Bradford, Yorkshire, England, off the coast of Europe, that is:
Bradford was the Silicon Valley of its time about 150 years ago, one of the richest places in the world, at the heart of the Industrial Revolution. Today, it is backwater and one of the most deprived places in the UK and going from bad to worse.
When you drive into Bradford from one of the two main roads that link it to the motorway network, the first three big signs you see as you drive into the city are 'Hollywood Bowl', 'Frankie and Benny's' and 'Santander'. There is no 'Welcome to Bradford' sign, not that I can see, anyway.
Where are we again? The Midwest? Spain?
Bradford has a huge hole in the middle of the city that looks like a bomb site as if the Luftwaffe had recently passed by.
There are more signs in Bradford with Santander written on them than signs telling us we are in Bradford. You would be forgiven for thinking Bradford had changed its name.
And indeed it has. Bradford and Bingley Building Society, once a national institution, is now called Santander. Santander is a place in northern Spain. Spain has just won the World Cup. Bradford and Bingley is now Santander, so at least we have something to celebrate. Viva Espana!
Thursday, 15 July 2010
Friday, 16 April 2010
Full-stop
I like short sentences. I like full-stops. I'm not sure about semi-colons; a bit fussy for my liking and they can make sentences very long-winded, so by the end of it all, you've forgotten what the point is. Brackets are the same as semi-colons (going off on some tangent, so that by the time you get back to the original sentence, you've forgotten what the hell the point is) and are often an excuse for poor writing.
Dashes are usually lazy, but hyphens are good, as long as you don't use multlple hypens, as Sociologists love to do (except in exceptional circumstances, as my Brother-in-Law might say in parenthesis) with their jargon-filled, long-winded, ugly-sounding, psycho-socio-neo-culinary gobbledegook.
Paragraphs are essential, but I'm sure there are more of them about these days.
There is a trend for paragraphs to be short and sweet - I blame journalists who love dashes.
'Apostrophes are essential', someone once said, and so are commas, without which we would all be floundering in a breathless stream of consciousness. Unless, of course, we use full-stops all the time.
Colons are good for three reasons: Firstly, they make it clear you about to make a point; secondly, it means you have an excuse to use the semi colon; and finally, it shows that you are not completely ignorant. You could, of course, use a full-stop instead of a semi-colon most of the time.
Exclamation marks, I think, should generally be avoided, but not always. Exclamation marks are high octane. It's no good being turbo-charged all the time!
Question marks are good, aren't they? But not lots of them in a row, unless, like exclamation marks, you want to convey the idea that you are in an excitable state of mind!!!
And another thing. My mother told me never to start a sentence, let alone a paragraph, with 'And'. Or 'But'. Or 'Or'. I know. I know. It's not a sentence without a verb. But language evolves. I quite like a sentence that starts with 'And' or 'Which' even. I'm more equivocal about starting a sentence with 'But' because it reminds me of semi-literate journalists again. But, so what?
My mother also told me that 'i' is before 'c' except after 'c', but there are so many exceptions that the rule is pretty useless. And, while I am on a rant, she led me up the garden path about Father Christmas, too. But I won't hold it against her.
I digress. I have drifted away from full-stops. Full-stops are my thing. I love them. Where would we be without them? Could question marks replace them? Of course not. Unless, of course, you want to massacre our language completely and use bullet points.
Bullet points should have been shot at birth, along with Powerpoint presentations. They are the written equivalent of clip art cartoons.
Have I forgotten anything? There is something I know I have not mentioned, which I am quite fond of...
Dashes are usually lazy, but hyphens are good, as long as you don't use multlple hypens, as Sociologists love to do (except in exceptional circumstances, as my Brother-in-Law might say in parenthesis) with their jargon-filled, long-winded, ugly-sounding, psycho-socio-neo-culinary gobbledegook.
Paragraphs are essential, but I'm sure there are more of them about these days.
There is a trend for paragraphs to be short and sweet - I blame journalists who love dashes.
'Apostrophes are essential', someone once said, and so are commas, without which we would all be floundering in a breathless stream of consciousness. Unless, of course, we use full-stops all the time.
Colons are good for three reasons: Firstly, they make it clear you about to make a point; secondly, it means you have an excuse to use the semi colon; and finally, it shows that you are not completely ignorant. You could, of course, use a full-stop instead of a semi-colon most of the time.
Exclamation marks, I think, should generally be avoided, but not always. Exclamation marks are high octane. It's no good being turbo-charged all the time!
Question marks are good, aren't they? But not lots of them in a row, unless, like exclamation marks, you want to convey the idea that you are in an excitable state of mind!!!
And another thing. My mother told me never to start a sentence, let alone a paragraph, with 'And'. Or 'But'. Or 'Or'. I know. I know. It's not a sentence without a verb. But language evolves. I quite like a sentence that starts with 'And' or 'Which' even. I'm more equivocal about starting a sentence with 'But' because it reminds me of semi-literate journalists again. But, so what?
My mother also told me that 'i' is before 'c' except after 'c', but there are so many exceptions that the rule is pretty useless. And, while I am on a rant, she led me up the garden path about Father Christmas, too. But I won't hold it against her.
I digress. I have drifted away from full-stops. Full-stops are my thing. I love them. Where would we be without them? Could question marks replace them? Of course not. Unless, of course, you want to massacre our language completely and use bullet points.
Bullet points should have been shot at birth, along with Powerpoint presentations. They are the written equivalent of clip art cartoons.
Have I forgotten anything? There is something I know I have not mentioned, which I am quite fond of...
Tuesday, 22 September 2009
A Tax-free World
Imagine there are no taxes. None at all. What would the implications be?
There would be no state for a start because there would be no money to pay for it. There could potentially be a government made up of volunteers, like local councillors before they started getting paid, but they would have very little authority without a State to back up their decisions.
There would be no army, navy or air force - not a national one anyway, although there would undoubtedly be a huge growth in private militias and community-based vigilante groups, as law and order breaks down with no police or courts, other than Kangaroo ones.
Billionaires might have their own private armies of heavily-armed mercenaries to protect their property; perhaps a fighter jet to show off their wealth and protect them against the slightly less rich who can only afford a helicopter.
Drug barons and others involved in organised crime would be in their element, becoming warlords ruling with a rod of iron over communities in exchange for security - feudalism with rocket-propelled missiles. Tens of thousands of miles of roads wouldn't be repaired. Four-wheel drives would be all the rage among those who can afford them. Armour-plated vehicles would be de rigeur for the wealthy.
Petrol would drop in price by 80% because there is no fuel tax. Then it would shoot up in price because of disrupted supplies caused by maritime warlords seizing cargo ships.
Motorways would be privatised so tolls would be introduced and probably guarded by private security firms. Insurance prices would rocket so only the super rich would be covered.
Only those in work and the rich would have access to the health system, so the poor would depend on healthcare volunteers or more likely, die prematurely.
There would be no state pension and no welfare state, so poor people and many millions of pensioners would suffer from poverty. Begging would be a growth industry, as would the security industry.
Law and order would be a major problem with no police or courts. Disputes would be settled the old-fashioned way, by violence and localised wars. Countries would probably become, a few years down the line, a patchwork quilt of security zones ruled over by warlords. It would be the end of the nation-state that has dominated world affairs for centuries. There would be no conventional law because there would be no one to enforce it.
Lawyers would go out of business and accountants, too, because there would be no more work for them to do - they are, after all, privatised state bureaucrats. Ah yes, bureaucrats. They would be gone. Globalisation would come to a halt because in a world where security and instability were a major issue, trade would be seriously disrupted and consequently, imported goods would very expensive.
Banks, propped up as they are by the State, would collapse, bringing about the collapse of the financial system. Gold bullion and other precious metals would be the currency of choice. City life would be untenable as the infrastructure of everyday life collapses – food supplies, water, electricity, gas, all hard to come by and only affordable to the super rich living in their security zones, protected by their own private militias.
Crofters would return to the north of Scotland, ruled over by Tartan warlords with rocket launchers. Clan warfare would resume after centuries of peace. Food would have to be grown locally. Clean water and energy supplies would become problematic in many parts of the world with supplies of both would be scarce because of security issues.
Local 'nationalisms' would re-emerge with force. Feminism would be out of the window as the alpha males reassert themselves. No more equal opportunities. Racism would skyrocket. Literacy levels would plunge. Ignorance would proliferate.
Euthanasia would be back in fashion with a wider remit - murder anyone who gets in your way.
Everyone would be richer in the first instance because they would keep about 40% more of their earnings. But the financial gains would be cancelled out because they would have to fork out a huge sums of money on protection rackets, road repairs, a contribution to their local militia, backhanders left and right. Corruption would be rife.
Does this world sound familiar?
How about Iraq, Afghanistan or Somalia.
All of them have been described as weak or failed states.
How about going one stage further and have no state at all?
No tax, no state.
Call it freedom if you like. More like Mad Max, if you ask me.
There would be no state for a start because there would be no money to pay for it. There could potentially be a government made up of volunteers, like local councillors before they started getting paid, but they would have very little authority without a State to back up their decisions.
There would be no army, navy or air force - not a national one anyway, although there would undoubtedly be a huge growth in private militias and community-based vigilante groups, as law and order breaks down with no police or courts, other than Kangaroo ones.
Billionaires might have their own private armies of heavily-armed mercenaries to protect their property; perhaps a fighter jet to show off their wealth and protect them against the slightly less rich who can only afford a helicopter.
Drug barons and others involved in organised crime would be in their element, becoming warlords ruling with a rod of iron over communities in exchange for security - feudalism with rocket-propelled missiles. Tens of thousands of miles of roads wouldn't be repaired. Four-wheel drives would be all the rage among those who can afford them. Armour-plated vehicles would be de rigeur for the wealthy.
Petrol would drop in price by 80% because there is no fuel tax. Then it would shoot up in price because of disrupted supplies caused by maritime warlords seizing cargo ships.
Motorways would be privatised so tolls would be introduced and probably guarded by private security firms. Insurance prices would rocket so only the super rich would be covered.
Only those in work and the rich would have access to the health system, so the poor would depend on healthcare volunteers or more likely, die prematurely.
There would be no state pension and no welfare state, so poor people and many millions of pensioners would suffer from poverty. Begging would be a growth industry, as would the security industry.
Law and order would be a major problem with no police or courts. Disputes would be settled the old-fashioned way, by violence and localised wars. Countries would probably become, a few years down the line, a patchwork quilt of security zones ruled over by warlords. It would be the end of the nation-state that has dominated world affairs for centuries. There would be no conventional law because there would be no one to enforce it.
Lawyers would go out of business and accountants, too, because there would be no more work for them to do - they are, after all, privatised state bureaucrats. Ah yes, bureaucrats. They would be gone. Globalisation would come to a halt because in a world where security and instability were a major issue, trade would be seriously disrupted and consequently, imported goods would very expensive.
Banks, propped up as they are by the State, would collapse, bringing about the collapse of the financial system. Gold bullion and other precious metals would be the currency of choice. City life would be untenable as the infrastructure of everyday life collapses – food supplies, water, electricity, gas, all hard to come by and only affordable to the super rich living in their security zones, protected by their own private militias.
Crofters would return to the north of Scotland, ruled over by Tartan warlords with rocket launchers. Clan warfare would resume after centuries of peace. Food would have to be grown locally. Clean water and energy supplies would become problematic in many parts of the world with supplies of both would be scarce because of security issues.
Local 'nationalisms' would re-emerge with force. Feminism would be out of the window as the alpha males reassert themselves. No more equal opportunities. Racism would skyrocket. Literacy levels would plunge. Ignorance would proliferate.
Euthanasia would be back in fashion with a wider remit - murder anyone who gets in your way.
Everyone would be richer in the first instance because they would keep about 40% more of their earnings. But the financial gains would be cancelled out because they would have to fork out a huge sums of money on protection rackets, road repairs, a contribution to their local militia, backhanders left and right. Corruption would be rife.
Does this world sound familiar?
How about Iraq, Afghanistan or Somalia.
All of them have been described as weak or failed states.
How about going one stage further and have no state at all?
No tax, no state.
Call it freedom if you like. More like Mad Max, if you ask me.
Monday, 5 January 2009
The pound loses weight
Explain this one to me, can you?
The French own much of our railway system and now, it appears, our energy system, too - gas or electricity or is it both? Who cares?
Everybody but us owns what is left of the car industry in Britain - The Japanese, the Germans, the Indians.
The banks were owned by everyone else as well, until they screwed up and our government (or rather you and me, if you pay tax in the UK) had to pick up the tab for them screwing it up and leaving us with none of the massive profits, but all the eye-watering losses.
Then there is football. It might be called the English Premier League, but there is nothing English about it. The Americans own two of the top four clubs. A Russian owns one of the other top clubs and another Russian looks as if he is about to elbow in on Arsenal, managed by a Frenchman, captained by a Spaniard, ex-captained by another Frenchman (or three Frenchmen actually). Even Queens Park Rangers is run by an Italian, as is West Ham, although it is owned by a bankrupt Icelander. The new nickname for Iceland, by the way, is apparently, Halfpriceland - a moniker given not by a foreigner by an Icelander - or at least that is how you are greeted at the main airport on a placard made, in these straightened times, of cardboard.
Enough of Iceland.
Is there anything significant and privately owned in the UK that is not foreign?
Much of the media is foreign-owned, including the Times, the Sunday Times, The Sun, The News of the World, Sky Television - most of the big media outlets, in fact, who decide how we should be thinking and what's important and not important. If that isn't enough, half of what is on television is foreign-produced.
Strange to think that only 30 years ago, we were exhorted to 'Buy British' (as well as 'Keep Britain Tidy').
Buying British back then meant buying a Morris Marina or a Hillman Hunter instead of, say, a VW Golf or a Volvo. Or buying, say, Charlie Cook (centre forward for Chelsea) instead of Johann Cruyff (fancy Dan foreigner).
We bought British back then and concluded that it was mostly crap, so we went and bought foreign instead.
We sold everything worth selling to foreigners (banks, football clubs, breweries, gas, electricity, water, oil, railways, your pension, your savings, your grandma) and bought foreign, instead - food (any country you can think of), fast food (US), electricals (Japan), computers (Japan, the US), houses (France and Spain and other places), televisions (Japan), television programmes (US), clothes and toys (China), furniture (Sweden), software (US), bosses (too many nationalities to mention), footballers (too many nationalities to mention).
Which brings me to my question: If we like all things foreign so much, why are we so against the Euro? Sticking with the Pound is a bit like sticking to the Morris Marina when you could buy a VW Golf. It's crap. The Pound, that is.
Go abroad now and you pay nearly twice as much for the same thing as you did a couple of years ago. Worse than that, for those of us who live in Blighty for roughly fifty weeks a year or more, all those foreign things that we buy are going to get more and more expensive.
At the moment, the retailers are bearing the brunt of the squeeze on the £, but, hey, guess what? Most retailers can't afford the squeeze on their profits so many will go out of business in 2009. Then where will we shop, assuming we have any £s left to spend?
One good reason for sticking with that symbol on your computer keyboard - the '£' - is, of course, that it has the Queen's head on it, a symbol of Britishness, but she, too, is of foreign extraction (German) with a Greek husband.
Both the Greeks and the Germans have the Euro. Why not us? Because we are different from anyone else? Well maybe we are, but the Irish are different from the Greeks and they are different from the French who are different from the Dutch who are not at all like the Italians. They all have the Euro, so why not us?
The French own much of our railway system and now, it appears, our energy system, too - gas or electricity or is it both? Who cares?
Everybody but us owns what is left of the car industry in Britain - The Japanese, the Germans, the Indians.
The banks were owned by everyone else as well, until they screwed up and our government (or rather you and me, if you pay tax in the UK) had to pick up the tab for them screwing it up and leaving us with none of the massive profits, but all the eye-watering losses.
Then there is football. It might be called the English Premier League, but there is nothing English about it. The Americans own two of the top four clubs. A Russian owns one of the other top clubs and another Russian looks as if he is about to elbow in on Arsenal, managed by a Frenchman, captained by a Spaniard, ex-captained by another Frenchman (or three Frenchmen actually). Even Queens Park Rangers is run by an Italian, as is West Ham, although it is owned by a bankrupt Icelander. The new nickname for Iceland, by the way, is apparently, Halfpriceland - a moniker given not by a foreigner by an Icelander - or at least that is how you are greeted at the main airport on a placard made, in these straightened times, of cardboard.
Enough of Iceland.
Is there anything significant and privately owned in the UK that is not foreign?
Much of the media is foreign-owned, including the Times, the Sunday Times, The Sun, The News of the World, Sky Television - most of the big media outlets, in fact, who decide how we should be thinking and what's important and not important. If that isn't enough, half of what is on television is foreign-produced.
Strange to think that only 30 years ago, we were exhorted to 'Buy British' (as well as 'Keep Britain Tidy').
Buying British back then meant buying a Morris Marina or a Hillman Hunter instead of, say, a VW Golf or a Volvo. Or buying, say, Charlie Cook (centre forward for Chelsea) instead of Johann Cruyff (fancy Dan foreigner).
We bought British back then and concluded that it was mostly crap, so we went and bought foreign instead.
We sold everything worth selling to foreigners (banks, football clubs, breweries, gas, electricity, water, oil, railways, your pension, your savings, your grandma) and bought foreign, instead - food (any country you can think of), fast food (US), electricals (Japan), computers (Japan, the US), houses (France and Spain and other places), televisions (Japan), television programmes (US), clothes and toys (China), furniture (Sweden), software (US), bosses (too many nationalities to mention), footballers (too many nationalities to mention).
Which brings me to my question: If we like all things foreign so much, why are we so against the Euro? Sticking with the Pound is a bit like sticking to the Morris Marina when you could buy a VW Golf. It's crap. The Pound, that is.
Go abroad now and you pay nearly twice as much for the same thing as you did a couple of years ago. Worse than that, for those of us who live in Blighty for roughly fifty weeks a year or more, all those foreign things that we buy are going to get more and more expensive.
At the moment, the retailers are bearing the brunt of the squeeze on the £, but, hey, guess what? Most retailers can't afford the squeeze on their profits so many will go out of business in 2009. Then where will we shop, assuming we have any £s left to spend?
One good reason for sticking with that symbol on your computer keyboard - the '£' - is, of course, that it has the Queen's head on it, a symbol of Britishness, but she, too, is of foreign extraction (German) with a Greek husband.
Both the Greeks and the Germans have the Euro. Why not us? Because we are different from anyone else? Well maybe we are, but the Irish are different from the Greeks and they are different from the French who are different from the Dutch who are not at all like the Italians. They all have the Euro, so why not us?
Who wants to be a billionaire?
There are 1,125 US dollar billionaires in the world today who between them are worth $4.4 trillion.
Yes, that is trillion not billion. There are only two countries in the world that are richer than the billionaire club. The US and, just about, Japan.
The billionaire club was $900 billion richer in 2008 than in 2007, so they will soon overtake Japan which will mean that 1,125 people will be richer than any country other than the US.
Or to put it another way, the combined wealth of fewer than 500 people in the world is worth more than the whole of Africa with nearly a billion people, over a third of whom are living on less than $1 a day.
On the current trajectory of wealth generation, the billionaire club will be richer than the US in less than 10 years and richer than the entire planet in about 30 years. If they were all taxed at 90% each, they would still have £391 million each, on average.
Source: http://www.forbes.com/
Yes, that is trillion not billion. There are only two countries in the world that are richer than the billionaire club. The US and, just about, Japan.
The billionaire club was $900 billion richer in 2008 than in 2007, so they will soon overtake Japan which will mean that 1,125 people will be richer than any country other than the US.
Or to put it another way, the combined wealth of fewer than 500 people in the world is worth more than the whole of Africa with nearly a billion people, over a third of whom are living on less than $1 a day.
On the current trajectory of wealth generation, the billionaire club will be richer than the US in less than 10 years and richer than the entire planet in about 30 years. If they were all taxed at 90% each, they would still have £391 million each, on average.
Source: http://www.forbes.com/
Friday, 26 September 2008
The credit crunch - plus ca change
They said that the Credit Crunch, like World War One, would be over by Christmas - last Christmas, that is. Both started in August. Your country needs you (the taxpayer) now! So now, to extend the analogy, it's 1915 and the bloodiest phase is just beginning. Next year, it's the Battle of the Somme when, if things go according to the same plan, most taxpayers will be bankrupt or severely wounded.
Never again, they said after the Great War was over, just as they are saying again right now. But as we all know very well, 'never again' lasts about 5 minutes. The rules of the game have changed 'forever', said one journalist last week. 'Forever' lasts about as long as never.
World War One lasted four years, as every schoolboy used to know, which was then followed by the biggest Wall Street spending spree since the last time one happened. Never again, they said, after it all went belly up and the economy nose-dived, only recovering with rearmament and then, once again, another big war.
The economy eventually recovered in 1954 from its last peak in 1929. Not everyone, of course, was fortunate to enjoy the recovery because they had been killed in the war which had saved the economy from ruin. 25 years to recover with a world war thrown in to the mix. So if history repeats itself, it will be 2032 before the economy is back to 'normal' and there will be a world war around 2017, ending in 2023.
Like Germany in the 1920s and 1930s, Russia has got rid of the ancien regime and has had a tough time on the economic front, apart from a few rich people at the top who like the Jews in Germany in the 1930s, are increasingly unpopular at home and some have sought refuge abroad.
Like Germany in the 1930s, a little bit of military interventionism never goes amiss with ominous warnings that whenever their fellow countrymen are threatened in any way, in any place, there will be consequences (i.e. another country will be invaded). And then all hell will break lose and the Channel Tunnel will be closed to stop invaders.
A late intervention by the Chinese will save the day and the US will be a shadow of its former self, and start calling its relationship with China 'special'.
Once it's all over - the war, that is - some bright spark will think that the only way for the economy to recover is to deregulate everything and let the market decide. Houses will shoot up to a £1 trillion on average and bonus payments to brokers will be worth more than Pluto and Neptune real estate put together.
Soon the whole solar system will have had its title deeds sold and so the rich have to start looking farther afield to other constellations where there are real business opportunities, including (if you are not yet a trillionaire) timeshare options on dwarf stars. Then it will all crash again because the whole edifice was built on a cloud of gaseous planets and black holes.
Never again, they will say.
And so on.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Forever.
Never again, they said after the Great War was over, just as they are saying again right now. But as we all know very well, 'never again' lasts about 5 minutes. The rules of the game have changed 'forever', said one journalist last week. 'Forever' lasts about as long as never.
World War One lasted four years, as every schoolboy used to know, which was then followed by the biggest Wall Street spending spree since the last time one happened. Never again, they said, after it all went belly up and the economy nose-dived, only recovering with rearmament and then, once again, another big war.
The economy eventually recovered in 1954 from its last peak in 1929. Not everyone, of course, was fortunate to enjoy the recovery because they had been killed in the war which had saved the economy from ruin. 25 years to recover with a world war thrown in to the mix. So if history repeats itself, it will be 2032 before the economy is back to 'normal' and there will be a world war around 2017, ending in 2023.
Like Germany in the 1920s and 1930s, Russia has got rid of the ancien regime and has had a tough time on the economic front, apart from a few rich people at the top who like the Jews in Germany in the 1930s, are increasingly unpopular at home and some have sought refuge abroad.
Like Germany in the 1930s, a little bit of military interventionism never goes amiss with ominous warnings that whenever their fellow countrymen are threatened in any way, in any place, there will be consequences (i.e. another country will be invaded). And then all hell will break lose and the Channel Tunnel will be closed to stop invaders.
A late intervention by the Chinese will save the day and the US will be a shadow of its former self, and start calling its relationship with China 'special'.
Once it's all over - the war, that is - some bright spark will think that the only way for the economy to recover is to deregulate everything and let the market decide. Houses will shoot up to a £1 trillion on average and bonus payments to brokers will be worth more than Pluto and Neptune real estate put together.
Soon the whole solar system will have had its title deeds sold and so the rich have to start looking farther afield to other constellations where there are real business opportunities, including (if you are not yet a trillionaire) timeshare options on dwarf stars. Then it will all crash again because the whole edifice was built on a cloud of gaseous planets and black holes.
Never again, they will say.
And so on.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Forever.
Tuesday, 5 August 2008
The good old days
If time went backwards from the day I was born in 1961, a week before Barack Obama, today (August 4th) would be the day when Britain declared war on Germany in World War One as the Germans marched in to Belgium.
'Tomorrow' (i.e. the day before) Germany declared war on France. By Wednesday, the Germans swept into Luxembourg. By Thursday, Germany declared war on Russia who mobilised in support of Serbia. By Friday, Marcus Garvey founded the Universal Negro Improvement Association.
Not bad for one week. So much for the silly season.
It's only a month away from Archduke Ferdinand's assasination and the growing realisation that Serb nationalists were heavily involved. There were anti-Serb riots in Sarajevo and Bosnia. There was unrest in Ulster with a fear of civil war.
Strange, isn't it, how some things are remarkably similar to today (Serbian nationalist riots last week, the capture of the Bosnian Serb nationalist leader, renewed fears of terrorism in Northern Ireland) and how other things are so completely different. Equal opportunities has come a long way since the the Universal Negro Improvement Association.
The news headlines today are: Olympics ticket scam; Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt show off their twins; Phil lashes out at Ben in Eastenders; hedonist lad mags slammed; Microsoft sees end of Windows era; England set to name new captain; SpaceX launch fails a third time; warning as HSBC profits fall 28%; 16 killed in China border clash; Solzhenitsyn Dies at 89 (who wrote a book called August 1914).
The headline on 4 August, 1914 in the (Manchester) Guardian was about as ominous as it is possible to be, warning of "the greatest calamity that anyone living has known". They were not wrong about that. But they also had a piece on the happy holidaying crowds at Brighton. The Daily Express headlined with 'England expects every man to do his duty', a phrase first used by Admiral Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar.
If I could get hold of the original papers for that day, there would no doubt be advertisements for baking powder, in-growing toenail ointment, new frock designs and smelling salts, possibly some magical potion for haemorrhoids. Advertising has changed a bit since then.
The Daily Mail, on that first day of the war, wrote a column on 'Housekeeping for Wartime'. Today we have 'How to Survive the Credit Crunch'.
Predicting where the world will be at the turn of the twenty second century is impossible - assuming we are still around. Soap opera plot lines would have been literally inconceivable to someone alive in 1914; so too would 'Microsoft Sees End of Windows Era'.
The Microsoft prediction today would be like someone in 1914 predicting the end of the gas lighting era in the home. But then there are the things that never seem to move on, like the Balkans or happy holiday makers in Brighton, financial crises and 'England Expects Every Man to do his Duty'.
Iraq and Afghanistan are playing out in more or less exactly the same way as they did one hundred years ago (tribal guerilla warfare against foreign occupiers who get hopelessly bogged down before withdrawing). The Ford car assembly line was introduced in 1914. Liverpool lost the FA Cup final to Burnley. Haemorrhoids are still amongst us, so that magical cream never did do what it promised. Not much change with any of that, then.
If time went backwards instead of forwards, by the age of 47, I would have lived through ten years of world war and probably been called up for several years. Unless, of course, I had been killed, which would have been a distinct possibility. In between the two wars, I would have lived through the Depression. Literally half my life would have been either a world war or the Depression. Only now, aged 47, would life be more settled.
None of this is quite as far-fetched as it seems, because two world wars and the Depression were precisely what my grandfathers' generation lived through. Anyone born between the early 1880s and the mid 1920s would have experienced at least one World War and the Depression, where living standards in 1918 only recovered in 1935. The stock market did not recover from the Wall Street Crash until the early 1950s.
For my grandfathers, born in the 1890s, their adult lives had a rude awakening in 1914, and apart from a brief spell of jollity in the 1920s, the world around them did not pick up until they were in their 50s.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
'Tomorrow' (i.e. the day before) Germany declared war on France. By Wednesday, the Germans swept into Luxembourg. By Thursday, Germany declared war on Russia who mobilised in support of Serbia. By Friday, Marcus Garvey founded the Universal Negro Improvement Association.
Not bad for one week. So much for the silly season.
It's only a month away from Archduke Ferdinand's assasination and the growing realisation that Serb nationalists were heavily involved. There were anti-Serb riots in Sarajevo and Bosnia. There was unrest in Ulster with a fear of civil war.
Strange, isn't it, how some things are remarkably similar to today (Serbian nationalist riots last week, the capture of the Bosnian Serb nationalist leader, renewed fears of terrorism in Northern Ireland) and how other things are so completely different. Equal opportunities has come a long way since the the Universal Negro Improvement Association.
The news headlines today are: Olympics ticket scam; Angelina Jolie and Brad Pitt show off their twins; Phil lashes out at Ben in Eastenders; hedonist lad mags slammed; Microsoft sees end of Windows era; England set to name new captain; SpaceX launch fails a third time; warning as HSBC profits fall 28%; 16 killed in China border clash; Solzhenitsyn Dies at 89 (who wrote a book called August 1914).
The headline on 4 August, 1914 in the (Manchester) Guardian was about as ominous as it is possible to be, warning of "the greatest calamity that anyone living has known". They were not wrong about that. But they also had a piece on the happy holidaying crowds at Brighton. The Daily Express headlined with 'England expects every man to do his duty', a phrase first used by Admiral Nelson at the Battle of Trafalgar.
If I could get hold of the original papers for that day, there would no doubt be advertisements for baking powder, in-growing toenail ointment, new frock designs and smelling salts, possibly some magical potion for haemorrhoids. Advertising has changed a bit since then.
The Daily Mail, on that first day of the war, wrote a column on 'Housekeeping for Wartime'. Today we have 'How to Survive the Credit Crunch'.
Predicting where the world will be at the turn of the twenty second century is impossible - assuming we are still around. Soap opera plot lines would have been literally inconceivable to someone alive in 1914; so too would 'Microsoft Sees End of Windows Era'.
The Microsoft prediction today would be like someone in 1914 predicting the end of the gas lighting era in the home. But then there are the things that never seem to move on, like the Balkans or happy holiday makers in Brighton, financial crises and 'England Expects Every Man to do his Duty'.
Iraq and Afghanistan are playing out in more or less exactly the same way as they did one hundred years ago (tribal guerilla warfare against foreign occupiers who get hopelessly bogged down before withdrawing). The Ford car assembly line was introduced in 1914. Liverpool lost the FA Cup final to Burnley. Haemorrhoids are still amongst us, so that magical cream never did do what it promised. Not much change with any of that, then.
If time went backwards instead of forwards, by the age of 47, I would have lived through ten years of world war and probably been called up for several years. Unless, of course, I had been killed, which would have been a distinct possibility. In between the two wars, I would have lived through the Depression. Literally half my life would have been either a world war or the Depression. Only now, aged 47, would life be more settled.
None of this is quite as far-fetched as it seems, because two world wars and the Depression were precisely what my grandfathers' generation lived through. Anyone born between the early 1880s and the mid 1920s would have experienced at least one World War and the Depression, where living standards in 1918 only recovered in 1935. The stock market did not recover from the Wall Street Crash until the early 1950s.
For my grandfathers, born in the 1890s, their adult lives had a rude awakening in 1914, and apart from a brief spell of jollity in the 1920s, the world around them did not pick up until they were in their 50s.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Sunday, 18 May 2008
Are you paying more tax than Roman Abramovich?
Are you paying more tax than Roman Abramovich?
The top council tax rate in Kensington and Chelsea (Band H for the most expensive houses) is £2,135.80 which is less than the English council tax average for a Band H property (£2,747.90), despite Kensington and Chelsea having some of the richest people in the country living there with some of the most expensive houses.
In Bradford, a house valued at around £200,000 would mean a council tax charge of £1,236.97 a year. Yet, a £120 million house in Kensington (see below) would only have to pay a council tax rate of £1,375.58. I love the 58p. A 5-bedroom house (with swimming pool, cinema and gym) currently up for sale in Knightsbridge for £12 million has a council tax charge of £2,062.30.
There is even self-contained accommodation 'ideal for staff' in it which would presumably not be liable for additional council tax (see http://www.chardsales.co.uk/details.dtx?propertyid=EA82A696-F594-4D87-BFEA-80FB1A20F7F1 )
Houses of £70 million plus are not unknown in this part of London. One has recently been sold for over £110 -£120 million. It's between Downing Street and Buckingham Palace which is the Borough of Westminster where the top rate of council tax is a piddly £1,375.58. The cheapest slum in Bradford costs £824 a year in council tax.
This £65,000 house in Bradford: http://www.findaproperty.com/displayprop.aspx?0&pid=812847&agentid=12082 in one of the poorest areas of Bradford costs £824 a year in council tax (or 1.26% of the value of the property at today's values per year).
Put another way, if the people living in the £12 million house had to pay the same percentage of tax (1.26%) as the person in Bradford in the slum, they would be paying £151,200 council tax a year (instead of £2,062). The person in the £120 million house would be paying around £1.5 million a year in council tax (instead of £1,375 and 58 pence).
Or to put it another way, my household in Bradford pays more council tax than Roman Abramovich.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
The top council tax rate in Kensington and Chelsea (Band H for the most expensive houses) is £2,135.80 which is less than the English council tax average for a Band H property (£2,747.90), despite Kensington and Chelsea having some of the richest people in the country living there with some of the most expensive houses.
In Bradford, a house valued at around £200,000 would mean a council tax charge of £1,236.97 a year. Yet, a £120 million house in Kensington (see below) would only have to pay a council tax rate of £1,375.58. I love the 58p. A 5-bedroom house (with swimming pool, cinema and gym) currently up for sale in Knightsbridge for £12 million has a council tax charge of £2,062.30.
There is even self-contained accommodation 'ideal for staff' in it which would presumably not be liable for additional council tax (see http://www.chardsales.co.uk/details.dtx?propertyid=EA82A696-F594-4D87-BFEA-80FB1A20F7F1 )
Houses of £70 million plus are not unknown in this part of London. One has recently been sold for over £110 -£120 million. It's between Downing Street and Buckingham Palace which is the Borough of Westminster where the top rate of council tax is a piddly £1,375.58. The cheapest slum in Bradford costs £824 a year in council tax.
This £65,000 house in Bradford: http://www.findaproperty.com/displayprop.aspx?0&pid=812847&agentid=12082 in one of the poorest areas of Bradford costs £824 a year in council tax (or 1.26% of the value of the property at today's values per year).
Put another way, if the people living in the £12 million house had to pay the same percentage of tax (1.26%) as the person in Bradford in the slum, they would be paying £151,200 council tax a year (instead of £2,062). The person in the £120 million house would be paying around £1.5 million a year in council tax (instead of £1,375 and 58 pence).
Or to put it another way, my household in Bradford pays more council tax than Roman Abramovich.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Not welcome anywhere
Mary (not her real name) came to Britain in January 2003 with her two young daughters from Uganda which she escaped from because anti-government militias wanted to kill them. This is her story:
‘I originally come from Gulu in the northern part of Uganda, which for the past twenty years has been subjected to violent armed struggle between the government of Uganda and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), a militia group opposed to the government. The LRA has terrorised large parts of the country, particularly the north where I come from’.
‘My husband was an army commander for the Uganda People’s Defence Force, which was set up by the government to defeat the LRA. My husband was involved in covert missions against the LRA and because the rebels never gave up without a fight, many of them were killed in the skirmishes. Often the LRA would retaliate by killing innocent civilians, including my parents who they killed in 1999’.
‘One day in October 2002, one month after my husband had returned from a particularly gruesome encounter with the LRA, we were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunfire and shouting. The next thing we knew, our front door was being kicked down by what sounded like a large group of angry men. My husband rushed out of bed with a pistol he had kept in a drawer by the bed. He confronted the group of men and as they hurled abuse at him I rushed into the room next door where my children were screaming’.
‘I was terrified. I pulled my children close to me and we crept into a wardrobe, cowering with fear. I heard a number of shots in quick succession and could hear the men screaming abuse and insults at our whole family and my husband in particular. I then heard loud thuds and thought they must have overpowered my husband and were beating him up’.
‘The mood in the room next door then changed and I heard someone ask ‘where is the woman?’. They soon found us and pulled us out of the wardrobe. They pulled me away from the children and hurled me on to the floor where they proceeded to rape me one after another. I do not know how many raped me, but I do remember my children sobbing behind their bed’.
‘Suddenly, all the men in the room panicked and ran out of the room - some of them treading on me in their rush to get out. I could smell smoke and knew our house was on fire. I cried to my children who were so petrified they could not move from behind the bed. I somehow gathered enough strength to drag them out of the collapsing building.’
‘I later learnt that my husband had been shot in the head and that his body had been badly mutilated by multiple beatings from rifle butts. I also learnt that the attack was retaliation for the successful mission led by my husband the month before’.
‘With the help of my husband’s best friend, I went into hiding with my two daughters in another part of Uganda. They kept asking for their father, but they were too young to understand what had happened. I was hoping that we would be left in peace, but it was a forlorn hope. Less than three months after my husband had been killed and I was raped, I returned to our new home one day after coming back from church and found our flat had been ransacked and all our belongings were strewn all over the place, including smashed crockery outside the flat. A badly shaken neighbour with a bruised face warned me that the LRA were looking for me and they had attacked him instead, hoping to get information out of him about our whereabouts’.
‘Leaving your country for an unknown destination is traumatic. I did not know I was coming to Britain. It could have been anywhere as long as it was safe for me and my children. But as an asylum seeker in Britain, I soon discovered that it was far from being a warm and welcoming place and I was presented with more traumas’.
‘No one seemed to understand the traumas I had faced and I was refused asylum in the UK. The threat of being sent back to Uganda made me suffer from terrible anxiety and my physical health deteriorated. While I was trying to recover from all my traumas, my house in Leeds was raided in the middle of the night by immigration officials in April 2005 and I was sent to Yarlswood Detention Centre for a month with my two young daughters, aged 5 and 10. It was a traumatic experience and reminded me of the time when our house was raided by the LRA rebels 18 months before’.
‘After I was released from Yarlswood, my doctor sent me for some counselling. I was struggling to cope with life when I met Anne, my therapist, at Solace, a specialised counselling service for asylum seekers and refugees in Leeds. I had lost hope and life no longer had any meaning for me. Since going to Solace, my state of mind started to improve. The counselling really helped me. But then, in April 2007, I was raided at dawn for a second time and sent back to Yarlswood for four months with my children, who were taken out of svhool without any warning. Like the first time I was detained, I had committed no crime. It was a real setback for me and once again I lost all hope and was petrified of being deported’.
‘Throughout my time in the detention centre, Solace worked with my solicitor to get me out. Anne came to visit me and offer me support. I applied for bail as that was the only way they would release me. Anne provided surety for me, which I really appreciated as there was no one else to help me’.
At the beginning of 2008, Mary was being subjected to stringent bail conditions with a real risk that she could be deported at any time with her children. One day, out of the blue, Mary received a letter from the Home Office saying that she had been granted refugee status which meant that she was no longer had to report to the Home Office and meant that she could stay in Britain indefinitely.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
‘I originally come from Gulu in the northern part of Uganda, which for the past twenty years has been subjected to violent armed struggle between the government of Uganda and the Lord’s Resistance Army (LRA), a militia group opposed to the government. The LRA has terrorised large parts of the country, particularly the north where I come from’.
‘My husband was an army commander for the Uganda People’s Defence Force, which was set up by the government to defeat the LRA. My husband was involved in covert missions against the LRA and because the rebels never gave up without a fight, many of them were killed in the skirmishes. Often the LRA would retaliate by killing innocent civilians, including my parents who they killed in 1999’.
‘One day in October 2002, one month after my husband had returned from a particularly gruesome encounter with the LRA, we were woken up in the middle of the night to the sound of gunfire and shouting. The next thing we knew, our front door was being kicked down by what sounded like a large group of angry men. My husband rushed out of bed with a pistol he had kept in a drawer by the bed. He confronted the group of men and as they hurled abuse at him I rushed into the room next door where my children were screaming’.
‘I was terrified. I pulled my children close to me and we crept into a wardrobe, cowering with fear. I heard a number of shots in quick succession and could hear the men screaming abuse and insults at our whole family and my husband in particular. I then heard loud thuds and thought they must have overpowered my husband and were beating him up’.
‘The mood in the room next door then changed and I heard someone ask ‘where is the woman?’. They soon found us and pulled us out of the wardrobe. They pulled me away from the children and hurled me on to the floor where they proceeded to rape me one after another. I do not know how many raped me, but I do remember my children sobbing behind their bed’.
‘Suddenly, all the men in the room panicked and ran out of the room - some of them treading on me in their rush to get out. I could smell smoke and knew our house was on fire. I cried to my children who were so petrified they could not move from behind the bed. I somehow gathered enough strength to drag them out of the collapsing building.’
‘I later learnt that my husband had been shot in the head and that his body had been badly mutilated by multiple beatings from rifle butts. I also learnt that the attack was retaliation for the successful mission led by my husband the month before’.
‘With the help of my husband’s best friend, I went into hiding with my two daughters in another part of Uganda. They kept asking for their father, but they were too young to understand what had happened. I was hoping that we would be left in peace, but it was a forlorn hope. Less than three months after my husband had been killed and I was raped, I returned to our new home one day after coming back from church and found our flat had been ransacked and all our belongings were strewn all over the place, including smashed crockery outside the flat. A badly shaken neighbour with a bruised face warned me that the LRA were looking for me and they had attacked him instead, hoping to get information out of him about our whereabouts’.
‘Leaving your country for an unknown destination is traumatic. I did not know I was coming to Britain. It could have been anywhere as long as it was safe for me and my children. But as an asylum seeker in Britain, I soon discovered that it was far from being a warm and welcoming place and I was presented with more traumas’.
‘No one seemed to understand the traumas I had faced and I was refused asylum in the UK. The threat of being sent back to Uganda made me suffer from terrible anxiety and my physical health deteriorated. While I was trying to recover from all my traumas, my house in Leeds was raided in the middle of the night by immigration officials in April 2005 and I was sent to Yarlswood Detention Centre for a month with my two young daughters, aged 5 and 10. It was a traumatic experience and reminded me of the time when our house was raided by the LRA rebels 18 months before’.
‘After I was released from Yarlswood, my doctor sent me for some counselling. I was struggling to cope with life when I met Anne, my therapist, at Solace, a specialised counselling service for asylum seekers and refugees in Leeds. I had lost hope and life no longer had any meaning for me. Since going to Solace, my state of mind started to improve. The counselling really helped me. But then, in April 2007, I was raided at dawn for a second time and sent back to Yarlswood for four months with my children, who were taken out of svhool without any warning. Like the first time I was detained, I had committed no crime. It was a real setback for me and once again I lost all hope and was petrified of being deported’.
‘Throughout my time in the detention centre, Solace worked with my solicitor to get me out. Anne came to visit me and offer me support. I applied for bail as that was the only way they would release me. Anne provided surety for me, which I really appreciated as there was no one else to help me’.
At the beginning of 2008, Mary was being subjected to stringent bail conditions with a real risk that she could be deported at any time with her children. One day, out of the blue, Mary received a letter from the Home Office saying that she had been granted refugee status which meant that she was no longer had to report to the Home Office and meant that she could stay in Britain indefinitely.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
New Labour gobbledegook
Sustainability.
In the New Labour world, the notion of entropy (disorder) does not exist. Everything is sustainable under New Labour, at least in theory. But what does sustainable mean?
The Department of Trade and Industry website helpfully informs us that:
‘The Sector Sustainability Challenge aims to stimulate action to catalyse implementation at company level. The Government wants to build on the Pioneers Group and strengthen our work with business so as to improve our understanding of delivering long term decoupling in key sectors whilst putting in place measures to support that transition’.
So that's clear, then.
There are now ‘sustainable schools’. Next month, there is a ‘delivering sustainable communities’ conference in Birmingham. A new organisation is being set up called ‘Academy of Sustainable Development’, where, as ‘Partnership and Liaison Manager’ on over £50,000 a year, the person appointed will be:
‘Liaising at a senior level with key organisations and government departments, you will ensure all stakeholders take a strategic and coordinated approach to the sustainable communities agenda’.
Lots of meetings, then.
Once the government introduces an idea like sustainability, the whole of the public sector latches on to it. The public sector and the government has to be seen to be 'joined up'.
So the NHS has a ‘sustainable procurement plan’. The North West of England has gone several words further and everyone in the North West, they say, ‘owns’ their sustainability:
‘By taking ownership of Action for Sustainability, its principles and practices, every organisation, business and individual has a part to play in securing a strong, sustainable future for the North West’.
Just in case people living in the North West don’t know what to do with their ownership of action for sustainability, don’t worry, there is an ‘integrated appraisal toolkit (IAT)’ which,
‘… is a tool for helping decision makers, planners and investors in organisations throughout the North West region to assess and improve the sustainability of their projects, plans, policies and strategies.’
Sustainability is all the rage. Over on the other side of the country, there is ‘sustainable Hull’. York has not got there yet. They are working ‘towards a sustainable York’. Scotland is still getting there by ‘building a sustainable Scotland’. Newcastle is still at the aspirational stage. ‘We want to create a vibrant, inclusive, safe, sustainable and modern European city’.
Climate change is, of course, the biggest sustainability challenge of them all. Climate change, Woking Council admits, is affecting their borough. Well, I never.
‘If action is not taken to reduce greenhouse gases (CO2 equivalent emissions) within 30 years there could be an irreversible effect on the Global Climate. This is why Woking Borough Council has taken a lead and developed its own Climate Change Strategy for the Borough’.
So Woking is taking the lead, but will China, India and the USA follow?
Even at nearby Hounslow Council, it is difficult to follow Woking's lead on climate change when you have Heathrow Airport in the borough. The word ‘unsustainable' can’t be mentioned. So, instead, we have from local councillor, Ruth Cadbury:
'Heathrow has reached the limit of its sustainable development'.
A bit of an understatement, as Hounslow Council readily admits:
'The levels of pollution in the air around Heathrow consistently breach EU Air Quality limits. Whilst the long-term effects of living in a poor air quality environment lead to lung and heart conditions, health-related research from Hounslow’s residents and teachers points to a link between respiratory illnesses and proximity to the airport’.
So, pretty unsustainable then, I would say, but no one dares say it. According to the more pessimistic forecasts, human life on Earth will more or less be over by the end of the century because of climate change.
But lets not worry about small matters like that. The Governnment takes a more upbeat view:
'Working together, we can do it'. We can save the world with New Labour (and Woking) taking the lead. Every little thing counts, as the Government's sustainability website (http://www.sustainable.org/) tells us, even running a small-scale event can impact on the climate:
'Any event can be successful and sustainable. This downloadable brochure offers ideas to help you get started. Even if you only implement a few, you will make a difference! '
The downloadable brochure tells us, among other things, that when organising a sustainable event that we should:
‘Meet at sites that are transport-accessible (bus, trolley, tram, etc.)'.
So, presumably, then, an unsustainable event does not meet at transport-accessible sites. Up the top of a mountain with no disability access perhaps?
Despite all the time, effort and money spent on urging sustainability to happen (by 'working together, we can do it'), reality prefers to differ. So we now have an unsustainable health service where health care is suspended to bring the budget back into line. Sustainable finances, but no health care, which isn't very sustainable if you are ill. What kind of a health service is that?
House prices, household debt, pension schemes, working all hours of the day, diminishing resources, oil prices, not to mention climate change, are all defying the edicts exhorting sustainability.
Our actions, as opposed to our nice words, are what count unfortunately.
King Canute understood that even he couldn't defy reality. A thousand years later, the Soviet Union tried and failed to defy reality, despite their 5-year plans which told them that everything was on course for utopia. New Labour is heading the same way along with all those mountains of paper plans piled up in offices around the country waiting to be disposed of in a rubbish tip near you.
© Andrew Hawkins 2006
In the New Labour world, the notion of entropy (disorder) does not exist. Everything is sustainable under New Labour, at least in theory. But what does sustainable mean?
The Department of Trade and Industry website helpfully informs us that:
‘The Sector Sustainability Challenge aims to stimulate action to catalyse implementation at company level. The Government wants to build on the Pioneers Group and strengthen our work with business so as to improve our understanding of delivering long term decoupling in key sectors whilst putting in place measures to support that transition’.
So that's clear, then.
There are now ‘sustainable schools’. Next month, there is a ‘delivering sustainable communities’ conference in Birmingham. A new organisation is being set up called ‘Academy of Sustainable Development’, where, as ‘Partnership and Liaison Manager’ on over £50,000 a year, the person appointed will be:
‘Liaising at a senior level with key organisations and government departments, you will ensure all stakeholders take a strategic and coordinated approach to the sustainable communities agenda’.
Lots of meetings, then.
Once the government introduces an idea like sustainability, the whole of the public sector latches on to it. The public sector and the government has to be seen to be 'joined up'.
So the NHS has a ‘sustainable procurement plan’. The North West of England has gone several words further and everyone in the North West, they say, ‘owns’ their sustainability:
‘By taking ownership of Action for Sustainability, its principles and practices, every organisation, business and individual has a part to play in securing a strong, sustainable future for the North West’.
Just in case people living in the North West don’t know what to do with their ownership of action for sustainability, don’t worry, there is an ‘integrated appraisal toolkit (IAT)’ which,
‘… is a tool for helping decision makers, planners and investors in organisations throughout the North West region to assess and improve the sustainability of their projects, plans, policies and strategies.’
Sustainability is all the rage. Over on the other side of the country, there is ‘sustainable Hull’. York has not got there yet. They are working ‘towards a sustainable York’. Scotland is still getting there by ‘building a sustainable Scotland’. Newcastle is still at the aspirational stage. ‘We want to create a vibrant, inclusive, safe, sustainable and modern European city’.
Climate change is, of course, the biggest sustainability challenge of them all. Climate change, Woking Council admits, is affecting their borough. Well, I never.
‘If action is not taken to reduce greenhouse gases (CO2 equivalent emissions) within 30 years there could be an irreversible effect on the Global Climate. This is why Woking Borough Council has taken a lead and developed its own Climate Change Strategy for the Borough’.
So Woking is taking the lead, but will China, India and the USA follow?
Even at nearby Hounslow Council, it is difficult to follow Woking's lead on climate change when you have Heathrow Airport in the borough. The word ‘unsustainable' can’t be mentioned. So, instead, we have from local councillor, Ruth Cadbury:
'Heathrow has reached the limit of its sustainable development'.
A bit of an understatement, as Hounslow Council readily admits:
'The levels of pollution in the air around Heathrow consistently breach EU Air Quality limits. Whilst the long-term effects of living in a poor air quality environment lead to lung and heart conditions, health-related research from Hounslow’s residents and teachers points to a link between respiratory illnesses and proximity to the airport’.
So, pretty unsustainable then, I would say, but no one dares say it. According to the more pessimistic forecasts, human life on Earth will more or less be over by the end of the century because of climate change.
But lets not worry about small matters like that. The Governnment takes a more upbeat view:
'Working together, we can do it'. We can save the world with New Labour (and Woking) taking the lead. Every little thing counts, as the Government's sustainability website (http://www.sustainable.org/) tells us, even running a small-scale event can impact on the climate:
'Any event can be successful and sustainable. This downloadable brochure offers ideas to help you get started. Even if you only implement a few, you will make a difference! '
The downloadable brochure tells us, among other things, that when organising a sustainable event that we should:
‘Meet at sites that are transport-accessible (bus, trolley, tram, etc.)'.
So, presumably, then, an unsustainable event does not meet at transport-accessible sites. Up the top of a mountain with no disability access perhaps?
Despite all the time, effort and money spent on urging sustainability to happen (by 'working together, we can do it'), reality prefers to differ. So we now have an unsustainable health service where health care is suspended to bring the budget back into line. Sustainable finances, but no health care, which isn't very sustainable if you are ill. What kind of a health service is that?
House prices, household debt, pension schemes, working all hours of the day, diminishing resources, oil prices, not to mention climate change, are all defying the edicts exhorting sustainability.
Our actions, as opposed to our nice words, are what count unfortunately.
King Canute understood that even he couldn't defy reality. A thousand years later, the Soviet Union tried and failed to defy reality, despite their 5-year plans which told them that everything was on course for utopia. New Labour is heading the same way along with all those mountains of paper plans piled up in offices around the country waiting to be disposed of in a rubbish tip near you.
© Andrew Hawkins 2006
Good news for first time buyers in 2013
An average house in the UK cost £72,985 in April 1979 (at today's prices - i.e. £1 is worth less now than it was then) when Thatcher came to power.
18 years later, a month before they were out of power, an average house cost £78,191 (at today's prices) - an increase of just over £5,000 in real terms in 18 years. Of course, house prices did go shooting up at the end of the 1980s (to a stratospheric £113,794 for an average house) but then they came crashing down again.
The peak of the house price boom in the Tory years was more or less exactly 10 years after they had been in power, then it was downhill virtually all the way back to where they were when they started in May 1979.
It would appear that the housing boom of the New Labour years has peaked after they had been in power for almost exactly 10 years, as well. According to the long term trend in house prices (over 40 years) the average house should cost just over £140,000 today. In fact is about £186,000 (at it's peak in 2007) - or 34% overvalued.
Just before the last crash in the Summer of 1989, according to the same long term trend, the average house was 35% overvalued (i.e. more or less exactly the same degree of overvaluation as today).
But when there is an asset bubble (i.e. overpriced assets like houses) they don't just return to the long term trend line but drop below it. In the last crash, the price of the average house dropped just under 29% BELOW the trend line at its lowest point in 1995 - six years after the peak.
If the same thing happened this time, then the price of an average house - currently just over £186,000 - would drop to £99,000 (i.e. 29% below the trend line) about 2013.
See: http://www.housepricecrash.co.uk/
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
18 years later, a month before they were out of power, an average house cost £78,191 (at today's prices) - an increase of just over £5,000 in real terms in 18 years. Of course, house prices did go shooting up at the end of the 1980s (to a stratospheric £113,794 for an average house) but then they came crashing down again.
The peak of the house price boom in the Tory years was more or less exactly 10 years after they had been in power, then it was downhill virtually all the way back to where they were when they started in May 1979.
It would appear that the housing boom of the New Labour years has peaked after they had been in power for almost exactly 10 years, as well. According to the long term trend in house prices (over 40 years) the average house should cost just over £140,000 today. In fact is about £186,000 (at it's peak in 2007) - or 34% overvalued.
Just before the last crash in the Summer of 1989, according to the same long term trend, the average house was 35% overvalued (i.e. more or less exactly the same degree of overvaluation as today).
But when there is an asset bubble (i.e. overpriced assets like houses) they don't just return to the long term trend line but drop below it. In the last crash, the price of the average house dropped just under 29% BELOW the trend line at its lowest point in 1995 - six years after the peak.
If the same thing happened this time, then the price of an average house - currently just over £186,000 - would drop to £99,000 (i.e. 29% below the trend line) about 2013.
See: http://www.housepricecrash.co.uk/
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Nice little earner
If house prices had continued on their trajactory from 1996 until 2007, when they reached their peak, the average house price in Britain (currently just under £200,000) would be £1 million in 15 years.
The average salary in 15 years is likely to be no more than £45,000 before tax (based on a 4% increase in salary per year over the next 15 years).
In other words, the mortgage repayment on an average house would be greater than the income of an average salary.
Between the Spring of 1997 and the Spring of 2007, the average house price increased from just over £70,000 to about £180,000 - an increase of £110,000 or about £11,000 a year. If you earned less than £15,000 a year on average (before tax) over that ten year period, an average semi in Britain earned more money sitting there doing nothing than you did going out to work.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
The average salary in 15 years is likely to be no more than £45,000 before tax (based on a 4% increase in salary per year over the next 15 years).
In other words, the mortgage repayment on an average house would be greater than the income of an average salary.
Between the Spring of 1997 and the Spring of 2007, the average house price increased from just over £70,000 to about £180,000 - an increase of £110,000 or about £11,000 a year. If you earned less than £15,000 a year on average (before tax) over that ten year period, an average semi in Britain earned more money sitting there doing nothing than you did going out to work.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
When all Africans are billionaires
The most successful hedge fund manager on Wall Street made nearly $3 million dollars last year (by betting against the sub-prime market and thereby compounding the misery of millions of Americans).
It would take the average American, on the average US salary, 80,000 years to earn that amount of money (Yes, that's 80,000 years).
If 80,000 years is difficult to grasp, suffice it to say that 80,000 years ago, hunter gatherers were busy migrating out of Africa. If the average American, on the average salary, (let alone the rest of us on the planet) were to accumulate as much wealth as Bill Gates or Warren Buffet, it would take 800,000 years, which, going back in time, was when Yunxian man in China were using hand axes in the early Stone Age - the Lower Paleolithic period.
It would probably take a lot longer than that to accumulate a Bill Gates fortune for an average American because their salaries would be taxed at source and they wouldn't have access to fancy tax avoidance accountants - probably another million years or so.
For a poor African, struggling to survive, it would take about 80 million (yes, million) years to accumulate a Bill Gates fortune - you would have had to have been a hard-working fossil in the Cambrian era to have accumulated that sort of wealth .
Many animal species appeared at that time, so assuming they had developed a banking system with high interest loans and credit facilities and developed a system of mortgages on sedimentary rocks. Perhaps they had a bank called 'Sedimentary Rock'. But again, the poor African subjected to the average American's tax bill, would have taken twice as long to accumulate Bill Gates' fortune. Going back in time, Homo Erectus was ruling the roost.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
It would take the average American, on the average US salary, 80,000 years to earn that amount of money (Yes, that's 80,000 years).
If 80,000 years is difficult to grasp, suffice it to say that 80,000 years ago, hunter gatherers were busy migrating out of Africa. If the average American, on the average salary, (let alone the rest of us on the planet) were to accumulate as much wealth as Bill Gates or Warren Buffet, it would take 800,000 years, which, going back in time, was when Yunxian man in China were using hand axes in the early Stone Age - the Lower Paleolithic period.
It would probably take a lot longer than that to accumulate a Bill Gates fortune for an average American because their salaries would be taxed at source and they wouldn't have access to fancy tax avoidance accountants - probably another million years or so.
For a poor African, struggling to survive, it would take about 80 million (yes, million) years to accumulate a Bill Gates fortune - you would have had to have been a hard-working fossil in the Cambrian era to have accumulated that sort of wealth .
Many animal species appeared at that time, so assuming they had developed a banking system with high interest loans and credit facilities and developed a system of mortgages on sedimentary rocks. Perhaps they had a bank called 'Sedimentary Rock'. But again, the poor African subjected to the average American's tax bill, would have taken twice as long to accumulate Bill Gates' fortune. Going back in time, Homo Erectus was ruling the roost.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
When billionaires are poor
Inflation in Zimbabwe will be running at 500,000% by June 2008.
To put this in perspective, if the whole world economy had 500,000% inflation for a year, Bill Gate's £30 billion fortune would be worth a mere £60,000 at today's values by this time next year. If inflation continued for another year at that rate, Bill Gate's fortune would be worth less than £1 at today's values.
Expressed another way, a litre of petrol today at £1.10 would cost over £500,000 in a year's time with inflation at 500,000%. In other words, you wouldn't be able to drive very far.
To put it another way, if I knew in advance that inflation was going to be 500,000% in a year's time, I could fill up my car with petrol now and not drive anywhere and then sell the tank in a year's time - I would be a multimillionaire and could buy many beautiful houses (since the house prices are going down), but I wouldn't have enough money to eat and, like everyone else, I would be swapping three potatoes for a pint of milk.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
To put this in perspective, if the whole world economy had 500,000% inflation for a year, Bill Gate's £30 billion fortune would be worth a mere £60,000 at today's values by this time next year. If inflation continued for another year at that rate, Bill Gate's fortune would be worth less than £1 at today's values.
Expressed another way, a litre of petrol today at £1.10 would cost over £500,000 in a year's time with inflation at 500,000%. In other words, you wouldn't be able to drive very far.
To put it another way, if I knew in advance that inflation was going to be 500,000% in a year's time, I could fill up my car with petrol now and not drive anywhere and then sell the tank in a year's time - I would be a multimillionaire and could buy many beautiful houses (since the house prices are going down), but I wouldn't have enough money to eat and, like everyone else, I would be swapping three potatoes for a pint of milk.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
If Hamlet had been a civil servant
To do or not to do, that is the question.
Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous bureaucracy, or to take arms against a sea of paperwork, and by opposing end it? To shy away, to weep –no more and by weeping to say we end the thousand forms of shit that paper is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d.
To shy away, to weep; to weep perchance to get six months off work. Ay there’s the rub…
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Whether it is nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous bureaucracy, or to take arms against a sea of paperwork, and by opposing end it? To shy away, to weep –no more and by weeping to say we end the thousand forms of shit that paper is heir to. ‘Tis a consummation devoutly to be wish’d.
To shy away, to weep; to weep perchance to get six months off work. Ay there’s the rub…
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Life as a New Labour bureaucrat
Once upon a time, a young man called Bureaucrat fell in love with a beautiful young woman called Process. After they had been (fully) 'engaged in the process', Bureaucrat got married to Process.
'Do you ******** (name of bureaucrat) take Process to be your lawfully wedded strategic partner in sickness and in health, until death do us part?'
Bureaucrat said: 'I do'.
Marriage, in the case of Bureaucrat and Process, led to the birth of Strategic Plan and Operating Statement, followed in quick succession by Action Plan, Quality Assurance and Appraisal. Quality Assurance, as you can imagine, was the classroom swot among them and grew up to be a complete tosser.
Strategic Plan was a day dreamer with a tendency to go off into flights of fancy. Action Plan was always fighting with Operating Statement, and Appraisal was forever trying to improve his performance at school so he could catch up with his big wanker of a brother, Quality Assurance. Process was proud of them all, whilst Bureaucrat toiled away to no obvious effect, trying to keep order and discipline among his offspring, but failing miserably.
One day, Bureaucrat was restructured and from then on, he was completely unable to satisfy Process, who, after a period of reflection, followed by some consultation, implemented a fully-costed demerger plan.
Process was awarded custody of Strategic Plan, Operating Statement, Action Plan, Quality Assurance and Appraisal. Poor old Bureaucrat. Process went on to form a series of casual new strategic partnerships, out of which came the birth of Accountability, Cost Effectiveness, and Implementation, all of whom grew up to be complete bastards, wreaking havoc on All and Sundry, particularly Sundry.
Bureaucrat went on to form a strategic partnership with Apologies For Absence, but, sadly, they were unable to have children because Bureaucrat’s key skills had been outsourced.
Nevertheless, for a while, Bureaucrat could still raise some awareness (with the help of some new resource planning software), so, for an all too brief period, he was able to implement some of his performance indicators.
But then it all went to cock.
Bureaucrat didn't know what to do. He felt so frustrated by his underperformance that he called in a young expert, called Consultant, who advised Bureaucrat on how to improve his outcomes, but the result was a hopeless mess, with Apologies for Absence resigned to a life of abstention.
Bureaucrat could no longer get his matters to arise, and was left to sulk on his own. Time is a great healer, as every customer services’ manager knows, and Bureaucrat’s sulking turned to daydreaming about his youth. He fantasised about the magnificently reliable Card Index, who never once threw a wobbler.
He remembered fondly his pangs of desire for Shorthand and Duplicator. He loved that whooshing sound that Duplicator made when she was going hammer and tongs, and Shorthand’s no-nonsense and speedy approach to his matter in hand. There’s none of that these days! You-have-messages-in-your-inbox is very good-looking and very well organised, but she is a complete workaholic with no sense of humour.
Spreadsheet isn’t as glamorous as you might think - another bloody clever little know-it-all, with no life outside of work. They might know all the answers, but they have no idea what the questions are. Young people these days!
The only young person Bureaucrat had any sympathy for was Floppy Disc, who was rapidly becoming redundant. Most of these young people are not at all reliable and are forever sending error messages, or having to abort altogether. No wonder Bureaucrat wanted to log out of the process altogether.
Before Bureaucrat drafted his documents for the last time, Any Other Business, an inoffensive chap of the old school, came into the office from Human Resources, to evaluate Bureaucrat’s exit strategy.
Together, they went through a proforma to assess the levels of exit strategy robustness; the rigour with which the evaluation had been implemented; and, of course, the robustness of internal customer satisfaction.
Bureaucrat was so used to saying that everything was ‘excellent’ that everything was, of course, excellent. To enhance the measurement of excellence, Any Other Business had recently implemented a customised system which measured degrees of excellence that were graded from ‘sort of excellent’ to ‘bloody marvellously excellent’. Bureaucrat replied ‘bloody marvellously excellent’.
The forms were filled in; the boxes were ticked. The feedback was fedback into the feedback loop, and life was assured and enhanced. Everyone satisfied themselves, and they all lived bloody marvellously excellently ever after, and filed under archives.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
'Do you ******** (name of bureaucrat) take Process to be your lawfully wedded strategic partner in sickness and in health, until death do us part?'
Bureaucrat said: 'I do'.
Marriage, in the case of Bureaucrat and Process, led to the birth of Strategic Plan and Operating Statement, followed in quick succession by Action Plan, Quality Assurance and Appraisal. Quality Assurance, as you can imagine, was the classroom swot among them and grew up to be a complete tosser.
Strategic Plan was a day dreamer with a tendency to go off into flights of fancy. Action Plan was always fighting with Operating Statement, and Appraisal was forever trying to improve his performance at school so he could catch up with his big wanker of a brother, Quality Assurance. Process was proud of them all, whilst Bureaucrat toiled away to no obvious effect, trying to keep order and discipline among his offspring, but failing miserably.
One day, Bureaucrat was restructured and from then on, he was completely unable to satisfy Process, who, after a period of reflection, followed by some consultation, implemented a fully-costed demerger plan.
Process was awarded custody of Strategic Plan, Operating Statement, Action Plan, Quality Assurance and Appraisal. Poor old Bureaucrat. Process went on to form a series of casual new strategic partnerships, out of which came the birth of Accountability, Cost Effectiveness, and Implementation, all of whom grew up to be complete bastards, wreaking havoc on All and Sundry, particularly Sundry.
Bureaucrat went on to form a strategic partnership with Apologies For Absence, but, sadly, they were unable to have children because Bureaucrat’s key skills had been outsourced.
Nevertheless, for a while, Bureaucrat could still raise some awareness (with the help of some new resource planning software), so, for an all too brief period, he was able to implement some of his performance indicators.
But then it all went to cock.
Bureaucrat didn't know what to do. He felt so frustrated by his underperformance that he called in a young expert, called Consultant, who advised Bureaucrat on how to improve his outcomes, but the result was a hopeless mess, with Apologies for Absence resigned to a life of abstention.
Bureaucrat could no longer get his matters to arise, and was left to sulk on his own. Time is a great healer, as every customer services’ manager knows, and Bureaucrat’s sulking turned to daydreaming about his youth. He fantasised about the magnificently reliable Card Index, who never once threw a wobbler.
He remembered fondly his pangs of desire for Shorthand and Duplicator. He loved that whooshing sound that Duplicator made when she was going hammer and tongs, and Shorthand’s no-nonsense and speedy approach to his matter in hand. There’s none of that these days! You-have-messages-in-your-inbox is very good-looking and very well organised, but she is a complete workaholic with no sense of humour.
Spreadsheet isn’t as glamorous as you might think - another bloody clever little know-it-all, with no life outside of work. They might know all the answers, but they have no idea what the questions are. Young people these days!
The only young person Bureaucrat had any sympathy for was Floppy Disc, who was rapidly becoming redundant. Most of these young people are not at all reliable and are forever sending error messages, or having to abort altogether. No wonder Bureaucrat wanted to log out of the process altogether.
Before Bureaucrat drafted his documents for the last time, Any Other Business, an inoffensive chap of the old school, came into the office from Human Resources, to evaluate Bureaucrat’s exit strategy.
Together, they went through a proforma to assess the levels of exit strategy robustness; the rigour with which the evaluation had been implemented; and, of course, the robustness of internal customer satisfaction.
Bureaucrat was so used to saying that everything was ‘excellent’ that everything was, of course, excellent. To enhance the measurement of excellence, Any Other Business had recently implemented a customised system which measured degrees of excellence that were graded from ‘sort of excellent’ to ‘bloody marvellously excellent’. Bureaucrat replied ‘bloody marvellously excellent’.
The forms were filled in; the boxes were ticked. The feedback was fedback into the feedback loop, and life was assured and enhanced. Everyone satisfied themselves, and they all lived bloody marvellously excellently ever after, and filed under archives.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Tick boxes, targets and the voluntary sector
Imagine you want to go walking but you don't have any shoes. You have no money so you need to apply to a grant-awarding body for a pair of shoes. You soon discover that the first grant holder you approach tells you that they will only fund one of the laces and only then if you find another grant holder who will fund the second lace.
Bloody marvellous. What use is a lace or two without a shoe? You ask for advice on who to approach for funding for a pair of shoes. You find a funder but it will only fund one shoe. And, what's more, there are conditions attached. You need to form a company with 'charitable purposes'.
The shoes, they add unhelpfully, mustn't be worn for any other purpose than walking on grass. But you live in a city where it is impossible to stick to walking on grass. Back to the grant for laces. It soon emerges that you need to fill out a form and have it signed by at least three people, supply your latest financial accounts, have a company constitution with 'charitable purposes', an annual report, insurance documentation, a birth certificate to to prove that you are who you say you are, an equal opportunities policy, a child protection policy, a walking policy, a health and safety policy, a tie-ing up your laces policy.
You also need a letter of support from the 'Business Sustainability Directorate' at the local council.
The plot thickens.
They won't write a letter of support unless you have a business plan. You produce one. That isn't good enough because how do they know that you haven't made it up. How do they know that you are not making absurd propositions? How can prove that your statements are true?
However, help is at hand at the 'Business Sustainability Directorate'. They can provide you with funding to pay for the business plan. But first you have to do a feasibility study which will inform the business plan. They can provide funding for that as well. But first you have to fill in an application form which they have to approve.
Meanwhile, you are stuck at home unable to go anywhere because you have no shoes. You are nowhere near getting any laces, let alone shoes. However, you are kept busy by filling in forms, writing a tender for the feasibility study, making phone calls, producing policies, having meetings (they have to come to you obviously).
Everyone is happy (except you) because they are kept busy ticking their tick boxes and meeting their output targets. Meanwhile, amazing fortune, you have managed to secure funding for two heels for the shoes, but no shoes or laces. One heel is brown and the other black. Not ideal but it will have to do.
Unfortunately, you have promised the heel funder that in return for supplying the heel you will meet a target of walking 200 miles in the heels to justify the funding. Obviously, you can't go anywhere with just two heels, so that is a problem, but you won't worry about that right now.
The feasibility study (which will 'inform' the business plan, which will secure a letter of support by the 'Business Sustainability Directorate', which will, in turn, improve - though not guarantee - the prospects for getting lace funding) has been held up because you need to supply a shoe walking strategy (for grass) document as well. You don't have one. You write one which is full of jargon about 'how you will fully engage with the shoe and how the shoe will feedback into the laces which are fully underpinned by the heels'.
Quality will be fully assured, you (laughably) claim, by 'a robust process of double knots which will be monitored by the socks'. Something like that.Realising that this could take up to six months to filter through the multiple tiers of bureaucracy, you apply elsewhere for other money for shoes. One of the funders will only fund Cuban-heeled boots that can only be used in Cuba; another will fund a stilletto heel but nothing else, another will fund size 18 wellies, and one will fund Winkle Pickers but without the winkles (you have to find separate funding for the winkles).
Eventually you come across one funder who will fund a pair of soles and after hunting high and low, you find another that will fund the upper shoe, providing it is orange. Not ideal, but anything will do at this stage.Meanwhile the heel funder wants a 'monitoring and evaluation' report on progress so far.
Foolishly you stated in the initial application that by this stage (6 months after you received the funding) you would have walked 200 miles with those heels. Well, on second thoughts, it wasn't that foolish because if you hadn't made grand claims you wouldn't have got funding for 2 heels.
Obviously, the heels haven't been anywhere because they have no shoe attached to them. So, rather naughtily (but what can you do?) you sit at home rubbing the heels furiously on the carpet to make it look as if the heels have been out walking. You lean out of the window and rub the heels into the grass to add to the effect that the heels have been somewhere.One day, out of the blue, you receive one pink lace! Jesus, you had forgotten all about that application!But dark clouds are gathering.
You can't go on like this. You need to go shopping to eat! The tins of beans are running low! So you decide to call it a day with the shoe game. Obviously, you have to send back the two heels and the pink lace. You decide to put on your slippers, which is completely illegal of course, and go to the shops to get some food.Well, you guessed it. I went out shopping in my slippers and promptly got arrested. I pleaded starvation.
When I went to court, they gave me a pair of shoes to wear, but took them off me as soon as I was sent down. The police were happy because they had a successful conviction which was good for their targets and therefore next years budget allocation.
The Home Secretary was happy because he could stand up and say that the government were keeping their promises on crime figures. I am glad I have a useful purpose in life. I should get an OBE for my contribution to targets and outputs.
Several years later, I heard on the grapevine, the feasibility study concluded that the propositions about walking with shoes on grass were solid ones and we could proceed with the business plan, which, if successful, would lead to a letter of support. The Business Sustainability Directorate were happy because I was a successful output which meant that they were meeting their targets, which meant in turn, that they would get a pay rise and have enough money to buy themselves yet another pay of designer shoes.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
Bloody marvellous. What use is a lace or two without a shoe? You ask for advice on who to approach for funding for a pair of shoes. You find a funder but it will only fund one shoe. And, what's more, there are conditions attached. You need to form a company with 'charitable purposes'.
The shoes, they add unhelpfully, mustn't be worn for any other purpose than walking on grass. But you live in a city where it is impossible to stick to walking on grass. Back to the grant for laces. It soon emerges that you need to fill out a form and have it signed by at least three people, supply your latest financial accounts, have a company constitution with 'charitable purposes', an annual report, insurance documentation, a birth certificate to to prove that you are who you say you are, an equal opportunities policy, a child protection policy, a walking policy, a health and safety policy, a tie-ing up your laces policy.
You also need a letter of support from the 'Business Sustainability Directorate' at the local council.
The plot thickens.
They won't write a letter of support unless you have a business plan. You produce one. That isn't good enough because how do they know that you haven't made it up. How do they know that you are not making absurd propositions? How can prove that your statements are true?
However, help is at hand at the 'Business Sustainability Directorate'. They can provide you with funding to pay for the business plan. But first you have to do a feasibility study which will inform the business plan. They can provide funding for that as well. But first you have to fill in an application form which they have to approve.
Meanwhile, you are stuck at home unable to go anywhere because you have no shoes. You are nowhere near getting any laces, let alone shoes. However, you are kept busy by filling in forms, writing a tender for the feasibility study, making phone calls, producing policies, having meetings (they have to come to you obviously).
Everyone is happy (except you) because they are kept busy ticking their tick boxes and meeting their output targets. Meanwhile, amazing fortune, you have managed to secure funding for two heels for the shoes, but no shoes or laces. One heel is brown and the other black. Not ideal but it will have to do.
Unfortunately, you have promised the heel funder that in return for supplying the heel you will meet a target of walking 200 miles in the heels to justify the funding. Obviously, you can't go anywhere with just two heels, so that is a problem, but you won't worry about that right now.
The feasibility study (which will 'inform' the business plan, which will secure a letter of support by the 'Business Sustainability Directorate', which will, in turn, improve - though not guarantee - the prospects for getting lace funding) has been held up because you need to supply a shoe walking strategy (for grass) document as well. You don't have one. You write one which is full of jargon about 'how you will fully engage with the shoe and how the shoe will feedback into the laces which are fully underpinned by the heels'.
Quality will be fully assured, you (laughably) claim, by 'a robust process of double knots which will be monitored by the socks'. Something like that.Realising that this could take up to six months to filter through the multiple tiers of bureaucracy, you apply elsewhere for other money for shoes. One of the funders will only fund Cuban-heeled boots that can only be used in Cuba; another will fund a stilletto heel but nothing else, another will fund size 18 wellies, and one will fund Winkle Pickers but without the winkles (you have to find separate funding for the winkles).
Eventually you come across one funder who will fund a pair of soles and after hunting high and low, you find another that will fund the upper shoe, providing it is orange. Not ideal, but anything will do at this stage.Meanwhile the heel funder wants a 'monitoring and evaluation' report on progress so far.
Foolishly you stated in the initial application that by this stage (6 months after you received the funding) you would have walked 200 miles with those heels. Well, on second thoughts, it wasn't that foolish because if you hadn't made grand claims you wouldn't have got funding for 2 heels.
Obviously, the heels haven't been anywhere because they have no shoe attached to them. So, rather naughtily (but what can you do?) you sit at home rubbing the heels furiously on the carpet to make it look as if the heels have been out walking. You lean out of the window and rub the heels into the grass to add to the effect that the heels have been somewhere.One day, out of the blue, you receive one pink lace! Jesus, you had forgotten all about that application!But dark clouds are gathering.
You can't go on like this. You need to go shopping to eat! The tins of beans are running low! So you decide to call it a day with the shoe game. Obviously, you have to send back the two heels and the pink lace. You decide to put on your slippers, which is completely illegal of course, and go to the shops to get some food.Well, you guessed it. I went out shopping in my slippers and promptly got arrested. I pleaded starvation.
When I went to court, they gave me a pair of shoes to wear, but took them off me as soon as I was sent down. The police were happy because they had a successful conviction which was good for their targets and therefore next years budget allocation.
The Home Secretary was happy because he could stand up and say that the government were keeping their promises on crime figures. I am glad I have a useful purpose in life. I should get an OBE for my contribution to targets and outputs.
Several years later, I heard on the grapevine, the feasibility study concluded that the propositions about walking with shoes on grass were solid ones and we could proceed with the business plan, which, if successful, would lead to a letter of support. The Business Sustainability Directorate were happy because I was a successful output which meant that they were meeting their targets, which meant in turn, that they would get a pay rise and have enough money to buy themselves yet another pay of designer shoes.
© Andrew Hawkins 2008
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