'Tis The Season to be Po-faced

Another of the Tories' "rising stars" has found himself compromised by circumstances; some that maybe he shouldn't have allowed himself to be found in. Aidan Burley, MP for Cannock Chase, was involved in preparations for the stag do for an old Oxbridge friend at the French ski resort of Val de Thorens and it has been alleged that he helped to make arrangements for (and attended) a Nazi-themed evening with the sourcing of an SS uniform for the prospective groom.

Val de Thorens - Nazi Stronghold? No, not at all.

Now whether Burley (who was recentlly elevated to a junior ministerial post as PPS to Justine Greening at Transport) did any of this is immaterial really. The merest whiff of something as distasteful as Nazism is enough to get you canned (or caned, I suppose, in the case of Max Mosely). Mind you, it was probably a greater crime in the eyes of the Tory Central Office Ministry of Truth that he might have been involved in organising something in France and, what's more, on behalf of a friend with a suspiscously French-sounding name, M. Fournier. Downing Street was accused by Labour of "dithering" over the sacking for a few days when in reality they were satisfied with Burley's contrition and a lengthy letter of apology to the (outraged) Jewish Chronicle until the story of the SS Uniform emerged. Then it was "off with his head".

Burley might have what is considered to be, in these days of po-facedness, a dodgy past inasmuch as he was a member of some all-male society at St John's College, Oxford called 'The King Charles Drinking Club' for which some commentators could almost be forgiven for inserting "...just like Bullingdon...". During the do in Val de Thorens, Fournier's party were overheard "goading" a French waiter before moving on to a British-themed pub at the resort called the 'Frog & Roast Beef' where, hopefully, they were goaded by some French people in return. Only fair. OK, the references made at the party to Hitler, Himmler, the Third Reich plus the one idiot who thought it was OK to dress up in the uniform (like one other idiot Prince did a few years back) was at best ill-conceived. Burley's real mistake was just being proximate to the action.

"I'm sorry...I've no idea who this chap is and I never did..."

A bit like the intense media scrutiny over a few rugby players getting pissed after a match down-under, a bunch of privileged toffs getting pissed in France and being politically incorrect is no story in itself. But add a Tory Boy (Burley is 32 - going on 16) and we get all po-faced. I have no idea whether Burley is a good MP or whether he had the mettle and ability to slide upwards through government, but in the latter case, I doubt we'll ever know now. It's a wonder there's anyone left at Westminster given that the slightest gaffe can ruin political careers and the people that could probably do a great job in Parliament or Government and that are also equally free of public and media opprobrium wouldn't touch the job with the proverbial barge pole.

Maybe we should just laugh at the silly boy - you never know, he might have just been able to learn from his mistake but, no...he must be cast out.

And then there's the tiresome case(s) of racism in football. The Football Associations in Britain have, to be fair, done a reasonable job of reducing racism in the game or, at least, of making the point that they have. In my long experience of attending professional matches in the English Premier League, racsim these days is largely self-policed with occasional interventions by stewards brave enough to stand up to the remaining thuggish elements that appear to still hold opinions that were once prevalent in that it was de rigeur to hoot like a cartoon chimpanzee when a black player was on the ball or to go to the nearest fruit and veg stall on the way to ground to stock up bananas rather than garnering sharpened coins or glass bottles to throw onto the pitch.

So now the spotlight is on the players of this once "beautiful game" made ugly by the wealth of the often moronic rich who have run out of toys. I learned on the BBC today that the Venky family, who bought the beleaguered Blackburn Rovers recently, were of the opinion that Premier League clubs "...could never be relegated..." So much for the FA's 'Fit and Proper Persons' rules for those that wish to own a club.

"Hey, Michel...are you really sure this is
a John Terry replica kit?"

The two cases that have resulted in po-faced responses surround Liverpool's Luis Suarez and Chelsea's John Terry. Suarez has been found guilty of misconduct as a result of calling Patrice Evra a name that the authorities deemed to be racially offensive. In the light of Sepp Blatter's stance on racist abuse basically being all part and parcel of the game and that players should just shake hands at the end and forget about it, the FA decided to underpin their ridicule of the loony Blatter's remarks by handing down an eight-match ban to Suarez. Apart from annoying the hell out of Liverpool FC who have relied hugely on the Uruguayan so far this season, the FA have been accused of po-faced show-boating. And rightly so. The case against Suarez seems to have revolved around whether the word 'Negrito' is racially offensive. It probably is, but I don't know. Sitting where I used to at my home club, quite close to the action, the abuse and sledging meted out by the players upon their opposite numbers is no better or worse than the usual garbage you can hear on the park at weekends, liberally splattered (or 'Blattered, maybe) with f-words, c-words, questions over parentage and sexual orientation and, on the racist spectrum, plenty of references to a player's home country especially if that happened to be Wales. I cheerfully recall Robbie Savage living up to his moniker one game when he was called an "f***ing Welsh sheep-shagging c**t" by one of our defenders. In deference to the terpsichorean Savage, I won't repeat his response but it was an hilarious rejoinder, both barbed and self-deprecating at the same time and received a round of applause from those that could hear him even though it was aimed at one of our own. Good on him. That's how to deal with it. And I wish the boy every success in his new media career...

There are a lot of things wrong with professional football; wages spirals, prima-donna behaviour, WaGs, cheating, abuse of referees, escalating ticket prices (and resultant declining sales), and so much more including corruption, illegal betting and the sleaziness of some agents. Yet news coverage today (21 December) has been almost exclusively given over to the decisions on Suarez from the FA and on Terry from the CPS...along with some hate-reporting on Piers Moron, of course, which always makes good press. A good day to bury bad news then, like Kim Jong Un having his finger on a really scary button.

CPS: Serving Justice
or Public Titillation?

The CPS have decided that it is "...in the public interest..." to prosecute John Terry for the alleged racial abuse of Anton Ferdinand. The FA must be rubbing their hands with glee as the tortuous process of the criminal justice system means that they won't have to act on this allegation for months on end and Chelsea FC will be equally pleased seeing as their ageing, lumbering central defender can play on for the same number of months given that he is, of course, innocent for the time being and maybe for ever (unlike his dad). He might even still be able to play for England at the European 2012 Championships, but only if Fabio Capello has become blind and/or mad in the meantime. Nothing to do with racism allegations...Terry's just not good enough anymore on the pitch.

But is it in the public interest or just "...of interest to the public..."? The latter, I'd venture. Famous footballer allegedly calls a another famous footballer, a black one, a name that might be construed as racist. OK, it could be a big deal in professional football in a sort of thin-end-of-a-wedge kind of way but some of the po-faced reaction has been laughable; from both sides of the argument. There'll only be one winner and it will be neither Terry, or Ferdinand, or the CPS, the FA or the some hack saying "I told you so". Nope - it'll be the lawyer with the most ludicrous fee structure, as usual. All the rest will lose money, time and face. What a mess.

"Grylled Bacon?"

BBC Radio 5 Live ran the concurrent stories of Suarez and Terry non-stop while interviewing various "experts" on the potential ramifications. I was listening to Richard Bacon's show as this unfolded, partly because I wanted to hear his interview with Bear Grylls, just to hear if the adventuring boy scout could be even more sanctimonious and hyperbolic as he was the last time; he didn't disappoint. Grylls is held up to be some paragon of the great outdoor pursuit generation as opposed to the media-savvy, self-promoting income generator that he has become. Bacon gloried in the "fact" that more than 1.3 billion people had watched Grylls' TV programmes with his biggest audience now being in the USA. No suprprise there then, as the lard-arse americans probably thought they were going to see a feature on grilling bears (a-la Palin). If William Hill would take the bet, I'd put £1,000 on Ray Mears to kick the shit out of Grylls any day.

But I shouldn't be po-faced about any of these people. Maybe I should just go to northern Italy and face the Po. That'd be fair...

Almost Time To Embrace The Horror...

We're in a weird kind of Monbiot territory here....Good science versus bad journalism as opposed to George's own excellent journalism fighting the ludicrously bad science that abounds. The bad journalism this time revolves around the sensationalist speculation that Mount Hekla is about to blow! The "Shock! Horror!" of the uninformed hacks is but a neutrino compared to the actuality of the volcano's potential to destroy everything as we know it; up to and including George Osborne's misplaced public optimism on the UK economy and Nicolas Sarkozy's ego, along with, of course, all life.

So here's some bad science and worse hackery but all in the interests of illumination:

Hekla is a relatively small hill, really. No more than five thousand feet above the sea that it would cause to rise or simply immolate. It has grown a few feet during 2011 as the magma it encases struggles to reach the surface. Imagine, if you can, Pierce Brosnan and Tommy Lee Jones in an amalgam of their entertaining but silly movies "Dante's Peak" and the eponymous "Volcano"; then multiply the dramatic, cinematic horror by several thousand and the on-screen body count by several million and you might get some way to appreciating the impact of a Hekla's worst-case. 

It might be a smallish hill, but Hekla is also a stratovolcano of the kind often found in subduction areas of the planet where tectonic plates crash about on the unstable crust. On more occasions than not, the stratovolcano impact is localised due to the make-up of the igneous outpourings failing to travel very far from the caldera...typically only a matter of a few miles. This can be nonetheless devastating if the volcano is near to population centres such as Vesuvius' destricution of Pompeii and Herculaneum around 79 CE. With the greatest respect to Icelanders, Hekla's potential for devastation through lava  and pyroclastic flows is probably minimal in the great scheme of things. However, regardless of the histrionics of some hacks, Hekla has the potential to become a ELE (Extinction Level Event) if all of the wrong circumstances pervade. The magma build up could be massive and there is the chance of a Mount St Helensesque scenario and worse. Depending on prevailing atmospheric conditions, a startovolcano can shoot particulates up through the stratosphere where sulphur dioxide may readily form sulphuric acid clouds weighing millions of tons and effectively stopping sunlight from reaching the troposhphere, thus reducing global temperatures and possibly leading to a semi-permanent winter, global crop  and livestock failures and the associated cataclysmic effects that will, ultimately, cause the extinction of almost all life on Earth.

Merry Christmas, then, everyone...

Doesn't look that dangerous today, does it?



1970 - Just a little 'blow'



Europe: What to do....?

A lot of huff and bluster and some flummery in the House of Commons yesterday (12 December) as parliament debated Dave's stance at the latest EU farrago, along with the notable absence of the ineffective little Cleggster. ("...I'm not responsible for his whereabouts...but I'm sure he's working hard..." was Dave's response to the question about Clegg's non-attendance). There was much speculation about where Clegg had got to. I can reveal here, exclusively, that he had, finally, disappeared up his own arse.

Tory Party Policy Unit Staff

The leaders of the "17" and the other "9" throughout Europe must have been wondering why on earth Dave and Mr Ed were yelling at each other across the floor over the former's use of the veto. Actually, they probably weren't, as they've got their own monumental difficulties to sort out in the next few weeks with the odds-on chance that they'll fail. Again. My theory is that Dave was told to 'vote', but his senior policy advisor (who is only 12 years old) transposed the vowels. Schoolboy howler but there we are; it's done now. 

It was strange, though, that without any prompting or orders from the Speaker, the house fell as silent as the grave to hear the first question of the debate; from the old daddy of the house and favourite of the Euro-sceptic right-wing, Sir Peter Tapsell. And, of course, the killer question came later from the older, more accomplished and, ultimately, the only electable Miliband brother.

Nonetheless, there is no one answer to this whole rotten mess at the moment, either in Britain or on the continent, apart from the one solution that has dealt with these disagreements over the centuries and the one that we should be debating...

WAR!

Let's have a war, then. A proper one. Not some namby-pamby, frigid political war based on the devising of treaties under the control of self-serving diplomats in Brussells and Whitehall. No. Let's have a war with guns and stuff. At one point in the commons debate yesterday, Dave even said that we should use "...the big bazooka..." so he's quite clearly thinking along the same lines, as echoed by the odious, wannabe-'sleb, Austin Mitchell later in the debate.

Another Etonian with a Piece of Paper

With the majority of traditional wars, there is a need for someone (on behalf of their state) to declare an intention to blow things up, kill people and all that sort of stuff, usually with the rider that conflict can be avoided if certain things were agreed to. Kind of blackmail, really, but an acceptable, last-ditch approach in order to avoid mass slaughter, traditionally represented by a 'piece of paper' waved from atop a gantry at an airport.

So, the following should be Britain's proposal for the declaration of war, to be delivered by Dave, or, perhaps, Bill Hague, seeing he has the sort of voice and delivery that might sound a bit more scary in the absence of the unlamented Dr Fox and Mr Werrity. Europeans might be fazed by a faux-Yorkshire accent more than an Etonian one? Or perhaps Dave should recruit his pal Clarkson as some kind of emissary as he's already demonstrated his skill at threatening to execute people. Anyway, here goes:

We may declare war on the whole of Europe because:

1) 26:1 are odds we've dealt with before, Johnny Foreigner - so be afraid! Especially you cheese-eating surrender-monkeys!

2) The major economies in Europe are all in nations that have either been whupped unceremoniously by us in the past or just ran way / collaborated with the enemy when everything got a bit scary. And don't think that our lack of guns and ships and planes can't be addressed by our pulling out of the Middle East. Ha!

3) It's probably constitutionally allowed (a bit). Besides, by the time the Eurocrats in Brussels and Strasbourg have worked out why we shouldn't have a war, it'll all be over; by Christmas, usually. And if the European Union doesn't comply with the following demands, then they can assume a state of war has been declared between us (and don't forget - we have videos of Sarkozy and Merkel together doing things in hotels - yeah! We have! You thought it was just in your worst nightmares, but we'll post them on YouTube - just see if we don't...)

a) Abandon the Euro Now! Immediatement! / Sofort! / Immediatamente! / Onmiddellijk!

b) Abandon CAP and CFP Now! Immediatement! / Sofort! / Immediatamente! / Onmiddellijk!

c) Give us all our money back (£14 Tn.) Now! Immediatement! / Sofort! / Immediatamente! / Onmiddellijk!

d) Allow all European nations to vote for the UK at the Eurovision Song Contest (instead of just Malta)

e) Forget about Turkey joining the EU, by the way. Any schoolboy with a 'C' in GCSE Geography will tell you that Turkey is in Asia Minor, not Europe. Tch! The inclusion of the west of Cyprus is a bit questionable too, while we're on.

f) Lift Wayne Rooney's two match suspension right away. I know he can be an annoying little scouse tosser but he's started scoring again. Also - and we really don't want to come over as Geography pedants here - but since when was Ukraine in Europe? UEFA must rearrange the 2012 championships to be played at the Polish venues only.

The European Union must comply with these demands by 24th December. A big piece of paper (about flip chart size will do) must also be signed by Herbert Von Rumpy-Pumpy and Jose Manuel Barrosso on behalf of the EU with the following declaration:

"We, the Presidents of the European Commission and the Council of Europe, on behalf of all the European Union (EU) Nations (and especially France and Germany) declare that the EU will never, ever, ever again do something as stupid as to try to use the same currency in more than country. I mean...duh! Who ever thought that would really work?

"Furthermore, we declare that the EU will stop interfering in the legitimate business of any other state:  things like imperial measurements, fruit shapes, working hours directives...oh, and banking. We'll never mess with banks.

"Finally, we will stop referring to the United Kingdom as 'le Royaume-uni' at Eurovision."

That should sort everything out, then

Tax

I wonder how many tax inspectors went on strike on 30th November and, if they did, I wonder too whether the loss of revenue as a result of their withdrawal of labour was factored in to the half a billion quid that Dave and Giddy reckon the strike will have cost the British economy.

The trouble with this sort of idle speculation is that the people from the Office for National Statistics that are responsible for counting the number of tax inspectors doing their jobs at any one time were probably on strike too. So we'll never know and therefore we'll never really know either whether the PM and the Chancellor were correct, inaccurate or (as I suspect) just taking a wild punt at attempting to put some kind of opportunity cost calculation alongside the strike for political posturing purposes (surely not...?)

Clarkson preparing to execute strikers

Not that any of that actually matters any more. The story - if that's what it is - of the biggest public sector revolt/whinge (delete as suits your current political view) was eclipsed by big Jezza. Yes, the Clarksonator was wheeled out in front of someone else's cameras to spout crap to the population; not all of them, of course, just the sad farts who have little better to do at 7pm on a Wednesday evening than sit on a sofa and watch some other people sitting on a different sofa in London/Manchester (delete whichever if you can be  in the least bit bothered about Mark Thomson's DQF at the BBC). 

It would be just so wrong of me suggest that the PM's office might have been behind the wheeze. Some policy wonk at Number Ten thinks..."I know! Dave thinks the strike is 'irresponsible'. Let's get a big celeb who thinks the same thing and put him on the telly on the day of the action and get him to back the PM's view..." So far, so good, thinks the wonk. Stand by for shit storm - was what he should have thought. To be fair to Clarkson, he really does think he's still funny, based almost entirely upon his book sales, his continuing, lucrative contract with the BBC and his hugely inflated ego. He used to be quite amusing but, unlike the really clever and funny comic types, he hasn't changed his act for...well...he has never changed his act. A bit like Ricky Gervaise, he's a one trick pony. 

Marx Brother

Part of the problem that led to the public sector actions last Wednesday (or maybe next Wednesday, for any neutrinos reading this) is taxation. There's too much of it for the less well off and too little for the better off...perhaps.  "Jeder nach seinen Fähigkeiten, jedem nach seinen Bedürfnissen!". Could we really consider going down the Marxist line of taking from each according to their ability and giving to each according their need? No, not now. Not in 2012. We've gone so far beyond that untopian ideal to get anywhere close.

One answer - or a set of micro-answers - is to invent some new taxes. You know, the sort of taxes that we occasionally dream up after too much booze; agree that they're the ones that will sort out the economy and then, in the cold light of a hungover morning, agree that we were just speculating and maybe it would be best to let the politicians sort it out. Well...maybe we should just stay pissed and lobby for the following ten new taxation ideas...

1) Stupidity Tax: Taxing the stupid is piss-easy, because they're stupid. Stupid people won't understand why they're being taxed. This is a low-level earner, however, due to stupid people not having very much money in the first place because...well, because they're stupid. However, there are a small number of very stupid rich people. Tax will be levied according to IQ at one per cent for every IQ point below 100. So, a real thickie with an IQ of 60, will pay 40% of income in Stupidity Taxation. There are bound to be some inbred toffs with alarmingly low IQs but inversely high incomes to make up for the paltry sums raised from the stupid poor. Estimated annual revenue to the exchecquer: £1bn.

Expandable Idea?

2) Profanity Tax: For many years the 'Swear Box' has been a staple of British workplaces, usually introduced for either raising money for a worthy cause or simply by some po-faced boss or employee who doesn't like fucking swearing. There is no reason I can see why this principle couldn't be expanded to raise money for the country (arguably a worthy cause in itself). Collection might be tricky but, once that's solved, this could be a significant contribution to the Treasury's coffers. On the basis that seventy five per cent of the population swear on at least five occasions every day (source: totallymadeupdata.com) then a levy of a measly 5p per profanity will raise around £11m a day! Crippling taxation for the really sweary people can be mitigated by a self-assesment scheme. One hundred profanities a day would result in an annual tax bill of £1825. You can self-assess on this basis and pay up front, on each 6th April discounted at only 4p per profanity - a saving in personal tax of almost twice the Winter Fuel Allowance! Either way: Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £4bn.

3) "Luvvie - Gervaise" Tax: All celebrities / luvvies must be taxed every time they do "luvvy" things, such as blubbing at an awards ceremony or being quoted in Private Eye's Pseuds Corner with some wanky comment about how the art of performing equates itself with anything remotely important, especially in a recession. £500 a quote and £1,000 a blub should cover it. Gervaise should be taxed for every breath he takes. So should Ross, and Brand, and Ant and/or Dec and Emin...the list is almost as endless as their collective lack of talent. Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £500m. The alternative to receiving no revenue from these people would be not seeing or hearing from them ever again in any media format. Might be worth forgoing the tax, then, when all said and done.

4) Bastard Tax: Children born out of wedlock / civil partnership - a thousand quid each. There are c.750,000 nippers born in the UK each year, of which around a third qualify as bastards. Easy-peasy; candy - or in this case, cash - from a baby. Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £250m.

5) Take-Away Tax: Not so much a "Fat Tax" as a "Lazy Bastard Tax". At a conservative estimate (small 'c', not an estimate from the Conservative Party), around twenty million citizens have at least one take-away every week. Bearing in mind that at least half of these will be purchased after some booze - when people really couldn't give a toss how much they pay - add 50p to take-aways before 9pm and £2 for those bought after 9pm...Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £1bn

Smallest Room - Biggest Tax
Revenue...

6) Toilet Tax: This is a much better version of the Lib Dems' silly Mansion Tax. Big houses tend to be owned by the wealthy and one of the ways to flaunt your wealth is through toilets. There'll be at least three or four loos around the general living areas and every bedroom will be a 'suite' with one. The Toilet Tax will just take a simple view of the loo volume - nothing to do with how many times they're used or, indeed, what for. The scale will be skewed. Maximum two loos - free. Three loos: £100 a year each. Four: £200 each. Five: £500. Six: £1,000, and then an additional £1,500 for every loo after that. Bidets: £500 each, regardless of the number.  Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £5.5bn

7) Taxonomy Tax: There are far too many classifications and lists of things. Lists should be taxed on the basis of their complexity. Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £0.01m (OK, I admit I only put this one in because it began with 'Tax'. Very complex lists of taxonomy would have to be prepared so the government would have to tax itself, anyway).

8) Horse Tax: If you own a horse and ride it on the highway, then an Equine Road tax will be applied. Not a huge amount...just enough to discourage the habit, really, or make a small contribution to the economy. So, let's say...er...oh, I don't know...£5,000 a year per nag? There are about 100,000 horses in the UK that occasionally get ridden on the roads and if half them continue, then : Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £250m

Charity Premier League?

9) Charity Tax: Although perhaps not the most popular of taxation ideas, this would certainly be a money-spinner. Charities tend to be quite good at raising money so why not let them do some of the hard work? About twenty-seven million (c.40% of) UK citizens give to charity and, on average, they stump up around £32 a month. That's a pot of £10bn to be part-plundered by the Treasury somehow. We should allow the charities to carry on as normal every year and then, at the end of each year, a national poll is taken to find out which the public believe are top one hundred charities. The top one hundred get to keep the money rasied, but all the rest of them have to give theirs to the Treasury. This will lead, ultimately, to charities being more intent on populism than their primary purpose but this is all short-termism to solve the deficit anyway, so who gives a shit about those that lose out temporarily? Almost £1bn is "lost" every year by charities failing to secure gift aid anyway so more fool them. The larger charities are bound to come up on the "most popular 100" list, so the lion's share - probably about eighty percent of donations - will still go to good causes. Oh, and we should levy ten percent of all donations by British citizens to charities where the money will, ultimately, be spent abroad. Charity does, after all, begin at home. Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £2bn.

10) "Big Farmer" Tax: George Monbiot's recent article the European CAP subsidies was a real eye-opener. Subsidies totalling over £50bn every year are going to big corporations, landed gentry and even charities just because they have a shit-load of land. So let's have a minimum of five per cent of that, shall we? Bastards. Estimated annual revenue to the exchequer: £2.5bn.

That's £17 Billion!

And I thought this lot up in an hour! What's going on at number ten? Where's Hilto? I could do his job standing on my head - which is probably his blue-sky approach to work anyway.

The Box

It's probably quite old-fashioned these days to refer to television as "The Box", or, in one of its elongated versions, "The Goggle Box". After all, TVs are no longer boxes. No, they're high definition (or maybe just ready for it), three dimensional, flat, plasma, apps, PCs, pads, tablets and so much more. And mostly made in the far east.

The technology that has brought us all of these options and is continually developing new media through which to view, has an almost sigmoid quality to its growth but it also has a uncomplimentary reverse paradox. The greater the variety of (and access to) visual information and, in particular, entertainment, the lesser the quality of output. 

The programming available in the UK on terrestrial or free-to-air channels alone is becoming depressingly dismal and devoid of enlightenment. As an example, here's ITV 1's schedule for Sunday, 27th November:

14.45 - Almost two hours of X-Factor garbage. Talentless no-hopers prepare to be paraded in front equally talentless 'judges' called Gary, Tulisa, Kelly and Louis, who are in the business of making the pretence that anybody gives a shit about anything other than advertising revenue.

16.25 - Bergerac investigates the tedious, mind-numbing murder of the final resident of Midsomer (until some new ones move in, despite their life chances being about as good as a Biafran kid in the seventies). Interestingly, the Midsomer producer is Brian True-May. Does this mean that the Queen guitarist and astro-physicist is a false one?

At 18.00, there's an apology for a news bulletin before, at...

18.30 - Harry Hill burps about some shite. The next series will probably be Ant and/or Dec's TV fart, followed up by Alan Carr's TV defecation - Live!

19.00 - The Cube: Philip Schofield gets enthusiastic about watching wannabe Z-list celebrities fiddle about in a perspex, square-shaped bubble thing - oh, yes...it's a cube! Really stupid people can win £250,000 but, of course, they don't.

20.00 - Gary, Kelly, Louis and Tulisa factor some more Xs by verbally tossing off about the arses you watched in the afternoon while somebody called Dermot O'Leary talks some bollocks. Wouldn't you just love this guy to turn out to be Michael O'Leary's brother? Actually, everything would be worth watching if presented by the self-publicising CEO of Ryanair.

21.00 - I'm a Celebrity - Get Me Out of Here. This should be titled "No You're Not - Fucking Well Stay There", or, "I'm a Viewer - Get Me Hemlock". Watching Derek Jarman's film, 'Blue' would be more entertaining. Commentator's have informed us that this televisual equivalent of sitting in a barrel of cold vomit is losing its audience. There's a fucking surprise, then. Perhaps it should have read that the audience are losing it. Either will do. The fact that the whole thing is set in Australia reminds me of all the good things about transportation of undesirables in the nineteenth century.

There's another brief nod to current events in an apology for news journalism at 22.30 before...

22.45 - Has-been presenter and pensioner-goader Jonathan Ross gets the graveyard slot with a couple of end-of-the-pier magicians. The show is called, prosaically, Penn & Teller: Fool Us. Yeah...stick a "more" in front of the final two words of the title and that just about sums it up.

Not only is the programming complete bollocks and an insult to our collective intelligence, but throughout the whole experience we are bombarded by messages from the sponsors every few minutes suggesting that we are craven, selfish bastards if we don't spend at least ten thousand pounds making Christmas so special for our 'loved ones'. Recession? What recession?

And this is just one day, in one one week of a year of insulting programming that goes to prove that Warhol was correct about fame but I doubt that even he foresaw what we now experience. 

Thankfully, there remain some alternatives - usually on the BBC - although even "Auntie" has begun to plumb previously unexplored depths with the gratuitously stupid Gervaise vehicle about a dwarf, but then it elevates itself to more familiar higher ground too with the superbly observed comedy "Rev." and their usual high standards in journalism, drama and documentary.

When my father brought home our first 'Goggle Box' in 1961, there were only two channels. Maybe we should try that again?

Some Things Are Just So Wrong...Aren't They?

Here are ten things that are just so wrong...

1) The process for the selection of candidates and the election that follows for what is arguably the World's top job is just nuts, isn't it? First of all, any candidate that wants to get anywhere close to selection by one of the only two "parties", has to be either seriously rich or able to persuade some seriously rich people to fund their campaign. So, what follows is that the seriously rich run the United States either by being the POTUS or the power behind the POTUS, which is more worrying than having a rich idiot sitting in the Oval Office because at least the idiot has to appear before the public and the media. Either all of that happens or the American people are forced to have an actor in charge.  In  advance of No. 2 (below) there's also the ridiculous coverage by the US News media of the potential candidates with everyone trying to be as awful as Fox News. A perfectly legitimate and possibly even  a worthy, sensible future president can be be destroyed because of a prime-time TV nose-picking incident or just for having a spouse that's a little bit odd (although Michelle Bachman's husband's contention that "gayness can be cured by prayer" could be a bit of a vote-loser here and there, I guess). WRONG.

2) The world is run by media. Not in the sense that press barons and media moguls are actually Presidents or Prime Ministers (not now that Berlusconi has gone), but that the leaders of the free world cannot do anything without some element of the press and other media reporting it, commenting on it, disagreeing with it and generally spinning all kinds of crap around it, thus making it almost impossible for leaders to do what they're supposed to do - like taking difficult, unpopular decisions. Before we had all of this so-called press freedom (as opposed to what it is mostly - press interference) then some leaders got away with murder, literally, and probably, all kinds of other naughty stuff but, as nobody was any the wiser unless they were on the receiving end, did it make that much difference? You know, like if a tree falls in the forest when there's nobody there...does it make a sound? Fifty years ago, Harold McMillan was PM of the UK and being a toff, he used to take weeks off during the summer to shoot in Scotland (grouse, not scottish people). Half the time he was away, he wasn't anywhere near a land line or telegraph so had no idea how things were going and we had no idea what he was doing either. The Civil Service ran government anyway so it didn't matter much. Today, his successor, Dave, another privileged Old Etonian, can't even have a couple of hours' holiday and if News International had its way, there'd probably be a camera in his toilet so we could all see and tweet about the Prime-ministerial evacuation. There has to be a better balance so that these people can get on with their jobs; and it is only going to get more intrusive. WRONG.

3) "Children in Need" is bollocks. This annual celeb-fest of arseholes poncing about doing "fun" things for "charriddee"makes me heave. The BBC bangs on for weeks before the event (and for countless days after) about how selfless all these attention-seeking gits are, because they are doing things so out of the ordinary compared to their day-jobs. No, they're not. They're doing exactly what they and their money-grubbing agents want them to do - increase their media exposure so that they can sell a book or get on the next pile of televisual excrement called "Strictly Whatever" or "I'm an arse, get me out of Whatever". The evening of whacky funstering is a combination of vapid, overpaid, over-hyped twits performing against glitzy backgrounds interspersed with edited footage of the poor so that the viewing public will send money, supposedly just for children's charities in the UK. Given that the organisation of this whole fanfarrande must cost a bloody fortune, the BBC could just take £25m from the licence fee income (that's less than one per cent) and show repeats of Dad's Army instead. WRONG.

4) Sepp Blatter's views on racism in professional football are wrong on so many levels. In fact, Sepp Blatter's views on just about everything are questionable, especially where bribery and corruption are concerned but the daft old git trumped his previous gaffes a few days ago by suggesting that if one player offered racial abuse of another in the "tension" of a professional football match, then it would be OK to just shake hands at the end and put the whole thing down to enthusiasm of play and the various heats of the moments that made someone become a temporary racist. Less reported, however, were some of the reactions to Blatter's idiotic remarks, for which, to be fair, he has apologised...a little bit. Mark Bright, brought on to BBC 5Live on the day of the Blatter bollocks as a formerly racially-abused footballer, made the point that it was OK to insult fellow players on the basis of how they look, their families' idiosyncracies and their abilities or even disabilities. In fact, in Bright's world, anything goes on the football field as far as "sledging and banter" are concerned, as long as it isn't racist. What a tosser. WRONG.

5) Idiots in the popular media that ask the question, "How are you going to pay for Christmas?" These fools seem to be worrying on behalf of people who might be feeling the pinch of the recession and call upon "experts" who come up with solutions on how to borrow your way through this or, worse still, Kirstie-bleeding-Allsop being asked to blether on about home-spun ideas that will save you money, just so long as you have lots of it in the first place and can afford to knock some Christmas delights up from your spare antiques and silverware. It's quite simple. If you have to ask the bloody question in the first place, then the answer is, more than likely, "I can't". So don't have an excessive, gluttonous Christmas, then. Just be nice to one another, instead. There's a good idea for a present. But then we'll have the British Retail Consortium lobbying the government to make us all spend more money that, for nine items out of ten, will simply be lining the pockets of the Chinese. WRONG!

6) The Royal Bloody Family. Some fool asked the Duke of Edinburgh his opinion on wind farms a few days ago and got a vitriolic, nonsensical reply from the nonagenarian old fart who declaimed that wind turbine electricity generation was "useless", a "disgrace", that they "never work" and that their supporters are people "who believe in fairytales". It's not that there might not be an argument there, it's just that we shouldn't be asking for the opinions of privileged twits on things that they aren't qualified to speak about and then report them as if they're important. This bunch of inbred toffs have no fucking idea about anything outside of their privileged existences and should never, ever, be allowed to influence government on anything. Why not ask Prince Andrew his opinion on the struggle in Burma and the heroic efforts of Ang San Suu Kyi? The answer would probably be along the lines of, "...oh, yah! Burma! Trade missions there were just so sooper. Bang on hotels and lots of lovely 'brine' envelopes,  dontcha know? Ang san suckie who? Oh, yah, probably met her...ha!" Or we could seek the Prince of Wales opinion on...er...OK let's not. WRONG!

7) Ant and/or Dec. Poisoned dwarves. WRONG!!!!!

8) Celery. What on earth is this vegetable all about? Radishes and fennel are bloody awful too but celery has no redeeming features at all. It tastes inexplicably awful. It sounds worse than it tastes when people are eating it. Undoubtedly  it is the Robert Mugabe of vegetables and should be removed the surface of the earth. WRONG.

9) Rich Bastards. The lack of philanthropy in the modern world is shameful. OK, we have, thankfully, the Bill Gates's around and, to some extent, the Rothschilds and Warren Buffet, but these people are and have been so seriously wealthy that there is almost an embarrassment factor about not giving some of it away, which some of them do and, to some extent, they're damned if they do (because some might argue it's not enough, which is a tad unfair). There are others to whom it doesn't even occur to be philanthropic; Eccleston, Goodwin, Abramaovic come to mind among so many thousands of others. They may have some excuse in that they would not wish to have their cash distributed to the feckless and that might be why so many rich bastards don't bother. But why not give it a go? The current Lord Rothschild made the point on Ian Hislop's polemic about "Good Bankers" of the past, that he can only eat so much and spend so much on essentials for his well-being and the rest...well, it may as well go to those less deserving, as his family have always considered to be the correct things to do. Taking my own bete noir (Goodwin), he may not now be inordinately wealthy (I understand he may currently be unemployed, in the sense that he doesn't get  a wage, only consultancy fees, dividends and huge amounts of interest on investments to rely on, poor soul) but if anyone should be giving everything he's got over and above an income that doesn't attract 40% tax, then he's the fucking one. And if anyone wants to to understand the avarice that exists amongst the super-rich, then have a read of George Monbiot's  article in the Grauniad this week. Rich Bastards...WRONG!

10) George Gideon Oliver Osborne and Ed Balls. Wrong. The pair of them. Just so utterly, unremittingly, WRONG. (Worse than celery, by the way).

AND THESE AREN'T EVEN THE TOP TEN THINGS THAT ARE REALLY WRONG, ARE THEY?...they're the just the ones that occurred to me just now. More later, then, I guess...