Social Status

"Why is it that whenever I put something on Facebook nobody comments on it?" This is my girlfriend, having a social media existential crisis.

"People comment on your Facebook," I reply.

"Yes, but not anywhere near as much as they do on other people's."

"So? It doesn't matter, does it?"

"It does matter! People put on yet another picture of their baby doing exactly the same thing and they get 80 likes or something, but I put some exciting news about me getting a new job and only one like - one! And that's just from you."

"Mine are worth more than other people's."

"It's easy for you to be complacent; everyone always comments on your status updates. It's easy to say recognition's not important when you're always being recognised. Look!" girlfriend exclaims, peering closer at the laptop screen with renewed ire. "You've put a status about my news and loads of people have liked it! And some of them are my friends! My friends, who didn't comment on my status about my news! Oh for God's sake."

"That doesn't matter though, does it?  Maybe they just didn't see it but they saw mine."

"It's so annoying. I hate Facebook."

I sympathise, really; it is annoying. Everyone's been there. You've put up some brilliant picture or clever witticism and it just lingers there forlorn and ignored. The Girlfriend doesn't really use Twitter and I haven't the heart to tell her it's even worse there where tweets quite often get lost in the maelstrom of the twittersphere.

"It's even worse on Twitter," I say. "Twitter's the place to go if you really want to feel ignored."

"That's not the point - all of my friends are on Facebook."

"Don't take it so personally," I say, enjoying the unusual feeling of being the voice of reason. The Kingdom of Reasonableness is not normally my hang out. I'm more often found in downtown Diva Central. "I could understand it if you'd told them all in person and they'd ignored you; I'd even understand it if people were ignoring your texts. But social media's different, it's all pot luck. It depends on what time you post things."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, if you post something at night, a lot of people might not read it until at least lunchtime the next day, by which time hundreds of other people have put up more baby pictures."

"Stupid baby pictures."

"They are stupid," I agree. "I especially hate it when people put up 58 pictures of near identical pictures of their baby just lying there with a blank expression."

"And they always get loads and loads of likes and comments. I bet most people just like them out of obligation."

"Probably. The thing is, Twitter and Facebook aren't that social. I sit and tweet on the bus because otherwise I might feel obliged to make small talk with people."

"It really upsets me when it seems like people are ignoring me though."

"Then don't use it; if it's upsetting you just ignore it for a bit. I don't feel the need to do it with Facebook, but Twitter annoys me often enough for me to feel the need to not use it for a bit. Delete the app off your phone. I bet if you speak to people they'll be really happy for you."

"I suppose. It feels pointless using Facebook if no one acknowledges me."

"The trick is just not to care. Just put up posts for your own amusement and to hell with everyone else. And at least it's not Twitter. People really do treat Twitter as a competition. The saddest thing in the world is seeing people tweet about how many tweets or followers they've got. There's a whole lot of dick-swinging about that kind of stuff on Twitter."

"But I like Twitter! John O'Farrell replied to one of my tweets!"

"Use Twitter for a bit then!"

"I think I will."

That's that I think; problem solved. It's true, both of the main social media out there are capable of making people irrationally irritated - taking a break from one and enjoying using the other is probably a really good way of curing this. Yeah - problem solved.

"So - how come I've only got 12 followers and you've got like 100 or something?"

Inward sigh.

"Because I tweet more than you do. You said you were going to tweet at least once a day when you signed up, and you haven't tweeted in more than 2 weeks."

"And people retweet you as well! Why?"

And so on.  Social media has taken a firm hold of the way that we interpret our lives. We do things, we think things, but we feel the need to validate them by putting them up for all to see. And then when no one acknowledges them that makes our actions and thoughts seem somehow less worthy. But we shouldn't live our lives that way - we should just be tweeting and FBing for our own pleasure, and feel pleasantly surprised when people acknowledge us but feel no negativity otherwise. We should feel happy when we waste our leisure time on these silly things, and if we don't feel happy we should just not bother. It's people you meet in the pub that matter, not the assorted online randomers on the internet, many of whom we've never met and never will.

If I said this to The Girlfriend it might make her feel better.

"Because I'm more popular," I say smugly, and get a completely justified glare in return.

Cobra's Snake Oil

Today, I managed to stop myself getting burnt a second time.  Whilst searching for different jobs, I have been putting my CV around a bit, including online job sites such as Monster, Fish4Jobs etc which are reputable enough.  I got a call from someone last week saying that they had seen my CV online and were very interested in meeting me for an interview.

Some Direct Marketeers from Cobra's website;
don't they look so young and thrusting?

This is what everyone who's seeking to improve their career wants to hear; being headhunted is in a way quite flattering.  The fact that at first the person sounded like they were calling from PC World made me feel quite comfortable that they were probably quite a good company to work for, and I was told that they needed someone for their Marketing division - all to the good.  However, when I got the confirmation email, I found out that the person had been calling from TC World - a Direct Marketing company.  And then a lot of doubt began to set in...

The thing is, about 4 years ago I worked for a Direct Marketing company, called the Marketing Machine, also based in Nottingham, and owned by the Cobra Group.  The Cobra Group (also called Appco in some places now) is not particularly well known, but it is massive on a global scale.  Their business model is not dissimilar to pyramid schemes.  They franchise out Direct Marketing (ie chugging and door-to-door sales) to small companies, who then employ people on a self-employed contract to earn them money.  Wherever you are reading this there will be one near you, probably even if you are reading this on the Moon.  When you see adverts for sales or marketing jobs that are vague on salaries but say you can earn "£250-500 per week average", it's probably a Cobra Group thing.  And it's not much fun.

I worked for the Marketing Machine for about 10 days, and it was the worst job I've ever had (making picking lobsters out of Jayne Mansfield's bum sounding like a dream).  I was asked to come in for an interview the very next morning after applying, and was told to dress smartly because I would be meeting the managing director.  If I had been less naive this would have set alarm bells ringing, as managing directors do not often run interviews.  The interview was quick and was effectively a sales pitch from the manager on how great Direct Marketing was as a way to make lots of money very quickly.  At that time in my life it was exactly what I needed to hear as I was stony broke - I suspect this is true for most people who answer these kind of adverts as well.  I have to say all this bluster took me in.  The actual details about working on a self-employed contract were mentioned briefly but not explained.  I was told that it meant in practice that all Marketing Machine were doing were giving me the means to make however much money I wanted to.  I was told that I could start immediately. 

The boredom and lack of self-worth that comes with any period of unemployment means that any job offer seems like an amazing opportunity.  I suppose any cynicism I had about the role was drowned out by the surge of relief that came with knowing that I would have a job and a reason not to watch daytime TV.  And then the job started. 

There were a team of about 10 of us in total, and we would be split into groups of 3 or 4 and sent to different supermarket stores to persuade people to switch their landline contracts to a supposedly better deal.  If the person agreed, they would have to fill in a form there and then, and this would be taken back to the office by me and filed into the system.  I would get some money for each form processed and I suppose Marketing Machine would have done as well.  We were expected to stand in the supermarket (a very well known and well respected one) for at least 8 hours a day but normally closer to 10, approaching everyone who walked past.  The target was 4 signatures a day, but I never got that many and if you didn't you would probably make a loss.  I was paid on a commission-only basis, so if I didn't get any signatures at all, I didn't get any money at all.  As I had to pay for all transport myself, I quite often made a loss; something I had not been told was that although the company was based in Nottingham, the supermarkets I would be going to were not necessarily even in the same city.  I had to go to Derby and Sheffield and pay for the trains myself.  Very often this meant getting back to the office at 7 or 8 in the evening and spending even more time processing the forms.  We were expected to do this 6 days a week.  Although self-employed, we relied on the company to give us the materials to make money, so had no independence whatsoever.  At the end of the 6 days we would be paid cash in hand whatever we had earned.  I can't remember exactly what I got, but I do remember it was considerably less than £200, which worked out as being much less than minimum wage considering all the hours and travel I had put in.

Something the company did which was actually a very good psychological tactic was to encourage out of work socialising.  This at first sounds like quite a positive thing, but I believe the reason for getting everyone to go to the pub before going home every day was to stop us being able to talk to other people about what we were doing.  It certainly felt like it was an attempt to make sure our work seeped into and eventually took over our social life, and meant that we did not see anyone else outside of work.  I mean honestly, what normal company gets its employees to go out every night after work?  By only socialising with people doing the same work it made it seem normal and therefore acceptable.  It also meant I rarely got home until 10 at the earliest, but normally much later.  The disturbing thing was that it was very effective.  Everyone followed each other to the pub like sheep, even though I suspect at least half didn't want to go and the other half were the kind of marketing yobs you see on The Apprentice - ie, awful company.  Although I was there for only a week and a half, they got a hold on me very quickly and I don't consider myself to be unusually susceptible.

I stopped when I did because I was physically and mentally exhausted and thought there was something immoral about the whole thing - I saw people haranguing people well into their late 70s if not older, and someone having no qualms about getting a signature from somebody who obviously had learning difficulties. 

It should be stressed that there was nothing illegal about any of this.  Everything was well above board ans squeaky clean.  In the eyes of the law, there is nothing wrong with any of this.  But it didn't feel like it was right at all.  When I left, I felt like everything was nice and normal again, and I went to see my friends for the first time in almost 2 weeks.

I know I am not the only one to have had this experience.  There was a very good Panorama programme on the subject last year and the Mirror ran an expose on it a few years ago, but these places are still there representing the ugly side of capitalism, unashamedly going about their business sucking up and spitting out the unemployed and the desperate.  This is something that badly needs to be regulated and sorted out by the government but it wasn't touched by the last one and frankly if the supposedly socialist New Labour government didn't want to investigate it I don't see Cameron as being the man for the job.

I don't want to sound bitter about my experience because I'm not, it's not like it ruined my life or anything!  But the moral of this story is, when applying for a job that offers you a weekly wage that seems to good to be true it may well be worth calling ahead and asking if they take people on a self  employed contract - and if they say yes, run a mile!

Insane In The Membrane! Asylum of the Daleks Review

The B-Movie style poster for last night's Doctor Who

So, Doctor Who returned last night by doing what it does best - not exactly what anyone expected it to. 

The gist.  The Doctor, Amy and Rory are kidnapped by human-shaped Dalek 'puppets' and sent to go and destroy a kind of Dalek Borstal - the Daleks themselves are too scared to go down there.  This must be a pretty harsh place then, we think.  We had been told (or at least it had been bandied around on Twitter) that we would see all the old Daleks over the years in action which turned out not to be sort of but not really true - quite rightly.  Although it would have given me and a lot of other fanboys a short-term thrill to see the Specials Weapon Dalek in action again, it would probably have happened at the expense of the plot and characters and other things that keep non-obsessive normal people watching.  When Davros was brought back a few years ago it didn't really work because there was no reason for him to be there other than for people to go "Ooh, look, Davros!" before going back to trying to figure out what the hell was going on.

Instead, Steven Moffat's script did the exact opposite - it relaunched the Daleks, and did it by not so much rewriting the Daleks' history as just treating it as something less important than the Daleks' present.  It introduced new things like a Parliament of Daleks, complete with a blobby Prime Minister and the idea of the eponymous Asylum - a place for all the imperfections to go hang out.  It also ended the idea of the Daleks seeing The Doctor as an arch-enemy by having them forget who he is, which is such a brilliantly simple way of rebooting some established villains it reminds you there's life in the old format yet.  It also did all this efficiently and without too much fuss so it could get down to the really interesting task of dealing with The Doctor's current companions divorcing and his new companion being a Dalek (and now an exploded Dalek at that).

After the body/psycho-horror of seeing someone being converted into a Dalek again (as in Revelation of the Daleks), the Cybermen in Doctor Who are redundant again.  The idea of someone willingly being trapped in their own mind to avoid accepting the fact they're now a Dalek was done in a genuinely dramatic and shocking way.  It also upset some continuity nuts online (we'll get to them in a bit).  In fact, the whole episode had its feet firmly planted in the Horror genre instead of the Action/Sci-Fi tales one normally expects from a Dalek story.  Rory tip-toeing through a crypt with cobwebby, dormant, lunatic Daleks was much more exciting than CGI-fleets of them going 'Bang!'  And the worry that Amy might be going to turning into a Dalek felt like a genuine worry, even though everyone knows that the chances are pretty good for The Doctor and friends surviving.  There were a few things that in retrospect didn't exactly add up (like, for instance, The Doctor not realising that the Woman From Emmerdale was going to be a Dalek even though he's been chatting to her all episode), but on the whole it felt true to its own agenda.

The aforementioned continuity-nuts online weren't keen on a few aspects of the story, one of the most frequently voiced criticisms online being that the Daleks don't turn humans into Daleks.  Which is the kind of Doctor Who criticism that is great if you fancy a laugh.  When will people realise that it's so much easier to accept the fact that Doctor Who frequently contradicts its own past (and sometimes its own present) and celebrate that?  Because it's that willingness to disregard its own past that is the reason it's lasted for 50-odd years.  It's nothing new for fans to dislike rewriting supposedly established concepts and one wearily reaches for the infamous 70s review of 'A Deadly Assassin' to see why these fans end up looking a bit po-faced and silly.  In fact, a lot of the 'classic' Doctor Who stories make no sense compared to what went before them (Spearhead From Space, Genesis Of The Daleks and so on).  This is why I like the show; it's willing to keep the most important things about the show and chuck out the past if it gets in the way of a good story in the present.  There are very few 'rules' in Doctor Who story telling.  Terrence Dicks said that the rule of thumb of what was important about the past of the show was just what you could remember, and Paul Cornell said that it is the job of the fan, not the writers, to worry about continuity, if they're that way inclined.

Why can't the Daleks turn people into Daleks?  Aside from the fact it's something which has been done before anyway, they are fictional, you know?  They didn't used to be able to fly or have a creator called Davros, and they might one day be able to grow legs and go for a run, or sing Abba songs, or give birth to little baby Daleks or whatever.  It's part of the fun.  I like being a fan of a show that instead of surreptitiously changing its lead actor James Bond-style and hoping no-one notices makes it into a massive plot-device (and one that isn't really explained for over 5 years), and carries on with the more important task of making ambitious and interesting stories for anyone who fancies watching.  Because its always succeeded as a show primarily concerned with stories, not as a show aimed at a fanbase.  So when I read people writing thjings like 'Daleks turning people into Daleks makes no sense' I think 'Yeah, I was forgetting that a man travelling in a box that's bigger on the inside is exactly the premise that requires a gritty attention to detail in order to work' and move on (or write a blog about it depending on how pompous I'm feeling).  There's been more expert analysis on fans and continuity on Phillip Sandifer's TARDIS Eruditorium blog comment sections if that's the kind of thing that floats yer boat.

So that little rant over with, what next?  We've been told that this series isn't going to worry too much about complex story arcs and is going to do more individual stories which I think is a good thing, not because I'm against them per se but because I think Doctor Who is at its best when changing direction and we've had quite a lot of story arcs over the last few years.  Amy and Rory are going, which will make me sad; Woman From Emmerdale who turned out to be a Dalek and was blown up is going to be a new companion in Christmas, which should be interesting; and there are some dinosaurs on a spaceship next week which will be fun, though might contradict a Jon Pertwee story from the 1970s or something.  It's good to see a show approach its 50th year and  being relevant event telly again.

Nessie vs God!

The 'Surgeon's Photograph' - Nessie in the 1930s...

Nessie of Loch Ness shows up very nicely the way human beings think.  Loch Ness is a place of such natural beauty and genuinely astounding facts, it makes you ask yourself why people through the ages have felt the need to look at it through the prism of a green monster. It is a true fact that you could drown every human being 3 times over in the Loch; that it holds more fresh water than is in all of England and Wales put together; that it is deeper than the BT tower is tall; and so on.  It is not a true fact that there is a beastie living down there which may, or may not be dinosaur-like but either way does wonders for the cuddly toy industry in local village Drumnadrochit. But true facts often don't make for great cuddly toys and interestingly shaped chocolate bars...

Th Nessie myth endures a) because it is mysterious, b) because it has fascinating characters and c) because it is fun to speculate about things just for the sake of it.  There is something more fun in finding about something which is probably not true than in finding about something that definitely is.  That's why children love stories about mysterious monsters and ghosts so much more than continental drift and what have you.  But it's point b) there that really makes something like the Nessie myth work for me; all those characters over the years who have spent time hoaxing photos and hoodwinking journos. Everyone loves a good story, and someone's always willing to supply one.  A good story doesn't have to be rooted in truth as long as it's a good story.  When people went exploring in the Loch looking for Nessie, they found some Arctic Char which they believed had been there undiscovered since the last Ice Age.  That should be (and is) mind-blowing, but they didn't also find a big monster wearing a tam o' shanter so no one - or at least, no one from the press - was all that bothered.  When a frankly demented looking journalist claimed to have found gigantic footprints down there the press were all over him though, even when it turned out he'd just cobbled something together from hippopotamus feet.

So anyway, whilst walking around the Drumnadrochit Loch Ness Exhibition Centre (£7 was too much for what there is to see, but some interesting stuff nonetheless) I found myself thinking about how Nessie and God might as well be the same thing and it wouldn't really change anything.  The credible evidence for the existence of either is quite patchy, and if anything the idea of an unknown creature living deep deep down in uncharted territory is more beleiveable than a superbeing who not only created everything, but by being everywhere at once is everything.  The myths surrounding Loch Ness have survived because of the colourful characters who have told tall tales over the years, and faked photographs and artifacts of varying quality.  It's these people who truly fascinate - not just those cheeky rascals who have convinced the credulous to believe in monsters, but those who genuinely appear to have deluded themselves; so-called cryptozoologists, men who never stopped believing in monsters and ghosts.  People who have seen a piece of wood floating in some water and who have unconsciously managed to develop it into something astounding is in itself astounding.

God, looking a bit cartoony if we're honest.

God has also survived as a concept because colourful characters throughout the ages have told if anything even more colourful stories about him.  Whatever you say about Nessie, no one has ever claimed (to my knowledge) that they were the Son of Nessie, or has been willing to die for the love of Nessie.  But really, why do we take the testimony of people from thousands of years ago who have claimed to act as they do because they talked to a burning bush?  I mean we do take religious people more seriously, and I'm not saying that we shouldn't; but I do want to know why?  On paper, that kind of behaviour, running around believing in omnipresent beings looks like insanity on a much larger scale than people believing in unexplained wildlife.  And that in itself wouldn't be an issue, except that it tends to be very religious people who look down on believers in the paranormal and unexplained phenomena. They dismiss other peoples' theories as nonsense and then go and worship a man who came back from the dead, and society considers this to be normal, and that's something I don't get.

Also, as the pictures here show, at least there are photos of Nessie, badly faked ones admittedly but surely more 'realistic' than the often hilariously overblown paintings, cartoons and drawings of God we have to rely on?  Look, I'm fully aware that I'm being facetious here, but surely there's some kind of point in there somewhere...?

Historically speaking, I don't believe much would be different today if we thought that God was an omnipresent lizard living in the sky and that Nessie was an old man living at the bottom of Loch Ness. Because there's not enough evidence for the existence of either, they are completely interchangeable.  All it would mean is different iconography and more amusing flags in religious wars.  People who believe in the ongoing wonders of the natural world come under mockery in a way that the religious often don't, which is a shame. I wouldn't mock someone for their beliefs whatever they were (not to their face, anyway) but somehow one type of belief is more socially acceptable than the other.

Really I should admire people for having any beliefs because I don't really have any of my own. At least lovers of God and searchers for Nessie have something that drives them and gives their lives meaning.  I'm not actually criticising either group for having their beliefs; I just think that the fact that one belief is considered 'normal' and the other 'freaky' by a lot of the world needs to be explained to me more.

World's Beginning!

Rings Of Fire

The Olympic Opening Ceremony - there's no getting around it, it's probably been the biggest telly event of the year, seen by more people than the Jubilee (I believe it was estimated to be 1bn viewers worldwide), and probably of more interest to many than the events themselves... by 'many' I mean me, obviously. I don't feel the right to comment on the events themselves because I've had a life-long indifference-bordering-on-hatred of athletics meaning that I should rightly be ignored when it comes to the subject. The opening ceremony is likely to be the only part of London 2012 that I will engage with on any level. So I made the effort to engage with it whole-heartedly.

But first, predictably, let's get all the bitchy gossipy stuff covered. It's caused a little bit of political contoversy that I (perhaps naively) hadn't expected; people claimed the ceremony was some kind of leftist propaganda. I'm talking, of course, about the man Twitter loves to hate this week, Adrian Burley. But then again, it's not just him. He's been the person who has been singled out most for his ignorant views, but he's far from the only one. Toby Young's piece in today's Sun for instance also seems shockingly backward.

For those who haven't seen them, here are the tweets wot Adrian Burley did that caused all the controversy:

"The most leftie opening ceremony I have ever seen - more than Beijing, the capital of a communist state! Welfare tribute next?"

"Thank God the athletes have arrived! Now we can move on from leftie multi-cultural crap. Bring back red arrows, Shakespeare and the Stones!"

This is is ignorant nonsense from a man previously best known for attending parties dressed as a Nazi, and in that context are actually not remarkable. (And perhaps he missed the fact that the whole thing started with Ken Branagh quoting from The Tempest?) He probably figured he's got nothing to lose by ttolling the world, because people will mention him again (and he certainly scored a few radio interviews out of it).

Where did this idea come from that multi-culturalism is somehow a party political thing, something that only appeals to Labour voters? And that aside - frankly, what do you expect from an Olympic event? You know, something where every single culture in the world is there? Some people have argued more convincingly that the event wasn't multi-cultural enough, which although I don't actually agree with, I can appreciate the viewpoint more.

And before we move on, YES "the welfare tribute next." YES. Because, apart from universal sufferage, it's about the biggest thing that has been beneficial to every single person living in Britain since Britain was made up in a room somewhere. More than fancy planes flying and globally-renowned poets (and people who can run very fast for that matter).  It's one of the few things that Britain can boast about without it feeling like it's rolling in the mud of its own history.

Toby Young bemoans the lack of millitary history represented in the ceremony. Let's just think this through. A slightly dense child could tell you that a millitary force exists to fight other countries. When you've got all the countries in the world there, is it really a good idea to say, 'Hey Germany, France, India, Argentinia and a bunch of other people who talk all different to what we do, this is what we used to dress like when we killed your ancestors; didn't we look cool?' It's embarrassing enough having a reputation as a country that can't stop thinking about WWII, to the point where we look like we yearn for the good old days of being able to shoot at foreingers and claim moral authority. I dont't think having Spitfires swooping over the audience to the tune of the Dambusters would have had much appeal to anyone apart from a relative minority of Brits.

So, basically when Young says there should have been more for Tories to enjoy, what did he want? He wanted us to have Wellington and and Nelson and more references to WWII. Well. I'm not sure that's a 'Tory Thing', it's a 'People Of A Certain Age Thing'; most people below 45 appreciate these people at best as important figures from Britain’s history, but not representative of what it means to be British today. This was not intended to be 'The Ladybird Guide to Great Britons... Live!' but a chance to show the world that Britain is colourful and has a distinctive voice in the world.  Our main asset is our diversity and our pride in our mongrel heritage, and this is what I thought was being celebrated.

Of course what Young really wants to do is rile social-lefties like me into writing earnest blogs like this one, so fair enough Mr Young - mission accomplished.

So enough of what right-wing politicians and journalists thought of the opening ceremony; what did I think? Well, I really enjoyed it, up until the part where all the various countries of the world walked past. Pro-multicultralism as I am, I went to bed, because it took about 20 minutes of watching smiling athletes strolling past at a leisurely pace and we were still on Austria.  Before then though, I thought there were lots of clever sequences, and I especially liked the blending of film and theatre (although I thought the much-lauded 'Queen-arriving-via-helicopter' bit didn't quite hold together, continuity-wise; how did the Duke of Edinbugh arrive next to her? Perhaps he arrived via a different helicopter.  With Steed at the controls). Rowan Atkinson proved that he still can be funny and although I didn't actually see Macca, it was kind of a given that Paul McCartney would be there somewhere.  He's always invited to these things, because John Lennon continues to be unavailable.

I think the best summary of what the whole thing 'meant' came from my good friend @MrDougelaars. I paraphrase, but he summed it up as :

"It was just Lord of the Rings, really, wasn't it? We started in the green and pleasant land of the Shire, then Isengard kind of grew around it, we saw burning rings in the sky, and there was at least an hour of people walking and walking until everyone was bored."  Tolkien was British and wrote a story beloved by millions of people worldwide; not such a bad way of celebrating British culture at all!

Long-Distance Lovin' (and why, if you squint, it's not all bad)

This is a self-indulgent post; but then it is a blog, so it's exactly the right home for it. 

Anyway:

Is there anything to be said for long distance relationships? 

The Long Distance Lovemobile

Well - is there?  There must be something in it, or I wouldn't still be doing it after a year and a half, and my girlfriend (who for the purposes of this blog we will call 'Stef') definitely wouldn't be.  There are the obvious downsides.  Sex, for instance isn't just not spontaneous but is more or less planned weeks in advance.  Not literally - the calender doesn't have 'SHAGGING' written over every weekend.  No.  Some weekends,  I can't afford the train fare.  The point is, the physical side of a relationship is very obviously restrained by not living in the same place.

There's the other, less obvious but perhaps more important downsides as well.  Not being able to go home to someone and chat to them about their day, but having to have phone conversations down noisy streets on the way back from work - it's nice, but it's not the same as being able to see someones face and their expressions.  Likewise, there's no opportunity to just curl up and watch crap telly together; all you can do is talk on the phone, and sometimes people just aren't in the mood for engaging their brains enough to talk; the just want to cuddle and point say how crap the people on the Million Pound Drop are.

But still; me and Stef do it and we're certainly not the only people who manage it; plenty of people do long-distance relationships and, although maybe not perfectly happy, they're happy enough to know that it's worth doing.  We're hoping to end the long-distance thing by the end of the Summer, but the fact that we can be planning to move in together means that something about long distance has worked.  Hopefully long distance won't be the only reason why we've worked together well so far, or we're screwed.

So let's have a look at some of the positive aspects to seeing your loved one only every now and then:

1.    Restaurants

Before all this love commuting happened, I averaged one restaurant visit every couple of years, if that.  Now, I'm an experienced connoisseur of restaurants all over the country.  Every time we've met up, we've pretty much almost gone for a meal, mainly because if you've travelled a long way, you're probably going to arrive late and no one's going to be arsed to do cooking.  Takeaways are also frequent, and I hardly had them as often either.  We have cooked together a few times, but frankly when you're trying to pack so many things into 2 days, boiling things isn't always a priority.  It feels like I'm making up for lost restaurant time.  It's quite addictive really; the fact that I'm almost always perpetually broke but still manage to find the time to go to restaurants says it all really.

2.    Hotels

Basically, this is the same point as restaurants, but with beds instead of food.  Never used to go to them - now go to them all the time.  It beats staying with each other's parents or with nosy housemates pottering about.  Although a maid has burst in on me in the almost-nuddy when I was on the phone.  Bit off-topic, that.


3.    Mini-Breaks

I say mini-breaks, but actually some of these holidays have been other peoples' weddings.  But basically, going away to different cities and staying overnight in hotels is quite exciting.  The upside of not being able to just crash out on the sofa with each other is that when you do manage to get together you make a big plan out of it and really go to town (or, if you're me, play it by ear and trust that it'll work out.  Normally, it actually does).  These little holidays may be mini, and the locations might not have been spectacularly exotic, but we've stayed at least one night in most of the important places in the UK (sorry, Kent) which is more than a lot of people get to do in their first year together.

4.    Music

We don't often agree on music tastes. Actually, that's rubbish, there's a lot of crossover; but to be more specific, she doesn't like some of the music I love and to be even more specific, she really fucking hates it.  At the moment, I can listen to the Pixies very loudly whenever I want, but I am aware that this will come to an end soon.  This is why I've been listening to an obscene amount of the Fall, PiL, 6 Music and yes, the Pixies; because when we live together I'm only going to get a chance to do it when she's out the house (doing womany things like shopping and taking things to the laundrette no doubt).  I'm not complaining, but it's one of the bits of bachelordom I'm going to miss.  Sharing the stereo sounds a bit too much like not being in absolute control of the music to me....

5.    TV

This point is more or less the same as 4, only we both like more or less the same things.  The only thing I fear for is my beloved Doctor Who...  Will 'Stef' share my love for a 50 year-old science-fiction programme?  I doubt it.  I know that The Thick Of It is not a favourite - she was distinctly underwhelmed by it when I showed it to her saying it was my favourite sitcom ever.

6.    It's Obviously Serious

If nothing else, both of you know that you're completely serious about each other.  If you weren't you wouldn't go to all the effort of travelling hours at a time to do what some couples can't be bothered to do even if there's only 30 minutes between them.  Smugness of the most phyrric variety.

7.    A Great Understanding Of  British Public Transport

Ask me a question about train times, and i can bore you to death like THAT.

Point 7 there is obviously clutching at straws.  The fact is, if you're in a long-distance relationship, it's hard.  If you're with the right person it's do-able, but only if you think that you will be able to stop doing it at some point in the future.  Hopefully for us we'll be able to find somewhere together before the end of the year, and the era of the Long Distance relationship will be over (and the era of the Long Distance Commute can begin...)  As it stands though, I can keep listening to the Pixies as loud as I like and leave the house without making the bed (should I make that 8.  Not Having To Make The Bed?) and I'll keep looking on the bright side until I don't have to anymore.

There's Some Round These Parts That Care Nowt For Strangers...

It's weird up North...

Inbred is a new horror comedy film from director Alex Chandon - probably best known for work he did with Cradle of Filth - which is due out in Autumn. It was recently premiered at the Electric in Birmingham - Britain's oldest cinema, and where the film's sound was mixed.

Mention comedy horror and the first film that springs to mind is Shaun of the Dead, a film which it turns out Inbred doesn't bear much relation to (geddit?) at all. Shaun of the Dead is comedy with horror elements and is at heart a rom-com; Inbred is a horror with comedy elements, and comes more from the direction of Peter Jackson's early work (like Derek from Bad Taste). The thing it does share with Shaun of the Dead is it's referencing of lots of different films and shows, but the gore is realistic and un-nerving.

Inbred is very much its own beast, and its humour comes more from the more disturbing elements of Monty Python (especially Gilliam) and the League of Gentleman than the relative gentleness of Shaun of the Dead. It is a film that absolutely blurs the line between horror and comedy, which feels disorientating. There are belly laughs, but more often than not the laughter comes because you're not really sure how else you should react.

The plot revolves around a group of 4 'problem' teenagers being taken on a team-building holiday to Thirsk by their careworkers. It's the same Scooby Doo-meets-Deliverance set-up as many horrors have, especially American ones.  Or to put it another way, it's like dropping the Misfits characters into the Horror genre instead of the Superhero one.  The first half an hour of the film takes time in setting up the main characters; it's character comedy and laughing at the hilarious cartoony local yokels, complete with crooked teeth and deformities. The scenes in the run-down cottage are almost from Withnail and I, and it's comedy coming from putting City people in Rural settings. If one of the teens said "I demand to have some booze!" it wouldn't really feel out of place.

The next chapter is where things get interesting. When the characters get caught by the locals (which isn't really a spoiler), they're killed off one by one, as you always knew they would be. But they're killed in a barn/-come-theatre with an audience - Grand Guignol in a stable yard. This is where I found it hard to know how to respond, and kind of opted for laughter for the want of anything more appropriate. This response is highlighted at the very beginning, with a Lady Chatterly's Lover scene that ends in a bloodbath; it turns out to be a clip being watched on a smartphone, with some teenage lads giggling at it. Not only is this a clever way of integrating a short film into a main feature, but it means that from the start the theme of who the audience of horror actually is, and what their motives are. The scenes in the barn shows people after a Roman Circus style entertainment, and who have to make do with creating it in a DIY low budget style. Rather like people such as Chandon and Jackson making low-budget films before getting their hands on more money.

In the local show for local people there is a Papa Lazourou style ring-master; there are even more Python references (a nude organist, a Mr Creosote-like demise); there's a man in Alex DeLarge's mask, revelling in violence quite jovially; but it's not actually played for laughs, meaning that whilst you're not encouraged to join in with the yokel audience, you're put in their position anyway and forced to deal with it. This could be intended to be a comment on the event-telly culture of laughing at people being shite on Britain's Got Talent, or it could just be intended to make you squirm a lot. It's more likely to be both. It's certainly the most interesting part of the film - there is extreme torture in a non-pornographic way, because it actually has a purpose (though admittedly, not a very nice purpose...)

The last chapter of the film shows the rest of the characters trying to escape and failing, and this for me went on for too long; after the extreme theatrics, it's not that disimilar to the ends of most horror films that involve victims being persued. There's more humour, but it's a bit repetitive, and makes the pacing seem sloightly out of kilter. It's not boring, and the characters take you through it just about, but plot-wise it is going through the motions. Padding basically, something that most genre films tend to suffer from.

Alex Chandon in conversation with some Brummie (picture by David '@Modulor_Man' King)

The acting of the main characters is pitched well; played absolutely straight, meaning that there is genuine tension. James Burrows in particular is very well acted, and reminded me a lot of Christopher Eccleston in Shallow Grave (the 'quiet one' who actually turns out to be quite hardcore) The villagers are then able to be played as extreme grotesques, to a man. Fear of disabilty and 'otherness' is played upon a lot (most obviously in the scene with a thalydomide sufferer struggling to use a hammer to pin someone down). Seamus O'Neil as the Landlord/Village Chief, is menacing and jovial by turns. A lot of the actors seem to have come out of Nottingham (huzzah!), and although Chandon is a Londoner the film feels refreshingly provincial. Even the City the group come from is Milton Keynes rather than a more 'glamourous' area. Another special mention goes to the excellent use of animal actors, especially the loveable ferret.

The effects are on the whole very convincing, especially some of the prosthetics. I could only think of one which was too cartoonish for me. There wasn't much that broke the suspension of disbelief, another reason why the Gilliamesque opening sequence is deceptively crucial; by being so OTT, it makes the rest of the gore in the film seem more realistic. There was apparently a problem with the sound at one point, but I couldn't tell that anything was wrong (although the sound of glass being pulled out of someone's face sounded too much like me messily eating the lolly I'd had earlier as an unsuccessful hangover cure).

In terms of 'making a point', it looks at where entertainment comes from, but doesn't make enough of a direct comment for it to be something that' intellectually driven, and I doubt that's how it was intended to be anyway. It's a visual experience, and actually has some beautiful cinematography, especially the shots of Yorkshire and a train graveyard. The opening shots of shadows crossing across sunny, wheaty, flowery fields is quite pretty, and if it wasn't for the foreboding music could be some kind of tourist board ad for camping in the North.

It's basically horrorshow entertainment that amuses and disgusts in more or less equal measures, and as I'm not generally a fan of the horror genre, I think I'd say it's a cut above the rest. It will probably divide opinion when it comes, out, but I'd be surprised if it doesn't get some attention, at least on a cult level.

Aha! Comedy Review, Alan Partridge: Welcome To The Places Of My Life/Veep

Aha! Etc...

So last night saw some of Sky's first self-made British comedy, Alan Partridge: Welcome To The Places Of My Life.  Not exactly within Sky Atlantic's remit (it was  a channel set up with the intention of showing US series in the UK), it was an incredibly welcome return to this character who it seems will never leave Steve Coogan's career alone.

Alan Partridge dates from the very early 90s, but has not dated.  His character doesn't really need an introduction to anyone who's lived in Britain and owned a TV set (or in recent years, computer) in the last 20 years.  He's one of those fictional characters that works in any genre.  He began life in sketches, moved into full-length spoofs with the chat show Knowing Me, Knowing You and was dropped into traditional farce-based sitcom in I'm Alan Partridge.  Coogan's also used him in webisodes in probably the most popular of that mini-genre so far; and now he's in the travelogue documentary format.

Welcome To The Places Of My Life was essentially a remake of a similar concept from a Christmas episode of Knowing Me, Knowing You; Partridge takes us around his home town and lets his character do the comedy.  (And yes, I am sad enough to be able to reference a 15 year old sketch without having to look it up or cry into my pillow.)  There was no plot here; the only thing remotely close to a plot takes up less than 5 minutes of the programme and you could blink and miss it.  In one scene you glimpse Alan reading a letter with an NHS heading; later you see him in a pessimistic mood before going into a hospital, and a very relieved mood coming out of the hospital.  Everything else revolves as ever, around Partridge displaying a severe lack of self-awareness and delusions of importance.  The prgramme was full of instantly quotable lines from the start - "I like to think of Norfolk as the Wales of the East" for instance.  That's a relatively gentle example, but the description of the Black Death as being "the HIV of its day", and its being passed through the air making it "flying AIDS" shows the darker, twisted side of his personality.  We can only laugh at the dark side of Partridge (which is essentially his views on everything to do with sex, disability, race yadda yadda yadda) because there is also so much pathos.  This was brought not just through the hospital 'plot' but also seeing his current workplace.  A local digital station (with presumably no listeners), with Partridge making impressions of food blenders.  His career his basically been in a downward spiral since the end of Knowing Me, Knowing You and because his self-worth is entirely based on his career he comes across as a character deserving pity, despite the horrendous outlook he has on life.

A particularly good scene was one where Partridge is treading water in a swimming pool chatting to a hydro-therapist.  As the conversation goes on, it is more and more obvious that he is finding it difficult to stay afloat.  However, the interview has been edited so that when the camera is on him he is relaxed and calm, whereas when the camera cuts back to the hydro-therapist he is heard splashing and struggling for air.  The character's vanity and ridiculousness is displayed without even being on screen.  His selling of Norwich Town Hall as being the place Hitler would have made his victory speech from had he won WWII was another highlight - "the more I find out about Hitler, the less I like the sound of him."

The programme saw Coogan ressurrecting a classic comedy character then, but it should be remembered that this is a one-programme idea.  It will be interesting to see what else is done with the character in the next year or so with a film due just around the corner...

Veep - The anti-West Wing?

The other comedy on Sky Atlantic was Armando Iannucci's Veep.  Armando Iannucci (ex-Alan Partridge writer/producer) is now best known as the creator of The Thick Of It and In The Loop and for having an honour from the Queen and everything, and it is unavoidable for British viewers to watch Veep without comparing it to the previous series and film.  Structually, In The Loop was The Thick Of It with some of the characters having American accents.  Veep is something different entirely.  The focus is skewed; The Thick Of It generally uses the format of drab politician being manipulated by the spin doctor Malcolm Tucker, who is undoubtedly the star of the show.  In Veep, however, the main focus is on the drab politician.  This makes sense.  American politics has never made a celebrity culture out of its spin doctors as much as British politics has in the last 15-20 years or so.  Just remaking The Thick Of It with an American setting would be completely irrelevant.  It is probably more useful to compare Veep to the West Wing than The Thick Of It, as it reacts against the liberal idealism of that show.  Let's face it, everyone loved The West Wing for a time but it eventually became unbearbly cloying and sentimental.

The thing about Veep is that I suspect it will be more of a slow-burner than The Thick Of It.  There are a lot more characters and it will take a lot longer to get to know them.  The plot of the first episode was very much the type of thing that happens in The Thick Of It (politicians trying to avoid the unwelcome media attention while trying to boost their reputations), with the Veep (that's the Vice President, btw) indirectly upsetting the oil industry and calling someone a retard.  It was all very well acted, and there were some good understated one-liners, but it wasn't as immediately laugh-out-loud funny as I expected.  It does look as if a story arc is being set up with a ruthlessly ambitious aide however, and I wonder whether we are going to see the birth of a Malcolm Tucker style figure.  Tucker arrived fully-formed in The Thick Of It, and perhaps Veep is going to show how such figures come about.

Both shows were very enjoyable, but if Sky is hoping to improve its reputation for home-grown comedy in Britain it had better have been an opening salvo.  As I said earlier, the Partridge programme was defined as a one-off by its format, and although Veep is funny it is too rooted in American politics for it to connect with a mainstream British audience (The Thick Of It is rooted in British politics and doesn't connect with a massive British audience).  A good start maybe, but Sky can't rest on its laurels if it's hoping to be a big contender as a comedy focused channel.

Celebration Time, Come On!

Isn't it interesting how different people celebrate different things?  For instance - I've never really celebrated birthdays that much.  Normally I'll get a few cards and so on, presents from the folks and so on.  Sometimes, I'll get some cash and a few close friends and go to the pub, but more often than not I just stay at home and watch TV.  It's just another day really for me, just one that's made a bit more fun in the morning with the cards and presents.  I certainly can't remember the last time I had a birthday party, as opposed to a few drinks, but it was certainly when I was still at Junior School.  And even then, probably not many people turned up because my birthday is usually in August, and everyone's abroad in the sun.  I'm not averse to celebrating birthdays if other people are celebrating theirs, but when it comes to my own, I can rarely be arsed - I save up my celebrating for Christmas.  Which is Jesus' birthday, and I don't even believe in him [no offence to any Christians, but I see Jesus as a historically real equivalent to Santa].

It's how I was brought up really; you make a thing of birthdays when you're children obviously, but at a certain age you just grow out of them.  And the same seems to be true with my friends.  Mine either don't really do much, or have a low-key little gathering, but we save our big get-togethers for stag nights and weddings at the moment.  Perhaps the fact that my friends are in several different cities throughout the UK makes arranging birthday parties more trouble then they're actually worth.  Who cares?

1: Right

Turns out that the answer to that question is 'My Girlfriend'.  My girlfriend and her family are very different.  They have, for instance, a birthday hat, that the birthday boy/girl wears when 'Happy Birthday' is sung, and tend to go out for meals and play games and everything...  For her birthday party last year, over 50 people went.  I don't even know 50 people.  Basically, there's a sense of tradition and celebratory rituals there that I've never really come into contact with before.  Last year I got her birthday completely wrong by not getting a card and buying a pretty rubbish present, which showed a birthday competency equalled only by the most puritan of corpses.  This year, I fared a little bit better, by getting a nice card (although it didn't have a poem inside, which I think lost me points) and nice presents; but I fell down on the evening arrangements, which was going to meet a friend of mine in a pub and then moving on to catch up with some friends who had just had a baby.  I don't think she had this in mind as being a big birthday blow-out, which is fair enough - in retrospect, I can see how watching someone clean piccalilli out of a newborn's nappy might not be the way some people imagine spending their birthday.  My mistake was to think that because I would be happy to spend my birthday that way, she would be too. 

2: Wrong

It has made me think how interesting it is the way different families celebrate different things, and of course how friends celebrate it too.  As I said earlier, my sister and I stopped having birthday parties from teenhood.  And the first time I went out drinking for New Year's Eve was 2 years ago - until then it was Jools Holland and some fizzy wine, call from the impenetrable Scottish relatives and then tucked up in bed before 12.30.  But we've always made a massive deal out of Christmas, with more food than you could eat in a week, booze aplenty and present opening sessions that take forever.  I guess you could say that my family binge celebrate, saving everything up for one day of the year, whereas my girlfriend's family celebrate things on a semi-regular basis throughout the year.  Neither way is righter or wronger than the other, but what it does show is that there is no standard way of celebrating anything.  Each family in the world has a different way of showing love and affection and at different times of year.

As I got older, most people I know including myself tended to go out and having a hedonistic night whenever they could afford it, with any old excuse to wake up feeling rough the next day.  And so if there were birthday celebrations, they would just be the same as 'New Job' celebrations, or 'Passed Driving Test' celebrations or 'It's The End Of The Week' celebrations; no better or worse.  Now that most people I know (including myself) are almost permanently broke, and sometimes full of baby, hedonistic benders are on the whole 'out' and quiet catch-ups over cups of tea are 'in'.  But everyone still has a great time, which I find heartening, because it means that it's always been about the personalities, not the social context. Once again though, my girlfriend's circle of friends make a bigger deal out of birthdays, and there is more sense of occasion, than just going out and getting pissed again.

The point is that I think it's a great thing that families celebrate things in different ways as long as everyone's happy, but I'm learning that it's fairly important to learn how different people celebrate things when you start sharing your life with them, especially when you've spent a large-ish part of your life being a feckless bachelor happy enough with an 1/8th and a Doctor Who box set.  It can be a bit of a culture shock, and just as when in Rome you should do as the Romans do, you have to accept that people are different, and on birthdays you're expected to give them the celebration they're used to, not the one you'd be happy with, because it's their birthday and therefore for one day at least, rule!

Which is all a long-winded way of saying that  I expect my girlfriend will get at least a bottle of sparkling wine next year...

Can Honoured satirists Draw Blood?

 There's been an interesting spat on Twitter recently between Alistair Campbell and Armando Iannucci. It started because Iannucci has an accepted an OBE from the Queen's honours list, and Campbell thinks he should have refused it. The exchange went as follows:

Now, I don't think Campbell really cares about the honours and whether Iannucci should have accepted it or not; I think he's seen an opportunity to attack someone who he feels has made a career out of attacking him. Campbell's very public and disastrous attack on the BBC around the time of the Iraq war still probably obsesses him slightly. He was a man who was used to winning the media battles up to that point, and losing that one cost him not so much his job, but definitely his reputation as an expert manipulator. The BBC won out, and Iannucci is very BBC, who started out as a producer there and has worked for them in one way or another throughout most of his career (apart from his very underrated sketch shows for Channel 4).

Some people have claimed that Campbell hates Iannucci for satirising him in the form of Malcolm Tucker in his brilliant sitcom The Thick Of It. For those not familiar with this sitcom (and if you're not, shame on you), it is a comedy set in a relatively minor department of the government (an un-named but unmistakeably New Labour government), using the Yes Minister format of a bumbling politician and his scheming aides. The chief difference between Yes Minister and The Thick Of It is that in Yes Minister those really in charge are the Civil Servants, whereas in The Thick Of It it is the Spin Doctors, mainly the foul-mouthed and generally quite scary Malcolm Tucker.

Many people (probably including Campbell) assumed that Malcolm Tucker was plain and simple a caricature of Campbell, but on closer inspection this is simplistic. It is a natural assumption because Campbell was at the height of his powers when the programme first came out, but it's not an out-and-out portrayal of Campbell himself, more an attack on the culture of the New Labour government of the time, which was starting to let itself determine policy by reacting to the media. It was this culture that has led to Leveson, with Prime Ministers courting Editors, rather than the other way round. Tucker is an metaphor rather than a character in the show, a force rather than a person, who enters a room like a tornado. But as well as the agression of Campbell there is a lot of Charlie Whelan in there (most of the creative swearing is probably inspired more by Whelan's colourful way with words than Campbell, as evidenced by the use of one of Whelan's favourite expressions, "a package of bollocks"). And when Campbell turns on the charm, there's definately some of Peter Mandelson's sociopathic felinity.

Campbell though (perhaps understandably) took the character as a personal attack, and went on record as saying there was "nothing funny about the show whatsoever" - an attempt at indifference that was as good as an admission that it had hit a nerve. (Amusingly, at one award ceremony, Campbell was sat next to the actor who plays Tucker, Peter Capaldi.)

Taking all the personalities aside though, the question Campbell is asking is "is it possible for a satirist to retain his credibility after being decorated so highly by the Establishment with a big E?" And it is a valid question, though one that I think can be answered with a 'yes'.

I think the answer really lies in what you define satire as. A lot of people understand satire to basically mean 'political comedy', which it does incorporate but is too narrow a description. Because satire has a much broader brief than that; a satirist concentrates on puncturing the worst elements of human character which can involve politics because a lot of the worst characteristics of human beings tend to be illustrated in the political world. Ben Jonson, the first English satirist relevant to how we perceive satire today, wrote plays such as The Alchemist and Volpone, where a succession of characters are 'gulled' into parting money by con-artists. Both of these plays have characters that are broad caricatures of vices rather than believable characters. The names in Volpone all correspond unflatteringly with animals for instance (Volpone means 'Sly Fox', and his servant Mosca's name comes from 'Mosquito' (ie, a blood-sucker).

But Jonson spent a great deal of his career (the majority, in fact) constructing elaborate 'Masques' for the King, frothy court romances for the Aristocrats to enjoy. That does not somehow render his satires invalid; and it certainly makes Iannucci accepting a medal from the Queen look small. Similarly, Swift and Pope were perfectly happy to chill with the Aristos. And zipping forward to the 20th Century and the so-called 'Satire Boom' of the 1960s, one could hardly describe people like Peter Cook as being outside the Establishment; easily the most important comedian of his generation he was destined for the Foreign Office before Beyond The Fringe. This was never relevant to his comedy, which relied more on making fun of peoples' foibles regardless of class or background. His impressions of Harold MacMillian (how he confessed to having an affection for) sat next to the Pete and Dud caricatures of seedy men in pubs who think they know everything. He performed in front of the Queen more than once, at the same time as being the owner of Private Eye. This is not somehow a contradiction in terms.

Iannucci has never stated any objection to the honours system as far as I can find out, and so I can't see why his accepting one is somehow hypocritical. His work up to and including The Thick Of It his criticised the corruption and vanity within politics, but he has never claimed to want to start a revolution. I don't think Armando Iannucci OBE will make significantly different programmes to Armando Iannucci, and he will undoubtedly continue to make a more important and more constructive influence on British culture than Alistair Campbell ever will.

-

Smoke and Mirrors

They always say 'once an addict, always an addict', and it's true.  I've given up smoking more times than I can remember, and though I've managed for about a year now, you can't ever be sure you won't crack.  If I didn't have one of those e-cigarette things - my iFag - I would probably be chaining away in a corner, coughing and loving every minute.

I did love smoking.  I don't miss it, but I really did love it.  I would count out my days in fags.  Although I wouldn't count the cigarettes themselves or I'd have proof that I was smoking too much.  A lot of the fun went out of it with the public smoking ban, it's true, and there are less things I miss about it than things I'm glad to be shot of.   I have the aforementioned iFag, which is a great thing to fall back on if you're an ex-smoker with a crap track record of staying off the things.  But it's still giving you nicotine; it's a safer alternative but it's not the same as actually giving up (which, if you hadn't heard, is actually quite hard.)  Especially when I'm with people I like who are smoking, I do sometimes feel... jealous.

Which is ridiculous.  The stupidest thing I ever did was taking up smoking; it only takes your body a few days to realise how absolutely ruinous smoking is to your health.  And when you get your taste-buds in working order again, and discover that cigarette smoke does smell a little bit, it's like a revelation.  And God - how much you dupe yourself psychologically.  I would sometimes feel acute pains in my chest if I had been smoking, drinking coffee and eating greasy food (which was quite often); but I'd always manage to find some reason for these pains where smoking half a pack of baccy a day didn't come into the equation. 

Non-smokers can see how stupid the smokers are in this respect, but because they lack the crucial element of empathy they tend to sound preachy and annoying and way too smug when pointing out the bleeding obvious.  The empathy is necessary because if you don't know how hard giving up is your advice won't be taken seriously.  It's like telling someone to give up eating, because you become so dependent on them smoking feels like a bodily function.  And ex-smokers, well - ex-smokers can either turn out to be worse in a 'Born Again' way, or end up writing self-indulgent blog posts like this one.

So, speaking of this blog post - where is it going?

Two things have attracted my attention over the last week; the first is the gradual institution of the new regulations which makes it illegal for shops to display the packages of tobacco products.  The second was finding out about the 'Plain Packaging' campaign, which presumably inspired the new regulations (check out their exciting site )

The gist of the Plain Packaging campaign is that they believe cigarette packaging is too attractive ("particularly to young people"), and that if cigarettes/tobacco packaging is plain, the health warnings will stand out more.  The reasoning behind it is that less people will start smoking at an early age if the packaging is less attractive.

I think this argument is flawed.  Not completely without logic, and its heart is in the right place, but I simply don't think that the reason most people start smoking is because of the packaging.  I didn't take up smoking because I was dazzled by the hypnotic allure of the packages.  I don't think that's the reason why many smokers start smoking.  I think most people start smoking because of other people - peer pressure, yes, but also the urge to impress or just doing what everyone around them is doing plays its part.  Smoking is still a cultural issue primarily, and the key to stopping people from starting is education.   You can change the designs in the corner shop, but it's no good concentrating on the way it's marketed.  Instead we should concentrate on peoples' perceptions of smoking.  It is a slow process, but smoking is so ingrained in our culture, there is no fast-track option.  The key to change the amount of smokers out there lies in making smoking socially unacceptable.  If it's a shameful thing to do, and something people are embarrassed about, they won't take it up.  While people are still happy to walk down the street with one on the go, other people, if they're so inclined will be happy to start.

Gizza kiss.

This dummy box the Australian government are planning to introduce at the end of the year is pretty gruesome, it's true.  It's a shock tactic - it's a graphic image that gives you a jolt the first time you see it.

But a shock tactic by definition can only work once.  People will become used to it each time they see it, and if people are smokers, or work in shops that sell tobacco, or know people who smoke, its effect will last less than a month.  If you want to put people off smoking I actually think it's less effective to do this in the long run than to put them in an actual plain white box that says 'FAGS'.

Because when you smoke, you don't really care about the outside of the box/pouch, but what's inside them.  I remember when they made the warnings much bigger, and then later when graphic pictures of tumours and blackened lungs were emblazoned across the packs.  Not once did it stop me, because that self-deluding part of my mind simply blanked it out.  Being an addict makes you very good at being wilfully blind.  If  I still smoked, and they started selling fags in boxes shaped like a coffin or something, I would in all probability still buy them.  If the warnings said 'You Are An Idiot - You Are Stinking And Dying In A Hell Of Your Own Making', I would have shrugged and sparked up.  Because you know all that stuff already, if you've made it as far as buying the pack which has the warning on it you've probably already made up your mind. 

And if someone doesn't smoke but is about to start, it's because they like the idea of cigarettes, or the look of cigarette smoking, not because how the box looks of how it's sold.  The Plain Packaging campaign says "Support Plain Packaging and Save Our Children," and I still can't decide whether I think that's a wildly optimistic line or just a slightly patronising.

I'm not arguing that the packaging should remain - in fact I agree that the packaging should be changed.  I think people should be allowed to smoke if they want to while it's still legally available, but if you want to make it marginally more irritating for smokers and shopkeepers to buy and sell it, whatever - have a blast. 

But I think rather too much emphasis has been put on this being a way of reducing the amount of people who smoke.  (Are they even that enticing anyway?  I think most cigarette packaging is pretty dull.)  It's a purely cosmetic change, something that tweaks what already exists rather than changing the way things are.  Change the packaging, hide it behind cupboards in shops - by all means,  but also recognise that this is just a way of brushing something under the carpet.  At the end of the day, that tobacco is still going to be sold in significant amounts.  I think to really do something that makes a difference, a much bolder move has to be made, and I don't see that happening for at least another generation. 

How Original! How Late! A Post About The Jubilee!

A crown. Made out of cake.

So yes, this is the first entry of a blog, and how much more unoriginal can you get for a subject for a blog entry at the moment. More Jubilee stuff? Really? Even now, when it's, you know, over and everything?

Well, quite. As a Republican, I've not done much for the Jubilee. I certainly didn't protest against it, because at the end of the day, it wasn't my party. There's a time and a place for debating the pros and cons of a monarchy and frankly in the middle of a celebration of it isn't it. It would be a different story if it was a wildly unpopular event that was being shoved down the public's throats; but over 80% of the country wanted the Jubilee celebrations, and so it would have been if nothing else undemocratic to try and boycott it. Live and let live and all that; I'm not going to spoil anyone's fun for the sake of making a futile gesture. I spent my Jubilee Sunday volunteering at a garden party organised by Mencap; though it pissed it down with rain, everyone had a marvellous time putting up Union Jacks, balloons and so on, and money was raised for charity. The fact was, Monarchy didn't play a massive part, but patriotism did - the good kind of patriotism, the love of your country and what it means to be British, not the bad kind where you go hitting differences. The best illustration of how modern Britain was celebrated was when an Indian Youth Orchestra being followed by an old-school old lady British Choir.  Both were really good, and the juxtaposition was as good an example of

When I saw the pictures in the evening of the Republican protesters at the flotilla event I felt like cringing. These were not people who were going to attract anyone to any cause. They looked, frankly, like miserable buggers. They weren't dressed in interesting costumes, they were dressed like third-rate gangsters, and looked foolish. It wasn't an occasion for a debate, it was an occasion for a fun day out with the family on a long Bank Holiday. Coming across as party-poopers was a massive own goal. If you turned up to someones birthday party with the express intention of ruining it, you would (rightly) get a frosty reaction to say the least. It's bad manners, for a start, in being bad mannered is a massive turn-off for all British people. And if you're stupid enough to look bad mannered in front of your enemies who happen to be the epitome of manners (the Queen is actually what a manner looks like), you render yourself politically irrelevant there and then.

Anyway, I was looking forward to getting on with the rest of my life and looking forward to the next big occasion I couldn't give a shit about (that's the Olympics, that is), until on the news on the way home from work today I heard someone from the Government admit in a very blase way that it had cost an enormous amount at £4bn, but everyone agreed that it had been absolutely worth it.

Perhaps rather naively I hadn't really thought about the cost of the event, which is why my 'live and let live' stance was so easy to maintain. I hadn't realised quite how much money had been pumped into the event. The thing is, that's quite a lot of money. A hell of a lot of money. The European countries that are floundering at the moment are crippled in debt by less amounts; that is the kind of money that can bring a country to its knees. That is the kind of money that could improve the lives of hundreds of thousands of people in this country, Republicans and Monarchists. The obvious examples of how it could be used are things like hospitals and schools and things that generally improve the state of peoples' lives on a daily basis, as opposed to one long weekend in June. People say that there is no point in pouring money into the NHS because it gets eaten up by bureaucracy, and that might be true to an extent; but out of £4bn surely some of that money would find its way into the lives of patients? Certainly more than if the money was poured into the Thames to make it look all pretty for a day. And how about education? What about all those university departments closing under managerial pressure to attract more foreign students, or disenfranchised kids being bored by unmotivated educators? Again, just throwing money at a problem doesn't make it go away; but it would certainly help, at least a little bit.

Even if it was spent on less 'life and death' causes than hospitals, schools and transport, surely you could make a case for using that money to try to revitalise the British film industry? Or investing in better technology? This would still be a patriotic act, and one that could make money in the future as well. Or libraries, the heart of several communities that have been either threatened with closure or flat-out closed.

I'm not arrogant enough to think that my idea of how to spend £4bn is better than most peoples'; I don't know the ins and outs of it all, and there could be valid reasons for not putting too much money into the NHS. Maybe it messes something up economically - I am economically dense. But I do think the money could have been invested, and whatever we agree or disagree about £4bn being spent on the Jubilee it is an actual, real, bona fide fact that that money has been spent. It's gone now - bye bye. Hope you enjoyed it. The government minister I heard on the radio though it was worth it, but I'm not sure he speaks for everyone.

And ultimately, even after everything else I've written so far, if you think that £4bn is a sensible amount of money for an economically struggling country to be spending on a knees-up, there is something wrong with you. If you say to me that you can't think of anything better to spend £4bn on in this country I will assume that you are lying; because the idea that you might be telling the truth scares me so much more.

I am not arguing that it was a mistake to celebrate the Queen's Jubilee, and I'm not entirely convinced that it was a cynical 'bread-and-circuses' attempt on the Establishment's behalf to distract people from the appalling way things have been going for the Coalition at the moment. But there are ways of doing things; to be more precise there are sensible ways of doing things and extravagant ways of doing things, and unfortunately extravagance is a luxury we cannot afford at the moment.

Spending money extravagantly on things we couldn't afford is what got this country into its current financial situation. It seems we have refused to learn from this. Next time the Government refuses to do something because it can't afford it, I will think of the Jubilee celebrations and ask myself which I would rather have had.