Thursday 10 October 2013

Brother, Can You Spare A Dime?


As yet another unseaworthy vessel slides off the scaffolding we brace ourselves for the inevitable exponential inflation of the housing market. 'Your' government, in 'your' best interests, you must understand, has decreed that 'hard-strapped' developers now need your money to help them sell their shoebox-sized properties- the smallest in Western Europe and probably set to shrink still further, with more deregulation in the pipeline. Stage two has hit the ground running, perhaps dancing to the tune of, 'I'm Forever Blowing Bubbles.'

So, after years of BBC et al prodding- property programs might even outnumber those featuring so-called celebrity chefs- one of 'our' cloned governments has finally come up with that long-anticipated half-baked attempt at appeasing the property developers/investors.



Perfect. Thanks to Alexandre Dulaunoy

Much as the creation of the NHBC was almost entirely aimed at creating a climate in which cowboy builders might more easily do a runner, rather than offering any form of after-sales security regarding recently thrown-up houses, 'Help to Sell' is entirely a means by which overpriced homes might once again flood onto the market, underwritten as ever by the tax-payer. Because it makes far more sense to have hundreds of younger home-buyers mortgaged up to the hilt than to bring down those inflated prices to affordable levels. What could possibly go wrong?

Hark to the sound of Veuve Clicquot corks a-popping in Tory-landlordshire! Oh, the twists and turns that we might endure in order to further ramp up those most-wealthy to least-wealthy differentials.

Naturally, it 'wouldn't' have been possible to have invested in the building of more Council properties, which might have forced down exorbitant private rentals. Not only are current rentals hugely out of kilter with the value of the properties offered, extortionate letting agencies are now charging the earth simply for handling now-demanded-references. That's right, one now requires the good-character references of others before one is permitted to pay in excess of £600 a month for a damp cellar. Remember the red tape bonfire we were promised, worked a treat, hasn't it?

Perhaps I'm wrong, perhaps this 'Help to Sell' scheme will curtail exorbitant rents, but then again the inability of first time buyers to afford a mortgage didn't manage to bring down house prices, did it? Curious that, don't you think? Clearly market values, though much trumpeted, are not always the most favoured route of the wealthy market manipulators.



Precisely. Thank you, davelocity

Returning briefly to the issue of 'character references,' I've found myself writing more than one or two of these, in recent years. I've written the things, charged nothing- unlike some professions that I could mention- hand-delivered them to the agency, Hell, I've almost ushered the process from inception to conclusion, and yet it is the agency that charges in excess of £300 simply for... and the rest, alas, remains a mystery, another deregulation mystery, one by which yet more wealth seamlessly slides from those who earned it and into the pockets of the parasitic classes.

So, in the dark-light of the launch of this 'caring' policy what, do you suppose, are the chances now of any government minister seriously reigning in those payday loan companies? Good, or perhaps not so good?

The Exits Are Here, Here And Here.


Having flown Iberia Airlines, to the magnificently captivating Chile, I was initially struck, at the instant of safe touchdown, by the seemingly spontaneous round of applause that had broken out amongst the passengers. I was later to learn that, upon ostensibly Hispanic flights, such a rousing response is in fact traditional; gratitude, if you will, that one might live to savour another day. So touched was I that I have never since failed to participate; it seems the very least that one can do.

Although I have never really felt in personal peril, even during bouts of prolonged turbulence, it is clear that, for many (oft-frequent) travellers, any flight can be an anxious time. Thus, for the duration, the location of those emergency exits may remain etched firmly upon one's mind.

Back upon good ol' terra-firma, once those massive airliners have yet again shrunk to the occasional audio-interruption, or merely the high altitude glint of mirrored sunlight, even the most nervous of travellers may happily revert to regarding the Earth's unyielding surface with a becalmed indifference, those half-forgotten emergency exits once more banished to insignificance... at least until the next time.



As always, many thanks to Nigel Goodman

Down here perceptions of our immediate surroundings may be, at the very worst, poorly informed, whereas those of places further afield, where we are momentarily entirely captive, may far more readily be subject to the whims of Mother Earth. The statistics are generally strongly in our favour but, ultimately, it is the emergency exits that are the illusion, and not the vagaries of the elements. We chance to fate and technology invariably provides most of the required answers.

Ever-present death, potentially lurking just around the next corner, should merely serve to sharpen our senses, heighten our awareness of all that is good and great, perhaps occasionally nudge us circumspectly back onto the pathway to long(er)evity. It should not be permitted to cuckoo the nest and out-bulk its usefulness. And, should you ever doubt its (that is death's) value, imagine a world still encumbered with the likes of Hitler, Mao, Vlad, Idi and Thatcher. Allow me to suggest that, even here on Earth, there might well be times when we wish that we'd listened somewhat more closely to where those emergency exits might be situated.

Three current and ongoing instances spring to mind, each urgently requiring easy-access emergency exits to which one might retreat or, if all else fails, at least provide a direction- exits wide open, please- towards which one might shove the offending cause.



Also, thanks to Ashamar

1. Education:
The Gove's latest heavage- far in excess of any air journey- has me, as it should the entire thinking nation, flailing about wildly, searching for those emergency exits. "Why have not the oxygen masks dropped from the ceiling?" one might be forgiven for pleading. The man-puppet may yet be the most dangerous 'creature' yet to have been permitted to crawl close to such a treasure that is the means to the education of our children, and this is up against some mightily stiff opposition. "Where are the parents, for God's sake!" the saner listener or viewer should be screaming. I shall not attempt to over-elaborate- it might demand more than several entries- suffice to write that Michael Rosen has here put it far more concisely than ever I could hope to do.

But, of some immediate pertinence; precisely how many years of denigration might serve to best elevate, does one consider, this profession to its optimum teaching capacity? One for you to ponder, the Gove, should those blinkers ever be temporarily removed.

2. Health:
Of perhaps even greater weight there remains also the ongoing concern for our National Health Service. Highly pertinent to which, is it not somewhat alarming to have in charge someone who, in a more accountable society, would be this very moment serving a prison sentence for what was for all intents and purposes insider trading? JC, perhaps the Devil incarnate?

Cameron and his ilk may well spout untruths about the safety and security of this jewel (the NHS, not JC), 'entrusted' into the hands of his 'beloved' Jezza, but the true picture is hardly secreted that carefully any more. In the shadow of such wholesale destruction elsewhere, maybe it is felt that the public stomach for staunch resistance has entirely wilted. Should the Unions raise their heads above the parapet there's always the sniper-rich 'free' press to pin them down. We certainly won't want the Unions standing up and defending our health service, do we? Think of the damage preserving such might cause. And, also in the interests of 'patient care' (not) JC has 'selflessly' decided that next year's 1% pay increase for NHS staff can no longer be afforded. Everyone pull together now!

And those emergency exits? It seems more than plausible that these may currently be entirely blocked by wardless patients, lining the corridors, shouldering some of the burden of those PFI 'efficienecy' cuts. We can't have those 'benevolent' major 'investors' losing out, can we?

3. Public Services:
Although the term Public Services has become very much of a misnomer in recent decades, these war-battered  remnants remain the lifeline to which many of us still cling. Now we are all apparently customers, not necessarily greatly valued ones, seldom if ever right, but customers none the less, and far more importantly handsomely paying customers.



Thanks, so much, Alan Stanton

If you are of an age you will recall the wholesale selling-off of all that was or might have been regarded as a public service. Thatcher, you'll no doubt also remember- I certainly do! We were promised that, "competition in the market place will drive down prices," were we not? And, very much in the shadow of that lie, the 'free' press endorsed public give-away almost overnight obliterated our public services.

We now have energy companies that freely crank up their prices unilaterally, no longer feeling obligated to fully-justify these rises. Any half-pretence at yielding to market forces is just too much bother now, the extortion cartel is far too busy wallowing in excess wealth to care about whether its customers (victims) are keeping their heads above water or not. Our railways offer the most expensive journeys on the continent (cost per mile). Environmental concerns have been entirely subsumed by the entrepreneurial 'right' to develop, as has town planning. In the total vacuum that was Council housing, unscrupulous landlords now routinely rake in more than double a property's true value. And the police force is little more than a mercenary remnant, available to hire- at a cost to the taxpayer- purely in the interests of royal pageant, capitalist interests and anti-democratic practice.

Suddenly those turbulent flights, with their illusory emergency exits, don't seem half as daunting. It would appear that the far more urgently required exits, here on terra-firma, have long since been chained and padlocked closed, rusting neglectfully into stasis.



And finally, thanks also to Brittney Le Blanc

I was there, in Manchester, conceivably the only fully sane mind present, one might be forgiven for thinking. I was certainly in a very small minority. And, when the Gove received his statutory round of applause, when JC was 'warmly' received, when Georgie Boy was roundly 'congratulated' for dragging the recession into unchartered waters of longevity, I wasn't the only one nervously searching for an exit. We really could have done with a few more in the nineteen-seventies, when the ratio of relative incomes of the most to the least wealthy was about 50:1. Instead we've allowed successive governments to usher in a discriminate recession, where these ratios have been stretched to 400:1.

Much like those anxious passengers on the plane, with the notable exceptions of the surgically-altered cabinet, my impression was one of intense-collective-relief that the barrage of lies was finally over. Even the dogmatically-faithful had barely dared to prize their eyes from the emergency exits.