Only four more sleeps till the National Insomniac Conference on December 14th.
-----------------------------------------------------------
Driving the kids to the shops and Born to Run comes on the radio. Possibly one of the best songs to singalong to, particularly in the car. The kids? Straight over their heads. No interest whatsoever in the lyrics, the tune, the artist, nothing. Turn into the trading estate, one sings 'Where in the world?' and the whole car joins in, in unison 'PC World.'
I give up.
-----------------------------------------------------------
A lot will be written about Jimmy Savile over the next few days, including some not very nice stuff I suspect. I can remember Tony Blackburn, many years ago, playing the song 'Young Girl' by Gary Puckett and saying afterwards 'that one's for Jimmy Savile.'
I think the transcript involving Savile from Have I Got News For You? was a hoax. And I'm not convinced about all those rumours involving the children's home in Jersey and Edward Heath. Though he was happy to be pictured with mass murderer Peter Sutcliffe and admitted to dealing with trouble makers in his nightclubs by tying them up in the boiler rooms.
That wouldn't be allowed these days. Health and safety gone mad I tell you.
However, he did invent the disco, at Ilford Palais, a club I used to know well. Back in the 1950s musicians had to perform live to audiences. Their union had it all sewn up. Down at the Palais Savile noticed people danced more to the records in between the live bands than the bands themselves.
So he paid the bands NOT to perform and played records, on what is believed to be the first ever twin turntable, and hence the disco was born.
By the way, the rowing boat dance to Oops Upside Your Head was invented at Lords nightclub just down the road from the Palais.
-------------------------------------------------------------
Of course the death of Jimmy Savile, adding to those of David Coleman and Tommy Cooper means that Bruce Forsyth is the only living Briton that everyone in the country can do an impression of with any confidence.
-------------------------------------------------------------
For some reason Jamie Oliver is presenting a cookery show, as I write, wearing a stupid hat. My missus reckons it's to divert attention from the fact he looks so fat these days.
Personally, given the choice between trusting a chef who is carrying a few pounds and looks like he enjoys his food or one who runs marathons and seems to spend more time up David Beckham's backside than in the kitchen, then I know which one I'd go for.
--------------------------------------------------------------
The great thing about the John Terry case is that he can deny he's a racist until he's blue in the face - and I'd like to ask Ledley King for his opinion on this - but we all have the choice of whether or not we believe him.
We can base this opinion on what he says. Or we can base it on what we know about him from his 'previous'. We can decide to believe his club manager, Senor Doogie Howser. Or we can make up our own mind by looking into Terry's thin, cold, lifeless eyes as he speaks. Obviously there's not enough proof to write that John Terry is a nasty racist from a nasty criminal family. But we can think what we like. In context or out of context.
---------------------------------------------------------------
As a treat for my daughter, I took her to see Alice Cooper being interviewed on stage at the NFT in London about his love of horror films. He was great and his fans were, well, weird. Dressed up like their hero, some in full make up with horns and everything.
The interview was followed by a screening of the original Halloween with Jamie Lee Curtis. It seems corny now but it comes from an age when horror was about making you jump, not trying to make you vomit with CGI gore and special effects.
It's funny watching a film with a cinema audience of arty film buff types. They openly laughed at the more cliched elements of the film. The bits where teenage girls take their clothes off when it adds nothing to the plot but satisfies the need, at that time, for a bit of flesh.
And one moment in particular united the audience. Jamie Lee Curtis stabs Michael Myers who falls to the ground. Now we all know that no matter what you do to him, he gets up. But in the film, Miss Curtis stabs him. He falls. She sits down, back to the body of Michael Myers and slowly drops the knife to the ground. At this point the whole cinema audience audibly groaned.
It was the funniest mass reaction to a scene on screen I've ever come across.
Don't have nightmares....Solly
Sunday, 30 October 2011
Monday, 24 October 2011
EU're 'aving a laugh
What do we want? More analogies? When do we want them? If your neighbour's house is on fire you don't hang around for analogies, you get on with them straight away.
According to David Cameron, if your neighbour's house was on fire, you'd help put it out to protect your own property. That's for those of us who do not have a house in its own grounds of course. In David's case, he probably thinks the servants will do it by all lining up from the well and passing each other buckets of water to throw on the flames.
Down my road if a neighbour's house was on fire, we'd stand back and let the fire brigade put it out while going online to complain to the council about it.
If it happened down a Daily Mail reader's road no one would help because Britain has lost all sense of community and, besides, it was caused by the lighted candles of illegal immigrants celebrating Diwali.
If it happened down a Daily Express reader's road the fire brigade would be unable to turn up because of EU Time Directives and new health and safety rules created by barmy Brussels.
If it happened down a Sun reader's road, then it would be an insurance job so you wouldn't want to help out if you knew what was good for you.
If it happened down a Mirror reader's road then it is Thatcher's fault. The unemployed can't afford the latest electricity charges so they are setting fire to their furniture to keep warm and burning to death in their thousands under this heartless Tory government.
In a road of Times readers then you wouldn't find out about the fire because it was blocked from view.
And among Telegraph readers, they would watch the flames while arguing that this was nothing compared to what our generation went through during the war.
As for Guardian homes, they would offer counselling to the neighbour while carefully moving all their Apple products out of the way in case the flames spread to their home.
And good old Daily Star readers would only find out about the fire to their neighbour's house if it had been in the Daily Mail the day before.
Oh, and Metro readers would dress up as frogs and hop across the Kalahari while taking wacky pictures of grains of sand or some other non-news nonsense to help those who had lost possessions in their neighbour's fire as long as they could have a story about it on page three of the free paper.
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Many of those in favour of the UK leaving the EU are fed up at being portrayed as, in the words of one of my mates, swivel eyed nutters. The Daily Express believes it is the cheerleader for the anti-EU lobby, as both of its readers once signed a petition. But you would have thought the paper, in order to present a rational argument for leaving the union, could have chosen a better example of the sort of person who supports them than the swivel eyed nutter it featured in the paper today. Here's a link.http://www.express.co.uk/posts/view/279322
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I'm not anti-EU but have you noticed how everything prefixed by Euro ends up being either too expensive or a disaster? Eurostar, Eurovision, Europop, the Euro, the Europa League, Eurotunnel, Eurodisney?
---------------------------------------------------------------------------Went to Manchester to see my eldest at university for the first time. I let her choose where we would go and naturally she chose a decent restaurant that she could not otherwise afford but which also was guaranteed to be the kind of place where we wouldn't bump into any of her mates.
And naturally again, at least seven tables at Kro in Piccadilly Gardens, were occupied by middle aged dads or couples with their student offspring. It felt like a theme restaurant, the theme being embarrassed teenagers and uncool parents.
The rest of Manchester was full of delirious men in sky blue football shirts standing outside pubs cheering while lots of other men in red shirts looking dejected were filing into the railway station to get the trains back to Surrey.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
I drove past Jodrell Bank yesterday. First time I've ever seen it in the flesh. It's bloody brilliant. And quite near Alderley Edge which I also went to for the first time yesterday. It's a bit like Essex but done by northerners.
Aye up...Solly
Saturday, 22 October 2011
Another Fine Mensch
Some songs you think of us your own. The ones you really love but seem to do nothing for anyone else. You don't let that put you off. In fact you revel in that lack of public acclaim. It could be The Trumpton Riots by Half Man Half Biscuit, it could be an album track like Lady Grinning Soul by David Bowie.
Or it could be the fantastic Different Drum by the Linda Ronstadt-led group Stone Poneys (not Stone Roses, the monkey faced Mancs everyone is getting excited about. Again.)
And when 'your song' suddenly appears on an advert, for Lynx no less, you feel as if something beautiful has been taken away from you.
It's as bad as hearing California Soul being used to sell Kentucky Fried Chicken.
There are songs for adverts. Mostly by Moby. Stick to those please.
------------------------------------------------------------
Did anyone see Louise Mensch on Have I Got News for You? Should I have two question marks at the end of that sentence?
To all extents and purposes she got monstered, particularly by Ian Hislop, for saying that the anti-capitalist protesters in St. Paul's were hypocritical for all lining up to get a coffee from Starbucks while having a go at big money corporations.
All three panelists rounded on her with the basic argument that it is 'only a cup of coffee' and Hislop was particularly scathing about how it is possible not to want to see bankers destroy the world economy on one hand while wanting a latte on/in the other.
Don't get me wrong, I loved watching the smug, shiny faced chick lit author get her come uppance. She represents what's wrong with so many of our elected politicians - all soundbite and no substance.
Somewhere, in parliament, there are politicians who will come up with an idea that will help make this country better. You get the feeling she is not one of them.
And this isn't a left v right argument. For every Louise Mensch there's a Barbara Follett.
The thing is, she may well have had a point. All those vicars' daughters and protest season ticket holders camping outside St Paul's to call for the collapse of capitalism, love their capuccinos and will one day go on to own buy-to-let properties and ISA portfolios. I have no problem with that. Capitalism is not going to collapse and even if it did, it would do nothing to alleviate the real problems of poverty and inequality anyway.
And it is good to see a small but noisy protest remind the bankers that they have still not been forgiven.
But the cheering at the sight of Louise Mensch's loss of hubris underlines our distrust of glory seeking politicians. In fact it highlights our contempt, largely, for politicians as a whole.
But what do we want, and what do we expect? During the Thatcher years, it seemed that most MPs were drab, grey men - apart from Thatcher herself of course. On one side of the house you had former union leaders and career politicans from local councils and the accusation was that they had never done a proper job.
On the other you had middle aged men with increasingly bizarre haircuts who had the career path of public school, Oxbridge, the forces, big business and then politics because that had been the long term plan all along. The complaint were these were men who had never experienced the kind of problems they were supposed to be solving.
As if to counter this, we began to see celebrity MPs who had been famous before going into parliament. Gyles Brandreth or Glenda Jackson, Sebastian Coe and Martin Bell. I blame Ronald Reagan of course.
Let's face it, MPs are never going to be 'like us' and I speak from a profession which has provided the Commons with Michael Gove so, personally, I'd rather they weren't 'like us'.
But I've come across plenty of MPs and liked and disliked many from both sides of the house. What we don't see, of course, are the ones who are not trying to get their face on Have I Got News For You? or you know won't come up on an advert for a price comparison website when they retire.
Which is a shame to a point because if we saw more of them, it might restore our faith - just a bit - in a collection of men and women who, at the moment, are associated with selling our gold reserves and building duck houses, putting thousands on the dole and taking peerages when they said they never would. And often called Neil.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
A quote from Newsnight this week: 'It was like deja vu all over again.'
Or in other words, deja vu.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The death of Colonel Gadaffi, however you want to spell it, has brought forth reminders that dictators eventually get what's coming to them. I still reckon that if you offered any ambitious despot in a poor country whether they would take 40 years in power with gold toilets, hot and cold running prostitutes and the chance to meet Beyonce, in return for being shot in the head or hung upside down from a lamp-post at the end of it, most would still say yes.
It also makes redundant all that rhetoric from the West that 'watch out Saddam/Osama/whoever because we're coming to get you.'
Robert Mugabe is 87.
Have a nice day....Solly
Or it could be the fantastic Different Drum by the Linda Ronstadt-led group Stone Poneys (not Stone Roses, the monkey faced Mancs everyone is getting excited about. Again.)
And when 'your song' suddenly appears on an advert, for Lynx no less, you feel as if something beautiful has been taken away from you.
It's as bad as hearing California Soul being used to sell Kentucky Fried Chicken.
There are songs for adverts. Mostly by Moby. Stick to those please.
------------------------------------------------------------
Did anyone see Louise Mensch on Have I Got News for You? Should I have two question marks at the end of that sentence?
To all extents and purposes she got monstered, particularly by Ian Hislop, for saying that the anti-capitalist protesters in St. Paul's were hypocritical for all lining up to get a coffee from Starbucks while having a go at big money corporations.
All three panelists rounded on her with the basic argument that it is 'only a cup of coffee' and Hislop was particularly scathing about how it is possible not to want to see bankers destroy the world economy on one hand while wanting a latte on/in the other.
Don't get me wrong, I loved watching the smug, shiny faced chick lit author get her come uppance. She represents what's wrong with so many of our elected politicians - all soundbite and no substance.
Somewhere, in parliament, there are politicians who will come up with an idea that will help make this country better. You get the feeling she is not one of them.
And this isn't a left v right argument. For every Louise Mensch there's a Barbara Follett.
The thing is, she may well have had a point. All those vicars' daughters and protest season ticket holders camping outside St Paul's to call for the collapse of capitalism, love their capuccinos and will one day go on to own buy-to-let properties and ISA portfolios. I have no problem with that. Capitalism is not going to collapse and even if it did, it would do nothing to alleviate the real problems of poverty and inequality anyway.
And it is good to see a small but noisy protest remind the bankers that they have still not been forgiven.
But the cheering at the sight of Louise Mensch's loss of hubris underlines our distrust of glory seeking politicians. In fact it highlights our contempt, largely, for politicians as a whole.
But what do we want, and what do we expect? During the Thatcher years, it seemed that most MPs were drab, grey men - apart from Thatcher herself of course. On one side of the house you had former union leaders and career politicans from local councils and the accusation was that they had never done a proper job.
On the other you had middle aged men with increasingly bizarre haircuts who had the career path of public school, Oxbridge, the forces, big business and then politics because that had been the long term plan all along. The complaint were these were men who had never experienced the kind of problems they were supposed to be solving.
As if to counter this, we began to see celebrity MPs who had been famous before going into parliament. Gyles Brandreth or Glenda Jackson, Sebastian Coe and Martin Bell. I blame Ronald Reagan of course.
Let's face it, MPs are never going to be 'like us' and I speak from a profession which has provided the Commons with Michael Gove so, personally, I'd rather they weren't 'like us'.
But I've come across plenty of MPs and liked and disliked many from both sides of the house. What we don't see, of course, are the ones who are not trying to get their face on Have I Got News For You? or you know won't come up on an advert for a price comparison website when they retire.
Which is a shame to a point because if we saw more of them, it might restore our faith - just a bit - in a collection of men and women who, at the moment, are associated with selling our gold reserves and building duck houses, putting thousands on the dole and taking peerages when they said they never would. And often called Neil.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
A quote from Newsnight this week: 'It was like deja vu all over again.'
Or in other words, deja vu.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
The death of Colonel Gadaffi, however you want to spell it, has brought forth reminders that dictators eventually get what's coming to them. I still reckon that if you offered any ambitious despot in a poor country whether they would take 40 years in power with gold toilets, hot and cold running prostitutes and the chance to meet Beyonce, in return for being shot in the head or hung upside down from a lamp-post at the end of it, most would still say yes.
It also makes redundant all that rhetoric from the West that 'watch out Saddam/Osama/whoever because we're coming to get you.'
Robert Mugabe is 87.
Have a nice day....Solly
Monday, 17 October 2011
Rebel Without A Clue
There's an advert for npower which starts by saying how much they want to reduce our bills. I think after the news that fuel prices have gone up by 18 per cent this week, we all know this is patently rubbish. Why do they bother saying this?
A man from British Gas on TV argued plaintively that the company only make £60 profit a year from people paying by direct debit. Which suggests they make a lot more from all those people who don't pay by direct debit which, experience tells us, is the poor, the elderly and the unemployed.
Nice to know where they see the greatest profits.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm all for a bit of a demo. I used to go on a few and they were great. Anti-apartheid, save the GLC, CND. You used to get a good turnout - 250,000 at one they said (and the police said there were 40,000 so there must have been a lot).
And the bands. The Jam playing unannounced off the back of a lorry and then, five minutes later, The Spinners walking on the march in woolly jumpers playing some old folkie nonsense.
And I always thought British demos had a bit more grit and a lot less staged drama than American ones.
We could never do a million man march here or a Woodstock but put The Damned on stage at Brockwell Park immediately followed by Madness in the days when they attracted a good skinhead following and it made for fireworks.
But now? Now you ask the country to occupy the city and you get 200 middle class kids outside a wedding at St Paul's who even have the good manners to applaud the bride and groom as they come out.
They can't occupy the City itself because, unlike Wall Street, a lot of the roads aren't public thoroughfares officially. So they have to go to St Paul's, on a weekend, when there's no bankers.
And have you seen who's there? A collection of vicar's daughters and middle aged teachers who haven't the foggiest.
I'm sorry, but it's not going to bring down the system. The system had packed up and gone to the country for the weekend and didn't even realise they were there.
I caught a few of the demonstrators interviewed on the wireless. They were rubbish. One girl - I shouldn't make assumptions but I bet she was once head girl at a very good home counties grammar - actually stated that most poor people in Britain were 'literally' living off nothing but baked beans. No, really.
Then when the interviewer asked another spotty kid (and even though it was radio you could tell she was spotty) what they wanted, she said she was protesting against mortgages being so high.
Honestly. Mortgages are now among the lowest they've ever been.
If anyone was going to protest against anything involving the obscene wealth of the city it should be cardigan wearing grannies and those who have paid off their mortgages because it's savings that are affected far more than borrowing.
----------------------------------------------------------------
A word in support of MPs. No, really. There will be some fuss about MPs having another five days off in November. But actually it's just five days off from Westminster. Not actually five days holiday per se.
The thing is, some MPs won't see it like that and they'll be on the first plane to a mate's house in the Med.
But then there are those with school age kids who will not. And many others, like my old mate Teresa Pearce, who is an MP in South London, will welcome the break from Westminster for a completely different reason as it will give her another five days to do constituency work.
You see, there are a lot of freeloading politicians on both sides of the house but there are also a lot who really do spend a lot of their working time helping their constituents deal with problems and less time on TV shows.
It would be nice if they were all like that, but that's not how it works these days.
During the height of the expenses scandal, a few papers managed to find a handful of MPs who had not made any outrageous claims. And the story, of course, was that there were so few that could be found.
If MPs want to be taken a bit more seriously may I suggest one thing. If you are going to take another five day break from Westminster, don't call it a holiday.
We already have lists of who attends the most debates and votes. But that doesn't explain what they are doing when they are not there - it's perfectly feasible that many are doing something worthy somewhere else.
But let's find out.
At the end of the year, let's list every vacation taken by every MP of all sides and we can see for ourselves how much 'holiday' they actually have.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
And if that wasn't surprising enough, a word in support of Paul Dacre, editor of the Daily Mail. His speech to the Leveson Inquiry was not as funny as Kelvin's but a lot of it made sense. Though his claim to be more of a broadsheet than the red-tops was slightly undermined by the online version of his paper that day in which I counted no fewer than five stories about Kim and the other Kardashians and four about The Only Way Is Essex.
However, I have to take issue with Alastair Campbell who described Dacre as poisoning democracy. I think he has the opposite effect. By polarising opinion, he brings out debate among the millions who hate the Daily Mail which stimulates democracy.
Alastair's way of dealing with this is to hide free copies of the Mail at airports. Which is, unfortunately, a very modern Labour Party way of winning an argument in recent years.
And after all, what could poison democracy more than, say, unelected civil servants sexing up an official intelligence document that leads to this country invading another under the false premise that they have weapons of mass destruction?
Perhaps we need some more demos. What do we want? A cup of tea actually....night night...Solly
A man from British Gas on TV argued plaintively that the company only make £60 profit a year from people paying by direct debit. Which suggests they make a lot more from all those people who don't pay by direct debit which, experience tells us, is the poor, the elderly and the unemployed.
Nice to know where they see the greatest profits.
--------------------------------------------------------------------
I'm all for a bit of a demo. I used to go on a few and they were great. Anti-apartheid, save the GLC, CND. You used to get a good turnout - 250,000 at one they said (and the police said there were 40,000 so there must have been a lot).
And the bands. The Jam playing unannounced off the back of a lorry and then, five minutes later, The Spinners walking on the march in woolly jumpers playing some old folkie nonsense.
And I always thought British demos had a bit more grit and a lot less staged drama than American ones.
We could never do a million man march here or a Woodstock but put The Damned on stage at Brockwell Park immediately followed by Madness in the days when they attracted a good skinhead following and it made for fireworks.
But now? Now you ask the country to occupy the city and you get 200 middle class kids outside a wedding at St Paul's who even have the good manners to applaud the bride and groom as they come out.
They can't occupy the City itself because, unlike Wall Street, a lot of the roads aren't public thoroughfares officially. So they have to go to St Paul's, on a weekend, when there's no bankers.
And have you seen who's there? A collection of vicar's daughters and middle aged teachers who haven't the foggiest.
I'm sorry, but it's not going to bring down the system. The system had packed up and gone to the country for the weekend and didn't even realise they were there.
I caught a few of the demonstrators interviewed on the wireless. They were rubbish. One girl - I shouldn't make assumptions but I bet she was once head girl at a very good home counties grammar - actually stated that most poor people in Britain were 'literally' living off nothing but baked beans. No, really.
Then when the interviewer asked another spotty kid (and even though it was radio you could tell she was spotty) what they wanted, she said she was protesting against mortgages being so high.
Honestly. Mortgages are now among the lowest they've ever been.
If anyone was going to protest against anything involving the obscene wealth of the city it should be cardigan wearing grannies and those who have paid off their mortgages because it's savings that are affected far more than borrowing.
----------------------------------------------------------------
A word in support of MPs. No, really. There will be some fuss about MPs having another five days off in November. But actually it's just five days off from Westminster. Not actually five days holiday per se.
The thing is, some MPs won't see it like that and they'll be on the first plane to a mate's house in the Med.
But then there are those with school age kids who will not. And many others, like my old mate Teresa Pearce, who is an MP in South London, will welcome the break from Westminster for a completely different reason as it will give her another five days to do constituency work.
You see, there are a lot of freeloading politicians on both sides of the house but there are also a lot who really do spend a lot of their working time helping their constituents deal with problems and less time on TV shows.
It would be nice if they were all like that, but that's not how it works these days.
During the height of the expenses scandal, a few papers managed to find a handful of MPs who had not made any outrageous claims. And the story, of course, was that there were so few that could be found.
If MPs want to be taken a bit more seriously may I suggest one thing. If you are going to take another five day break from Westminster, don't call it a holiday.
We already have lists of who attends the most debates and votes. But that doesn't explain what they are doing when they are not there - it's perfectly feasible that many are doing something worthy somewhere else.
But let's find out.
At the end of the year, let's list every vacation taken by every MP of all sides and we can see for ourselves how much 'holiday' they actually have.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
And if that wasn't surprising enough, a word in support of Paul Dacre, editor of the Daily Mail. His speech to the Leveson Inquiry was not as funny as Kelvin's but a lot of it made sense. Though his claim to be more of a broadsheet than the red-tops was slightly undermined by the online version of his paper that day in which I counted no fewer than five stories about Kim and the other Kardashians and four about The Only Way Is Essex.
However, I have to take issue with Alastair Campbell who described Dacre as poisoning democracy. I think he has the opposite effect. By polarising opinion, he brings out debate among the millions who hate the Daily Mail which stimulates democracy.
Alastair's way of dealing with this is to hide free copies of the Mail at airports. Which is, unfortunately, a very modern Labour Party way of winning an argument in recent years.
And after all, what could poison democracy more than, say, unelected civil servants sexing up an official intelligence document that leads to this country invading another under the false premise that they have weapons of mass destruction?
Perhaps we need some more demos. What do we want? A cup of tea actually....night night...Solly
Monday, 10 October 2011
Fox on the run
You know what I really hate? When Jeremy Paxman asks a question right at the end of University Challenge and the gong goes and he doesn't have the courtesy to tell us the answer.
No? It's just me then.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I've just seen a bit of a programme on BBC2 about pottery and the narrator said 'pottery is almost as old as we are.' Well I'm 48 and I could swear pottery is, at the very least, over 50 years old.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
It seems perfectly acceptable for newspapers to accuse Liam Fox of lowering the defences of this country by allowing his mate to go with him on official ministry trips.
But let's face it, what they can't quite bring themselves to say is what they really want to write, in very big letters, which is this: Is Dr Fox gay?
They are hiding behind the usual nudge, nudge innuendo they often do in these cases - or as some hacks call it, up your endo. You know the sort. Phrases like 'very close friend' and putting words like 'special advisor' in parentheses.
No we're not talking about Dr Fox, the DJ who was once duped by Chris Morris on Brass Eye into saying that paedophiles' DNA had more in common with crabs than 'you and me'.
I'm talking about the shortish politician who once allowed the papers to hint that he'd shagged Natalie Imbruglia and who is now in trouble for taking his best man with him on numerous official foreign trips.
Yes, that's right. His best man. Just a few months ago. Which proves there's no way Liam Fox could be gay. I mean, gay people wouldn't marry someone just to cover up their homosexuality would they?
Of course the sexual preference of a politician shouldn't matter in this day and age, and largely it doesn't.
Not even when a person might be gay but goes to extraordinary lengths to appear heterosexual. I believe some people call this Simon Syndrome (or perhaps The Ex-girlfriend Factor).
But Liam Fox has voted or abstained on various votes on gay adoption, lowering the age of consent for homosexuals and others. If he is gay, then he's gone to incredibly homophobic lengths to cover it up.
And IF he is gay but found to have covered it up in order to progress his political career and let his chum go away with him, then that would be a very serious breach of trust.
Some of his closest friends are suggesting that it's nonsense to suggest Dr Fox is gay. These friends haven't been identified. For all I know they could be Robbie Williams, Sol Campbell, George Clooney and William Hague.
David Cameron has recently shown that he can be quite pro-equal rights for homosexuals. Well, he went to Eton so we shouldn't be too surprised.
My guess is that Fox will be confirmed as a raging heterosexual but hung out to dry for letting his mate Adam claim to be a 'special adviser.'
-----------------------------------------------------------------------
I am a little sad that Sarah Palin will not stand for President as it may mean the end of the wonderfully satirical impressions of her by Tina Fey. It's also the only funny thing on Saturday Night Live for years.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I know I really, really dislike Halifax ads where they get social misfit staff members to sing but in the latest one - where they murder Walking on Sunshine - there's a little snippet in which the words Marry Me are spelt out on a Scrabble board.
And since that is the way I proposed to my wife (the current one!) then I find it hard to hate the ad completely.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------
I've become a touchline dad. My son has started playing for an under-13 team which has just formed and is in the bottom division. So far he has played four games and they have lost 12-2, 4-0, 13-0 and 8-1. I have already started to lose my temper, not at the boys but the other parents, but I am holding it in. Particular against the mums who shout 'mark up' to our lads when it's OUR goal kick.
Instead, me and a private investment banker called Simon (who also has a Spurs season ticket) move quietly away from the others, have a sneaky cigarette, and discuss the EU debt crisis and Harry Redknapp's latest strategy. I never thought being bored to bits by economics would be so cathartic but it's saving my blood pressure from exploding.
They think it's all over...it is now - Solly
No? It's just me then.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
I've just seen a bit of a programme on BBC2 about pottery and the narrator said 'pottery is almost as old as we are.' Well I'm 48 and I could swear pottery is, at the very least, over 50 years old.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
It seems perfectly acceptable for newspapers to accuse Liam Fox of lowering the defences of this country by allowing his mate to go with him on official ministry trips.
But let's face it, what they can't quite bring themselves to say is what they really want to write, in very big letters, which is this: Is Dr Fox gay?
They are hiding behind the usual nudge, nudge innuendo they often do in these cases - or as some hacks call it, up your endo. You know the sort. Phrases like 'very close friend' and putting words like 'special advisor' in parentheses.
No we're not talking about Dr Fox, the DJ who was once duped by Chris Morris on Brass Eye into saying that paedophiles' DNA had more in common with crabs than 'you and me'.
I'm talking about the shortish politician who once allowed the papers to hint that he'd shagged Natalie Imbruglia and who is now in trouble for taking his best man with him on numerous official foreign trips.
Yes, that's right. His best man. Just a few months ago. Which proves there's no way Liam Fox could be gay. I mean, gay people wouldn't marry someone just to cover up their homosexuality would they?
Of course the sexual preference of a politician shouldn't matter in this day and age, and largely it doesn't.
Not even when a person might be gay but goes to extraordinary lengths to appear heterosexual. I believe some people call this Simon Syndrome (or perhaps The Ex-girlfriend Factor).
But Liam Fox has voted or abstained on various votes on gay adoption, lowering the age of consent for homosexuals and others. If he is gay, then he's gone to incredibly homophobic lengths to cover it up.
And IF he is gay but found to have covered it up in order to progress his political career and let his chum go away with him, then that would be a very serious breach of trust.
Some of his closest friends are suggesting that it's nonsense to suggest Dr Fox is gay. These friends haven't been identified. For all I know they could be Robbie Williams, Sol Campbell, George Clooney and William Hague.
David Cameron has recently shown that he can be quite pro-equal rights for homosexuals. Well, he went to Eton so we shouldn't be too surprised.
My guess is that Fox will be confirmed as a raging heterosexual but hung out to dry for letting his mate Adam claim to be a 'special adviser.'
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I am a little sad that Sarah Palin will not stand for President as it may mean the end of the wonderfully satirical impressions of her by Tina Fey. It's also the only funny thing on Saturday Night Live for years.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
I know I really, really dislike Halifax ads where they get social misfit staff members to sing but in the latest one - where they murder Walking on Sunshine - there's a little snippet in which the words Marry Me are spelt out on a Scrabble board.
And since that is the way I proposed to my wife (the current one!) then I find it hard to hate the ad completely.
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I've become a touchline dad. My son has started playing for an under-13 team which has just formed and is in the bottom division. So far he has played four games and they have lost 12-2, 4-0, 13-0 and 8-1. I have already started to lose my temper, not at the boys but the other parents, but I am holding it in. Particular against the mums who shout 'mark up' to our lads when it's OUR goal kick.
Instead, me and a private investment banker called Simon (who also has a Spurs season ticket) move quietly away from the others, have a sneaky cigarette, and discuss the EU debt crisis and Harry Redknapp's latest strategy. I never thought being bored to bits by economics would be so cathartic but it's saving my blood pressure from exploding.
They think it's all over...it is now - Solly
Monday, 3 October 2011
Crow's Feat
Now Bob Crow is not everyone's cup of Earl Grey but he's just secured a deal for tube drivers that could mean they are on a whack of £52k a year within four years.
In actual fact, there's a good chance they'll be on about £45k I reckon because inflation won't stay sky high for that long.
But the point is, by doing this he has instantly made himself the most unpopular man in the country...unless you're a tube driver.
And that's where he should receive some praise. Because what he's done is exactly what his job description says he should do and he's done it better than anyone else in his industry.
I'm not his greatest fan. I've been getting the tube every day for the last 20 years or so and I could fill a book with the problems I've encountered.
But his job is getting the best deal for his union members and, by heck, he ain't half done well.
Put it this way, if he was a football manager, then what he's achieved would be like winning the league. If he was a banker he'd be on a seven figure bonus. If he was a banker he'd be more responsible for bringing the economy to its knees than the leader of a rail workers' union, that's for sure.
Union leaders may be despised but it's the ones who do well - in their world, not necessarily yours - that are despised most of all.
This isn't to say he's a nice bloke, a great guy or even the sort of person you'd want running the local whelk stall but if you are/were in a union, by God you'd want someone like him representing you.
If the printers, the miners or even journalists had ever had a leader half as efficient, a lot more people wouldn't be in the mess they're in.
I feel almost guilty defending the big lump, but however much you hate him, in getting this deal for tube drivers, he has done exactly what it says on his tin.
There will be a lot of fuss made about the fact there isn't a 'no strike' deal. I'm not so sure. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some kind of agreement under the table that ensures the drivers forfeit some of their deal should they go on strike.
Of course this would make Crow a lot more popular with the travelling public but not with his union members - and you know which set he values more highly.
---------------------------------------------------------
I've said it before and I maintain it's still true - most people couldn't give a damn if their household refuse was collected weekly. The advent of wheelie bins and alternatve weeks collecting recyclable waste and household rubbish - with garden and food scraps collected weekly - actually suits most people.
But for some reason Eric Pickles thinks it is so paramount in these days of trying to save money that he's allocating a staggering £250 million to a weekly collection nationwide, just so he can please Daily Mail editor Paul Dacre.
Now £250,000,000 can buy a lot of things. It can secure contracts for British companies over German ones, for instance. It can create jobs, though that's not really a Tory thing is it.
It could be used to stop the cuts in services far more vital than refuse collection. It could even do something radical like go to the NHS.
There was an episode of The Simpsons where Homer gets elected to the local council in charge of rubbish and ensures a fleet of white suited operatives who came round almost every day and emptied peoples bins into shiny new lorries.
Pretty soon the town went bust and had to charge other states to dump their rubbish in Springfield until it was so full of rubbish they had to pick up the whole town and move it.
Pickles, the government's version of Comic Book Guy in so many ways, is the rubbish commissar (again, in so many ways). Meanwhile Boris Johnson could be Mayor Quimby. After all, he likes quoting Homer.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The Godfather was, as we all know, a great, great film. Arguably the second film was better, but nonetheless, the original is iconic for a variety of reasons.
So what better way to celebrate a marvellous account of racketeers, cold blooded murderers, violent criminals and animal slaughterers than to name a meal deal by KFC after it.
We already have Goodfellas pizzas, in case you want a topping inspired by a gang of Italian mobsters who liked to shoot waiters and grass up their mates to policemen they had previously bribed, then away you go.
Now, if if you want a bucket of something that claims to be chicken, named in honour of a film whose most famous scene was a hacked off horse's head in a music agent's bed, then trot down to KFC.
Where will it end? The Borgia Beanburger? The Charles Manson Milkshake? BK's Attila the Hun in a Bun?
----------------------------------------------------------------
The two sides of Essex. In the morning as I walked through Loughton High Street, there was a gaggle of paparazzi style photographers around my local newsagent. Or so I thought. Actually they were outside the underwear shop next door where some pear shaped tart from The Only Way Is Essex was buying underwear. Apparently this is big news for the Mail Online.
Later that day I turned on the TV to see The Culture Show. In the few minutes before the kids made me turn over to Family Guy or South Park or whatever, I saw a report on a fabulous looking new art gallery.
It was funky enough to be in Bilbao or New York but, it turned out, it is in Colchester. Britain's oldest city has had little going for it for many years, what with its sterile shopping centre and army barracks.
But now it genuinely has a good reason for going for anyone with even a passing interest in art.
It's a revolutionary building - look up Firstsite, Colchester - and I truly hope the locals can tear themselves away from TOWIE long enough to try it out.
----------------------------------------------------------------
By the time you read this, we'll know if Amanda 'Foxy' Knox is determined to be guilty or not of the murder of Meredith Kercher, whose father used to be quite a well known journalist among Fleet Street's veterans.
I have no idea whether or not she is guilty. I've read the statements from over-excited Italian lawyers playing for the cameras. I've read numerous columnists chipping in with their five cents' worth.
And I've heard people on the tube declaring with an amazing amount of certainty that she's guilty/innocent (depends which carriage you're on.)
Well, I don't know. And you know what, neither does anyone else with any certainly apart from one or possibly two, people in the world. So let's stop pretending we're Perry Mason and let the experts do it, eh?
Blog adjourned....Solly
In actual fact, there's a good chance they'll be on about £45k I reckon because inflation won't stay sky high for that long.
But the point is, by doing this he has instantly made himself the most unpopular man in the country...unless you're a tube driver.
And that's where he should receive some praise. Because what he's done is exactly what his job description says he should do and he's done it better than anyone else in his industry.
I'm not his greatest fan. I've been getting the tube every day for the last 20 years or so and I could fill a book with the problems I've encountered.
But his job is getting the best deal for his union members and, by heck, he ain't half done well.
Put it this way, if he was a football manager, then what he's achieved would be like winning the league. If he was a banker he'd be on a seven figure bonus. If he was a banker he'd be more responsible for bringing the economy to its knees than the leader of a rail workers' union, that's for sure.
Union leaders may be despised but it's the ones who do well - in their world, not necessarily yours - that are despised most of all.
This isn't to say he's a nice bloke, a great guy or even the sort of person you'd want running the local whelk stall but if you are/were in a union, by God you'd want someone like him representing you.
If the printers, the miners or even journalists had ever had a leader half as efficient, a lot more people wouldn't be in the mess they're in.
I feel almost guilty defending the big lump, but however much you hate him, in getting this deal for tube drivers, he has done exactly what it says on his tin.
There will be a lot of fuss made about the fact there isn't a 'no strike' deal. I'm not so sure. I wouldn't be surprised if there was some kind of agreement under the table that ensures the drivers forfeit some of their deal should they go on strike.
Of course this would make Crow a lot more popular with the travelling public but not with his union members - and you know which set he values more highly.
---------------------------------------------------------
I've said it before and I maintain it's still true - most people couldn't give a damn if their household refuse was collected weekly. The advent of wheelie bins and alternatve weeks collecting recyclable waste and household rubbish - with garden and food scraps collected weekly - actually suits most people.
But for some reason Eric Pickles thinks it is so paramount in these days of trying to save money that he's allocating a staggering £250 million to a weekly collection nationwide, just so he can please Daily Mail editor Paul Dacre.
Now £250,000,000 can buy a lot of things. It can secure contracts for British companies over German ones, for instance. It can create jobs, though that's not really a Tory thing is it.
It could be used to stop the cuts in services far more vital than refuse collection. It could even do something radical like go to the NHS.
There was an episode of The Simpsons where Homer gets elected to the local council in charge of rubbish and ensures a fleet of white suited operatives who came round almost every day and emptied peoples bins into shiny new lorries.
Pretty soon the town went bust and had to charge other states to dump their rubbish in Springfield until it was so full of rubbish they had to pick up the whole town and move it.
Pickles, the government's version of Comic Book Guy in so many ways, is the rubbish commissar (again, in so many ways). Meanwhile Boris Johnson could be Mayor Quimby. After all, he likes quoting Homer.
---------------------------------------------------------------
The Godfather was, as we all know, a great, great film. Arguably the second film was better, but nonetheless, the original is iconic for a variety of reasons.
So what better way to celebrate a marvellous account of racketeers, cold blooded murderers, violent criminals and animal slaughterers than to name a meal deal by KFC after it.
We already have Goodfellas pizzas, in case you want a topping inspired by a gang of Italian mobsters who liked to shoot waiters and grass up their mates to policemen they had previously bribed, then away you go.
Now, if if you want a bucket of something that claims to be chicken, named in honour of a film whose most famous scene was a hacked off horse's head in a music agent's bed, then trot down to KFC.
Where will it end? The Borgia Beanburger? The Charles Manson Milkshake? BK's Attila the Hun in a Bun?
----------------------------------------------------------------
The two sides of Essex. In the morning as I walked through Loughton High Street, there was a gaggle of paparazzi style photographers around my local newsagent. Or so I thought. Actually they were outside the underwear shop next door where some pear shaped tart from The Only Way Is Essex was buying underwear. Apparently this is big news for the Mail Online.
Later that day I turned on the TV to see The Culture Show. In the few minutes before the kids made me turn over to Family Guy or South Park or whatever, I saw a report on a fabulous looking new art gallery.
It was funky enough to be in Bilbao or New York but, it turned out, it is in Colchester. Britain's oldest city has had little going for it for many years, what with its sterile shopping centre and army barracks.
But now it genuinely has a good reason for going for anyone with even a passing interest in art.
It's a revolutionary building - look up Firstsite, Colchester - and I truly hope the locals can tear themselves away from TOWIE long enough to try it out.
----------------------------------------------------------------
By the time you read this, we'll know if Amanda 'Foxy' Knox is determined to be guilty or not of the murder of Meredith Kercher, whose father used to be quite a well known journalist among Fleet Street's veterans.
I have no idea whether or not she is guilty. I've read the statements from over-excited Italian lawyers playing for the cameras. I've read numerous columnists chipping in with their five cents' worth.
And I've heard people on the tube declaring with an amazing amount of certainty that she's guilty/innocent (depends which carriage you're on.)
Well, I don't know. And you know what, neither does anyone else with any certainly apart from one or possibly two, people in the world. So let's stop pretending we're Perry Mason and let the experts do it, eh?
Blog adjourned....Solly
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