The Circle of Life

We’re having a baby. My wife is in the family way, with a bun in the oven. I’m gonna be a daddy.

This news has come as a shock to my friends and family as most of them didn’t see me as the paternal type. And they were probably right. Up until recently, I’ve never given too much thought to fatherhood, as the strong, selfish streak in me has always abhorred the idea of the chaos it would bring to my scarily tidy house. And the obvious drain it would provide on my finances, especially in the current unstable climate.

But last summer, my wife and I went visiting. I’m sure I’m not alone in this, but a lot of my best friends live at the furthest stretches of the country from my home. I went to school in Newport and all my friends went to Universities around the UK, and some of them stayed there. I went to University in Northampton and made friends with people from all over the country. Some of them went home and some of them stayed there.

Which means that now I’m back in Newport and officially in my mid-30’s my closest friends are actually quite some distance away. I’m talking Manchester, Northampton, Birmingham and Romford. So we cover some miles just to stay in touch.

Last summer we visited many of these friends, all of whom have recently produced fledglings of their own. I’d never really been the broody type before, but seeing the happiness that a child (or two) had brought them made me rethink this. Don’t get me wrong, their lives were completely upside down, as it turns out there is no real user-manual for bringing up babies, but they had found a level of fulfilment which you don’t seem to achieve through a successful career or an away win which guarantees your team European qualification.

I figured that my life, with a pretty wife, a mortgage, two cars and a steady job, was fertile ground on which to grow offspring. So my wife and I talked about it and she was more pleased than I could imagine (presumably because she shared the same view as others about my lack of a paternal instinct). We kind of agreed the steps we would take, and ensure that the timing was right. No drunken fumble in the back of the car for us!

And now, only six months on from that first conversation, my wife is 14 weeks pregnant and my world is slowly changing. At first, my initial instinct was to change my car, our house, and my job, as I identified each of them as unsuitable for a child’s environment. Was my car safe enough? Was the house big enough?? Is my job well-salaried enough???

As it is, I’ve been talked down from that particular rooftop as I’m told it’s a perfectly normal male reaction. Men are doers, hunter gatherers. “If my wife is carrying my child, then it’s my responsibility to take care of everything else” etc. But it seems that as long as I provide a cup of tea when necessary, and put a beanbag under her feet when she’s watching TV, my responsibilities, for the time being, are quite limited. I must provide support, encouragement and understanding. These are vague words but I’m learning slowly.

My wife is blooming, and despite a slight case of anaemia is looking more beautiful than ever. But she’s made of granite, my wife, and is far tougher than me. So I have every faith that she’s providing a warm and safe environment for Joe Junior jnr to develop within.

Much more to follow, I’m sure.

Inigo Montoya would kick Jack Sparrow’s ass.....

I was recently given a voucher which entitled me to 3 free months of DVD rental with Tesco.com and my goodness have I been using it.

Due to certain financial restrictions caused by Moneygeddon (thanks Charlie Brooker) and prioritising of our Sky channels, it was decided that between myself and my wife, we would drop all of Sky Movies, 2 of the “Mixes” and most of Sky Sports. This meant that I could keep up to date on all of the Premiership Football, enjoy the hilarious Comedy Central (really, a double episode of Everyone Loves Raymond???) and lots of biblical epics on TCM. I was even given a boxed edition of my favourite film, The Princess Bride, but it's so special that I haven't had the courage to open it yet.

However, in terms of recent blockbusters I’ve fallen behind. I’m at that age now where the idea of sharing a viewing experience with a cinema packed full of people (none of whom I was allowed to interview or risk-assess prior to them sitting down) is starting to fade. I’m fairly sure that if I went to see State of Play or In the Loop, the cinema might not be full of screaming chav’s talking on their mobiles. But that is quite limiting.

So, this DVD membership (free for 3 months remember) was a wonderful opportunity for me to catch up on all the high-octane (what exactly is octane and why is it always high? You never hear of low-octane, do you?) thrillers, and art house minuets that I have missed recently. Plus, it’s free for 3 months, so it doesn’t contradict my credit crunch policy of “Don’t spend money on stuff I might enjoy”.
Now I know that in the 21st century most people's average attention doesn’t banana hammock. So with that in mind, here is a list of the films I’ve rented in the last month, with clever, witty, brain-as-sharp-as-a-razor, two line reviews.

WALL-E - saw it in the cinema but I forgot how beautiful it is. For a film with less dialogue than Apocalypto, it still engages your attention for the duration. And always good to hear the vocal talents of Ben Burtt and John Ratzenberger.

TOY STORY 2 I wasn't a fan of the first one, found it a bit annoying to be honest. But I really enjoyed this, as the ensemble toys were fleshed/plastic-ked out more (Rexy, Mr Potato Head etc) and there were some excellent moments, such as the cones crossing the road, and Rexy chasing after the jeep. These two films made me think of my top 5 animated films, I invite you to do the same!
5 The Lion King
4 Toy Story 2
3 A bug’s life
2 Wall-E
1 Finding Nemo

ROCKNROLLA – It’s about various rival factions in Laaaaaaarndon mate and their all after this macguffin and they all come face to face at the end and it goes a bit Radio Rental. Sound familiar? It’s still watch able and anytime Gerard Butler is on screen my wife is happy.

DIE HARD 4.0 (Live Free or Die Hard) A few tips of the hat to previous films ("Special Agent Johnson, huh? Great.") and the yippee kay-ay at the end. The sidekick wasn't as annoying as I expected, the bit with Silent Bob and "the Fett" made me laugh and some of the set pieces were incredible - the car hitting the helicopter, the jeep in the lift shaft etc

1408 - John Cusack and Samuel L. Starts off well enough, making you think it's going to be a good old haunted house flick. Then it descends into psychological drivel and by the end you really don't care.

AMERICAN GANGSTER - Denzel and Maximus. Excellent, excellent, excellent. 151 minutes flew by, and both characters appeal to the viewers sympathies. I would watch Denzel Washington eat toast, he’s that good.

21 - Kevin Spacey Spacey phones in his performance as he teaches his students to count cards in Vegas. A few twists and turns but nothing you couldn't predict. Or care about.

THE BANK JOB - Good cast, no script, awful film. Even Poirot is wasted in it.

JUNO – very quirky but well written and acted and the soundtrack gives it a dreamlike feel, although not sure what to make of Jason Bateman's character. I think he's a sleaze and I'm not happy with that!

THE MUMMY 3 - to be honest I was pretty half-cut after Everton beat Man Utd in the Cup Semi final so I would have enjoyed anything. Brendan Fraser is always watch able without having to do much. And once again his presence on screen makes my wife happy.

I currently have QUANTUM OF SOLACE, TAKEN, and IN BRUGES waiting to be watched, so what am I doing typing away here? Must go.

Why should I care about President Obama?

Barrack Hussein Obama became the 44th President of the United States this week. He was inaugurated (twice) and has already set about righting some of the wrongs of the George Dubya Bush era . I’m a Political Science graduate, so questions have been posed to me during the last week “Why should I care about the US President? What impact will it possibly have on my life?”. Therefore, I crave five minutes of your time whilst I demonstrate that the UK and the US are two sides of the same coin.

History

First, I need to go back. Way back, to the beginning of the USA as we know it. Christopher Columbus may have “sailed the ocean blue” in 1492, but settlers from Britain first populated the Eastern seaboard of what we now call the USA. Jamestown, Virginia was settled in 1606 before the Mayflower arrived at Plymouth Rock, Massachusetts in 1620.

For the next 150 years, there was an uneasy alliance between the New World and Great Britain. Rising taxation from Britain angered the Colonists, especially as they had no political representation in Parliament. The Colonists wanted the British influence removed from their shores, and so The War of Independence began in 1775, lasting until 1783. In 1776, the Declaration of Independence was signed and in 1789 George Washington became the first President of the United States of America.

More Recent history

So much for history? Well, maybe just a little bit more. Let’s move forward from 1789to 1941, and the USA’s introduction to the Second World War. Pearl Harbour had just woken the USA from it’s slumber, and Britain was tiring in it’s efforts to hold back the Nazi troops. Harry S Truman, 33rd President of the USA, enabled the “Lend-Lease Act”. The USA supplied Britain and other Allies with vast amounts of war material in return for military bases in Newfoundland, Bermuda and the British West Indies. A total of $31.4 billion (equivalent to nearly $450 billion at 2007 prices) worth of supplies were shipped to Britain and eventually the tide was turned, and Germany defeated.

Very generous of the USA, one might think, but this agreement took a surprise turn at the end of WWII. The USA suddenly terminated Lend-Lease on September 2nd 1945. Britain needed to retain some of this equipment in the post war period, resulting in the “Anglo-American loan”, which totalled a whopping £1,075,000,000. Payment was to be stretched out over 50 years at 2% interest. The final payment of $83.3 million (£42.5 million) was made as recently as December 29th 2006. This is an awful lot of money that could have been spent on schools, transportation and lowering taxes. And who was paying for this loan? Well the tax-paying British public, of course.

War. What is it good for?

Let’s come back to present day, and the current political situation. None of us outside of CIA briefings had heard of Osama Bin Laden prior to 9/11. It was an horrific attack, the slaying of innocent lives watched by millions of us on CNN. The USA was shocked and angry, understandably wanting quick revenge, but Bin Laden had gone underground. By declaring war on terror, they needed to have a visible member of the Axis of Evil, and Saddam Hussein fitted the profile perfectly. He was a “quick win”.

Not only did the Bush family have unfinished business with Hussein, but Iraq had oil. Lots of oil. Oil makes the world go round, keeps our factories working and cars on the road. Whilst oil is kept relatively cheap, it is the most precious commodity in the modern world and cleaner alternatives such as Wind and Solar power will remain in the shadows. Importantly, Dubya was a Texan Republican who just loved oil. So all it takes is a few hastily scribbled memo’s, a catchy phrase like “Weapons of Mass Destruction”, an unblinking Ally such as Great Britain and Bang! We have got ourselves a war.

But wars aren’t cheap. I apologise if the next paragraph is a little statistic-heavy but they’re there to prove the point. Wars aren’t cheap. Thousands of men went to Iraq, and Afghanistan. They get paid, just like you and I. They serve at the pleasure of Queen and country, and thus will go unflinchingly into battle when ordered. The United Kingdom was a major contributor to the United States-led War in Iraq, sending 46,000 army personnel to the region, the second largest force after the US. Aside from troop salaries, there is the hardware to consider.

The F-22 Raptor is a fighter aircraft, built by Lockheed-Martin and Boeing at a cost of £90,000,000 each. £90m is equal to the total amount of Council tax paid by a combined 112,500 British households each year and the US Air Force currently owns 127F-22’s. The Challenger 2 Tank, used by the British Army in Basra, costs upwards of £3,500,000 to build. The British Army paid for 386 of them to be built. And who pays for the British Army? Once more, the British tax-payers foot the bill for a war. A war which we weren’t allowed to vote for or against, and a war which was centred around the USA’s search for Weapons of Mass Destruction, which never existed.

The Economy

Okay, leaving war aside, let’s move onto something more tangible. The credit crunch. We’ve all felt the pinch recently, less of us are socialising because it’s pricey, we’re going to restaurants less, pubs are closing and holidays remain unbooked. We all know someone who has been affected by this. A friend, who I play football with every week, just told me that he has been put onto a three-day working week. He has a pretty wife, a lovely daughter and a mortgage to pay. It’s all around us.

The credit crunch has seen the collapse of banks around the world, and the most shocking of which was Lehman Brothers. This ties in with the original question – what does it matter to the average British citizen that a big bank in America has gone bankrupt. Well, the event itself might not have an affect, but the ripple effects are spreading across the Atlantic and gathering pace. Banks in the UK had money invested in Lehman, and they were then bailed out by the British government. And where did the British government get the money for the bail out? You’ve guessed it.

The Banks had invested the money that their customers had deposited. Their customers, by the way, are Mr & Mrs Taxpayer. It wasn’t the banks money, but they invested it anyway, as that’s how a bank makes its profits. Unfortunately, the investments crumbled due to corruption and bad judgement on Wall Street and when their customers asked for money that they simply didn’t have, it caused panic. People lost faith in banking institutions, and banks became afraid to lend money for fear they might not get it back. Six months after the first danger signs and the full extent of the financial collapse can only be estimated, although no-one actually wants to do that as the final figure may be too frightening. No-one is spending, no-one is lending. Gridlock. Socialism is victorious.

Democrat v Republican

The Banks were encouraged to take risks by a Republican government whose ethic of putting money into churches and charities and leave everyone else to fend for themselves has failed. Democrats are far more involved in the economy, and thus more responsible. President Obama himself claimed that the age of irresponsibility is over.

In times like these, it’s important to remember the age-old distinction between Republicans and Democrats. The Democrats are for the working man. The Republicans are for the Businessman. Democrats tend to favour social action programs, which help the poor and middle class; while Republicans believe more in a 'pull yourself up by your own bootstraps' philosophy.

The future

History has shown us how the lives of British and American people are constantly intertwined, through war and peace, bust and boom. Which brings us back to the main question. Why should Britain care about the 44th President’s appointment? Early signs indicate that he will be the ‘anti-Dubya’. He is riding the crest of a wave at the moment, and even a staunch Republican congress doesn’t want to oppose him at the moment for fear of losing credibility themselves. The light is shining on President Obama at the moment and even the opposition party wants to feel the warm glow, allowing him to pass whatever legislation he chooses during this honeymoon period.

President Obama will begin by creating policies for which liberals have long clamoured, from alternative-energy sources to school renovations, infrastructure repairs and technology enhancements. For example, his $800bn stimulus package includes plans to help school districts($41bn), provide higher unemployment benefits ($36bn), rebuild roads ($30bn), computerise medical records ($20bn) and fund a Green electricity grid ($11bn). He’s closing Guantanamo Bay and pulling troops out of Iraq.

The Republicans told people to do what they like with their money. The Democrats are telling people exactly what to do with their money. Spend it, but wisely. Save it, but in a bank. The security of a watchful American government will help the rest of the world recover from what is officially “a recession”. Nobody make a sound, just wait and watch President Obama. Quietly, he’s going to save the world.

The final straw that broke the camel's back...

I’d like to think my record speaks for itself. Most of the articles I’ve had published on Toffeeweb have been positive, feel good pieces. And I’ve written them from the heart.

For once though, the air of positivity has faded away and the mindless optimism has been beaten to a pulp by the big stick of reality.

There is no leadership at the club. No accountability. I remember feeling this depressed during the summer in which we sold Rooney (but we went on to have our greatest season in years). I also felt like this the day Duncan Ferguson was sold. It’s a horrible, gut wrenching feeling, that the club you love, and would do anything for, is being run by morons.

What the hell is going on at Goodison? Once again, a season of fantastic achievements is followed by a summer of complete ineptitude. We all expected (nay, demanded) that following our 5th place finish, which was astonishing, that the club would keep the momentum going. We hoped for one or two signings before the European Championship, and then a few more at the end. So that by the time pre-season rolled around, we’d have a large, unified squad to kick on for the new season.

But no, no, no, no, no. The squad shrinks and we lose our most influential midfielder, Lee Carsley. Fair enough, Wessels, Gravesen, and (much as it hurts me to say) Manny Fernandes, all looked out of place last year, and neither seemed good enough to stay on. And maybe injuries to Cahill and Vaughan could be papered over. But after losing McFadden and then Andy Johnson, our squad looks pathetic.

I mean, compared to any other top Premiership team we look like a bunch of amateurs. But when Spurs, Aston Villa and even bloody Fulham make significant improvements to their squads it just adds to our woes. We are so far behind every other club and there is no excuse for it. None whatsoever. So who is to blame?

Lets look at the evidence....

David Moyes has hardly said a word all summer. He makes sound bites about expecting goals from Arteta, but that’s it. No confirmation that the contract is signed, no photo’s of him next to the latest new signing, holding the Everton scarf aloft. His silence speaks volumes and it has spread fear throughout the whole fan base. Fair enough, we come to expect silence from the boardroom when things aren’t going well, but Moyes never ducks a punch. He is honest and straightforward, but this summer he’s been in hiding.

Bill Kenwright. Ah, poor pauper Bill. He was honest enough to admit that he needs to find a Billionaire Evertonian to keep the club going, but even I have lost patience with him. I’m not expecting him to pull £50m out of his wallet, but I do expect the money from Sky, the money for our 5th place Premiership finish, and the money from the sale of Johnson to be made available. What the hell is the money, Bill???

Keith Wyness. I will never need to sing “who ate all the pies” ever again. It was bloody Keith Wyness, that’s who. A supposedly astute businessman, who put all his eggs in the Destination Kirkby basket, then sodded off at the first sign of a problem. His absence will not be mourned.

Robert Earl & Phillip Green. Both of whom seem to be advising Kenwright without providing any financial clout. This situation has probably done more than anything else to cause the confusion around the club. Who does David Moyes turn to when he needs money to sign someone?? God only knows.

It’s been a complete shambles, and the club has become an embarrassment, when we were just on the verge of greatness. Last season was amazing – a Semi final, a long and entertaining run in Europe, and confirmation of our place as the “best of the rest” in the Premiership. Now we go into the opening game of the season with 10 (TEN) available senior players.

But we’ll all be there on Saturday, because that’s what we do. And the club know that. In fact, they’re counting on it. Shame on all of us.

The Great Men of the 19th Century

19th century Britain experienced a revolution. It came to be known as the Industrial Revolution, but in truth it was much far more wide ranging than that. Society experienced a revolution. The country suddenly became a lot smaller as both transport and communication links brought the nation together.

Isambard Kingdom Brunel, was at the heart of it. So was his friend, Robert Stephenson, along with his father, George. But it was started by a Cornishman who died in poverty.

The start of the modern railway age is usually marked by the opening in 1825 of the Stockton & Darlington line. However, the first recorded use of a “railway train” occurred in a very unexpected place. In 1804, Richard Trevethick’s High-pressure steam engine first ran from the Pennydarren Ironworks in Merthyr to the Cardiff Canal, and the Cornish Genius officially began the “Age of Steam”.

Trevethick had tried to use the train at the Coalbrookdale pit in 1802, as a means of transferring the carts of coal to the canal without using horses. However, the heavy engine put so much pressure on the Cast Iron rails, thay they snapped. He gave up on the idea, and gave the train away.

Years later, when George Stephenson was designing the Stockton to Darlington line, he insisted that the tracks be made of Wrought iron, which was much tougher and yet more flexible than cast iron. Instead of snapping under pressure, it would bend. It was also easier to join together smoothly, creating a smoother ride for the carriages which were to run upon it.

George Stephenson began designing railway locomotives in 1812. By 1825, “Locomotion” became the first engine to carry passengers, on the 9 mile stretch of the Stockton to Darlington railway. In 1830, the Liverpool and Manchester railway was opened. George Stephenson's bright yellow locomotive, “Rocket” had won a competition at the famous Rainhill trials, which demonstrated it’s speed and reliability ahead of it’s rivals, “Blucher” and “Novelty”.

Rocket was revolutionary in design. It’s multitube boiler, which sat in the middle of the water rather than just heating it from below, was far more efficient than previous engines. It’s blast pipe exhaust dealt comfortably with the release of pressure, and the pistons were connected directly to the driving wheels at a 45 degree angle, which avoided any jarring motion of a traditional up-and-down piston. Rocket could also travel at over 30 miles per hour, and became the standard bearer for all future locomotives.

In 1823, George Stephenson’s son, Robert, set up his own business to design and build Locomotives. He went on to design the majority of the railways and locomotives which spread like wildfire across Britain over the next fifty years.

The first long distance lines were opened in the first years of Queen Victoria's reign, the London and Birmingham railway in 1838, part of Brunel's London to Bristol route the same year. A railway boom and mania followed during the 1840s, with promoters and speculators planning lines all over Britain. Within 20 years of the first train journey between Stockton and Darlington, 2441 miles of railway were open and 30 million passengers were being carried.

The spread of the railways has one major impact which we take for granted today – Standard time. In 1840, midday was simply whenever the sun was at its highest, whether you were in Edinburgh or London. This meant that 10am in the morning could be as much as 20 minutes out from one end of the country to the other, making it extremely difficult to set railway timetables. The government passed an act to Standardise time and from 1847 everyone in Britain was “on time”.

Expansion of the rail network was rapid and continuous. By 1900, 18,680 miles were in use and over 1100 million passengers were being carried, along with huge quantities of freight.

At the same time as these developments, another genius set about leaving his mark on the 19th century. Isambard Kingdom Brunel was born in 1806, the son of French engineer Marc Isambard Brunel, himself something of a genius. At the age of 16, Isambard began working with his father on the famous Rotherhithe tunnel, under the Thames. Shortly afterwards he turned his attention to designing a bridge across the Avon valley in Bristol. He won a competition which was judged by the great Thomas Telford, who had earlier designed the Menai bridge, connecting Anglesey to North Wales.

Whilst in Bristol, as the bridge building begain to slow, he became aware of rapidly developing railways, and saw his chance to build his very own railway. His plan was to design the fastest railway line in Britain, connecting the businesses of Bristol with the money men of London. He was appointed Chief Engineer of the Great Western Railway in 1833.

Brunel planned a flat, wide rail, which would accommodate large locomotives capable of high speeds. His route was easily planned; turn south towards Bath then across the Thames to Reading and into Paddington. He also knew the size of the track he wanted – 7 foot wide. This was in contrast to the width of track being used by the father and son combination of George and Robert Stephenson, the Geordie geniuses. They advocated the use of 4ft 8ins, simply because it was the gauge of the tramways supplying the colliery in which George had once worked.

However, to Brunel’s dismay, the British Government intervened and in 1846 passed a law which set the 4ft 8in gauge as the standard gauge for all railways in Britain. It eventually became the standard gauge around 90% of the world. By 1892, broad gauge rails had been wiped from the face of Britain.

Despite this, the rail link which Brunel had created from Bristol to London was a huge success. The sweeping curves and the comparitively flat track meant that high speeds could be maintained throughout the journey, and the route included some of the greatest engineering feats of the Victorian age. His tunnel at Box Hill, was the longest tunnel in the world at the time, and the grand facades at the entrance showed the Brunel could add style to some considerable substance. And his bridge over the River Thames at Maidenhead contained the largest spanning arch ever seen.

In 1837, Daniel Gooch, was brought in by the Railway Executive as Chief Mechanical Engineer to design locomotives which would complement this railway. Brunel envisoned wide carriages to provide luxurious conditions for the passengers, whilst speeding along his broad gauge rails. As a result, Gooch designed his famous “Firefly” class engines, with it 2-2-2 wheel formation. By 1840 he had decided to locate the building yards for his fleet of engines in Swindon, where it was to remain for 150 years.

Brunel’s active mind soon turned away from the railways, and he set his focus of Trans-Atlantic travel. In 1836, his latest creation, the Great Western steamship was built, at a length of 236ft. It’s immense size did not hinder it’s progress, and it was soon making return journeys to New York every month, whereas previous ships had taken a month just to reach New York.

But this was not enough for Brunel. He soon went about designing a ship which could comfortably travel back and forth to the colonies in Australia. In 1843, the Great Britain was launched, a ship much larger than the Great Western, at 322ft long. Again Brunel tried something new - it was Propeller driven, as opposed to the the traditional paddle steamers of the time. This gave it extra power and made the journeys shorter, setting the standing for future cross-world navigation.

In 1855, Brunel designed the striking Royal Albert Bridge, over the River Tamar at Saltash near Plymouth, which is as breathtaking in it’s extravagance today as it was then.

Again, Brunel did not rest on his laurels. He sought to overcome the problem of long-distance voyages which were hindered by the need to re-fuel mid-journey. No ships were able to travel to Australia without refuelling, which added to the overrall journey time. In 1859, the Great Eastern was launched. Unthinkable at the time, it was twice the size of the Great Britain, at 692ft, and was designed to carry enough fuel to make it to Australia in one un-interrupted trip.

However, it was a commercial flop and in 1865 was sold to the American businessman Cyrus Field who took advantage of it’s large hull to store and lay telegraph cables along the entire bed of the Atlantic Ocean. Ironically, the Chief Engineer of the telegraph project was Brunel’s former associate, Daniel Gooch. In 1866 the first telegram was sent between New York and London, and once again Brunel’s inventions had (somewhat unwittingly) proven to bring the people of the world that little bit closer.

Brunel was a genius, a forward thinker and passionate speaker, who threw himself whole heartedly into every project. Unfortunately, this approach to his work was ultimately his undoing, and he worked himself into an early grave, never seeing his life’s work, the Clifton suspension bridge, come to fruition. It was completed 5 years after his death.

Ironically, both Robert Stephenson and Isambard Kingdom Brunel died in 1859.

Chelsea Pageant

CHELSEA PAGEANT
Kings, queens, cavalry, and musketeers gathered in the grounds of the Royal Hospital Chelsea to celebrate the Hospital’s long life with music, soldiers, horses and fireworks.

The event was held in support of the Chelsea Pensioners’ Appeal, which was created in 2004 to raise funds for the care of future generations of Chelsea Pensioners.
Luminaries of stage and screen provided voices of famous figures featured in the Pageant, as the audience was taken on a romp through the history of the Hospital - from its founding by King Charles II in the 17th century.

The Pageant featured the military ‘on parade’ including soldiers from The Life Guards’ Mounted Squadron, the Company of Pikemen and Musketeers of the Honourable Artillery Company.

£25 million has been raised towards the £35 million target, with money raised from the Pageant contributing towards the remaining £10 million needed to complete a new Infirmary.

Art for Art's sake

ROSALIND FREEBORN

Rosalind Freeborn is a gifted artist and creator of unique collages. She is based in the cultural melting pot of Muswell Hill, and finds inspiration all around her “I absolutely love Muswell Hill. It's like a village really.”

To develop her passion, Rosalind would “take endless evening classes” before graduating from the London City & Guilds with a Post Graduate Diploma.

She can often be found exhibiting her work at the Farmers Market, Alexandra Palace, which she believes is “a brilliant place to meet friends”

Using her home “on the Hill” as a gallery, Rosalind also sells pieces through many local shops. She believes that the people and sights which are found within Muswell Hill are part of her inspiration.

“....with the portraits I'd wanted to convey that feeling of theatre which exists in small, individually run shops, which we have in Muswell Hill - that you've come into someone's space, that you're sharing their passion....they all have that 'come into the my world' look”

Citing such influences as Henri Matisse, Pablo Picasso and Georges Braque, Rosalind has created her own style, resulting in vivid images which are visually stunning as well as rich in detail. Visit her website (www.rosalindfreeborn.co.uk) to see for yourself.

Upcoming Exhibition

An exhibition is to be held at ‘The Photographer’s Gallery’, Great Newport Street from the 21st June to the 6th July, to mark the launch of “freshfacedandwildeyed08”. This will showcase the best UK photography by recent BA and MA graduates.

The Photographer’s Gallery has always supported emerging photographic talent, through its Graduate Award (1998-2007) which celebrated Photography MA students from the Royal College of Art. The Gallery is responding to the development of photographers and artists who are producing particularly innovative and creative work.

Students are invited to submit up to 8 images of their work to www.photonet.org.uk by the 21st May 2008, and provide details of their course leader for verification of graduation, along with 100 words about their submission.

A panel of experts will judge the online submissions – Melanie Manchot (artist), Sarah Kent (writer), Brett Rogers (Photographer’s Gallery director) and Marta Weiss (Curator of Photographs, V&A). Up to 25 bodies of work will be selected for exhibition at the Gallery, and will be available to view on-line.

“Freshfacedandwildeyed08” demonstrates the Photographer’s Gallery’s commitment to recognising, nurturing and supporting photographic talent in the UK.

JOE WIGHTMAN

Going back to school

I find, as I get older, that my thirst for knowledge is increasing. I’ve always had a trivial brain, with an innate ability to store useless information and recount it at just the right occasion. My best friend’s wife is often keen to remind me that my gravestone should read “the sh*t he knew...”

I’ve always believed that being able to store information doesn’t necessarily make you intelligent. I know a little bit about a lot of things, whereas intelligent people know a lot about one thing. Sure, Kasparov was a chess Grand Master, but could he beat me over 20 questions about the Premier League? I don’t think so.

At school, I learnt enough to pass exams, but no more. I didn’t build up great knowledge about a specific subject, just what the teacher suspected the exam question would focus on. Which meant that a lot of the specific knowledge about the Napoleonic Wars, the formation of an Ox-bow lake, or Coleridge’s use of onomatopoeia, just slipped away. I had nothing to anchor it to.

But now I want to learn real things, not just what year “Take on me” was released, who was the last player to score 20 goals a season for Everton, or how to get from Spielberg’s “Hook” to the recent “Iron Man” in just one move**.

I tried going back to College a few years ago, where I studied Astronomy (stargazing, not fortune telling) but the rest of the class was filled with people who had been rejected from Robot Wars so it put me off. This year I tried again. Inspired by the need to keen to kick start a career which has meandered along for too long, I enrolled in “A”-level Media Studies at my local college. It was going to be night classes so I wasn’t too scared about my age making me stand out from the other students. How wrong I was.

I’m not the ugliest guy in the world, but I’m not the prettiest either. I’m not the tallest, or the shortest. I’m not the fattest, or the thinnest. I’m somewhere in between all of these, but with one distinguishable mark - my hair is going grey. In fact, it’s been going grey since I was 18, just at the temples but in the last few years it’s become more virulent at the sides and back, with a few flecks on top. No big deal, you might think, for someone who recently turned 33, but I still feel quite self conscious about it.

And this wasn’t helped when, in only my 3rd lesson of my new Media Studies course, the girl next to me turned to say “my step dad’s the same age as you...”

Clang!!!!. The sudden realisation that I was stuck for a year with a room full of people who were born in the 1990’s! I was born in the mid 70’s and ’grew up’ in the 80’s (a very happy decade) but none of my fellow students were even alive at this point.

I was immediately aware that there were certain “cliques” within the classroom, and I was never going to part of the “cool” gang. And I didn’t want to be, I’m a married civil servant for crying out loud, I don’t need that kind of status confirmation. But the thought of dealing with classroom politics after 15 years away didn’t appeal to me, and some of the jibes about my age were actually starting to hurt. Imagine that?

Then, just I was on the brink of quitting, I had an epiphany. A flash of light, a moment of clarity, if you will. These were just kids, I’m much older and far wiser. I know more than they will ever learn, and I can cut them down with a lash of my wit. I began to establish myself within the class, made a few friends, and began to settle in. I even made a smoking buddy!

By the time the first exam came around I was very nervous. I hadn’t sat an exam since the last year of my degree in 1997, so I was rusty. And the last time I sat an exam, mobile phones were a thing of the future, so it didn’t occur to me that I might need to switch it off, rather than just leave it in my pocket. And, of course, the inevitable happened.....

But I got an “A” for the exam which was my first ever. I got D’s for my previous four A levels, and wasn’t used to the feeling of being top of the class. I forgot the age old mantra that with great power comes great responsibility, which is just as well because it doesn’t apply here. However, what I should have remembered was that that with personal success comes jealousy and resentment, so perhaps I shouldn’t have bragged so loudly.

Anyway, that filled me with confidence and I went about compiling my coursework, which consisted of choosing a film genre, writing a script, storyboarding it, then designing a Poster campaign to accompany it. It was fantastically hard work, but really enjoyable. Everyone else chose horror, comedy, romance etc. I dared to be different, and chose a Western (See above).

Apparently I’ve done really well in the coursework, but I won’t know for sure until after the second exam in June. But this whole year has been an incredibly rewarding experience. If nothing else, it’s got me out of the house on a Thursday night and I’ve learnt some new skills. Plus, from my youthful friends I learnt that an EMO is the new term for a Goth. You see, I’m hip, I’m with it, I’m down with the kids. Oh dear.....


** The answer we were looking for was Gwyneth Paltrow.....that’s Gwyneth Paltrow. Thanks for playing.

Iron Man

It was good. You should go see it. Now.

In all seriousness, if you’ve never seen a Marvel comic strip, or subsequent film adapation in your life, then you should see this film. And you’ll really enjoy it.
If you have read the Marvel comic strips, you should still see this film. But you might not enjoy it as much.

Perhaps I overhyped it. I was never a big Marvel or DC fan, but I had a few comic books and decided pretty early on in my life that Iron Man was my favourite. Probably because at the time (early 1980’s) I was coming to terms with my adoration of Boba Fett, from the Star Wars trilogy. And there are a number of comparison’s to be made.

They bask in the shadows, for instance. Boba Fett stands behind Darth Vader and Jabba the Hutt whenever he is on screen. Iron Man stood in the shadows of more famous comic book superheroes for years, such as Superman, Batman, Spiderman etc. So it could be argued that they were both cult figures. They are both flawed “heroes” in as much as Boba Fett iced Han Solo and collected the bounty, but you’d still want to be him. And Tony Stark, the man behind Iron Man, is a flawed human being, selling arms to the highest bidder whilst attempting to drink himself into an early grave.

But more important than any other comparison is this - they both have really cool armoured suits, and mean looking crash helmets. And they can both fly.

This film has been in development hell since 1990, when Universal Studios first bought the rights to it. Since then it’s been sold on to 20th Century Fox, New Line Cinema and eventually to Marvel Studios. Nicholas Cage and Tom Cruise have both been linked with a starring role, and even Quentin Tarantino wanted to write the script.

Now Jon Favreau (yes, it really is billionaire Ultimate Fighting Chump Pete Becker from Friends) has unleashed his first ‘action’ movie, following modest success with Elf and Zathura. Robert Downey jnr was an inspired piece of casting, with Downey jnr quoted as saying he “wanted to make a film that people would actually go to see”. This followed some relatively poor box office performances (although excellent DVD sales) of his recent Kiss Kiss, Bang Bang.

I read the Da Vinci code before the film came out, and I enjoyed the film. My wife hadn’t read the book and she LOVED the film. But I felt that certain aspects of the film had been glossed over, and the jaw dropping moments at the end of each chapter were replaced with a high-tempo chase. This could apply to my reaction at the closing credits of Iron Man. I had looked forward to this film for a number of years and I did enjoy it, but it didn’t satisfy me. I wanted more. A lot of the enticing lines which were shown in the trailer were cut, and the film seemed to be rushed through. Maybe I just wanted to see more of the Gold and Red suit.

Gwyneth Paltrow isn’t annoying at all, despite my worst fears. Jeff Bridges is excellent as Obediah Stane, Stark’s business partner and friend, whilst Terrence Howard seems to sleepwalk through most of the film.
The whole cast, and director have been signed on for another two films, with the first sequel to be released in 2010. So perhaps this is a work in progress. It’s a really good film. Just not a great film.

An epic rough guide to Florida

Florida, the sunshine state, the happiest place on earth, the land of a thousand smiles blah blah blah. I’m the biggest moaner in the world, I criticise radio adverts for their poor use of grammar, and chastise news readers for not pronouncing their “g” in words which end “ing”. So would I cope with a fortnight at Disneyworld?

Disneyworld had never been one of my preferred destinations. All that fakery and mock cheerfulness never appealed to me. My ideal holiday was to one of the Greek islands, sitting on a beach or relaxing on a lilo. No squeaky voices, no obesity, and no Mickey Mouse. Just grumpy fishermen and kebabs.

However, for my honeymoon, I wanted to do something unusual. Something I had never done, and something I would never do again. Unfortunately, I had already been to the Maldives (where I had proposed) so that “once in a lifetime” holiday had been and gone. Florida was chosen, flying Virgin Altlantic, don’tcha know. Seatback tv, free drinks and ice cream all the way across the ocean, travelling on a plane which was taller than my house. We had arranged car hire, but the “Florida effect” took over as soon as we went to collect it.

“Uh, for a small additional fee, sir, we can upgrade you lovely newlyweds to a car of your choice”.

The words “wow, really..?” escaped my lips and I was immediately suckered in to the Florida way of life. So instead of a free “Compact” car, we ended up with a large, blue convertible. The “small additional fee”, by the way, came to £250 for the fortnight, but that didn’t seem to matter at the time. And once I was behind the wheel of my Chrysler Sebring, cruising along the freeway with the roof down, sun baking down on my un-lotioned forehead, the cynicism, criticism and moans which were so virulent back in Britain started to melt away.



Then we hit the Parks, one by one, for fourteen days. Magic Kingdom was first.

Make no mistake, Magic Kingdom is a beast of a park, with 5 main zones (Main Street USA, Frontierland, Adventureland, Fantasyland, Tomorrowland) surrounding the iconic Fairytale Castle. The sweet smell of cinammon eminates from the bountiful candy stores, whilst the pavement gushes air conditioning at you to keep you cool. A lot of thought has gone into this place!

Splash Mountain (log flume) , Space Mountain (rollercoaster through the galaxy) and Pirates of the Caribbean (enough said) are the obvious main attractions, but in every corner of the park there is a hidden gem, from the exotic Jungle Cruise to the hilarious Buzz Lightyear, from the Barnstormer to Peter Pan. The very essence of Disney is encapsulated within “It’s a small world”. A boat cruise around thousands of (hopefully) fake children, from all corners of the globe, to the backing tune of a repetitive, ear piercingly annoying yet somehow catchy song. My journey into happiness had begun.

Animal Kingdom was next. I should confess that I love this park. In terms of walking, this is probably the smallest of the Disney Parks, as a lot of acreage is taken up by the Safari section. But once again the thought that has been put into making this park a reality is awesome. From the incredible Tree of Life, which sits in the middle of the park and is visible from all around, to the famous Jeep Safari itself, this park is heaven.

The Dinosaur ride is my personal favourites, a speedy trip back in time to the last days of our predecessors, and whilst the Expedition Everest rollercoaster is not my cup of tea, it is the standout attraction of the park. But the essence of this park is found strolling through the “Africa” zone, surrounded by lush greenery whilst the jungle drums beat away. Imagine the planet Endor, from Return of the Jedi, and you’ll have some idea.

MGM / Hollywood studios was something of a disappointment. I was really looking forward to seeing the Indiana Jones spectacular, and the Car Stunt show. But the problem with this park is that there are more scheduled shows than rides, which means that you find yourself rushing across the park to be in position for the beginning of the next performance. Your flexibility is tightened and your freedom restrained. Once again, the park looks amazing, and the Backlot tour is worth the visit alone (I was an “extra” in “Harbour Attack”).

But overall too much of your time is spent looking at your watch. My wife’s favourite was the Tower of Terror, a very creative journey into the Twilight Zone where all seems well until your elevator cable snaps, but once again this was not for me. Heights, see, not a big fan. I was most looking forward to Star Tours, and I did enjoy it, but the effects look sadly dated (compared to Mission:Space and Shuttle Launch) and the annoying voice of Paul Reubens (PeeWee Herman) almost ruined it for me. And the Car Stunt show was very exciting for the first 10 minutes, but by the time they had set up the third stunt, I was checking my exits. MGM/ Hollywood is a great park, but falls short of its brothers and sisters.(Please see Postscript below)

Seaworld was beautiful. We fed Seals & Sealions, touched Dolphins and watched the fantastic Shamu ( the Killer Whale) show. After three days of Disney mania, this was a much needed break. If you like the water and it’s inhabitants, you’ll love this place. If you don’t, you won’t.

Then, something different. We drove out to NASA’s Kennedy Space Centre, which is roughly an hour away from the heart of Disney, or two hours if you have my navigator. After spending days in parks where imagination was no barrier to fun, this “park” provided a dose of realism. Here, imagination was nurtured and developed to such a point that they put a man on the moon. Disney was fun, this was real.

I felt quite humbled as we toured past the massive Vehicle Assembly building, and trundled on towards the Shuttle launchpad. The IMAX movies about the moon landings were stirring, and the Missile garden was awesome. I even met a genuine Astronaut, Jerry Carr, who set a record for the longest time in space when he was in Spacelab. It can be a little eerie out there in the middle of nowhere, absorbing all the man has achieved. I loved it at Kennedy but to be honest I was quite glad to get back to the hustle and bustle of I-drive that night.(Please see Postscript below)

The next day was spent at Universal Studios and I left the park exclaiming that his was my favourite park in Orlando (I was to be proven wrong the very next day, though). This park has it all – live action stunts and 3D films featuring the Terminator, shooting at aliens in Men in Black, escaping the great white in Jaws and one of the best rides in Orlando – the Revenge of the Mummy. This is terrifying, but fantastic because it’s fast and swervy and frightening but doesn’t go very high! I love this park.

And then the best day of the fortnight. A light breakfast of Frosties in our bedroom, and then straight down the I-4 to Epcot. This was the one park that took me a while to get my bearings, even with a map, but everything here appealed to me. The G-force lift off during Mission:Space, the speed of TestTrack, the comparative calm of The Seas with Nemo and the absolute beauty of Soarin’. I’ve mentioned that I’m not a fan of heights, but in Soarin’ I was too focused on hang gliding down the Californian coastline. It was magical. Even Ellen’s Energy Adventure was fascinating despite it’s long running time.

Once we’d absorbed Futureworld we headed to the World Showcase, to experience every country from Canada to Mexico. It’s all a little patronising to the country’s involved, and if our disbelief when touring the British section was anything to go by, then the Japanese, Chinese and French visitors must have felt the same.

But it’s great to be able to lose yourself for a couple of hours, and once more the creativity produced here, especially in areas such as Morocco and Norway make the trip around the world worthwhile. We finished at the Mexican cantina, sipping our cool Fanta’s, watching the sun go down over the lake. It was beautiful. Then we headed back to Futureworld and made the most of the reduced, late-evening queueing times before the wonderful Firework display lit up the skies. Absolute bliss.

It was unfair on Universal’s “Islands of Adventure” that we should visit the day after Epcot, as it could have been an anti-climax. Also, it was the first cloudy day of the fortnight, which was unfortunate bearing in mind the number of log flumes we were about to ride. We needed it to be hot! Islands is very much aimed at a younger audience, with more thrill rides than it’s neighbour, such as the Hulk and Duelling Dragons which I avoided these(Please see Postscript below). However, I did enjoy Jurassic Park, Ripsaw Falls, Bilge Rat barges and Spiderman. At least Spiderman was dry! That was until the simulated drop of 400ft, which caused a few new puddles......

Spiderman is the best pound for pound ride in Orlando, right up there with Dinosaur (Animal Kingdom), the Mummy (Universal) and Mission:Space and Soarin’ (Epcot). There you go, my top 5 rides in Orlando.

Then we revisited the parks in reverse order, ending up at Magic Kingdom on the last day of the holiday, watching more fireworks and eating more jellybeans. Fortunately, for all the junk we ate during the days, and the sheer volume we ate during the nights, we spent the whole of the next day walking for miles around the parks, so the overall weight gain was minimal. But you kind of understand why so many American’s have to travel around in buggy’s. Ponderosa and Sizzler were the best value for money-£13 in total for 2 meals which included unlimited buffet followed by the biggest, juiciest steaks I had ever eaten. And a mountain of fries.

Our hotel was opposite the Pointe Orlando, with it’s bars, restaurants and glitzy shops. But the added bonus was the cinema which we visited on one particularly quiet night. It was literally us and one other couple in the cinema, watching Harry Potter in 3D on a IMAX screen you could see from the moon! We were never short of places to eat on I-drive, and spent many nights drinking up at Universal’s Citywalk. The Lone Palm airport was our favourite spot for “people watching”.

Florida has something for everyone. It’s hot, but not dry. It rains, but not for long. It’s busy, but quiet corners can be found everywhere. This really was a once in a lifetime holiday. We’re going back in June......


POSTSCRIPT. Following our return visit in June 2008, I must to re-evaluate my opinion of two parks in particular. I owe a thousand apologies to Kennedy Space Centre and MGM/Hollywood Studios for my rather dismissive review of what they had to offer. Yes, on the first visit I felt that the attractions were limited because most of them were shows, not rides. But this was only because of my fears were holding me back! However, during the return journey, a funny thing happenned - I got brave.

On the first day of our second visit, my wife convinced my to have a go at Expedition Everest. Animal Kingdom was quiet, so no queueing and no chance for my nerves to build up. Now don't get me wrong, it was very high and I spent the initial climb with my eyes closed, but as soon as we were at the top I could appreciate what a fantastic ride it was, with so much thought put into it. I went straight back on it and whooped and hollered my ass off. From that point on, Florida offerred a brand new thrilling experience for me.

Two rides were always going to be out of reach for me - The Hulk at Islands of Adventure and The Kraken at Seaworld. These are just rides which go high, and although there are many twists and turns, it's not a ride, just a rollercoaster. But so many rides which I had dismissed before as "not for me, thankyou" were back on the agenda. I'm ashamed to say that on my first visit, I refused to go on Big Thunder Mountain at Magic Kingdom (all of these fears stem from a bad experience at Alton Towers years ago. Seriously) but I can't believe how tame it was. That said, it's still a great ride and I went on it again and again the second time.

Islands of Adventures' Duelling Dragons, where two rollercoasters run parallel to each other, and come within inches of touching, was also ticked off my list. It's brilliant.



But Kennedy and MGM/Hollywood deserve most attention here. For Kennedy in particular, my opinion of the park was based solely on the nightmare journey we had getting there. We got lost, and it's a strange corner of Florida with not much around and thus I was very happy to get back to the madness of I-drive in the evening. But on the second visit, we didn't get lost. It took 45 minutes to drive out there, and we arrived just in time to see the GLAST rocket being launched into space. It was an amazing experience, and one that will always stay with me.

MGM/Hollywood sufferred because on both visits it seemed to be the hottest days of the fortnight, and there are no "wet" rides to cool you down. And also I wouldn't go on Tower of Terror or Rock'n'rollercoaster. But this time we managed to spend 12 hours at the park and were almost the last people to leave, it was that good. Allright, I'll admit it was during a "Star Wars weekend" so there was a Star Wars parade and some of the actors made appearances, and I got my photo taken with Boba Fett, and it was the month after Toy Story Mania had opened so there were a lot of things going for it.

Now I'll admit to loading the dice in our favour here. When we first visited Florida, it was our honeymoon and we got some Disney "Just married" badges which won us some goodwill and favourable seating on many rides. Well, yes, we wore them a year later on our second visit and boy did it pay off! Toy Story Mania had a waiting time of 2 hours, so my wife and I went in the Single Rider queue and to be honest we were happy to experience the ride separately. However, the "seater" clocked our badges and managed to squeeze us on together - after we had waited for 3 minutes. A saving of one hour, 57 minutes thanks to the badges. I shouldn't be proud of myself, but I am. And Toy Story Mania was brilliantly designed and lots of fun.

Rock'n'rollercoaster is my kind of 'coaster in as much as it goes very fast and not too high. And the layout inside is amazing. Plus I felt extra safe in the low seats of the car. We then managed to get great seats for the night-time firework display "Fantasmic" which was sensational and I was brave enough to experience the Twilight Zone Tower of Terror, where the badges worked for us again!

Going on this ride is a big deal for someone with a fear of heights, as this is essentially a broken lift which goes up and down at speed and opens it's doors to the outside world. Quite scary. I'd finally summoned up the nerve to go on during the afternoon, and once Fantasmic had finished we considered going home for the night. But we noticed that it was 10:55 and we had five minutes left to go on one more ride. We dashed down to T.Z.T.O.T. as it was nearest and they closed the gate behind us, which added to the spookiness. We were officially the last people in the queue. Then as we were about to get into our lift, a smashing British girl held us back and said that as it was our honeymoon we'd get to ride alone - she even took our photo for us!! I felt bad about that, but we were the last people to ride T.Z.T.O.T. that night and we got to do it all alone. It was magical.

The abolition of the 10p tax rate and other rants...

I don’t like making political statements. I always thought that people who spouted off about the state of politics in this country needed to look outside our borders to see just how badly off other people are.

For instance, people in Britain complain about the rising number of immigrants in this country, and I have been known to mumble angry utterances myself. But I understand that there is a reason for the mass migration we have witnessed in the last few years. We should be proud that our country is seen as the promised land for these people. I can see this argument from both points of view, as for every immigrant who comes to Britain to work hard, there is another who comes here to claim benefits.

However, one argument I cannot and will not see from both sides is the abolition of the 10p income tax rate. I simply cannot get my head around it. And I’m fairly intelligent. I’m no computer programmer, or quantum mechanic, but I’ve got a number of A-levels under my belt, and a Degree in Politics from the finest Polytechnic / University that money could afford.

I’m one of “Thatcher’s children”. I grew up in the 1980’s and for the first years of my life all I knew was life under the Tories. Labour were spearheaded by some comical Welsh bloke and fat guy with a lisp. They had no chance of coming to power, no matter how badly the incumbent government behaved. The man who turned this all around, and made Labour a prominent political force, was John Smith, who led the Labour party for 2 years until his untimely death in 1994. During this short time, he turned the Labour Party into genuine contenders, and for the first time in 15 years the party looked like a potential government-in-waiting.

Tony Blair took the reigns and led the party to General Election success in 1997. All was sweetness and light, apart from the dour Chancellor of the Exchequer, a Mr G. Brown from Scotland. For the next 10 years, whilst Tony rode the Prime Ministerial rollercoaster, Gordon Brown behaved like a petulant child sitting in the back of Tony’s car. “Are we there yet? Is it my turn to govern??”. No Gordon, not for a while.

And so here we are, the petulant child has been placed at the Head of the British government, and he is unravelling quicker than the woolly jumper my Aunty knitted for my 8th birthday.

The Labour party was forged in the early 20th century by the Unions, the working class men. They were a party created for the people, by the people. They represented the subordinate proletariat, whilst opposing the oppression of their bourgeois leaders. Not communism, you understand, but closer to it for comfort than the Tories liked.

In my political studies, I explored most theologies and ideologies that existed. From the anguished thoughts of Jean-Jacques Rousseau, to the wonderfully eloquent writings of Thomas Paine. And yet despite all of this, I am unable to see how the Labour party has evolved into a party for the rich people, by the rich people. Keir Hardie and Ramsay Macdonald will be turning in their graves.

The abolition of the 10p tax rate is nothing short of a sin. It’s criminally hurtful to those who can afford it the least. Put simply, this new tax rate takes more money from people who earn less than £18,000 a year and gives it back to those who earn more. So the old phrase of the poor getting poorer has never been so accurate.

This is a policy which a Labour party Prime Minister has introduced. I simply cannot believe this. I know that New Labour has very little to do with the origins of the Labour Party, but surely this is the final cut of the umbilical. The Labour government has found a way to punish low earners for earning low wages. It’s the ultimate insult from a man who has never been elected Prime Minister, and yet sits on his throne taking our money.

As I said, I’m one of Thatcher’s children. Brought up opposing Maggie and all she stood for, whilst hoping that the heroic Labour party would one day sweep in and clear the Tories out. It makes me wonder if it’s better to vote for a political party because it’s what you’ve always done, and it’s what your parents have always done, and their parents before them or whether it’s more beneficial to not attach yourself to one party. To have no long-term political persuasion. To hedge my bets, and spend time actually listening to what the candidates have to say, hoping against hope that something they say might resonate with me and allow me to think “yeah......you’re worthy of my vote”.

Perhaps this is more pertinent in it’s identification of an awful truth. There are no political parties anymore. There are groups of people with leaders, but politics has very little to do with it. Ask David Cameron about his political ideology and you’d struggle to get a coherent answer. Ask Gordon Brown the same and you’d struggle to get a coherent sentence. For the life of me I can’t remember the Liberal Party’s leader, although it may be Nick Clegg.

The recent Primaries and Caucuses in the USA have shown me that there is still room for passionate people in politics, that it’s more than just sound bites for the media. I would love to feel moved by the oratory of a political candidate the way the American’s are by Barrack Obama and Hillary Clinton. Ultimately, I fear that the closeness of the race Democratic nomination will be the parties’ undoing, with infighting and divisions allowing the Republic nominee, John McCain, to coast in to the White House. But at least it’s got people talking about politics over there.

What does the UK need to get us interested in Politics again??

ADDITIONAL NOTES 07/05/08

The recent Council elections have shown that I am not the only person to be angered by the Labour Party’s apparent contempt for the voters. Mr Gordon Brown is not out of the game yet, but he is certainly being handed his hat. And I am very pleased with this outcome, because it proves that people can still be moved by politics. Staunch Labour supporters have turned their backs on the party exclaiming “enough is enough”.

What concerns me is the “sound bite” syndrome which followed. Gordon Brown told anyone he could find that he “is listening” and he “will learn”. I don’t think he will. Call me an old cynic, but I think he will continue right on with his own agenda until he finds himself sat outside number 10 with the bobby minding the door asking him to move along.

Even the retraction of the 10p tax abolition rings hollow. Those who suffered the most will be reimbursed, they promise. This is not a U-turn, but a return to the needs of the voters, apparently. No promises of when this will happen, or how to find out about it, not even on the infamous DirectGov website. Surely it would be simpler to just bring the old tax system back, but no, it seems easier to continue the tax, but reimburse those hit the hardest with money extracted from the Winter Heating Allowance fund.

Robbing Peter to pay Paul, perhaps?

The case for leaving Goodison Park....

I think the strength of feeling on this issue depends greatly on whether or not you live in Liverpool. So, at the risk of putting my head in the Lion’s mouth, here’s my opinion.

I don't live in Liverpool. I don't have any romantic attachment with the City. I face a round trip of 6 hours just for home games. But I travel to watch Everton Football club, I don't travel to see Goodison Park.

For those who live in the City, it must be heartbreaking to see the club moving (and I think it’s clear now that they ARE moving) outside of the boundaries.

But for a lot of fans (and judging by the number of cars parked in Stanley Park on matchdays, I'm not the only fan to travel long distances to get to the ground) it isn't about WHERE we play. If it was, we'd support our local teams. I love Everton Football Club, no matter where they play.

Everton is a huge club. We regularly attract over 35,000 fans for home games which is almost twice as much at the attendances at clubs such as Blackburn, Fulham, Wigan etc. And yet we seem to be falling behind these clubs in terms of spending power. Those clubs have sugar daddy’s capable of investment, whereas we have Bill, who loves the club but is clearly skint. So we need to try something different.

In my opinion, this deal is too good to turn down. We are being given £50m to buy our own stadium. That’s free money!!! And £50m of it! And the land is willingly being offerred to us by Knowsley Council. That’s free land!! How many other clubs in the world, not just the Premiership, would bite Tesco’s hand off for this kind of offer?

And on top of this we could make money from the sale of Goodison, and the potentially lucrative naming rights (although I cringe at the idea of the “Tesco Value Stadium”).

Goodison was magical. It's hosted wonderful night games, and produces an incredible atmosphere. I’ve seen the highlights and the lowlights - Villareal was fantastic night, despite the result. The last home game against Portsmouth was magnificent. I wasn’t able to experience the famous Bayern Munich game of 85, but I did see them thrash Newport County in 86!!

One of my favourites was a bruising 1-0 victory over Spurs in 97. Dave Watson was in charge, and it was Rideout’s last game for us. Nobody else remembers it except me, but the way that Everton bullied Spurs into submission was an awesome sight. I’ve endured goalless draws against Birmingham and home defeats to Chelsea. But all the time the thrill was in seeing the team, not the stadium.

Goodison is old, with too many restricted views. Even if you have a good view, watching the match can be uncomfortable on wooden seats with cramped leg and arse room. And the obvious lack of corporate facilities (where the real money is to be made) is strangling the club.

I want Everton to move forward, and I just don't see that happenning at Goodison. In 10 or 20 years time, we would be kicking ourselves for not being brave and moving to Kirkby.

We’re part of history, right now. These are important times in the future of Everton Football club. We can take the easy path, stay at Goodison and moan about the lack of money coming into the club and how Kenwright is lying to us all.

Or we can stand up and admit that times change, and a new stadium will provide better facilities and encourage fresh investment. The longer we stay where we are, the faster we’ll go backwards.

Hey Diddly dee.....

Well, my 5 minutes of fame have come and gone. The star that burns twice as bright burns half as long, and I have burnt so very very brightly.

On the 1st July, I fulfilled my destiny - I was a movie star!! Well, I say “star”, I was actually an Extra for the filming of a Jack the Ripper movie. Well, I say “movie”, it was actually a short “teaser” film designed to be shown at Film Festivals across the globe.

So there we were in the Square Mile of London at 8am on a Sunday morning. There was a small crew including Producer, Director, Writer, Director of Photography and principal cast. I was there to help out, in whatever capacity I could, but I imagined this to be making coffee and holding umbrella’s.

The Producer had left posters all around Spitalfields and Liverpool Street, asking for Extra’s to come down to Mitre Square on Sunday morning. And some turned up, but not quite what we had expected. Six “extra’s” who had been out drinking HEAVILY all night saw our poster and decided it was more fun than wandering the streets of London until their coach took them back to Bristol at 4pm.

A few others turned up, including my mate (and part time Bruce Willis look-a-like) Dan and some guy who looked (and behaved) like the Tim Robbins character in War of the Worlds. Creepy.

The film centred on a Jack the Ripper tour guide, played by Dynasty’s own Christopher Cazenove, and the young woman (played by Melanie Gutteridge, from The Bill) who takes an unhealthy interest in his tales.

I was placed in charge of “wrangling” the Extra’s into some form of sense. Which required a great deal of coffee, muffins and croissants to sober them up and pacify them. Their job as Extra’s was to portray the Tour group, being led around London by Mr Cazenove, and responding with appropriate groans of shock and disgust at his graphic tales of Jack’s ripping exploits. I just stood on the sidelines and pointed at where they needed to stand.

However, right at the last minute, I was flung centre screen as Extra number 1. Wow, look at me Mum, acceptance at last! A lesser man than myself would have been nervous, stagestruck even. But I was confident in my own abilities as a thespian, and knew that when the Director called for action, a little magic would happen. I grimaced, I groaned and I howled with such vigour that wouldn’t have been out of place in Holby City’s waiting room.

“Is there no end to this boys talents?” cried the director. Well, he might have thought it at any rate, but didn’t want to make all the other Extra’s feel bad. They did the best they could, but with obvious limits.

Once my Extra scenes were over, I returned to Assistant Director mode, which basically meant that I was a runner. To-ing and fro-ing from one place to another, fetching drinks and equipment, blocking off streets to avoid passers-by interrupting filming. It was non-stop and completely exhausting but it was so much fun!!

Twelve hours of filming around the creepiest parts of London might not appeal to some people. The idea of not sitting down all day might be seem the best way to spend a Sunday. Carrying two carrier bags full of 15 cups of Starbucks’ finest through crowded streets, before standing in the middle of the road to stop pedestrians walking across the middle of a shot. It all might seem a little tedious. But not to me. Even the 3 hour drive home across London and down the M4 was enjoyable. Because as I drove home I just smiled to myself and considered how lucky I’d been to be part of something so great as movie making.

Allright, it was small scale and low budget. I mean, any film with more than two farthings to rub together would have hired someone far more handsome than myself to be lead Extra. And yes, it was incredibly hard work for no pay, but it was far more rewarding than sitting at a desk all day pretending to look busy whilst writing an article about the previous weekend’s experience of making a film.

See what I mean?

The modern malaise

The legendary Astronomer Patrick Moore has recently caused a stir by claiming “television is rubbish, and it’s the fault of women”.

That’s summarising his point dreadfully, but I think he meant that a lot of the television market is now, more than ever, aimed at women. Mr Moore, or is it Sir Moore or Lord Moore, suggests that “banal television” such as Cookery shows, the Soaps and Make-over programmes are dumbing down the standards of British tv to a point when men don’t need to watch the box at all.

This prompted a little light-hearted conversation amongst my colleagues, about the impact of females on our society which rapidly developed into an argument over “who’s the stupidest, men or women?”. Real mature, eh?

Patrick Moore’s comments have been dismissed by the higher Exec’s at the BBC (probably all women) as being the thoughts of a man who refuses to acknowledge that times have changed. However, at the risk of exposing myself as a sexist misogynist, I kind of see his point, and lot of it comes down to the following questions.

When did style replace substance? Why are politics and television now aimed at the lowest common denominator?

The ideal women’s night of television seems to be thus - sitting for an entire evening watching Northerners sit in a pub and moan, then switch over to watch a bunch of Cockneys do the same, before letting two obnoxious women tell me what to wear just before a scary old woman looks through some poo.

I will hold my hands up and say that, like most red blooded males, my first loves are Sky Sports and Sky Movies. But credit where its due, watching these channels will require an attention span of over 2 hours sometimes. 2 whole hours!!!

Female-based television is aimed at viewers with short attention spans who want to see quick programmes about celebrities in shiny colours. Big Brother is addictive, because it doesn’t require any viewer involvement. We can just sit there and gawp at a bunch of nobodies doing nothing. It’s like going to the zoo, but with less interaction.

It’s not just television that is letting us down. Music as a commercial industry has been going strong for around fifty years, and yet we already seem to have run out of ideas. Most dance tracks on Radio 1 are purely samples of 1980 disco classics. The health of the Movie industry is judged more and more on the strength of the “summer blockbusters” which 9 times out of 10 will be the second or third sequel in an already successful brand. So nothing new, no risks, no minds being opened.

Our local radio newsreader, Amy Garner, steadfastly refuses to pronounce her words properly, because it’s “cool”. So “getting” becomes gettin’ and “going to” becomes “gonna”. She went for an interview, got through auditions and got the job. Her bosses must hear her broadcasts every day, and yet she is still there every morning. So somebody thinks that for a newsreader to lack basic pronunciation skills is perfectly acceptable, because anything else would seem “stuffy”. The lowest common denominator wins again.

These factors have created a state of apathy throughout Britain, a slumber from which we shall struggle to awake.

I’m not sure how all these threads blend together. But writing this is good therapy and my soul feels lighter already.

An Everton fan's day out

Not so much a day out, more of an experience. A 7-hour round trip courtesy of Arriva and Virgin Trains — all for 90 minutes worth of football. Oh, and We’re All Going on a European tour.

The good lady dropped me at Abergavenny station with 30 seconds to spare. The train rolled in and I found a good seat to admire the scenery along the Wales-England border, whilst tuning in to Bolton’s second-favourite son with Kay as his surname, and relax. I didn’t really want, or need any refreshments, but the trolley is so magical with all its Jaffa Cakes and crisps, that I became mesmerised and, before I knew it, I was buying the most expensive cup of tea in the world. All change at Crewe, where a couple of scallies buy two ciggies off me and I’m reminded that the smoking ban hasn’t come into force yet in England, so I have a sneaky one in the bar.

Then onward to Merseyside. You know that moment when the stewards pile around the ground as we approach injury time. Well the number of Bluenoses boarding the train between Crewe and Lime Street provided that same sensation — we’re getting close!!
A quick stroll through Liverpool and a fiver spent in the Wimpy (I swear this is the only Wimpy still open in Britain) and I’m on the bus to Goodison. The customary walk around the ground, a sniff around the players’ cars and then I buy my programme and go into the ground to watch the Manchester derby. Strange that all this furore has been caused by a Manchester City left back, who wasn’t Ben Thatcher and it’s not like Michael Ball has any previous. Still it was the only interesting moment in an awful game.

Then I find my seat, in the Park End, and watch David James practising his goalkicking. Make no bones about it, he is massive, and I began to panic about how little James and little Victor would face up to him. I needn’t have worried. The team is announced and I’m probably going against the grain by admitting that I was pleased to see Neville at right back. He was excellent there earlier in the season, and his second half performance vindicated his selection over the limited Hibbert. I had hoped to see a bit more from Fernandes and was just praying that Ossie doesn’t do his normal trick of carrying the ball 20 yards before falling over.

The first half was dreadful, although we in the Park End were unaware quite how horrific Vaughan’s slice was when through on goal. Primus came forward for a corner which he knocked harmlessly over the bar... Thank god for half time, when the announcement that Bolton were getting webbed at West Ham drew the biggest cheer so far.

Straight from the kick-off in the second half, a strange thing happened. The Everton players started to put their foot on the ball, and play it around on the deck. The magical, mercurial Arteta was always hungry for the ball, jinking around fullbacks, splitting the Portsmouth backline, whilst wee Leon Osman was a menace to the giant defenders, especially the gangly Traore who seemed to lose Osman in-between his legs.

Ironically, the first goal was a result of a long ball forward from Howard, which Anichebe flicked on to Vaughan, who in turn flicked it around the otherwise outstanding Primus. Cue Glen Johnson... and the rest is history. Arteta held his nerve, and within a few minutes Yobo found himself unmarked to make it 2-0. The third goal was particularly sweet, as Beattie flicked on to Naysmith who, in the words of Motty, “buried it”. 3-0, and then Bolton and Reading had lost, so Everton are all-but guaranteed Europe.

Fernandes was a disappointment, with a few flashes of skill and the odd drag-back, but he went missing far too often. Carsley and Stubbs blocked everything that came their way, whilst Yobo and Lescott tidied up anything else. Neville was excellent at right back, bombing forward to overlap and providing some deadly crosses. And the two boys up front were excellent, constantly closing down the defenders, winning headers, skipping over tackles, orchestrating the crowd, and generally having a good time playing football whilst getting paid for it.

I don’t think a single fan left before the lap of honour and it was a privilege to be there and have the team thank the crowd for our support. “We’re all going on a European tour”. Barring an eleven-goal swing, of course, but that doesn’t rhyme.
So then we filtered out into the street, all singing, all smiling. I got a bit lost once I’d got clear of Goodison and ended up walking the whole way back to Lime Street, again just making my train. Happily, it was the train to Euston which was packed with fans of relegated Brentford, fresh from another spanking at Tranmere. “We’re going down like a hairy Lesbian” they sang, before apologising to all Hairy Lesbians on the train. I got chatting to a number of ESCLA members, and they were very generous in sharing their lagers around. Thanks guys, you know who you are.

I left them at Crewe and found my little train to carry me back to Welsh Wales. Listening to Greeny on 5LIVE! just made my blood boil, but I heard that Bristol City had been promoted so I rang my best mate to congratulate him. A great day all round. The good lady met me at the station and we picked up a Chinese just in time to watch Match of the Day. We won 3-0, by the way.

Joe Wightman

The Celtic Games

The Celtic Games are an annual event which pits the strongest against the fittest. But the competitors aren't Olympians, Wrestlers or Boxers. Oh no, they're Civil Servants. On the 22nd March, Rhys "wee man" Dalgleish assembled a mottley bunch of footballers to represent ONS in the Welsh Regional 5-a-side Football qualifiers in Cardiff. The winner of the tournament would represent their office at the finals in Belfast, so there was a lot of pride to play for.

Keith "The Cat" Barnes, our invincible goalkeeper, kept more clean sheets than a pair of incontinence pants. Nick "Nobbler" Hughes kept biting away a the opposition's ankles. Huw "I'm not really Gary Speed" Wilcox watched the back door like a Presidential bodyguard. Nick "Marathon Man" Barford covered more ground than Steven Gerrard on a good day. Ross "The Good" Shepherd was our star utility man, and Joe "Supersub" Wightman just got kicked a lot.

All 17 teams assembled at the University Sports Centre. You could smell the tension, and a lot of deep heat. Like caged tigers, we prowled around the court, marking out our territory, as we chanted our team mantra. "None shall pass!!" "None shall score!!". "What time does MacDonald's open?"

The first game was a tight affair, but we taught the DVLA a thing or two about controlled football, before unleashing our secret weapon. The "wee man" popped up at the edge of the box to rifle home the winner. In the second game against Kaiserslautern, more measured football and some unbelievable gymnastic efforts by Keith Barnes meant that a hard fought draw was probably the right result. The third game was marred by a needless stamp on chirpy goalpoacher Joe Wightman, and on his birthday of all days. He bravely fought on, as his assailant received a deserved red card. Once again, Rhys Dalgleish buried the winner.

So three games gone, two wins and a draw. Confidence was high, surely we were through? But the mood swiftly changed, as news of a high scoring win for Kaiserslautern filtered through, meaning that we were behind on goal difference. Only a win would do against the mighty Cardiff Contact Centre. The opposition marched into the arena, cloaked in the Royal Blue of Everton football club. The crowd in the viewing gallery bayed for blood, sensing the importance of a match which neither team could afford to lose.

One minute gone, and disaster struck. A shot from the oposition cruelly bounced back off the post onto the back of Keith, who could do nothing to stop the shot trickling into the net. The stakes got higher, and the intensity doubled. Suddenly, Rhys Dalgleish nipped in to score a crucial equaliser and the game was there for the taking. The opposition looked tired, and made numerous subsitutions as they attempted to regain their composure. Then, completely out of the blue, they unleashed a stunning effort which flew into the net. 1-2 down and only seconds remaining.

The crowd noise was deafening, and the ONS team couldn't hear their own substitutes desperately clamouring to come on and help. With the referee about to blow for full time, and Contact Centre looking confident, Rhys popped up again to equalise and send ONS through to the knock out stages. All around a sea of gold as the crowd cheered his name. A shame that the referee disallowed it for being inside the box, really. The game finished and we were out, on goal difference only.

Rhys tried to inspire his devastated team with Happy Meals all round at MacDonalds. We could hold our heads high, knowing that we had done ONS proud. We can't wait for Sports Day now!

Reasons to be cheerful.

Britain. What a crappy place, eh? Road pricing, dwindling pensions, crumbling schools, shambolic public transport. It all seems to be getting on top of us at the moment. So, in response to this nationwide epidemic of low morale, here are a number of reasons why Britain is Great.

1. Things we take for granted. Heat, light, clean water, uncensored media. We complain that our fuels bills are outrageous, and sometimes they are, but at the touch of a button we can be sitting in a warm, well lit house, watching 1000 channels on Sky. It's expensive, but it's all something which we take for granted, and which we would miss beyond measure if it wasn't there. Imagine getting home from a miserable day at work and finding you've no central heating, no running water, and the tv has packed in. Sometimes we forget how awfully lucky we are.

2. The history. Australia and the USA, or "The Colonies" as Stephen Fry calls them, look at us with envy because of the heritage which we have amassed. History is all around us, from Stonehenge to the Tower of London. And the best part of it is that, in the main, we have preserved our history rather than bulldozing it. The magnificent Natural History Museum in London is a shining light in what historians can achieve. But it's not just in the capital that we can find history. From the Black Country museum, which has a working tram, a mineshaft and a canal basin, to the Museum of Welsh Life outside Cardiff, where important historical buildings from all over Wales have been reassembled bit by bit and help to explain how we used to live. A society cannot progress without an appreciation of it's past.

3. The architecture. Just look up, look around you, next time you're in town. It's the best way of going back in time. The plastic shop fronts which we see everyday can conceal hundreds of years of architecture. And it varies so wildly across the country, from the magnificent Georgian Esplanade at Weymouth, to the gothic Castle and alleyways of Edinburgh. But sometimes it's not particularly tourist spots which can boast the finest architecture, sometimes you can find it in the last place you expect. For example, the exterior of St Pancras is almost Cathedral-like, but rarely seen as most of it's travellers head straight for the underground station.
And in London's financial district, the City, the "Gherkin" stands opposite the Lloyds Tower as wonderful examples that not all modern constructions are eyesores. Even football stadiums are great examples of what we can achieve, and the Millenium Stadium in Cardiff soars above the city skyline without scarring it.

4. The NHS. It gets pilloried everyday in the media for hospital closures, waiting lists and MRSA. But what people forget is that it's completely FREE. This is unheard of outside of the UK where medical insurance is imperative. And we have choice as well because if we don't want to wait for a free operation, we can go private and pay for it straightaway!

5. Greenery. Even in the centre of London there are St James's Park, Hyde Park and Regents Park, providing beauty spots and somewhere to unwind amongst the hustle of bustle of one of the busiest cities in the world, whilst simultaneously oxegenating the air for all its residents. But this green and pleasant land extends beyond this from the moors of Devon, to the Yorkshire dales and the Lake District. There is such natural beauty around; the mountains of Wales, the Jurassic coastline of Dorset and the canals of Norfolk.

6. The people. We live in one of the most cosmopolitan societies in the world, and we strive to be tolerant of one anothers cultures. Earlier this month London hosted four international football friendly matches, none of which included the home nation! South Korea, Greece, Denmark, Australia, Nigeria, Ghana, Portugal and Brazil were all supported by their colourful fans and the reason the games were played in London was because of the high prevalence of such nationalities in the capital, that it made more sense than to play the matches in their home countries. We can be so proud of ourselves for helping to create such a multi-national culture.

It can be Great in Britain. We just need reminding every so often.