Saturday, 29 October 2011

What has become of this week off?

Ah yes, the week of rest and respite. Bliss. Work only on one day? Absolute madness. My little brain struggled to cope with all the free time that it was getting at once and made me giddy with excitement. And tired, seeing as I slept a fair bit too. However, I must have done something during the entire thing? Besides reading that book on day 1, as I'm no longer counting day one anymore as I have already written about it. And now I start to worry as I struggle to recollect my actions of the past week...

CLEAN KITCHEN. Glorious.
On day two, I recollect having all of the intentions of going into college to do some referencing and to finish off a couple of assignments, however due to certain circumstances this never happened. Mainly due to the fact that the journey to college can be described as a "rare mission", and I probably wasn't really feeling up for it that day. So instead, I made tomato and basil sauce to while away the hours, then I drank lots of coffee and attempted to clean the house from top to bottom. Well, actually vice versa seeing as I started in the kitchen... It was all going swimmingly until the hoover bag decided to be full when I started to clean the landing, and alas! I could go on no further. Everything else was all sparkling clean, the floors were mopped and all the kitchen counters wiped down and disinfected, yet I think that the house remained in this state for a mere two seconds after my housemates returned. I guess that you could call that the more productive side of procrastination...

Day Three was work day. It was also Christmas changeover day at this obscenely early time, so out went the baubles and the changing of everything around the shop and the chocolate santas and reindeer etc etc etc. Wasn't feeling too festive as even as I'm writing this, Halloween still hasn't come around yet.

Day Four was Get-Yo'-Ass-Into-Gear Day. Awoke at 12, and was fully set on going to finish off her work. Left the house at about two, arrived at college closing in on three and then realised that not much work could be done, as the library closed at 5. However, one assignment was completed and the others were mere references away from being completed. The evening was spent watching television (though NOT Eastenders) and I thoroughly enjoyed watching the programme about Dale Farm and found the programme about the modern welfare system eye-opening. Went to bed thinking that the day was very short (and so it had been, I think that I was up for less than 12 hours that day).

Day Five was the Shit-Goes-Down Day, as I had prepared myself to arise for an early start to college. Yes, waking up at 9 was quite an achievement for me... Was all done by 1pm, and I'd even stopped to have lunch! It was nice to have a small sense of freedom from those assignments that you didn't exactly have to slave over, but just add a little and often (which in most cases is the most draining). I felt like celebrating. Alcohol? Well, there would be a time and a place. Town at 1pm on a Friday may be acceptable for some people, but I just wasn't feeling it that day. So instead, seeing as it was sunny, I bought an ice cream. It was marvellous. The fact that it was on work staff discount as well made it taste ever so sweeter.
[Lapse of a short space of time/enough time to get through to the evening.]
I befriended a banana and a big bird.
At work?
It was that time again. The time to apply the feline warpaint, ready the photographic device and capture people's evenings in a single frame whilst they partied and danced and all that jazz. With it being the closest Friday to Halloween, the majority of the attendees were turned out so splendidly in their odd vestments. I made friends with a banana and big bird, Colonel Gaddafi was bopping around the mosh pit and Nightwing was certainly in the house this evening. Alex from a Clockwork Orange was there as well as a roe deer, various pirates and vampires and even two dragon-looking things that were most magnificent, but it was quite difficult to make out what they were. There were sailors, Ol' Gregg even came along and showed us his mangina (though happened to disappoint as he failed to drink baileys from a shoe), Amy Winehouse, Victorian ladies and gentlemen, plenty of army men and women and a good part of the cast of Wayne's World. Excellent. The list goes on and on.... but I guess that the most productive thing that I have out of that evening is I ended up taking a back of a hundred or so professional looking photos! Do I win, or do I win?

I fall down and sleep.

WHAT IS THIS.

It has been drawn to my attention that recently my blog entries have been resembling those of a lunatic. And I'm sure that they do seeing as all that I've written about lately is my opinion upon current affairs, and current affairs doesn't really bring out the best in me. I don't really consider myself qualified to give an opinion on the political situation, as I don't know what's going on half the time, though I do consider my theory upon Gaddafi's lifestyle up until the end to be somewhat inspired.

I think that for now I'm going to settle for tedium. Like some things that have made me really smile this week. And the worrying fact that I have now developed an obsession for Sting and Gaddafi, which I guess is what you get for having too much free time on your hands. When I saw someone dressed as the man, the legend himself at a Halloween party yesterday, I nearly cried and instantly wished to befriend the impersonator. Instead, I took a picture. Of course, with Colonel Gaddafi, his heart and soul and body and spirit may have died, but he shall forever be remembered as the true leading fashion icon of Libya.

And Sting, oh dear Sting! Your sweet dulcet tones have run circles round my head this week with endless renditions of "Roxanne" and "Don't Stand So Close To Me" with a "Message in a Bottle" thrown in for good measure. Why is your voice so good? And your songs so catchy? Why are you so amazing, what is this "je ne sais quoi" that obviously nobody can put their finger on, otherwise it wouldn't be called that, would it? Maybe the best way is to not go searching for answers to these questions as the answers could ruin the whole magic of the beast and break Sting's spell, and all we would be able to do then would be to mourn the fact that we'd looked so hard at something so beautiful that it couldn't be looked at the same way again...

:'(
Put out your red light.

Post to Encourage Self Development #1

I think that this shall be my formal statement of complaint to those who happened to get us into this "credit crunch" crisis and spiralled our country into lots and lots of debt, and who are basically expecting the next (my) generation to pick up the pieces. I would like to preface the whole matter with the fact that I am not happy.

First things first, I have an issue with their "addiction to spending" would be the best way to put it. Personally, I can't understand how you would feel that it would be justified to spend money that isn't there, that you don't have. Of course, if you don't have the money, you don't have the money, but if someone is willing to lend you the money until you're able to pay them back so that you can go on this all-out shopping spree, I guess that's alright. Of course they will be charging you a small fee and significantly more every day you go over the payback date, but it'll be alright as you can take out some more money from them or a different person to pay the first person back... Wouldn't it make more sense if you held out until payday in the first place? Or evaluated whether this shopping trip was entirely justified, as there's no point spending money that you don't have.

Is it just me that thinks like this? But what do I know, I'm just part of the generation that suffers I guess. Suffers is too harsh a word for this point in time, so I think that "bearing the burden" would be more apt.

Secondly, hey-you, Mr Fat-Cat Banker, share some around please. We can all see that you've awarded yourself a ridiculous bonus to yourself once again this year, and not saving as much for company pay rises further down the chain. I bet that you've given the Government and Mr Cameron and Mr Clegg plenty of money and flowers for their wives to make sure that they don't start taxing the big bankers more money than they are already, seeing as these bankers are having some terms of real financial hardship trying to meet the demands of the Prime Minister. You know what we would have done with all the extra revenue made from your taxes? Help keep the NHS free, and schools open. Plus help a couple of closing libraries as well. But no. Mr Fat-Cat is too selfish. It is his money, his alone, and no one else may have it. Because isn't money power? He has all the money therefore ...

I do believe that at the moment, our so-called 'capitalist' state has swung towards the the corporate side, ie big businesses and corporations dominating the market, and not completely squeezing out the middle man. For this to have happened, the people at the top of those chains must be practically soulless and heartless to continue what they're doing, blinded by greed. Whatever happened to having a sense of community and trust? These days you can't trust anyone really, can you, seeing as in the end all they want to do is exploit you, get something out of you, get one up on you. It's every man for himself out there these days as neighbours choose not to get to know one another and any sort of empathy for the little man is gone. But where did this all go? And when?

Need we pinpoint an era?

 This sort of society encourage human beings to be less compassionate for each other than in the past, and youngsters not taught about manners and general rules about being polite. No wonder your kids are like this these days, they haven't had any true moral values drummed into them. I'm not accusing you of being the devil incarnate, but I'm just saying there's a lot of stuff that you did wrong. And I'm guessing that us lot will have to learn from your mistakes, hopefully rebuild a more trusting country that isn't centred around bureaucracy, and live more like your parents did and their parents before that by not living outside our means. Simples.

Friday, 28 October 2011

Blah.

Twitter? What is this? It's been a year and I still don't really understand you. Nor do my friends, so it seems that nobody really wants to use you. But I do! It's been a year, take me back and teach me please. I need to try and wean myself off facebook, thanks.

Of course, addressing a website as if it were an old boyfriend or girlfriend and expecting an answer to my question (or merely a solution to my long term problem) would be ridiculous. I bet the guy who runs twitter (probably guys these days in the helpdesk centre) would take one look at that, smirk, and ignore my e-mail. My heart-felt plea to use their website, one final time. And I don't even know really why I want to use it. Maybe I am ready for micro-blogging, and ready to cut down on the Facebook rubbish? A haiku a day looks arty and sophisticated on twitter, whereas it looks too pretentious and stuck-up on facebook, and your friends of friends probably won't "get it" either. Besides, all of the big names are on twitter such as Stephen Fry (he can write, I'm sure of it) and other big names that also possess a significantly greater average number of brain cells than the average celebrity, including people who write newspaper articles and books. Yes, newspaper articles and books! Twitter seems to be the place to be to go and get all that.

However, it's been abandoned for the best part of a year. There's no point in these sorts of things if your friends aren't on them, seeing as communication is also part of the game as well. I guess that's why Facebook has remained popular... but I am desperate to start tweeting as well. Now I have a magic phone that has internet, posting shall be much easier...

The Jeremy Kyle show.

The Big J.
For those of you who haven't had the pleasure of enjoying one of Mr Jeremy Kyle's fine broadcasts on the old television, I shall start this by informing you of what Mr Jeremy Kyle is all about. He hosts a programme, the aptly named "Jeremy Kyle Show" (yes, it is named after himself because he stars in it) on ITV1 at 9.25 every weekday morning, and this is repeated on ITV2 at around about 2 or 3pm. Sometimes they throw in a double bill, just to keep you late-risers occupied.

On this show, Jeremy Kyle and his team (not forgetting good ol' Graham in the aftercare department) set out to help people whose relationships are really struggling, families that are about to be torn apart by violence and alcohol abuse, and not forgetting the couples that have lost trust in each other. Valiantly, Jeremy listens to their troubles and dispenses his wisdom in the manner that he sees most fit, as well as ousting many other family rumours or dirty secrets accidentally in the process. Jolly good fun is had by all, especially you, the viewer.

You get some right stunners on this
show.
However, not all is right as rain. As a rough estimate, I would say that around about 90% of the applicants and guests on the Jeremy Kyle show are unemployed, with the odd case being some middle-class mother trying to reach out to her adopted son. Of course, this figure is an estimate, as it could really be something more realistic like 87.5%, yet most of the people who end up on this show are the sort who have no real goal in life, and therefore no motivation to go out and work for it. Instead, they can devote all their time to having petty squabbles between themselves, accuse each other of being unfaithful (really they are both as bad as each other as they both gave into their carnal desires), and generally spend their time living more like an animal in mating season than an educated human being.

What I can't really understand is why don't they want to work? Surely there are better things to do in life than sitting around all day? Some use the excuse that being on benefits would put them in a financially better position than if they were to go to work, but that is hardly an excuse, is it? Have they no idea of what it's like to earn something instead of getting it given as a hand-out? It's like when you cook dinner as opposed to popping a ready meal in the microwave: the real meal tastes better, and you have a sense of achievement once it's on the table, whereas the microwave meal is always a bit lame and full of salt. Don't these people get a kick out of a sense of achievement? Instead, no. They are capable of sitting around, not doing much, yelling at each others' kids and abusing this welfare system.

Beveridge
The Welfare System was actually set up in good faith, by William Beveridge. Well, his ideas were, in the 1940s, as a safeguard against if you fell ill or some circumstances led to you not being able to work for a period of time, his system would cover you. All you had to do was pay a little bit in every time you got paid, then if you had to take the time off you would be supported financially through that time, which sounds all well and good to me. However, most of these people who are on benefits these days (broad sweeping generalisation here) haven't necessarily contributed that much to the pot, and yet are still expecting something out of it. Beveridge would be turning in his grave, as his system was meant to abolish the "Great Five Evils": "Want, Disease, Ignorance, Squalor and Idleness " yet has somewhat fuelled them. "Idleness" strikes me as a key point. Back in the day of Beveridge's report, however, unemployment was looked on as a shameful thing.  Why isn't it nowadays? Why is a fair part of the country shunning work for... doing nothing, I suppose?

What would you do with all that free time? I would drive myself mental, so it's no wonder that the subjects on the Jeremy Kyle show seem to do just that. An indefinite length of free time with such and such money dispensed to spend in it... I would probably spend every penny by the first day out of sheer boredom, purchasing other means to keep myself occupied throughout the week. Or, I could look for a job.
You know what a job does? It gives you something to do, whilst also a form of respectable income (in the case that you have actually worked for it, as opposed to having sat on your backside all day), gives you a role in the society and something different to talk about at the dinner table. It also helps you to develop a new routine (no more 2pm starts), you could end up developing new skills, and you end up enjoying your time off more. Simple! I'm now sounding like a bloody salesperson for jobs. But I mean it. With all this stuff going for jobs, how could they possibly stay at home? There are jobs out there.

I'm one of those people that got a job at 17, and has never been out of one since. Yes, I am used to getting to where I need to be on time etc etc. But I don't know what I'd do without a job, with vast planes of free time stretching out beyond me and into the realms of unemployment. Besides looking for another job, I would at least attempt to structure my day. I'd get out of bed before 9 (because it feels like you get a lot more done if you get out of bed before 9) and would probably find a different creative outlet to explore. Or volunteer. Because volunteering is like working without getting paid.
It would only be when I'm really desperate ie unemployed for several years and having not produced anything worthy of any creative merit, nor learnt anything of any use, that I would turn to the bottle. Or smoke weed all day. Maybe that's why these guys do it? Because they have nothing creative or useful that can be salvaged from the pits of their (somewhat void) imagination? I may be making assumptions/leaping to conclusions, but isn't that they are effectively saying: "We're a hopeless case, write us off now. We are now no use to your society anymore"? If that is the case, then it would be wise to cull them off, wouldn't it?

Actually, they are merely an intellectual and sociological disaster, yet from a biological viewpoint they are behaving in a perfectly sane manner. All they want to do is procreate, which is, effectively, what we were put on earth to do. No, they can't quite comprehend complex concepts of thought, struggle with long words and simply can't spell, yet they can spread their seed far and wide easy peasy! It is only after they have committed their deeds that the carnal bestial instinct subsides and they are left to pay the social consequences. Because despite all of this lack of greater knowledge, they still have rules and regulations when it comes to possession and their "pack". And this is when Jeremy Kyle steps in.

Typical case from the show.
Jeremy Kyle, the ultimate start to day-time television (the telly most viewed by nans and the unemployed). Late start at work? Off school ill? Or are you just a student and having a bad day? This is the one show that really puts your life in perspective, that includes gripping stories such as: "You slept with my wife, and now you say the kid's yours?","Why should you be so paranoid when I've seen your history?","You slept with 16 other women during our 2 month relationship, why do you want me back?". Tempers fly on the show, hissy fits flare, guests storm off-stage/damage equipment/shout/swear/scream/cry, and time after time the true father would be revealed and the guests would all resolve to get their problems sorted in the end. Seeing as this is on at prime-time for the unemployed, I wouldn't be surprised to see them aspire to get on this show. Though there was one woman on one episode who was rather embarrassed to be on the show, as I think that she fought with a couple of other men as to who the father of her child was meant to be. She did explicitly say that she "didn't want her daughter to be known as the girl whose mum and dad was on the Jeremy Kyle show when she started school". Tough luck mate.

Maybe we should have a mass cull of these leeches. Of course, it wouldn't be necessarily humaine, but at the moment qui bienfait de leur existance?
Actually, some of the people on this show are so horrendously misfigured that it's a miracle that they were able to procreate in the first place!

Shit what be going down in my town.

It's been lovely to have a week off, have some time to myself without worrying about having to be at such and such a place at a certain time, or going to bed having finished one commitment knowing that things must be done in the morning. Ah no, not this week. Well, there were the assignments, but they're out of the way now. So what did I actually get up to, I ask myself. Only one day of work during the week, so four days of free bliss...

On Monday, I got up late and read a book. Actually, I didn't get up at all really. I sat in bed and read. And read and read and read... You are obviously not aware of how long it has been since I last did that, dedicating a whole day to reading, that is. A year? Two, perhaps? These days I rarely have a day off, so don't have time for these frivolities. And it was most joyous! Sitting in bed, sipping coffee and eating strepsils... just what I need really to recover from this vile illness that still grips me (though less tightly now). And the book I was reading? One Day, by David Nicholls.

I don't know whether to cringe or cry or what to do, now that I'm reading this book. Don't get me wrong, it's a real page turner, by the fact that once you pick it up you can't put it down until several chapters later. But the worst bit is the fact that it's soppy, sentimental and predictable, the typical sort of romantic story you would expect. It's the typical girl meets boy at college storyline, then they sort-of-but-not-quite hook up at graduation, and the story follows each of their lives as they grow up, realise how much they miss the other but it's never the right time as he is chasing supermodels/she just wants to stay friends to save herself heartbreak. It's written an interesting format: Nicholls only writes about one day a year for each of them (the anniversary of their graduation) for twenty years, leaving the reader to guess whatever the hell happens between one year and the next. And they even made a film of it.

Urgh,
I haven't seen this film, however, from what I hear, it is not worth watching. From the excerpts I've seen, I've deduced that Anne Hathaway is too thin to play "Emma", the leading lady, and that the book doesn't translate very well onto the screen. Yes, Mr Nicholls did make sure that he had a firm grip on the reigns of the screenplay script and everything, and from the one scene I saw, the dialogue was lifted straight from the book.  I think this was it:



"So anyway what I meant to say was sorry. For what I said--"
"When?"
"Back in the restaurant, for being a bit glib or whatever."
"S'alright. I'm used to it."
"And also to say I thought the same thing too. At the time. What I mean is that I liked you too, "romanically", I mean. I mean, I didn't write poems or anything, but I thought about you, think about you, you and me. I mean I fancy you."
"Really? Oh. Really? Right. Oh. Right."
"My problem is--" and he sighed and smiled with one side of his mouth. "Well, I suppose I pretty much fancy everybody!"
"I see," was all she could say.
"--anyone really, just walking down the street, it's like you said, everyone's my type. It's a nightmare!"
"Poor you," she said flatly.

... humorous on page, probably too cliché on film? Well, Miss Hathaway and the other dude don't really do it any justice. With this sort of thing, there are already too many films out there already on the same subject, similar storylines... what's the point in bringing another one out there? I guess the book is good because it's easy to read, plenty of dialogue to engage the brain and leave it wanting to know who said what next. But I don't think I like saying that I like it. It's a bit too soppy and such for me to really get away with it. 
A weighty tome.
However, I did spend a very nice day in bed, and would probably have read War and Peace had "One Day" not been left lying around.

Tuesday? I don't think that I achieved much. Housewife mode was engaged, and I cooked and cleaned and did little else. I would like to conclude part one here.

Dale Farm: My Two Cents.

Burn baby, Burn.
 Ah Dale Farm, set in the idyllic countryside of Basildon, a haven for gypsies and travellers set away from the rest of the community. A place where they have lived for a decade, set up camp and homes and families, used the community's schools and services, co-existing alongside the council-tax paying law-abiding citizens who live in the surrounding villages. And then it all got torn down, about a week ago or so now in the midst of a raging legal battle that had been spread out for far too long. Because let's face it, the "travellers" had built upon this land (yes, they had bought it themselves so that was all cool) without planning permission.

Seriously. You can't go building things willy-nilly these days in the countryside. You have to obtain planning permission for putting up so much as a flagpole in your garden, otherwise someone will come round, tap you on the shoulder and tell you to take it down. Yes, you did buy this house. But still, you can see a flagpole from across several fields, and it may even (shock horror) interrupt the view. We couldn't possibly have that, could we?
Best dressed.
What I don't quite understand is how these "travellers" got away with it for so long. Yes, they set up shop in an abandoned scrapyard (cleaned it up real good and whatever), build houses and expect no one to say something about it. Many couples up and down the country, with their large houses that they're wanting to extend, yet have been rejected by the council for "planning permission", are kicking themselves thinking that they could've done away with the council's orders and gone through with that new conservatory. If those travellers got away with it, couldn't we, Albert? Or if so, keep it up for ten years or so until the bailifs come in and destroy it with brute force. We'd probably be bored of it after ten years anyway.

That chalet looks rather permanent
to me.
What I also don't understand is why these travellers want to stay put. They call themselves "travellers" for goodness sake! Doesn't that generally imply that there is a fair amount of moving around that they do, generally as a life choice? Instead, they've been living on this site for the best part of 10 years, have chalets and kids that have been born in a time where they haven't experienced any of the true grit of the travelling lifestyle. You know, like travelling up and down the country. I was quite surprised that they all had big sofas and tellies and they all had crazy parties for one year olds and posh cars (one of them had TWO Lexuses! Not one, but two)when they didn't really seem to do much. You see, on this telly programme I watched that followed around the gypsies at Dale Farm (and also followed the guy who owned the land on the other side of the fence), it didn't show them going out to work or doing much that could really end up in money being earned. Then again, this programme was focussing more on the alpha-females in the group, the men were nowhere to be seen. Just the kids and the girls, so who knows what the men were off doing.

The leading ladies themselves, taking levels of audacity
and stubborn-ness to dizzying new heights.
However, the alpha-females were really quite scary and dominating. You know, ladies that really hold the community together. All of them had bleached blonde hair, was overweight, had thick Irish accents and were all stubborn as mules. They claimed that they all came to Dale Farm to "settle down". Why settle down in land you know that you can't build on? And why still call yourselves travellers? Why do you feel the need to separate yourselves from the rest of the community when you chose to use their schools and other resources (without paying taxes, I hasten to add)? These proud ladies appear to have lost their traditional values, as material possessions seem to take over their community, yet being fiercly defiant that they have a very strong community spirit. Yes ladies, so strong that no one can really get in. And why did you establish homes on land that you know that you couldn't? You knew that it wouldn't last, seeing as gypsies and travellers and other minorities and in fact anyone else isn't above the law. Are you really that short-sighted?

What's wrong with this?
What I felt was most ungracious of this community, was when they were originally evicted they were offered housing. yes, Mr Head Chancellor of Basildon offered this community permanent housing. Isn't that what they wanted really? To settle down in a nice house that these crappy little chalets were imitating? Apparently not.  They turned down housing, proper housing with bricks and mortar in favour of their Dale Farm lifestyle, claiming that they didn't want bricks and mortar to contain them. Really? I thought that you were wanting somewhere to settle down? I'm sure that if you asked nicely, they would have let you put your chalets there instead of the houses. What was so great about Dale Farm to make you cause such a fuss to leave it?

Entrance in the run-up to the eviction, tower constructed and bullshit slogans aplenty.
It's ridiculous how long this was drawn out. Protesters came out, made barricades from the rest of the world and chained themselves to them in support of the gypsies, concerned about the welfare of the residents of Dale Farm. Personally, the travellers had been given plenty of notice that they were in the wrong place to be setting up their lives, had been told to move on for years and years and had in short, acted like assholes in regards to the law, so I guess I don't think that they didn't deserve the support of the protesters. If they'd settled legally, then fine, I would have some sympathy.
Ere mert i won't doin' nothn
However, seeing as every other avenue had been taken, every peaceful request ignored, rebuked and stuffed back in their faces, I have no pity on them. This time round, they were also given adequate time to evacuate the area before riot police descended upon the place. I mean, half of them had enough time to move or sell their chalets for Pete's sake, so it's not as if the police came in one day and knocked everything down. How many times did they stall the whole thing to take it back to court? Three weeks of stalling time I think? And half of them popped back during that time as well!

Good turnout then?
All I can really say to the travellers is that they shouldn't have tried to settle down and create homes where they legally couldn't. Surely they must have known something about getting permissions and licenses to live on such land before they started? Yes, those 3 old haggard mother hens must have known something about it, and it is rather audacious of them to think that they are exempt from the law, when really deep down they knew (well certainly should have!) that it was a ticking time bomb threatening to destroy this little community that they had over the years nurtured and led... And the fact that they thought that they were so proud of their heritage obviously prevented anyone from integrating with the real world.

Why would you allow it to become your home in the first
place?
So what's left? Everyone's off again in their little caravans, with their posh cars that no one really knows how they acquired. Travellers and truly travellers, yet a new generation. I wonder how many of the 20-somethings cave to the "civilian" lifestyle of bricks and mortar as they realise that they cannot fulfil this consumerist lifestyle  that they had once led, in a crappy little campervan. All they want these days is a big sofa and a telly, whereas I bet that in the "olden days" of the "true traveller" (a fast-dying breed) material objects would have been insignificant and merely company would have sufficed for entertainment, as they lived the true Romany gypsy lifestyle.

And all this "ethnic cleansing" stuff that's flying around is bollocks. The same would happen if muslims or jews or japanese or even Glasweigians set up camp in a field and refused to budge.
Ethnic cleansing? The same would happen to anyone mate, just you guys are repeat offenders.

Tuesday, 25 October 2011

Colonel Gaddafi.

Mr Gaddafi in Italy a couple of years back.
Ooft. 
I think I may dedicate this post to Mr Gaddafi (not necessarily dedicate it to him, but I'm going to write about him), as he had a very eventful life and I thought that it would be nice to write something about it. Of course, for starters, he was a relentless, vicious dictator to the people of Libya for many many years, for longer than I can remember, who mercilessly killed all that opposed. From a dictator's standpoint, I suppose that he was very successful up until about 18 months ago, when the people of Libya started to become resistant to mass genocide and somehow discovered from the outside world that they were being oppressed. As his militaristic and regimental rule was released to the rest of the globe one day via numerous youtube videos and picture messages, he was surprised to find that a lot of them didn't agree with him on his sporting/oppressing efforts. But if you didn't do that, how else were you meant to keep the bloody things in control?

One of Gaddafi's many many hats.
Gaddafi was born in 1942, and was killed on October the 20th, 2011, because quite frankly, the people who had been living in his country had had enough of him. The guy had been the head of state since 1977 so it would be obvious that some of his methods were becoming tired, out-dated, inhumane and down-right offensive. Not to mention Gaddafi was part of the regiment that helped reclaim Libya in 1969 for the Muslims, as opposed to the Italians and the Turks, so it's no wonder that he seems to lack a moral compass and any compassion to another. The people of Libya obviously had been struggling to tolerate this oppression of other viewpoints to the "Gaddafi Way" throughout his tyrannous rule, yet it was only when somebody was able to use the latest technology today to send out a cry for help, that the rest of the world rushed to the Libyans aid. And were on a man-hunt for Gaddafi.

Partridge. Curly fries out of shot.
From the sound of things, Gaddafi wasn't really one for making friends. I can speculate that he's short-tempered, brash and always considers himself to be correct (even when proven otherwise). I guess that in the end, he was a right evader of death, seeing as a lone assailant tried to shoot and kill him in 1976, before coming to power. Fair enough. But when France plotted to have him assassinated with Egypt in 1981? The man must be a nightmare to have over for dinner, if they're resorting to this. The US bombed his house next in 1986 (certainly one of them), and afterwards the general civil unrest became so much that he had to start his quashing of the masses. But inside, did it really rip him apart to see his people going? Or had he alienated himself, deified himself to really associate with them anymore? 

Height of sophistication, he is the timeless fashion
icon for the masses. 
In spite of all this homocide and genocide and general nastiness that just comes with the position of being a dictator of an Arab/African country, Gaddafi was able to carry off an incredible sense of style, especially during his "repair the situation with the West" years. Clad in the finest gold and red and any other colour that deemed to be regal at the time, he would wine and dine the big leaders of the "democratic nations" (he never really cared for democracy, yet would always smile and nod and mention that he would give it a go whenever it was brought up in conversation), send his sons to well-respected public schools in England and generally live the high life. We are unsure as to what his favourite dinner was, but from the last time he visited here, we can notify you that his favourite dish was roasted partridge and curly fries. His robes were made by 350 young school girls that were being underpaid in China (the labour was cheaper over there, it made sense), who wept with every stitch they made, but with every tear he was assured that the robe would look more beautiful. Can't go wrong there.

One fashion faux-pas that Gaddafi did make, however, was in his final moments. Actually, his final few weeks, possibly months were an absolute disaster for the bloke. If he hadn't upset everyone in the first place by secretly conducting mass-genocide in his country for a fair number of years now, the world wouldn't have been angry at him in the first place. However, que sera sera... Seeing as he is a somewhat socially challenged dictator, he may not have realised that he caused some upset. But the second time round, when he covered up the fact that everything in his country wasn't A-ok, and the rest of the world found out (wouldn't he consider himself to be so careless as to allow his people mobile phones and all these newfangled gadgets now? Keep them oppressed and scared), he was in pretty deep shit to begin with. But then instead of turning himself in, he ended up running away from the "rebel forces", only to hop from town to town whilst his loyal supporters soldiered on.

Gaddafi's new digs.
Gaddafi, the man of overindulgence and luxury, the lord amongst the peasants, died without having a state of the art last meal. What a tumble. What a fall from grace (or certainly the life of luxury). If only he had had the intuition to turn himself in, where he would be able to sit down in a cell one last time and enjoy partridge, curly fries and tahini, whilst his mind was drifting in and out of what he was going to wear during the public execution. Something ostentatious, bold, daring to remember him by... Alas, no. He spent his last hours in a drainpipe (a somewhat acquired taste that I wasn't too sure that Gaddafi would possess, but I guess that you can't judge a book by its cover!) hiding, I presume. I don't really see the point in why he would do that, seeing as he didn't have anywhere to go in the world. France and Egypt were still rather hostile to him, and he couldn't help but make them upset with whatever he said. Italy was involved in internal affairs again, so if Gaddafi asked for refuge there it would be a little awkward. The whole Pakistan/Afghanistan/Iraq/Iran business had always been a bit much for him to comprehend. It was hard to keep up with who was angry at who, and they were all short-fused, hot-tempered leaders like himself who would see the situation he was in and probably take advantage of it. The US and UK were outraged, Spain disgusted, Portugal held midnight vigils for all those shot down in the filming of the uprising, and capturing the police brutality and irrationality that Gaddafi had instilled in their hearts. Well, that's what they believed. China would have been acting shocked and surprised, just to fit in with the West, and even North Korea had been indifferent and had not taken sides. It looked like Russia was the only one he could turn to for now, but he then remembered that he was angry at the Russians because they had spilt vodka on his new rug, and instead of getting one of the Russian hands to clean it up, they called for a Libyan. Gaddafi didn't like other people using his staff, seeing as he was a very possessive man. His parents never got round to teaching him how to share.

Looking a bit worse for wear on his first death day
So, Colonel Gaddafi, the man who had once seized control of this little nation, stubborn, short-tempered, majestic, regal, impolite and loathed by many (if not all) of his neighbours, was now inhabiting a sewer drain with a little bit of boot for his last supper. The intensity of the last forty years in power flashed before his eyes as he counted how many contacts he would have for refuge on one hand... Until he was dragged out from the sewer by some of the rebels, those radicals that he had always hated and had tried to get rid of. Like moths and spiders and other horrible things, he realised, there will always be some there, under the woodwork, ready to pop out when Gaddafi thought that he'd gotten rid of the lot of them.

I need not say too much more, seeing as it was a brutal and merciless affair. Colonel Gaddafi was reduced to rags as he was paraded and stabbed and hacked and humiliated by those rebels. Emotion was hard to tell from his blood-stained face, yet he had lost his regal air. He had lived as a fashion victim throughout his life, and you could just foresee the embarrassment that he shall suffer in the afterlife as he realises that he's stuck in the rags of clothing, instead of being clad in regal tones... No one would possibly do that anyway. He'd probably killed or maimed some relative of everyone in the vicinity so there was no chance they'd change his clothes. Everyone thought that he was a bit of a prick anyway.
Muammar Gaddafi.
Yes, you were a dick to a lot of people when you were
alive, so I'm not going to bid you rest in peace.
Next time we shan't be fooled by the shiny outfits.

Just to inform you, not much of this is fact, it's merely speculation. Any facts that I may have compiled have been from wikipedia anyway, so I don't think that you can really count that as fact. Though I'm pretty sure that everyone considers him to be a dick is fact.

Snip snip snip!


More about the cuts, from another disgruntled student. Well, actually it's my first say in the matter really, seeing as I wasn't a student last year, yet am appalled that once I've returned to education, all of the funding goes down the pot hole. Well, half of it anyway.Why can't they find another way of making up for the massive financial deficit we've gotten ourselves into that doesn't involve sacrificing education? Tax, tax, tax those who find that money is no object, and plug the rest of the money into the schools. Because face it, seeing as we're already a nation being run by a bunch of idiots that went to private schools, I would not like to see the day when some burly uneducated half-wit from London's most ill-behaved comprehensive states that he will be in control of the Cabinet. And then addresses the public in grunts and can't write beyond text message speak.
No. 

However, I guess that most of the funding that the Government are choosing to do away with only really affects those in Higher Education, or mature students wishing to return to education. For starters, courses aren't cheap, and the fact that the Government is looking to cut around 40% of the budget for higher education means that universities are now looking for more "private contributions" which they have incorporated into the fee prices. I daren't look at the massive black hole of debt that I'm going to tumble into in 4 or 5 years time, at the end of it all. However, I suppose that this is a move that's made the universities revert slightly back to "more like they used to be", when universities were strictly elitist and only allowed the wealthy or very clever to attend. But it does go to show that universities are now considered a compulsory extension of the education system, instead of only allowing the top 9% or something of the population in. I guess you do get some people in there these days who can barely spell and use punctuation properly!

With the universities opening up more and more to the general public, and taking in students from more and more varied backgrounds, it's sounding like they decided to merger a lot of other skills that you would normally be able to go and learn in some designated facility, in with the rest of the university faculty. So you have lots of people doing odd things at university that they shouldn't, like nursing. There used to be nursing schools for that! I guess that's the person in charge shitting on the old institution of elitist aristocratic universities then...

But that isn't it. Certainly not the worst of it, seeing as these students can fund themselves through there with loans, loans and more loans. Those who can't however, are those who fall into the category of 19 and over (mature students now...) and are going into Further Education, without any support from a parent or guardian. In previous years, they would be able to pick up a weekly grant, just like EMA, in order to fund their studies. I think it worked out at about £30 extra a week if you were in the lowest income band, and £30 a week can go a long way, even if you have bills to pay and food to buy and rent to meet... It's the little bit that makes the difference between scraping by and getting on by. And this is the age group that the government needs to be targetting most these days, the 19-25 year olds who are very nearly all ridiculously unemployed and disenfranchised by lack of job prospects out there, so are left to sit on the sofa, drinking beer and watching Jeremy Kyle all day. Yes, I exaggerate, but still... It could quite easily be someone who'd left school at 16, gone to work full time in retail for a couple of years, realised it was shit and decided to go back and learn something, and hopefully end up doing something more productive in the long run.
If they go back to college, they will have to fund the course themselves if they somehow winded up doing A levels, struggle to work as many shifts together to piece together enough funds to be able to pay everything. And finish all their work on time, to the highest standard. All this, and no extra financial help? Though last year kids as young as 16 were getting their pocket money from the Government? No wonder not many people want to go back into education these days...

Money money money
Nevertheless, you know why else we shouldn't cut spending on schools? Because our schools are shit.
Think back to when you were last on holiday abroad, talked to a foreign person or yelled that you would like: TWO BEERS VERY VERRRY SLOOWWWLLYYY POR FAVOR into a bartender's ear. I'm pretty sure that nine times out of ten, they would be able to reply in very nearly perfect English, with a bit of mispronunciation here and there. The Europeans are especially good at it, seeing as most kids have grasped how to hold a conversation in English by the age of 9 or 10, and then go on and start learning their third or fourth language, whereas "our lot" are struggling with the "i before e" rule and can't even spell in our own language at a similar age. Isn't that a bit embarrassing? And I know that we try to kid ourselves into thinking that our language is difficult, but it isn't really. Sentence structure and grammar are relatively straight-forward compared to the numerous declensions and tenses of Latin and Spanish, and despite the fact that we have the odd one that breaks the rules, so does everyone else. Our vocabulary originates from several different tongues, but I'm sure that can easily be learnt, seeing as some of it will be familiar to them anyway. On this side of the pond though, it's a different story as teachers push for kids to pass their GCSE French or Spanish at Year 9 (hardly an adequate amount of time for them to learn the language properly as European children start at about 4 or 5...). Of course they put them through on the Foundation ("Easy") paper where the highest grade possible is a C, just so that this frees up another option on the timetable for GCSE years so everyone goes away with more GCSEs and makes the school look good. Huzzah!
He probably knows more french than you do.
Erm, no. Not really. The foundation paper when I did it, you could quite easily pass by learning a few stock phrases and that was it. Certainly not enough to uphold a conversation past the "ca va bien merci," part, without being completely lost for words and ready to resort to Ignorant English Tourist mode. Kids need to be taught how to construct sentences so they can say what they want to say instead of being kept in the confines of the stock-phrase barrier.

Jeremy Kyle - The Working Class's
wonder boy.
Another thing is that we're not teaching them fast enough throughout secondary school, and they are having to make a massive leap during six form to attain the high levels expected from universities. And primary school as well, seeing as all the children in Year 0 or Reception or whatever it's called end up spending half their time playing with sand instead of learning to read. This wouldn't be too bad if someone was helping the child with their reading at home, but Mummy and Daddy will undoubtedly be too busy with work, the baby and the cleaning to take a look through Precious Gemima's new book from school. Either that or the parent/s aren't about at all, so instead of spending a good ten minutes designated reading time, they would become infatuated with the television and become unable to escape its grasp. If the parents pulled their fingers out and did their job earlier on, maybe the school system wouldn't be in such a disarray. At the moment it seems like the parents are expecting the teachers to raise their children for them, as Mummy and Daddy are both very important and powerful business types who don't really have enough time to cook dinner, wash school shirts, give baths and read a bedtime story after a hectic day at the office. Or if they're from a (I use the term loosely) "working class" background and  often find themselves in many situations that would also appear on Jeremy Kyle, manners most certainly need to be taught to the both of them.
There's parental influence, and then there's also discipline in the classroom as well. How can you possibly teach a lesson to a classroom full of chatty adolescents with raging hormones threatening to spark off at any second? There would always be one with the sarcastic comments, heckles cutting through your lesson plan like knives. What can you do these days? Nothing really, seeing as you'd be at risk of being called abusive, a paedophile and a host of other unmentionable names, and the worst thing would be that you'd have the whole class willing to place charges against you. It's impossible to tell off the students, as they will just come back with some sort of catty remark that will always be one up on yourself, and no one's allowed to punish them these days. All of this because secondary school kids may not pay that much attention in class, but certainly know how to get their parents to take "Sir"to court, if he has upset their precious in the slightest way whatsoever.
Any disturbance here, you'd be in pain with the cane.
Bring back punishments that will be feared in order to control the class, and possibly teach as well. I am aware that it is rather Victorian in its outlook, but Victorian children could do long division by the age of 8 and knew past their twelve times table! Teachers shouldn't be afraid that if they tell somebody off they're at a risk of getting sued, and if they accidentally call a kid fat, so be it. A slight slip of the tongue shouldn't be scrutinised when merely making an observation about the child, however calling them a "FAT UGLY COW" would be deemed unacceptable, but also most unprofessional. Not many teachers yell that choice of words at pupils, as far as I'm aware...

Observe: modern day English
classroom.  Yes, fighting is
done in lessons so you don't
have to waste your break
preying on your victim
in the lavatory.
The pupil's "take-it-for-granted" attitude towards education in this country is also disgraceful, as many other children from poorer countries, countries where there isn't a welfare state to fall back on, would be honoured to have such an opportunity. For them, it means that they would be able to get a better job later on, and hopefully make a better life for their family, and let's face it, learning certainly beats carrying buckets of water from the pump to the house in the midday heat. But here? We are rude and arrogant to our teachers, violent at times in fact, because school's just some bullshit oppressor that keeps you away from playing the latest console game. So much angst, and most of the time they end up regretting slacking it off in the first place.

So I guess that I started off with the cuts and am now undermining the whole English education system, which doesn't exactly require a massive leap in logic now, does it? The "National Curriculum" and "Literacy" and "Numeracy" hours end up teaching at a pace that is two years behind the best part of Western Europe (we won't even begin to look at China and their insane mathematics skills, as they would be sitting some equivalent of GCSE maths in primary school), and yet we are told that the education system is achieving the best results that it ever has done year in, year out. People need to stop trying to pull wool over our eyes (and their eyes as well), stop dumbing down our kids and let our 16 year olds have a similar amount of knowledge to their European neighbours.



Or maybe they're meant to be dumbing down the masses?

Monday, 24 October 2011

Procrastination-Land/Ranting corner.

A frequently-participated activity by yours truly.
Just typical. Once again, setting up to write a blog in hopes that it shall be some sort of escape from the nasty soul-draining assignments that have to be done. Oh it's alright, I have another week left to complete them, and they're already half-finished anyway. It's merely the fact that it has to be presented and constructed in such a banal, regurgitated manner that destroys my soul and makes me look for something else to do.

Like write something on here. I would tidy my room, but I've already done that. It's the most habitable looking it's been in weeks, and all to get out of assignments. If they were interesting and about something that I didn't already know, I would be more than happy to get them done. However, seeing as one of them is writing up an experiment about the density of milk, it loses its appeal to me.

Not loving it.
That aside, and I know I say this a lot, but I really really hate winter. In fact these days, I hate it so much that I would very happily get rid of it as a season and replace it with something warmer. Fuck Christmas, no one really remembers the meaning of it anyway. But the annoying thing about winter and the approaching months is the amount of bugs and viruses and illnesses and other nasty things that are flying around, and are prone to leave one feeling quite under the weather.

Lemsip: Paracetomol 650mg,
Phenylepherine: Pointless.
I am currently in the midst of suffering from a bad cold. It's that bad, that to a man it would be more than man flu. Probably death or something equally melodramatic. However, I have been through the worst (hopefully), so full recovery should soon be within my sights. The only thing about this cold though, was the fact that I was bedridden for a day. Yes. Actually rendered BEDRIDDEN with the bloody thing. Normally I'm not the one for "pulling a sicky", in fact, quite the opposite. The only time I would really take off work is if I've lost a limb, or lost my voice, or lost consciousness. Hangovers, headaches, aches and pains... normally I'd be in there, soldiering through it all. However, on that fateful day where the cold really took its grasp upon me, I couldn't even move my head, let alone go to college, the pain was that excruciating. All of my sinuses, inflamed and screaming pushed against my skull, caused the worst cold headache ever to wake up from, coupled with an aching throat as well. Needless to say, I reluctantly called in and took the day off, and then out of the next 24 hours, I can assure you that I was awake for merely 3.

The most annoying thing about a cold though, after the initial horror show that comes with catching one in the first place, is trying to shift it. With the first phase you can batter it with anything you like.
Nectar of gods.
Painkillers? Paracetomol, Aspirin, Ibuprofen, Lemsip, Sudafed, Buttercup syrup... Pseudoephedrine, phenylepherine, ascorbic acid... All big names in this constant battle against the common cold. Very effective in the first phase, yet not really great for the long term after-effects of the cold that leave you annoyed and still slightly groggy a fortnight after you thought you got rid of the thing. Symptoms include: that constant runny nose, nearly-disappeared sore throat or that chesty cough that is still struggling... Bleh. Not useful if you're like me and have lots of things to do. Sometimes you just have to carry on regardless, but if it's really that bad, your body will tell you to stop anyway.

What I also don't like is this flu jab vaccine. Whoever really feels the need to have a flu vaccination (save I guess, patients suffering from an auto-immune condition) should really man up and take the cold like the rest of us. Personally, I have never suffered from flu (well, never been diagnosed with it anyway), but I put it down to my immune system being tip-top and prepared for winter and happy to destroy any unknown pathogens that happen to enter my bloodstream. But people who have to artificially insert some of the disease in order to build up an immunity to it, due to the fact that their immune system couldn't cope with a real thing? I don't think they really deserve to live here if their bodies aren't up to it!

Someone who wouldn't make it without
the flu vaccine...
I am aware that most of them are elderly or somewhat aged, but in my defence they'd probably state that they'd had a similar winter in their day (most probably a colder, more harsh one), and they were able to cope without the vaccine back then. And also, horrible as it sounds, the population of this country is on average, getting older and older, as well as the whole size of it becoming larger and larger as the same number of babies are being born, but not as many old people are dying. Withdraw flu vaccine and let nature take its course, seeing as it's not natural for us humans to live that long. It's quite easy to tell, seeing as you practically start to fall apart past 45 or 50, getting all sorts of diseases from just being about too long.

This could easily spiral into an even greater pool of controversial topics, yet I think that I may have to rein it in now.
All in all, I hate colds. I'm sick of this constant achey feeling, blocked nose, inflamed sinuses, headache, sore throat, you name it... please can someone make it go away for me?! :(

....and someone who would.



There are too many fussy eaters out there these days.

One of the "not-so fussy"
I mean, I should know, seeing as I'm one of the many of them. However, I'm not fussy to the extent where I will only eat food that is white, or solely potato wedges and spaghetti hoops, nor do I have to ensure that everything is cut to an equal side and must be ate in a certain order (however, if it's all set out nicely on a plate, broccoli should be eaten last). Well, I guess that's basically bordering on obsessive compulsive behaviour. However, too many people have some really crap food habits, like not liking vegetables. Agreed, mushrooms, sprouts and aubergine are vile, but all the rest are just lovely. You feel positively radiant eating them, so I don't understand why some people have to stick to pizza and chips.

It is moving. Ergo, meat.
However, the people that really get to me are these so-called "vegetarians". I don't mean the real type of vegetarian who completely eliminates all meat and meat by-products from their diet. I mean the type who come out for a meal and say: "I'm a vegetarian, but I eat chicken."
IS A CHICKEN NOT AN ANIMAL OR SOMETHING? HAVE I MISSED SOMETHING? LOST THE PLOT PERHAPS? Because to no extent of my imagination does eating poultry fall into the not eating meat category. I guess that fish is a moot point (the Bible was a bit blurry with the classification), but we have pescetarianism for that. And besides, fish is much better for you than chicken anyway. However, the person must be deluded, absurd to even think that a chicken could pass as a vegetable. That person is clearly not in it for any sort of ethical reason whatsoever.

I used to be a vegetarian. It wasn't down to beliefs or anything ethical, I just didn't like it. Still don't really. One day I just thought to myself: "Well, I don't eat beef, lamb, duck, pork or game, so it would make sense to stop eating chicken and call myself a vegetarian to save the confusion amongst everyone." And that was it. Didn't eat chicken for two more years because of that, and then started again because I felt like I was being a massive inconvenience to anyone who tried to cook for me. I guess that having consumed fairly hot chilli sauce on practically a daily basis for nearly a year now, and smoking like a chimney have washed my tastebuds up into oblivion, as I work by the mantra now: "If it's cooked for me, I'll give it a go (especially if it's free)."

Never looks that great raw,
does it?
However, I would prefer it if it weren't bought from the supermarket, as you know those cows/chickens/pigs have gone through hell to get squeezed into those sad little packets and pumped full of water. Half of the stuff that those animals were fed throughout their life was cheap crap as well, combined with the confinement of small space and unhappy animals, it doesn't make great meat. Butcher's meat is always better, as you know that the butcher is friendly and certainly knows who he's getting his meat from, what it is and how it was fed etc etc. And it always, without a shadow of a doubt, tastes nicer. I mean, I appreciate that, even though I don't really like the taste of it. But say that I were to have a dinner party, it would be the butchers I'd visit.

Om nom nom 
I did try and be vegetarian again after watching River Cottage a couple of weeks back. I haven't bought any meat or fish myself, which is a start (well, it's not really a difference to the norm), but I have had a couple of pre-packed chicken sandwiches from Boots, and some King Prawn Noodle salad. The chicken was vile, never having one of those chicken sandwiches again, but I think I've found my Achille's heel with those prawns... And I did have a chicken dinner with my family. Had to eat it to be polite, of course.

So it turns out that I'm not a vegetarian after all, nor will I call myself a vegetarian in spite of me eschewing meat 75% of the time. That's because vegetarians don't eat meat at all. Ever. Not even haribo or jelly. And vegans? Gosh, my will-power is not strong enough to substitute strong cheddar and camembert for soy milk and tofu. Just sayin'.
Vom.

PS. Quorn is AWFUL. How anyone can stand those plastic lumpy imitation-sausage.... things is beyond me.