The Cut And Thrust Of Debate – Good For The Soul

Unless you are shrieking climate change harridan who thinks it appropriate to lobby BBC journalists to ban any questioning of the climate change mantra.

If you read one link on this blog at all, read this. Then tell me how this approach is different in any way to totalitarian regimes. I’m right, everyone else is a paid-for crook. Climate change’s biggest figurehead? Al Gore. And he’s not made any money out of it at all, has he?

The breathtaking insanity screams at you across the paragraphs. “I am willing to purchase a copy of James Hoggan’s book for you and each of your Science/Technology/Environment colleagues if you promise to read it and get your heads around what has been going on in “denial” land.” she says. Could you be any more patronising. Why is Hoggan so right and sceptical scientists (which should be all scientists) are not? Who is paying Hoggan, can we ask?

I am not in the pay of anyone on this topic. I see what I see. I don’t believe everything I’m told. I’m a notorious sceptic. When people tell me something is proven, and I doubt it, just screaming at me ain’t going to make me believe. But they don’t want me to believe, they just don’t want me (or anyone else) to speak. Watts up with That (linked right) is a brilliant site, and yet he’s supposed to shut his hole? The BBC is not allowed to raise any of his concerns, because some Canadian said that we are in the pay of big oil (who will do very well out of anything climate change related, believe me).

Staggering stuff. Please do read it. You may agree with climate change, that is your right. But if you can’t see the breathtaking hypocrisy of this, then I fear. As Old Holborn puts, succinctly, in the comments “Are you mental?”

More on Favre / Peter King

Look, this probably interests only me in the limited readership of this blog, but as I write this most of the time for myself, and if anyone is interested enough to read my thoughts then thanks a lot, I am continuing on this line.  If only to remind myself in future why I feel like I do about Favre.

In the US the obsession in certain quarters of the media with Brett Favre  is not something that has passed by many bloggers. Peter King’s love/love relationship with Brett Favre has been noted for years, and some blogs (see link at the end of this piece make good capital out of it). This sort of relationship isn’t on the level at all – when a journalist is basically Favre’s chief Fan Boy and he isn’t afraid to show it, it puts all his other stuff into question – is he really saying what he thinks, or is he letting his rampant idolisation obscure what we all saw. In my view it taints his writing. For example, in this Q&A in his mailbag on CNNSI today:

AIKMAN MADE A GOOD POINT TO ME ABOUT THIS SUNDAY NIGHT. From T. Smith of St. Paul, Minn.: “I read your stats about Brett Favre playing well in these so-called pressure games, but I think it’s a little flimsy. He’s had a lot of bad games too — the six-interception playoff game against the Rams, the end of the game against the Giants in the championship game a couple of years ago. I’m happy he’s here, but I want to see how well he plays in the playoffs before we judge him.”

Good point, and I’m sure Favre would say the same thing. My point was the three games in which Favre has the 11-to-0 TD-to-interception ratio were games with a different kind of pressure, with his father’s death laying on him and the two games against the Packers this year.

When I spoke with Troy Aikman on Sunday night, I thought he made a great case for why he thought Favre would play well Sunday. He said this on the air too, about how he expected Favre to play well, because he’d won 76 percent of his games on this field, and because once the hoopla was over and it was a football game, Favre has played in a lot of pressure games in his life and it’d pretty quickly turn into a football game and not a circus. That’s exactly what Favre said to me after the game. Smart call by Aikman.

Absolutely brilliant. He gets a question from a punter casting doubts on the flawed logic fanboy King uses and the fanboy himself barely hesitates in utilisings it to throw in the fact he chats with all the big stars with a blatant name drop. Imagine Martin Samuel, if you must, saying, “well, yes, when I was speaking to Franz Beckenbauer he made a great point as to why he thought Lionel Messi might play brilliantly for Barcelona in the Champions League final”. If Samuel did that (and fuck me blind, Henry Winter does that sort of thing and it makes me want to scratch his eyeballs out) we’d be screaming, and his editor would rightly ask what the hell he is up to. It is puffery, ego boosting. I’m inwith the in-crowd. It is crap. Who cares what Dallas Troy thinks in answer to a question that points out that the semi-deity that is Favre needs to perform in the play-offs before this Viking fan is convinced? The point wasn’t directed at Troy, it was directed at you. Don’t get some shrill to do your work for you because it backs you up. Why didn’t you ask Thomas Jones instead?

The reason Minnesota won is that they have a better team at this point in time – it really isn’t hard. Favre is an upgrade on Jackson or Rosenfels in all likelihood, but so are pretty much every starting QB in the league – he’s a piece of the puzzle, not the reason for it all, despite what King would have you believe. The Vikings defense is great, and they have if not the best, then one of the best running backs in the league to focus defensive minds. To cherry pick two games against the Packers, and one a few years ago after his father died to show how well he plays in adversity is selective bullshit. Apart from the mid-to-late 90s, Favre has not performed well in the play-offs. The questioner is right, but alas, he doesn’t get to talk to Troy Aikman, so he’s a nobody. There’s no adversity more than trying to battle your team to the Superbowl. In the most recent massive game he played in, Brett Favre threw the key interception.

• THE CASE OF THE THROBBING GROIN. From Fred in Houston, Texas: “Favre’s a drama queen. It can’t just be about the game — it has to be about him and how he overcame this big injury to play.”

The Twitterverse — at least those people who follow me and write me Monday — were all over Favre for his admission to me that he hurt his groin in practice Wednesday, strained it Sunday, and told offensive coordinator Darrell Bevell and backup quarterback Tarvaris Jackson he might not be able to make it through the game. I guess I’d ask you this question: Would you rather have an athlete who didn’t tell you what was wrong with him, or would you rather have an athlete who leveled with you about how he felt? Now, Favre took a lot of heat for hiding his arm injury last year with the Jets. Now he tells me he had a sore groin that affected Packer play-calling in the game and you don’t think he should talk about that? Can’t have it both ways, I’d say.

How dare this questioner even suggest that Brett Favre is a drama queen. Where on earth would he get that idea from? And did he really hide his arm injury from everyone last year? I am not sure he did, I thought it was common knowledge it was toast at the end of the season, and it is why Thomas Jones, for one, was calling for him to sit as he was hurting the team. The only one having it both ways is Peter King. He wants to show he is in the loop by being Brett Favre’s press boy, and then gets all uppity when people call him on it. Oh look, Peter King has a twitter saying Favre’s injured in the run-up to his big game. Oooooh, look, Brett’s playing. Ooooooh, isn’t Brett a real man for taking all that abuse and still winning a game when injured.

Someone may well be having it both ways, but that would be a crass, crude metaphor. Better not call him on it…

HERO WORSHIP, HE ACCUSES ME OF. From Luke Fleeman of Tulare, Calif.: “Peter, you were one of the voices of reason in the Favre retirement saga, pointing out when he fibbed. But now it seems like you’ve joined the choir, falling down to help worship Favre with the rest of the media. I have to say I am disappointed, because I think most of us are just sick of hearing about him.”

My job is to report on what happens in the NFL. On Sunday, the story of the day in the NFL was the all-time passing leader’s return to the place where he parted so bitterly in 2008. Favre played well for the second time this year against the Packers under pressurized circumstances. I wrote about it. I’m not kneeling at his feet. I’m reporting the story of the day in the NFL, interviewing the player, like him or not, who is a polarizing figure.

Hey, look. Peter King gets what he wants – people reading his stuff, which I have to say I find mostly dull, but do read as I love the NFL. But his lover boy relationship with Favre had about a two week cooling off period which King has now forgotten and Brett has obviously forgiven. I am sick and tired with Favre, and actively want him to fail because he’s a prima donna. He should look at great QBs like John Elway, Joe Montana, Dan Marino and, yes, Troy Aikman as retired players and the likes of Peyton Manning (who I dislike purely because he took most of Dan’s records), Drew Brees and Tom Brady (shenanigans with models and actresses apart) who make the game the thing and not themselves. Favre is the show. He wants to be the show. He has people making him the show. That’s why he is loathed.

As always, someone always does it better, so let me pass anyone with the remotest interest in this topic onto this post.

Geoff Capes’ Syndrome…Alive and Well….

Aahh, Dmitri, I hear none of you ask. What are you on about now? What the hell has the ex-policeman shot putter got to do with anything? And when you  hear that I am linking this incredible hulk to the frail waif-like Paula Radcliffe, you may be stretching your brains (if you care) that bit further.

Geoff Capes was a stalwart of those early runs of the blatant schedule filling “Britain’s / World’s Strongest Man” competitions. Individuals who had obviously never taken a steroid or two in their life pitted themselves against each other by pulling trucks, carrying concrete balls, running with various weighty things, arm wrestling or what not. Capesy used to be in with a shout many a time in these shin-digs. However, among my childhood friends (former Channel 5 presenter Lee Wellings, I mean you) Geoff Capes syndrome manifested itself thus…

Capesy would be close to the leaders, usually in the world competition it was the late Jon-Pall Sigmarsson. On a couple of occasions Capesy would prevail, but when he didn’t, it wasn’t because of the strength of the competition. No, Capesy always got an injury, usually to the bicep. He didn’t want to use it as an excuse, but it manifested itself when he failed, and he usually wore copious amounts of strapping to “point out” where he was hurting.

Capesy was a legend all right. But to be fair, he did win a couple of World’s Strongest Man competitions, he was a decent shot-putter when the Eastern Europeans were swallowing steroids like smarties, and he has been a world champion in another discipline… breeding budgies.

Anyway, Geoff Capes syndrome is now achieved when a sporting star collapses in injury after they’ve lost. Andy Murray in his early career was a candidate for this particular honour, but yesterday, after Radcliffe lost the New York Marathon, she joined the esteemed club. Having run 26 miles and 385 yards (around 20 miles longer than my walk), she crossed the line, and then limped as if a sniper had put a bullet in her leg. Jesus, girl, if it hurt that much, why stop running? Add to that her Olympic performances, and brave failures, the Radcliffe legend of futility is gaining great ground. An induction into the Geoff Capes’ Syndrome pantheon of fame is her greatest triumph.

Driven To Distraction

I am a worker in the father-feed ‘em all that is the UK public service. As such I am paid a salary akin to my job security (relative) and try to do a decent job. I don’t see that I should be the focus of public rage because the banks were slipshod and a bit like a gambler who had a big win and started to lump its money on worse outsiders. I know we attract the ire of a population suffering at the moment, but we are just like you. We just took the lower risk route. You didn’t listen to our bleats in the good times, did you? (My department cut by over a half in the “good times).

But I tell you what does get my ire. Fucking consultants, that’s who. Where I work I have two people who have been brought in from outside behind me. One is quiet and very softly spoken. I hardly know he is there. The other is as noisy as hell, a real sloanie, trying to sell houses when she is charging the public purse a fortune, talking about her property portfolio, and generally getting on my nerves as she talks about her life loudly. Add to that, and I can’t really say the nature of her work, but it isn’t rocket science, they are making the task sound like the Labours of Hercules. I see ker-farking-ching as they continue to conceptualise, talk about what is stopping them from moving on, doing memoranda and business cases, scoping and Quality-reviewing talks, but as yet, no sign of any, you know, product.

I’ll bet it over-runs. I’ll bet it comes in over-budget. And I’ll bet it is fucking awful.

It isn’t all the public sector’s fault. You know the private contractors see them as a soft touch, get themselves in, place themselves in the department’s bloodstream like a Herpes virus, and continue to infect us on certain occasions. They also charge a lot of money to cure the illness, and like bloody coldsores, none of them fucking work.

And if that fucking mobile goes off again….

He Can’t Be Serious, Can He?

Those of you who have ESPN America may have come across the little mouthy New Yorker on the show “Sports Reporters” called Mike Lupica. His often tiresome righteous indignation has, on occasion, made me yearn for the always entertaining, but barely sentient, Charles Sale to return to Hold The Back Page or whatever it is called now, but not often. Lupica always seems so down on the sports world, so angry.

So when I read this article in the New York Daily News, I, like Jere on A Redsox fan from Pinstripe Territory, had to double take. If this is sarcasm, he’s disguising it very well. It could well be the work of a malevolent genius. I really can’t be sure. I’ll bet some Yankee fans actually believe it. News to them – Manchester United draw more per game, and have a worldwide floating “support” that would put the Yankees to shame, so cut with the most known team in the world of sport crap.

It is be nice to the Yankees time as they look like winning it all, despite Joe Girardi’s eccentricities last night. These are the comeback kids, the world’s wealthiest underdogs, a team of very expensive talent seeing off those that actually can’t afford their salaries. Best fans in the world indeed. Nice to support a front-runner.

A Resigned Red Sox Fan

I am afraid that the truth is rather staring us all in the face. As much as I try to plot a rational course otherwise, there is no alternative. The New York Yankees are going to win it all this season.

I can’t quite fathom why they are so dominant this year. The line-up, Texeira excepted of course, is a year older and although has decent bats down the line-up, is nothing that much more daunting than when they had as Sheffield or a non-drugged up Giambi in the team. And would you rather pitch to Bernie Williams or Melky Cabrera? So despite an amazing offensive season, they have still to be worried about post-season play?

No, for some reason, aura has come back to this team. It makes CC Sabathia God. It makes AJ Burnett something other than totally inconsistent. It has made Andy Pettitte scary again. This season the Yankees have a ton of walk-off wins, finding ways to come from behind, or snatch a win when all seems lost. They have Mariano Rivera and his super-expanded strike zone. But this aura is affecting opponents.

Philadelphia are the reigning champs and playing very well – I could not believe their coughing up of a Game 2 loss in LA as the coach played revolving doors in an 8th innings farce. Yet if they get through, with their potent offense and a more than decent pitching staff, you know the Yankees will take them. The Dodgers have no prayer against them with exceedingly flaky pitching and a hardly terrifying batting line-up.

My hopes were staked on the obnoxious Angels seeing them off. This really is like rooting for Stalin to defeat Hitler (well it isn’t really, but you get my drift) as the Angels seem to bitch and whine every time something goes against them – and that Aybar goat seems the worst offender – but their dismantling of the Red Sox gave me hope that they might just give the Yankees a real go.

Two games into the series and they have played error-strewn baseball and given the Yankees both their wins. In the cauldron of a freezing New York Yankee Stadium playpen, they’ve come up woefully short and played like chokers. The Yankees haven’t lost a play-off game yet, and it wouldn’t surprise me if they sweep. There is only one thing worse than losing, and that is choking. The Angels celebrated beating the Sox as if they had got rid of a monkey off their back. Instead they put a ten ton gorilla on instead and he’s cutting their windpipe.

I am mentally prepared for the worst, and I am praying that Brad Lidge gets his mojo back for any closes he’ll have to do in that hell hole in the Bronx. It is a terrible scenario for me to ponder.

You Had Your Chance..

It really, really bugs me that the World Cup is as gerrymandered as it is. The football one I mean…

In the qualifying competition, the eight best runners-up would go through to a play-off, with four ties deciding the last four European countries going forward to the Finals. The eight teams are an ecletic mix. They include – Winners in 1998, France; Semi-finalists last time around, Portugal; 2004 European champions, Greece. All three of these teams were seeded as number one seeds in their group. All failed to capitalise on that advantage and lost out to the world powers of  Serbia, Denmark and Switzerland. In my opinion, any favouritism shown (and I sort of agree with seeding groups to ensure we don’t get a five team group of San Marino, Andorra, Faeroe Islands, Liechtenstein and Kazakhstan battling it out for two places) ends there.

You had your chance….In my view, these teams should not be afforded postive treatment. They had it already, and they failed. But along with Russia (Euro semi-finalists last time around n’est-ce pas?) who weren’t good enough to be seeded first and fell to Euro finalists Germany in their group, they have been seeded for the play-off. This is a kick in the teeth to Ireland, Bosnia Hercegovina, Slovenia and Ukraine who are now seen as “not quite as worthy” runners-up. The seedings were based on FIFA ratings. This would have had Croatia seeded as somehow they are 8th in the world. The Czech Republic, who seem to do eff all squared at any tournament I recall still, mysteriously, pop up at 15th, one spot behind “what have they done lately” Cameroon, who I think, need to see of the mighty Gabon to qualify! In short, the ratings are wank.

Why on earth couldn’t FIFA just do a random draw of 8 teams? What possible justification is there to seed a bunch of runners-up? I know, I know, we can’t have France missing out, and easing their path may just be the way to ensure the lucrative revenue generated in that nation doesn’t go to waste as Thierry/William/ Gail and anyone else who plays for Arsenal sits on his arse at home. How good would a France v Portugal play-off have been, knowing that the 2006 Semi-Final would be repeated in the preliminaries and that one of them would not make it. How much pleasure knowing one of them would go out and pay for their awful qualifying performances.

No, I don’t buy the bollocks, as purveyed by Sky during the Uruguay v Argentina game that we want to see all the best teams at a World Cup Finals. If that were the case, what the hell are North Korea and Honduras doing there? If Argentina were so damn good, they wouldn’t have required a bent goal against Peru and a scrappy win in Uruguay to see them through. At least there is no hiding place in South America. Everyone plays everyone home and away. The best four go through, the 5th one plays the 4th best in Concacaf.

Well done Bosnia. Off to France or Portugal for you. Put money on it.

I despair of football. I really do…

We want to see a fair and open qualification system and not one rigged to give the likes of France a chance to avoid someone who might just turn them over. You think they want to face Portugal, or Bosnia? Russia or Slovenia? I pray whoever these two countries get, in particular, turn them over.

And While I Am On The Subject…

Re that EastEnders article. Look down the side for some of the “entertainment” headlines.

Sky TV to screen Michael Jackson seance.

Cheryl Cole to mime on X-Factor.

Edison gave up so much to discover electricity. John Logie Baird pioneered the TV. Mozart and the classicists produced music of complexity and depth. All would probably look down now and say “why the hell did we bother”.

A few years ago there was a fantastic comedy series called Hot Metal. It parodied the workings of a newspaper with ludicrous stories, ridiculous headlines and stupid stunts. That seance headline would have been right up their strasse. Parody has become fact.

Let us look at the first story. No lets. It is Derek Acorah who is going to try to contact him, which stretches credibility, such as there was any, to breaking point. It is this particular piece of bilge that had me reaching for the pins to commence eye gouging…

“Speaking about the show, presenter June Sarpong said: “I’ve always been a huge Michael Jackson fan, he truly was the King of Pop, and I was shocked and saddened by his sudden death. I think viewers will find this programme intriguing and will want to tune in to see what happens.

“It’s the first time I’ve done anything like this but I’m open-minded and can’t wait to see what Derek uncovers,” she added.”

June Sarpong has obviously been offered a fair deal of money to front this buffoonery. I must confess I’ve never heard of her before, so she obviously doesn’t have a stellar career to kill off by appearing in this must-see TV!

Sky’s official line is no less bile-inducing…

“There is an insatiable appetite to find out more about Michael Jackson. He was an extraordinary figure and the curiosity surrounding his life – and his death – stretches well beyond fans of his music.”

And if they can lure enough of the suckers in, we can sell more advertising! To paraphrase their nauseatingly insulting football promo…”We know how you feel about Michael Jackson, because we feel the same.” You dumb fucks!

Personally, I’d rather them get up Glenn Miller and ask him what happened to his plane. But then, it is the King of Pop and there are enough freaks out there to eat this nonsense up. It makes me worry for the world…

As for the second story…

What? You mean she has sung live? Really?

I thought the world at large could not be taken more for fools, but on a show where the contestants have to perform live and are then subject to comments by c***s of various orders of c***itude about the quality or otherwise of their choons, and to then have one of those stand up and mime some pop-tripe of some lamentable quality is a bit like being taken the piss out of. “Hey you, if you have talent, you can lip-synch just like me.” Providing some deranged numpty doesn’t punch you in the face first, eh Leona?

And so to the patronising, insult-your-intelligence, take you for the c*** you are statement from an “insider”.

An X Factor insider told the paper: “Cheryl is the break-out star of Girls Aloud and there are big plans for her. Nobody – either on the X Factor nor her record label Polydor – wants to see her fail, which is why we thought it was better for Cheryl to mime her performance.”

Can’t take a chance on her fucking it up, eh?

If you fear for the future of this country, I would seriously advise you not to read the comments section. This lot couldn’t care less about recessions, the EU superstate or war in Afghanistan. It’s all about the X Factor innit.

For the love of Christ. Someone shoot me.

Bent???? Never!!!

It is a bit of a slow loader but stick with it. At 2:13 they show you the position of the scorer when the ball was kicked….

I feel the referee could have been unsighted!

Argentina get out of jail with a little help from their friends!

I Like Their Style…

Having spent a week in Cornwall and having a number of the local ales at my disposal on my return, I can vouch for the concerns a number have raised about the nanny state now turning their attention to drink as a way to tax us all further into oblivion improve public health.

A number of you may recall my post a couple of months back about Brewdog, a Scottish brewing firm, and their production of a super strength beer called Tokyo (a special edition of the brand) – the post is here.

Well, it seems as though the reaction of the idiotic press, bandwagon hopping lobby groups who won’t let reason stand in the way of a good outrage and of course, our beloved nanny politicians has affronted the good people of Brewdog. Their reaction is an absolute classic…

“NANNY STATE”

I do advise you all to read the blog article. As they say, you’d think they would get praised for producing such a responsible product, and at 1.1 ABV they have produced a beer that isn’t subject to excise duty! But of course not. There are no merits in praising a product that meets the demands of the lobby fodder..

BBC have an article on line about it, but I think the chap here misses the point…by a country mile..

“Jack Law, chief executive of Alcohol Focus Scotland, said of the new Nanny State beer: “This is a positive move which proves that low strength doesn’t compromise quality.

“However the name of the beer proves that once again this company is failing to acknowledge the seriousness of the alcohol problem facing Scotland.”"

Of course sunshine. Of course. It is a commentary on the whole bloody UK and the government interfering in all sorts you muppet, not your insular little anti-alcohol stance. This blog posting puts it as well as any..

The Absentee Landlords / Landladies

I am writing this on holiday in Cornwall. The location, set back from Falmouth and Penryn in a converted barn is beautiful, the accommodation on the face of it is very nice and more than adequate for our needs. It is dog friendly, it is cosy, has a nice kitchen… but…

It is 25 past 8 at night as I write this, but it won’t be published until I get home to London. At the moment we have a noise that sounds like the Queen Mary is coming into port as the heating comes on. This particular ocean liner has a blast that lasts around five minutes. I’d talk to the owner, but I have the distinct impression that they don’t really want to be bothered by us. After all we found the TV had not been tuned in, and in fact the leads had been disconnected between the digital box and the TV on our arrival. Not wishing to mess around with their equipment, the wife and mother-in-law  went to see the owner who seemed to give them short shrift. In the end the mother-in-law got a picture, I sorted out the retuning. Not impressed.

We were also promised a welcome pack on arrival including a bottle of wine et al. Nothing. The hot water in the shower is not exactly consistent, and we froze on our first night as the heating clearly wasn’t on and is set centrally by the owner. The clear message in the welcome pack is under no circumstances should we change it ourselves. It ended up with the purchase of extra duvets!!!

Finally we are a sad breed and we do like our creature comforts and one of the key factors in booking a place to stay is to have the internet. This place clearly indicates it has wi-fi internet. For the first couple of days we did. While it was a little temperamental it did work most of the time. Now it doesn’t. It shows no sign of doing so. Now we are in a dilemma – should we tell the owner who doesn’t seem to give a flying one, or should we just leave it? At the moment we tend towards the latter.

It is such a shame because the place itself is lovely, Cornwall is great and we are having a decent time. I know the male side of the ownership said that his wife has fractured her ankle so he has all the work to do, and we are sympathetic, but at the same time, he’s made no attempt to ask how we are, how things are going or even to see if there is anything we need. The one time we did approach him, he appeared not to want to be bothered. For that reason we can’t recommend the Barn in Mabe to anyone. While we loved Crubenbeg up in Scotland and would return there in a heartbeat, we just did not feel the same about this place. Going through the motions…..

UPDATE – It just got more bizarre. No heating at all for the last two nights (I wrote this on Tuesday) and checkout this morning was utterly bizarre. We were due to check out by 10am. Having got up slightly early and been ahead of schedule we had loaded up the car by just past 8:30 and if we got to go then, we’d be able to get to the M25 before the Friday rush. We emptied our possessions, checked one more time, and they must have heard us loading the car. Still no sign of the owners, and so the beloved knocked on the front door. Both cars were parked outside the house, but no-one answered!!! They make such a big play over inventory etc. in their lease agreement, but they could not be arsed to see us off, or take their door key! Honestly, we never did a thing to offend them, annoy them or tarnish their lovely property.

But that was the wierdest holiday property owning duo I have come across. We loved the barn, the owners were decidedly odd. As I said earlier, the wife in the partnership did have a fractured ankle. We never saw her, or heard her! There were rarely lights on in the main property. Just the wierdest thing I’ve seen on holiday for quite a while.

Sleepwalking

There’s a lot to love about the UK – yes, really there is. It is a beautiful country, and I will be sampling some of its pleasures soon with a trip down to Cornwall. As I have a wife relatively new to the country, I’ve got out of my suburban bolt-hole and seen parts of the country outside the cities and their football grounds. Driving through the Cotswolds to Worcester in May, strolling around Whitstable, a weekend break in Dorset a couple of years back and our fantastic week away in the Highlands of Scotland.

But this country has a lot to worry about. The increasing pervasiveness of the state and local authorities in our lives, telling us how to live, banning us when the state believes we are doing wrong. You know I am a climate change sceptic, seeing less as “save the planet” but “fleece the public” in the eyes of politicians while the great unwashed and the students see it as the new cause celebre now everyone is fed up with “ban the bomb”. We see a government straining every sinew to stay in power, and we see a populace equally straining every sinew to avoid anything to do with politics. We see the rise of the BNP, and the politician / liberal cognoscenti sniff and believe the only way to stop them is to ban them instead of trying to work out just why their support is increasing – it isn’t rocket science. We see economic woes that we know will hit us, but we just seem oblivious…

I don’t / can’t do a political diatribe here, but what does get me with this country, and the serious issues we face, is how we let trivialities dominate. When I see charities, funded by public money through government departments, that is, by the taxes you and I pay telling me how to live my life and suggesting all manner of banning, deprivation, denegration and degeneration of the individual, I get mad. I get angry. It seems other people are oblivious and care only that Arlene Phillips has been replaced on the panel of Strictly Come Dancing by Alesha Dixon. It isn’t a show I watch, nor one I particularly care about. However, this article in the epitome of this country the Daily Mail, sums it all up. At the time of writing 187 people have cared enough to write something on this. It is bollocks. So what? How has your life changed for the good or for the worse over this change? So what if she does things differently to her predecessor? It is trivial.

Fuck me. People are sleepwalking. Truly they are.

Always Nice To Have That Sense Of Timing

I sense another official better be prepared to be spending more time with his family. I give you the man who authorised this little exercise on the most sensitive day of the year in the USA…

What next from these people. A Red Bull Airshow in Honolulu on 7 December. A KKK march on Capitol Hill on Martin Luther King Day?

Idiots…

“The Department of Homeland Security later confirmed that the reported incident was a training exercise, and that no shots were fired.

But departures from Reagan National Airport were halted after the incident as a precaution.”

I don’t know where they get them from….

For The Love of Sanity…

I read today a story about volunteers who regularly drive minibuses for sports clubs or social events will need to be criminally checked before they are able to do so to make sure the person concerned isn’t a paedophile. You know, as always, the line is “it is for the children” and sure enough out the line gets trotted..

It is about ensuring that people in a position of trust that work frequently and intensively with children are safe to do so.

“Ultimately safeguarding children is the government’s priority.”

Of course it is. It is most assuredly not about getting 11 million on a database for this state obsessed with knowing what its subjects are up to. As you may have noted from the story about Adrian, which was recounted a couple of months ago on this blog, even if he had been found innocent of the things he’d been accused of, he would probably have fallen foul of this register on the premise that there is “no smoke without fire”. So don’t just assume it is the kiddy fiddler alone who is being brought up by this. Got drunk and had a fight? You may well be on this list as unsuitable… who knows how you pass these checks.

So the BBC carries this story. In a world where men are finding it increasingly difficult to get work with children because the assumption is now being drip fed into the public psyche that it is women’s work and that men who want to teach, run the scouts, help kids to develop all secretly want to molest them and are all potential paedophiles, we need a balanced, even-handed approach. I’ll tell you, in my own small way, how this affects me. When I walk my border collie, a load of the local kids, who absolutely love Jake, all want to come up and stroke him. He loves the attention and lays down for them. If I am on my own, I am concious that if a number of adults see me do this regularly, they are going to think I am a potential peadophile. Yes, it is that fucking stupid. But when you have the approach “you can’t be too careful” and the small number of menaces to society are blown up to represent us all in the male world, that’s what happens. I don’t want a parent to think I am using a dog to get kid’s attention. So sometimes I just try to walk on as quickly as I can. Without being rude…

So, this BBC story. Who do you think the BBC has a photo of on the attached article. Baden Powell? A Blue Peter presenter? Today’s equivalent of Philip Schofield.

No.

This is the picture to accompany the story. Representative of what this is trying to stop.. The sort of man that 40000 names registering them to be unsuitable to be around kids will include..

The tag beneath the photo reads “The rules aim to stop those like Soham killer Ian Huntley accessing children.”

For christ’s sake. “Thos like Soham killer Ian Huntley.” You must be joking. How many similar cases to the Soham murders have their been? And in any case, would him not being permitted to work with children stop him from having contact with kids and stop him from being a murderer? Er, no. And as a representative of this load of government interfering twaddle – brilliant. Before you work with kids, you have to prove you are not like Ian Huntley.

I despair. It is fucking insane.

What next. You can’t work in a bank if you have had a drink with Kenneth Noye? Can’t be allowed into B&Q in case you are like Peter Sutcliffe? Not allowed to build my patio if your name is a point of the compass?

Evil is evil. They don’t generally sign registers.

And no. I don’t have kids. I have three lovely nieces on my brother’s side, and four nieces (1) and nephews (3) through my wife. I know how I feel about them. I would not like to see them in harm’s way, but realise, sometimes, they will be. Evil is evil, risk is risk. This is trojan horse stuff, and embeds, once again in the public psyche that paedophiles are rife and waiting to get your kids. Only the state, the great state, can stop them. And if you get demonised due to a conviction for a bit of a kick up when you were younger, then bad luck. You can have your own kids, but don’t think you can look after others. And if you are on the watchlist through error, or found innocent of spurious charges? Well, we are doing it for the children.

For the children.

Ian Huntley indeed. Wankers.

Livingstone’s Folly, Boris is a Wally…

I am, despite everything, a car driver. It has entered into the public, Guardian-reading liberalistas that I am one up from Adolf Hitler. At various times I am a mass murderer of cyclists, I am poisoning the children and their frail lungs (and please God, won’t someone think of the children) and, of course, I am now the sort of person who is condemning millions to a life of famine and shortage through “climate change” because by me, little old fatboy me, decided he could get to work in 30 minutes (20 on a good day, 40 on a bad) rather than an hour door-to-door by public transport (all those off to Climate Change junkets around the world – their emissions don’t count you know)…. An hour a day saved, means an hour more with my wife, my border collie and to relax ready for the next day…

This week is the worst for traffic as the kids go back to school, mums hop into Chelsea Tractors and clog up the roads, the rush hour lasts longer and is worse, and the queue for the Blackwall Tunnel is never shorter than Woolwich Flyover, is more likely to be Sun-in-the-Sands, and more regularly Kidbrooke. For those of you who do not know this London thoroughfare, let me explain to you the meaning of this terminology.

Blackwall Lane – Short queue, usually caused by the narrowing in the road from 3 to 2 lanes, and a slip road coming onto the main road. During the Summer the queue can be shorter even this and, heaven forfend, you don’t stop on some occasions.

The North Greenwich Footbridge – Middling queue, normal length for summer and Fridays at all times of the year. Very acceptable. 5/10 minute wait.

The Woolwich Road Flyover – Two scales to this one. If the queue is at the top of the bridge then it is an average day, and a 15 minute wait will be the result. The wait is caused, even though it is a relatively short distance to the Footbridge, by inconsiderate twats who cut you up without so much as a thank you. The correlation between these ignorant c***s and their ownership of German cars is absolutely uncanny. Scientists would have a field day. The second scale is on the south side of the bridge, quite often as a result of the queue to get off the A102 and onto Trafalgar Road. That queue in the inside lane can go back as far as Sun-in-the-Sands, but even though that is obvious to the most rational, sentient beings, those in possession of Deutschland Uber Autos still drive up the middle lane and then block off two lanes of traffic as they try to cut in at the top. If the queue is on the south side, 20 minutes is the usual non-overheight vehicle/broken down in the tunnel wait.

Sun-in-the-Sands – the name of a pub where the roundabout to Blackheath/Shooters Hill looms over the top of the A102. If the queue is back to here, and there are no further accidents / foreign ignoramus lorry drivers / wankers then you can reckon on 30/35 minutes to reach the tunnel. During peak times, with no tidal flow any more, and kids at school, between 8 nd 10 you can reckon on the queue being back here. In the days of the Tidal Flow it was extraordinary that it reached back that far. Still, we are told, because we are taken for fucking morons, that congestion has not got worse. There is technical term for this sort of statement. It is called “BOLLOCKS”. The fun really starts if people see this queue and decide to get off the A102 and go onto the A2 over Blackheath. If that queue for the roundabout stretches back onto the A102 itself, you get…

Kidbrooke – This is where I used to get on the A102. A stupid set of lights, now more of a problem coming home as some two bod idiot numpty has them phased all wrong with the lights by the station, so making drivers home take a chance as to whether they’ll get across the northbound carriageway or not. Where do we get these clowns from. If the queue is back this far, and I’ve heard it on the news, I am taking the train in. More often than not, travel news from the BBC focuses on the M25, North-West London and the North Circular. Many is the time I have been in a 40 minute queue and it has never warranted a mention on BBC London, as they are more concerned at a lorry broken down on the hard shoulder on the A40 or whatever…. Reckon on an hour from here – and a phone call to work saying “sorry, I am going to be late….”

Eltham – Can I just turn around and go home please. This is where I get on. When I get to the lights at the bottom of the A2 (as it is there) I look up and get a sense of relief if I see a lorry (can’t see the cars) moving freely past. If you see one stationary, it is going to be a long morning….

Anyway, this week, after a Sun-in-the-Sands Monday, and a day being tortured by Hatchet Harriet (physio) and an apprentice spiv washing machine deliverer (ooooh, can’t install that today, sir – you need a plumber. His colleague fitted it today with no drama), I made a decision to come in by public transport for a week. Now I know this isn’t exactly Pole to Pole with Michael Palin, but for me, it is a step forward into the world of public transport by “choice”. I am going to get fitter walking to stations. I am going to be able to read books on the trains. I am going to get home earlier because, like it or not, leaving the Isle of Dogs between 4:30 and 6:30 is for those who willingly subject themselves to abuse. I am leaving the office at 5:25 to get the 17:52 from Lewisham, and all being well, be home by 6:15-:6:20.

The plan is – up at 7 am, out at about 7:50. Bus to Mottingham to get the 8:22. Arrive at Lewisham at 8:35, DLR to the office, get in at around 8:55 – 9 am.

Day 1 – Walk up to bus stop. As I ascend the small rise, I see the bus go past. No worry it is 7:55, and it is ten minutes between buses, and I have two routes to get me to Mottingham – law of averages suggest it will be 5 minutes as an average, 10 at worst. Bus turns up at 8:08. Same number as the first (126). 124 follows 2 minutes behind that. Miss 8:22 which pulls out just as I reach the station (needed to buy a travelcard so always pushing it). Wait 20 minutes for next train – arrive at work at 9:18. No dramas going home.

Day 2 – Leave 5 minutes earlier – at 7:51 on my watch. As I ascend the small rise away from my house, I see the bus go past. No worries it is 7:51 and it is 10 minutes between buses, and I have two routes to get me to Mottingham – law of averages suggest it will be 5 minutes as an average, 10 at worst. Bus turns up at 8:13. Same number as the first (126). Another 126 follows behind that, as does a 124. These wankers are taking the piss. Get off bus early to beat it to Mottingham Station. (you get off the stop before, because the queue to get across the A20 at Court Road going towards Eltham is appalling, and if you walk, you get to the station before the bus). Turn up at Mottingham at 8:24. Wait nearly 20 minutes for the next train. Get into work at 9:18. Going home the 17:52 is cancelled, I miss the 17:48 to Eltham as I can’t walk quick enough. Get the next train (17:54) to Eltham. Get off there. Wait ten minutes for 161 (one left as I came out of the station). Get off 161 at Mottingham as I know a 126 is following it. As I get to Mottingham, the 18:12 (the Mottingham to Lewisham train I could have waited for) pulls in. They all pile onto the 161. 126 delayed a little but two minutes later it shows up. The wait did have some aesthetic benefits, but the wife might be reading this, as does the sister-in-law, and my wife is the greatest! Got home at 18:40.

Day 3 – Leave at 7:50. No bus goes past as I ascend the small rise. But see a 124 approaching as I round the top of the hill. Packed. With annoying schoolkids. Get on and stand all the way. Get to Mottingham, fighting past appalling, ignorant, rude fucking schoolkids to get off as others at Mottingham try to pile on. Break free of the skirmish and into the light. Get the 8:22. No seats, so stand all the way. Gets packed as we go through Lee and Hither Green. Arrive at Lewisham the same time as an Eltham train. Go down to DLR. Train is packed solid. DLR stops at Cutty Sark. Doesn’t move for 10/15 minutes. The “short delay” was due to (a) a train in front not able to shut its doors; (b) that train being stuck at Mudchute; (c) the train needing to be moved up the line and then back into a siding; and (d) the failed train actually being moved. Bloke next to me in the DLR is obviously a heavy smoker. Another one has obviously had garlice with their breakfast. Can’t stare anywhere else or I could be arrested. Finally get to my stop, and fight my way out of the train, into the light, like a very fat chick breaking through its eggshell. Get into work at 9:13.

So – bad traffic will mean a journey of 45 minutes, and really bad an hour. A good day on public transport means an hour being pressed up against glass doors and smelling other people’s breath and last night’s food (and hey, I am not saying I smell like ashes of roses, by the way – especially that morning when I psychadelic yodelled at Greenwich) and getting sore feet.

So Livingstone, you car hating c***. So Johnson, who is warning us we are going to pay much more for the “privilege” of playing sardines every morning. You think this is an attractive alternative to car travel. How about improving things, making things, like, more reliable, before forcing us poor people, on a limited budget, to pay more to drive (and that goes for the taxation policy on all things driving) and making us do this. The only positives I can think of at the moment are that “Walk In The Woods” has been a damn good read, and I am getting marginally fitter with the walking I am doing. The negatives are I reckon my blood pressure has gone up markedly, and that is saying something.

When I get home, I am knackered. It coincides, neatly, with the time to take Jake for a walk.

Tell me…in the words of Neil Tennant. “What Have I Done To Deserve This?”

This Amused Me – From Amazon Comments

Looking through the reviews of “There Will Be Blood”, it seems as though the opinions were mixed. Some thought it magnificent, others dull (I have never seen it, and I am not sure I reall fancy it either), while some raved at Daniel Day Lewis (a WindyBrick by repute) and his performance, while others believed he’d joined the Al Pacino School of “Overacting Through Shouting”.

But this comment, among the naysayers, amused.

“Slow, uninspired, over hyped platform for a Hollywood `method’ (yeah right!) pre-Madonna.”

Ms Ciccone has a lot to answer for!

Arbitrary Moans Of The Day..

Ah…it must be September. Unlike this time last year, I am cooped up in this London rat-race and not off to the beautiful Vermont for a week, to sample the  relaxed and happy environment of Burlington, or bathe in the warm waters of the Cape of the Fifth Month in the Newest Channel Island. Nor visiting the Baseball Hall of Fame, nor watching the Phillies play the Brewers, nor trying to drown myself in a kayak. Or is it a canoe? I couldn’t give a monkey’s toss.

No. It is September. Which means traffic hell. Over-running road works meet the return to school imbeciles in a battle to the death for road space. Whereas the odd illiterate lorry driving fool blocking the tunnel for 5 minutes wasn’t really a big deal in the summer, now it ensures traffic chaos. The journey to work has leapt from 30-35 minutes to the best part of an hour, and the journey home, passing the criminally ignorant ill-phased lights at the Aspen Way flyover, has also jumped in length. And as we sit there longer and longer, we see our extra 2p plus a litre fritter away into the pockets of our masters. I am seriously thinking of getting the train next week. That jaundiced sympathetic view of rail travel passes about a week after you decide to go down that route- the first time you have your train cancelled / 10 minutes late / DLR signal failure / it rains.

I have a question. I am one of those suckers who buys those instant cappucino thingamies by Nescafe. They are pretty awful, but I am also dead lazy. In a fit of optimism meeting stupidity I bought a box of “cappucino skinny” – snigger – and the thing is it appears utterly incapable of dissolving itself in my reasonably sized coffee cup. Jesus, every so often your coffee is interspersed with a lump of powder. How can I get the damn thing to dissolve. I am sure it would resist concentrated sulphuric acid.

Red Sox lost last night. Texas won. The Yankee had their tummies tickled all right.

Pretty much a quiet life at the moment, but I am sure that will end soon. It has a habit of being peaceful for all too short a time….

Just The Tuppence A Litre…

Yes, just another 2p on the price of a litre of petrol. Just the extra pound a fortnight to fill up my car. Just another £25 a year to the coffers of the Treasury just so that I can pick up the shopping, visit the family, enjoy leisure activities, and, you know, get to work. Just the minor stuff.

But of course, it isn’t “just tuppence” is it? It is 70p per litre, with another corking little rise taking effect on 1 January 2010 when the 15% VAT rate is reversed.

Well, then there’s the increases in anything that uses road freight to get anywhere – so that’s pretty much everything then. I’m sure the companies will be very altruistic in these times and assume all these costs themselves.

Nope  “another £6 billion” doesn’t just appear as if by magic. It has to be raised by vicious regressive taxation that hurts those less well off proportionately more than those up the chain.

But is is just a tuppence.

In August 2009, UK prices per litre in a comparison chart were €1.20. In the United States a litre cost €0.48. So we may be cheaper than the Dutch, Belgians, Germans and Frence according to the chart here, but then how are we so much worse off than the world’s major economic power? In the US, any increase in the cost of fuel is greeted with abject horror and pressure is immense to get the costs down. Here, we shrug our shoulders!

Just a tuppence.

I’m sure those currently making beautiful Blackheath a complete self-indulgent eye-sore full of bleeding heart pricks putting illiterate papers on the DLR are proud. Bet they think it is top notch with their hippy camper vans parked up on the grass (how comes they don’t get a ticket, like we would if we did that?) I love the anti-capitalism slant on it too! Do you know many anti-capitalist countries who would allow such protest and self-indulgence?

But it is just tuppence a litre. A small price to pay to bolster the coffers for pet projects save the planet.

Happy days.

Random Thoughts From A Week At Home

The injured shoulder meant a week and a bit confined to barracks. Although some of that time was spent getting to and from doctor’s surgeries and hospitals, the majority was spent in front of the TV or in the sunshine. Some observations from my time off…

Good to get the chance to watch most of the action from the World Athletics Championships and the performances of Usain Bolt. The bloke is a phenomenon and while I usually get turned off a sport (golf) by one man’s dominance over the field, this is different. In the current world, no-one should be able to touch him. I always thought Michael Johnson’s 200m record was the Beamon of the track. I was wrong.

Just how many price comparison websites are there, and are they the sole source of the Digital channel’s advertising revenue. While Compare The Meerkat has some sort of amusement factor, the tosser in the Go Compare advert (the one wearing the poweder blue sweater and who jumps into the monitor) needs to be terminated forthwith. He goes beyond annoying, and is certainly not the sort of twat who helps an injured patient.

Just how many property shows are there on the bloody telly. For chrissake, I hope all these pricks go bust in this property slump and show that there is no easy way to make lots of money by adding little or no value. Again, blood pressure up as some wanker decides whether he wants the £500k barn conversion or the £520k town house near good schools.

Got to watch House of Cards while on my leave, and it really is the business. Ian Richardson is just superb as Francis Urquhart and while the plot seems to have thinned with age, it still more than meets the mark for a DVD purchase. I still have the other two parts, To Play The King and The Final Cut to watch, and given my increasingly worrying OCD tendencies, I won’t watch them for a while so that I always have something I need to do in the future. It took me a year and a half to watch Last King of Scotland, even though it had been on Sky, when I bought the DVD. I can be strange.

I have never seen a dog more fascinated by water.

If you think Big Brother is bad, please avoid the following. Charm School with Sharon Osbourne. Rock of Love with Brett Michaels (Is that his name? He was out of Poison, of “Every Rose Has Its Thorn” fame). Shot At Love with Tila Tequila. I make no further comment.

To the people who sold me my camera battery – the damn thing took around 30 photos before flunking out. What sort of crap are you selling? My old battery still takes nearly 100, so why is it the newer gear is so awful.

I am following the US healthcare debate with glee. Fox News does nothing else but bang on about it. While I know our NHS has many failings, it does the best it can (I got an X-ray straight away, my waiting times were not too bad, and I have an orthopedics appointment in short order) especially when you consider some of the absolute muppetry you have to put up with. When I was queuing at Lewisham Hospital last Monday, a bloke in front, who spoke little English, presented the receptionist in Accident and Emergency with a solicitor’s letter. While there were people on crutches, people with blood pouring out of head injuries, and yes, correspondents with arms hanging out of their shoulder sockets (dramatic effect), this numpty was trying to get Injury Lawyers For You action. “You must sign. Say I was here 11 hours to be seen” – the receptionist did very well not to tell the bloke to “Foxtrot Oscar”, and at one point I thought the drunk on crutches was going to sort him out. Meanwhile an ambulance patient was waiting to be admitted as this bloke tried to milk the state of a few quid for his time.

Ah well…enough for now. Back at work, and the days just fly by… and for the millionth time  “I WASN’T THERE LAST NIGHT”.

No. I Was Not There

But thanks for asking. I’ve been to that particular fixture before and I find the whole rigmarole, the whole charade tiresome and as predictable as it could possibly be. When sports journos come on and say they are “shocked” they are either lying or have been living in a darkened room for the past 100 years. However, what it does allow all football journos to do is to allow them to have a stab (no pun intended) at the old Wilfred Owen game, and become war correspondents, if just for one day… “I saw scenes of horror….” blah blah blah.

As Talking Heads once said “Same as it ever was, same as it ever was”. WindyBricks will revel in the “kudos” and in the same breath get outraged at the terrible media coverage. Occidental Cured Pork will get off pretty scott free as they are the media darlings and the FA will lift up the carpet and gently sweep the pitch invasions under it. The consequences for away supporters of WindyBricks may be the main tangible impact – there goes Dog Chains away fellows – and we’ll have the old Crimewatch UK photos trying to get the “ringleaders”. The more outrageous talking heads can and will use the invective to provoke a meathead response – I well recall Simon Bates after the Play Off row a decade and a half ago having a real tear up. Yes, Simon Bates! The idiots will ring in to reinforce stereotypes.. same as it ever was….

We could play phrase bingo.. how many times will we see

“We thought we’d left this sort of thing behind”

“Wherever [WindyBricks] go for a big game, trouble follows”

“Worst scenes of violence in 10/20/30 years”

“Mindless morons”

“Rampaging thugs”

It never changes…