Sunday 29 August 2010

Football Amongst The Enemy

Liverpool 1 West Bromwich Albion 0

Had the opportunity to go up to Anfield in amongst the Liverpool fans today. I had no worries about problems inside the ground knowing that I can behave myself and talk myself out of minor bother but thought it would be wise to go as incognito as possible to blend in outside and avoid revealling my obvious West Bromwich accent; hence my Casual-inspired get-up today (which I am modelling with a very strange expression in the photo below).

The match itself was as frustrating as ever, we still haven't scored against the fuckers since 1985 and again had two blatant penalty appeals rejected by the referee (he also sent off Morrison because the crowd told him to) late on.

We kept the ball well, used it wisely and looked pretty solid at the back. We'll beat plenty of the mid-ranking teams if we keep that up and my pre-season prediction of 16th may even be a little conservative.

A happy loss tonight, then.

Saturday 28 August 2010

The Secret In Their Eyes / El secreto de sus ojos (2009)

Managed to get to see this last night and, thankfully, knew basically nothing about it besides it beating the fantastic White Ribbon to the Best Foreign picture Oscar. I was truly blown away. It was hilarious and touching and beautiful and affecting. I'm not going to try and go into why like I used to, I haven't the time, but it is one of those rare films that moves you into a new paradigm and stays with you long afterwards.

Wonderful.

Those Who Can, Teach. So Teach!

I woke this morning with a sudden clear realisation. This happens all of the time in literature, but it has never happened to me before (that I recall). Here it is:

I really struggle with grammar and punctuation. I still have to think hard to remember the difference between a verb and an adjective and I throw punctuation marks in seemingly at random; the semi-colon being my latest favourite, I don't really know what I'm doing with it. It has always been thus. I know this because I recall one of the comments from my GCSE English teacher Mr Evans (a man I have always had lots of time for) on one of my submitted coursework essays:

"An excellent essay punctuated in your own somewhat esoteric style"

I realised at the time that the point of this comment was to show any external examiners that he had recognised that my punctuation was poor but that the quality of what was written, however mangled by my ropey comma-use, earned the high mark he was awarding. I have carried that message with me for a long time- your esoteric punctuation, it comes naturally too you, you can't help it.

This morning I woke with the realisation that, while he may have lavished my essays with red ink, Mr Evans never once tried to show my why my punctuation was wrong and what I should be doing instead. Even if he thought it was too ingrained in me, there was no excuse for him not to try. All these years and- perhaps because I liked him so much- I never realised that.

Teacher isn't just a title, it should be a description.

Friday 27 August 2010

Inspiration by Hemingway

I love these motivational posters mocked up by the excellent Art of Manliness blog. This is inspirational!


Hemingway was a man who really lived, a serious inspiration.

Thursday 26 August 2010

My Beautiful Wife

It's our fourth wedding anniversary today and the first we've ever spent apart. I feel sad that I haven't seen Laura but thrilled to be married to her. She is my one.

Fantasy Football (Week 2)

Inferior performance to week 1 across all three teams and I'm going to blame some unpredictable results (Newcastle 6 Villa 0? A Theo Walcott hat-trick? Liverpool getting a 3-0 hammering?).

Style Over Content slipped to sixth in the table and the 15 point gap to the top has been stretched to 32 now. As I said last week I think 352 was a mistake with Beckford looking unlikely to play many and Kuyt an expensive midfield luxury. Three changes later and I'm able to field Arsenal's impressive new striker and the hot player of the season thus far Gareth "Whoville" Bale. Here's the new team:


I AM FUCKING SEXY are now second in the mini-league up from third but a terrifying 181 points off the lead (when I was only 72 points last week). No changes yet though as Joe Cole who I fancied swapping in for the stuttering Petrov is suspended.

Fisher Apathetic tumbled to 9th from 2nd and are 36 points off the lead.

The key with all of the teams is that Frank Lampard Jr the one-trick pony and Fantasy League must-pick pulls his finger out. That Petrov and N'Zogbia step up and that Everton and Spurs tighten up!

Wednesday 25 August 2010

I Love You West Bromwich Albion

The Albion's new signing and my new hero Peter Odemwingie made his debut at the weekend in the lone striker role. He played well, worked hard, showed no little skill and scored the winner. What is more in his post-match interview he was charming, articulate and self-effacing.

And then I learned a couple of days later that the fans of his previous club Lokomotiv Moscow had marked his departure with this banner:


The banana, of course, is meant to indicate that Odemwingie is a monkey. He is half-Nigerian and half-Uzbekistani. Does he really look like a monkey?


As distasteful as this truly is, the response of my fellow Baggies has been wonderful. The blogosphere and message boards have been busy spreading the word and a fast-growing Facebook group expressing out disgust at this racism has been created. A banner has been designed and is in production, hopefully to be on display at our next home game:


Of course we do have form in this regard. In the 70s the Albion were at the forefront of the integration of black players into English football; while most clubs in England were exclusively white we had three black guys in the first team (in contrast Everton didn't manage to find a black player who was good enough to play regularly for their team until the 1990s). And it was a superb team too.

It's made me even prouder to be a Baggie. And I'm always very proud to be a Baggie so that's no mean feat at all!

Vintage!


Haven't bought a vintage item for ages but this Levi's shirt (following my Chambray shirt witterings) has thrilled me and I may just have the bug again!

Tuesday 24 August 2010

A Cup of Christmas Cheer

I'm temping at the University again (hence yesterday's musings) and have inherited this mug to use while I'm there.


Monday 23 August 2010

Academia Nuts

Had I been bright enough, I would have liked a life as an academic. A pokey little office overflowing with books, periods of contact and periods of solitude, an acceptance of eccentric modes of dress (I'd go for tweeds, bow ties- maybe a beard- and other eccentrically dandyish touches), a reverence for knowledge and a dogged resistance to overrated concepts like progress, modernity and "the 21st century".

I know it's a romanticised distortion. I know that working among pseudo-intellectual timewasters with a relaxed approach to personal hygiene and a perverse devotion to Jesus sandals in any weather would drive me up the wall. But no more so than the shiny indentikit buzzword droids I worked alongside at the Bank or the lackadaisical middle-aged children who worked for me there.

Redbrick buildings with rabbit-warren corridors, musty wooden fistures, leather-bound books, winter fires, the Bursar, the Dean, the Senior Fellows- these are the things I conjure in my head. I would love that lifestyle. Thirty plagiarised essays on the requirement of malice aforethought clearly isn't part of that lifestyle. I should just work in Porterhouse College really.

Sunday 22 August 2010

Working Nights

Just want to quickly record this, for reference in case I get asked again any time soon.

Working nights ruins my life. It is like living with perpetual jet-lag and very limited social interactivity.

Most importantly, I am not there for my wife when she needs me. And more than this, I'm not available to spend time with my friends, I eat badly, I get bored and frustrated, I lose touch with news and current events, I find it difficult to keep on top of looking after the house, doing the laundry and other things, my skin turns to shit, I get dark circles under the eyes, I never get to the cinema...

It might be easy money but, from this point forward, working nights are an absolute no-no.

Friday 20 August 2010

Fantasy Football (Week 1)

This refers to the teams I outlined on this post.

Style Over Content ended week one a disappointing sixth of fourteen scoring 45 points (the leading team have 60). In this league there are no changes from week to week so let's hope the fuckers pick their game up. With a lot of clean sheets about maybe a three man defence was a mistake- no-one with a better score has one.

I AM FUCKING SEXY ended week one in 3rd position out of 10 with 646 points which is 72 points off the pace. Ahead of week 2 I have switched to 433 from 442 (leaving out the suspended Joe Cole and bringing in Torres) and swapped Begovic for Gomes who I needlessly protected from Man City's shot-shy attack.

Fisher Apathetic are second (of 86) one point off the leader with 84 points. As with Style Over Content no changes are allowed.

Thursday 19 August 2010

Following On From "Smart Casual" And "A Chambray Shirt"

I tried to pull off that air of studious casual (not Casual) cool myself today.

Remember, here's the idea:



And here's me:


In all seriousness it felt okay in a way that it wouldn't have a while back, as though I've given myself license to rough things up a little and for it to be okay. I suppose that's the whole sprezzatura idea isn't it; knowing the rules and then disobeying them. Everything else is as it should be- neat hair, well fitted shirt (though a little untucked on the side), shirt placket in line with fly, belt matching the well polished shoes, tailored jeans, contrasting socks and discreet jewellery. The zhoozhed-up sleeves just loosen things up a little and make them a little less uptight without interrupting the clean, neat aesthetic.

I like it a lot.

Wednesday 18 August 2010

The King And I... (and David Miliband)

I mentioned that I might be going for a different haircut the other night. Another good reason is that my current flash of grey:

isn't too dissimilar to the one sported by David Miliband.


And who would want to look like a politician when he could look like the sexiest man in TV history?

A Chambray Shirt

I mentioned yesterday that I don't own one and then today I run across this image:


I've seen it before, and I'm not saying I will look as cool as that, but the timing is almost Divine. "Go into the wilderness my child and buy a chambray shirt".

Should be lucky in the post summer sales hopefully.

Smart Casual


I love this picture that a friend posted on Facebook. It's just two middle-aged blokes looking bored having a coffee in a greasy spoon. It isn't their iconic status makes you look twice, it's the contrast in their 'looks'. Weller, for example, is affecting a fancy pocket square to go to a poxy café and- even if his tan and haircut are ridiculous these days- he still really looks the part and clearly he still tries. Noel has paired a chambray shirt (I still don't own one!) with some indigo jeans and a pair of Tokios and it works. I'd try too hard to wear that outfit, I still find it easier to dress smartly than casually. I'm much more Weller than Noel but oft times I wish it was otherwise.

Also, I think I'm going to grow my hair out into a Noel haircut. I think it's time.

Sunday 15 August 2010

14 August 2010 - Disaster!

The disaster I refer to is not, surprisingly enough, the Albion's embarrassing 6-0 humping at the hands of a Chelsea team who didn't even need to get out of first gear. No, though there is a slight relation to that, this was far worse.

As I sat in the Lord Clifden watching the game I reached for my lemonade and, not taking my eyes from the screen, took a swig. The disaster is that I'd actually grabbed ChromeDome's beer and only realised as the mouthful I had taken hit my tastebuds. I didn't drink it, I spat it all over the floor (as discreetly as such an act can possibly be performed) then ran to the toilets and washed my mouth out several times in the sink. When I got back to the bar I quickly ordered and drank a a coffee to get rid of the taste.

So, I didn't drink any but I did taste some. And now my head is consumed by it. I know that I'm going to find this difficult to deal with, it is already popping into my head frequently and in curious ways- as articulated thoughts, as uncomfortable sensations, as flashbacks to the taste. I have never been in this position before. I have never been in a comparable position either and so I don't really know how this will pan out.

In May this year I was drinking Fentiman's Victorian Lemonade when CD (again!) noticed that the label read something like 'contains no more than 0.2% alcohol'. Well obviously I stopped immediately but realistically I knew that it was merely there as a precaution and not indicative of any likely alcoholic content. I coped with that because I knew that it really was just fermented lemon juice as a pop and so the warning was added for unlikely circumstances. I knew I hadn't ingested anything that could cause me to lapse. That's how I coped then.

And then about four years ago in a fancy restaurant I had a cheese board which included a cheese which I later came to understand had been injected with wine during the preparation process. That freaked me out a bit because it was wine but realistically I knew that there was no likelihood of any alcohol being ingested, it isn't wine or beer that is the problem for an alcoholic after all it is the alcohol within them. Theoretically I would be fine with an alcohol-free lager but I have never tried because I simply didn't want to be put in a position of being familiar with the taste of alcohol- even a synthesised one- as I didn't fully trust myself to resist the temptation presented. Well, that's where I am now. It's been six and a half years but an alcoholic is still an alcoholic- in the blue book it talks about people falling back into alcoholism over three decades later! In AA I heard about people lapsing after accidentally ingesting mouthwash which contained alcohol- I'm scrupulous in our not buying that of course- but did I ingest any of the beer when it hit my tastebuds? I know that I didn't take in enough to cause a real physiological change- in fact I probably didn't ingest any at all- but there is an element of doubt there and that (allied to the memory of the taste) is deeply troubling.

I am, in truth, petrified of falling off the wagon and this fear has always been my guard. But now the enemy has a new weapon and my armour has yet to be tested against it.

Tough times.

Friday 13 August 2010

Not Mod

I happened across a photograph earlier that reminded me of this appalling cover article in a clothes catalogue masquerading as a style magazine. Let's have a look at the article first:







Pathetic isn't it? I'm not going to pick it apart piece by piece (however perverse listing the Beatles arrival in America as sparking interest in Mod fashions might be) but I will quickly list up the photograph that reminded me of this article- and particularly the idea that Oasis in 1994 "redefined the Mod style":


There's nothing remotely Mod about that is there? I mean the fact that Tony McCarroll is wearing a cheap and ill-fitting Harrington is about the nearest thing I can see to even a cliche Mod look. And this is what I'm fuming about; the way that the term Mod has become lazy shorthand for British, white and slightly alternative.

The original Mods were reacting to a decade of post-war austerity by dressing noticeably better than they were expected to be able to. For them it was important to be recognised for their stylishness and for their attention to detail. This was how the Mod movement began. With time and popularity, this fastidious individualism was lost as an easier to achieve look emerged- loafers were replaced with desert boots and suits with 501s and Fred Perry sports shirts. Scooters stopped being neat and stylish as ludicrous amounts of chrome and lights were added, army surplus parkas became part of the look for their practicality- and practicality was the last consideration for a true Mod. This look- the image that Franc Roddam's Quadrophenia replicated so well- is what people associate with Mod now, which would be fine if it weren't the only thing that people associate it with. I don't want to be harshly critical of this look but it is not enough to throw on an oversized green overcoat, jeans and desert boots and claim to be a Mod. And the fact that someone wears ill-fitting and poor-quality versions of these Mod staples should not mean that he or she is recognised as a Mod.

Being a Mod takes effort and patience and knowledge and dedication and courage. It is about refusing to accept mediocrity, it is about seeking to be the best that one can. That picture of Oasis does not show them 'redefining Mod' any more than it shows them decoding the human genome and the shoddy, ill-fitting, overpriced and utterly nondescript clothes in that trumped up sales brochure are about as Mod as a pair of crutches.

What the general people mean when they say Mod is pretty much the opposite of what a true Mod knows the name to signify.

Thursday 12 August 2010

Premier League Predicted Table 2010-11

1. Chelsea
2. Manchester United
3. Arsenal
4. Everton
5. Manchester City
6. Liverpool
7. Tottenham Hotspur
8. Stoke City
9. Birmingham City
10. Bolton Wanderers
11. Aston Villa
12. Fulham
13. Blackburn Rovers
14. Sunderland
15. Wolverhampton Wanderers
16. The famous West Bromwich Albion
17. West Ham
18. Wigan Athletic
19. Newcastle United
20. Blackpool

Castaways of Disappointment Island

This looks fantastic. Shame I'll almost certainly never own it:



The book is intended for readers aged 10-12 years and (imagine this!) at the back of the book young readers are asked questions 'to test silent reading'.

An excerpt:

…we tramped forward with some heart, forgetting our past trials in the hope of speedy succour. More even than food, we longed for water; but we could find none. We toiled on, often having to stop from utter weakness, staggering like so many drunken men, racked with pain in every limb. Most of us had very little clothing; and the majority of us had kicked off our boots as I had done, to secure a last chance if we had been cast into the sea. Our feet were frozen and wounded; and altogether our plight was truly miserable.

By afternoon we were hungry - so hungry that we felt maddened. We had noticed a certain species of seabird called mollyhawks nested on the island in vast numbers. It did not prove a very hard task to get some of the birds but there was no way of cooking them; we could only skin them and eat them raw, tearing their warm flesh with our teeth.

Night came and still we had not found our longed for depot. We were so utterly exhausted that we had not the strength to try to crawl an inch. We just lay down full length on the mud and let the rain beat upon us, and wind howl around us; whilst from below we could hear the angry roar of the sea.

What a night of suffering that was…. As the light grew stronger the mist lifted and drifted away, and we were free to continue our journey once more.

Wet, covered with mud, the most pitiable objects that ever were seen, we staggered on, helping each other up when we fell, not making a mile an hour, but never giving up, urged on by the inspiring thought that at the end of the march we should find food and the means of getting a fire.

Now we were travelling over sharp, rocky ground which cut and wounded our feet until we left a trail of blood behind us; and then we would be going through long, rank grass, sinking up to our ankles in liquid mud. And so we went on, on, up and up, ever drawing nearer to the summit of the mountain, crawling at last on hands and knees - on and on, until at last the goal was reached, and we stood casting eager eyes around.

But why do those groans of bitter disappointment escape our lips, and why do we stare so wildly into each other's haggard faces? Oh, the bitter mockery of it! All our hard, wearisome, agonising climb had been for nothing! We were not on Auckland Island at all! That lay far away, with six miles of angry, fiercely-running sea between us and it.

We were on a bleak, barren island about three miles long and two wide. No trace of water, no sign of life of any sort could we see! All silence, all mountain, and scrub and loneliness, and all around the waves which, if we had escaped them, would now shut us in to die of starvation. We did not know the name of the island then, yet in our minds we named it aright - it was indeed Disappointment Island!

The Coalition's Approval Rating

"It took Labour around two years before they declined that much"

Mind The Gap Please

I am such an idiot sometimes. I slipped stepping onto a train yesterday and ended up slipping down the very gap that I have been told to mind (please) probably thousands of times. My pride was hurt more than my physical injuries but they are still looking a little horrible this morning and my second toe (which has been known to dislocate and slip back into place as a legacy of an old football injury) isn't feeling too wonderful. I'm going to have it looked at tomorrow after I leave the night shift if there is no improvement.


By the way the blood below the large toe-nail results from a different incident where my father-in-law ran over my foot last March.

I sound like Frank Spencer.

UPDATE 13 August

Bruising is coming out now:

Gloucester Train Station

It's a bit crummy but I like some of the things they've tried to do to brighten the place up:






I especially like the multi-cultural aspect on the last picture; Gloucester is a wonderfully integrated place in many ways.

A New Career In A New Town

Having taken voluntary redundancy in order to return to university and complete the studies required to qualify as a solicitor I find myself with a dilemma. The opportunity of doing so relies upon achieving a training contract and these were already thin on the ground before the recession began to bite. With the prospect of a double-dip recession or, at best, slow and uncertain growth in the economy this shows no sign of improving and for a man who will be approaching his forties, the chances of taking one of just a few thousand places in a field where there are sometimes hundreds of applicants per place the odds are against success. I need to be pragmatic about this; the qualification will be little problem to achieve, but using it could prove nigh-on impossible. Without a network of contacts, without much directly relevant experience, without an impressive first degree and with my age, the economy and the financial imperative to earn immediately against me I have little hope of completing the journey I had started out upon. Better to lose a couple of hundred quid course deposit now than five grand cash and eight grand in debt on course fees for a qualification I can’t use.

And the dilemma is “what do I do instead?”.

I suppose my main driver in returning to study law was the financial security for my wife and I- capitalism is vile but one has to exist within it and make the best of it as things stand. I also hoped to be in a position to provide help to people who need it and can’t get it- my Aunt runs a charity providing refuge to victims of domestic violence and free legal advice would be of inestimable value to them. Another driver was a sense of unfinished business; although I never really saw myself becoming a solicitor I did embark upon that journey and for someone who rarely finishes what he starts, it seemed “a good idea”.

When I decided to use the opportunity of redundancy to become a solicitor, my other possible course of action was to retrain as a teacher and- with the legal profession proving a non-starter to me- it would be fair to assume that the silver medallist will be my fallback position. And it probably will be, though I can’t help the nagging feeling I have that I should maybe consider other options first.

In any case I am off to visit my Aunt (the aforementioned charitable Aunt as it happens) and her son and daughter-in-law to be, both of whom are teachers and will hopefully help me to clarify my thoughts on teaching. And so, I’m going to gather my thoughts on the way there.

Teaching is often seen as the easy option for graduates who fail in their chosen career (“those who can’t teach”) but I don’t think that I deserve that tag. I don’t actually have a chosen career unless you can count “being Keith Richards” as one. And yes, I did fail at that. No, my view of teaching isn’t in any way negative in the way that it might be for people using it as a safety net. Informed by the great teachers I had in some very bad schools, I have a far higher opinion of the profession and- as with my decision to stop caring for adults with learning disabilities because I wasn’t able to do the job justice (nor stop the counter-productive direction of the trust that I worked for)- I worry that I won’t be a great teacher. I know that I have the qualities to do so- patience, resilience, the ability to engage and connect- but I still have the fear. If I didn’t respect the profession, then I wouldn’t have.

When I was considering transitioning to teaching last year I was focusing upon teaching young adults but I feel differently now. Give me the boy at five and I will give you the man- or whatever the saying is- sums up my feelings at the moment. To provide the positive intervention that I would hope to and make the lasting impact that the children deserve, I think I would want to engage with them at an earlier age; primary school certainly, perhaps as young as infant classes. The more I think about it the more “right” it “feels”- and here again is a cause for anxiety, is “feeling right” sufficiently strong to support a career change like this? If I follow it, then one would hope so.

I think I am pretty set upon that course of action and my plan to get there begins as soon as the decision is made- or as soon as is necessary in case the decision is made should I exhibit a hitherto undiscovered streak of indecisiveness.

And what does this mean for my idea of considering other career paths? Well, in truth, I don’t want any of them. I could make a career in training, management or something or else retrain as an accountant but these are ideas based upon financial security alone or, even worse, expedience. And I deserve better than an old age filled with regrets.

At least I hope that I do.

Tuesday 10 August 2010

Fantasy Football Team

Most years I'm cajoled into doing a team in one way or another. This year at the behest of my good friend Postman Dave, I have built a team through the Daily Torygraph's competition (though I haven't paid them for the pleasure because they really don't want grubby money from the likes of me).

And here is my team- Style Over Content FC (fantasyfootball.telegraph.co.uk).



It is now just a matter of hours before the season starts and I have sacked Duff from the team above in favour of Bolton's Martin Petrov.

Since originally posting this I have been persuaded to join two enter teams in two similar competitions. Here is my team to challenge my former team-mates, work colleagues and drinking companions, it is called I AM FUCKING SEXY (http://fantasyfootball.metro.co.uk):



And this is my team for the Baggies forum I post upon as Viva Fisher!, this team are called Fisher Apathetic (fantasy.premierleague.com):



I'm going to update these teams progress below and add any notes (eg- substitutions etc) with the picures above.

Style Over Content - Week * Week Score * Running Score * Position *
I AM FUCKING SEXY - Week * Week Score * Running Score * Position *
Fisher Apathetic - Week * Week Score * Running Score * Position *

MadMenYourself

Had a first bash at the Season 4 MadMenYourself feature tonight. In anticipation of rewatching the whole thing from the start.

Here's the result:

Saturday 7 August 2010

The New Politics

So, how do we feel about the "new politics" a couple of months in? Let's have a quick recap of what they have actually done since taking office:

The Coalition's budget made deep and immediate cuts because A) when they came to power and opened the books things were far worse than they had imagined and B) Clegg had changed his mind in favour of them on the private advice of Mervyn King though he continued to argue publicly against them. Well, A wasn't true because "Sir Alan [Budd, Head of Osborne's new OBR] said yesterday that Alistair Darling was being too pessimistic: on almost every measure, the public finances look like being in better shape"[1] and B wasn't true because "King said today: "I said nothing that was not already in the public domain. In the telephone conversation I basically repeated what I had said at the press conference"[2]".

Well that's not very "new politics" is it? But what about the nature of those cuts?

Firstly and most obviously Michael Gove plans to scrap the Building Schools For The Future programme. If a school was getting a new building or even repairs or renovations of an existing one, it isn’t now. Even if he still claims that it is[3]. Education budgets will instead be spent on the rolling out of the Academies programme which was rushed through Parliament without the usual scrutiny because Gove invoked an extraordinary Parliamentary procedure which is normally reserved for emergency responses to catastrophic security threats[4]. Under this Act “Free schools” could be “set up by parents and private groups with state funding”. This legislation also allows schools to remove themselves from national standards of pay, national curriculum requirements and to introduce selective admissions policies. It also pledges to cut funding for failing schools and pump more money into schools with high success rates[5]. Admissions policies which guarantee higher rates of government funding for selective privately-owned schools? You can draw your own conclusions.

There are also Iain Duncan-Smith’s planned Welfare reforms which include having the Disability Living Allowance statuses (which are currently decided on the recommendation of GPs and specialists) overturned without scrutiny by unqualified civil servants and placing arbitrary caps on housing benefits for the poor which will lead to increased homelessness and destitution[6].

We also have the movement of the ludicrously wasteful funding of Trident from the Treasury to the Ministry of Defence which will see thousands of troops return from Afghanistan to redundancy. The MoD were already faced with 20% cuts and now have to fund this £130bn white elephant[7]. There are only so many ships and guns you can go without before you have to start throwing soldiers on the dole after all.

I’m aware that I have a tendency towards verbosity, so I’ll try and rush through a few more things before I stop making sense.

Other highlights are:

    A public sector pay-freeze which includes the lowest-paid (the £21,000 limit is pro-rata and hundreds of thousands of public sector workers are part-time) and contrasts with pay-rises in the private sector[8].

    A VAT rise (which the LibDems expressly campaigned against) which hits the poor hardest since VAT is a regressive tax.

    The scrapping of a free school meals programme for the poorest children.

    Cutting of the rate of Corporation Tax- including for banks.

    Shelving (rather than scrapping) the plans to cut Inheritance Tax rates for the very rich.

    A refusal to remove the charitable status of private schools meaning that, in effect, they are subsidised by the very families who have seen a cut of £670m in the budget for state schools.

    The imposition of the much-derided Labour proposal for a National Insurance increase but, significantly, only for employees and not employers.

And, finally, Health- the one area of public spending that the Tories pledged not to cut. Andrew Lansley (who is personally financed by a private healthcare provider [9]) has taken the 'ringfenced' NHS budget and- in spite of the Tories' pre-election calls for "no more top-down reorganisations"[10] put it towards a top-down reorganisation which will give GPs the task of managing their practices as well as working in them. As this is already a full-time job for thousands of public-sector workers, what this means in practice is that they will be made redundant and replaced by private healthcare providers. It is, in effect, a large-scale privatisation of PCTs paid for by the public for the benefit of private companies.

In conclusion then; the “New Politics” coalition have rushed through a sweeping programme of change which in essence hands money earmarked for schools and hospitals to private companies and have hit the poorest with tax rises while offering businesses and the very rich tax freezes and even a cut in taxation rates. That these seismic ideological changes are based upon lies and misinformation should really surprise no-one, though many LibDem voters will feel betrayed as their intention was (in many cases) to stop the Conservatives and avoid the kind of social carnage this will wreak across the country.

“New politics”? Only if you can’t remember the 1980s.



[1] http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/politics/7827761/This-Budget-is-George-Osbornes-moment-to-be-radical.html
[2] http://www.guardian.co.uk/business/2010/jul/28/mervyn-king-nick-clegg
[3] http://news.sky.com/skynews/Home/Politics/Michael-Goves-Is-Forced-To-Apologise-For-Mistakes-On-Building-Schools-For-The-Future-Hit-List/Article/201007115660983?f=rss
[4] http://www.independent.co.uk/news/education/education-news/tories-use-terror-laws-to-rush-academies-bill-through-house-2030336.html
[5] http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/standard/article-23857439-michael-gove-hoping-to-push-through-academies-bill.do
[6] http://www.independent.co.uk/news/uk/politics/welfare-reforms-are-onslaught-on-the-vulnerable-2040855.html
[7] http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/politics/defence/7920328/Armed-forces-stunned-by-Trident-bill.html
[8] http://www.businessweek.com/news/2010-07-28/half-of-u-k-public-sector-pay-deals-ended-in-freeze-ids-says.html
[9] http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/newstopics/mps-expenses/6989408/Andrew-Lansley-bankrolled-by-private-healthcare-provider.html
[10] http://www.newstatesman.com/uk-politics/2010/07/health-service-nhs-cameron

Sunday 1 August 2010

Friends Shaking Hands

Funny how songs can transport you back to a previous time in your life. I heard Louis Armstrong’s “Wonderful World” earlier, a song which always puts me in mind of a time many years ago when I fell for a girl who was already in a relationship. Though our love was transient, it felt deep and our parting was as amicable as these things can be. For reasons I forget she was unable to leave the relationship immediately and so for a period we carried on in secret (I’m not proud of this but it was a nice relationship and is a nice memory). On occasions we would be brought together in public with her boyfriend or mutual friends and had to be discreet and so we developed a code; we would greet each other with a handshake and a "how do you do?" following the suggestion of the great Satchmo who sang:

I see friends shaking hands
Saying "how do you do?"
They’re really saying
"I love you"