Vince Cable and the contradiction at the heart of the Coalition

Vince Cable is the latest politician to fall foul of being recorded without his knowledge. Already, there has been a rush to perform damage control; Mr Cable has had to apologise and his embarrassment has been well-documented by the 24 hour news cycle. David Cameron and Nick Clegg have both been forced to repudiate his remarks, with Cameron saying he has "every reason to be apologetic".
 In the conversations recorded by undercover Daily Telegraph reporters, Mr Cable was heard to say that he was, paraphrasing, "going to war" with Rupert Murdoch and his company NewsCorp, in its bid to become the majority shareholder in BSkyB. This poses a problem, since the business secretary was to have the final say in the ruling surrounding Murdoch's bid; he is, after all, supposed to appear impartial in such matters.
 Today, Leader of the Opposition Ed Miliband, has argued that progressive liberalism cannot sit with traditional Tory policies in this coalition.
 This is one of many contradictions in a Coalition government which has, since May, introduced some of the most sweeping reforms to welfare, health, education that this country has seen since the immediate aftermath of the Second World War.
Since it's inception, this coalition has tried to maintain an ideological neutrality which is proving difficult to keep up. It is not New Labour, this we are reminded of every week, whenever the financial crisis or the deficit is brought up; nor is it Thatcherite, lest it be associated with a certain hard-headedness, for which Margaret Thatcher's Tories are now historically famous. New politics is liberal and Conservative, the two are interchangeable; indeed many a joke has been made about Cameron and Clegg being somehow doubles of one another.
 Yet, in its policies, this government has had to reconcile this New Politics with what it is asking the public to accept. Higher education is to become a market like never before, under the belief that this will raise standards. The NHS is to become liberalised, with the belief that GPs who have complete autonomy over all aspects of their practice will, likewise, become more efficient providers of care.
It will, however, be the government who has the final say on what is "efficient". Michael Gove's "free schools" policy, whilst representing a liberalisation of the current state school system, has a strangely authoritarian tone in its desire to close down failing schools, and implement another top down reform of the school curriculum.
 This contradiction is perhaps best evident in the banks; Cable being a proponent of more punitive measures against the City banks, whilst Osborne is fearful of driving their business elsewhere.
 Government may find it in an interesting position as this decade unfolds; the financial crisis took place against the backdrop of an increasingly globalised market. It was the markets that got us in this situation; in following the policies it has, this government has chosen to roll the dice and trust that, ultimately, the market will get us out of it.

Business Fail: The Apprentice Reviewed - Week Four

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh. Melisssaaaaa. Shoulder paaaaaads.

 Sorry, back to the review.

 The story of this week's Apprentice is the fall of Melissa Cohen, the blond haired master of bad grammar. She sounded a bit bunged up with cold this week, poor lass. She still manages to be annoying, even when she looks at the end of her rope.

This week, the gang get called to the Science Museum. Jamie/Master Yoda, deduces that the task is either to do with "science" or "museums". Whoaa there Jamie, that was the sound of my mind BLOWING.
Lord Sugar tells them they have to sell new products/innovations to trade. They basically have to pick products that they think are sales worthy, and then sell them on to major retailers. They've been called to the Science Museum because that's where things that got invented are, you know, exhibited.
Jamie becomes the leader of Synergy. Melissa wants to be the project manager again, but no one votes for her. She looks full of flu and resentment, though it's mostly resentment.

Meanwhile, Chris Bates elects himself leader of Apollo. Chris does a little fist clench at the camera, then goes on to argue "I've proved throughout this process that I'm very good at pitching, I've proved that I'm good at selling as well." For "good at pitching" read "narcolepsy inducing". There's also a delightful moment where Nick writes something in his diary, and Chris just looks at him and gulps.
 There are some eclectic items on display; a mask that gives you a facelift. I think I saw one of those in Die Another Day. There's a pilates machine, which Chris tries out. There's a t shirt and jeans that automatically buff you up/keep in the love handles. Stuart doesn't like them over on Synergy, but Chris's team goes for them. There's an eco-friendly shower head, which Synergy snap up.

 Stuart, after a few weeks of good behaviour, decides to come out of retirement and become a massive ball-ache to anyone he makes eye contact with. His best moment of complete non-diplomacy comes in the moment of a presentation for some baby clothing which tells you when a baby is overheated. "Uh, would I be right in thinkin' that a baby would be DEAD if it reached 39, or 40 degrees celsius". Chris's team are dead diplomatic, and treat the woman demonstrating the Baby-Glo product like an actual person. So naturally, she gives it to them to sell.
So, to sum up, Jamie's Synergy has the eco-friendly shower head, and some uh, spades.
[I need to get in touch with my friend Caitlin, who now works at the Science Museum, but I'm fairly certain that spades have already been invented. I think these are orthopaedic spades, which mean you don't have to bend over when you garden. Wahhey, bend over, more ladz banterrr]

Meanwhile, Chris's Apollo end up with the Baby Glo and the jeans that alter your molecular density or what have you. Only by default, though, when you consider that Stuart just insulted the inventors of those two products.

 Then they have to go off and sell their chosen products on. The first port of call is a Department Store, which the BBC is, I believe, not allowed to name in voiceover, because of some rules regarding product placement or something? Anyway, I think I overheard one of the teams saying "Debenhams" so I deciphered the producers' ingenious code.
 Here is where Melissa comes into her element because The Department Store That Shall Not be Named doesn't sell shower heads, or garden tools. The pitch basically breaks down like this:
 "This is a shower-head"
"We don't sell showers" 
 "But if you wanted to expand your target market"
"We have shown no interest into expanding into this market"
 "If I could move on to the spade item
 "We don't sell spades...why are they in Debenhams?" 

 After Melissa has tried and tried and tried, they leave. Maybe she sneezed on them.
 Debenhams (argh don't say it three times) seem to like the Baby Glo and the Super-Jeans. Chris is marginally less boring this week. I think I managed not to lunge for the remote and switch over to Friends on E4 + 1.

 They are all tired and go home to plan for the next day. Jamie's team has a "DIY superstore" to sell to tomorrow.
FOR THE LOVE OF GOD IT'S B&Q. Well, it could be Homebase. Aargh, someone call Benedict Cumberbatch.
Jamie wants to do the pitch. Melissa makes a face, and plays with a shower head like it's a deadly weapon, asking "what's wrong with me? Because, she does this for a living. No, I think you'll find you flog plastic looking cherry muffins for a living. And stare in desperation at calculators. And commit crimes against fashion.
Later, in an aside, she warns "don't set out to undo me".  I didn't know we'd strayed into Roman high tragedy territory here, but there you go.
She works her powers of persuasion again in Leamington Spa, trying to sell the shower head, which breaks down. When the buyers refuse to buy, she looks as though she is going to lunge at them. With a shower head.
There's lots of stuff going on with exclusivity in Soho and those body altering jeans. I think Paloma will win, or get down to the finals, since she's so goddamn ambitious.
The crowning poo in this week's cesspool of business ineptitude is that Stuart and Melissa, who both profess to do this "selling" malarkey for a living, make the least sales. I think I hear Sir Alan sharpening his pointing finger.

So, it's back to the boardroom. It's one of those weeks where both teams have done well, it's just one team sold a lot, while another one sold a lot, alot. In this case, it's Chris team, with the baby glo and the jeans. It's because Liz sold 19,000 pound's worth of orders to Debenhams and loads of baby glos to Kiddycare, and puts the total figure of sales up to 122,000.

(It was B&Q by the way. Cut to shot of this reviewer smoking a pipe and going "a HA")

 So the winning team go to a nice spa, and wallow in hot water and their own self-satisfaction. The other team retreat to the cafe of Mediocrity and argue over a very violent violin soundtrack. Jamie blames the "sub-team". Yeah, bloody sub-team. Jamie never gets angry though, because anger leads to hate, and hate leads to SUFFERING.
In the boardroom, it is brought up that Melissa is loose cannon, a mixed bag, a firework waiting to go off. She keeps thanking people for their feedback. Lord Sugar eventually stops this feedback loop and tells her to stop saying "feedback". Jamie brings back the two stars, Stuart and Melissa.
It was at this point that I realised Melissa has stolen her entire wardrobe from Annie Lennox. Annie Lennox in the Eighties. Imagine Annie Lennox with David Tennant's glasses.
 She bleats on about feedback, calls herself a "mixed bag" again and then MAKES UP WORDS. Like "professionality". Jamie defends himself well; he's a nice lad, that Jamie.

Stuart, by the way, thinks his best example of business prowess was selling yo-yos in the school playground. The school playground on the Isle of Man.

Melissa is fired, but not before muttering "well done on ganging up on me, you horrible people". She refuses the handshake/hug at the end, telling them both to get out of her face. Duh duh duh duh, duh duh, duh duh - don't tooouch me. God, you'd think it was the Queen Vic/the cast of Dallas she was leaving, not The Apprentice.

In the taxi, Melissa goes all "Samuel L Jackson in Pulp Fiction" on our asses, warning that "karmically, they will be retributed". Because "the universe speaks louder than I do".

Bye bye Melissa, you mixed bag of professionality. At least with the shoulder pads gone, I can look directly at the screen again.

Next week, there's a fashion themed show. I swear I saw Karren and Nick masquerading as shop window dummies.

Meanwhile, I'd really appreciate you're feedback on my review. How can I improve if you don't give me any feedback?


Damn you Meeeelisssaaaaaaaaa.

Business Fail: The Apprentice Reviewed - Week Three

Before I start my review of last week's episode, I just want to pay tribute to all the children in primary schools across the country who have mastered the art of baking cakes and selling them. Many master it from a young age, and they've done a really good job.

 I just needed to say that.

 So yes, the task for the remaining candidates this week was to, well, bake cakes and sell them. That's it. That's all they had to do.
 Lord Sugar woke them up at half past six. The mental toll is beginning to show on some of them, and it's only week three. Melissa was spied boxing at thin air whilst muttering "raring to go". There's also a "bring it on" from Chris Bates the Ladykiller. Oh God.
 They are driven to some tea rooms in central London. There, Lord Sugar feigns to appear in person, and explains why this task is relevant to the world of business. Thing is, it's never anything profound, it's alway something like "People, will pay through the nose for beach products/cakes/camels/trips to the Moon" Lord Sugar's closing joke this week is "This is turning flour, into serious dough". Some of the girls giggle churlishly.
"Oh Lord Sugar, you card."
 Then he rearranges the teams, so Shibby and Chris go over to Apollo and Melissa moves over to Synergy. It's rather like re-arranging the deck chairs on the Titanic, since they still end up bollocksing up the task.

 Melissa and her Shoulder Pads become team leader of Synergy. Melissa, remember, has experience of food distribution. Apparently, she's a mixed bag of nuts, and this thing is her bag. Melissa, stop mixing metaphors like they are, uh, bags of nuts.

 Shibby becomes team leader of Apollo, because well, he's a surgeon and he's good at putting his hands in gooey stuff. LIKE HUMAN BODIES. And cakes.

 It turns out, in pitching to clients, that Melissa [who has food distribution experience] is afraid of maths, all kinds of numbers. In their first meeting with a hotel, she punches at a calculator like there is a small hamster trapped inside it. It falls to Alex, with his amazing propensity for names, to step in. Apparently, they are called Le Pain Artisan, and they have "a passion for high quality baked goods". Umm okay. You have a passion for high quality baked goods, since nine o'clock this morning. They have to go out of the room to do some mental arithmetic, for like fifteen minutes.The hotel manager and Sean, an angry chef, are left waiting for them.
 Meanwhile, on Apollo, Shibby and Paloma become drunk on power and promise to make hundreds, nay, thousands of bread rolls, and croissants. That is, until Shibby puts the brakes on and, in a brilliant display, just goes "no" to 400 bread rolls.
 I hope he doesn't just stop in the middle of surgery like that.
 "Shibby, come back, this man will bleed to death"
 [Long pause]

 "No"

 It turns out that Shibby's team can't make bread rolls very fast or, at all. They come up against Sean the angry chef, having only made 16 of the 1000 bread rolls he promised. He gives Sean £120.
 Meanwhile, one bakery refuses to sell Melissa's muffins, because the cherries look dodgy. Melissa has food distribution experience, remember. Who has she been distributing it to?
Then they have to sell on the street. Melissa and co go to Kingston upon Thames. Melissa continues in Stuart's fine tradition of following and generally insulting passers-by. Shibby and the gang go to Covent Garden, or "the muffin zone" as Shibby calls it when people make the mistake of making eye contact with him.
 They have to shift all their muffins, leading to Nick's grim observation that "they sold fast and they sold cheap, and, uh, it wasn't a pretty sight". Cut to a shot of pigeons feasting on a crumbling muffin.
 Love a bit of symbolism, me.

 So, in the boardroom, Shibby goes absolutely insane, as he tries to blame everyone but himself. Also, Lord Sugar is full of the jokes this week and, to make matters worse, people keep chuckling. Of Shibby, he asks, "so was it Dr Doolittle, or Dooalot?" Chortle. Roflcopters.

Shibby is fired. Meanwhile the winning team get to go to a restaurant with exotic dancers. Melissa has apparently forgotten she can't count to ten and gets all gloaty. Jamie does his Yoda impression again, warning the camera - "There's only one thing Melissa should do now. Learn."

Try, or try not. Do or do not.

Next week and they're in the Science Museum and it's all inventions n stuff.

Higher higher education

University funding has, especially since the introduction of tuition fees, become one of those political, economic and social conundrums. The problem is essentially this: if you want to, as was the initial goal of New Labour under Tony Blair, get 50% of our young population through university, how do you go about funding it? More students means more money being spent per person, both by the universities, but also by the government itself, in the form of subsidised grants and loans.
 This represents the third incarnation of the tuition fees system since it's initial inception in the late 1990s. This was followed by the introduction of 'top-up'fees in 2004; finally the introduction of market driven, variable fees, following the completion of Lord Browne's review.
 Browne's idea is that universities should be allowed to raise fees, in theory, as much as they want. They pay a levy for any courses wherein they want to charge higher than this; thereby meaning that universities, and the Russell Group in particular, will theoretically have to justify charging 12,000 pound, which universities such as Oxford and Cambridge are expected to do by media pundits.
 The figures suggest that, if the average student pays 6,000 pound in tuition fees, and takes out the maintenance loan offered, your average student will now graduate about 30,000 pound in debt. You won't have to repay until you earn over 21,000 (the current rate is 15).
 With cuts planned in higher education funding, this means that universities will be now expecting to claw back money in fees. However, in order for them to rake in more money from fees than they will be losing in cuts, it is suggested that the tuition fees for most institutions will have to 7,000.

 Students in this scenario end up paying more and borrowing more. This would be good, were it not for the fact that we were in this mess because the government of the last ten years presided over a cheap credit boom. The cuts of the next five years are being justified because the government cannot go on paying for things it cannot afford. This is exactly what students have been exhorted to do, ever since tuition fees were introduced. The promise of university is increasingly predicated on the idea that the money is worth paying now, because the rewards reaped later will be worth it.
 The problem with the Browne Review is that it, much like many of the spending reviews conducted since the new Coalition came to power, is based solely on economic figures. A spending review should review spending, it's true. Yet, there is more to student life than merely fees and loans.

 Higher education is a bit of a minefield as far as costs are concerned. Just reaming off a few examples here, but concerns such as rent, water, gas, electricity and Internet are major issues. Your average student also needs money to live on every week, and the especially cautious ones might also need insurance for laptops, bikes, possessions. Literature and humanities students often have to pay for books on top of their tuition fees. Finally, let's just factor in the idea that your average 18-22 year old is going to spend money once you give it to them. As higher education has modernised, more of a student culture has arisen. Club nights, events, holidays, there is a student industry in operation, just eating up the money that comes from subsidies.

 It should too, because education at university is one of the better things in life; for the friends made, the memories treasured, the things learnt. The problem is that, in a country where more students are graduating and more are graduating with an expectation of a higher earning potential, not everyone is going to achieve this. Oversubscription of university places is also oversubscription in the graduate job market; it is a fight to get on the property ladder, the need to get savings, investments and a pension together.
 It is almost unthinkable in the modern university system, for example, for a student to have savings. I don't mean child savings, I mean savings for the future. Spend now and pay back later is good enough until you have to pay back later. In the case of the new system, student loan repayments will amount to about 30 pound a month, if you are earning over the 21,000 mark. Factor in tax, NI and all the utilities I just listed, and you have yourself a squeezed graduate middle class. This brings us back to the idea of 'fairness' which has been bandied around by the Conservatives in the last few weeks as though it is a word with a fixed definition. It isn't, because students need more than a degree to guarantee walking into a job. They need extra-curricular activities, previous work experience. In the cases of getting work in the arts sector, they must be willing to work for no money when they finish university. As far as certain job areas are concerned, this means being willing to work for no money in London, which is a fairly pricey proposition anyway.

 In the midst of this 'fairness'debate, the government has trumpeted the fact that the poor will still get a lot of help in going to university( in fact they may be better off). Yet, the idea of university to people from certain income brackets, from certain ethnicities and certain postcodes, is still a distant dream and is certainly a distant dream if the university in question is a Russell Group university.  As far as middle class families who do not qualify for the most help are concerned, the problem is that a family putting a child through university is not a fixed mathematical equation; parental income going in does not equal graduate earnings going out. Families where only one of the parents work are already having their child benefit removed - that is another debate from another week, but said family is not going to automatically produce an offspring that is set to be a rising star at Deloitte as soon as they get out of university.
One argument for university is that it represents skills for life, not just skills for a job. Unfortunately, this is countered by the fact that most employers, in interviews, tend to deal, like governments, in cold hard facts; qualifications gained, earning potential, how you can fit in within a certain organisation. University education also exists in the wake of time spent in a still wobbly, league-table obsessed school system, which needs fixing far more than its HE counterpart.

 I'll write on this some more, but the genius of the Cameron Conservatives and Clegg Lib Dems is that they are presenting a Thatcher-esque marketisation of university education with a somewhat benevolent face. So, whilst rhetoric continues to abound about university being a life-affirming experience, it continues to be reformed along business lines, by advisers who are business people. University is a fairly unique time in a person's life, but ministers cannot make claims to their being beacons of learning whilst slashing spending and messing about with numbers of places, admissions etc.

 Students in this new climate ultimately become customers. Hence an English Literature student will hit the roof if they are forced to pay 6,000 for 6 hours of contact time; universities must then justify that expense with new incentives. For example, the fees for BPP, the independent law and business school, are 6,000 but this includes textbooks and learning resources. Money in universities has to be spent wisely; decisions taken by politicians on idealogical grounds will have real consequences at grass-roots levels, since student bodies have already demonstrated an eye for how their money is being allocated. Will a student want portions of their tuition fees split up and used to pay for a student union club night when there are no seats in the library come exam time? Probably yes, but still, more debates like this will be had in student unions across the country, I'm sure.

 University education can either be a cultural, aesthetic, growing experience where all who deserve to learn, should. This is what your more left-wing intellectual might say, your member of staff who is teaching an arts or humanities subject. On the other hand, it is a place where young people are prepared and given a greater earning potential for an increasingly competitive job market. This might be what your CEO with ties to a big university might say (think Tesco's CEO/University of Manchester). In a time where money is in short supply, and student places are in high demand, universities may end up fulfilling neither function very well.

Business Fail: The Apprentice Reviewed Week Two

The one thing that I was thinking at the beginning of this week's episode, was do we really need the five minute introduction about who Lord Alan Sugar is? Apparently he's a serial entrepeneur. Oh God, that sounds menacing. Still, he could be a cereal entrepeneur, but then Sugar Puffs is already taken. This year, there's a great shot of him stepping out of a glass elevator, like he's Eldon Tyrell from Blade Runner.

The introduction to this week's task was one of those gloriously ostentatious ones. The candidates get woken up by Lord Sugar's secretary, who speaks like she's giving a Mission: Impossible briefing, but badly. They have to go to Heathrow Airport. The cars will be there to pick them up in half an hour. This phone will self-destruct in five seconds.

Now, me being a happy-go-lucky sort of person, I always associate a car ride to the airport with going on holiday. This, however, is not the case in the twisted world that is Apprentice-land. No, because they could be going to sell magic carpets in a sultanate that borders with Saudi Arabia; but given the goddamn craaazy rules of the show, there is an equal chance they could be off to sell beach umbrellas in Skegness.
When the candidates get to the airport, Lord Sugar isn't even there. Instead, Karen and Nick just flank a massive whopping projector screen of him. 'Hi, I can't be with you today,' is his gentle message. Isn't that a bit like what Christ said, prior to his Ascension? Lord Sugar can't be there because he has pressing business.
This was the guy, remember, who in a recent interview with Piers Morgan, professed to Sky Plussing Law and Order and then watching it back to back for days on end. Pressing business indeed.

I always think the producers could take more risks with the team briefings. I mean, why not make it super awkward by having them all meet at a sauna, with Lord Sugar giving the briefing in the steam room? One of Stuart's testicles falls out of his trunks. Lord Sugar bristles. Hilarity ensues.

Anyway, Raleigh has had to go home. His brother was wounded in Afghanistan, so the boss has one of those rare, heartfelt moments, where he wishes Raleigh well. Then, Stella gets moved over to the boys team. This is point at which this week's episode becomes:

The Apprentice: Gender Politics 101.

Because Stella's a Girl and because she's the team leader, and because she's leading, yer know, A Bunch of Boys, the team is now referred to as Stella's Boys (Boyz). Better than Synergy, I suppose. She's there to keep them in check. She gives them a look as she joins them which just screams ''Call me Stella, Mistress of Pain.'

The task this week is that they have to design beach equipment. So we are treated to the delicious sight of the two teams trying to come up with ideas. The girls/women/ cultural heirs to Emmeline Pankhurst have some neat ideas, before Joanna comes up with some daft tent contraption which lets you read books on the beach without using your hands. Yeah, hate using them hands, me. Turning the pages, having to lie on my back, on a beach, bloody irritating.

Meanwhile, Alex on the boys' team continues his trend for barking out random names - 'The Beach Box! The Beach Station! It's a heron! A tree! A Kinder Egg!' He must be fun in Pictionary and charades games. They design a beach cushion that doubles as a cool bag. Alex suggests that they go all ''Swedish' and use call it the Cuuli. Hey, Alex, Ikea's marketing team is on the phone....yeah they sound pretty angry.

And Alex's justification? 'You've got to take a risk'. Because Lord Sugar invented the video phone and that didn't take off straight away. Let's think about this Alex: Massive Leap Forward in the medium of Human Communication versus beach equipment that your dad will probably forget to pack, prompting your parents' first argument at the airport check in. So their focus group is the entire population of Butlin's at Bognor Regis. Yes, and I hear Steve Jobs road-tested the iPod at his gran's retirement home.

Meanwhile, Laura is having a bit of a mare-up, since she can't lead a team. And Joanna won't give up her piss-poor beach-book reader idea. So, after arguing how much they all hate it, they all decide to go with it anyway.

The battle between masculine and feminine continues on the boy's team, as the ladz realise they need a Woman to model Alex's Cuuli. So, naturally they ask Stella, because she's a Woman. My favourite quote of this week is when Chris Bates, after Stella expresses reservation, just cries ''Go on mate, take one for the team'. Ah, young Master Bates. I'm sorry, boy's humour.

So, she says no, but the boyz go shopping for bikinis for Steellaa anyway. Faced with all this lingerie, Stella caves and agrees to do it.

Their products get made, and delivered. The book-reader thingamabob looks like it's made from Meccano. When the boys' mat arrives, everyone is making ''cuuli" jokes. Waahey, ladz in the boardroom.

Then they have to rehearse their pitches for the products. Master Bates wants to do the boys' one, despite the fact that he can't string a coherent sentence together. He's an investment banker by trade, by the way. I knew they lost a lot of other people's money, but I didn't know they were being this sinfully boring whilst they were doing it.

Melissa wants to do it for the girls.

Melissa...and...her....massive shoulder..pads...gaagh can't..look at them.

Chris's presentation sounded like he was reading a children's book. 'So, here is Chris, he's got his cuuli, he's looking cool. He now decides he wants to take a lie down, because he's very tired.' This is in front of Boots, the leading high street retailer by the way.

The girls fudge theirs because power-crazed Joanna wants to take credit for the book monstrosity. Then they refuse Boots exclusivity. I know where they are coming from. I invented an aerodynamic cape that allows me to fly to work, but I didn't want to market it to John Lewis. It...well, it just didn't feel right, you know what I mean?



So, it's the boardroom, and both teams pretty much show that they are to business what Ed Wood was to directing. Laura's team made NO SALES. Like the Deadlock in X Factor, this.

This was pretty shocking, and had me genuinely gripped, because it's a genuine first for the series, as Lord Sugar reminds us.
The girls turn on each other, and rather predictably admit their idea was bad. Then Karen does a monologue about how they are putting women in business to shame. All is missing is Martin Sheen and the orchestral tones of the West Wing. The pioneers get told to 'go back to the house', and then Laura, Joanna and Joy are brought back into the boardroom. Laura is saved, despite looking like a frightened cat for the majority of the episode. Joy goes, because she didn't do anything constructive, like stop Joanna before she commited commercial harry-carry. It's a bit like Hitler executing one of his generals because the poor soul didn't bother to explain that the Fuhrer's idea to quickly invade Russia wasn't feasible.

'But, Mr Hitler, sir, you've got yourself a terrible temper when you get goin'. The boys just get all in a tizz when you start yellin' sir.'

Joy, whose name is tinged with a certain tragic irony as she's bundled into the black car and sent off into the London night, remarks that she's better off out of it. Joanna goes home and starts bleating that if she had to be told she was a complete no-hoper, she'd rather hear it from the best business man in the country. Wow, that girl can turn any bad news into good, can't she?

Mortgage broker Jamie does his best Yoda impression and reminds her it's okay to make mistakes, but you must learn from them.

Amen.

Next week, they're selling cakes and muffins and managing to do that ineptly too.

Business Fail - The Apprentice Reviewed: Week One

So, The Apprentice is back for series six and when a long-running television show reaches its sixth run, chances are it's been around long enough that it is beginning to show age, it's formula perhaps in danger of becoming, well, formulaic. Long-serving stars are beginning to show their age, maybe the writing and the storylines are beginning to run out of steam. If you're talking about a reality television program, usually some knee-jerk change to the format needs to be made so the audience sits up and takes notice again. For example, the X Factor introduced live auditions, so that the crowd go cheer or jeer at prospective candidates, making already embarrassing/amazing auditions that bit worse/better.

Lord Alan Sugar began his sixth run of "the job interview from Hell" by having his candidates come to his office at midnight, and putting them straight to work. In times gone by, they'd get a chance to unwind at a barbecue, meet one another, make some wild claims about how they'd been in business since birth, at which point they'd sold their mother's amniotic fluid back to her for a tidy profit. Now, they have to do all that in the back of a car. I suppose it's a step up from Seralan, who started Amstrad "from the back of a van".

He's not called Seralan now though. It's Lord Sugar, and the fact that Gordon Brown didn't think such a peerage would lead to one of British business's leading figures sounding like a strip club in central Manchester, well, that's part of the fun.
Nick is back though, with his suitcase of amazing facial expressions. One day, I will throw a party and invite him, just so he can walk around looking generally confused and disapproving all night. Also, Margaret has been replaced by Karren Brady, who is perhaps even more of a cyborg than her predecessor. At one point Lord Sugar made a joke, and when she cackled.....

Sorry, back to the point. So, what about the candidates? Well, the first thing is that this is a recession themed series. This means that some of the people have been made redundant, lost money, or been unable to find work. People like Raleigh Addington, who constantly looks like he wants to burst into tears. When his parents name him Raleigh, I can't say I blame him.

The two main stars of Episode One, were Dan Harris, and of course Stuart Baggs. Stuart Baggs, the Brand. Everything he touches, turns to sold. Yes, he actually says these things. He runs his own telecoms company on the Isle of Man. Maybe he's a brand on the Isle of Man, and this is consequently why no one's heard of him when he says he's one of the most successful businessman "in the world". He doesn't have a glass ceiling. Yeah me neither Stuart. Maybe because it's a metaphor, for how women don't get paid enough, because they have to compete with irritating men, who have equally irritating hair cuts, like you. Yes you Stuart!

Anyway, after Lord Sugar has given them their task, which this week is to go out, make and sell their own sausages, the groups have to divide themselves into teams, or teeeems, as the narrator call them.
There is a boys' teeeem and a girls' teeeem. The girls' name themselves Apollo, because it makes you mindful of adventure, and discovery, and Apollo was the name of the first manned mission to the moon. I'm sure Armstrong, Aldrin and the other guy are all avid Apprentice fans too. Better than "Winning Women", which is either a gentrified escort agency or a book of dating tips.
The boys name themselves Synergy, THEN THEY APPLAUD THEMSELVES. That's right, they applaud themselves for naming their team. I hope to Christ none of these guys are ever in the delivery room when their wives give birth. I hope to Christ Stuart never procreates.

So it's off to Smithfield Meat Market, and here's where it gets appetising, if you'll pardon the pun. The boys opt for bargain sausages, whilst the girls go for gourmet sausages, or "gourmet, uh sausage territory" as Nick calls it.

Dan is the doomed leader of Synergy. As he says, he's "got no room for shirkers". Maybe he meant Gurkhas, or Sherpas. Joanna leads the girls, but Nick doesn't seem to think she's up to much. He makes expressions, then makes some caustic remarks outside.
"Honestly, it's just a shambles, actually it's irritating."

The first task is always the best, because you watch sixteen supposedly intelligent people just bugger up the simplest task. The girls get by alright, but the boys try to put rusks in the sausage mixture, so their bargain bangers just end up looking like poo. Also, none of the boys can negotiate, so the butchers who work at the market come across as having more business sense than the candidates. which they probably do anyway.

The boys still have no concept of irony/satire/the fact they're all idiots, as Dan proves when he asks "who is doing the mincing?".

Two of the boys giggle churlishly at the back - "wahey, he said mincing, he's a gayboy/bumder".

Meanwhile, over at the girls' factory, Melissa "Chuckles" Cohen, keeps calling sausages "sosarges". Nice.

So, then they go off to different parts of Lairndon, to sell their sausages. Stuart is in his element here, yelling at customers, even saying to one poor sod passing by "Excuse me sir, you look like a sausage conoisseur". He follows an old man down the street for about ten yards. Apparently he knows how to connect with people. Would that be on the telephone Stuart, when people can't see your face?

The girls sell their sausages first, the boys have to go door to door with theirs. Yes, door to door sausages. Morrisons are really missing a trick here.
The ladies sell theirs, mainly, by flirting with a chef, which seems to work out great. Then Melissa and Joanna fight over who gets to close the deal with him. Meanwhile, Nick just stands next to them, making some expressions. He shakes his head too.

They all have to be back in the boardroom for 5pm. This is like 24, only with meat packaging involved. When they're all sat down again, Lord Sugar emerges from what I'm going to call the anteroom, behind his chair. I've always wondered what's beyond that door behind his chair. Is the secret to his immortality back there? Does he watch his entire business empire from a control room, pressing buttons and generally being evil?
They introduce themselves, their team names, and their team leaders. When the girls explain their deep, complex reasons for choosing Apollo, Alan quips "Well, let's hope you're able to...get off the launch pad." Oh Lord Sugar, you're such a card. Nick also sticks his oar in at this point, saying "Stella and Elizabeth are hot...on the figures." Cheers for that Nick.
Turns out the girls won, so the boys are back tomorrow. Lord Sugar is tired you see, because waiting for sixteen people to come back from selling sausages is tiring work. So the girls go off to the House, where they're treated to a champagne barbecue. Meanwhile, the boys retreat to a cafe, where team leader Dan just proceeds to shout some more. It's always a cafe, isn't it? They never go to the pub. Or the dog tracks. Or just crash the other team's party, with a crate of WKD.
Next morning, the boys are up to head off to the boardroom. Stuart is so confident of his Not Being Fired, that he takes his suitcase, but doesn't pack anything in it.

Let's just clear this up. He doesn't leave his suitcase behind. No, he takes it, but leaves it empty. And goes to the trouble of telling a camera crew. So, if he did get fired, he would have to explain to a bemused cabbie that he's got his suitcase, but neglected to pack it. I do that all the time, for jokes, on my way to the airport.
Sorry, how many people did you fight off to get on the show Stuart?

As it turns out, the boys turn on Dan. Raleigh looks like he's going to cry at one point. Stuart does this ridiculous thing where he punctuates barbed comments with sips of water.
"How many sausages, DID you make, Dan?"
Alan fires Dan, then warns Nick and Karran that he won't put up with Stuart for much longer. That's code for he's a ratings winner and will be in it until week 8.

Next week, they have to sell beach equipment. It looks like the girls start to lose it next week. More of an Apollo 13 vibe then.

Mark Zuckerberg likes me too much, man

So, on a rainy Sunday afternoon, I left Facebook. I don't know why, my mouse just moved to the button that said "de-activate account". I wanted to know how it worked, if what they said about Facebook not quite ever letting you leave, was true.

You see, Facebook doesn't delete your account, it just saves it. Everything you've ever done, all the posts you've written, all the friends you've made, all the profile pictures you've changed and changed again, they all stay somewhere on the Internet, floating in somekind of cyber no-space. If a person tries to find you on Facebook, you're not there; it's like someone got a time machine and went back to the point where you opened your account, and just erased you from the history of the website. Leaving Facebook doesn't so much mean Facebook suicide, but more like Facebook cryogenic suspension. Should you return, it's like a reset button was pushed, your account and every person you've been in touch with, all are restored to you. Again, it's like some insidious, impersonal version of the end of It's A Wonderful Life, when James Stuart returns to the world as he knows it and goes running through the streets of Bedford Falls, screaming Merry Christmas at everyone he passes.

Facebook also seems to get very hurt when you leave. To use another analogy, if you and Facebook were a married couple who were separating, then the site essentially pulls the "but what about the children?" card on you. It shows you pictures of friends who will "miss" you if you leave. Then, you are required to give one of several possible reasons as to why you want to leave Facebook. For every reason, Facebook offers a plaintive response of how it can change to meet your needs, how any problem you have can be worked out.
You have to enter your password twice, because some cruel imposter could have logged on and removed you from Facebook. To be honest, if someone was posing as me, I would hope they could do something a bit more hi-tech and imaginative than just removing me from Facebook. Removing me from Facebook is much less fun than writing something silly on someone's status, "Facebook rape" as it's come to be called.

The most chilling part comes the next morning, when I switch my computer back on. I am thinking about job searching, what I am going to have for breakfast. Without realising it, I have gone back to the Facebook login page. It's just the first page I go to, like my brain is on auto-pilot. And when I get there, I can just log back into Facebook like I never left. It doesn't ask you to start again, doesn't put any obstacles in your way.

It turns out my head is wired to Facebook. I can go a few days, maybe even a couple of weeks, without checking it. But the idea that I could leave it forever is kind of strange. You think of all the people you could potentially lose touch with, then realise that you haven't spoken to those people in months. It just so happens that a page on the Internet gives you the feeling that you are in contact. This is what they call Facebook stalking, but it's often more idle than that. It's one version of that habit I think most of us now have, of idly flicking through pages on the Internet, not really doing anything, just looking at things, pictures, websites, random pieces of information. Youtube is not far behind Facebook in that regard.

I don't think it's a malevolent, or generally pre-meditated activity; our knowledge of what other people are doing is just an extension of the Internet age, like going on a news website, or online banking. There is now an interest in where people go on nights out, what their holidays look like, if they have made new friends. And, to be fair, the only thing equalled by the desire to know these things, is the desire on the part of the other person to share it. People can be discrete on Facebook, others can use it as a more blatant form of self-expression. Giving it up altogether is something entirely different.

George Lucas does Star Wars in 3-D: To quote Luke Skywalker, "That's not true....that's IMPOSSIBLE!"

You have to hand it to George Lucas, because he really is one of the most talented men in Hollywood. As well as giving the world three of the best, and three of the worst, movies of all time, he is also a pioneer of special effects, through his company Industrial Light and Magic. Perhaps most impressively of all, he is one of those few filmmakers who has managed to milk the same project for tonnes of money for over thirty years.

According to my count, the announced release of the Star Wars saga in 3-D will mark the fourth time the franchise has been re-worked, re-designed, the special effects updated. My own introducton to the Star Wars trilogy was when the Special Edition films were released in 1997, at the 20th anniversary of the original Star Wars film. Lucas rejigged the films again, for DVD release, in 2005 to make the old trilogy fit more seamlessly with its demented spawn, the new 'prequel' films, the final of which, Revenge of the Sith, was released in 2005.
In one sense, special effects for George Lucas represents something of a self-fulfilling prophecy, since he has always argued that he was waiting for special effects to catch up with his vision of Star Wars (this comes in the wake of the release of Spielberg's Jurassic Park in 1993).
This got me to thinking of the number of late 1970s, and early 1980s films which have had 20th, or 25th anniversary re-releases. These include Ridley Scott's Alien, along with its subsequent sequels, Steven Spielberg's E.T, Blade Runner (Scott again) and, this month, Back to the Future. Some of these have resulted in new edits of the films, some have just been to acknowledge anniversaries, as is the case with Back to the Future.
Star Wars is one of the first in those blockbusters that would come to define the early Eighties cinema, a sudden boom in action and adventure films, including E.T., the Indiana Jones films, Close Encounters of the Third Kind, The Terminator and Blade Runner. Along with Lucas's follow-ups in the Star Wars trilogy, the films of the Eighties mark a new corporate, blockbuster era, where the franchise and the sequel become more prevalent, and where films become more effect driven.

Some of what I will write here needs a bit more thought, but what struck me about this era of films is, firstly, how they seemed to represent a nice synthesis between character, story and effects and, secondly, how there is a certain cultural irony to the fact that, in some of the films I have outlined above, their narrative concern is with the progress of technology in a filmmaking era driven by new technology.
First, let's look at Star Wars as an example. I have heard a friend of mine say on several occasions that the Star Wars films are not science fiction, they are fantasy. This is certainly true, since the story of Luke Skywalker is heavily indebted to old English legends of King Arthur, and Beowulf: a boy plucked out of obscurity to become the saviour of a tribe, a country, in this case a whole galaxy. Furthermore, Lucas owes much to Japanese cinema, such as YoJimbo and even World War Two action films.
Importantly, space in the trilogy is not a frontier of scientific exploration; much like Arthurian legend, it is a place of untold and untapped magic. The Force, as it is described in the films, binds the universe together, and with the Jedi being those 'worthy' enough to harness it.

Technology in Lucas's first trilogy is associated with the scientific, the secular, and the destructive. It is the Empire who are superior in terms of technological advancement, with the Death Star representing the ultimate example of mass destruction, with its ability to wipe out whole planets. Technology for the Rebels, the 'good guys' of the narrative, is frequently dirty, dusty, broken, and often works against the odds. The Millenium Falcon, is notable for its enclosed spaces, its defective technology, its pilots Han Solo and Chewbacca, engineers who work with their hands. Meanwhile, technology for the Empire is technology for its own sake, an endless display of power. When the story introduces the Emperor in Return of the Jedi, he is a master of the dark side of the Force, power for its own sake, supported by an alienating technological empire. The world of Star Wars, like so many realms in the modern American film, is cut off from its own history. Harrison Ford's Solo is one example of a person who has lost touch with the idea of the Force, a non-believer who must ultimately be saved by Luke's abilities. Similarly, the Jedi are an extinct religion, by the time the first film begins.

Ridley Scott's Blade Runner also uses technology as an allegory. Where Lucas's science fiction is more mythical, more fantastic, the Replicants in Scott's film represent something of an ontological challenge: what makes a human a human? Is it flesh, or memory, or feeling? Can beings designed to mimic humans, actually think, feel and love like humans? The lone private detective of the film noir is given a science fiction twist, since Deckard (Harrison Ford again) is not only an outsider in 21st century Los Angeles, but may also be an outsider to the human race; debate rages over whether Deckard is a Replicant or not. The vision of the future presented by Blade Runner is corporate where Lucas's universe is imperial. The brain behind the Replicants is Elden Tyrell, the owner of the Tyrell Corporation, enshrined within a building which is the pinnacle of a hyper-industrial city. The poor are forced to live out life in a society divided by technology; other parts of LA are also claustrophobic where the Tyrell building is spacious, buildings broken down and dilapidated. Robots are slaves, subaltern, exiled from human society. Yet the world of Blade Runner shares the Star Wars idea of a space, a realm beyond what can be perceived by the technological. The history of the world, as originally portrayed in Philip K. Dick's novel To Robots Dream of Electric Sheep is always present, pressing against the boundaries of the film. Where the Force is the unknown element, for Blade Runner, the fantastic is portrayed by Rutger Hauer's Roy, a Replicant who, in his final moments, describes his experiences in the space beyond the known world - "attack ships on fire off the shoulders of Orion [...] I watched c-beams, glitter in the dark near Tannhauser Gate". Memory for the Replicants is a precious commodity, the thing which makes them human, but lost in the rain of the American city.

The alien, the idea of outer space, is also a thing of wonder in Spielberg's films. For the characters of E.T., space is an unseen realm just beyond the reach of a troubled suburbia. E.T. lands in a world where adults cannot be trusted, they are either absent, like Elliot's father, in need of care themselves, like Elliot's mother, or merely exploitative, like the scientists who come looking for E.T. The audience never sees the other aliens of E.T.'s race: they are merely bright lights and silhouettes in the middle of the night.

Time and time travel are used to explore aspects of Eighties urban America in films of this era. Los Angeles is used as a setting for The Terminator but what is depicted in James Cameron's first seminal film, is two versions of the same space. LA in 1984 is constantly juxtaposed with LA in 2029. The noise of a building site makes Michael Biehn's Kyle Reese dream of the future where human bodies are raked, and disposed of, by the sentient machines. The Terminator is constantly framed against the backdrop of seemingly innocuous pieces of machinery; the answer machine in Sarah Connor's flat, the factory where Schwarzenegger's Terminator is finally destroyed. Once again, questions of fate, free will versus pre-determined circumstance, are explored in the film. Reese must travel back in time to father his own son, bringing into question boundaries of the past, the present and the future. Contemporary America is, according to the title card which opens the film, a battleground for the survival of the human race. History in America is in flux, capable of change at any moment.


There is an anxiety in these films, about what cannot be seen, or cannot be known, events beyond the control of the characters. When Reese explains the history of the future to Sarah, it is chilling because the viewer is left to imagine the horror that is to come. Returning to Star Wars, Darth Vader is such a fascinating villain for the film because his origin is steeped in mystery. The original film is at its best when it leaves some aspects of its own history to the imagination. Vader, famously, was once Anakin Skywalker, a figure who is depicted as principled, a great leader, even more heroic than Luke himself, until his eventual corruption. The brief glimpse we do have of Anakin is of a man twisted by machinery and it is a great moment because it is so brief.

Eighties films have ultimately the same goals as films of the 2000s i.e. to make money, to entertain, to create successful merchandising. I am not suggesting that the blockbuster films of the Eighties had a nobler artistic vision, or were attempting to make a cultural statement which is somehow lacking in their present day counterparts. Yet the wave of big budget, effects driven films of this era had a sense of wonder, fuelled by compelling stories, characters that you found yourself caring about. The original Star Wars trilogy was groundbreaking in terms of special effects, yet there was still a 'less is more' feeling to them. Lucas and his production team seemed to be more innovative while they were waiting for technology to catch up - the Falcon is one of the most recognisable and distinctive space ships, the image of the Death Star blowing up, the noise of the TIE fighters, all of these are lovely touches in films that were, in 1982, already visually and conceptually rich. George Lucas, Steven Spielberg, Ridley Scott and James Cameron, all were already guilty of taking old stories, myths and narratives, and reworking them in a new era of high-concept films.

It is when technology does catch up with Lucas that you get his next phase in filmmaking. In 1999, Episode I of the Star Wars saga was released, and fans were treated to the long-awaited beginning of one of the greatest sagas ever devised. Just before that, he had released the original trilogy with new effects. The problem with Lucas's updates is, when you hear him discuss them, it's rather like listening to a person with OCD tell you how much they've cleaned their living room, especially if they've done it to the extent that Lucas has "cleaned up" the Star Wars films.

The new trilogy is pretty much a thundering disappointment; it effectively ruins all the mystique of the original films. The delineated characters and simple plots are gone. The producers can't seem to make their minds up about what kind of films they want to make. The later films are part political intrigue, part action, but can't do either very well.
Most of all, those special effects that made the old films so magical have become a kind of technological excess, with every moment of the new films becoming almost an overload for the senses. Nothing is low key, and the wooden characters interact in front of overly glossy landscapes. The capital city of the Old Republic is like Ridley Scott's LA, without the atmosphere. The new films are meant to chart the rise of the Empire, but it is hard to care when the old world is not that different from what will come to replace it; the technology is so advanced and the characters so two-dimensional, that the fall of Anakin Skywalker and the destruction of the Jedi passes you by.

The gift that Lucas gives to the post-millenial action film is the obsession with the effect; this is synonymous with the rise of the prequel, the reboot, the origin story as a way for studios to cash in on already successful formats. All that can be seen, when you think of some of the big budget films of the last decade. James Bond, Spiderman, Batman, Superman, the X-Men, all have been turned into franchises, or had their franchises re-invented. One-off commercial films like The Matrix and Pirates of the Caribbean, become franchises in their own right.

In literature, it is often thought theorised by academics such as Fredric Jameson, David Harvey and Patricia Waugh, that the postmodern begins when writers become aware of, and begin to experiment with, the artifice of the novels that they are writing. Is there then a similar awareness developing within Hollywood, since films, and filmmakers, are suddenly becoming more aware of the medium through which narratives are consumed. The era of high definition, and three-dimensional cinema is synonymous with the prequel because suddenly the audience member knows and sees everything. Prequel and origin films are predicated on the idea that the viewer knows how the story will end before it has begun. The viewer is allowed a wry smile when Christian Bale's Bruce Wayne testdrives the Batmobile for example. The mystery and wonder seems to have diminished, because there is an excess of it.

This reaches is peak when one consider's Avatar. Through the power of the the three-dimensional avatars, the audience sees everything (we imagine) as Sam Worthington's commando sees it. The visual perceptions of the characters, and the visual perceptions of the audience, become one and the same. As the film comes out of the screen, so the viewer climbs into it. As these films become more 'real', DVD extras and 3-D advertising paradoxically provide us with a greater insight than ever into the artifice of the film: "how it's made" is part of the marketing of every film, since the knowledge you are watching 3-D means you are willing, if not expected, to pay more money.

If we talk about "special effects" then, are we in danger of using an outmoded phrase? In one sense, the effect is no longer 'special' since it is part and parcel of most modern films; similarly effect is no longer a reliable signifier. "Effect" suggests an afterthought, a touch of magic to better illustrate a story. Cinema is instead perhaps a fuller 'experience'; the effect has become the selling point of the film, to a whole new degree.
Yet Avatar was also lacking that compelling script, the memorable characters. Like Lucas's later projects, the emphasis was on visual saturation, not narrative drive.

That said, Disney Pixar has done some spectacular films, with charming stories, in 3-D. Whimsical and endearing characters are the hallmarks of the Toy Story films and Up! It is possible for 3-d to offer compelling stories. Perhaps it would be more interesting if George Lucas's imagination now moved to catch up with technology and he tried to do something new.

Someone fetch the Pope a warm milk and some cookies, he's feeling marginalised.

So, according to the Pope, Christianity is being marginalised across the world. To quote from his Glasgow speech:

"as we reflect on the sobering lessons of the atheist extremism of the twentieth century, let us never forget how the exclusion of God, religion and virtue from public life leads ultimately to a truncated vision of man and of society and thus to a 'reductive vision of the person and his destiny" (BBC News website, 2010)

Yes, I feel sorry for the Pope, what with the fact that he gets to live in Vatican City, which is a small, self-contained Christian, city nation. I feel sorry for him with his Pope-mobile, I feel sorry for him with his white, flowing ceremonial robes. I feel sorry for him because when he grins, you can suddenly imagine him as a clown at a six year olds' birthday party, wherein a room of small mites have suddenly burst into tears.

The Pope's visit was historic, according to several media accounts. It may have been, but it wasn't Iraq War historic, it wasn't Coalition government historic; it was smaller than that. He gave a few speeches, blessed a few babies, beatified someone, apologised for a legacy of child abuse within the Catholic Church then got into Thunderbird Pope and went home. I also say it wasn't a historic event because, well, that seems to be what some of his critics are saying too. One Mary Hewson was quoted as being worried about the £1.5m cost of the UK visit, saying

"I'm not a Catholic, I'm Church of England and I couldn't do anything without my faith, but I object to the cost of this event and the inconvenience."

So the Pope's visit is either a historic landmark, or a waste of taxpayer's money, or its both -and Mary Hewson is Christian. According to David Cameron, the Pope has made everyone sit up and think. (Cut to shot of a family sitting up and thinking). Cameron is right, insofar as the Pope's visit has re-awakened, or given new fire to, a religion/secularity debate. But, the "waste of taxpayer's money" argument is a boring and very British complaint. I could argue that I don't want the Pope coming here because he's a endemically homophobic, anti-feminist, anti-contraception and anti-abortion. I could, if I wanted to, also argue that I resent my taxpayers' money being spent on benefits for a person who holds any, or all of those views. He might be Catholic, he might not be. You might question the sanity of someone who shows up in the pouring rain to see the Pope speak. I might question the sanity of someone who did the same to see U2 or Madonna play at a big concert of festival (think Live Earth or Glastonbury)

I happen to know a few U2/Madonna fans, and I already feel a bit sanctimonious for having knocked them to prove a point. But that is exactly what some of the 'protesters' of the Pope have been guilty of. Such celebrity exponents include Christopher Hitchens and Stephen Fry; I have a lot of respect for the latter, but his over-enthusiastic Twitter following is becoming irritating. My example of just how smug the secularist camp can be is below

http://freethinker.co.uk/2009/10/20/catholic-church-humiliated-by-fry-and-hitchens-in-an-historic-london-debate/

This website offers a commentary of a debate last year, wherein Hitchens and Fry were in attendance; the commentary is fairly crowing. My personal favourite, I shall copy and paste below. CH refers to Christopher Hitchens, PB refers to Peter Brietbart, a contributor to the Freethinker website from which this is drawn.

PB: If all writings from throughout human history were to be destroyed, and you could choose to save the writings of a single author, who would you choose, and why

CH: That’s a very good question. Well, here’s what I would look for. I’d look for the author from which you could reconstruct the work of many, many other writers because of references, quotations, allusions that one is supposed to get.

PB: That’s a cunning answer. Very tactical.

CH: Yes, well, that would put Shakespeare very high, for example. From that there’s a great deal of Biblical stuff, classical, Italian renaissance, history, mythology … there’s a huge amount of other learning in it. I don’t think there’s any other writer of bodies of canon in that way. So from that we could work out quite a lot about what we were before, as a species. But for that reason, not because of it’s extraordinary beauty and wisdom. Otherwise it would be Darwin. It would have to be Darwin. His work, too, is full of great references, and teaches us a great deal about the natural world. He was a literary type.

PB: Ah, I had hoped you might say Darwin. That might just be my choice, too.

PB: Next, what can we do, as individuals or groups, to further the cause -if you can call it that- of reason and unbelief?

CH: Well, it may sound like a religious, or confessional answer, but you have to start with yourself. We all have to overcome our own irrationalities and superstitions first. That’s a lifetime of education, and it’s worth having. I try and do it everyday. I expose myself to other people’s opinions, writings and so forth, so that’s the main thing. Oh, and if you do well enough, you might just get asked your opinion.

The other thing is not to give anything the go-by. You have to get up and say no when someone suggests there should be a tax break for churches, or that the bishops should sit in the House of Lords, or anything like it. Oppose anything that trespasses on the secular line of the separation of church and state, because civilization begins where the separation of church and state begins. There are no exceptions to that in any country. So it’s in the general interest, as well as your own, that we patrol that line with great vigilance.

PB: It’s been a pleasure. Thank-you.

CH: You’re very welcome!

Mr Brietbart is not that much older than me, but even he can't be accredited with 'freethinking' since he just seems to spend the majority of the interview agreeing with what Hitchens says. Hitchens cites Shakespeare as that writer he would salvage, and Darwin of course. His use of Shakespeare is interesting, since Shakespeare's literature is steeped in the Biblical, classical, Renaissance literature that preceded, and surrounded him. Religion, when its being so vehemently criticised, is sometimes completely divorced from the histories and cultures through which it has endured. Religion in today's society is painted as the domain of the ignorant and the stupid, especially when you have Hitchens and Fry on your panel, both of whom are Oxford and Cambridge educated. A lot of what is taught in the English departments of universities of places like Oxford and Cambridge wouldn't exist were it not for the role played by religion, even Cambridge itself was founded by a bishop. Dante is one medieval example. His Comedy is an amazing poem in three parts, made perhaps even more so because it is religious, albeit a religious poem that attempts to understand the contradictions within the Christianity of 13th and 14th centuries. You wouldn't have elements of art, architecture, music, poetry without religion.

If you want a Catholic perspective on events, look at this alternative view of the Pope's (then forthcoming) visit

http://archive.catholicherald.co.uk/features/f0000574.shtml

To clarify, I do not agree with a majority of the Catholic Church's teachings. Maybe because the teaching in all the other subjects I took at school was good enough that I was educated to be fairly critical of Catholic doctrines, maybe because I resented being forced to go to non-credited RE lessons, where our chaplain would try to convince us that the Bible could have happened. When talking to religious people, it's sometimes frustrating to try and divorce them from deeply held beliefs, until you realise you're showing that same intransigence yourself, in a way. The idea that religion is responsible for atrocities in a way that secularism is not, is a narrow and counter-productive argument.

True, wars fought in the name of religion are probably too numerous to mention: however in a post-Enlightenment age, wars have since been fought for even shallower reasons: for weapons of mass destruction, in the name of 'the balance of power', or 'living space' or because one country had a treaty with another. The last priest who served as a chaplain at my school got a lot of flack, mainly because he was held onto a faith that seemed to some, at best, outdated and at worst, bigoted. But he never lost his temper, or his patience, with teenagers who, with the benefit of five years hindsight, might have seemed pretty self-assured and smug because they had an excellent private education and were about to go off to good universities. I try not to ignore people who stop me in the street to talk about their religion, if only because they seem interested in talking to you. A few weeks ago, some Chinese students asked to tell me a Bible story on my doorstep. Again, they were perfectly friendly. The Christian Union at my university gave me squash and biscuits whilst they explained the difference between the Old and New Testament to me.

Catholicism needs to join the twenty first century in many ways. Also, the Pope should get a better PR team (I think I can recommend two lads actually), if his speeches are going to compare atheism to Nazism in a country that fought the latter so completely, and where the monarch is, importantly, still the head of the Church. He also conveniently forgot to mention that the Catholic Church signed a Concordat with Hitler wherein the Fuhrer agreed to leave the Catholic Church in Germany alone. The Catholic Church is like NewsCorp, or the Republican Party, or the BBC, other powerful institutions, in that it looks, nay it is, fairly corrupt from the top downwards. The reported cases of child abuse are starting to look terrfyingly widespread - they have that in common with the MP expenses scandal, which was more trivial, but seemed to receive twice the media coverage.

Both sides in this week's visit have come out with some fairly ill-thought out comments, or have re-iterated old views, or at least made me want to look up the different sides of the debate a bit more. Evan Harris in the Guardian, gives a fairly nice clarification of the differences between religion, secularism and atheism. It's worth a look, if anything. http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/belief/2010/sep/18/secularist-manifesto-secularism

Perhaps, if you want an example of the differences between how real faith can bolster a person sometimes, look at the President of the United States. If you want an example of how it can turn you into a bigoted, close-minded, homophobe, look at some of the people in the Tea Party who would call themselves his opposition....but that's for another time.

Taking stock of the Conservative Party, or as I shall now call them "The Boring Old Men with Piles" Party

The Conservative/Lib Dem era is now upon us, and for the first time, I think I understood how their PR and media policy is going to work. Option One, when unveiling a sweeping new initiative, is to bring on a nervous, stuttering Lib Dem to announce that "No, no this is in no way the complete opposite of what the Liberal Democrats campaigned for in the election, and we wholeheartedly agree with our new Conservative partners".
Option Two, when the new government really means business, is to bring out a senior Tory, who will haughtily explain how the new reforms will work and will look at any interviewer who asks questions with an irritation you might show a difficult child. The main culprits this week have been Andrew Lansley, the Health Secretary, who appeared in front of a panel of GPs on Newsnight on Monday and Francis Maude, who was a speaker on last night's Question Time. Both very seriously explained how the most dramatic reforms to the National Health Service since its creation are necessary to cut waste and bureacracy, whilst shifting in their seats in the manner of one who has rather nasty piles and frowning at any questions that dissenters may ask.
That's the Tory weapon: the Labour one was to look flustered, or to use general obfuscation when asked about the contradictions in their shiny new policy initiatives. The coalition government will get round to this in due time, I'm sure, they've already got down perfectly the ability to completely contradict journalists.
It's the composition of the new Cameron government, I think. After the election, the point was made about how few women are in this new coalition cabinet. Not just that, but with the exception of Dave and George, the new government seems to comprise some real silver foxes, all of whom look at you like a stern uncle, should you feign to question the notion that what the new government is doing is in the country's best interest.
When undertaking such sweeping changes to the education and health systems of this country, as this government is doing, there's a certain need to make them sound attractive, necessary, even hopeful - especially in the wake of one of the worst recessions this country has seen in a long time.

The new government, though, just reminds me of a cabal of line managers: the ones you get at work in any office or department store, the ones who hand down new initiatives, new cost-cutting measures. The ones who check on your work, tell you to work harder and better and faster. The ones who, when you try to get them to smile, simply give you a blank look, because managers and their underlings can't possibly be on the same wavelength.
The massive cuts to public services and public sector jobs, have been justified by the argument that the private sector will jump in and create the jobs that will be lost. This is part of Cameron's election promise "to get Britain working again". To be fair, he can sometimes look as though he means it. The rest of his cabinet have these elderly patrician faces which stare back at you and remind you of the truth: that slightly humourless men in grey suits are part and parcel of every organisation, that the private sector is as much about bureaucracy as the public sector in our post-industrial country. For example, the fact that nPower and Eon are private electricity companies doesn't stop them mindlessly sending you letters about court summons if you happen to be behind on one payment. Nor does it prevent you being put through to a myriad number of call centres when you ring up your bank with a question.
The private sector is a place for new business ideas, enterprise. But the government should throw its weight behind these, looking at ways in which new and small businesses can be helped. Championing the private sector rings hollow in a Britain where most high streets look exactly the same and Tesco can drive a lot of local grocery shops out of business. The public sector costs money and areas of cost cutting can be found. However, in the case of the NHS reshuffle, the BBC has revealed that these measures will cost 1.7 billion to implement; the NHS personnel who will lose their jobs need a good explanation, because with these figures, the British public is left with no logic, and the reforms essentially amount to "private sector good, public sector bad". This is a tired and cruelly familiar neo-liberal refrain, which needs reconsideration.
The age of austerity has been championed as a political necessity by the coalition government. It may not be the government's role to make it's people happy all the time; but the face of the next decade is looking increasingly boring, uncaring, wrinkled when you have, well, bored, uncaring, wrinkled politicians on Newsnight telling you a primary care trust is a waste of money, that your school isn't going to get any money this year, that you can't have Thunderbird Island for Christmas.

No, wait, I just had a flashback to 1993.

Welcome to the Academy, children

I have several problems with the idea of the idea of state schools in this country becoming academies, under the new Education Secretary, Michael Gove. The first is that I can't fathom a world in which we start talking about which "academy" we went to instead of "school". "Academy" always brings a kind of science fiction/Top Gun/action film association along with it. "The academy" is where you go if you're the top fighter pilot for the United States Air Force. You only talk about the academy when one your buddies takes a bullet for you - "Damn, we were at the academy together" The other problem of course, beyond my fifteen year old's imagination, is that the academy system seems neat and will probably yield some good, individual results and case studies for the Conservatives to use in their next election manifesto. However, it still represents another example of the latest government making wholesale changes to the way children are taught, what their schools are called, how they are funded, which ends up being more of a political sleight of hand than a genuine reform.

Note to the BBC: Leave the Queen alone

I think the 24 hour news coverage of the election has finally broken me. The moment in which it happened was during the ten o'clock news last night, when Nicholas Witchell was standing outside the Palace, saying that the Monarchy had 'plans' in the event that a hung parliament came to pass (I'm paraphrasing slightly, though the full article can be viewed here: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/uk_politics/election_2010/8667820.stm).

I was left wondering, really? What plans? Where does the Queen keep them? Under her bed? When she was told of the hung Parliament news, did she spit out her tea, pull a handle which opened a secret door to the "hung parliament" room and immediately order the plans be put into effect? Apparently, she's been consulting constitutional lawyers, so she can be prepared for "any eventuality". Again, you have to love reporters' rhetoric, because the word "eventuality" brings to mind a situation in which Brown, Cameron and Clegg would duel to the death outside Downing Street. Or the Queen, sensing there will be no overall winner, activates another lever which sinks the Houses of Parliament into the Thames, similar to Marineville in Stingray. Because that's what the Constitutional lawyers told her must happen. The use of constitutional lawyers makes you think that, as the BBC themselves write in the same article, the Queen hasn't experienced a Hung Parliament before. In fact, the last one was in the 17th century, and the only record is on a mysterious scroll at the Smithsonian in Washington D.C.

So then the Queen has to dispatch a secret team of archaelogists to get it back, whose leader looks a lot like Nicholas Cage.

Admittedly these are all my crazy flights of fancy. But seriously boys, you can stop speculating as to conversations in Buckhingham Palace you didn't see and probably didn't happen. But then ,where would the fun be if we didn't narrativise everything? I'll leave you with a few of these gems

'The Palace has also been consulting several leading academics who specialise in constitutional law. They have assisted the Palace in preparing for any eventuality, and they will be on hand over coming days to offer further advice if called upon.'

"The Queen will watch how things unfold"

It's all so brilliantly speculative. The advisors will be on hand if called upon. I bet they'll just be watching the snooker

Leave our icons alone Part 2

Following on from the media frenzy over whether Matt Smith could halve the budget deficit- duh, I mean replace David Tennant, another television icon of the Noughties who was shamelessly fought over this week (albeit in a more specifically political context) was Gene Hunt, of 'Life on Mars' and 'Ashes to Ashes' fame. Labour's decision to use David Cameron's face on Gene Hunt's body, with a slogan 'Don't Let David Cameron take us back to the Eighties',backfired spectacularly and led to a mirror Conservative campaign saying 'Fire Up the Quattro, it's time for change.'

Gene Hunt ranks amongst one of the greatest popular television characters of the last five years. In his original 'Life on Mars' appearances, he was a perfect foil for John Simm's thoughtful and ultra PC character, Sam Tyler. In his first episodes, he was simply an unaccommodating policeman of another age, who had some brilliant lines along the way. Unfortunately, the BBC asked that he be resurrected for another series, and thus 'Ashes to Ashes' was born. In its fascination with Hunt and the recent past, subsequent episodes of the sequel series have seen Glenister's character sometimes become a parody of himself.

If that isn't a thundering metaphor for the whole 2010 election, I don't know what is.

Leave our icons alone...

It seems that in the wake of 'The Eleventh Hour', the first episode in a new run of BBC One's flagship Doctor Who, one thing that has really got the online forums buzzing is the appearance of Karen Gillan, who plays new companion Amy Pond, in a miniskirt. For anyone who didn't see it, the character of Amy was a kissogram and a policewoman's outfit was merely one of her many guises. Golly, it was a very short miniskirt though wasn't it?

I'm sure Matt Smith and Karen Gillan have already become immune to such criticism, but you do get the feeling that sometimes they just can't win. This follows nearly a year of speculation that Smith was far too young to play a character who is, we are often told, 900 years old. When news of his casting was announced, everyone seemed to scratch their heads and complain that they had never heard of him. It's a strange celebrity world we live in now; after all, when you think about it, the only reason he was 'unknown' was because he was just acting to, you know, earn money and wasn't a celebrity. Look him up on IMDB or Wikipedia and you find the Eleventh Doctor popping up in all sorts of (often quite well-received) theatre productions. No, really.

The reviews I have read of Smith's first episode have been mostly positive; there's almost a sense of relief that he has worked out the choice for The Doctor and that he is proving a worthy successor to Tennant. This implies that David Tennant is in fact lying in state at Westminster Abbey and was up there with the Queen, or the Archbishop of Canterbury in terms of his national importance.
David Tennant was a good lead for the show. But since his departure was announced, there's been a tendency to remember him through rose-tinted glasses. For a show that, at its best, appeals to all age groups, some episodes were genuinely bad. The Kylie Minogue/Titanic effort sticks out in my mind, as well as one with Agatha Christie and a giant wasp. Tennant's Doctor was compared to the Messiah/Superman a number of times, characters such as Mickey and the often wooden Martha Jones were brought back again...and again...and again. Plus, when the time came for David Tennant to leave, we were treated to a lot of Russell T Davies's portentous dialogue about how he was going to 'die'. Unfortunately, the media squawking about Matt Smith meant we all knew that really, he was just going to increase in height and grow floppier hair. Many of the best David Tennant stories were written by new showrunner Steven Moffett anyway. In the rush to compare Smith to Tennant, it's also been omitted that Christopher Eccleston had a stab at the role. Remember him?
So, dare I say that this version of the BBC's national treasure might manage to be better than its predecessor? Saturday's episode was a brilliant little hour of television. The opening sequence where the Doctor sits in Amy's kitchen and eats fishfingers and custard was straight out of a storybook, the monsters were genuinely scary but perhaps most thrillingly of all, none of it took place in London or Cardiff.