'There has been the emperor's-new-clothes effect concerning modern art'

If you've been keeping up with the news lately you may have been given the faintest inkling that the world is in financial meltdown. We've been constantly bombarded with stories about how everyone is out of pocket and, according to the headlines, people are selling their homes in exchange for rice. In fact, you're probably looking at your pets right now and wondering what they taste like.

So, in this tense economic situation, it could be considered a risk to be spending money on any elaborate pieces of public art - especially when it is of the "modern art" variety, and therefore not so well liked and appreciated by everyone.

People are obviously against the idea of their hard-earned money going towards something that offers little benefit. After witnessing the public reaction to the recent MPs expenses scandal that left the nation baying for blood, there must be council officials all over the country sweating and drawing short straws about who's going to have to appear on Newsnight and explain the £3million 40ft turd they've commissioned to be constructed at the local precinct.

Visiting art galleries is on the increase, presumably as most of them are free. It seems even people who would have never visited an art gallery before are becoming tempted by the cheap days out - even if it is looking at a painting and pretending to admire the lighting before an American tourist steps in your way. And then run off to buy a Monet fridge magnet to advertise your new-found culture.

Generally, the public believe that true "art" refers to the old-fashioned style, where you have some idea as to what the work is supposed to represent. They like to look at something like the frescoes in the Sistine Chapel by Michelangelo for hours because the people look like real people and it's been painted on the ceiling - so they can sit and compare it to how they've never been able to paint their ceiling at home without getting paint in their hair.

A room where the lights go on and off would not necessarily be considered as art by everyone who saw it. Walking into a room to see the lights going off for 5 seconds and then coming back on for 5 seconds would not necessarily cause people to stare in amazement at how it represents the division in society and the divinity of human beings in the extensive magnitude or dimension that is the universe. They're more likely to walk in and say 'Is there something wrong with the lights?'

In general, people don't seem to like modern art. A television programme last week showed people offering their opinion on modern artists. Surprisingly, one of the most frequent comments from people was that artists look scruffy.

There would have been a time when you could walk into an artist's studio and see that he had white hair and spectacles and a waistcoat and you would assume that he knew his onions.

But people obviously don't seem to like the modern, open-toed approach to art as they see it as a move away from more respectful, traditional methods of creativity.

But there has been the emperor's-new-clothes effect concerning modern art. People used to stand and shout at the fact that the council have just paid £8million to see the "art" that is a chair in the middle of an empty room.

In order to impress the aloof critics, people have started to pretend that they actually see the reasoning behind the exhibits.

So now, people pat the artist on the head, call them "amazing, darling", and ask them how they got the ingenious idea to paint on a wall while wearing a blindfold and then urinate over it.

People used to have paintings of flowers and rivers and trees on their wall by artists who were creative enough to be able to represent flowers and rivers and trees to scale. But now there're going to feel like they should be keeping up with the times and staple one of their cats to the wall instead. Or cut off their own hand and mount it above the television. It's art, baby.

Some form of controversial art appears in the news every week. Last weekend, it was the new exhibition by Banksy - who is one modern artist that people often enjoy. This time public money was spent creating the exhibit and not taking it down as it usually is.

More notoriously, one of the most controversial pieces of "art" was announced under the headline "The Tate Gallery has paid £22,300 of public money for a work that is, quite literally, a load of excrement" - which referred to a man who left a personal touch by filling cans with...his, let's say artistic "vision".

An Italian named Piero Manzoni died in 1963, but not before ensuring that he filled a total of 90 cans with his vision.

If someone sent a can of vision to your door, you would most probably take offence and contact the police. But it seems if you send a can of vision to the local museum it gets you £22,300.

This does however; leave open the possibility of art fraud from millions of people having visions every day.

Something is only worth what someone is willing to pay for it and antiques, as well as art, are becoming a more and more popular investment.

There must have been a time in the middle of the 20th century when people suddenly thought that the past is 10 times better than the present and started to collect old things.

Presumably though, a Georgian desk would probably be of a much higher quality than a flat-pack desk that, if you tried to assemble yourself, would get covered with the contents of your arteries.

And giving someone a 40-year-old sofa would be an insult, whereas giving them one that was 200-years-old would be much more of a worthy gift.

It seems that in this economic downturn, people are investing more in antiques. While their own house may only be worth £14.50, their Victorian writing desk is worth a killing.

But it seems undecided yet as to whether people are going to embrace modern art or stick to their guns with the more traditional approach. Either way, it's not going to be the last we see of sawn-in-half cows and a pile of rubbish on top of a bed.

It seems the Mona Lisa is so last week. Poor Leonardo da Vinci (an avid reader of this blog); he's probably turning in his grave. It's not his fault he was born before the days of innovative art. We can only imagine what he could have done with empty rooms and a can of vision.

'Weather of mass destruction'

The bookies are taking bets as to whether this year will be a "barbeque summer" for Britain.

The phrase "barbeque summer" has been heard for the first time this year and it seems to have appeared out of nowhere - being splashed all over the news like a swarm of locusts on World Locust Day.

Where the phrase has come from, no one knows.

No one spent their childhood listening to adults talking about barbeque summers.

No one stood at the bus stop saying "I don't remember where I was when the Berlin Wall came down, when the Falklands War started, or who shot JR - but I'll never forget that cracking barbecue summer back in '76."

To many people, the phrase "barbeque summer" will signal the idea of quickly trying to grill sausages to the backdrop of an impending storm cloud.

In traditional British fashion, where everything has to relate to the weather, many news headlines have made some sort of a link between current events and the supposed barbeque summer.

Stories about sausage companies expecting to make record profits, of British package holidays to seaside resorts on the increase, and even reports that the good weather is somehow going to reduce the amount of violent crime.

So the barbeques come out and the excitement of eating outside outlines a summer of sun, paddling pools, and The Beach Boys' Greatest Hits.

But, as always it's difficult to pay any attention to weather forecasts. Especially when every weather reports involves the Met Office announcing another severe weather warning - that your skin will drop off in the intense heat, a massive flood will wash everyone into the Atlantic Ocean, or there will be such a dense fog that we'll all be attacked by werewolves and vampires that we couldn't see coming.

Having following the serious reports like murder and war in the news, the weather bulletins that follows doesn't want to have to just talk about drizzle and light winds. To create effect, they need to talk about how every day is the hottest/coldest/wettest day since the dawn of time and a "severe" wind and a flood is coming to wipe us all out - weather of mass destruction.

A severe wind and a flood in Cuba means the whole town has been blown into the middle of next Tuesday and people awaken in the morning to find themselves halfway up a tree in the Amazon.

Whereas a severe wind and a flood in Selly Oak means at least 4 leaves have fallen off a tree and the Ikea sofa has got a little damp patch.

So while we all know that the weather predictions of late seem very dramatic, everyone is still hoping that the prediction for a barbeque summer is one that is going to become a reality.

Event organisers are hoping to be raking in the cash with theme parks expected to take in over £4 million for this summer, even though plans to create another theme park have been rejected. Quite unlike the new sex-themed park that was supposed to be opening in China this October. The park features sex-themed rides including a 20ft statue of a female body from the waist down. If the plans go ahead, a male counterpart will also feature in the park - but it hasn't been erected yet.

So if the predictions are correct, with the leaves on the trees, the barbeques sizzling away, and the sun on our backs, the nation can kick off its shoes this summer and forget all the miserable news we've had lately and head to a theme park or spend those warm evenings in the summer.

But it's not just theme parks that are supposed to be popular with the barbeque summer fun.

Holidays in Britain are set to soar due to the expected good weather and the effects of the economy.

And also, it's been said that there should be fewer delays at airports due to the good weather as it's supposed to be the bad weather that is the number one cause of delays at airports.

But we'll believe that when we see it. When they say a delay is "due to inclement weather", it more likely means that the pilot has just been found in the cockpit holding a piña colada and wearing nothing but a leather thong.

'Advancing technology seems to give rise to new problems'

Last week the BBC made valuable use of licence fee payer's money to conduct a survey asking people if they feel that the proliferation of technology has benefited their lives.

38% said Yes and 62% said No.

It was also suggested that people would much prefer to live a less complicated, technology-free life and sit outside their homes like The Waltons, relaxing and playing with a piece of dust.

The enquiry then lead to a mini-debate as to the extent of the question, and also caused leading scientists to suggest that, to no surprise, Britain is no longer at the leading forefront of technological advancements and that technology that actually complicates things is unwelcome.

Now, unless you're an MP you probably don't catch sight of many £50 notes. But if you do, you will notice that the new £50 notes feature Birmingham's own Matthew Bolton, the engineer who formed a business partnership with James Watt in 1773 to make huge developments in the steam engine industry.

If you don't have wiry hair and wear comfortable shoes this probably doesn't interest you all that much.

But the larger subject at hand is Britain's contemporary input to the world's inventions and just how far the baton has been passed on to other parts of western Europe, America, China and Japan in terms of inventions, developments, and discoveries.

Britain has been home to many inventions and discoveries; including the fax machine, electric motor, steam and jet engines, light bulbs and, most importantly, perforated toilet paper.

But lately, things have started to slow down in terms of technological advancements from Britain, and, if there's such thing as the £50 note in the future, there's going to be no one to feature on it.

Unless they add Simon Cowell, Levi Roots, or What's-his-name from Eastenders.

And even in the world at large, technology can't seem to decide which direction it's moving in. It's difficult to come to a decision on whether we're actually technologically advanced.

When drawing on the debate as to whether we are moving backwards in terms of technology, the retreat of Concorde usually crops up.

There was a time when you could get to America in less than 4 hours on Concorde, and in a step back for technology, it now takes around 10.

But Concorde, as an advancement in technology, created large problems - the spelling of the name between the British and the French, the decided market portrayal and safety of the 4 subordinate engines, and the fact that the Americans said the sonic boom knocked over their cows.

Technology is expensive and even Concorde, in 1976 cost the taxpayer £1.34 billion - which, even in today's money could get a home for at least 2 MPs.

As always, advancing technology seems to give rise to new problems.

And there are also a considerably large number of people who have refused to embrace technology; people who spend their day dressed as Windy Miller to churn butter, who only consider spam to be a canned meat, and are just coming to terms with corduroy.

There was once the idea that technology was going to make life more simple and make complicated tasks easier to complete.

But every new piece of equipment comes with a new instruction manual the size of War and Peace and a remote control that is guaranteed to make your nose wrinkle every time you look at it.

And while DVDs are more convenient than VHS, they can, for some people, be more difficult to operate.

To the less technologically apt, playing a DVD is like guiding a Harrier Jet through a missile attack. Only more complicated.

Every time you watch a DVD, you're forced to watch a message telling you that you are only allowed to watch that film if you're at home, not in a public place, and you're wearing green.

And you also have to sit through messages about pirate DVDs - giving you the implication that the SWAT team is about to burst through your window and confiscate it.

And by the time all the messages finish, you're 191 years old and it's time for bed.

There's something interesting about the fact that people have suggested that technology doesn't make you happy - if anything it makes everything slightly more complicated.

Believe it or not, there are some people who just want a mobile phone to actually call a real human being - and not to send nude images to the Philippines, launch espionage satellites, or boil an egg.

But it seems that progressing with technology is actually going to mean taking a step backwards, turning away from the over-complicated nature of recent advances.

We may think we're advanced because we have a satellite dish on the wall of our house, because we can watch penguins falling over in documentaries on our plasma televisions, and check the weather on the other side of the world in over 100 languages.

But if there was the option for it to all disappear, how many people would ever choose that option?

Technology obviously isn't making everything easier.

For a world that has managed to launch rockets into space, put a man on the moon, and make high-tech machinery to prevent it from raining on the Olympic games, we still can't manage to print a document without the printer passing through hundreds of blank pages or saying "You have performed an illegal operation. This computer will now self- destruct."
Considering we can view images of robots looking for water on Mars, or can attach cameras to the back of a wasp, you would think you'd be able to watch something as simple as a television much easier than 30 years ago.

In the past you pressed a button the television came on.

Today, if you're trying to watch Deal Or No Deal (for reasons known only to yourself) the digital box will say that there is no satellite signal being received - only for you to have to call customer services, tell them your password, shoe-size, and the number of hairs on your head; so they can announce that the digital box isn't working because you've got to turn it on and off 17 times, take the viewing card out, sing to it, and then swipe it between your bottom cheeks.

You wouldn't expect your television to suddenly stop working in this day and age. If you were on the frontline of a military war zone or in the middle of nuclear fallout you may expect a small degradation in picture quality. And it would be OK if the picture cut off when something like Emmerdale was about to start.

The BBC study stated that people liked the technological advancements in the '80s - new, but not too complicated. If there's ever a time machine invented, it seems 62% of people will be packing up the computers, satellite navigation systems, and satellite-launching mobile phones to join Gene Hunt back in 1981.

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'There's something very different about local MPs'

Elections to the European Parliament and English county councils are coming up on 4 June. Ironically, it's about the worst time to be an MP at the moment, with their profession having probably fallen behind that of traffic wardens and serial killers in the list of the least respected people in society.

In a time when there's economic gloom and high crime rates, people are afraid to leave their houses in fear of being faced with a masked gunman, an axe-wielding maniac or a Member of Parliament.

On the one hand, people are voting for a representative of the local area and, on the other, people are voting for a representative in Europe - the place that really pulls all the strings.

Every day, 650 members of parliament in Westminster decide what new laws they are going to impose on the nation.

But it's not just them.

We have parish councils and borough councils and county councils and the House of Lords and the European Parliament - amassing to thousands of people who decide what you eat, what you say, where you go, how much you're paid, and how often you go to the toilet.

And every now and then people get outraged by them and, after an election, they're replaced with thousands more who do the same.

It's said that the European parliament passes around 24,000 new directives per year. It's for this reason that people seem to be against them.

By the time you've read this, there have probably been another couple of new laws.
You are no longer allowed to decorate your bedroom without planning permission and it's illegal to sneeze on a Thursday.

Generally, we like, and want to preserve, locally-run businesses much more than we like globalisation and multinational superstores.

People frequently reject the European Union in favour of good ol' Westminster, and sometimes like the idea of local councils even though people believe they're run by snoring lunatics.

We like our police to be like The Sweeney or Dixon of Dock Green as oppose to the FBI.

We fight to prevent supermarkets from opening even though they sell convenient, cheap food - and we strive to save local shops even though they're expensive and the vegetables look like Andrew Lloyd Webber covered in shrivelled weeds and mud.

So it's not surprising that people are said to be against voting for a European representative and the turnout is said to be low.

People don't like the idea of large groups deciding what's best for them as the effort is too generalised.

So, with that, you'd expect people to get a little more enthusiastic with local council elections.

But recent suggestions say that many people don't even know who their local MP is; the only thing they notice with regards to changes in the local area is the occasional bus lane popping up or a sign telling you that you will be fined if you don't pick up your dog's bowel movements from the pavement.

The leaflets full of MPs smiling, for what appears to be the first time in their life, have appeared on the doorsteps all around the country - taking their place beside the adverts for pizza takeaways and full instructions about how to wash your hands.

There's something very different about local MPs.

They operate on a much smaller budget and so they can only respond to complaints of litter in the street, stand outside Post Offices in high-visibility jackets, and smile while having photographs taken with children, owners of local businesses, and broken incubators at the local hospital.

And of course, the highlight in the life of a local MP is when there has been a flood.
It's universally acknowledged that that any MP should, after a spell of local flooding, put on a suit and some wellington boots and talk to the victims of the flood as their wardrobe floats out of the upstairs window.

They must also congratulate the emergency services for doing what they're paid to do and to not selling their stories of corruption to the Daily Telegraph.

Apart from the occasional appearance in the local newspaper or on TV at election time, it's rare that you'll ever hear from your MP - that's saying you even know who they are.

It has been said, that for many people, the little leaflet that comes through the door at election time with photographs of the local MP at the neighbourhood community centre is the first time they've ever seen their face.

Many MPs do occasionally offer a local surgery where people can go and voice their opinions and ask questions over tea and custard creams - questions of which MPs are probably trained to either not answer at all or to answer in a way that doesn't actually give any information or promise anything.

Having attempted to interview an MP on the radio, it soon becomes apparent that you're not actually getting anywhere and they just keep changing the subject - they like a little less conversation and more photographs with Post Offices and potholes in the road. It seems all of this aggravation ain't satisfactioning them.

Voting for an MP seems to be like voting for which candidate you like the least.

While people are disillusioned with the whole idea of elections and voting -- when it seems that one vote will make no difference, that same vote can do no more harm.

Democracy: the power being with the majority of the people and being able, through voting, to change the current state of play. We should try it some time.

At the moment it feels like democracy is the freedom to elect our dictators - on a local or international scale, and it feels like a vote is a choice between shooting yourself in the left or right leg.

'It's understandable that people are angry'

The news today hit the streets of Britain where citizens took time out of window-shopping outside Marks and Spencer's to express outrages at the latest scandal of MPs expenses.

Not surprisingly many said that they were thinking of moving abroad.

They said that they had lost all faith in the government and, if they had the money, they would be off to make a new life in the Bahamas.

It has recently been reported that last year, nearly 50,000 Britons moved abroad, and it is said that nearly a third of people have the intention to do the same.

The amount of people wanting to become expats and swap Costa del Birmingham for somewhere more colourful is on the increase.

And there's little wonder why.

In a land where tea bags are the essential ingredient for any crisis, tutting at someone is how you express that you are absolutely livid, looking at your feet or reading a newspaper gives you the right to ignore whatever is happening in front of you, and queue-jumping is on par with treason; there are still people who can't help being a partisan and would rather stay in Britain and face the music.

Even if the music is the tinkling of your smashed car window, the screams of people running for their lives in the streets, or the sound of an MP running off with your last two pennies.

But no one actually starts the day by thinking "I'm completely happy, I have the perfect job and a huge salary. I'm moving to New Zealand."

You're more likely to say "I'm extremely unhappy. I hate my job. I have no money and there's nothing good on the telly. I'm moving to New Zealand."

Everyone's going to New Zealand. The other popular choices are Greece where they like to stand on the side of the pool and jump on your head while you're swimming, or throw a ball in your face - or to Florida where they don't swim; they shout and play volleyball.

While many Britons, especially pensioners, prepare to pick up sticks and look for warmer climates, a report from hotel-owners all over the world have said that when British people go abroad they're badly dressed - if at all, loud, untidy and binge drinkers.

Apparently, hotel managers don't appreciate it when the Brits get drunk, do the Macarena in the hotel reception at 2am, and then run off to spread chlamydia.

So that's the pensioners' retirement plans ruined.

But it's hardly surprising people are getting the urge, now more than ever, to move abroad. They're tired of crime, the weather, and the government.

There are two rules in life. Rule number 1: Never undertake Morris dancing. Rule number 2: Always show resentment towards the government.

While it's sometimes dismal to hear constant criticism of the government and of life, it's understandable that people are angry.

The government may have been glad that the swine flu issue dominated the headlines since they knew their revelation about their expenses were coming up - to take the limelight away from their spending habits and their new refurbishments.

There was a time when unjust theft would have got you a prison sentence. Today if you're an MP it gets you double glazing and a knighthood.

People have spent their lives working and saving only to be left with no savings and no pension.

Having once dreamed of world cruises with sunlight dancing over their rum punch when they retire, they'll now have to settle on Complan: shaken not stirred, and a self-catering trip to Butlins.

And the money they pay the government in taxes has gone to funding war, a new kitchen in their second homes, and a £7.4million advertising campaign showing you how to sneeze in a tissue.

So it's no surprise people want to move abroad; spend their days in the sun until their skin goes to leather. Because a nation will turn its back on a country and government, if their government has turned its back on them.

'It's time to initiate a health warning'

"We interrupt this programme to bring you news of confirmed outbreaks of swine flu that is reported to slowly wipe-out all populations on the planet, sending the whole world into a CATACLYSMIC DISASTER THAT WILL END ALL MANKIND. RUN! But don't panic. We now return to A Place in the Sun".

There always tend to be two trains of thought on any pandemic or high-profile situation. There are those who sit in their makeshift steel bunker that they've built just for the occasion, ensuring they have enough baked beans, industrial facemasks and a portable radio so they can hear how the world is dwindling away.

Or, there are those who shrug it off and carry on about their business as normal, their head in the air telling everyone they've survived the World War II, Chernobyl, and Tony Blair- so they're ready for anything.

New ice ageism; nuclear winterism; vCJDism; globalwarmismisation; SARSation; avian fluism; terrorismisation; food crisisisation; climate changeism; oil crisisism; recessionitis, swine flu?...Next please.

But with many deaths already reported and the confirmed cases in the UK, the initial jokes about turning into a pig and about the issue being a load of old hogwash has run dry.

The vast comment on the situation, the methods for keeping the virus at bay, and warning for people to stock up on oinkment is running over the news and the internet like some sort of mass epidemic.

Although the government have said that they have enough Tamiflu for half the population, they say that they believe that they are thoroughly prepared to tackle the spread of the flu. Despite this, some people still believe the government are telling porkies.

It's easy for the government to tell everyone to keep calm when, as MPs, they're probably the first to get a vaccine.

Not that it will have any effect, as many people know that MPs have been suffering from swine disease for a very long time.

The disease causes you to still manage a smile, like you might actually be deranged, while you're holding up a budget in a briefcase that's 10 times for people's lives worse that any flu.

And the fact that people were stepping off the plane from Mexico and Canada without a single test for the virus, it may be hard to believe that we are prepared to stop it spreading.

You can't go on the plane with a toothpick or an eyelash, but you can get on with a virus that could wipe out a whole population. Or, even worse, have them locked in their homes playing Monopoly and watching reruns of Dad's Army until the next ice-age.

Many people are actually starting to get worried. But with deaths already hanging around the 100 mark, it's nowhere near the 4,000 people who die from normal, less news-worthy flu each winter.

And yet, since the news channels have put on their Breaking News signs again, and are using words like "Mortality", "Grave Danger" and "Pandemic", it's time to initiate a health warning.

Bird flu was expected to kill 150 million people. Instead it managed 257. Yet, the virus wasn't as easily passed to humans. Unlike the new swine flu that seems to be dominating the headlines.

But there are thousands of soldiers in the world losing their life for insignificant wars. Across Africa, 25 million people have died of AIDS. And 11.6 million have been made orphans. Why are they all poor? Where's the contraception? Rarely featured in the news bulletins.

And just over a 100 people die of swine flu and it's all over the news. The World Health Organisation. The White House. Downing Street. It's a threat to the West. Down the hatchets. Step back. It's a global tragedy.

'We'll probably somehow end up giving a massive boost to the German car industry'

After ignoring the British car industry for more than a decade, Gordon Brown has finally decided to get involved. The Prime Minister's latest - and probably, only - message to the sector that employs almost a million of his citizens, is that he intends to save it by establishing the UK as the international epicentre of the electric-car industry.

Never mind that South Korea and Japan produce more than 6 times more vehicles than we do, and that they are light-years ahead in terms of battery technology.

This week's budget is set to announce that the new electric-car scheme will create additional employment for up to 400,000 people, followed by announcements that everyone should be driving electric cars by 2020 - in any colour you like, as long as it's green.

And this is all supposed to happen when the government hands out up to £5,000 if you buy an electric car.

The debate as to whether electric-cars are better than their hydrogen-powered counterparts has raged on for as long as VHS vs. Betamax. It seems the decision to use electric has been decided upon by the government - the ability for the country to utilise hydrogen power went out the window when all British scientists moved abroad for proper jobs - avoiding the need for scientists in Britain to only research whether marshmallows give you deep vein thrombosis.

The idea of electric cars is nothing new; milk floats came, got abused for going too slow, and went. But every few years, some rich, elderly Japanese men appear on the television and tell us that the world of petrol and diesel is over.

If the electric-car idea had taken off years ago, no one should be driving around in a Bugatti Veyron - we should all be in a Toyota Turnip: 0 to 60 in 9 and a half days, turbocharged carrot juice injection, and quad speakers that play Cumby-yah in surround sound while you're out purchasing lentils.

The new plans are set to include roadside charging stations where people can plug their car in.

When the news was first made public, the eco-mental vegetablists got excited. They got all their friends around to their yurts for a glass of free trade South African wine and probably sacrificed a marrow.

But of course, while everyone wants to save the birds and the bees and the lesser-spotted Guatemalan honey frog; unless the electric cars are going to be powered by a fairy-operated, free-trade peace windmill in Scotland, the world is still going to burn.

There is also the fact that electric cars aren't exactly aesthetically pleasing and they're so small you'll probably have to drive with your knees in front of your face.

It's more like walking, but less comfortable.

In early reports, it states that there is no automatic gear box between the two front seats and, taking into consideration the high force involved with steering a car so compact, it sometimes means that the driver will slide across to the passenger's seat.

In a way, this is a bonus because people may then think you're the passenger and, therefore, this stupid car isn't yours.

The fact that the government are supposed to hand out £5,000 so we can buy a new electric car, and the fact that they're going to lose out on their fuel tax, means everyone's going to be taxed another way. Even if you don't care about the environment, you can be sure that the electricity companies will push through a massive hike in the price of power.

And while the rest of the world embrace hydrogen power and are flying around like the Jetsons, we'll all be chugging around in Gordon's green machines with a 3-tonne Duracell attached to the back just to get to the end of the street.

Financially, the plan shouldn't work anyway.

First of all, £250million has been allocated to make the scheme, and £100million is to be spent developing new batteries which will produce more power and last longer than those we have now.

In the past, General Motors, Ford and the American government have invested billions and billions of dollars to make better batteries and they still weren't adequate enough to get you to Sainsbury's.

The government would be better off burning the money. Or giving it to Fred Goodwin. Or spending it on Pot Noodles.

And they say it will only cost £20millon to erect roadside chargers in every town. £20million is nothing in government circles - to them, that's the equivalent of buying a spanner or a porn film.

With all of Britain's transport system supplied by electricity, let's hope our power stations, with generations worth of incompetence, won't bring the country to a standstill when everyone puts the kettle on at the end of Britain's Got Talent.

However, all the talk of electric cars is a stark contrast to the news we were hearing about the government's scheme which pays drivers £2,300 to replace their old banger with a shiny new car.

It has supposedly worked in Germany where the plan is to give a grant to those people who own a car more than 9-years-old. And this has worked very well for the 4 Germans who actually own a car that's 9-years-old.

The cars will then be scrapped and recycled.

This seems a little odd, considering the fact that buying a new car now would mean you have to buy a gas-guzzling one as the new electric cars won't yet be available.

Are they saying that they want people to buy new cars to save the economy at the supposed expense of the planet?

The government have spent the last decade trying to get people out of cars and into legs or public transport. Now they say that people should get back into cars.

But with the current economical climate, people don't really want to buy cars at the moment.

The government have obviously got some kind of plan here. The only way they're going to get people to buy new cars and encourage driving is by making the trains expensive and always delayed, ensuring that the buses stink and that riding your bike on the road leaves you with a head shaped like a pancake and a colostomy bag...Seems to be working so far.

We'll probably somehow end up giving a massive boost to the German car industry. Seeing as the British car industry died circa 1979.

And you can tell that Peter Mandelson is behind the scheme. If anyone knows about recycling things that have been banished to the scrap heap, it's Peter Mandelson.

'It was inevitable there was going to be trouble'

Watching the news seems to be like tuning into episode 1167 of the world's most complicated soap opera; a soap opera with an unexplainable, and sometimes, unrealistic plot line that you can't keep up with.

Lately, the news programmes have been taken up by computerised images of huge phrases such as 'Recession', 'Downturn', 'Doom' and 'The end of the Earth!' dramatically falling onto a map of Britain, or a rolling news ticker saying that Amy Winehouse is in rehab, out of rehab, or on her way to rehab.

Noooo. Noooo. Noooo.

But last week, the news programmes must have jumped for joy at the fact that it was time for the G20 summit, because all they would have to do is leave the camera running and let the soap opera of politics, royalty, and riots dominate the headlines.

We've had shock, indecency, embarrassment and adultery - and that's only from the Royal family.

It was a chance to get the news headlines dominated with everything G20. Sky News even had a 'riot expert' on the show. ('Riot expert' being someone who once dabbled with the highly-skilled art of shouting and throwing eggs back in 1973.)

Last week, the news presenters announced that bankers had been told not dress in suits if they had to go to work or to stay at home if that was a feasible option. To put on dirty jeans and remember not to shave so they would fit in with the crowd.

MPs, however, weren't told not to wear suits and the government advisers also decided against telling them to stay at home - just in case they got confused as to which one of their houses they should stay in.

With a combination of world leaders converging on London, it was inevitable there was going to be trouble.

But just in case all their preparations to film the riots were made in vain, and to make sure there were actually some riots to film, the news broadcasters announced bulletins that said something like: 'Police have warned people not to travel to the protests outside the G20 summit at the ExCel Centre at London's Docklands...The address being number 1, Western Gateway, E16 1XL. Of which the nearest public transport system is Dockland's Light Railway with the first train leaving at 0800 hours on Wednesday 1st April. See our website for directions of the march and to order your flaming effigies...Later on in the show we debate whether 600 protesters could manage to pull down Nelson's Column.'

And while the bankers stole their money, people tried their hand at hooliganism; disguising it as political activism.

They marched around London wanting to destroy capitalism, build windmills and campaign for the freedom of speech for organic potatoes.

And the news channels could just film it for 24 hours and their job was done.

But while we stayed at home waiting for the festival of rubber bullets and Molotov cocktails from people standing up against political oppression in the defence of democracy - what we actually got was a view of a few thousand people who had no idea what they were doing.

They even managed to smash the windows of the Royal Bank of Scotland in defiance - forgetting that as of October last year, due a bailout from the tax-payer, the Royal Bank of Scotland actually belongs to the general public - and so, in essence, they may as well have smashed their own windows.

Secretly, we were all waiting back at home, watching the news, for some water-cannon action. Very few things are better that seeing an angry person being hosed into the gutter.

If Jimmy Savile would come out of retirement, I'm sure watching an angry, organic, nuclear-free, vegetarian being hosed into the middle of next week would make the top of everyone's list.

Secretly, we watched with anticipation to see some crazy people being shoved back by police and yet in some areas, there were silly mini protests where about 75 policemen dressed like ghost busters stood around a woman who was so fuming, and so angry she had decided to sit down in the middle of the road.

Rebels these days.

And while protesters slummed it out on the street, the Prime Minister and President Obama were too busy tucking in to Jamie Oliver's pucker meal to notice the protesters outside.

Furthermore in the soap opera of news, the cameras followed Obama to Buckingham Palace where the Royal family took a break from cutting ribbons at museums and talking to vegetables to greet the saviour of the New World and his wife.

Back in the studio, Sky News had ran a feature on some elderly protesters who had climbed up on a wall in Trafalgar Square and, instead of rioting, they decided to play music and shake their booty like it was 1949.

The presenters then cut to a feature on Barack Obama hero action figures that had gone on sale last week.

There's even set to be a talking version. When you pull the string it says: 'So it has been, and so it must be, with this generation of Americans, that we are in the midst of crisis is now well understood. This gigantic, yet tiny world on which we, the American people, hover; balancing like a floating lily in a lily pond of substance in deep crisis. I, Barack Obama, am here to the rescue.'

And it's even been said that a new action figure of Gordon Brown will be made - preloaded with three phrases. When you pull the string it says: 'This is a global problem', 'This problem is global," and 'That is a personal matter for the Home Secretary.'

So the news channels just sit back and watch the world make a fool of itself; their own soap opera.

Their stories come from the inadequacies of the nation and their own shortcomings and silliness; the people who attempt to govern us and the people who march the streets with banners, to which their protests fall on deaf ears.

And because of that, a whole week's worth of news was done on the cheap.

All they had to do was throw in a few statistics at the end of the show.

Job done.

And, did you know that 75% of statistics are actually made up?

Including that one.

'This conversation, if you could call it that yet, wasn't going to end any time soon'

If you get the train in the morning it tends to be filled with business men shouting into one of their two mobile phones about 'blue-sky thinking' and 'pushing the envelope' with a phone to each ear and the briefcase containing their inflated ego under their arm.

But I find that late-morning trains tend to hold a totally different array of people.

Last week, at lunch time, I noticed the train I was supposed to be catching preparing to leave from the station. If I had ran I probably could have just about made it.

But running for the train is never a good idea.

Firstly, when you want to run for a train, or a bus for that matter, you'll find your legs no longer work the way they should and putting one foot in front of the other is suddenly very complicated.

You would like to think that if you needed to run for a train you would be able to run like an Olympic athlete, sprint down to the carriage and hop on while everyone that's on the train already is cheering in fanfare as you just make it on in time.

But, more often than not, as soon as you need to run for the train your Olympic sprint idea goes out of the window and you undertake a sort of constipated shuffle along the platform.

In your mind you think what you're doing is called running - but to those already on the train watching you, you look more like a womble trying to shake off the effects of a tranquilizer dart.

And you tend to get there just as the doors shut and you're left standing on the platform like the closing scene in a bad episode of Eastenders.

So I didn't run for the train when I saw it was about to leave.

Instead, I calmly waited for the next one, just to save on the embarrassment.

I sat in a carriage entirely on my own and, enjoying the peace and quiet, decided to start reading a book.

When the train pulled up at the next station, I looked outside to see who would be getting on.

I saw a woman and her screaming baby on the platform and I prayed she'd go down to the next carriage. There's little worse that having to listen to a baby screaming for the next half an hour.

She and her baby sat in the row next to me.

At the next stop, I looked up from my book to see how many people were going to be getting on and I was met by the faces of around 20 pensioners standing on the platform like a get-together for the cast of Last of the Summer Wine.

But they weren't knitting or tapping their knees to the jingle on the station advert. They were cheering the arrival of the train, for reasons known only to themselves - and being rather loud about it.

I noticed that the door to the next carriage was actually closer to them but they walked a little further and got in to the carriage I was in.

I presumed that it was because this was the one with the toilet in - because when they got closer and sat down, I realised half of them were of the age when they'd be running to the toilet every 5 minutes and half were at the age where they needn't bother running to the toilet at all.

I realised a second later that they were actually German tourists and I started to wonder if SAGA Holidays had put on a package holiday from Berlin to the Bullring.

Two men came and sat down opposite me and a few moments later one of them asked me what I was reading.

I paused.

I had read somewhere that Germany is supposed to be one of the "most talkative nations" and who were likely to dabble in light conversation. Whereas, in the same article I read, it suggested that apart from talking about the weather, over here in Britain, strangers don't converse in public so often.

I'm guessing the most common things you're likely to hear a British stranger say to you are: "Lovely/Horrible weather lately...", "We're just carrying out a quick survey - it'll only take 5 minutes", or "Hand over all your money and you won't get hurt".

So when someone asked me what I was reading, I did a double take and looked around to see if there was anyone else he could possibly be talking to.

I answered him and he then proceeded to ask me if I had ever read any Charles Dickens. I said "Yes" and he then asked me if I know where they can get a crème tea locally.

I started to see where the conversation was going.

I looked up from my book once more and realised that this conversation, if you could call it that yet, wasn't going to end any time soon.

I quickly ran the idea through my mind of telling him: yes, I did know where to find a crème tea, and I was actually about to meet up with Sherlock Holmes and have Winston Churchill drive us around Big Ben in a Routemaster - but I decided against it.

I even, for a small moment, thought about telling him that I hadn't laid eyes on a crème tea for a long time, that no one reads Charles Dickens any more, Kerry Katona's novels are considered high literature, and British cuisine actually consists of Kit Kats, WKD, and a bottle of Gaviscon.

But I simply said "No, sorry," and left it at that.

What was more worrying than being bombarded with questions, was the man who was sitting next to the quizmaster - he actually thought there was nothing wrong with refusing to cover up flatulence in public.

He lay back trying to sleep with his legs stretched out while, every now and again, letting out a stream of loud sporadic flatulent bursts to turn a few heads and make a few eyes bulge in horror.

What's worse is that when my stop came, and I had to leave, I had to wakeup Mr. Flatulence so he could move his legs to let me pass.

And, to my surprise he looked at me as though I had tricked him into eating a coffee-flavoured Revel.

He must have thought that waking someone up, unlike farting the chorus of Amazing Grace on a train, was considered to be antisocial.

Never use public transport.

'It seems that 11 is the new 40'

Last week it was reported that a single mother in Hull gave her child £20 for food before flying to Spain on holiday leaving them home alone and claiming she was fed up with their moaning.

Leaving her 11-year-old, she returned five days later after she "ran out of money" and was questioned by police.

It's quite possible that every mother, at some point in their life, has threatened to go off and leave their child when they're misbehaving - often in the middle of Marks and Spencer's.

They usually say "I'm going now..." about 10 times before quickly moving to a hiding spot behind the Maris Pipers.

There was a time when the child standing alone in the shop would have probably started to blubber at the prospect of being alone and wished they hadn't been so demanding for the bright green sweets.

But today, while the mother is in her hiding place and watching expectantly, the child will probably cheer, hot-wire a car and head off for the highlife in Monte Carlo.

There are some parents out there who fear at the prospect of going in the garden and leaving their children in the house on their own. If they go to do some gardening and pull up a few weeds, they make sure the windows are open, ask the neighbours to listen out for screams, explain to their children where the revolver is and how it can be loaded in less than 3 seconds should any intruders come to the door, and activate the satellite trackers they've got imbedded in their heels.

And yet they still expect to return from pruning the rose bushes to find their offspring on fire or off the coast of Somalia - having being kidnapped by pirates in need of servants.

It seems that 11 is the new 40. Especially from the child's point of view.

People seem to think of their children as newborn giraffes; slimy and unable to stand without assistance. But there was a time when 11-year-olds were highly skilled in mining and pick-pocketing.

Many 11-year-olds can outrun police, disable a car alarm and take on an entire race of aliens on their computers before bedtime.

So they shouldn't have a problem with a microwave and a can opener.

And an 11-year-old can probably be self-sufficient and entertain themselves better than people think.

In fact, why is it everyone is shocked to hear an 11-year-old has been left home alone?

Because people are fine with the idea of leaving a 95-year-old home alone. Vulnerable. Without pepper spray. And only blood pressure tablets to throw at a potential attacker.

At least a child can use the television and record a whole series of Pimp My Ride without looking at the remote control like it's the Holy Grail.

And with today's pension, can a 95-year-old afford heating bills? No.

Of course, a child couldn't either. But at least they can hack into the power company's computer system and zero their bills.

And at least children have got more to occupy themselves. They've got technology as opposed to rich tea biscuits.

Gone are the days when children were given a humbug and an orange and expected to make it last for a week.

Gone are the days, in the late 80s and mid 90s where children, who were off their face on gobstoppers, had robots that fired missiles into Aunt Imelda's eye and dolls called PeePee Polly who actually pooed and weed and cost about the same as a new Land Rover Discovery.

Both of which were broken before the After Eight's came out.

And giving a child a PeePee Polly now would be like giving Pete Doherty a train set.

People like to think their children are going to grow up and be clever and rich and productive. But they're obviously more intent on being a 'teenage dirtbag baby.'

While you, yourself, used to spend your childhood swimming in lashings of Robinson's Barley Water and make model aeroplanes, it doesn't mean today's 11-year-old would enjoy the same.

They probably want a Play Station or an iPod or a missile. Or a webcam so they can watch their fiancée getting ready for bed.