Is it only me but...we do seem to have one law for the rich and another for the poor.
Did you see the Olympic torch arrive in Britain last week? I know it was a lot of fuss about nothing and you can bet that the 5 Ring Circus soon to kick off will be the subject of many words of wisdom over the coming weeks. But for the moment I want to focus our attention on the wee flame.
With mounting excitement (!) we watched the plane carrying the sacred light arrive from Greece. It landed and drew up in front of the usual Union Flag waving gaggle of school children and assorted dignitaries dressed to the nines in their flummery and regalia.
And then the moment the nation has all (with at least one exception) been looking forward to with great expectation and excitement as Annie Windsor, Seb Coe and David Beckham descended from the plane carrying the fire in its miner’s lamp. It was an impressive moment.
But one thing intrigued me.
As far as I know Greece is not Britain. It is foreign. It is beyond our boundaries. Therefore those carrying the flame had left and re-entered the country. But where were the Passport Apparatchiks to check their passports? Where were the queues for these people?
I know these people are special, they are famous, they are royalty but surely to protect our borders and to maintain security everyone ought to be checked in. How else do we know who is in this country?
I do hope that I have not spotted a relaxation of border controls. Apparatchiks have been fired for less in recent months. Maybe Theresa May should be questioned about this on the floor of the House.
Or maybe the normal rules do not apply if you are special. Heaven forbid that we should expect special people to queue up to share their passport photo with a Passport Apparatchik.
Mow maybe it’s only me but we are never going to see any improvements for ordinary people at our Border while the rich, famous and the privileged manage to skip the stressful parts of international travel that everyone else has to endure. We have no voice.
I always remember being told once that if you want to improve the quality of airline food, serve it in the boardrooms of the airlines for lunch. The same applies here.
Only once the likes of Princess Anne, David Beckham and Lord Coe have endured long waits for the Passport Apparatchiks to decide whether or not you can enter your own country will we see any real improvements in the way our Borders are guarded and patrolled.
It was once said by someone rich that ‘only the poor people pay taxes’. It now seems that only the poor people queue up to get their passports checked too.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
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Sunday 20 May 2012
Tuesday 15 May 2012
The Apprentice
Well seemingly my cri de coeur last week chastising people for failing to vote struck a nerve last week. Good. Art should stir the emotions. Maybe I am the Tracy Emin of the blogosphere.
And so to this week’s thought provoking piece.
Is it only I...but I think that this might be another issue for Leveson.
Do you watch The Apprentice?
Yes I know it is just another programme for fame seeking wannabees. And I do appreciate is gives a very unrealistic and unflattering view of the world of business. And yes I know Lord Sugar’s bullying hectoring and ego maniacal management style is Neolithic.
But saying all this it is fascinating how none of the fresh faced sales people who volunteer to take part in return for a ticket to fame and fortune learn the lessons from past series and each new candidate quickly loses reason and resorts to highly primitive and unsubtle backstabbing to try to claw their way to the top. Or at least to get their 15 minutes of fame as Lord Sugar’s Apprentice.
By the by it is interesting to see how few of these who win this so called coveted position are ever heard of again. We never learn just how successful they are as The Apprentice.
But I have another question which really interests me.
As we see the group gather in the Boardroom to learn their fate they all come with their trolley dolly cases, the kind that are a real health hazard when used on the streets and pavements by commuters, travellers and the like.
Now we are expected to believe that these kids are living cheek by jowl in some flash yuppie property for quite a few months. And for every task they turn up suited and booted. All this requires a wardrobe of clothes and for the women shoes, handbags, and a range of chemical and electrical enhancers.
How do they get all this into a wee trolley dolly suitcase?
Maybe it is only me but in my experience when embarking on a trip, whether for business or pleasure, for any period of time, we require to take with us a load of stuff. There is no way that these people can get all their stuff into such a wee case. You need a bigger case just to cart around all the chargers we need these days for everyday living.
This leads me to think that either their cases have been borrowed from the set of Dr Who and the principles of the Tardis have been applied to their manufacture in which case they should apply their business acumen to produce and sell these-they would go like hotcakes; or their clothes are discarded when worn; or they are badly crushed; or just like on line telephone voting for the Blue Peter cat it is rigged. If the latter I think we should let Lord Leveson know. This is not how the media ought to behave.
I will leave you to ponder.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
And so to this week’s thought provoking piece.
Is it only I...but I think that this might be another issue for Leveson.
Do you watch The Apprentice?
Yes I know it is just another programme for fame seeking wannabees. And I do appreciate is gives a very unrealistic and unflattering view of the world of business. And yes I know Lord Sugar’s bullying hectoring and ego maniacal management style is Neolithic.
But saying all this it is fascinating how none of the fresh faced sales people who volunteer to take part in return for a ticket to fame and fortune learn the lessons from past series and each new candidate quickly loses reason and resorts to highly primitive and unsubtle backstabbing to try to claw their way to the top. Or at least to get their 15 minutes of fame as Lord Sugar’s Apprentice.
By the by it is interesting to see how few of these who win this so called coveted position are ever heard of again. We never learn just how successful they are as The Apprentice.
But I have another question which really interests me.
As we see the group gather in the Boardroom to learn their fate they all come with their trolley dolly cases, the kind that are a real health hazard when used on the streets and pavements by commuters, travellers and the like.
Now we are expected to believe that these kids are living cheek by jowl in some flash yuppie property for quite a few months. And for every task they turn up suited and booted. All this requires a wardrobe of clothes and for the women shoes, handbags, and a range of chemical and electrical enhancers.
How do they get all this into a wee trolley dolly suitcase?
Maybe it is only me but in my experience when embarking on a trip, whether for business or pleasure, for any period of time, we require to take with us a load of stuff. There is no way that these people can get all their stuff into such a wee case. You need a bigger case just to cart around all the chargers we need these days for everyday living.
This leads me to think that either their cases have been borrowed from the set of Dr Who and the principles of the Tardis have been applied to their manufacture in which case they should apply their business acumen to produce and sell these-they would go like hotcakes; or their clothes are discarded when worn; or they are badly crushed; or just like on line telephone voting for the Blue Peter cat it is rigged. If the latter I think we should let Lord Leveson know. This is not how the media ought to behave.
I will leave you to ponder.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Wednesday 9 May 2012
Vote for me
I am sorry for my lack of wit and wisdom for a week or so now but nothing has really riled me enough to put pen to paper. But now something has, you will no doubt be pleased to know.
Is it only me...but why is it so difficult for many of us to vote?
Last week in many parts of this country we had local elections. And unless you live overseas when you read this or have been away visiting relatives on the moon, you will know by now that the Two Caesars got a bit of a bloody nose. I am however slightly baffled why people think that issues decided and determined on a national scale should influence the election of local busy bodies to local councils. Does it never occur to anyone that your councillor is not in charge of deficit reduction policies, the re-organisation of the NHS or even the tax rate for hot pasties?
This however is not my Gripe of the Week.
It was striking to me that in most parts of the country turnout for the Busy Body Elections barely got above 30%. In other words more than two thirds of those eligible to vote decided that EastEnders and Corrie was more enticing than turning out to put their X on the spot. This is absolutely shocking and a very bad thing. And this shocking figure is readily inflated by fraudulent multiple voting in some areas.
No doubt many will have sound reasons for failing to turn out. The weather, an engaging episode of Emmerdale, a sock drawer to be cleared out or some such excuse. Some might even look to blame the politicians and those local Busy Bodies aspiring to be politicians for not doing enough to engage with us, I certainly make this accusation, but these are excuses for our failure to fulfil our civic responsibilities. The effects of the electoral process are all around us and if we fail to engage then we get the politics and the democracy we deserve.
Now it might only be me but we ought to remember what others gave and did that we might vote. We are prepared to vote in record numbers for some fame wannabee on X FACTOR, Britain’s Got Talent, The Voice, or some other end of pier talent show, who will make one record and then disappear from view, than we are for people who will impact on our lives. Maybe we should resort to text voting.
From Magna Carta through the bloody Civil War to the Bill of Rights and the Suffragettes people died and fought for the right to vote. And if we look across the Pond to Uncle Sam there is plenty more evidence of people, mostly black, who fought, struggled and laid down their life that others might vote. Indeed right around the world the history of many countries is marked, often bloodily, by the struggles of people to earn the right to take part in the democratic process. Think South Africa, Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya.
And yet in this country we are put off exercising our democratic right, duty and privilege by a wee bit of rain or a better programme on TV. I would have thought that getting a wee bit damp or foregoing the latest soap shenanigans was not too much of a sacrifice to take part in the electoral process. Others after all have done far more than brave a wee drizzle to further the cause of democracy.
As you can tell I am well agitated by this.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
Is it only me...but why is it so difficult for many of us to vote?
Last week in many parts of this country we had local elections. And unless you live overseas when you read this or have been away visiting relatives on the moon, you will know by now that the Two Caesars got a bit of a bloody nose. I am however slightly baffled why people think that issues decided and determined on a national scale should influence the election of local busy bodies to local councils. Does it never occur to anyone that your councillor is not in charge of deficit reduction policies, the re-organisation of the NHS or even the tax rate for hot pasties?
This however is not my Gripe of the Week.
It was striking to me that in most parts of the country turnout for the Busy Body Elections barely got above 30%. In other words more than two thirds of those eligible to vote decided that EastEnders and Corrie was more enticing than turning out to put their X on the spot. This is absolutely shocking and a very bad thing. And this shocking figure is readily inflated by fraudulent multiple voting in some areas.
No doubt many will have sound reasons for failing to turn out. The weather, an engaging episode of Emmerdale, a sock drawer to be cleared out or some such excuse. Some might even look to blame the politicians and those local Busy Bodies aspiring to be politicians for not doing enough to engage with us, I certainly make this accusation, but these are excuses for our failure to fulfil our civic responsibilities. The effects of the electoral process are all around us and if we fail to engage then we get the politics and the democracy we deserve.
Now it might only be me but we ought to remember what others gave and did that we might vote. We are prepared to vote in record numbers for some fame wannabee on X FACTOR, Britain’s Got Talent, The Voice, or some other end of pier talent show, who will make one record and then disappear from view, than we are for people who will impact on our lives. Maybe we should resort to text voting.
From Magna Carta through the bloody Civil War to the Bill of Rights and the Suffragettes people died and fought for the right to vote. And if we look across the Pond to Uncle Sam there is plenty more evidence of people, mostly black, who fought, struggled and laid down their life that others might vote. Indeed right around the world the history of many countries is marked, often bloodily, by the struggles of people to earn the right to take part in the democratic process. Think South Africa, Iraq, Afghanistan, Libya.
And yet in this country we are put off exercising our democratic right, duty and privilege by a wee bit of rain or a better programme on TV. I would have thought that getting a wee bit damp or foregoing the latest soap shenanigans was not too much of a sacrifice to take part in the electoral process. Others after all have done far more than brave a wee drizzle to further the cause of democracy.
As you can tell I am well agitated by this.
Have a great week.
Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.
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