Man traps

Cicero does not get the modern world.

A few days back perforce he was required to visit Londinium.

And while there he journeyed on the train that runs under the ground known universally as the Tube.

Along with a zillion others who all wanted to travel on the same train as Cicero.

Before getting onto the train and down to the platform where one awaits in stony silence the arrival of the train, all passengers are required to negotiate the turnstile.

With patience and common sense this is not too difficult an obstacle to overcome.

Get it wrong however and limbs and any other loose hanging appendage can get painfully snagged as the gates slam shut.

Or even refuse to open at the request of the Oyster.

So given the serious risk to life and limb that might occur this behaviour, which is quite commonplace, and not just on the Tube, is quite extraordinary.

And highlights our addiction to our portable technology devices, no matter the risk and consequences.

For Cicero witnessed a young distaff approach said barrier.

And without lifting her eyes from the wee screen on her mobile telephonic apparatus tried to negotiate the man trap.

She failed.

And it was hilarious. And perplexing. And confusing.

As she body slammed into the barrier.

What could have been so fascinating on her phone that she was prepared to risk injury rather than check where she was going?

Maybe she was checking she had the right nuclear launch codes.

Or was watching colleagues perform open heart surgery via a live feed and she needed to be on hand to give advice.

Or she was catching up on previous night’s Celebrity Big Brother gossip.

Cicero has even heard tales of people walking off harbours into the sea while determinedly staring at their phone.

Maybe the Health and Safety Gauleiters should get involved.

It is actually quite simple.

Phones are for the ears not the eyes.

Have a great day.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Put lead in your pencil

In his recent musing about the state of the NHS, ‘Please, Sir, Can we have some more?’ Cicero happened to make mention of pens and the space race.

And since mentioning this he has been inundated with requests to clarify and amplify and to show relevance to the NHS.

So here goes.

In the 1960s when Uncle Sam’s boys and the Russkies we racing hard to put a man on the moon, they both realised that in zero gravity normal pens wouldn’t work. Something to do with ink flow.

It is something that Cicero as a non-scientist would not and does not understand.

The Yankees with their industrial, economic and innovation might invested millions of greenbacks and after countless failures and much experimentation devised a pen that works in space conditions.

And Cicero believes that this technology is still in use today on flights to the International Space Station and will no doubt be used when astronauts head off to Mars.

Of course such a pen devised to operate in the unique conditions of space has very limited relevance here on earth.

The Commies on the other hand lacked the resources of Uncle Sam.

So they took a pencil. 

And it worked just as well. They thought outside the box and were just as innovative as Uncle Sam. 

At nowhere near the cost.

Sometimes innovation is not about coming up with shiny new stuff.

As Steve Jobs said ‘creativity is just about connecting things’.

And as someone whose identity is lost to the mists of time also said ‘necessity is the mother of invention’.

This is the lesson the NHS needs to learn and to learn fast before we are all waiting in queues on trolleys in A&E.

And before all those working hard to earn the taxes to pay for the NHS fall ill through their inability to see a GP.

The problem as Cicero sees it for the NHS is not a money problem. That just disguises the issue. But a creativity one.

In other words the NHS needs to find and to sharpen its pencils. It will never have enough money. 

Accept that fact and we can move on and get creative.

Cicero thinks it absurd for example that A&E departments around the country are busting and gut and failing to treat everyone within 4 hours.

‘Give us more money’, the scream to their political paymasters.

‘No don’t’, says Cicero.

Think differently about the problem.

Why not triage differently?

If your life or limbs are not in grave and imminent danger, you have no place in A&E.

Say they can wait but they might have to wait for 8 hours, say.

Everyone else treat within 4 hours as required, prioritised by clinical need.

Cuts and scrapes and sprains are not Emergencies. They should not be there. Nor you should be there just because you have to wait to see a GP.

If your life or limbs are not in grave and imminent danger, go home. Look up symptoms on internet. Go to Boots. Or wait to see a GP.

Simples.

Not all creative, innovative or imaginative ideas require money.

The Russkies made do without.

They may have lost the space race.

But it was not because they didn’t have a pen.

Have a great week

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

In the swim of things

To keep Cicero’s body youthful and supple from time to time he takes to the water and will go for a wee swim.

Usually before he heads off to the place where he plies his trade, dispensing marketing wisdom to those who seek guidance and enlightenment.

It never ceases to amaze him the characteristics of the people who share the chlorinated waters with him.

Firstly we have the man unable to swim in a straight line and who corkscrews himself across the pool as he zigs and zags and zigs up and down, forcing the other Speedos to dive out his way.

The Corkscrew swims pretty straight when on his front but he alternates between swimming on his front for one length and then on his back for the return journey down the pool.

And this is where the fun starts as he thrashes away back up the pool in a mighty zig zag crushing all else against the sides as he does so.

And if you are in the pool at the same time as The Bulldozer and The Corkscrew there is certainly no room in the pool for you and your budgie smugglers.

The Bulldozer is like an unstoppable tsunami and no one, and we mean no one, is allowed to get in his way as he scythes through the water turning out length after length without hesitation, repetition or deviation.

And it is the lack of deviation that the Bulldozer’s problem.

He gives not an inch.

And should you be on the same tack, it will be up to you and blink first and give way.

This has not yet been spotted but it would be interesting to see what would happen should the Corkscrew and the Bulldozer ever meet in the same pool at the same time.

And finally we have the Ladies Who Swim.

And these types are invariably distaffs so we are not being sexist.

Like trawlers who trawl the ocean depths in pairs they go up and down in pairs chatting away, oblivious to the fact that they are holding up all who swim in their wake.

And once they get to the end of the lane they invariably stop and chat some more.

And if you are really unlucky these distaffs will come not in pairs but as a trio. Even a foursome.

For these people it is all about the chatting, the gossip, the tittle tattle.

It never seems to occur to these people that they are wet.

That their hair is dripping.

That they are scantily clad.

Surely they would be more comfortable, drier and warmer, catching up on each other's social lives and TV watching habits over a cup of coffee.

Or even on Facebook.

It is a wonder given the space these types take up that there is any room for anyone else.

Do you have similar types in your pool?

Please do tell.

Have a great week.

Have a great year.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus

  

Please sir, can I have some more

Cicero is getting bored.

Every day he wakes to more bad news from the NHS.

You can’t get to see a GP. Accident and Emergency wards can’t cope with the demand and are in crisis. Social care is on its last legs resulting in bed blocking.

And all the time the answer is more money.

Like a junkie with a bad habit, the NHS is addicted to taxpayers’ money.

And in an election year the politicians are happy to indulge, keen to throw more and money of our money at the NHS, desperate to outbid each other at how much cash they want to shovel into the NHS rapacious jaws.

It is like the Cold War arms race. But with more money.

Does anyone seriously believe that the only way to treat an alcoholic is to drown them in more and more alcohol?

Of course not.

The conventional treatment for any addict is to treat the addiction not indulge it; to wean them off the drug of addiction; to get them to confront the problem.

It is time to apply this thinking to the NHS.

Otherwise the addiction to taxpayers’ cash will continue. The Black Hole that is the NHS will get bigger.

It used to be said that it was wrong to keep throwing money at the M25 to expand capacity. All that did was to attract more chariots to the M25 and very quickly we were back to square one.

This is what is happening with the NHS.

So there must be another way.

Even if it is an approach our politicos will be reluctant to take.

It is time to get brutal. Time to think different.

Cicero has the good fortune not to need the NHS but he would not give them another penny, they get enough as it is, until and unless they can show they can spend it wisely and are spending what they have wisely, effectively and efficiently. There is little evidence they are doing this.

And he knows from personal experience that loads of money kills innovation. Think about the space race and the story of the pen.

Take away the money and we will encourage our doctors, nurses and assorted NHS Apparatchiks to think differently.

Here is one example.

Cicero has a slight asthmatic wheeze.

He has prescriptions to help.

Every year the prescription has to be renewed involving a visit to the quack.

And every year it is renewed.

It is a needless hassle for Cicero. It wastes the quack’s time. Quacks who are hard pressed.

So why not change from an annual review to one every five years or unless condition changes.

Immediate gain in capacity.

Simple. Straightforward. Economical.

So get on with it.

And stop being like Oliver Twist and always asking for more.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Farting and belching

Cicero’s alma mater, the University of Glasgow, or the Yooni to afficianados,  has recently caved into student pressure from a vocal minority of eco- and enviro-mentalists, and has decided to sell its holding in fossil fuels.

It has done this on basis that these are bad things and are the cause of wonky weather.

Cicero really does think that it’s time to stand up to these megalomaniacs who think theirs  are the only voices to be heard.

 Perhaps the don who caved in and the student mentalists who held the Yooni to ransom should consider this tale.

Hold two pictures in your mind.

The first is a cow in a beautiful, green field.

The second is car stuck in a traffic jam. Engine on, polluting the environment as its nasty emissions spew from its rear end.

Now ask yourself this: Which one is doing more harm?

The cow or the car?

If you listen to the mentalists it would be the car.

But in truth the cow is doing more harm to the planet than the car. It produces more greenhouse gases. And its gasses are more harmful than the gases cars produce.

Cows fart and belch a lot and produce methane. And this is a great deal more harmful that CO2. Indeed 20 times more harmful.

And so cows are more likely to be the cause of wonky weather than our chariots.

In fact, the world’s livestock generate an estimated 18% of the world’s greenhouse gasses which is more than all the cars, aeroplanes, trains, ships, and all other forms of transport put together.

But we never hear this from the eco-mentalists.

And as they wage war on the capitalist gas guzzling classes you never hear them telling us to be more veggie. Or waging war on all creatures with 4 legs.

It’s easier to have a go at Cicero’s Yooni than to advocate death and destruction to our farm animals.

It’s about time that the eco-and enviro-mentalists did learn the facts of life before they open their gobs and add yet more methane into the atmosphere.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus. 

Say it with flowers

Go down any road or via these days and you are bound to see attached to some lamp post or other stanchion the remnants of some small posies of what were once flowers.

You can sometimes even see the same withered memorials on bridges over our motorways.

No doubt left by friends and relatives of someone caught up in some bad chariot smash.

When did this tradition start?

Cicero does not remember such tributes to the carnage that seemingly happens on our vias on a regular basis when he first took to the vias in a chariot adorned with L plates.

And unless his aged memory is once again playing tricks, Cicero considers this a relatively recent tradition. In which case of course it can hardly be considered a tradition.

Cicero is not sure how many years must pass before a regular event qualifies as a tradition but he is sure it cannot be a tradition if it started in his lifetime.

Now Cicero can understand why amici, patres and matres, filii and filiae and other assorted members of the familias, might want to mark the scene of a chariot smash and to leave a memorial to a loved one.

But does anyone consider how seeing the withered remains of some blooms can impact on other chariot drivers?

Do we want to be reminded every time we pass the spot marked with these withered offerings that driving a chariot is a dangerous and life threatening pastime?

Do we really want to know that someone in whose footsteps and tyre tracks we follow may have lost their lives as they went about their business along the self-same via?

It only goes to remind us that human life is a frail thing; that it can be lost in a moment in careless driving; that we are mortal.

And maybe that is really what these signs are all about.

Maybe these flora scraps are not left as a memorial but as a warning.

Maybe since our polis can no longer afford to erect and man speed cameras, and given the vitriol that arises from the installation of these Big Brother devices, this is a new tactic from the guardians of our liberties and freedoms.

Maybe their devious minds think that when they see wee memorials to man’s immortality we will slow down.

Clever.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

A word in your Shell

It would seem that the eco- and enviro-mentalists, who believe that the only creature of any significance on the planet are polar bears, truly are mental.

And Cicero is raging that these poor deluded people who have been duped into thinking and believing that our wonky weather is man-made, now have childrens’ play time in their sights with Lego bricks now being used as the latest weapon by these mentalists to save the planet…supposedly.

Pathetic.

For it has been brought to Cicero’s attention that Lego has recently ended a 50 year partnership with Shell which was designed to put Lego bricks into the hands of kiddiwinkles across the land and encouraging play, stimulating creativity, generating imagination, all good qualities one would have thought.

And Cicero believes we should be doing more to encourage these very fine qualities if we are to remain a land of invention and innovation and entrepreneurship.

But such qualities do not cut much ice with the mentalists if it threatens polar bears. And seemingly it does. But only if you have the warped and disturbed mind of a mentalist.

Now you may be wondering what Lego has done or is doing wrong in the eyes of the mentalists. And the answer…nothing apart from being best mates with Shell who have been drilling among the polar bears so that we can keep the lights on, our homes heated and our factories working that we might all enjoy a 21^st century lifestyle and not one more akin to Stone Age dwellers.

But the mentalists don’t like this and so have bullied and blackmailed Lego and targeted the play time of our kiddies.  The mentalists have even turned up at Legoland no doubt to scare the next generation and to brain wash them into believing that our planet is seconds away from expiry.

Now Cicero may have missed something but oil is a totally legal product and Shell is a truly legitimate company and drilling for oil is a legitimate business concern. Surely the Two Caesars have not prohibited such activities. Mr Nick does come up with cranky ideas from time to time but Posh Dave is there to stop such nonsense ever getting anywhere near the legislative process. Has he failed this time? Has he taken leave of his senses?

No it would seem not. This is yet another example of the mentalists imposing their distorted logic onto the lives of Cicero, the wider society, and onto the innocent and undisturbed minds of our kiddies.

And why have the Board and Management of Lego not shown more backbone? Why did they feel it necessary to cave into the craven blackmail of the mentalists? Surely they should have done more to protect the innocence of children playing with their bricks? And defended the legitimate right of us all to free speech and to have the temerity to express a contrary view about polar bears, wonky weather and melting ice caps?

Maybe they should have borrowed the stiff and unyielding backbone of their Lego men and women.

For how much longer are we going to tolerate the mentalists imposing their views? Cicero says to these disturbed people-‘seek help, leave us alone, especially the kids, and get back in your shells’.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Dead stupid

Should anyone think that Cicero has turned over a new leaf and is now thinking differently after my previous tale of humility and compassion, be assured that this week normal service will be resumed. 

Today he will uncover and target yet another example of crass stupidity in his quest to improve customer service one business at a time.

It is a thankless task but a job that has to be done otherwise we condemn the next customer to appalling, unthinking, unintelligent and de-humanised customer service.

Long suffering readers will know that the most widely quoted causes of inaction by businesses and their people here usually involve health and safety or data protection or following due process. In other words more emphasis is given to satisfying the needs of the health and safety gauleiters, of the business prevention compliance unit, or of the boss, rather than doing the right thing for the customer and applying some common sense.

This recent example from Cicero’s immense back catalogue of customer service howlers will illustrate this nicely.

Imagine, if you will, a telephone call between Cicero and the customer service unit of a well- established and highly-known insurance company.

Insurance Company: Good morning, can I take your policy number, please

Cicero: would it not be better if you treated me as a person not a number and asked for my name first

 

Insurance Company: I appreciate what you are saying but my computer says I must ask for policy number first

Cicero: Why?

Insurance Company: It is company policy. I guess it is in case you are not who you are

Cicero: And how does asking for my policy number verify that?

At this point there is much to-ing and fro-ing between Cicero and Insurance Company in a failed attempt to argue the logic of this case.

We now cut to the crux of the debate.

Cicero: Now we have established my bona fides, I would like to claim on an insurance policy taken out by my grandmother.

Insurance Company: We need your grandmother’s permission before we can discuss this. Do you have this?

Cicero: No. She is dead. That is why I am claiming on the policy.

Insurance Company: We still need her permission. Is there no way you can get her written authorisation?

Cicero: Are you seriously saying that I need the written authorisation from a dead person before I can make a claim? No, I have just checked it’s not April 1^st.

Insurance Company: Yes, it is data protection.

Cicero: Perhaps you might be able to give me a few pointers as to how I can get written authority from someone who is dead and even if she were still alive it is very unlikely that she would be given she would now be 138 at next birthday.

Insurance Company: Yes I can see that but to conform to my procedures and with Data Protection I cannot proceed unless we have written authority.

You really couldn’t make it up, could you?

After a few more moments of such badinage with the irrestible logic of Cicero continuing to bang up against the immovable dumbness of the clerk, the conversation was taken over by one whose pay grade entitled him to a few more brain cells. This resolved the conversation to Cicero’s satisfaction with a promise to review processes, to send away the hapless clerk for re-education and a cheque to charity to compensate for Cicero’s inconvenience that he had to deal with such abject stupidity.

Maybe if the business and its people had been a bit more obsessed with the customer and less in thrall to its own processes, to its business prevention compliance police, to a culture of disempowerment and fear, such stupidity could be averted. 

A lesson for many businesses.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Ever so humble

Cicero will be the first man to admit that humility and Marcus Tullius Cicero are not words that you will see together too often. This is not to say that Cicero is arrogant, well at least we hope not, but not many would describe Cicero as humble. 

And as regular readers of these words will testify, Cicero is often quick to criticise, to lampoon and to pass judgement. Especially if you do a job funded by the taxpayer.

And yet these are some of the very people who in recent weeks and months have humbled Cicero. Indeed they have inspired the Old Man today to write this eulogy to the selfless dedication, humanity and genuine warmth of those who man (assuming of course that Harry Harperson has not banned this word)  the wards in our hospitals, our nurses.

Over the last few weeks Cicero has spent more time than he would have liked in hospital. There is no need to fear-Cicero remains hale and hearty and will be the scourge of nonsense for years to come. It was not Cicero who needed the ministrations of our Health Service but someone far older and ancient than he, whose time on this green and pleasant land was drawing slowly and gently to its natural end.

And in the course of this Cicero witnessed and marvelled at the actions and behaviours who daily toil among the dying and the sick. Few, in Cicero’s daily experience, exhibit such compassion, gentleness and understanding on such a sustained basis.

Not only do they tend to the dying to ensure their last days and hours are as comfortable as possible but they also care for the needs of the living, those who will be left behind. Tears were shared, the anguish heard, pain assuaged.

We, mere mortals, will do this a few times in our life. They do it every day but they do it as if this was the first time, as if you were the only one going through this. And this is truly something to marvel at, to laud and to recognise.

And in the middle of the night, when the final moments come, and you are still on the road to the hospital, they will ensure that no one shuffles off this mortal coil alone. They will be there with a gentle stroke of the hand, a kind word, a soft light.

They care. They understand. They humble.

So let’s hear it for Britain’s nurses and for all they do to tend to the dying, the poorly and the living. And may they be an example to us all. They are to Cicero.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus. 

A nudge towards independence

Once again Cicero is going to allude to the wee stramash that is currently going on to the north of the Wall of Hadrian. For there is much that many of us who reside to the south can learn.

And by the time you get to read this, the result may be known, but whether Eck Salmond and his acolytes have won the debate or not, the learnings remain relevant.

As you know Cicero is a great fan of behavioural science or ‘nudge’ as it is known to some. And it would appear that Eck is a keen student of this approach also. Unlike Posh Dave and the Two Caesars.

You might think that a referendum question is easy to formulate.

No.

The same question can be asked in a variety of ways. Dependent on the answer that is required. And Eck knows for sure exactly what answer he wants. Do the Two Caesars?

For example the voters of the Celtic clans are going to be asked ‘Should Scotland be an independent country? Yes or No.’

It could have asked ‘Do you want Scotland to remain as part of the United Kingdom? Yes or no?’

Same question. Same outcome. Or so you might think.

But here Eck played a blinder and in a vote where every vote might count, an understanding of behavioural science might end up nudging Eck over the line and the Celtic tribes into independence and freedom.

No matter the question, yes is positive, it is constructive, it is optimistic. No is the exact opposite. Everything that is good about saying yes is as bad when we say no.

We want to say yes. We don’t want to say no. Sales people learn this with their mother’s milk and if you listen carefully to their patter will try to get their mark into a yes frame of mind as early and as often as they can in the conversation.

And Eck is a great salesman, whatever you might think of his political patter.

Thinking about it is no wonder that the ‘No’ people have been struggling to paint an optimistic vision for the the northern clans and tribes staying with the two Caesars when they start out with one hand tied behind their back and their legs tied together.

The ‘Aye’ or ‘Naw’ question being asked may not be the silver bullet to independence and freedom but Cicero, always a keen student and thinker of behavioural science thinks, in the tight race this is shaping up to be, might just add a few yes extra yes votes to the pile and might end up in rUK needing a new flag.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus. 

To be a nation again

It may not have escaped your notice that in just a few weeks the tribes to the north of the Wall of Hadrian are going to decide whether or not the Union Flag should continue to have a blue background. And one or two other things besides.

This is a debate from which Cicero has stood aside. Mainly because he is disenfranchised in this election and just as we tell Mr Putin to stop interfering in the affairs of a sovereign nation, he believes that those who live to the south of the Wall should not interfere in the politics and affairs of those fortunate to live in the enlightened land to its north.

But there is one thought that Cicero has observed and would like to share.

Any observer would note that those who are encouraging the tribes to say aye are expected to have all the answers, to have very i dotted and t crossed, and every loose end tied up before Xs are applied to the ballot paper.

Eck himself, or Alex Salmond as the press know him, is often criticised on this. Especially when it comes to the bawbees the new nation will use.

But as Cicero would like to point out this is impossible. So cut the guy some slack. And maybe this is a flaw in the process. Maybe the Celtic tribes should have two votes. Heaven forbid.

For it is striking that on many issues Eck on his own cannot decide the final outcome. He needs others to come to the table and they are not going to come to the table until they know whether it is aye or naw.

Take the bawbee issue, for example. Eck can say what he would like to see happen but until the Two Caesars or even the Last Lot say what they want, no one will know for sure what will be the shape and the bawbees the tribes will have in their pocket.

Same for nuclear weapons. Same for EU membership. Same for pensions, health and everything else for that matter. It takes two to tango and so far there is only Eck on the dance floor.

So let us be clear.

At this stage Eck is only being given a mandate to negotiate. He is clear about what he wants. No one else is. And until they show their hand no one can be sure if Eck’s vision for a free and independent Scotland is what they will get.

This is not an argument that it is all too uncertain and risky so the answer ought to be naw.

Instead it is an argument for a 2 stage process. Stage one to give Eck a mandate from the peoples to negotiate a fair settlement for an independent Scotland.  Followed by a second vote to ensure that everyone happy (well at least 51%) happy that all every i has been satisfactorily dotted and every t fully crossed.

Only then can the tribes be sure that this will work or not and that they are not buying a pig in a poke.

Two votes? God help all who live up there.

Have a great week

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.

Buds are for flowers

Cicero would like to apologise that due to unforeseen and unavoidable family matters his presence has been lacking for a few weeks. Hopefully you will all be re-assured to welcome his return to the blogosphere.

Yesterday evening when wending his weary home from the centre for creative and marketing excellence where he is currently privileged to ply his trade, Cicero had to stop at a local petrol station to fill up his chariot.

This was naturally quite straightforward.

The madness started when he stepped up to pay for his fuel

.

When asked to specify what pump he had used, the acne disfigured youth who was manning the pay station and with whom Cicero was totally unfamiliar, referred to Cicero as ‘mate’.

When he was informed of the amount owed, Cicero was now known as ‘buddy’.

And when asked to enter the four digits that compose his PIN he was now ‘bud’.

This level of faux and faked familiarity shows the contempt with which this well-known petroleum retailer shows its customers. Cicero wants respect not familiarity from those to whom Cicero hands over his bawbees. The occasional ‘sir’ would not go amiss.

And surely given the name is on the card it  is not beyond the wit of the pimply and acned yoof who seem to man pay stations everywhere these days-something to do with Minimum Pay it is wagered- to use this information to apply the correct soubriquet (Mr, Mrs, Miss, Ms) and use the name.

We call this respect for those who pay the wages of those who choose to serve us, the customer.

So let this be a warning to any out there who may get the chance to serve Cicero in the coming days, weeks, months, years. Do not think of him or refer to him as a mate, buddy, bud, pal or any other word that implies friendship or kinship unless and until and not before he has acknowledged your friendship and admitted you to his small and close rank of friends.

Until that point he is Mr Cicero or even Sir.

Got it.

Buds are for flowers not customers.

Have a great week.

Sis felix. Et sis fortunatus.