i want to escape the prison i made

Note: This is a work of fiction and as such is to be interpreted as such, it is solely the work of the author, and not intended as a comment, analysis or opinion upon any organisation or individual nor is any offence inferred or intended. If you cannot read something without believing it to be fiction I have taken the liberty of forcing you to highlight the text in order to read it.

i want to escape the prison i made

To whom it may concern,

I wish to apply for the position advertised in this weeks issue of the Advertiser, because I am desperate. I currently work in retail, one of the big ones, although to be honest, the experience of working in small versus large stores is the difference between being sick and soiling oneself. Its one of the big ones, big enough to afford to pay C-list celebrities fees that I would have to work years to accrue a similar amount in salary. When I say desperate, you deserve an explanation:

I put things on shelves: hoovers, toasters, microwaves. All in different boxes, all essentially the same product and for the most part made in cramped factories by prisoners of conscience. Sometimes people ask me what is the best of a particular range? Time was, I used to discuss the differences, cosmetic as they were and was genuinely interested in trying to meet their expectations and desires within the confines of their budget. Nowadays, I usually fight back tears and ask them to send word to the authorities of the conditions we work under, or alternatively, I have developed an entire routine where I fake a seizure. Eyes rolled back, foaming at the mouth, I contort my hands into little claws of contempt.

The First Aiders stopped coming if the call originated from my department, and when they did arrive, it was too late for the temp who had lied about his asthma on his application form. He seemed nice, although I never caught his name, he borrowed someone else’s name badge so he died with the name Richard who worked on checkouts and liked football, which is ironic.

I look forward to hearing from you

Roo-Neh

So as the majority of people are sat around wondering what the fuck is going to happen to them, spare a thought for poor old Wayne, having his agent haggle his way out of a club that made him into an icon, preparing for a birthday party that will no doubt make the pages of the weeklies, snide comments about his sexual appetite and attendant lack of impulse control even as they write cheques for access. Poor old Wayne Rooney.

I have actually read his autobiography, and found on paper, he seems quietly pleasant - loves his missus, good at a sport that people revere as much as religion - someone you could probably have a drink with and not want to glass him, but why do we revere these people so much?

Not in terms of their talent, I think that we all are drawn to the the work, the expression of a great talent in a way that goes to our subconscious but are you not a little bit fatigued with the football coverage in certain parts of the media?

The sport leaves me cold - in comparision with something like MMA, which is all sports boiled down to the essential conflict, and populated by far less gang rape and drunk driving, football is cossetted and overly effete. If we are going to have conflict, make it real instead of private boxes and subscription - although the thing I do like about football is the love it gets at the lowest levels, my brother coaches his stepson's team and his enthusiasm is palpable.

Still, if and when Rooney bags a good deal, he'll be scorned by all the United fans and former team mates, the press will tear even more chunks out of his hide and I cannot see him at a foreign club - imagine Rooney eating at an Italian restaurant and his disappointed childs face that his spag bol isn't made with Ragu, eh?

Cuts

This won't be a forensic assessment of the numbers because, although I do dazzle myself a bit, its dry and heavy-handed. Ultimately, we need to discuss the impact of the cuts in terms of people, which goes to my first point.

1. Do not make the mistake of assuming that everyone is exactly like you. If someone hasn't worked for twenty years, and you have been fortunate to have remained or thrived in the job sector, and your judgement is based entirely on your subjective experiences, both good and bad then the mistake is yours and you are paddling in the shallow waters of stereotypes.

You project your own experiences onto others and assume that were you in that particular circumstance, that you would behave differently from everyone else in that environment, when your experiences were shaped in a different environment and therefore would not accurately reflect a life lived in said environs. You make the best choices that you have available to you, in any given situation.

2. Now, as you are sat there reading this, let me point out that most of the deficit came from bailing out the banks, bailing them out of a situation that they created in order to make massive profits without any regard for the consequences, and yet it is ordinary people that will suffer for it - policemen and nurses, soldiers and council workers. The financial industry threaten to move business elsewhere if punitive measures are enacted, well call them on it.

3. Disability is something that can happen to anyone of us -either an inherited progressive condition or by an accident. Removing DLA, which is actually paid to people who work as well as who cannot, and goes some way to helping with costs attendant to their disability actually makes it harder for some people to continue working. In addition these cuts ignore the stigma that exists against the disabled.

4. Work should pay more than benefits, but the trick here is that rather than attempt to regulate or insist on a living wage, they are cutting benefits. One side of the equation serves the interest of ordinary people, the other allows the private sector to do what they want. We demonise those who are seen to sacrifice their earning potential to be of service, that somehow they are giving something up when the truth is, is that maybe they are trading temporal gain for something more substantial. When you look at the people who appear in the business pages, the parodies of achievement that populate The Apprentice, and then you look at a nurse or a fireman, who do you think is happier?

5. Do not just take on one opinion, the perseverance of belief can be strengthened in the face of contrary evidence but never take one opinion, even as it might hurt to do so. I have, and still I remain unconvinced that this has done anything than hurt those who have the least and allow those who have the most to keep on living as though nothing has happened - although they will have to fake some sense of propriety.

http://www.redpepper.org.uk/Countering-the-cuts-myths

I come from a place of compassion, there are alternatives and I wish that there had fairer, more progressive procedures to reshape the economy into something ethical and sustainable. We live in a world that allows the bankers to pay themselves billions in bonuses whilst millions of people live on less than a pound a day and that to me, is nothing less than a tragedy. There are enough resources for all of us to live comfortably, despite what we have been led to believe - I am more sad than angry, but still angry enough to care.

Single parents, the disabled, the poor, the public servants and the young - these are who will bear the burden financially but socially the cost to us all will be immeasurable. Poverty is corrosive in ways that do not show up on a balance sheet, mental illness caused by stress and deprivation, crime and drug abuse(which I characterise as entirely different from drug use) these are the children of the cuts to come, and we all lose out in real terms when we forget the simple truth of our humanity - that we are all connected on some level and that we all share the same planet. That our perceptions differ is recognised, in that there are those who refuse to recognise this common connection and some of those people are in government, cheering at the potential loss of half a million public service workers - denying that those people are much like them, in their ambitions and dreams.

I could respect conservative ideas more if they were genuinely about offering the least some form of opportunity, but the free market fundamentalism has allowed them to reap the fruits of madness and claim them as something holy.

Strategic Defense Review

When the Coalition of the Willing won Iraq, one of the many fundamental errors of the transition process from occupation to functioning democracy was the en mass sacking of the Iraq Army and police force, allowing trained men to fall under the influence of the insurgency bringing with them the skills and discipline to wage urban warfare.

I remind you of this as we go into the Age of Austerity.

A grim sort of humour has captured my imagination of late, the Army is planning on losing an entire deployable brigade out of six which if it maintains current operations, will be achieved through the terrible process of waging a war to save a land that cannot be saved by force of arms, only engineering, education and incentive all of which undermine the tribal structure that keeps Afghanistan in constant chaos.

Why is it more expensive to go through with a contract than to cancel it? Does this say something about the balance of power between the private and public sector? I think that we are seeing our military being reorganised around the principles of maximising the profits of the defence industry rather than true flexibility and strategic jurisprudence, happening in degrees that escape the notice of most.

I personally believe that our military would be more effective serving as a compromise between a deterrent to adventurism and with an increased element of rescue and engineering service - more mobile, assistance to disasters, immediate and ongoing relief in any situation than in a traditional militaristic sense - more of an emphasis on special elite units with tradecraft for the militaristic operations and training indigenous allies to police themselves. By this, the bulk of military personnel would move to this new role with the incentive of qualifications that will directly transfer to civilian occupations. Imagine a military that people were glad to see?

The Big Society

I feel an increasing sense of unease with the encroaching cuts, all in the service of 'The Big Society' and 'Cutting The Deficit'. It is going to mean that the simple covenant that we all had a reasonable expectation of seeing a doctor, posting a letter, calling on the emergency services, educating your child and providing them with the opportunities to make something of themselves - all now going to be available to those who can afford it.

I really wish I was joking, that I could believe that these are going to be the socio-political equivalent of ripping off a plaster -painful and instantaneous but ultimately relief and healing set in afterwards but I cannot. This is, as Naomi Klein wrote about, disaster capitalism - setting up in the ruins to build a world that will better suit their ideology.

The government are acting under the auspice of sharing the pain around, but the fundamental changes that would actually redress the deficit - a Tobin Tax, a higher banking levy, the scrapping of Trident, addressing tax evasion and avoidance -shit even legalising or decriminalising some of the softer drugs would bring in huge amounts of revenue. But no, these cuts are about reducing the state to a point where the private sector will turn everything into a race to profit fastest and first.

Oh yes, the expertise of the private sector - ok, I want you to watch the Apprentice. That is the expertise of the private sector right here, arrogant soulless cunts who exist on the personality scale from fragile defence of obvious personality flaws through to sociopath who dresses in the skins of children - people who actually have conversations that could be randomly generated from a computer programme. Imagine being diagnosed with schizophrenia and having to go some of the people you see in suits on shopfloors and in offices to request their assistance, or wondering if you can raise the money for chemotherapy, go on that is what some of you voted for - oh well you could work harder -but jobs don't exist, so fuck you.

Fuck you. That is the true message of the Big Society right there, they will never address the gross excesses of private industry or government, the true hypocrisy that we all sense on a subconscious level but is wholly acknowledged. Me, I am preparing for the worst and will try to negotiate this sick new world we all live in - I stopped blogging because I wanted to not be so angry, but I cannot help how I feel and I know I want to talk about it. I only hope that someone listens

Ed Miliband

So, the Labour Party has a new leader and the attacks against him are around his links to the unions, ooh, the unions what with their desire to take society back to an age where people got decent wages and better terms and conditions, a golden age of prosperity that NEVER FUCKING EXISTED. Never mind that only 8.7% of votes cast were by the unions, but it sent out a clear message that just maybe Ed appealed to ordinary working people. Ordinary working people, you remember them, they serve you in supermarkets and build stuff that you use, they aren't as sexy as celebrities or millionaires and yet when they do pitch up and decide to do something, it gets done.

He talked about a living wage, in real terms on how it would be an actual win/win situation, for businesses and individuals - in particular when my industry, retail, has some 257k minimum wage jobs within its borders - all of which would benefit immensely from the implementation of the same.

He admitted New Labour made mistakes - which is a sign of maturity, and more importantly, did not lay the blame at any one individual and then apologised for it. I respect that, it is a good sign that there is a political leader who can admit to a mistake.

He talks about a foreign policy based on values, which might mean that we stop tolerating some of the ambient abuses that go on in the world and that our next government might stop propping dictators up.

He talks about limiting markets - which if previous governments had done so, would have prevented the financial collapse - ok, so a few less billionaires but we can all live with that.

He seems determined to break with the past, in a positive way.

Plus, for me, personally he seems willing to genuinely speak out against the old guard, not so willing to follow the paths set before him. I could be wrong, I sometimes believe I was fundamentally wrong on my support for Obama and hey it won't be down to me to determine whether he fails or succeeds. I look forward to hearing his views, and I hope he will take the best lessons of history and attach them to new ideas.

With the possibility of mass protest being more likely than not, here are some of my ideas with which to make a much larger impact and to strengthen the overall body of argument against media scrutiny and wilful misinterpretation:

1. Uniform. The success of the Civil Rights Movement in the United States had many factors to it, but for the purposes of this argument, I will draw upon one: they looked smart.

No visible piercings, shirts and ties for the men, dresses for the women. They looked like the aspirational ideal of the middle class who, to a certain degree, control the direction of public opinion. They related to them in a way that has been denied by the overall cavalcade of anarcho-class tourists, dreadlocked jugglers and countercultural scene kids that we experience today. This is no way a slight on those who express themselves thusly, but in order to win greater arguments, a certain degree of discipline is not anathema in service of the greater good. Dress like you are visiting an elderly relative or going for a job interview that you actually want.

2. Non-violence. This should go with saying, if we are to occupy the moral high ground then there is a cost to that, and again, it goes towards discipline. Self-defence, I would argue, is permissible but only so much that you can extricate yourself from the situation. As in several schools of martial arts - you are either in or out. Be out.

3. Performance Art. Make it subtle, one of the great ideas in Cory Doctorow's For The Win is a protest in which the participants merely organised a flashmob in which they arranged to meet, eating an ice cream with the further variation that they would appear holding a second, which they then would pass to a passer-by. Which confused the authorities, but it makes a good point, being imaginative, being viral is arguably so much more effective in campaigning for your particular cause.

4. The Corser Cost. We have social networking and email, flashmobs and SMS/MMS, why are the Trades Union Movement not using them

The Pope

Your common garden variety paedophile lives in secret, slave to their appetites, knowing that even suspicion can ruin their lives, forced to do business with criminals in order to seek gratification, and each image, each child is a victim left broken, whether they are alive or dead after. Whether you come from a place of compassion that it is an illness or otherwise, the testimony of victims speaks to the horror of it all. Unless you are a Catholic Priest.

Then, sure you have to confess but ultimately you are accepted, in no way denied the grace of your God and you are moved to another parish, leaving behind your victims. Out of 22 priests, 14 are still ordained, which makes me aghast and wonder whether the Church has some kind of points system in place. That the current Pope has overseen a great deal of the abuses and managed the response and as yet no one has put a fucking bullet through his head is tribute to the power of religious faith. Or to the denial of the same faithful.

Essentially you worship in a church that puts those who murder the spirits of children over common law and the concept of justice. Fuck you for not doing all you can as a member to right this wrong, and that comes from all of us who have ever experienced abuse, or known those who have, or those who see it for the travesty it is.

That you have a Cardinal who then comes out as a racist and begs off visiting our country because of our aggressive secularism and I say fuck him too. There is an argument for moderate religious belief, the Axis of Jam Making as it were but I wish that they were a little bit less tolerant where it counted, Even a Buddhist priest entertains thoughts of swatting a hornet once in a while, and these crimes and attitudes are the very cause of aggressive secularism. When you see that Mother Church is playing the same game as the financial industry and the government, similarly their promises sound hollow. Faith is irrational, and dogma is dangerous - as much as Marx said that capitalism sows the seeds of its own destruction, does the Catholic Church bear similar fruit.

Army of the Stupid(US Politics)

There are stupid people out there, most of them are harmless, admittedly the rate at which they reproduce is staggering but in the greater scheme of things, they are ultimately harmless. Well, within my lifetime at least, or so I thought.

Christine O'Donnell - who believes masturbation is a sin(which sounds unimportant but consider someone saying that out loud and then giving them responsibility over certain aspects of your life), she is fiscally irresponsible(but so am I) and she appears cut from the same cloth as Sarah Palin. That she has only so far won a Republican primary, admittedly with 53% of the vote is, at the moment, of concerned interest to me, and the actual campaign will be brutal as she seems stuck on repeating talking points and not answering questions, even to relatively benign interviewers which will see her reeling when she gets to talk to someone decent - if she talks to anyone bar her audience, which, if I were her campaign manager, would recommend. O'Donnell, Palin et al can win merely by talking to their audiences in friendly, contrived settings - their homespun innacuracies and irrationality endear them to their base and it is that base that will, if motivated, draw in Republicans and independents who share any kind of sympathy with the American Dream.

Which, having read Stephen King's The Dead Zone, makes me feel quite unnerved and aggravated that Obama attempted to be conciliatory with the Republicans when their conservatism mutated into fundamentalism a long time ago and now this mutant strain of ideology has turned American into the first act of a zombie movie, with idiots and theocrats instead of the walking dead.

Next few posts will be talking about Trade Unions, then some posts about the possible strike action, stay tuned.

In My Darker Moments

I am starting work on a new idea as the thriller I have been beating myself up over has stalled, so am doing something else in the meantime.

Wild West. Vampires. Guns. Revenge.

Shouting At The Blank, Uncaring Face of the World

Sometimes I feel overwhelmed by the world, which I know is merely down to how I perceive it but I do feel, in my own way, lonely. It is loneliness in the little ways, no one rings me unless it is work related, no one merely asks after me anymore.

I know that being married, working full time and being a father takes up time but I still wish that people would relate to me as an individual. It is selfish to feel this way, and it passes but when it is here, it feels overwhelming. I know that people do ring me just to say hello, but they are busy with their own lives and that what I am feeling is irrational, but it feels real to me.

My life is equal parts tragedy and triumph, and sometimes I wonder how much more I can take, I am trying to take control of my life, to be all things to all men and yet it seems so futile when you are the only one who bothers trying to do anything, and then, when you stop.

You are criticised for missing out.

Sometimes I wish that I were more of a bastard, that I hadn't been quite as pleasant growing up, I might have avoided some of the obligations and frustrations that plague my existence. But then I wouldn't have had Scarlett and she, above all else, is what keeps me going. I love her more than life itself, and she is, in so many ways, the best thing I have, or will ever have achieved. My biggest fear is that I will let her down in some way, which is why I keep pushing forward, why I am looking for a better career because I want her to have more than I did, not that I lacked anything bar the material things but that was no one's fault.

I cry sometimes, I am so scared of disappointing her, of disappointing anyone really. I am struggling and I cannot talk to anyone because it would mean admitting that I have a problem coping, and who will look after things? I am thirty four years old and I am supposed to take care of things myself, but how I do cope? No one tells you to cope, do they?(She just walked in and I hurriedly wiped the tears from my face and smiled at her, she doesn't deserve to suffer seeing me like this)

If someone figures it all out, I hope they tell someone, or write it down because to be truthful, i do not have a clue. All I can do is keep going, keep fighting until either the world gives up or until I break. Fortunately I am going away camping next weekend, which is always a welcome break from the world where I go cold turkey from the internet and even now I am worrying about the numbers. Sorry if you stumbled upon this, thinking it would be about politics or culture, but I won't be linking to this one. Just wanted to shout it out to the blank uncaring face of the world.

In Praise of Women

I have a daughter, was raised, along with my two brothers by my mum, with assistance from her parents and her brother and sister, so women have always featured strongly in my world. It used to bother me, but then watching my uncle kick all kinds of arse in the parents race was my first school revenge upon the world:)

In any case, I was raised to respect women. That and being a heterosexual, (even though, as my wife told me once, that everyone was relieved that she was with me as they all thought I was gay.) meant I am intensely enamoured with women, not girls. Girls were what I liked as a teenager, girls are what you lust after as a teenager and I have not been one of those for a long time. Oddly enough, I was more comfortable with women when I was younger, than I was with guys, which is something that came with time. I had close male friends, but in terms of that meaningless chatter you do over drinks, then that came in time, but women, once you got past all of the pretty, I have always enjoyed their company.

This is not going to be a list of traits and cliches about women, more an observation.

Why are women in competition with one another? I mean, as a white male, I am comfortable that my particular demographic are firmly in charge of things but women are capable of anything that a man can do, and more. Yet society and media encourages you to sell low, and in the race to the bottom, there seems to be an element of jealousy in that. I mean, men fuck each other over, but it has less of an impact upon men than it does amongst women. Or as Mean Girls puts it, 'women would take over the world if they could stop hating one another'

Why are women selling themselves short? This is obviously a reaction of sorts to the women's media and cultural imagery that I see in the mainstream not to the reality which is, that one of the smartest and bravest political campaigners I have ever had the pleasure of meeting is a woman and that I know female doctors and leaders in the actual world, but media is where we get a sense of our identity and its possibilities and it is that with which I have an issue.

If you believe that the highest aspiration you can have is to be a courtesan for a footballer, then I, as a human being and a man, pity you. Your physical beauty is going to evolve past the current notions as you age and that at some point, you will find your relationships will be defined and shaped by that which is within you. You need to find something for yourself that is not dependent upon anyone else because at some point that is all you will have. It is not about seeking approval, you do not need it.

Other than that, I will find you, on your terms, as reverently as I do now. I wish that you were in charge of things, Charlie Brooker once proposed that for ten years men would get no more responsibility than the tv remote, which would suit me just fine, so if you can make that happen, that would be fantastic, thanks. I could do with the rest.

Jobs For Whoever

Jobs, careers, temporary contracts, temping, whatever you define it as, some people have them and love them, some have them and tolerate them, some loathe every second, walking around like robots powered by revenge fantasies of slapping the life out of their manager's flabby little body and there are those who do not have jobs and are desperate to have one, and those who who are not desperate to have one.

It is not just about money, working, is it? I grew up believing that was what a man did, work, and being 'on the dole' as it were was something to be ashamed of, or reserved for those who were in particularly dire circumstances. Which is something that comes to mind when I hear George talk about cutting benefits to push people into work, that I believe he does not understand the how and the why, or if he does, he does not truly care.

Now, if you were not aware or raised with that taboo against not working, then a cursory look at the job centre's range of available work is not all that palatable measured against the following trade off -

You go to interviews where you do not particularly try to impress the employer but not so much that it raises suspicions that you are not trying, you sit and talk in vague terms about how you have been looking for work in an exchange where you have practiced the trade off - your dignity in exchange for financial enhancement and more importantly, the security that benefits offer.

The jobs that are out there, are insecure, low-paid, non unionised with an atmosphere that implicitly hints at a less than desirable future if you do look to the relevant union for representation, but the truth of it is, I would probably take that job just so I could keep working. That taboo works on me, even as intellectually I know that you can work the system if you wanted to, I was raised too well to ever make it as a long-term claimant(thanks Pops)

I do understand why some people stay out on benefits, there are societal and social reasons that are not being answered by the government. Cutting benefits will force people into low-paid and insecure work, whereas I would propose that state investment in new jobs would be a more effective measure of increasing the amount of people employed, because unskilled and long-term unemployed people are going to only ever find unskilled and insecure work.

Simple solutions to complex problems are a surefire sign of wilful ignorance, either through lack of education or adherence to an ideology and that is part of what is going on here, it is about arousing the Tory faithful's prejudices. No one wants to see the welfare state used as a lifestyle choice, but for some people it is the best of a bad lot and until someone in government stops and considers the long view, then I see nothing ahead but conflict.

Further to that, and if anyone who has heard me say this, forgive me. There are more types of poverty than financial, the poverty of expectation is crippling and if you believe that you deserve no better, can do no more and that despair is your default view of the world, then the expectation that you can go out and find a job or a career that simply is not there is false. We tend to project that were we in that situation, we would delay gratification, that we would struggle against failing parents, broken schools and disparate communities, that somehow we would survive in situations that break entire generations when the truth of it is, is that we are speaking from a place of relative affluence and ignorance. Sure we can all talk of isolated examples of people who escape, but their uniqueness is indicative, isn't it?

There are entire communities in this country, that if they vanished tomorrow, would not impact upon the economy at all and demonising those people, because as some of you seem to forget, they are people like you and I, is perhaps a subconscious way of gaining favour with our cold, ruthless leaders. If you speak out against benefit scroungers and fail to realise that you are one bad week from joining them, you need to consider your lack of empathy.

Do Not Go Gently

You have fought every step of the way, chemotherapy, drug regimes that enslave you to a routine of pills with side effects as bad as the condition you are fighting, you have had ups and downs, days where you almost felt normal and days where you just wanted to pass on. Some people live to tell about these experiences, some do not. I know people who have had their condition go into remission and go onto lead fulfilling lives, but I have lost people along the way. I miss those people immeasurably.

I cannot speak for those who are suffering, only for myself and I am fortunate in that I am well, however I do believe that were I to receive the considered assessment that it all came down to a matter of when, I would want a choice in how and when I left this life. You would change the channel if something you were watching turned out to be shit, wouldn't you?

As you sit there, consider the people that love you and how they would feel if they had to watch you die by degrees, past the point where medical science can do anything other than mitigate the pain. I watched my grandfather, a kindly, intelligent man who was the heart of our family in the greatest possible way become reduced to a series of responses by cancer and it was cruel beyond measure. Watching him die by degrees was horrific, I choose not to recall the specifics too often, it always makes me cry, the physical reaction is like being winded from a solid punch and I wouldn't wish it upon my worst enemy. I would however like the choice to avoid such a fate for myself or my family.

I understand that such a decision is open to abuses, and I would welcome a considered assessment, but one that was centered around the wishes of the patient, the prognosis and the educated knowledge of medical professionals. Ultimately it would be the mark of a considered and mature society that it would grant its citizens the freedom to exit stage left with their dignity intact. Dignity is important, and although a word that seems to come from a more genteel time, it is something that when you note its absence, you understand its fundamental appeal.

When I think about my grandparents, as my nanny passed on a year after grandad, I wish that I believed in an afterlife, or that there were ways to continue the conversation with them. It is that wish that gets exploited - for influence, for financial gain, for social proof. I have never been approached by anyone claiming such knowledge, and I fear my response were such a thing to happen. This is all we have, and therefore we owe it to ourselves to make the most of it, that we create heaven here on earth rather than trade off for something hypothetical and unproven. We can be our own angels, agents of compassion or of righteous justice, and we should fight for a better world for everyone. Take care.

Comedy

Comedy either works or it doesn't, regardless of what format it comes in - to me, it is one of the purest artforms out there, and I regularly see parallels with other, progressive forms of art - jazz, comic books, rock and roll.

It is a field where the most mundane, journeyman hacks sell out stadiums, and you would face the awkward silence that is normally reserved for an acquaintance making a racist comment, were someone to admit being a fan of them.

The artists that serve as iconoclasts, that advance the craft more often than not suffer, if not in obscurity than without the adulation that they would clearly reject. You get your Peter Kay and Dane Cooks, or you go for Stewart Lee, Doug Stanhope or anyone of the working artists who go onto a stage and have conversations, point out harsh truths and make people feel something.

In much the same way that some people like Robbie Williams or The Jesus Lizard, music and comedy share so many things, mainly because they are both artforms - vehicles of the purest expression a human being can endeavour over.

The differences between them are in the lack of solidarity within the moment of performance - I discount situation comedies because the good ones are rare and the funding for new writers and voices is woefully discounted. It is cheaper to produce something with Kris Marshall making that face where he looks like he is passing a pinecone whilst Penelope Keith asks him to pass the coconut macaroons than something like Spaced or the I.T. Crowd, which is par for the course I suppose.

The greatest thing you can evoke is emotion, and laughter is in itself a vehicle of the purest kind.

I will, over the next few posts, talk about my favourite comedians and point out some places online where you can get a sample, and where you can buy their material.

The Elephant In The Corner

OK, now does anyone recall the story about the News of the World bugging the phones of royalty and various celebrities? No, I hear you cry, why should we give a fuck? Well, its important, children, because the News of the World are a prime example of the freefall in standards of journalism and the editor at the time was Andy Coulson, and he is now in charge of communications of The Conservative Party, and his boss before the government was Rupert Murdoch.

Now this isn't me putting on my tinfoil hat, squeegeing my third eye with a heroic dose of mushrooms and becoming aware of the conspiracy, these are stories that affect all of us and here is why:

What is to stop Andy Coulson doing it again, in the service of government this time? Against you or I, when he has, for all intents and purposes, gotten away with it before? Nothing at all, because we live in a world where the bastards either know enough about the rules to break them and get away or just refuse to play and never get admonished for it.

This is the establishment in action, and they aren't the Secret Illuminati, they have names and addresses and they encourage other people to break the law and then if those people are caught, they develop amnesia, the rest of the press refuse to cover it mainly because it is widely rumoured that the phone hacking technique is a standard weapon in the arsenal of the working tabloid journalist and to be honest, most journalists working for a tabloid are a bit shit anyway. I mean if I had to write and put my name to some of those stories, I would have to start each day jamming heroin into my eyesockets just so I could get out of the door. These people probably started out wanting to bring down governments and expose tyrants, now they get to write stories about members of Kasabian pissing in doorways and how much cellulite Charlotte Church has.

I am in my way, a romantic and an idealist, even as I recognise that people mess up and forces happen to impact upon them that are beyond anyone's control. I expect that if you have anything approaching a sense of obligation or nobility, that you at least try to aspire to something beyond your immediate gratification in life.

If you are a politician, you serve the needs of the people who elected you, if you are a policeman, you serve the people by enforcing common law(not merely issue fines) and if you are a journalist, then you seek out the truth, or whatever is closest to it and you shine a light upon the hypocrisy and corruption that besmirch our lives, that you show the reader that no one is above scrutiny and acknowledge that, yes, no one is perfect and you will make mistakes, but when you say one thing and do quite another, when you speak out against corruption and yet indulge in it yourself, someone is going to ask you about it and have evidence to prove that it is so.

I just want a better world for everyone, even you, you magnificent bastard, you probably don't think that you deserve one, but you were lied to, in fact, you can be amazing if you want to be. If you don't, I still want you to be happy and not be a slave to anyone but your own heart and mind. The journalists and editors involved in both the criminal acts, the commission of them and then the avoidance of reporting have failed on every level, professionally and personally. You are fucked and you are fucking us, as Bill Hicks once said of marketing professionals, now its journalism's turn. Again, I implore you to ask questions of this, to discuss amongst yourselves about how these things come to pass and to be angry about it, because if they can hack Prince Harry's phone, yours will be a piece of piss.

William Hague

If this is true, then I actually feel for the man, having to admit multiple and recent miscarriages, which are events that tear holes in people and their relationships. I do not understand the advisor leaving office, in particular as if he was guilty of anything, it was being in a relationship with a married man, which he strenuously denies and to be honest, that is not something you should lose your job over. We still have this unusual and distorted relationship with homosexuality in society - that we keep them at arm's length, unless they are minstrels, we are not convinced and seemingly afraid, of what?

Are homosexuals so persuasive that you can be sat next to one at a dinner party and he can persuade you to have sex with him? "Well, your rhetoric has me convinced, whip it out right now, I thought I was heterosexual but you are so persuasive." No, they are people who happen to find different people attractive from, say me, and as such, they do not need to qualify themselves in any way shape or form other than the criteria that we look for, professionally and personally. They should not have to discuss it, in ordinary circumstances - it is not a choice any more than you can choose your parentage, so it doesn't matter if we decide to accept homosexuals, they're not going to stop because of anyone's disdain.

So, if it was that they were exploring or expressing their sexuality, no one needed to leave or lose their job, if either party involved had defended or expressed bigotry against homosexuals - well they are hypocrites. Infidelity happens, denial happens, all situations that crop up in private and public lives - part of the deal with being a sexual being with emotions and obligations and its press hypocrisy to simultaneously demand inutterable propriety and the appearance of normal notions of society. That he had to use the details of something painful to explain it, is awful piled on sadness and if any part of this is found to be misleading or untrue, then he should be ripped apart for it.

There is also the continuing idea that being homosexual is something furtive and a detriment - recently Joe McElderry came out, after a time away from the publicity surrounding his X Factor win as though his sexuality would have tainted the show's brand. He was even nominated as an icon for it, which is awfully sad.

Be proud of who you are, if you want to be out, be out. Its your body, do with it what you want as long as you don't harm anyone else.

Richard Dawkins

I am watching his documentary on More4 - 'Enemies of Reason and I am in awe of the man, he carries himself with the confidence and civility of a learned gentleman. The way in which he points out the fallacies and follies of religion, astrology and their ilk, and how they undermine civilisation, is a delight to watch. I know that some him accuse him of zealotry, but when you examine the damage that these ideas inflict upon us, then perhaps it is important to ensure that these ideas are presented in their proper context.

I used to believe in God, did a church summer camp which mainly meant I had someone to go to the beach with, and to be honest, my personal experience of churchgoing folk is that they are genuinely nice people, but what I never understood is why God allowed such suffering in the world and why some people didn't have enough to eat.

It wasn't one particular thing that led me to be free of this belief, and to be honest, I tended towards spirituality and fantasy anyway in my interests - horror and fantasy fiction, roleplaying games, comics, anime but I soon came to realise that I didn't believe that there was a purpose to all this, that you could still be good and do good things because it felt good, not because of concern that someone was watching. Since that point, I tended towards ambiguity around other people, not just on religion but also on astrology, tarot etc but as time goes on, I have not forgotten the sensitivities of others, it is called tact, but I state my absence of faith in a calm manner and to be honest, no one objects anymore.

Ideas are damaging in some instances, and it is important that we find the tools to fight these ideas not just for ourselves but for our children and their children. When people use homeopathy to fight cancer, when people destroy others over their chosen God, when we replace the wonder and curiosity with the one size fits all answer of God Made It, we have to fight them without resorting to name calling(not that it doesn't have its place, if done in a playful manner). If you have to ask 'why', you need to look into it.

Offered In The Spirit of Love

I am a Labour supporter and a trade unionist. I believe that a more equal society is healthier, smarter and recognisably better than a capitalist one - for a start, we would all have to work less:) New Labour were in power for thirteen years, and my first political love - we haven't split up, but she's getting a new haircut and lost some weight, and before I see her again, I have to consider whether I still want to carry on this relationship.

"We need to talk, darling"

"Look, I promise you, things will be different this time. I went through a phase, you know. All those people telling me how good I looked, and the power, oh god, you have no idea.."

"I know, and I still look at that little card you gave me, and I am amazed by how far we have moved from that little statement. Democratic socialism is a beautiful phrase, so is social justice and I don't really hear that from you anymore."

"Is it Clegg? What does he have that I don't?"

"Oh how wrong can you be? Clegg is a cardboard cut out, no more substance than a Spice Girl. I know people were flirting with him, but I never trusted him. I still love you, but you make it difficult"

"What do you mean? NHS Direct, Tax Credits, Freedom of Information Act, banning fox hunting, more money into the public sector, I did everything I could..

"Its not that I don't appreciate what we have, or had. But in this relationship, I had to put up with a lot from you -

"We were amazing together, weren't we?

"The Millenium Dome, faith schools, house price inflation, the fact that our children won't ever be able to afford a home of their own, an incomplete immigration policy and the attendant failure to explain it to people, which in turn led to a resurgence in tacit racism and extremism, two wars that we had no true business being involved in with hundreds of thousands dead, a generation of soldiers and families traumatised and disabled, the fact that the same people kept on getting richer and richer whilst we all struggled to get by, despite being told that things were getting better - the 50p tax rate whilst you couldn't get your shit together to close tax loopholes, demonising benefit claimants.."

"Still, you do what you can in government, and we did our best. Do you think that the Tories will do any better?"

"No, I still believe in you but I want to see some changes if we are going to carry on. Did you ever hear that quote made by a US President?

I struggle to recall the origin, but the substance comes to me.

"It is better to believe in something and suffer for it, than to slide through life with no passions. I don't think that you should compromise anymore, you should talk to people and find out what they actually want. Or at least be better about selling what you want to achieve"

"OK, listen its not down to me, people have to work with me for the change to happen. Little things have an impact and I hope that you like the people that I want to work with."

So do I.

Bliar

Well, it appears that former Prime Minister Blair's autobiography is out now, with the attendant media interest, both positive and negative. There are far more eloquent attacks and defenses but here is mine -

In his prime, Blair was charismatic, just high enough in the social pecking order to be aspirational but not so much that he alienated you. Certainly some of the allusions to him being ordinary were clumsy but certainly every politician attempts this 'reach across the divide'. Politicians, eh, making you feel better that they listen to Oasis as they close your public services.

Well, I thought, sure he's another politician and he got them into power with his third way politics, which made them attractive to rich people who dimly believed that a true socialist government would steal the money that they worked so hard to inherit and it was all gravy from there, wasn't it?

So civil liberties got stripped away and, as a country, we went to war on a lie. The rich continued to get richer, and although there were a lot of good things available to alleviate some of the pain in being poor or low waged in this country, I grew to resent Blair. In particular, when we went to war.

Now the hijackers were of Saudi descent, so why did we go to Iraq? Certainly the idea of pursuing a diplomatic investigation would have been sensible but no, Bush wanted a war with someone, anyone and Iraq was there for the taking. That evidence had to be fabricated and that Blair maintained his belief in the dossier throughout was meant to be him showing he could roll with the big boys on the global battlefield, that we could war as well as the Americans.

Excuse me, but fuck that.

It isn't the Prime Minister or the minister or the political journalist who goes to war, its that man or woman you went to school with, who you went out with a summer, your cousin who's struggled to find work where you live, the man who wanted to get out of the town where he was born - those are the people who get sent to war. Sometimes they don't come back, or they don't come back in one piece - mentally or physically. So it stands to reason that we send them into harm's way without a genuine reason and with the necessary equipment, to defend against a threat against the people of their country, not to prove a point or massage a political ego. The heartening thing is that people went out to protest, even if the cabinet did not listen - which I put down to the arrogance that perhaps is necessary to run for and win leadership, to a certain degree.

That he led a government that participated in the deaths of between 97 and 106,000 civilians, that entertained torture and extraordinary rendition(kidnapping someone and taking them to a country where it is legal to torture them), that radicalised certain elements of fundamentalist Islam and made the world more unstable for all of us, and then refuses to entertain the idea of an apology. Blair's vision is a poisoned chalice, a Faustian pact whereupon we gained a glimpse at a fairer world and in return we allowed the gap between rich and poor to increase, but the poor got a few more crumbs from the table and we got MPs who were/are devoted and passionate about social justice.

It is a price that I am uncomfortable to have paid, as a voter and a Labour Party member and I hope that we can learn from Blair - it is telling that he has accrued vast personal wealth(although he has not been vulgar with it) and then gone onto a high profile as an ambassador for Middle Eastern peace(oops there) and an interfaith ambassador, so he might yet do some good - one can only hope. I am unlikely to buy his book, even though he made the gesture of donating the advance to the armed forces, seeing as his informed decision has maimed and killed so many of them.

I enjoy the benefits of a great many of Labour's policies, but I cannot reconcile those gains with the fact that we denied chemotherapy drugs to Iraqi children, that we displaced hundreds of thousands from their homes, that we made things worse for the Iraqi people in so many ways that we advanced the idea of private enterprise in a combat scenario, that the world is an angrier and more volatile place for the actions of these people, that they proceeded to war in violation of international law, the very best advice and evidence from experts in all fields and I did my part in it during my time of naval service, enforcing the sanctions that deprived children of food and water, to allegedly punish a man and his family who sat in their solid gold mansion, fed their zoo animals and played their games whilst his people starved and suffered.

There is hope, however. We can get a leader who will best represent the ideals that Blair alluded to, and hopefully won't sell us down the river, David carries too much of the New Labour ideal about him and I do not believe that experiment bears resurrection, my vote will be for Ed Miliband and I would encourage anyone with a vote, either via trade union or party membership to do so. Let us leave Blair with his demons, he has to sleep at night with the deaths of thousands on his conscience and that is far more punishment than any court, man or country can inflict.

The Glenn Beck Rally

The Fire Next Time

This is the first and second chapter of a longform fictional piece about the world not too far from now.

Chapter 1:




Wayne stared at the chiller, watching his own reflection in the glass, swallowing back his fear as the owner Mr Akhtar, forty and worn down like a used paperback, followed his every move from behind the plexiglass on the small monitor that he kept by the register. Life under the weight of someone's gaze was a constant, something that you learned to accept even though it wore you down, made your shoulders slump with the weight of everyone waiting for you to fulfill their idea of what 'his' kind do whenever they venture beyond their neighbourhood. Wayne silently mouthed 'fuck you', almost pantomiming the gesture as he reached in for a two-pint bottle of milk.

Wayne was fourteen, small for his age, a good looking kid who might bloom into handsome, delicately boned with languid brown eyes tattooed with black rings of exhaustion, hair kept neat by his mother, from whom he inherited his features. The parka he habitually wore swamped him even further, but it kept the cold out, something that earned catcalls from the other lads and suspicion from wherever he went. His clothes were clean but worn, and his trainers were always a brand behind what was on the street, but Wayne, whenever his heart felt heavy from the envy and the disdain of his friends and peers enough to ask his mother for the money, he would see her, slumped at the table, steeling herself for the second job she had taken on to put food on the table, the words turned sour in his mouth and he would think of something else to say, or to ask her. Mostly he would go to his room, feeling it better to keep some things to himself.

Wayne held the container down at his side as he slipped his right hand into his parka, shuffling to the counter as Mr Akhtar looked up, not at Wayne but to the entrance. Wayne catches them out of the corner of his eye, afraid to catch their gaze, the stories flooding his whole body with anxiety. For once, for all of the ambient disdain that passed between them, Mr Akhtar with his forty years and Wayne with his fourteen shared the same thought.

Fuck.

Time was, seeing a uniformed officer held a range of reactions: resignation, relief, confidence, concern, alarm. You filtered those reactions through whatever range of experiences and familial attitudes were passed down to you, or whatever you had personally experienced. Ultimately, you held your own opinions on such a subject, but you hoped that somewhere there were policemen who upheld the peace, who would render assistance or see to it that you could entertain the idea that you lived in a world that worked according to principles. That these principles only really worked in places not abandoned to poverty or narcotics was academic, you kept the poor and the ravaged out of your eyeline and you trusted that the police would protect and serve.

By the time the balloons had been taken down and the mayor had taken office, everyone in the city had been relieved of that illusion. Except no one on the corners nor living in the neighbourhood was appreciating the irony either. Because of the people who were now walking into Mr Akhtar's store, planning on picking up drinks and cigarettes for the rest of their shift.

They all wore variations on a standard uniform, black fatigues with pockets for ammunition clips, long sleeved Nomex tees under Kevlar and carbide jackets, ball caps with the corporate logo stitched into the brim and boots that were always buffed to an oily sheen. Hip holsters with ceramic pistols. Their laminated ID tags were hung from lanyards around their necks, swinging as they walked, cocksure and confident. Men and women, different nationalities, oftentimes only ever reflected in their voices when they spoke, weeks of voice training removing their accents until they all spoke in one tone - not kindly authority but the commanding indifference of a cell block rapist. The guns helped secure their authority, far more than the press conference announcing their presence or the half hearted indignation that burnt out in the 24 hour news cycle, restricted to a few bloggers who soon realised that for all their indignation, digital signatures were ignored and denial of service attacks got your house broken into and your wrists cable tied together. Clever rhetoric doesnt stand up to a bullet, no matter how much Mencken you've read.

Greg Kenny and Rachel Guttierez, three hours into a six hour shift:

Greg Kenny, third generation white trash, set free of his genetic inheritance of meth production and venereal disease by sheer willpower and a gift for appropriate violence. Five years in Airborne, washed out for Delta in favour of private sector work, lots of names to avoid indictments and oversight committees but essentially the same supervisors and mission statements. Spent a lot of time either shouting for scared indigenous peoples to keep their hands up or eating steak and vitamin supplements in air conditioned trailers whilst his former army buddies suffered in accommodation that would spark a prison riot. Stood 5'8'', Mens Health cover model body but a face that seemed stuck in vengefully acne'd adolescence and teeth that had been rebuilt thanks to a generous dental plan, so he could smile and not have it look like a New Orleans graveyard. Not that he smiled much. London gave him even less reason to smile.

Rachel Guttiereiz, youngest daughter of a former bantamweight contender, signed up because the options were slimmer than nothing, dying a little inside when she saw her sisters all chasing after dreams as shallow as daytime television would allow them, schools that intended only to prepare them for a world that existed comfortably without them and their ilk. Rachel had taken the opportunity to educate herself as much as she could, and she fought to make her own luck. Did eight years in Los Angeles , commendations and a record relatively light of padded out arrests and grasps at glory, would have stayed there but private sector recruiters haunted county jails as much as they did military bases, and Rachel, she read the papers and participated in the message boards, and she knew where the balance of power lay in her country. The world was what it was, and it was coming to terms with the fact for all its illusions of nobility and decency, its essential truth was that you got as much as you can, as fast as you can and she saw no reason why she shouldn't participate. So, here she was, via Iraq and Afghanistan. Patrolling in another country and drawing a salary and benefits package that was putting her little sister through college and her grandmother in a Florida retirement village.

They had precious little in common, certainly no attraction on either part, but a dedication to the job at hand meant that they had to negotiate some form of working relationship. Mutual respect seemed to be working out for them - Greg had some great stories, and Rachel enjoyed educating him on current affairs as she saw it. They enjoyed their work, and in that was the reason no one wanted to incorporate them into some idylllic version of the world. Their approach to policing remained constant, whether it was Iraq, Afghanistan or Detriot and it was not something that sat easy with anyone but those that it didn't affect. There was none of the empathy and common sense that was the hallmark of the experienced officer, no these were people as certain of their duty as any soldier, the quickest point between A and B being the application of force. Something that despite the rhetoric espoused by the leaders of the free world, was the essential truth of the 'special relationship'.

Mr Akhtar turned away from the monitor, as Wayne clutched the coins in his hand, Rachel browsing the aisles whilst Greg walked towards him, not looking at Wayne, eyes on the chillers behind him. Wayne was in his way and the aisle was too small to make his way around, so he took a deep breath and tried to hold his ground.

Greg, stopped for a second, too tired and removed from the niceties of life to consider how he could just laugh and be gracious.

When life doesn't pull its punches, you learn to hit back with the same amount of force.

Shoving him to one side, Wayne slammed into the shelves, biting into his shoulders and back of his head like an aluminum rabbit punch - retail dirty boxing as the neatly arranged boxes of cereal beat a one bar tattoo and the quart hit the floor, bursting open. He squeezed his eyes shut against the pain, his breath a ragged sob even as he managed to stay upright, even as he held back the shame and the indignation. Even at fourteen, he knew not to show weakness, but still it was a feeling that took its pound of flesh.

Greg didnt even turn, opening the chiller door and reaching for a Red Bull as Rachel paid for her purchases with the corporate charge card that they all were issued. Mr Wu, looked to where Wayne had righted himself, even though he was just another one of the kids who put years on him from the stress of having to watch them, the cost of security countermeasures that they seemed to take delight in circumventing, resetting all the RFID tags so everything cost a penny, treating it as some glorious sort of play. Mr Wu knew what was coming if the young man failed to restrain himself, because he soaked up the details of the diatribes that his daughter would enliven their dinner conversations with, and he hoped that this wouldn't the point where he could actually have the upper hand in a conversation with his fiercely intelligent, wearisome child, even if it was from beyond the grave.

Wayne stuck his chest out, face tight with rage.

"What the fuck was that?"

Greg, turned, shocked enough to be amused.

"Didn't see you."

Wayne, shook his head, still struggling with the rage but determined that he would keep his chin stuck out.

"Cunt."

Greg flexed beneath his kevlar, rolling his shoulders back, the unconscious uncoiling that Rachel knew preceded some form of action. She left the roll of mints and the softpack of Marlboros on the counter, walking to close the distance between her and Wayne. Not even seeing the split bottle of milk still lying in the puddle from where it had slipped from Wayne's grasp.


She felt her left foot slip, balance gone as her arms flailed, landing hard into Wayne's back as he went forward, his anger now lost to the disorientation of surprise.

Greg went automatic. Reflexes borne of practice, gloved hands finding purchase at his neck, fingers stiff like knives and squeezing. Limp against him before he registered just how fucked this whole thing was.

Wayne felt his head fill with light, his last breath, his last thought as undefined and alive with colours as the crayon drawings his mother still kept on the battered fridge of their flat.

Rachel got to her feet, breathing hard, panicked as Greg stood there, still holding the boy in his hands, feeling him twitch the last few moments of his life away.

"Oh shit, Greg, oh shit. What did you do?"

Greg, his face smooth and devoid of expression, gingerly put the boy to the ground.

The glance Rachel and Greg exchanged was brief, but within it, was contained the collective and individual experiences that came from years of working in volatile, ever evolving environments because whether you were imposing or reinforcing democracy, it helped if you were willing to get your hands dirty.

As one, they turned to look at Mr Akhtar,

Rachel smiled, a bright yet cold grin that otherwise would have had Mr Akhtar revert to a set of manners that had stood him well for the twenty years he had been running the shop, instead it made his stomach lurch and his legs shake. Her hand went to the holster on her right hip

"Excuse me, sir. Would you mind stepping out from behind there?

Mr Akhtar closed his eyes and thought of how he wished he could have told his daughter she was right, of how he wished he could hold his wife for one last time, of one last English summer evening.

He did not hear the shot.

Chapter Two

They worked quickly, Rachel moving to the door. Greg, lowering the body to the ground, almost gingerly. He looked up to see Rachel looking at him, her back to the door. He nodded, and she called into Dispatch. Dispatch patched the call through to Hurt, Greg and Rachel's Shift Supervisor.

Company policy was that if no one saw anything, it didn't happen. Especially in a redlined part of the city.

Redlined boroughs were a mixed blessing if an incident occurred. Redlining being what happened to parts of the country that didnt do as they were told. Not manned borders or searchlights and cement walls, but simply the act of deciding that a particular address is instant refusal on an application form. Mortgage. Employment. Credit. The standardised paths to economic mobility closed off, leaving entire boroughs open to predatory lending. Greg and Rachel had policed these areas before, knowing that whatever happened, these neo-feudal neighbourhoods would enter into a spasms of violence and then fall into a lapsed, wounded silence, the only memorial being collateral damage and wilted flower tributes or doggerel spray painted on a concrete wall. Not that they made a habit of taking any situation to the level of violence, but it happened and their first priority was to protect themselves, then the company.


If someone saw it, then you litigate them into oblivion, pay them off(which was actually useful for tax purposes). Libel chill was unique to the United Kingdom, and it certainly made the infrequent task of collateral damage much easier to circumvent, so any indignation could in turn have the volume turned down to the point that it barely mattered. They had discussed parliamentary enquiries for larger events, and the remains of The Met, mainly upper management and think tank types, were happy to make statements dismissing the matter at hand and then returning to matters of policy. Lessons had been learned after Stockwell 1 and 2.


Eventually the response vans pulled up, and Hurt walked in, a compact, aggrieved little man with a buzz cut and a neat moustache, wearing similar fatigues and equipment to his subordinates, although it looked more like a costume than a uniform on him.

"You too. Out. Reynolds'll do the brief in the car. Whose gun fired?"

Rachel ejected the magazine and racked the slide, handing it out grip first. Hurt took the weapon, and proffered his other hand to receive the magazine, which Rachel furnished him with. He turned and passed it to one of the group of technicians who had followed him in, taking photographs and looking for the CCTV cameras.

Greg, removed his gloves and passed them to Hurt, and walked out, not making eye contact, keen to get away from what he had wrought. An overreaction, but then he had spent his whole career having his nerves finetuned by suicide bombers and insurgents who came bearing gifts.

A car was waiting, he knew that he would be taken care of, as would Rachel.

Reynolds had been one of the local recruits, a former Met detective who had been groomed for the private sector, mainly because she happened to be fluent in what Rachel called 'the language of the Third Way', lots of buzzwords but little substance, ideas recycled by the think tanks and debating societies that helped ease the country down a different path. Any society can form its own language, and Reynolds, a stocky Nordic blonde who hid her university education long enough to use it to power her way into an executive role within the new force. She had never drawn a patrol, instead she appeared only at public relations events and meetings with local authorities, blissfully unaware of the unintended consequences of the new policing approach, merely repeating the same talking points with the watery-eyed zeal of a True Believer. She was holding up a digital recorder, allowing them both to retell what happened, 'in their own words'.

Which would then be edited and reinterpreted, sold as something else entirely. Either blameless tragedy or another pyrrhic victory in the 'war on crime'. There were precious few variations left, not that a generation of journalists raised on recycling press releases or cutting and pasting blog posts had the critical faculties or job security to argue with their veracity. In these times, the truth was what you could edit, and this incident was no exception.

Reynolds told them that they would be taken to a hotel tonight, their uniforms taken to be cleaned and that in the morning, they would be briefed on their press statements and interview responses. Disciplinary action was not at this stage, considered appropriate although some form of punitive action might yet be taken, it would not be considered unreasonable to expect some form of fine or temporary suspension. The company was still fighting off what was left of the unions, protesting at the sale of what was always considered a sacrosanct branch of public service. She told them all this, bar the part about the unions, because Rachel and Greg were not interested in the struggles of strangers, abstract notions of public service or greater good did not enter into their resolute American minds.

At that point, they were not even really listening to Reynolds, thinking about room service and not having to finish their shifts seemed more reward than they deserved.

The hotel was near the airport, award winning and with a staff who were almost Praetorian in their dedication to discretion and service. Greg had been there before, after a messy raid on a meth lab in one of the boroughs, and he was already figuring out what to order from room service and planning on calling his brother to brag about how cool England was. Rachel was still nervous, struggling to get her head around the policy of containment that was de rigeur for the Private Policing Initiative.

There has never been justice, it has always been about who pays, and when you have shareholders to answer to, and long term mission statements, quarterly budgeting reviews and lobbyists who constantly preach your worth to the captive audience of government advisors, the bill always seems to go missing in the post.

Greg sat back and closed his eyes, the perfect citizen for this brave new world we all live in.

Greg sat, showered and shaved in a cableknit sweater and jeans, tan ankleboots and a new haircut. He had done this before, under much more frightening circumstances, immediate pursuit through Kabul or medieval mobs destroying entire towns in order to get their hands on another Company fuck up. By comparision, this was pleasant, almost sedate. Rachel was in the shower, and Greg was tearing into the roast beef on wholemeal, fingers slick with gravy as he shoved a mouthful of fries, Rachel's food was still on the tray, lemon chicken and tagliatelle. Television was on, political debate show live from Birmingham, still discussing Proportional Representation and the continued Corporate Presence. Resentment in every audience member, but skillfully deflected and defused. Rachel had said that there was a nationalised television station once, but that got torn apart by market pressures and a change of government, plans that had been set in place whilst the press had aneurysms over radio presenters making playful jokes with elderly comedic actors. One of Greg's comrades in Airborne called it the Niemoller Effect. No one speaks up for anyone else because they don't like or agree with them, until they realise that they have all been fucked. Greg didnt care as long as he could get Fox and ESPN. Greg was a man who lived life as simply as possible, entirely in the limbic area of his brain, and in turn distorted by the childhood bigotries he absorbed. Perfect for a man who wanted nothing more to shove guns in foreign faces and get paid for it.

Rachel, showering. More to hide the tears and to get the stink off, an olfactory hallucination that went unspoken, growing in intensity as the years and incidents went by. Rachel had seldom been involved in incidents like these, they tended to be the fault of her colleagues than her, she was careful and considered but then she had actually been a police woman, as opposed to a police officer, something that she had learnt about one of the first nights in London, explained to her by one of the last state policemen, paid to provide a training and transition package before he left the country entirely. Initially they had swapped stories, more of hers than his, and she struggled with some of the colloquialisms he used, but a smart guy. Talking about the difference between common law and legislative statutes, about the things he had seen and how slowly it had all slipped away from him, from all of them. Now he was moving out entirely, relatives in New Zealand and he drank like a man in mourning. Rachel pitied him for his sentimentality, because the world had been moving in this direction for a long time, and she felt like a mammal drinking with a dinosaur. Still, she tried to follow due processes, even when no one else did. It wasnt death camps and indefinite detention, it was more creative than that.

She stood underneath the shower head, eyes closed, hot water beating her skull, massaging her aching muscles.

She opened them, turning the shower off and towelling herself dry before getting into clean underwear, jeans and a sweater, similar to what Greg was wearing, but different enough to tell that the personal shopper was a little more outre than Greg's. She stepped into the main room of the suite, and smiled at Greg.

"How long has the food been here?"

Greg, mumbled a glob of vowels around a mouthful of food, and she sat down. Cutting and forking chicken and pasta into her mouth.

"Greg. You're an asshole, you know that?"

Greg, swallowed and looked at her.

"I didnt mean for it to happen, Rach." His voice gone fragile and infantile.

"I know, but all you had to do was step back"

"I know."

"Stop saying I know, Greg. Its fucking irritating."

"I know"

Rachel shook her head, and carried on eating, trying to dampen down her anger with food.

She swallowed, looking at him and preparing to talk to him again.

She almost wished she was still out on patrol.

Why We Can't Get Over

I am not predisposed to an appreciation for right-wing ideologies - whether it be Conservatism, UKIP or its US equivalent in the Republicans or the Tea Party, along with their bedfellows in religious institutions. However there are traits that I respect, and if their opposition adopted those traits, then we might avoid the pain of being in opposition and watching these people dominate the press and political discourse:

1. They get in line. The squabbling that we are seeing as the Labour Party leadership election hits the final stages rarely happens on the Right, or at least there is less mileage in it from a press point of view. Once a decision is made, then whatever dissent happens is done in private and the various groups wait their turn to speak, each time out emboldened by the cumulative victories that internal discipline creates. I know that progressivism engenders discussion and debate, but this goes to the second trait...

2. Keep It Simple, Stupid. The general rule of thumb is that a wider audience demands a simpler message, which is something that the right have down pat - their controversies are empowered by a simple core message or talking point that is disseminated amongst their activists and supporters, simple enough to remember and repeat with confidence. So lately, we have 'Ground Zero Mosque', 'Age of Austerity', 'The Big Society' - all simple phrases that mask big and disturbing ideas that get repeated until they sound reasonable.

3. Ruthlessness/Tenacity. Sheer, would run a baby down in the street, ruthlessness. They do not stop, they do not second-guess, they just do what they have to do - unless they don't have control of the situation from the beginning. The suggestion of removing free school milk was swiftly removed as it harked back to Thatcher's most ideological excesses and no one called them on it nor did they chase it after the moment. Whereas the right's most capable will chase an issue, a freudian slip or a poorly defended position until it is forgotten what the original issue was, only the sight of the hounded politician,academic or journalist flailing at the ear and bleeding from the wounds inflicted upon them.

What they don't have is compassion and heart, ultimately the truth of conservatism is not about helping the least, it is about ensuring that the rich get paid first and a sustainable illusion of achievement keeps the rest of us in line or soporific enough to stop us taking to the streets in pursuit of the truth.

Action

I have had cause to use NHS Direct before, mainly because my surgery is oversubscribed and I often wondered if I might have been more effective in securing an appointment if I sacrificed a small animal to some ancient elder God, but also because I have things to do and cannot, will not spend a day in a doctor's for something I guess I feel is minor, to me, using NHS Direct is responsible - I am making minimal impact on the health service that I contribute to, and I am getting advice which I can choose to take or not.

Guess which service is being cut now?

http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2010/aug/27/nhs-direct-health-phone-service?utm_source=twitterfeed&utm_medium=twitter

OK, so here is what you do if you want to do something about the issue - I will give you the tools to do something, it takes a few moments of your time but it makes a difference:

http://findyourmp.parliament.uk/

Type in your postcode, write to them about the proposed cuts to NHS Direct. In fact, here is a template using the figures collated from a very worldly commentator on the linked article

Dear -----------,

I wish to raise my objections to the proposed cancellation of NHS Direct. The objections raised by the Health Secretary Andrew Lansley are financial in nature, and although recent statements made could indicate that the replacement service is on trial, the objections do not add up when you consider the following - That statistics indicate that some 27,000 calls a day are made to NHS Direct at at total of just under 10million calls per annum, which works out at a cost to the taxpayer of £1.23, which is a small price to pay for advice and assistance when I need it.

27,000 calls a day to NHS Direct = just under 10m calls per annum

£123m running cost per annum means each call to the service "costs" the taxpayer £1.23.

I would ask that you raise my concerns with the Health Secretary at the earliest opportunity and I look forward to hearing from you.

Yours sincerely,

END OF LETTER

OK, so as a present to me on my birthday, do this one thing. My aim is that you will get a taste for it, its easier than playing Farmville or posting pithy comments on twitter, its activism and it helps make your voice heard.

Turin Brakes -

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FUzRH-NqDtA

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Evn5DTVCbLk

Going To Try Something

Enough

There are many reasons as to why we have a coalition government, New Labour had run aground on a few issues, war on two fronts, a tanking economy, a hostile press, a leader who had the misfortune of looking like an ordinary person rather than an aspirational pin-up, general apathy and perhaps a lack of will on the part of the leadership rather than the activists and local groups. Cameron et al, despite being easily mocked had a friendly press, tonnes of tax-free cash for posters and such, no real world mistakes to hammer them on(because promising things is so much easier than having to deliver on them, eh Nick?), and Cameron comes over well on camera, plus they essentially shoved Osborne in a broom cupboard.

I always imagine Osborne being into model trains, like really into them, the expression of joy on his features as he unwraps a first edition locomotive being both oddly sinister and comforting - like an evil child's toy.

The truth of it is, we don't do as much as the other side do. I know people who worked their arses off to get Tony Wright re-elected, a man who worked for his constituents, and I didn't get involved mainly because an opportunity came up to earn some money working for the polling side of the things, which was interesting and the money came in handy. I regret that I didn't campaign for him, not that I am arrogant enough to think that I would have made a difference, but the truth of it is, I might have. If I had done something tangible, I might have made a difference of some kind.

People seem to think that joining or starting a group on Facebook or trending on Twitter makes a real difference, that going to Glastonbury is a revolutionary act in itself when the only thing that brings about change is actual physical activism, getting outside, being seen and being heard.

I have a friend who has always walked the walk - she attended Hope Not Hate protests in Yarmouth Market Place, and described how people abused her and her friends simply for being there, for standing up, she has been on marches and generally, were it not for how compassionate a human being she is, could make you feel bad for not doing enough - her husband is much the same, but to them it is nothing special, it is simply something that you have to do.

Its difficult because most of us have things to do, jobs, bills, families and friends, lives and political activism is as draining as it is enervating. Its the old and the young who can get out there, or at least it used to be. Most people couldn't give a shit about anything beyond their noses, sure they can bitch about it on a message board or a blog :) but ultimately it is easy to ignore it. I do it all the time, bitch about the situation rather than do anything, and I tell myself that if I ask questions, then maybe someone will think about the situation and do something about it, but its an excuse.

We have to start doing things in the real world, and for a start, start giving a shit. Just because the cuts will fuck the poor and disabled people first, don't for a second think it will end there, unless you are rich, in which case, fuck you, you're part of the problem. Shit, there are things going on in the world right now that are abhorrent.

It is not enough to stand on the sidelines being ironic and hip anymore. To me its about compassion, about not believing the myths of capitalism and seeking alternatives to it, because companies can afford to pay a living wage, governments can afford decent public services, they can provide education that teaches people other things than how to work, that we can be good in all things and live lives of substance. Morality is a word often taken by the conservative mindset but goodness is a virtue and a revolutionary act, and we might have to fight to make government notice us, but fight we must.

Asil Nadir

Asil Nadir has been headline news today, and I had to google him to get any idea of who he is, and why his return to face trial has so much import assigned to it. The wikipedia entry on him gives you an idea of who he is and it is here.

He strikes me as being the archetypal 80's cliche - running a company that diversified into a lot of areas, using that quasi-militaristic terminology that seemed to fit business at the time, I imagine when things were good, life was never better for him, making disgusting amounts of money, living well and having the envy and respect of his peers.

Now business was the business of the time, in that the excesses of the business world were, for the most part, unregulated and even celebrated - 'yuppies', city traders, champagne and cocaine, the idea that wealth somehow made you a better person. That the Conservatives were in power at the time cannot be ignored, as it was their ideology and policy that enabled such excesses to flourish, unencumbered by the notions of societal responsibility and oversight. He was embroiled in a cash for questions scandal that brought down Michael Mates and was a major contributor to the Conservative Party, which makes sense for someone of his standing and position.

That he then went on to mismanage the company's assets, and allegedly moving millions into properties in Northern Cyprus whereupon he fled to the area, protected by the lack of an extradition treaty and from there he ran a media company that controlled newspapers, tv and radio that he used to help support a change in party, faced a massive tax bill which he will probably avoid having to pay and has been given the contract for an airport without having to go through the normal tender procedures.

He claims that he is back in the country because he was terribly homesick, that he would like treatment for his ill health, and that he feels now that he will receive a fair trial. It wouldn't be facetious to point out that we have a government who would be, at worst, sympathetic to Mr Nadir, a relic of a time when the world was in their own image. That he dictated his own terms speaks to a greater truth:

If you have money and influence, you get to subvert the rule of law - if you break the laws of a country and you do not want to face the punishment, you fly to somewhere that will protect you, and when you think that the climate is right, you dictate the terms under which you will return. I will be surprised if he is found guilty, not because of any notions as to the guilt or innocence of the man, but because he is, for this government, the right sort of man. His links to Turkey will help in securing trade and improve their standing in the EU and I bet soon enough Nadir will give congratulatory interviews and the Conservative Party will get a fat cheque in their party funds. Asil Nadir will get away with what he has done because he is rich, and because we have political leaders who are extremely comfortable with the notions of wealth and power.

I know that New Labour made the decision to become similarly comfortable with the wealthy and yes, it got them into power and they did, on the balance of it, use it for good overall, but I still feel that they were betting against the house, and if you are at all familiar with gambling in its many forms, then you know that the longer you play, the certainty arises that the house will win back all the money that you spent, and a lot more.