Voting Or Not As The Case May Be

Just a quick update on my reasons for not voting if I don't see a candidate/party deserving of my vote.

People say if you don't vote you'll just let the Tories back in. But this creates a statemate, a two party flip from Tory to Labour and back again, with some spineless Libdem thrown in for good parasitical measure. 

I used to feel the same - if you don't vote you have no right to complain. But that isn't true any more, and perhaps never was in my lifetime. The whole electoral process is a sham, a floor show to keep us plebs quietly suppressed. We think we are actively taking part in a democratic process when in fact we are simply allowing the main parties to pull the wool over. We get leaflets a few weeks before election time, glossy A5 pieces of paper with photographs of people we may or may not have heard of before, telling us how wonderful our lives will be if we'd just have the sense to vote for them. Vote for Nigel's lot and keep the foreigners out, vote for Cameron's lot and stop the spongers leaching off the hardworking majority, vote for Miliband's lot and, well, watch him cut things more gently. Oh, and vote for Clegg's lot and wonder which side they will piggy back on at the next general election.

The whole voting and petition signing thing just keeps us busy, heads down, doing our bit to keep society running smoothly. So we think. But no, it's to keep our attention away from the real alternatives; a fair and just socialist society, a different voting system, and using our brains to investigate and question what these politicians are really up to. While we are busy filling in petitions to stop this and ban that, the Tories are sitting in their offices smirking and rubbing their hands with glee. "They'll fall for anything, that lot" they're thinking. I wouldn't be surprised to discover that some of those poignant petitions were created by Tory funded think tanks in the first place.

Some Tweeps' Contributions to Anglo-American Relations

So yesterday I blogged on some Twitter oddbods I have had the honour to befriend over the last year or so.

Today I am back to haunt Mr Ohio, aka @KenBane1 and Mrs Topsy aka @banksger1 - or Ken and Geraldine as they are known to their friends, countrymen/women and others.

Mr Bane plays karate and kicks guitar. He's an awesome action man who is always asking me to fly my hovercar over the Atlantic. One day it will happen, once I have removed the scratches from my Renault chariot. Poor thing it is. And Ken likes to work with cement. These funny Americans eh?

Ms Banks shares my love for Topsy, or the great William Morris as he is more commonly known. We are planning to visit Bill's old gaffe, The Red House this year (I haven't forgotten Geraldine). I am interested in William Morris for a whole variety of reasons, including wallpaper and other assorted mischief.

Between them they keep me amused, stimulated and educated. I learnt that Todd Rundgren played a concert in Ohio once, and I noticed how very handsome Kasim Sulton* was on that Youtube clip of Feet Don't Fail Me Now -

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qQENVtXvk1Q

*FAO Geraldine. He's the one in the black and white shirt.

I am currently sat here with blackhead nose strips on. It's time to rip them off now. Bye:)

Twitter Oddbods

I have come across some fine characters on Twitter, most notably the excellent @TraceySpacey1 who has become a very special RL friend. We met in Mansfield recently and she is just delightful - bless you Miss Tracey.

I have received a lot of support and encouragement from cheeky sniper @AndyPragnell. Always ready with a quip aren't you Anders? Not forgetting his identical twin @Colinb65

Then there's this fellow @_And_Paul_And_ (can I just day damn your underscores?)  Those things are a bane, a real bane, but I make the effort because he's funny, with his political heart firmly in the left place. 

I don't know what a Dex or a Paladin is @dex_the_paladin (But I bet he got the underscores idea from him up there). He's cool.

And as for @Lawrence_rayner of clothes peg dolly fame, he's another one with a mischievous grin and a heart of gold (More underscores. I give up)

@TundeH is my soul music twinnie.  She's convinced she's married to Jan Kincaid of the Brand New Heavies and she's also nuts for Pat Kane of Hue and Cry. She's nice though.

That's it.

Paul Weller Puts It Better Than Me

I make no bones about the fact I'm a massive Style Council fan. I was born in the 60s, a time of innovation and great music, so I was dismayed when the 80s arrived and we were bombed with electropop and synthesisers. To me, the Motown, Philly and Stax queen, this was aural abuse. To be truthful, I loathed everything about that era, from Thatcher, to the music, horrible hair and vile fashion. There was the diabolical Visage with Fade to Grey and Ultravox with Vienna. (Thank god for Love's Great Adventure - Midge Ure semi redeemed himself with that one). And as for Depeche Mode and Duran Duran - I just wanted to sit and weep, shaking my head in disbelief.

Still I found solace in Aztec Camera - thank you for saving my sanity Roddy! I also had various 70s heroes to fall back on - Roy Wood, Squeeze, Elvis Costello, Badfinger and Hall & Oates (yes really). But then one magical day something incredible happened. I turned on the radio and lord alive - I heard the unmistakable swirl of a Hammond! Mick Talbot and Paul Weller had only gone and got together and released the magnificent Speak Like A Child. Oh-my-word. Real instruments were back. I never thought the day would come when new artists (new to me anyway) would be playing Hammond organs, guitars and drums.

But to divert slighly. I was never into The Jam; I don't know why but the band just never resonated with me. I was therefore amazed and delighted when Paul Weller started showing a whole new side to his musical personality - the man had soul in bucketloads. I remember in the early 90s asking a work colleague if she liked Long Hot Summer and the answer I got back was a firm no. She belonged to The Jam clique and what Paul did with The Style Council was simply unforgivable.

As The Style Council, or TSC as we experts* like to call it, progressed, it became clear to me Paul had an agenda. I hadn't been that aware of his Jam output, so listening to the lyrics of Walls Come Tumbling Down knocked me leftwards; "You don't have to take this crap; you don't have to sit back and relax; you can actually try changing it" (that song has become an anthem of hope for me. I wish they'd re-released it for Occupy).

And this verse could have been written today:

Are you gonna be threatened by
The public enemies No. 10 -
Those who play the power game
They take the profits - you take the blame -
When they tell you there's no rise in pay"

The music business disturbs me now. Where are the voices of dissent on the radio, the questioners, the ingenius songwriters, the establishment kickers? When and how did we allow did Disney to replace Weller, One Direction to replace Costello and Rihanna to replace Squeeze?  We are being brainwashed into bland obedience but that's a whole other story.

*Me a TSC expert? Haha.

I Won't Vote - Don't Ask Me

The Brandon elections on 2 May 2013 don't interest me. I won't vote, so don't ask me.

We are swamped with Tory district and town councillors, not to mention MP Matthew Hancock. And with no socialist opposition in Brandon, apart from me and one unknown SWP member who also infiltrated the UKIP meeting a few weeks ago, that leaves Labour. At the last local election there wasn't even a Labour candidate, so I just wrote nasty things about politicians on my ballot paper.

That's not to say I would vote Labour if there was a candidate because I wouldn't.  I cannot vote for a party I don't respect or share values with. And anyway, Labour has made it abundantly clear its target is the middle Englanders, the as yet undefined squeezed middle. I am still waiting for Ed Miliband to explain what he meant by squeezed middle but he is so busy wooing the traditional Tory voters he's probably forgotten why he said it. And just why is he so afraid of using that term, working class? Presumably because he has either forgotten we exist or is unsure whether we are shirkers or strivers, so best just to ignore us completely.

And someone has had the audacity to put Libdem election flyers through my door recently. These have been desiccated and binned. I used to loathe the Liberals because they were weak, wishy washy and indecisive. Now I loathe them for being part of the ConDem evil alliance. So much for their putting the brakes on Cameron's excesses.

And I know TUSC have not polled well in other elections, as I sadly recall the embarrassment of the Eastleigh by election where Daz Procter was outvoted by an Elvis Presley impersonator. Nevertheless, if there was a TUSC name on my ballot paper that candidate would get my vote. TUSC is the only party of no cuts.

http://www.tusc.org.uk/policy.php

Why I'm Not Proud To Be English

Today on Twitter someone asked if there is anyone out there who feels proud to be English, and if so why are they proud?

Here is why I am NOT proud to be English. Hold your horses UKIP; it may not be what you are expecting to read.

I was born in a small South London suburb, set firmly in that chunk of rock known as England. My mum was a cleaner, my dad was a lorry driver and my big sister went to the local state school. So to all intents and purposes I was not only from South London, I was English. Now fortunately my mum and dad never expressed any pro-England or anti-everywhere else opinions, not that I can recall anyway. All that mattered to my parents was bringing up their family in a safe home with enough food to eat, enough clothes to wear, and the ability to read and write before I got to school at the age of five. My mum taught me to read with Janet and John Books; my dad taught me the time by drawing circles around saucers and getting me to write the numbers on the clock and putting the hands in the right places.

As I grew older I made friends with children from all different racial backgrounds. As far as I was concerned they were my friends and that was all that mattered. It never occurred to me this was MY England. I couldn't really give a damn what the piece of rock was called, and I still can't.

So why am I not proud to be English? Well, apart from the obvious jingoistic connotation there is another reason. I am not proud to be English because I had no say in the matter. I did not choose to be born here, just as I did not choose to be born in Whitehall, Kentucky or New Guinea.

The only way I could have taken any pride in the matter would have been if I'd got into a time machine, went back to 1960 and by some careful manipulation made sure mum and dad were in South London during that particular year. Not only that, they would also have had to have got jobs as cleaner and lorry driver to ensure I was born into the not too wealthy part of London.

And this may not be relevant to what I have said above but I also have no time for the melting pot theory or patronising thoughts of "tolerating" other people from other parts of the world. We are all people, end of. We need to take it for granted that we are all people and we all matter.

My ideal world would be represented by a globe with no place names on it.*

* I realise this may present a problem when booking holidays. I'll go to that bit over there - no, not that bit, that bit!

Four Political Colours

Red is the colour of socialism,
the colour of his rage
and the blood he drew from me.
I have a love hate relationship with red

Blue is the colour of greed,
the colour of his eyes
and the mood he placed in me.
I have a joy sorrow relationship with blue

Yellow is the colour of cowardice,
and the colour of the sun
which he took away from me.
I have a weak strong relationship with yellow

Purple is the colour of hate
and the colour of his prose
which he quoted to me.
I hate purple the most

Don't Vote For The Goddam UKIPs

Don't vote for the goddam UKIPs
the truth is they'll never love you
After your dark days; this mad existence
They'll break their promise; please keep your distance

And as for Farage and as for hate
Don't EVER invite them in
Though it seems
They are all you desire

And not just illusions
They're not the solution they make out to be
They'll take your freedom
They'll take your freedom

We must not let it happen!
We have to change!
Or spend our lives at the jackboot heel
Wishing someone had warned us
But too late to appeal...

Esther - Just Do One

You're a harsh woman Esther;
as a television presenter you were crap
relying on prompts from your producer

You're a cold woman Esther;
with a job title as inaccurate as your stats
and a heart carved from Thatcher stone

I don't care if this doesn't scan Esther
And I don't care if it doesn't rhyme
For the sake of humanity just do one

The Old Lady's Hearse

The Tories came and scorched the earth;
stole from the people and smiled
Punished us for existing at all;
and our point of view was reviled

The Tories sold the earth to their friends;
with paranoid weapons of hate
Told us to blame all the foreigners;
to keep them away from our gate

The Tories blame  the sick and the poor;
how dare they be a drain on the purse?
But the sick and the poor and the old
Still pay for the Old Lady's hearse

I Will Set The Country To Rights;)

I have been looking at the Tory manifesto from 2010 (disability living allowance will be protected) as well as puzzling over Labour's latest foray into bluedom (a contribution based benefits system). Labour are looking at welfare but they are not the party of cuts, they're really not. They say they're not, so that is that.

Harriet Harman talks of not dictating how many children should be born into a family but of ensuring men and women make proper choices about their children. So that's different then. Harriet also says working people are exasperated at seeing others bringing up large families on benefits. I work, I'm a single parent and I'm not exasperated. Which pigeonhole do I fit into?

Since both parties seem to be enjoying a parliamentary It's A Knockout race to see who can kick the working class the hardest, I thought I'd offer them some suggestions of my own. How they divvy them up is their own affair. They seem to be rather adept at *affairs, so this should not present any difficulties.
*N.B. Boris Johnson is to report to me for a discussion re the above.

Benefits
No benefits to be paid to anyone ever. Gosh, this is easier than I thought it would be.

Work
Following consultations with my media gurus (sorry, specialist advisors) I am here to tell you today there will be no more paid work. Everyone will be expected to work free of charge. We will allocate you to a suitable post.  Workfare has done this country proud.
N.B. This new ruling will not apply to bosses, the aristocracy or the monarchy (as if!)

Food
I am not unreasonable in this regard. Food will be allocated on the basis of need not greed (or vice versa if you're rich, obviously). We recognise food vouchers are unfair and are to be withdrawn immediately. Please return any half eaten parcels to your nearest collection point.

Outdoor workers will be able to enjoy the wealth of green vegetation available in our parks, laybys (how do you pluralise that?) and roundabouts. After litter picking and weeding you will be entitled  to one bag of grass for your main meal and a snack of dandelion leaves for tea. Breakfast is no longer a permitted word.

For workers in supermarkets or similar establishments, a meal of value bread and sugar will be provided at the cantee... skip in the car park.
N.B. Sugar will be protein enriched by the addition of earwigs, cockroaches, woodlice and whatever else is found in the dustpan.

Office and factory workers will be expected to eat the bosses' leftovers which will be drop... placed carefully on the floor while he is out playing golf or she is getting her hair done. Any spillages must be paid for by working extra shifts.

Everyone Else
If you do not fit any of the above criteria I don't know what to do with you.

What Labour Did For Me - Long Ago

I was born in the early 1960s and lived with my parents in South London. It was an old Victorian building that had been divided into flats and we lived on the ground floor.  Upstairs from us lived a young woman called Hannah Tailford. My parents remembered her very well, although I was just a small child at the time; she had a habit of walking from her flat to the shared bathroom without a stitch on. One day Hannah disappeared and her body was later found in the Thames, near Hammersmith Bridge. This was at the time of the so called Jack The Stripper murders, with Hannah being one victim out of a possible total of eight women whose naked bodies were found in the river between 1964 and 1965.

Our home became subject to press interest and my parents were worried for our safety - after all the perpetrator of the crimes had not been found. My mum wanted to leave the flat and move somewhere else. She therefore decided to write to Harold Wilson, who to his credit replied in person, and we found ourselves rehoused within a short while.

I often wonder how one of today's politicians would respond to such a request for rehousing. No personalised letter I'm sure; more likely a standard letter sent out by his or her secretary suggesting we look for alternative accommodation.

And now in this era of benefit cuts I keep asking what will Labour do or say. Ed Miliband is no tub thumping Aneurin Bevan, that's for sure. And when we turn to politicians for help do we get it or are we signposted to other organisations like Shelter or the CAB? The politicians of course are far too busy doing whatever it is they do these days.

Minimum Wage Maximum Outrage

I work in a few roles, that added together make up a full working week. One of my roles is as a home service assistant, or cleaner in everyday parlance. I clean the homes of local elderly residents, get their shopping and do their washing. I love my work, I love my clients, but I do this all for the princely sum of £6.31 per hour. Now call me greedy but that doesn't seem an awful lot of money.

I don't blame my employer, a charity, but I do blame the system. I claim Working Tax Credits to supplement my income. I don't want to claim it and I shouldn't have to. I didn't ask for low pay, it was all I was offered. Now here's a thought - why not raise the minimum wage and abolish tax credits? They were only created to subsidise low paying bosses anyway. Of course if the hidden Mr Nasty, Adrian Beecroft, has his way I will lose my employment rights and my pay could go down.  He hates unions, he hates workers, as much as I hate the tories. The difference is I am motivated by fairness. I want a world where people not only go to work; they have time to enjoy their lives too. Driving down wages will force us to work longer hours, leaving us exhausted AND stony broke. This is the perfect scenario for a capitalist society where we, the serfs, do all the work while the rich reap all the money and leisure time they could possibly want.

Am I angry? Hell yes.