March 2008 Archives

I see Children's Secretary Ed Balls, and, reluctantly, I will resist the obvious temptation there, is launching a sort of mini ASBO in an attempt to deal with the growing numbers of young tearaways, a sort of Asboteenies club. This little lot is apparently going to cost £218 million on top of whatever cash is already being poured into the Family Intervention Initiative. This is where pain in the butt families sign good behaviour contracts whereupon the sun comes out, flowers bloom and bluebirds sing - oh and pigs fly.

The Government has done its level best to devalue marriage and make it as financially unattractive as it can to anyone who dares to tie the knot. At the same time it has given youngsters unparalleled rights with absolutely no responsibilities, the only thing a minority of them appear to have ever learned, with the result that anyone who dares challenge the yobs either ends up in court, or sadly, increasingly these days, dead, while the sight of a policeman on the streets, particularly within the same week as any incident reported to them, is as rare as rocking horse droppings.

All this is in a society where our leaders have failed at least one generation by allowing a sub culture to develop where school leavers see benefits as an acceptable career option.

Now perhaps, just perhaps, if policies had encouraged marriage and families, had ensured that children's rights did not extend to them doing whatever they liked without fear of reprisal, had produced a police force which policed rather than filled in forms, hobbled by targets and politically correct hogwash and we had a benefits system which provided a safety net rather than a comfortable crutch we might, just might, have had less trouble from prepubescent thugs.

I was at the Lichfield Garrick watching Growing Old Disgracefully in the Studio this weekend. In the main theatre was John Hylton with Real Diamond. He is apparently Europe's foremost Neil Diamond tribute performer.

Tribute bands and acts are not my favourites, I must be honest, but any live show that gets people into a theatre has to be a good thing. Now I can understand people going to see a tribute act but why would you buy a DVD of a tribute act? Why not just buy a DVD of the act they are a tribute to?

We are just starting the process of changing computer systems at the Mail and I am one of the pioneers on the new system, presumably on the basis that if it can be broken I will manage it and if there is anything not working I will moan about it, so I do have my uses.

So far so good though and the new kit and software is a huge improvement on the old which will have big benefits for us, the people who work on the new system, and for people like you, who follow our humble efforts in print or online.

One thing I lost though, when my old machine went off to that mainframe in the sky, was my desktop wallpaper, a picture of a remarkably bold robin I took in the gardens of Lanhydrock, Cornwall, a couple of springs ago, so I have had to dig it out again.

So as it is budget week and the Government has once again managed to mug us all without even giving us the time of day, I am going to show an uncharacteristic burst of generosity and let anyone who wants it have a copy of my happy robin, for their own use of course, to use as wallpaper or whatever to cheer up their day. Give the picture a click to open it up.

All this altruism has left me feeling quite touched so I had better have a lie down until I regain my grumpiness.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear. It seems our MPs are not just on a gravy train but a whole Bisto-soaked transport system - no wonder there was a reluctance to release their expenses guidelines for second homes under a Freedom of Information request. The reason for wanting to keep it secret apparently, according to Andrew Walker, the Commons director of resources, was that it would encourage MPs to take advantage by claiming at the upper limit. Do we really appear that stupid Mr Walker? Or is it just that you think we are?

Anyone who has had anything approaching a proper job, i.e. nowhere near Whitehall, and has come within 100 yards of an expense form knows to the penny what can and cannot be claimed. So, unless MPs are a particularly stupid breed, they are probably already claiming at the upper limit for their second homes which, incidentally, we are also paying for along with their coffee machines, nests of tables, food mixers, £35 a square metre carpets and anything else they fancy.

And, just to make you really splutter into your beer before the price goes up, when you consider that the MEP's trough in Europe makes Westminster's freebies look like a budgie seed feeder, I hate to think what can be claimed there - not that we will ever find out, of course, as the EU prides itself on being just about as transparent as tar.

Well we knew we were being softened up for something with all those carefully timed reports about binge drinking and upping the price of booze. No one stops to wonder, mind you, why booze is dirt cheap in Continental supermarkets, where licensing laws hardly seem to exist, yet they don't suffer drunken yobbos - until the Brits arrive on holiday that is - but we will let that pass for another day.

The excuse for these price hikes, if the need ever arises to justify them, will be that the increases are to curb excessive drinking but in reality it just means that the millions of us who can manage to drink without trying to punch the lights out of anyone who looks in our direction, or ending up comatose in the gutter, or pebble dashing the pavement with carrot soup, or ending up in A&E will be paying more for our tipple. And I suspect the binge drinkers will not even miss a gulp so it's Bacardi Breezers and export strengths all round on that one.

And in a real sneaky move there will be a two per cent rise over inflation on alcohol for the next four years, so the rises are going to be even bigger next year and the next and the next without even having to mention it again. But it is all for our own good so that is all right and the fact it pulls in an extra couple of billion for the Treasury is just a coincidence. With fags up as well just get ready for the whining from Whitehall when the booze cruises start up again in earnest - joined up Government is not a strong point these days.

As Budgets go though, this one gave boring a bad name. If Gordon Brown's speeches are a cheap alternative to Mogadon then Alistair Darling comes a close second with his Librium delivery. It really would take an effort of Herculean proportions to raise any sort of excitement listening to him or indeed not lose the will to live long before the end.

But it does seem we are now being softened up for congestion and road charges with consultants no doubt already fighting each other to the death to get first snout in the trough to develop Darling's new road pricing schemes. Mind you it does beg the question of what happens to the billions in taxes that revenue and customs already squeeze out of us in road fund licences, excise and fuel duty? Road charging will have a Green excuse, for our own good again you see, as will the plan for plastic carrier bags - and how Gordon is just itching to slap a tax on that nice little earner. Even if it ends up with supermakets imposing their own charge the Treasury can still leap in for the second prize of VAT.

Still at least the super rich can breathe easily knowing that this Government will leave them in peace for at least this Parliament and the next and has left enough loopholes for some of them, at least, to pay less tax than the average hospital cleaner.

Meanwhile this budget has the dead hand of Gordon all over it so there will almost certainly be lots of details, ticking little time bombs, hidden in the small print that haven't been mentioned but are just waiting to jump out and grab us by the wallets sometime in the future. The Government hope we won't notice so it is time for the Opposition to earn their corn and dig them out. It won't stop them being railroaded through but at least it will be nice to see our Scottish double act blustering their way uncomfortably through awkward questions.

Just a question for you. If we have this world class health service that the Government keeps banging on about - on a drum leased, of course, from a private equity outfit with an ex-health minister on board, based in some agreeably sunny tax haven - why do we have record numbers on disability benefit?

Perhaps we could appoint a health Tzar to set up an initiative, aided by a suitable number of consultants, to set achievable targets and then a delivery unit to see if they are achieved, or, alternatively, move the goalposts if they aren't.

And another thing - if speed cameras are so effective as a deterrent, why does the amount they take in taxes go up each year? And yes, I know they are called fines, but it is not a particularly good disguise is it. Once the income appears in budgets it is tax.

If there is one thing more annoying than other people being stupid it is when you manage to be a prat yourself.

I had been sitting listening to an interview on a nifty pair of Sony folding earphones I have had for years which were then left draped around my neck. As I got up to change computers - don't ask - I stood on the lead and ripped the wires from the earpieces.

Try as I might I have so far failed to find anyone else to blame - but I am still looking. Meanwhile I have been trying out some new JVC jobbies which for an old git like me are ideal as they hide in your ears.

I am a great believer that you reach a certain age when walking around in bright green earphones or pink sports headphones listening to your iPod makes you look as if you might need a carer. And before anyone says anything, yes you can wear a cardigan, drink bitter and own an iPod.

Once you get past puberty I suspect that only bats and humpback whales can hear the top and bottom ends of frequency ranges but these JVC's are pretty good, 8Hz to 25,000Hz which is actually better than my iPod Classic's 20-20,000Hz.

Click HERE for the full review

This week's apostrophe prize goes to Country Gardens garden centres, or should that be Country Garden's, who are selling lillie's. They don't actually specify lillie's what but it is very reasonably priced.

With the budget almost upon us the word in the motor trade according to my friendly garage is that MOT tests are going to be hit.

Apparently, in another of those wonderful computer deals that has made this Government a legend in the IT industry, the money paid by garages for the cerificates goes to the MOT test system suppliers not to the Government.

With 3.5 million or so tests a year this has had the treasury crying over its abacus. Adding VAT would be a nightmare as garages can charge what they like for tests, some give an MOT test for free with a service for example, so the word from the inspection pit is there will be a £10 tax on each MOT.

Garages buy MOT certificates in batches of 100 so they would just pay an extra £1,000 a batch which means no fiddles, no evasion and no collection of the tax. If the motor men are right it will be interesting to see how that is dressed up as a move to stop binge drinking/obesity/climate change or any of the other excuses our leaders will be coming up with this time around. They could be honest of course and just say: "Stand and deliver!"

Anyone know what a slippy curry is?

I was talking to Sally Ann Matthews who is appearing in the excellent thriller The Business of Murder at Lichfield Garrick along with Todd Carty (just thought I would drop a few names in there). Like me she hails from Oldham, so it was a matter of talking over old times and old haunts.

I just happened to mention slippy currys and she knew immediately what I meant and I remembered a conversation I had had some time ago with a Birmingham headmaster who also came from Oldham. We all reckon it is purely an Oldham word. As to its origin I have no idea.

A slippy curry is an ice-slide. As kids we used to make them by compacting snow on the pavement and sliding along it until we produced a narrow sheet of ice where you could get up a fair old speed if you could keep your balance. Sledging, that is riding a toboggan rather than slagging off an incoming batsman, would also produce useful sheets of ice which could be turned into slippy currys.

Some would last as long as the snow while others had their life shortened by a sprinkling of Cerebos table salt by some home-permed harridan threatening to call the local bobby because we were trying to break her leg when she went to the shops.

The question is though has anyone not from Oldham heard of a slippy curry? And what do the rest of the country call ice-slides?