Myoclonic Jerk

The Coolest Shop in Wolverhampton

2012-01-21T12:16:00.000-08:00

Huckleberry’s has got to be the coolest shop in Wolverhampton. I’ve never been in: I’m not a mod and I’ve never been interested in paying the sorts of prices they charge for any clothes. It just strikes me as a cool shop, unlike the majority of Wolverhampton City Centre.

For a start, it is not (so far as I can tell) part of a chain. Chain-stores have their uses: in a strange town, the familiar logos tell you exactly what you’ll find in there. This is a dreadfully consumerist perspective, dreadful in the sense that being a consumer is a dreadful thing to be, but dreadful also in the sense that it isn’t the perspective that the stores’ owners want. Large stores don’t make their money out of the casually disorientated: they make it out of the addict who returns time after time. The logo is the drug. In a world of interchangeable products, logos work with store layout and even the instore playlist to create a sense of familiarity that satiates the addiction.

Huckleberry’s doesn’t rely on the casual customer either. A small shop on a side-street, it’s too out of the way to attract passing trade. It’s also too expensive – certainly in Wolverhampton – for anything other than the niche customer. Its biggest problem, however, is also its coolest feature: stood outside the shop is a Lambretta. The scooter is not for sale; no scooter is for sale; I don’t even know that the scooter works. Is this the most brilliant advertising ploy ever?

The shop is the ultimate lifestyle shop. Many retailers aspire to this. The logos that draw addicts in and create the sense of reassurance also create an impression of a particular lifestyle. This is really obvious in the case of furniture stores, quite obvious in the case of clothes stores and much less obvious in the case of supermarkets. As customers with vague ideas of who we are, we shop in the stores that fit the vague idea of who we would like to be.

The experience is generally fleeting. We all have our favourite clothes store, our backup clothes store, the clothes store that makes us feel uncomfortable and the clothes store we wouldn’t be seen dead in. Ultimately, it has no effect on our lives. These stores sell more-or-less the same products and very few people live for the next trip to Next.

The modshop is different. It is difficult to imagine the casual mod: being a mod involves a commitment to stylish (and expensive) dress that can’t really be picked up and put down. With the clothes comes a collection of music and leisure pursuits. The Lambretta is outside the shop because everyone who shops there, or might shop there, either owns or covets a similar model. The shop is the coolest in Wolverhampton because it doesn’t need to flaunt itself: everyone who needs to know about it will know about it. I am with those who don’t need to know about it. I have never taken enough interest in my appearance to be a mod. I will never buy anything from Huckleberry’s; I will probably never even step through the door; but every time I pass the shop I will feel a draught of envy. I am not that cool and never will be.

Queen of Hearts?

2011-12-27T11:08:00.000-08:00

Yesterday, I had the mixed experience of watching The Diana Years. I say 'mixed' because although (as I have hinted previously) I am not a huge fan of the Royal Family, the programme documented an era of social history that I find fascinating, not least because I remember it.

Retrospective accounts of the decade often focus on Diana's death for obvious reasons: it was a tragedy that made international headlines and lead to an unprecedented show of public emotion in the UK. Personally, however, I think its significance is overplayed. For all the feeling that we were living through momentous times, nothing actually changed. The most significant (British) death of the decade has to be John Smith's.

Unlike Diana's, John Smith's death changed things. It is impossible to know what would have happened had things turned out differently, but it seems likely that Smith would have lead Labour to victory in the election that took place in 1997. He may well have had a smaller majority than Tony Blair was able to command; in this case, the Conservatives could have elected Michael Portillo as leader, something they weren't able to do in reality. The next election (the one that took place in June 2001) would have been contested by parties lead by Smith and Portillo. Would Prime Ministers Smith or Portillo have done anything different to the real-life Blair? Would they have been more reticent about, for example, invading Iraq? I don't know: that's the problem with this kind of counter-factual speculation.

The other question is what would have happened had Princess Diana not died. It's difficult to think that things would have been that different, but what of the huge outpouring of grief that followed her death. I felt at the time, cynic that I am, that it was totally out of proportion. Of course, people were sad, but a lot of people seemed to show more grief over the death of someone they had never met than they might over the death of a close friend or relative. I feel now that the grief was really about something else.

This was (in the 'real' world) only four months after the defeat of the Tories and in particular John Major, a man who seemed to epitomise a certain kind of old-fashioned Conservatism (if that's not a tautology). It seems likely that for many people the illusions of certainty and greatness that the Conservatives had relied on for seventeen years had been laid bare. Regardless of a person's opinions about these ideologies, it is understandable that many people felt disorientated and scared: Diana's death provided a focal point for these feelings. Where would these feeling have gone had Diana survived that crash?

Approximately ten months later, England were competing in the World Cup, an event that inevitably provokes an upsurge in (confused) nationalism. Predictably, they were knocked out; equally predictably, there was a scapegoat: David Beckham. Beckham became a pariah for a while. If the collective sense of grief had not found an outlet the previous September, imagine how much worse it would have been for him. It's not in the same league as the invasion of Iraq, but I'm aware that both these scenarios are nothing more than idle speculation.

Europhobes

2011-12-12T13:22:00.000-08:00

David Cameron is in a bit of bother over the EU. I won't pretend to understand the ins and outs of the treaty on which he attempted to exercise his veto or the fine-print of the Lib-Con Coalition agreement. It seems likely to me that Cameron's primary concern - exercising a stronger urge even than his desire to protect his City friends - was his desire to appease the Europhobic wing of his own party. I have no proof for this, but I'm a blogger: I have as much use for evidence and reasoned opinion as a Eurosceptical tabloid reporter.

What has struck me for some time is the catastrophically poor way the debate is framed, particularly by elements of the British Right. The preferred term 'Eurosceptic' is perhaps the dead giveaway. These people don't want to exit the EU, they want to reform it. This is reasonable enough: even our beloved Parliament has its faults. The problem is, as Cameron's mini-tiff illustrates, is their approach to reform is to sulk on the sidelines.

Really there is only one question with regards to Britain's membership of the EU: are we in or not? There are, of course, campaigns to force a referendum on this very issue. Most (although not all) of those campaigning for a referendum would subsequently campaign for a no vote. This is understandable: no one really wants a referendum to support the status-quo. With some honourable exceptions the campaign for a referendum may masquerade as a democratic move, but really it's an attempt to get out.

It's time that this stopped. Our politicians and commentators must present us with the real choice: do we place ourselves at the heart of the EU, the best place to implement reforms, or do we leave, wrecking our economy in the process? There are no half-measures; there is no middle-way: we are in or out. The sooner Cameron and the other Europhobes realise this, the sooner we can get on with living in the real world.

Stoned

2011-10-28T10:09:00.000-07:00

The Stone Roses have been in the news recently. I won't write about my objections to their reunion as others have already done so. Instead, I'd like to relate a little-known story from their early years.

The band have generally been regarded as being chilled-out and amiable, in part because of their song 'One Love'. Few people know, however, that the song's lyrics have their origins in an event that took place before the band were successful.

Singer Ian Brown and guitarist John Squire took a cheap day out in picturesque Cheshire town Marple. While there, they decided to enjoy a treat in a local teashop. Finding themselves strapped for cash, they decided to share one cup of tea. Unfortunately, the waitress misunderstood their order and seeing two people sat at the table took them two cups. Seeing her error, Ian Brown - later to become an exemplar of courtesy - shook his head: "one, love" he said, "we don't need another, love." Squire, so legend has it, whipped out his guitar and a classic was born.

A blog that might require sponsorship

2011-10-02T06:56:00.000-07:00

As regular readers will know, this blog does not, as a rule, advertise. I occasionally look at the 'monetise' option at the top of this page and think about clicking it. The chance to make a bit of extra money out of something I write for fun is quite tempting, but I worry that I might find myself plunged into a capitalist purgatorio in which I am expected to sell my own grandmother, or perhaps link to a certain online retailer. It's a risk I've avoided - until now. For now, I feel I have to mention a brand name.

I am part of the Walkman™ generation. I was a pre-pubescent youth when a large electronics conglomerate introduces the personal stereo. They were ubiquitous when I was a teenager, and the long-term result is that many people my age (I have just turned 40) find it more-or-less impossible to spend more than an hour without being engulfed in music. Ok, we're hardly unique in listening to music on headphones - my own dad (some years older than I am) owned one before I did - but, we may be the first generation to expect to be occupied constantly while awake. Equally, although plenty of other manufacturers made similar devices, the power of the brand was so strong that it became a generic name for that particular device.

The device in question has now been discontinued, however the brand name survives. A friend of mine had a mobile phone - I suppose I see the connection - that used the brand, while I own an MP3 player. There are two ironies here, one personal one general: on a personal level, the MP3 player is the first device with that brandname that I have owned (previously I have had to make do with cheaper brands); an a broader level, the generic name now belongs to another brand (no plug for this).

Despite firmly reaching middle age, I still walk with earphones in. I have always told myself that this is because of my love of music: over the years I have spent a good proportion of my money on CDs, tapes and legal downloads; I also own several musical instruments, that I play with varying degrees of incompetence. It occurred to me recently, however, that the real reason is to shut myself away from reality. Putting the earphones in the moment I leave the house and not removing them until I reach my destination saves me the hassle of interacting with the world. Not anymore: I have decided to renounce the Walkman.

Well, maybe not. I still listen to it, because I love music; from now on that will be the only reason. I will no longer put the earphones in automatically; I will try to live without constant stimulation; I will take the time to listen to my surroundings. I don't think this will change the planet or make me a better person, but it might stop me going completely deaf for a couple of years.

Nostalgia, entertainment and war

2011-09-03T08:33:00.000-07:00

There are three things I dislike intently, nostalgia, entertainment and war. I'm not trying to make a moral equivalence between these, but as I've just spent several hours experiencing all three in combination, I thought I'd lump them together for the sake of a blog that no one reads.

Bantock House in Wolverhampton is a perfectly fine place to spend a quiet afternoon. The parkland and gardens provide a nice escape from the City traffic, while the house itself is moderately informative about Wolverhampton's development, although the contextual information about Victorian households is nothing that can't be found elsewhere. The house also hosts regular events, including an annual music event which provides local acoustic musicians the chance to play at somewhere other than the usual circuit of nondescript pubs. The standard of performance is variable, but this reinforces the sense of watching a real musical event, rather than X-Factor or some such nonsense.

Today, they were hosting a 40s weekend. I attended for a variety of reasons far too tedious to go into here, but with low expectations. The event was also attended by a variety of people, most of whom too young to remember the War, dressed as soldiers, spivs and Vera Lynn-alikes. The official entertainment was a 'sing-along' of wartime hits, lead by a medium-sized group of the above soldiers, spivs and Vera Lynn-alikes, most of whom were two young to remember the War. All of this is perfectly harmless, and I really don't mean to sneer, but I did find it profoundly depressing.

Part way through proceedings, the host reminded us that the men who fought in World War II were fighting for the freedoms we enjoy today. It was at this point that I realised what was making me so uncomfortable.

I am not, when push comes to shove, a pacifist. When I was younger, I felt that I would have fought against Hitler, and I still suspect that I would have done, but that shouldn't prevent any of us questioning the myth-making that surrounds this period. If Hitler had lived, he would now be 122 (or dead). Even if we had lost the War and been invaded by Germany, things would have changed; we would not still be living under a fascist dictatorship. There would also have been internal resistance, which combined with the inherent instability of any form of dictatorship would have lead to the collapse of the Nazi Party. Ultimately, National Socialism would have collapsed the same way that Communism did. And, of course, Hitler did not rise in a vacuum: the treaty of Versailles created the political and economic conditions in which fascism flourished; Britain, as a nation, was complicit in this.

None of this is intended in any way to diminish the sacrifices of that generation; I simply feel that sitting back and enjoying a nostalgic sing-along romanticises and decontexualises a complex area. Personally, I would rather engage with someone singing about their lives, while struggling to play the guitar than be entertained by well-known songs that were originally intended to distract people from harrowing events. For similar reasons, I prefer history to nostalgia; I want to learn about context and causes, not hear about how wonderful it all was, and not just because it wasn't.

I am still not a pacifist: I would have fought against Hitler - Chamberlain's appeasement made this inevitable - and I would have fought against Apartheid. But, just as I prefer history to nostalgia, I prefer peace to war.

Warning - This blog has no point

2011-08-22T12:07:00.000-07:00

Earlier today, I read this article by Charlie Brooker. It is slightly encouraging in that Brooker explains that despite a bungled educational background, he has managed to succeed in life. At the same time, it is rather discouraging for me personally, because I am the same age as him, but, despite having similarly bungled my education, I am still in the dead-end job.

Stories of people who have become successful despite not doing well at school are not particularly rare. What struck me about Brooker's article is the similarity with my own situation. Like him, I scraped through my A-levels; easily distracted, I got marks that were better than I deserved, but not quite what I needed to get a place at my first choice institution. Like Brooker, I was offered a place anyway; and like Brooker, I started a course at a polytechnic, that became a university while I was studying there. Also like Charlie Brooker - and this is the bit that really impresses me - I failed after three years.

For the uninitiated, the last is something of an achievement: some students drop out part way through; this is nothing to be ashamed of if you've made a bad decision, or simply find it difficult for other reasons. Very few students, however, stay for three years, but leave without a degree. In my cohort, I was the only one; by way of contrast, two students were awarded Firsts.

Like Charlie Brooker, I also spent my 20s with poor qualifications and no real idea about what I wanted to do. This is where the similarities between us end. He has since become quite successful, despite not having a degree; I went back to university as a mature student, and obtained a First - but, I'm still stuck in a poorly-paid, unchallenging job that I don't like very much.

There is still no real point to this blog. I'm not trying to suggest that Charlie Brooker is wrong, or I am unfortunate, or even that going back to university was a bad idea (it wasn't). I'm simply sharing a bit of personal history and trying to bask in the reflected glory of a mildly successful journalist.

A hacking great scandal?

2011-08-03T11:20:00.001-07:00

As you might be aware, there has been a bit of a hoo-ha about phone hacking over the last few weeks. It is a story that significant enough in its own right and one that will, I suspect, rumble on for some time before we begin to see the full extent of the wrongdoing. The story is also significant, I think, because it is part of a longer-running power struggle between three large British institutions.

For a while (perhaps a long while) the press, Parliament and the judiciary have been at war (to use a tabloidism) over who holds the other to account. In the past two years, we have seen the press unveil details of MPs' expenses with varying degrees of relish. All this is justified (not unreasonably, I think) by the claim that part of the job of the press is to hold our MPs to account. The judiciary have joined in with the fun, sending disgraced politicians to prison.

The press and the judiciary, meanwhile, have been at war over privacy laws. The recent case of a celebrity footballer (no links, as you probably all know anyway) who attempted to prevent reporting of his sexual indiscretions illustrates the point well. The judiciary attempted to curb the press, granting an injunction preventing reporting of the issue (not to mention the very existence of the injunction). The press, of course, found various ways round this, aided by a certain social networking site. Ultimately, Parliament had its final say, with an MP using Parliamentary Privilege to name the player in question.

There are countless other examples of judges making decisions that press and Parliament (with an eye on their popularity ratings) find ludicrous; or, alternatively, judges mitigating Parliament's attempts to introduce outrageous or ill-thought out changes.

Ultimately, all three see themselves as the final arbiter. The press do not want to be over-regulated (or regulated at all) - who does? Most media commentators argue that a free press is vital in a democracy. This is perfectly correct and I think it could well be the case that we have to put up with a press we don't like as the price for this. It is also right to say that the press should not be above the law - written by Parliament and interpreted by the judiciary.

This seems to leave us chasing our own tails, but perhaps this is as it should be. Democracy is not perfect, but I don't think humanity has yet invented a less imperfect system. We have to accept compromises and inconsistencies. This doesn't mean, however, that we shouldn't work to improve the system, or at least our application of it.

We have heard a lot during the last few weeks about 'regulation' of the press; personally, I think 'accountability' is a more useful concept. I am wary of any attempt to stop someone publishing or saying what they like (it's a complicated debate best saved for another time). Accountability means that journalists, and proprietors, who break the law will be punished in the same way as everyone else - perhaps even more severely. The press enjoy a privileged position within a democracy and with that privilege comes responsibility. We should be able to expect the highest standards from our journalists, just as we should be able to expect them from our MPs and our judges.

Not a campaign blog

2011-04-13T11:55:00.000-07:00

I haven’t used this blog as a campaign forum in the past, and I’m not about to start. There are already sites that campaign for and against AV; all I want to do is outline my own reasons for voting yes on 5th May 2011. You might disagree – feel free to post a comment below – you might have already decided you will vote yes too. In any case, this post will remain after the referendum has finished, so the chances are by the time you read this it will be irrelevant. It won’t be irrelevant though: the decision we make (or made) on 5th May 2011 will affect the way elections are carried out, probably for the rest of my life, possibly for good. This is one of the reasons I will be voting yes. The current first-past-the-post system was devised in a completely different era. Voters, a select band, would be likely to know their local MP and anyone standing against him (it would invariably be a him). The candidates would be prominent figures in their community, often a local landowner. Conversely, they might not have known anything about Westminster politics. The political parties we have now are well-oiled machines with full-time staff; in the early days of Parliamentary democracy, they were simply loose affiliations of like-minded fellows (see comment above about male MPs) who formed alliances at Westminster. In an era before mass-communication, most voters would not have known what the Prime Minister looked or sounded like, and may not have known his name. Against a background like that, voting for a constituency MP made sense. Nowadays, however, the electoral situation has flipped completely. Many voters do not know the name of their local MP, and know even less about candidates who stand against them. A lot more people have party allegiances of varying strengths. Almost everyone knows the name of the Prime Minister, what he (still in most cases) looks and sounds like; they may even have some idea of what he stands for. In this situation, rightly or wrongly, people no longer vote for a representative, but for a party or a personality. The electoral system should reflect that. AV does not reflect the way people actually vote, but it is a step towards a better kind of democracy. Long-standing advocate of electoral reform, David Owen, is opposed to AV, believing that if AV is accepted the cost (practical and financial) will prevent the introduction of PR 'for a substantial ... time'. This is a fair point, but there is a flipside to this: if AV is rejected by the electorate, the opponents of electoral reform will suggest that there is no appetite for reform. Personally, I would like to see a proper debate about how we elect our government, with a full range of options on the table. How long this will take, I don’t know, but by voting yes to AV, I feel that the debate will at least take a greater prominence.

Priorities

2011-04-02T10:21:00.000-07:00

Apparently there is a big wedding happening in the UK soon. Personally, I'm not a big fan of the Royal Family. I'm not a republican - aside from anything else, I'm not convinced a president is necessarily a better option. So Prince William and Kate Middleton are getting married - I have no real opinion on this, other than to wish two people well: I won't be getting an invite, which saves me a dilemma, but not much of one.

This morning, I was in the room with someone who was watching BBC News. The item of 'news' they were covering concerned this wedding, in which I have little or no interest. The groom, apparently, will be giving the bride his ring, but will not be wearing a ring himself. This does not concern me; or you, unless you are one of the two people getting married (which I doubt). The show's editors, however, felt the need to run an item about this non-story for several minutes. They interviewed two 'experts' - I make no effort to check their qualifications - and several members of the public.

It won't surprise you to learn that I became increasingly irritated as this item wore on. This was partly because, as hinted at above, I'm not a huge fan of the Royal Family; it's also because I'm an irritable so-and-so anyway. Was there not, I asked myself, anything more important happening in the world? There was, and is: the story immediately before this piece of nonsense, informed us that Libyan civilians have been killed in a coalition air-strike. They had dedicated less than thirty seconds to that.

All of this probably makes me seem overly earnest, and perhaps naive. I accept that news programmes have to strike a balance (an I am a big fan of BBC news in general); I accept that the world isn't all doom-and-gloom (although it certainly seems like it some days); but surely, a serious news programme can do so much better than waste time on a matter that has little interest, beyond the two people immediately involved.

Overfed Liberal?

2011-02-19T07:56:00.000-08:00

Today I visited an all-you-can-eat buffet. As I sat down with my first plate, the instore sound-system was playing 'Sowing the Seeds of Love' by Tears for Fears. It's a record that I thought was thrillingly inventive, when it was released in the late 80s. I now think it's musically fussy and ludicrously over-produced; the lyrics, meanwhile, are trite and naive. It was the lyrics that caught my attention this time. As I was about to start stuffing my face, I heard Roland Orzabal sing about "an end to need / and the politics of greed". How undiplomatic.

This set me thinking about what I was doing - eating at a restaurant chain that encourages over-consumption of 'Pan Asian' food in an affluent Western society. (By the way, I know that last link isn't strictly relevant, but I hope you appreciate my reasons for not advertising the chain in question). How many people across the continent (take note, George Bush) of Asia can't afford to feed themselves? And there I was, spending money I won't miss, feeding myself well past the point of need.

Some of you might think I need to get over myself, and start enjoying the (relatively) good life. Others will think I need to stop being a hypocrite and do something about global poverty, instead of stuffing my face. What I will actually do is continue to live the (relatively) good life, while feeling terribly guilty about it.

More Prescience?

2010-12-10T09:55:00.000-08:00

My last post was loosely on the topic of how prescient I can be with hindsight. I was particularly miffed because I felt I had anticipated a particularly ludicrous government policy - as an aside, pedants, it is both the government and the policy that I think are ludicrous - but was unable to claim any kudos as I hadn't made the prediction public. This week, I feel slightly more smug.

Regular readers may be aware of a blog I wrote last year on the subject of Boris Jonson and David Cameron. Towards the end of the blog, I queried the now Prime Minister's professed love of the Smiths. I wouldn't want to question the man's integrity, but it has always struck me as odd. It's not so much the idea that he would listen to lyrics he would find it difficult to agree with that I find unlikely, but the idea of him enjoying a band whose whole aesthetic seems founded on a worldview he could not possibly share.

It seems that I am not alone. In the last two weeks, both Johnny Marr and Morrisey have attempted to forbid Mr Cameron from liking the band. Morrisey's comments are particularly pertinent: 'It was not for such people that either "Meat is Murder" or "The Queen is Dead" were recorded,' he writes. I don't like to think of people as types, but I think he sums the position up well. Cameron, I presume, came to the Smiths in his teens. This is an age in which music forms a huge part of many people's identity. In an era in which the country was divided, Cameron and the Smiths were most definitely on opposite sides of the fence.

Cameron is an intelligent man, and (as an Oxford undergraduate) must have been an intelligent teenager. How did he not realise that this band were speaking for people who were excluded from the life he and his Tory chums were enjoying? I'm glad that Morrisey and Marr seem to understand this, even if Cameron doesn't.

A mixture of smugness and chagrin.

2010-11-27T10:43:00.000-08:00

Some years ago, I started writing a novel. The title was Over My Head, and it would have been my second novel, had I finished it. I had already written one that hadn't (and still hasn't) been published. I have subsequently decided that it never will be published; this is no great loss. I didn't finish Over My Head for a number of reasons; this is more of a loss.

Without going into detail about the plot, the two central characters work in a fictional Government Department, 'The Department of Wellbeing and Livelihood' (DOWAL). One of this responsibilities was to produce a 'Monthly Wellbeing Index'. This was intended to be a caricature of the attitude of the New Labour Government to the Civil Service, and public life in general. One of the reasons I didn't complete the novel was because as a serving Civil Servant, I would probably not be allowed to publish this and keep the day job. As this would have been my first novel (see comments above) I didn't think it was likely I'd make enough money to give this up.

Over the years, I have thought of completing the novel, not least because the satire has seemed more apposite as time has worn on. Imagine the mixture of smugness and chagrin with which I learned earlier this week that David Cameron is to 'introduce a wellbeing index from next year'.

I've never tried to be a soothsayer, not least because I can never be bothered to publicise my predictions in advance. It seems a little hollow to print this now, but this is what I wrote in 2003:

"[T]he figures from our MANBASAT contribute a weighting to the national Wellbeing Index, that helps them measure how the Index varies in this region as against the rest of the country."

I should note, to any politicians reading this, that this is a parody of Government jargon, and not to be taken seriously. On a similar note, a few months ago I suggested that the Coalition Government will probably expect civil servants to administer our own benefit payments after we have been made redundant. This too was meant as a joke, and I will be most unhappy if this too turns out to be eerily prescient.

Museum of London

2010-08-28T11:15:00.000-07:00

How do we judge fame? I'm sure we've all heard the comment "He/she/it can't be that famous; I've never heard of them." Personally I always tut to myself when I hear this - as if your limited frame of reference is the only criterion - but I'm just as guilty of doing it myself. Fame is, by definition, collectively defined. I may know everything there is to know about my nearest and dearest, but if no one else does they are not famous; by the same token if I am the only person in the world not to have heard of the crimewriter Theobald Urquart, the omission hardly disqualifies him from the epithet "well known".

This, of course, only applies in a negative sense. I am pretty sure that Wayne Rooney is famous, not only because I've heard of him, but because I've heard of him in lots of places. If I really am the only person who hasn't heard of the global celebrity that is Mr Urquart, how am I to know I am missing out? You could all be talking about him when I'm not around and I wouldn't know. There would be no point talking about him when I am around because I don't know who he is; even if you did, I wouldn't pay attention.

All this is a round about way of saying I visited the Museum of London last week. I was planning to eulogise about what an underrated gem it is, much more informative and friendlier than more famous museums in the City. It occurred to me, however, that it might actually be rather more famous than I believe. Simply because I hadn't heard of it before, doesn't mean that everyone else hasn't already visited it a thousand times. It was considerably quieter than other museums I visited during the week, but that might be because I am a terrible judge of museums, and while I found it charming and distinctive, you might have found it parochial and narrow.

I am no expert on the subject, but I will say if you are in London and looking for somewhere to visit you could do worse than try this museum (assuming, obviously, that you haven't already been there). I have found in other cities that museums with a local focus are the most interesting: museums that try a broader approach often fail to do anything distinctive. This is something that I thought wouldn't apply in London - the presence of world class collections ensures that there are significant exhibits in most museums and galleries - I have found, however, that even here the local focus provides a wealth of stimulating material.

A popularity contest

2010-07-17T12:11:00.000-07:00

I am perhaps unusual – at least amongst people who don’t work for the BBC – in harbouring no serious objections to the TV licence fee. I don’t relish paying it; I don’t relish paying for anything. I do, however, think that at a little under £3 a week – per household, not even per person – it represents excellent value. I think that the principle of funding a public service broadcaster in this way is fine and admirable. And I think that because of the way it is funded, the BBC has produced innovative and envied television.

It shouldn’t be surprising then that I view Culture Secretary Jeremy Hunt’s suggestion that the fee could be reduced with suspicion. His reference to the “very constrained financial situation” is an attempt to link it with wider austerity measures that is disingenuous if not outright deceitful. The finances of the BBC are in no way linked to the budget deficit the government is so desperate to cut. If Mr Hunt believes that the BBC should suffer simply because other people and other bodies are, shouldn’t he suggest some sort of pay cap across the whole of the economy?

The true motives behind this lie, I suspect, lies in the unpopularity of the licence fee. I may be unusual in not objecting to it, but I am certainly not unusual in failing to enjoy paying. This government is acutely aware that it is heading for deep unpopularity with some of its decisions. Ultimately, I suspect that in suggesting the licence fee be reduced they are attempting to offset the effects of massive spending cuts across the board.

Left wing humour

2010-06-09T11:27:00.000-07:00

Labour MP John McDonnell has apologised for a joke about assassinating Margaret Thatcher. To be honest, I'm a bit disappointed that he saw fit to make a joke in public and then apologise. He must have known that it would be rapidly publicised - he was campaigning for nominations to stand as Labour Party leader at the time - and equally he must have known that some people would, as he says in his apology, take "offence". Really, he should have stood by the joke and any offence caused, or stayed quiet in the first place.

The joke reminds me of how uncomfortable I find left wing meetings and rallies - I have no experience of any other kind. McDonnell gets an appreciative little chuckle out of the audience of Trades Unionists; and why shouldn't he - we all hate Thatcher, don't we? By and large I avoid organised politics, but occasionally I feel so passionately about an issue, or some kind of demo gets in my way when I'm trying to get somewhere, and I feel obliged to stand on the edge of a large (or more often a few more people than you'd expect to see in this part of town on a Saturday afternoon) crowd.

Some time in the early nineties I ran into one such meeting in Wolverhampton town (as it was at the time) centre. The cause was a popular one, although I've long since forgotten what, and it was obvious that the crowd went beyond the usual suspects. The organisers and a core section of the rally were, however, obviously part of the same clique. I was keen to sign one of the petitions doing the rounds, but the people collecting signatures seemed intent on asking only their mates. I could, of course, have approached someone myself, and possibly would have done, but then one of the local Labour MPs got up to give a speech. He began by saying "don't worry - I'm not going to sing", and got the same appreciative chuckle McDonnell got in June 2010.

I actually think that both Ken Purchase and Dennis Turner were great constituency MPs. I would certainly imagine they were better MPs than they were singers. But the point is, I didn't know becuase I wasn't in on the joke, and it was on that note that I left the rally and carried on my way. In-jokes are fine, even for politicians, but I think that more politicians need to remember that the people they really need to connect with are the people who don't know what a terrible singing voice they have, and don't know why one or two people might want to assassinate Margaret Thatcher.

Killing X-Factor?

2009-12-21T10:58:00.000-08:00

So Rage Against the Machine's 'Killing in the Name' has triumphed over - you know I'm not even sure I can be bothered to find out what the X-Factor offering is called. There have been plenty of comments elsewhere on the chart battle, and the American band's victory. Some objections to the X-Factor campaign seem more relevant than others: both tracks are ultimately distributed by Sony; there are better ways to upset Simon Cowell's applecart than backing an outdated and irrelevant rock tune; X-Factor will continue anyway. For me the most cogent argument was made by the NME's Luke Lewis. Along with a number of other points, Lewis suggests that the campaign trivialises a song that addresses important issues in American society. Curiously, the band themselves don't seem to object.

My own opinion is probably obvious already, but for the record I downloaded 'Killing in the Name' and am therefore partly responsible for it being number one. There seems little point in rehashing arguments that have been, and are being, fought out all over the web. What springs to my mind is a quote from Benjamin Disraeli's Sybil, or the Two Nations. Disraeli writes of "Two nations between whom there is no intercourse and no sympathy; who are ignorant of each other's habits, thoughts and feelings, as if they were dwellers in different zones or inhabitants of different planets".

This is my main reason for not wanting to rehash the argument: most people already have entrenched positions on the debate, and don't understand the other side. Joe McElderry may have a vested interest, but he probably spoke for many when he described 'Killing in the Name' as 'dreadful'. For others, me included, the bland pop and associated manipulation churned out by X-Factor is similarly abhorrent. McElderry doesn't understand this, and I wouldn't expect him to.

Ultimately, this is why 'Killing in the Name' is the perfect song for the anti X-Factor campaign. It is a big slab of angry, confrontational rock that is bound to polarise people. There is a time and a place for unity and consensus; there is a time and a place to be reasonable and subtle; but when you are fighting something as pervasively anodyne as 'The Climb' you've got to be obnoxious about it.

Boris and Dave

2009-11-19T10:44:00.000-08:00

Channel 4's When Boris Met Dave explores the entwined pasts of the most famous Boris, and one of the most famous Dave's in the country. The story is now fairly familiar: two old Etonians joined the 'infamous' Bullingdon Club while at Oxford, and may have got up to some less than conservative behaviour. The programme's format is familiar too: a combination of interviews with the Tory Twosome's former acquaintances, a dry voiceover from a faintly-recognisable actor, and a dramatic reconstruction featuring a couple of actors who might look a little bit like the people they're playing.

The opinions of former acquaintances was divided between those who thought the whole thing a case of university hi-jinks of the kind all undergraduates get up to, and those who thought it further evidence of their unsuitability to govern. Among the latter were those who questioned how engaged politically the Bullingdon members could have been. This was the time of the Miners' Strike; the country was divided, at war almost; and these young men were dressing up in expensive penguin suits and behaving as boorishly as the very rich can get away with. No less perceptive, however, were those who noted that this behaviour was in itself a political statement.

The programme also makes a reference to the thing that puzzles me most about Cameron, his professed fondness for The Smiths. It was merely a passing reference used to contrast the hip young Cameron with his classics loving counterpart, but the broader context is problematic. Teenage years, for most of us, are a time in which music is a terribly polarising thing. Our musical tastes place us in with one crowd while excluding us from another. Why, I have to ask, when Cameron and his Bullingdon chums were trying so hard to maintain the privileges of affluence was he listening to songs like 'How Soon is Now'? I wouldn't dream of trying to second-guess Morrisey's lyrics, but lines like:

I am the son and the heir
Of a shyness that is criminally vulgar;
I am the son and heir
Of nothing in particular

seem about as far removed from Boris and Dave as you can get.

Britpop feud fifteen years on.

2009-10-27T12:34:00.000-07:00

This morning I heard Blur's 'Beatlebum' on the radio, and experienced a slight frisson of guilt at turning the volume up. The old feud should certainly have died now, but I always was definitely on the side of Oasis. This was partly because they're from my home town, although they do have one or two misguided ideas; it's partly because I liked their early singles in particular; and it's partly because by the time they appeared on the scene I'd already decided I didn't like Blur that much anyway.

For a couple of years before they became successful, I'd been quite interested in Blur. By 'interested' I mean that while I didn't find myself humming any of their tunes while I was washing up, I imagined they potentially had something I might want to explore at some point. When they released their 'eagerly anticipated' third album Parklife in 1994, I counted myself among the eager anticpators. The debut single, 'Girls and Boys' struck me as wry and clever, but ultimately irritating; ditto the title track, which received a lot of radio play at the time. I was still undecided when they released the album's second single, 'To The End'.

Never has a song more deserved the description 'neglected classic'. It is rarely mentioned in accounts of the era, or lists of the band's great recordings, yet it is one of the most beautifully desolate records ever. Damon Albarn's vocal sounds vulnerable, rather than clever; his voice stretches itself to convey the right emotion. The band's tendency to smugness, meanwhile, is reined in by the beguiling tune.

They spoiled it all by releasing 'Parklife' as a single. I'd already had enough of Phil Daniels' irritating spoken word narration, and Albarn's fake cockernee banter when it was just an album track. Now I was bombarded whenever I turned on the radio. The rest of the world seemed to disagree, and my irritation increased exponentially every time I heard it blaring from a white van or a trendy clothes shop, or accompanying a quirky news item about a dog invading a football pitch or something equally ridiculous. Oasis arrived at around the same time, and I was ready to swear hatred for Blur and everything they stood for.

Actually some of the things that Blur stood for - education, literacy and progressive politics - were alright; similarly, so were some of their subsequent singles. Nevertheless, I have now taken the pledge, and enjoying their work will never be anything other than a guilty pleasure.

Nick Hornby, Melvyn Bragg and James Joyce

2009-10-26T11:44:00.000-07:00

Over the last fifteen years or so, I have enjoyed an occasional relationship with The South Bank Show. I have caught it from time-to-time simply looking around for something to watch on a Sunday night. As show times vary I have sometimes come in at the beginning of something I've enjoyed very much; frustratingly I've also come in at the end of something I'd have made a point of seeing had I have known it was on - most galling was catching the final five minutes of a programme on Elvis Costello.

Recently, particularly as I've matured into my thirties, I've learned how to use a TV guide, and can now look for shows I think will be interesting. The show's broad coverage means that I frequently find myself skipping episodes, particularly when I want to see Match of The Day 2. As it seems that the present series will be the last, I've been determined to find something to watch before it goes for good.

Yesterday's travesty at Anfield meant I was happy to miss the football last night; fortuitously, this coincided with a show about Nick Hornby. I had been planning to watch the show anyway. I'm generally happy enough to watch documentaries about writers, whether I like their stuff or not - Jeffrey Archer being the one dishonourable exception. As it happens, I've read Hornby's first three novels and enjoyed them.

He's published two more since the last time I read him, the most recent was released last month. I haven't got round to reading either, but possibly will at some point. The show didn't inspire me to rush out and buy the books I haven't read, not least because of a comment Hornby made himself. He says that he occasionally meets people who tell him they've read High Fidelity ten or fifteen times; he longs, he says, to tell them to stop: "there are other things you could be reading". It's a fair point, and sums up my own feelings: Nick, if you're reading this, I've enjoyed what I've read so far, but the rest of your oeuvre will have to wait until I've finished Finnegans Wake.

Fergie's influence - the truth

2009-10-18T07:37:00.000-07:00

The incidents in this weekend's Premiership games finally reveal the full extent of Alex Ferguson's pernicious influence on the country's referees. Fans have suspected for some time that Ferguson has been using his evil mind-control techniques to exercise undue influence, particularly in the calculation of stoppage time. Three games this weekend proved the case beyond all doubts.

At The Stadium of Light, Liverpool - definite contenders for this season's Premiership title - were unjustly robbed of three points following the award of a Darren Bent goal that took a deflection off a balloon. Legal experts have shown that the goal should have been disallowed. This is not the end of the the matter, however. The fourth official went on to award seven minutes of stoppage time at the end of the game, thus allowing Liverpool ninety-two minutes to equalise, or even win, the tie. This indicates the depth of Ferguson's conspiracy: it now emerges that it was impossible for Liverpool to score due to the inept tactics of manager Rafa Benitez, and the team's over-reliance on top players Torres and Gerrard, both of whom were absent.

Meanwhile at Villa Park further details of the plot emerged. Genuine title contenders Chelsea lost 2-1 to a strong Aston Villa, despite playing quite well. This provides further proof, if proof were needed, of the Manchester United manager's perfidy. The match report clearly states that stand-in referee Kevin Friend declined to award a penalty to Villa in the tenth minute. Why would he do this, unless it was because he knew that the Villans were going to win the game anyway?

The final evidence comes from the game at Old Trafford. Here the scoreline was also 2-1, despite United dominating for the bulk of the game. At the end of this game the fourth official awarded four minutes of stoppage time, even United were a goal in front and under sustained pressure late on. It is of course well known in football that stoppage time at Old Trafford is awarded entirely at Sir Alex Ferguson's discretion, so why so much in this game? Well this just demonstrated the cunning lengths to which the man will go: surely no one would suspect a match official of being in Sir Alex's pocket, if he awards excessive stoppage time during a game which United are actually winning. Not until now that is: Fergie, your plot is finally uncovered.

Lewis's Secret?

2009-04-18T11:14:00.000-07:00

The BBC 1 programme, The Narnia Code, broadcast on Thursday 16th April contains, apparently startling claims of a hidden code contained within CS Lewis's Narnia Chronicles.

I will admit to being fascinated by the programme, literary studies being my thing and all. The gist of the theory is that each of the seven books parallels one of the seven planets in the medieval view of the cosmos. Dr Michael Ward, the first proponent of the theory makes a sound case, based partly on his study of Lewis's own study of medieval literature.

As I watched, I found I had to put my own lit-crit, mentality - with fully functioning intentional fallacy - on hold. Surely, if there is a hidden code, Lewis must have put it there. Later on, I thought about it a bit more. Why does it have to be a code? Perhaps it is easier to think of it as a series of correspondences. There would be no need for Lewis to have put them there, or even not to have put them there.

There seems to be an element of sensationalism about literary hostory. I'm tempted to blame Dan Brown, for obvious reasons, but actually this sort of thing has always been around: was Shakespeare gay? Was Marlowe Shakespeare? No doubt many famous (and not famous) authors have had their secrets, but they probably wanted to keep them secret. The contents of their work are usually much more mundane.

Still Shameless

2009-04-17T11:32:00.000-07:00

Channel 4's Shameless is part-way through its sixth (I think) series. It is increasingly being suggested that it is someway past its best. I have to confess to mixed feelings.

As with every show I manage to catch from the beginning, as soon as it strays into a third series, I get irate: why can't they be more like Fawlty Towers? This is largely snobbery - I can't stand the idea of more people liking the stuff I do - but also because I genuinely believe that it is easy for a show to lose its brilliance over time. Shameless, itself has lost a lot of its edge as Paul Abbott has become less involved with the writing.

On the other hand, the latest series of Shameless has now begun to dig some dark seams indeed. In the earlier series, the stories involving Paddy's drug addiction, and Mandy and Joe's violent relationship would have been resolved in a single episode. Now, as an established series, there is the freedom to explore them in more depth.

What is interesting about the addiction storyline is that it poetic justice for a thuggish character, yet the viewer is rooting for him to overcome the addiction. There is still the possibility that the show will become an embarrassing parody, and I do hope it ends before that happens, but its evolution beyond the original concept definitely not something to lament just yet.

MP in expenses row shocker

2009-03-29T07:31:00.000-07:00

It emerged this weekend that Home Secretary Jacqui Smith has 'mistakenly' included a bill for two adult movies in her expenses claim. To be honest, I'm not sure that I care. Taxpayers subsidise so many things that I think letting Mr Smith of Redditch have a tenner so that he can indulge in some 'adult' viewing is pretty small beer. In fact, even 'adult' is probably a misleading euphemism - all we know is that the films were rated 18. Much as I'd love to think he was watching something like this to wile away the long hours his wife spends Home Secretarying, he probably wasn't.

That said, we, the taxpayers, are paying for it, so perhaps it's time we stood up for what's really important - COME ON MR & MRS SMITH, TELL US WHAT YOU WERE REALLY WATCHING. British democracy will not be revived until we know.

Knives out at the New Statesman?

2009-03-23T03:58:00.000-07:00

According to an article in today's Guardian, there is discord at the New Statesman magazine, following their recent issue, guest edited by Alistair Campbell. Apparently, staff and subscribers are unhappy that Campbell's issue represents some kind of toadying to New Labour.

I haven't read the magazine regularly since I left sixth-form in 1990. On the odd occasion I have glanced at it since, it has struck me as rather naive, and earnest in a way that would appeal to an eighteen year old wannabe socialist.

If anything, the outrage confirms this opinion. The opposition to Campbell (and Blair by obvious association) centres on the Iraq war, and his perceived involvement with the 'dodgy dossier'. I find myself asking did it really take the Iraq war to convince the New Statesman's readers that New Labour weren't all that great?

The Guardian quotes, former Statesman journalist, Nick Cohen accusing the magazine of having "a highly conformist and narrow intellectual view of the left." This may be true, but I think that the knee-jerk reaction to this issue is equally narrow. It seems there is an orthodoxy amongst the Hampstead set, from where the magazine draws its main post-sixth-form following, that anything to do with New Labour, Blair or Iraq is automatically suspect, and Campbell is the Devil incarnate.

There is certainly a debate to be had on the future if the British left; and Campbell, like him or not, has something to contribute to that. He, more than most, understands the current position of the Labour Party, not least because he played a big part in putting it there. It would be churlish, and narrow-minded, to ignore him because he has been associated with some things we don't like very much.

As he no longer enjoys an official position in the party, it does not compromise any kind of journalistic impartiality to ask him to make an editorial contribution. I was even considering buying a copy for the first time in years before this controversy blew up. I almost certainly will now, although it will largely be for the interview with Fergie.

School selection

2009-03-13T13:23:00.000-07:00

According to figures released this week, one in six children failed to get their first choice of secondary school. I have to plead a general lack of experience in this area - my own choice of secondary school in 1983 was pretty unproblematic, despite having to sit an 11+. There is understandable concern about the children who don't get their first choice, but I think that the idea that parents and children have a choice is ultimately illusory.

The real choice actually rests with the schools. Allowing choice implicitly accepts the fact that some schools are better than others - if this were not the case, there would be no need to choose. Inevitably, some schools will be over-subscribed, and will be able to devise their own way of accepting or rejecting applicants. This may be because they are 'better' in some quantifiable way, or it may simply be a perception; this is really irrelevant - the point is, there will be parents and children who will be disappointed.

The impetus to introduce choice into school selection comes from a mistaken belief that markets can and should be responsible for all decision making. Leaving aside the questionable merits of this belief in other areas of life, it clearly cannot apply to school choice. Classical economic theory suggests that the less popular suppliers will improve or die, while the successful schools will expand to accommodate the increased demand. But, obviously, the time scale involved in such improvements is too great for the individuals denied their first choice, while the social cost for closing schools that are under-subscribed, make this a decision that should not be taken lightly.

I wish I could end this blog with a suggestion for a better system. I'm afraid that is beyond me. Perhaps we should concentrate less on the idea of winners and losers, either in terms of children and parents looking for a school, or in terms of schools' performance against other schools.

Championship form?

2009-03-06T12:31:00.000-08:00

In this blog on The Guardian's site, Mikey Stafford, wonders if anyone wants to win the Championship. I have elsewhere wondered if Mick McCarthy and Rafa Benitez had been giving each other tips on building a consistent title challenge. It's a facetious point, and rather undone by the fact that despite truly abysmal form over the last twelve games, Wolves are still top of their league, whereas Liverpool have fallen to third.

Given that the financial incentives for winning promotion from the Championship are immense, it is rather disconcerting, but in a way refreshing, to see the reticence that Wolves and their rivals have displayed recently. I say 'refreshing', because we live in an era in which football is supposedly dominated by money. Perhaps Championship teams are motivated by more old-fashioned values.

League Cup Final

2009-02-27T11:15:00.000-08:00

United are playing in the League Cup Final on Sunday. I call it the 'League Cup', partly because of my strong resistance to commercial sponsorship, partly because I tend to lose track of who's sponsoring these things, but mostly because Carling aren't paying me enough to mention them by name - alright, I slipped up there, but they aren't getting a hyperlink.

I will, of course, be secretly cheering for Spurs. I don't know what it is with United and the League Cup. They have been in the final six times, and won two. Here's the rub: every time they've lost, they've gone on to win something else; the two seasons they won, that turned out to be that.

Some of these could just be coincidence:

In 1983, they lost to Liverpool, but went on to win the FA Cup - generally, cup competitions were Big Ron's forte.

In 1991, they lost to Sheffield Wednesday, but went on to win the Cup Winners' Cup; they were already virtually in the final by the time they lost to Wednesday; indeed, a friend tried to console me by reminding me of this. It's also worth mentioning that Wednesday were managed by Big Ron.

In 1994, they lost to Aston Villa, but went on to win the double; the fact that they didn't win a domestic treble was perhaps surprising, but at the time Villa were managed by ... Big Ron (see comment on 1983).

In 2006, they beat Wigan, and won nothing else; this was the height of Mourinho mania in England; the League Cup was the only thing they were going to win that season.

But, consider these:

In 1992, they beat Nottingham Forrest, and won nothing else; on the day they played the final, they were top of the League, with a game in hand.

In 2003, they lost to Liverpool, and went on to win the Premiership; on the day of the final, they were eight points behind Arsenal.

Actually I won't be cheering for Spurs on Sunday; I expect them to win anyway. If United do win, and the season falls apart afterwards, don't come crying to me.

Spaced Learning

2009-02-21T12:23:00.000-08:00

Last week, I came across this item by Patrick Barkham in The Guardian. He reports a school near Newcastle (on Tyne, I presume) that is experimenting with a new form of learning. Students are given a twenty minute presentation, followed by a ten minute break, in which they are given balls and encouraged to juggle. They are then given the same presentation, followed by another break, and then the presentation for a third time. The school believes that using this method, they can teach students one-sixth of the GCSE Science curriculum in a single session.

I have a slightly greater than average level of curiosity about education for a variety of reasons, and decided to conduct my own, completely unscientific, experiment. Last Saturday, I took a particular piece of music I have been meaning to learn for a while. I practiced it for twenty minutes with the sheet music (well tablature actually). I then took a ten minute break - no juggling, but I think I made a cup of tea. I repeated the process, as described in the article.

My approach, is flawed in a number of ways. Firstly, I should point out, that I had played the piece several times in the past. It is also based on a shorter piece that I know quite well. This particular piece though, I hadn't got anywhere near to committing to memory. The piece also takes considerably less than twenty minutes to play, so I did spend quite a lot of time repeating myself. But I always was a slow learner, so I couldn't see this doing any harm.

This morning, I had the tune running through my head while I bathed. When I got downstairs, I tried to play it. I failed. Miserably. I know about as much as I did this time last week, and spent most of my time mixing it up with similar tunes. I did find that when I got the music out, I can play it with more fluency than I could before, but that's no less than I would expect having spent an hour mindlessly repeating it. The moral of the story, I'd guess, is that what appears to work for GCSE students in the North East of England, does not necessarily work for almost-middle-aged failed musicians in the West Midlands.

Groundbreaking, I'm sure you'll agree.

I don't drive

2009-02-20T11:35:00.000-08:00

Yes, I'm thirty-seven, and I don't drive. I've never tried to drive; I don't own a car; I don't have any kind of licence (full, provisional, or scooter).

I haven't even driven off-road. I was offered the chance once. A mate was giving me a lift home, and his (sixteen years old, at the time) sister had come along for the ride. We stopped on an empty car park, and she spent five minutes or so driving round in a, slightly impressive, circle. He offered me a go (the car, not his sister), but I didn't fancy it much (the car ...). We just went home instead.

I also almost applied for a provisional licence when I was eighteen. I'd just been paid, and had enough money on me (it was about £20 at the time) and I was on my way to the Post Office to get the forms. I passed a clothes shop, and saw a shirt in the window. I should say at this point that I don't buy clothes; I certainly don't buy shirts; and have never spent the kind of money that could have bought three or four albums. Nevertheless, I went in and bought the shirt.

Someone later pointed out to me that I wouldn't have been able to wear a provisional licence. Had I have brought the licence, I still doubt I'd have got round to having lessons.

Lost in Austen

2008-09-08T07:15:00.000-07:00

I have to admit it's a reasonably clever idea. There have been a number of adaptations of Pride & Prejudice , with perhaps the Andrew Davies/Colin Firth costume drama being the most notorious in the UK. There has also been at least one attempt to update it, Bridget Jones's Diary. Lost in Austen combines the costume drama with the 21st century update, and adds a healthy dose of science fiction staple, the portal to another world.

I'm not entirely convinced yet. Amanda Price, the tranportee who finds the magical portal, is a twenty-something, who loses herself in Jane Austen, and despairs of her hopeless boyfriend. It's a bit of a cliche, and I'm not entirely sure that such a young woman really exists in 2008. She also blunders about Austen World, determined to frustrate the plot with her good intentions. Again, I'm sure we've been here before.

Perhaps more convincingly, we get to see some of these characters, between scenes. It's a nice idea that could be hopelessly clumsy, but so far has come off. Ultimately, the series explore the relationship between Austen and contemporary sensibilities, without telling us anything that the reasonably intelligent Austen reader couldn't work out for her or his (yes there are some) self. It also asks questions about our relationship with the Austen adaptations, I just haven't yet worked out what these questions are.

Secret Millionaire

2008-08-23T11:28:00.000-07:00

Channel 4's The Secret Millionaire has a problem, or it will do soon. In future, anyone involved in running any kind of voluntary group will assume that a mysterious stranger, showing up out of nowhere, offering to help, is a secret millionaire: just like the landlord who suspects a new customer is the mystery shopper, they will change their behaviour accordingly. The dead giveaway, of course, will be the presence of a Channel 4 film crew, pretending to make a documentary about volunteering.

I don't want to be churlish about it all. The amounts given away generally represent a small fraction of the fortune, but I could say the same about my own, pitiful, giving. The most heartwarming programmes see the millionaire continuing their commitment in terms of time, as well as money. This is probably welcomed by the organisations involved as much as the cash, particularly when the involvement continues after the cameras have gone.

It is the cameras that make me uneasy. There is always some kind of Faustian element to such a show: the TV companies will pay for something, organise something, or provide research, in return for access. But surely someone who has built a multi-million pound IT empire from scratch doesn't need any help identifying worthwhile causes.

It is difficult to imagine the show continuing after this series, without any pretense of the 'secret' in the show's title becoming risible; I do hope that volunteering does become popular away from TV shows.

The Cup

2008-08-22T11:11:00.000-07:00

It's easy to feel sympathy for Rick Gervaise and Stephen Merchant: everything they do in future will inevitably be compared to The Office; equally inevitably, everything will fall short of that high standard. At least though, they have the kudos of having created the show. Spare a thought for the creators of pretty much any other sitcom likely to emerge in the next few years: they will struggle to compete, without any of the glory of having done something great.

I enjoyed the first episode of BBC2's new comedy The Cup. It is a mockumentary portrayal of a kids' football team. Slightly predictably, the parents are far more competitive than the kids. The strongest moments by far featured cringemaking father, Terry McConnell's, attempts to make a name for his son. His misplaced ambition, and lack of self-awareness when addressing the camera, were both clever and funny; nevertheless, I couldn't help thinking that I've seen it all somewhere before.

I'll watch it all the way through, and no doubt enjoy it, but I am still waiting for the next groundbreaking sitcom.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b00d51ll

New Favourite Music Shop

2008-08-14T11:03:00.000-07:00

I have been there before, but today I visited Hobgoblin in Birmingham, and had a great time. The selection of traditional instruments is fantastic, as I already knew, but so is the customer service.

There was a woman in the store, who had got there ahead of me. She had no experience of playing a musical instrument, and wanted to know what instrument would be the easiest place to start. The man working in the shop couldn't have been more helpful. He discussed what kind of music she was interested in - Cajun, and went through various instruments, demonstrating each one, and telling her about ease of use, price, and how easy it would be to move on to another instrument.

When it was my turn to be served, they didn't have the mandola strings I was after in stock. They have ordered them for me, and promised they would be dispatched from the warehouse today. All in all, a good trip.

The Black Keys

2008-07-27T07:33:00.000-07:00

I came across The Black Keys on Channel 4's Live from Abbey Road, and I have to confess to mixed feelings. It was nice to hear something raw and immediate after the anodyne Hoosiers, and they certainly kick up a fair racket, but I still have reservations.

I fought the temptation to compare them with The White Stripes, simply because of their lineup: if they were a bogstandard four-piece, I wouldn't feel the need to make any invidious comparisons. But, then there was the rather similar musical territory, minus Meg White's rudimentary approach to drums - arguably a large part of The White Stripes' appeal.

Call me slow on the uptake, but they were a couple of songs into their set, before I clocked the name: The Black Keys, The White Stripes - someone somewhere is taking the mick.

Privacy ruling

2008-07-24T12:28:00.000-07:00

It was announced today that Max Mosley has won his privacy case against the News of the World. I have had reservations about privacy laws since the early 90s when Robert Maxwell - incidentally an outspoken opponent of the introduction of such laws in the UK - attempted to use French privacy laws to prevent the publication of a biography. Nevertheless, in the Mosley case, I think the right result has been reached.

The argument that the ruling will hinder investigative journalism is bogus. There was no serious investigation here. Colin Myler, News of the World editor, has admited that the paper did not even go to the trouble of translating German spoken by Mosley during his session. It is no use claiming your readers have the 'right to know', if you aren't giving them the full story.

The other key point is the word 'privacy'. These matters clearly related to Mosley's private life. Journalists conducting investigations into the professional lives of public figures, for example political corruption, are clearly involved in a different activity altogether. Provided such investigations are carried out in good faith, it is difficult to see how today's ruling will hinder them.

http://http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2008/jul/24/mosley.privacy

Augie March

2008-07-11T11:30:00.000-07:00

Augie March are not well known outside their native Australia. In fact, I'm not sure how well known they are in Australia. I received their third album, Moo You Bloody Choir to review in 2007.

The main focus of the band is singer/songwriter Glenn Richards. I have to say, I am ambivalent about singer/songwriters, singer-songwriters, and singersongwriters: I am a huge fan of Dylan, Costello, Waits & Cohen, but these artists have also inspired a million whimpy wannabes - James Blunt, you are one of many. Augie March knocked me out from the off.

Firstly, they are so much more than a songwriter's backing band. Moo You Bloody Choir ranges from the jazz-tinged 'The Honey Month', through the garage rock of 'Just Passing Through', and on to 'Vernoona', which is as strange sounding as its title.

The highpoint is found in the lyrics to opening track 'One Crowded Hour':

Did you expect to see something that you'd never seen,
in somebody you'd known since you were sixteen?
And if love is just a bolt from the blue,
then what is that bolt but a glorified screw,
that doesn't hold nothing together?

Many albums start with a fantastic opener (often released as a first single), before trailing into mediocrity. Moo You Bloody Choir, however, presents highlight after highlight.

http://www.augiemarch.com/

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DWEahIQGsZY

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRgKaH4nDP4&feature=related

Innovative new comedy?

2008-07-10T01:20:00.000-07:00

I have heard that the day after The Office was first broadcast, co-creator Stephen Merchant overheard two women talking about it on the train. One woman thought that this new documentary was the funniest thing she'd ever seen, until her friend pointed out that it was meant to be a comedy: "Well it's not very funny", she said.

The creators of BBC 1's Bonekickers may have experienced the opposite effect. If it is a comedy, it is an effort of real genius. It satirises rightwing fundamentalism, archaeology and British low-budget TV drama. The highlight was the scene in which two of the fundamentalists - both some kind of Neo Knights Templar - perish if a blaze of burning crosses.

Sadly, if this programme is meant to be a serious drama, or even just a bit of peaktime fluff, it fails miserably.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/bonekickers/