IDLE

Weird

2012-01-27T13:19:00.004Z

Just a thought:

Who, in their right mind, would come up with a pair of 'mascots' for the Olympic and Paralympic Games which were stub-legged, short-armed and one-eyed?

The one on the right looks as though he's wet himself.

Not, surely, the image one is trying to project.

Oh No It Won't

2012-01-19T14:21:00.005Z

"The last sigh of liberty will be heaved by an Englishman"

Montesquieu, in 1749

Janice Mason owns a house in Walthamstow, East London, which had been her childhood home and she was about to sell. She suddenly discovers that it is occupied by a family of Moldovan squatters — four adults and four children — who have changed the locks.
The police say they are powerless to intervene, because squatting is a civil, not a criminal matter.
Mrs Mason therefore faces a huge bill for securing these people’s eviction.
Yet any of us can see the injustice of her being obliged to pay a penny to get back her own property.

Mr Mason took this picture as police quizzed the squatters in the £250,000 three-bedroom house, but they say there is nothing they can do to force them out
In a properly ordered society, the Moldovans would be summarily removed by the police as soon as it is plain they have no legal title.
Beyond that, since the squatters have breached the code of behaviour we should expect to be observed by all newcomers here, they should be marched smartly aboard a plane back to Moldova. However, nothing of the kind will happen, of course.
Mrs Mason will pay one set of lawyers to get her unwelcome interlopers removed, if she is lucky. Another set, who parade themselves as crusaders, will leap to the Moldovans’ defence, their fees paid by us. (Max Hastings, Mail Online)

For a moment, Idle imagines himself as Prime Minister:
PM Idle (for it is HE): This should be against the law.
SPAD: It is, Sir (!), but it's civil, not criminal.
PM Idle (to staffer): Hargreaves, find out what the usual lefty liberal objections are to making squatting a criminal offence.
Hargreaves: Yes Sir.
PM Idle (to SPAD): You have a month - then I want to see draft legislation to deal with this.
SPAD: The BBC will hate this.
PM Idle: Hmmm. Patten, Thompson, Humphrys, those 'comedians' from Radio 4...... round them up. Then kill them.

One-Way Ticket on the Oblivion Express

2012-01-07T11:03:00.008Z

I read over at the estimable http://cityunslicker.blogspot.com/ that the rough cost of creating a new $35,000 pa job in America (via the endless trillions of stimulus) is $235,000. The economics of the madhouse? Not necessarily; economic growth is about optimism more than anything and if the US is now back onto a sustainable growth path, so be it.

For a real madhouse decision, stay closer to home, and prepare for it next week. Cameron, despite being a classic home counties squire by upbringing, is going to give the go ahead for an unfeasibly expensive railway line to Birmingham, cutting through fine English countryside, making hundreds of square miles of it un-huntable. And for what? Jobs? Not many. GDP? Minimal impact. Crucial infrastructure development? Hardly. Time-saving necessity? 20 minutes, at HUGE cost per minute per punter; so huge, in fact, that the minimum ticket price for a one-way ticket on the Great White Elephant Line (trademark, Idle) looks like being £80 (in today's money) when the thing finally gets rolling. This is, in other words, a line for people travelling on expenses - businessmen and public servants. Or the carelessly rich. All of whom, obviously, have smartphones and tablets at their disposal to work in transit. The pro-HS2 lobby, unsurprisingly, provide their cost/benefit analysis on the basis that time spent on a train is time wasted. This isn't so much stupid as plainly dishonest. As for improving the Midlands and Northern economies.... how? High speed trains don't build cars or widgets or train hairdressers or teach Mandarin. All they do is allow professional types to whizz up from London a few minutes quicker. It may even be actively harmful to Midlands service industries.

We are talking £30bn here. And who amongst us doesn't believe it will be subject to MASSIVE cost overruns and delays? The mind boggles. I'd even wager that the majority of the ditchdiggers and line layers will be foreign workers, thankful for work from the bottomless pocket of the dear old UK taxpayer.

If Cameron wants to spend £30bn-£50bn on trains, let him take the mainline services back into public ownership, provide more trains and better signalling, and above all subsidise ticket prices so that mass railway travel takes more cars off the road. Railway travel for ALL, in other words, rather than this idiotic grand projet which will benefit few and hang around his neck like an albatross until the day he dies.

Blimey

2012-01-01T21:59:00.006Z

NEW YEAR HONOURS 2012

DIPLOMATIC SERVICE AND OVERSEAS LIST

OBE

Paul Edward ADAMSON

Editor-in-Chief and Publisher, E!Sharp, Brussels. For services to promoting the European Union

I don't mean to be personal; for all I know Mr Adamson is a top man, kind to others, self-effacing and charitably minded. But what in the name of all that is holy is the world coming to when we award gongs to people doing this kind of 'work'?

All I can say is that he's not exactly hitting the bulls eye with this, is he? The EU is less popular than ever before in this country, and if he is being honoured by the British government for promoting the EU to the Europeans...... why? Let the scoundrels in Brussels strike a medal and pay for the insignia and scrolls out of their slush funds, rather than asking the poor bloody UK tax payer to cough.

Oh, and further to my last post, did you see a nice little dividend being paid up front to the Olympic panjandrums? TWO knighthoods, if you don't mind. One to someone called Allen and another to a poor fellow called Armitt. I know what we would have called HIM at prep school.

Thanks to the loyal commenters on the last post. I'll keep you posted on Somerset trips, Lil & Elby.

RESOLUTION

2011-12-30T22:09:00.003Z

Is there anybody out there? Doubtful. I made a fleeting return in September and promised a weekly bit of self-gratification publishing, which is what blogging amounts to. And I failed to meet even that modest ambition.

Whilst not blogging, I found myself reverting to that other, traditional, way to vent one's spleen or crack a joke: write to the papers. My modest harvest has been three letters in the Telegraph and another in the Spectator.

2012, however, will be different. Weekly it will be, unless there are no comments. I read a few blogs where no one ever comments but it must be a bit soul-destroying for the poor wretched blogger searching for approbation and cyber friendship and getting fuckall in return.

An update:

Drummer is 7 months old tomorrow. Stops and sits on a short peep of the whistle; sits and stays for ever until called, even as one disappears from view; walks to heel; retrieves to the hand with a soft mouth; starts dummy training properly next week, with directional hand signals; is a perfect pest about wanting to go outside/come inside every five minutes during dark and wet winter evenings.

Am reading Hitch 22. I regretted his death and read all those miles of printed column about him in the days afterwards. Has a just-dead journalist ever prompted so many of his own profession to blog about their friendship with the Great Man immediately?

Am preparing for Cameron to let me down over Europe. Prove me wrong, please.

Turned 50 in November. Just 110 of my closest friends, sat down. Caterers charged like wounded rhino, ruinously expensive. Thank heavens the good old Commander Idle dipped into the cellar and provided shampoo and claret in enough quantity. Willie Austen and his band rocked the joint until 2am. That brilliant party planner Lady Idle and the Idle Girls dazzled all. Memorable stuff.

Walking the line between idleness and salaried employment with enough dexterity to have retained my job in the Incredible Shrinking Banking World.

Forecast for the year ahead:

Euro will blow up in March; Sarko will lose the presidency to a socialist no one has ever heard of, who will beat Marine le Pen by less than 5% of the (low turn out) popular vote in the run off;

Much worse UK economy until 3rd Quarter, which will presumably cause the incompetent self-regarding Olympic organising clowns to claim that they saved the economy. They will be wrong, but believed. Hidden cost of Olympics will eventually come out and the bill will be more than 20 billion;

Vince Cable will collapse under the weight of his own contradictions and resign from the Cabinet. Ed the Adenoid will woo him to Labour, he will prevaricate but then accept, will lose his seat at the next election, and disappear from public view, except in pantomime season;

'Mike' Tindall will be persuaded to wear black leather shoes whilst wearing a suit in the presence of Her Majesty. But he and his wife will call their first-born Troy, or Chantelle;

Imran Khan will be seen as the last hope for Pakistan, or a failed state will ensue, much much worse than the North Koreans or Somalis could ever be;

Kauto Star will win the Cheltenham Gold Cup and be retired as the most popular racehorse of modern times.

A happy new year to anyone who reads this rhubarb.

No End of Spending

2011-09-10T12:21:00.005+01:00

I know, I know, the Barclay Bros banned him from the Telegraph and the Speccie for producing much too heady a brew of no-nonsense dry conservatism for the modern pantywaist "centrist" liberal reader, but the bearded mountain man Mark Steyn writes a lot of good common sense from his hideout in New Hampshire. If, like Idle, you don't get bored by drilling down to the pesky numbers, I recommend After America.

Here's a taste:

"The Irish have a useful word for the times - flaithiulacht - which translates to ruinous generosity, invariably with someone else's money. There is nothing virtuous about "caring" "compassionate" "progessives" demonstrating how caring and compassionate and progressive they are by spending money yet to be earned by generations yet to be born"

Envy, Spite, Vindictiveness and.....

2011-09-01T15:11:00.011+01:00

...... THE LAW OF UNINTENDED CONSEQUENCES:

"A decent welfare state requires an appropriate balance between carriers and carried. HM Revenue & Customs believes that almost 27 million of our 30 million taxpayers will contribute less than £6,000 per head in income tax this year. Those who have a child in a state school or who make more than passing use of the NHS are likely to be net takers, rather than contributors. So who’s doing the carrying? The ‘squeezed middle’, as ever, will do their share. But those whom we call ‘the rich’ — the top 1 per cent of earners — will contribute an astonishing 28 per cent of total income tax this year. HMRC also identifies a tiny group of the super-rich, upon whom we have become dangerously reliant. These are 14,000 taxpayers earning on average a little over £2 million each. If just one thousand of them were to leave the country, the economy would have to generate 300,000 extra new jobs, paying £20,000 per year to make up the resulting shortfall in the tax take. That would stymie the Government’s growth strategy in one rush to the Departures gate."

Dennis Sewell, Spectator

Vince and Cleggy might be expected to understand the Laffer Curve, but frankly they are not interested in maximising UK tax revenue. Oh no. They want "an important symbolic measure”. I'll tell you what that reminds me of:

Peter Cook-Cable, as an RAF officer, says to the lower-ranking Perkins (Jonathan Miller-Clegg):

…it's a pyschological thing, Perkins, rather like a game of football. You know how in a game of football ten men often play better than eleven?

Perkins Yes, sir.

Cable Perkins, we are asking you to be that one man. I want you to lay down your life, Perkins. We need a futile gesture at this stage. It will raise the whole tone of the war. Get up in a crate, Perkins, pop over to Bremen, take a shufti, don’t come back.

Goodbye, Perkins. God, I wish I was going too.

Perkins Goodbye, sir – or is it – au revoir?,’

Cable No, Perkins."

PS Dan is on the case today as well.

Meet the Drummer

2011-08-22T09:12:00.010+01:00

My first ever blog post was a picture of my noble hound Piper (rip).

Here are some pics of his successor, Drummer. Picked up from Inverness-shire a month ago.
It is too early to say if he can hold a candle to his predecessor, but the signs are good.

There is no shortage of character, he is correctly put together, and will make a decent-sized hound, judging by his feet and ears.

Photo number two (not posed) suggests peg-dog quality on the shooting field is perhaps not beyond him.

A joyous addition to the Idle household.

The State We Are In

2011-08-19T10:28:00.004+01:00

Bill, it's 280 days since I last posted on here, so it has no readers except you. Here's a rant against some current pet hates:

I blame all governments since 1965 for the recent riots, especially the last Labour bunch of liars and hypocrites. If you open the borders to immigrants, don't be surprised if they take all the low-paying jobs and leave you with three million unemployed. If you pay British yoof to be unemployed drug dealers, chancers and anti-social urban scum, don't be surprised if they stay unemployed drug dealers, chancers, etc. If you offer a council flat to a 17 year old slag when she becomes pregnant, don't be surprised if she gets up the duff and embarks on the life journey of a single-parent on benefits.

This isn't rocket science.

I blame Greenspan and Brown for the economic meltdown. If you flood the world with cheap money, you know what the banks and government departments will do with it - you just don't know which wall they are going to do it against. Blaming the bankers is like blaming the syringe instead of the drug pusher. 'Sir' Mervyn King, Bernanke, Merkel and Sarkozy have proved themselves incapable of dealing with the situation and have lost the confidence of the markets. They should resign immediately.

I blame Cameron for the fact that almost all government policy is made worse by the coalition with the Liberals, who are utterly useless and are demonstrating why they have been out of power for nearly 100 years. Cameron should have walked it in 2010, but his liberal tendency and his belief in big government has resulted in a party that no longer offers a traditional Conservative policy choice. Oh, and he lied to us about an EU treaty referendum.

I blame Osbourne for, first, being such a twerp as to sign up to Brown's 2008-2011 spending plans, and second, for spending more money in each month of his first year as Chancellor than even the hapless Darling had spent the year before. Cuts? There ARE no cuts, unless you are a soldier, in which case there have been plenty. Osbourne must cut taxes and spending aggressively, starting today. Of course the 50% tax level should go, it doesn't raise any money, but people on £115,000 income in the 40% bracket are paying over 60% in direct taxation - this is madness!

The police? Probably the worst-led institution in Britain, and has been for many years. Why do we award a knighthood to people when we appoint them as Commissioner of the Met, rather than wait and see if they are any good? Ian Blair (LORD Blair now, can you believe it?) was a disaster and barely honest, and the latest one, Stevenson, nearly as bad. Neither deserves an honour. We should have given the job to the American with a good record from NY and LA. Should have been a no-brainer. And he wouldn't have demanded a knighthood.

The Olympics - a ruinously expensive exercise in narcissism by Seb Coe, who ludicrously was given a peerage for being the 'advisor' to William Hague's disastrous leadership (and judo partner, nudge nudge). Good runner, Seb (though for some reason I preferred Ovett), but completely useless at politics and now, we learn to our cost, incapable of budgetting for an Olympics and selling tickets to ordinary fans and taxpayers. Mark my words, 'Lord' Coe will never be short of a lucrative directorship from Olympic corporate sponsors, aka his cronies. He should be buried in the foundations of the Olympic Handball Arena, as an example to future enthusiastic eejits who come up with ways of spending £12bn of taxpayers' money.

The RFU chiefs? Cretins. National Rail companies? Thieves and incompetents. The BBC? Smug overpaid metropolitan champagne socialists. The Church of England? Poofs, political activists and moral cowards.

So that's the Villains. I might do a post on Heroes in a day or two, but it will be a short one.....

It's Me Human Riots, Innit?

2010-11-10T16:17:00.004Z

Dwayne, 21, from Weston-super-Mare, is reading Immediate Gratification Studies at Keele University. He is pictured here at Millbank Tower, on his way to lobby his Member of Parliament.

Chief Inspector Lee Feckless, of the Metropolitan Police, defended his officers' stand-off tactics, saying "at this moment in time, and being mindful of the danger of the situation escalating, my officers were instructed to apply for triple time and start filling in a few forms ahead of what will be a busy period for them tomorrow, when they will be filing trauma reports and seeking time off on full pay to try try to come to terms with what all of us can agree has been a very difficult situation".

Banker VV Idle, of Mayfair, a passer by, said: "Personally, I'd give them a ten minute warning and then run the bastards down with mounted police and batons. Some of the chaps at work have suggested water canon with indelible ink, others have suggested tear gas and stun grenades. No one thinks that these people are really students, or that if they are, that there is any possible chance of them turning into productive members of society. One of our brightest young bankers suggested swapping them for intelligent, industrious and well-meaning immigrants who would like to enter this country, which we all agreed would be a double net benefit. An older colleague suggested shipping them to a remote Hebridean island and leaving them to fight each other like Lord of the Flies."

David Cameron is abroad.

Big Mistake

2010-10-29T12:49:00.005+01:00

Boris reaches the parts that other Conservatives do not reach. This seems uncontestable, as measured by his victory in the London mayoral election and the wide spread of those votes. Sure, he pisses off some Tories with his inconsistencies and stunts (let alone being a shagger extraordinaire and therefore a cad to his long-suffering wife), but he has an ability that so obviously eluded Cameron at the last election- that of being able to secure a majority from a broad constituency.

One of the things that people like about Boris is that he is not overly political - he jumps in with both feet instead of dilly-dallying on the edge like so many politicians who are terrified of upsetting even a tiny minority.

But he has made a mistake over housing benefit and exacerbated it by using imagery which is just bonkers. With next year's re-election in mind, he has made a fool of himself. Kosovo-style social cleansing, my foot! Doubtless his quick mind hadn't quite approved it for compliance purposes as he started blurting it out, and he will have to retract this in toto, and issue an apology, I'll wager.

Here is the public opinion on the matter:

"...An ICM poll in June asked: "Do you support or oppose imposing a maximum weekly limit of £400 on Housing Benefit." Support was 68% with 23% opposed. Even among Labour voters there was strong support - by 57% to 35%.
A YouGov poll in August asked: "Here are some policies the coalition government have announced in their first hundred days. For each one please say if you oppose or support it?" Among them was: "Putting a limit on housing benefit." 72% expressed support. 17% said they were opposed. Again even among Labour voters there was strong support - by 53% to 35%."
(ConHome, Harry Phibbs)

Boris still sees himself as PM after Cameron, or certainly harbours such ambition. Well, if he makes it, it will be as leader of a party other than the Tories; he cannot have improved his appeal to those outside London with this stunt.

Digging Deep

2010-10-13T22:43:00.002+01:00

Is it just me, or have our allies in Chile made a damn site better fist of this rescue than we might have done? The Minister for Mines (is his name really Laurence Fishburne?) appears competent, genuine and speaks better English than most residents of Blighty. He's pulled it off.

One's heart bleeds for the miner whose wife AND mistress were both waiting patiently at the top of the shaft, and became aware of each others' identity for the first time just days ago. Tricky reconciliation there, one fears.

The country which had the good sense to topple its Marxist leader and appoint Milton Friedman as economic consultant in 1973 has been an exemplar to the other basket case economies of South America for decades. This is why I like the country instinctively and am not surprised by its great feat of the past two months.

Red hot, Chile!

Baleful

2010-10-11T19:58:00.003+01:00

Brilliant solo performance.

Peta, 23, from Essex

2010-10-08T09:50:00.003+01:00

I am considering employing Peta in my investment advisory department. She has many of the attributes that some of our male entrepreneurial clients find attractive in a private banker.

And she is well briefed on precious metals' market behaviour.

I dare say she can provide a couple of tips for our clients that they will find most persuasive.

Feel free to add your own puns in the comments thread.

H/T FT Alphaville

An Extract From the Book:

2010-09-19T21:04:00.002+01:00

‘I had started jogging regularly out of Downing Street. Occasionally I happened to jog past a hooker standing on the same street corner. With some apprehension I would brace myself as I approached her for what was most certainly to follow.

"Fifty quid!" she would shout from the kerb.
"No way, 50p!" I fired back.

This ritual between myself and the hooker continued for days. I'd run by and she'd yell, "Fifty quid!" And I'd yell back "50p!"

One day however Cherie decided that she wanted to accompany me on my jog. As we jogged nearer the problematic street corner, I realised the "pro" would bark her £50 offer and Cherie would wonder what I'd really been doing on all my past outings. I realised I’d need to have a damn good explanation for my illustrious lawyer wife. As we jogged into the turn that would take them past the corner, I became even more apprehensive than usual. Sure enough, there was the hooker. I tried to avoid the prostitute's eyes as she watched the pair of us jog past.

Then, from the pavement, the hooker yelled:
"See what you get for 50p?"

Road to Nowhere - a Compo

2010-09-05T20:52:00.003+01:00

Idle lay in his bath this morning, listening to his 'Desert Island' playlist on his iPod speakers. About five songs in, up came 'Road to Nowhere' by the estimable Talking Heads.

Later on, in the car, someone mentioned Kensal Green on Radio 4. I have never been to Kensal Green, but I know about the cemetery, it being the closing destination in that utterly fabulous paean to England's unstraight roads by GK Chesterton. For those who don't know it, here it is (and it's no hardship for those who do know it):

The Rolling English Road

Before the Roman came to Rye or out to Severn strode,
The rolling English drunkard made the rolling English road.
A reeling road, a rolling road, that rambles round the shire,
And after him the parson ran, the sexton and the squire;
A merry road, a mazy road, and such as we did tread
The night we went to Birmingham by way of Beachy Head.

I knew no harm of Bonaparte and plenty of the Squire,
And for to fight the Frenchman I did not much desire;
But I did bash their baggonets because they came arrayed
To straighten out the crooked road an English drunkard made,
Where you and I went down the lane with ale-mugs in our hands,
The night we went to Glastonbury by way of Goodwin Sands.

His sins they were forgiven him; or why do flowers run
Behind him; and the hedges all strengthening in the sun?
The wild thing went from left to right and knew not which was which,
But the wild rose was above him when they found him in the ditch.
God pardon us, nor harden us; we did not see so clear
The night we went to Bannockburn by way of Brighton Pier.

My friends, we will not go again or ape an ancient rage,
Or stretch the folly of our youth to be the shame of age,
But walk with clearer eyes and ears this path that wandereth,
And see undrugged in evening light the decent inn of death;
For there is good news yet to hear and fine things to be seen,
Before we go to Paradise by way of Kensal Green.
GK Chesterton

So, my requirement for the compo subject was finally revealed: I want geography, or topography, or directions, or sign posts, or being lost. Or found, perhaps. Thoroughfares, byways, dead ends and tracks that peter out. But I don't want travel, per se, nor do I want modes of transport. Chesterton didn't spoil his masterpiece by talk of cars or trains and I don't see whay you lot should either.

Clerihews probably don't spring to mind for this one, but be my guest if you want. Epics, limericks, sonnets, haikus. There is room for them all.

You have a week at least. Tell your friends, not so much because I want traffic on this blog, more because a big entry will make it more amusing for all of us. There will be a prize.

More on The Coward

2010-08-27T11:05:00.002+01:00

Another letter to the Telegraph with vital information about The Coward:

SIR – I must take issue with Quentin Smith (Letters, August 24). The “Coward” on the Stock Exchange, Lionel Frisby, had not only the MC but also the DSO. His brother, Cyril, however, had the VC.

Mark Ferguson
Wonston, Hampshire

Nicknames

2010-08-24T09:38:00.003+01:00

I love nicknames. I rarely call people by their given names and most colleagues get a nickname whether they like it or not.

Often, the harshest nicknames are the best and most endearing. The Telegraph has had a good run of letters about nicknames over the past week. Today's main letter is a peach:

SIR – Those with experience of the old Stock Exchange floor will readily recall some of the nicknames (Letters, August 22) bestowed upon its habitués.
Among them were two brothers, both with highly distinguished military careers and both winners of the Military Cross, one with bar and one without.
The latter acquired the sobriquet of “The Coward”.

Quentin Smith
Dunley, Hampshire

Tally Ho!

2010-08-20T12:17:00.004+01:00

Sorry, readers. I nipped out for a quick fag and a pint on June 1st and suddenly the whole summer has flown by in a blur of music events, sport, the Turf, much drinking and the luxury of a three week summer holiday in France.

After being away for so long, the challenge of restarting the old blog machine was oddly challenging. Alceste, who comments in this manor, suggested a compo, which has cured bloggers' block in the past. I will probably use that ploy in a few days.

But first, the chaps in light blue. It was splendid to perform my morning shave today listening to the complete, unedited speech by Churchill that the Today programme re-ran. I was almost tempted to miss the upper lip and start fashioning a raffish fighter pilot moustache. Had I any Brylcreme, I might have slicked the barnet. Even taken up pipe-smoking for a day. Well done, lads; a magnificent show.

Here is the Spectator's editorial on the speech. It seems quaint, in this modern age of warfare, to read about aircraft production and borrowing destroyers from America. Pity that Blair and his succession of useless Defence Secretaries didn't think about armoured Landrover production, or kevlar body armour production, or night goggles, or boots that could cope with rocky desert, etc etc. Still, at least those expensive new chairs in the MoD were comfy.

Mr Churchill Looks Ahead

The Spectator, 23 August 1940

Mr Churchill surpassed even his own masterpieces of lucid and spirited exposition in his speech on Tuesday, in which he surveyed the first year of the war and the last exciting days of victory in the air and looked fearlessly into the future. During the previous fortnight, and especially during the previous week, the nation had become aware of the fact that the intensified air attack was part of that onslaught on Britain whose approach was trumpeted in Germany. It might be no more than a preliminary to bigger attacks to come, but none the less it has been evident that so severe a defeat in an opening engagement, inflicted by the incredible skill and daring of the R.A.F., could not be without its effect on the whole campaign, whilst the destructive attacks by our bombers on the bases and industrial centres of the enemy proved that our capacity was as great in offensive as in defensive operations.
These spectacular triumphs achieved by a relatively small number of flying-men had already heartened the people and nerved them to endure the casualties which must be a consequence of even unsuccessful raids. But it was left to Mr. Churchill to put these events in their wider perspective and to indicate with authority and vision the grounds for confidence in the future. There was a superb but reasoned assurance in his conviction that the British Empire, though confronting the combined power of Germany and Italy, is capable of bringing the war to a victorious conclusion. He alluded ironically to the new German threat of "total blockade," and affirmed our own intention to maintain and enforce a real blockade of Germany, Italy, France, and all the countries that are occupied by the enemy. He dismissed the pleas of those who asked that food should be sent to France or other occupied countries on the grounds that it was for Germany to organise the food supplies that she had disorganised, and that to allow food to go to the subject peoples would be to help the enemy.
This is an argument the force of which is fully appreciated in the United States. No less satisfying to them and to us is the statement that the interests of the United States and of the British Empire both require that the former should have facilities for the naval and air defence of the Western Hemisphere, and that this country will be glad to afford these by leasing suitable sites in the Western Atlantic to be fortified and defended by them. He refrained from linking up this question in any way with the suggestion that America should send us old destroyers and other vessels. That was wise. In such a matter there should be no thought of striking a bargain. Co-operation, to the utmost that either side feels free to offer, is profoundly to be desired – and Mr Churchill has not disguised the fact that we should be glad of their destroyers. But to attempt to achieve such a result under the constraints of a deal would be the wrong sort of approach to this or any similar problem.
Mr Churchill reminded us that it is not in our hearts only that we have been fortified. In preparing our defences immense advances have been made in the short time that has elapsed since Dunkirk. Our aircraft production now surpasses that of Germany. The Army is growing in strength and equipment with every day that passes. Both the Navy and the mercantile marine are stronger than at the beginning of the war. The forces that we are piling up – numbers of trained men ever-increasing in proportion to the increasing supplies of warships, aircraft, tanks, cannon, machine-guns and rifles – are for the moment acting mainly on the defensive, but not without an offensive in the air which is dealing smashing blows at the very sources of German power and an offensive at sea which maintains the blockade. But though at this stage the defensive is necessarily our first pre-occupation it will not always be so, nor perhaps for long. Behind us is not only the vast potential of our expanding war industries but that of the Empire, and in addition the expanding output of friendly America. We are prepared for invasion now with the confidence borne of resolution and knowledge of strength, and the same knowledge gives us equal confidence of our ability during the next year or two to carry the war against the enemy to a victorious conclusion.

Badduns, All

2010-06-01T16:52:00.004+01:00

Idle has advice for both sides in the Battle of Bad PR.

To the 'humanitarians': running blockades is risky. Running Israeli blockades is suicidal. Blame yourselves. If you REALLY mean to do it, next time take a couple of destroyers and a frigate or two, and make sure you have air cover (but nb this is still unlikely to work and will result in singed beards and smoking sandals).

To the Israelis: attacking any ship in international waters is very very stupid. Remember that the international press are all more or less Jon Snow in political outlook. You have the means at your disposal to annihilate a flotilla of 'humanitarians' in approx 30 seconds when they DO enter your waters, so next time, wait. Then show some restraint. Don't make so much of the world hate you even more than they do already.

To Israel's enemies: acknowledge their right to exist. Otherwise this will go on for ever. And if Ehud Barak becomes PM again and offers the Pals a deal anywhere near as good as Camp David 2000, grab it and run like buggery all the way back to Gaza and the West Bank.

To Israel: acknowledging your right to exist does not mean that we like your horrible methods and heartless attitudes. You can win your long term peace and security only if you play fair, which you almost never have done.

Houses A Both On Plague Your (rearrange for a popular phrase).

The First Test

2010-05-28T08:47:00.008+01:00

No, not the Bangladeshis at Lord's, where idle will repair at noon for that quarterday in a chap's social life - Friday lunch at the Lord's test.

No, the first test for Cameron. Two tests rolled into one, if you like:

Does he have the mettle to stick to his word with the Liberals and pursue his iniquitous tax-grab on CGT, despite the principled and intelligent opposition to it from his own backbenchers, formidably marshalled by Davis and Redwood?

Or does he wake up, face a blast of fresh air, and come to his senses - and realise that Conservative principles on tax are based on logic and common sense rather than envy, chippiness and venality?

As Colbert said, "the art of taxation consists in so plucking the goose as to obtain the largest possible amount of feathers with the smallest possible amount of hissing".

Well, the 50% income tax rate, higher National Insurance, increased VAT, IHT, ludicrously high duties on petrol, alcohol and tobacco - all this he already has. There has been much less hissing than I think he deserves, frankly.

Capital Gains Tax, remember, is levied on gains in capital THAT HAS ALREADY BEEN TAXED. It has been saved and put to a good use in most cases - providing equity to the wealth creating enterprises that depend upon it. This, I submit, is a better thing for the country than buying a giant plasma screen telly imported from Korea for your study or childrens' playroom.

Furthermore, the government can double-dip or triple-dip on CGT, as assets inevitably get turned over every few years. Taper relief used to prevent re-taxation, but taper relief went when the rate was reduced to a bearable 18%.

I could go on, but actually there is only ever one question to ask about any change to any tax: will it make money?

The answer, as your intuition told you, is that raising CGT rates results in lower revenue. We all know our Laffer Curve, do we not? The graph here relates to America, but the point is made.

Cameron is simply going to have to get a grip of this. We didn't wait 13 years for sensible Conservative fiscal policy to end up with this crap.

David Laws, who is obviously a Tory at heart and far brighter than Osborne, might be the man to break it to Cleggy and Compo-Cable: posturing as a Man of the People, when following stupid and counterproductive policies, is no way to run a railway.

The guiding light to all of this shower should be the Redwood Dictum:

"We didn't get into this mess by not taxing people highly enough, we got into this mess by spending too much".

Cut hard, cut soon; you will be doing it into a modest economic upswing. Disregard the socialists who say it will harm the economy - it won't. Impose a public sector hiring freeze and the state payroll will reduce by 300,000 each year. Impose public sector pay freezes and tell them they're bloody lucky not to be facing an Irish haircut of 15% of pay and benefits. Identify the white elephants and cut them completely, right away. Climate change guff for starters; quangos; overseas aid to nations with cash surpluses; ban civil service bonuses immediately; set up a Royal Commission for public sector employment - what do they all do, and why? Digby Jones, who worked for Brown's government and then resigned, said that he never came across a single government department or team that couldn't have done its job with half the personnel. It has the ring of truth about it.

PS Christ, the Dissolution Honours and Working Peers list makes one weep. Sir Ian Blair, for chrissakes. Paul Boatinglake. Prezza, the prize twerp. Quentin bleeding Davies. Jeesus. Dissolute Honours, more like.

Chesterton, as ever, had it right:

Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword
To see the sort of knights you dub--
Is that the last of them--O Lord
Will someone take me to a pub?

Don't Say You Weren't Warned

2010-05-21T10:19:00.006+01:00

Here are two pictures taken of a politician in Norway. Which one is Cameron? And which one Quisling?

One of them, you will remember, is a byword for a traitor who serves as the puppet of the enemy occupying his or her country.

The other one is Vidkun Quisling.

ps I do not mean to say that Cameron is a traitor to his country. But for 'the enemy' I mean socialist LibDems, for 'country' I mean party. The cost of LibDem support to the Conservative Party will be to shaft the Tory middle class voters in a way that even Brown would applaud, were he not a dishonest unpleasant dog in the manger.

Polecat Update

2010-05-14T14:20:00.004+01:00

Norman is like Marmite - few are ambivalent about him. Idle, of course, considers him to be a brave and principled man of great common sense and no little understanding of the working man. Like his doughty Prime Minister, he came from humble stock, worked hard, was a public servant and patriot far beyond the call of duty, and deserves huge credit for doing so much of the heavy lifting of the 80s and early 90s which allowed Blair and the disastrous Brown to pump up the bubble we so recently saw burst.

You might be surprised that he sees more to agree with than not in the Grand Coalition Five Year Plan. I think he articulates it pretty well.

One thing he does not mention is liberty, though it is never far from his thoughts, arch Eurosceptic that he is. Then again, the agreement doesn't shed much light on the subject. But we do know, because they have said so, that both Con and Lib agree that hundreds of petty interfering unenforceable laws introduced by the intolerant and fascistic Blair and Brown might get cut in a big repeal bill. Well, let's hope so. Mark Steyn, who writes so well on this subject, puts his opinion here. If the Cameregg government claims to sense the public mood, they will deal with this idiocy. Nick Herbert's appointment as police Minister, with his appetite for reform, is a good step.

It's not all bad, this coalition. Into each life a little rain must fall, and after the biblical deluge of the past 13 years, we must try not to be too discouraged by the drizzle that a soft-left ConLib government promises us. There may even be sunny intervals, during which idle proposes to score many Gower-like runs at the crease and then celebrate with rosé or good ale. I wonder if I can reproduce a moment as memorable as THAT catch last year?

The End of the Brown Terror

2010-05-11T22:22:00.004+01:00

And Cameron Must Score! He shoots! He........

2010-05-09T11:43:00.004+01:00

....... Well, you know the rest.

Tempted as one is to vent one's spleen over the whole bloody disaster, I will try to limit myself to a few observations and point you in the direction of those who have been energetic enough to write down their reactions on Friday and Saturday.

Idle went through the night with a dozen good friends a few miles up the road. We drank good champagne in anticipation of victory, thinking we deserved it, and drank it again at 5.30am when it became clear that the Great Cameron Liberal Appeasement Gamble had failed - this time, we needed it. At 6.15 I went home, showered and shaved, and climbed not into bed, but aboard a London train. Bloody Marys and beef 'n horseradish sarnies at the Cavalry Club revived me, and after making a poor fist of a meeting with a plutocratic property man, returned home. What struck me was that I don't remember hearing anyone laugh all day.

It is clear that, if governing Britain for the term of the next Parliament was going to be a thankless task in any event, doing it with the LibDems tying your shoelaces together and balancing buckets of water above the door into the Cabinet meeting room was hardly an improvement. They are an unprincipled and childish lot, who have never displayed a shred of consistency. Clegg is, I believe, inclined towards the Conservative Left and I see no reason why he should not eventually convert; St Vince, on the other hand, is a muddled old lefty who has flip-flopped like a freshly caught mackerel at almost every opportunity, whilst radiating faux sagacity and claiming foresight over almost everything imaginable. He, I think, is much more in tune with LibDem voters, who are well to the left of New Labour and (even) less pleasant. The point I am trying to make here is that Cameron should go it alone. He needs only to pass a budget, followed by a Queen's Speech in November. I reckon that he can get the Ulster Prods and Frank Field and Kate Hoey and one or two others to back him on this. Now that Labour is discredited, the sane ones can ignore the Brown thugs who call themselves Party Whips and vote with impunity. There are at least a dozen of them who will put nation before party.

Yet, it seems obvious that Dave is intent on building a coalition. It is becoming clear quite early on what is up for grabs. He surely cannot offer PR to Clegg, particularly in the light of Clegg's disastrous final week of campaigning and the damp squib of a loss of seats despite a marginal increase in his vote (which, given the Brown factor and the utter uselessness of the Labour government, eclipses even Cameron as Worst Result of the Night).

Low carbon mumbo-jumbo is IN, despite its cost and irrelevance (Delingpole writes less well when he is this angry, but I can see why he's fuming), whilst the ONLY good policy the tories had in their manifesto is in danger of being thrown OUT. I watched the estimable Michael Gove being interviewed by Marr this morning, and he appeared to have thrown in the towel; he agreed that if the price of coalition was his own job at Education, he'd give it to David Laws. Christ!

Europe will become a major consideration, despite its strange absence from the election campaign. The implosion of the Euro will be yet another feather in the cap of Thatcherism, yet another argument conclusively won. The Clarkeites and Howeites and Brittanites were in her own Cabinet, remember, and anything less than the iron backbone she displayed would have delivered this country to the European Central Bank and an economic fate that hardly bears thinking about. I have in mind a performance closer to Ireland's than Germany's, you understand.

The new intake of Tory MPs is, we hear, broadly Eurosceptic. The new boys might lack the cojones to defy the whips, but the government will recognise that the task of riot control over loss of sovereignty to Brussels has become much harder. Bill Cash and a handful of other patriots will be defeated on European issues, because Labour and Liberal alike will back any European stitch-up, but they will gain revenge when other crucial votes depend on every last Tory backwoodsman making it through the lobby. John Major thought he had his "bastards" - well, Cameron will have his, as well.

Psephologists are in heaven, with all the inconsistency of swing. Making sense of it all depends on one's pre-election prejudice, it seems. Those who like Cameron will demonise UKIP, and tot up the number of seats 'lost' to the UKIP vote. This is an impossible argument, given how difficult it is to judge how many Europhiles stuck with the Tories because of its 'safe' line on Brussels.

The most depressing statistic of them all is the 65% turnout. I was at a dinner party a week before the election, where a reasonably intelligent and pleasant woman told me that there would be a huge turnout. I asked her what figure she had in mind and it was clear that she didn't know what a normal turnout was. She had a stab at 80% for this election and I was able to strike a bet at 'below 70%', which I knew, of course, was a winner. Not a bet worth collecting.

So, we remain where we were in 2001 and 2005 - all those voters who have ceased voting. They have never had such a wide array of choices from the minor parties, so we must conclude that they want an identifiable Big party of the Left, and the same for the Right. Not, as presently exists, three parties trying to get into the same telephone box.

It might start happening on one side at least. John Cruddas wants to take his party back to antediluvian Proletarian Socialism, and may even get his chance now that Brown is dead and the favourite to take over is an effete North London would-be intellectual social-angst merchant (that'd be YOU, Miliband senior).

There is, of course, no hope for a recognisable Conservative party for a while yet. Had Dave failed on a bigger scale, and the Clegg march towards 80 seats taken place, there would now be schism in the Tory party, and after a short but bloody war, a strong party of the right would form and prepare itself for government in 10 years time. For now, we must hold our noses and mutter small thanks every now and again that Dawn Primarolo and Ed Balls are no longer ministers of the Crown.

This country is in a pickle of its own making. The idle and feckless proportion of the white working class with its welfare dependency is culpable, as is the spineless centrist voter who knows that the medicine must be taken yet cannot bear to see the poor and disadvantaged having to swallow the vile stuff. No blame, it seems to me, attaches to the Right over our current mess, with the possible exception that they are still blamed for administering the medicine in the 1980s. Yet after the horrible Right had finished forcing the bitter unguent down the craw of the populace in the 80s, 14 million voted for Major in 92, more than Blair ever got - he won in 2001 with 10.7 million and 2005 with 9.6 million.

The least worst option this time was a Cameron victory, but being held to account, because of his small majority, by proper Conservatives within his party. Instead, he will be stretched between Redwood and Fox at one end of his coalition, and Hughes and Teather and his wife at the other. If you find this uncomfortable, too bloody bad, mate. If you campaign as a liberal democrat, it seems only fair to have to govern like one. You will discover the contradictions of the situation, if only because the markets will make them clear to you. Happy appeasing, old bean. What sweet irony that Boris is STILL the most powerful Tory in Britain. I dare say he is whistling in his bath, and with good reason.

All Over Bar the Shooting

2010-04-28T14:50:00.004+01:00

Well, that's him cooked.

What a plonker. It has been clear since 1997 that he is a deeply unpleasant and intolerant man and that his attractiveness to his client state is based not upon any human qualities but upon his uber-socialist wealth distribution agenda and appetite for 65% of GDP to be his responsibility; any relaxation of government spending being "taking money out of the economy", as though the population keeping and spending a decent proportion of its own money was somehow unproductive to wealth creation and the sustainability of the country's economic footing.

Idle, having at first suggested a 40/30/20 split between Con/Lab/Lib (and then recanted), now inclines towards his earlier prediction, except that Clegg now occupies the silver medal position on the podium (in itself, a laughable concept).

Must be Dave's lucky day.

What Have You Done, Dave?

2010-04-20T10:57:00.008+01:00

Right of centre government in Britain is on the brink of extinction. The massive swing from Cameron to Clegg, if sustained, will result in a hung parliament in which Labour, coming third with 28% of the vote, would still most likely be the largest party. The Liberals can expect to win seats from both Tories and Labour, whilst losing only a few in Southern England to the Tories.

Clegg, now almost sure to be the next Foreign or Home Secretary, will sell his favour and support very dearly. It is inconceivable that he will not make proportional representation a minimum requirement. This means that, in the least complicated of PR systems, a share of vote of 50% would be required to win a majority in Parliament. But we will get a more complicated version, won’t we? A system that somehow safeguards regional fiefdoms of Labour, such as the North East, Merseyside, the Scottish cities, Manchester and Birmingham.

Now, you may say that Clegg is a moderate and can do business with Cameron’s Conservatives; that Clegg was a contributor to the Orange Book in 2004 (remember that? – “The book - which is edited by the Lib Dem Treasury spokesman, David Laws - has just been published, and (among other things) calls on the party to be pro-market, Eurosceptic, and to partially privatise the NHS. It was written by various "reformist" MPs, including Mark Oaten and Vincent Cable.” Independent); that Clegg appears to be a realist. Well, let’s put it this way: does Clegg have more in common with the ‘successful’ era of the Conservatives, ie Thatcherite reforms, common-sense commercial efficiency and customer-orientation imposed upon government services, tough negotiations with Europe, defence of the realm in the Falklands? Or does he have more in common with the ‘successful’ era of the Labour party, ie the first two terms of Blair: tacit acceptance of Thatcher’s reforms, but a clandestine subversion of efficient government by channelling public money in record volume to favoured regions and ministries, whilst dismantling the “establishment” and replacing it with cronies?

Remember, for most of the Blair years, the Liberals had indulged in policies that were seen to be to the Left of Labour. Even if the Orange Book put an end to such nonsense, the party found itself with a support base that actually BELIEVED such drivel. The ascent of Brown has allowed Clegg to regain the ‘Centre’ position, whilst also claiming to be (because of the 90 years it has been out of power) ‘not like the two same-old parties’.

Furthermore, Brown is unlikely to be the recipient of Clegg’s largesse. If he is to share power in a Lib Lab pact, would he wish to report to Brown, vile bully that he is, or a more moderate, flexible and forward-thinking bloke like Miliband? The latter, obviously. Better still, Alan Johnson, who is known to be in favour of PR. Truly, Clegg can be kingmaker next month.

Clegg will go with the socialists unless the Tories are overwhelmingly the largest party in a hung Parliament, which looks unlikely. You may say there would have to be another election within six months, but this seems time enough for the Liberals to exact the ultimate revenge for all those years of slights from the two main parties – electoral reform to ensure that there is never – NEVER – another Conservative government in Britain, nor a Bennite Labour one.

Just a nice, consensual, liberal/social democrat Europhile Big Government, busying itself with the minutiae of our lives and charging us a hefty fee for doing so. Just like those in Western Europe. You know the ones – that have had very high structural unemployment for decades, sclerotic growth, that have porous borders, that appease rather than confront global miscreants, that dislike and distrust the Great Satan America, that are anti-semitic. Hey, they are so alike, they are pursuing political union, the practice of which is evident – an overbearing and only semi-accountable political elite bullying and cajoling bovine electorates into Big Government, Big Regulation, Big Taxation. The sort of thing a ‘Liberal Democrat’ just loves.

Seriously, folks, unless Dave shades it, which he neither threatens nor deserves to do, there will never be another right-of-centre, identifiably Conservative government again in this country. (No, I don't expect Dave to be right-of-centre or identifiably Conservative. But at least he'd keep the door open for someone who is).

UPDATE: Guido is more upbeat, fancying a civil union between the two modern metrosexual achingly with-it centrist parties.

No Planes, Full Trains and Expensive Automobiles

2010-04-17T20:26:00.005+01:00

Idle was in Monaco last week, instead of Newmarket or the Aberdeenshire Dee. The sport, such as it was, involved the grunt of supercars rather than the poetry in motion of a Guineas-hopeful three year old thoroughbred, or the glory of playing a 20lb 'springer' from the bank of the Middle Dee.

Monaco was, well, Monaco. In other words, perfectly agreeable for two or three days, despite the concrete, most of the people (a sunny place for shady people, said W Somerset Maugham), the eye-watering cost of a bottle of decent rose, and (though less consequential), Rizla papers at a 500% mark-up on the cost in my newsagent. Dinners in a private salon in the Hotel de Paris were reassuringly expensive, as one would expect. Of course, the bank was paying for all but the Rizla papers, in anticipation of successful client meetings resulting in the conversion of plutocrat targets into plutocrat clients. If you find this all a little vulgar, console yourself that corporation tax, bonus tax and income tax will be tumbling into the bank accounts of NHS trusts up and down the country. The compact between the State and the banks is simple - depending on the cycle, politicians will either be brown-nosing bankers (that'd be you, Gordon, even with Lehman Brothers) whilst failing to regulate them, or cursing them roundly and VERY publicly, promising to tax them out of indignation and pique. But overall, politicians love banks to make huge profits, for tax income is the lifeblood of the spendthrift Chancellor.

But one bores of Monaco swiftly, and the prospect of being marooned there at crucifying expense was not a good one. Our mobiles buzzed with messages that our flights the next morning were cancelled. TGV and Eurostar had been fully booked for days. So, whilst quaffing shampoo and nibbles on Friday evening at the Empire Salon of the Hotel de Paris, overlooking an extraordinary array of supercars in Casino Square, it suddenly occurred to me that we needed a plan, and fast.

The concierge told us that hire-cars in Monaco had reached €3000 for a day, particularly if left at the other end of France. A taxi driver speculated that he could get us to Paris for €2700, but then decided he couldn't be arsed.

Resourcefulness was called for. Idle reckoned that there must be a few hundred hire cars at Nice airport with no incoming folk to pick them up. So, at 8.45pm in the Salon, we drained our glasses, cancelled dinner and went for it. Taxi to Nice Airport - 30 mins and €90. Rather modest 1.6L Opel estate - €316, to be left at Avis in Caen. 1280km, 8 and a half hours later, including several camera flashes but mercifully no gendarmerie, we sped into Caen in good time for the 0830 sailing to Portsmouth. My co-driver (2 hour stints) said the Opel managed over 200kmh downhill with a following wind on the autoroute, but I was kipping at the time and doubt it.

At Caen, we dropped the car at the station and took a taxi to the ferry terminal - €20. Lady Idle had booked the ferry online from home for us while we drove - €40 a head. On board, we found a restaurant - full English €9.60, and booked cabins with bogs and showers - another €40. The beds were made up and we managed 4 hours kip. Arrived on time, taxi to the station, train to Petersfield, wife picked up.

As we waited for the taxi at Caen, we talked to thers who had done the same from Barcelona, Madrid and Geneva. The local news this evening spoke to one determined bugger who had flown from Moscow to Istanbul, Istanbul to Spain, and driven the remainder. Dunkirk spirit, boys, Dunkirk spirit.

And the practical joke when we got back? That Cleggy, the oversexed Eurofanatic, having bullshitted his way through Thursday night with a bit of earnest charm and the odd well-thought-out oneliner, had not only breached the 20% ceiling for the LibDem vote, but was IN THE LEAD with 34%.

Cripes! I have been saying for the last year that the Cameron strategy of Liberal appeasement was a wrong-un, but evidence that it had crashed and burned quite so badly as this was unexpected.

I suspect that Cleggy's new popularity is a mile wide and an inch deep, and that he will get a nosebleed at this altitude, but a breakout poll, even if unsustained, tends to give bouyancy to a campaign. If I were a Tory candidate hoping to unseat a Lib in the Westcountry in three weeks, I would be bobbing like a turd on the Tamar.

The Idle prediction that the first poll after an election is called is a good indicator looks as safe as an Indonesian car ferry right now, but more twists and turns are surely in store. Does this country need a Lib Lab pact, keeping McBust in charge and spending money like a drunken city trader on bonus day, gifting his partners proportional representation, and ever-closer union with the corrupt and unaccountable Euro politcal 'elites'? Does it f#"k.

Brown Bombs in the Ring

2010-04-08T10:16:00.005+01:00

The first poll I saw after the election was called was 40/30/19 in the Tories' favour, and this seems to me to be the likely outcome. The Budget was the last chance to produce a rabbit from the hat, and poor old Darling couldn't even produce a mixy one, so empty was the warren.

The danger for our disgusting PM and his ragged bunch of unconvinced Cabinet supporters was that, once the election was called and Brown no longer so much the Prime Minister, more an incompetent plumber trying to justify his expense and his handiwork, he would not be accorded a great deal of respect.

And so it has proved.

First, the number of CEOs and Chairmen of Britain's best known companies who were prepared to sign the letter making the obvious statement that increasing tax on jobs resulted in, err, less jobs, grew like a snowball. (So far, the Labour party has press-ganged one single business leader, the head of Standard Life, to support their stance. Strangely, he was a privatisation guru to Thatcher all those years ago). In the old days, you'd never have got this number on a letter, but these guys either already have their knighthoods or are happy to assume that Gordon won't be dishing out any more after his dissolution honours list, which seems unlikely, in the current climate of a suspicious electorate, to reward too many people involved in our economy.

Then there was the heckler who accorded the Glorious Leader not a shred of respect yesterday when he demanded why his children couldn't get into their choice of (non-selective) state school. Even called him 'Gordon'. Gordon slunk into his car like a deaf mute and gave no response. When asked the same question during a set interview later in the day, he answered a different question, as is his wont.

And then Humphrys this morning. Brown was treated with disdain. As an ex-PM, in fact. Or as a never-would-be-a-PM like dear old Smiffy in 2001/2. It was truly pathetic. He was pummelled. Couldn't get off the ropes. He could barely raise his hands high enough to defend himself.

He will stumble around the ring like this for another four weeks. He might not go down, but we will all feel like throwing the towel in on his behalf.

No more than 30% of the votes cast will accrue to Brown and his horrid bunch of venal losers.

Feeble - Thesaurus

2010-04-03T18:04:00.007+01:00

Tories rule out more first year cuts
George Osborne has announced that the Conservatives would limit public spending cuts to £6.5bn in 2010-11 and no new cuts to existing budgets are planned for a year in his proposed emergency budget.

This £6.5bn, readers, whilst sounding like a lot of money, is approximately 1% of annual government spending.

1%. Jeeeesus. No more or less than a bloody rounding error. What planet are these wankers on? Which of us would consider that spending 99% in the next tax year of what we spent last year would amount to a "meaningful cut" during a financial crisis? Think of it in terms of your own household budget: what would you have to do to save a measly 1%? Would you notice?

Who, seriously, believes that 15-20% of government spending could not be axed without anything more than a few jobsworths being forced onto the labour market? Are there any amongst us who could justify the taxation of an honest worker who earns 1o grand a year, has this fact mulled over by hundreds of bureaucrats, who then hand the tax back as a "Tax Credit", having taken roughly a third of it as a handling charge?

We are in this crisis not because the government does not take enough in taxation. Oh no. We are in this crisis because the government spends too much of the nation's money. Forget about the bank bail-outs - large though they were, Lloyds is already showing a profit for the taxpayer (in-price below 64p), and we have been running a deficit every year since 2001. Osborne knows we spend too much, by a factor of about double, as does Cameron. But the strategy of liberal appeasement means that they dare not speak sensibly. They must spout gibberish, because our fellow Britons, when asked, opt for higher government spending and a reduction in personal liberty.

We will get the government we deserve on May 7th. And I will be ready to pack my bags for Geneva and do my work there if necessary.

Little George Osborne, deemed a few years ago to be the coming man of the Centre-Right. Yeah, right. Here is your online thesaurus for the word FEEBLE.

Main Entry: "FEEBLE"
Part of Speech: adjective
Definition: not strong; ineffective
Synonyms:
aged, ailing, chicken*, debilitated, decrepit, delicate, doddering, dopey, effete, emasculated, enervated, enfeebled, etiolated, exhausted, failing, faint, flabby, flat, fragile, frail, gentle, helpless, impotent, inadequate, incompetent, indecisive, ineffectual, inefficient, infirm, insubstantial, insufficient, lame, languid, low, out of gas, paltry, poor, powerless, puny, sapless, sickly, slight, strengthless, tame, thin, unconvincing, vitiated, weak, weakened, weakly, wimpy, woozy, zero*

The Glow of Success

2010-03-30T20:08:00.003+01:00

How pessimistic must one be to roll out a tangerine-coloured multi-millionaire non-dom compulsive liar warmonger to increase one's vote?

And did you HEAR him? Decorum prevents me from posting the video. But he's learned a thing or two on his bible tours of the Deep South, that's for sure. HOOOOOOOOOOLY Mother of GAAAAAAAWWWWD, that's for sure.

I have never understood why retired politicians can 'clean up' on the public speaking circuit. Who pays a grand a plate for what they have to say? Do they give the same speech a hundred times, or a hundred different speeches which are, basically, the same old same old? I'm more interested in politics than anyone I know and I have NEVER been asked to pay for rubber chicken and a re-fried speech from Bill or Tony or the other plutocratic wordsmiths. I don't even know anyone who HAS. True, I'm going to listen to Lamont at a Reform thinktank dinner after Easter, but only because it's work and I know the wine will be excellent.

This tosser believes he is the Messiah. Let's take him at his word and crucify the bastard.

You Couldn't Make it Up

2010-03-26T12:50:00.004Z

Oh dear.

The sub-editor of the Times didn't seem to realise that his European correspondent was rather, shall we say, aptly named for the story he wrote about the ongoing shocking revelations of the Catholic church and buggery.

Look at who wrote this:

http://www.timesonline.co.uk/tol/comment/faith/article7065824.ece

One's first thought is that this has been doctored, but I have googled the author and he appears to be a kosher Times hack.

Other sites are having fun at his expense:

http://www.theregister.co.uk/2010/03/26/boys_choir/

A Scientist Writes

2010-03-23T22:21:00.002Z

Oxford University researchers have discovered the heaviest element yet known to science. The new element, Governmentium (symbol=Gv), has one neutron, 25 assistant neutrons, 88 deputy neutrons, and 198 assistant deputy neutrons, giving it an atomic mass of 312.

These 312 particles are held together by forces called morons, which are surrounded by vast quantities of lepton-like particles called pillocks. Since Governmentium has no electrons, it is inert. However, it can be detected, because it impedes every reaction with which it comes into contact.

A tiny amount of Governmentium can cause a reaction (that would normally take less than a second) to take from 4 days to 4 years to complete. Governmentium has a normal half-life of 2 to 6 years. It does not decay, but instead undergoes a reorganization in which a portion of the assistant neutrons and deputy neutrons exchange places.

In fact, Governmentium's mass will actually increase over time, since each reorganization will cause more morons to become neutrons, forming isodopes. This characteristic of moron promotion leads some scientists to believe that Governmentium is formed whenever morons reach a critical concentration. This hypothetical quantity is referred to as critical morass. When catalyzed with money, Governmentium becomes Administratium (symbol=Ad), an element that radiates just as much energy as Governmentium, since it has half as many pillocks but twice as many morons.

Not Makin Bacon

2010-03-06T02:43:00.008Z

This is an oldie but goldie. First went round in 2007, noticed by our friend Guido Fawkes.

I am pleased to count Nigel Johnson-Hill as a friend and neighbour. His razor sharp wit and splendid imagination for this letter was, and is, a joy.

Read it and laugh/weep. It encapsulates so much of what is wrong about this country.

Miliband was, in those far off days, the DEFRA secretary. Yes, a political wonk from the Chosen Race's enclave of North London, who had never been further out of London than Mill Hill, was the FARMING secretary. Gawd elpus!

Rt Hon David Miliband MP

Secretary of State, Department for Environment, Food and Rural Affairs (DEFRA)

Nobel House17 Smith SquareLondon SW1P 3JR

16 May 2007

Dear Secretary of State,

My friend, who is in farming at the moment, recently received a cheque for £3,000 from the Rural Payments Agency for not rearing pigs. I would now like to join the “not rearing pigs” business.

In your opinion, what is the best kind of farm not to rear pigs on, and which is the best breed of pigs not to rear? I want to be sure I approach this endeavour in keeping with all government policies, as dictated by the EU under the Common Agricultural Policy.

I would prefer not to rear bacon pigs, but if this is not the type you want not rearing, I will just as gladly not rear porkers. Are there any advantages in not rearing rare breeds such as Saddlebacks or Gloucester Old Spots, or are there too many people already not rearing these?
As I see it, the hardest part of this programme will be keeping an accurate record of how many pigs I haven’t reared. Are there any Government or Local Authority courses on this?
My friend is very satisfied with this business. He has been rearing pigs for forty years or so, and the best he ever made on them was £1,422 in 1968. That is – until this year, when he received a cheque for not rearing any.

If I get £3,000 for not rearing 50 pigs, will I get £6,000 for not rearing 100?
I plan to operate on a small scale at first, holding myself down to about 4,000 pigs not raised, which will mean about £240,000 for the first year. As I become more expert in not rearing pigs, I plan to be more ambitious, perhaps increasing to, say, 40,000 pigs not reared in my second year, for which I should expect about £2.4 million from your department. Incidentally, I wonder if I would be eligible to receive tradable carbon credits for all these pigs not producing harmful and polluting methane gases?

Another point: These pigs that I plan not to rear will not eat 2,000 tonnes of cereals. I understand that you also pay farmers for not growing crops. Will I qualify for payments for not growing cereals to not feed the pigs I don’t rear?
I am also considering the “not milking cows” business, so please send any information you have on that too. Please could you also include the current Defra advice on set aside fields? Can this be done on an e-commerce basis with virtual fields (of which I seem to have several thousand hectares)?

In view of the above you will realise that I will be totally unemployed, and will therefore qualify for unemployment benefits.

I shall of course be voting for your party at the next general election.

Yours faithfully,
Nigel Johnson-Hill

The Coming Schism

2010-02-28T12:25:00.006Z

Readers of this blog might be surprised to hear that the louche and idle author of it was, until late January, a deputy chairman of his constituency's Conservative Association and Chairman of Trustees for the capital that underpins it (some loyal old bugger left the association a six figure sum a few years back, which hardly ever happens).

When I resigned, I did so with the Conservatives on average nine points in the lead and with a respectable working majority to look forward to. GDP from the last quarter of 2009 had been announced at +0.1%, which sounded like that Classic Brownism "a 0% increase", whilst America had bounced back at a fecund +5.7%. The 'news' that Brown was a foul-mouthed bastard who shouted and pushed and threw things was due to dominate the weekend papers. All in all, it seemed unlikely that Labour would start pegging back the Tory lead. Cameron, even if by default, would win. I was not a rat leaving a sinking ship, I felt. More like a rat on a floating ship who discovered that the other rats had started to pong a bit, and was happy to take his chance elsewhere. To git while the gitting was good, as an American cowboy would have it.

So I was asked why on earth I was resigning. Did I not want the Tories to win? Would victory not taste better if I continued to spend some of my spare time working for such an end? Was not the overthrow of the Brown Terror the one thing that simply had to happen?

Let me say at once that a Tory failure at the election would be a total fucking disaster. If you think that the way the country looks right now is bad, just wait until after another Labour election win, even if only as the largest party in a hung parliament. Sterling, interest rates, enterprise, job creation, tax receipts, public services all depend upon getting the Socialist incompetents out of power.

I resigned because, when I look at the Tory position on the size of the State, economic policy, Europe, climate science, the NHS, immigration, public sector pay and conditions, schools - well, I agree with only one of them. The last one, since you ask, and only then with the very big qualification that they made a monstrous fuckup over grammar schools and they are lucky to have Michael Gove riding to their rescue with a credible policy that champions the rights of parents and pupils and reduces the political grip of central state bureacrats.

I can just about vote for the Conservatives with a clothes peg on my nose, and doubtless I will do so in a few weeks' time. But I won't work for it. The frustration is simply too great. I would much rather offer criticism and praise from the sidelines, according to mood. It is not a good thing to be contemptuous of any organisation whilst an officer (however lowly) within it.

And whilst on the subject of contempt, how better to describe the attitude of Cameron towards his grassroot supporters? He takes them completely for granted, speaks over their heads, and thanks them not one bit for keeping the sandwiches coming and for re-filling the teapots during the dark years. He makes no attempt at all to stop them flirting with UKIP, let alone the BNP. Those millions who voted for Thatcher (even for Major in 92), but who NO LONGER VOTE - what of them? Does he try to encourage them back with a re-statement of the basic principles that transformed this country for the better after the disaster of late-70s Labour? He does not. He chases liberal votes, and does so brazenly. Some deluded folk think that he is a Tory in Liberals' clothing and will shed the cloak after an election win. Well he won't. He is a metropolitan liberal, on the left of the Tory party. The truth is, Cameron and his top table have much more in common with rootless West London professionals than they do with dentists or ditch-diggers or retired Colonels at the end of their drives in their rural constituencies. He is simply not an attractive choice for many of the old Conservative types who no longer vote. It is left to us (ex) Deputy Chairmen in the sticks to rally the troops. No longer.

The poll lead has more than halved, has all but disappeared in the Sunday Times this morning and there have been enough polls this week to suggest that this is not a freak. Momentum, unbelievably, is with Labour. Failure to beat this lot, as unpleasant, dishonest and incompetent as they are, would be an epic achievement. But don't let the Tories tell you that it is very difficult to unseat a ruling party, that the odds are stacked against them because of flaws in the Boundary Commission, that the message is clear but hasn't been put across well enough, yadda yadda....

The reason is that they are shit. They have pursued an idiotic strategy of liberal appeasement. No one who wanted a liberal, left-of-centre government ever voted Conservative. Why would they?

What this country needs is an identifiable right-of-centre political party. One that is not confused about where it stands on matters of sovereignty, democracy, the size of government, educational elitism, personal responsibility, sentencing and prisons, policing, immigration, the erosion of individual liberty.

No such party exists. But if, as seems increasingly likely, the utter pricks at the top of the Tory Party miss the open goal, then I will bet you a pint of Wadworth's 6X and a pork pie that such a party will be created. And it will transpire because the Right half of the Tory party and UKIP will create something that will immediately appeal to 30% of British voters and might, if well run, be at 35% for a 2014 election. If it appeals to those who have not voted since 1992, then make it 40%.

And I'll be a deputy chairman of a constituency association for the new party whenever anyone asks. And I won't resent a moment of spare time I give to it.

What Really Happened

2010-02-23T14:17:00.004Z

This, a Taiwanese news channel's take on the Big Brown Bully case, is simply terrific. Watch the computer-animated thuggery.

This is proof, if ever there was proof! We can see him doing it! He's even wearing the correct tie! Arrest him now, appoint Lord Fondlebum of Boy as acting Prime Minister, and call an election before the Cameron poll lead, ricepaper-thin that it is, disappears completely.

Hat tip: Dizzy

R.I.P.

2010-02-15T12:19:00.003Z

PIPER 23.3.96 - 15.2.10

Goodbye, old boy. You were a prince of a dog. You had a wonderful temperament; as good a housedog as it is possible to imagine. Brilliant in the rough, though occasionally a bit impatient at the peg, but I'll forgive you that. Gallant old lad that you were, you staggered on until your girls got back for half term. Happy hunting. We're going to miss you.

Confucius Say .....

2010-02-13T10:14:00.003Z

..... if you can't find the book you are looking for, you are probably at the .......

Nelson: 20/20 Vision

2010-02-04T17:32:00.004Z

"the Tories have adopted so many Labour policies out of tactical considerations that they are in danger of getting to office only to find they have signed up to continuing Gordon Brown’s agenda."

Fraser Nelson did the Keith Joseph Lecture this week. A dry old stick, Brother Keith (who was it who christened him The Mad Monk?) but not mad at all. A Grade A, Ocean-Going, Weapons Grade Conservative. He did the heavy lifting for the route out of the 1979 Labour Economic Disaster. Who will provide the road map this time?

Nelson's full text: http://www.cps.org.uk/cps_catalog/2010%20Keith%20Joseph%20Lecture%20-%20Winning%20is%20not%20enough%20by%20Fraser%20Nelson.pdf

Blogger's Block Compo

2010-02-01T22:20:00.006Z

My days are spent in the relentless pursuit of gammon. At least that what I thought it said we should be chasing. My clients are puzzled but at least the price of pork bellies is holding firm. We are long.

Blogger's block? Run a haiku compo.

The Website you seek

Cannot be located, but

Countless more exist.

Do your best, or worst. Extra points for Brownisms. Or anything to do with Terry John, oikball player. Or the Pope's displeasure at having to have his fair share of bull dykes and promiscuous gays on the Catholic payroll in da YooKay.

The Labour Ad Men

Prepare for the 6th of May

By polishing turds

Royal Approval

2010-01-27T14:20:00.004Z

One tries - by God one tries - to be supportive. The alternative to the monarchy is too awful to envisage. But I'll try: the popular vote would give us AntanDec, or Julie Walters, or Simon Cowell. Maybe Beckham. Joanna Lumley if we were very lucky. Stephen Fry if we were slightly less lucky. Tony bleeding Blair. You get the picture.

Better by far to have a settled succession. There will be a wrong 'un every now and again but not often.

I wouldn't call the Prince of Wales a wrong 'un, but he does have some rum views. Sometimes, these will carry the prospect of policy enactment, additions to the statute book, and massive prospective cost to the punter in the street, be he royalist or republican.

His views on man made climate change are a case in point. He runs a great danger of being on the wrong side of a deeply divisive debate. I think we know that he starts with his heart in the right place (unlike the politicos and scientists who have so much power and money to gain by blowing the Armageddon trumpet), but the implications for economic growth, employment, living standards and shared socialist misery are significant if he has got it wrong. The best place for him in this argument is as an honest broker with strong eco credentials, not as cheer-leader for the Big Government, Big Tax lobby.

What he certainly should NOT be doing is excusing the ratbags at the Climate Research Unit who cooked the books and destroyed evidence. A huge misjudgement, and deliberately cheeky, I would say.

What a target he makes of himself sometimes. I wonder if he arrived in the Bentley?

Posterboy

2010-01-24T16:23:00.001Z

Matinee Idle

2010-01-22T21:45:00.004Z

Make your own. Thanks, Lil. Charles Moore, proper Conservative, wrote the other day that if you left the country now and didn't come back until polling day, you would have missed NOTHING that might inform your electoral decision. What a grisly three months we have in store.

Breaking News

2010-01-18T21:59:00.002Z

http://www.theonion.com/content/video/vh1_reality_show_bus_crashes_in?utm_source=videoembed

Sorry I have been idle. See how you go with the above. Surely worthy of comment.

It Was Idle Wot Won It

2010-01-12T18:44:00.003Z

This geezer is now officially persona non bleedin grata, at least in his capacity as leader of Beards4Us, or whatever he calls his cell. And it was obviously idle wot banned 'em.

You see, idle led with the story the moment it broke on 2 Jan. After a while, on 6 Jan, that opinionated , quite-often-bang-on-the-money old Today editor leftie, Rod Liddle, joined in. Liddle reads idle (he is, after all, idle plus an L and a D), and went to town on brother Anjem. He calls him "one of those thick-as-mince gobby little chancers", which I must admit is good, and then dares, in print, to more or less quote one of the young Wootton Bassett (well, Swindon) white lads that your modest host suggested on 2 Jan might be future protagonists in this tale. "F*** off back to where you’re from, then, you Muslims" says Liddle. He doesn't use quotation marks nor ascribe it to Luke or Sam. We might infer that it is Liddle's own opinion. He has lots of previous in this area, representing as he does, quite often, the uncomplicated attitudes of the white indiginous working class.

Rod then has fun with the absurdity of the protest group's name:

"the guiding light behind the wonderful Islam4UK group — a terrific name, like www.shariaImlovingit.com or www.kuffirsmustdielol.co.uk"

Wish I'd mined that rich seam of gag in my original post. Rod had more time to think, plus the bugger got paid for it.

Anyroad, the upshot is that Postie Johnson has seen the light and banned the whole group. Just as well, as the facebook snowball was getting bigger all the while and Anjem's gang of malcontents would have had their shit rearranged in robust Wiltshire Young Farmers' Club style.

Well done the Postman. You were my choice as next Old Labour leader before today, but you have now franked the choice. You'll never get elected, but at least you will take your setbacks with good humour and honesty. No chance of the sons-of-Blair Milipede weasels doing so, let alone EdtheYob Balls.

Idle. First with all that's worth reading. Sometimes on a weekly basis.

The Wootton Bassett Conundrum

2010-01-02T23:35:00.008Z

The ordinary folk of the Wiltshire town who have behaved in such an extraordinary way and with such dignity over these last few grisly years have a problem on their hands.

It would be quite out of character for them to herd the idiotic islamics, assorted peaceniks and their fellow travellers into the Tesco carpark and beat them up, as they deserve. And I am sure the good Wootton Bassett residents will ensure this does not happen. Quiet words with the headstrong young may be needed, though.

Equally, it doesn't seem right for ANY quiet country town to be invaded by a crowd of disaffected urban beards and troublemakers, despoiling the thoroughfare and chanting inflammatory and hoonish utterances, as they so love to do. Particularly a country town which has proved so splendidly that we don't need to go all aftermath-of-Princess-Diana when we wish to register our grief and respect.

So what's the answer?

Is it at all possible that all media will choose to ignore this, to let it go unrecorded? Not even worth posing the question, of course.

Might plod be encouraged to give the demonstrators an upfront bill (always unfeasibly large) for policing the event? At least so the cost of the awayday from Crawley and Oldham and Leicester will be more than just the coach trip and a Wagonwheel.

The best display of sang froid and Britishness (that's OUR type of Britishness, Mr Choudary, not yours) would be to let the buggers exercise their right to peaceful assembly. But somehow that would grate; after all, our excessive tolerance has certainly cost lives and has disfigured the 'culture' of Britain for evermore. Would subsequent repatriations at Wootton Bassett somehow be different, and not in a better way?

Something must be done. Or nothing. But what?

Unfinished Business

2009-12-31T10:30:00.008Z

The most irritating legacy of the MP's troughing scandal is the presence of that preening little git Bercow as Speaker. The ousting of Gorbals Mick was a prerequisite for the public's demand for a complete re-drafting of the rules and the expulsion of all wrongdoers.

However, to replace the Glaswegian numpty with Bercow was a practical joke of childishness and petulance by the Labour Party, one of rare cynicism. They did it for no other reason than to scorch the earth they will be retreating from at the next election. What better way, they thought, to rub the next majority party up the wrong way, than to bequeath them a left-leaning Speaker roundly despised by his own party, not simply because of his 'political journey' from hard right to soft left, but because of the way in which he had travelled this journey, with his own ambition put before principle, party and constituents. Furthermore, he troughed and flipped with the worst of his colleagues. In short, they consider him dishonest, even by modern Parliamentary standards. By no possible measure could he be considered the best choice as Speaker. Imagine what Bercow, in his old hard rightwingery, used to say about people like Jesse Jackson, the Jew-hating, cheating, dodgy 'Reverend'. And guess who he now welcomes to Speaker's House for the photo-op and the chance to chow down on taxpayer-funded southern fried chicken 'n collard greens? Why, none other than the Don Juan of South Caroline hisself.

So it is to be welcomed that Tory backbenchers seem set to ignore Cameron's suggestion that they let the matter rest. I very much hope that Nigel Farage unseats the oily one at the general election, because UKIP deserve a seat in the house and Farage did alright as leader, but otherwise Bercow must be voted down. Frank Field is honest, modest and frugal. He may be a dry old stick, and lack the self-promotion energies of Bercow, but he is wise enough to ensure that an advisor within the Speaker's office will come up with the imaginative ideas of Youth Parliaments, Portcullis condoms and branded sportswear and the other guff that our current Speaker considers to be his main claims to fame. Okay, I made two of those up. But you get my drift. I hope this idea gathers speed.

Happy New Year to all idle readers. May your days be merry and bright, and may none of your twenty tens be shite.

Give a Dog a Boner

2009-12-24T21:13:00.003Z

Happy Christmas

2009-12-23T11:00:00.005Z

This not very good photo, if you can believe it, is a suburban house just north of Bridgetown.

The comfortable winner of the Barbados Christmas Bling competition, which I can tell you is a keenly contested annual event.

I won't claim to be a student of kitsch, but I particularly like the way they have done the palm tree in the garden. The satellite dish on the right of the house's top floor flashed like a UFO; you had to see it live to appreciate the wondrous vulgarity of it all. Click on the photo for a slightly better image.

Another great holiday on that happy and delightful island.

Christmas Decoration

2009-12-09T22:40:00.003Z

Good one.

The police made him take it down after a couple of days. An old woman had righted the ladder and climbed up to help, and several cars in the road had had a prang.

See you, folks. Idle is chillin wid his bitches in the Caribbean for ten days.

Woods Family Christmas Card 2009

2009-12-05T13:50:00.001Z

I Sh*t You Not

2009-12-03T22:32:00.002Z

University of Leeds job vacancies (see here for the weblink)
View JobBack to Jobs

Research Officer - The rise and regulation of lap dancing and the place of sexual labour and consumption in the night time economy (Job reference: 316199 )

Faculty of Education, Social Sciences and Law School of Sociology and Social Policy
(Full-time, fixed term 12 months from March 2010)You will work on an ESRC funded study on the rise and regulation of lap dancing and the place of sexual labour and consumption in the night time economy. The post will involve qualitative and quantitative data collection and analysis. It is based in Leeds, although some travel to other cities may be necessary.You will have, or be about to complete, a postgraduate qualification in the social sciences or relevant subject and some appropriate research experience. You will be mainly responsible for access and fieldwork. Good interviewing, communication and organisational skills are essential as is the ability to work independently and as part of a team. Experience of interviewing and conducting surveys is essential, as is prior experience of conducting research in the female sex industry. It is anticipated that interviews will take place on December 14 2009

Salary: Grade 7 (£29,704 - £35,469 p.a) The appointment will be made at £31,513 p.a or below since there are funding limitations which dictate the level at which the appointment can start.
Apply using: Application form, CV and Equal Opportunities Monitoring form
Download an application form: (pdf version) (Word version)
Informal enquiries:Dr Teela Sanders t.l.m.sanders@leeds.ac.uk
Send completed applications to:Anne Prendergast, email a.prendergast@leeds.ac.ukor by post to:Anne Prendergast,Social Science Building,The University of Leeds,LS2 9JT.
Closing date: 27 November 2009
Job description and person specification
Anticipated interview date: 14 December 2009

Smartdog

2009-12-01T22:47:00.004Z

Y'all sin this dawg? He kin unnerstan reeel amerkin inglish spoken by a suthner. He kin count, too. He doan look so priddy, but sheet, he's smart.

Non-Dom = Non Qualified

2009-11-29T22:33:00.003Z

I don't care that he is rich as Croesus. I get the impression he has been a complete bastard to his wife, but that doesn't (necessarily) mean he can't be a decent MP. I don't even really care that he is an eco-nut, because parts of what he believes is self-evidently sensible, and the global warming gibberish he swallowed has been shown up to be fraudulent and compromised by scientists whose income is wholly dependent upon propogating the myth of AGW.

No, the reason I wouldn't vote for Zac is because it turns out he's non-dom. Is there any reason why the voters of Richmond should vote for someone who proposes tax policy for po' white folk, but which will barely affect their representative? He could probably find the £30k non-dom levy in the back pocket of the last pair of Villebrequin shorts he wore in the Med this summer, or in coin in the Goldsmith laundry's tumble-dryer.

I believe that it is every man's duty to keep the Treasury as far away from his loot as possible. But the non-dom route is also the non-qualified route.

The Face of Europe

2009-11-22T15:46:00.006Z

The old quote about the EU, attributed to Kissinger, was this: "Who do I call when I want to speak to Europe?"

Let us not dwell on whether Baroness Ashton of Wimmin is capable of accurately reflecting the consensus foreign policy opinions and ambitions of all 27 member states (but my hunch is that she won't even attempt to do so; this will be, as with all other things in Europe, a stitch-up by the snail murderers and sausage-noshers).

No, what I worry about is that this person will be the Face of Europe on all those occasions when X invades Y, or A shoots down B's supply plane by mistake, or when the next tsunami heads beach-ward.

And I hope you will not think me ungallant when I suggest that this is a Face that does not show Europe in her best light; that it is a face only a mother could love; that, if it were to launch a thousand ships, that those ships would be crammed to the gunwales with fleeing emigrants, keen to start another life several hundred miles away from That Face.

It is, in short, a loathsome visage. It takes on an even grislier hue when one reflects that it has never submitted itself to popular selection, to democratic vote. It is the face of someone who has climbed the greasy pole of unrepresentative politics in the way that only a slug could.

I fear that the World will think less of us when it sees and hears this thing.

The New EU Cabinet Appointments in Full

2009-11-19T22:22:00.004Z

President of the Council: Herman Van Rompuy-Pompuy (Belg)
Foreign Minister: Baroness Ashton of Wimmin (GB)

Defence Minister: Sgr Whooza Zat (It)
Farming Minister: M Nevair-Erdovim (Fr)
Environment Minister: Herr Vossisnayme (Ger)
Sports Minister: Mr Avin Alaff (Au)
Arts Minister: Miss Pula Zeeuzzerwun (Por)
Social Justice Minister: Mr Paddy Gray-Veetrain (Ire)

More Mellow

2009-11-18T22:48:00.004Z

The Tuscan recently featured a very cool dude who was quite unruffled by a near-death experience. This is different, insofar as it is staged. But he looks the sort of chap you wouldn't mind sharing a trench with.

Box Size

2009-11-17T21:52:00.000Z

http://irishsoccerinsider.wordpress.com/2009/11/11/french-and-irish-fall-out-over-box-incident/

A modern sporting-politico-diplomatic classic. Read it.

To the Breaker's Yard

2009-11-17T21:21:00.011Z

RIP Edward Woodward. Good man and a fine actor, sadly too much telly not enough films. Breaker Morant and the not-exactly shabby The Wicker Man are his highpoints.

I loved Breaker Morant. Part war film, part courtroom drama. Shades of Zulu and l'affaire Dreyfus. You never saw a more cheerful and stoic wronged man.

Look into the true story of HH "Breaker" Morant. A wonderful romantic type. Hard-as-nails Aussie drover and friend of one of Idle's favourite poets, AB "Banjo" Paterson, he of Clancy of the Overflow fame:

I had written him a letter which I had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan years ago;
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just on spec, addressed as follows, "Clancy, of The Overflow."

And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in tar);
'Twas his shearing mate who wrote it, and verbatim I will quote it:
"Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where he are."

etc

Where All That Tax Goes.....

2009-11-15T10:14:00.010Z

...... and why a Conservative victory at the next election won't make a whole heap of difference.

Being no longer idle, I fall behind on my discretionary reading, so it was only last night in the bath that I read Rod Liddle's piece on Jeanie Lynch from last week's Speccie. Jeanie is ‘Lead Officer for Equality in Children and Young People’s Services for Devon County Council’.

I can't think of any other example which illustrates quite so clearly why we have a national debt of £1.3 trillion, unfunded liabilities of another £2 trillion on top of that, and a government that consumes 50% of GDP.

Jeanie's week: Monday - Value the Difference course; Tuesday - "Building resilience for our Gypsy, Roma Traveller Achievement Services"; Wednesday - Day Off; Thursday - "Children and Sex" speech; Friday - "pulling together diversity data".

Liddle: "‘Building resilience for our Gypsy, Roma Traveller Achievement Services’. What does that mean? God knows, but she concludes, in her diary, that gypsies and Roma and travellers need to improve their ‘resilience skills’. You wonder for a moment if this cheerful middle-aged woman is teaching gypsies how to fight. ‘Grandmother’ and ‘sucking eggs’ is the first response which comes to mind. You wonder also if the people of Devon wished that their local council was instead teaching gypsies to be a bit less resilient, all things considered, or perhaps to have the requisite resilience to pack up their caravans and move to Cornwall or Somerset or Dorset. But Jeanie has only contempt for the people who pay her salary (let’s be honest — the gypsies don’t, do they?): she says the travellers face horrible discrimination from ordinary people in the wider world. Those awful people in the wider world."

Liddle discovers that there is a veritable platoon of Acts of Parliament (that would be Westminster AND the European one, natch) that makes all this worthless guff a requirement. It is not so much a matter of choice as the Law of the Land. Jeanie probably pulls in around £30,000 for this stunt. But Devon is a big old area, so she'll need a car. Call it another £3,000 on autolease. There will be expenses of course, and petrol, and oodles of stationery costs as Jeanie publishes all those glossy handouts on anal sex for 8 year olds and pamphlets telling the policemen of Tavistock not to be beastly to pikeys. And, when Jeanie finally retires to her cottage by the sea, aged 60, there will be her pension. For ever. And it's unfunded. The children she teaches anal sex to next week will be paying Devon County Council's taxes in ten years' time, partly to fund Jeanie's final salary, index-linked pension scheme. Come to think of it, a good few of them will be employed by the Council, too. Outreach Co-ordinators, probably. Or Clotted-Cream Safety Standards Invigilators.

Devon County Council is run by the Conservatives. Liddle concludes that even if they wanted to, they are buggered:

"And so, if you’re the newly elected ruling group of Devon County Council you may well be tempted just to sigh and let Jeanie go about her work.

This stuff, this ludicrous nonsense, has become unavoidable. We cannot get rid of it. And my guess is there’s a Jeanie doing her business for every county and borough council up and down the land and a Gypsy, Roma, Traveller Achievement Service in every relevant council up and down the land and a Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans (sic) History Month coming to a school near you very soon. They want kids, incidentally, to celebrate the life of a famous LGBT person from history and suggest computer science would be a good place to start. Poor Alan Turing, once known as a brilliant mathematician. Now known as an unhappy homosexual."

Read the whole thing. You'll laugh and cry.

My Thoughts Entirely

2009-11-14T11:27:00.003Z

Click on the title if the Comments/Profundities icon does not show.

Back Catalogue

2009-11-11T21:47:00.003Z

Nice idea.

I have listened to the ginga bird more often than I can count.

Spot the Vegan Sab Designer

2009-11-02T22:46:00.004Z

This ad was on the back of the Evening Standard tonight. It is Stella McCartney's Gap Kids stuff. (They cut it better than this photo, and airbrushed the duck's arse out of it).

Let us overlook the ultimate cliche of the asian, the black, the older white boy and the little white girl. Multi culti gibberish, par for the course. We can only presume the American Indian kiddie with the club foot missed his bus.

Styling the cute black nipper as Michael Jackson seems a bit obvious too, but there you go. I woulda loved a jacket like that aged 4, though.

Grey? For kiddies? They like bold colours!

Ski boots? They'll never catch on in the park.

You know what's coming, don't you?

Yup, the Disneyfication of the cuddly fox, (not a flea on it), smiling whilst being cuddled by the chap in the oilskin. The chap is oblivious to the fact that foxshit is being smeared on his clothes, the fox TOTALLY uninterested in the breakfast, lunch and dinner below him.

No bigots were harmed in the making of this post, more's the pity.

Tally ho!

Anorak Corner

2009-10-31T20:53:00.002Z

Christopher Monckton is no ordinary fellow. Outspoken and trenchant, he could probably start an argument in an empty room. But he is bright, and determined. He has argued credibly and loudly against Anthropomorphic Global Warming, and whilst you won't see him on the BBC (heavens, no!) those honest folk at Fox News, uncomplicated by Leftism and guided by their loyalty to their constitution, gave him a slot last week. A proper slot, lasting an hour, with the company of John Bolton, that fine undiplomatic diplomat, who calls a spade a bloody shovel.

I have given you part one above. But YouTube has to break things up into bite-sized bits, so there are 6 more after this (with a bit of overlap in places). I urge you to visit that vital haven of sanity, WattsUpWithThat, which gets 2 million hits a month, for the remainder of the show.

Are you enough of an anorak to listen to the whole lot? I was. Did you follow the mathematical demonstration first time? No, nor did I.

Copenhagen is going to cost us hundreds of billions in tax over the next few years. I smell a big fat multinational government rat. Our own discredited and ludicrous Prime Minister says we have 50 days left to save the earth, as does the quite mad Prince of Wales (but God bless our monarchy regardless, we've coped with madder and badder ones than Charles before). I think a huge and cynical con is being played upon the taxpayers of the developed nations. All power to Lord Monckton, slightly strange fish though he may be. Listen to his argument.

Send for Clouseau

2009-10-26T22:05:00.010Z

Fact One: Blair Government Reneges on Referendum Promise on Constitutional/Lisbon Treaty
(Headlines, 2005-2009)

Fact Two: UK Government Throws its Weight Behind Blair as First European President
(Headline, BBC News, 26 October 2009)

At this point, put on a macintosh, cloth hat, and leather gloves. Effect a franglais accent.

"You will notice, Cato, ze old 'It's no longeur ze Constitutional Treaty' ploy. Even zat madman Dreyfus would be able to decifer zis one. Cato, my leetle yellow friend, I 'ave ze detective's instinct and I can tell you zat zere ees something distinctly feeshy about zis. Even ze organ grinder and hees minkey would be able to solve zees."

"Cato....... Cato? NOT NOW, CATOooooooooooo!" etc

Call me an old cynic, but I do believe this was planned before 2005. Where are the Tory attack dogs to point this out in a way that even the bovine Labour clientstate voters in the Northern inner cities would understand and find revolting?

The Place To Stay in Lancashire

2009-10-19T19:22:00.002+01:00

As I was being driven from Preston to Clitheroe this morning (oh, the style of this new job!) we passed a hamlet on the A59. A sign loomed a hundred yards ahead. Black writing upon a white background, it appeared to say "BROWN LEAVES COUNTRY". The 'the' and the 'hotel' were in a smaller font. Is that a joke, I asked my Lancastrian companion. No, he replied, it's a real hotel. I can't be entirely sure he got my drift.

Sadly, I couldn't get the mobile phone into picture mode soon enough, so the pictorial evidence above comes from their website.

The rooms start at £45 a night and no, I don't plan a visit. And yes, we do have entrepreneurs near the Pennine grouse moors with eight figures to invest.

With my current output drier than the Sahara, any post will just have to do. But it's nice thought, is it not?

How to Deal With Knee-Jerk Big Government Journos

2009-10-11T20:24:00.004+01:00

Gotta love that Milton. A pint-sized giant.

PS If the comments bar isn't showing - dunno why, but it does this sometimes - doubleclick on the title and the post plus comments will appear. The idle blog follows a full-comment policy.

The Nobel Peace of Cake Prize

2009-10-09T21:19:00.010+01:00

Take one black community organiser and put him up against the boot-faced, humourless, divisive lawyer wife of a discredited (if charming) ex-president; assure the black senator's nomination.

Run against a Republican party that is labouring beneath the weight of disgust and unpopularity of its retiring two-term president, during a financial crisis of epic proportions.

Create messianic fervour for an untested socialist politician, because WE CAN! Encourage said Messiah to give speeches suggesting that the toothpaste can be forced back into the tube, the genie pushed back into the lamp, and the world denied nuclear weapons, wherever they may be, and whoever may have the recipe.

Nominate the new fellow for a Peace Prize as a wild punt, expecting it will in fact be awarded to a worthy brave recipient, or at the very least a long-serving Finnish diplomat who has made many trips over many years attempting to stop rival tribes slaughtering each other in a hot, humid African or Asian backwater.

Watch, open-mouthed, as the 200-1 long shot comes in at a canter.

Let's not blame Obama for this, though. This is what happens when left-leaning peace prize committee members have too much aquavit with their sprats at the pre-vote lunch.

PS James Forsyth at the Speccie finishes his post with this:

My favourite quote on the Nobel Peace Prize comes from a friend who just reminded me that ‘it’s the prize that Gandhi didn’t win but Arafat did.’

Irish Re-Jig

2009-10-03T18:36:00.005+01:00

On 13 June 2008, I wrote a short post entitled "Brave Bogtrotters Banish Brussels". Illustrated with a picture of a couple of fair colleens in their tricoleur swimwear, I congratulated the Irish people for their good sense and robust independence. They had had a good look at the Fritzes, Christianos and Jacques who planned to run the Irish state as a satellite of Brussels, and had said "no tanks, to be sure", or words to that effect.

Well, I take it all back. It was just the old Irish sense of humour, rascals that they are; they never meant to stop the dishonest undemocratic Euro juggernaut, they just wanted to be taken seriously for for a while, until they returned meekly to heel. What a bunch of spineless fenian ratbags they are. All that gibberish about a Free Ireland for the last two hundred years, all those deaths, and now they sign up to become a cadet branch of the overbearing, stifling, malign bureaucracy that passes for government from Europe. And they'll get that wanker Blair as President if they are not careful.

So now it's down to the Czechs and Poles. Only the great Václav Klaus can deliver us from this terrible fate, if he can hold up the Czech ratification until our General Election. Don't hold your breath, but say your prayers, heathen or otherwise.

The No Caption Necessary Competition

2009-09-28T20:47:00.002+01:00

Idle Does Keats

2009-09-26T20:29:00.013+01:00

To Autumn Work

Season ticket to pissed Friday afternoons of utter uselessness.
Firm-bosomed assistants crediting maturing sums.
Conspiring with mates to loaf and to work less
And watch the time, to beat the evening run;
To bend the rules, to doze beneath the plane trees,
And fill each day, though it is such a bore;
To charm the board; catch Hazel's fragrant smells;
To telephone the Colonel; to eat pudding more,
And still more, and later, calculate my fees -
Filling in expenses being like shelling peas -
For work must never overcome my idle cells.
Idle

For those who need reminding of the original:

To Autumn

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness,
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun;
Conspiring with him how to load and bless
With fruit the vines that round the thatch-eves run;
To bend with apples the moss'd cottage-trees,
And fill all fruit with ripeness to the core;
To swell the gourd, and plump the hazel shells
With a sweet kernel; to set budding more,
And still more, later flowers for the bees,
Until they think warm days will never cease,
For Summer has o'er-brimm'd their clammy cells.
J Keats

Media Barron

2009-09-18T15:30:00.006+01:00

Brian Barron made a big impression on me in the mid 70s when I was a teenager, beginning to take an interest in current affairs and starting a Politics A Level, for which American post-war politics was a big part. Vietnam was riveting.

He was a superb journalist and a brave one too. I had an idea of emulating him after I left the Army in the 80s, but having got down to the last 24 for BBC Radio News (I think they had 2,500 applicants for half a dozen places), they failed me on the voice test. I should have tried ITN where they were much less chippy about public school accents, but a job offer came my way from the City and the money, though modest, was a lot better than that of a trainee broadcaster. If I'd known there were going to be so many wars just round the corner, I'd have stuck at it.

From the Telegraph obituary:

He began his career on the radio and built his reputation with his gift for using words to paint a scene with enviable immediacy and economy: the North West Frontier comes to life in "a dingy, smoke-filled eatery in Peshawar – a place awash with stomach bugs, assassins, spooks and Afghan rug sellers".

Superb; even a touch of the George Macdonald Fraser about it. I've been to Peshawar and this is on the button. Sorry he didn't make old bones. R I P

To the Sweatshop

2009-09-17T13:34:00.005+01:00

Idle no more.

It's a dashed bad show, but the bursar from the idle girls' country club is clamouring for a cheque, the lady idle will insist upon Caribbean winter breaks, and the wine merchant has applied for charitable status, so long is it since he had a sniff of a guinea from yours truly.

I had a chat with a man who knows someone in the City who told him that the smoke had cleared and as far as he knew no more large banks were going to go down the swanee. Furthermore, some of them were actually hiring and paying a living wage. Something to do with Government guarantees. Splendid.

So I'll see if I can quantitatively ease myself into the old dark navy blue, dust off the bowler and polish the silver ring on the umbrella. A word in the ear of the head steward at the club, and I'll be expecting the usual table at 1pm for the forseeable.

So, Monday morning, up to the smoke. Up in the air to Jersey, actually, for a quick shufti, followed by some nice fish, one hopes. More than that I cannot really say, but I'd appreciate no snide comments about bankers' bonuses or taxpayer bailouts. The way I was going, in a few more years I would have been eligible for the Nat King Cole, housing benefits and I dare say council tax relief as well. One's credit rating would have simply died. Just think what you have saved yourselves.

Given that only three of you read this, it won't be missed if it becomes a once-a-week job, will it? I will continue to visit the comment threads of more industrious bloggers.

The name of this blog is not changing. It wouldn't do to break into a sweat; busy people in a frightful rush tend to forget things and worry the horses. No, Idle it remains.

Thirty Years On

2009-09-14T18:42:00.024+01:00

Idle spent his weekend in unbroken sunshine in Ulster. It looked lovely, but there is pain behind the beauty of the benighted province.

Some parts of Northern Ireland really are beautiful, such as Narrow Water above Warrenpoint. The layby just downstream of the old castle tower jutting into the water from the dual carriageway, and the gates opposite, were the scene of the second of two cowardly IRA atrocities on 27 August 1979, the first of which had killed Lord Mountbatten and members of his family at Mullaghmore. It was a warm and beautiful August Bank Holiday. A trailer of straw sat in the layby.
This is what the first Warrenpoint bomb would have looked like (the picture is of a simulation, carried out after the event). It was set off from across the water/border in Ireland, as a convoy of two army trucks and a land rover passed. Though targetted at Royal Marines, whose duties included safety at the small port at Warrenpoint, the victims were in fact a detachment of Paras, who were providing an extra company to the Queen's Own Highlanders, the battalion responsible for the bandit country of South Armagh.

The first bomb, about half a ton of explosive, killed six paras. The survivors, believing themselves to be under attack from across the border (the heat of the explosion having caused bullets and ammunition in the wrecked land rover to explode), returned fire across the water. A most unlucky civilian, a footman from the Queen's Household on holiday in Ireland was shot dead. (Independent reports afterwards confirmed sniper fire from the Republic). Immediately, the CO of the Queen's Own Highlanders scrambled with his signaller and medical team by helicopter from Bessbrook, a few miles to the north. Standard operational procedure required an incident command point to have been set up close to the explosion. Lt Col David Blair arrived to find that a stone gatehouse across the road from the old castle tower had been chosen.

His immediate concerns were to secure the area and evacuate the seriously wounded, which took time. He felt the gatehouse too obvious a location for the ICP and ordered those that could, to fall back further into the park behind the gatehouse (in the gateway bay opposite the castle tower in the top photograph, no longer there). But there was no time; the second explosion, half an hour after the first, was devastating (left). The IRA set it off just as a helicopter was taking off with wounded. Even larger than the first bomb, it destroyed the gatehouse and killed another twelve soldiers, including Lt Col Blair. Extraordinarily, the helicopter managed to just about escape the blast and ditch successfully, but the IRA's low cunning of second-guessing operational procedure had worked. To this day, the Queen's Own Highlander colonel is the highest ranked victim to have been killed in action by the IRA.

The Colonel's widow, together with many officers and Warrant Officers, marked the thirtieth anniversary of the horror last weekend. Services at Warrenpoint, at Ballykinlar and at Palace Barracks, Holywood were sombre occasions. But the drinking and carousing in honour of all the dead were less sombre. At a time when our armed forces are being starved of equipment whilst fighting unpopular and unwinnable wars, it gives us a melancholy pride to know that the tours of duty that we carried out in Ulster were done for a righteous cause, and were done superbly. It was said the Troubles could not be won militarily, but eventually the IRA sued for peace, by then infiltrated at every level and unable to sustain their war.

Gender Politics

2009-09-11T14:06:00.002+01:00

Is it a girl? Is it a boy?

No, it's an IT.

Well, that's cleared that up, then. Probably wasn't a great idea to pose like that on the podium, though.

Yes We Liked It

2009-09-10T10:00:00.007+01:00

To my shame, I'd never been to The Globe until last night. Four of us spent a couple of hours over tapas and cava before the show ripping into the carrion that is Brown and his government, and generally rubbishing the state of our once-great country. It was, we concluded, hopeless.

Well, my friends, I can tell you that three hours later, we were of a different opinion. Notwithstanding the fact that it took an American, Sam Wanamaker, to get the massive project done, The Globe is a wonderful thing. The look, the texture (lovely oak), the atmosphere, the good-humour and manners of the punters were all a joy. I will go back often, and I am more than happy to stand in the yard for a fiver if the seats are all gone.

We saw As You Like It, which suited a late summer evening at The Globe very well. Our lovers were excellent, particularly Rosalind, an actress called Naomi Frederick whose flat chest proves a positive as she hangs out with the lads in the forest clad in soft brown leather. No beauty, but sexy. Touchstone, the fool, delivered his puns and put-downs with error-free machine gun delivery and had us laughing hard. Too often the 'funny' parts are played by unfunny actors. This chap, Dominic Rowan, is a comic. You've never heard a voice so full of fruity melancholy as Tim McMullen's Jaques, and when he got to 'All the world's a stage...', well, where else in the world would there be a better stage to give the great soliloquy? Magic. The genius bard at his best. You have until October 10th to see it. Wrap up warm, smuggle in a hip-flask, and spend that fiver.

Pink Adair

2009-09-07T16:42:00.006+01:00

A loyal reader of this blog (there is one) noted a lack of inspiration on my part of late. She is partly right, but a trip to the idle folks in Somerset, (lunch at the pub with Lil and Elby - de rigeur for all discriminating vistors to East Somerset) and plans to become less idle have all been contributing factors.

Work? you splutter. Yes. The 0645 train beckons, and I plan to do my bit to put out those fires, still burning in the nation's banks, and return at least one of them to the private sector, with a profit for the taxpayer and considerable spondulicks for yours truly.

This is where Adair Turner comes in. Or shall we call him Lord Turner of Ecchinswell? (A title derived, surely, by the reaction of his former colleagues - Lord Turner? Feckin 'ell!)

You see, Adair is head of the FSA, and despite their utter incompetence over the past three years (bonuses all round for 2008, natch), this coiffured ponce has seen fit to declaim that the banking sector should shrink (already done that, thanks Ades) and meet some 'socially useful' target (sounds familiar? It's got NewLabour stamped on it). Oh, and a global tax. I would have thought that a man who made his name in that temple of flim-flam, McKinsey, before buggering up the only major pension review undertaken in god-knows-how-long, should deal with the plank in his own eye before pointing out specks in others'. (Remember that he subsequently wished he'd been more radical with his review and had recommended raising the state pension age to 70. That's right - not raising the public sector pension age from 60 to 65, but the OAP from 65 to 70. Wanker)

If the financial sector is too big in Britain (and mostly responsible, therefore, for producing the tax revenue fire-hosed upon Brown's client state of public services), the answer is not to tax and socially-engineer it into retreat, but to encourage those other areas of enterprise that used to be so productive in Britain. Sadly, as we are now a country that exists in order to sell mobile phones, capuccinos and overpriced dwellings to one another, but achieve little else, the die seems cast.

Brown, and by extension Turner, espoused 'light touch regulation' for the financial sector. They then divided this responsibility between three jealous and untrusting partners. Light touch became no touch, and mayhem ensued. Don't assume the City hates regulation - it doesn't mind it a bit, as long as it is clear and unambiguous. And that is what needs to come out of this. Not creating an incomes policy. Just a clear set of rules, subsequently enforced. (Does anyone remember the government sacking Fred Goodwin when it took over RBS? No, thought not. The man more closely associated with corporate greed and crazy risk-taking than anyone else in Britain was allowed to retire early. With THAT pension pot. Only public outrage caused the government to try to negotiate a less vomit-inducing deal with The Shred).

Adair Turner may find himself out of a job if the boy Osborne does what is necessary, and gets rid of the FSA. But he will be given a golden parachute and will achieve a soft landing with another sinecure. He's clever, by all accounts, and nice (a friend found himself on holiday for a week with Turner and the small Ecchinswells, and said he was charming), but competent he ain't.

Will this do, Pip?

Pull the Blog Chain

2009-09-01T15:59:00.007+01:00

Now and again, driving in the evening, I find myself listening to that odd duo, Radcliffe and Maconie on Radio 2. They seem to know their music. They have a thing called The Chain, where each song must be connected, in some way, to the previous show's 'Chain' song. Sometimes the link is obvious, sometimes tenuous, often quite complicated.

I am going to attempt a Blog Chain, to coin a phrase. Lilith did a post yesterday which she called #1 in an occasional series of her Desert Island Dance Tracks. It was the daddy of all rock and rollers, Chuck Berry, with Brown Eyed Handsome Man.

I could have headed off towards Van the Man with Brown Eyed Girl, or any song by that great duo the Handsome Family. You see how this works? But my song, continuing the chain, is the first single ever released by the Stones. It is Chuck Berry's Come On. Berry released it in October 1961; the Stones released their cover less than 2 years later, so it was still pretty fresh. Berry's original was a slightly slower tempo, so the Stones rocked it up a bit, but didn't try anything too fancy. Where Berry had short flashes of lead guitar, the Stones went with Brian Jones' harmonica. Perhaps Keith was still finding his feet. The rythm section sounds sublime, as ever. I always have this on the playlist when we are dancing in the tent here and it never disappoints.

Okay, who's going to take this chain further? Ideally, you do a post on your own blog (flag it up in the comments section here so we know where to go). I fully expect this chain to sprout in myriad directions, and still be going strong in a year's time. I think it would help if you posted the best YouTube version of it you can find. I have not been able to find live footage of this one; never mind.

Get those discs spinning, folks. Let's see where it leads.

Dénouement

2009-08-30T08:56:00.006+01:00

This, I think, will be enough to send Brown to the knacker's yard. The remnants of the Labour party, in all its guises, can meet in the gay capital of Britain in a month's time, and have a monumental hissy fit, resulting in the kindly old socialist postie being promoted to the Ejector Seat for an autumn general election (or are we to suffer another unelected leader for 6 months whilst the Labour party wait for something - anything - to turn up?)

A Torygrapher has likened it to Watergate. This isn't just about a lie, this is about letting off a convicted mass murderer in order to ginger up an oil deal. And whatever the prognosis for Megrahi - whether he dies in 3 weeks or 3 years - the British public seems overwhelmingly pissed off about his release. And they smell a big, greasy, brown rat. One from Cowdenbeath.

My bet is that the leaks on this affair will be so plentiful and so quick, Brown and Straw will be toast in a fortnight. No wonder Brown has been pouring his toxic treacle all over Teddy Kennedy's twitching corpse; he is gunning for some academic sinecure in liberal New England, where he can escape the humiliation of being the Worst Prime Minister Ever.

Buy a one-way ticket, Gordon.

Obituary Backwards Clerihew

2009-08-26T08:30:00.008+01:00

The BBC loved him; always by Gerry's side on St Patrick's Day,

The man who drowned a girl called Mary-Jo and ran away.

What sort of a world was it if the suggested remedy

Was Ted Kennedy?

Sadly, Gordon Brown managed to knight the coward before he croaked.

UPDATE: Here's some sense.

One Liners

2009-08-24T13:08:00.003+01:00

Someone has conducted a survey of the better jokes told at the Edinburgh Fringe this year. The Top 10 jokes were judged to be:

1) Dan Antopolski - "Hedgehogs - why can't they just share the hedge?"

2) Paddy Lennox - "I was watching the London Marathon and saw one runner dressed as a chicken and another runner dressed as an egg. I thought: 'This could be interesting'."

3) Sarah Millican - "I had my boobs measured and bought a new bra. Now I call them Joe Cocker and Jennifer Warnes because they're up where they belong."

4) Zoe Lyons - "I went on a girls' night out recently. The invitation said 'dress to kill'. I went as Rose West."

5) Jack Whitehall - "I'm sure wherever my dad is; he's looking down on us. He's not dead, just very condescending."

6) Adam Hills - "Going to Starbucks for coffee is like going to prison for sex. You know you're going to get it, but it's going to be rough."

7) Marcus Brigstocke - "To the people who've got iPhones: you just bought one, you didn't invent it!" [Idle comments - typical unfunny effort from unfunny overpaid BBC lefty arrogant prick]

8) Rhod Gilbert - "A spa hotel? It's like a normal hotel, only in reception there's a picture of a pebble."

9) Dan Antopolski - "I've been reading the news about there being a civil war in Madagascar. Well, I've seen it six times and there isn't."

10) Simon Brodkin (as Lee Nelson) - "I started so many fights at my school - I had that attention-deficit disorder. So I didn't finish a lotof them."

The judges also listed some of the "worst" jokes at this year's Fringe.

Carey Marx - "I'm not doing any Michael Jackson jokes, because they always involve puns about his songs. And that's bad."

Frank Woodley - "I phoned the swine flu hotline and all I got was crackling."

Alex Maple - "Michael Jackson only invented the moonwalk so he could sneak up on children."

Phil Nichol - "She's got a face like a rare Chinese vase - minging."

Never in Doubt

2009-08-23T19:36:00.006+01:00

Most satisfactory. Drinks time.

Q: What do you call an Australian with a champagne bottle in his hand? A: A waiter.

Utter Nonsense

2009-08-18T22:13:00.015+01:00

This is the silly season, and jolly silly it has been:- Mandelson to get his own act of Parliament, so that he can return to the Government green benches (hosed down and de-bogeyed by the steam cleaners during the recess), to lead the Labour Party in its own feeble retreat from Moscow?

Or Andy Burnham, the child Health Secretary, accusing Hannon of being a traitor and trying to have visas refused for right-of-centre American politicians who wish to attend the Tory party conference, on the basis that their disrespect for the NHS is unacceptable?

Or, silliest of all, Harriet Harman displaying her astonishing stupidity and sinister sisterhood plan as stand-in leader?

Here is the winner of a Speccie comp based upon the first line of Lear's The Jumblies, from a while back. Is it just me, or does this poem not capture the NewLabour project and all its incompetent practitioners just perfectly?

They went to sea in a sieve, they did,
With never a moment's doubt:
'It's better by far,' they cried, 'than a boat -
If the water gets in we'll still stay afloat
Because it'll drain straight out.'
They fitted their oar (they'd only brought one)
And started to row, turn about,
But hard as they tried, the sieve just went round
With a gargling, gurgling, guggling sound,
Like a pig with a pea in it's snout.
And though they still strove with might and with main
The tide took a turn and ran them aground
So they found themselves back where they'd started again,
Which proved, they declared, that the Earth must be round.
Oh what greater adventure could life ever give
Than going to sea, as they did, in a sieve?

WJ Webster

Day Trip For the Inmates

2009-08-16T11:24:00.005+01:00

Ward 5 went on its summer outing this week, despite the slightly inclement weather.

Here is a picture showing what fun they all had.

Old Mr Brown shuffles towards the end of the jetty behind his zimmer frame, whilst Fat Keith and Nurse Ratched look on.

Nurse R wonders if the old bastard is ever going to get there; Fat Keith is thinking quite seriously about pushing the old bastard into the lake.

Emperor's New Clothes

2009-08-13T22:46:00.003+01:00

Now this is not the end. It is not even the beginning of the end. but it is, perhaps, the end of the beginning.

The first crack has appeared in the great big dam of alarmist, tax-raising, make-believe claptrap that is the New Religion of anthropogenic global warming.

The diggers, gawd bless 'em, have had a look at 'cap and trade' legislation (aka Bleed You Dry Whilst Scaring You Rigid) and told the Aussie government to boil their heads.

Delingpole exults here. One digger parliamentarian, Senator Fielding, decided to take a little time to reach his own conclusion on empirical evidence, rather than be pressganged into the fashionable 21st Century consensus. He said:

“Until recently I, like most Australians, simply accepted without question the notion that global warming was a result of increased carbon emissions. However, after speaking to a cross-section of noted scientists, including Ian Plimer… I quickly began to understand that the science on this issue was by no means conclusive….As a federal senator, I would be derelict in my duty to the Australian people if I did not even consider whether or not the scientific assumptions underpinning this debate were in fact correct.”

Another ocker Oz MP put it thus: "It is a dog of a plan".

Idle advanced the Plimer view last month. I am delighted he is being listened to by some of his countrymen.

It is too early to forecast an end to this pestilential mumbo-jumbo, but we can at least ask our politicians to acknowledge that there is some corner of the English-Speaking World that has dissented from the orthodoxy, and invite their comments.

Plucky little Oz! It's almost a pleasure to be making a gift of the Ashes to you.

A Bonus Post

2009-08-12T09:39:00.004+01:00

On August the Twelfth, of all days, a self-respecting banker ought to be somewhere between Yorkshire and Inverness, the house-guest of a fine Victorian sporting lodge. After putting the finishing touches to a hearty breakfast of kidneys on toast and kedgeree, it's on with the walking boots and into the transport up the hill, for driven or walked-up grouse.

This, I submit, is the way to spend a sizeable city bonus - maintaining the splendid, unpredictable and thrilling sport of grouse shooting, for the benefit of the environment, local employment, one's friends, and one's own sense of well-being.

But what of the bonus culture? Are we really going to see a change in behaviour? Are the shareholders of financial institutions really going to hold them to account on remuneration policy? Or are those main shareholders merely 'other' financial institutions, for whom the current bonus arrangements are very suitable, thank you.

I don't mind people in the City getting bonuses, in fact I think it's the best way of paying people in an industry that is famous for its total lack of job security. But the logic is that, when the cupboard is bare, there is no discretionary bonus. But how to keep the key personnel? Who IS a key person? Is it a dozen, or 120, or 1200? Is it - wait for it - 39,000 of your best employees?

Judge Rakoff (you couldn't make up a more suitably ironic name) is questioning the validity of the Merrill Lynch scam whereby they sold themselves to Bank of America to avoid going bust and then paid themselves the thick end of $4Bn in bonuses. Judge Rakoff doesn't care that the SEC is fine with it; he wants some answers. Seeking Alpha takes up the story:

Oh, that Judge Rakoff is such a spoilsport, refusing to bless the SEC's settlement with Bank of America on the Merrill Lynch bonuses.

The Times said today that the judge (a nice man who once terrorized me in Contracts class) may hold a hearing to find out whether the bonuses - all $3.6 billion - were necessary. More specifically, he'd like to know if Merrill's management really tried to figure out "how many of the roughly 39,000 bonus recipients would have left had they not received their payouts."

In response, Bank of America's lawyer said the bank could prove "there were a number of companies that might have hired Merrill’s employees.” Which is nice, but doesn’t really address the judge’s concern.

Rakoff is asking about the process: Did the board ask management to prove these bonuses were essential, and did management meet that burden? To do so, I think, would have required them to muster empirical evidence on the following points:

- Exactly which employees were likely to stomp out the door if they got smaller bonuses, or no bonuses, and how management knew this in advance.
- Whether all hell would really break loose if some of these folks left.
- Whether or not the firm could recruit, on the streets of Lower Manhattan, some dazed but qualified victims of Wall Street’s bloodbath who'd be willing to work for less than $3.6 billion.

Did the board ask for such factual backup? I’m guessing no. The “science” of executive compensation is a strange kind of science, in that it’s pretty much devoid of both evidence and experimentation. Year after year, public companies assert in proxies that their compensation programs are exquisitely designed to retain each indispensable, irreplaceable employee. A less generous pay scale just wouldn’t do the trick, we’re told. But few firms tell us how they know this. Nor do they road-test different compensation schemes.

For empirical research on whether compensation methods actually work the way they're supposed to, we’ve got to resort to academics. Like these guys, who concluded a couple of years ago that stock options encourage foolhardy risk-taking. Hey, how about that.

How can you say your compensation structure is efficient and effective if you never experiment with a cheaper one, even when the world is coming apart at the seams and you have a perfect excuse for cutting pay?

Thanks to a crabby guy in robes, one company may soon have to answer that question.

Well done the judge. Time for a reality check.

Poor Bloody Infantry

2009-08-10T17:18:00.006+01:00

This has been flying around the internet. You might already have seen it. It deserves full exposure. Christ, these boys deserve a proper government.

THE SUN 04 Aug 2009

A British squaddie fighting in Afghanistan has re-written a famous Rudyard Kipling poem as a damning attack on a soldier's lot today. The anonymous serviceman based his words on The Young British Soldier - written by Kipling in 1895 about the hellish conditions our troops had to deal with in 19th century conflicts in Afghanistan. The squaddie's new poem - dubbed Afghanistan (With Apologies To Kipling) - shows that little has changed, with soldiers having to contend with poor pay, equipment shortages and slum homes as well as the enemy. Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936), a British poet and author, wrote a poem in 1895 about the hellish conditions British troops had to put up with in AfghanistanIt refers to a "Gimpy" - GPMG or general purpose machine gun - and "arty", slang for artillery. The poem was first posted on the internet and is now being emailed around the military like wildfire. One Army officer just back from Helmand Province said last night: "Whoever this bloke is, he's got it spot-on. He has summed up everything we're feeling." It shows that nothing much changes for us over the centuries.

Afghanistan (With apologies To Kipling), by an anonymous British soldier

When you’re lying alone in your Afghan bivvy
And your life it depends on some MOD civvie
When the body armour’s shared (one set between three)
And the firefight’s not like it is on TV,
Then you’ll look to your oppo, your gun and your God,
As you follow that path all Tommies have trod.

When the gimpy has jammed and you’re down to one round,
And the faith that you’d lost is suddenly found.
When the Taliban horde is close up to the fort,
And you pray that the arty don’t drop a round short.
Stick to your sergeant like a good squaddie should,
And fight them like satan or one of his brood

Your pay it won’t cover your needs or your wants,
So just stand there and take all the Taliban’s taunts
Nor generals nor civvies can do aught to amend it,
Except make sure you’re kept in a place you can’t spend it.
Three fifty an hour in your Afghani cage,
Not nearly as much as the minimum wage.

Your missus at home in a foul married quarter
With damp on the walls and a roof leaking water
Your kids miss their mate, their hero, their dad;
They’re missing the childhood that they should have had
One day it will be different, one day by and by,
As you all stand there and watch, to see the pigs fly

Just like your forebears in mud, dust and ditch
You’ll march and you’ll fight, and you’ll drink and you’ll bitch
Whether Froggy or Zulu, or Jerry, or Boer
The Brits will fight on ‘til the battle is over.
You may treat him like dirt, but nowt will unnerve him
But I wonder sometimes, if the country deserves him.

From The Ashes Of Disaster

2009-08-09T10:06:00.011+01:00

Every bursted bubble has a glory! Each abysmal failure makes a point!

Every glowing path that goes astray, Shows you how to find a better way.

So every time you stumble never grumble. Next time you'll bumble even less!

For up from the ashes, up from the ashes, grow the roses of success!

Grow the roses! Grow the roses! Grow the roses of success!

Oh yes! Grow the roses! Those rosy roses!

From the ashes of disaster grow the roses of success!

I suppose that there were a few people who wrote off England in 1981 and ended up with egg on their faces. Not this time. Oh, my Botham and my Willis, long ago!

This was abject. Possibly our worst defeat, ever. Heavy defeats are inflicted upon you when the opposition is twice as good as you; this defeat suggests that in this match the opposition was four times as good. I fear it defines the captaincy of Strauss, the dearth of middle-order batting talent (beyond Pietersen) and the indulgent, feckless selection panel. Poor Strauss leads by example with the bat, but he looks a shrinking violet in the field, and I doubt that he tears strips off guilty parties in the privacy of the dressing room. He wears his wedding ring on a necklace, for heaven's sake, and wears a sun hat instead of a proper England cap. He gives interviews wearing a baseball hat covered in the sponsor's logo. This is simply not good enough. He is a very good batsman and a nice man, but he obviously has not got what it takes to get the best out of his men. If he gives an interview after this game and mentions "taking the positives out of this match", I will drive to Leeds and push a custard pie into his face.

What Strauss and his fellow selectors thought they were doing adding Harmison for Flintoff, I just don't know. England, 1-0 up in the series, ignored the first priority of any test team - runs on the board - and picked a bowler who has not bowled well for England in four years, whilst giving up the Flintoff runs (average 40 against Oz). They will say they played a positive card, intent on bowling the other side out twice. But they picked the wrong sort of bowler, one who lands it halfway down the pitch instead of one who pitches it up, which is how almost all the wickets have fallen in this test match. Ryan Sidebottom, a Yorkshireman not chosen for this test, will wonder what point there was to his learning to bowl at Headingley from the age of 13 onwards; he will have a point.

A bounce back at the Oval? From this group of overpaid and overrated powderpuffs? No chance. It is time to identify those with granite in their character and pick them. This ain't no party; this ain't no disco; this ain't no fooling around!

The Idle XI to face Australia at the Oval in just under a fortnight:

Strauss; Cook; Key (Capt); Ramprakash; Collingwood; Trott (Flintoff if fit); Prior; Broad; Swann; ~~Sidebottom~~; Anderson; Onions

You're Tired & Emotional

2009-08-06T09:20:00.011+01:00

I could have warned Brown about this. It was bound to happen eventually; in fact, it happened before Lord Sugar of Malaga even had his new business cards printed.

Of course we all knew that Brown's ennoblement of Sralan Sugar and his appointment as a czar was a desperate, shallow, populist stunt. Sugar might be a barrowboy-made-good, and well done him, but addicts of The Apprentice (I am one, God help me) will have spotted that, whilst he may have a bit of trader cunning about him, he is a bit thick. He is also chippy, which is how you knew his politics were bound to be lefty. Any knight of the realm who insists upon being referred to by his title by everyone, all the time, is chippy and a bit thick.

Quentin Letts, a funny sketchwriter for the Mail, went on LBC and said that Lordalan (believe me, this will be the [incorrect] form of address in the next series) was "a telly peer who doesn’t seem to have an enormous intellect". Lordalan saw red and speed-dialled his brief. The upshot is that Letts has had a threatening letter demanding money. Not LBC, who broadcast the shock-horror sentence, but Letts. Rich man's bully-boy tactics, in short.

The great and good of journalism (including, extraordinarily, one Paul Staines!) have written a letter to the Speccie to complain about Sugar's behaviour. Matthew Parris has broadsided Lordalan in his column today.

Sugar will climb down, of course. He has made a complete fool of himself. His image as a tough-skinned hardened businessman is lying in tatters. Instead, he comes across as the precious, stupid television celebriddy that he has turned into.

What a wanker. I quoted Chesterton at the time Sugar was raised to the peerage, and I'll quote him again:

Prince, Bayard would have smashed his sword

To see the sort of knights you dub

Is that the last of them - O Lord

Will someone take me to a pub?

Jeeves Knows

2009-08-04T11:50:00.013+01:00

An Englishman's Castle, always an interesting blog (though, ironically, he seems to source many of his posts from the scotsman.com news website), posted yesterday on the correct pronunciation of valet. Any fule kno that the T is not silent, except when an American is parking your car for you at a restaurant or nightclub.

Jeeves (pictured with the great Hugh Laurie, with whom idle was at prep school) is certainly the most famous valet in literary or film history. He described himself as a valet with a hard T. Enough said.

But it got me thinking about the fact that valets are pretty much a thing of the past. Even my most plutocratic and successful and landed multi millionaire friends stop at a cook and a housekeeper; a valet is unthinkable.

Which is where technology comes in. You see, if it is de trop to employ a valet because it is considered arcane and pretentious, why not modernise the concept with a robotic

house-servant? Not pretentious at all - positively 21st Century cool! The Japanese and Americans have been working on this concept for decades. By all accounts, even if the wretched mechanical thing can't mix a prairie oyster to help Bertie with his hangover, or anticipate the arrival of Aunt Agatha by a crucial five minutes, it can nonetheless be programmed to perform many other useful tasks.

I have given this quite a lot of thought over the past ten minutes; if the Americans get there first, and bearing in mind that they are incapable of correctly pronouncing the T, there is only one name for this invention, so I have decided to copyright the name:

The Silicon Valet

I thank you.

Bangers and Haricot Beanz

2009-08-03T14:31:00.006+01:00

Goodwood is over and life threatens to become dull. There is even the bleak prospect of becoming less idle and taking early trains into the smoke each weekday morning, but let's cross that bridge when we come to it.

The political scene is dead for a few weeks to come, though I liked the idea of Lord Fondlebum of Boy resigning his seat in the Lords in order to take his rightful place at the helm of this once great country as a sitting MP. I have long thought that Mandy is easily the cleverest Labour politician and whilst he is also the least honest and principled, he would make a very enjoyable premier in the weeks leading up to the great purge of Labour in May next year. I'm thinking about the gaiety of the nation, you understand.

On the subject of gaiety, Michael Gove (who, though a married father and a product of that fine city Aberdeen, I've always thought might bat for both sides) suggests that Dave Cameron is the sort of man "you could imagine snogging like we did to True by Spandau Ballet". This is deeply troubling on many levels, the most alarming being that anyone with designs on revolutionising our desperate education system even listens to True by Spandau Ballet, let alone swaps spit with a chap whilst doing so.

There being no other business, idle retired to the comfort of his drawing room to roll a fag and watch the test match. Strauss has just dropped Clarke off part-time bowler Bopara and an unlikely victory recedes still further.

Caption Compo

2009-07-28T23:36:00.006+01:00

I lifted this pic from the excellent latest Daily Mash story.

Given the recent death of both of these gallant warriors, I thought it warranted a compo.

What is the man on the right saying, or what are the splendid chaps thinking?

I know I'm just back, but Glorious Goodwood has started, the folks have just pitched up with cellar baskets full of great vintages, and blogging time will be at a premium.

Back

2009-07-27T15:09:00.021+01:00

For those who are not bored rigid by such things, allow me a bourgeois moment with the holiday snaps.

The house:

Its view of the Gulf of St Tropez:

The boat....

... took us to a fine lunch at Les Graniers....

.... and stayed afloat despite the fat bastards at the back....

.... and provided a platform for children's Nijinsky impersonations:

A nearby town, Gassin.....

.... where we were entertained by an excellent busking Dutch students' Dixie Jazz Band, the chanteuse of which seemed to meet most of the Tuscan's prerequisites......

... whilst the leader and washboard player met Lady Idle's prerequsities, and spotted her taking (many) pictures of him:

That'll just have to do for now.

Pictures Worth a Thousand Words

2009-07-15T17:21:00.007+01:00

Idle has Lord's to attend to for the next couple of days (notwithstanding his 20th wedding anniversary), followed by a week in the hills above St Tropez from Sunday. Still, nobody said it was going to be easy.

In the meantime, for those of you who have had trouble understanding song lyrics in the past, a geeky friend of mine has put a few into PowerPoint language. I hope these may help:

The Pietersen Massive

2009-07-13T12:59:00.004+01:00

I saw Kevin Pietersen's first innings in test cricket at Lord's in 2005, and was lucky enough to witness his astonishing 158 at the Oval at the death of the series, once Shane Warne had dropped him (and the Ashes) at first slip. I want him to succeed, and I won't begrudge him the wonga and the fame that goes with it.

Had England lost the Cardiff test match, it would have been Pietersen's fault. Yes, I know it's eleven against eleven, and all that. But KP (he's a nut) is the most talented member of the side and very good batsmen, once they have played themselves in, are responsible for scoring a significant proportion of the runs, particularly on a flat pitch against a bowling attack that does not include Warne or McGrath or Murali.

Pietersen threw it all away. As ever, afterwards, he explained himself along the lines of "It's the way I play", which roughly translated means "I am the best batsman in England and you can't afford to drop me".

He was interviewed about the Ashes last week, and cast his mind back to his debut at Lord's in 2005, and the match that followed it:

"I was made for that moment," he says. "The bigger the occasion, the greater the pressure, the more I love it. We knew how big that series was, we knew we were making history. I loved that. I wasn't scared by the Ashes at all. Loved it."

Hmmm. That's Pietersen for you. You'll find, if you listen to his interviews, that quite a lot of things are huge, or massive, or history-making. He likes to associate himself with such things.

Michael Henderson of the Telegraph is a good sort, just as knowledgable about classical music and Broadway as he is about cricket ("what do they know of cricket, who only cricket know?"). He takes up his sword against KP, and leaves him, as Zorro would, with his fancy clothes in tatters:

One man wore the dunce's hat. Having thrown his wicket away on the first afternoon, caught off his helmet essaying a senseless sweep, the Durban Opportunist found another startling way to get out yesterday: bowled neck and crop as he left the ball.
He did not just leave it. Heavens, no. The Fulham Narcissist never does anything by halves. He left it in the extravagant manner of an Elizabethan courtier in ruff collar and cross-garters bending the knee to Gloriana. Ben Hilfenhaus, the bowler, could hardly believe his eyes. These crazy Poms, he must have thought. They take their bats all the way to the crease, and then they don't use them.

If Pietersen wishes to be great (not as in 'great knock, KP' - I mean as a Great Cricketer), he needs to study others who have been awarded the mantle. I could give him a list to be getting on with, but actually he spent several hours watching a masterclass from Ponting on Thursday and Friday, from only a few metres away. Look and learn, you preening johnny. Here's Hendo again:

Why is he not loved? Because he is not one of us, and it shows. The best teams are forged by people who know not only what they are playing for, but also who they are playing for. You could see that identification with Australian cricket in the resolute batting of North and Haddin, players who have been called up late in their careers (North is 30 later this month, Haddin 31), and who know what traditions they represent.
For Australian cricketers tradition is an ever-replenishing resource, like water. To an interloper like Kevin Pietersen, whose overriding ambition is to be rich and famous, the word may have no resonance at all. There is a problem here. Huge. Massive.

The Weather Forecast

2009-07-10T10:04:00.006+01:00

The Spectator, even under the dodgy editorship of Matthew "Ronnie" d'Ancona, is still one of the few publications prepared to splash "Relax: Global Warming is a Myth" all over its cover.

The article, written by the shy and retiring James Delingpole, is an interview with Prof Ian Plimer, an Australian geologist who calls a spade a bloody shovel, and knows how to use it.

He has written the counter-argument to Gore and Stern. Needless to say, his publishers (his previous book had been a bestseller) were too chicken to touch this one, and he ended up using an Outback family firm, who thankfully have seen their sensible decision rewarded with a book on its sixth print run already. Buy it!

The idle policy on Gaia is pretty straightforward - in favour of responsible consumption and sustainable practices, against alarmists and proselytizers, and my antennae shake like palm trees in a hurricane when governments start framing huge tax programmes based upon the Need to Save the Earth.

My instinct is that Prof Plimer is a good 'un. He'd beat Al Gore in an arm wrestle and he'd beat him hands down intellectually and evidence-based on the great Global Warming Con Trick.

Does he really believe his message will ever get through? Plimer smiles. ‘If you’d asked any scientist or doctor 30 years ago where stomach ulcers come from, they would all have given the same answer: obviously it comes from the acid brought on by too much stress. All of them apart from two scientists who were pilloried for their crazy, whacko theory that it was caused by a bacteria. In 2005 they won the Nobel prize. The “consensus” was wrong.’

Randy Live

2009-07-09T19:13:00.001+01:00

Here's Randy singing that song in the last-but-one post. Well, kinda singing, anyway.

Scarcely Missed

2009-07-07T23:14:00.006+01:00

Allen Klein picked July 4 to pop his clogs. By all accounts he was a sonofabitch. But I guess if you manage to sign yourself into 20% of the earnings of the Stones, then the Beatles, you are some kind of successful sonafabitch. He certainly wasn't on the Stones' Christmas Card list.

This picture tells the Beatles story quite well. Lennon did the deal that McCartney didn't want, and guess who else was involved? Yep, that great 'artist' and beauty, Yoko Ono.

Neil McCormick writes a good blog obit of him as well. This is how it starts:

Last week, I was talking to an acquaintance of mine, a rock critic who also writes obituaries (which is perhaps not such an unusual career combination, given the low life expectancy of most rock stars). I asked whether he prepares his obituaries in advance. “Only Allen Klein’s”, he replied. “I hate that man so much, it gives me pleasure to write his obituary.”

And this is how it ends:

Discussing his reputation, Klein once remarked: “Artists fuck groupies, I fuck the artists.” Perhaps that’s what should be written on his headstone.

A Few Words In Defence of America

2009-07-05T19:48:00.009+01:00

A number of the blogs I enjoy reading have doffed their caps in the direction of America this weekend. Blue Eyes, for instance, the Tuscan and Thud. Also, The Speccie talking about the declaration of independence.

Any praise for the United States normally flushes out quite a lot of dissenting voices, some of whom make good points. Perspective is needed - provided on this occasion by the great (and I mean great) Randy Newman, as intelligent and wry a lyricist as they've got over there. This was his take on the situation towards the bitter end of the Dubya presidency. (From Harps & Angels, 2008) If you want to hear it, (or anything else you don't own) register for free with Spotify.com He sounds a bit gloomy at the end, but I know he doesn't mean it. Just a lefty artist needing a Democrat revival. He's fine now, I'm sure.

A Few Words In Defense of Our Country

I’d like to say a few words in defense of our country
Whose people aren’t bad nor are they mean
Now the leaders we have
While they’re the worst that we’ve had
Are hardly the worst this poor world has seen

Let’s turn history’s pages, shall we?
Take the Caesars for example
Why within the first few of them they were sleeping with their sister
Stashing little boys in swimming pools and burning down the City
And one of ‘em, one of 'em appointed his own horse Consul of the Empire
That’s like vice president or something.
That’s not a very good example, is it?

But wait, here’s one, the Spanish Inquisition
They put people in a terrible position
I don’t even like to think about it
Well, sometimes I like to think about it

Just a few words in defense of our country
Whose time at the top could be coming to an end
Now we don’t want their love
And respect at this point is pretty much out of the question
But in times like these we sure could use a friend.

Hitler. Stalin. Men who need no introduction. King Leopold of Belgium.
That’s right. Everyone thinks he’s so great
Well he owned The Congo. He tore it up too.
He took the diamonds, he took the gold, he took the silver
Know what he left them with? Malaria

A President once said, "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself"
Now it seems like we’re supposed to be afraid
It’s patriotic in fact and color coded. And what are we supposed to be afraid of?
Why, of being afraid. That’s what terror means, doesn’t it?
That’s what it used to mean.

You know it pisses me off a little that this Supreme Court is gonna outlive me
A couple of young Italian fellas and a brother on the Court now too.
But I defy you, anywhere in the world to find me two Italians as tightass as the two Italians we got
And as for the brother: well, Pluto’s not a planet anymore either.

The end of an empire is messy at best
And this empire is ending like all the rest
Like the Spanish Armada adrift on the sea
We’re adrift in the land of the brave and the home of the free
Goodbye. Goodbye. Goodbye.

Ten Out of Ten

2009-07-03T10:36:00.004+01:00

I'd say it was unimprovable. The usual guff will be written by the usual culprits, much of it ending up in Pseud's Corner at Private Eye, but I will say this:

It was a wonderful, warm-hearted evening, from a happy band (happy? Damon Albarn was gob-smacked that they could "do nothing for ten years and return to this").

There must have been twenty thousand people there, on a hot afternoon but beautiful balmy evening, bouncing to the hard rocking stuff and pouring their hearts out to the ballads. Tender went on forever (literally - I heard a gang still singing the chorus as they got off the Portsmouth train at Guildford at about midnight) and the other highpoints were To The End, This is a Low, and a great final encore, The Universal. A proper all-round band, Blur.

The idle daughter just loved it. A memorable night.