Pet hate

It is interesting that Chelsea fans, who Rafa Benitez has lashed out against this week for their relentless negativity regarding his appointment as 'interim manager', should demand his departure (on a regular basis), yet continue to use his diminutive. To write or shout “Benitez out” depersonalises the object of their disaffection, giving it the stiffness and remoteness that they feel towards him. But to use his pet name of Rafa and have banners saying ‘Rafa out!” or Rafa Benitez out” (and other signs of such ilk) sends a mixed message. To say “Rafael Benitez out” would reinstate the austere formality, demonstrating they have no attachment to him, though “Rafael out” would draw minds to Manchester United’s player and subsequent bafflement (solution: when abusing, don’t use first names on their own… ever).


It is reminiscent of when NATO opened their air-strike campaign against Serbia for its actions in Kosovo. The headline of The Sun (‘we loathe it’) was forthright in its stance: “Clobber Sloba!” Yet this was the name that friends and family of Slobodan Milosevic were apt to call the late Serbian strongman. The current bun was seemingly displaying a hitherto unknown affinity for the alleged war criminal, despite exhorting punishment upon him. How can this be squared? Did the newspaper’s editor have a contretemps at a cocktail party with the former Belgrade supremo? No, the people responsible for that headline were acting in the same manner as one of the teams in The Apprentice from 2011, who were ‘opening’ a Mexican-themed eatery and named it Caracas (the capital of Venezuela), that is, displaying baleful ignorance beyond their parochial worldview. 'Rafa' may have stuck in minds like Anthony 'Tony' Blair, but Chelsea fans though know the score and, if they are true in their profession of hate, have no excuse.

Electioneering

The half-unexpected departure of Chris Huhne from politics has led to a dramatic speeding up of events that might have been kept on the backburner until at least the European elections in 2014.  The Eastleigh by-elections has allowed former Australian prime minister, John Howard’s and London Mayor, Alexander Boris Johnson’s guru, Lynton Crosby to flex his muscles.  The hand of his malign influence is all over this contest.

To shore up the Tory vote - especially with such a disastrous candidate as Maria Huthings – against UKIP was to engineer the defection of UKIP’s only female MEP, Marta Andreasen, prompting rare Nigel Farage sympathy for the European Commission (her former place of work), concluding that she was impossible to work with others.  Marta Andreasen, that name of good English yeoman stock, was intended to disrupt UKIP’s push, but instead only had the effect of a day, before the issue has faded from the headlines.

What remains very much in the headlines, is the digging up of impropriety allegations of a former unknown member of the Liberal Democrats.  Lord (Chris) Rennard was apparently Chief Executive of the Lib Dems, though outside the Westminster bubble I doubt anyone was aware of him as they are his equally anonymous successor.  To be fair, Nick Clegg has exhibited his tendency towards calamity a bit too well this week, but after the alleged scandal broke last week, it threatened to become a 24 hour news item, like Andreasen and Crosby could not let that happen.

Frankly, why have these allegations only just come to light now, why is Rennard being treated as if has been found guilty (guilty until proven innocent is the authoritarian nature of the right-wing hacks) and who hacked into the email account of Clegg’s former chief of staff, spreading the crisis, even though hacking is illegal (the press and legality, ha!)?  The media, still scarred by not uncovering Jimmy Saville while the posthumously disgraced presenter was still alive, are like a dog with a bone on this one, even though the charge, while still serious, is not as grave and, it has to be repeated, so far unproven.  The right-wing press in particular are terrified of not winning Eastleigh and have blithe contempt for Coalition dynamics (preventing a Tory blue in tooth-and-claw minority government).  Crosby is far too clever to have any direct link to these developments and I’m sure has well-honed deniability, but both Andreasen and the expanding Rennard business are just beyond the realms of coincidence in the context of an important by-election.  Whether they will have any effect given UKIP’s surge and the Lib Dem candidate running on an essentially anti-Coalition message remains to be seen.  The dirty tricks of the Tories (and their press lackeys) are deserving of a bloody nose but sometimes nasty guys finish first.

Tarantino's southern

I think it was fitting that Christoph Waltz won Best Supporting Actor at the Oscars (his second one) for his role in Django Unchained as an eccentric German bounty hunter in the American West. I had qualms about Quentin Tarantino being nominated for best screenplay after hearing reports of gratuitous use of the n-word in the film, but having seen it I can testify that the power of the story-telling overcomes the unpleasantness of hearing it and thus Tarantino is a worthy winner of Best Original Screenplay Oscar (his second).


Jamie Foxx and Leonardo di Caprio give sterling performances, lessons in rough-hewn decency and charming evil respectively, which cannot be said for Tarantino’s presumed Australian – who sounds like a Boer (intentional?) – but at least he goes with a bang. Samuel L. Jackson plays a villainous Uncle Tom who not only hates those of his own skin colour but is an object cause of the final two acts of mass violence. After the language controversy this also comes in for a barrage of criticism but it is so hyper-real and cartoonish, one cannot take it seriously. Echoes of Peckinpah and Woo but the pleasure lies in it being over the top.

I like the way that Tarantino plays with us, setting the opening scene in 1858 “two years before the Civil War.” Well, that jars until you recognise that this is December 1858 and the American Civil War began early in 1861. There is also a hilarious scene of proto-Ku Klux Klan arguing about the size of the eyeholes in the pillow-cases they’re wearing, with one sulking off home after criticism of his wife’s lack of craftsmanship.  The degrading brutality of slavery is not skimped though, with man's inhumanity to fellow man at times exceptionally visceral.  This ‘revenge’ western (or is it ‘southern’) is a wonderful addition to the genre and, despite being a homage to spaghetti westerns, has a unique flavour all its own that shows that Tarantino’s talent is far from flagging.

What lurks beneath the cassock?

It is quite shocking that Britain's most senior Roman Catholic clergyman has resigned over allegations of 'improper' actions towards other priests.  That he has been stridently anti-gay marriage may have been a case of hiding in plain sight - doth he protest too much?  It's not like a politician stepping down from government to clear their name and then getting a plush cabinet post at the next reshuffle once the trouble goes away (if it does).  Stepping down as cardinal is a one-way street indicating that the allegations have some merit.  Then again, it is rumoured that one of Pope Benedict's last actions as pontiff was to force this through.  It means there will no British representative voting for the next pope.  Surely not a case of a German getting one over on the British?

Out of their league

The League Cup final was a bridge too far for Bradford City and they were found out by Swansea City (losing 5-0), in the way Wigan Athletic, Arsenal and Aston Villa failed to do so.  I think Swansea would have prevailed against any of those three Premier League sides had they been the finalists, but Bradford, once of the Premier League not so long ago, can be proud of the journey and being a fourth tier club knocking out three top tier clubs (not dissimilar to Gillingham’s FA Cup run a little over a decade ago).  Given that Bradford were raising the possibility of declining a place in Europe (on grounds of cost), it was probably for the best that Swansea, in their centenary year, won their first major piece of silverware.  Well done Swansea but also well done Bradford for giving the neutral such delight in the underdog on the journey to Wembley.

Resumption

I’ve taken an enforced yet also voluntary break from blogging. Initially, there was the deadline to finish a 3,000 word essay. With copious notes and building on an initial 200 words, I completed it in 12 hours (within the 10% excess word limit). I had a further day to complete it but with no classes on Friday, I was very averse to going onto campus on deadline day. So it was completed for Thursday. Being about the Cold War and the North/South divide, after I had submitted it online and handed in a hard copy, I thought I could have mentioned something about ‘American Empire’ – an enduring theme amongst some of the literature. That’ll probably cost me a couple of percentage points on the mark as it is a favoured idea of the lecturer, but overall I am happy with my essay.


Then after that, I was working Friday, Saturday and Sunday 2pm – midnight. Winding down, it was an effort to motivate to do university study (kind of needed everyday), let alone blog. Allied to that I am sorting out the duties that belong to a PCC secretary (i.e. me) with the approach of the APCM in April. Busy, busy, busy. I am getting ready for the next essay but that’s not for a whole month. Maybe I can permit myself a slight return to the blog.

Best intentions and all that

After having some passport photos taken, the machine, with all the mechanical sincerity of a Walmart employee, signed off with a "see you soon."  Well, I hope not, given that passports are rather pricey these days.
Another 'fail' comes from equally good intentions.  A group email to all IR postgraduates was issued, enjoining recipients to have a pub outing this Wednesday and take a break from essay-writing.  Given that I have an essay due Friday and an unequivocable commitment on Thursday night (a friend's 30th), I would be foolhardy to accept, but even without the preoccupation of Thursday night, I can take a break from essay-wrting without giving over an entire night to being down the pub.

Licensed to win

I was a little surprised that the latest James Bond film, Skyfall, was honoured in the round with a BAFTA last Sunday.  I know it is the 50^th anniversary and so there might be a little nostalgia at such an amazingly successful British-based franchise, but was Skyfall really the ‘Outstanding British film of the year’?  Were their seriously no other contenders that could match it in this category?

Admittedly, it is touched by genius at times.  When Bond is chasing the escaped Silva into the depths of the London Underground, it is as if he is descending into hell to chase his quarry, as indicated by the increasingly synchronised numbers on the Tube carriages.  Of course, he loses to Silva in this territory and so must take higher ground, eventually defeating Silva in an old chapel.  Perhaps I am reading too much into this but the picture’s producers are very intelligent.

This is also the first film in the 50 years to use the f-word (a dubious distinction), but, of course, just the once, to qualify for the 12A rating, rather than a 15 sanction.  I know this technicality from the 2005 film Be Cool, a semi-sequel to Get Shorty, in which John Travolta’s Chili Palmer says “you can only use the f-word once to get a 12A rating and I say ‘fuck that’.”  It is the only explicit mention of the f-word in the entire 12A-rated movie.

The ravings, as from Barry Norman, that this is the best Mr Kiss-Kiss Bang-Bang release to date are a little wide of the mark.  Better than Goldfinger or Goldeneye?  Better than From Russia With Love or The Living Daylights?  Better indeed than Craig’s debut in the tuxedo with the official Casino Royale? (Incidentally, the colossal waste of talent in the original CR now seems matched by the recent Movie 43). In my opinion, no.  Skyfall is a very good outing for 007 but it falls short of greatness, which a second viewing reveals.  The background music was a worthy BAFTA triumph.  Roll on the Oscars and their tribute.

Taking the time

Norwegian television channel NRK followed up 130 uninterrupted hours of being on an Arctic icebreaker (which actually sounds somewhat interesting, if just for the vistas, certainly better than Big Brother) with 12 hours of the life of a crackling log fire.  This has been described as 'noble' broadcasting and one has to be brave to engage in such a surrealist experiment.  I'm sorry, but it's obvious, up next: watching paint dry.  Now that would be courageous.

Lenten observance

With the latest round of fake beef news to hit the news, that schools and hospitals were having a mare with their supplies, I think I have been quite prudent in giving up horse meat for Lent.  Perforce this also means all beef meat products.  I bought some Aberdeen Angus burgers from Aldi on the 'Specially Selected' range - now I really know what that means!  I ate two of the four before this 'consumer crisis' broke and they were delicious but I threw away the other two, to the disgust of Altaa.  I have little problem with eating Bucharest Anton rather than Aberdeen Angus, except the price should have been marked down and I would like to know that the beast wasn't diseased or pumped up with steroids - though knowing nothing about a horse's cranium, I do know that no matter how much you grill a BSE-infected burger, the proteins still give you CJD and I don't want to take the risk with horses.

Mind you, horse meat isn't too much of a sacrifice, so I have given up all cider, beer, ale and other draft and bottled fermented drinks.  This still allows wine and spirits.  I have given up all alcohol in the past once but a bi-annual Wine and Wisdom I regularly attend always falls during Lent and it is rather depressing watching others quaff, while I remain sober as a judge.  I wanted to give up all meat last year but Altaa vetoed it, saying it would make it impossible when it came to making dinner.

A curate who was once at our church, related a story of how she was at a seminary training up budding priests and all around her were boasting of what they were giving up for Lent.  She found this grating and when asked of herself, she responded that she was giving up Christianity, inducing worried stares and anxious confabs over whether she was serious.  She felt she made her point.

You can take our accents but you'll never take our freedom

It had to happen sometime.  The constant drip-drip of evil film characters with English accents from Hollywood as a result of – and coupled with – the ludicrous American foundation myth that they gained independence from English tyranny (at a time when Great Britain was one of the most liberal states in the world) is finally ripening (I wonder also if Nora Ephron’s Heartburn got the snowball rolling in 1986).  It was there in the 2008 election, with all the criticisms of the ‘socialised medicine’ and the British National Health Service and re-emerged when the Democrats brought forward their health care proposals, with the National Institute for Clinical Excellence (NICE) was labelled a ‘death panel’ and that absurd Quisling Daniel Hannan bad-mouthed his own country’s public health provision, just so that he could a pat on the head from right-wing Americans and a ‘good boy’.  It has been there with the historically illiterate Tea Party and it is there with Wayne LaPierre, National Rifle Association boss, berating British gun laws and saying, in response to Barack Obama’s modest gun control plans, that “we don’t want to be like England.”  Naturally, contrary British opinion Stateside was not carried but Phil Scanlan, the performance director for British shooting (an activity that won gold for a Briton in the double trap in London 2012), dismissed as “absolute rubbish” that shooters earned the “keep their hobby a dark secret from their neighbours for fear of social disapproval.”

You don’t want to be like us, LaPierre, eh?  Get screwed and bugger off!  Like a typical right-winger in today’s USA, you can’t deploy an argument without ad hominems and attacking people you think can’t fight back, because they won’t get the same coverage or platform as you.  Well, if you like insults so much, have some back.  As described by one of your countrymen, Stephen King, you are a gun pimp and a shill for the industry (just citing your latest exhortation to Americans to buy as many guns as possible) and most likely a paranoid fundamentalist (witness your call in the same statement to “stand and fight”).

Bill Hicks, with Jay Leno in mind, said ‘good guys’ who appeared in adverts were sell-outs and could no longer be classified as ‘good guys’.  With Benedict Cumberbatch soon to offer his accent up for the latest round of English vilification in the forthcoming Star Trek, the term ‘sell-out’ can be applied to all British actors, past and present, who hammily play villains in their natural or refined voices.  Oh, the role is more interesting than that of the hero, blah, blah – basically the pay cheque is big and the exposure is bigger (which in turn will lead to even bigger pay cheques).  It has passed through parody to being that of risible.  Maybe you don’t have to sleep with the director or producer to get a juicy part but you’re sluts in every other regard, fostering in mental delinquents like LaPierre a righteous zeal to unfairly criticise this island.

Gone up in smoke

That is what will happen when a successor is named to Pope Benedict XVI, rather than a self-immolation of the Bishop of Rome himself.  It may be the first time a pope has resigned in 598 years (why could he not hold on another two years to make it more neat?), but if he feels infirm (and prey to manipulative aides), then this is an eminently sensible decision to take.  Some have compared the role to that of the Queen, Elizabeth II; however, though her defined role is to be a figurehead and say nothing controversial, the pope is meant to be a figurehead and deliver controversial messages, constantly exhorting the spiritual side of life in battle against materialism.

Being the first occurrence in modern times, it also sets a precedent an example of which Benedict’s successors can also exercise.  The Catholic Church needs a strong leader and there are times when it is right to be a meek shepherd and times when a stand needs to be taken.  Like former Archbishop of Canterbury, Rowan William, Benedict was rather bookish and his theological ponderings were so intellectual as to be misconstrued, either out of malice or prejudice-flecked ignorance.  This is not to say he was infallible – it was divisive move to try and lure Anglicans disaffected by the rise of woman within the Church of England to an annex of Roman Catholicism.  And there were the silly things he said about condemns before latterly modifying his position to one with more empathy.

Given that he is dispensing with the idea of dying in office, I wonder what other non-Biblical traditions that the Roman Catholic hierarchy have built up over the centuries.  Certainly, the invocation that priests cannot marry and must abstain from sex should bite the dust as it was only introduced in the High Middle Ages – the Catholic Church needs to shed this demand, both to attract new candidates and diminish the chance of hidden sexual predators entering their midst.  What can be said with confidence is that Timothy Garton-Ash’s prediction (prophecy?) in The Guardian in 2005 that Christianity would be finished by the end of Benedict’s tenure was utter tripe, though the article’s multiple inherent logical fallacies (e.g. that the Christianity is monolithic and Roman Catholicism all there is to it) were fairly obvious at the time. 

It will be interesting how Benedict is to now be referred.  He can’t really be called ‘Your ex-Holiness’ or ‘Your ex-Excellency’.  That will tax the Vatican bureaucracy as to speak of Benedict in negation will not do, if he is still to be called Benedict at all, for that matter.

 There is much talk of the Catholic Church of opting for an African or Latin American pope, but there was this chatter just before Cardinal Ratzinger was elected in 2005.  The conclave is still dominated by European cardinals though only a third of the Church is in Europe (and, then, commitment is open to question more than in other parts of the world).  What would really set the cat among the pigeons would be to elect pope one of the underground Catholic cardinals in China.  Beijing would not be amused but what odds a Mandarin Karol Wojtyła working a similar magic in another communist domain?

You say ‘tomato’, I say ‘tomatoe’

I was driven to distraction by American on the radio today referring to his area of expertise – data – as ‘dahtah’.  His English counterparts referred to it as ‘dayter’, creating an odd dichotomy.  It is like ‘aluminum’ rather than aluminium.  But I think the superiority of the British English version is summed up in, of all places, Star Trek: The Next Generation.  Patrick Stewart, as Jean-Luc Picard, referred to his android bridge officer, played by Brent Spiner, as ‘dayter’ for he was Data.  For uniformity, all the Americans in the series follow Stewart’s lead.  Data is dayter is Data.  Here endeth the lesson.

Unsheathing the scissors

I am a keen supporter of the EU and Britain being in the EU, the club being a force multiplier for British interests – in my view, the future lies between a partner (with significant heft) in the EU or a servant (and a not particularly well-respected one) of the USA. I prefer the lure of equality.


But I still think David Cameron has done remarkably well to secure a cut in the EU budget for the next seven years compared to the previous seven years. He had an ally in austerity-obsessed Germany. France might not have caused such ructions if Sarkozy still occupied the Élysée, but a combined London-Berlin axis was too much. It is right if countries are reining in spending at home that the EU as an institution should face a squeeze as well, rather than increasing the gravy for the train. Martin Schulz may say he won’t sign it but he may then be ousted as speaker of the European parliament for defying the wishes of national leaders – it is the Council of Ministers where real power lies.

No matter what happens now though, Cameron can claim a second victory in a week (and one without his wife working her charms on her husband's staying power behind the scenes). It’s been nearly three full days since same-sex marriage was approved in the House of Commons and still the sky has not fallen in. Maybe that will come when the House of Lords approves it as well… This will all be forgotten by the time of the next general election as people focus on bread-and-butter issues, but I have a feeling that Cameron won’t let his EU victory slip from the public mind.

Victory!

The value of England’s friendly win at Wembley is not so much it was over Brazil, who have slumped to an ignominious 18^th in the world, but over a Luiz Felipe Scolari side, of whom England had failed to prevail in three previous matches.  Scolari has been brought back as a proven winner (not that this helped Italy when they brought back 2006 World Cup-winning coach Marcello Lippi for the 2010 edition and went out in the group stages), despite the sniffiness that greeted his 2002 triumph.  Understandably and, more than the usual fervour, Brazil are desperate to lift the Jules Rimet trophy in 2014 as it is a home World Cup. Scolari had not much time before tonight to meld the individuals into a cohesive unit (which they patently have not been) but it is a win over Scolari all the same.  And it is nice to beat Brazil for the first time since 1990, a lovely way to commemorate 150 years of The Football Association.

(Lack of) Hunger (for power)

Interesting that Chris Huhne has admitted that he did pervert the course of justice ten years ago by getting his wife to accept points on her licence when it was he at the helm of the speeding car.  Incredible that he will probably go to jail for such a trifle - it's not like he covered up a murder or provided a false alibi for an armed robbery.  His ex-wife still clings to her innocence and so, unless there was deployment of considerable sophistry (or they didn't take the stand), they have committed perjury as well, but it wasn't Vicky Pryce who spitefully shopped her husband only to get caught herself, though malice was afoot.  In a case of loose lips sink ships (and political careers), she carelessly blabbed this to a magazine in the wake of her divorce from Mr Huhne.  A Labour MP, Simon Danczuk, saw this and the tribal urge to destroy a political rival reared its ugly head and Danczuk reported this to the police who had been unaware.  This is revenge for the immolation of the career of former Immigration Minister, Phil Woolas, by his Liberal Democrat opponent  (Mr Woolas was found to have broken electoral law with racial populism and lies and was forced out of his seat of Oldham East and Saddleworth and forbidden for standing for election again for three years).  Today, after excusing himself saying Huhne tried to engineer a cover-up (though it's hardly Watergate), Danczuk shed crocodile tears, stating, " I do have some sympathy for Chris Huhne in that I wouldn’t have wished his political career to be ruined in this way.”  Yeah, right.
I used to read Huhne's articles in the Evening Standard under the stewardship of Max Hastings (when there was a distinct plurality of opinion which Alexander Lebedev has partially restored).  They appeared in the economics section and were the only thing I found interesting in that part of the paper.  He proved just as personable in front of TV cameras.  And, unofficially (no, this is not a cover-up, Danczuk, it's just that I'm not a registered Liberal Democrat), I would have liked him to become leader of his party (phew, dodged that bullet).  Nick Clegg may be rubbing his hands in glee now that a peer competitor has bit the dust, but that is just like a later member of the Palaeologi delighted that a contending claimant for the Eastern Roman throne has been annihilated, even when political power doesn't extend much beyond the throneroom.  Moreover, it clears the way for Vince Cable to amass discontents solely behind him in a run for the leadership (probably a bid half a year before the general election).
But if Chris Huhne had any love for his party, seen the film Hunger or both, he would have not resigned his seat.  Resign his membership of the party by all means (for he would have been ejected if he had not), but not his representation of Eastleigh.  Just a cursory knowledge of Northern Ireland's recent history would tell him that convicts can be MPs, witness one Bobby Sands.  Resigning his seat means a by-election the Lib Dems will most likely lose.  He could have held on to it as an independent MP (until 2015) and vote in alignment with his former Lib Dem colleagues when Lib Dem policy is on the table, while allowing a Lib Dem candidate to stand against him at the next general election .  Another mistake.  And his leadership campaign had the gall to call the now Deputy Prime Minister 'Calamity Clegg'.  Horrendous Huhne has just as much salience.  Incidentally, was that anonymous 'overzealous researcher' who came up with the aphorism, Huhne's current partner by any chance, given that she met him via his campaign team?

Disgrace to the force

The sentencing of the corrupt police officer DCI April Casburn of 15 months for trying to pass on sensitive police information to the (now-defunct) News of the World, about an investigation at which it was at the centre should have been for far longer.  Casburn knew she did not have a leg to stand on and the former army officer cynically began the adoption of a young child to force the judge to be lenient to her, when a maximum three-year sentence would have been appropriate.  Instead of which, because of the ridiculously easy conditions of ‘good behaviour’ (where you can do anything in prison as long as it does not constitute a crime) means she’ll be out before Christmas.  The adoption agency that let a person undergoing trial take on a vulnerable child are a bunch of bloody nincompoops who should all be sacked for gross negligence, before they can blight any other children’s lives.  In fact, the child isn’t even with her yet (she is in the final stages of the process) so her application should be terminated.  She is not a good example for this kid.

As DCS Duncan Ball, head of operations at Counter Terrorism Command, said in an impact statement read to the court, counter-terrorist policing is “highly dependent” on the trust and support of the intelligence agencies and if those agencies lost their trust in the police it could affect the flow of intelligence and “undermine public safety”.  Casburn wasn’t outraged at the hacking investigation diverting resources from ‘saving lives’ because, by her actions, she was putting lives at risk through the breakdown in trust that could occur.  She is a despicable piece of work.  Casburn may not spend long in jail but her name will be prefixed with ‘disgraced police officer’ for the rest of her life and that is the real punishment.