Take Back Control

By and large, I’ve tried to avoid taking any public part in this debate until now. Like many sitting just either side of the EU question, I simply didn't know the correct answer. Of course no-one knows the correct answer, and that really should have been the headline for the whole shambolic process, but this referendum really came down to an argument between two types of people; those who were certain, and those who weren't. Unfortunately those who were certain, won.

See I started, as did many eventually-remain voters (it will ultimately be no secret that I voted remain, but it is of no consequence either), sitting on the fence. From the very first suggestion of the referendum, of course, I knew that I would likely want to remain – those who share my political views, and many whom I respect were expressing their desire to stay in the EU after all – but I was utterly undecided and prepared to be convinced.

Throughout the whole referendum I failed to be convinced by the Remain camp as I'd hoped. I wasn't convinced by the argument that we are a country somehow so immoral that we'd be unable to draft our own Human Rights bill, or that we would freefall into bigoted anarchy without a firm European hand on the rudder. I certainly wasn't convinced by the treasury's spurious claims that 'each household' would be worse off to the oddly specific tune of £4300 by 2030. That's not to say I didn't still lean towards remaining, but mostly down more to my own somewhat abstract reasons. The general sense of unity and community of belonging both physically and politically to Europe, for example, or the personal conviction that in a world which is moving towards ever bigger and more powerful unions and states, it would be thoroughly regressive to cut ties with one of the more influential of those unions.

What did ultimately convince me were the arguments of the Leave camp. It seemed that no matter where I looked, and how well informed the arguments, they ultimately came down to two things: arrogance and immigration. Arrogance in the sense that we somehow think we deserve to take more than we give, arrogance in the belief that our politicians are all shining paradigms of sense and morality in the way that those ‘unelected bureaucrats!’ aren’t and arrogance in that the UK somehow deserves to be restored to its former status of world colonisers and not just a part of this cooperative union that we have worked so hard to forge.

Of course I’m not stupid enough to think that these arguments are what precipitated the eventual win for the Brexiters, not any more than the case for Remain convinced me to vote their way. A large portion of the vote to leave was seemingly made as a reaction to a political system in which so many people feel ignored and maligned. A protest vote against the government, and one which ironically (as so many smug-faced remain voters like to point out) will punish those most maligned even further.

But here’s the rub, and here’s my point: they were right to protest.

From the very beginning, this whole fated referendum has been a failure of democracy. We had elected a government to make these decisions for us, so what in the sweet name of fuck were we doing making this decision for them? I don’t remember getting a referendum for the NHS, or for the ‘renegotiation’ of my pension (which was changed after I signed, but you can see my previous posts for more on that one), so why for this? Why, when it came to a decision that people with a lifetime of experience and qualifications were struggling with, did our Prime Minister decide that it would be left to a bunch of ignorant plebs to sort out (and I very much include myself in that number)?!

I completely understand why we voted to leave on Thursday and I do not for a second hate or judge anyone for making that decision. They did not fail us.

Equally, I understand the frustrations of those who did their research, shouted at as many others as possible to do their own and waved their flag for the obvious ‘sensible’ option. I understand why they want another referendum, for Sturgeon to block our exit, for us to delay on Article 50. They did not fail us.

But what I don’t understand is why so many people that we have voted into power so willingly screwed us over in the hubris of their own power plays. David Cameron, a man who had avoided the Europe question all his political career, pledged this election as a cheap way to win votes. Boris Johnson, a man so clearly in pursuit of a new job that he might as well have just stuck his CV on the side of the battle bus instead of that now infamous claim of free money for the NHS, is now meekly trying to back pedal and minimise the fallout from a result that he – amongst millions and millions of others, never actually expected. Corbyn, though admirably refusing to betray his own personal Eurosceptic leanings, unadmirably refusing to be the leader he was elected to be and at least give his party a voice. Gove, Eagle, Blair….and the many others who took advantage of this as an opportunistic excuse to raise their profiles and improve their career prospects, they are the ones who failed us.

Now, as we pick once again through the fallout of these political games, we need to look square and true at those who put us in this position. Let’s ask Johnson, what now? Let’s demand that he delivers on those promises to which so many signed up, or tries to restore to us the status quo with which so many were happy. Let’s ensure that Cameron, in his dying few months as PM, tries to recover some of the damage that he’s inflicted and strive for reparations in his own cabinet. Let’s ensure that Farage…actually, no. Fuck Farage.

Don’t complain that we were let down by racists. Don’t complain that requesting another referendum is petty and desperate.

Do demand that we are served by those who brought us here. Do, to use a phrase of which I had become sick until now, Take Back Control. 

The most self serving of miracles

Earlier today I was listening to a fascinating (bear with me here) show on the radio about the history of carols, and their role in the celebration of Christmas celebrations. Though the show was primarily discussing the church's relationship with carols, their banning by the church during the puritanical period and the resurgance of the 'drunken bawdiness' of the modern song, there was one quite interesting, if throwaway observation made; that of the psychological associations with Christmas singing - initially as a medium of celebration and grief, then of faith and, finally of consumerism. The vague implication of this brief argument was that, much like when we made the shift from the largely pagan celebration of the midwinter struggle into the christian ideology and its associations, without losing the essence of the glowing achievement of having survived the darkest days of winter, that we have now once again moved into a new era. That, in short, we are now worshipping the god of retail.

This is an easy observation to make, not to mention an entirely unoriginal one. Though this particular argument was focusing on the aural traditions and their associations; namely that we hear carols and christmas songs so predominantly from tinny shop speakers, adverts and the films and TV shown in order to facilitate these adverts, that they are, on some deep wired level, associated nearly entirely with consumption, we can extrapolate that point to include nearly every aspect of the modern Christmas celebration. Indeed, a huge number of our 'age old' traditions have been invented in order to sell something; famously, even Dickens's A Christmas Carol was, in essence, written as a 'get rich quick' scheme, a short and speedily written book, bound in ornate gilt and with extravagant plates, the text served to popularise 'traditions' barely unheard of at the time such as a Christmas turkey, holly, the phrase 'Merry Christmas' and even one of the first English manifestations of the German Santa Klaus (in the Ghost of Christmas Present).

Anyway, it's easy to make this accusation and many have already. I happen to quite enjoy Christmas - the build up, the drinks and the food, at least and so don't intend to add to their voices. At least not in the general sense. The thing is, I saw something recently which recently irked me, and something which seems to have been accepted in the world of social media as somehow being a 'good' thing. In fact, from some of the comments I've seen, even as far as being 'The best thing I've ever seen' and something to 'restore my faith in humanity'. Before I continue, here is the video itself:





Now first of all, I accept that this is just a very successful marketing ad. I appreciate that it has done its job incredibly well, and that there are now hundreds of thousands, if not millions, of people that know the name WestJet when they didn't last week. I accept this, but it seems that a lot of people just don't. And that's fine...the beauty of the internet is that there is a lot of content out there that is misunderstood and taken at face value, but what really makes me feel uneasy about this is the reaction of most of those people. 'Heartwarming', 'Heartbreaking', 'Tear inducing'. Some of the more conservative descriptions.

To which bit, exactly, do these comments refer?

While watching the video initially, I just found it a little funny to see the poor bastard who asked for socks - laughing as I considered his regret at the other end of the journey. But then I started to consider the situation more deeply...these people aren't asking their parents for gifts. They haven't been offered the gift, or  - if Westjet are to be believed (and having done a bit more digging on this I think  they are) - has it been in any way suggested that they will actually receive the gifts. Yet their response to the question, 'if you could have anything for Christmas, what would it be?' (the full question as shown in the blooper reel edit) is...a TV?? A phone, tablet, some boots....

Things. Things and stuff.

What would my response be? And yours? I like to think I would ask to be happy this year. Maybe I would want success for my family, or possibly the drive to achieve something dear to me. Remember, this is hypothetical as far as anyone is concerned - no one actually expected these things.

But this isn't my issue, not really. If people get asked what they want it's often natural to respond with something tangible - something quick, and easy and maybe something already mentally on your shopping list. In fact, if you watch the blooper reel video, you do see that some people asked for things unachievable and therefore not shown (though admittedly these things were a car, a sporting win and a diamond ring), and at the end you do see people being given tickets to see their family, which is a far nicer gesture. My problem is more the reaction to the video itself. That this has been a viral sensation and that people are acting as if Jesus himself has returned to the world to bring peace and humility to all mankind - a feat made even more incredible by the inherent necessity of him being real.

And this, it seems, is what our Christmas is all about. The hit of the season so far is a video showing people being given shit they don't need. The hymn now universally seen as heralding the Western celebration is the background to an advert selling soft drinks and one of the biggest talking points is whether Simon Cowell will 'win' (a term used very loosely) the music competition of the year (SPOILER: He will).

I still love so much about Christmas - the excitement, the never ending parade of celebration drinks, the annual meet up with my old school friends. But one trip into any town centre at this time of year is evidence enough that so many people have their priorities - and not to mention their stress levels - so out of proportion. To give is to receive, and to see people receiving tat is one of the nicest things someone can do for you, apparently.

Oh, and for all of my well meaning guesses, I probably would have just said socks. Or pants...I really need new pants.

Next Year

So Christmas is over,

The charm and the cheer,

Let's put it back in a box

Marked 'Open, next year'.

We've pulled all the crackers,

All the games have been played.

There were fights over Scrabble,

and laughs at Charades.

And then came the food,

The pudding, the booze,

The chocolate, the cheese,

The inevitable snooze.

Yet we can't forget presents;

The focus of few,

But the joy is in giving,

Not what's given to you.

But when we look back

It's of family we think,

The day spent together;

Not food, gifts or drink.

Because Christmas is over,

The charm and the cheer.

Now the sales have begun,

And will last 'til Next year

 

Annoying Facebook friends, part two...

Following on from the huge (ahem) success of the first installment, here follows the second part in my blogging magnum opus. Featuring some suggestions from some (less) annoying facebookers, here follows my annoying Facebook friends, part two...

6. The over excited exclaimer!!!!!

Something amazing just happened. Something for which the single exclamation mark, a tool which has suited writers for nearly 600 years, will not suffice. Even a doubling up won't cut it - this is news for which only 6 or 7 expressions of excitement will do - the eyebrows raise as the news is being typed, a trickle of urine rolling down the leg. Oh....you just had KFC.
We all do it, it's become a hall mark of the internet, but be judicious about it; if you're that excited about a cup of tea in the morning, how will you ever have anything in reserve for when you finally win that £10 on the lottery?

7. The excessive CAPS LOCKS user

Please, just stop. See above, replace 'excitement' with 'anger'. You read like a slack jawed, mouth breathing buffoon.

8. The Facebook gamer

Ok, I have no problem with people playing games on Facebook (everyone loves a bit of Scrabble, right?) but what I can't understand is what is so difficult about checking the box which stops the constant and incessantly irritating updates being posted on everyone's newsfeeds? I really don't care if you're 3,867,302 place in the daily 'can you name an animal you fucking moron' competition and nor do I care if you've won a new trophy, proving your capability to push the right buttons in order to 'pick up' the pixellated shit of your little ugly piece of coding you use to fill that gap in your lonely little loveless life. And don't even get me started on those bloody farmville requests...

9. The why-am-I-friends-with-a-baby?

Do you remember that flurry of cartoon profile pics that appeared a year or so back? The idea was that we all changed our picture to our favourite kids' TV character for some reason or other - this was swiftly followed by the breaking story that it was a ploy by paedophiles to get children to add them unknowingly as they posed under the guise of Liono or something. All complete bullshit of course.
Naturally though, the idiots got angry. The speed at which people started advertising the 'stop using kids' TV characters' message was stunning - the self rightousness of people as they made it their duty to accuse friends of assisting the kiddy fiddlers in their nefarious aims, the uproar that Facebook would allow such a thing slide. As you'd expect, it was the parents that got really angry - the young parents especially - exactly the same people who were sporting a profile picture of their young spawn gormlessly smiling at the camera just a week before.
I completely understand new parents wanting to display their ability to undertake the arduous task of fucking, and proudly displaying the by product of their sweaty, fumbled 30 seconds of fun; in fact I don't doubt I will when I eventually figure out how it all works. But do you really need to keep going on about it? I really couldn't give a shit if your little angel just farted at the dinner table, I'm not interested what they have shoved in their mouths today, and please stop telling the world about the successes - or failures - of potty training.
If you have a young child - well done. I'm happy for you, I really am, and I hope to join the club one day myself. But for the love of whatever deity you choose to thank for your bundle of joy, remember that I added you, not that shivelled little prune you call a child.

10. The airer of dirty laundry

Ok, a lot of the entries on this list have been a little tongue in cheek and I'm sure I'm guilty of a few of them, but this one really does get my goat. An open, uncensored forum is not the place to complain about your failed relationships, your arguments with friends or (and this one especially) the fight for your children. Show some fucking decorum.
The first problem is this; no-one really cares. Not for the reasons you want them to, anyway. The reason people like (like?!) or comment on these updates is because everyone loves some gossip, and especially the type that feeds people's need to feel better than someone else. The few people who genuinely do care, and want to offer their support? You already told them - by phone or in person - and they have already offered their support. All they're doing now is reaffirming this publicly, digitally pissing all over your status to prove to everyone else how much closer they are to the pathetically carved pierrot than the gawping audience, looking on from the stalls.
The second problem? It's easy to forget who is actually reading your Facebook updates. When you have 500+ friends, there is no way you can count on who you have added over the years - the family, friends and mutual acquantances of the object of your vehemence may be reading on. You don't care? What about your young neice, your cousin, ex colleagues? The people who used to see you as a respectable, friendly or even at the least, emotionally balanced....not any more.

So there it is, there's my ten. Feel free to add your own below....

Insurgo Insurgi Insurrectum (or why write about the right hating the right to strike?)

First of all, let's clear one thing up; I hate striking. I hate striking because I hate to miss a day at work (in a job which I love), I hate to lose a day's pay and I hate to wrestle with my conscience at the people being affected on a personal level because of actions that I am undertaking in order to send a message in a national medium. So far the strikes undertaken in FE have cost union members more than half a week's salary, students more than half a week's education (though the first two were purposely taken out during a period which would have minimal effect on students) and have had minimal apparent effect on policy making (though I hope I speak a little too early on that one).

In fact, in education at least, striking is a little like cutting off your nose in order to spite your face. In FE the prospect of an educational strike must have principles and governers laughing; they save a huge amount of money for the day and know that ultimately, all staff will have to catch up. Deadlines won't go away, exams will still take place and students must still be prepared; we can hardly send someone into an exam saying 'let's hope xxx doesn't come up because we were on strike the day I was supposed to teach you that'. The fact that I'm still catching up on work missed for recovering from an operation about two months ago just shows that if we don't do it, it doesn't get done. If you want to keep your job, it must get done. When the miners walked out the equation was simple; you want coal, then meet our demands. When we walk out the message is different; you want education, then....well you'll still get it but maybe a little bit later and ok then we'll put on some extra classes over the holidays because we don't quite have the time to fit it all in now what with all the striking and that.

This is why the attack on public sector action has infuriated me so much recently. The fact is that no-one is walking out because they want to. No-one wants to cause damage to those whom we are here to serve. By their very nature our jobs require us to be caring, compassionate and empathetic; you cannot be an effective teacher, health worker or librarian without these qualities.

Which is why it's so frustrating to see the argument being fought out on this level. A few months back I was having a discussion with someone who was saying that it was selfish and greedy for teachers to walk out when everyone has to sacrifice. I countered with the reasoning that the public sector shouldn't have to pay for private sector's mistakes, and she with the suggestion that it wasn't the entire private sector that is to blame. What struck me at this point was how ridiculous it was for us to be arguing; we were both suffering frozen wages, unstable pensions and minimal job security as a result of a financial instability created by people who were continuing to enjoy extensive tax breaks, grossly unfair benefit packages and a salary so disproportionate to the mean that is almost comical.

And to the irony of it all; while scorn is poured on those who try to fight shouldering the burdon of the mistakes made, those who made them enjoy the relief of having the focus well and truly taken away from them. The longer we decry the public sector strikes, the rioters, the politicians' duck ponds and whatever the fuck Kim Kardashian or *insert vacuous celebrity here* has done this week, the longer we ignore the essence, cause and primum mobile of our current global crisis. To argue with each other is to be two hobos slugging it out in a dirty ring while our shady fight organisers watch on, counting the greasy notes in their hands.

The strikes today are essentially over a broken promise; the promise of a solvent, government run bank to honour the terms of our contract and not ask us to pay them more in order to receive less than we agreed. We have broken our contract for a day, in order to show our distaste at them having broken their contract for a lifetime. But beyond that the strikes are about the increasing disgust at having to hold afloat an economy that was destroyed by the government's inability to control the few who are standing on dry land. We don't discriminate between public and private, only them and us. So why not honour your right to strike and join us, instead of trying to attack us for fighting the problem that is affecting everyone not lucky enough to be paid in six figures. We don't like it, but it's a damn sight better than rolling over and taking it.

Lazy Sunday

Last night I went out, to town no less. Now given that I am lately less and less able to handle big nights out I have had a pretty useless Sunday...here's how it's gone down so far...

1. Woke up at 11.30. Flirted with the idea of staying awake until I realised that this was a frankly silly idea and that Subway had stopped serving breakfast subs 30 mins ago and so really there's no good reason to not go back to sleep. Went back to sleep.
2. Was woken up again at 1pm by Hayley, asking how my night was. Offered a few grunts and was admonished, told to stop being so lazy and get out of bed. Hung up and went back to sleep.
3. Had my final wake up call by my housemate and best friend in the world at 2.30, asking if I had my keys with me (being convinced that I must have gone out). Realised that I'd managed to sleep through Ad's morning routine, something which is pretty much guaranteed to wake me up even at 6am. Plus, I realised that the shops close soon and I really needed some food.
4. Went to shop, bought buckets of orange juice and some veg to go with the pork joint I had defrosted yesterday. Left shop feeling good. Until I remembered about Subway.
5. Had masculinity challenged by girl in Subway when I only ordered a 6 inch. Came away with a footlong and some cookies. Goodbye Sunday roast.
6. Ate Sub, thought about turning on TV but didn't have the energy to walk the requisite five feet. Time for a nap. On the couch.
7. Opened eyes, feeling guilty about not having done any of the marking I was supposed to be spending my Sunday working on. Luckily it was within arm's reach of the sofa. Spread marking on the table in front of me, complete with red pen. Felt good again. This calls for some celebratory shut eye!
8. Awake again, started to read 1st piece of marking. Damn reading's hard. Maybe I should open my computer.....I can do productive things on a computer, right? Plus, it's already sat right next to the marking.
9. Maybe I'll just rest my eyes a little first.....

And so here I am. Ironically, this is probably the most vaguely productive thing I've done so far. Who knows what the rest of Sunday has in store for me....I know I don't but I know one thing's for sure, I don't half feel sleepy.....

Can you top this? Have you had a more inactive day than me??

Annoying Facebook friends

So I was reading through some of my old blog posts that I have pulled in here from the last few years. I noticed a couple that feature that old dinosaur of social networking sites; Myspace. In order to redress th balance, and move with the times as it were I thought I'd write a Facebook-centric post, so here I give you my list of 'annoying Facebook friends'.

This isn't, it should be noted, an all encompassing note that people are supposed to read and say 'ah yes, I hate that!' but my list of annoying friends, the type of people that frustrate me to the point that I desperately want to tell them as much but never do, in the knowledge that I secretly love having things to moan about and that to be removed from their friends list and restricted access to these wonderful, beautiful nuggets of annoyance. Enjoy.

1. The whinger

She (and yes, it is nearly always a she) used to be quite a cool person when you knew her. You think. You're pretty sure you used to spend the days getting wasted together and didn't give a crap about anything. But, somewhere along the line, she turned into a horrendous dragon from which no-one is safe. She hates her work, her boss, her clients. She hates strangers who looked at her the wrong way and shop assistants who didn't give her the proper respect. But the most vitriolic outbursts are reserved for that most hated of creature: the poor bastard with whom she shares a bed. He is inherently unable to do anything right; he is a lazy, yobbish, waste of space. He does nothing, and yet he does everything wrong. He can't cook, clean or even do his job properly and damn does she want everyone to know about it! Seriously, I feel sorry for this bloke and his continual attempts to do right, Keep trying, fella!

2. The desperately-needs-attention.

'Comment on my status and I'll tell you a secret! I'll pick out your best photo, tell you I want you, come to your house and clean your toilet in the nude! Just make a comment, one little comment, please!'

What do they do all night? I mean, I'm guilty of leaving fbook on while I watch a film, read a book, write a blog post...but I couldn't imagine having to plead to get people to write a little love heart on my page. Is our craving for near constant communication that bad that we are now happy to spill our secrets, pore over photos, answer stupid questions, simply in order to sate this yearning? Is that all I'm doing right now?? Oh, shit...


3. The old school friend.


Ok so this could get me into trouble. I don't mean all of them, but there are a good few who seem to be locked a world that only existed when you were fifteen. They spell as badly, care about the same inconsequential rubbish and still live with, or within a few feet of, their parents. In truth, these people aren't so much annoying as a friendly reminder of how much you've changed, and how old you've become. To think that your life has changed so much in such seemingly little time is....well in truth, it's depressing. But so much better than the alternative...

4. The where did I meet him? Did I meet him? Maybe at that party.....errr.....?

Why did he add me? Why did I accept?! And is this guy not the most active facebooker around?? He updates, he blogs, he vlogs, he has a new photo album every other day and yet you just can't figure out who the hell he is....but the strangest thing is that you somehow get sucked into these peoples' lives, sometimes for years on end. The annoying thing is that you end up playing voyeur to some unkown life and, though you may only glance at the updates as you scroll down, end up knowing more about their recent lives than their dear old mum. Is this what Facebook has brought us to?

5. The can't stop moaning about a website that he actively uses, updates to, blogs to and is all around hypocritical about.

errr.....yeah......