Lies, damned lies and statistics.

One in five, that’s a lot, isn’t it? Less than a quarter maybe, but 20% of most groups, collections or accumulated masses is usually quite a large number. If one in five of, say, all the residents in your neighbourhood suddenly disappeared it wouldn’t take you long to notice the difference. If one in five people suddenly upped and left this country for pastures new pretty much everything would change, everyone would notice. Life in the UK would change considerably and very significantly.

So, in the context of the population of the UK, I’m prepared to stick my neck out here and say that one in five is an unbelievably massive figure. One in five- less than a quarter but not that far short- still one heck of a lot!



If only! Thanks to Cle0patra's photostream

One in five, incidentally, is the number of people deemed to be living in poverty in the UK: thirteen million people, 3.8 million children, 2.2 million pensioners and, get this, 7.2 million working people. This might bring into question the figure at which the minimum wage is currently set- too low perhaps? Either that or else the will to enforce this minimum is sorely lacking.

Six million, now that’s also a lot. Far less open to abuse or misinterpretation as a statistic; whereas one in five rather depends upon the size of the sample to which we’re referring six million is always going to present as being on the large size. Anyway six million, that’s the number of sub-standard houses currently still occupied in the UK. Six million; just to enable you to get your head around this one that's every house in London, and some!

So, one in five people living in poverty and six million sub-standard houses still occupied in the UK. That’s hardly surprising you might- if you’re extremely naïve- be thinking, given that we’re in the midst of one of the biggest recessions in many peoples’ living memories. And, as we’ve already been reminded, far more often than is diplomatically sensitive, ‘we’re all in this together.’

I’m guessing that this is perhaps the ‘light’ in which ‘our’ government would encourage us to view these statistical facts. Somewhat disingenuous this would be, but then, if you’ve taken much of an interest in the machinations of the New Labour machine, you would be most unlikely to expect anything else.

But just in case you might be tempted to go along with this mode of thought, let’s all remind ourselves, shall we, that the good ol’ ‘third way’ thinking UK managed to achieve these targets not during this recession, but during the so called ‘boom’ years that preceded it.

‘Booming’ Britain actually brought about not only a climate in which one in five people might live in poverty and six million occupied homes might slip into a state deemed unfit for human habitation but also the climate in which this horrendous disparity between rich and poor was thought, in many circles, to be a price worth paying.

Just in order to dwell for a little longer within this stench of hypocrisy, ‘we’ created a society where the choice few were left free to accumulate property, land, shares, holidays, yachts and riches beyond all sense of decency, while millions lived in or approaching poverty. Of those who have 'managed' to negotiate a route through a mortgage of maybe five or more times their annual income, without having their home repossessed somewhere along the way, many have watched the cost of living spiral beyond reach, until they could no longer afford to carry out basic repairs upon their own homes. And these were the ‘boom’ years, don’t forget.



Thank you blech's photostream

And now that these ‘days of plenty’ are behind us, suddenly, ‘we’re all in this together.’ Am I the only one struggling to swallow this bovine waste-matter?

A raving idiot- ‘cos that’s what you’d have to be- might have expected ‘our’ Chancellor to claw back some of those millions from the crooks (is it permissable to use this generic term for the city boys?), or for those caught with their fingers in the cookie jar to hang their heads in shame and repay some of those fiddled expenses. I, however, would contest that the term, ‘we’re all in this together,’ entrusted to the wrong lips, will continue to shift ‘seamlessly’ from general population to the outrageously wealthy, or vice versa, as frequently as is deemed necessary in order to ensure that the British people will almost certainly never find themselves in any situation, ‘all together.’



Thank you bre pettis' photostream

If you, like my lovely niece, have spent a significant number of years working in the ordinary ranks of the public sector, you will no doubt recall the New Labour mantra that, ‘we must not allow run away pay rises to damage our ‘booming’ economy.’ Thus, you will also have endured a decade of pernicious pay restraints that sought to deplete your purchasing power, whilst ensuring that those at the top were not to be ‘overly’ burdened by things such as taxes.

Now that the bubble has burst, does it not strike you as a tad unfair to be cited, yet again, as the sacrificial lamb? Don’t forget, ‘we’re all (supposed to be) in this together!’

Aspirations.

Aspirations? Maybe the names that some parents give to their children, wishing perhaps that these might, mysteriously and inexplicably, impart some minute aspect of that celebrity ‘privilege’ that saturates our TV screens and tabloids, or else a tiny fragment of glitter, plucked furtively from the pavement recently trodden by last week’s pop princess? Aspirations, for all their obvious shortcomings, may yet be a furtive glimpse at the starry heavens of a far superior world.

Of course, there’s absolutely nothing wrong with having realistic aspirations, the world would be a great deal less exciting without these hopes and dreams. It may be ridiculously easy to find fault with some of the more deluded ones but the best are wonderfully ambitious and may yet conspire to conjure munificence from the very aether.

A fine example of aspirational thinking might be the concept of ‘democracy’. Haven’t we all heard it said, “It may not be perfect, but it’s the best we’ve got”? And it’s difficult to argue with this premise, not impossible but quite a challenge given many of the alternatives currently in operation. “Not perfect, but the best that we’ve got,” discuss at leisure.



Thanks to paul goyette's photostream

Anyway, let’s allow that one to stand for the moment and consider, if you will, some of the various components within this, “best we’ve got,” society shall we? Maybe we should look more closely at the rise in the activity and impact of gang culture upon far too many of our town and city streets, maybe that yawning gap that separates the most wealthy in society from ‘their subjects’ and ‘lessers’? Alternatively we could spend a while analysing the alarming spread of anxiety- approaching obscene levels of stress- now ‘accepted’ amongst children who have yet to reach their teen years, or the patent disregard ‘we’- the general population- seem to have for our environment, or perhaps the means by which ‘information’ is ‘shared’ or distributed amongst the population via its ‘elected representatives’, those huge lumbering monstrosities, the Councils, or the ‘serving’ Police?



Thanks to paul goyette's photostream

We could ponder the detrimental affects of the National Lottery upon ‘our’ nation- some day to be recognised for the dangerous and cancerous growth it actually was- maybe the not so subtle affects it has had upon the oceanic currents and tides of monetary flow. We could contemplate the fact that late night TV now sinisterly encourages the lonely viewer to enter a virtual world of cowboy poker games where homes and families might be silently frittered away- mugging by another name?

One might argue that it would be unreasonable to hold the decision makers responsible for all of these ‘disconnected’ traits, within our society. This, of course, would be at best naïve, at worst horribly dishonest. You see, at some point in the decision making process someone has decided that the ghettoisation of certain neighbourhoods is a price worth paying in order to devote a police force to duties more business-friendly. Certainly the exponential rise in upper incomes has been offset against the stagnation of pay amongst the country’s poorest, who in turn will be more likely to live in the aforementioned abandoned neighbourhoods.

We could, at this point, choose to acknowledge that those most likely to ‘invest’ more heavily in the National Lottery will surely be drawn largely from those with the least to feel satisfied with. Like those final pieces of the giant jig-saw puzzle everything quickly becomes that much clearer, not really such chaos at all, unless you happen to be living right in the middle of it.

Is it really the case that each of the last seven UK elections has been won by the party that has ‘secured’ the support of the Sun Newspaper? If so we could break away, momentarily, to consider a more reflective and accurate wording for that ‘all important’ Blair legacy, when it finally becomes indelibly etched upon the golden plaque of national ‘heroism’, but let’s, instead, retain our current focus. Although I do think that this election fact (?) might shed some serious doubt upon the aspirational aspect of a so called democracy.



Thanks to paul goyette's photostream

Aspirations, the very word seems to conjure images of fairy-tale-like-perfection within my head, and yet the society I inhabit doesn’t, on the surface, appear to be awash with this manner of aims and ambitions. Instead, I see people tired with worry, worn-down by the stress that has been perniciously built into our working lives (as a motivational tool?), I see edgy and habitually confrontational individuals with enough hatred to power a small village, and I see life as the kind of poker game where the two of diamonds will every time trump a royal flush in the suit of hearts. I could attempt to take the analogy further, but I’m sure you get the picture- everything has been allotted a monetary equivalent, family security, love, life death, your very soul.

As we close in on yet another pointless and turgid General Election, listen to what real people are actually saying and, like me, you may conclude that most of them are not actually preparing to vote for someone, something, a belief, a hope; most are instead preparing to vote against a set of values that displeases, worries or appals them. Had the electorate ever been genuinely involved in the first place we might well be living in a very different world, addressing a completely different set of questions.

Here might be an appropriate place to shed some light on the ‘democratic’ anathema of the quango. Quango: a supposed non-government organisation, derived through non-democratic means, in order to carry out the work of government, thus not democratically accountable to the electorate. Sounds ‘promising’ for an aspiration of democracy, doesn’t it?



Thanks to paul goyette's photostream

A far more politically attuned individual than myself once summed up the presence of Quangos with these highly pertinent questions: “What power have you got?” “Where did you get if from?” “In whose interests do you exercise it?” “To whom are you accountable?” “And how can we get rid of you?” He went on to clarify that if we can’t get rid of those who govern us then we are not living in a democracy. Tony Benn might have added that if the numbers of Quangos are in the ascendancy then ‘aspirations towards democracy’ might therefor be considered to be in some peril.

To conclude this rather depressing consideration of aspirational democracy I feel bound to recall the awful case of Fiona Pilkington and her tormented daughter Francecca Hardwick, who were driven to suicide by a gang of feral thugs. One wonders what sort of changes to our aspirational society the more socially responsible residents of this neighborhood will be hoping for at the next election. But my final point really concerns the responses of the local police to the desperate pleas for help of these poor people, driven to the very edge and desperate beyond most powers to comprehend, and then the consequent remarks of the Home Secretary (Alan Johnson), once the situation had ‘progressed’ significantly beyond salvation. To summarise, the police response initially was (to paraphrase) that, “The mother was over-reacting to the issue.” The Home Secretary’s later addition to this was that the case was, “exceptional.”

So, are we to assume, on the one hand, that the police (taken at their word- never a wise move) regarded this systematic victimisation as acceptable youthful high-spiritedness? Or did they not fully and properly investigate the issues. Remember that these are the people we are required by law to rely upon in order to resolve these kinds of issues, we are not permitted to take action against these criminal activities, no matter how justified we might well be. On the other hand we have the Home Secretary telling us that the case was an “exceptional” one.

Is it just me, or do these two reactions seem to contradict one another?

It's easy to criticise.

Well, all too sadly, yes it is! And just because it is so easy it doesn't mean for a second that we shouldn't do it. Consider for a moment! What is the manner in which you are motivated to undertake the work for which you are paid? 'Motivation?' I can already sense some of you thinking, 'It's the need that I have to feed my family, it's as black and white as that!'



Good old fashioned values from Powerhouse Museum Collection's photostream

And this is a fair point. It 'worked' for the Victorians and it has continued to work, from back through the eons of Feudal Britain, right up until the present day. Yet we're supposed to be living under the auspices of a democratically elected government, aren't we? So I would say to you that if this (feeding and clothing the family) is your perceived purpose and reason for being at work then there is a fair chance that you are motivated through, at best, anxiety; frequently concerned that there isn't someone out there who can do your job cheaper than you, faster than you, better than you!



Real democracy in action. Thanks to National Media Museum's photostream

If you're not then I wish you well and would strongly advise you to stick with it! Genuine job satisfaction is not quite as common as you might have been led to believe. 'Twas a recent visit to the school of my grandson that caused me to ponder the issues raised. He'd been peripherally involved- that is witness to- an incident of bullying at his school. Not party to, I was more than a little relieved to discover. The Deputy Head Teacher was at great pains to explain to 'all present' that, 'bullying would not be tolerated at this school!'

Many of the parents in attendance were left in no doubt; this was a man of his word, but I detected the whiff of a thinly disguised reservation from the few. My grandson's class teacher was more candid, revealing, off the record, that bullying, 'like the weeds in your lawn' will never completely go away. My grandson was quick to concur.

Without dwelling overly much upon the school, she was clearly either less guarded about the facts or else considerably more in touch with her pupils. Had I known her as more than just my grandson's teacher I suspect that she might have revealed that bullying at this particular school was by no means confined to merely the pupils. Scratch the surface and…

We only need to search back a year or so to unearth the then Education Minister welcoming thousands of newly qualified teachers into their sparkling new posts with his (I'm sure it was a he) opinion that the profession was jam-packed with 'failing teachers'. What a warming thought, as many of them- yet to conduct their very first lesson- were already bracing themselves for the impending visit of Ofsted; a panel of glad-to-be-ex-exteachers and other nefarious would-otherwise-have-been-bailiffs, eager to fabricate failings in yet another school.

It's often the same amongst the children; the big bully at the top begets smaller, don't-rock-the-boat, bullies. 'Trickle down,' I think a once immense bully who really is best forgotten might have called it.



Mmmm... Thank you to quixotic54's photostream

And the Faeries? Let's just hope and pray that they continue to show no interest in the hierarchical machinations of our society.

And then there were none.

"So where have all of those police officers gone?" you might well ask. To be fair, it’s a question that really does need to be more fully addressed. New Labour- whoops, I can already sense facets of my aspiration towards open debate spinning beyond my reach- have done little else other than seek to ‘reassure’ us that the numbers of police officers ‘serving’ ‘our’ country have steadily risen to record highs.



Not working for you. Thanks to adotjdotsmith's photostream

And let’s not forget, whilst alluding to the current chosen mode of political debate, spin that is, that New Labour are only following strict guidelines laid down clearly by their predecessors. Just in case I’ve lost a couple of you here, yes, we did have a change of government back in 1979- blink and you might have missed it- even though it might now seem to have been little more than a long-forgotten illusion of despairing hope. Naturally, hopelessly unachieved!

So why is it then that the streets, about which we are justified in having certain concerns, seem to be so devoid of these appointed officers? Just where exactly are those armour-plated, luminous-yellow and ‘highly-trained’ ‘upholders of the law’?



And again. Thanks to adotjdotsmith's photostream

To be fair, and in the interests of balance, we can’t really blame the police force for the fact that the British love-hate affair with drink has gone tits up, can we? It’s not really their fault that every Friday and Saturday night sees our city streets strewn with alcohol addled 'party-goers', looking to 'share' their lack of social grace with all and sundry, invariably at considerable volume and cost to the poor locals.

Nor, would we be justified in blaming the force for the tribal mentality of some of our football-following males, driven, as they are, to ‘support’ ‘their’ team of multimillionaire Pre-Madonnas through hail, flood and famine. Never mind that any or all of these so-called ‘sporting idols’ might quit the club, without a second’s thought, were a more affluent contract to suddenly materialise.

Any fool knows that these fans will need to be segregated- as lions from zebra- for the duration, for the preservation of surrounding homes and streets and for the preservation of human life. Civilization, with all its little quirks and anomalies, you’ve got to love it.

I accept the sad fact that, as the planet’s dominant species, we can’t even manage to relate to one another during a supposed event of ‘organised entertainment’. This I accept, all be it reluctantly. Yet, even these damning indictments of humankind do not entirely explain where the vast majority of 'our' police force has been secreted. What about Wednesday evenings for example, when the pubs and clubs are relatively quiet? What about Sunday afternoon, maybe, when the local football team has no fixtures? What about these times?



And again! Thanks to adotjdotsmith's photostream

Had we still been living in, say, Tudor times or Medieval times or almost any other period in British history we might expect those charged with enforcing the law to be otherwise engaged. Perhaps they might be ensuring that the then monarch’s day was going to be one of uninterrupted self-indulgence, or they might be ‘helpfully’ clearing away untidy peasants from an area of royal expansionism, or they might be engaged in any number of activities as befits a unit of privately hired enforcers.



Yet again, from adotjdotsmith's photostream

But nowadays things have moved on a pace- ‘democracy’ and all that malarkey. No longer are our police officers there for the private hire of any wealthy company that might wish to expand its interests, bulldoze a particularly beautiful woodland or, heaven forbid rake up a Site of Special Scientific Interest to provide yet another golf course. ‘Democracy’ just doesn’t work like that any more.

My sincere belief is that the good force has been overwhelmed by the amount of Faerie activity that has been afoot. They don’t want you to worry, but I suspect they are far from in control of the situation.

Turn your talent to teaching.

Or, indeed, social work, why not? And don't the prospects appear so ‘idyllic’, when re-enacted upon the TV, ‘rewarding’ in the extreme? But, if things are quite so ‘rosy’ in these professions, as our 'wise' and 'benevolent' leaders would have us believe, why is it that a cash-strapped government, in the depths of a recession, is spending Lord alone knows how much upon recruitment advertising? You might well ask!



A touch of balance perhaps, from kaneda99's photostream

'Valued' workers in the 'forward-thinking' UK, come and join the party?

Factor in the likelihood of honest government representation, as conveyed through these advertisements- remember that adverts, by their very nature, are  at best subjective, almost always highly selective and frequently extremely misleading- and you’re possibly beginning to get a clearer picture of the situation. As a general rule professions that pay well and offer a great deal of spiritual reward, where the workforce is highly regarded, tend not to need a great deal of expensive advertising. Are they also still offering some sort of bribe to new entrants to the teaching profession?

Reading between the lines, I would say that this situation is more indicative of professions that are haemorrhaging their workforces, rather than those (government 'infomercials') that are ‘represented’ upon our TV screens almost every night of the week.



After the Offlower visit maybe, by Hamed Saber's photostream

But let’s be fair to Mr Woodhead and others of his ilk, before we draw the obvious conclusion where teaching is concerned; the one that is screaming to be drawn. He, and they, would not have been able to vent such effective distain upon the teaching profession if they hadn’t been appointed to do just that by a number of almost equally spiteful Education Secretaries, would they?

At least, when the Faerie race chooses to act out their unfortunate games upon the unsuspecting youth of today, it can almost certainly be assumed that spite is not high on the agenda. These actions are more like those of an ‘ignorant’ child pulling the wings from a crane fly, just to discover how it will react.

Be cruel to be kind.

Coffee mornings, love ‘em or hate ‘em, they’re a growing phenomenon in our society. Old people, you see; these days we generally live to well beyond our useful expiry date. What’s more most of us have ceased making those ‘useful contributions’ to our ‘egalitarian’ state, or so I’d thought.

We were wondering, at our last gathering, when this government (any government) might venture to ‘suggest’ that we should, like the sick and disabled, be ‘encouraged’ back into the workplace, if only to force down the wages of the already low paid. Market forces, you’ve got to ‘love’ them, haven’t you?

Bizarrely, most of us (we oldies) still seem to take ‘comfort’ in the words of the Daily Mail, The Sun, The Express, papers with their ‘eyes on the ball’, the 'voice' of the man and woman on the street. God preserve us! Thanks to these ‘quality’ tabloids our radars have been finely tuned to spot and home in on the divide and rule ‘stories’- I say ‘stories’- that these sort of rags like to excrete on a daily basis. Go on, give us somebody new to hate, someone to blame, someone worse off, anyone different will do! No wonder we all seem so eager to cut any ties with Europe and slink off into a miasma of racist, sexist (and any other ist you’ve got) putrefying fug.

Are you insane, no, of course we don’t rant like this, not outside of our coffee mornings anyway. When was the last time you actually spoke to a member of the older generation? Daffodils, the weather, the cost of groceries, that’s what we actually talk about.

So I was naturally more than a little surprised when Mavis- usually so quiet and content in ‘her’ corner, until the biscuits start to run out- started to list people that she personally didn’t much care for. Just between you and me, I think she’s still secretly fuming over MPs expenses. Just sort of started to mumble, she did, more to herself than anyone else, we thought, but before too long she’d captured the imagination of the whole group. Time to bite my tongue, I thought. They’re all, more or less, within my friendship circle so obviously I didn’t want to offend anyone- get me going and, well, best not even go there…

The surprise was really how much of the list- and, my God, it was a long one- I found myself nodding along with. No-one present had any time for the car racing youths that have come to blight Aylsham, or the police apologist that ‘leads’ the ‘Safer’ Neighbourhood meetings. Those of us that had ever bothered to attend were in agreement that honesty was not his strongest point. A number of regional characters were earmarked for particular distain, but I’d prefer to give them the benefit of the doubt for the present.

I’d thought the subject might soon peter out- they usually do, especially if one of those, ‘let's reignite the property market,’ programmes starts- but the list just went on and on. If nothing else, I was forced to concede, life under New Labour has herded the population into more camps than I ever thought possible. Fractured doesn’t even begin to say it!

I think I might actually have dropped off at one point- easily done in a sun-warmed lounge, with an endless supply of sweet tea- but the old bladder had other ideas. In the time it took me to wander along the corridor and back the subject had moved on a pace. I re-entered to a far more heated debate on the state of the Education System- full circle, I think, stemming from the earlier ‘boy racers’ comments- and how seriously it had been undermined by a long line of Education Secretaries. I was more than a little surprised that not a single member of our group was prepared to offer a counter argument. Lining up, they were, to condemn 'sweet-talking' Ed Balls. Even I almost felt sorry for him at one point. But obviously that wasn’t going to last long.

Then the name Chris Woodhead came up. Woodhead, I thought, do they mean the Chris Woodhead, the one that ate, breathed and slept hatred for his ‘fellow’ human beings? Aparently he’s ill; I’d thought- hoped really- that he was somewhat beyond that.



Thank you to kevindooley's photostream

Apparently he’s got motor neurone disease. I believe that he’s even been quoted as having said, 'I'd rather die than live.' ‘I am clear in my own mind that it is better to end it than continue a life that is extremely frustrating for me and onerous to others who are living with me,’ is what one paper quoted. Full circle, Chris, full circle! What goes around comes around!

At this point the conversation took a bit of a dip and we spend ten minutes or so discussing at what point in our old age we would rather just slip into that long final ‘sleep’ from which there is no return. My God, ‘count me out of any ensuing suicide pact,’ I was thinking.

I gather, from what I was able to unearth about the odious Mr Woodhead, that he is seriously thinking of ending his days when his memory really starts to fail. Now, my memory isn’t as good as it used to be- somewhat worrying at times- but I think Chris’s memory is already somewhat suspect. As ever, the issue remains very clouded; even before the motor neurone kicked in he was never given to moments of open-minded contemplation. Minds don’t come much more shuttered than that, I seem to remember thinking.



kevindooley's photostream

Well Chris, if you’ve really made up your mind, so long and good riddance, I say! You were never one for listening to a second opinion anyway. Just one thing though, before you go- and I do think it’s important that ‘dear’ ol’ Chris is made aware of this historical fact- it won’t be the first suicide that you’ll have caused, will it?

Was it ever documented, how many teachers were driven to suicide thanks to the sort of hateful regime with which Mr Chris Woodhead shackled the Educational System? I could be wrong but I don’t recall the ol’ so-and-so ever showing any great remorse over those deaths. Collateral damage, maybe Chris, eh? You’ve got to be cruel to be kind? A blinkered view of the 'wider' picture, no doubt.



kevindooley's photostream

We may be the older generation, the soft and cuddly, the worldly wise, too old to bother with all of those grudges and stuff. But, it occurred to one or two minds if there shouldn't be just cause for celebration, some time in the not too distant future, a jolly old knees-up! It was Mavis again who brought us all back down to earth- kept us true to the more acceptable face of pensioners- 'We may live in an angry and divided country,' she said, 'thanks, in part, to people like Mr Woodhead, but we're better than him, and I, for one, will not be celebrating the ol' sod's passing.' Made us all feel a little uncomfortable, it did.

Then she went on to tell us that she'd seen Faeries at the bottom of her garden.

Great minds at work?

Was I imagining it, or did it really happen? Surely someone with a sense of humour has created this one, carefully crafted its form, revised its potential to be taken seriously and pushed it out there to be considered, laughed at, and more sensibly dismissed as a pointless hoax. What do you think?

I could be wrong, I haven't actually got the time to devote to such nonsense. I really am fully committed to my own, far more pertinent, avenues of investigation. All the same, did I read that the tyres of vehicles upon Europe's roads are to be produced to a quieter overall standard, thus reducing the hiss of passing traffic? Tell me, please, that I imagined it!



Shh! Thanks to Cadigan's photostream

Am I the only person thinking, 'Oh, for the sound of hissing tyres to occasionally grace my ears, I might sell my very soul'? For these gently rounded creations to murmur more loudly than the gun-like-salvo of the speeding heavy goods vehicle, as it careers dangerously towards its next near miss or accident, whisper above the challenge of souped-up shrine-seeking youths, susurrate more clearly than the whining mosquito-engined toy-moped as it seeks out the next exclusive gathering of its kind, where the incessant revving of screaming engines might compete to cause the very ground to tremble. How on Earth will we recognise the passing of this world-changing event, so swamped will its meagre offering be?

Next, I'll be reading that the sales of exhausts with a diameter large enough to house a muscle-builder's leg have ceased, that the manufacture of cars that might easily treble the legal speed-limit is no longer permitted, or that Jeremy Clarkson has achieved gainful employment, working commitedly towards a more egalitarian and sustainable planet. Or, far more likely, it was all a dream and we are all sailing up said creek without said paddles- and that nobody thought to mention that ruddy great waterfall!



Silent night exemplified by doommeer's photostream

Distractions, who needs them? Or so I thought, but then isn't it funny how often, if you follow a false trail for long enough, it brings you back to the one true path? And what might all this have to do with Faeries, you're probably thinking.

N.B. The European Union has agreed a target of five years time, for the fitting of 'whispering tyres' to all (with the usual exemptions) European vehicles, thus reducing traffic noise by as much as two decibels per vehicle. I can barely contain myself.

We're all in this together.

And, of course, we are, deep in it! Facing the near-global crisis is something we might best tackle together. After all we did together dip our snouts deeply into the trough of plenty, during all of those ‘boom’ years, didn’t we?



Me, me, me... Thanks to Rose Davies' photostream

Then again- and I’m prepared to accept that this might be an ageing memory thing- did we? Did we really face those times in quite such a spirit of togetherness? Were we all mutual beneficiaries of the ‘good times’?

The nurses at the Norfolk and Norwich Hospital, to whom I owe much, the hard-working teachers and assistants at my grandson’s school, the millions of every-day workers whose wages have hovered on or about the minimum wage, the hundreds of thousands to whom purchasing a house was little more than an expensive pipe-dream, the unfortunate thousands who were mortgaged up to the hilt and beyond, who now expect to have their cherished homes repossessed, indeed the vast majority of the country’s population, did they all really share equally in the ‘boom’ years?



Boom times from peasap's photostream

What about those who have been relying entirely upon the state pension, having devoted perhaps more than fifty years to ‘the company’, or those who were never paid well enough to accrue a private pension, or those who did and were left with nothing, after the then Chancellor’s slight of hand? Did all of these people also bathe so lavishly in the ‘good times’?

'Kindly' Uncle George is eager to open up some ‘clear blue water’ between the parties. If he manages somehow to achieve this, I would urge you to be most suspicious of his choice of hue. Enchantment, I would imagine, illusions, smoke and mirrors, oh, and a tabloid press that have long since sold their black and corrupted souls. Uncle George, don't you forget, has quite an arsenal of the conjuror’s tools hidden away, up his expensively tailored sleeves.

You’ll, no doubt, recall the total absence of this ‘clear blue water’ during The ‘Blessed’ Tony’s 'Glorious' Reign. Couldn’t slot a proverbial cigarette paper between the two parties, could we? Oracle Rupert had decreed that it should be so, and thus it was. Not really democracy as such, is it? Saint Tony might (very, very rarely) have ‘heard’ what we were saying but, well, we all know, he wasn’t about to start listening to the silly old electorate, was he?

Yes, I know that the old adversaries continued to act out the same tired, overused scenario, time after time, in the old boys’ club but were we honestly taken in by all of that? There’s a reason, you know, why you can’t watch ‘Today in Parliament’ in high definition; it’s because, if your screen is huge enough, and you concentrate upon the eyes of the individuals present you might just be able to notice that the sparkle, that point of crystal reflected light, is not really a point at all; it’s actually a very tiny yet perfectly delineated dollar sign. If the Faeries are going to lavish their riches upon the ‘faithful’ they will still insist upon leaving that tiny mark of ownership upon the 'victim'. Not even a British pound sign, what does this tell us?



Thank you to PhotoGraham's photostream

I could use the expenses debacle to illustrate my point regarding which side of the dividing line the MPs have chosen to reside, but you’ve heard it all before, ‘I was acting entirely within the rules!’ 'Rules' I'm sure we’d all love to have a stab at!

My car is just a car, and it's nothing like a Golf.

Is it a quest? Am I in search of some modern version of, or alternative to, the Holy Grail? Am I driven, or compelled, by the challenges set before me?

Well, no, no and… probably no (I think). I do however believe, and with a burning sense of self-assuredness, that the Britain we think we know and understand is changing more quickly than we can possibly fathom, in ways that most of us can be only vaguely aware of, for the betterment of… well, it certainly ain't us, that's for sure. I don't lay claims to a greater or deeper insight than the next person, maybe just a shorter fuse!

While we're on the subject, I regard this as a duty; I definitely am not 'loving it'. As far as the research goes, 'every little helps' does not concur with my findings to date. That 'little extra' has contrived to be anything other than little or extra- or helpful. 'I'm worth it' has proven to be so far from the truth that words (almost) fail me. Far too frequently, I have found that it damn well does not 'do what it says on the tin'. And should I choose to call anybody about the matter 'who am I gonna call?' Well, it most certainly won't be '118 118'. So far, and with all things considered, I don't believe that I can 'feel the difference'. I have found it to be resoundingly the case that 'impatience is (not) a virtue'. And, as I look ahead, I can say, with an element of certainty, that 'the future is (not) orange'- undeniably something from a wider palette, a tertiary maybe, a very dark brown for instance. Oh, and my car is 'just a car', it is not 'an extension of my personality'.

Advertising, enriching the language of Shakespeare? Or conceivably not...

'Perfect' placement.

I absolutely love music, can’t get enough of it. At home, in the car, via the i-pod, when in the city or about town; there’s just so much talent out there. Whether it’s delving deep into the past, in order to unearth some previously unheard requiem, listening spellbound to the haunting strains of a newly discovered African oud player or just revisiting old favourites from the sixties, it often really doesn’t seem to matter.

I would say that music is one of my true passions. Therefore, it might seem somewhat strange to here read that it is also one of my pet hates. Or conceivably not. A love of something would necessarily hone and perfect one’s appreciation of such, would it not, leading one towards an ever greater discernment for what feels ‘right’ for one's self.



Atmosphere by Niall McAuley's photostream

Were you to stop me in the street or driving in my car you would not have the first clue as to what my particular taste in music was, that is unless you already knew me and had had the distinct ‘misfortune’ to have listened to me banging on about this artist or that composition, or the particular resonance of a favourite instrument. My music would not have been permitted to encroach upon your day.

You see, that’s really the thing about music, at its very best it’s sometimes going to be quite personal. Areas of common ground probably, but in the fine detail it’s got to be personal, hasn’t it, appreciated and listened to largely on a personal basis, at a volume that reflects particularly this aspect of its choosing? That, of course, is not to say that some people will not also choose to listen to their particular choice of music collectively, amongst others who will have chosen to do likewise.

So now allow me to attempt to explain also my absolute loathing for music. Surely I cannot be alone in recognising that music is an art form and, as such, cannot be loved, or even liked, by everyone when represented in just one dominant, invariably rather mediocre, form.

So, as I was attempting to explain, why a loathing for music, or some forms thereof? Allow me, if you will, to transport you back to your last telephone call to any company. Recall, if you can, the imposed music that was piped down the line as substitute for the interpersonal contact you were perhaps hoping for. Or permit me to remind you of your last shopping trip, where you may have been subjected to constant assault by the musical preferences of someone-else-entirely. Or maybe last Friday night’s strained attempts at conversation, over the foot-stomping beat offered as pub ‘atmosphere.’ Picky, you’re thinking. Maybe you had assumed that your hearing had somehow taught itself to become more attuned to TV advertisements or that it was a fault with the volume control of the same said set?



And again from Mr. Greenjeans' photostream

Maybe some people would have ‘chosen’ those very ‘musical' scores, with which to have approached each individual task. Maybe I’m wrong. It’s possible but, then again, most unlikely!

What about the ear-splitting (don’t you even dare contemplate starting a meaningful conversation) bursts of drum’n’bass (is it?) that ‘have to’ fill the ‘void’ between every point in Davis Cup Tennis, or the ‘humorously’ chosen snippets that follow every wicket during the One Day Cricket Internationals? Who are we catering for; those who want to follow the tennis or the cricket are already there? Please, for the love of God, don’t tell me that we are trying to bring other civilized sports into line with the ‘needs’ of the football-type supporter! Sport for the attention deficit hyperactivity disorder spectator?



Atmosphere we can all do without from perldude's photostream

I feel that I must warn, again, of the ease with which such minds are subjected to the advertiser's whim, and of the related mind-wash that is currently rife already within 'our' lives. Music is a powerful and a  curiously dangerous tool. You would no more leave the likes of a Robbie Williams or some gun-toting rap 'artist' in charge of such than you would leave a baby alone with a razor-sharp kitchen knife- contemplate the carnage that either decision might cause!

Recognise, if you will, where such evident damage has already occurred! The youthful driver, with those vacant eyes and skewed baseball cap, that half-threatening yet terminally confused frown, window down, perhaps the ‘delicate’ strains of some rap (surely a spelling error) ‘artist’ ‘wafting gently’ outwards, ‘selling’ the ‘virtues’ of mob violence, before going on to clarify that said ‘artist’ has not yet grasped the simple definition of a word like 'respec(T)' (and surely yet another spelling error).

Which will live on longer in the memory, we are forced to consider, the imposed thrum of the bass behind the rant, or the guttural roar of the lad’s new exhaust that seems to have evaded any social requirement to considerate driving? Listen on and you may be able to track his journey for a further mile or so, before he is usurped by the next unwitting advertisement on wheels. Worryingly the link in this paragraph is to a US site, at least there the problem has been acknowledged. Meanwhile, here in the UK?



Encore Jeremy by boxchain's photostream

And that, I’m afraid, is it. Advertising, impure and simple, leaking into our lives, just like all that mercury at Minamata Bay, that seeped so venomously into the lives and bodies of all those unfortunate villagers.

It would appear that frequently the loudest of ‘musical’ impositions is selected from the very narrowest of ‘musical’ choices- perhaps from one of those cloned commercial stations, revolving around the same wafer thin selection of music industry imposed ‘tunes'. Maybe the rap number that we are ‘encouraged’ to listen to is the current cloned ‘identity’ of rebellious youth, either way the 'choice' was almost certainly an illusion, no more than blatant product placement upon an almost inert 'vehicle'. Whether that vehicle is a current sporting fixture, or the challenged intellect of a mobile youth, it makes little difference.



Yet more from Robbie Howell's photostream

Whether the roar of that surely illegal exhaust is being endorsed by the ‘razor-sharp intellect’ of Jeremy Clarkson or just ‘Darren’ (Dazza to his ‘mates’) from down the road the differences are separable solely through the turgidity of semantics. It's no more than product placement by those with huge vested interests, the Motor Trade or the Music Industry, sales figures are, as ever, ultimately the bottom line.

And you thought that Clarkson was 'speaking his mind'; you thought he didn't reap certain rewards for all that screaming product placement? I wonder if he might have chosen to reside somewhere where idiots like himself might roar past the house at any time of the day or night, or else somewhere that he doesn't have to put up with morons like himself?

In effect what he appears more than happy to perpetuate is a world where outrageous driving is almost endemic, just so long as he is able to comfortably cushion himself from these excesses; a sort of stuff you outlook.



And yet again from estherase's photostream

Has nobody explained to him the psychological and physiological impacts of this type of sustained noise upon the human mind? The softer the brain the more compliant to the advertiser's influence it will become. Beware!

No place for bullying, honestly.

Could it be right that we are that close to fully eliminating bullying from 'our' ‘Golden’ Isle that some might be forgiven for assuming it to have already been achieved? Is bullying really now so very rare, thanks to the ‘heartfelt commitments’ of a ‘successful government’? If so maybe bullying will be the future subject of countless documentary programmes upon the History Channel, celebrating the great strides that Britain has made in banishing this ‘unwelcome imposter’ from our shores. Maybe we will be able to collectively reminisce about its passing, promising never again to fall foul of the same basic errors.



Thanks to Alta Vista's photostream

Or maybe it’s all just so much tosh! Who’s to say?

Maybe young Francesca and her ‘over-reactive’ mother, Fiona, really were just victims of a tragic ‘misunderstanding’; maybe the local police force really had done all that could be reasonably expected of them; maybe the local youths, alluded to in news reports, really were just doing ‘kiddy type stuff’ before returning to their ‘loving homes’ where their ‘caring parents’ would want to know exactly where they had been and precisely what they’d been doing. Maybe!



Perfectly illustrated by Nightwatching's photostream

Maybe! Strangely (or not) my fingers quite literally hesitated over the keys before typing that word. Because anyone who lives outside of those more ‘respectable’ areas of town, or has ever found themselves passing through such a ‘less affluent’ area will quickly have gathered enough evidence to know that ‘maybe’ simply does not apply here.

No doubt, perhaps care of ‘The Daily Mail’, certain individuals will have endeavoured to deflect the blame from its rightful recipients- social workers are always an easy target, or perhaps the local schools- but, I suspect, when we are left alone with our consciences, where the dark angels of truth lurk in readiness, we all really ‘know’ more or less what has happened. Indeed, some of us might, even now be regular witness to similar incidents in or adjacent to our own streets and ‘communities’.



Sadly illustrated so well by Diesel Dan's photostream

When so many of us are subjected to, or witness to, the sort of ‘covert’ bullying that has been well and truly cemented into the very foundations of our society is it really any surprise that some of our social inadequates might be slightly confused over the ‘acceptable’ application of this ‘essential tool’ in their own lives and neighbourhoods?

Who amongst us, at the end of the day, when all is said and done, having had one of those days at the office, hasn’t felt like burning our own living flesh to a lifeless charred mess? As the police have already made clear, they probably overreacted.

No place for bullying

Every school, we are assured, is required by law to devise and 'operate' an anti-bullying policy. The number of Head teachers lining up to state that, ‘this school does not tolerate bullying,’ is matched only by those eager to point out that, ‘every school has its ‘fair’ share of bullying.’ And thank Christ too, if the little innocents that are being readied for the real world are going to stand the slightest chance of surviving out there, in the grown-up's world. This way some at least, with the capacity to evade this 'noble' yet almost unenforceable goal, may learn a fair deal about the ‘successful’ application of this much used tool in the British workplace.



Thanks to DVIDSHUB's photostream

I would imagine that you, like me, chuckle conspiratorially along with each new government initiative. There are, after all, enough of these- like raindrops amid the monsoon season- to keep us busy, should we regard them as ‘chuckling’ material. The public sector ‘initiatives’ alone are enough to almost perpetually keep us doubled up.

I have considered, rather more thoroughly, however, the ‘initiative’ (not really the right word, is it?) of attempting to ‘stamp out’ bullying in our schools, especially in the light of that claimed attempt to ‘fully equip’ our children for adulthood.



Much thanks to Joriel "Joz" Jimenez's photostream

You see, what we actually have here is an impasse; in this case an insurmountable Everest of a task! It need not be, but unless the old ‘enemy’, honesty, is permitted to re-enter the wider debate any achievable solution can only ever be an illusion.

The thrusting entrepreneurial race, a daily more 'revered' minority within 'our society', are far more direct creatures, in this respect. They would endeavour to 'misunderstand' the current societal ‘need’ for such an oxymoronic pretence. Imagine, were such a thing possible, a 'free-flowing', 'open', 'honest' and 'bully-free' monetarist state; where could one even begin to dig out the flaws from this kind of false ‘aspiration?’



Nicely illustrated by psilver (silverph)'s photstream

Would it be naïve to suggest that we might start by analysing the relative methods of motivation that are routinely employed within 'our society'? I can sense that ol’ ‘relative size’ issue raising its head yet again. ‘Remuneration commensurate with the efforts, application and achievements of the individual,’ it all sounds so reasonable doesn’t it? But, let’s look a little more closely at this ‘ideal,’ shall we?

On the one hand we have those banker chaps- almost bankrupted the continent, didn’t they?- with the covert protection of our 'democratically elected' (that doesn’t sound quite right) leader, arguing so vehemently that these ‘role models’ should be free to determine their own reward system. Correct me please, but I thought I’d read somewhere that that idea had failed quite spectacularly just a short while ago.

On the other hand we have those employed to educate our children and grandchildren, set to be judged biannually by Ofsted and again annually through their relative placings in National League Tables. On top of this we have the spiteful misnomer of the General Teaching Council, applying themselves continually to the rather saturated task of finding continual fault with sections of the profession, a tabloid media that has made a virtual vocation of condemning anything public sector and a government whose first ‘commitment’ to the nation’s educational system was to appoint, as Head of Ofsted, a man who, with a heart fashioned from solid cold flint, seemed to defy the fundamental criteria for even being accepted into the outer fringes of the human race. I wonder if the workers in the teaching profession will also be permitted to write their own pay cheques? I’m guessing not.



Perfect illustrated by spierzchala's photostream

‘Remuneration commensurate with the efforts, application and achievements of the individual,’ discuss!

Size really does matter.

Small is small is small, unless it is too big, in which case it needs to be made smaller still. And yet, strangely, it is still 'sold' to those without the means to question as being large enough.

Small might be particularly pertinent to the those residing in some sort of invertebrate dimension. But, inevitably, within our's, it is really only as pertinent as we allow it to become in order to perceive that which we had hoped to comprehend.



Thankyou Whatknot's photostream

I have noticed much of late that might be judged differently from another perspective and have greatly pondered the effect that this might have upon the ways in which we could be regarded by another species, if at all. I have wondered, for example, why it might be that certain factions within our ‘society’ choose to pretend that their legs are only half their actual length, when such a sacrifice of dignity might cause them to waddle about with underwear exposed. Are they not aware that such perceptions are peculiarly semi-human and that, as such, more attuned 'outsiders' might harbour entirely different perceptions

I have noticed also the minuteness of the so called ‘incentives’, proffered to ordinary people. One example might be the ‘Investors in People’ 'award' that seems to require absolutely no qualifying criteria other than the simple request that the workplace might wish to display such a cheaply reproduced cut of card upon its reception wall, where it may well languish until the building simply crumbles into the dust along with its already half-forgotten workforce.

Somewhat ironically it might then finally be permitted to fulfil some sort of function, perhaps as damp food for any number of detritivores that could end up inhabiting the derelict sight. ‘Investors in People’, suitably ‘large’ when considered from the perspective of the employer, or conceivably the feasting detritivore, yet not so much far smaller as absolutely insignificant when received by the employees. The vagaries of perception may, at times, prove more than a puzzle to the best of us.



Thanks to FatMandy's photostream

The speeding fine, to sight yet another example, could be perceived as huge or minute, highly dependent upon the relative income of the offender. To one it might equate to ‘this week’s food upon the table,’ to another ‘an insignificant aberration that might pass unquestioned upon an expenses form.’ I suppose that almost any fine might be perceived in such a way. I wonder why ‘nobody’ has ever thought to question this inequality.

The CBI- The Confederation of British Industry- that body of ‘great and wise’ men by whom we are all regarded as ‘deeply loved and cherished children’, despite their ‘unparalleled intellect’, have recently ‘tripped up’ over seemingly the simplest of mathematical conundrums. Once again that issue over ‘smallness' has raised its head. I feel almost too embarrassed to have to point it out to them, knowing full well that, once I have done so, they will believe that they have failed in their responsibilities towards their 'fellow' citizens; such is their care ethic!



Perfect from striatic's photostream

From their 'elevated' perspectives they have sought to enter the national debate regarding the economy. Usually, of course, they are more than 'happy' to leave this to others, loathe to rock the boat as it were. They have employed their pocket calculators to the full and made a few minor suggestions regarding student debt. Correct me if I am wrong but I believe they have suggested an increase in tuition fees, but have sought to 'offset' this against a reduction in student loans, no doubt concerned as to the impact of such transactions upon their own ‘small’ (that word again) remunerations.

I suspect that what the old ‘loves’ have done is to view the student debt from the perspective of their 'own kind'- paid off before even incurred- and altogether overlooked the impact of this same ‘small sum’ upon the lives of many ordinary people. I suspect that we’ll all be able to laugh about this, as one big ‘happy, united family,’ in a few weeks time.



Familiar smile from bigeoiino's photostream

Of course, they are 'right,' the sums we are talking about really are so very, very small when perceived from the perspective of a multi-millionaire who might readily fiddle his or her taxes to a ‘small’ degree. Sorry, I did mean to say, ‘embellish.'

Please note that ‘small’ in this context really is not small, regardless of where it is being viewed from.

Size really doesn't matter.

Small… but how small is small? Is it really as small as it appears or is it just more far away than currently perceived? Isn't it all simply relative to the context of the situation anyway?

After a short walk several weekends ago I removed a massive stone from my left shoe, before squeezing into my compact Ford motor vehicle. When I held the offending stone up to the light of the sun, betwixt my thumb and forefinger, I found that I was able to completely block out the sun from my right eye, if I held the stone close enough to my face. Perceiving this minute aspect of our world, via just two dimensions, might pose several difficult questions; thus the necessity for a third.



Much thanks to Rich B-S' photostream

The ladybirds, upon which I could not help but tread, during the aforementioned walk, were (and are) minute, but try explaining that to the aphids, upon which they feast. We, on the other hand, are massive yet insignificant- really not 'worth it'- upon a tiny pebble in space, revolving about a flaming furnace that is a million times larger than our ‘home.’

The sun, by comparison, is a small star amongst billions upon billions, the largest of which is far, far less than a pinprick, lying suspended within the black void of infinite space. In some contexts even infinite might be considered as relatively small, we just can't know for certain.



Thanks to Skiwalker79's photostream

The self-serving company director (or CEO as our increasing Americanisation demands that we now refer to these individuals) is really small, when judged by our value standard, or is it just that, should we ever be unfortunate enough to encounter one, that they are actually further away than assumed, not really small at all, merely scampering- chauffeur-driven, of course- from one money making venture to another? Is it really all just a matter of inter-dimensional perspective?

I for one certainly hope that this effectively smoke-and-mirrors equation will not be judged to suffice. It took humanity right up until the times of The Renaissance to create the crudest of rules for depicting basic diminution in a linear and two-dimensional form. Fortunately the concept has evolved somewhat since then; we recognise that the lines, for want of a better term, were never really straight in the first place; or perhaps were straight, but will never actually appear so. Paolo Uccello's 'Battle of San Romano' would have benefited immensely from such an understanding. Just imagine the work that still needs to be done in order to even guess at the relative proportions of living entities existing, possibly simultaneously, in separate dimensions.

For now 'small', in all its non-specificity, may have to suffice.

I have found it 'easier'- although, in reality, far from easy- to consider the CEO as no bigger or smaller than any of his- it's almost certainly a man- fellow human beings, yet his individual actions to have assumed a disproportionately huge impact. As humans, globally speaking, are essentially small then small it should be and that is both small in physical presence and ideally in any attributable wider impact.

In this world the CEO is largely fascinated with, or satisfied by, sparkly things, items with attached financial worth, possessions, individual acts of self-centredness. I would contest that it really is no coincidence that when a CEO accidentally finds himself having to share any given space with a fellow human being that he appears to us as disproportionately small; just large enough for us to notice his seemingly ethereal physique. Somewhat ironically, this is almost certainly because he virtually lives in a parallel world, in which we are merely inconveniences that might serve an expensive meal, shine a shoe, polish a step, or indeed undertake nearly all of the actual work that has enabled said businessman to harvest such immense rewards. Were we not effectively the real earners he might by now have dissolved completely from the world that we inhabit.


Thanks to googly's photstream

Of course, it is highly unlikely that we shall ever be quite so fortunate as to witness the passing of the CEO, from our world and into his better, brighter, bigger, fresher and more lavishly-rewarded world, where he will be rather less of a bother to the rest of us. Scientifically, as our laws of science or economics operate, this world would be unsustainable, by virtue of the simple and irritable fact that he actually generates very little in the manner of genuine value, he simply takes a great deal more than he has, in fact earned.

I, personally, believe that it is only with a deeper understanding of what could actually be happening that we might finally be able to get to some form of grips with the whole sorry affair. And the root to this understanding is to be found, I would contest, in the most unlikely of sources, most unlikely.


So, journey, back with me, if you will, to the days of just the three TV stations, yet curiously a far more lavish array of entertainment, and an altogether differently structured world. Recall, if you can, the outrageously and ill-conceived diet of sci-fi that might occasionally have graced our TV screens; aliens, time and space travel and parallel universes; how we were thrilled at the idea that maybe, just maybe, one day...

But, in our heart of hearts, we all 'knew' that such was the stuff of fairy tales and make-believe, even though we might have shivered just a little in our beds, before sleep would eventually win the day. We thought we knew, didn't we, but what if the 'what we thought we knew' had transpired to be aberrant and the sound sleeping that we undertook had conspired to be founded upon false hopes? What then, eh?

Alan Guth has obviously put a great deal more thought into this kind of stuff than have I, so my references will be somewhat more brief. If you want the more thorough and well articulated version feel free to check it out, but beware the mind-numbing challenge of fully grasping the concept- don't say I didn't warn you!

Let us entertain the idea that Alan Guth is correct- remember, he's put a great deal more time and thought into this than we have, and he's got a vastly superior scientific brain. Let's ponder the 'inflationary universe', with its  growing 'bubbles' of 'false vacuum decay' and let's wander down the 'every conceivable combination of universes' theory, this being vastly the more credible of the current alternatives.

Speculate with me, for a moment, upon the infinite possibilities, just millimetres from our own world. Might it not be possible, nay highly probable, that journeying between said alternative universes is (somewhere) commonplace? Might there not be an alternative where it is possible for us all to snuffle up far more than we deserve, and to perceive such as only right and just? Imagine, slipping, unawares, from one such dimension, 'seamlessly' into another. What if? There are so many of these 'false vacuum decay' bubbles, just bumping about, so to speak; whoops and before you know it you're mere millimetres away, in a almost perfect carbon copy universe, with far from carbon copy ideals. Carry on as normal!

I believe that it is only with this deeper understanding of what is happening that I have been able to spot the little devils at all. You see, despite its almost alarming compactness, the CEO mind is deceptively arrogant in its ability to enchant that of the corruptible human; "What if that were me?" the dimwits (corruptible humans) might be forgiven for believing.

Suddenly big is not so big, rather more standard, and infinite seems suddenly relatively minute. But even within such an arrangement of conceivably infinite possibilities and infinite space, is it not undoubtedly the case that the space occupied by the CEO is still far too big?

It matters much more when there's money on it.

I think that we can all clearly see that a massive volume of disingenuous political meddling has had a most undesirable affect upon the way in which our society ‘functions.' Interrelated happenings could occasionally- and with an element of blinkered judgement- be acknowledged as subject to mitigating factors. In a few cases, it should be stated that the ‘victims’ of such abused power may be almost driven to malfunction. But, having first recognised these dark forces it must also be made clear that in most cases where the innocent citizen and politico are in some form of (for want of a better term) ‘collaboration’ the citizen has, at least in part, opted, or been somehow cajoled, into becoming involved. Whether this is because this individual is less intelligent, more corruptible or just curious, there is, almost always, a point at which they have 'chosen' to opt in or out.

Anyone doubting these assertions should avail themselves of one of the few very good books on the subject of the corporatisation of Britain. Obviously you will need to plough through a fair number of bogus claims before you may find yourself face to face with the some of the more substantial evidence, but your efforts will have been richly rewarded, and your faith left in tatters.

Having said all this there are, I’m afraid, a growing number of instances of citizen misdemeanour that simply cannot be attributed to the Councillor species. My own tenuous links with these creatures dictates that I should make this absolutely clear. I have no wish to incur their wrath through a few unthinking acts of misrepresentation. Sometimes it really is just greed that drives the citizen, impure and simple! And the more ‘money’ that there is ‘on the table’ the more it seems to ‘matter’.

Conversely, if there’s very little money riding upon the outcome it barely matters at all. And there we appear to have it, in a nutshell, the underlying government economic philosophy that has prevailed since the last days of the nineteen-seventies.

In the US, in 1980, the salary of the average Chief Executive Officer was about forty times that of his lowest paid worker. It won’t come as a great surprise to discover that this figure has grown, but maybe learning that this figure has risen to three-hundred and forty-four times will anger more than it will shock you. Anyone with half an eye on the TV news will be aware that the so called fat cats have been exponentially increasing their relative circumferences for far more than just a few years now.

Hearing this news you might choose to adopt the Daily Mail response and hedge your bets, rather than to ‘over’ analyse the issue- ever the simplistic approach. Or you might care to note that 1980- hang on, wasn’t that around the time when the British working man or woman was first encouraged to shut up and to be grateful for his/her lot (?)- 1979 actually, marked a massive global a shift in the social 'value' system.

At this point in time the old British class system dusted down and laced up its jack boots and decided to stamp upon a few 'misplaced' fingers. And sadly the poodles that have held the reigns ever since have merely allowed the inequality to accelerate. I don’t know for certain but I wouldn’t be at all surprised if the wage gap is now even more pronounced in the UK.

You’ll recall that Gordon- you know, the guy that basically 'stole' all those pensions a few years back- recently made it one of his priorities at the G20 meet not to allow those upstart French and Germans to cap banking bonuses. So, I guess we can expect more of the same. Thanks, Gordon! Naturally it hurts, more than a little, when you get around to realising that the bonuses are only there because Gordon decreed that our taxes should be used to refill those troughs, right up to brim-full yet again. I think I can hear the distracting sound of snuffling, even as I type.

You see, ‘there’s money on it,’ so it must ‘matter more.’

I can think of three- no less- massive areas of financial irregularity that have been helping to shore up our country’s crumbling foundation for so long now that those with towering vested interests have been driven to- panic stations- misrepresent these areas to a degree that has long since surpassed the absurd. Picking between those decisions made due to political dogma and those made through pure greed is labyrinthine in its complexity, so I’ll not even try to at this juncture.



With thanks to blech's photostream

Of course there is the 'housing market', bolstered constantly by a veritable barrage of nauseating TV property programmes. "Marcus and Jemima have got £750 thousand pounds to 'invest' in the property market…" You know the sort of thing.

Living, as I do in Aylsham, near to the North Norfolk coast the stench of landlords and second and third homes can be almost overbearing if the wind is blowing in the wrong direction. There’s a lot of ‘money’ riding ‘on it’ and it 'matters much, much more!' If you can’t afford to live here, that’s because you don't matter. Did I hear correctly? Are we really looking for 'the green shoots of recovery' through a rise in property prices?

The 'banking system' has been roundly condemned to the extent that there is almost nothing left to pull apart. Nobody even tries to defend the bankers (correct spelling?) any more, at least not with a straight face, or an honest one. Interesting then, is it not, that 'our'- we did elect him, didn’t we?- Gordon put great store in the importance of not capping their bonuses at the recent G20 meetings. ‘It matters more when there’s’ crate-loads of ‘money on it!’ I wonder where 'our' Gordon will be looking for work when the electorate finally become involved in his tenure? I forget, we do still involve the electorate at some point, don’t we?

The third major cog that I can see is the 'motor industry', another bottomless pit for all that tax-payer's dosh. Do we really want Gordon- I sight him because he’s there, the next one will slot so seamlessly into place that you won’t even notice; they all dance to the same tune- guiding us 'skilfully' through the current climate debate and dictating which changes are (not) going to happen? Allow me, please, to ask the one question that I’ve not heard a single politician or motor industry representative address or even acknowledge as being pertinent: How might the scrapping of all those old cars, under the government’s car scrappage scheme, affect the person on the minimum wage, when he or she needs to replace an old car with another oldish car?



With thanks to boxchain's photostream

The motor industry is, of course, once again in the news for all the wrong reasons. Reportedly just five individuals at the top have managed to cream off £42 million. And this in the face of a monumental failure to save the company. You'd have thought that the organisation would have been literally raking it in with all this surplus cash rattling about. Nothing illegal there then? Fine! Carry on as usual. More of the same, please!

It matters so very, very much more when there’s loads and loads of money on it!