Monthly Archives: February 2010

I’m great, me

I realise that blogging is often accused of being a self-referential circle jerk.  But, to those naysayers, I offer a ‘so the fuck what’ because we all need a little external validation now and again.

And so I present to you… a man on t’internet saying how great I am: here.

It is difficult not to agree, of course.  I would love to, except that we had a similar debate at work today and the greater number were indeed outraged by Ms Berger’s perceived crime of ignorance of her constituency-to-be.  This follows the Liverpool Echo’s sterling efforts in catching her out on a couple of questions of local interest.  I can probably forgive her the one about the Mersey Tunnels, as I wasn’t sure how many of the blooming things there were either.

But she didn’t know who Bill Shankley was.  I mean, what the hell?  Surely that information appears on the first page of the important stuff she printed off Wikipedia to read on the train up to her interview.

Or maybe she spent the journey considering what she would say regarding the problems affecting Wavertree today rather than a football manager from our fathers’ time.  I know it might be sacrilege even to suggest it, but the only way knowing Shanks’ name is going to help her as a Labour MP is if she has this quote pinned up on her wall or possibly carved into her arm:

The socialism I believe in is everybody working for the same goal and everybody having a share in the rewards. That’s how I see football, that’s how I see life

Labour’s in the fight of its life at the next election.  Fighting for everything it professes to believe in, for all that it claims to have achieved since 1997, facing charges that it has broken Britain and a commentariat that seems to believe the party deserves to be out of power for another generation.

I would like to believe that constituencies deserve dedicated people, no matter where they hail from.  But if picking ‘the Londoner’ leaves such an open goal for opponents to shoot at, that it is as if Reina had gone up for a corner and been beaten to his line when they caught us on the break, then perhaps, this time, I have to concede that it is not worth the risk.

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Press Freedom 1, Pampered Millionaires 0

All publicity is... what now?It is possible that you are reaching the stage of having no further interest in any of the details of just how appallingly John Terry can behave towards the women daft enough to sleep with him. You may be struggling to see how such knowledge can be considered ‘in the public interest’ rather than ‘stuff I’d rather not know about, cheers’.

However, it is important not to be overly distracted by the finer points of ‘he say, she say’ in this sad case and to recognise that putting tougher conditions on the ‘super-injunctions’, used to spare celebrities’ blushes as well as to point attention away from scandals we really ought to hear about, is something to be applauded.

The same laws that keep us from knowing about the damage caused by the illegal dumping of toxic waste are then called into play by the great and the good to protect their liberty to behave as complete sex-pests. If Judge Tugendhat is rolling back some of the Eady craziness (and that’s by no means assured, he has out-eadied Judge Eady in other judgments) this should be roundly perceived as a 24-carat good thing.

Tabloids being tabloids, they will always care more about the salubrious than the sublime. The News of the Screws didn’t earn that nickname from Private Eye by carrying out numerous investigations into corruption in local government, after all.

So, if you need to, hold your noses over Terry’s sad and tawdry affairs. What matters less is him being caught out: instead it is the lifting of a particularly onerous legal measure, that he was pushing his luck to try and hide behind, which is the important factor.

Even if you won’t see that splashed across the NotW’s front page.
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