All At Sea?

Still no word from the boys in blue regarding my encounter with hoodie sub-culture. That is not surprising; I quickly surmised after giving a full statement to the police that these things have a tortuous & nebulous process which can appear to defy rational (& not so rational) expectations.
[On a germane note, I see from this evening's Channel 4 News & the Guardian Unlimited website that David Cameron is advocating a "tough love" approach to this issue. The tough love I'd have in mind would involve a garotte.]

Anthony Gormley's statues at Crosby beach continue to make the headlines. I still think that they should stay, they inject a little bit of genuine culture in an area which is, at best, culturally nondescript, &, at worst, a repository for unabashed philistinism. This is despite yesterday's news from the beach (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/merseyside/6107294.stm ), which appears to owe more to an ignorance of local tidal patterns.
The initial furore was generated by a local tory councillor, Debi Jones, who first came to local attention as an irritating "presenter" on BBC Radio Merseyside back in the 80s (think Ken Dodd, but without the, erm, wit). Jones now has hopes of standing for Cameron's lot at the next election in the Crosby constituency. However, such rank populism may no longer be the vote-winner it once was. Crosby has changed in cultural trends; there is a readily appreciative local audience for Gormley's work, & they, Cllr. Jones, are also voters.

I nearly choked on my lunch at work today when I spotted this story: http://www.guardian.co.uk/midterms2006/story/0,,1937064,00.html .
In the land of free market capitalism it seems so surreal as to be hallucinatory. As the article notes, the guy may resemble a blunderbuss rather than a heat-seeking missile, & he may be more Miliband than Marx in policy terms, but the reality is that his message has resonance. Has Michael Moore picked up on this guy?

A quick word about The Raconteur's gig in Liverpool last week. It was everything you'd want from a gig; the excitement was well warranted as a full house savoured a raucous, yet musically superb performance. It's difficult to see how Jack White can return to The White Stripes with any real conviction after this so-called side project.

Before I Was Distracted

The police haven't been in touch since Saturday, which mildly surprises me. I agreed to have my details passed on to Victim Support. I don't feel traumatised or unsettled by Saturday's incident, yet it will be interesting to see what, if anything, they can assist me with.
Most of Sunday was taken up with friends, some of whom I hadn't seen for over a year. After venting our frustration at Liverpool's spineless showing against Manchester United, tumescent testosterone giving way to flaccid fatalism, we had a few more beers before retiring to a local Italian restaurant. The rest of the evening was, erm, a little bit hazy. Reaction to my experience the day before was suitably sympathetic & supportive. Once upon a time they would have reacted like the archetypal Guardian-reading social worker. Nowadays, they, like me, view the world differently.
A few thing which have caught my attention over the last few weeks:
I'm not alone. It turns out that this blogging thing is catching on: http://media.guardian.co.uk/mediaguardian/story/0,,1923064,00 .
I'll return to the Anthony Gormley statues on the beach just down the road from my home presently, but the news wasn't good when it broke a few days' ago (http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/merseyside/6065070.stm ).
Adding to unwelcome news was this morsel: http://www.guardian.co.uk/medicine/story/0,,1929904,00.html . It's usually the sort of thing I ignore, but, after a week in which I've come uncomfortably close to a kitchen knife of significant proportions, it somehow lodged in my mind.
Google's rise continues apace, so it didn't surprise me to come across this story: http://www.guardian.co.uk/Technology/news/story/0,,1930009.html . Some people, not all of them on the liberal-left, have been shocked by this story. However, if I were one of the famous Google Two, Page & Brin, this is precisely the sort of thing I'd be working on.
I'm now off to Liverpool Academy to see The Raconteurs. It's the "hottest ticket" in town this week. It's enough to make me feel trendy.

An All Too Close Encounter

Early Saturday morning sees me on my way to work. It's 5.35 a.m., dark, as you'd expect, & I'm approaching a footbridge over the Leeds Liverpool Canal. A youth approaches me from a side path which runs parallel with the canal.
"Have you got a light, mate?", he calls.
"Sorry mate, don't smoke," I reply, my street savvy mechanism whirring into action as I slow my stride.
The youth then says, "You want to watch it, mate."
"Watch what?", I reply, eyeing him warily.
He repeats the warning. Within a few seconds three youths, all hooded, cross the bridge in my direction.
The youth who warned me calls out to them that they should "leave it".
I decide, in my best "fuck you" mode to sidestep them on the bridge. They move toward me, one of them has what seems to be a ski mask.
"Where d'ya want it, mate?" he demands.
Within a millisecond I spot the large kichen knife he's brandishing. I decide to say as little as possible; a single word could act as a trigger.
A brief, but all too tense, standoff ensues, during which time one of the three who had crossed the bridge mumbles, "We just want your money, mate".
That much was crystal clear to me. At the first opening, I decide to hightail it back towards home just a few hundred yards away (I also surprise myself by sprinting in heavy shoes).
An initial phone call on my mobile phone to the police is followed by a call from home to my workplace. A squad car arrives within 20 minutes & two officers take a statement. It transpires that there had been a report of a postal worker being threatened by youths answering the descriptions I've given approximately 30 minutes before my encounter.
Most of Saturday morning is taken up with a visit to my workplace by another officer, who takes a full statement. He drives me back to the scene of the incident. He scans the scene, then says, "Bingo!"
A bar, at the side of the road leading to the footbridge, has a CCTV camera pointed in the direction of the bridge. Inquiries are made with a female cleaner at the bar. The bar owner can be contacted on Monday morning, she says.
"The officer, who reminds me slightly of John Simm in "Life On Mars", notes wryly, "He will be".

Update: Apathy Gets A Jolt

There I was before, musing that, perhaps, too much spare time to fill today (I'm off work). Then I came across this article in the print version of today's Guardian which I've now found a link to on their website: (http://guardian.co.uk/usa/story/0,,1883730.html ).
As singer/songwriter, musician & all round decent chap, David Byrne remarks in the piece, "I kept saying to myself, OK, these are the Christian version of the Madrasas.....So both sides are pretty much equally sick."

Inertia & Urgency Part II

My brother's wedding passed off successfully. I had been secretly dreading it. Family occasions always have what could be termed "minefield" potential. You know the sort of thing, long-suppressed feuds, petty resentments, mind games, etc. Everything appeared to go to plan at a civil ceremony in a hotel/conference centre in Aughton.
Inevitably, I was asked about my own single status & whether I was happy with it. I had my response ready.
"So, when is it your turn?", cooed a well-meaning, but uncomfortably intrusive female relative.
"When Everton win the Champions League", I smiled, before downing another glass of wine.
Ah, yes, the booze. There was lots of it. Not so much as to provoke any arguments or indiscretions, at least, not as far as I am aware. I staggered from the proceedings at a family friend's house later on that evening. I considered going to a local pub to catch the Liverpool v. Newcastle game, but my laboured lurches which passed for walking by this stage persuaded me not to go there.

Despite Labour's conference in Manchester this week, nothing in the world of politics has stirred my curiosity or emotions, a reflection of the state of politics & the appallingly low level of political debate rather than indiference or apathy to politics per se. However, I did enjoy Steve Bell's cartoon in this morning's Guardian; it sums up the egos & vain posturings, in their differing ways, of Blair & Precott ( http://www.guardian.co.uk/cartoons/stevebell/0,,1883888,00.html ).
Of rather more interest to me in the last week or so has been some of the postings on the Guardian's "Comment Is Free" weblog ( http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree ).

Inertia & Urgency

A lot to relate later this week, hopefully Thursday. Tomorrow sees my brother's wedding. Expect a much more personal post about this, for obvious reasons.

From The Past To The Present

Another nostalgia fest has come & gone. The Matthew Street Festival was little different to previous years. It should be said that this was the first time the organisers appeared to acknowledge that there is a modern Liverpool music scene; a stage was set aside at the Pier Head for local, unsigned bands. That said, however, when set against the backdrop of unashamed 60s nostalgia, it did seem like an afterthought.

Saturday evening was spent at a fundraising dinner for the Merseyside Stop The War campaign. The dinner was held at the restaurant of the city's Roman Catholic cathedral. Cue witticisms from us atheists & agnostics about the absence of children & their possible whereabouts within the cathedral grounds. It was pleasant, rather than rousing. Guest speaker was Bruce Kent, who rambled amiably about the Middle East & Afghanistan. A selection of Paul Robeson spirituals rounded off the evening. Nothing startling about Bruce Kent's comments. Well, that is if you don't think that both Bush & Blair should be hauled up before the International Criminal Court at The Hague for war crimes.
This year's Labour Party Conference takes place later this month in Manchester, so, given the short distance between the two cities, I'm tempted to join many others as they gather outside the conference venue to "welcome" Blair.

A Crushing Victory?

Spotted in what used to be the Anfield Kop two weeks' ago at the start of the Liverpool v. Maccabi Haifa Champions' League tie was the Lebanese flag. Until a couple of months' ago I wouldn't have immediately identified it. I've written before about the unease I always felt when comment turned to the Middle East (it's bad enough trying to form an articulate & consistent argument about Ireland, the Israel/Palestine saga makes the Irish troubles seem like a neighbourhood spat).
However, it did make me smile, given the arrogance & contempt most Israelis (& yes, I do say MOST Israelis) seem to have not just for the people of Lebanon, but for any outsiders who question the carnage visited upon millions of innocent civillians. Yes, I realise what Hizbollah is all about, & the idea of living under a global caliphate isn't my idea of a happy future, yet the response to the abduction of two Israeli soldiers (who have yet to be released) has been militarily counter productive & diplomatically disastrous.

It's been a strange week in which the voice of rational, practical reason over the immigration debate has come from, not the TUC, they're hiding in the forest of cowardice, but the CBI. Yes, the same CBI that cheered on Thatcher as she devastated whole communites in the 80s. Admittedly, Digby Jones has been viewing the issue through the prism of free market capitalism, but it has served as an effective rejoinder to the naked racism which has accompanied the latest immigration figures.
It is, however, nice to see that a local arm of what still calls itself the Labour movement has responded to the feral sniffings of the BNP. A leaflet popped through my letter box last weekend from Sefton TUC, making fairly basic, yet salient points about the fascists. It may seem simplistic for anyone reading this blog whose reading habits normally end with the Guardian, Independent, etc. but one extract from the leaflet merits reproduction here, & I make no apology for quoting it in its entireity:
"The claim that asylum seekers are living in luxury is a total myth. Asylum seekers cannot claim mainstream benefits. If destitute, they can only apply for basic food and shelter. A single adult is eligible for £38.96 a week, equivalent to 70% of basic income support. A Home Office report shows that people born outside the UK, including asylum seekers, contribute 10% more to the economy in taxes and national insurance than they consume in benefits and public services-equivalent to a boost to the economy of £2.6 billion in 1998/99. Britain, the world's fourth largest economy, is ranked 9th in Europe in 2003 in terms of asylum applications per capita. The world's poorest countries both produce and have responsibility for most refugees."

Liverpool is preparing for this weekend's Matthew Street Festival. There appear to be heartening signs this year that the organisers have been made aware of today's music scene in the city. We'll know for sure this weekend.

A Time To Rage?

Well, Sheridan had his day, or rather month, in court & emerged victorious. Whatever the conflicting accounts of the case, it seems clear that the News Of The World's reputation was also up for judgement in the Edinburgh court. In siding with Sheridan, a majority of the jury indirectly gave their own verdict on what is probably Murdoch's most venal outlet of propaganda.
As Sheridan & his wife emerged triumphant from court on Friday (looking almost Clintonesque in their sartorial splendour) it would have been tempting to add the image to those of other instances of wronged individuals having turned the tables on their accusers. This time, however, it was different.
One of those who was called to give evidence in support of the allegations was the SSP's trade union convenor, Richard Venton. I knew Venton on Merseyside during the 80s when he was the leading full-timer for the Militant. Even though my own political views have changed since then, considerably, it must be said, I have always regarded Venton as being a man of his word. So when Venton gave his testimony, more in sorrow than anger, by all accounts, that he attended the SSP meeting at which Sheridan admitted to visiting swingers clubs, the whole affair began to crystallize in the eyes of many who had been torn up to that point.
[This is a point I've twice made on the Guardian's "Comment Is Free" weblogs, amid shrill, partisan & downright ignorant postings on the matter.]
What now for the comrades in Scotland? Part of me couldn't care less; the SSP still clings to the utopian nostrum that a Soviet-style planned economy is attainable. However, the fall-out from the Sheridan case promises to be ghoulishly fascinating. It appears that a split will emerge on the old Trotskyite sectarian lines. Sheridan's old comrades from the Militant were most vociferous in their criticism of him, while the SWP element in the SSP have wasted no time in welcoming the verdict as a vindication of the former leader.

Meanwhile, the so-called Holy Land continues to take an almost carnal pleasure in carnage. Margaret Beckett has clearly been rattled by the criticism of her performance & the observation that she has gone from 80s Bennite firebrand to Blair's supine supplicant. It's prompted her to make the risible claim that the criticism of her is rooted in sexism (http://observer.guardian.co.uk/politics/story/0,,1838342,00.html ).

Echoes of the past

As someone who normally has little time for nostalgia, certain stories in the last few days have forced me to cast my mind back to times past.
The death was announced last week of Ted Grant (http://politics.guardian.co.uk/politicsobituaries/story/0,,1831179,00.html ). This obituary, penned by Bob Wade, whom I vaguely recall, is a sympathetic, &, at times, fawning portrait of Grant.
Wade is on strong ground when recounting the facts: "By the 1970s [entryism] began to pay dividends. Within a decade the Militant Tendency was a household name, with 8,000 members, three MPs, a seat on the TUC, control of Labour's youth section, effective control of Liverpool council and more full-time organisers than the Labour party."
All of which is true. It was a high watermark for revolutionary socialism in the U.K. Hatton was the de facto leader of Liverpool City Council (John Hamilton, the nominal leader, was tolerated, even benignly indulged, by the organisation; as long as the real position of power & responsibility lay with Hatton, no one cared about official titles). Similarly, in the Labour Party Young Socialists (LPYS), the youth section was the best possible recruiting vehicle for those in their late teens & early 20s from working class estates throughout the Thatcher years.
Wade's obit then takes a more partisan turn: "Grant...was beginning to see the writing on the wall from the Soviet Union, in that there would not be a 'political revolution' as he had previously predicted, following the collapse of Stalinism, but instead a triumphant West and an ideological counter-revolution."
This little bit of revisionism needs nipping in the bud. The fact is that Grant & his entourage left the organisation in the early 90s because they refused to accept the analysis of people like Peter Taafe that capitalism was, indeed, returning to Russia. I readily recall many a speech & article by Grant as late as the early 90s to this effect (one Grant peroration at a London conference, I remember, included the words, "Capitalism will never return to Russia!", the word "never" being roared, not just spoken).

At the time of the "split" the Tories were pushing ahead with the poll tax, using Scotland as a dry run for its introduction in the rest of Britain. Tommy Sheridan emerged as a natural leader & spokesman in the anti-poll tax movement. For all his political sincerity, a not altogether healthy entourage began to follow in his wake. Having seen a near identical pattern in Liverpool with Hatton, I treated Sheridan cautiously. The libel case he's been fighting with the "News Of The World" in a Glasgow court this month reaches its conclusion this coming week. I make no comment on the allegations which have been at the heart of the case, not just for legal reasons, but because none of the protagonists on both sides emerge with credit & dignity from this episode. (http://observer.guardian.co.uk/focus/story/0,,1833385,00.html ).

Here's something I don't like to admit, but Tony Blair made a valid point this week. Not over Iraq or Lebanon (still scampering & panting around Bush at the Washington press conference on Thursday).
No, the reasonable point he made concerned the rise of what are, let's be honest, self-inflicted ailments which doctors, nurses & GPs are being asked to treat: (http://politics.guardian.co.uk/publicservices/story/0,,1830606,00.html ).
I'm becoming incresingly exasperated with parents I see in public, taking their, sometimes frighteningly young, offspring into fast food emporia as a "treat". Ignorance is no longer a defence. Enough has been established by now to convince parents that giving young children fast food as a substitute for a proper meal amounts to a form of child abuse.

Dissecting stupidity

A week away from work which has largely been spent at home. The dubious attractions of cable TV relaying images of a globe with a death wish.
When I was a kid summer heatwaves would be seen as a Good Thing, a chance for the kids to amuse themselves while the parents could get some respite. Not any more. These days, consistently high temperatures are seen in the context of global warming. A sobering thought to act as an effective antidote to the facile cheers of those who don't think about the long term effects of being baked.
In the 1980s there were certain causes which many of us on the revolutionary Left embraced. Nicaragua, as well as the rest of Latin America was a pet topic. The Middle East, on the other hand, we tended to avoid, save for the occasional vague hope that the PLO would adopt a more Socialist path. For the most part, however, concerning ourselves with an issue which went back millenia & invoked religion (fundamentalist religion at that) made us atheists & agnostics feel deeply uneasy. The news coming from the Middle East in the last week paints a grotesque portrait of a region still mired in 12th Century theological arguments, yet using 21st Century military technology.
Feeding on feelings of unease caused by a world in flux & turmoil are the far Right. It was my misfortune to have a BNP leaflet pushed through my letter box over the weekend. Before binning the offending piece of paper, I decided to make a note of the glaring inconsistencies in their position. I have always thought that the fascists display stupidity & bigotry in equal measure. The leaflet confirmed that.
IMMIGRATION: "On current demographic trends, we, the native British people, will be an ethnic minority in our own country within sixty years."
[The source for the "current demographic trends" is not named. Nor do they care to define "the native British people". Celts, Vikings, Saxons, Normans, Hugenot French, & let's not forget the Romans, have all helped make British identity down the centuries. We know that these creatures don't see anyone from an Afro-Caribbean or Asian background as being British, so we'll just observe that the white British identity the BNP claims to represent is drawn from different parts of Europe.]
The BNP say they will "encourage the increase in the British birthrate which is the only real answer to the looming demographic crisis of an ageing population."
[The hapless lads who read the "ladmags" & surf "adult" websites will, presumably, be the shock troops in this Aryan baby boom; they'll think Christmas has arrived early.]
ECONOMY: "Globalisation, with its export of jobs to the Third World, is bringing ruin & unemployment to British industries & the communities that depend on them Accordingly, the BNP calls for the selective exclusion of foreign-made goods from British markets."
[Shall you tell them, or shall I? Wake up & smell the coffee, boneheads!]
NORTHERN IRELAND: "Long term, we wish to end the conflict in Ireland by welcoming Eire as well as Ulster as equal partners in a federation of the nations of the British Isles."
[Ah, now, isn't that nice of them to welcome the Irish Republic & its people back into Britain's bosom after the failed experiment of Irish independence & sovereignty spanning more than 80 years!]
EDUCATION: "We will...seek to instil {sic} in our young people knowledge of & pride in the history, cultures & heritage of the native peoples of Britain."
[Waterloo, yes. Peterloo, no. Hang on, isn't this line dangerously close to saying Britain is multi-cultural & multi-racial? I know it hurts your heads, folks, but do try to THINK before you come out with this crap.]

I do not wish for one moment to minimise the threat that the fascist filth pose. However, it is necessary from time to time to highlight the stupidity which underpins their arguments.

When the scales fall off your eyes

Many will be disillusioned by Blair over his paean of praise for nuclear power today. Some may even feel betrayed, though this is more a reflection of their own naivety than Blair's true nature. Long, long ago, way back in 1997, there was a feeling shared by many, including, I noticed at the time, those who voted Tory, that there really was change in the air. The late Robin Cook spoke confidently about "an ethical foreign policy". I held my tongue. True, the temptation to tell all & sundry that they were in for a rude awakening offered its sweet allure. But, no, I thought, let 'em learn the hard way. Sure enough, the severity of that lesson has been apparent to those poor saps in the last four or five years (many gave Blair extra time in the immediate wake of 9/11).

The bloggers have secured their first big political hit on this side of the Atlantic over the Prescott affair. Even though Guido Fawkes (5thnovember.blogspot.com/ ) & I come from different political & philosophical places, I have to congratulate him on the digging he's done on one of the most hypocritical figures in New Labour ( & that's saying something!). I won't mention the name of the female Labour MP named by Guido whom, he claims, is Prescott's other mistress, not because the claim is risible (it isn't), but because you never know if a loophole can be found, & it's found that a blogger can be sued for libel. [Interestingly, the MP named on Guido's blog has, obviously, denied the story, yet declined to take legal action.]

A measure of just how far I've made my own political journey over the last decade and a half was instantly apparent to me last Saturday when More4 screened the Alan Bleasedale serial, "GBH". When it was first aired on Channel 4 in 1991 I was still very much an active member of the Militant. By a strange quirk of scheduling (at the time we were more cynical about its timing) the first episode was shown in the middle of the Liverpool Walton by-election, a contest noted for its bitterness, dirty tricks & open hostility. Both sides were guilty; I recall telling people on the doorstep that Kilfoyle had something VERY dodgy to hide.
It was an open secret in the organisation that Bleasedale's drama was a thinly-veiled portrait of Derek Hatton. Bleasedale denied that the drama's main protagonist, Michael Murray, was wholly based on Hatton's character. We claimed that it amounted to nothing more than character assassination. Looking back, both protestations were wrong. It's ironic that another totemic leader of the Trotskyite Left, Tommy Sheridan, is now revealed to have, ahem, feet of clay.

Keep your rosaries off the ovaries!

A week in which the world's headlong dash over the precipice continues apace. In the midst of sundry horrors which made me wonder if The Enlightenment was just a con-trick perpetrated by successive generations of historians, the Catholic church leapt into the fray like an eager participant in a bar fight. You'd think by now that the Catholic church, its credibility on matters pertaining to the treatment of children on a par with Michael Jackson's, would, at least, keep quiet for a while on its old hobbyhorse of Abortion. Well, think again. They made rumbling noises in the U.K. media last week about lowering the limit for terminations. The church knows that this tactic is the only one that would possibly be effective; if they had the balls to come straight out & say that they wanted a complete ban on abortion in all circumstances, much of the misguided consideration being given to their fundamentalist stance would soon dissipate. Michael White brilliantly dissected the intellectual dishonesty of the Vatican's position on the Guardian's "Comment Is Free" blog (http://commentisfree.guardian.co.uk/michael_white/2006/06/post_165html ).

Much sniggering over the epithet uttered by Margaret Beckett, who once memorably savaged Neil Kinnock for abstaining in the Labour Party deputy leadership election rather than support Tony Benn, but the real cause for offence lies surely in her thinly veiled acknowledgement that if Bush decides to target Iran, Britain will be there as customary lap dog (http://politics.guardian.co.uk/labour/story/0,,1807797,00.html ).

Idealism, ah, yes, I remember that!

Once upon a time there was a rather gauche, solicitous, eager to please Labour Party member called Tony. He even went to the trouble of writing a long letter to Michael Foot in 1982, proclaiming his faith in radical socialist policies (no, don't laugh). Alas, the 80s were lost to the Tories & Tony came to swallow rather more poisonous nostrums as the decade wore on. By the start of the next decade Tony's metamorphosis was pretty well complete, &, well, the rest, as they say, is modern history (http://www.newstatesman.com/200606190031 ).
Accompanying this week's New Statesman in this morning's mail was a leaflet from something calling itself the "LabOUR Commission" --the typography is deliberate--, stating its aim to bring accountability & inner democracy back to Labour. The individuals behind LabOUR consist of those who would have been on the soft Left 20 years' ago, & who then bit their tongues as the New Labour "project" proceeded apace; Michael Meacher, Tony Robinson (yes, Baldrick himself) & Billy Hayes (general secretary of my union) are the most prominent names. I wish them well, but I don't hold out much hope for their mission (I also can't help but reflect wryly on the flawed political perspective of these individuals over the last two decades). Under the sub heading, "How you can help", they declare, "LabOUR needs to know why you joined the party, if you left the party why and what might make you want to join in the future." Got a spare weekend, brothers & sisters?
For the record, email: office@labourcommission.org.uk .
Website: www.labourcommission.org.uk .

Mersey Mayhem

A link to Saturday's events in Liverpool & other parts of the country: http://football.guardian.co.uk/worldcup2006/story/0,,1796292,00.html .
The local media, including the local BBC outlets, have affected astonishment at the way things transpired. Gullibility among the local hacks? No way. More like a juicy story which can be breathlessly related to the middle class wannabes who somehow perceive the Liverpool Echo as a local journal of record.
I do have some sympathy for the BBC. They have been portrayed as irresponsible & blithely indifferent to the consequences of showing England's match on the big screen. Instead, the antics of the local intelligentsia, fuelled by cheap booze, grilled by hot temperatures & spoiling for a fight with anyone, was the sole cause of the mayhem.
The people at the Liverpool Culture Company (www.liverpool08.com ) are paid to be spin doctors, among other things. They will therefore seek to downplay this episode as an isolated act involving just a handful of lumpen scallies. The reality is greater & darker, tapping into a local mindset which has long revelled in a fug of self-pity & fecklessness.

Different wavelengths

The phone rang just as I sneezed. Great, I thought, a snifly croak of a voice with which to answer. There was a slight delay when I picked up the phone, no more than half a second, but sufficient to tell me that a call centre somewhere on this globe was on my case. The male caller mispronounced my surname. I stiffened. Jumping straight in with his pitch, he asked me if I had read the Times recently.
"Nooo," I averred.
The caller persisted, seemingly oblivious to the tone of my response, telling me of the paper's "merits".
"Which paper do you normally read?" he chirruped.
"The Guardian," I said.
Warming to a theme that had started to buzz around my brain, I casually informed him that I hadn't read the Times for many years.
"Oh, any reason for that?" he bubbled.
"Rupert Murdoch," I said, the syllables of the name being enunciated with audible disgust.
The penny dropped. He remarked that a lot of the people didn't seem to like Murdoch. You don't say, I was tempted to comment, but didn't. He quickly bade me farewell.
"Have a nice day," he whimpered.
"You too," I smiled before replacing the receiver.

The hot weather has coincided with a plethora of English flags. Otherwise sane individuals have succumbed to the infantile orgy of nationalism. England's first game this afternoon saw them labour to a single goal victory over the mighty Paraguay. The ruddy featured John Bulls grunted & belched their relief at the final whistle.

Across the pond the influence of the bloggers continues to rise exponentially, as confirmed in today's New York Times (http://www.nytimes.com/2006/06/10/us/10bloggers.html ).
Writing in the same edition, columnist Maureen Dowd freely confesses her mixed feelings at the bloggers convention in Las Vegas.

The Ostrich Summit

A revealing cameo from my workplace this afternoon. Three middle aged female colleagues & I were lamenting our new working environment. The arrogance of management was commented on sourly by all. Then it all went very Daily Mail.
Ostrich 1: "'Course, the government are quite happy for this to carry on, it means they can bring in more asylum seekers."
Eh?
Ostrich 2: "Yeah, that's why our kids won't get a decent wage when they start work. These Arabs work for nothing, so Tony Blair's gonna do f*** all about it."
Let me get this straight, you're blaming asylum seekers, Arab or otherwise, for the lousy wages that employers can pay young workers. And it's all with Tony Blair's agreement?
Ostrich 3: "These foreigners are ruining it for our kids. They've got no chance while more of them stream into the country."
This learned exchange continued for a further ten minutes or so, by which time I was grateful to leave The Brains Trust & deliver a package to another department.

And We Won't Build Jerusalem In England's Green & Pleasant Land

Out with the old, in the new (excuse the cliche). I didn't need any battalions of advisers, spin merchants, PR creatures, etc. lurking in the undergrowth. The blog's new persona begins here.
Under increasingly clear blue skies the preponderance of English flags on cars, vans, lorries & even bikes has grown exponentially. It sucks. I am too aware of my own family background (Liverpool/Irish) to buy into this nationalistic gangbang. Every so often I'm asked if I "support" England in the football tournaments. I just smile & say that I'm a Liverpool fan, period. Diplomatic, but, hopefully pointed.
Musically, I've been listening to Willie Nile's "The Day I Saw Bo Diddley In Washington Square", Jamie Liddel''s "Multiply" & Howe Gelb's "But I Did Not".

Bagpipes on Scotland Road

An inordinate amount of time has elapsed since my last posting. Several reasons for this, some trivial, some not so trivial. I've been thinking long and hard about what to do with this blog & the changes I need to make to it, as I feel it was limping along, not so much injured, more laboured, hazy & unfocused; the attempt to maintain a broadbrush approach to the blog, refusing to devote postings to a particular subject, hasn't worked so far. The changes will become apparent in the near future. The frequency of the postings will also increase. Less can be more, but not in this case.
Politically, the local elections duly delivered on their promise to give New Labour a hefty kick in the John Prescotts. No real surprises, the BNP did make gains, but no more than had been predicted. Locally, the political permafrost failed to crack, the area I live in is tribally Old Labour in an unhealthily dinosaur-like way.

It's a sign of these politically neutered times that the event to get people on Merseyside worked up recently was the FA Cup final & the subsequent homecoming. That said, however, the match was memorable & the homecoming on the Sunday was impressively colourful. True, there weren't as many on the streets as last year when the squad returned from Istanbul, but then again, that was a one-off in various ways. On Scotland Road I noticed a lone piper leading a throng of delerious Liverpool fans on a demented pied piper procession up & down the thoroughfare prior to the coach's arrival.

Musically, the highlight has been the Springsteen album, "We Shall Overcome: The Seeger Sessions". I saw Springsteen with the band in Manchester just over two weeks' ago & it was simply breath-taking. The album is reminiscent of Dylan & Costello in their journeys into the heart of early American popular music. Cajun, folk, blues, worksong, gospel, etc. are all reflected.

Things can only get better

The chickens are coming home to roost, to employ a well-worn phrase, for Blair's New Labour. Until now it has been premature in the extreme to pen this creature's obituary. An electoral machine made up of contradictory, disparate forces, it has surprised even its own acolytes by lasting this long. As I write, the polls have closed in the local elections. For Tony Blair 1997 must seem like decades ago.
A bizarre, yet toxic trinity of Clarke, Hewitt & Prescott has reduced Blair's government to a laughing stock. OK, so Clarke's incompetence at the Home Office over foreign offenders (what a boon to the BNP in the local election campaign, expect them to make gains tonight) is not to be treated with levity. It does, however, remind me of a bumbling, overwhelmed middle manager, woefully out of his depth, yet dementedly babbling to his boss, & anyone else within earshot, that all is well, apart from one or two "operational difficulties".
Time was when local election night would have seen me calling on confirmed Labour voters to ask if they had voted, or if they needed a lift to the polling station. How times change.
STOP PRESS: A blog written by the political editor of the New Statesman, Martin Bright, tonight contained new revelations about one particular released prisoner which will probably drive the final nail into Clarke's coffin.