serious violence was done to a certain unpleasant megacelebrity of advancing years. The result was, in the parlance of the youth, a CHOON!
We also wrote a track for Neal. It's jazzy, cheeky and cool. Just like him.
Serious violence was done to a certain unpleasant megacelebrity of advancing years. The result was, in the parlance of the youth, a CHOON!
We also wrote a track for Neal. It's jazzy, cheeky and cool. Just like him.
Thai delight
After all that excitement, lunch was a Thai meal with Kate, always a huge pleasure. We compared PhD hell, dysfunctional institutions, then talked books, music and friends. Oh to be of the regularly lunching classes.
Then back, slightly giddy with Singha beer to talk seriously about Shakespeare. Trying saying after a couple of pints! I am of course, deeply professional.
Then back, slightly giddy with Singha beer to talk seriously about Shakespeare. Trying saying after a couple of pints! I am of course, deeply professional.
Morning! Slightly delayed
I started with a boring Friday and ended up having an interesting one. After the usual horrible swim, I went to buy… bedding. Very exciting. Then I bumped into a friend who required a little medical help. I am a Dr., but not that kind, so off we went.
I did get to see the air ambulance land (not for us), which was exciting. Strangely, one of the crew was filming the patient being hauled out of the 'copter. Is there a sign somewhere inside saying 'this life and death mercy dash will be filmed for training purposes'? Or do they film all trips in case ITV3 needs another cheap 'documentary'? It must be quite a moneyspinner. Major accidents must have competing crews from different TV stations trying to keep each other out of shot ('John is filming for Britain's Twattiest Drivers. Will he get to the body before Neil, who collects flanges and dislikes mayonnaise, working for Crash Cops? Find out… after the break').
I wonder what constitutes informed consent when you're being airlifted in an emergency. Do they do make-up? 'More blood, now!'.
PS. Just to make the Americans jealous, emergency care and an ambulance call cost precisely £0. Good, isn't it?
PPS. This morning's excitement reminded me how kind and friendly the Great British Public are. All sorts of people of various ages, classes and subcultures stopped to help without a thought for where they should be or what they might be late for.
I did get to see the air ambulance land (not for us), which was exciting. Strangely, one of the crew was filming the patient being hauled out of the 'copter. Is there a sign somewhere inside saying 'this life and death mercy dash will be filmed for training purposes'? Or do they film all trips in case ITV3 needs another cheap 'documentary'? It must be quite a moneyspinner. Major accidents must have competing crews from different TV stations trying to keep each other out of shot ('John is filming for Britain's Twattiest Drivers. Will he get to the body before Neil, who collects flanges and dislikes mayonnaise, working for Crash Cops? Find out… after the break').
I wonder what constitutes informed consent when you're being airlifted in an emergency. Do they do make-up? 'More blood, now!'.
PS. Just to make the Americans jealous, emergency care and an ambulance call cost precisely £0. Good, isn't it?
PPS. This morning's excitement reminded me how kind and friendly the Great British Public are. All sorts of people of various ages, classes and subcultures stopped to help without a thought for where they should be or what they might be late for.
Wednesday, 9 December 2009
World's worst: an occasional series. 1: Kirstie Allsopp
Kirstie is a horrible Tory speculator who made a career on TV encouraging everyone to play the property market.
Last night, slipping in and out of consciousness, I dimly took in Kirstie's Homemade Christmas.
Her recipe: apparently, it's traditional to have a tree in your home at Christmas. Kitchens are popular places for people to congregate. Baubles go on Christmas trees (especially if you shop at Liberty or hand-blow your own glass. The rest of her tips were similarly either hugely patronisingly obvious, or astoshingly smug/expensive/impractical.
My perfect Christmas involves a fire, some real ales, and a wall of books cutting me off from humanity. Balls to Kirstie's glass balls.
Last night, slipping in and out of consciousness, I dimly took in Kirstie's Homemade Christmas.
Her recipe: apparently, it's traditional to have a tree in your home at Christmas. Kitchens are popular places for people to congregate. Baubles go on Christmas trees (especially if you shop at Liberty or hand-blow your own glass. The rest of her tips were similarly either hugely patronisingly obvious, or astoshingly smug/expensive/impractical.
My perfect Christmas involves a fire, some real ales, and a wall of books cutting me off from humanity. Balls to Kirstie's glass balls.
Informative
What a comprehensive account of an institution's strengths and challenges. I take back everything I've said about Wikipedia.
Eat the rich!
Today's the big day when Alastair Darling announces his Pre-Budget Report, which is actually a mini-budget. It's a big job: claw money back from the fatcats, cut back public services and still persuade everyone to vote Labour in 5 months' time.
Follow the fun here.
Meanwhile over in Ireland, which is even more screwed through having 2 Tory parties vying to be the most capitalist, a second emergency budget is announced today (follow it here from 3.45 GMT). Just like the UK, ordinary workers are going to suffer because all the money's gone to bail out the banks which have bankrupted the country. Can anyone else see what's wrong with this picture?
Follow the fun here.
Meanwhile over in Ireland, which is even more screwed through having 2 Tory parties vying to be the most capitalist, a second emergency budget is announced today (follow it here from 3.45 GMT). Just like the UK, ordinary workers are going to suffer because all the money's gone to bail out the banks which have bankrupted the country. Can anyone else see what's wrong with this picture?
No, Peter, of course it isn't.
Peter Mandelson, silky sinister unelected eminence grise of New Labour turned silky sinister unelected eminence grise of Labour, has announced that today's supertax on bankers' bonuses isn't a punishment for their greed, hypocrisy, destruction of the economy, arrogance and failure to acknowledge that we've saved their skins.
He's right in a way: it's also a cheap and easy way to make New Labour look like it's on the side of the people for a change (it was Mandelson who said that he was 'intensely relaxed about people getting filthy rich as long as they pay their taxes' in response to a question about the ever-widening gap between rich and poor - despite leaving massive gaps in the tax regulations and selling the Inland Revenue's offices to a company based in a tax haven!).
It's a cynical piece of electoral politics which won't make much of a dent in the national debt. I still support it though. Many of the banks are state-owned and almost all of them are propped up by state guarantees and asset swapped. The bankers need punishing. They mentally decoupled the real economy from the financial services sector. They've bankrupted their institutions and nearly bankrupted the country, evade tax, award themselves massive bonuses and are generally partying like it's 1928.
This 50% tax on bonuses is nothing: supertax on the very highest sums once reached somewhere in the 90%+ range in the late 70s, and Thatcher only gradually reduced it.
The bankers will no doubt redouble their efforts to get the Tories re-elected. Cameron will make tutting noises about bankers until he's elected (because the Daily Mail isn't happy with them either), then resume his position (kneeling before a pinstriped crotch, mouth open). Will some bankers leave the country? Maybe. Where will they go? Somewhere the banking system's in rude health, with no angry citizens protesting over their continued beggary at the hands of financial whizzkids.
Oh dear. There's no such place. Poor bankers.
He's right in a way: it's also a cheap and easy way to make New Labour look like it's on the side of the people for a change (it was Mandelson who said that he was 'intensely relaxed about people getting filthy rich as long as they pay their taxes' in response to a question about the ever-widening gap between rich and poor - despite leaving massive gaps in the tax regulations and selling the Inland Revenue's offices to a company based in a tax haven!).
It's a cynical piece of electoral politics which won't make much of a dent in the national debt. I still support it though. Many of the banks are state-owned and almost all of them are propped up by state guarantees and asset swapped. The bankers need punishing. They mentally decoupled the real economy from the financial services sector. They've bankrupted their institutions and nearly bankrupted the country, evade tax, award themselves massive bonuses and are generally partying like it's 1928.
This 50% tax on bonuses is nothing: supertax on the very highest sums once reached somewhere in the 90%+ range in the late 70s, and Thatcher only gradually reduced it.
The bankers will no doubt redouble their efforts to get the Tories re-elected. Cameron will make tutting noises about bankers until he's elected (because the Daily Mail isn't happy with them either), then resume his position (kneeling before a pinstriped crotch, mouth open). Will some bankers leave the country? Maybe. Where will they go? Somewhere the banking system's in rude health, with no angry citizens protesting over their continued beggary at the hands of financial whizzkids.
Oh dear. There's no such place. Poor bankers.
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