How Tired Is Your Pilot? – 9

Just to emphasise that the start of the silly season approaches, this week has seen the regurgitating of an air travel classic: there is a suggestion that standing passengers may be allowed on some flights. No prizes for identifying the carrier pitching this singularly ludicrous idea – it is of course Ryanair, the Millwall of air carriers (everybody hates us and we don’t care).

Allied to the idea of making the punters at the cheap end of the aircraft (the back, in case anyone was wondering) stand is the equally daft corollary of taking out the rear toilets, therefore leaving only one – at the front, just behind the flight deck – for which punters would have to pay. The Ryanair spokesman, with a completely straight face, has explained that, with only one toilet, use would have to be discouraged, which justifies the charge.

Of course, the supposedly low cost of these “standing” places would be subject to the usual booking fees, “taxes and charges”, and baggage charges, which might just defeat the idea of saving money. And in any case, there is good reason to believe that it won’t happen: the various regulatory authorities would have to be convinced, and Michael O’Leary’s finest might find them harder to please than the most reluctant punter.

For starters, there is the matter of the incident at Stansted Airport where a tug operator had to literally run for his life after a Ryanair flight deck crew attempted a crossbleed engine start without the parking brake applied. The thought that this carrier’s crew might not be as careful as the rivals their press office loves to gratuitously insult on the company’s website re-entered following another incident, at Manchester Airport, where a Ryanair plane tried to pass to the rear of a Lufthansa one and hit it.

In the near future, I will be paying close attention to the AAIB website and any mention of Irish registered Boeing 737-800s in the Bulletin Reports. Something tells me that I will not be alone.

Not Beyond Our Ken

One of the greatest of political survivors is the new Justice Secretary, Ken Clarke, who has fearlessly made the suggestion that the current prison population (over 85,000 and counting) is too high. He is correct: one of the most abject failures of the New Labour Project was the slavish trimming in the direction of the legendarily foul mouthed Paul Dacre and his team of mean spirited hacks at the Rothermere press.

And little good it did them: the Daily Mail and Mail On Sunday were contemptuous of Labour from start to finish, as full of bile in 2010 as they were in 1997. Nevertheless, under the watch of ministers like the otherwise relatively sane Jack Straw, Labour kept banging up more and more offenders, and all the while maintained the ritual incantation that told anyone listening that this was the only way to reduce crime.

Well, what goes around comes around, it seems: Clarke’s message, that he is looking to rehabilitate prisoners, bring down reoffending rates, and not use jail as some kind of default option, may seem a sensible opening to a debate that needs to be had, but Paul Dacre clearly wants none of it. Hence the Daily Mail describing the response to Clarke’s remarks as a “furore”.

My view is that, if Dacre and his motley band of overpaid and overrated hacks want to make policy, then they should stand for elective office, like Clarke and everyone else in the Commons. If they want to have a mature and coherent debate on the issue, then that is what should be promoted by the Daily Mail, not the slanted “journalism” and screaming denunciation that is being produced right now.

Ken Clarke is that rare bloke: he’s a Tory through and through, but garners respect from across the political spectrum because he’s a straight talker, while being agreeable with it. He has, unlike some of his colleagues, retained his sense of humour. Maybe this explains why I find myself on the same side of the debate as Iain Dale, a compliant and reliable conduit for Tory propaganda, who has blogged with unerring common sense on the subject.

The problem, which Dale’s post does not mention, is that so much of the Fourth Estate, as well as many in his own party, cannot bring themselves to have the debate without howling down anyone they perceive as “soft on crime”.

We need to be as consistently sensible and grown up as Ken Clarke on the issue. And if Paul Dacre and his assembled hacks can’t manage this, they should leave the debate to those who can.

Lies, Damn Lies, And EU Directives – 3

Moving the Zelo Street investigation into the non-existent “EU Bans A Dozen Eggs” story a little further, I’ve been considering the man who appears to be the source for all the column inches that covered so many newspapers.

Adam Leyland, editor of the Grocer magazine, as I’ve noted, raised this totally false story a day before the EU hating part of the Fourth Estate got hold of it. Might he have been unaware that so much ranting would be set in train as the “news” spread?

That, I’ve concluded, is not merely unlikely, but out of the question. Leyland is not some ingénue who has stumbled on to the scene: he’s got form in the media world.

Before arriving at the Grocer, Leyland had edited Real Business magazine, and before that PR Week. He’s contributed to Campaign magazine, and has a number of TV appearances under his belt.

So it’s more than likely that he would know who to call, and what to tell them, in order to get his story in the papers. The more digging is done, the more likely it appears that he is the source of the Mail On Sunday why-oh-why-fest.

So was it Adam Leyland, and if so, why did he do it?

Lies, Damn Lies, And EU Directives – 2

Three days on from the attempt by a variety of Euro-hating newspapers, with the Mail On Sunday in the vanguard, to try and fool the public into believing that the EU was about to ban sales of eggs by the dozen (or half dozen, or whatever number), the record has at last been put straight. The EU’s press office – which needs to sharpen up its act, if this kind of response is typical – has moved to confirm what most folks already knew: the story was totally untrue.

But one question has not been answered: where did the original tall tale originate? The MoS, Screws and Sunday Times all carried the story on June 27. So was anyone pitching it earlier? Well, yes they were: step forward Adam Leyland, editor of the Grocer magazine, who penned an editorial dated June 26, in which he states “The EU wants to outlaw the sale of goods as measured in units”.

Just in case we didn’t get that the first time round, he stresses “A dozen eggs ... set to become illegal”. To reinforce the message, suitably pejorative keywords are also deployed, such as “mad”, “bonkers”, “scary”, “monster”, with the inevitable “You couldn’t make this up” to round things off.

But the giveaway comes in Leyland’s very last sentence, where he muses “The Daily Mail is going to have a field day”.

You don’t say, Adam. Wonder how he’d know?

Five Go Mad On The Ale Trail – 3

Seven and a half miles up the Colne Valley from Huddersfield, the village of Marsden managed to cling on to its train service – just – as closures swept through the network at the end of the 60s. Now, the hourly Manchester bound trains call at a new and accessible platform, from which it’s downhill all the way to the Brewery Tap, a pub overlooking the river in the heart of that village.

There was also the realisation that returning to the station would mean walking back up that same hill, but first came the locally brewed ale, which kept up the day’s impressively high standard. Added to the mood of satisfaction was the presence of a fish and chip shop (with rather good mushy peas, Baron Mandelson please note), fitted in with ease as the trains were by this point only hourly (there are two an hour between Leeds and Huddersfield).

Joining a crowd of several dozen on the platform, we caught the next train through the three dark and damp miles of Standedge Tunnel to Greenfield, where the pub was not only easily identified (The Railway), but just across the road from the station.

A pose of little inhibition, accompanied by the inevitable Ingerlundflag

Yes, the beer was as good as before, a contrast to those times in the early 70s when CAMRA was starting out, and real ale was a hit and miss affair, with the best kept and served tipples in a rather small minority. The present consistency should keep this Ale Trail popular, although the warm and dry weather might also help.

As the afternoon wore on, so the last stop approached. And, when it comes to real ale and railways, all trails lead to Stalybridge. The station bar was at the centre of a long and difficult campaign for its survival in the 80s, from which it has emerged more popular than ever, and deservedly so.

OK, it’s Waterloo, but you get the idea

Thus the trail ended: as with the characters in Brief Encounter, we were constrained by the still punctual arrivals of the trains. I had to get back to Crewe, while three of the other not unwilling participants were headed for Chester. It was a grand day out, recommendable without hesitation, and we just might be up for a re-match sometime.

Managing Expectations

Following the exit of loose tongued Stanley McChrystal (who, it’s confirmed, will be leaving the military for good after the fallout from that interview), command in the Afghan conflict has passed to David Petraeus, creator of the “troop surge” and author of the coalition strategy on counter insurgency.

And Petraeus has started with a grim warning: it’s going to get worse before it gets better, there will be an increase in fighting, and the beginning of troop withdrawals from next year will only be the start of a long process of disengagement.

Why would he do that? Ah well. Here we find an experienced media operator giving his audience as unvarnished a truth as is possible, while all the time managing their expectations of what can realistically be achieved in the near future. He’s coming clean at the outset: thus he is more likely to be trusted as he takes on the US’ most challenging and sensitive command.

But openness, for David Petraeus, will not mean that any of the assembled hackery can expect open access and the odd unguarded comment any time soon. This is a far safer pair of hands – which is why Barack Obama put him there.

Yikes Chaps, I’ve Been Bendied Again!

Still the bendy buses go: Mayor of London Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson remains convinced that they are inherently bad, that they are responsible for killing and maiming cyclists, and that they can be replaced without any problem by more conventional double and single deck buses.

Except, of course, that more single deckers are needed to replace bendies, and double deckers can’t match the dwell times, so are slower overall. Perhaps Bozza might consider the number of cities in mainland Europe that seem to be able to live happily with the bendy bus? There do seem to be a lot of them.

Here is a bendy bus in the German city of Augsburg. Like the city’s trams, it’s part of a transport system that ensures there is room for punters whenever they need to commute, shop, eat, and drink.

At left is a cyclist: note that no harm is being done to man or machine, despite the proximity of the bendy bus.

Message to Bozza: it’s not too late to have a rethink.

Good Riddance, Terry Tesco – 4

Anyone doubting the determination of the Tesco empire to bring its particular version of choice to a part of the country near you – whether or not the people want it – need look no further than the upmarket Buckinghamshire village of Gerrards Cross.

The population of Gerrards Cross is less than seven and a half thousand, on the face of it not a compelling case for Tesco – or any other supermarket chain – to ride to the rescue. But the area is also uniformly prosperous, and this may have tempted Terry Leahy’s finest to open a store there. Unfortunately, the locals were vehemently opposed to the proposal.

It’s entirely possible that there was a significant element of Nimbyism among the residents, but their objection would be no less valid as a result. However, despite the opposition, permission was given for the store to be built, and in 1999, work began.

In order to provide sufficient space for the store and a car park, much of these would be situated above the railway adjacent to Gerrards Cross station. A “new tunnel” was therefore assembled, and then material used to fill to the sides and top, producing what was hoped would be a nice level surface (the railway runs through the area in a cutting excavated at the time it was built).

So far, so logical, and as the filling over the reinforced concrete tunnel segments progressed, the frame of the supermarket took shape. Although by now some six years had passed, the end was in sight. Except that it wasn’t: on the evening of June 30, 2005, part of the “new tunnel” collapsed. Fortunately, no trains were caught up in the event, but services had to be suspended and did not resume for over a month and a half.

And Tesco now had several more bills to pay: clearing the result of the collapse and making the railway safe, loss of revenue to train operator Chiltern Railways, recovery and reinstatement of the tunnel, reinstatement of the store structure (the original had to be dismantled following the collapse), and the legally complex change of main contractor resulting from the affair.

A less determined company might have wondered. Tesco came through the Gerrards Cross tunnel collapse still determined to give the locals the retail opportunity they had so plainly said they did not want.

Five Go Mad On The Ale Trail – 2

And so we arrived, in a pleasantly mellow state, in Huddersfield, where the magnificent (and listed) station frontage is home to two watering holes. Out front, the car park has been removed, and the traffic much reduced, from the time I lived and worked in the town in the late 80s.

First bar to be sampled was the King’s Head, which used to be called the Station Tavern. In that latter guise, the ale was not “real”, and Thursday evenings were only busy as there was a visiting jazz band. Now, the place is much more rough and ready, but the beer is excellent.

We walked around the square with its life size sculpture of former PM Harold Wilson, who won four General Elections, though two were close calls, and in a third, he failed to get a majority. But he did oversee the establishment of the Open University.

Behind the Wilson statue is a water feature, several spouts making up a fountain which powers itself on and off seemingly at random.

This caught the eye of someone’s pet dog, and that then provided the entertainment for a few minutes, as the dog got very wet, but failed to figure out the water jets.

Then we moved right along to the Head of Steam, which occupies the opposite end of the station building to the King’s Head. The place has a pleasant interior, there are a number of little nooks and crannies, there are comfy sofas to relax on, but the beer was a terrible disappointment. And it wasn’t just one ale: the group sampled two or three.

Maybe the next pub would do better? As the clock ticked round to half past the hour, we boarded the next stopping train for Manchester, eager to find out. By now, there were several others making the same journey. This ale trail thing is catching on.

Lies, Damn Lies, And EU Directives

One newspaper was missing from yesterday’s roll call of Europhobics queuing up to relay the “story” of how the EU was intending to “ban” selling eggs by the dozen. That was the Maily Telegraph, but by this morning, they too were faithfully telling how “Shoppers will be banned from buying bread rolls or eggs priced by the dozen”.

The wording of the Telegraph article is interesting: it doesn’t claim that the EU will stop anything being sold by the dozen, half dozen or whatever number. The key word here is priced. The headline, however, still wrongly states “EU to ban selling eggs by the dozen”, so the paper has some way to go before it can be certain which way it is facing.

The actual draft directive, while it specifies the requirement for packaging to show the weight of the contents in metric units, does not exclude (so no “ban”) saying “N eggs”, or even showing the weight in Imperial units, should the packager and retailer wish. So there was no need for all the scare stories ... or was there?

Ah well. There’s mileage for Europhobes in this sort of thing, as witness today’s Maily Telegraph blog by arch Europhobe Dan, Dan the Oratory Man. Hannan doesn’t help his credibility by telling of the “Proposed EU ban on selling eggs by the dozen”, when any fule kno that there is not, has not been, and will not be such a ban.

Dan continues by swaggering “We Old Brussels Hands know how these directives work”, which would be reassuring if he hadn’t just told a blatant porkie about them. But the Hannan logic is straightforward, if routinely perverse: he contends that the Fourth Estate finding out about proposed legislation and kicking up a fuss nips the EU’s worst excesses in the bud.

The inconvenient fact of the matter – that the fuss being kicked up is over wording that does not exist – is not allowed to enter Dan’s world. Here, the press only get to make their fuss very occasionally, because those dastardly EU types somehow manage to keep the Fourth Estate away from all that freely available information on proposed legislation.

And all that information is available, by default, in English. The idea that the Europhobic part of the press misses the quietest fart from the direction of the European Parliament is ridiculous. But for Daniel Hannan, the impression must be given of dragons being slain, and heroic deeds by folks like ... well, himself personally now.

Otherwise, what would he be there for?

Your Fifteen Minutes May Be Up

Yesterday morning, during the paper review on the Andy Marr Show, the front page of the Mail On Sunday was briefly shown to the camera. There, in big, bold capitals, screamed the headline “EU Bans A Dozen Eggs”.

Thus the ideal story for the domain of the legendarily foul mouthed Paul Dacre: the rotten EU is going – via unelected bureaucrats, no doubt – to tell our shop keepers that they can no longer sell eggs, or any other produce, by number. It looks too good to be true – because it’s complete drivel.

Undeterred by the obviously questionable appearance of the story, which also featured in yesterday’s Screws (along with the obligatory range of pejorative terms, such as “Cracked”, “Bonkers” and “Nutty”), Iain Dale, a compliant and reliable conduit for Tory Propaganda, decided to go over the top as well.

Among other commenters who tried to point out to Dale that this was an obvious cod story was me. It didn’t make much difference: Dale doesn’t do listening and correcting himself most of the time, although he does give the Murdoch empire occasional plugs (HERE is one for the lamentable Trevor Kavanagh, and HERE is a plug for Sky’s tacky football coverage).

Fortunately, with characteristic directness, my old sparring partner John B has nailed the story on Liberal Conspiracy this morning. As I tried to tell Dale, there is nothing in the proposed legislation that bans the selling of eggs, or anything else, by number. And, of course, it’s only a proposal: nothing has been decided as yet.

Which diminishes the reputation of Iain Dale yet further. Why the clear lack of any objectivity? Why allow himself to be suckered by an obvious scare story? Dale is savvy enough to know what the various parts of the Fourth Estate are about, and he isn’t daft, which suggests that he, like the Rothermere and Murdoch empires, is up for peddling gratuitous Europhobia.

But that puts Dale in the same crowded niche as Fat Dick Littlejohn and Dan, Dan, the Oratory Man, whose Europhobia is much more accomplished. Worse, it takes Dale out of the realm of reliable punditry, with enough wannabes out there to step into any void his declining credibility creates.

Already, a blog ridiculing Iain Dale has been started, and if his credibility becomes tarnished further, broadcasters and editors may decide to look elsewhere for their punditry.

His fifteen minutes may be starting to draw to a close.

Cars For Everything

Yesterday evening, a neighbour had a takeaway delivered by Domino’s Pizza. But, so what? Well, apart from my usual warning against supermarket and takeaway pizza being junk, and a pale imitation of what you get in Naples, it was delivered by car.

That might seem perfectly normal, save for the fact that Domino’s is less than ten minutes’ walk away (on the big traffic lights at the south end of Mill Street). Given that parking at the shop is not easy, it would have taken the delivery bod more than that walking time to get to his car, into the traffic, round the houses, parked up and to his delivery.

Perhaps he had more deliveries to make, and they were yet further away. But then, the idea of those callers getting anything even remotely fresh out of the oven would be daft. In any case, it shows up our default of car usage for every task. It can’t be beyond the wit of retailers to deliver takeaways by foot, can it? Or will we be assailed by tales of pizza thieves lying in wait in every side street off Nantwich Road?

Ingerlundflags! – 5

Oh well. That’s it for another four years: England bundled out of the World Cup by the hated Germans, a wrongly disallowed goal, the likelihood of another managerial vacancy before too long, more soul searching for the Fourth Estate to indulge in for, oh, another year or two, and the realisation that we are no nearer to emulating the Class of ’66.

Allied to this is another realisation, and that is the ineffectiveness of the huge number of Ingerlundflags displayed all over the place, whether from cars, windows, rooftops, or wherever. As I mentioned before, every major England event beings more of these, and every time, they have no beneficial effect. At least the German equivalent seems to be working for their team.

The cricket team are still playing, though. And they’re two-nil up in the ODI series.

Five Go Mad On The Ale Trail – 1

The idea came from a friend and regular visitor to Zelo Street: to follow the Real Ale Trail that has become established between Leeds and Manchester following the televised exploits of Oz Clarke and James May recently. And it’s not a difficult or expensive tour: you can make up your own trail, there are frequent train services to take you from one watering hole to the next, and the beer is very, very good indeed – well, mostly.

So, on a warm and sunny Saturday, we gathered in Leeds and decided to start just outside the station at the Scarborough. In the days when I worked in the city, which admittedly is many, many years ago, this was one of many city centre pubs that were best left well alone, but not any more: a good choice of beers and ciders, with food on offer throughout the day.

Back at the station, we headed for Platform 13 and the first train stopping at Batley. Opposite the station is the Cellar Bar, where the beer was, once again, very good indeed. The barman came out to chat to us, and to take the photo that one of the group wanted at each stop (he’d done a lot of this). As we caught the next train for Dewsbury, a group we had seen in Leeds were alighting. We saw more of them later in the day.

Only three minutes along the line, at Dewsbury station, the West Riding is actually on the platform – no problem finding your way here. We mingled with a rugby club outing and a pre-wedding party, and found that the beers on offer included a “Rail Trail Ale”, which was not half bad. One word on travel validity: you’re OK to break your journey on Off-Peak and Day Return tickets.

Then it was off to Mirfield, where the Navigation was a short walk from the station, in a quiet setting next to a canal. The sun was beating down, and the temptation to linger was significant, but we managed to drag ourselves away and catch the next train. On board, the guard even offered advice on which of the two bars on Huddersfield station was the best. And, as it had been since departing Leeds, the railway was punctual, the trains had plenty of room, and the staff were welcoming and good humoured.

The story of the day, as they say, is to be continued.

Crikey Chaps, Competition!

The next election for Mayor of London, the office currently held by Young Dave’s jolly good pal Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson, is not until 2012. But the number of column inches the upcoming contest is generating already – and in the national press as well as in the capital – suggests otherwise.

Because the whole campaign has come alive in the past few weeks: first, Labour confirmed that their nomination would be contested (between the inevitable Ken Livingstone, and former MP Oona King), then the news filtered through that Bozza was close to confirming his desire to run for a second term.

And now we have the possibility that the Lib Dems could nominate former Montgomeryshire MP and unlikely stand up man Lembit Opik as their candidate. He would certainly have the recognition factor, something that Susan Kramer and Brian Paddick lacked. And, given that Johnson has shown that electoral credibility is not necessarily a casualty of being subjected to ridicule on Have I Got News For You, Opik can’t be ruled out because of his public profile.

Lembit for London. It’s got a strange and interesting ring to it.

How Tired Is Your Pilot? – 8

Anyone wary of taking up the headline prices advertised by the more aggressive budget airlines will not have had their doubts eased following the news that the police had to attend an aircraft at Prestwick Airport (not in Glasgow) yesterday, after passengers became fractious after a four hour wait for a departure slot.

That the flight was bound for Girona (not in Barcelona) is all you need to know: the operator was, of course, Ryanair, the Millwall of air carriers (everybody hates us and we don’t care). The behaviour of the crew, and the following attempt to offload blame and responsibility, are text book Ryanair, and anyone even considering flying with them should know what they may be letting themselves in for.

Take-off had been delayed, following another bout of industrial action by air traffic controllers in France. However, having closed up the aircraft, the crew refused to let anyone get off: this could potentially have delayed departure, should a window of opportunity arise, and for Ryanair, what is operationally convenient for them trumps any consideration for the punters.

Moreover, the crew also refused to issue drinks to the increasingly unhappy passengers: Ryanair’s excuse was that they were bound by regulation not to “open the bars”. This is utter tosh: they could have got water to the punters without “opening the bars”, but, again, this may have been operationally inconvenient, and would have cost Ryanair money.

Ultimately, it was the police that stumped up for water and snacks, so Ryanair dumped their responsibility on the UK taxpayer. And they kept over 160 passengers on board one of their aircraft for six hours before finally taking off. Predictably the carrier has blamed the French industrial action, but once again it is Ryanair’s behaviour that has fallen short.

That behaviour, together with the inability to own up to their own responsibility, and the appalling dumping on the police, can lead to only one conclusion. And that, Michael O’Leary, is that your attitude, and your airline’s service, are not good enough.

Ingerlundflags! – 4

So England have progressed to the last sixteen of the World Cup. They did, however, only score one goal, which means that the USA, who were bold in their pursuit of a win against Algeria, won the group on goals scored.

Yes, England were runners up to the USA. Had they converted just one more chance, their next opponents would be Ghana, and the US might just fancy getting to the quarter finals right now.

Instead, England get Germany. Again. The tabloids will tell their readers not to mention the war, before doing so with their customary lack of style. At least Piers “Morgan” Moron is no longer editing one of them, so the nadir of 1996 is unlikely to be repeated.

Also, any England fan should look at how the mighty have already fallen: the last World Cup final was between France and Italy, and neither team are still in the current competition.

Not A MacArthur Moment

Following a breathtakingly indiscreet piece in Rolling Stone magazine, the man until recently heading up the campaign against the Taliban in Afghanistan, Stanley McChrystal, has been summoned to Washington by President Barack Obama, and summarily dismissed from his command. Parallels are being drawn with the previous summons to DC of Douglas MacArthur by Harry Truman in 1951, but, apart from the common thread of a commander being sacked, there is little else to connect the events.

Nothing will change – at least, not in the foreseeable future – in the approach to the Afghan campaign. McChrystal’s dismissal, in any case, wasn’t about strategy, as MacArthur’s had been. The latter was moving not only to expand the Korean War into China, but also to threaten the use of nuclear weapons against the Chinese. The United Nations mandate under which the war was being pursued limited aspirations far short of this.

It was ultimately conceded, even by MacArthur’s greatest admirers, that Truman had little choice if escalation of the Korean War was to be avoided. In McChrystal’s case, the problem has been one of disrespect to his President and Vice President (and their team) as well as a general loose tongued and laddish attitude. McChrystal’s lack of judgment in allowing the Fourth Estate to be present when he and his pals were “getting shitfaced” has been jaw-dropping.

It is this comparison which shows the very different character of McChrystal and MacArthur: the latter knew how to cultivate his public image, and showed the press what he wanted them to see. And that was that. The idea of allowing a month’s access to a journalist – and unlimited at that – would not have entered.

Fortunately, McChrystal has not yet said “I shall return”. That’s a good move, because he just might not.

No Surprise There, Then

So VAT is to go up to 20%. The most predictable part of the first budget delivered by the Rt Hon Gideon George Oliver Osborne, Heir to the Seventeenth Baronet was that the Tories’ favourite tax target was to be hit for the third time.

As I predicted some weeks back, the new and improved two headed donkey has gone for a VAT increase: the only surprise is that there has been no tinkering with the reduced rate – yet. I still believe that this potentially lucrative step is on Osborne’s wish list, together with the ending of zero rating, although the latter may need the electorate and press to be softened up suitably beforehand.

I note that, at around the same time I made my prediction, the routinely clueless Paul Staines, who blogs under the alias of Guido Fawkes, predicted that VAT would not be increased because of its potential effect on inflation. As if Osborne is greatly fussed on that front – he can always dump on Merv the Swerve if things get difficult.

So, wrong again, Paul.

All Aboard The Fayed Flyer

And the best thing for Mo is that he doesn’t need a British passport to ride it ...