Thoughts from yesterday's Max Clifford talk
Yesterday afternoon, I made the trip down to my old university to attend a talk given by Max Clifford to the current crop of journalism students. Thankfully, alumni were also invited otherwise this blog post would never have happened and what a crying shame that would have been.
The talk consisted of an opening speech of around 45 minutes in which Clifford gave the spiel about how he got into PR, where he started, a large amount of amusing anecdotes about people he’s worked for and with and so on. I think his favoured line about Colonel Sanders, chickens and trust issues got an airing at this point. This was followed by a Q&A session that lasted around 45 minutes that consisted largely of either questions about his clients or slightly harder questions about the nature of his work and influence on the press.
First things first, I cannot praise the man enough to taking time out of what I imagine is a very busy schedule to speak to a group of students (the evidence that he has a very busy schedule was clear by the fact he was on his mobile straight after leaving the room). Furthermore, as well as speech and Q&A, he stuck around to answer individual questions afterwards for an extended period of time. Give that man some more praise.
Secondly, like all self-made men (women to but “self-made people” doesn’t have the same slight alliteration to it that I so thoroughly get a kick off of), I have nothing but an inordinate amount of respect for him; he recognised himself that there was an element of ‘right place, right time’ about parts of his career but you have to be there and ready to take advantage of those times and, if you can do that, you have every right to do whatever you like when you’ve made it.
Thirdly, parts of his speech, his anecdotes and his answers to questions from the floor were interesting, intriguing, appalling (with regard to taste) and entertaining. The way he runs his business was revealing, his stories about some of his clients (kept anonymous largely) were very amusing and his views on the Leveson inquiry, phone-hacking and the effect of a famous footballer’s retirement and the stories about his sexuality that may come out then and how that will effect homophobia in the sport were all very libellous but all very interesting.
However, despite all this, throughout the 90-minutes or so, one could not help but think it was something of a performance designed to dazzle and leave you a bit star-struck. Naturally, as a PR man, he has the instinct, skills and experience to suppress information that he wants to suppress leaving you wanting a little bit more.
When questions from the floor came about the nature of the celebrity/media nexus and how the press can be free and fair given the influence of people like himself, he had a habit of side-stepping the issue, throwing in an anecdote and moving on. His skill at this has been honed on more difficult opponents than student journalists, as can be seen in the Louis Theroux documentary on him. He always seemed one step ahead of the game and able to give you a glimpse of some genuinely shocking information but yanking it away from your grasp. As you’d expect from someone in his ‘racket’ of course.
In a Q&A session it’s a lot easier to do this as there is the lurking sense not to dwell on a point as a questioner and engage in a debate as other audience members would also like to participate and time is limited.
As a journalist, he would be an absolute dream to interview as he has some very forthright views on issues (such as News International, phone hacking and Leveson) and the benefit of a one-on-one session would be advantageous to get more telling answers than he seemed to give yesterday by placing more pressure .
However, the likelihood of myself ever getting into that kind of situation is probably rather slim so yesterday was a much appreciated insight.
All in all, I did not know what to expect of Clifford before the talk. On reflection, I found him engaging, funny, interesting, a little pervy old man-ish, generous with his time, a master of the PR art and equally adept at leaving you wanting that little bit more. Oh to be able to open up his head and have a root around inside.
Yesterday afternoon, I made the trip down to my old university to attend a talk given by Max Clifford to the current crop of journalism students. Thankfully, alumni were also invited otherwise this blog post would never have happened and what a crying shame that would have been.
The talk consisted of an opening speech of around 45 minutes in which Clifford gave the spiel about how he got into PR, where he started, a large amount of amusing anecdotes about people he’s worked for and with and so on. I think his favoured line about Colonel Sanders, chickens and trust issues got an airing at this point. This was followed by a Q&A session that lasted around 45 minutes that consisted largely of either questions about his clients or slightly harder questions about the nature of his work and influence on the press.
First things first, I cannot praise the man enough to taking time out of what I imagine is a very busy schedule to speak to a group of students (the evidence that he has a very busy schedule was clear by the fact he was on his mobile straight after leaving the room). Furthermore, as well as speech and Q&A, he stuck around to answer individual questions afterwards for an extended period of time. Give that man some more praise.
Secondly, like all self-made men (women to but “self-made people” doesn’t have the same slight alliteration to it that I so thoroughly get a kick off of), I have nothing but an inordinate amount of respect for him; he recognised himself that there was an element of ‘right place, right time’ about parts of his career but you have to be there and ready to take advantage of those times and, if you can do that, you have every right to do whatever you like when you’ve made it.
Thirdly, parts of his speech, his anecdotes and his answers to questions from the floor were interesting, intriguing, appalling (with regard to taste) and entertaining. The way he runs his business was revealing, his stories about some of his clients (kept anonymous largely) were very amusing and his views on the Leveson inquiry, phone-hacking and the effect of a famous footballer’s retirement and the stories about his sexuality that may come out then and how that will effect homophobia in the sport were all very libellous but all very interesting.
However, despite all this, throughout the 90-minutes or so, one could not help but think it was something of a performance designed to dazzle and leave you a bit star-struck. Naturally, as a PR man, he has the instinct, skills and experience to suppress information that he wants to suppress leaving you wanting a little bit more.
When questions from the floor came about the nature of the celebrity/media nexus and how the press can be free and fair given the influence of people like himself, he had a habit of side-stepping the issue, throwing in an anecdote and moving on. His skill at this has been honed on more difficult opponents than student journalists, as can be seen in the Louis Theroux documentary on him. He always seemed one step ahead of the game and able to give you a glimpse of some genuinely shocking information but yanking it away from your grasp. As you’d expect from someone in his ‘racket’ of course.
In a Q&A session it’s a lot easier to do this as there is the lurking sense not to dwell on a point as a questioner and engage in a debate as other audience members would also like to participate and time is limited.
As a journalist, he would be an absolute dream to interview as he has some very forthright views on issues (such as News International, phone hacking and Leveson) and the benefit of a one-on-one session would be advantageous to get more telling answers than he seemed to give yesterday by placing more pressure .
However, the likelihood of myself ever getting into that kind of situation is probably rather slim so yesterday was a much appreciated insight.
All in all, I did not know what to expect of Clifford before the talk. On reflection, I found him engaging, funny, interesting, a little pervy old man-ish, generous with his time, a master of the PR art and equally adept at leaving you wanting that little bit more. Oh to be able to open up his head and have a root around inside.
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"Wettest drought I've ever seen" lolz
‘Begin self-aware rant’
You may have noticed that it’s been a little bit wet these last few days. You may also have noticed that there is currently a hosepipe ban and we are in the middle of a drought that has been declared in most parts of the England.
Cue many insightful people putting the highly amusing Tweet or Facebook status along the lines of “wettest drought I’ve ever seen” implying all droughts should be accompanied by ‘mad-dogs and Englishmen’ levels of heat. Ho ho. How we all chuckled at such a pithy jest at the situation we currently find ourselves in; there is lots of rain but no water for us to use. Oh the paradox and so on.
But no, just no.
A drought is defined as an extended period of dry weather (unless it’s used in a football context when it’s just another cliché in the lexicon) and that’s exactly what we are in, despite the rather wet April we have experienced so far. A drought doesn’t have to be synonymous with heat.
The reason we are in a drought is due to “two consecutive winters of below average rainfall which has led to exceptionally low river flows and groundwater levels across much of England”, to quotethis website. A higher than average amount of rainfall in one month isn’t going to sort out this problem for reasons explained below. But first, a metaphor break.
It’s a bit like pouring out a near full glass of vodka, adding a smidgeon of coke and remarking “well blow me down, this is a bit strong, I thought this was a vodka and coke” when actually what you have is just vodka really with that tiny bit of coke that isn’t going to alleviate the rather large initial problem that you have way too much vodka/not enough groundwater.
It takes a long while to refill the groundwater aquifer (go learning about the water cycle every year at school from Year 1 to Year 12), particularly when some areas of England have their lowest groundwater levels in 50 years as water does not go straight into the ground, particularly in cities where it runs off of concrete, into our drains and back into the rivers. This is even before you go into the issues of stupid privatised water companies/ the regulator Offwat losing up to 3,300,000,000 litres of water a day through leaky pipes.
The increase in rain has eased the problems but with summer coming up (where there is less rain in the other months, madly), the reason for pre-emptive decisions is pretty solid; after all, what’s a hosepipe ban now to prevent something like a flush ration (I’ve not idea if this is a real thing) later on?
So, there’s my sledgehammer taken to the walnut of an off-hand remark seen on social media sites. Move along.
‘Cease self-aware rant’
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Some thoughts on KONY2012
Waking up this morning, in a cosy warm bed with the opportunity to sleep a little more, have a shower, eat some breakfast or watch some TV all available to me, I went on Facebook and Twitter, my usual way of starting the day. How modern of me.
Quite often, there is always a dominant theme going on that people are talking about. I fully expected it to be the Arsenal game last night on a nationwide trend or, more locally, the Reading game last evening (as that’s a shared interest of myself and friends) and the ongoing Student Union elections at my old university, as I remain both interested and in touch with people involved there.
However, this morning, it was none of these things that were the dominant topic on my social media networks of choice. The overwhelming focal point of interest was an embedded YouTube video entitled “KONY 2012” and accompanying messages saying how moving and powerful it was.
For the first six hours of my day, I did not watch it. The reason? My entrenched cynicism.
I could recognise it was a campaign of some sort, most probably for a good cause with universal appeal. However, my cynicism prevented me from watching it as it looked to me, initially, that it was something of a basic approach to looking deep and caring. The kind of thing people could share on their Facebook to show how in touch with issues they are. An easy, almost lazy, way of showing how right on you are and that you want to make a difference, but only if that difference isn’t too difficult to achieve and you can do it by clicking “share” on YouTube or buying yourself a bracelet. A very worthy cause taken on and popularised, very briefly I assumed, that would not go anywhere.
After a while though, I saw that this video was not going away and my interest was very much growing, in retrospect, considering the aims of the project, a very apt way of me eventually watching it.
And yes, just yes.
This is the kind of thing the Internet has the power to do, connect people across the globe on a campaign. The “Cover the Night” events are not everyone’s cup of tea but that is merely one form of the attack plan of Invisible Children, in my opinion.*
For those of us in the UK, we haven’t gone through the massive ‘getting-in-touch-with-the-politicians’ campaign that the American branch of Invisible Children did that resulted in the military advisors being dispatched to Uganda. If you see the “Cover the Night” campaign as condoning vandalism (or similar arguments) you don’t have to do that to support that event.
Get in touch with politicians or just talk about the issue with people at work or online. That’s the point, not even to spread the word of the campaign itself, but to make Kony’s name known.
Is it something of a trend? Possibly yes but that should not make one iota of difference. If turning a campaign for a good cause into something that’s trendy among people rids the world of a Joseph Kony, that end justifies this particular means a billion times over. Posering that people are jumping on a bandwagon to look cool or look worldly is neither here nor there; getting the world talking and more people caring about the subject is all that matters.
Will all of the people who have currently pledged to go on the “Cover The Night” events across the country actually turn up? The fact is that in the modern age, attention spans are short and we all have leapt from one idea to another without following the former through. But, hopefully a fair number will turn out but even a handful is a handful more than would have turned up they had not seen the video in the first place.
Will it result in Joseph Kony appearing before the International Criminal Court? I have my doubts on this due to way the world seems to work. As the video says, the pressure applied by US military advisors helped the first time around so there is hope there.
Ultimately, the best thing for Kony is not being talked about, the worst is being talked about. Make that happen.
*For the record, I myself am unsure about whether to attend a “Cover the Night” event. Deep down, I would like to think so but I am equally as sure that I am as big a product of the Twitter generation (i.e. move on from things swiftly) that I may well lose interest, a depressing self-recognition that I might be able to alter.
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Happy dawn of Spring day
For a person with self-diagnosed-but-unwilling-to-have-it-confirmed-as-medical-fact seasonal affective disorder (SAD indeed!), today was a quite momentous personal day.
Today marks the first day of happy weather season, medical term incidentally, for a number of reasons.
For those who mark their calendar based around sporting events, i.e. every sane person on this planet of ours, today is the football League Cup final day which, along with the first Grand Prix of the year and the end of the Six Nations, marks the dawning of Spring to cheer up our depressingly tedious little world. Largely cheering us up by allowing us to guffaw at randy farm animals boning everything that moves as we fly by on the motorway. Anywho, soon enough we’ll be hearing the sound of leather on willow and Frisbee on forehead and that’s a very warm thought indeed.
Secondly, you may have noticed that it was a tad unseasonably warm today, unless you’re from the North East in which case it’s warm all day, every day. Despite ridicule from my co-workers as I completed my exhausting 6 ¼ hour shift, I strode purposefully and manfully from my place of work to my car (which was parked at good 20 metres away) with nothing but a t-shirt to protect my skinny torso.
Amazingly, my mighty man nipples did not turn into the world’s most useless pair of orange juicers and thus, upon reaching my car, I was allowed to look magnificently cool (or a humongous douchebag, depending on your interpretation of the next few words) as I drove home with the window down and my driving arm resting on the window frame. Like I said, magnificently cool…in my mind. If only I had the foresight to have taken a pair of sunglasses. Alas.
As an aside, how nice of God (omnipotent and omnipresent Rupert Murdoch) was it to ensure that the first edition of the Sun on Sunday was met with some sun on Sunday. Way to win us all over again Rupert!
Thirdly, and most importantly as this just affected me and no-one else, the drive to work this morning was in something approaching broad daylight. The last time the sun rose before I did, the world still possessed Muammar Gaddafi, Whitney Houston and only one type of KitKat Chunky*. There is something quite uplifting about not having to graft one’s way to work through darkness so thick that it attended special classes, to deploy a rather awful metaphor.
So, I hear you not asking, how did I celebrate this wondrous day whereby the incredible changing of the seasons that our planet produces? Staying indoors all day and getting unhealthier, but of course. Money is required to be able to enjoy ciders in the sunshine and anyone who sunbathed today really should have had some funny looks aimed at them (yeah, I would have sunbathed today, but self-consciousness issues and all that).
Happy dawn of Spring day y’all.
*For the purposes of that joke, we’re ignoring Christmas and New Year booze-induced lie-ins and any of my days off work. Why? Because I’m lazy and I’m not going to do a rewrite so there.
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A Merry Retail Christmas
Every job has times when the employee thinks “am I really paid enough to handle this shit and not have a breakdown resulting in extreme pooping all over my work place and waving my junk around like a fleshy wind turbine?”
Luckily, a loose sense of shared social boundaries mean the second half of that sentence only happens very, very rarely but there comes times in every worker’s year/month/week/day/hour when the added stress of a job might just cause the line between normal and bat-shit crazy becomes a little hazy (there will be no more rhyming in this post).
For air stewardesses, it’s probably between the 78th and 79th time a drunken businessman has made a crude pass at her. For bin men, it could be when the students at Number 12 have left the bin bag unsealed, AGAIN. For bar staff at a Spanish holiday resort it’s after a long hard Summer of serving pints of lager to shaven-headed English men who call them “Jose” every five minutes with that hilarious exaggerated lisp.
And now to bring the personal experience.
As regular readers of this blog (all four of you that I haven’t sent Christmas cards to by the way, just in case you happened to be sitting eagerly outside your letterbox every morning for the last fortnight…weirdo), circumstances dictate that I currently work in retail at a well known supermarket and, as anyone who has undergone this experience before will tell you, Christmas is generally our breakdown breaking point (there will be no more alliteration in this post).
It’s an age old joke in retail that it would be the perfect job, if there were no customers. Christmas music being played for six weeks or so? That can be blocked out. Frequent heavy lifting? Long term damage to my body won’t be felt for ages, live for now dude. Being very low on the company’s food chain? Being sneeringly and depressingly contemporarily ironic will overcome this obstacle. Working your fingers to the bone and it never being quite enough to earn praise? Ah well, it’s only a job, it’s by quite a long distance not the most important thing in the world.
But customers will always be akin to Thomas Paine’s state; a necessary evil.
Whether it be repeatedly having a trolley driven in to you like you’re the crippled Irishman in one of Mr Burn’s flashbacks or being patronised when providing a service to someone (“I have a degree thanks” is what I’ll say every time this happens…after I hand in my notice and have another job lined up); there are just sometimes when it all gets a bit too much.
And then Christmas compounds this with the strange brand of abject misery it can create. Stress and having to see way too many family members in way too short a space a time produces a situation where it’s fine to be more aggravating than usual. Add to this the usual, boring, stressful shopping experience, Hell might well be created on Earth in the relations between staff and customers. Yes, I’m well aware that you’re the most important person in the word and you cannot spend more than one minute here longer than you need to but it sure would be fantastic if you treated me like a person. And laughing at my small talk would be awesome too.
It probably doesn’t help us staff’s merriness levels either having to work extra days over the Christmas period. To be fair, it’s probably less customers not being able to handle the shops being closed for two days and more vice versa. Why not open up Boxing Day and squeeze a few more pennies out of pockets? It’s the kind of shrewd fiscal thinking (read institutionalised tightness and exploitation of needs) that our system is based on. If you don’t like it go to….China?
At least they don’t celebrate Christmas there.
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What do they know of our ways?
Way back in the middle of August, upon leaving my local pub after having a pint and waiting for it to all blow over, I pondered just how long it would be for the Government to sweep under the carpet the background reasons for the large scale rioting we saw. Today was finally the day that it happened.
For those who have yet to catch up with the news (and if I’m you’re primary source of news, God help you), Home Secretary Theresa May today attempted to distance the role the Government and the economic downturn had in the escalation of the riots that spread from an isolated incident in Tottenham to all over the country in the Summer.
Speaking at the Reading the Riots conference, May said (excuse the lengthy quotation); "What the LSE/Guardian report tells me more than anything is that the rioters still have not accepted responsibility for their actions. They are still blaming others – the police, the government, society. They are still making excuses, but I don't accept those excuses. The riots weren't about protests, unemployment, cuts. The riots were not about the future, about tomorrow. They were about today. They were about now. They were about instant gratification."
Whilst the theory that the Tories, and every Government since to be fair, are reaping what they sowed back in the 1980s with their “get rich and fuck everyone else” policy is interesting. In layman’s terms, if you encourage consumerism and link aspiration to buying nice things, poorer people resorting to looting when they can’t afford these things isn’t an implausible outcome. But I’m no socio-political expert so it would be foolish to look into that in any detail
Anyway, this blog post is about what I do know and can form a coherent and semi-conceivable opinion on, not what I can speculate on.
There probably is a certain element of truth in May’s statement today. I do not believe there was an element of protest to the rioting, the fact that there appeared to be no united political message quite clearly backs this up. And there probably was an element of instant gratification to it; stealing a TV to acquire a TV, smashing a window for the thrill of it, that sort of thing.
However, just because the actions themselves aren’t political, it does not mean politics cannot be associated with the reasons for the actions.
Let me give you an idea of what it’s like to be young in this country today; it’s difficult. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not “down t’pit at 12 and that’s your life” difficult but it sure as hell isn’t easy.
All of the major steps forward you can make in your life to better yourself or give you more of a chance of success are near as damn it out of your reach.
Want your own car to open up new job opportunities further afield? Good luck with paying the insurance on it. Want to get an education to degree level to open up more career doors? You better be prepared to have debt over your head for the rest of your life. Want to move out form your parent’s house? Direct all of your potential mortgage savings to some arsehole landlord in a rented property or you’re going to be in that bedroom of yours for a few more decades yet. Want a job that pays minimum wage but, hey, at least it’s a foot in the door? Get to the back of that million-long person queue buddy and good luck trying to further yourself without “relevant experience”. Have a previous conviction? That’s you fucked for life when it comes to many higher paid jobs Pentonville, no matter your qualities. Want to get the relevant experience by working for free? Have fun funding semi-essential things like eating whilst you do it.
I graduated in the Summer just gone and I currently work stacking shelves whilst I look for any employment related to my degree in a job market that, to say it’s an employer’s market would be the most tremendous understatement. For the time being, I’ve had to put moving out and building a life for myself on the back burner whilst I clamber on to the treadmill every morning to save up enough money to move up the ladder. There are plenty of other people who graduated with me who are in the same situation or worse. The system has, arguably, failed us just as much as it failed so many of the rioters who had no access to employment or re-entering education.
The only thing stopping me from chucking it all in and claiming benefits is a (possibly stupid) sense of pride.
When you see bankers earning millions of pounds in bonuses, celebrities spending ridiculous amounts on cosmetic treatments and other examples of excess and greed, it’s no wonder why people get angry. Whether its anger directed at the excess itself and how disengaged these people are from reality or anger that one can’t perform these exercises in greed themselves is immaterial. The anger is there and nothing is being done to readdress the balance which then breeds apathy and laziness because what’s the point of contributing to the system when nothing will ever change? Combine the two and you get nihilism on the scale we saw across London and other metropolitan areas earlier this year.
When it comes down to it, the political classes just have no idea what life is like on the other side. You obviously need more intelligent people in charge of a country as that is how the system should work but when the big wigs of your three main political parties are from largely upper/upper-middle class backgrounds, you have a problem.
What does David Cameron know of the problems facing a working single mother? How can Nick Clegg understand the frustrations of the unemployed person who wants to get into work? What common ground does Ed Miliband share with the working class 18 year-old who is put off going to university due to £9,000 a year fees?
For May to take a nice, broad, sweeping generalisation and saying that the rioters blaming the Government or unemployment or the police as “excuses” just illustrates the point that her ilk have little idea what life is like in our cities and, worse than that, have little interest in bothering to find out either. Yes, instant gratification was a cause but to focus on one reason for the entire issue is simplistic and irresponsibility of the highest level from someone who is meant to help those she represents. A lack of social cohesion and homage to the social contract is an issue for all of us, regardless of our background.
The solutions to the problems of disillusionment, apathy and anger many people feel come from the political/economic sphere and for May to so crudely cut out the Government’s role in causing the riots, and in so doing, effectively severing its potential for preventing them happening again, is just even more irresponsible.
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How the Internet suppresses me #153
John Lennon once sang that we’re kept “doped with religion and sex and TV”. If we take those three tools of suppression in chronological order, which makes a degree of sense to my mind, then the natural extension would be add to “the Internet” to this line in the song.
Naturally, this would involve re-writing a classic but I’m sure I wouldn’t do as bad a job at bastardising it as some of the cover versions have. Just check out some of the names on this list.The Academy Is…? Really?
Anyway, if I’ve managed to retain your attention, there is a point to the above digression and that is that the sheer amount of offerings on the Internet (or Internetz if you’re that way inclined. Or t’Internetz if you’re inclined that way) to take up your whole day that you won’t even have time to even put together some groundwork ideas on your plan to become a working class hero.
The focus of this blog post this evening is a concept that has existed for some fifty years (starting out bizarrely as an idea associated with golf)but has become more entrenched thanks to the user friendly element the Internet has given it.
It splits (mostly) male friends, family members, co-workers as they compete week in, week out against both each other and against the whole, entire world. The most popular site has over 2.5 million registered players on it this year. People spend hours tinkering and fine tuning their creations for optimum efficiency. It is a game but, like the real thing upon which it is based, it can be more important than that.
Yes, I am talking about Fantasy Football.
It’s like the British equivalent of the “fantasy draft” in the USA where, as I understand it, it’s an incredibly nerdy thing to do but totally socially acceptable for anyone to do it (if you are in ownership of a penis). Maybe because it involves sport; staying up all night playing FIFA is ok but do the same thing with a Legend of Zelda game and kiss goodbye to your hard earned social status, freak.
It might also be because deep, deep down, we’re already secretly thrilled that we can have an imaginary piece of control over some pixels and bytes and hyperlinks that represent millionaires. “Ha! Take that Rooney you rich bastard, I’m dropping you. Who’s the loser now, huh? Oh, oh right” *cries in the foetal position*
Anwho, it’s the simplicity which draws you in and the complexity which keeps you hooked as you spend hours thinking what is the best line up you can have for next weekend’s round of games. Endless permeations from who is injured or suspended to who is in form to what the fixtures are to the cost of potential signings.
Then you can bring in the cast iron ‘laws’ of football like a player going back to his old club will ALWAYS score or the sod’s law that if you drop a player that is underperforming, he’ll pick up points as soon as you get rid of him. All these factors and more must be considered before even attempting to alter your team.
For example, just today I've considered dropping Luis Suarez but I'm convinced he'll start scoring points as soon as I drop him. After pondering this for an hour or so, I take a look at my midfield quartet of Bale-Van der Vaart- Toure- Ramsey and wonder how I could improve this. Perhaps if I take out Doyle and Ramsey, I could tinker with a better striker? But what effect will that have on the midfield I ask myself. And on and on and on.
For example, just today I've considered dropping Luis Suarez but I'm convinced he'll start scoring points as soon as I drop him. After pondering this for an hour or so, I take a look at my midfield quartet of Bale-Van der Vaart- Toure- Ramsey and wonder how I could improve this. Perhaps if I take out Doyle and Ramsey, I could tinker with a better striker? But what effect will that have on the midfield I ask myself. And on and on and on.
Before you know it, you’ve spent your entire day in the office staring at one webpage and your chance for career advancement/ the opportunity of finally asking Emma from accounts out for a drink/ going to the water cooler to chat about the funny things the penguins did on Frozen Planetlast night have all passed you by this day.
But it doesn’t matter because you’ve put together the perfect team for this week’s round of fixtures. And then, you realise, it’s Man City Vs Chelsea this week and you’ve got Cech in goal and Aguero up front.
Bollocks.
Tomorrow on ways the Internet suppresses my urge to change the world and fight the man and whatnot; the effect of Wikipedia on the fact nerd.
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In defence of the BBC and the licence fee
Everyone has their own fall back phrase and actions they use to describe their feelings when something has infuriated them. Mine usually involves the word “ridiculous” and a subsequent blog post that’s wonderfully unselfconsciously self-righteous, but that’s me.
The standard fall back phrase when the BBC produces a TV or radio show that someone doesn’t like is “it’s a waste of licence fee payers’ money”.* For the record, over 75% of BBC revenuecomes from licence fee income so it is a large part of the broadcaster’s income that comes from the public so the loosely defined public has a right to get their money’s worth.
It’s kind of an easy target really is the poor old BBC as one is paying money directly to the institution for the programming and journalism one receives. One wouldn’t say it’s a waste of your weekly shop at ASDA money when ITV broadcasts a terrible show, despite the fact that said money is indirectly paying for the production of said show in the form of advertising. Although it’s something of a stupid concept, it’s vaguely valid in its own roundabout kind of way.
Firstly, the annoying semantics. Technically it isn’t a waste as you pay your licence fee for the BBC to produce programming on television or radio. Throwing said money into a giant hole and burying it or buying all the tickets to Glastonbury and not showing up would be a waste of money. If the BBC broadcasts something you don’t like, that would be a misuse of licence fee payers’ money, not a waste as there is guaranteed to be someone out there who liked the broadcast which made it viable.
Anyway, semantics aside, the real bone of contention I have with the lazy, fallback phrase outlined is that I find it very difficult to believe people do not get their money’s worth from the most renowned and admired public service broadcaster in the world.
For example, if you just watch the national and local news on the BBC five nights a week (that’s 4 million people on average), that’s around 270 hours of broadcasting you have watched a year meaning you pay around £1.90 an hour to watch. Which sounds like a lot.
However, no-one watches just the news on the BBC. From Eastenders to Match of the Day to QI toTop Gear to Strictly Come Dancing, there are shows on the BBC that draw in huge numbers viewers each and every week, all with large production values that must cost a bomb to make. According to the Broadcaster’s Audience Research Board, BBC1 and 2 alone have an average 21.3% audience share of TV viewers which is a whole lot of hours and licence fee being justified.
Then factor in the other aspects of the BBC’s output from a radio service that has a total listening share of 54.5% nationally, a news website that offers full multimedia interactivity and as up-to-date stories as any paid for media, various digital output at specialised audiences (from children to minority social groups) and the ongoing digital switchover to give more people the chance to have more access to more channels.
Taking into account all of the services the BBC offers, it is something of a miracle the revenue it produces is stretched so far.
Factor in all of this and even the staunchest non-BBC user probably swallows up more BBC output than they realise. Your commute to work? Might well have some BBC on the radio. Want to check up on the latest news? The BBC News website might be your first port of call. Need to keep up with the latest football scores? BBC Sport online is at least the equal of its competitors in this field, and with TV highlights to be found on the website to boot. The hours consuming BBC output soon adds up. It would be a very interesting experiment to see just how long you spend using some form of BBC service. And when I say “interesting” the result would be, not the procedure.
Yes, the BBC does screw up occasionally with its choice of programming and its ‘impartial’ journalism but to get either of these spot-on 100% of the time is a fool’s errand and fool’s expectation.
*Disclaimer; due to circumstances dictating that I am living at home with my parents once again, I am not currently paying for a TV licence. Go forth and state my reason to have an opinion on the matter is invalid.
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A fallacy in Higher Education; a personal story
The figures released today showcasing just how bad youth unemployment is in this country should come as no surprise really.
When there are a lack of jobs in the market anyway due to economic issues, it will always be the youngest who suffer most as they are the ones with no experience in the workplace. When it comes to a choice between “experience” and “enthusiasm” on a CV, an employer is bound to choose the former as they can dive straight into work without being given any training, thus easing the transition from one employee to another.
It makes sense as an employer to do that but try telling that to anyone of the 1 million or so young people out of work right now.
The stock image on any TV news report when it comes to stories regarding youth unemployment is a shot of a Job Centre Plus with aggressive looking people wearing tracksuits outside it, maybe smoking a cigarette or sticking a hand down the front of their trackie bottoms.
But this is a false image; this is a problem across this generation regardless of qualifications gained. I know many people who graduated from university with me this year who are struggling to find a job, let alone a career-based job that there degree course was geared toward and I equally know that people who left school at 16 (thanks to the magic of Facebook) are struggling to find work.
For myself, training as a journalist and graduating with a 2:1 degree and a full set of NCTJ prelim qualifications would, from the outside world, look like the perfect recipe to jump straight into a newspaper career. Add in work experience stints at four local papers, a national magazine, writing for an online blog (plus my own blog) and an editor’s position on my student newspaper under my belt, I couldn’t be possibly more appealing to an employer.
However, throughout my time at university I was constantly told by my lecturers that you would need an awful bloody lot to stand out to employers in the field of journalism and I am very thankful for this advice as, after graduating, it helped me come to terms with one of the great fallacies of Higher Education and indeed of education as a whole in this country; get yourself a degree and you will get you the job you want. It’s the ‘fact’ that gets people going to university.
Quite simply, there is no guarantee of this. The reasons behind this are numerous and won’t be explored here but they include a sagging job market and huge student numbers in the 21stcentury.
I find myself currently working at a supermarket for 30 hours a week and, whilst not exactly being happy about the situation, I will never ever complain about it as it is a job and a source of income which, as today’s figures show, makes me very lucky.
Furthermore, it has allowed me to buy a car and go travelling for a month and might even make me more grounded if I do manage to get the job I want.
Lastly, it gives me the impetus to keep searching for the career job that I want as if I have a crap day, it makes me want to get out of the place even more and give me more of a reason to fire off that CV again or send another email or make that phone call that might just open up the door.
Do I feel as if I am overqualified for the job I do? Yes, a little bit, particularly when I get a dirty look from a customer as if I’m a piece of dirt that won’t come off their shoe but that’s part of the game and part of the job and I know that.
But I am one of the luckier ones (the luckiest ones are those that have a job in the field they want but, as with any luck, they’ve earned it) and I’m sure many young people, graduate or otherwise, would be happy with having my job right now.
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The problem with poppies
It’s probably poor form to bad mouth any aspect of a charity, even the ones that want to save really ugly animals that eat people (da da do de do da do, joke) but here we go.
I’m all for the Poppy campaign for the Royal British Legion has the charity itself does great things for the elderly and victims of wars but, in my opinion, the campaign has been somewhat bastardised by needless flashiness most exhibited on primetime TV.
What makes the Poppy campaign wonderful is its simplicity on two levels.
The first is the understated nature of displaying a poppy. Those who wish to use a poppy as their mark of respect for soldiers can simply put it on their clothing (incidentally, those who don’t wear poppies do not automatically lack this respect, in the same way laughing at someone’s misfortune doesn’t mean you don’t care for their wellbeing).
And the second is the actual poppy itself consisting of a simple couple of pieces of basic coloured paper, two types of plastic to hold it all together and a pin, if you remember to get one that is due to the whole H&S bollocks about not being able to take one and having to ask for it.
But in recent years, a booming new market in flashy showy off poppies is booming which started out on TV but has migrated itself to everyday life now.
Go across any terrestrial TV channel in the evening and I can guarantee that at least half of the poppies on display are sparkly or stupidly large or made out of multiple pieces of complex fabric or even bloody crystal-encrusted ones last year. It’s probably only a matter of time before a poppy is produced using Heston Blumnethal methods of construction.
It seems somewhat self-defeating to produce flashy, show off-y poppies when the beauty of the product and cause lies in its simplicity.
Obviously, if the proceeds of these poppies go to the fundraising campaign it doesn’t really matter as all the money that is raised is worthwhile. It’s even been argued that the flashy new poppies have boosted the fundraising for the Royal British Legion by way of extra exposure and appeal to a younger market.
But it’s a pretty sad state of affairs when a charity has to almost reinvent itself to keep the campaign relevant and cutting, particularly when the Poppy campaign has an effective captive market (if you’ll excuse the quite horrible use of that particular phrase there) at the beginning of November every year for a cause that is so important.
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What patriotism means to me
The news today that the English Defence League had scaled the headquarters of football’s governing body, FIFA, in Zurich over the dispute regarding whether or not the England football team can have poppies on their shirts in the game against Spain this weekend got me thinking about patriotism and what it means to me to be both English and British.
Firstly, that the EDL, a group that is based on anti-immigration and anti-Islamism, should associate itself with the Poppy campaign is both horrific and illogical. The Poppy campaign, as part of Remembrance Day, is designed to honour those who fought in wars for their country, particularly World Wars 1 and 2.
Lest we forget, people from across the British Empire fought in those wars, from the West Indies to African colonies to the Indian Raj. It seems illogical to me to be able to reconcile a firm anti-Islamism and anti-immigration ideology with a full commitment to the idea of Remembrance. But, hey ho, whoever said you needed to have logic to make a statement.
Anyway, this led me on to thinking what my problem is with the way English patriotism is displayed. By extension, this can also mean British patriotism due to the way England dominates Britain as an idea.
To me, English/British patriotism is displayed in an aggressive manner through something of a superiority complex. In my opinion, much of what constitutes this type of patriotism is a “we’re better than you” expression such as continual references to the various wars with Germany and France, for example. Perhaps this comes from the fallout of having an Empire and Britain as a whole needing to find a new place in the world.
It is probably for this reason why English people are so in need of sporting success to justify this superiority complex idea of patriotism; winning a World Cup in any sport means we are better than everyone else at something and therefore makes the approach correct to an extent.
This almost jingoistic approach is a source of danger in my opinion as it is a slippery slope from thinking your group of people is better than another to forcibly imposing it, particularly when the power to do the latter gets granted to the former group.
I should probably explain at this point that I am fully aware that being proud of the country where one was born is a little bit ridiculous as it is pure luck that one is born on one particular piece of soil that belongs to the fictional notion that is the state and then growing a love for that fictional notion.
However, that said, as a human being, I enjoy the idea of being connected to other people I don’t know in a group in which we have a shared history and culture. I also believe that this culture is constantly evolving with new people adding their own values and beliefs into the system we all share.
In relation to this, I do quite like being British due to the contribution Britain has made to the world in the form of ideas and art and science and so on. I like the idea of having a connection to the people that developed these ideas, however a tenuous connection being born in the same geo-political borders is.
I find it harder to be proud of being English as to my mind there is nothing truly English aside from sporting teams. The dominance of Britain by England has left a dearth of genuinely English concepts.
I’ve a great love of the type of patriotism that seems to be widespread in countries such as Scotland and Wales where patriotism is expressed through a devotion and love of one’s country rather than gaining pride through comparison to another country.
The Welsh and Scottish pride (as I perceive it) in their landscape, their language, their appreciation of their past and contemporary contribution to the arts and to science and so on is something I genuinely envy.
But, there is no reason why the newly forming English patriotism cannot be like that. The loudness of the campaigns by a small group like the EDL (lest we forget, they have very few members who are coached to rallies in different cities to present the illusion of being a larger group) needs to be silenced to allow a true patriotic voice to shine through over the current jingoistic rhetoric.
There is no reason why an English patriotism cannot develop in the form of its Scottish and Welsh counterparts with a focus on the beauty of the English countryside, the wonder of the English language, the contribution of people like Chaucer, Shakespeare, Byron, Wordsworth, Austen, Newton, Wren and so on. Obviously, Welsh and Scottish patriotism is so strong due to their historical suppression from which well the English cannot also draw from but the point remains that it can happen.
Furthermore, the culture that England, in particular of the British nations, has evolved over the last half century in particular is my favourite achievement.
Of all the nations in the world, it has most successfully bred multi-culturalism. I adore the fact that there are a multitude of languages being spoken on English streets, a smorgasbord of international cuisine available everywhere you go and all the other cultural entities that immigrants have added to the culture melting pot of England and Britain.
This is what I am thankful to those who laid down their lives in wars, whatever their ethnicity or religion, for England and Britain; the chance to live in a society that’s brought the world to your doorstep.
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How the Internet ruined criticism
Interactivity is great as it means you can get your own say on things because YOUR opinion really matters and needs to be told to everyone on the planet as YOU are the undiscovered genius, YOU are the voice of a generation, YOU are saying what everyone else is just thinking.*
But interactivity started out on pretty boring subjects like voting for who you wanted to be your MP or local councillor and even then you could only utilise your power once every few years. Where is the fun and enticing prospect of abuse of power in that? Nowhere, that’s where.
Thankfully, with the advent of the digital era, having your say on subjects has become much easier what with phone-in radio and TV shows, Twitter, text messaging, TV shows which encourage you to vote, blogs and the ubiquitous comments box on any website you visit.
Now you can forward your viewpoint on any subject you like from whichever empty vessels get to spend another Saturday night being judged and sentenced by millionaires (that’s The X Factorfolks) to what the simple solution that all the world’s leaders are missing is for the Eurozone debt crisis or the exact reason why Man City put six past United on Sunday and the consequences of that for the rest of the season.
Hail interactivity, leveller of the playing field!
However all opportunities and freedoms are horrendously open to abuse and just generally ruining it for everyone by making everyone’s opinions being easy to air. And so we come to being negative and how the Internet has basically ruined it.
The funny, funny people over at cracked.com have made a register of the ten types of angry commenter one finds online and for this exercise there are two particular categories that this blog highlights; the Busy Critic and the Angry Unfunner.
It might be best to have a read about those first before continuing. Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you to finish.
…
…
Wow, you came back. All done? Good, let us continue.
You’ll find these two types of commenter appear pretty regularly if you peruse the Guardian website. For example, here is a piece on Channel 4’s Marmite-ish new comedy-drama Fresh Meat. I say Marmite-ish as its divisive and opinion-splitting, not what it tastes like (that would be beer and kebabs as it’s a show set in a student house… zing).
Skip down to the comments section and the people who like the show generally give reasons why they enjoy it and, if they see fit to, offer constructive criticism for how it can improve. Contrast that to the negative commenters who leave a one line sentence fragment saying they don’t like it and moving on to do the same on another article. No attempt to explain why they dislike it or what’s wrong with it or anything like that. No way, that’s too much like hard work and they’ve got a lot of bringing people down left on their to-do list today.
In many ways they’re like the immature guy at work/school/uni who found it funny to come towards people, drop a fart and then move on, thus ruining everyone’s day. Or for a few minutes at least.
Want some more examples? Just on the top five viewed items on the Guardian culture section, you can see a similar story when it comes to a review of the latest episode of Curb Your Enthusiasm and even flipping David Attenborough isn’t safe!
This is just plain lazy, you’re entitled to your opinion just like everyone else but to not even bother explaining your point of view is an insult to be quite frank as it suggests you don’t have the time to contextualise your opinion, it’s just there and should be treated as important as those who justify theirs.
In a similar vein, the sport pages provide a similar, if not the same, trend when it comes to internet commenter warriors.
The general theme is either abuse the writer with a petty comment, as seen with this Jonathan Wilson piece or a snide remark about their being another article about Man United or Arsenal as seen here and here, almost as if the reader has been forced at gunpoint to read the article. As can be seen from the Wilson article, some of the commenters don’t even bother reading the article, just taking the headline and slugline and making a comment from that. Again, lazy criticism from people that are often the first to complain about “lazy journalism.” To them of course, irony is an alien concept.
These examples come from just the sport and culture sections let alone delving into the murky depths of the Comment is Free free-for-all.
What I’m getting at it is that t vast majority of negative comments on websites now are so generic and boring that they are worthless. They aren’t going to persuade anyone to shift their opinion on the matter as you’ve seen them a million times before so what’s the point in taking them in?
The general consensus is that the commenter is an individual who merely writes the negative comment for the sake of it rather than any real dislike of the subject of the article, the article itself or the writer.
More to the point, the reason why it ruins being negative is that it tars ‘real’ negative comments with the same brush; the comment being penned by a bored, sad individual with no agenda but their own pitiful amusement. Thus, proper criticism that is well informed, constructive and, crucially, has a point gets skirted over and placed into the generic, negative comment (by this reader at least) to be filed for ignore now.
Comment away below.
*Post note; don’t point out the supreme hypocrisy of reading this on a blog that has a comments section and Twitter interactivity button. That would not be cool, right?
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Solar powered spending
It’s not often this blog delves into politics and economics as, being lower middle class, this writer lacks the intellect to take on the big issues of the day. Well, that’s what the establishment brought me up to believe anyway.
Anywho, as I strolled through the centre of Reading today, a familiar scenario greeted me in the middle of the pedestrianised Broad Street; the sight of people whose job it is to convert your faith or sell you something.
After being accosted by a man who wanted to save my soul and a woman who wanted to sell me being shot in the testicles for an afternoon aka paintballing (incidentally, I’d choose the latter as a lifetime of commitment seems hard work), another salesman, who didn’t stop to talk to me, caught my eye.
He was at a stall that said “No more energy bills after one easy payment” which was empty, completely unsurprisingly, as nothing is ever that simple. Even the general public, who I’ve often spotted picking up pennies off of the wet pavement, weren’t gullible enough to believe this money-saving ruse.
However, it got me thinking; could solar energy help boost the UK’s flagging economy?
Here is my basic, layman analysis using back of a fag packet maths and a particularly loose grip of the laws of economics.
The reason for the fragility of the UK economy is a lack of faith in the system and not enough disposable income for the Average Joe to spend on things like speedboats, new shoes and fancy chocolates leading to less jobs in industries like designing, making and selling speedboats, shoes and fancy chocolates leading to less disposable income for the people who would fill these roles and so on in a long, unbroken cycle.
Now, if you can free up more of a person’s income to allow them to spend it on the above capitalist items of aspiration, that will help the economy grow by producing more jobs and then more disposable income from the newly employed.
So, if the Government was to invest in a scheme whereby, gradually, all the homes in the UK are fitted with the capacity to produce its own electricity through solar power, this would reduce a household’s energy bills leaving them more cash to spend on Thornton’s chocolate.
Naturally, the outlay for such a project wouldn’t come cheap and it is estimated that it will take until 2020 for the PV format of producing solar power to become competitive with fossil fuel alternatives but even starting a long-term scheme by just specifying all new properties must have solar panels built into them would be a foundation on which to build.
Likewise, funding a project for all homes to be fitted with proper insulation to the reduce energy bills for certain households and allow for more disposable income. Little things like this make a difference.
That said, the £3.2 billion the Treasury is expected to make by 2016 from carbon taxes (the costs of which electricity companies are allowed to pass on to their customers) is kind of a rather large weight to lose should a solar power policy be pursued.
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Unforeseen consequences
Returning to a story that has interested me for some time, earlier this week, Portsmouth publican Karen Murphy won an important EU ruling in her favour.
The case revolves around Mrs Murphy using a digital decoder from Greece to screen Premier League football games in her pub for a cheaper price than with UK football broadcaster Sky. Sky promptly took her to court when they found out six years ago under copyright infringement law.
However, Mrs Murphy took her case to the European Court of Justice who ruled that the way in which satellite broadcasters limit themselves to one country is against the freedom to provide services and for individuals in the European Union to choose the service providers they desire; thus, the prohibition on the sale of digital decoders is deemed unlawful. It is unprecedented for a national High Court to not enforce a ECJ ruling.
However, the ruling also pointed out that certain copyright infringements were also being made by Mrs Murphy and other decoder users in that whilst football is not covered by copyright law, graphics and sound and the whole branding used by companies such as Sky and ESPN are covered. Therefore, if pubs were to broadcast a match with this branding in it, they would be in breach of the law.
Quite simply, in the wake of this ruling, broadcasters could put a piece of their branding (a permanent graphic of a £ sign in the top corner perhaps) and thus a decoder user would be breaking copyright law.
I’ll not go into the footballing side of the ruling here (I may well do elsewhere in detail later this week) but on a side note of irony.
As one article notes and makes very clear, the main reason pubs broadcast football matches is that they pack pubs that are otherwise dying a rather slow and painful death. Anyone that’s been to a pub, say, on a Saturday at noon and a Thursday at the same time, it is clear to see that most of a pub’s revenue comes at the weekends when they show football from the hours of noon to about 10pm.
However, the ruling has made it a lot easier for football fans at home to get a digital decoder for themselves and use it instead of Sky to view football matches. Naturally, it is unlikely for a monolith like Sky to sue every single individual user of a decoder (if Sky’s copyright is infringed by use of the branding); apparently it’s not great for the marketing department to take millions of potential customers to court.
Anyway, that means that the opportunity for football fans to sit at home and watch matches is far greater as they can now afford to when prices for a digital decoder are up to a third the price of a Sky Sports subscription and booze from a supermarket of a similar price ratio.
Therefore, pubs, including Mrs Murphy’s, would get less income on their peak weekend times as more punters stay at home, thus hammering another nail into the pub coffin.
Do be careful what you wish for.
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If you ignore it, it might go away
Ten days ago or so, a ‘sliding-door’ moment happened.
If, say, the police shooting of a man who, it would appear, did not fire first, albeit one that was armed, had happened this Saturday rather than the fortnight before, things may have turned out differently. Would the large scale riots have occurred in the pouring rain, for example?
However, ‘what-if’ moments are all well and good for reflection in the long-term future. You can speculate on what would have happened if JFK hadn’t been assassinated all you like as the permutations have pretty much run their cause. But, in the here and now, it’s time to focus on the fall-out and something that has been bugging me in the (generic, catch-all term alert) media’s reaction to it all.
Reference some events that have happened over the last fortnight or so. Firstly, a clear example of the Executive butting its nose into the business of the Judiciary by stating its desire for tough sentencing on rioters (rightly or wrongly) which has duly occurred in a great number of cases.
On to civil liberties with David Cameron Tory MP raising the possibility of shutting down Twitter and/or Facebook when riots break out to stop people using the social networking site to orchestrate and organise disturbances. Furthermore, Tory MP Louise Mensch suggesting rather than the public being told that Twitter is down, the message would be that it is under ‘maintenance’.
Finally, Cameron has also put forward a proposal to evict families from their council homes and withhold their benefits of the families of rioters. This is draconian, unfair and effective double jeopardy as it punishes those who may not have been involved in the rioting and only leads to exacerbating the problem of poverty which, it is this blogger's view, was a leading cause of the problem in the first place.
Now, I’m not one to throw about the term “totalitarianism” for two reasons. One; it will never happen in this country as even in a state as passive politically as ours, the people will not stand for large scale repealing of their civil liberties and secondly it’s an insult to use the term when there are genuine, frightening regimes out there that do fit the totalitarian model of rule and it is ignorant to make a comparison between the two.
But on the other side of the scale, the good folk at the Daily Mail and other papers on the ‘Right’ are often the first to jump on a story with the tiniest shred of liberty-crushing potential and impose the woefully GCSE-esque “Orwell’s 1984 was a warning, not a blueprint” comparison.
This past fortnight, I make that examples of breaking the boundaries of checks and balances between the Executive and the Judiciary, suggested curtailing of civil liberties such as the freedom of speech, suggested deliberate lying to your electorate and denying citizens the elements of the welfare state to which they are entitled to.
These policies are most probably, as the New York Times points out, most likely a reaction to try to garner public support in the wake of the rioting but it smacks of double standards for the right-wing press to complain about how CCTV cameras are infringing people’s rights but these policies are not.
Let's not even get started how investigating the causes of the riots (not even a proper Inquiry?! Come off it) has been swept under the carpet by focussing on the punishments and re-establishing 'order'.
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The news for you
Watching ITV News last night, I was struck by something. Not how ridiculous the ITV News studio looks or how a half-hour news programme could possibly have time to convey the whole story of every significant event that occurred on the day in question (this is why we still need online newspapers to succeed by the way).
No, I was struck by something else; the pure abstract nature of ‘news’ and how little what constitutes news directly affects the average person. For example, the political wrangling between the Democrats and Republicans in the American Senate over how best to combat the country’s debt. To the man on the street, this has nothing to do with him, why should he care or pay attention?
It probably contributes to the general apathy of people and their lack of engagement in the system. If there is not a direct impact on you, why should you care? It’s all about self-preservation and looking after one. Everything else is for others to worry about.
So, here is my solution. With every news broadcast, there should be a “how will this affect you” option, accessible through the yellow button on your remote. Here, each news story is dissected by experts for your benefit where they explain the impact the event has on you as an individual.
The US debt crisis? The US is the world’s biggest economy and, should it fail or fall back into recession, the rest of the world will suffer. This may lead to further economic problems in the UK which may affect your ability to find a new job, buy a new iPhone, go on three holidays a year and so on.
A child has gone missing in some provincial Northern town? No direct impact upon you, apart from a tug on the heartstrings, as you do not know this child. However, an indirect impact is that you will become more suspicious of strangers and not allow your child to play outside as they will be out of your sight which may lead to your child getting less exercise which may result in health problems for them and a fear of society for you.
The ongoing conflict in Libya? NATO’s involvement here means Britain has a vested interest in the outcome of the conflict as too much money has been put in to pull out now. Furthermore, the outcome will impact upon the oil industry in the region and just who gets that oil. Should the rebels win, you can bet your last petro-dollar that the NATO nations will have some Pro-Western oil contracts written up for Libyan oil. The benefits of these oil contracts will mean that petrol prices will not rise considerably giving you more money to spend on cars and vodka in the medium term at the price of short term monetary investment supporting the Libyans.
And so on with every news story. Perhaps it would not be cost effective but you could offset this by not doing the breakdowns into specific social groups rather than individuals but, you never know, it might get people interested in the news again.
Either that, or some kind of phone app is the solution. Angry Gaddafis or something.
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Urban Annoyance #1440- Prams
In this time of great world problems what with that bad thing that happened in Japan and that other, ongoing bad thing happening in Libya and that ongoing bad thing about some song about what day of the week it is (thank you for keeping me abreast of memes Twitter!), sometimes, it’s nice to go away from this bad news and focus on something a little less harrowing, like prams.
When walking down a road, British people, when they encounter another person/people walking towards them, do the delightful shuffle from one side to the other, to move out of the way of the other person, as that other person attempts to do the exact same thing, leading to much to-ing and fro-ing. Cue nervous smiles, apologies, a distinct lack of eye contact and industrial size loads of embarrassment. All lovely, quaint and endearing.
But something happens when one of the groups of people are pushing along an infant in a chair on wheels in front of them. Suddenly, they are completely incapable of moving to one side of the pavement to allow space for both parties to pass, instead ploughing a path straight through what is in front of them; human being, animal, brick walls, lampposts, the exaggeration for comic effect, everything.
Essentially, the pram becomes some kind of battering ram, or a snow plough, to be used to move people out of the way. Obviously, it is not much of a physical battering ram as it is neither particularly big, nor particularly strong and a ram with a baby as a key component will be largely ineffectual, what with those soft spots and all. It is more of a mental battering ram as walking into baby transportation devices is generally frowned upon by society for some reason.
Unfortunately, parents seem to take advantage of this rule and use it to their advantage. Yes child-rearers, you have reproduced successfully, congratulations for fulfilling your biological role as an animal, don’t use it as some kind of weapon, least of all when you do it in tandem and two mothers walk side by side down the road, advancing with all the menace of a tank driver in Tiananmen Square (and no amount of hand signal stop signs is going to put them off), leaving one to take evasive by diving in to the road.
God knows what happens when two sets of parents advance on each other, maybe they just keep walking and some platform 10 and 3/4’s magic occurs where they walk through each other and continue on with their lives.
It’s all a far cry from babies being left to their own devices out on the farm and being eaten by foxes (although that does still happen…too soon?) or doing their fair share of the harvesting work, instead of being used in psychological, pavement-based urban warfare.
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The World’s Madness feat. Charlie Sheen
Do you remember the Eastenders story arc last year where Phil Mitchell went completely mad, took a load of drugs and booze, wound up naked on the floor with some other woman (Rainie so Wikipedia informs me) and got up to a load of general shenanigans that kept lots of viewers captivated for weeks? Sound vaguely familiar?
Now, replace the words "Eastenders story arc" with "real life story", "Phil Mitchell" with "Charlie Sheen", "Rainie" with "a porn star and a model" and "general shenanigans" to "incidents involving machetes, unwise phone calls, bizarre interviews and Twitter". Welcome to the wonderful world of the public mental breakdown.
Charlie Sheen became well known (in America at least) as the only man that could have sex with a string of beautiful women whilst also, simultaneously, being in his mid-30s and wearing shorts with white socks, in TV show Two and a Half Men, pocketing $2 million an episode to boot.
Meanwhile, at the very same time as being insanely popular, he also started going a wee bit mad. For example, over the last six years, his roll call of misdemeanours goes something like; divorce citing alcohol/drug abuse and threats of violence, felony menacing, criminal mischief and third degree assault, rehab, anger management and being banned from owning a gun (In America, somehow). Yet, he was still something of a media darling through his role in Two and a Half Men.
And, now, over the last year he has stepped it up a notch on the mental breakdown Richter Scale, incorporating more drug taking, trashing hotel rooms, abusing the Executive Producer and writer of his hit show, getting fired from his show, staging insane interviews with national news channels in the USA, wielding a machete from his balcony window, living in something of a harem with two busty blondes and becoming a Twitter millionaire (and popularising the hashtags #tigersblood and #winning). That's how to crank up the crazy to 11. The next thing to do would be to start bombing people that don't like you.
All the while, the media has been there to capture his latest act of madness. Now, obviously, Sheen has been courting the media, inviting them into his home to talk/ramble on to them, phoning up radio stations that fly planes over his house with the station's number trailing behind the planes and setting up a Twitter account for the masses to see his thoughts. Naturally, the media has sensed a good story here and will take all their opportunities they can get to get some more column inches/airtime about it.
But here is the rub. Clearly, this is a man in the throes of some kind of mental breakdown after years of drug abuse and a pretty unstable personality anyway. What is the solution to a person suffering mental trauma? Oh yeah, recording his every move and giving him huge exposure and then crying crocodile tears when it all goes tits up, as it inevitably will as huge drug taking by a person in their mid-40s has but one outcome; death.
However, in the Twitter age, this goes beyond a problem to blame on 'the media' with the masses also playing a role in the unhealthy obsession with a man suffering from the after-effects of a bitter divorce battle. Yes, he courts the limelight but can you honestly believe that he is a man in control of himself currently? Perhaps some of the people who got #tigersblood trending or #winning were innocent enough to believe it was a jocular comment made by a reasoned Sheen but I'm just as certain many people saw it as a laugh at the expense of the poor man.
Where will this obsession end? Will it be when he goes to rehab? When he stops talking to the cameras? If he self-harms? If he kills himself? Perhaps, at some point, it will become clear that the blood sport of taunting fallen celebrities has a limit though don't count on it, the Internet is a harmful enough place for the sane to roam, let alone the mentally unstable.
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Urban Annoyance #1439- Fashion
Way back in the mists of time, back when the urban jungle was merely but an urban woods, fashion never existed.
Sure, the landed classes would have magnificent dresses and britches and so on but, down at our level, the pleb level, all one peasant could do if wanted to look a bit different to the next peasant was perhaps painting their deer pelt in a different shade or pattern of mud or sticking some grass to his tatty tunic but that was about it. And we were all a lot happier, apart from the low life expectancy, the back breaking labour and the syphilis. Fashion was pretty much unheard, clothes were worn for a bit of dignity and to stop your sensitive parts from being continually snagged on twigs or munched on by animals who thought they were odd looking fruit.
But all that changed with the advent of urbanisation.
Not at first of course, the first 75 years or so of urbanisation were pretty much the same for our ancestors as it was in the countryside, just with more soot, less mud and pastier complexions. Same low life expectancy, same back breaking labour, same syphilis, same cheerful misery and same range of fashion accessories, i.e. beggar all.
However as people moved from the factories to the offices and got more disposable income, so aspirations changed. No longer was it ok to wear the same clothes day after day, wearing them until they were too frayed and your accessories consisted of nothing but the scars from the machinery you worked on. Furthermore, TV showed us what the rich and famous were wearing and us plebs were overcome with jealousy and envy and we wanted what they were wearing. And now, we could afford it too.
And thus began the horrible descent into people being 'fashionable' and being expected to wear clothes that were 'in' for 'this season', not stuff YOU felt was nice or clothes that YOU thought looked good or YOU felt good about yourself in.
No, urbanisation meant YOUR opinions on clothes didn't matter anymore, just as long as you follow the doctrine laid down by the high street stores and the catalogues and looked much like everyone else then you were granted being perceived as popular and beautiful, the twin aspirations of every human being. If you can't follow this doctrine, well fuck you, say the stores.
In a roundabout and somewhat apt way, communism has won, everyone now looks the same, though instead of all wearing poorly assembled grey overalls made by a sad man in Moscow, we are all wearing Topman t-shirts and leggings with shorts made by sad children in the Philippines. And do you know what is to blame? The urban jungle.
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Urban Annoyance #1438
I do love cities and towns; I do so very much love them. Where else are all your human needs catered for within the radius of about 500 yards? Want some bread and milk? No problem, there is a Tesco Express around the corner. Want some souvalaki? Easy, there is a Greek restaurant just up the road. Want to read a Jane Austen novel in solitude? Look there is a library (take that villages!). Want to get beaten over the head with a pool cue by a fat, shaven-headed EDL fascist? There's one of 'those' pubs in every urban area. Want some oral sex delivered by a Romanian mother of five? Look down yonder dark alley and ye shall find your exotic bounty.
My point is that everything you can possibly want can be found in a city and quite possibly everything you don't want too. However, there are certain things that get on all of our collective tits when it comes to city life. Here is one.
Neighbours who lack empathy
So, it is around 8.30am in the morning and it's a lie in day. There you are all safe and warm in your bed, fast asleep with your head filled with nothing but your odd dreams when BANG you are awoken by the sound of a dog tied to a rail barking and barking and barking and barking. It doesn't matter what type of dog it is, little poodle or big wolfhound, you ain't going back to sleep, sucker. And don't try to do something constructive, there's no concentrating when one single repetitive noise is coming at ya, constantly.
So, you get out of bed, have a shower, get dressed and open your windows to the sight of your neighbours looking right back at you through the window, as if you were some kind of naked deity with a message, trapped inside a hourglass (I have no idea what I'm talking about either). This will prove to be a regular feature of your day, everytime you get close to a window, the same neighbours will be staring up at you through your window, get used to it.
Later on, in the evening, when you want to relax in the peace and quiet, maybe with the TV and your special other half, a nice film, a glass of wine setting the mood, this could be a perfect night. But oh no it won't, those voyeuristic neighbours of yours have decided to stop gazing at your window and get into a drunken brawl with lots of shouting. Mood sufficiently ruined, thanks strange alcoholic man and fat, bald dude. All this to the background noise of your other neighbour's ATM machine alarm going off.
Then you have the sound of DIY, the monotonous banging of a hammer on a piece of wood, the foul screeching of a drill making a hole in something that shouldn't have a hole in it and the shouts of the people operating these tools as they struggle to convey their gentle whimsy over the sound of their machines to their other companions as they go about changing their big, huge, neon sign.
Did I mention I live above a Co-op convenience store and opposite a pub? Oh, well, now you know. Kind of essential to the story actually. Ah well, continue on with your life.
What My First Day As A London Commuter Has Taught Me
Well, today was my first day as a proper out-of-town to the capital commuter. Reading to Teddington via Twickenham. Alright, it's hardly Soho or the City or Fleet Street but it's a start. Besides, FourFourTwo magazine is the biggest publication I've worked at in my fledgling career (and I include the last issue of Pugwash's massive distribution in that).
Being a person that has never really lived before, the amount of times I've been to London can be counted on the fingers of one hand, even if said hand had once been put through some kind of farm equipment and was left without the full complement of digits.
As a result, I'm still rather new to the whole working in London thing and so some things still raffle baffle or amuse my simple, less urban mind.
Firstly, fold-up bicycles. ALOL. Has fashion and environmental consciousness ever been so further apart? They look like trombones when folded up and paper imitations of bicycles when unfolded. And the smug look on their owners faces? Bugger off. I can save the environment by not looking like a twat. It's called walking and it's free. Jog on, so to speak.
Secondly, and this is more a public transport in general kind of thing, why can't there be lanes in railway stations, like motorway lanes. For example, you can have old couple, slow walking man on phone and tourist on the slower lane, then fast walkers in the middle lane and people running to catch their trains or "VERY IMPORTANT PEOPLE WHO HAVE TO RUN EVERYWHERE BECAUSE THEY ARE SO IMPORTANT" in the outside lane. Simples, n'est pas?
Thirdly, working on your lunch break. This used to be an alien concept to me, much like having sex with your socks on or watching a show with Fearne Cotton in it. Sadly, and thankfully, only working during my lunch hour has now become familiar to me. Well, I've done it toady but I don't like it!
Lastly, the token man running for a train. Usually a source of amusement for me, not today. Today, it was me. I ran and I ran, bulldozing women with shopping on the way as I went, like a sweaty hippo in a green hoodie.
Oh how things can change. Even in a day.
A Thought on the International Response to the Pakistani Floods
Not my original thought but courtesy of my dad and I completely agree.
If the West seriously wants to get Muslim states on their side in the War on Terror/Islamic fundamentalism, why have they given groups like Al-Qaeda the perfect ammunition for propaganda by their response to the floods in Pakistan?
By not donating huge amounts of aid to the ravaged Muslim country, unlike in the aftermath of previous natural disasters, the new propaganda message of Al-Qaeda is simple:
"Look, after Haiti's earthquake, they got huge amounts of aid. After the 2004 tsunami, a tonne of aid was donated to the countries affected. But look, when a disaster is based in a Muslim country, no aid is forthcoming because the West hates Muslims."
Simple, perhaps not true, but devastatingly effective. If I was a Pakistani man who has lost his family and possessions and saw no aid being given to my country, I would certainly believe such a message if I heard it.
So, why are the West ruining their best chance at reviving their relationship with the Islamic world? David Cameron's "terrorists" comments probably didn't help is all I would say.
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The Strange and Disturbing Tale of Raoul Moat, Sky News and Modern Morality
So there we were, myself and my girlfriend, sat in front of the TV on a Friday night with a tub of ice cream and some cider, planning to stick on a film and probably fall asleep with it on. But then, just as we were getting up to put on Sherlock Holmes, a banner popped up on the bottom of the screen over the Simpsons (we were watching Sky One). The banner said; "Raoul Moat surrounded by police. Switch to Sky News Channel 501 for more details".
"Oh," we thought "switch over just to see what's going on and then we will watch the film." An hour later, we were still watching but we managed to tear ourselves away, only looking again before going to bed at midnight. However, that hour said all that needed to be said for the state of modern morality that we all adhere to.
All the "news" consisted of was repeated shots (so to speak) of some footage caught from apparently up a tree by Sky News cameramen, showing the police negotiators and continued live footage of the barricade put up at the end of the road the incident was occurring on. Occasionally, the reporter would step in front of the camera to tell us the same information we had heard time and time again over the last week.
After a while, it became clear that all Sky News (and indeed, all the news outlets) wanted was the 'money shot' of Moat holding the shotgun to his neck. This was clear by the way the cameramen who caught the footage of the negotiating team kept panning left to where Moat was, thankfully covered by trees from the vantage point of the camera. This isn't the concern as this is the way the news operates, it wants to get the most shocking shot.
The main concern was that the vast majority of people, myself included, was just watching, hoping to see a man end his life, live on TV. There was no other reason for watching this 'news'. It was pure voyeurism and rubber-necking.
A final point, a quick look on the BBC News website offers you a video entitled "The moment gunman stand-off ends", in perhaps the most disturbing title ever. For the sake of Moat, a murderer but still a human being, don't watch it.
