21st May 2014

Here is a snapshot of modern British Society.

On the main street of the City where I live is a UKIP poster, the poster has a series of photographs of leading politicians, each figure has been gagged with gaffer tape and the caption of the poster, says:

Giving Britain it's voice back.

However the ungagged picture of Nigel Farage has been subtly altered with the addition of a small, toothbrush mouustache over his upper lip.

No comment was needed, the subtly amended photograph says it all.

However that is not the snapshot I meant.

Rather, on the opposite side of the road, a little way out of the City is a brand new car wash.

Today I decided to use it, it having been recommended to me by a neighbour.

There is no machinery. There are however buckets and hoses and mops and spray lances and chamois leathers and soap and and the whole operation is carried out by hand by a work force, singing as they wash and wax and polish.

It could almost, in the sunshine we enjoyed today, have been a Hollywood Movie or perhaps a Disney Musical, Hey Ho.

At one point there were two young men working on the passenger side and two working on the drivers side, singing as they worked.

Once the car was considered suitably clean I was ushered forward to another bay where another four people took on the slightly more envious task of polishing off, and here we moved on from Disney to the Karate (polish on, polish off) Kid, franchise.

At the end of the time the car looked cleaner than the day it was delivered and the price list for this service ranged from £5 for small cars, £6 for medium cars and £8 for large cars.

Thinking back to the poster I had passed earlier I found myself thinking about tomorrows European and Local Council Elections.

My car wash, is a litmus test for all politicians, gagged or graffiti'ed.

First, we have an economy where it is cheaper to employ people to 'hand wash' your car than it is to invest in the high cost of the machinery needed to be installed for what until recently was the usual self service car wash.

Hand Washing was something that Boy Scouts did during Bob a Job Week.

Secondly, I have no idea of the country of origin of the young men and women who washed my car, it was difficult to keep the window open to engage them in conversation what with the detergent, water, and wax that was being sprayed on my windscreen and side windows.

However, it seemed, to me, that at least a percentage of the workforce were, as Nigel Farage might observe, were engaging with each other and singing in a language other than Cumbrian.

But the cars they were washing were in many cases new, in other cases top of the range, for the 10 or 15 minutes we were there, I counted two Porsche and a Range Rover, so whatever was being shared between the workforce in a language that had something of the vorsprung durch technik about it, it was obvious that a new variation on the American Dream had gripped parts of Eastern Europe and people were here, enjoying a freedom and mobility that allowed them like Dick Whittington to set of and make their fortunes.

Thirdly, as tomorrow we cast our votes to determine who will represent us in Europe, I can only hope that we will have sense to vote for people who will work to promote and strengthen the Union, encourage open frontiers, welcome people into our City as we would wish to be welcomed into theirs.

We need to ungag the politicians and make it clear by our vote that we remain committed to a greater and more peaceful Europe in the years to come, because otherwise the graffiti'ed image of Mr Farage will remind us of Brecht's the Rise and Fall of Arturo Ui and the last line of that tragi - comedy, The bitch that bore him is in heat again.

We need to also remember that the full title of Brecht's Play is The resistable rise ......

10th May 2014

My Linked in occupation is given as 'Voice Crying in the Wilderness'.

I'm not sure just how hard it is to work at being a voice in the wilderness?

A blog a week is hardly demanding after all.

But Hardworking is the thing to be.

Unless you're UKIP where you can at least spend some time in the bar with a pint.

Now Labour has jumped on the hardworking bandwagon.

What on earth does: Hardworking Britain Better Off, actually mean and why pinch such a ridiculous slogan from Tory Toffs who have never worked hard in their lives?

My Dad worked hard, spent years in the fifties and sixties working split shifts driving buses in Manchester taking other hard working men and women back and forth to and from work.

That was hardwork, and all his passengers worked hard, it was an era of full employment, of manufacture, of 'stuff' being churned out from factories and sold around the world.

In those days people made things and things made money now of course money makes money, betting on futures, derivatives, interest on debt and buying and selling shares in Royal Mail.

I cannot now remember if I claimed the Voice Crying in the Wilderness name for myself or if it was given to me by a friend, who commented on both, my apocalyptic rhetoric and the fact that I was always looking for wildernesses to cry in.

I have to say however that in the present climate I feel that the rhetoric of the apocalypse is the only rhetoric that makes sense and that before too long there will only be wildernesses left to cry in.

But what is the prophetic word in the face of the wilderness that we have been condemned to inhabit by the condemns?

What is the prophetic word that needs to be spoken to the: Back to the Fifties, (Oh wasn't it luvverly?) nostalgia of UKIP?

What is the prophetic word that needs to be spoken when all the hopeful signs of a civilised and generous governance, the NHS, the Welfare State, a commitment to preserving full unemployment are being swept away in a maelstrom of cuts and austerity.

I am sure that it is not Hardworking Britain Better Off or even as the better educated Tory Toff might have it:

Industrius Britannia Bonus Melior Optimus


Well, clearly there is no doubt that some industrious folk in Brittania are optimising their bonuses but I still have my doubts that anyone needs to earn a Million plus a year?

What on earth would you spend it on when Coop Gin is £16 75 a Litre?

This Blog is a voice crying in the wilderness, crying for a better, a more just, a more humane, a kinder world.

When the Genie is out of the bottle how do you press it back in?

We are told, again and again, that companies need to pay in telephone numbers if they are to attract the right calibre of staff, well it seems to me that if the new Chief Executive needs a telephone number pay package then s/he is the WRONG calibre of staff.

At a recent Coop Meeting, this argument was presented to justify the high pay of the Executive team compared with the less than the living wage paid to the shop floor staff.

And how do you compare a hard working CEO's hard work with someone who delivers food to stores, loads and unloads the pallets and stacks the shelves?

How does one persons £100,000 compare with another person's £100?

It may be a wilderness out there, but as the Office of Compline has it, Your enemy the Devil (is not in the detail, but) goes about as a roaring Lion.

The real problem is not that we are being offered competing visions of a better tomorrow but that on one side of the house the ayes are keen to stay in charge and reward their pals when they do, and the nayes are
keen to upstage and replace them, so that they can be in charge and reward their pals.

We live, it seems, in a flawed democracy where the leader of the smallest party can confidently express his ambition to remain as Deputy to anyone as long as they will have him.

Presumably it wouldn't trouble him to be faced with a LIBKIP coalition as long as he was Deputy Dawg?

Mortality means that it all comes down to what is written on your gravestone.

I don't know who coined the phrase: Hardworking Britain Better Off but I hope that on my gravestone it will say: Gone in search of new wildernesses to cry in ......