Con Artists.

 In their pre-Christmas press conference Clegg and Cameron looked for all the world like a couple of smooth talking con-artists. With the smooth suits, sleeked hair and shiny ties they looked as though they would rob your granny, which on the 3rd of January they intend to do by adding 2.5% to her cost of living.

 At the same time a Liberal Democrat deputy minister was telling a journalist that, "Cameron was not trustworthy".  Surprise, surprise however we now learn that Cleggy has always been a closet Tory. It would appear that while at university, Clegg had joined the Cambridge University Conservative Association between 1986 and 1987, with contemporary membership records citing an "N. Clegg" of Robinson College. (At the time, Clegg was the only person of that name at Robinson.) However, Clegg himself later maintained he had "no recollection of that whatsoever". He also has no recollection of most of the promises that he made to the people of this country before the general election. Con man, liar, grasping for power, whatever the cost. Beware.

I Wish You All - More Than A Bleak Midwinter.

 As human beings we, above all things, have the capacity for hope. May your hopes become reality in the years to come.

Thomas Gray

"ELEGY WRITTEN IN A COUNTRY CHURCH-YARD" The curfew tolls the knell of parting day, The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea, The ploughman homeward plods his weary way, And leaves the world to darkness and to me. Now fades the glimmering landscape on the sight, And all the air a solemn stillness holds, Save where the beetle wheels his droning flight, And drowsy tinklings lull the distant folds: Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower The moping owl does to the moon complain Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, Molest her ancient solitary reign. Beneath those rugged elms, that yew-tree's shade, Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, Each in his narrow cell for ever laid, The rude Forefathers of the hamlet sleep. The breezy call of incense-breathing morn, The swallow twittering from the straw-built shed, The cock's shrill clarion, or the echoing horn, No more shall rouse them from their lowly bed. For them no more the blazing hearth shall burn, Or busy housewife ply her evening care: No children run to lisp their sire's return, Or climb his knees the envied kiss to share, Oft did the harvest to their sickle yield, Their furrow oft the stubborn glebe has broke; How jocund did they drive their team afield! How bow'd the woods beneath their sturdy stroke! Let not Ambition mock their useful toil, Their homely joys, and destiny obscure; Nor Grandeur hear with a disdainful smile The short and simple annals of the Poor. The boast of heraldry, the pomp of power, And all that beauty, all that wealth e'er gave, Awaits alike th' inevitable hour:- The paths of glory lead but to the grave. Nor you, ye Proud, impute to these the fault If Memory o'er their tomb no trophies raise, Where through the long-drawn aisle and fretted vault The pealing anthem swells the note of praise. Can storied urn or animated bust Back to its mansion call the fleeting breath? Can Honour's voice provoke the silent dust, Or Flattery soothe the dull cold ear of Death? Perhaps in this neglected spot is laid Some heart once pregnant with celestial fire; Hands, that the rod of empire might have sway'd, Or waked to ecstasy the living lyre: But Knowledge to their eyes her ample page, Rich with the spoils of time, did ne'er unroll; Chill Penury repress'd their noble rage, And froze the genial current of the soul. Full many a gem of purest ray serene The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear: Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, And waste its sweetness on the desert air. Some village-Hampden, that with dauntless breast The little tyrant of his fields withstood, Some mute inglorious Milton here may rest, Some Cromwell, guiltless of his country's blood. Th' applause of list'ning senates to command, The threats of pain and ruin to despise, To scatter plenty o'er a smiling land, And read their history in a nation's eyes, Their lot forbad: nor circumscribed alone Their growing virtues, but their crimes confined; Forbad to wade through slaughter to a throne, And shut the gates of mercy on mankind, The struggling pangs of conscious truth to hide, To quench the blushes of ingenuous shame, Or heap the shrine of Luxury and Pride With incense kindled at the Muse's flame. Far from the madding crowd's ignoble strife, Their sober wishes never learn'd to stray; Along the cool sequester'd vale of life They kept the noiseless tenour of their way. Yet e'en these bones from insult to protect Some frail memorial still erected nigh, With uncouth rhymes and shapeless sculpture deck'd, Implores the passing tribute of a sigh. Their name, their years, spelt by th' unletter'd Muse, The place of fame and elegy supply: And many a holy text around she strews, That teach the rustic moralist to die. For who, to dumb forgetfulness a prey, This pleasing anxious being e'er resign'd, Left the warm precincts of the cheerful day, Nor cast one longing lingering look behind? On some fond breast the parting soul relies, Some pious drops the closing eye requires; E'en from the tomb the voice of Nature cries, E'en in our ashes live their wonted fires. For thee, who, mindful of th' unhonour'd dead, Dost in these lines their artless tale relate; If chance, by lonely contemplation led, Some kindred spirit shall inquire thy fate, -- Haply some hoary-headed swain may say, Oft have we seen him at the peep of dawn Brushing with hasty steps the dews away, To meet the sun upon the upland lawn; 'There at the foot of yonder nodding beech That wreathes its old fantastic roots so high. His listless length at noontide would he stretch, And pore upon the brook that babbles by. 'Hard by yon wood, now smiling as in scorn, Muttering his wayward fancies he would rove; Now drooping, woeful wan, like one forlorn, Or crazed with care, or cross'd in hopeless love. 'One morn I miss'd him on the custom'd hill, Along the heath, and near his favourite tree; Another came; nor yet beside the rill, Nor up the lawn, nor at the wood was he; 'The next with dirges due in sad array Slow through the church-way path we saw him borne,- Approach and read (for thou canst read) the lay Graved on the stone beneath yon aged thorn.'

The Epitaph

Here rests his head upon the lap of Earth
A youth to Fortune and to Fame unknown.
Fair Science frowned not on his humble birth,
And Melacholy marked him for her own.

Large was his bounty, and his soul sincere,
Heaven did a recompense as largely send:
He gave to Misery all he had, a tear,
He gained from Heaven ('twas all he wish'd) a friend.

No farther seek his merits to disclose,
Or draw his frailties from their dread abode
(There they alike in trembling hope repose),
The bosom of his Father and his God.
By Thomas Gray (1716-71).

Birmingham City

Image via Wikipedia of all that has gone wrong.

 My! How the place has gone downhill in recent years. Mistake number one: coming out of New Street station and expecting to know where I was. About twelve years ago the Midland Hotel was my first refuge for a pint of Holden's Golden, unquestionably the best pint of beer in England. Unless it has been dwarfed by shopashock then sadly that magnificent edifice to the great past of the city has been bulldozed, together with most of the other familiar places that I knew and cherished. Mistake number two: when your hotel provides a map and tells you it is seven hundred yards from New Street do not come out of the wrong exit. Several trips around the Bull Ring and numerous enquiries as to where Holloway Circus is resulted in blank stares, or the response, "I don't know" before an obliging road sweeper pointed us in roughly the right direction. What has happened to that gentle, cheerful accent that was linctus to the ears?
 As ever great sighs of relief and the ritual throwing off of shoes marked the arrival, or should I say near collapse, into the hotel room to where we were eventually guided, over the phone by reception. In fact reception is an inappropriate term to describe the very polite people /person who manned this desk as they seemed also to be cleaners, cooks, barpersons and cheereruppers as well, bless them. Employers demand a great deal for the minimum wage these days.
 Then a miserable afternoon traipsing around the same shops that are found in every town and city around the world these days. Confusion piled upon confusion when entering from street level and finding yourself on the third floor and having to have the navigational skills of Drake to chart your course back to the same exit or run the risk of running aground in some smoke filled car park. And then as a winter evening quickly slipped into night we try to console ourselves by finding somewhere pleasant to eat. Impossible: every hotel and restaurant in and around the city are choking with revellers celebrating something that occurred in an Arab land a long time ago.
 Dying for a pee I duck into a hostelry, only to be stopped by a bouncer who told me that they ran a "No hats policy". Cap removed I rush to the loo where I get my only relief of the evening. On the way out I tell the guy, "I operate a no buy policy, and you are going to have a busy night because everyone in there is breaking the house rule and wearing paper crowns". After two fruitless hours we give up and buy a sandwich and a fruit juice and retire hurt to the sanctity of the hotel room.
 Sunday, it is frosty but Good King Wenceslas is nowhere to be seen amongst the dreary, repetitive towers of Birmingham, looking like enormous tombstones to a bygone age. At last I journey to New Street station, sidestepping and swerving past  the sick on the pavements, but still with a modicum of hope, reigned in by past experiences, in my heart. I am letting the train take the strain to transport me past the decaying factories and litter filled canals to Wolverhampton where my beloved Blues are playing the Dingles in yam yam territory.
 Dear reader I am lost for words to describe the performance of my team. The Wolverhampton keeper may have spent his day back in his native Wales, where hill climbing would have at least caused him some exertion, because he was required to do absolutely nothing during the match. My team showed no heart, no passion, no effort and seemed not to care that the match was passing them by and trooped on and off the field like condemned men.
 My first feelings were of disbelief that they could play, or rather not play so poorly, this was quickly followed by disappointment and then anger at their tawdry performance. I have been following the team for over fifty years, seen them lose by six or seven goals but at least in those matches the buggers tried. I am a proud Birmingham City fan but except for our goalie, who performed heroics, those highly paid and pampered professionals should be ashamed of themselves. They let us down.
 As for our manager, Alex McLeish, he is now half way through his six year tenure at the club and if I was writing his mid term report then I would say, "He builds teams to defend. He has no concept of how to play attacking, exciting football which will entertain the fans. Tactically he is inept, his judgement is poor and he is indecisive. Must and should do far, far better but I think that he will continue to disappoint."
 Someone said that the past is a foreign country. What has happened to this once great city which only twenty years ago was enjoying a renaissance. Who has allowed it to slip back to the dark ages? This tale of two cities is, as ever, a sad one and I fear the current City Fathers will continue to take it on its downward spiral.  My love affair was with a mistress who is now dead.

Lost Hits

Education Maintenance Allowance - Condems Plunge New Depths.

Image by HowardLake via Flickr

 This grant is intended to allow the poorest teenagers in England to carry on at school into the sixth form, and give them the same opportunity as others, to benefit from higher education. The withdrawal means that a two tier system now exists in our schools. As ever under the Tories; one for the rich and another for the poor.
 The BBC has just raised millions of pounds from volunteers for Children in Need. They should show that they have some balls by donating ALL of the money to these deprived kids. It is education that teaches you to ask why? It is education that teaches you to not to accept the given facts but to probe deeper to find out the real truth. It is education that produces doctors, nurses, and most of all provides opportunity. It doesn't guarantee wealth, in money terms, but it provides the nourishment of the mind.
 I have only one choice now and that is to take to the streets and protest and to harass my local M.P. with bucket loads of post that she will be too thick, and too indoctrinated in the ways of hate, to understand. As for the Liberal Democrats I wish them nightmares, ill will and a future in the despised dustbin of history. Liars everyone of then - may they rot in hell. The lice on the Tory vermin.

Related articles

• Schools may lose out as Gove ends funding gap for post-16 education (guardian.co.uk)

Get Rid Of Charles and Camilla - Join Republic.

The Real Vandals In London Yesterday.

Image by PaDumBumPsh via Flickr

Those who voted to increase tuition fees and slash university funding.
The press for having orgasms over a minority of protestors whilst hiding the truth.
The Tories for once again introducing a Police State in this country.
The cops for their over reaction and brutality.

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• Tuition fees: government wins narrow victory (guardian.co.uk)
• A close vote on tuition fees (economist.com)

Wolverhampton Here I Come, Right Back Where I started From

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

 Off for a few days to see Wolves play Blues. Wolverhampton was where I started seeing First Division football. They had a wonderful team with the likes of Billy Wright, Ron Flowers and Johnny Hancocks playing for them but time has clouded the mind and I can't remember who they played on that cold winter night in 1954.
 My home team were Swindon Town who in those days regularly had to apply for re-election to the Third Division South but I supported Portsmouth. Why, because I followed in the still trodden trail of supporting a football club who in your boyhood win everything and in those years Pompey were a very successful side. It was a few years later that, believe it or not, in a Blues v Wolverhampton fixture at St. Andrews I immediately made that electronic contact with the team that I have supported for the rest of my life. Just like me to pick a load of buggers who have never won anything and have broken my heart more times than any woman.
 Yes I will be there scarf firmly in pocket, a Blues infiltrator sat amongst the Wolves fans in the Billy Wright stand on Sunday. Maybe it is time for a miracle and we put out a joined up team where the midfielders and defence actually recognise that it is there job to support the strikers. A miracle would be to win by more than three or four goals. Will it happen? Tune in to this column on Monday and I will relate my experiences.
 At least, after the match, I will be meeting good and trusted friends but Mum is the word on that particular liaison.

Great Lost Hits, Part Unknown.

And advice which has stood me in good stead throughout my life.

Morrissey joins ex-band member in attack on PM.

Image via Wikipedia

Nicked? After guitarist Johnny Marr’s rebuke of David Cameron’s Smiths fandom, the Prime Minister has now suffered a tongue-lashing from Morrissey himself. In a missive to the True to You fanzine, the writer of Margaret on the Guillotine rails against Tory threats to repeal the Hunting Act.

I would like to, if I may, offer support to Johnny Marr who has spoken out to the media this week against David Cameron. To those who have expressed concern over Johnny’s words in view of the fact that David Cameron has pledged immense allegiance to the music of the Smiths I would like to try to explain why I think Johnny is right not to be flattered.

After a somewhat rambling attack on David Cameron and others, Prince William’s fiancée Kate Middleton is called a “fiasco”, singer Bryan Ferry is cast as “Bryan Ferret” and hispro-hunting son Otis is renamed “Odious Ferry”.  Morrissey concludes:

… by close of this piece I return to the opening issue of David Cameron and I remind him that the world loves a man who loves to listen. But we can’t believe what you say when we know what you do.

Heaven knows Dave is miserable now!

Chaos!

Image by thefost via Flickr

Or more interestingly the Chaos Theory. Mathematics has come alive for me in recent years, although I profess not to understand most of it. Indeed a series on Mathematics has just finished on the BBC (more on that nepotistic lot on another day) and although the presenter must have had a marvellous time globetrotting he failed to do, what as an educator he should do, and properly explain how things worked to me. For instance he said that the ancients were able to work out how far the moon was away from the earth by measuring the sine of the suns angle to the earth but I still don't know how to work out the sine of an angle.
 However, as usual dear reader I digress, as it is the end product of these calculations that fascinates me most. According to the Chaos Theory the beat of a butterfly's wing can start off an unexpected consequence, like a World War, five thousand miles away. And when you think about it this is a bit like consequences. For instance if you were to turn right instead of left on one of your journeys today it could affect the rest of your life. Last night, as I was going to bed for instance, reaching to the back of the cabinet for a battered mug I managed to cause two bone china cups to crash to the floor and break. Who knows what the consequences will be? I will have to search around various shops to find replacements and the first step of that journey, or a chance meeting, could change my life forever.
 So think about what you do today, and reflect when you go to bed this evening, on what might have been if you had done something differently or bathe in the knowledge that something wonderful happened because of an action that you took. Try helping someone, worse off than yourself. Despite the horrors that we all have to endure there is always someone, somewhere who is worse off and an act of kindness from you could change not only their lives but also your own. May good fortune travel with you.

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Amazon acting like Hitler

They are burning all the books and won't publish Wikileaks. Dear reader, fight back and don't buy their censored wares.

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Read Amazon's Contribution to Freedom of Information Below.

Close Your Eyes, Forget This World, And Listen.

Wikileaks Performing A Public Service.

Image by @mjb via Flickr of The National Secuity Agency.

 When the British Government supports corrupt and totalitarian regimes around the world, like the Saudis who stone women for committing adultery, then they are not only being unprincipled but also duplicious. For at the same time as providing succour to these vile regimes they are colluding behind their backs by supplying  all of their intelligence, on Arab countries, to the Israelis. Whilst Iran must not have nuclear weapons (why did Feisal the Coward want the USA to bomb them the when he has his own bombers supplied by us) the Israelis, against the rule of  international conventions, spit on the United nations as they stockpile these weapons of mass destruction and nobody objects.
 Of course, as Wikileaks has shown, all of this is done without our knowledge and we get embroiled in wars , executions and acts of atrocity that none of us voted for. When a cell in MI5 tried to bring down Harold Wilson he was one step ahead of them and always followed the golden rule, "NEVER TRUST ANYONE".
 As an aside at the height of the nuclear arms race between the USA and Russia I was involved in providing an intelligence tip off about the Soviet's testing of an orbital bomb. This, quite rightly, had the American's in an enormous flap because it affected their National Security on an unprecedented scale. Whilst their early warning systems, such as Fylingdales in Yorkshire, looked east and west this fecker could come from any direction and Nuke them without any forewarning. As sure as hell the Yank's went off to the Ruskie's and agreed a deal to withdraw some of their threat to the Soviets if they dropped, or rather didn't drop, the orbital bomb.

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Anyone Think I'm Gelivable?

Chinese cyber buzzword "geili" - which describes something as "cool," "awesome" or "exciting" - has received the "official seal of approval" with an appearance in the official newspaper of the Communist Party of China.

Chinese character "Geili" appeared in a headline on the front page of People's Daily, which is marked by a black circle.

This is the latest episode in the ever-increasing popularity of this completely new word which has also been given English and French translations by web users and a negative form in a manga animation.

"Geili" featured in a headline on the front page ofPeople's Daily on Wednesday. While the meaning was slightly different, in the newspaper it meant "empower," millions of netizens were delighted and surprised to see it used by the Party newspaper.

Online jargon is usually considered too casual for standard written language, and is thus excluded from language guidelines.

"Geili" is created from two Chinese characters "gei" and "li." Literally, it means "giving power," but is now widely accepted as an adjective describing something that's "cool."

A test of a Chinese jargon word's trendiness is if users translate it into a foreign language, according to its pronunciation. "Geili" has been transformed into the English-sounding "gelivable," and "ungelivable," and the French "très guélile."

But it was the word's antonym "bugeili" - meaning dull or boring - that first grabbed wider public attention after it appeared online in May in an episode of a Chinese-dubbed Japanese comic animation.

In another twist in the word's linguistic evolution, Life Weekly, a Shanghai-based magazine, posted a word "ungelivable" - referring to bugeili - last weekend on its official micro-blog at sina.com.

This was regarded as a stroke of genius by netizens, who praised the word for containing "un" as a negative prefix, "able" as a suffix for an adjective, and all with the sound of "geili" in the middle. And, of course, the pronunciation is close to "unbelievable."

"très guélile" - which translates as "so geili and so cool," - was also coined very recently. It has the added advantage of pronunciation that is almost identical to the Chinese.

China's language usage guidelines, however, have banned the appearance of Internet buzzwords in formal written language, including textbooks.

Linguists, however, seem more tolerant. "These words are interesting and fun but it's unclear how long they will remain in use," said Pan Wenguo, a linguist in East China Normal University. "We'll see if the word can survive after it's out of fashion."

Hao Mingjian, editor of a linguistic magazine, seemed pretty positive about words created online.

"The Internet has many positive effects on language," Hao said. "Web users are able to find new words and give other words new lives."

Just in case you think I'm not then this, from Old Albert, definitely is:-

Chilling - Without Comment.

Image via Wikipedia

Queda Unveils Strategy of a Thousand Cuts

DUBAI (Reuters) - Al Qaeda's Yemen-based wing vowed to "bleed" U.S. resources with inexpensive, small-scale attacks that cost militants just thousands of dollars to mount but billions for the West to guard against.

In the third edition of its online Inspire magazine, released on militant websites, al Qaeda in the Arabian Peninsula (AQAP) said it had cost just $4,200 to mail two parcel bombs from Yemen to the United States last month.

The bombs were intercepted in Britain and Dubai, sparking a worldwide security alert.

Here are the main points from the edition, a special issue intended to explain the plot and the thinking behind it.

STRATEGY

* Bleed the enemy - "This strategy of attacking the enemy with smaller but more frequent operations is what some may refer to as the strategy of a thousand cuts. The aim is to bleed the enemy to death."

* Low risk, low cost - "It is such a good bargain for us to spread fear amongst the enemy and keep him on his toes in exchange of a few months of work and a few thousand bucks."

* Security worries - "In such an environment of security phobia that is sweeping America it is more feasible to stage smaller attacks that involve less players and less time to launch and thus we may circumvent the security barriers American worked so hard to erect."

RESOURCES

Equipment - "Two Nokia mobiles, $150 each, two HP printers, $300 each, plus shipping, transportation and other miscellaneous expenses add up to a total bill of $4,200."

Time - "It took us three months to plan and execute the operation from beginning to end."

People - "A team of less than six."

THE FUTURE

* More to come -- "We will continue with similar operations and we do not mind at all in this stage if they are intercepted."

* Next phase - "The next phase would be to disseminate the technical details of our device to the mujahidin around the world to use from their respective countries.

"...Do you think that our research will only be used by al Qaeda of the Arabian Peninsula and won't be shared with other mujahideen (holy warriors)?

* Subsequent phase - "The following phase would be for us to use our connections to mail such packages from countries that are 'below the radar' and to use similar devices on civilian aircrafts in Western countries."

ECONOMIC IMPACT

Aviation is the target - "Our objective is not maximum kill but to cause (damage) in the aviation industry, an industry that is so vital for trade and transportation between the U.S. and Europe."

* Economic losses sought - "We knew that cargo planes are staffed by only a pilot and a co-pilot so our objective was not to cause maximum casualties but to cause maximum losses to the American economy."

* The goal is to "force upon the West two choices: You either spend billions of dollars to inspect each and every package in the world or you do nothing and we keep trying again."

The Royle Wedding Conspiracy!

Image via Wikipedia

 Unlike the press I was not surprised to read that  Bonny and Clyde have arranged their wedding for 29 April. I am not a party to the scurrilous rumours going around that she is pregnant but, having worked inside government for most of my life,  I see the hand of the politicians in setting the date.

 Slimy Nick and Dangerous Dave have called council elections for 5 May as well as the referendum on AV which, if it goes in their favour, will guarantee a permanent place in government for The Liberals.
 So, coming off the back of the ecstasy and orgy of the Royle Wedding they are hoping that the feel good factor will propel them to victory. Get real Lurkio!

Lost Hits, Part Whatever, and Harmony.

 These two, although constantly falling out in their private lives, produced some magnificent harmonies of which I think this is the best.

Why Radio Silence Meant The Possible Extinction of Mankind.

Image via Wikipedia

In days long ago at the iciest time of the cold war when I worked for GCHQ, at what the BBC described as, "the electronic eavesdropping spy station at Cheltenham" I worked in  J Division who were responsible for monitoring Russian communications.
 It was in the interests of politicians on both sides of the Iron Curtain to play up the threat so that billions of pounds/dollars/roubles could be spent on what Eisenhower, who deserves a larger and more noble role in modern day history, warned was a potential risk to democracy by stating that:-

"In the councils of government, we must guard against the acquisition of unwarranted influence, whether sought or unsought, by the militaryindustrial complex. The potential for the disastrous rise of misplaced power exists and will persist.
We must never let the weight of this combination endanger our liberties or democratic processes. We should take nothing for granted. Only an alert and knowledgeable citizenry can compel the proper meshing of the huge industrial and military machinery of defense with our peaceful methods and goals, so that security and liberty may prosper together."

 It is in the interests of politicians to suggest to their populations that threats to them exist, either internally or externally, so that they can forge ahead with their own hidden agendas. And so we were led to believe that nuclear catastrophe was imminent and that more and more nuclear weapons and their launch pads were needed in order that MAD (Mutually Assured Destruction) kept us safe and sane!

 In fact during the Cuban Missile Crisis, when the world thought that we were on the edge of nuclear annihilation, the spies trade union members, from both sides, met through back channels (more on these another day) to ensure that no such thing would happen. I firmly believe that after losing 25 million souls during the Second World War that although Russia would defend it's motherland to the  death it never had any intention of invading the west.

 However we were briefed at GCHQ that, contrary to what you would expect, if an attack was imminent then rather than the airwaves being buzzing with traffic then RADIO SILENCE would prevail so that the enemies communications would not be de-coded and positions revealed. Fortunately this never happened, except for the New Year, when the Russian armed forces all went on leave or were too pissed on vodka to put together a coherent transmission

 As for Eisenhower then this speech is worthy of study as a definitive statement of the American perspective of the world at that time and also reveals the humanity of the man.

Why I Hate Children In Need

Image by Getty Images via @daylife

1. We live in one of the richest countries in the world and to have children in need is a shocking indictment on us all for having failed to elect a government who have eradicated the problem,
2. A bit like band aid it is run by well meaning people and even more generous donors, who unlike the Wogan's and Geldof's, do not receive a knighthood, for their services to the cause. It salves consciences for a day but it is no more than a sticking plaster on a massive wound. In the meantime the auction houses of the world are making their largest profits in history from the rich who are buying into art and diamonds on a scale which dwarfs the money donated to these charities.
3. Chris Evans gets to auction rides in Ferrari's and arranges meets with celebrities for tens of thousand whilst Joe Blogs and Mary Humble struggle to pay their electricity bills to listen to his drivel.
4. In offices up and down the land people are bullied by peer pressure to throw money into buckets held by people who, for some reason that I have never figured out become cross dresser's for the day.
Miserable old git ain't I.

Always Be On Guard Against Those That Wish To Destroy.

    William Butler Yeats (1865-1939)

               THE SECOND COMING

    Turning and turning in the widening gyre
    The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
    Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
    Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
    The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
    The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
    The best lack all conviction, while the worst
    Are full of passionate intensity.

    Surely some revelation is at hand;
    Surely the Second Coming is at hand.
    The Second Coming! Hardly are those words out
    When a vast image out of Spiritus Mundi
    Troubles my sight: a waste of desert sand;
    A shape with lion body and the head of a man,
    A gaze blank and pitiless as the sun,
    Is moving its slow thighs, while all about it
    Wind shadows of the indignant desert birds.
    The darkness drops again but now I know
    That twenty centuries of stony sleep
    Were vexed to nightmare by a rocking cradle,
    And what rough beast, its hour come round at last,
    Slouches towards Bethlehem to be born?

Paul O'Grady on the Coalition and the Dangers of Anne Widdecombe

 I have never liked drag acts and must admit that when Mr. O'Grady was Lily Savage I scarcely watched him. I have always had a problem with men dressing up as women but it is probably not politically correct for me to say that these days. However that arch conservative Ms. Widdecombe, although allegedly retired from politics, never loses any opportunity on television to push her extreme right wing views. Even on The One Show the other night she started off with a tirade against "Red Ed" (a contradiction in terms) and the dangers of socialism. For an early evening light hearted  chat show I thought this was out of order and I hope a representative from the Labour Party is given the right of reply on the programme to balance her extremist views.
 There is even a suggestion in the press that she may be, with others, about to found the British equivalent of the despicable American Tea party. She is now trying to ingratiate herself into the nation's hearts by appearing in Strictly Come Dancing. She doesn't dance but puts on an act, but unlike John sergeant, hasn't add the good grace to pull out and nor would I expect her to as she lives on the oxygen of publicity. However after a recent show in which O'Grady poured out his wrath on The Coalition and it's cuts (see below) he turned his wrath on her telling The Times, " I can't feel warmth for a woman who said that pregnant female prisoners should be shackled .. You don't kid me Miss Widdecombe".

BBC Newsreaders, Jack London and Scabs.

Image by Caro Wallis via Flickr

The recent strike by BBC newsreaders against losing their guaranteed pensions was as usual Marred (pun intended) by the deterioration in relationships between the 95% of the staff who were solidly behind the strike and those few that crawled in (as usual in the dead of night so that they did not have to cross the picket line) to do what they regarded as their duty.
 Now I have been in a few strikes in my time - in fact as a Union Man I have always supported the cause when the call has been made, though not without reflection on the issues involved. In a career of forty years this probably amounted to a maximum of about seven working days. As related in these pages before, only the loony fringe revel in strikes and most of the people who participate do it either because they are starving, about to be sacked or are trying to correct an injustice hoisted on them by their employer. It is the striker that takes all the risks of being sacked and losing employee benefits, ostracising themselves from friends and family as well as losing their wages and even a gong for services to their country (more of this later).
 No wonder then there is bitterness between the strikebreakers, or blacklegs as I prefer to call them, and those that are making a sacrifice to try and improve their terms of service. Incidentally I have never yet heard of a strikebreaker who has refused the benefits that come along should, and this happens only rarely, industrial action prove to be successful.
 However Fiona Bruce has gone up in my estimation, as I always regarded her as a typical middle class BBC employee who would think it unpatriotic and beneath her to strike. Top marks Fiona - I shall watch the Antiques Roadshow with renewed enthusiasm in the future. Of those that did crawl into work I am not surprised that most of the so called "City Experts" like Robert Peston, Evan Davis and Sarah Montague, none of whom predicted the banking crises, have stuck with their allies in The City.
 Andrew Marr has always crossed the picket line and his lightweight series of books on the History of Britain reflect his prejudices against the working class and his love of the establishment. He also  wrote a damning indictment of Harold Wilson in one of those tomes that the facts did not bear out and was short on any detail such as a good historian should provide (see the blog piece I wrote on Wilson somewhere below).
 Nick Robinson's love of all things Tory ensured he would be loyal to the management's cause and I agree with The Fat Man In the Bathtub's  views on the man who also is a very poor reporter and lucky to be in a job. Andrew Neil is a Thatcher sycophant and a previous Murdoch employee and acted true to form. Johnathan Dimbleby the official pal and biographer of  Prince Charlie,the Serial Adulterer, payed homage as well.  Also I must admit to never hearing of Chris Rogers or Emma Crosby but they also reneged on their colleagues.
 You will notice that I have not used the term, "scab" which I have always thought to be offensive and slightly over the top demotic language. It postdates "blackleg" and it's first use in this sense is allegedly attributed to Jack London a writer I much admire and who turned me into a socialist at a formative age when I read his description of the poverty that existed in London in, "People of the Abyss" when the British Empire was at it's zenith in the Victorian age. I say alleged because although the passage smacks of his fine descriptive writing it has never been truly attributed to his pen - it reads, " After God had finished the rattlesnake, the toad, and the vampire, he had some awful substance left with which he made a scab. A scab is a two-legged animal with a corkscrew soul, a water brain, a combination backbone of jelly and glue. Where others have hearts, he carries a tumor of rotten principles. When a scab comes down the street, men turn their backs and Angels weep in Heaven, and the Devil shuts the gates of hell to keep him out...."
 And whilst I'm at it bollocks to Keith Richard and Mick Jagger who have made fortunes presenting themselves as rebels when they are as false as Jordan's tits and hobnob with the Tory elite and collected their gongs from HM. Which brings me neatly to the fact that in the Civil Service anyone who takes strike action is never awarded a medal and I suppose that those broadcasters will be in the same boat. Not to worry says I gongs are only given to fraudsters and lacky's.

Related articles

• BBC's top stars in bitter split over strike (telegraph.co.uk)

Apocolypse: The Second World War.

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 There is little enough television around these days which makes absorbing and educational watching as well as providing a new perspective on past events. I have no hesitation therefore in recommending the new Channel 4 series, being shown on Saturday evenings, about The Second World War. not only are there, to me, new historical facts (more on this later) but with the introduction of computer graphics to enhance the shots and more importantly provide provide colour to the old footage then this groundbreaking series is not to be missed.
 For those of you who missed the first episode it is available here at Channel 4's download site and I urge you to watch it and, if possible, make the remaining episodes part of your regular Saturday night's viewing.
 As for those facts that I had never heard of whilst I knew that Edward the V11 was a Nazi sympathiser I did not know that Henry Ford had anti-semitic views and nor that John Kennedy's father was behind America not getting involved in the early days of the war although his son, John,  to his credit took the opposite view.
 The one issue that staggered me however was that Sweden supplied iron ore to Germany throughout the war, when I always thought that they were neutral.
 Stalin's deviousness and cruelty are well documented but the film showed in close up the look of deceit in his eyes when he expressed surprise and denial as General Sikorsky of Poland presented him with a list of the Polish Officers that Stalin had exterminated.
 This is the great thing about education which is to reveal hidden truths and remind us of things which have been conveniently dusted under the carpet. Just as the history books in Britain tell us about the triumphs of Nelson and the defeat of the Spanish Armada they do not tell us about the complete destruction of the British Fleet off of the coast of East Anglia during that same period.
 To those of you who live outside of the United Kingdom I understand how annoying it is to be unable to watch these programmes as is the same with BBC I-player. However keep reading as in a few days I might have good news for you. Testing, testing, testing as they say.

Another Side Of Edvard Munch.

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 I was once lucky enough to see an exhibition of his works in Vienna (which incidentally in my humble opinion is the finest city in Europe) having been a fan of his for most of his adult life. Seeing a painting for real, compared with a copy or a picture on the screen, takes you into a different world where you can see the textures and the scale and of course the colours. I was amazed, but having seen one of his works in Washington in the art gallery, not surprised by his works of genius, and one of my lifetime wishes is to go to the Munch Museum in Oslo and see his works in his native Norway but my daughter has been there and has said that it is very, very expensive place to go.
 he is of course most famous for The Scream and I was amazed one night wandering around Camden to see the picture hanging up on a pub sign.
 Renowned for his Scandinavian angst he was a friend of Ibsen's and during his early life was greatly saddened by repeated family tragedy which is reflected in his work. Later in his life he moved away from these images of death, horror and rejection and set about producing landscapes and more natural works.I am now 66 and if it is any consolation, and not all is good, then you tend to lighten up and become less concerned about the problems of life and having to grind out a daily wage and you learn to enjoy as much as you can before you pop off or end up in some decrepit and sad state.
 His works are well known and countless books have been published about him so there is nothing I can add except my own brief and personal opinion. I found this video on YouTube which is well worth watching and shows much of his better known work.

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Clash Of The Titans

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Whilst the world continues to spin and mankind rushes towards the abyss a tribal ritual is occurring this weekend in England's forgotten city of Birmingham. Zulus will be daubing on their warpaint whilst an ambush is being prepared on the mean streets of Aston.
 The West Midlands Police together with the money grabbing thieves of the Premier League have conspired to rob the good citizens of Brum of their usual Sunday pint of mild followed by a roast dinner by arranging for Blues to play the Vile at some ungodly hour of the day. This master stroke is supposed to prevent hordes of fans from pouring out of the pubs for a bit of fisticuffs before the match whilst totally ignoring the wishes of the fans who pay the dosh to watch the match at a civilised hour..
Meanwhile the actual thuggery and maiming will be taking place on the pitch at Vill Park and overpaid cheats will be mugging the poor referee to gain some undeserved advantage and recovering from the effects of the high class brothel that they visited on Saturday night.. The contest will contain little or no artistry and will be unrecognisable from Pele's beautiful game.
With the whiff of blood in their nostrils the media will be there to dissect what will resemble a gladiatorial contest and pour over every tasty crunching tackle and hypocritically wag fingers and tell us how distasteful it all is. Villa are odds on favourites to win and I am not optimistic about our chances but I will, as I have been for fifty three years, be waiting there at the end of the road, not in expectation of anything arriving but because there is no success like failure and failure is no success at all[i], and taking part but not winning is the thing and all that crap. There is a faint possibility that  the chuffers will win something before I pop off but the current lot can't score goals or provide excitement and both the crowds and the atmosphere at St. Andrews these days reflect that.
 We did win the League Cup in some far off year in a two legged final against the Villa and I was fortunate enough to have seen both matches. I was also spoilt by years of watching an attacking team who played with three brilliant strikers in the Bob's Hatton and Latchford respectively added to the genius of Trevor Francis which was a potent mixture and  made for heady days. The ride has been bumpy and undulating ever since. In those days when we played Villa, or anyone else for that matter the crowds mingled, although there was usually an end where the home fans congregated but there was no aggravation.
 I'm not sure when rivalry turned into hatred but it was probably sometime in the 70's or 80's when football hooliganism and racism was at its peak. I remember being ashamed of being a Blues fan for the first time at West Brom where our fans chanted racist sounds and threw bananas at Cyril Regis. The irony is that now most of the top Premiership teams consist of black players who are the new now heroes but it must have been very difficult for those early black players who were constantly abused and spat at.
 Anyway most true Brummies support the Blues whilst The Villa, which was not even part of Birmingham at one stage,  draw lots of their their support from the leafier parts  Staffordshire and Worcestershire. We are so used to being the underdogs and being pleasantly delighted when we win a match, or score more than two goals, that I am not sure how we would handle success, even in the unlikely event that it should come our way. Anyway somewhere  in deepest Kernow one voice at least will be urging  "Come on you Blue Boys.

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• Gardner: Birmingham close to becoming second city's first team (independent.co.uk)

Notes [i] I first read this phrase in a book by Somerset Maughan but he probably nicked it from somewhere as did that well know plagiarist Bob Dylan who used it in one of his songs.