'Come on You Reds'

Politics is a funny old game, a lot like football. It generates a passion and blind allegiance that wouldn't be out of place in the football stands. The political parties are able to talk about safe seats because they know a certain amount of people will turn up to support them just as Wolverhampton Wanderers know that a certain amount of people will turn up to watch them play. The faithful can be relied upon to follow them through the waxes and wanes of the parties (or teams) fortunes without question regardless of how many times they mess up. The die-hard Labour supporters would no more vote Conservative than a Manchester City fan would don a Manchester United shirt no matter how poorly their own team were doing. Even the House of Commons is similar to a football match with all sides shouting at each other whilst the respective cabinets take centre stage. Mind you, there is a lot less swearing and the ref doesn't get any abuse in the Commons. 

It could be said that the Conservatives, Labour and Liberal Democrats make up the Premier League although the Lib-dems are perilously close to relegation. UKIP the Greens and BNP are snapping at their heels in the championship league while the likes of the Christian Peoples Alliance and the Monster Raving Loony Party slug it out in the Conference League keeping the tradition of British eccentricity alive and well. Nobody takes them seriously, except themselves. You could even draw a parallel between Wimbledon FC's rise to the premiership by pure bloody mindedness and butchery of the enemy with UKIP's journey from political wilderness to a serious contender. 

The football teams have their equivalents in the cabinets and shadow cabinets of the respective parties. They have their brash heavy hitters (strikers) and those dull grey men considered unremarkable but a safe pair of hands (Defenders) with the incumbent leader as the manager. They have a sprinkling of old hands and young shining stars and just as in football, if their caught misbehaving they get sent off. Peter Mandleson got sent off twice from the labour party.

In true football fashion the political parties have their own colours and slogans so they can be easily identified and the thicker voters can tell them apart. You can probably even get a mug with David Cameron's face on, should you be so inclined. The other comparison with football is that most people are just not interested and don't understand it. Like the people who think football is some dark tribal rite, people who don't 'do' politics think politicians are all the same so there is no point in voting, and they have a point.

John Bercow displaying his new outfit. 

 If you were to take a poll you would find there are a significant number of people who can't name the prime minister never mind the rest of the cabinet. If they are serious about generating interest in politics they need to go a step further and wear their names just like in football so the general public can identify them, make up rhymes and hurl astute political comment and wittiness at them. Some would say politics is just an excuse for public school hooliganism anyway.

Glazing Over.

I understand that there is such a thing as a window of opportunity. It's said that it's magical in that it can make all your dreams come true and even has the potential to make you rich. I have never seen one myself and no one can explain what it looks like. There are many reports of people who have used them to great effect but they seem very hard to track down and, if you don't know what it looks like, how do you know when you've found one?

I have checked my house and all the windows I have just seem to be ordinary ones. I even tried climbing through one but I just ended up in the garden, good job it was on the ground floor. I have tried sticking my head through my car windows but noticed no monetary gain or particular life advantage from trying this. Perhaps I should try it with the windows closed.

I have heard it said that diaries sometimes have windows, I have checked all the diaries I was able to lay my hands on but I haven't managed to find any with windows in; it's very confusing. I have also heard it said that for some lucky people, this window of opportunity comes knocking at their door, they don't even have to go and look for it. I haven't been able to discover how this window decides which doors to knock on. I have looked up on the internet how to make my door more enticing to opportunity but all I can find is a talent show from the 1960s, I don't think Hughie Green is the answer.

I expect I have no option but to wait until one comes along and hope I can recognise it when I see it. This could be tricky because you can see straight through windows so I won't know it's there. It seems I shall remain poor and unfulfilled then, unless you find a window you don't want and think I could use. I'm just going to pop on ebay because you can get anything on there, I might even find a picture. Anyone know how much they cost?

Sincerely Insincere,

It seems to me that the primary talent required for a TV presenter is raging insincerity; the ability to appear enthusiastic about things that are quite clearly tripe. I have just watched one of those house makeover programs where they remove the homeowners for a day or so and then redecorate their house by painting old bits of junk and hanging it on the wall. The presenter then waxes lyrical for the camera about the originality and talent of the interior designer who looks suitably smug. The homeowner is introduced to the wonderful transformation and starts crying. Are those tears of joy or frustration at their new lime green kitchen, what's wrong with magnolia?

When I was younger and used to listen to radio the DJs all used to rave about the latest releases. Every record was a sure fire hit and destined for the top spot. I didn't once hear a DJ say ' this is rubbish but some monkey put it on the playlist so I have to play it.' As I became older and more cynical it occurred to me that the presenters can't possibly like every record they play, unless you were John Peel.

Dearly beloved and I sometimes watch The Chase presented by Bradley Walsh. It's a good quiz show and Mr Walsh comes over as a nice chap but the show is scripted practically from beginning to end. Poor old Bradley says exactly the same thing at each part of the show every day and it's starting to irritate me a little. It must be driving our Bradders bonkers. I don't watch it that often although I can still pretty much quote it word for word but Mr Walsh smiles on gamely and spouts his spiel as if it's the first time he has ever heard it. Now that's true talent. He does depart from the script to have a little banter with his guests but then its straight back to the script' I'm sorry but for you the chase is over.'

Well known faces enthusiastically endorsing products is a whole other ball game. No one is going to object to Mr Beckham advertising sporting brands, after all a shirt is a shirt. However, the likes of Michael Parkinson and Carol Vorderman seeming to give the thumbs up to financial products that most people don't understand is another matter entirely. 'I should get one because Michael says so' is no way to plan your financial future. I believe the lovely Ms Vorderman did get some stick for her financial related adverts and has since taken to advertising clothing instead. She just has to look glam and wave herself at the camera so she is on much safer ground here but it's probably a knock for women's lib. Unfortunately for Mr Parkinson, no one is going to pay him to advertise fashion, unless it's incontinence pants.

So there you have it. For all you wanna be presenters out there, you don't have to be smart or attractive and you don't have to be funny or have a big personality. You just need to be able to pretend that the old tyre which has been painted silver and hung on the wall is possibly the greatest art work of the 21st century. To quote that cultural Icon Benny Hill, ' that's what showbiz is, sincere insincerity. 

'The Kids are Alright'

I had an accident last week; I don't think its life changing and probably won't leave a scar. It was not a serious accident but it caught me by surprise. I am not even sure how it happened. It was just average day when I discovered I had inadvertently joined a Katie Perry Facebook group. 
 
I don't remember clicking or liking anything Katie Perry related but that's the wonder of Farcebook. In the scheme of things getting a large number of pictures of Ms Perry is not the worst thing that can happen, after all, she's not a bad looking bird. What was more interesting was that the group seemed to comprise of pre or early teens from places like Chile and Guatemala practising their English language by reprinting the lyrics and making comments like 'Katie 4 evva I am 14 how old are you guys' and 'I Luv Katie please print words to Birthday'; I presume that's one of her songs.

I can remember in my teen years being glued to Top of the Pops every week, it was of crucial importance. They used to have a procession of bands and singers on and you always hoped they would show one or two of your favourites. Admittedly, you had to sit through three minutes of Pans People but I watched it through to the end regardless. I always wished it would last an hour instead of a measly thirty minutes. I can even remember in my pre-teens pretending to play the piano using the tiles on the fireplace as the keys.

In those days music was vitally important to me and I would discover new bands and be transported.  I was talking to one of my Scottish colleagues and he remembers queuing up to buy Cum on Feel the Noize with his brother in Glasgow about this time. Him and I, opposite ends of the country and different lives entirely but sharing the same magic. Music was everything in those days.


We used to have boy's music and girl's music. Boys would never admit to liking The Osmonds or Bay City Rollers for fear of being beaten up in the playground. I expect it's the same now with the likes of Justin Bieber. I can remember when ABBA were the naffest of naff and no serious musicologist would treat them with anything but derision, Looks like they had the last laugh.

We old rockers like to say that music was great in the old days and about how passionate we were. We like to moan that modern kids don't understand and today's music is disposable, computer generated trash. To a large extent that's true and things have changed but the comments on Katy Perry's Farcebook group suggest the passion the young generation feels for its music hasn't diminished. It may not be as musically proficient or with 'real musicians' who have paid their dues but that doesn't mean the kids don't connect with it as deeply. In the words of my favourite band who have been with me since I first heard them playing on my mate's stereo all those years ago, 'The Kids are Alright.'

So Near, Yet Solar.

Do any of you wonderful blog readers know anything about solar panels? The fellow on the corner of my road has had a spanking array of shiny new panels fitted to his roof. Since then I have been approached by no less than three separate companies all claiming to have fitted them. I'm no green warrior but anything that could save me money must be worth looking into.

 I had done a little research on the net but it still wasn't clear what the benefits of solar energy were and it seemed there were several ways to skin this particular cat. When a company rang out of the blue asking if they could send a sacrificial lamb, sorry salesperson, round to give me a free estimate about how much I could save, I agreed. I was hoping to fill in the gaps in my knowledge and see what all the fuss was about. 

Their saleswoman turned up at the appointed time, I quizzed her for an hour and ten minutes and I still failed to see the benefits. It seems to me the system works as follows. I cough up £6,600; the company take the cash and fit 10 solar panels. The government pay me an amount per kilowatt hour plus a small export tariff on 50% of what I generate on the assumption that it is going back into the grid (although it isn't because the company don't fit the export box). In eight years I'll get my money back. Meanwhile the energy I make is fed into my meter reducing the amount I need to buy off the electricity company. She confidently predicts that in 20 years I will make a guaranteed 8% return on my investment. Spot the quantum leap there.


She suggests I could cut my electricity bill by 80% by using all the energy I produce. However, there is no storage battery so this would only be possible if the entire family are home all day. In the summer when it's producing the energy in copious quantities the family and I are at work and it would be wasted. You tend to use more energy in the evenings when the light is failing and everyone is home or in the winter when its dark at 4PM. Granted it would power your fridge and freezer during the day but would it be worth paying the interest on a six grand loan? I think not. Alternatively, if you have the cash, there are other safer and much shorter term investments that would make more sense and for a lot less risk.

 I don't regard myself as the sharpest knife in the draw, in fact to plagiarise Terry Pratchett who possibly stole it from someone else, I'm probably a spoon but I am failing to see a serious benefit here. Perhaps one of you kind blog readers can see what I'm missing. I expect it would suit people who have heavy electric usage and are home all day. And another thing, were does the energy you don't use go, into the ground? Am I going to end up with electrified flower borders? The general consensus it that the price of solar panels is dropping rapidly, I think I'll hang on another couple of years and the government will probably be giving them away free to meet its EU targets. 

Man to Man

It's my considered opinion that all gentlemen should have a little blokiness in their lives. I'm lucky in the fact that I have a handful of male friends with whom I can have drink, play music and go and see the latest 'all action' blockbuster at the cinema. The kind of films most women wouldn't be interested in. Girls are all very well but it's just not the same.

It's hard to define what this blokiness actually is. It's not just talking sport for example. I work with women who can talk football and rugby all day but that would bore me silly. It's not about butchness or machismo either; some of those women are rougher and hairier than I am. I went out with a male friend the other day and when we weren't talking about music, we were talking about fixing and mending things; about history, science and bloke type interests. We were sharing a mutual view of the world that is of no interest to most women. I don't remember mentioning children, fluffy animals or shopping once.  I'm sure ladies have their equivalents with their 'girly chats'.

Dearly Beloved's sister and her husband go fishing together; (hello Carl and Maxine). To be fair Carl does all the fishing and Maxine does a lot of reading. Fishing is possibly the last bastion of male dominated pastimes. If you go down the local canal on a Sunday how many women do you see fishing? That's right, none. Perhaps it's something to do with the maggots. I tried fishing in my youth and discovered it was not for me but I can understand the attraction of sitting quietly on a riverbank all day, communing with nature and watching the wildlife with no distractions. Fishermen don't really talk to each other except to politely enquire about the size of their catch. Blokes can sit there all day quietly bonding and sharing the experience with almost no conversation and then retreat to the pub in the evening for a quiet pint and discuss how nothing actually happened. You wouldn't catch a woman doing that.


As time passes people get caught up with their children, work and relatives while friends tend to fall by the wayside which is a shame. I'm pleased to say that Dearly Beloved is my best friend and we share most things together, we have a laugh and she's a pleasure to be with. However, there are things which I can share with my male friends which she's just not interested in. It's because she's not a bloke and, quite frankly, I'm pleased about that.

Southpaw

Leonardo da Vinci - Lefty 

I am left handed which, as everyone knows, denotes me as being more intelligent, creative and generally more brilliant in every way than all you right handed people. In some ways it's a curse because everything is designed for right handed people such as can openers and potato peelers but we lefties learn to become ambidextrous so it just becomes another way to show off our innate superiority. I sincerely believe that if we are ever approached by aliens from a planet significantly more advanced than ours they will all be left handed, or tentacled.

Where I work we 'hot desk' if you remember that phrase. I confess it amuses me to watch one of my colleagues trying to log in but unable to find the mouse. The momentary look of confusion is priceless, then the penny drops and they realise I've moved it to the other side of the keyboard. There follows a short grumble which often includes the words 'bloody lefties'. Highly snigger -worthy.

There doesn't seem to be any logical, genetic pattern between right handed 
and the superior left handed babies. Both my first wife and I were left handed but our son was born right handed. My female colleague at work has had three children and they are all left handed although she is a righty. As there is no obvious explanation it suggests that it could be for evolutionary reasons thereby confirming that us lefties are further up the evolutionary ladder.

In the Dark Ages being left handed was the sign of a witch; the mark of the devil. People were executed in the name of God for being left handed. It's generally known that the word sinister is Latin for left. This is clearly further evidence of the left handed attracting attention because of our greater humanity and intellectuality. The right handed establishment attempted to destroy us because of fear and their inability to explain our natural advantages. They claimed it was the work of the devil. Unfortunately the dull-witted righties fell for it hook, line and sinker and the rest is history.

Albert Einstein - Lefty 

These days people are much more enlightened and I am pleased to say you righties have been forgiven for past transgressions. It's true to say that we can't all be winners and it seems the right handed population have finally accepted this. There is no need for right handed people to feel dejected about this, they can still make a meaningful contribution to society. However, I can't help but wonder how much more advanced human beings would be now if the Dark Age purge had never happened.