Interlude

Real life has rudely interrupted proceedings, so things will be a little quiet around here for a few more days.

Normal service will be resumed shortly. . . 

Awaiting moderation.

This lot:

Have a little blog. There's a rather entertaining article over there entitled:

Rationalising the Irrational: Explaining UK Euroscepticism

The title suggests that anyone who isn't keen on the good old EUSSR is likely to get short shrift.

But it does ask the question, I think, for the English falls apart at the end, if we want in or out.

Why not go and tell them?

I'm betting my comments, below, don't pass moderation.

“The national written press is particularly influential in Britain, compared with other EU states, and the internet has not yet changed this.”

I’ve news for you, the internet is even more hostile than the press towards the EU. Why? Because it gives a true reflection of public attitudes in the street.

It’s nothing to do with the war, nor is it to do with the Euro.

Why should any nation subsume itself to the EU? It is only partially true to say that the EU is painted as a body designed to undermine British sovereignty. It is a body that is designed to undermine the sovereignty of EVERY nation state within the EU, and, more importantly, the sovereignty of every citizen within those nation states.

The EU is unaccountable, anti-democratic, corrupt, arrogant and venal.

Against the free movement of goods, people and services I can brook no argument. But the machinery is worringly similar to the old USSR, and the attitudes of those in charge reflect those of the politburo. 
It is a deeply, deeply flawed project that will only end badly, for all concerned.

So, in a word; No.

I’d rather the UK was not a part of the EU, I’d rather the other nations weren’t a part of the EU, because they will be destroyed and it will be tragic.

Well, then you're an idiot.

Fish and chip shops in Bridlington have put up signs warning customers about being attacked by seagulls.

No, it's not a gang or a new acronym to describe the socially incompetent. We're talking actual shitehawks here.

Seafront chip shop owner Justin Carpenter said he was now losing money because of the number of chip thefts. 

Whoa, whoa, hang on. Are we to understand the little buggers are strolling in and helping themselves? Seagulls are brazen at the best of times, but I've never heard of that.

He said he was giving out more free bags of chips in compensation for the ones stolen by the birds.

Wha. . .?

"The seagulls dive-bomb them, just take their food and there is nothing you can do about it," he said.

"So the customers come back to us and we feel obliged to give them the food to reimburse them, and that's us losing money."

Well, then you're an idiot. Remind me not to invest in Carpenter Fish & Chip Shops Ltd.

I wonder if he'd take the same view if he were running an Aston Martin dealership? I can just see it now, the proud owner pulls out of the car park, joins the traffic and is rear-ended by a Vauxhall Nova. He'd be shaking his head and calling out 'Guys, prep another one, it's happened again. Bloody Nova drivers, this is costing us a fortune. Still, I just have this feeling of obligation. . .'

I've a shiny 50p coin that says the vast majority of the shitehawk muggees of Bridlington are tourists, gone to the coast for the day. I'll tell you this, it's a lesson you only need teaching once.

I live near the Kent coast now, and for four years lived in Falmouth, a town that specialises in what appear to be GM cyber-robo-herring gulls, you get used to them very quickly and take appropriate steps to ensure that you don't get caught out again.

The pub I used to work at had a large outdoor seating area on the quay. You'd never, ever, see the locals enjoying their pub lunch outdoors, and when drinks were taken outdoors they were always covered with a beer mat, deployed to defend against aerial biological bombardment.

How the tourists would ooh and aah as they fed the gulls a crust of bread or a chip. How they would then shriek when the same seagull would leap up onto the table and tuck in to their lovely pub lunches.

Did we feel obliged to give them a free lunch? Not on your life. The conversation would normally go something like this:

Punter: A seagull just shat on/stole/knocked over my drink/lunch.


Staff: Oh, I'm sorry to hear that.


Punter: What are you going to do about it?


Staff: Well, nothing. This is what seagulls do, especially if people are silly enough to feed them. (Knowing look.)


Punter: Well, you didn't warn me.


Staff: It's an implied risk Sir/Madam, why do you think these people are enjoying their lunch inside on such a glorious day? (Smirks and waves from the table of locals)


Punter: I think you're responsible.


Staff: OK, bring me the seagull and show me where 'property of Greenalls brewery' is marked on it, and I'll give you a replacement or a refund.

I don't know who is more stupid here, the chip eaters for waving their lunch around in front of the gulls, and probably throwing them the occasional titbit, or the chip shop owner for blithely handing out freebie replacements.

If he were any sort of businessman he'd be training the seagulls to swoop down on anyone holding a white paper bag on sight. I also can't help but wonder how many phantom seagull attacks have taken place. Too tight to buy a fish lunch for the whole family? Buy one for yourself and one for your kid. Give your chips to the Mrs, and sprog 1's chips to sprog 2. Take tearful sprog 1 back into shop and rant about seagulls.

Even I can work that one out, and I'm public sector.

Pass the cyanide.

I'd like to be able to follow my own advice and not consume (see post below) but Mrs. Wolfers watches it religiously. I entertain myself in other ways, flying sorties over the blogosphere or reading a book, walking the real snowolf, doing the washing up, whatever.

I'm not even sure why she watches it, she doesn't seem to enjoy it.

What am I talking about?

Eastenders.

I've never enjoyed it. I'm not a lover of soap operas at all, but Eastenders takes the biscuit. Corrie is bearable, there is at least some comic relief, and from what I've seen the stories aren't as far fetched, and the actors, in my opinion, are better. Emmerdale used to be on the menu as well, but for reasons unknown to me has fallen off. The two Aussie ones I am spared, however the English equivalent, the truly toe-curlingly awful Hollyoaks does make an appearance on the occasional Sunday morning - it seems to go on for about 4 hours, and it is utter, utter tripe. I am assured by some that the girls are well fit, however when I do see it, all I see is a parade of young ladies who look identical and are all totally without bosom or behind. I'll have a proper woman with a proper figure please.

Anyhow, back to Eastenders. Before getting too earnest, can anyone explain to me how the pub is always packed to the gunwhales, unless there is something going on down the club, which, I hasten to add is the quietest nightclub in history? Nobody owns a car or a washing machine, and despite the presence of a tube station, will normally take a cab 'up west'. Nobody works outside the environs of the square - not one person commutes into town for work, and despite these low wage jobs, they can all afford to run these enormous, seemingly 8 bedroom, late Victorian town houses. Perhaps this accounts for the lack of washing machines and cars? Despite this low level of vehicle ownership, 'Phil' can make a living running a small backstreet grease pit, and can seemingly buy any business he wants, just like that.

It's all a bit odd.

What really does bug me about this programme though is the fact that no-one, not one character is permitted even a moment's fleeting joy or happiness. Any good news is almost immediately followed up with a personal or communal disaster. I appreciate that this is a dramatic construct, but it just seems to go on with unrelenting misery, for everyone. Perpetually. It is soul destroying stuff.

Further to that, I believe that the show puts out a very bad message. Nobody shows any aspiration beyond working on a fruit stall or loading and unloading washing machines and tumble dryers. Kids that do well at school and go off to university seem to be socially awkward or incompetent in some regard, or will return to the square a few weeks in to their first term having failed to cope with the demands placed upon them.

People are bad with money, forever tapping up the same old people for a loan, loans which are normally given with humiliating strings attached. Indeed anyone who does have money or is a success tends to be a criminal or morally objectionable in some other fashion.

The message to me is clear; You'll never amount to anything, so why even try? Everyone who has money, drive or ambition is a crook, conman or an arsehole, and you don't want to be like them. Just stick to what you know and make do with what you've been given.

It is a hateful, despicable programme, and quite why anyone watches it is beyond me.

I'm not suggesting it be banned, that just isn't my style, but I hold Eastenders up as a prime exhibit as to why the licence fee should be scrapped.

Why did they do it? Because you asked them to.

Well, here's my take on the whole issue.

I've heard and read a lot of what has been said and written over the last few days, and all that it has done has served to remind me how insular and self-centred the residents of 'Westminster Village' and 'Fleet Street' are.

Rupert Murdoch has no more power over the election of governments than Paul the Psychic Octopus had over the results in the last world cup.

Let's look at the evidence shall we?

When Kinnock and Labour lost that election to Thatcher's Conservatives, they weren't undone by The Sun. They were undone by their own policies while people still had very clear memories of how the previous Labour administration had come to an end, and how little they had changed. Murdoch saw which way the wind was blowing.

It was this, plus the sight of Kinnock falling over on the beach, and his bizarre opening gambit in his Sheffield speech that saw voters stay away. As soon as this speech was made, his goose was cooked, the same was true of Howard Dean as his speech turned into a Ric Flair promo.

So for Murdoch to claim that:

Is bollocks of the highest order. They saw who was going to win and went to back them. Exactly the same happened in 1997:

And when it became obvious that Brown was totally unelectable they dropped Labour like a hot spud.

If the Murdoch media machine is so powerful, then where is the front page from the day after the most recent election, trumpeting The Sun's invaluable assistance in getting a Conservative government elected? Exactly, there isn't one. The Murdoch press doesn't get governments elected, it sees which way the public are going and makes sure it backs them. The only people who seem to think that Murdoch has this power are Murdoch himself and the politicians.

On Question Time this week, it was alleged that if you didn't play ball with Murdoch, then your personal life becomes the next headline. It appears that following some questioning which Rebekah Brooks found uncomfortable, Chris Bryant was outed as gay six months later by the Murdoch press.

Meh, so what? Chris, old chap, in this day and age it really doesn't matter if you're gay or not. They may as well have said that you'd rather have ice cream with your apple crumble than custard. It doesn't matter. I agree that one's personal life should be just that, unless you are engaged in an activity that renders you unfit for public office. I will also agree that even if you are engaged in such an activity, it is wrong to obtain that information by playing 'lucky guess' with people's mobile phone PINS. However, the easy way to avoid being splashed across the papers is to not be acting like a prick. Not hammering the expenses, not screwing that comely secretary, not hiring that rent boy, they are all very easy things to do. I've managed to spend my life not doing any of them. If you've not been stupid enough to do anything like that, then they're not going to find anything if they dig around, are they?

So, we've established that Murdoch doesn't have the power of life or death over governments, and that they're only going to find out what you've done (by admittedly naughty means) if you are stupid enough to do it in the first place, and stupid enough not to ensure your IT is secure in the second place.

The management at News International have overseen this process, and have been found wanting. They are either culpable in allowing it, or incompetent in not rooting it out. As far as I'm concerned, Murdoch Jr, Brooks and the editors should all be shown the doors.

But, and here's the important bit, considerations of criminality aside, News Corp is a private company, so who they hire and fire is up to them. You, as an individual, have the ultimate sanction; and this brings me to my next point.

I'm getting so pissed off with the bleating about Murdoch's supposed vice-like grip on the UK media. Bollocks. The simple thing to do is not to consume it. No-one is holding a gun to your head and forcing you to read The Sun, NOTW, Times or Sunday Times. Nobody ties you to a chair and sits you in front of Sky News, if you don't like it, don't read it. I don't read the Murdoch red-tops, not through any moral objection, I just don't think they are particularly good papers. Same goes for The Times and its sister, it is as dull and pretentiously worthy as the tabloids are sensationalist and over simple. I do watch Sky News, but only because the offering from the BBC (few seem to grumble about their chokehold on broadcast media, despite the peddling of their own agenda) is so uniformly awful.

Who's fault is this? Is it the eeeeeeeevil Murdoch? No. Is it the terrible Coalition politicians? No, they are just as bad as the last government, unable to see outside their own little bubble and convinced of Murdoch's mystical powers, or more likely, worried that his worker drones know about their little swindles and peccadilloes, which they know they shouldn't indulge but just can't help themselves. Is it the Police, who it would appear wilfully disregarded evidence that this was a widespread problem, probably because they were getting so much money from it, and knew that the finger pointed at them? No.

I'll tell you who is at fault. It is you. The figures don't lie. You want to know which actress is screwing which actor, which footballer is sleeping with which glamour model. Which TV presenter spends their time powdering their nose. Which young royal is knocking about with which socialite. Which politician is screwing which secretary.

You want to know about the girl who was pretending to be poor missing Millie. You want to howl with rage at the actions which led to the death of a little boy, a little boy who is so important to you that you don't recognise his name unless he is referred to as 'little' Baby P. You want to revel in the Diana like communal pain of the death of a British soldier, you want to know what his family is feeling, dammit.

Their son is dead, how the hell do you think they feel?

You have hoovered it up, it has been nothing more to you than an episode of Eastenders. You have delighted in the tittle-tattle, rumour and insinuation. Your continued support of them has enabled this, they did it, because you asked for it, and you knew it was happening. You knew it when the Prince's mobile was hacked way back, but that was OK, because he's a royal he's not a real person and doesn't count. You knew it when the same happened to Hugh Grant, that didn't matter, because he's in the public eye, he's public property. He asked for it. You knew it when they did it to Prescott, but he's a crooked politician, so it's fair game. All of a sudden because it is poor Millie, tragic little Holly and Jessica, our brave boys in the 'stan, now you kick up a fuss? Depsite knowing this, you kept buying. Well, shame on you.

'Hang on just a minute, Wolfers.' I hear you say with indignation, 'I don't buy that paper.' Well, here's a newsflash, one that will become apparent over the weeks and months; they were all at it. This is a cut throat, ruthless, take no prisoners industry with circulations falling and advertising revenues and profit margins shrinking. Believe me, every single one of them will do anything to get their story, to make their sale.

They did it, not because they are nasty people with no morals - although that is what they are. They did it because they knew you would buy it.

Be angry with yourselves. Because whilst you've been salivating over who Jude Law is screwing, you've been distracted from the find the lady trick going on right under your nose. The real news has gone unreported, the loss of our liberties, the venality of the politicians, the nihilistic corruption in Brussels, all of it, left unwritten or relegated to page 37. But never mind, the revelation that Pippa Middleton has a nice arse? That's real news right there.

For shame.

Well don't go there then.

Author's note: Tonight's posting is sponsored by 'Tasty Old Wife' Cider of Old Wives Lees, Kent. A fine little cheeky monster which is matured in whisky vats, giving it a rather cheeky smoky flavour.

Anyhow, where was I? Ah, yes.

The price of a church wedding could soon increase by up to 50% under plans being considered by the General Synod.

The move - to be discussed later by the Church of England's law-making body - would see fees rise from £284 to £425.

Blimey, times must be getting tough. Bit of a bummer now, what with them not being able to demand a tithe from all and sundry.

The Church of England insists the hike is justified and says couples in some parishes could pay less under the plan.

Yes, one of the best ways of paying less is by not getting married in church.

No doubt some people will be up in arms about it. But really, I ask this question of people not just in this category, but of the women that want to vicars and bishops and homosexuals that want to be vicars and bishops.

Why?

Why do you want to be part of this organisation that doesn't want you as a member (in the case of the girls and the homosectionals) and will treat you with utter contempt when you do join (in the case of . . . well, anyone not called Rowan Williams)?

You can start your own church, you know, you don't have to join their's, and any church you set up will be just as valid as their's. Oh, they'll tell you it isn't, but it is, people said the same to the Catholics, Church of England, Methodists, Baptists, Seventh day advent hoppists (Red Dwarf joke), don't even get started on the Amish, Presbys, Russian Orthodox, Greek Orthodox and Coptics. Really, will one more make any difference?

You are completely free to start your own, and bollocks to the rest.

I've gone a little off the original topic here, but I don't give a damn.

If you want to love your God, then go and love him in your own style. God won't mind, the churches aren't his construct, no matter what those churches say. Any God that holds a pair of breasts or a fondness for bum sex against you isn't worth worrying about.

Life is too short, go, be happy, you don't need anyone's permission, grudging or otherwise.

Just no. No. Got it? No. That's no.

Members of the European Parliament are backing calls to fly the EU's blue flag with yellow stars at sporting events, such as Wimbledon, held in its territory and, most controversially, to have the EU emblem on national team shirts.

The proposals, to be released next week, stipulate that all national sports teams, including football, rugby, cricket and the British Olympic team, would be forced to have the EU emblem appear on their jerseys.

Oh, can you not please fuck off?

The idea – dismissed by the Tories as "simply daft" – is contained in a report on "The European Dimension in Sport", drafted by Spanish centre-right MEP Santiago Fisas Ayxela which will be presented to the Parliament next week.

A European Commission source said the executive is keen to promote the 'European dimension' in sport and could bring forward the idea but only with full agreement with the competent national bodies.

Well, given the Tories' form in this area, we can expect pressure to be brought to bear on the FA, RFU, ECB, UK Athletics and everyone else to wear the shitty little patch on the shirts and vests before the summer is out then.

Saying 'in Europe, but not run by Europe' is like saying 'in a lab contaminated by a rampant flesh eating virus that causes death on a biblical scale within three hours, but not infected by a rampant flesh eating virus that causes death on a biblical scale within three hours.'

Can we leave yet?

Or, alternatively.

Sometimes I just get hit by inspiration. Moments of absolute clarity are very few and far between, yet this evening I have experienced such a revelation. Let's see if you can have the same experience.

As you may well be aware, I'm lucky enough to call Canterbury home, it is a very nice city indeed. Rough Guide, or someone recently stated that it was the finest cathedral city in England, I'd find it hard to disagree. But it isn't without its problems, oh no, and we've got a very serious one. You see it would appear that the Mayoral robes are in a bit of a state.

But what's this? Those wonderful people at Canterbury City Council have hit upon a common sense solution to the problem.

Canterbury City Council is recommending that the Lord Mayor's robes be replaced at a cost of £17,000.

Oh, is that all? Just the seventeen thousand? Well why stop there? We could have a set for every day of the week.

Other options being considered are to clean and repair the current robe, or replace the the current robe body.

I'm trying desperately to think of another option.

Hmmmm.

Carry on reading, it'll come to me in a moment.

Cleaning and repairing the robe would cost £3,575, and £11,795 would pay for a a new robe body which is expected to last for 10 years. 

Hang on, there's an idea forming. . .

Taken over the 20-year lifespan of the new robes, full replacement would be the cheapest option, the council said.

Ah-ha! That's it! There's the other option, and it is much, much cheaper.

Brace yourself. . .








(You know where this is going, don't you, you clever little blogreader, you?)





How about, not replacing them at all?

Do we really need to pay good money for an unelected mayor (OK, he's an elected councillor, but heaven forbid we should be able to directly elect him or her) to have some robes so they can ponce around like a cross between Dick Turpin and Liberace? (Apologies for the low-res picture which I've lifted from the Al-Jabeeba report.)

Really, in the 21st Century do we need people walking around in such a ridiculous get up at such cost to the public purse? Really?

Yes, I know everyone else has got one, but everyone else used to have an outside toilet and rickets, doesn't mean we had to do the same.

In these straightened times I'm wondering how much change you'd get out of seventeen grand once you've paid the wages of one of the guys who so lovingly tends the city's beautiful Westgate Gardens (pictured at the top), a public possession which benefits everyone? I'm betting there isn't a great deal of price difference between the two, and I'm betting I know which facility more people enjoy.

Really? Seventeen grand to play dress up? Give me strength.

Yeah? Yeah? Really? Bloody prove it then.

Two articles in the Wail today, one about half of the Tory MP's wanting to leave the EU and another about, errrm, half of the Tory MP's wanting to leave the EU.

Trooper Thompson nails it in spades over at his place and I find it difficult not to echo the same sentiments.

I am no Tory, however so important do I believe the issue of our continued membership in the EU to be that if at the next election the party made it clear that a vote for the Tories was a vote to get out, or at least have a referendum on the issue, that I would vote for them without hesitation. Even if the rest of the policy book was about putting kittens in microwaves and coating the cliffs of Dover in custard, I'd still vote for them. So much of our sovereignty has been handed over that nothing else matters, if we don't take that power back the issue of debt, cuts, taxation, law and order, smoking, databases, all of it, is just jigging around on the sideline like a 4 year old at a wedding reception disco.

So here's a message to all the Conservative MP's; if the reportage in the Mail is accurate (and I appreciate that it may not be), then grow a fucking pair and force the issue.

We've heard time and time again, especially during the expenses scandal, that MP's enter the job with the sincerely held intention to make a difference. Well now is the time to step up and bloody prove it.

The old doubts will come in. Is it better to be in power than to risk everything by sticking your head above the parapet? The answer is a simple no. Where is your self respect? You have an amazing opportunity to make a difference, take it. You bloody managed it in the face of the party machinery over live animals performing in circuses, you can do it on a really important issue.

Without doubt the LibDems would start cutting up rough about it, but you know what? You have to be true to your beliefs, your membership's beliefs and more importantly, your constituent's beliefs. My experience tells me that the vast majority of people are now thoroughly sick and fed up to the back teeth with the EU.

I'm not making a demand that we withdraw from the EU, but I think we at least deserve the opportunity to have our say. If an in/out referendum goes the way of 'in', then fair enough. What is not fair is that Cameron talks of cast-iron guarantees as a tool to keep the party membership happy, and then totally betrays that. Not good enough. It also means that I will never again believe a word he tells me. Why should you?

This duplicity means that your party is in real, real trouble. I know, for I have seen it with my own eyes. On Tuesday I attended a meeting held by Nigel Farage at Charing Parish Hall. As a recent joinee to UKIP, I was interested as to what I would see and hear. What surprised me was not what Farage did and said, but the people in the hall. It was standing room only, all the doors and windows were propped open as it was such a warm evening, loads of people were fanning themselves to keep cool. Not one person left before the end. The questions these people asked were salient, their responses to the answers telling.

To contextualise this, Charing is a charming little village between Ashford and Canterbury, it is right out of Darling Buds of May. The whole area is as Tory as Tory can be. There was one person in that packed hall that I would be confident in saying was younger than me, the gap between we two and the rest of the crowd was immense. These were retired people, or people well down the road to retirement. At the outset, Farage asked how many in the hall were UKIP members, fewer than a quarter of the hands went up. At the end of the evening, despite the heat, they were queueing in their droves to sign up as members.

These people ARE the Conservative party, they are the old women with elaborate hair dos, twin-set and pearls that you see at conference every year (or used to before the renta-diversity young crowd were used for doughnutting on the stage). When Farage mentioned Call Me Dave's cast iron guarantee the response from the floor was almost tangible. These people are very, very unhappy about the lie and the situation we now find ourselves in.

These are not the sort of people to bang drums and wave trade union banners, they will not storm Fortnum's or smash up the Savoy. These are the generation that were evacuated during the war, these are the people who have remained stoic in the face of Republican terrorism. There's no histrionics or shouting and chanting of slogans. They just stick their chin out with a steely determination and say, 'we'll see about that'. These are the people that the Conservative party have relied on for generations, and if what I saw on Tuesday night is representative, they're leaving the party in droves.

And you know what? These people have bridge clubs, bowls, coffee mornings, charitable events, and they'll all be telling their friends about how they joined UKIP, about how much sense that charming Mr. Farage spoke, and the word will spread.

If the Tory MP's don't snap Dave out of it, then the pro-euro wing of the Conservative party will have won, and a Pyrrhic victory it will be.

The question you need to ask yourself, as a Tory MP, is not 'can I afford to force the issue with Cameron', but 'can I afford NOT to force the issue with Cameron?'

What I saw on Tuesday was an earthquake, I reckon it is going to generate quite the tsunami. It was the first of such meetings that Farage is running in similar venues around the country, he's hit the demographic perfectly and it could spell very bad news for the Tories very quickly.

I am opening the kitchen drawer. . .

. . . and I'm removing my tin foil hat.

Why?

Well, isn't funny how two days after this:

Christine Lagarde has become the head of the International Monetary Fund, its board confirmed following a meeting in Washington.

The French finance minister is the first woman to hold the post. She takes over from Dominique Strauss-Kahn, beginning her five-year term on 5 July.

We get this?

The sex assault case against former IMF head Dominique Strauss-Kahn appears to be in trouble amid reported concerns over the alleged victim's credibility.

Law enforcement officials have told US media the accuser has repeatedly lied since the alleged attack on 14 May.

Could it have been that DS-K saw that the writing on the wall for the Euro and was foolish enough to communicate this?

Surely, someone wouldn't get a hard-up Francophone immigrant to the US, bung them a couple of €, (although if she had any sense, she'd have held out for US$), and get them set about a campaign to discredit the head of the IMF who could see the plug pulled on Euro?

No, no. That's far too paranoid.

Isn't it?

This isn't a bloodless assasination, is it?

It's a complete coincedence that two days after the empty chair is filled, the case starts to unravel. Isn't it?

If, heaven forfend, it all turns out to be put-up job, I wonder how miffed the New York DA is going to be, and how many resources they'd dedicate to getting to the bottom of the issue? Could we be looking at conspiracy to pervert the course of justice here?

Enjoy your new job, Christine, well, until you've served your purpose. A rape charge ain't going to stick against you. Have you got kids or grandkids, or nieces and nephews? An abuse charge will fit nicely, or perhaps you should take your first pay-cheque and use it as a down payment on a Popemobile.

I will now return the tin foil hat to the drawer.