A little bit of politics

Except it shouldn’t really be political. But somehow it seems it is. I’m not sure why I’m surprised but the barrage of contempt and ignorance thrown up by rather a lot of police officers and their uncritical supporters has left me dazed and confused. And angry. Anyway, here you go, check it all out, sign the petition etc.

Troll

As I'm sure you all remember once upon a time the word troll was used to describe a creature that typically lurked beneath a bridge and that might occasionally emerge to pull off your limbs and eat you alive. The word has recently become somewhat sullied in its application to all those many, many individuals whose online comments give a terrifying glimpse of the staggering levels of spite and mean-spiritedness lurking in the hearts of the great British public.

Anyway, I found this (the ladybird 1977 edition of TheThree Billygoats Gruff) when I was on holiday this summer and just had to buy it for the sheer loveliness of the drawings. Minutes later I showed it to one of my friends, telling him to brace himself for a high quality nostalgia rush. Only to be told that, "that wasn't my troll". He's a couple of years older than me. Turns out as well that his Doctor is Jon Pertwee.

Oh well. Anyway, the troll - he bears quite a resemblance to Vince Cable, does he not? (I might send it in to Private Eye.) I'm struggling a bit over 2015 and I read the interview with Vince in the Observer last weekend keenly. When I got to, "...if you're a Guardian-reading Labour supporter in Torbay or Wells or Twickenham, you know you're faced with a choice between the Lib Dems and some Tory. What are you going to do? You think these bastard sold out. I'm going to teach them a lesson. And have a Tory MP?", I nearly choked on my Nutty Clusters.

Newsflash

I was caught unprepared for Thatch's death today. The plan had always been to crack open a bottle of champagne. However, our emergency bottle of champagne was whisked off to a friend's engagement party a couple of weeks ago and hadn't been replaced. 

So I marched down to my local and had a couple of pints. You might think that these could be construed as the actions of one who admired the late baroness and I suppose they could. But that was not my intention. The idea was not to exult in an individual's death, she was, after all, a mother. The ritual quaffing of drink was instead just my small gesture against the oncoming tsunami of bollocks in the media, a definite rejection of the idea that she should be granted any sort of special funeral, and that I do not sign up at all to the idea that Mrs Thatcher was a good thing.

Know your rights

I don't understand why everyone isn't in a trade union. And so the coverage of the BA cabin crews prospective strike has left me feeling queasy. While queuing in Tescos I read the front page of the Mail - complaining of the cynicism of the union in striking at a time that would cause maximum disruption. Isn't that the point? What gives strike action its leverage?

The general vibe seems to be how dare they go on strike; shut up and be grateful you've got a job. It was gratifying to see David Dimbleby put the Tory on the spot on Question Time tonight with the question of whether strike action was ever justifiable. The whole debate is couched along the lines that it's the union bringing BA to the brink of ruin - with no mention of any responsibility the management might have in all this.

On a more trivial note I only saw this poster produced for the union the other day. If the issue were to be decided on artistic grounds there'd be no contest. It's by the amazing Kitty Finegan.