Can't Afford It? Just Do It!

It's curious how we can live in parallel universes.

For example, the business pages are full of how the world stands on the brink of an economic catastrophy, which our greatest economists admit that they're at a loss to tackle.

And then in another column, we read that the populace don't care, as long as they have credit cards, they're going to keep NIKE in record profits buying stuff they don't need.

Living the dream!

Beware!

South Bank: Urban Fox

Your Freedom = Our Oil

As the Libyan revolution/debacle continues to unfold, the Great Powers are lining up to grab the post-war spoils, and are manoeuvring to exploit the needs of whoever fills the vacuum.

Having poured huge resources into the NATO effort so far to ensure that western control is retained in the region, they now expect the quid pro quo from the recipients of this largesse.

However, it appears that the ingrates are a little more savvy than the deadly celebratory shooting in the air would indicate.

As the British government begins to show its hand by being patronising on one hand ("didn't you do WELL!") and demanding on the other ("don't forget who put you here") those pesky Libyans have pulled a fast one.

It's a no-brainer. The intelligence revelations exposing the relationship between Gaddafi, the CIA & MI6 were always going to be toxic, and any owner of that material would know that. Therefore, Washington and London could only hope that the current (and no doubt fleeting) leadership would not bite the hand that has so generously fed them in order to keep the powers sweet.

However, it's a war, and everyone can do perfidy, and the National Transitional Council chosen to play their ace before the dust has settled.

The west may be able to rely on 400 years on colonialism to know what works, but they must realise that by now, SO DO THE COLONIALS.

Last week it was claimed that the suspected killer of WPC Yvonne Fletcher had been found executed, "shot, possibly by former regime apparatchiks hoping to silence him". No doubt the new guys were aware of the expectations of the British government, yet were keen to end any unnecessary wrangling that did not advance the cause of the NTC. Bang Bang: Problem Solved. In the "fog of war" that's easy.

If the British Government had any notion that the Libyans would care a fart for Tory promises to the oil companies, then it is now dashed.

Curiously enough, give the Tories credit. Cameron has immediately taken the opportunity to place blame for the MI6 farce on the Labour party and the previous government! He may not have any ideas, but he's the master of the pointless political smokescreen.

Meanwhile, BP and BIG OIL will have to resort to their usual covert methods to turn the situation around to their advantage. And they will.

The Shame of Miss Jean Brodie

Well, it's A-Level day again, and once more the press will cover the story in two ways. a) get some crusty old tory to bemoan how exams are getting too easy, and b) feature images of shapely young women jumping the the air for joy at their marvellous results.

However, it transpires that the private girls' schools have been pimping out their prettier ladies for the occasion.

Over at the Media Blog they have examples, including Badminton School's invitation to:

"interview, take shots and film as we have lots of girls coming in that day including the three below who would make very good case studies - they speak extremely well and take a good picture..."

Here's hoping for a hot day where clothing will require loosening!

For You Tommy, Resistance Is Futile!

On glancing at Wikipedia, I read about Czechoslovak motorcycle manufacturer Jawa , well remembered from my childhood as a speedway fan.

I did a double take on the following statement:

World War II period

The Germans had captured the Jawa factory and were using the facility for the research and manufacture of Robots.

ROBOTS? Er, like, with laser eyes and crusher grip hands?

Were they ever deployed? If so, why didn't they win?

What happened to them?

Wikipedia fails to elucidate further, but if the Nazis had killer robots, I think we should know!

Is there a hidden warehouse somewhere in Eastern Europe where Hitler's mechanised Uber Storm Troopers reside, waiting for the moment when they shall be summoned forth to reek terrible revenge?

I'm sorry, but Wikipedia needs to provide a few more details, and quickly!

Welcome To The Self-Incriminating Generation

On watching the "JD Sports" riots last week, I pondered as to how many of the herberts in action would manage to shop themselves. Social media is a great place to share your excitement about what you're up to, but some are unable to think it all the way through.

In recent years, police forces have learned to rely on Facebook, YouTube etc as the first port of call to accrue easy evidence, and so were no doubt confident that half of their job was being done for them by the hapless mob. One dick rushed home with his contraband, and immediately posted photos of his haul online, explaining exactly where and when he had stolen it.

And then there is the smart technology.

The BBC have published this , where an Apple Macbook Pro owner described as a "former NASA and FBI employee", primed his laptop to track its movements.

Having had it stolen, he monitered its use and obtained the thief's "name, school, address in west London and information about his wireless internet".

Curiously, as the police take flak for apparently losing control of the streets last week, we may have to ask how much the crowds were actually policing themselves, and ceding some of that control by recording and reporting their own crimes as they progressed.

Jae

JAE | Part 1 (Lest I Ever Waited / Jim's Place) | A Take Away Show from La Blogotheque on Vimeo.

FO...And Don't Come Back!

Just in case our overseas viewers have been looking at this week's shenanigans with a sense of remoteness, be warned: We're Coming to Get You!

The Foreign & Commonwealth Office has produced a rather useful cut-out and keep guide to Brits in Trouble Abroad .

From the "Oh crying loud, what have they done NOW?" school of embassy work.

Note: back in the seventies, in Biarritz in France, my surfer brother and his pals were held up a machine gun point by basque terrorists/freedom fighters.

Had the van they were sleeping EVER started properly, they would have lost anything, but as it was, the gunmen grabbed what they could, included the much sought after passports, and made off.

Now penniless and stateless, the victims turned to the British Consulate there, public school toffs to a man, who deemed my brother and his friends to be beneath contempt.

Fortunately, the French authorities keen to suppress the story to protect tourism in the high income resort were more than helpful, as were the locals, and aid was provided until the Embassy finally bothered to issue emergency passports so that they could get home.

They were the days.

We Will Fight Them On The Beaches

Give credit where credit is due, the Iranian leadership may be a bunch of fundamentalist tossers, but at least the have displayed an opportunist sense of humour. Yesterday, they appealed to the British Authorities "to exercise restraint" in regard to their approach to the mobs.

Meanwhile, as London burns and the Tories meet the forces at the belatedly convened COBRA* security committee, there was fun in the sand next door in Horse Guards Parade where there was a demonstration of Olympic Beach Volleyball !

Actually, holding any demonstration in Whitehall at the moment may have be construed as foolhardy, but fortunately the sight of those shapely young arses would be enough to calm the nerves of the most savage beast. I suspect that Mr Cameron et al may have ambled over after their talk just to have a perv under the pretence that they're enthused about next year's games. "Yes Prime Minister, that's... er...that's certainly worth, um, waiting for....blimey!"

Maybe that's the answer to the current disorder: a mobile beach volleyball tournament, available for deployment at any moment to any location.

Rioting?: "Look boys! Trim young lady's arses!" Then, as the hoodies' brains turn to mush, uniformed officers round them up like BSE blighted cattle.

Now that's what I call a "snatch squad".

(I've never actually been to a beach volleyball tournament. Do they actually perform to GoGo music? If they don't already, I think they should.)

*The rather cool and vaguely menacing title of the COBRA committee actually derives from Cabinet Office Briefing Room A, located in the Cabinet Office. Yes there is a Cabinet Office Briefing Room B, but A is bigger and accomodates more people.

I Mean; Really!

I've had this for a few days now, but events dear boy:

You know when you're doing a google search, and you get something not quite what you're looking for?

Imaging my disappointment when I found THIS!

A Modest Proposal

As you can imagine, listeners have been queueing for my solutions to the latest disturbances across the metropolis.

I have three:

a) snatch squads grab a mere handful of herberts off the street. Rough them up a bit to gain compliance, then dress them in baby doll outfits with crude girly make up and make them recite on camera "I feel pretty!". This footage to be posted on social media as a warning to the others.

b) Identify mobile numbers used in the area at the time and merely text them a summons to the magistrates court the next day. "Failure to do so..."

c) Helicopter Gunships

OK, not too much social inclusion there, but I think more entertaining, and I'm pissed off because the library was closed when I popped in to drop off the weekend's DVD.

So There!

Meanwhile; Amongst Nature

As the metropolis burns around me, I turn my face to the ground and lo!

Object Trouvet!

I have to admit that this was not photographed in situ, as there were burly workmen sitting around nearby having a litter-strewn fast food lunch, and I feared that I'd appear the milksop if I was witnessed taking this before them.

I therefore carried it home and replicated the scene in my back garden amid the sound of bells from a nearby church. Very quaint: unless of course the peal was one of warning of imminent invasion?

North London Riots: Latest

Obviously, the last two nights have been quite traumatic for all of us, but on the good side, my local crack house now boasts a new plasma screen and a blueray DVD player!

I also have a share in a glazing company.

Result!

Council Watch

Bad Disneyland: The Bunker Experience

OK everybody, I'm sorry, I've been away from my desk and been a bit neglectful.

However, there is often something that drives me towards the Blog, and this is one of those.

Those cheeky funsters in Eastern Europe have been up to their hi-jinks, and have been trying to present a Nazi bunker as a tourist attraction.

Warning, this story includes the phrase:

"They wanted to offer tourists the chance to try on uniforms, hang sub machine-guns around their necks and pose for pictures with Nazi flags in the background. This is blatant Nazi propaganda."

Sadly, there are no details of how one books tickets to visit this sight of historic interest.

Big Shoes To Fill

I have to admit, I was disappointed: Not a clown it sight!

Short Back & Sides and Sensible Shoes

Can I just declare that I am not, have never been, or even pretended to be a Lesbian.

Hope I Die Before I Get Old

At the end of the sixties, the Isle of Wight inadvertantly hosted two seminal rock festivals which became definitive of the age, both in the scale of the events, as crowds of 250,000 + poured in from all over Europe to see the music elite of the time, and in how each descended into chaos and insanitary squalor which augured the end of an era.

Although the highlights included Dylan's return to performing, and The Who laying claim to their status as the greatest live band on earth, the final festival of 1970 also proved to be Hendrix's swansong*.

The fact that the events happened at all was remarkable, run by local amateurs with no knowledge of the logistics or economics necessary to manage anything on that scale. The notoriously conservative folk of the island were divided about the invasion, and were either appalled that it was allowed to happen in their back yard, or amused by the hippy invasion (which quickly became a target for sight-seeing, like a sprawling unwashed freak-show) and set out to profiteer from a number of improvised entrepreneurial ventures like selling food to the inadequately catered-for participants at grossly inflated prices.

I mention this because I have some knowledge of this having researched the events.The one constant in the newspapers and police reports of the time is the ability of the islanders to moan and make out how much they'd suffered from the whole sordid episode.

Hence my amusement to read that times change, but folk don't.

The recent spate of authority-approved festivals on the Island are safely anodyne in comparison with the originals, yet have managed to generate controversy.

Apparently, folding chairs have been BANNED!

I mean, how else are you supposed to watch the Foo Fighters if not comfortably seated with a good pipe on the go? And a flask of tea. Why not bring your own sandwiches whilst your at it?

Typically, one islander complained:

"I'm absolutely furious. It's 175 quid down the drain. [The organisers] need to treat the public with respect."

£175 for a folding chair? And was he really only intending to use it the once?

It's amusing to think that the locals not only feel safe enough to attend, but are still taking the opportunity to mither about it.

*Hendrix played two other gigs: jamming at Ronnie Scott's and appearing in an equally chaotic island festival in Germany, but it was the IoW that offered the last en masse opportunity to view the guitar legend.

Revolution: Once Step Too Far

Now, nobody believes in the power of the collective as much as me, and the problems of the world are clearly solvable through anarcho-syndicalism.

However, I think there's a time and place for everything, and if there's a line that doesn't need crossing by the body politic it has to be where women's bits are concerned.

Keep it to yourself and behind the curtains missus!