One reason why bloggers are important

Strange things happen. One day, a persecuted minority, the next, ultimate power. This generation can remember with pride that it was ordinary people who brought about the fall of communism in Eastern Europe, not politicians. One of their tools was the Samizdat, certainly a precursor of the blog. Václav Havel is an example of how there can be a turnabout in the axis of power. Havel was involved in the production and disemination of Samizdata long before he assumed the presidency of the Czech Republic. An article was circulated during the dark days, called "The Power of the Powerless" - This is what is said:

A SPECTER is haunting Eastern Europe: the specter of what in the West is called "dissent" This specter has not appeared out of thin air. It is a natural and inevitable consequence of the present historical phase of the system it is haunting. It was born at a time when this system, for a thousand reasons, can no longer base itself on the unadulterated, brutal, and arbitrary application of power, eliminating all expressions of nonconformity. What is more, the system has become so ossified politically that there is practically no way for such nonconformity to be implemented within its official structures. . . . 

Does this not ring true today, in Western Europe?

After 13 years of Labour rule, with its concomintent erosion of personal privacy and freedom, what is needed is a route of dissent. Party Politics and our system does not deliver this. Instead, it delivers, at best, centerist, focus-group approved lowest common denominatorism and at worst, corruption. Further in scope, the European Parliament is a virtual Oligarchy where accountability to the citizens of Europe is low and disenfranchisement is high.

There is a need once again for the Samizdat, a line of dissenting opinion. Well, and bugger me, along comes the internet. It is just perfect for the disemination of dissent, uncorrupted by people who want to create our opinions for us. Attempts have been made to control it, but on the whole, it is impervious to censorship.

Bloggers are forming opinion and those opinions are influential. This humble blog gets linked to by the BBC. A cursory look at the Stats reveals that from time to time, it is read by many of the policy-making organisations in the land, including the House of Commons and the political parties. Journalists trawl the blogs for stories. High profile bloggers with connections and sources are informed and able to in turn inform us. Often, they tell us things that those in power do not want us to know.

The Main Stream Media (MSM) loathe bloggers. They loathe bloggers because bloggers, even bloggers like me, do a fuck's site more work on stories than they do. And more often than not, they break stories that they cannot or will not touch. This is not always because they are open to libel threats. It is most often because the MSM have an editorial line to follow, and journalists cannot escape from that. If they do, they are shown the door. They hate bloggers because we expose the lazyness, the brown-nosing, the cutting and pasting, and the corruption of the MSM. They are not on the side of the people; they are on the side of vested interests and spend a great deal of time cultivating politicians and business in order to stay viable as a medium. Yes, they really, really, hate us.

But like a lot of things one hates, one often has to have it. They are hooked; of course, the editors read Guido, Dale, et al. These days, they cannot ignore us. We break and make opinion and we do this because we are free to do it.

As a rider to this, I am tickled, (that is the only word) tickled to hear that the former Prime Minister of Iceland has been summoned to a specially convened court in order to answer charges of negligence. This has little or nothing to do with the power of the blogger, except for one thing; for years now people on blogs have been suggesting that Tony Blair and Gordon Brown be arrested for Treason. Many might have considered that this cry was the voice of those nutty bloggers who are held in such contempt by the ruling elite; mere hysteria and hyperbole.

And yet, this idea is now creeping into the MSM. Jeremy Warner writes, in an article in the Telegraph entitled "Why Brown should be joining Iceland's former PM in the dock", writes

Iceland’s decision to push ahead with charges of negligence against its former prime minister, Geir Haarde, raises the not entirely frivolous question of whether it might be possible to mount a similar case against Gordon Brown

I wonder where Jeremy Warner gets his ideas?

Labour - a ship sinking under its tribal insecurities

I have just spent the last half hour or so trying to understand what commentaters and commenters are saying about Ed Milliband's speech to the Labour Party Conference. I did not see the speech and did not read it. What interests me is what people think about it. The answer is, that even in what you might call Labour safe territory, such as the BBC and the Guardian, the reaction has been a cocktail of 2 parts tepid, one part sarcastic and a dash of bitters.

For me, the hulk-like figure of Gordon Brown still casts a giant shadow. For me, it is Brown, not Blair with whom one can see parallels with the end of the Third Reich. When Germany was in ruins and Hitler was about to die, he appointed Karl Doenitz, a highly decorated Naval Officer. The usual suspects were either dead or in flight from the advancing British and American troops. Doenitz was no mere honourable soldier; he was a highly indoctrinated Nazi and he expected his navy to be likewise. At the end of the war he was unrepentent and spent ten years in Spandau (not the crap 80's band).

I don't know the full reasoning as to why Doenitz was appointed to succeed the Fuhrer and apparently it took the Admiral by surprise, but what is clear is that Hitler fully regarded him as his heir. It is laudable that to some extent Doenitz tried to negotiate a part in the salvation of German social infrastructure, but otherwise, he was an ideological Nazi.

Few realised that Ed Milliband could succeed Gordon Brown. Iain Dale did. I did. Some of us had inside information, but people like me depend entirely on analysis and pattern recognition. You see, it is very easy. The Labour Party is tribal. It is far more tribal than the Tories or even the Drip Lems. You can no more fail to work out what it will do in a certain set of circumstances, than you can predict that a fox will kill chickens. It's what foxes do.

What has happened here is that, with the Party which is now the party of losers, they have inexplicably decided to have more of the same. Well I say inexplicable. It isn't. It is what tribes do. Labour is in the grip of an ideology. They really beleieve all that crap. They really believe that they can plunder the wealth of this nation and spend it on the expansion of the state.

Doenitz was a clever man, with a high IQ. And yet, he did not, could not, see that the game was over. His fears were grounded, Russia was a threat, a real threat, but his belief was in German supremacy. When rebuffed by the Allies as a potential player in the post war governance of Germany, he was astonished and incensed.

Doenitz, and his predecessor had a vision that would take them forward indefinately, had they been allowed. If you believe the comments about Milli Ed's speech today, you might think it lacked even that. If they carry on this way, all the rhetoric, all the spin and all the combined skills of the speechwriters, will impress only a handful of diehards, whose political clout will remain on the fringe of British politics. And just like the Nazis, their inspiration begins with hatred and envy, and ends with ultimate defeat. But they will all go down believing in it to their last breath, and they will be astonished that no one hailed them as saviours of the nation.

Fernando

So the Formula One Grands Prix season looks as though it will go to the wire, with Hamilton crashing out once again and Fernando Alonso leading from pole to the chequered flag. I loved Heiki - his car caught fire so he steered it away from the pit lane in order to keep the crews safe, and then borrowed a fire extinguisher from McLaren to put it out. Personally, I think it is Webber's year.

Anyway, here is the Fernando song by those wonderful Swedes. I always fancied the brunette, Anna-Frid, who is actually a Norwegian and now styled, Her Serene Highness, after marrying a Prince. But anyhow, either of them I wouldn't turn down. She's apparently a widow now and lives in Zermatt. Is it worth me sending her an email?

Aardman dominate Labour Leadership contest

The sinister Bristol organisation known only as Aardman have infiltrated the Labour Party and cleverly placed their own puppet leader. It is not known what his policies will be, but I am relieved to understand he is sympathetic to Chickens.

WW's Weekend Window on the World

Sorry, but this will have to be quick. You see, I am enormously poplular at the moment. I have just returned from a well known DIY superstore where I had the pleasure of meeting an old and tanned Italian man with slightly too long hair who introduced himself to me in the carpark. He is definately Italian, because he looks like Luchino Visconti. He is called Fabio Corleone and he is about to catch a flight to Milan. By incredible good luck (mine, he tells me), he works in the fashion industry and he has just been seeing the buyers at John Lewis.  But shit, he's got a whole load of fabulous samples of fine Italian clothing in a holdall and he cannot take it back to Milan because it will cost too much in excess baggage. He asks me, from the Recaro effect driver's seat of his classic Vauxhall Astra, if I am interesting in buying some fashionable Italian clothing at crazy prices.

Then, I get home and, you will not believe this, but a guy called "Scott" rings me to tell me he is doing a promotion in the area for a firm who "are doing an advertising campaign on Television" (Scott seemed quite excited about the idea of him being involved with products that are on television.) Scott then wanted to ask me just a couple of questions, but I am afraid I am so overwhelmed by my earlier good fortune in the Italian fashion stakes that I had to decline. Too much popularity and new friends in such a short space of time has got me wetting my new mohair trousers and peeing all over my red calf-skin loafers (as worn by Benedict XV1) with excitement.


Moment of the week. My moment of the week is hearing that young Weasel is working on a BBC comedy series - his first proper paid work in the industry. Crikey, he only graduated two weeks ago. Also, Mrs Weasel had one of those "millstone" birthdays. (Maybe I mean milestone, but she does not see it this way.)

I am so excited about the Labour leadership contest that I nearly stopped watching the magnolia emulsion dry in the hall.

For those of you who suffer from the slings and arrows of old age, I have been diagnosed as having tennis elbow in both arms. Cliff is soooo demanding on the court. (and off)

Thanks to those who have commented this week. And a special thanks to the people who had a go at guessing the tune. For all you wonderful people, here is Donovan, from 1967.

It was the Summer of Love. We sat in Strawberry Fields. A girl who called herself Rainbow Solstice Moonchild (she later reverted to Sandra when she got a job in Dolcis) fed me the fruits, and the air, redolent of strawberries and her patchouli grounded me.  A tear welled in her sad brown eyes as she read Emily Dickinson. "I'ts all right, Baby Blue", I said, puffing on an Embassy. "She's dead". Peace and Love.

Spoiler Answers to GTT (upside down)

The only way I can think of not to spoil this is to give the answers upside down.

No peeking!


˙ʎɯoʇɔǝlısuoʇ ɐ ɯoɹɟ ƃuıɹǝʌoɔǝɹ sɐʍ oƃuıɹ uǝɥʍ ɹnoʇ uo ǝƃɹoǝƃ puɐ lnɐd 'uɥoɾ pǝuıoɾ oɥʍ 'loɥɔıu ʎɯɯıɾ sı ɹǝɯɯnɹp-puɐʇs ˙sʞɔıuʇods ǝɥʇ 'sǝʞılɐpɐɥs ɥsıpǝʍs sı puɐq ǝɥʇ :ǝǝɹɥʇ ɹǝqɯnu ˙ǝsıɯǝp s,puɐq ǝɥʇ oʇ pǝʇnqıɹʇuoɔ sʇuǝɹɐd s,ɥʇɹoʍʎǝɥ ƃuıʌloʌuı 0791 uı ʎpǝƃɐɹʇ lɐuosɹǝd ɐ ˙ɹɐǝʎ sıɥʇ pǝıp 'ɐpıssǝɹɔ ɟo ɹǝqɯǝɯ ɹǝpunoɟ ɐ 'ɥʇɹoʍʎǝɥ uɥoɾ 'ʎlpɐs 2# ɹoɟ ǝƃuɐɹʇs ʎlǝƃuɐɹʇs ɹp ʇoƃ uɐuoɔ ˙1# uo ɐpıssǝɹɔ pǝıɟıʇuǝpı ʎlʇɔǝɹɹoɔ uɐʇɹɐds

Guess that Tune #3

This is fun. I enjoy reading the erm.. educated guesses. Keep at it lads. The great thing about music is getting into it, losing yourself in the vibe. Erm man, that's enough of that.

The song is a standard; Orange Blossom Special, but you have to guess who is playing it here, and no, it is not the Shadows. Here is a visual clue:

 This bit is bizzarre. Very bizzarre. The drummer is extraordinarily famous for doing something very extraordinary. You will kick yourself.

So, who is the band, and who is their sometime stand in drummer, who had a habit of standing in for other drummers when they were having their tonsils out?

Guess that tune #2

Here's a band that have been on the go for 40 years, and they still sound as good today as they did way back, with help from legendary producer Joe Boyd. It's a great song and just the one for mellow nights.

Guess that Tune

It's time to have some fun. And this is especially for my musically literate readers of a certain age. They know who they are. Over the next few days I shall be posting some mystery tunes.
When I was uploading this one, Mrs Weasel said, "Is that Caravan?". Well, I know what she means, but no, it isn't. These people come out of that Hammond Organ/Mellotron/Jazz influenced fold of the late sixties and early seventies. This band never made the stratosphere, like their showy peers such as ELP and neither did they become insular and po-faced like King Crimson. They managed a couple of albums and disappeared.
More, when someone has guessed it. So for now, enjoy the tune and have a go.

Whatever happened to a clip round the ear?

I never understood what it meant to love children until I had my two. I came from a family who were quite clear that they wanted their lives to come first, and the best I could do was to tag along and survive, in spite of uncertainty and occasional violence. But I took responsibility for my own life. I don't claim that what I am now is anything other than what I have made of it, and the Grace of God and the transforming power of the Holy Spirit.

I know that my kids are loved, and they know it. And so it is with great pride, and and also relief, that my two darlings are doing ok. Whatever background we come from, we have the power to make or break our children. However poor or difficult our lives are, if we have love for someone other than ourselves, it will be the making of us.

Yes, there is a spiritual dimension to this. I am not talking about the Pope either. What I am talking about is vision and direction in life. For me, it is Christianity. It may not be that for others. Having a moral code, even if you can only aspire to it, ultimately impacts on the wider world. Currently, society revels in nihilistic relativism, which has the disabling effect of making all issues morally neutral. It's belief in nothing. And when you believe in nothing, you will believe in anything.

You only have to read the news to see that this is true. We have created a society where someone who claims to be "offended" about something can call on the authorities to do something. The police can be called in on the flimsiest premise and yet nobody says, hey, wait a minute, this is wrong".

A recent case concerns a father and daughter where relations appear to have broken down. It was a Tory MP who was arrested and put in a cell on the say so of his children. He lost his seat at the election, and although there may have been other reasons, it is possible that the incident played a part in his defeat. Well, the news is that not only has Nigel Waterson been fully exhonerated, the police have declared that the charge was "wholly unfounded" and have agreed to pay damages and costs. In other words, they did not have a leg to stand on. At worst, they should have concluded this was a "domestic" and retreated after a few words to calm things down, but they decided to imprision the man on the words of his moody teenage son and daughter. Clearly, the police, and other public servants, have no sense of proportion. When we dispensed with the bobby who could administer a clip round the ear, we dispensed with natural justice.

Moral neutrality is the same thing that gave us 9/11 and Hitler. You have been warned.

The Second Draft of "Gordon Brown - A History"

I have been almost overwhelmed by the deluge of articles and books and programmes about Gordon Brown's years at Number Ten. What strikes me about them all is that the narrative is unambiguous; Brown was a brute and a disaster, and he created a toxic atmosphere at the top of Government, mediated by indecision, lack of a coherent plan and a severe personality disorder. Worth looking at in this context is the current BBC radio series The Brown Years, a remarkably frank account. Of course there have been a few books, most of them utter bollocks - even Mandelson admits he could never have written about what really went on.

According to the radio piece, Brown's decline begins with the election that never was. This was a massive strategic blunder, from an administration which appears to have placed political expediency above running the country. Brown was getting daily, even hourly polling and focus group results, and it is implied that all decision-making was predicated on them. His press conference, immediately after calling off the election was egregious. Brown was unable to give a convincing reason why he was doing so, and consequently looked weak and shifty.

At the Downing Street press conference after the election that never was, Brown was asked why he could not admit that the election was called off because he thought he might lose. His answer tells you all you need to know;

But that's not correct, Nick. (A big lie) ..my first instinct was always  to keep on with the business of governing, to set out my vision of what the country should be like for the future

Unfortunately, Brown's vision never surfaced. There never was one. The insider narrative is unanimous on this point, and it is crucial. There was no compass, moral or otherwise. His only means of navigation was the retrospective view of a fickle voting sample, and it appears that major policy decisions were made and unmade purely according to polling data. Hardly what you would call a vision, is it?

Weasel's Supermarket guide

I have just come back from the Co-op, where I picked up a pack of "line caught, wild Salmon". (Wild? It was incandescent) The use by date was 26th September and it was stinking and rotten. I mention this, because it is not the first time I have had to throw rotting stuff away from this particular branch. Bear in mind that it is several miles away and the idea of taking it back to complain is just too much hassle. Clearly they have a handling problem in the supply chain. (It was a lot worse during the summer, which leads me to surmise that somebody at the store is leaving fresh meat on a pallet for too long.)

So, in a spirit of retribution, I give you Weasel's Guide to Supermarkets, a highly scientific expose. I shall do it as a top list of the supermarkets I have visited in the last year.

1. Marks and Spencer. ***** Simply the best. Their wine is one or two pounds more than the others, but boy, is it worth it. You can get everything delivered very cheaply, which is very useful to rural types like me.The food is always fresh, and the shelves are always stacked. There is plenty of space to move around and staff are ready to help. I particularly like things like their speciality fish cakes, which make me a good lunch if I am on my own. Strangely, they don't seem to do free-range chicken, so really, I am going to deduct half a star just for that. UPDATE: Yes, they do do free-range chicken. Got some today.

2. Sainsbury's. ***** Within a gnat's whisker of being up there with M&S because they have such an incredible range, but their wine is not up to M&S standards. To do fresh food on that scale you have to be organised, and that is what they are. I get free-range, filleted chicken thighs, which are great for curries. They have an enticing delicatessen for both fresh and preserved goods. I have never been disappointed.

3.Asda/Walmart. *** A lot better than you might think. The wine is average, but no worse than any other supermarket fare. The meat is fresh and they are very good value for basics. Asda is let down by occasional empty shelves and poor personal hygeine among staff. Plus, the customers are a bit yucky and every time I go someone coughs in my face. Asda is usually so busy and so stinky and so full of screaming weans, that you want to fall down in a heap and have a good cry.

4.The Co-op. ** And they get one of those stars for being ethical. The check-out staff are friendly though. That's the other star. You can get some interesting wines. As for fresh food, forget it. You may as well eat at The Fat Duck and do norovirus in style.

5. Lidl. * you can get some great bargains, but you can also buy a lot of crap.

6.Tesco. no stars. It's big. I hate Tescos. The vegetables are limper than a porn-star's dick after 16 takes (and less appetizing). I nearly destroyed a self-service check-out module through utter rage and contempt because the dumb bitch inside the machine kept telling me I had an unrecognised item in the bagging area.  I gave up being a regular shopper there because they always ran out of basics, and didn't give a shit about it. After the third or fourth time of not being able to get very ordinary things, I left the half-empty trolley and walked out.

I have not been in a Waitrose in a decade, but it was always full of braying, bejewelled slappers with hard faces, who elbowed you in the groin for the last star fruit, before careering out of the car park in an SUV.

The only rider going with all this is that I live in Scotland, where they do not do good food, nor do they understand it, or the concept of good service. The only place where I eat out is entirely French-owned and run, and the only place that sells decent bread is German.

William Hague - with friends like this..

The William Hague story will not go away. Andrew Pierce, writing in today's Mail has another go at Guido, who "maliciously spread unfounded rumours about William Hague's sexuality." (Notice he does not say "completely untrue"). So, Andrew Pierce, Alan Duncan, Iain Dale and Chris Bryant have all been very loud and proud about defending Hague. I wonder what they all have in common? With friends like this, who needs Guido?

By the way, I was surprised to find that Pierce has jumped ship from the Telegraph. (This is probably old news) He is a good sort, but it is a pity that, with re-cycling the Hague story and headlining his column with a David Laws story, it does rather look like an outpost of Pink News.

New Map of Europe for School Kids - True Brit edition

Yanko Tsvetkov has designed a series of maps which conform to national stereotypes. This is the one he did for Britain. Are we really like this?

The fallacy of Green Taxes

How much do you spend on travel to work each month? I expect the answer for most is a significant amount. It is necessary, for, you have to do it. There is rarely an alternative, and so I am minded to have a go at one Chris Huhne, who is proposing that your journey to work should be taxed even more.

Chris Huhne is a man with a useless, silent, letter in his name. Had it been pronounced, it would sound like Huhune and then he would have an extra syllable. The extra "aitch" is a stealth letter, designed to be there to confuse and distract the unwary.

And its the same with Green Taxes. (Nice segway, if a little contrived) If there has ever been a cynical ploy to milk your average worker of more money, it is Green Taxes. The last government did not even bother to pretend that they were anything more than ways of collecting extra revenue to spend on fathers of ten and other clever ideas. £26 billion is raised at the petrol pumps, and it goes straight into the exchequer to fund lesbian awareness away days and wheelie bin monitoring consultancies, and failed PFI hospitals and Somali translators and, of course, feckless scroungers. (Yes, I know some of these things are funded by council tax, but in other news, the Dim Plebs are planning to lift the cap on Local Government Spending and that means the money has to come from somewhere and for political reasons it will be central government.) And so it is with disgust and asperity that I note that Mr Huhunehuhune is proposing some eyewatering taxation in the name of the environment.

According to The Telegraph, it will add £800 a year to everybody's tax bill, not including the inevitable price rises associated with fuel increases:

Drivers would be forced to pay an extra 30p for a litre of petrol if all the extra revenue were raised that way.
Taxes on plane tickets, which currently bring in about £1 billion a year, could also go up, sources close to Mr Huhne said. 

Let us get one thing straight shall we? These shysters don't give a fuck about the environment. What they are doing is preventing a national meltdown due to the massive debt level, the fucked up welfare state, the crumbling infrastructure, and a confrontation with the unions. In effect, the ruling classes merely want to save their own skins, and the easiest way to do this is to take from the working classes and all those sandal-wearing Guardianistas who are so vapid they think the word Green means fluffy and caring.

Wonderful. Well, I didn't vote for the fuckers. As far as I can see, they are Labour lite. Who is in charge?

Hemophagocytic lymphohistiocytosis

Not nice if you have it, and this has never been a niche blog, but it may raise a smile among the medics.




What I now need is somebody to come up with one of those karaoke style dots that dance on the syllables. (Can be downloaded by clicking the divShare Icon, for hours of entertainment for friends and colleagues)

When it is right to have children and when it is not.

Earlier today I read a story about some scumbag who is allegedly the father of ten children with ten different women. To be fair, he denies paternity in two cases. He has abandoned all these children and the women concerned are on benefits, and of course, all the children will be the recipients of benefits. There is no way this man will ever support the children he has fathered, and yet this sort of thing goes on with the connivance of our absurd benefits system. Clearly, he has no incentive to cease impregnating what must be some very stupid women.

I suppose here we must pause and ask about the future of these human beings. They have been brought into the world by two morons. What chance do they have in this progressive new world? Wouldn't it be better to castrate someone who clearly has no intention of taking responsibility for his actions?

And then we move onto another story that struck me. This time its Christians again, being arrested and thrown in jail for holding up a poster of an aborted foetus outside an abortion clinic. (The link carries the picture)

First, I was very tempted to show the picture, but it is truly shocking. Second, had this been Muslims protesting in a similar fashion, I doubt that they would have been thrown in jail. Third, everyone has a right in this country to protest peacefully. Apparently this no longer applies to Christians.

I am not certain why they were kept in a cell for 15 hours. It all sounds very nasty.

Abortion as a lifestyle choice is abhorrent. Unless there are clear and precise medical reasons for a termination, it should not be so readily available. People have a right to say so and to say so to those who are considering it, in the most direct way possible.

If a picture of an aborted foetus offends you, it may be worth asking how the foetus feels.


So really we have two sided of the coin. A man and several women who apparently have no concept of parental responsibility, and a police force who lock people up just because they find what they are doing "offensive". And we are left with the issue of abortion and the uneven treatment the issue gets in the public arena.

Every child is precious, but standards in this country have dropped so low that nobody worries about becoming pregnant, because they can either abort or put the kid on benefits.

We are becoming a third world country by the day.

Living in the Third World

Cardinal Walter Kasper, who until recently was on tour with The Pope, was quoted as saying:

"When you arrive at Heathrow you think at times that you’ve landed in a Third World country"

I have not been to Heathrow for some time, so I cannot comment on the substance of His Eminence's remark, but I do travel around the UK, and I have been in Europe a bit. I can still remember the days when you were told not to drink the tap water in the rest of Europe. I can remember travelling on disgusting local trains in Italy and the Parisian pissoirs and squatting lavatories. I can recall flea-bitten hotel rooms and the squalid cafes in Greece. Of course, some of this is still apparent, but I am very aware of the difference in airports on the Continent. By and large they are cleaner and more efficient than British ones. But what about the rest of Britain? Is it now a poor neighbour, a struggling Third World Country?

It depends what indicators you use. If, for example we look at Education, based on tests done in 2000 and 2007, we find that Britain's education system has dropped out of the top ten and now lags behind Poland. Slovenia has overtaken us in Maths. The reading performance of ten-year olds has fallen from 3rd to 19th.

Then, let us look at poverty. In the list of rich nations, we are in the bottom four in terms of relative child poverty. That simply means that we have an underclass in this country which does not share in the common wealth. We come lower than Hungary, The Czech Republic and Turkey, and only three places ahead of Mexico. Oddly enough, in terms of absolute child poverty, only Italy sinks lower than us in civilised Europe. And of course, the Nordic countries are way ahead of us on this and everything else including reading.

As for the economy, most of us understand it is in deep doo doos. Personally, our indebtedness in terms of percentage income to debt ratio has gone from 91.1 in 1997, to 157.4 in 2007

There are many other indicators. It is not accurate to say that Britain is a Third World Country, but, we are going in the right direction, i.e. downwards. We are hovering along the bottom of the tables. At this rate, our standards will be those of a third world country in two generations.

Part of the Cardinal's rant was about how godless we all are. All I will say about this is that even in general terms, the idea of a Christian society in Britain is an anachronism. However sentimental some may be about this still being a Christian country, it is not. The zeitgeist, at least among the ruling elite is one of nihilistic relativism. Our culture is adrift in a sea of mini sub cultures which all vie for a place in a pecking order that nobody will agree on. Britain has in effect become tribal and hostile to its very heritage. Already there are Christians in this country who can no longer proclaim their faith openly and there are self-interest groups who are pursuing witch hunts of rival communities.

There is more of course. Hotels and Restaurants in the UK are generally very poor, compared to the rest of Europe. Transport infrastructure is among the least subsidised, and it stinks. Finally a word about Hospitals and Social Services. Too many hospitals are filthy and make you worse than when you went in, and all you can trust the Social Serivices to do is to tick boxes on the list of political correctness.

Our culture is on the way down. Our democracy has been undermined by immigrants whose actions would look bad in a "banana republic". Beggars and the scum of the earth got a free ride here while the gravy train rolled on in Gordon Brown's Utopia. But the pot is empty; our schools are terrible, our hospitals are dirty and our culture is rotten. And British people have only themselves to blame.

Martin McGuinness never went away

I was quite surprised to see this picture:

It is the "Real IRA". Ostensibly they are a terrorist organisation that garners its support from disaffected Republicans. Recently, they have threatened to target "bankers" on the mainland.

I cannot forget a remark from Gerry Adams about the IRA: "They never went away" Adams, and Martin McGuinness  obviously know who these people are. So why then, are they not co-operating with the Police in order to track these murderers down? Does it befit ministers in the devolved government of NI to withold information? The rhetoric of the terrorists is to accuse McGuinness of being " a British Crown minister who has a vested interest in causing mischief among republicans". That is very convenient. It has the effect of making McGuinness look like a traitor, when in fact he still knows where all the bodies are buried. One word from him and the whole organisation would be rounded up. The Real IRA do the job Republicans need - make sure everyone knows what it was like in the bad old days. Its a rather handy negotiating tool, is it not?

Court News - Georgios Panayiotou

The popular music singer, also known as George Michael, has been jailed for driving whilst under the influence of drugs. After a string of similar convictions the outcome was inevitable. According to one report, Mr Panayiotou "kept repeating, 'I can't believe this has happened to me" through a veil of tears and self-pity.

I fully believe his incredulity. Some readers will remember the case of Howard Hughes, the billionaire aviator, film producer and corporation chief. His final years were spent in hotel suites, surrounded by fawning lackys who catered, at a price, to his every whim. The problem was, Hughes' whims were self-destructive; he ended up terrified of germs, confined to darkened hotel rooms, unwashed and living on a diet of Campbell's chicken soup. He had a unique way of firing staff. His method was to fire them, but "keep them on the payroll". In that way he ensured that facts about his bizarre life would not emerge fully until after his death.

George Michael has paid off everyone around him. Even his boyfriend is unlikely to criticise him for his gay cruising activities since he is very much a kept man, getting £1 million as a birthday present. To George, it is "George needs this, George needs that. George would like a room with a parakeet in it that can sing Wake me up before you go-go" And of course, George gets it. He has been spoiled beyond belief. There is no wonder, then that his present demeanour is one of astonishment.

I wonder about these hangers on, the entourage; the sycophantic few who tell George he is just fabulous darling. Until recently, money and fame kept George Michael in a bubble that can only be described as very destructive. The bubble has burst. I don't suppose they do riders in jail. For the next week or two, George may find his requests for chocolate Smarties fall on very stony ground. And that sad thing is, he will not understand why.

Hitler - was he really that bad?

I think a lot of people have been unfair to the last, great, leader of the Nazi Party. He took a struggling country, bankrupt and de-moralised, and turned it into an object lesson in national renewal and rehabilitation. He clearly took the view that democracy and the rule of law should not be an obstacle to his vision for National Socialism. Certainly a few suffered, and for a time, Germany was reduced to pariah status in the eyes of other countries. He believed he was right and did not have to resort to focus groups and polls in order to compose a coherent strategy for growth and hegemony. A lot of Germans agreed with him, indeed the German population not only supported Hitler, they actively "betrayed" those who dared to challenge the regime. It is a little known fact that the success of the Geheime Staats Polizei was down largely to public spirited citizens who informed on their neighbours.

The clever bit, and this is key, was to place the Gestapo beyond the authority of the courts.

On February 10, 1936, the Nazi Reichstag passed the 'Gestapo Law' which included the following paragraph: "Neither the instructions nor the affairs of the Gestapo will be open to review by the administrative courts." This meant the Gestapo was now above the law and there could be no legal appeal regarding anything it did. (The History Place)

So, let's just get one thing straight, shall we? Hitler did not start by executing Jews. He started by making sure the infrastructure of Nazism was beyond the rule of law. Also, his regime was motivated by hatred and revenge, mediated by the ignorance of the population and the tacit and actual connivance of the German people.


tags: Bob Crow, Dave Prentiss, Brendan Barber, Mark Sewotka

Court News - Ray Gosling

A while back I posted this about Ray Gosling, the broadcaster who claimed, in a BBC documentary, to have suffocated his lover in a "mercy killing". Turns out its not true. Says, Gosling, "I wasn't even in the country when he died". He has been convicted of wasting police time. It's a sad postscript to his career. In earlier days he was a doppleganger for  a Room at the Top Laurence Harvey, Angry Young Man; the ascerbic professional Northerner role suited him well. His stories were gritty and realistic and tended to be made in Halifax, rather than Honolulu. And this was at a time when we were still used to the Mr Cholmondeley-Warner delivery for documentaries. When one reviews his material one can almost see a proto punk adrift among the milk bars of the early fifties, with his moody black suits and quiff. Even at the end of his career he does a good Johnny Rotten stare.

This is a recent clip of Ray Gosling in action, and early on there is a black and white flashback to the days when he looked cool and moody.

Some of us forget there is a difference between fantasy and reality. Clearly Ray did, but let us not forget, he was a one off in a sea of plastic nobodies.

The Fortress Mentality belongs to the past

I am surrounded by Castles; either, the real kind, active as a genuine fortress up until 1603, or partly decorative, but still well-built, just to be on the safe side. Around East Lothian, it seems that every bit of land has the remnant of a fortified structure and of course, one cannot help asking the question, "Why?". Further down the coast in Northumberland you can find more castles than anywhere in England.

I suppose what characterised these times was uncertainty, coupled with the possibility of actual,violent confrontation. One notorious Border Reiver, Johnnie Armstrong of Gilnockie, ran a protection racket that extended as far South as the Tyne. Some saw the Reivers as Robin Hoods, others as bog-standard bandits. Armstrong was one of many such men who, along with his decendents, wreaked havoc in those lands. Eventually he was pursuaded to meet King James, ostensibly, in order to negotiate some kind of detente. It did not work out that way, and Gilnockie was taken away and hanged without a trial, along with his entourage of fifty men. This was a battle between the rule of law and those who felt they had the right to run their own affairs their way. Eventually, the rule of law won, and we have democracy and law and order.

However loved and adored by his own clan, whose interests he protected, Johnnie Armstrong was an example of a dying age, a violent age of confrontation and sudden, violent death that had no place in the march of civilisation and the eventual emergence of true democracy, where the well-being of everyone, not the well-armed belligerent few, were paramount.

If only Bob Crowe understood this.

(If you do not know who Bob Crowe is, try googling him, but remember, some papers have retreated to a fortress of their own, the odious paywall, an affront to the democratic machinery of the fourth estate and dead cheeky, given that most of the material has been cut and pasted anyway.)

Global Intimacy

I was in an ancient pub once. Some of the rooms dated back to the mid seventeenth century. One room had been used as a mortuary for bodies in transit - in the days when communications traveled at the speed of no more than four horse power.

As I settled down to a pint of Butcombe, I got chatting with a couple who were staying over the road in a restaurant with rooms. The male was in his fifties at least, and the female could not have been over 23 and looked a little vacant. Goodness knows how this came up, but I mentioned the world going to the dogs and how even the council estate Jasons and the Kelly-Anns had enough money to spend on tasteless trash these days, and of course they were creating a demand for even more trash. The young girl looked and me and said, "My name is Kelly-Ann".

There was nowhere for me to go, was there? Hoisted on my own sozzled, stupid, rant.

I suppose I had drunkenly assumed an intimacy, a shared world, that in reality did not exist. Somehow, it does not surprise me how many people say things on Facebook and Twitter, and then have to make grovelling apologies all around. They have been kidded into thinking that what they have to say is only shared with "friends". And I use the last word with a sneer. Broadcasters regularly do this. An off-the-cuff remark that, shared in a pub with mates, might just get let by, but in front of millions, not.

Sarah Kennedy did her BBC Radio 2 show so early in the morning, she cannot have believed anybody was seriously listening, day after day, when she made remarks such as  not being able to see black people in the dark. Chris Bryant somehow imagined that taking a photo of himself in his underpants and publishing it on a Gay dating site was not going to come to the attention of the newspapers. And those Twitter posts - countless instances where the twitterer forgot he was talking to more than just a mate.

We live in an era of global intimacy. We have mistaken Facebook, Twitter, Blogging, and web sites in general, etc, for real intimacy, the kind you have with trusted old friends. This is an absurdity. As humans we are designed to interact humanly, not mediated by an electronic device. We employ for this our senses, our subconscious feelings and our experience. And for some reason, people throw these indicators, all these things designed to protect us, away.

I remember Billy Connolly telling a joke about the hostage, Ken Bigley. He referred to the threats of his beheading by his captors: "Perhaps I shouldn’t be saying this ... aren’t you the same as me, don’t you wish they would just get on with it". I don't suppose it got a laugh among Bigley's loved ones. Maybe, just maybe, it might have been funny as a throw-away line, done on the spur of the moment, with a few people you know very well. Maybe, but Connolly has always worked the room as an intimate comic and yet he was playing to the world. Just the other day, MP and former Minister, Tom Harris, had to call in the police because he was getting abusive "Tweets". I would like to believe that the individual concerned would not have said the things he did to Tom's face, but you never know. The boundaries have blurred, and that in itself is inherently dangerous.

This all sort of brings me to the point of this post, which is about how homosexuals stay in the closet because they fear the reaction when they come out. You see, it seemed incomprehensible to me that gays call it "the worst/hardest/etc, day of my life". We are largely a tolerant society, I personally am not anti-gay and I welcome the idea of friends and family being fully what they are, feeling able to be themselves.

Think back then, to the playground; that courtyard of cruelty. Just think, for the last 20 or thirty years or so, kids have accused other school kids of being gay, of sticking willies up somebodies bum and generally being a perv. "Don't touch him, he's got AIDS!" You can hear it can't you? Is there any wonder then, that gays genuinely fear a loathsome reaction for coming out, if in the company of friends, they hear the words, poofter, shirt-lifter, arse bandit, and the rest. What if it turns out your best friend is secretly gay, but fears your reaction because of a few jokey, off the cuff epithets?

And that comes back to the beginning. If we genuinely want gays to feel comfortable in society, and anyone else for that matter, perhaps a little care with our words might not go amiss when addressing our thoughts to the world at large.

I am the Stig

A few people may have noticed that this blog has been closed for a bit. The reason, until now, could not be revealed. For the very simple reason: I am the Stig. Certainly, many of the commenters were getting too warm for me to carry on. Of course, Clarkson is appalled. No longer will he be able to nick Wrinkled Weasel's material.

There is something slightly disingenuous about some very wealthy men who are benefiting from world-wide marketing and residuals, complaining about a key member of the team who is fed up with being paid a few grand a show and does not even get a cut of the T-Shirt money. Jeremy Clarkson and Andy Wilman are directors of a company called Bedder 6, set up to milk BBC's Top Gear ( a production from a public service broadcaster, paid for by licence fees) of the spin off benefits. According to the Guardian,

Accounts for Bedder 6 filed at Companies House showed an after-tax profit of £2.1m on a turnover of £24m. Clarkson, who reportedly earns around £1m for presenting Top Gear, owns 30% of Bedder 6 and as a result will have collected £479,000 from his share of the company's £1.59m dividend. He also received a £350,000 fee for "payment for services".

Ben Collins has been accused by Clarkson and Wilman of being greedy.

Perhaps it is time for a female Stig?