We Shall Frighten Them On The Beaches - exclusive election special

Today on Brighton beach, an extraordinary sight beheld me. An elderly lady in a bathchair pushed by two attendants proceeded to knock the Punch and Judy man out with her walking stick and take over his tent for an exclusive election special. I didn't have a camera on me, but managed to record the following on my phone...



Naturally there was pandemonium and at one point parents proceeded to throw small children at her, but the elderly lady continued on until the end, whereby she was re-muzzled and strapped back into her bathchair for the short ride to the adapted Daimler waiting on the promenade.

On a less surreal note, earlier in the weekend I had the great pleasure of meeting fellow blogger Steerforth of The Age of Uncertainty, who was just as lovely in real life as his blog suggested - the sort of first rate human being you might expect to meet when they introduce an Upgrade Friends service for mobile phones (any friends reading this blog excepted of course, being my true friends!)

Marmalade and Cheques

Marmalade and cheques. Just two of the things that made this country great. Both at risk. I also miss asterisks. Rude words seem so much less f***ing rude without them. The more in-yer-face society gets, the more it loses its power to shock, and let's face it, its power (though I must own to a sneaking temptation to succumb to this t-shirt when I saw it at Camden Lock the other week).

We have a society now which lets us 'vent' - ie rant and rave about its injustices using as many rude words as we wish to get it out of our system, whilst stealing back by stealth our historically hard-won civil rights to peaceful protest and other restitution under the guise of 'terrorism prevention' and then does what it always intended to do - either ignores us, turns into an inflexible Big Brother extorting money with menaces whether we owe it or not, particularly from those who might be law-abiding enough to pay whatever fine our overweight wheelie bin chip has grassed us up to the council for, or pacifies us with a load of empty politician speak (ie ignores us) - the first thing I would ban if I became PM by the way. Any colleague who had been tutored to appear honest by a presentation coach would be out on their asterisk.

And while it seems like a cop out, my second action as Prime Minister would be to save everything we currently have that is at risk such as post offices, analogue signals, pubs, free cash dispensers and the aforementioned cheques, without which it is not only OAPs who would be lost - some of we younger voters still write a fair number of them too. How else do you send money through the post for example when it is not appropriate to open an online account with that party or individual and you wouldn't want them having that much personal information about you anyway? What will charities do when they want a big f***-off cheque for someone who's just abseiled down the local hospital to raise it proudly for the presentation photograph? Not only was my first cheque book a meaningful rite of passage into the adult world, I went on to process cheques as one of my first jobs - and dispute it costs as much as banks are trying to l** it does - well I know I was paid peanuts for processing in excess of £3m a day anyway. Plus what about all the years banks sat on the money for 3 days creaming off the interest until it appeared in the payee's account? Delays continue to this day I believe, not to mention the massive charges imposed when they bounce or render an account accidentally overdrawn. Then there's the charges to stop them. Far from being some altruistic gesture the banks have bestowed upon the customer out of the goodness of their steel-vaulted hearts, I would have thought cheques have until now been a nice little earner for them and am astonished they want to do away with them. Credit cards are no more secure after all, though perhaps more lucrative for the banks with the interest rates charged and some with monthly 'reward' or yearly fees attached, not to mention their share of any transaction fees.

Well that's enough venting from me - I'm off to eat some more marmalade. Later on I might write a cheque for an evening newspaper. I'm anarchic like that.

Roadkill

Conscientious driver that I am, twice this week have I been forced to slam on the anchors to avoid mowing down a couple of wheat ears among the latest crop of students who specialise in stepping off the pavement straight in front of moving vehicles without looking - relying on that infallible immortality of theirs - the second without even an iPod glued to its ears as excuse.

Whether or not all the 'Drink Yourself To Death For A Fiver!' leaflets the Freshers are bombarded with by local bars the moment they come up had anything to do with either incident, it struck me that just as more and more youngsters are apparently starting primary school without being toilet-trained or able to speak more than a handful of baby words, an increasing number of students are turning up at University without the ability to even cross the road, much though you learn to expect (in my line of work) many won't be able to make toast without activating the fire alarm or use the washing machine without an engineer being required to mop up the aftermath.

I then mused whether Society is in effect, going backwards, possibly trailing evolution not far behind in its wake.

My thoughts turned to the poor and dare I say, increasingly haggard-looking, parents re-mortgaging their homes in order to afford to send their offspring to University, particularly in a recession, only to risk their investment being run over and all that money wasted for want of a Green Cross Code man.

Perhaps Freshers' Week needs to become 'Basic Lifeskills' week rather than an orgy of mindless drinking and pointless dungeon and dragon societies.

If this makes me a killjoy, how much less fun if joy ends up on a slab because it isn't capable of assuming even the slightest young adult responsiblity for itself, whether through 'whatever' lackadaisical nature or a negligent lack of parental nuture.

If only history were still taught, more youngsters might realise how hard many of their predecessors once fought to be educated and then to vote and how the powers that be were terrified of the idea of educated voting peasantry and working classes, contriving accordingly to keep them ignorant and therefore controllable for as long as possible.

They would then also know that religion and cheap drink were historically employed as opiates for the masses, where bread and circuses proved insufficient. Now religion has lost it hold, bread and circuses are passe and drink has become even cheaper and available 24/7, to be joined by drug highs for less than the cost of a cappucino. Worse still, acting dumbly and bragging about it has become fashionable, and even aspirational behaviour.

How reassuring it would be to see a 'Wake Up And Smell The Coffee Dudes! Society' at next year's Freshers' Fair.

Meanwhile I might look into whether there is such a thing as a 'student chaser' available to bolt onto the front of the car. Or invent one, if there isn't.

Politicians Moving Forwards Actually

Honest Politician

Vote for me and I promise
To spend 98% less time in real terms
Slagging the mismanaging freeloaders of tax payers' money,
(otherwise known as the previous, Right dis-Honourable Government), off
And getting on with the job
Of arguing with Newsnight presenters
Browbeating my dissenters
And conjuring oratory
Whispered down a small ear mike to me
In ever more impressive-sounding
Patterns of convolusive evasiveness
Replete with the spurious figures and stats
That suggest I am doing a great deal
When in a very real sense
If you cared to follow my ambidextrous verbosity
(For which no shovel is large enough)
Through its maze of Machiavellian machinations
You would see
I am merely a vainglorious exercise in how many ways
There are of saying nothing
Spending nothing
‘Moving forward’ while standing still
As I practice my signature on the history annals.
Oh I have spin to make your head spin
So you won’t know your Left from your Right
How else do think I’m going to win?
Policies?
How very passe of you!
Vote for me – yes honestly…

© LS King

*I ought to make it clear that this poem is not specifically about David Cameron MP, and any similarities between Mr Cameron and this poem are as co-incidental as he chooses them to be! More a question of his picture seeming to go with the poem best!