Beyond West Lothian

With the Conservative level of opinion poll support remaining stuck around 40%, and with thoughts turning to the dreadful prospect of a hung Parliament rather than a decent working majority, it is worth looking at the effect of Scottish influence on Westminster. No, nothing personal about our beloved PM, nor the sheer irritation caused by the sound of a pipsqueak minister talking earnestly about climate change in a grating Caledonian accent. A simple matter of seats and mathematics.

In 2005, Labour returned 40 MPs from north of the border, 41 if you count the Speaker’s recently regained seat. 11 Lib Dems and 6 Scottish Nationalists completed the count. Well, not quite – one solitary Conservative too from the Dumfries seat on the border. In summary, a contribution of 23 to the Labour majority of 66.

Now look at matters from a different angle. Suppose that the Conservatives, as largest party in a hung Parliament, increase their share in Scotland to 10 seats. Arguably a tall order. Even then, and regardless of where such gains came from, that’s 49 opposition members. Highly likely, then, that if the opposition members were to be notionally removed from the reckoning, there would be no hung Parliament after all.

So is it at all surprising that when faced once again with the prospect of Scottish members being at liberty to wield such disproportionate influence on the general will of the UK electorate – regardless of their possession of own legislative assembly and their colossal subsidies from the English taxpayer – the cries for an English parliament are being heard all the more?

For more on this issue, see English Free Press - excellent reading.

The Weekend Is Here: From The Man Who Stole Your Old Age

(Congratulations initially to the first genius who devised this as a parody of corporate management, and the second who thought of adapting it to our beloved PM. The postscript, I fear, is all mine.)

Dear Elector

Due to the current financial situation caused by the slowdown of the economy, your Government has decided to implement a scheme to put workers of 50 years of age and above on early retirement. This scheme will be known as RAPE (Retire Aged People Early).

Persons selected for RAPE can apply to the Department for Work and Pensions to be eligible for the SHAFT scheme (Special Help After Forced Termination).

Persons who have been RAPED and SHAFTED will be reviewed under the SCREW programme (Scheme Covering Retired Early Workers). A person may be RAPED once, SHAFTED twice and SCREWED as many times as the Government deems appropriate.

Persons who have been RAPED may get AIDS (Additional Income for Dependants & Spouse) or HERPES (Half Earnings for Retired Personnel Early Severance). Obviously persons who have AIDS or HERPES will not be SHAFTED or SCREWED any further by the Government.

Persons who are not RAPED and are staying on will receive as much SHIT (Special High Intensity Training) as possible. Your Government has always prided itself on the amount of SHIT it gives electors. Should you feel that you do not receive enough SHIT, please bring to the attention of your local MP. They have been trained to give you all the SHIT you can handle.

Yours sincerely

Gordon Brown

PS. In response to the ever increasing pleas by the RAPED, SHAFTED and SCREWED for counselling and a shoulder to cry on, I am announcing the immediate formation of the Faculty Undertaking Compassion Kindness Or Friendly Fellowship. It is a matter of personal pride that when faced with queries as to where a helping hand can be found, my Government can reply……

Another Doormat (In Waiting)?

Anyone looking for a weak, mouselike character from the world of classic comedy could do worse than choose Arthur Pewty, the little man in a spectacularly ill-fitting suit from Monty Python’s Marriage Guidance Counsellor sketch. Banished from the room while the counsellor prepares to take advantage of Pewty’s wife, he hears a booming voice from above: “There ain’t no sense in running. Now you gotta turn, and you gotta fight, and you gotta hold your head up high. Now you go back in there my son and be a man!” Pewty turns back to the room, saying to himself “Yes I will. I will. I’ve been pushed around long enough. This is it. This is your moment, Arthur Pewty – this is it Arthur Pewty. At last you’re a man!” Opening the door, he calls out with some force “All right, Deirdre, come out of there!” The counsellor: “Go away.” Pewty: “Right. Right.” He closes the door and his fate is sealed as a knight in armour strikes him with a raw chicken.

Now, onto Project Discovery, Ofgem’s plan to meet the predicted energy crunch. As Damian Reece confirms, Ofgem refer to the “2016 cliff face” – the point when 35% of our traditional oil and coal fired power stations will be closed under the EU’s Large Combustion Plant Directive. In other words, the UK’s ability to keep its lights and computers on will be seriously threatened by reference to an arbitrary date, not because those power stations will then have actually lost the capability to produce electricity.

So picture the EU Inspector stomping around UK House in 2016, looking for the Off switches. Will our then PM prove himself to be nothing but Arthur Pewty Mark 2 when the functionary tells him to go away? Or will he take out his .44 Magnum and invite him to back off, with the rousing threat “Go ahead, punk – make my day”? There can be little doubt that public opinion would favour the Dirty Harry approach if the alternative was properly and promptly explained.

Doormats, Literal & Figurative

The Telegraph has taken a commendably sensible view to the attitude of Knutsford and Thurrock Councils towards those of its local authority tenants who seek to protect their carpets with doormats, despite missing out on an opportunity to label this issue "Doormatgate" or "Attack Of The Killer Doormats". Perhaps the best explanation is to let the justificatory piece of municipal apparatchikspeak stand up in its own right: "At first, it might not be thought a doormat could be a risk, but in a fire, when the corridor may be dark and full of smoke and people are in a state of panic, it is possible someone could trip or slip on a mat and fall."

Pity that the tenants will in practice be no different from the offending pieces of home furnishing. If only they could organise a mass gathering at the home of the official who signed off this edict with a view to trampling mud into his carpet. Many a town hall bully might see the error of his ways if the practical consequences of a ruling from up on high were inflicted at first hand.

Supermarket Stupidity: Real Brains Don't Stop Quiche

Many years ago I recall attempting to buy a bottle of a pale, weak, malt flavoured beverage labelled “beer” in a Los Angeles branch of a well known convenience store chain also running a gas station. In context it would probably be vicious, vindictive and cruel to name the chain in question, so I will refer to it as 7-Eleven.

Despite looking obviously well over California legal drinking age (in fact probably not that far off double the threshold), there was no persuading the jobsworth on the till to part with the liquid poison unless I could produce ID proving my age. Lacking both passport and driving licence, both in the hotel safe, I was in no position to do so. Box ticking procedures prevailed. No doubt Bill Bryson would have asked for a gallon of unleaded and a box of matches, and warned the jobsworth that it might be about to get hot, anticipating the reply “Certainly sir, here you are, have a nice day”, but lacking Brysonian wit on that occasion I merely went thirsty.

Moving on to the present day, we can see that bone headed stupidity has accompanied other great American exports such as baseball caps and DVDs of The Simpsons into our supermarkets. Today’s example, a jobsworth refusing to sell a slice of quiche to a customer unless she could prove her age. Is Tesco’s training manual subtitled “How To Lose Customers And Alienate People”? Even after giving all due allowance for the end products of the British comprehensive education system, how on earth could a mundane item of food be confused in a checkout operator’s mind with the likes of alcohol and cigarettes? It’s not as if it was a bag of wine gums.

I fear there will be more to come on the theme of supermarket stupidity.

The Weekend Is Here: Tony Blair and Woolumboolum

Having triumphantly left office and embarked upon a celebratory world tour, Tony Blair found himself in a far off African village, satisfying his long held ambition to address some truly ordinary people. The village elder led him to the platform where a large crowd of locals awaited the great man’s pearls of wisdom.

“My friends, I come before you today after ten glorious years of leadership, having brought unparalleled wealth and prosperity to my subjects.”

From the front row, a call rang out: “Woolumboolum!”

The former PM looked anxiously at the elder. He received an enigmatic smile in return. Thus encouraged, he pressed on.

“I have helped bring down a vile and despicable tyrant, and have every reason to feel truly proud of the gift of democracy and freedom that I have helped bestow upon the people of Iraq.”

This time, a chorus: “Woolumboolum!”

Feeling truly inspired by now, Blair continued. “And it is now my intention to travel the world, from the Middle East to the sub Sahara, bringing a message of peace and tranquillity and sharing my experience of world statesmanship wherever I may land. You will feel deeply honoured that I have chosen to start my mission here with you all.”

The crowd rose to its feet and let loose a thunderous roar: “Woolumboolum!”

The elder dismissed the locals and turned to the former PM, asking if there was anything else he could do for him. “Well, yes there is. I have always wanted to see the inside of a traditional mud hut. Can you help me?”

”Why yes, of course. Look across that field. That’s where my mother lives. I will take you there right now.” He strode off towards the field and opened the gate. Blair hesitated.

“Wait a minute, there’s a bull in the field. Isn’t that dangerous?”

“Not at all, sir. The bull is perfectly harmless. Just follow me, and make sure you don’t tread in any woolumboolum.”

Whingeing Britain (2): An Innocent Advert?

Hard on the heels of the Thetford Jobcentre’s objection to the formula “must be very reliable and hard working”, how long will it be before a local newsagent has his collar felt?

The offending advert, displayed on the shop window: “Wanted. Paper Boy/Girl. Excellent Pay. Apply Within.”

OK, black marks straight away for direct discrimination against older people who might be interested in a paper round. Don’t overlook the fact either that asking applicants to go into the shop must be discrimination against anyone not strong enough to open the shop door and who might consider it an affront to personal dignity to wait for the door to be held open. And what about “Wanted” – isn’t that a flagrant breach of offenders’ rehabilitation legislation, calculated to trample all over the feelings of any old lag who might once have featured on a Wanted poster?

That just leaves Excellent Pay. Isn’t that a blatant slap in the face for anyone whose personal beliefs frown upon money motivation?

Looks like a fair cop, guv…

Whingeing Britain (1): The Ability Discrimination Act

“A person discriminates against another in any circumstances relevant for the purposes of any provision of this Act if (a) on ability grounds he treats that other less favourably than he treats or would treat other persons; or (b) he applies to that other a requirement or condition which he applies or would apply equally to persons not of the same ability group as that other, but which is such that the proportion of persons of the same ability group as that other who can comply with it is considerably smaller than the proportion of persons not of that ability group who can comply with it, and which he cannot show to be justifiable irrespective of the skills, intelligence, knowledge or attitude of the person to whom it is applied, and which is to the detriment of that other because he cannot comply with it.”

No, only kidding. Well, at least I think I am. The Thetford Jobcentre case that has done the rounds today (hat tip to Big Brother Watch), and the reaction of the official who was faced with an advert for a reliable worker, would make anyone stop and think whether anything of this kind had been sneaked onto the statute book surreptitiously.

The above is a partial rewrite of the actual text of the Race Relations Act. It catches both direct and indirect discrimination. And yes, it does demonstrate via the words “which he cannot show” that the burden falls upon an alleged indirect discriminator to show that his act was justifiable. As is the case with every kind of indirect discrimination that statute law has rendered unlawful.

Hardly surprising that so many small businesses, faced with a whinger playing the discrimination card who can be defeated but only after disproportionate time and expense, will choose to pay the Danegeld as the lesser evil and will wonder long and hard why their governing classes make life so difficult for them with legislation of this kind. At least it’s not an offence to refuse to offer a job because of the applicant’s inability to perform it. Well, not yet.

Leading Counsel: Carman or Harman?

The recent dismay at what has been described as the “MPs’ medal for turning up”, alternatively the grant of military rank to MPs who “peep at combat”, has an interesting echo in the hierarchy of the legal profession.

For an ordinary rank and file barrister to achieve the rank of QC (Queen’s Counsel), this will prove - in the QC Selection Panel’s own words – a track record of excellence in advocacy in the higher courts. For a shining example, look no further than the late George Carman, perhaps the best jury advocate of his age, with a later career in libel defence that would have made many a celebrity regret having had pound signs before the eyes upon seeing themselves in print.

But it’s not always a badge of excellence. Constitutional tradition provides that the Attorney General and Solicitor General are appointed to the rank of QC in parallel with taking up their government role, if they do not already hold this rank on appointment. Regardless of their past track record of expertise, or indeed lack of it. And which lawyer politician became an unlikely beneficiary of this tradition in 2001, having only obviously made a prior impact in the courts as the accused in a famous contempt case that led Lord Denning to reflect “the lady doth protest too much, methinks”? Stand up and take a bow, Harriet Harman. Will there be a stampede to her door for her legal wisdom and expertise once she ceases to hold government office? We’ll see.

Edlington: Naming & Shaming

Lifelong anonymity at a cost of millions, just in case someone might want to have words (or perhaps a little more than this) following a shocking criminal incident. Who for? A fearful witness or two, or the traumatised victims? No, not in broken Britain. The two scumbags from the Edlington case who probably only avoided their identities being revealed like Thompson and Venables in the Jamie Bulger case because they only permanently ruined their victims’ lives rather than murdered them.

OK, so let’s suppose that at the time of their anticipated release – leaving aside any debate as to whether any sentence that did not involve throwing away the key was appropriate in the first place - they feared an angry lynch mob at the prison gates, or never being free to walk the streets again without a retribution seeker looking for a chat. Reaping what they’d sown, anyone? And should it be thought that the time and expense for the state to clear up the mess arising from this was too much, there’s always the thought that permanent resettlement abroad (Yemen, perhaps, or Somalia – plenty of manual labour available) with a modest severance payment might be money well spent compared to the state benefits, compensation to subsequent crime victims and indeed the expense of new identities were they to stay in the UK.

The key to this, of course, would be to make them want to emigrate. Or, arguably, to stay in prison.

The Weekend Is Here: Migbins and Woftams

The Chilcot Enquiry may be largely focused upon a very well known acronym – WMD, which we have all grown to love over the years (the acronym, of course, not the non-existent weapons) – but it is tempting to resurrect a long forgotten one to describe those of the participants whose enthusiasm, zealotry or blind loyalty has displaced their common sense, particularly when defending the contents of dodgy dossiers or relying on the Manuel-Nuremberg Defence (“I know nothing/I was only obeying orders”).

I give you – Migbin. Mouth In Gear, Brain In Neutral.

For completeness, however, it may have to go hand in hand with a parallel acronym, bearing in mind that many such enquiries (think of Hutton’s into Dr Kelly’s death, if you can, and let’s not get started on Saville’s into Bloody Sunday) turn out to be nothing but whitewashes or conscience easing exercises that serve no obvious purpose other than to satisfy ministers’ desires to be seen to have done something, and to enrich client state dependants in the process.

I give you – Woftam. Waste Of F****** Time And Money.

Emasculated

Continuing accidentally with the satire to reality theme, let’s cast our memories back to Not The Nine O’Clock News, specifically the debate on soccer hooliganism involving Professor Duff from Cambridge University (Mel Smith) and social worker Sally Barnes (Pamela Stephenson). Having summarised his fundamental statistical analysis of the problem as a whole, alongside his psychochemical and behavioural study of a group of individual hooligans, the good professor concluded that the only sensible course of action for the authorities was to cut off their goolies. Responding, the earnest social worker spoke of her work in the blighted inner city areas, the kids’ problems, frustrations, lack of community facilities and parents, and described the professor’s proposal as the only solution.

Now think of the Doncaster torture case currently in the news. No, not the immediate gut reaction as to what punishment might fit the crimes that the 11 and 10 year old scumbags carried out. The fact that many years ago the Duff-Barnes solution had self evidently been symbolically inflicted on every authority, institution and individual who might otherwise have been able to stop behaviour like this in its tracks, and to have prevented the two victims’ lives being ruined. Tragic. Utterly tragic.

Come On Myleene

The Sunday Telegraph, in furtherance of their Right To Defend Yourself campaign, follow up today on Myleene Klass' encounter with burglars and her reprimand from the police after she had waved a knife at them in the hope that this would frighten them off. In her own words: -

"I think I sounded like an animal, and it was language that would make an Irishman blush. I screamed like a maniac. In no uncertain terms, I told them to get off my property."

Shall we now start the clock ticking on how long before the Race Relations Stasi come knocking on her door and give her a further reprimand for her choice of language? (That's supposed to be a joke, by the way, but we're well hardened by now to the fact that today's satire is tomorrow's reality.)

The Weekend Is Here: Haikus For Blair Pre-Chilcot

So much for the support act in the form of Alastair Campbell. With the warm up gig on Fern Britton a distant memory, is the main act going to go down a storm or crash and burn? Time will tell. In the meantime, an opportune moment to recall our beloved former PM's career via a set of haikus. Particularly the third one.

When Brown smashed his Great
Clunking Fist into pensions
Blair just looked away

Mandelson quit twice
Blair sent him to the EU
Clearly crime does pay

Lied to fight a war –
Weapons of mass destruction
Nowhere to be found

Hand of history
Resting there on his shoulder?
No, it’s DC Yates’.....

What a legacy
Spin, lies, sleaze and corruption
Let’s disclaim it now

Out Of My Brain On The Train

No, not Jimmy the Mod in Quadrophenia, making that final nostalgic trip back to Brighton before riding the bellboy’s scooter off Beachy Head (did he survive?). The East Midlands Trains ticket inspector who was hell bent on throwing a group of soldiers freshly back from Afghanistan off his train, because their rail warrant was made out from Oxford rather than from East Midlands Parkway, where they had been dropped off because Brize Norton was closed due to bad weather.

First, credit where credit’s due. To the Good Samaritan passenger who paid the fare that Mr Jobsworth demanded, knowing that they carried no currency save for US dollars. To the train driver who was willing to let the soldiers sit in the cab, prevented only by Mr Jobsworth’s veto. And, I guess, to East Midlands Trains for their promise to apologise in full to the soldiers and to reimburse their anonymous saviour in recognition of the trouble and expense that Mr Jobsworth had inflicted upon them.

Should it stop there? Mr Jobsworth has arguably committed acts of (1) gross incompetence, comprising his failure to show any common sense whatsoever towards soldiers just returned from a war zone who were clearly entitled to a free train journey and who were not on his train by choice, and (2) gross misconduct, in the form of his attitude towards passengers which has made his employer at best a laughing stock and at worst a heartless pariah all over the national press. If he was summarily dismissed without compensation, he would surely outrank Sharon Shoesmith of Baby P fame as a magnet for odium if he made a tribunal claim.

Come on now, East Midlands Trains. Make our day. Give Mr Jobsworth his P45 and show that common sense can prevail just once – or even that a wider fightback against bloody minded petty officialdom is under way.

Swine Flu And Cash Flow

So Andy Burnham is blaming "Big Pharma" for the fact that thousands, if not millions, of doses of swine flu vaccine are sitting unused in stockpiles after the Government - in the face of advice that thousands, if not millions, of people were going to die from this latest impending health catastrophe - firehosed millions, if not billions, of pounds upon the creation of those stockpiles.

OK, Mr Burnham and his department are a potential purchaser. Big Pharma is a salesman. In between the two are professional advisers to the potential purchaser (stand up and take a bow, Chief Medical Officer Sir Liam Donaldson). The purchaser has the power to say yes or no. There is no inequality of bargaining power between the parties - no salesman's gun to the potential purchaser's head - so the Government is entirely able to make its own mind up after considering what its professional advisers have come up with, whether from hard factual evidence or their beloved computer models.

Not for the first time, we have had an exaggerated scare and an overreacting Government, no doubt anxious to be seen to be doing something, and the usual search for a scapegoat once the scare has been debunked. Never mind, Mr Burnham. It's virtually a badge of merit under this Government to have proved your ability to flush other people's money down the drain.

As ever Christopher Booker has nailed this one.

Another Fine Mess

Consistently with their usual approach to perceived problems that call for a large dose of common sense rather than acting like some one who has to look up his arse to see if he’s got his hat on (to borrow a classic formula from Private Eye’s Dear Bill letters), the government are evidently preferring hardcore anatomical gymnastics to tackle the behaviour of private parking companies, namely by creating a “parking fine appeal panel”. From the BBC article: -

“A new independent appeals panel to stop motorists from being unfairly fined by unscrupulous private car parking companies is to be established.” “There are 26,000 permanent private car parks in the UK. Most complaints come from people fined on these sites…” The British Parking Association represents private firms and only its members can access the DVLA database to trace vehicle owners and send out fines.”

Can you spot the flaw? It’s glaringly simple. Private parking companies do not have the power to impose fines. They can legally do no more than threaten and then issue county court proceedings, as agents for the principal proprietor of the site, alleging that a term of a contract has been breached or that the tort of trespass has been committed, and quantifying loss and damage. Giving the accused drivers a chance to defend themselves in the small claims forum of their local county court.

Transport Minister Sadiq Khan asserts that it is clearly time for the government to step in: “What the current bill going through parliament is saying is that there will now be hopefully be an independent complaints mechanism available so people who are aggrieved can make a complaint to an independent appeals panel." Which bestows implicit legitimacy on the private parking companies and their questionable practices of trawling the DVLA database and writing scary letters that give the impression of legal power to impose fines. Wrong, Mr Khan. Just stop this misuse of the DVLA now and set Trading Standards departments on the writers of the scary letters. Sorry, I forgot. Too much common sense in that.

The Weekend Is Here: King Midas In Reverse

If asked to name any of The Hollies’ best known songs, it’s a fair bet that The Air That I Breathe and He Ain’t Heavy, He’s My Brother will spring to mind. Those with longer memories might come up with Carrie Anne or Stop Stop Stop. All of them top three hits. One of their lesser known top twenty hits, however – peaking at Number 18 in September 1967 – surely deserves its lyrics to be published in full at this point in time. Or even a re-release?

If you could only see me
And know exactly where I am
You wouldn't want to be me
Oh I can assure you of that
I'm not the guy to run with
'Cos I'll throw you off the line
I'll break you and destroy you
Given time

(Chorus) He's King Midas with a curse
He's King Midas in reverse
He's King Midas with a curse
He's King Midas in reverse

It's plain to see it's hopeless
Going on the way we are
So even though I’d lose you
You'd be better off by far

He's not the one to hold your trust
Everything he touches turns to dust
In his hand

Nothing he can do is right
He'd even like to sleep at night
But he can't

(Chorus) He's King Midas with a curse (etc)

I wish someone would find me
And help me gain control
Before I lose my reason and my soul

(Chorus) He's King Midas with a curse (etc)

Hint: the opening sentiments of the second verse are not a million miles away from the Conservative party’s current pet slogan “we can’t go on like this”, as was accidentally (?) adopted in this week’s abortive Hoon & Hewitt destabilisation campaign. And that's before making any reference to the sad fate of the UK’s gold reserves in the hands of the then Chancellor.

PS. Belated acknowledgments to Matthew Norman of the Independent for his own take on this 10 weeks ago. Pity in a way that it's easier to label Gordon Brown King Midas In Reverse rather than to use the more subtle Sadim.

What A Load Of Rubbish

Another day, another local authority going to war with its council taxpayers over refuse collection. If a Coventry bin lid is not lying flat, and its contents are keeping the bin open by more than a quarter of an inch – to be checked by a binman wielding a tape measure – the bin will be left behind, full and untouched.

So what are they all afraid of? The risk of YouTube footage of a burly binman innocently approaching an offending bin and finding too late that an imminent gust of wind is about to blow the lid upwards and leave him nursing a smack on the nose? (Well, of course he’d be more likely to be encouraged to sue, than to think that it might have been wiser to approach the bin from one of the other three sides.)

Evidently not. But the real explanation – based on elf’n’safety, of course - is scarcely more excusable. “Spillage can occur as bins are taken from the pavement to the road and injure people standing there.” So why in God’s name, if a binman’s handling of the receptacle in question has shaken anything loose in the minuscule timeframe of the bin’s journey between roadside and lorry, can the binman not bend down and pick it up as a prelude to throwing it in after the intact remainder of the bin’s contents?

Discuss.

Slopping Out

So Veggie Benn remains as keen as ever to make it compulsory for all households to dispose of their food waste in slop buckets in order to stop it going to landfill. And how, exactly is he going to have this policed? Via a new army of jobsworths taking weekly measurements of the quantities of slops per household, and issuing spot fines (or should that be slop fines?) to those deemed not to have slopped out to an acceptable government target? And thinking of targets, would the said jobsworths be exercising their customary lack of common sense in failing to recognise that one way of avoiding food waste going to landfill is to feed it to a waste disposal unit or a Labrador?

Perhaps he’d better have words with the Health Secretary, and ensure that A&E departments are fully equipped to deal with a major influx of casualties consisting of jobsworths requiring emergency removal of slop buckets wedged over their heads. Unless householders collectively resolve to make a point by saving up the contents of their slop buckets and emptying them over ministers’ gardens and drives. Or over ministers.