The EU Okey-cokey

We live in a world where, if you want to avoid telesales callers you have to sign up to the Telephone Preference Service to opt out of participation in that modern-day torture of having to proactively say no to pests who are, in effect, violating your privacy. If your job demands that you work long hours, or you voluntarily put in overtime you have to formally opt out of the European Working Time Directive. The same principle, however, does not appear to apply to Iceland’s wish to withdraw its application for EU membership.

There are rules about withdrawing, it seems; it’s not good enough to just step out of the queue as you would in, say, the Post Office. The EU Commission says that the Icelandic government's letters are not enough to remove Iceland from the list of EU candidate countries and it will need to send the Council of the European Union a new letter formally withdrawing it. But this is the best bit: “if such a letter would reach the Council it would then request the opinion of the Commission. Based on that opinion the Council would take its decision whether Iceland would or would not be removed from the candidate countries list.”

Am I reading this right? This makes it harder for a country not to join the EU than it is to get taken off the Reader’s Digest mailing list. The presumption in both cases must be that you didn’t mean it, really. Even insurance companies have to give you a cooling off period in which to change your mind. There has been talk of making organ donation a presumed consent transaction whereby you have to say a definite no in advance if you don't want your body parts harvested. How much longer before the commission’s default supposition is that all countries in what are deemed to be the EU’s boundaries are automatically candidates for membership and must formally retract that status, with tanks if necessary?

David Cameron has ‘promised’ to hold a referendum if he gets back into power. But given the likely coalition that will be needed to keep him in Number Ten, will he even be permitted to pass the enabling legislation? And the EU has considerable form on denying democracy - ask France, ask Holland, ask Ireland. Actually, closer to home, just look at what they did to Britain’s ‘watertight’ opt-out on the charter on fundamental rights, rendered meaningless by the European courts of justice.

I'm too small, throw me back!

The EU strategy is plain; denial. “We didn’t get your email. I’m sorry, this is a terrible line. Maybe it got lost in the post? We are experiencing heavy volumes of traffic just now, please call back later…” And so it goes. You can call for a vote as much as you like, but once you’re through the EU door, you’re staying and there’s an end to it. You may as well hang your coat back up and put on your slippers and cardie; you're going nowhere, you're on the list. If nothing else this sorry tale ought to make you think long and hard before signing up to LinkedIn

The Czech’s in the post

“I never!” Ah, the good old innocent days when a small child believed all he had to do was deny outright any wrongdoing and hope the trail of crumbs leading from the cooling cake all the way to his jammy lips would be ignored. But we all grow up and in doing so we either become models of propriety, realising that if we always tell the truth it’s easier to stick to the story, or else we become much better liars.

Of course, sometimes a white lie is kinder than the truth: “He wasn’t good enough for you”, “Business is down, we’re going to have to let you go”, “The judges were biased – you should have won!” but most of us know where to draw the line. And we also know that to repeat a lie in the face of all evidence to the contrary is borderline madness. And yet we’ve actually come to expect it from our ‘elected representatives’.

It always takes an expensive academic study to prove what people have known for years. And for years, parts of the country have been crying out for help because they have been inundated with aliens. The government’s response for over a decade? The accusatory, “You must be racist.” And even now, in the face of an official report that grudgingly admits some partial truths they still feel they have to maintain the simple lie that immigration is unremittingly good.

The report admits that the rise in immigration was largely due to deliberate Labour policies designed for political gain and has resulted in the no-skilled, low-skilled job market becoming 'saturated' by foreign workers. Wages in these sectors are now down considerably on their pre-millennial levels. Approaching ten percent of our population is now foreign-born, apparently, and many towns struggle to cope with housing, health and other public services. The truth is that low-skilled immigration has benefited some business disproportionately, but has had far greater impact on the nation as a whole.

Fit, working age, native Britons have been displaced to become entirely dependent on benefits. Many Brits in work are being kept afloat by tax credits, other benefits and costly public services that far exceed what they pay in taxation themselves. And benefits are paid to low-paid, thus minimal tax-paying migrant workers and their families who – quite rightly – take advantage of their EU rights and lap up the roast beef of Merry Olde England. This isn’t just a regional issue, as the Home Office likes to paint it, this is a national crisis.

And yet while, for years and years, ordinary people have pointed out these obvious truths the response of governments of all colours has been to maintain the lie that immigration into Britain is a net financial benefit. That’s like glibly pronouncing the climate of planet earth to be benign while people perish in floods, droughts, fires, earthquakes, tsunami and landslides.

What? No, it's always been like this...

When will the liars get it that this is not an economic issue, but a political one? Not a question of averaged-out figures but of specific, destructive, localised effects. Like the housing market; while the average numbers say there’s a boom, in many parts of the country there is the opposite. And talking of maintaining a lie; David Cameron still thinks we believe he will give us a fair referendum. The cheque’s in the post you say, Dave?

Comic-Con

Scotland is to rig the vote, sorry, lower the voting age, to allow young pups to distort participate in next year’s independence ballot. If that smacks of Scottish Nationalist desperation then how do you feel about the European Union spending taxpayers’ money to indoctrinate the very young indeed? Yes, the EU is sending multilingual propaganda colouring-in books to infants everywhere. Don’t come bleating to me when your ten-year old dobs you in to the authorities and you spend five years in a gulag learning to love Big Brother.

Well, two can play at that game. I hereby present my own version of the Euro Comic translated into just one language – the correct one – and invite you to disseminate it far and wide. We may yet wake up one day in a green and pleasant land, free to be British again, although I’m not holding my breath.

Page 1 and the story so far... Mr & Mrs MEP have to run the gamut of protesters bleating on about useless wind turbines. Do these people not understand that they have to register before 1830 on Monday evening to get their full day's allowance? It takes a good few hours sleep on the gravy train Eurostar to even get to Strasbourg, never mind all those demands on their time.

When they get there,there is much work to be done. For a start they have to book dinner at a swanky restaurant commensurate with their status, then have a relaxing evening before the challenging and ever-hectic Tuesday schedule begins... around midday. There are many palms to be greased and many favours to return.

Life is not all rosy; some of the expenses and allowances have to be tracked down. It's not like they hand them to you on a plate - it's more of a suitcase stashed with money. And suitcases can be hard to lug around Strasbourg all day, so once Mr & Mrs MEP have signed in they must take a free limousine ride back to their apartment where they have to count it all up and then account for every penny they are unable to hide. Those EU budgets don't audit themselves you know!

And then suddenly - almost as if they've done no work at all - it's Friday morning and time to go home. What a gruelling life Mr & Mrs MEP have, supervising the porters lugging their heavy suitcases through the open diplomatic channels and into a waiting Swiss bank account. But first they have an important mission to complete at the Parliament building.

I know what I want to be when I grow up! 

EU Hokey Cokey

Politics can be confusing. I should know, I've been called a Nazi for some of my fairly mainstream views, yet I have no sympathy for parties like the BNP; as a matter of fact I abhor socialism, which is their underlying ideology. On the other hand I can see that unrestrained freedom has its downsides because I also believe we have a duty to help those unable to help themselves. According to the leftists this means I can’t be a Tory, yet at heart I'm pretty sure I must be.

If I support UKIP that makes me a fruit, apparently, or in the closet, or some such thing. Oh, for certain, wanting to regain control of the UK’s own fortunes absolutely must make me a racist, yet UKIP is the only party that expressly refuses membership to racists, which policy is then said to be biased against those who wake up and change their political allegiance. See? Confusing.

We wake up today to news that some experts are disputing the case made by some other experts for spending vast sums of money we don’t have on HS2, for benefits nobody can quantify and absolutely nobody except potential bidders ever asked for. And yet another bunch of experts are undecided about the state of BP and whether it has yet paid sufficient penance for daring to make so much profit before the Deepwater Horizon incident. In every arena it seems that those who are paid huge sums of money to know about things later turn out to have known fuck-all.

The thing I’m most confused about (I'm not really - the only way is out, but bear with me) and about which nobody really knows is the EU; are we having a referendum or what? And if we do, what is the likely outcome going to be? And will it make any difference, either way, to anything?

Everybody now knows, surely, that Heath took us into the Common Market on the lie that it was a trade agreement and not a massive plan to create a country called Europe. Some even insist that, worse than just a massive lie, the whole arrangement was and remains contrary to the UK constitution and is therefore illegal. But it was the Tories, the most patriotic party, that oversaw the move while Labour, the most natural of EU bedfellows, that wanted us out. Now, the opposite seems to be happening but I’m not so sure.

So, do the Tories want us to be IN or OUT of Europe now? What does the ‘revolt’ by half the Tory backbenchers last night mean, when they voted for an amendment to the Queen’s speech ‘regretting’ that she hadn't mentioned, at least in passing, the humungous white elephant blocking the door to the chamber? And does it make any difference what our supposed elected officials want if the EU says otherwise?

And what, exactly, does Cameron’s proposed Referendum Bill actually mean? I read Dan Hannan’s (as usual, brilliant) telegraph blog about it, but I've forgotten the detail. Does it mean there WILL be a referendum, or there won’t be one, or there’ll only be one if DC gets back in and doesn't ‘forget’ to hold it? Has he finally shot that elusive fox, or has he just given everybody more cause to suspect treachery?

At stake is the prospect of UK independence, or being forever shackled to an institution that can (and does) overturn democracy and rob private bank accounts or impose massive spending increases such as this demand for an extra three-quarters of a billion pounds per year at a time when everybody’s belts are tight. Surely there must be a massive case to demonstrate that the benefits outweigh the costs? Yet there isn’t; there are only hollow words and two decades of unaudited accounts. Running a continent? This lot couldn’t run a corner shop.

But the confusion over Europe doesn't start and end with the Tories. Does anybody know what the increasingly desperate Labour party stand for now? And where are the LibDems with their EU hokey-cokey: in-out, in-out, shake it all about? They say that membership of the EU is low on people’s priorities, way behind jobs, immigration and the economy at large, but that doesn't mean people are actively pro EU. If anything, as the EU affects all of those important issues (and many adversely) it can be shown to be easily the top priority. In my life, which has been anything but parochial, I have met few people in favour, but a clear majority broadly against.

A dangerous game?

So, as the great propaganda machines of state creak into life expect two years of repeatedly and confusingly seeing answers to the following impossible questions.

Is the EU: 

1. great/bad/brilliant/bad/superb/bad? Or is it, 
2. crap/good/shit/good/disastrous/good? 

Which way round is it? What was the question again? Does 'yes' keep us in, or does 'no' get us out? Do we cut the green wire, or the red? Nobody knows, so let’s get the hell out of there before somebody blows the bloody doors off.

Easter Parade

The pilgrims had journeyed from afar to petition the mighty wizard of Brussels whose power raged unchallenged across the world. So great was his wisdom that everybody just called him The Wiz and some went so far as to say he really was a wiz of a wiz. If ever a wiz there was, that is.

Our pilgrims were a motley crew in strange outlandish garb and drew comment wherever they went. The tallest was a creature made of tin battered into a shape vaguely resembling a man. He had no heart, although he did have a big shiny dish of a face. The others called him Moron behind his back and Davidcam to his face and they didn’t much like him because he liked to pose as their leader.

The next was a man of straw, a real Worzel Gummidge. He was a scatter without a brain and with no functioning limbic system was apt to make random, haphazard movements and say things he didn’t really mean. He was the joker of the group and everybody just laughed and pointed when they saw him. His real name was Boris, but he answered to Scarecrow and everybody loved him except Davidcam, who read sinister meaning into every uncoordinated action.

Who’s that, hiding behind a tree, shadow boxing with himself? “Put ‘em up!” said Clegg the cowardly lion, every time Moron’s back was turned. Oh, it's just dear wee Clegg, the boy-man-lion who everybody loved dearly but nobody feared. His “Grrr” was more like a purr and nobody could take him seriously. It was rumoured that he had once led a political party but nobody who knew him would confirm it. All he really wanted was a nice cosy job working for the wizard. Soon Cleggy, soon.

And then there was Edorothy, who had come all the way from Kansington with her little dog, Herman, although because she had an adenoidal speech impediment, she pronounced it Harman. It was a snappy little thing and full of hate for all men, but dear Edorothy tolerated it more than anything else in the world. Edorothy just wanted what her father had wanted. And what had he wanted? Why, equality for all of course, at any price. When Edorothy told the others of her dreams they all laughed and laughed and laughed.

And then they set off, lickety-spit, on the yellow brick road to the magic city of Brussels, also known as the Emerald City, because its streets were paved with the crystallised snotty tears of once-free nations.

The Emerald City was a dull, dull place. It was quiet and orderly and clean and nice. It was expensive too; exclusive. And with none of that vivacious, loud and bright and frankly bloody annoying multiculturalism that everybody else had to pay for and put up with, law and order reigned. Just to be sure there were armed policemen on every street corner. The mighty wizard was a very cautious ruler and had many enemies, so he took security very seriously indeed.

The wizard’s palace was a stern and imposing building, reeking of money and power and it was rumoured that he had another one built, exactly the same, in Strasbourg, but nobody knew why – the wiz had many secrets. The four adventurers trembled as they mounted the steps. All those flags! But suddenly a blast of trumpets sounded a strident fanfare and the rumble and click of a mighty megaphone being switched on froze the four in their tracks.

“Stop!” boomed an imposing voice, “What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

“We… we’ve come to see The Wizard,” stuttered Edorothy, “We want to ask him to give us a heart and a brain and courage. And Harman and I want to go home to Kansington.”

“Well you can just fuck off!”

“Are you the Wizard?” asked Edorothy, nervously.

“Yes!” boomed the Wizard again, “And you can all just fuck off!”

But now Edorothy’s dander was up and she took the steps three at a time and pushed open the enormous door to the palace. The others quickly followed her and with the doors closed behind them the amplified profanities that filled the air outside were but a muffled background noise. Over in the corner stood a wizened old man with an enormous head, spitting and snarling as he shouted into a microphone. He stopped when he saw the four.

 “Get out!” he screamed “Get out!”

“Are YOU the Wizard?” repeated Edorothy incredulously, as Clegg hid behind the man of tin and Boris flung his arms round spasmodically and uselessly. “I don't want to be rude but, really, you have the charisma of a damp rag and the appearance of a low-grade bank clerk!”

“Not you as well!” said the Wizard, “This is a thousand dollar suit I’ll have you know!”

“You mean Euros, surely? A thousand Euro suit.” Piped up Davidcam.

The Wizard slowly stepped away from the microphone. His shoulders slumped and he addressed the four petitioners directly. “Dollars,” he said, “The Euro is finished.” He picked up a suitcase which stood nearby. “Kansington, is it?” he asked, “I have a Learjet standing by, you may as well come with me.”

As the five descended the palace steps a rumble shook the square and behind them the palace crumbled into dust and was gone. The European project was over and peace returned to the world.

Somewhere in Kansas a pretty girl in a blue gingham dress clicked her red heels together and woke up. “Bollocks!” she exclaimed. “It was just a bloody dream.”

Have a Happy Easter, dear reader and don't eat too much chocolate!

State of the Nation

Nobody in Britain has won a general election in thirty years. Parties no longer gain power because of their brilliant alternative visions or their brave new policies, but because the electorate gets fed up with their ever-improving lot and adopts a grass-is-greener mentality. We don’t so much vote in elections as vote for evictions, Big Brother style. 

Then the new boss – same as the old boss – simply reverses all the policies it opposed in government except the ones it thinks might lose votes. Every now and again somebody – yesterday it was David Cameron - tries to pretend they are truly different, but then carries on with policies such as the so-called Bedroom Tax with no hope of achieving anything whatsoever except maximising resentment… on all sides. 

We are a rich and generous nation; British fair play was once a watchword for civilised behaviour the world over and whatever the recent re-writing of history tells us, the world actually once was a far better place for having Britain in it. Not any more it seems, because as we get sucked further into the Eurobattoir mincing machine we come out the exact same nondescript shade of minced horsemeat as any other. 

I walked down Town Street in the People’s Socialist Republic of Armley on Saturday and discovered my old veg shop is now a Polish food market. On the same short row two other shops are also now ‘international’. What colour, what joy, comrades! But at least they serve customers who actually came to Britain to find work; we should be grateful. 

But no; the natives sit around in tee-shirts and shorts in winter, the heating paid for by those who have to choose whether to eat or heat and they don't give a damn. Occupying council houses larger than they might actually need, while those who pay their own rent make do only with what they can afford is unjustifiable. But so, too, is evicting people from lifelong homes. 

The coalition must have anticipated this reaction, so the only conclusion is that, along with Pastygate and Plebgate, the so-called Bedroom Tax is actually intended to throw away the last chance we have to govern ourselves. Despite a dire need for some radical reforms the Conservatives have failed to dominate their minority partner in government and curb the crippling welfare state.

It all feels so nineteen-seventies again; even more so with the looming threat of a possible energy crisis. So it is simply incredible that, against the backdrop of this new resurgent class war, we are about to open our borders wide to people who will not be coming here to work and will not have even a morsel of whatever meagre scraps of British scruples remain intact. We are going to sell our country into a form of economic slavery to an ideal so far removed from British values it may as well be a simple tyranny. 

You won’t lurch to the right, Dave? Charming choice of word, but you won’t need to – you’ll be nudged off your perch in 2015 when the Conservative Party loses their last ever general election. Shortly thereafter we will be quietly subsumed into an EU government. Of course, ersatz elections will continue, maybe even for a decade or so, but whatever you call it, the government will never change again. 

On Saturday night, after my stroll among the proles, I joined UKIP. I may not vote for my local candidate – the incumbent Labour puppet is, after all, the adenoidal Edbot, Rachel Reeves, who has a massive majority - but I will back whoever will give me the best chance I will see in my lifetime for me to say NO to Europe. 

I don’t think the Conservatives have a hope in hell of getting back in as it stands, so only one party currently offers even the faintest glimmer of hope that we can register a desire to retain our sovereignty… How much longer will we even be allowed to have a monarch? I wouldn’t be surprised if, right now, the Queen is shitting herself.

Building for the future

I used to be an architect. That is, I used to once want to be an architect. Until I discovered what pretentious tits a lot of architects are. Nobody told me - and I didn't find this out until I walked among them - that architects are not the Vitruviuses and Wrens of old; visionaries steeped in structure and form with a deep love of materials, building and fitness for purpose.

What I encountered were 'artists'. Whilst your day-to-day architect may grapple with the odd bungalow or extension, those who aspire to greatness inhabit an ethereal world where they sketch awe-inspiring doodles like this which are then given to engineers - real, practical hands-on, dirty types - to make them work. That is not to say architects are useless, far from it, but they rarely tackle the practical and sometimes (especially with small domestic projects) their solutions make no sense.

The very term 'architect' is imbued with reverence and appropriated by other fields to indicate a deeper knowledge and expertise than might really be there. Jean Monnet is frequently referred to as the architect of the European Union and William Henry Beveridge as the architect of the welfare state. But never forget that an architect is usually a professional dreamer, relying on others to fashion his dreams from the fabric of the real world.

Thus 'architect designed' while sounding lofty, usually means over time, over budget and of dubious usefulness, yet still revered by those who can see the Emperor's new clothes. The architect of Sydney Opera House, Jørn Utzon, is universally lauded but never forget that the building as drawn was unconstructable with available techniques and when it was finally completed it cost not the original $7million estimate but $102million; almost fifteen times over budget. And it was not opened in 1963 as intended, but 1973; ten years late.

Of course, it's a lovely building and rightly revered for its appearance but it sorts of makes my point about architects  They often work largely independently of the bricks and mortar brigade and have little accountability. If you want an example closer to home consider that the Scottish Parliament building at Holyrood was completed three years late and ten times over budget... and it won the Stirling Prize. Some would say that's like rewarding failure.

I have no doubt that the EU energy policy has an 'architect' at the control of the dream machine. From the heady heights of Tour D'Ivoire I'm sure the gigantic bird choppers, farm land given over to solar traps and the de-de-delayed smart meter intrusion into our personal usage habits all sound like wonderful ways of building for the future, but try telling the people of this estate of 'eco homes' that a doubling of their energy costs is actually saving the planet.

The EU - the house that Jack built

So, next time you hear somebody describing their house as architect-built, don't think "Wow" and green-up with envy. Instead, pity them their over-priced, undersized, expensive folly as you drive back to your cosy traditional home. The EU - built by architects... for sheep to live in.

Migration Watch

As the snows descend it's only a matter of a few short months before the spring thaws, we can leave our hibernation bunkers and welcome the return of many native and alien species from their over-winter locations. But as ever, we must guard against the cuckoo and its ilk. 

When the Brent Geese depart our shores and the swallows return to bring joy to our skies, spare a thought for those areas invaded by the Canada Goose. This native of a foreign land has settled, without invitation, here in Britain blighting many regions with its heavy-handed and domineering presence. They move onto recreational ground, displacing and out-breeding other species, leaving nothing but shit and destruction wherever they go. 

Such a problem is the influx of foreign species into an environment not prepared for them that in 2008 the NNSS – the Non-Native Species Secretariat was set up. The secretariat is vigilant against the arrival of such dangerous and malevolent imports as the Chinese Mitten Crab, the evil Giant Hogweed (Heracleum mantegazzianum, about which Genesis warned so very long ago) and the Siberian Chipmunk. Not to mention the Ruddy Duck! (Orville, that is. I hate that duck.)

So mercilessly do such marauders as the Japanese Knotweed take over and destroy our property that our home-grown parasites are helpless against its advance. For such reasons we vigorously control the influx of alien pests from outside Britain, from Africa’s killer algae through Mexico’s Colorado Beetle to the voracious American Mink. So why should we not extend the same cautious attitude to the top predator of our planet?

On the Andrew Marr show on Sunday, Eric Pickles was pressed to estimate how many Romanian and Bulgarian non-native types were expected to arrive in 2014, when our border controls become utterly ineffective. He couldn’t put a number on it because nobody knows. But what is widely known is the general public attitude, expressed here by the eponymous people's newspaper. None. 

Billy Bunter could, however, declare that even before the inevitable happens we already have a shortage of housing that will be made even worse, as new migrants, who will have been well-briefed as to their rights, displace many of our native species from the social housing lists. Tell us something we didn't know! 

The 1883 poem "The New Colossus" on the pedestal of the Statue of Liberty may state "Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free." But that was another century and a very different, empty continent, crying out for hands to work the land and make fortunes from its vast, untapped resources. Our land is not vast and its resources are already under strain. Even more immigration is a slap in the face of all those settled here who can’t find jobs. It will serve as a constant depressor of wages and foment yet more and more crime and exploitation, more civil unrest and insurrection. 

Fuck Right Off!

We should have a statue not of liberty but of incarceration and our Statue of Captivity should be engraved – “Fuck off home, where you belong. We don’t want you here.” Racist? If that’s what you’re calling survival these days, I’ll take it.

The Ascent of None

On Sunday morning Nicky Campbell (isn’t he a bit old to still be called Nicky?) hosted the BBC talk show The Big Questions, this week’s question being “Is it time for all religions to accept evolution as fact?” I love this show because it manages to gather together in one place a plethora of beliefs as wide and outlandish as you’ll find in any multicultural inner city school… except these are adults!

Shakespeare’s seven ages of man kicks off with the mewling and puking infant, followed by the whining schoolboy and then the sighing lover, but he misses out the bit where you open your eyes and make your own mind up. Except, does he? Because too many people drag into adulthood unquestioned beliefs that rely entirely on blind faith. 

The assembled audience and participants were drawn from the whole range of religious beliefs in the UK, by which of course I mean mostly Islam – it is the BBC after all – and every single one of them was utterly unprepared to accept what any of the few scientists had to say about the hot topic of evolution, even those scientists who also professed a religious leaning. 

Science doesn't have all the answers – in particular it can’t answer “Why?” but religion has exactly no answers. Not a single one. I have no particular axe to grind, but religion has all the provable credibility of astrology, phrenology, homeopathy and ‘crystals’. It may provide comfort in times of despair and it may provide a soothing hub for the cohesion of many communities, but where science requires evidence, religious belief requires only blind, unquestioning faith. 

In that respect, religion and left wing politics have much in common. Brooking no argument, the articles of that faith say that left is God and right is Satan. That being caring and happy and clappy for rainbow-coloured ‘fairness’ will heal the sick and feed the poor; that, somehow, there will always be enough money to pay for all that compassion, so lacking in the legions of hell – or The Tory Party as they call it. 

And yet, despite many otherwise intelligent people being drawn to it, the policies of the left rely entirely on sufficient numbers on the right remaining to earn the money and be repeatedly plundered in the name of fairness. The doctrine says that the harder you labour the more Labour must take from you; that the less likely you are to need ‘social’ services the more you should pay to provide them. Socialism can only really work where everybody believes and if everybody believes what use will we have for evolution?

As always, I try and find a suitable picture to illustrate my theme. I can only ascribe the happy coincidence of the appearance of this tweet by Ricky Gervais on my timeline this morning to divine providence!

The European Union debate is another which revolves around constantly reciting the dogma that to leave would be a disaster but, just as with all faiths, no objective rationale is ever raised, no bottom line audited. The truth is, nobody knows. Another truth is that staying in means we will forever be enslaved to the high altar of a socialist federal dream, with no opportunity to explore our ages of man beyond the dreamy, blinded lover.

Maybe science will one day find its God Particle; the thing that, once and for all, proves the existence of a higher being. Until then I'll continue to question, continue to disbelieve and wear my scepticism on my sleeve.

(And if you're still not convinced of the Messianic monstrosity that is the EU, take a long look at this document on the 1975 Referendum Stitch-up , which pretty much sums up how I've always perceived it to be.)

Peace on Earth

So, yesterday, the hated beloved Eurocracy picked up the Nobel prize for tyranny, I mean peace. Can that actually be true? What is going on? Are we playing Opposites Year? So, Animal Farm style, it’s now democracy bad, tyranny good, eh? I think I’m beginning to get the hang of this.

Hitler was nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize in 1939, as a satirical joke some say, but then Stalin had two nominations, in 1945 & 1948, so who was kidding who? It would appear that some forms of submission to government control of absolutely everything are okay, just not Adolf’s version; and he worked hard on that bloody book.

In its contribution to “peace and reconciliation, democracy and human rights” in Europe the EU has stood by to allow the free expression of dissent in the form of anti-governmental riots across many member states. You don't like your government? Then all is well, because the EU will remove it altogether. The display of Nazi insignia to greet Angela Merkel in Greece was a wonderful way to remind the proles just how much peace they've had for so long. And that peace doesn't come cheap.

In the name of peace entire nations have been ‘requested’ to vote again on referendum outcomes that were not conducive to the European Project. These words have passed into notoriety; ”Europe's nations should be guided towards the super-state without their people understanding what is happening.“ (Jean Monnet, founding father of the EU, April 1952) They are said not to be Monnet's direct words, but an accurate interpretation of his clear intentions; a voice from a troubled past maybe, but the current troika fully intend to apply more of the same.

To be fair, when the subject of a referendum arises it must be very difficult to phrase the questions just so, in order to get the correct answer. I mean, how ridiculous to ask simply IN or OUT? Some voters might be terribly silly and vote OUT just because they don’t understand the question. And anyway, that is far too simplistic.

No, far better to employ a team of experts to devise a series of questions, a mini-manifesto if you will, to gently lead the plebs electorate to the correct conclusion.  Having made a longitudinal study of these experts – I’m an expert on experts – I've had a stab at creating an EU approved Referendum for European. Answer Yes or No to the following questions (translations provided)

1. Do you want peace on earth and goodwill to all men? (Vote Yes or we’ll send in the army.)

2. Do you want to support local farmers? (Of course you do – we’ll price out of the market anybody offering a better product cheaper. 232% Tax onChinese garlic?)

3. Do you wish for an end to starvation? (Excellent. We’ll strip the shops of all that expensive choice and set up commission-approved food banks for all.)

4. Do you believe that everybody should have equal access to jobs? (Following Greece and Spain’s excellent examples we will enslave you all forever on welfare – that’s equal.).

5. Do you think everybody should have equal pay? (We will drive out the capitalists that pay for everything and drive down wages until all are equal.)

6. Should your children get the same education opportunities as others? (We already did this – it’s called the comprehensive system, where everybody leaves equally uneducated.)

7. Do you wish Tony Blair was out of British politics? (That's easy; there will be no more 'British' politics once TB becomes EU Emperor)

8. Do you support free speech and the right to be unmolested?  (We will legislate to prevent anybody causing you offence. If that involves curtailing the use of your language, so be it – you asked for it.)

9. Do you want people to be happy? (You do? Good. Legislation for enforced jollity is on the way.)

10. Do you want democracy? (Yes? I don’t think you fully understood the question.)

So, how did you do? Answer YES ten times and you really haven't been listening, but even a single yes would be enough to declare you IN under EU referendum rules. Listen now as the distant rumble of malcontents with vested interests grows into a roar of approval for full integration. Marvel as formerly disenchanted politicians suddenly get onside with the project. See for yourself how much money and energy will be poured into persuading you that you can't think for yourselves. Vote for slavery, vote for collectivism... or grow a set and vote for yourselves.

What the frack?

We all do our bit for the environment, don’t we? Well, sod the environment; good citizens all, we should moderate our reliance on imported fuel use, if not for the planet then for the simple common sense of it. Has nobody been listening these past few years? Are you not aware that the country is broke? According to the Express, one in three will be too poor to buy sufficient heating for winter within the next two years.

While I don’t buy their scaremongering figures for one moment, I certainly agree something needs to be done. And it won’t be the Green Deal, which will turn out to be yet another well-intentioned government scheme that ends up benefitting large businesses with access to capital before being consigned to history when the money runs out, like all the others. 

It’s just tinkering at the margins in pursuit of political ambitions instead of getting a grip on the real issues. And for the few who genuinely benefit it always costs the tax payer dear while keeping them potless.(That will make it all the easier for the rampaging Muslim marauders to finally gain the majority hand – George Galloway’s is a patient, long-term treachery, be warned.) 

As a nation what we need is to make or save money and whatever god you don’t believe in, Nigel Lawson reckons shale gas and oil is a gift from him. To become self-sufficient in, nay a net exporter of fuel, would be all that we need to be back in the game. And if that is good news then reports that the Blackpool shale deposits in the Bowland Basin could be fifty percent larger than first thought has to be even greater news. 

We could kick out the unwelcome ‘economic migrants’, get our own industries working and our idle off their arses and off welfare. We could fuck off the German wind farms and say so-long to pointless solar PV and get Britain back on its feet again. And as for the fears of the Green-Meanies, do they not realise that an earthquake in the area would cause millions of pounds-worth of improvements to Blackpool?

Even Environment Minister, Owen Patterson, says the same. “invest in shale gas, which doesn't require public subsidy, unlike wind farms.” The coalition must, as a matter of utmost urgency, pursue what could be the saving of our once independent nation from the threats that currently threaten to overwhelm it. Social politics, white flight, brain drain, the deficit and the disastrous involvement with the EU. But it may already be too late. Those greedy burghers at the Stasi are already seeing power slip from their grasp and are demanding a slice of the action. 

What am I saying, a slice? No, like all the other European gangsters flooding the country, they intend to take control altogether. Well I say we tell em’ to frack off.

And so does Boris Johnson.

Say again?

I am no enemy of ‘green’ technologies. I say ‘green’ in quotes because it’s rare that we use any of the Earth’s resources in ways that are truly wise and don’t have an overall negative impact on somebody along the way. Often, Green proponents are dreamers, just as hell-bent as other causes on forcing their policies on those who don’t agree and rarely managing to make a real case. But, if there IS a case for using a low-impact energy source, I’m all for it.

This weekend a story about EU green energy policy caught my eye: Apparently, David Cameron backs the EU's grand design for energy. I’m not entirely sure what his backing of that ‘grand design’ really means, so I am inclined to try and find somebody who really knows. But I know that’s not going to be possible; nobody with interests in the green energy industry will tell you the objective truth. 

Some of you know that I teach electricians for a living. They don't, in the main, understand what electricity really is, how it does what it does and alarmingly, how to make it safe. Although they may do an excellent job of repeating what they have been shown, they REALLY don't understand generation, transmission or storage of electricity. So there’s no point in you asking an electrician. 

David Cameron won’t have asked any electricians either. Neither will he have consulted any engineers, because politics and cold hard facts just don’t mix. No, he will have been advised by ‘advisors’ (again, in quotes) and who will those advisors ALWAYS turn out to have been? That’s right, lobbyists for the technologies they promote… Directors of ‘green’ technology companies, or their willing dupes. 

Humans are on record as being profligate, poor decision-makers. We barely listen to the arguments and then return to our knee-jerk first choice. Or we work out we can’t afford that car/jewellery/suit/suite… and buy it anyway. It’s partly because our true nature is reactive, rather than contemplative, but even so that’s hardly an excuse in government. 

With my sparkies I tell them, tell them again, get them to repeat it several times, then tell them again. Then when I ask them what I just told them they often reply, “Sorry, what?” It’s the calculators in primary school argument all over again; there is no substitute for hard graft and if you don’t grasp the fundamentals you just aren’t ready for the rest. 

A politician is unlikely to be able to grasp the technical principles behind policies he is being lobbied to promote. But he can at least ask again. And then again and again until that chink of light appears. 

So, Mr Cameron, before you engage in yet more unnecessary spending of money we can’t afford in pursuit of ideals we generally don’t hold, achieved by means we don’t really understand and making profits for anybody but us, you might want to hang on to this handy crib-sheet of questions for the green lobbyists:

DOES it work? HOW does it work? Can you PROVE to me that it works? How much will it COST in total to set up? How long will it last? What will it save? If it doesn’t save anything, why should we consider it? How many jobs will be lost? How many of the jobs created will go to British workers? Can you prove all of that? If not, why are you here? Now, tell me again why you’re asking for public money? If it’s as good as you claim it is, surely you can get private funding? Next! 

Next... Ah yes, the European Union. Tell me Mrs Merkel, “DOES it work? HOW does it work? Can you PROVE to me that it works? How much will it COST?...”

England, my England

I'm confused. I live next door to people I don't know. I'm not that bothered about knowing them and given that no overtures have been made, I'm guessing they're quite happy with that arrangement. In the main we rub along okay. They occasionally have a party and make a noise, I occasionally tell everybody on Twitter how annoying it was and that's about the limit of our interaction.

I have no doubt that should our road get flooded, or an earthquake blight our little corner of England, we would help each other to safety if needs be. Then, being British, we'd maybe shake hands, or shrug, say something enigmatic and insincere about not grumbling and get on with our separate little lives. Thereafter maybe a wave of acknowledgement in passing or a hurried "hello" on the infrequent meeting.

But should they decide to have relatives over to stay I'd be mighty pissed off to arrive home and find them camping out in my living room. Similarly, a raid on my kitchen cupboards, the uninvited use of my car or the viewing of Eastenders on my telly, under my licence would earn them a look of my sternest disapproval. I would show them the door and lock it after them.

I wouldn't pay them to go somewhere else, nor would I be evenly remotely interested in chipping in to pay for something I don't want in a part of town I never visit, for the benefit of people I will never know, who haven't asked for that help and don't even need it in the first place. That would be utterly ridiculous. None of that has anything to do with me. I should be free to choose who I assist. Or not.

That's how I'd like it to be with Europe. The sometimes annoying neighbour, who we could occasionally help out in a crisis, but who would otherwise just keep the hell out of our affairs. And there's no reason in the world why that couldn't be the case. For all the bollocks spouted about how we can't do this and we can't do that, of course we can. We simply announce we're shutting the door and locking the larder. How hard can it really be?

Europe, you outstayed your welcome and it's time to go home. And if anybody still believes that the EU is a force for good, you should cast your eyes over this recent Telegraph article. And when, over the next two years, you start to see lots of YOUR money being spent on the campaign to persuade you that the EU is a good thing, please remember that this is exactly what happened in 1975. Don't get fooled again.

Carry on up the Khyber

Michael Gove appears to be leading a movement to claw back powers from the EU. Oh, if only this were really true and not just a fanciful dream. Because he's still talking the language Brussels wants to hear, "If this, then that," when he should be talking the language the country wants to hear, "In or out", with the choice having nothing to do with 'them' and everything to do with 'us'.

The official line is much less clear, with Home Secretary Theresa May, saying she is ‘minded’ to opt out of 140 measures governing crime and justice. Well the numbers tell the true story here. The EU has forced onto its member states not a few hundred measures but thousands upon thousands.

This is not some cosy trade agreement which is on the whole benign and UK-friendly. It isn't (and apparently never was) meant to secure the lasting security and comfort of its people. It has always been a giant project aimed at creating a single federal entity and it intends to do this whatever the so-governed actually want. Not so very far from Hitler, the EU believes it knows best, regardless of the evidence of its own eyes and the increasing resistance of its populations.

At the same time Britain is trying to messily disentangle itself, yet again, from Afghanistan. Consider that we have been dabbling in Afghan conflicts since 1839 and maybe you'll see that, sometimes, things take a little longer to resolve than we might like. Good intentions invariably end up becoming a millstone round our collective neck.

The Khyber Pass - between a rock and... more rocks

So, there's no point in tinkering around the fringes of the European disaster zone. Little false victories like rejecting a handful of edicts here and a couple of policies there will still leave us fully shackled to the yoke. Michael Gove is still trying to hedge his bets; give a little, take a little  But when it comes to the EU there really is only one option left - kick it right up the Khyber Pass.

Fact or Fiction? Pick your faction...

So Boris arrives at the Conservative Party Conference to a rock-star's welcome. Mobbed by the press and adoring fans, the man who 'has no ambition to stand for Prime Minister' might just be the Tory's best  bet for re-election in 2015. Who would have thought it? In X-Factor Britain nobody wants to hear bad news from the straight man, but they'll happily suck it up for the comedy-geezer.

In other news actor Damian Lewis may have incurred the wrath of some Southern rednecks for his part in the US TV hit, Homeland. Mistaking actors and their beliefs for those of their characters' is a commonplace modern occurrence. It's less common for actors to confuse their own beliefs, but Arnold Schwarzenegger must have had a bump to his head because suddenly he can remember with some clarity what he ACTUALLY said about Hitler back in 1975. Oratory, my arse.

All these stories feature a blurring of the boundaries between fact and fiction. In an age when live, on-the-spot, as-it-happens information is available as never before, the propagandists have taken advantage of the populace's lack of critical analytic skills to spread lies and paranoia via the simple expedient of overwhelming the audience with a stream-of-consciousness, non-stop ticker-tape of political white noise.

Listen to the radio, see the party conference delegates take to the stage, watch the 24-hour TV news and see how data is presented to represent any and all arguments. Labour put up the higher earners top tax rate, the coalition brought it half-way down, but what does it mean? Labour say this is the equivalent of giving millionaires a £40k cheque. The Conservatives say the Laffer curve predicts, nay demonstrates, that more tax will be paid by such people. The Libdems think it's something to do with stand-up. What YOU think, sadly, will likely not be determined by facts but by which version of the story you've already decided is true.

Politics seems a lot like the Tinker Tailor Soldier Spy version of espionage - who is working for what end? It is simply impossible that all Conservatives hate poor people, or that all Socialists want a return to nationalisation or that all LibDems are simply a bit dim. (Actually, that last one is probably a bad example - they are a bit dim.) Is it cruel or kind to want people to be self-determining? Is it progressive or crazy to believe in equal outcomes for education? Is a federal Europe a vaguely 'good thing' or an exploitative blight on the economies of all the countries it has infected?

Where people appear to be determined most of all to tell the truth as they see it and report on the facts of the matter, they are met with slander and mud-slinging and simple nay-saying. Witness Nigel Farage's frequent well-aimed verbal missiles in Brussels, yet see how The Rompuys and the Barrosos simply shrug and carry on dipping their hands in our pockets. At least the UKIP message on Europe is consistent.

But are the Conservatives or Labour (we know what the Limp Dems want) FOR Big Europe or AGAINST it? They won't tell us outright, which is interesting. Why won't they tell us? I think it's because they haven't quite worked out how to present the fiction they think we want to hear in order that we'll cast our vote in their favour, so that either of them can then then take us further into Europe, against apparent majority democratic opinion, while appearing to give us a choice in the matter.

Does that mean I believe in some Euro conspiracy to enslave us all? Would it really be all that bad if we all cosied up together in the tractor factories and sang workers' songs into the never-ending twilight? Is it really so bad that successful, productive countries will forever give up their advantages to prop up unstable, inefficient administrations? A cautious yes to all three, but that's just me...

The EU Gulag swings into action

It all comes down to what you believe... or what you want to believe. Do you vote with your head, or with your affiliations? What, indeed, would Boris do? Listen to the facts, believe the fiction... pick a faction. So, nailing my colours to the mast, as the party which naturally has my ear refuses to come off the fence, my particular faction is UKIP. Say what you like about my choice, but they are the only party who are telling me what I want to hear.

Acute angina? Thank you very much!

Apologies to regular readers for the paucity of posts thus far this week; there's nothing like a day in the Acute Medical Unit to focus the mind on the important issues of the day. Thank goodness I had the presence of mind to take my Kindle along as I was rushed into an assessment which took the best part of a day, on and off.

Actually, rushed is a tad specious, as it took four days of discomfort and a bit of nagging from somebody-who-knows-better before I deigned to allow the NHS to confirm my diagnosis. In fairness they were all very thorough, patient[sic] and courteous, batting aside my concerns that I was wasting their time and my entreaties that I was only there because I was nagged. The diagnosis? Indigestion... we think.

So, there's nothing to see here, move along the corridor smartly and try to avoid staring at the mad-haired Scots lady trying to manoeuvre a fag past her nasal oxygen cannula whilst reciting... well, it could be anything really, it's in Scottish. Avert your eyes, also, from the grossly be-tattooed, multiply pierced, heavily pregnant teenager and her attendant posse of identically clothed 'individuals' - they're the future, they've got rights, you know. (There should be an exam, really there should.)

With all due respect for the long-suffering staff, the last place you want to be if you're ill is in a hospital. But I'm not, so it's all good. And I did get to put in a spot of reading. Whatever you think of UKIP and in particular, Nigel Farage, you can't deny he has to be one of the most colourful and charismatic politicians out there, right now. In the AMU I was reading Flying Free, his engaging memoir in which he sets out his stall for a retrenchment, at the very least, of our role in Europe.

I've blogged about Europe before; about how I was just one year too young to make my feelings known in 1975; about how I never trusted the shifty Ted Heath and about how I have yet to hear a single fact-supported argument for the travesty of democracy that is the European Union. Nigel's book pointed me at a number of avenues for further research and I append a few links below.

But I don't need to 'do the math' as they say. I don't need to study dry old economic theories and European war histories. I don't need to peruse a balance sheet of pros and cons.I don't need to do any of those things to know that Europe is pure poison. Free movement of people across borders? I used to have that anyway; it was called a British Passport. In fact, even as a post-war, post-empire nation, Britain had far more respect and possibilities than we will ever have again if the spectre of costly, corrosive, creeping Euro-Everything is not halted.

And just as against the Nazis - whose European ambitions were so close to those of the EU Commissioners - the English Channel is a natural border between the European mainland and the last free country this side of the Atlantic. All you need to know about the three main parties is that not one of them has made any serious noise about withdrawing from Europe. What they have all been complicit in is handing over ever more power  while flatly denying it.

Now I'm not saying that UKIP is the answer to all our ills, but surely a party willing to draw the line has to be a better bet than all the governments willing to hand over £19.2bn per year, or if you prefer, £53m per day, to the unelected, unimpeachable, bureaucratic nightmare of Brussels.

Yeah. Fuck you, Britain!

If you have a spare hour, have a read/watch of some of these:

http://www.ukipmeps.org/uploads/file/ReferendumStichUp.pdf

http://www.ukip.org/content/latest-news/2777-nigels-birmingham-speech

http://campaignfortruth.com/CTE/realfaceinfo.htm

http://www.forvik.com/index.php/documents/the-eu

See you at the referendum!

Mock the Weak

Lots of propaganda skirmishes joined over the last few days, but who do you believe? They say you can’t hypnotise somebody who doesn’t want to go under and it is much the same with persuasion; entrenched views are harder to shift than shit on a blanket. 

Some cultures need to be mocked out of existence - far left, far right, faddish and marginal movements and any religion intolerant enough to create people like Azhar Ahmed. But should this have ever got to court? Far better, surely, to let him say his stuff, point out his gullibility and ignorance, then point and laugh from your loftier vantage point… the British way. George Galloway was on LBC talking about freedom of speech and the limiting of such rights. But, George, where do you set those limits? 

A survey on attitudes to welfare reveals that those in work are feeling the strain of paying for those out of work, but at the same time there is an upwelling of feeling against the Atos witch-hunts, with plenty of stories of deplorable treatment at their assessment centres. Who do you believe? It wouldn't be the first time that special interest groups had rallied their supporters to flood the newspapers and radio phone-ins with sob stories. In life as in warfare we appear to have arrived at a point where no casualties are acceptable and to say otherwise is denounced as cruel. 

Talking of war, I was alerted recently to an apparently pernicious EU plot to brainwash tender young minds into becoming Euro-sheep. 

And so it goes. We are bombarded daily with a cacophony of propaganda from all the party machines with varying degrees of atrocity being forecast as the result of dissent. This is (sadly) a good thing because few people will be dissuaded from their chosen course and the UK will remain a mishmash of diverse opinion. It’s also (sadly) disastrous, because few people will be dissuaded from their chosen course, etc. 

How I long for the fictional good old days of the nineteen-sixties when, as amply demonstrated in psychological cold-war claptrap such as The Avengers (Diana Rigg could persuade me of anything!) whole audiences could be hypnotised and programmed by watching spinning discs and a tone sent over the phone could scramble an assassin before you could say 'Manchurian'. 

Whatever she said...

So, what ‘truth’ would you go for? Time to grow up, Britain and accept the cold reality that there is no free ride in life, that there is no magic sky pixie and that we each must triumph by our own endeavours. After all, even Ed Miliband appears to have embraced the notion that this doesn’t necessarily make you evil. 

Or do you want to carry on believing there is a limitless pot to satisfy every need, that every life has equal possibilities, that every soul is sacred and that we will all live happily ever after in a fluffy, happy wonderland?

Fact or fairy story; you choose.

Cunctatious Claptrap

Once upon a time, I had a job where desks had to be cleared at the end of the week. No drawers, no hiding places; all in-trays to be emptied and processed, no question. It didn't take long for one bright spark (not me - dull as a dishwasher[sic] me) to come up with a cunning plan. Like all the best plans it was devilishly simple. You scooped the detritus from your desk into a large envelope, addressed it to yourself and sent it to the post room, where the drones, who never thought to question the destination, duly franked and despatched it.

The mail being what it is, said envelope often didn't return to sender until the following Wednesday, by which time it was inevitably too late to respond to some items. Disgraceful, I hear you say... outrageous. Ah, but stick with me. Anything that genuinely needed doing would usually trigger a follow-up call, the response to which would be an innocent declaration that you'd not received the original request. It was an eye-opener to discover just how many formerly "utmost urgent" requirements could nevertheless stand a fair bit of delay.

But here's the best bit of all. The vast majority of un-actioned items generated no response whatsoever. Nada. Zilch. Sweet F-A. In other words, an awful lot of what passed for 'business' was simply somebody else's way of wasting my time. Filling quotas, ticking boxes, yada-yada-yada. For me the sound of that particular penny dropping was deafening.

When I later learned that certain management gurus even preached about the principle of managing by delay - do the urgent, important stuff now; the stuff that must be done, else the world ends, and leave the rest. If it's important for 'them', let 'them' do the prodding. If they don't, it clearly wasn't that important. Subsequently I have met a great number of people whose grasp of the strategic importance of their job to the company is feeble to say the least.

Am I implying that a significant proportion of workers care not about what they do? That in their absence the organisation notices not one jot? Am I implying that despite the billions pumped into the Euro experiment, virtually nobody can really justify their tax-free salary or properly explain their job? Am I implying that some of the European leaders are fully aware of this and that management by procrastination is their game plan? Stifle debate, stall and obfuscate and hope that in the end it will all come good? Damn right I am.

One way or another people have to eat. In the case of Greece and Spain, followed by Italy and France it probably matters not whether they remain an integral part of the Euro confidence trick; they'll get fed. If it takes uprisings and civil wars, the very thought of which should signal abject failure of the one feeble justification for the whole project, the Eurozone apparatchiks will shrug, do nothing and call it a re-balancing or some such meaningless aphorism. They'll all still get paid, out of our money, for performing their important function of remaining motionless on their shiftless arses..

The European Union is a huge white elephant. Like the United Nations it has rarely achieved anything of worth. Its history has been one of endless rounds of discussions and its edicts have either been prohibitory (the disastrous CAP) or damagingly liberal (human rights, open borders). The EU is the political equivalent of one of those 'premium' bank accounts that takes your money in return for doing fuck-all while looking and sounding important. The Emperor has new clothes, or so they say.

A bunch of cunctators doing fuck-all

Which brings us, neatly, back to the title. We are not lead by dictators, instead we have replaced them with a bunch of Cunctators. And it really doesn't matter how you pronounce or mispronounce that word it still contains all the right letters to express just exactly what a bunch they are.

An Expert Opinion

I am no expert. But feel free to quote me as the antithesis of expertise

The climate change experts told us we'd have progressively dryer summers in the UK. Water Board experts (not the Guantanamo type) suggested a hosepipe ban - in one of the wettest developed countries on earth - just before we received a whole summer's worth of rain in two weeks. (And a British summer can be alarmingly wet anyway)

Educationalists can't agree on the best way of educating kids, although the average ill-educated parent can still reason that all the tinkering is counter productive and potentially damaging. Criminologists are routinely off the mark in their reading of criminals and criminality, crime and punishment - subjects at which you'd think - hint in the name - they should excel.

Judges often lack judgement. Philosophers often fail and fall for sophistry and electrical engineers gave us the energy saving light-bulb... which saves energy by the duh-er expedient of not producing any light until several days after you wanted it.

Security 'experts' came up with this Big Brotheresque nugget of surveillance wisdom:

"Under provisions in the draft communications data bill, published by the Home Office, Royal Mail and private postal services could be required to store "anything written on the outside" of letters, postcards and parcels for up to 12 months so they can be accessed by police, MI5 and other enforcement agencies."

Really? You didn't consider what the effect of publishing this would be? Stand by for an onslaught of anti-government sentiment expressed on envelopes; expect to see S.W.A.L.K. replaced with such gems as MILF (M.I.Filth) or the rather more prosaic "Snoop on this, fuck face!" I think I'll address all my mail from now on to "Big Brother, c/o Keep the fuck out of my business. Ya Big Bastardshire, UKSSR.

So, in the face of all this expertise it should come as no surprise to learn that the Greek election outcome is being hailed as victory and ignominy, as both triumph and disaster by the political and economic experts responsible for the whole Euro-shambles. While helpless onlookers treat those two impostors with the disdain Kipling knew they deserve, our political classes still claim expertise in matters fiscal and sovereign.

Meantime the ordinary citizen looks on with rage at the havoc wreaked by inept policy, advised by experts, accepted by idiots and forced, roughshod, over common sense. In the real world, the repeating of mistakes is seen as foolhardy. In the world of the expert, it's the only way ahead.

How's that never-ending, conveyor-belt Greek bailout policy working for you now, Eurotwats?

Wired!

In my day job I try and play a positive role in maintaining the competence of workers in a pretty straightforward field. Electrical installation work isn’t exactly rocket-surgery[sic] and since the first days of the Wiring Regulations (1882 - 130 years) testing has been a necessary component of the job, yet most practicing sparkies have only a rudimentary grasp of the principles.

Last night I was assessing a supposedly experienced tester. Once the test rig had been safely isolated I left him for ten minutes to get on with it and returned to find nuts and bolts, springs and things, popping and fizzing round the exam room while he wrestled with deadly killer croc-clips and test leads.  It was like a kitten with a ball of wool… and a stick of Semtex. Given that an absolute minimum of dismantling should have been involved, this was like Armageddon; Electricalypse.

Once the fires broke out, I decided to terminate the assessment, enough is enough. His blackened eyebrows still sparked and sizzled slightly and a wisp of smoke rose from his new Afro hairstyle... “How did I do?” he asked, hopefully.

Cut the red wire... NO! The blue!

When you hire an electrician you’d like to think they know what they’re doing, wouldn’t you? Most of them have an impressive sounding list of qualifications but the simplicity of Ohm’s Law is lost as they struggle with the deep and complex relationship between Volts and Amps and Ohms. Yet, it’s easy enough to remember:

Villa = Is x Rubbish

The truth about electricity

If few of these trained professionals can really tell their amp from their elbow, how can they be expected to tell a talented politician from a mere chancer? Or distinguish between a plan for economic doom versus commercial boom? These are the people who choose, once in a blue moon, who gets to make the important decisions as to just exactly how much more money we're going to piss down the European drain. Or to what extent we will continue to emasculate our armed forces. Or how much more of the third world's population we plan to crowd into our precious little island home.

One-man-one-vote democracy doesn't seem such a good idea now, does it?