Conspiracy theory of the week

There is the death of Princes Diana, September 11, Michael Jackson’s death (and life), and now there is the plot to turn Britain into a “truly multicultural society” just to spite the right wing.

Apparently some commentators understood an article by  a former Labour adviser (Andrew Neather) to imply that Labour’s motivation behind encouraging increased labour migration was not driven by the fact that the then booming economy was creating a shortage of skills, but rather by a desire to undermine the right’s opposition to multiculturalism. SEE THE PLOT!

What a way to go about undermining the Tories! What a plot!!

The Guardian reports:  ”There was no plot,” said Neather.

No kidding, said the Brownbookproject.

Ball ball ball foot foot foot

Weekend activities

This weekend I have seen an unprecedented two whole games of football. The first was QPR versus Derby County which QPR won 4-2. We watched it on BBC2.  I hate reading about football and rarely watch it, preferring to play instead,  so I will not pretend to have anything to say about it except I enjoyed the beer and the banter and watching Damion Stewart head the ball.

It was also on Saturday at my friend’s house that I learnt, publicly and embarrassingly, what the monetary value of a ‘score’ is, not having made a connection between this and Abraham Lincoln’s famous speech.  A friend asked to borrow ‘a score’ and I proffered a £10 note in hope this is what he meant. It wasn’t.

On Sunday my friend Harvey who came down from Crouch End to stay and my girlfriend and I all went for Sunday lunch at the local pub and watched Liverpool beat Man U (Manchester United) 2 nil.  My chocolate delight pudding was not as delightful as I hoped.

Harvey and I talked about writing a sitcom called The Workplace but couldn’t come up with any dialogue.

Weekend reading

Over Sunday lunch I read about Emily Cummins and her sustainable refrigerator. Quite impressive.

In Sunday’s Observer the question was: is Michael Haneke  the best director ever? (Again there is a discrepancy between the print and online versions so just trust me) His original Funny Games is the only film I’ve had to stop watching and take a break because I was so terrified. Best ever director though? I’m not sure as it’s not something I’ve considered before, but I will check out his new film when it’s out.

I started reading Welcome to Everytown: A journey into the English mind by Julian Baggini this weekend.  I picked it up when I was on work experience at Granta (had to get that in somehow) and so far it is making me more aware of my middle class outlook than David Mitchell. I have also diagnosed myself as asocial.

A few articles to start you off

The rain has just stopped in Paris and I am about to hit the streets. Or rather the rails. My friend is talking me for a walk on what used to be an old train track which is now a park.  I will try to take some pictures to share on Sunday.

Before I’m off, after a quick browse in today’s papers these are some articles I found to read with tomorrow’s morning coffee:

Ministers warn of poll boost for BNP after Question Time (Guardian)

(The debate about whether more visibility in media indeed gives right wing parties more votes, is quite interesting. I will try to expand on this.)

Wild thing at heart (by Dave Eggers in the Guardian)

(Eggers has written some great books and uses literature as a means to bring about change)

Dinner with the FT and Prince Andrew (FT weekend)

(Lunch was apparently not enough.. Don’t we all want to know Who is Prince Andrew?)

I will also browse Babelia -a weekend supplement which comes with El Pais. They usually have nice articles on literature, art and those kind of things.

Oh and if you haven’t read it yet, Gary Younge  on the BNP in the Guardian. Gary is wonderful.

à bientôt!

Now is the ‘W’inter of our discontent

By the train station in Harrow a solitary crane rests as a bookmark in what will hopefully one day be completed flats.  Meanwhile TfL are putting fares up by 12.5% next year to fill the gap in revenues created by all the unemployed ex-commuters.  Banks won’t give us any more mortgages, and the UK is massively in debt.

Apart from what I can  see and read of this recession I feel very lucky not to have been too adversely affected.  I went into this recession with no money, pension or  house to lose and I feel relatively safe, for now, in my pseudo- public sector job (famous last words). I even feel quietly optimistic. So much so that on Saturday the family went to the theatre, followed by dinner, to celebrate my mum’s birthday.

Can you tell what we saw yet?

We saw David Hare’s The Power of Yes.  

The Power of Yes is a story about a playwright trying to understand and make sense of the financial crisis.  It is, as he says in his Lunch with the FT interview, not about ’banker bashing’ but the ‘culture of banking’ – caveat emptor - if someone gets burnt by a deal then it’s their own fault.  Too right.

It is a fascinating story that Hare tells with fast paced humour and a suprising clarity given the complexity of the subject. To think, the whole idea of buying up debt and calling it an asset to be able to gain leverage to trade in more debt is fascinating. It also goes some way  to debunk the idea of a grand conspiracy by bankers. Hare shows that bankers genuinely believed they were eliminating risk from these trades by divorcing the origin of the debt from the holder, and that if in the right place at the right time you could have made millions.

The characters of the story,  the financial regulators, the politicians, the bankers, the Harvard/Goldman Sachs/FT triumvirate, all have a chance to defend themselves or pass the blame onto another “tribe”.  It is more like a lecture than a story but here the line is blurred. It is an entertaining lecture nonetheless.

Mr Hare himself comes across as an interesting person in his Lunch with the FT.  I am intrigued by “his interest in turning business into literature”.  To read the FT during the week certainly does require a suspension of disbelief on my part as I try to fathom what goes on inside their heads when people make deals.  The FT has attuned my sensibilities somewhat. It strikes me that there is a great capacity for someone create, out of nothing, ways of making money as long as other people are willing to go along with it. I guess this whole credit crisis is the prime example.

Anyway, The Power of Yes  is worth going to see to be entertained. I think it’s too late for the country to avoid a winter of discontent but we know not to expect any christmas cards this year.

Happy Sunday!

 

**update**

This article appeared in the FT on October 21st 2009

A crisis in search of a narrative

Fig and The Hippopotamus: what do a mitten and a prosthetic leg have in common?

In this Sunday’s Observer there was  a book review of Txting: the gr8 db8 with the title ‘Who needs vowels anyway?‘ (this title isn’t given on the online but is on the print version). It is a study of text-messaging culture that explores whether or not the English language is really being eroded by ‘abbreviations, initialisations and smiley faces’.  The reviewer Tom Lamont doesn’t really address his title question so in this post I will.

The reason being is that on Saturday I found myself in the British Museum intending to see what I could find out about Prehistory Britain.

Apart from learning that Scotland was settled by the ‘Scotti’ people from Ireland I was most fascinated by the Egyptian hieroglyphs: primarily how on earth they came up with them. So if I can explain this clearly there are three types but I only picked up on  two;  phonograms and logograms. The logogram is roughly a symbol representing something i.e.

= Sun. Phonograms on the other hand represent a sound and in this instance consonants. I now know there to be uniconsonantals, biconsonantals and, of course, triconsonantals but at the time I was looking at this

thinking how does that represent ‘d’ and this

thinking how does that make a ‘b’ sound

If I remember correctly, put together you get the pronunciation of the word ‘Fig’ i.e. db pronounced ‘deb’. If you put d and t together ‘dhet’ you get ‘Hippopotamus’. So there’s the answer to the question in my title, but this really got me during Sunday. How did the Egyptians survive on consonants? After reading the book review I agreed that if the Egyptians didn’t need vowels then who are we to judge teenagers these days for discarding them in their communications with each other? Hurrah teenagers are just being like the Egyptians who invented hieroglyphs!

But it turns out not for the reason of not using vowels but for coming up with a phonogram, of sorts, to replace them: 8 is now ‘a’ and ‘ea’.  I did not see that the title of the book Mr Lamont was reviewing actually had vowel sounds in it. So the use of a ‘traditional’ vowel is simply replaced.

Furthermore I have learnt that transliteration is responsible for the vowel sounds in the middle of the Egyptian words for Fig and Hippopotamus and that it was because Egyptologists didn’t really know how words were pronounced and couldn’t cope with all the consonants they attributed to the hieroglyphs.

We, and by that I mean this civilisation, need vowels.

It is obvious that Tom Lamont’s title hasn’t been thought through.

Happy belated Sunday!

I consider you

I don’t need to tell you about a Sunday spent in bed due to an over saturation of Saturday night drinking beer because it is such a fact of life that any attempt at being pitiable is just irresponsible.

Instead, today, I will consider not the lethargy but the label; the visual, almost aesthetic, invitation to admire the bottle of beer as you drink.  The act of holding it out in front of your or to placing  it on its heel and rotating it slowly knowing that this does not improve the taste, but enhances your experience. But how?

I have recently returned from Brazil bringing back with me four labels from the beers made by the company AmBev. As quickly as possible then, because Sunday is almost over, they are the following:

There is something about each label that appeals to me that I fear I have succumbed to AmBev’s marketing department.  I’d rather these labels were designed by artisans in the mid-nineteenth century who, having spent their lives drinking beer, understood the important contribution that a piece of artwork stuck to the bottle made not only to the social experience of beer drinking, but also the perception of their country.  I’m not talking about Becks’ partnership with Ladyhawke and Hard Fi (no link forthcoming), which is terrible terrible artwork on not the best tasting beer, and contributes nothing.

A country’s beer is always a subject you report back on to friends. Ice cold and plentiful  is always a gold star.

Maybe because I was a tourist I was looking for this insight into Brazil. Antarctica for example, looks like a drink of the people. Bohemia says it all in the name. Brahma? Party beer. Skol? A bit dangerous.

It’s probably a comparable hobby to collecting cigarette cards, but I read in the FT that AmBev is introducing a new beer called ‘Brahma Fresh’.  I can’t wait to see what the label will look like. I hope to introduce a collection of postcards with these labels printed on in the near future, and perhaps one day put on an exhibition.

But in the meantime to wish you well of what remains of a Happy Sunday, here is a very beautiful label from a Mexican beer.

Scan001

Happy Sunday!

Clichés on a Sunday

It has been a sleepy Sunday. I did however read some of this past weeks longer journalistic pieces, and I couldn’t let the day pass without sharing with you how not to write a reportage on the Immigrant Muslims in Belleville.  Simon Kuper for the FT the other day wrote a rather disappointing piece of work on the situation of Muslim immigrants in France today. It starts with some very cliché formulations to set the multicultural scene of Bellville:

‘A class of children pours out of a kindergarten: toddlers of four different colours hold hands while their teachers issue commands in French.’

And quoting the Moroccan novelist Abdellah Taïa on the joy of going to the McDonalds in the area:

“The servers are white, black, Arab, Chinese. It’s almost too philosophical-existential an experience, to see this mélange”.

The rest of the text which is packed with a lot of information presented in a  ‘I am writing my paper for university and have to show I have done my reading’ spirit, Simon seems to want to discuss which is the best of what he presents as two realistic future scenario for Europe:

‘A commonly depicted future scenario for Europe is of “Eurabia”, where a religious Muslim majority runs the ­continent. But most French political scientists and demographers think the Belleville scenario of “mélange” is more likely.’

That quote which basically limits the story to a discussion about a choice between cliché 1 or cliché 2,  is from the 4th paragraph in the text. Although I was disappointed at this point, I kept reading on just because I suspected that Simon’s intention was that of a good liberal.

As expected, the rest of the text is basically just outlining the ‘­Eurabia thesis’ on the one hand and the ‘Melange’ on the other. In the end the Melange is declared the winner with the convincing arguments:

Yet there are two main reasons the Belle­ville scenario looks more likely than the Eurabia one. The first is demographic: no serious demographer expects Muslims to become a majority in any western European country. The second is attitudes: only a tiny minority of French Muslims appears to want to establish a medieval caliphate in Europe.

So, ultimately what is wrong with Simon’s well intentioned article? Well, there are two main reasons for why this article is an example of how how not to write a reportage on the Immigrant Muslims in Belleville. The first is the content: These stereotypes and sweeping generalisations (of which the ones described in the article are more prominent) already dominate the discussion of the subject. So to write an article which at length reiterates them, without presenting any new perspective, just seems like such a waste of time. The second is entertainment value: it’s a really boring Sunday read (contrary to what the article headline suggests).

Basically, Simon Kuper disappointed me. On a Sunday.

To end on a more positive note, there is a really nice book on the suburbs of Paris that makes for a more entertaining read: Emile Ajar: The life before us.

Happy Sunday!

No doughnuts in Northwood Hills

An 85 pence cash injection into my local economy is, I fear, too little too late.

I walked into my local economy on Saturday afternoon with a shopping list that should’ve been fulfilled by the types of shops available in Northwood Hills.

I wanted:

  • bread
  • doughnuts
  • basil seeds
  • silicon putty
  • King of Shaves face wash
  • to set up the delivery of a sunday newspaper
  • fresh anchovies
  • mozzarella
  • to browse in a relatively new shop that sells guitar effects pedals.

I arrived home with one loaf of bread from the bakers. I had spent a total of 85pence.

The chemist, Boots no less, did not have the face wash I use. Both hardware shops were closed – and one also sells gardening things such as seeds. The newsagents that deliver newspapers were not sure they wanted an extra round so I have to go back another day. And out of all the grocery stores I couldn’t get mozzarella or anchovies or doughnuts. Not even the Tesco in the Esso garage forecourt had any of these things. The guitar effects pedal shop was also closed.

What kind of local economy has shops that are shut on the weekend?

Local economies are about what is available and not what you want and so the problem compounds itself; tomorrow, Sunday, I will go to the Tesco superstore.

Happy Sunday!

Bees and Antichrist

This weekend’s Lunch with the FT doesn’t offer much (one reason perhaps is that the interviewer talks a bit too much about himself and his own book), so I re-read instead an FT lunch from a few weeks ago with Lars von Trier. I saw his latest movie Antichrist last week in Brussels and it was great. I do harbour a bit of an unconditional love for von Trier and anything he says I usually find to be a deep truth about the existence of mankind.To give an example, the FT interview ends with one of the most brilliant analys of a vegetable garden:

“He calls me a taxi and leads me out, past a well-kept vegetable garden. I express my admiration and we stop for a moment. ‘It is very fascistic, he [von Trier] says. ‘You take out the weak and the strong remain. It’s like ethnic cleansing.’ “

An excellent Sunday coffee read and re-read.

This brings me to another gardenesque subject in the weekend newspapers: Beekeeping. According to the Guardian who have the tendency to hype up marginal things (very often random British band: “pop phenomenon of the year”), are now claiming that beekeeping is the new thing . The author attends a beekeeping beginners course after his wife expressed that she would like to do something to save the bees who are currently under serious threat by all type of diseases. As a beekeeping fan (soon to be a practitioner) myself, I do resent the Guardian a bit for making my interest a mainstream occupation. But mostly I am annoyed by the miss-representation of the charm of beekeeping. In the article, beekeeping is presented as just another ‘I want to do something but not too much to combat climate change activity to be added to the buying of organic vegetables.

Beekeeping is an art form. It’s about the beautiful colour, viscosity and sweetness of the honey produces by little creature from the nectar of flowers, about the fascinating organisation of labour, the intriguing role of the Queen bee, the peacefulness of a beehive on an open field or a city rooftop, and the joy of wearing a protective outfit. At least that is what motivates me. If you’re doing it to save the planet, that’s fine as well. Just be aware of what a beautiful activity you have chosen.

Happy Sunday!

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