I imagine there were focus group tested colour charts to decide the sunburn, the title of the book was narrowed down from a list of five and a spad had to go look for that shitty union jack towel specially.
Watching the BBC adjust to the consequences of the vote is extraordinary. Like a tanker attempting to navigate a hairpin bend.
I am not a drinker, but when I do I have certain tipples I like. I like tequila when am on one with my friends. There is a point, a couple of shots in where you know that this is the shot that makes the night go whirly. That is the last point you will remember before the night becomes a rather confusing blur which seemed to make sense at the time.
There is a memory I have, of standing on a packed but silent platform at Leeds Train Station, heading home on the day of the attacks on the twin towers. Watching throngs of commuters stunned into silence, shock, the last clear memory before the world went whirly.
Today, as it becomes clear that we may still have a functioning democracy, and the spell from that day may be wearing off everywhere, I feel like I am waking up and recalling that afternoon on platform 12 as the point where the world span out of control… even if I scarcely want to contemplate the hangover and clean up operation.
A reminder of what was said yesterday as it was realised a war could not be sold.
”’“No 10 and the Foreign Office think Ed Miliband is a fucking cunt and a copper-bottomed shit. The French hate him now and he’s got no chance of building an alliance with the US Democratic Party,”
When a narcissistic culture lose their grip on power, they flail as we have seen. The spitting done then is always educational in what it reveals about how power is exercised.
Yesterday was another nail in the coffins of the modern political media left globally, as it as in Cameron’s.
I like your signs, I like the ethos you sell, I tried to open an account but you lost the forms, it was during that big influx of business as people transferred to you in protest and fear of the behaviour and instability of the too big to fail banks. I understand you need a bail out or you will go bust. If you are bailed out there will be hell to pay and I’m sorry but you must not be. Your group needs to address this or we need to see what an orderly bank wind down looks like but the taxpayer will not accept taking on your failure and your business model understood that when you cleaned up the customers who left other banks.
What twitter brought into the open was that largely our media is a social network. It is as common to say ‘I’ve got a deadline so I’ll just talk to my mates’, as it is impose a false left right binary on any issue. This bit in the Standard reads like one of those pieces.
This is good. Have post coming on Syria vote. They can’t spin a war any more. Spell wearing off. Tory’s rebelled even though Miliband still blew what was handed to him on a platter. Change has occurred outside Westminster bubble, and backbenchers know it. Times are fundamentally changing. Libya was a line in the sand. That’s not to say they won’t have a war anyway, but something is very different now.
[London] – The long heralded ‘Special Relationship’ between the United States and Britain was reported missing and presumed dead last night at the age of 67.
Reports indicated that the relationship had disappeared somewhere in Westminster, and was believed to have fallen through deep fissures within the Conservative and Labour parties, with little chance of survival.
The alliance, fathered by Sir Winston Churchill in 1946, had seen the two nations maintain global peace by launching a succession of wars over many decades.
But after an expensive petroleum business venture in Iraq failed spectacularly in 2003, support for the relationship fell among the British public, while the global financial crisis has meant that neither country can any longer afford to act as a global policeman.
The final straw came on Wednesday night, as British Prime Minister David Cameron was forced to delay plans to win parliamentary backing for an attack on…
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You’d love where I live. On a Wednesday, Friday and Saturday we have a food market, with a fruit and veg stall, cheese stall, bacon and cold meats stall, and other delicious stuff, all very cheap. It’s cheaper for me not to use the supermarkets, I can buy what I need, only what I need and it is usually decent quality food. Every day we have an indoor market with several butchers(including Bracewells who butcher their own meat from their family farm and Stansfields, who are awesome). I have access to a fishmonger and the town is the Incredible Edible Pioneer, so vegetables and fruit grow everywhere. We have corn, radishes and swiss chard growing outside the police station and my herbs come from the apothecary garden outside the Health Centre. The kids are all involved in growing vegetables and fruit. We have a Todmorden TED Talk. We have an oasis in a country defined by supermarket dependent food deserts. There are few supermaket chains we have not had to fight to preserve this and are currently fighting Asda. Sainsbury’s didn’t want to listen at all when we told them to bugger off.
Austerity hit us hard. I couldn’t afford to eat if I had to rely on the supermarkets who distribute your products. You must be making a mint with that kind of universal distribution. I don’t have any of your books, your ingredients are too expensive and quite frankly your recipes are often sloppy.
I do have a TV. It’s a flatscreen HD ready monstrosity. Apparently the days where I have to figure out how to make sure there is enough fruit for a child to eat for a week, and when I have to make sure my nutritional needs are met without me adding to my household budget, that TV makes some kind of a difference. I don’t think any sauce on the planet will soften up those wires and the glass, and like the internet it gives something to stare at when you have to kill hours to eke out food. When I didn’t have a TV, I was offered one at least once a month by some well meaning associate. Now I do have one, it’s worthless, I can’t sell it, and it gathers dust. Cheap consumer goods are what created the impression we were addressing poverty while we retreated into unfettered 19th Century Economic Liberalism.
I don’t watch that TV, so I haven’t seen much of you since your days of pre-turkey twizzler lecturing the poor, cheeky chappy vespa living. Without a TV or a supermarket, you are not someone I would think of at all. It’s only your encroachment into the news I read, on the back of your TV career, that means I am ever faced with your words.
I have opinions on poverty tourism, you are as qualified to comment on poverty, as I am to comment on the social, economic and political complexities of the Czech Republic after visiting Prague for weekend. When your very plush existence is paid for by supermarkets and television companies exacerbating and relying on poverty, I would be wary of setting yourself up as the moral police for your audience. Relying on the erosion of food chain, and mass consumption of media for a career while condemning people who live with the consequences, who you know nothing about, is the height of bad manners and the type of thing that bites you in the arse at a time like this.