Pasta Pirates

January 2005 was a landmark month for religion, for it was then, in an open letter to the Kansas State Board of Education, that the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster was conceived.

As a response to the breathtaking idiocy of the Board whose majority fundamentalist Christian members decided that Intelligent Design (and never was a hypothesis more amusingly named) be taught alongside the Theory of Evolution in high schools, Bobby Henderson wrote a letter explaining that his 'belief' had equal validity with ID. In his own words:-

"I think we can all look forward to the time when these three theories are given equal time in our science classrooms across the country, and eventually the world; One third time for Intelligent Design, one third time for Flying Spaghetti Monsterism, and one third time for logical conjecture based on overwhelming observable evidence."

A full copy of the letter can be found here:- http://www.venganza.org/about/open-letter/

The letter is a master-stroke of calm, reasoned silliness. As news of it spread across the interweb new sites emerged carrying its ideas further. One site, in a direct response to Kent Hovind's 'evolution challenge'* set up a $1m prize for anyone able to prove empirically that Jesus is not the son of the FSM.

One central tenet to belief in the FSM, or Pastafarianism, is that global warming is a direct result of the declining number of pirates since the 1800s. Henderson even produced a graph to make the point.

However, in a twist that may be taken as further proof (if such were needed) of the existence of the FSM, it seems that pirate numbers are on the increase.

Now, it must be realised that these are modern hi-tec pirates who bear little resemblance to Johnny Depp. These are really nasty individuals who are armed with sub-machine guns, rocket launchers and fast attack boats - they don't even wear eye-patches (although how one could call oneself a pirate without an eyepatch is quite beyond me).

Having said all that it is refreshing to note that the current news-worthy non-peg-legged-sons-of-sea-dogs are, how shall I put it, not that far removed from the captain of the Black Pearl.

On seizing a cargo ship containing aid supplies bound for Somalia on Wednesday the pirates wandered all over the ship looking for the crew, who had sensibly locked themselves away.

The crew have since regained control of the ship, holding a wounded pirate and caring for him as he was "bleeding all over the ship".

The raiders are holding the captain hostage (he apparently gave himself to them in exchange for letting the crew go free) and one of their demands is to be given another ship as theirs sunk (I can't explain why but I find this extraordinarily funny). They have also asked that the guided-missile destroyer shadowing them sails away over the horizon - thereby displaying an amusing lack of understanding about what guided missiles can do.

As things stand there is stalemate. The pirates and their hostage are in a small lifeboat being shadowed by a hulking great warship and more are on the way.

Maybe it could be time for them to don eye-patches and attempt the Keith Richards walk that has served Depp so well.



*Hovind's challenge states that he will give $250,000 to anyone who can prove the Theory of Evolution. One would think that should be pretty straightforward, but Hovind has a few stipulations:-

NOTE: When I use the word evolution, I am not referring to the minor variations found in all of the various life forms (microevolution). I am referring to the general theory of evolution which believes these five major events took place without God:
1. Time, space, and matter came into existence by themselves.
2. Planets and stars formed from space dust.
3. Matter created life by itself.
4. Early life-forms learned to reproduce themselves.
5. Major changes occurred between these diverse life forms (i.e., fish changed to amphibians, amphibians changed to reptiles, and reptiles changed to birds or mammals).

No-one has claimed the prize, for two very good reasons:-
1. The Theory of Evolution has nothing to say on most of the points Hovind wishes for it to prove, and,
2. Hovind is in jail for fraud and tax evasion.

Fluffy-bunny Celtic Indians

An event has been brought to my attention that has got a section of the Native American population in the States somewhat miffed.

It appears that this years Burning Man festival in the Nevada desert will host 'GO-NATIVE', a dance-athon themed around 'indigenous people'. Celebrants coming dressed as Native Americans will get free entry. They also mention that there will be 'feathered Celts' there as well.

Now, I am not of Native American descent. I am not, as far as I know, of Celtic descent either. So, why am I writing this blog?

Because this strikes at the heart of something that really, really gets under my skin, that's why. For me it is Fluffy-Bunny-ism of the highest order. For some of my friends however, it drives a stake through the heart of their culture.

To explain...

First, the fluffy-bunny-ism.

If one takes a stroll through such New Age-y places as Glastonbury one will be struck by two things.
1. The number of hairy, vacant people wearing brightly coloured, ill-fitting clothing one sees.
2. The number of books, brooches, garments etc., based on Celtic mythology available to purchase at very (un)reasonable prices.

Now, what amazes me is the amount of mis-information contained within these books. So, let's clear a few things up.

The Celts were not a single people. The Celts were a disparate group of tribes that only shared a common style of artwork - beautiful, intricate, intertwining knotwork. Actually, most of the Celtic style of artwork was produced long after the Celts themselves had been assimilated into Roman Europe and disappeared. The Book of Kells, for example, the pre-eminent example of Celtic artwork was produced by Christian Scribes in around 800AD.
All that is really known about them is what was written by the Romans as they conquered Europe - and conquering armies tend not to be the most impartial of chroniclers.

The details of Celtic mythology are very scant, as they never developed a widespread written language. Ogham was reserved for Druids. Celtic history was oral.

So where, you may ask, does all the information for Celtic Shaman Cards, Celtic Ritual Magic, Celtic Divination etc., etc., come from?

In short, it is made up.

However, it is a huge market. It, along with the recent fad for Irish music, hits a spot that English culture doesn't find. All that is written seems to suggest that the Celts were noble people who were valiant defenders when the Romans came. The truth, that over half the tribes saw the light and rolled over to join the wine-and-toga brigade tends to be overlooked, just as much as the removing-the-enemy's-head-and-putting-it over-the-door style of home improvement is.

I find this lack of reality annoying, but I can imagine how much more miffed I would be if I were one of the few surviving members of a culture that has not only been destroyed by an invading people but found my sacred rituals and dress used by that people as an attempt to gain a depth of culture that is lacking in theirs.

Such is the position of the Native Americans and their anger at a small part of Burning Man.

Dressing up as Indians, dancing round fires, playing at being savages, pretending to be shaman - what fun.

Wearing another culture's clothing, playing their music or praying to their gods does not make you part of that culture, no matter how hard you wish it. No modern Western person can become Celtic, can become a shaman or can become Native. These are things you are, not that you can learn to be.

However, pretending to be Celtic is one thing. Pretending to be part of a culture that still exists and that your people tried very hard to destroy is tasteless and hurtful.

Stop the characters running away

So, with time on my hands I have decided to do what every self-respecting layabout does in times of unemployment - I'm writing a novel.

Actually, I've been writing a novel for some time, but this time I really am writing a novel. At least I've started, anyway - and I feel that should grant me a certain degree of kudos.

Now, there are several issues I have discovered with this line of work:-

1. It is unpaid.
Actually I sort of knew this before I started so it didn't come as too much of a surprise.

2. It is not easy.
Again, I sort of knew this one as well, but I had hoped that the difficulty was because I never seemed to have the time. It isn't. It is hard work, because...

3. Plots don't just happen.
This is new to me. I've written short stories and screenplays before and never had a problem with working out who needs to be where, when and why. Short stories are, well, short. This means that focusing on the story is pretty easy. Screenplays tend to be pretty fluid so, as long as the characters end where they need to be, they can pretty much be left to their own devices.
Writing something lengthy however, requires that I know what is happening from section to section, chapter to chapter. If I don't then something gets missed out or glossed over that is vital for events three chapters further on. As someone whose idea of planning is "start making the cupboard / chest of drawers /engine before reading the instructions, particularly the annoying bit which says, generally in big red letters 'read this first'" I find this somewhat irksome.

4. And this is the biggy, or at least the one that has the potential to cause major headaches the more I write. Characters Have A Life Of Their Own.
This one may sound odd to someone who doesn't write fiction, but it is true. I wrote a screenplay a few years ago for an animated film - it never actually happened but it was fun to write - and I was deeply impressed by where the characters led the story. They would do things on the page that I never planned. Sometimes these ramblings would lead to some really very good scenes.

However, I soon discovered that allowing this to happen in a novel leads, not to very good scenes, but to having to start again as the characters end up doing things for no reason or spending too much time doing things which are interesting but which advance the story not one iota.

I've had to start again three times so far. So, I've settled down and actually started a plot outline. It is quite complicated, and not a little scary. As it progresses I shall add more and more detail in the hope that when the time comes to really write it up I shall not have to spend too much time sat in front of the screen saying "ummm!" until I work out where to go next.

You never know. It might just work.

Noah's Ark and Other Lies to Children

Every now and again I permit myself a small chuckle. Just a little one. A chucklette, as it were, directed at some of our American colonial cousins and their strange ways.

I smirk at creationists and giggle at 'creation science', secure in the knowledge that such idiocy would never breach the defenses of this green and pleasant land.

For those who may not know, creationism is the idea that Genesis as written in the bible is absolutely correct. Everything. Six days, light before the sun and stars, plants photosynthesising before the sun is created, the whole lot. Oh, and following the calculations of Bishop Ussher which were published in 1650 the Earth is only 6,000 years old. He reached this age by simply working through the bible and adding up the ages of people who begat other people. Mind you, I think even he knew that was pretty flaky as in order to get an age that would simply not be laughed at he had Adam live to be 950 years old. As a hypothesis it was pretty much dead by the early 1800's.


Then along comes 'creation science', or 'Intelligent Design' as it is sometimes called. In this guise certain amounts of truth are accepted into the hypothesis (please note I am not dignifying it by calling it a theory). This is creationism with some science bits added. Not enough science bits, of course, otherwise the whole thing has to be chucked out, but enough to make it look sufficiently sciencey to the general public.

In 2005, in a landmark ruling, it was ruled unconstitutional that Intelligent Design be taught in science classes in the USA. I want to be very clear on this point: Creation Science and Intelligent Design are not science. Neither allows for testing, neither is able to make predictions and neither, and this is a biggy, have had any peer-reviewed papers published.

So I would chuckle at the inhabitants of a country who would have to go to these lengths to stop lies being taught in school.

My smirking has stopped, however, as a small zoo situated close to Bristol has opened.

The following pieces are taken directly from their website:-

On evolution-
"It assumes that this complexity accumulated gradually and accidentally, with each step representing a miraculous combination of mutations along a path extending all the way from bacteria to human beings."
Evolution is not accidental. Genetic variation is accidental, natural selection is not. Evolution has no goal.

"Life is a wonderful thing, and any explanation of it cannot but involve some belief in miracles: whether at the beginning of creation or natural miracles all along the way. "
Somewhat disingenuous use of language there, I feel.

"Man is a spiritual being, with a capacity for thought and language. Although an animal in his flesh, he has a nature which potentially reflects the nature of God. "
And this, bear in mind, is classed as science.

"Darwinism is a philosophy which attempts to contradict the obvious differences between man and the other animals by suggesting that in the past the differences were much smaller. It seeks to minimise the divine in our nature and maximise the animal, in the hope that it will seem plausible to imagine an evolutionary transition from animal to human."
Darwinism is a description of fact based entirely on evidence. It makes absolutely no case for or against a god of some sort.

On the publication of On The Origin Of Species-
"This extreme disappointment with God seemed to be the final trigger that prompted Darwin to publish the book that he became famous for. He had held, The Origin of Species in manuscript form for some years and this seemed the time to make the radical suggestion that creation did not require God as any more than a remote instigator of life. "

Not only do the above quotes show an appalling lack of understanding of evolution, in fact I would suggest a wilfull mis-representation of evolution, but the final statement about Darwin is simply incorrect. Darwin was forced into publication by the arrival on his desk of a competing manuscript by Alfred Wallace.

On information notices next to animal enclosures supposition is mixed with fact and religion - for example "Why are there stripes on zebras? There seems to be no adaptive advantage since zebras live in open country". Note the lack of information about stripes on herd animals being very effective at breaking up silhouettes.

I have written to Noah's Ark Zoo Farm asking for an explanation of some of these *ahem!* inaccuracies. I don't expect an answer.

I should point out that this place receives tax-payers help for advertising and organises school-trips around the zoo.(http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2006/jan/02/religion)

On the bright side I may have found a project to keep me busy for a while. I feel a leaflet campaign coming on.

Plasters and PAT Tests

There are two interesting things about urban legends.

1. Everyone accepts their veracity because they either explain something that requires explanation or they confirm ideas about the way the world works.
2. Everyone knows deep down that they can't possibly be real, but when weighed against the background state of general knowledge there is no real reason why they should not be.
3. They are viral.

OK. That's three. So sue me.

So, let us have a little look at a couple.

1. "As a schoolteacher / childminder / first aider I can't put a plaster on a child"

This seems to have started in 1994. The rumour seems to have come from somewhere in UK Social Services following the fact that some children are allergic to the glue that keeps plasters in place. Regardless of the fact that the worst that can happen to the little darling is a slight rash where the plaster sat this rumour has spread relentlessly.

It now seems to be accepted fact among a frightening number of schools and playgroups. I have heard it myself from the ambulance service.

The truth, as stated by the Health and Safety Executive is as follows:-

"There is no rule that says a responsible adult can’t put a plaster on a child's minor cut. Some children do have an allergy to normal plasters. If you know a child is allergic you can use the Hypo-allergenic type of plaster. The important thing is to clean and cover the cut to stop it getting infected."

2. "All electrical equipment in an office must be PAT tested every year".

I had a fire safety briefing, along with most other people in my ex-place of work, which stated that every piece of equipment needed PAT (Portable Appliance Test) testing every year. This was issued by the fire service. Many years ago I worked for Nortel - guess what? Yep! Every year a man would come round, scurry under the desks and test all the electrical equipment.

Even the website set up to guide employers through the requirements says; "This in effect requires the implementation of a systematic and regular program of maintenance, inspection and testing."

The truth, again as written by the HSE:-"HSE’s advice is that for most office electrical equipment, visual checks for obvious signs of damage and perhaps simple tests by a competent member of staff are quite sufficient".

I decided to investigate this following my wife's return from working at a local playgroup. She was quietly fuming as she was told that children could not use egg-boxes and toilet-rolls for crafting anymore unless they had been microwaved for three minutes.

This struck both of us as absurd, but not beyond the bounds of believability. It is, of course, false. However - and this is the real issue - both of us were willing to believe that this ridiculous-sounding rule had been introduced.

What does this say about the faith (and I use the word advisedly) we place in our government that we really entertained the notion that they would actually bring a ruling like this in?

George Orwell - eat your heart out. This lot could make us believe anything.

When Faith Turns Bad

You'll have to bear with me on this one. We're going down a rather darker alley than we have trodden so far - an alley that will lead us back to the year 1255 before heading to more recent, though no lighter, times.

When I was at school (no, this isn't the mediaeval bit, thank you) I was lucky to have an extremely good English teacher. As well as covering Shakespeare we delved into the murky world of English and Scottish ballads. The word 'ballad' has been misappropriated somewhat recently and is now associated with the sort of love songs that famous mono-brow Chris de Burgh seemed to have made his own when 'Lady in Red' was released. Originally a ballad was simply a song that told a story. Ballads were written about love, sure, but it was either unrequited, or extremely well requited. Many ballads have a supernatural element which lift them above the ordinary.

One that we studied was called "Little Sir Hugh". This song was covered by 60's folk-rock combo Steeleye Span on the album "Commoner's Crown".

In this tale the titular hero is harmlessly playing ball when he acidentally kicks said item over the castle wall. He asks for his ball back but gets ritually sacrificed instead. The song is pretty gaphic, particularly when dealing with poor Hugh's body being bled:-

Out came the thick, thick blood,
Out came the thin,
Out came the bonny heart's-blood,
'Til there was none within.

Hugh's body is then chucked down a well. This is where the Span version ends.

The original versions contain rather more detail. Church bells ring out without the attention of bellringers and the bibles sing out the whereabouts of the poor unfortunate lad's body.

The original also states that the castle over which wall Hugh's ball is kicked belongs to the "Jew".

Today this is shocking enough - at least it should be. The story is made even more shocking when you realise that it is based, at least in part, on factual events.

In August 1255 a young lad of eight years was found dead in a stream near Lincoln. Six months prior to this, the king, Henry III, had lost a large source of income to his brother. As mediaeval England was largely bankrolled by Jewish moneylenders he decided that all lands and titles owned by Jews who were convicted of any crime would be forfeit to the crown.

A Jew named Copin admitted to killing Hugh after being threatened with torture. His confession stated that Jews crucified a Christian child every year, bleeding them dry. Some ninety Jews were rounded up in the Lincoln area. Eighteen of them were hanged and their property seized.

Only a few years prior to this, in 1190, Jews had been massacred in York because of the money owed by the king to moneylenders. He tapped into a deep grain of anti-semitism that threaded right through English society and used his appointed sherriffs to incite riots.

And what was this hatred based upon? The belief that Jews had killed Christ.

For this piece I shall gloss over the whole theological issue of Christ's "death" and just focus on the fact that this hatred was based on faith - and by faith I mean "belief in something for which there is no evidence".

Unfortunately, such faith is still appallingly prevalent, and it still kills.

Elizabeth Ashley King, aged 12, died in 1988 of bone cancer. Her tumour was over a yard in circumference and she was in appalling pain. She was placed in the care of the Phoenix Christian Science nursing home. The only treatment they gave her was prayer.

Elizabeth's death and the murder of the Jews following Hugh's unfortunate demise are the result of the same thing - religious ignorance and the willingness of the faithful to act on belief without evidence.

Genetics and the Art of Government

For those of you lucky enough to live in foreign climes (foreign to the UK I mean, obviously I live in foreign climes to some of you but, being English, I would never admit to that) I have one thing to say - stay there.

I say this not to be rude, but because we have a Labour government. The last time we had a Labour government the country stopped, fell over and waved its little leggies in the air. There were strikes, three-day working weeks, power-cuts and the binmen refused to collect refuse (love the English language for allowing me to write that!).

I don't actually have a problem with many general Labour policies - I am all for a fairer society and I love the National Health Service. No, what I object to is the appalling execution of policies.

Take, for example, the British aviation industry.

It may surprise some readers to discover that we actually used to have an aviation industry. Not only did we have one, it was one of the best in the world. Innovative designs would roll out of the hangar doors every week. From the Spitfire, which is still the best looking piece of flying metal ever produced, to the English Electric Lightning, which only now with the introduction of the brand-new Typhoon is finding its climb-rate equalled, we made the best.

King of this pile was the BAC TSR.2. Only plane buffs will have heard of this but, on its maiden flight in 1964 it outstripped anything in front-line service at the time. It managed to reach supersonic speeds without the use of afterburners and could accelerate away from the Lightning chase planes with only one afterburner lit.

A year later the incoming Labour government, despite issuing strong denials, cancelled the project, destroyed the plans and jigs and sent the one flying airframe away to be used as target practice. And this was done in order to buy American F111 aircraft - aircraft which were less capable in every respect and which proved to be just as costly to run. These were in turn dumped in favour of the Panavia Tornado which utilised avionics developed for - you guessed it - TSR.2.

Labour then nationalised the aviation industry thereby turning small, effective, innovative companies into a bloated, expensive leviathan.

So - what has this got to do with the current incumbents?

My belief is that governments inherit the genetic identity of their previous selves. We have had wildcat strikes, appalling management of business and denial following denial. We have a government fundamentally incapable of accepting responsibility for its actions while simultaneously distrusting its voters to the extent that it, under the pretext of saving them from 'terrorists', places them under 24 hour surveillance to an extent unrivalled in the Western world.
Of course, this means that when the conservatives get in next time a general election is held, as get in they will, we will have the joy of watching miners and police fighting and of bashing the Argentinians.

Maybe it's time for a change. Maybe we need to give someone who hasn't got in before a crack of the whip.

If only Screaming Lord Sutch was still alive.

Banging the Drum in Public

You may not immediately see the connection between an Irish folk drum and evolution. That is because you are at the start, and not the end, of this piece. By the time you have reached the end the connection will, I hope, be clear.

So - to start. Many years ago I bought a bodhran*. For those who are either not folkies or are not fluent in Gaelic, which I will assume to be the majority, this is the instrument developed by the Irish in which a drum is held upright in one hand and the stick (or tipper) is held in the other. The stick is then rapped against the skin in a seemingly random way.

I spent quite a few years learning to play it before inflicting it upon the public. This may surprise some but the bodhran is capable of surprising subtlety. The left hand rests against the skin inside the drum and its position changes the tone produced when the skin is struck. A good player can produce over an octave from it, a really good player can even pick out tunes.

I attanded Chippenham Folk Festival some years ago and bought a new bodhran from a fantastically drunk chap early one morning. It looks quite nasty but it has a beautiful tone, is tuneable and has lasted over ten years. I took my new drum to a pub session and settled down with a fiddle player and, joy of joys, a piper. After about an hour more musicians arrived along with, and this is where we begin to come to the Point, more people with bodhrans, who started playing.

When I say 'playing', of course, what I mean is hitting their drums loudly and vaguely. There were a multitude and when I realised they were there for the duration I made my apologies and left.

The Point:- Would these people have done the same thing with any other instrument? Would they have bought a fiddle or guitar and settled down and screeched in public, with good musicians, without having learnt to play? Answer - no!

The Point -Part 2.

Why is it that a certain type of person - usually someone with a devout belief in a god of some description - feels that they are able to criticise the Theory of Evolution without actually spending the time to understand it?

Why is it that time and again I hear the 'argument' - "if we evolved from monkeys why are there still monkeys around"?

Why is it that Evolution is the only Theory about which people seem to think they are able to spout forth without fore-knowledge? Where are the people who say "This gravity idea's rubbish"? Or "So - the Germ Theory of disease, I just don't buy it". Why are they not so willing to make ridiculous statements about particle physics unless those statements contradict evolution? (The standard is the "Carbon Dating shows the wrong dates for fossils" bunkum).

I assume it's because either:-

a) The teaching of evolution in schools is universally poor. Certainly in my own country the Theory that has been described as one of the most important to ever be devised is skipped over lightly if it is covered at all.

b) For some reason evolution is viewed by the Bible- and Qur'an-thumping proles as a direct threat to their belief.

If it is the former one would imagine that it was easy to rectify - make space in the over-worked curriculum for it. After all we cover Newton and Archimedes, so why not Darwin? Evolution also has the benefit of being easy to understand and involving no equations.

If it is the latter then one must ask the question "how secure are you in your faith that the truth rocks it so much?"



*Bodhran - pronounced bowrawn. Only the Irish can produce a drum with one stick and a language with silent consonents.

Green Moustache

I'll nail my colours to the mast right at the outset. I live as green a life as I can and I truly believe that more people should embrace the joys of home-grown and local produce. We should use cars less than we do. I'll even go so far to say that we should probably eat less meat than we do, although as a rampant omnivore this is more about the appalling quality of meat in most supermarkets than any moral qualms.

I am, however, pretty much ready to give my colours some company on the mast and would like to nominate Dick Strawbridge to be so honoured.

I am aware that many of the potential audience for this ramble are of non-UK origin and so for them I shall provide a smidgeon of background.

Some years ago Channel 4, one of our once great television channels, commissioned a series called "Scrapheap Challenge" (Americans will know it as "Junkyard Wars"). On this programme teams are given challenges to design and make different, usually destructive, gadgets each week and pit them against each other. One particularly successful team was the "Brothers in Arms", a strange set of brothers who all spent time in the army, hence the witty title.

Head of this little crew was the magnificently moustachioed Dick Strawbridge. He led his team to victory several times and then disappeared from our screens.

He re-appeared a couple of years later in an entertaining programme that showed his and his family's efforts to be as green as possible. He bought a run-down farmhouse and set up a watermill to provide electricity, got pigs and chickens and all was hunky-dory.

So far so jealous.

However...

Since then he has appeared on our screens again, this time telling various celebrities how wasteful and appalling their lifestyles are.

I, for one, am now getting more than a little exasperated with the seemingly constant pressure to eschew modern life. I know full well that should everyone live the way I do we would require more planets than we have currently available. I also know that there is little more I can practically do as an individual.

When I find work again I will need to travel to get there. Until such a time as we get a government capable of realising that the majority of people live outside the reach of London's underground network and therefore would require investment in public transport in order to facilitate leaving the car at home I shall need to drive.

Although we do a decent job of growing fruit and veg in the garden there's no way I can be self-sufficient with the amount of land I own. In fact, for everyone to be green and self-sufficient the way young Dick would like would require more planets than our current lifestyles would.

While individuals can, and should, do more, it is also up to governments to implement policies which make a difference. Our present incumbents seem to have washed their hands of this idea.

Reading the Pulse

The row over Sir Fred's pension rumbles on.

The latest to join the ranks of nay-sayers is Harriet Harman, deputy leader of the Labour Party and right-hand populist to our dear PM. Following the general dismay at the size of Fred's (and I feel that, as he has had such an impact on my life I am entitled to be on first-name terms)pension and, no doubt concerned that Labour ministers knew what his contract contained last year but failed to mention it to anyone at the time, she appeared on TV full of wrath and stated the following:-

"And it might be enforceable in a court of law, this contract, but it is not enforceable in the court of public opinion and that is where the government steps in."

Is it? I'd always assumed that the job of government was, well, to govern. That means taking some decisions that are legally correct but that may be unpopular with the great unwashed. This government, it seems, would rather stick pins into it's collective eyes (maybe it already has - that would certainly explain its lamentable blindness to pertinent facts) than appear to be 'not-listening'.

The problem with this, and it amazes me that no-one in the media seems to have picked up on it, is that walking down this pin-blinded alley is incredibly dangerous. We've seen what happens when the masses take things into their own, somewhat grubby and illiterate hands. We have paediatricians being attacked because tabloid readers don't understand the difference between child doctors and child molesters. No doubt if Harridan Harman was in place at the time she would be calling for all these foul paediatricians to be lynched, as that is clearly what the public demands.

The problem this government has is that in the current crisis they feel they must be seen to be doing something. That translates as they must be seen to be doing anything.

Headless-chicken mode seems to be the order of the day.

... And Again

I've just had the exciting experience of being made redundant. I'm getting to be quite good at it. This will be the fourth time that I've managed to bring a company to its knees.

I can do it to all different sizes of business too. I'm no one-trick pony only capable of destroying small-scale businesses, oh no! I've ranged across the whole gamut of corporate life. The smallest was a one-man (well, temporarily two-man) design company. I was only there for two weeks so I moved pretty quick. The largest was Nortel - although I probably can't take all the credit for that one as I was only part of the total number being removed.

There are those who will try and take my success away from me, blaming it on bankers making appalling short-term decisions or lending to people whose earning potential was slightly less than that of a dead whelk ("Of course you can borrow 5 times your salary to fund your desire to live well without actually having to study or work hard. I know - yes, life is so unfair. Here you go, if you could just sign here and here - Oh! You brought your own crayons, good").

I used to work with someone, although not for long, who had seen his last two jobs disappear. We sat next to each other in the drawing office of Brooklands Aerospace in Salisbury. You probably haven't heard of them for the very good reason that only a month after this chap started work the company folded in a most spectacular fashion. He, no doubt, will try and take the credit, but I know that was my first.

The public, and our own dear Prime Minister, are baying for blood and they've chosen to put Fred Goodwin on the block simply because he presided over the biggest British corporate loss in history and has walked away with a £693,000 a year pension. This seems unfair as, while it is a goody, it's also his first. Beginner's luck I say.

My problem is that, while I am extremely good at being made redundant I am, unlike Fred, extremely bad at making money from it. Maybe I should hire myself out to work diligently and hard for company's competitors, watching them crumble around me.

I could make a fortune.

Mistaken Identity

So, Antonette Richardson has been found guilty of manslaughter.

Who?

This delightful creature was so incensed to be called a queue-jumper at her local Sainsbury's that, rather than simply either arguing her case or deciding that she had been rumbled and moving to the back, she called her fella on her mobile who waded, knuckles-dragging, into the shop and punched the man who had the temerity to say nasty truths about his woman.

So far so Britain. However, either Richardson was so traumatised that her pointing finger wavered or her thug, Tony Virasami, was so blinded by justifiable fury that he thumped the wrong man. Kevin Tripp went down and cracked his head on the floor. He died shortly after.

Virasami pleaded guilty to manslaughter. Richardson showed her remorse by saying how shocked and disgusted she was that he had hit the wrong person.

I think that may bear repeating. She expressed horror that her thug had hit the wrong man. Not that his first course of action was to lash out at someone who had only expressed himself verbally, but that he had directed his ire at someone she didn't point at.

I think the reader is more than capable of drawing their own conclusions from this incident without me rattling down the 'Hell in a Handcart' track so beloved of the Daily Mail so I shall spare my thoughts on what could constitute suitable punishment, suffice it to say that the words "scold's" and "bridle" would figure, along with the phrase "for life".

Why Widget?

As this question was bound to come up at some point I suppose I ought to get it out of the way before really starting.

We (that is my family and I) own two cats. Both were garnered from the League of Strange Cats. They were both picked up at the same time from the same cage and are, as far as can be determined, the same age. And there the similarities end.

Widget is the male, a black and white tom with a suitably aloof approach to life. In fact, unless there happens to be a slow-worm or other fast moving potential prey in the vicinity, his approach is decidedly horizontal. This could be confused with laziness.

I however, choose to see it as carefully thoughtful and considered.

Incidentally Sparky, the female, is a black sack of purry tartishness. Hardly a fitting name for a blog.

Going Postal

So, here it is. Post 1.

Bit empty so far but I'm sure it will fill as things occur. I aim to use this as a sounding board for things which annoy, infuriate, enable, en-joy my life as they happen (or shortly after).

I am hoping that it may prove to be interesting, enlightening and infuriating, ideally all at the same time. It will cover such topics as religion, chickens, science, politics, drivers and cats - in fact anything that either provokes my interest, that prods my anger-glands or that gently tickles my sense of joy.

It will, due to the nature of life, be irregular until such time as someone pays me to write it.