Eventually it came to pass at the start of this week: Tory MP and Zimbabwe Moment experiencing blogger Nadine Dorries had writs served for libel on Pa Broon’s former hatchet man Damian McBride and all round total prat Derek “Dolly” Draper. She is also, apparently, after Cabinet Secretary Gus O’Donnell.
But what is the alleged libel? What we know is that Draper was sent an email by McBride which made an allegation about Ms Dorries’ personal conduct. Neither party published the email, and publishing is supposed to be what libel is about. The contents of the email were finally published by the News of the World, but the paper is not being sued.
And what O’Donnell has to do with this is a mystery: perhaps, as Cabinet Secretary, there is a suggestion that he is responsible for what political appointees get up to when on-line within Downing Street. The more I look at this one, the more questions I see.
If nothing was published by any of the defendants, then how can there have been a libel? Is this action being pursued on a no-win, no-fee basis (because – and Ms Dorries will find this out if she doesn’t already know, libel actions are expensive – ask Richard Desmond)? Is there an expectation that McBride and Draper will settle quickly in order to avoid the expense of defence?
My feeling is that McBride (who has sensibly kept schtum so far) and Draper (who, not sensibly, hasn’t, though only to assert that nothing was published by him) will sit tight and let Ms Dorries’ lawyers come at them. It could be expensive, it could be messy, and it certainly won’t be the fun that some who have been getting involved in it might imagine.
But for those of us who treat politics as a spectator sport, it will provide capital entertainment.
Friday, 11 September 2009
The Network Rail Conundrum
Network Rail (NR), the organisation that looks after the tracks, signalling, regulation and maintenance of the UK’s rail network, is a not for profit company. It also manages to look in on Zelo Street sufficiently frequently to have been able to manage a chapter and verse rebuttal of a one line comment I made in a recent post.
So, given the ease with which NR can put out information when its folks are so minded, you’d think that volunteering information in response to a specific request would be a doddle.
You’d think wrong.
I’ve been trying for a matter of months now – without success – to get a straight answer out of NR about part of their infrastructure in the Crewe area (as for detail, I’ll leave it at that, not wanting to induce insomnia in anyone). To the last request there has been not a peep.
So, if NR’s Media Persons are in the room, I’d love to hear from them. Comments or email – the address is provided.
So, given the ease with which NR can put out information when its folks are so minded, you’d think that volunteering information in response to a specific request would be a doddle.
You’d think wrong.
I’ve been trying for a matter of months now – without success – to get a straight answer out of NR about part of their infrastructure in the Crewe area (as for detail, I’ll leave it at that, not wanting to induce insomnia in anyone). To the last request there has been not a peep.
So, if NR’s Media Persons are in the room, I’d love to hear from them. Comments or email – the address is provided.
Wednesday, 9 September 2009
The Tram Did It
Vienna, like any self respecting capital city, has a daily free sheet, and the quality and insight of Heute (Today) means that you can find plenty of discarded copies to read. Yesterday’s edition was available in all parts of the Schnellbahn service en route to the airport.
And the eye catching headline showed that press attitudes to rail borne transport don’t vary much between Austria and the UK. Tram rams lorry. Er, what? Yes, I translated in the right order: the original German started “Bim rammt ... “, a Bim being a tram.
A tram leaving the interchange stop at Schottentor on Line D (in Vienna, despite recent re-jigging of routes, some lines still use letters rather than numbers) was making a left turn off the Ringstrasse to head north towards the suburb of Nussdorf. This would entail crossing the roadway.
The idea that the tram driver, with an articulated tramcar plus a trailer, potentially both filled with punters, would have made the move without the traffic signal showing a clear aspect, is absurd. Most likely is that the lorry driver either misread or missed completely the equivalent traffic light, and thus the contact.
But the hacks’ mindset, as in the UK, states otherwise, so the humble tramcar becomes demonised.
And the eye catching headline showed that press attitudes to rail borne transport don’t vary much between Austria and the UK. Tram rams lorry. Er, what? Yes, I translated in the right order: the original German started “Bim rammt ... “, a Bim being a tram.
A tram leaving the interchange stop at Schottentor on Line D (in Vienna, despite recent re-jigging of routes, some lines still use letters rather than numbers) was making a left turn off the Ringstrasse to head north towards the suburb of Nussdorf. This would entail crossing the roadway.
The idea that the tram driver, with an articulated tramcar plus a trailer, potentially both filled with punters, would have made the move without the traffic signal showing a clear aspect, is absurd. Most likely is that the lorry driver either misread or missed completely the equivalent traffic light, and thus the contact.
But the hacks’ mindset, as in the UK, states otherwise, so the humble tramcar becomes demonised.
The Voyage Home
Along with all the other punters who had figured out that the “ordinary” trains from central Vienna out to the airport were as frequent and not much slower than the dedicated City Airport Train (CAT), I paid my EUR 3.60 – as against the EUR 9 for the CAT – and still enjoyed a reasonably comfortable and timely journey. This time I was routed via Munich and in the hands of Lufthansa – aided by another “partner” airline called Augsburg Airways.
What the idea of “partner” carriers is I’m not sure – they’re probably a cheaper way of doing business. Augsburg turned out an Embraer 195 for the short hop to Munich (about 45 minutes flying time, but a whole four and a half hours by rail) which was modern and quiet. The Brazilian firm has come a long way since they majored in prop planes like the Bandierante, which a retired ATPL holder in my extended family described from first hand experience as “A bloody awful aircraft”.
Munich’s new build airport – the one where the 1958 crash happened closed some years ago – was built on a green field site well north of the city, with parallel runways either side of the terminal, not unlike Heathrow before T4 opened. It’s still nowhere near capacity, and as an added bonus, transit passengers do not have to suffer yet another security check – Zürich and CDG take note.
And taking me back to Manchester was a familiar sight, an Avro RJ-85, a type that has been doing the route for long enough for me to have flown in one back in 1998. That was for work, someone else picked up the tab, and in those days Lufthansa made the whole plane “City Class”: you got a proper meal in flight. Financial reality now dictates that punters get a cheese sarnie and a fun size Bounty.
But, this being a German carrier, the beer is still taken seriously. It comes in a bottle – none of this pratting about with cans – and the contents conform to Rheinheitsgebot, which means water, malted barley and hops only. You can have another bottle if you want, which makes the flight relaxing and civilised.
But return to the UK brings a variety of reality: after exiting the aircraft, two out of three travelators within Terminal 1 not working, the wait for passport control under the large sign proclaiming “UK Border”, another enforced passage through an alleged tax free shop, having to go outside the terminal building to get to the overhead walkway, and ticket barrier checks at the station. Then on leaving Crewe station the wind blew and it rained.
Welcome home!
What the idea of “partner” carriers is I’m not sure – they’re probably a cheaper way of doing business. Augsburg turned out an Embraer 195 for the short hop to Munich (about 45 minutes flying time, but a whole four and a half hours by rail) which was modern and quiet. The Brazilian firm has come a long way since they majored in prop planes like the Bandierante, which a retired ATPL holder in my extended family described from first hand experience as “A bloody awful aircraft”.
Munich’s new build airport – the one where the 1958 crash happened closed some years ago – was built on a green field site well north of the city, with parallel runways either side of the terminal, not unlike Heathrow before T4 opened. It’s still nowhere near capacity, and as an added bonus, transit passengers do not have to suffer yet another security check – Zürich and CDG take note.
And taking me back to Manchester was a familiar sight, an Avro RJ-85, a type that has been doing the route for long enough for me to have flown in one back in 1998. That was for work, someone else picked up the tab, and in those days Lufthansa made the whole plane “City Class”: you got a proper meal in flight. Financial reality now dictates that punters get a cheese sarnie and a fun size Bounty.
But, this being a German carrier, the beer is still taken seriously. It comes in a bottle – none of this pratting about with cans – and the contents conform to Rheinheitsgebot, which means water, malted barley and hops only. You can have another bottle if you want, which makes the flight relaxing and civilised.
But return to the UK brings a variety of reality: after exiting the aircraft, two out of three travelators within Terminal 1 not working, the wait for passport control under the large sign proclaiming “UK Border”, another enforced passage through an alleged tax free shop, having to go outside the terminal building to get to the overhead walkway, and ticket barrier checks at the station. Then on leaving Crewe station the wind blew and it rained.
Welcome home!
Monday, 7 September 2009
Homeward Bound
The Vienna trip is coming to a close. Weather is lovely and warm, unlike the misery of last Friday, and today the city has been at work and therefore hectic. Tomorrow is home time, and one thing is certain: it won’t be via Zürich. Such is the wonder of Opodo.
One thing that links so many cities in the EU – from the Vienna Schnellbahn to the Metro do Porto – is the use of English as a de facto second language. So many now speak English to a reasonable standard that, in the city at least, few Brits need more than a few words of the local tongue. The French may be making a half hearted effort to resist the tide of Anglicisation, but they’re in a minority within the EU.
Yet, having got the EU to speak our language – check the EU’s own website and see what is the default for any publication – there are those like Dan, Dan the Oratory Man, who wants us to come out, and stand, presumably, in glorious isolation, with Murdoch the Interfering Foreigner egging him on.
The UK never has been as happy about the EU as many of the other member states: here in Vienna, public buildings fly both the Austrian and EU flags together. Not something we do much in the UK.
Perhaps those who, like me, hold a generally positive attitude to the EU should speak a little louder, have a little more confidence, and not shy away from the debate.
It’s sod all to do with Rupe anyway.
One thing that links so many cities in the EU – from the Vienna Schnellbahn to the Metro do Porto – is the use of English as a de facto second language. So many now speak English to a reasonable standard that, in the city at least, few Brits need more than a few words of the local tongue. The French may be making a half hearted effort to resist the tide of Anglicisation, but they’re in a minority within the EU.
Yet, having got the EU to speak our language – check the EU’s own website and see what is the default for any publication – there are those like Dan, Dan the Oratory Man, who wants us to come out, and stand, presumably, in glorious isolation, with Murdoch the Interfering Foreigner egging him on.
The UK never has been as happy about the EU as many of the other member states: here in Vienna, public buildings fly both the Austrian and EU flags together. Not something we do much in the UK.
Perhaps those who, like me, hold a generally positive attitude to the EU should speak a little louder, have a little more confidence, and not shy away from the debate.
It’s sod all to do with Rupe anyway.
All That Glisters ...
Today started with a quick tour of the Stadtpark. Here, apart from the welcome green space, are memorials to lots of Austria’s great and good from years gone by. The composers include Anton Bruckner, for so many years hardly known outside his home country, and of course the younger Johann Strauss.
The Strauss memorial has a stylised shining golden statue of the composer, and perhaps it’s just me, but it looks like the ultimately tacky tribute. But lots of tourists want to have their photo taken next to it, unlike the smaller and less obvious tribute to Franz Schubert, whose output of songs and chamber music puts the younger Strauss well and truly in the shade.
The standard of Schubert’s legacy is rather higher, too, and had he not been taken too early, at the age of only 31, what he might have achieved is the stuff of dreams. But ordinary folks like their walzes, and so they flock to the golden statue of Strauss.
And even less bother looking at Bruckner. Such is life.
The Strauss memorial has a stylised shining golden statue of the composer, and perhaps it’s just me, but it looks like the ultimately tacky tribute. But lots of tourists want to have their photo taken next to it, unlike the smaller and less obvious tribute to Franz Schubert, whose output of songs and chamber music puts the younger Strauss well and truly in the shade.
The standard of Schubert’s legacy is rather higher, too, and had he not been taken too early, at the age of only 31, what he might have achieved is the stuff of dreams. But ordinary folks like their walzes, and so they flock to the golden statue of Strauss.
And even less bother looking at Bruckner. Such is life.
Sunday, 6 September 2009
Don’t Mention the War
The tourist itinerary in Vienna has those seminal items that mark the history of ordinary folk: one such is the Hochstrahlbrunnen just south of Schwarzenbergplatz. This spectacular fountain celebrates the opening of the city’s first water supply from the nearby hills – well, no further than 90 km away.
Behind the fountain is a large memorial, which appears to commemorate a war. But it is not in the guidebook. Curious. But a closer look provides the answer: the script around the top of the semi circular colonnade is in Cyrillic. This monument is a Russian one, celebrating their role in the ending of World War 2.
Why the problem? Well, the war ended in 1945, but the Russians did not finally leave Austrian soil until the end of the 1950s. So their monument is there, it’s looked after, but it’s not celebrated too enthusiastically.
Not that I mentioned that.
Behind the fountain is a large memorial, which appears to commemorate a war. But it is not in the guidebook. Curious. But a closer look provides the answer: the script around the top of the semi circular colonnade is in Cyrillic. This monument is a Russian one, celebrating their role in the ending of World War 2.
Why the problem? Well, the war ended in 1945, but the Russians did not finally leave Austrian soil until the end of the 1950s. So their monument is there, it’s looked after, but it’s not celebrated too enthusiastically.
Not that I mentioned that.
Up In Smoke
The law in the UK is clear: no smoking inside any enclosed public area. It doesn’t seem so clear in Austria.
While out having eats this evening, at the next table was a young woman with a laptop addiction: it was permanently open, but not distracting or otherwise harming anyone else. Behind her, at the bar, the only taker was joined by two friends. One of them decided to light up, which went down badly with the laptop user: she asked to be moved.
This news was relayed back to those at the bar, and the smoker was not happy at being fingered for another’s complaint. But that addiction – you wouldn’t smoke purely for any kind of pleasure – was affecting anyone around.
My conclusion, as ever, was that I have no problem with anyone who suffers from an addiction to any kind of drug, so long as they keep the side effects to themselves.
Not easy for smokers.
While out having eats this evening, at the next table was a young woman with a laptop addiction: it was permanently open, but not distracting or otherwise harming anyone else. Behind her, at the bar, the only taker was joined by two friends. One of them decided to light up, which went down badly with the laptop user: she asked to be moved.
This news was relayed back to those at the bar, and the smoker was not happy at being fingered for another’s complaint. But that addiction – you wouldn’t smoke purely for any kind of pleasure – was affecting anyone around.
My conclusion, as ever, was that I have no problem with anyone who suffers from an addiction to any kind of drug, so long as they keep the side effects to themselves.
Not easy for smokers.
Another Trip on the Number 88
There are an awful lot of TV channels on offer nowadays, and yes, many of them are indeed awful. But in an increasingly crowded field, even the big players have to shout that bit louder to make themselves heard – even the BBC. So it was with little surprise that I read the news that the odious Nick Griffin, Oberscheissenführer of the British National Party (BNP), had been invited to appear on Question Time. He has, by all accounts, accepted. I’ll bet he has.
For Griffin is eager to get publicity for his repulsive views, being so full of himself that he actually believes that an appearance on a programme where adverse comment upon his views is highly likely may increase his popularity. The flip side, which states, roughly, that given sufficient rope, Griffin will string himself up with some style, does not enter. Only after the event will this occur to the BNP, and even then, it will be someone else’s fault.
The problem for Labour, it seems, is whether to put up a senior party figure against Griffin. The Tories have already said they’re up for it, and this I applaud: the BNP are best tackled by their opponents debating with them, and not allowing their views to be aired unchallenged. Big Al agrees that they should put someone up – he says it should be a minister, and that would be appropriate if the Tories are going to send one of the Shadow Cabinet.
Alan Johnson, it seems, has already declined. How about Hilary Benn? Quiet, yet thoughtful, calm, as trusted as any minister, and as incisive on his day as his Dad was.
Just the man to skewer the traveller on the Number 88.
For Griffin is eager to get publicity for his repulsive views, being so full of himself that he actually believes that an appearance on a programme where adverse comment upon his views is highly likely may increase his popularity. The flip side, which states, roughly, that given sufficient rope, Griffin will string himself up with some style, does not enter. Only after the event will this occur to the BNP, and even then, it will be someone else’s fault.
The problem for Labour, it seems, is whether to put up a senior party figure against Griffin. The Tories have already said they’re up for it, and this I applaud: the BNP are best tackled by their opponents debating with them, and not allowing their views to be aired unchallenged. Big Al agrees that they should put someone up – he says it should be a minister, and that would be appropriate if the Tories are going to send one of the Shadow Cabinet.
Alan Johnson, it seems, has already declined. How about Hilary Benn? Quiet, yet thoughtful, calm, as trusted as any minister, and as incisive on his day as his Dad was.
Just the man to skewer the traveller on the Number 88.
A Message from our Sponsor
Sightseeing is, well, about seeing the sights, not forgetting to take along the camera and record everything for later. My selection from Vienna will appear later on my Fotopic site, which grows like Topsy with each city visit.
Unfortunately, photography now has another dimension: that of avoiding or minimising the sponsor’s message. What do I mean? Well, today when I arrived at the Votivkirche, built to commemorate Franz Josef’s survival of an assassination attempt in 1853, I first wondered if the pattern of the spires had influenced Gaudi in his epic conception of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.
Then I thought at length how I could get a shot of the place without the stonking great Kia Ceed advert draped down the front of the structure. Unfortunately it wasn’t possible to remove it from view, but by shooting the subject from the south, rather than south east, makes it look less obvious.
Anyhow, don’t let me influence anyone on their choice of new car.
Unfortunately, photography now has another dimension: that of avoiding or minimising the sponsor’s message. What do I mean? Well, today when I arrived at the Votivkirche, built to commemorate Franz Josef’s survival of an assassination attempt in 1853, I first wondered if the pattern of the spires had influenced Gaudi in his epic conception of the Sagrada Familia in Barcelona.
Then I thought at length how I could get a shot of the place without the stonking great Kia Ceed advert draped down the front of the structure. Unfortunately it wasn’t possible to remove it from view, but by shooting the subject from the south, rather than south east, makes it look less obvious.
Anyhow, don’t let me influence anyone on their choice of new car.
Saturday, 5 September 2009
Oh I Wept
Today’s sightseeing was almost bookended by the sad and moving, demonstrating the turbulent history of Vienna and, indeed, much of middle Europe.
Early today, I walked from the Stephansdom north, through quiet and narrow streets, and ultimately to Judenplatz, where a plain, square monument commemorates the 65,000 Jews rounded up, taken away and killed by the Nazis in the latter years of World War 2. There is little decoration, with prominence given to the inscription in Hebrew. Vienna was not the only city where this happened: it was grim routine wherever the Third Reich ruled.
Anti-Semitism was part of life in the early 20th Century, yet the lengths that the Nazis went to were as perverse as they were brutal. At the very beginning of the Century, it was not possible for Jews to even occupy certain jobs, and here my second visit enters. In the quiet of the afternoon, a tram ride took me out to the cemetery of Grinzing, to pay my respects to one of the greatest of musicians, which was Gustav Mahler.
The impending upheaval in Europe was something that Mahler foretold, especially in his unfinished Tenth Symphony: the breakdown of order is spelt out in the opening slow movement. He was born a Jew, but converted to Catholicism in order to become director of the Vienna Opera. He made his career not by composing, but by conducting: Sergei Rachmaninov described him as “the only conductor worthy to be compared to Nikisch”.
When he died, Mahler’s coffin was taken to Grinzing for burial, as a storm raged: then, as the casket was lowered into the ground, the sun shone. Among all the grand looking headstones, his appears plain – you could easily miss it. Only his name is shown – no dates, or other clues as to who he was. This was as he had instructed. Asked why, he answered simply.
“Those that know me will know where to find me, and those that do not will not need to know”
Early today, I walked from the Stephansdom north, through quiet and narrow streets, and ultimately to Judenplatz, where a plain, square monument commemorates the 65,000 Jews rounded up, taken away and killed by the Nazis in the latter years of World War 2. There is little decoration, with prominence given to the inscription in Hebrew. Vienna was not the only city where this happened: it was grim routine wherever the Third Reich ruled.
Anti-Semitism was part of life in the early 20th Century, yet the lengths that the Nazis went to were as perverse as they were brutal. At the very beginning of the Century, it was not possible for Jews to even occupy certain jobs, and here my second visit enters. In the quiet of the afternoon, a tram ride took me out to the cemetery of Grinzing, to pay my respects to one of the greatest of musicians, which was Gustav Mahler.
The impending upheaval in Europe was something that Mahler foretold, especially in his unfinished Tenth Symphony: the breakdown of order is spelt out in the opening slow movement. He was born a Jew, but converted to Catholicism in order to become director of the Vienna Opera. He made his career not by composing, but by conducting: Sergei Rachmaninov described him as “the only conductor worthy to be compared to Nikisch”.
When he died, Mahler’s coffin was taken to Grinzing for burial, as a storm raged: then, as the casket was lowered into the ground, the sun shone. Among all the grand looking headstones, his appears plain – you could easily miss it. Only his name is shown – no dates, or other clues as to who he was. This was as he had instructed. Asked why, he answered simply.
“Those that know me will know where to find me, and those that do not will not need to know”
Transport of some Delight
Today the rain had finally stopped, and so it was time to explore Vienna. And this is made easy by use of the city’s excellent public transport system. No doubt some will prefer a hire car, taxi or the horse and trap provided in order to relieve tourists of their money, but the coverage of the transport system, and its ease of use, is persuasive: a 72 hour ticket costs EUR 13.60, which in Sterling works out at less than four quid a day.
The design of the interchanges is one way in which using the system has been made easier: tram routes coming into the city connect on the level with other trams, or via pedestrian subways, and those subways also feed into the U-Bahn (or underground, as we might say). Also connecting seamlessly is the Schnellbahn, a network of what we would term “heavy rail” lines. The “Innere Stadt”, the very heart of the city, is served by hopper buses: no tourist should feel left out.
And, between the transport and the sights, comes walking. Overweight? This is the one for you.
The design of the interchanges is one way in which using the system has been made easier: tram routes coming into the city connect on the level with other trams, or via pedestrian subways, and those subways also feed into the U-Bahn (or underground, as we might say). Also connecting seamlessly is the Schnellbahn, a network of what we would term “heavy rail” lines. The “Innere Stadt”, the very heart of the city, is served by hopper buses: no tourist should feel left out.
And, between the transport and the sights, comes walking. Overweight? This is the one for you.
Friday, 4 September 2009
Rear Ended in the Aldi
I’m on my travels this weekend: Zelo Street is therefore coming from Vienna for a few days. No-one should feel any envy at this news: arrival this afternoon was after a bumpy hop from Zürich, into a city with the rain coming, as Milligan might have said, in the direction of down.
But life must go on, and shopping is as ever a necessity. So it was that I found myself in the checkout queue at a nearby Aldi – well, here they call them Hofer – in front of a young woman who was balancing a conversation on her mobile with getting the contents of her trolley on to the belt.
Not, sad to say, with total success.
As I waited in line, there was a gasp from behind, then a crack as a bottle of inexpensive (but no doubt serviceable) sparkling wine burst open on the floor. It did at least stop the mobile usage and concentrate one person’s mind.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t planned for this, and didn’t pack another pair of jeans. So for the rest of the weekend I will be trailing an increasingly stale aroma of cheap vino. I’ll get over it, and who knows? It might be worth a seat on a crowded tram.
But life must go on, and shopping is as ever a necessity. So it was that I found myself in the checkout queue at a nearby Aldi – well, here they call them Hofer – in front of a young woman who was balancing a conversation on her mobile with getting the contents of her trolley on to the belt.
Not, sad to say, with total success.
As I waited in line, there was a gasp from behind, then a crack as a bottle of inexpensive (but no doubt serviceable) sparkling wine burst open on the floor. It did at least stop the mobile usage and concentrate one person’s mind.
Unfortunately, I hadn’t planned for this, and didn’t pack another pair of jeans. So for the rest of the weekend I will be trailing an increasingly stale aroma of cheap vino. I’ll get over it, and who knows? It might be worth a seat on a crowded tram.
World Class – No Chance
Travelling by air starts with an airport, and today’s was Manchester, recently dumped by Ryanair after standing firm on passenger charges. It’s probably the busiest airport outside the South East, so you’d expect it to be fit for purpose. As if.
First signs were promising: the escalators from station to concourse and then up to the overhead walkway were both working, and so apparently were the lifts (not always the case).
Unfortunately, once on the walkway, two out of three travelators were out of service, which is unacceptable. The escalator from the Swiss check-in up to Security was back in use, though.
And Security was also not fit for purpose, with queues of punters having to be held back as the number of staff on scan and search duty couldn’t move the masses quickly enough.
Following this, the arrangement in Terminal 1 whereby everyone is forced to walk through the allegedly duty free shop en route to the gate was still in place. Anyone from the Airport in the room? Cut this out – if you can’t get enough punters in the duty free without coercion, that’s your lookout.
Then, other than there being far too few places to sit without making use of one or other retail outlets, it was off to the gate and away. Eventually.
No doubt there will be more shortcomings to observe on the way back. Ho hum.
First signs were promising: the escalators from station to concourse and then up to the overhead walkway were both working, and so apparently were the lifts (not always the case).
Unfortunately, once on the walkway, two out of three travelators were out of service, which is unacceptable. The escalator from the Swiss check-in up to Security was back in use, though.
And Security was also not fit for purpose, with queues of punters having to be held back as the number of staff on scan and search duty couldn’t move the masses quickly enough.
Following this, the arrangement in Terminal 1 whereby everyone is forced to walk through the allegedly duty free shop en route to the gate was still in place. Anyone from the Airport in the room? Cut this out – if you can’t get enough punters in the duty free without coercion, that’s your lookout.
Then, other than there being far too few places to sit without making use of one or other retail outlets, it was off to the gate and away. Eventually.
No doubt there will be more shortcomings to observe on the way back. Ho hum.
Thursday, 3 September 2009
That’ll Cost You, Sport – 7
Another day, another exodus of advertisers: over on Fox News (fair and balanced my arse), the number of firms pulling their ads from airing on Glenn Beck’s show has passed sixty. Six zero. And it is not hard to see why.
As an aside, yes, I know that there have been a few Stateside items recently, but if you want to even try and understand the whole health care issue, figure out what politics is about across the pond, and get a handle on what the media is like without all that regulation that Murdoch Junior hates so much, my take is that it’s worth a look.
Beck, whose homespun yet particularly vile brand of presentation is actually taken as fact by some people, has gone beyond calling his President a “racist”. He’s now moved on to the memory of John Rockefeller (an arch capitalist if ever there was one) and has decided that John D was in fact a Communist. This is, apparently, because of the appearance of artwork around the Rockefeller Center. Not only that, Beck also says that Communists and Fascists are, well, pretty similar.
Now, if this weapons grade drivel were being pitched in a local bar, it would be interesting for the odd minute, but then dismissed as the ranting of someone who may have had too many sherbets. But it’s being sent out on prime time TV. View a few segments of Beck and the conclusion for many will be that the bloke is wacko, not dealing from a full deck, and out to lunch all at once. So why is he allowed to carry on?
Well, ultimately the decision is down to one man: Rupe himself. And the lack of any intervention suggests that Murdoch is happy to have Beck continue. It was once said that, if you wanted to know the Murdoch view on anything, you only needed to read a few Sun editorials. Nowadays you need to take in Fox News Channel, Beck included.
And this is the bloke whose endorsement Young Dave is chasing.
As an aside, yes, I know that there have been a few Stateside items recently, but if you want to even try and understand the whole health care issue, figure out what politics is about across the pond, and get a handle on what the media is like without all that regulation that Murdoch Junior hates so much, my take is that it’s worth a look.
Beck, whose homespun yet particularly vile brand of presentation is actually taken as fact by some people, has gone beyond calling his President a “racist”. He’s now moved on to the memory of John Rockefeller (an arch capitalist if ever there was one) and has decided that John D was in fact a Communist. This is, apparently, because of the appearance of artwork around the Rockefeller Center. Not only that, Beck also says that Communists and Fascists are, well, pretty similar.
Now, if this weapons grade drivel were being pitched in a local bar, it would be interesting for the odd minute, but then dismissed as the ranting of someone who may have had too many sherbets. But it’s being sent out on prime time TV. View a few segments of Beck and the conclusion for many will be that the bloke is wacko, not dealing from a full deck, and out to lunch all at once. So why is he allowed to carry on?
Well, ultimately the decision is down to one man: Rupe himself. And the lack of any intervention suggests that Murdoch is happy to have Beck continue. It was once said that, if you wanted to know the Murdoch view on anything, you only needed to read a few Sun editorials. Nowadays you need to take in Fox News Channel, Beck included.
And this is the bloke whose endorsement Young Dave is chasing.
It Was Seventy Years Ago Today
Spike Milligan, in his book Adolf Hitler – My Part in his Downfall, remembered the moment well:
... a man called Chamberlain who did Prime Minister impressions spoke on the wireless; he said “As from eleven o’clock we are at war with Germany.” (I loved the WE) “War?” said Mother. “It must have been something we said,” said Father.
Seventy years ago today, we did indeed declare war on Germany, and thus began a conflict that confirmed what Churchill’s disastrous return to the Gold Standard in 1925 had already told us – that Britain was in decline, and we ultimately needed the USA to join in if we were to emerge victorious.
Poor Neville Chamberlain. He got all the stick about “appeasement”, but the only ones who wanted the scrap were the Germans. At least he bought us some time, but even so, our armed forces were not ready for the task of holding back the Wehrmacht, let alone defeating it.
Chamberlain was not alone in trying to keep the peace with the Third Reich: Stalin did a rather more explicitly nasty deal in agreeing to carve up Poland with them. But the Russians, too, weren’t up for a full scale war – not at first, anyhow.
So why were the Germans so keen? Ah well. After the Great War, they got the blame for starting it, simply because they ended up on the losing side. It was their generals who had to undergo the humiliation of surrender, and their leaders who had the “Carthaginian Peace” of Versailles imposed upon them. Not long after, Germany suffered the pain of hyperinflation, and then years of high unemployment. And they were forbidden any significant rearmament.
The Nazis came to power in 1933, and started to spend on public works programs. By 1936, unemployment had almost disappeared, and, being a dictatorship, the Government had no difficulty imposing a wage and price ceiling, thus avoiding any risk of further inflation. Yes, the underlying economy was at times shaky, but the average German family had work, and stable prices.
Then, their armies – Hitler having long ago decided to ignore any sanction against rearmament – trounced the Allies and forced their generals to sign the surrender, in the same railway carriage used after the Great War. Thus was Versailles expunged. Small wonder the German public supported Hitler. He was, after the fall of France, genuinely popular.
Unfortunately for those same German people, they then trusted their leader rather too much.
... a man called Chamberlain who did Prime Minister impressions spoke on the wireless; he said “As from eleven o’clock we are at war with Germany.” (I loved the WE) “War?” said Mother. “It must have been something we said,” said Father.
Seventy years ago today, we did indeed declare war on Germany, and thus began a conflict that confirmed what Churchill’s disastrous return to the Gold Standard in 1925 had already told us – that Britain was in decline, and we ultimately needed the USA to join in if we were to emerge victorious.
Poor Neville Chamberlain. He got all the stick about “appeasement”, but the only ones who wanted the scrap were the Germans. At least he bought us some time, but even so, our armed forces were not ready for the task of holding back the Wehrmacht, let alone defeating it.
Chamberlain was not alone in trying to keep the peace with the Third Reich: Stalin did a rather more explicitly nasty deal in agreeing to carve up Poland with them. But the Russians, too, weren’t up for a full scale war – not at first, anyhow.
So why were the Germans so keen? Ah well. After the Great War, they got the blame for starting it, simply because they ended up on the losing side. It was their generals who had to undergo the humiliation of surrender, and their leaders who had the “Carthaginian Peace” of Versailles imposed upon them. Not long after, Germany suffered the pain of hyperinflation, and then years of high unemployment. And they were forbidden any significant rearmament.
The Nazis came to power in 1933, and started to spend on public works programs. By 1936, unemployment had almost disappeared, and, being a dictatorship, the Government had no difficulty imposing a wage and price ceiling, thus avoiding any risk of further inflation. Yes, the underlying economy was at times shaky, but the average German family had work, and stable prices.
Then, their armies – Hitler having long ago decided to ignore any sanction against rearmament – trounced the Allies and forced their generals to sign the surrender, in the same railway carriage used after the Great War. Thus was Versailles expunged. Small wonder the German public supported Hitler. He was, after the fall of France, genuinely popular.
Unfortunately for those same German people, they then trusted their leader rather too much.
Wednesday, 2 September 2009
Don’t Reach for the Sky – 2
You have to hand it to Rupe’s troops, if only for their brass neck. Knowing that the next General Election can’t be more than nine months away, they have invited Pa Broon, Young Dave and Corporal Clegg to take part in a live debate. Here’s the flip side: if it’s Rupe’s troops, that means Sky News (“First for Breaking Wind”). That’s right, the channel that garners all of 0.5% of the average viewing figure. The article by Sky News head man John Ryley, conveniently given full coverage by Murdoch paper The Times, is a magnificent example of blowhard piffle: Ryley comes over as arbiter of public decency, inquisitor and bully at the same time.
The cameras, he says, will be rolling, whoever does or does not turn up. And he pledges that the debate will be offered to other broadcasters as a simultaneous transmission. But then, he would, wouldn’t he? Sky News has such little audience share that Ryley and his pals are sufficiently desperate to get themselves more. But who will chair Sky’s dash for greatness? Well, it could be Adam Boulton, an immodest man with a lot to be modest about – including the coherence of his written English, as I noted previously – and he’s been allegedly blogging about the subject. I say allegedly, as the grammar in the post is almost faultless: I’m realistic enough not to suggest that he saw my critique of his written English, but clearly the message has got through from somewhere – if you’re going to say it, say it properly.
But, and not for the first time, I digress. What if two of the three party leaders fancied the challenge, but not Sky News? There would certainly be alternatives, other broadcasters more than happy to host them, and moderators that all three would be prepared to accept. The most obvious would be the Beeb, where a leaders’ debate could be done as a Question Time special: David Dimbleby would be acceptable to Labour, Lib Dem and Tory. Alternatively, Channel 4 and Jon Snow would also fit the bill. But why might that be acceptable where Sky would not?
A reading of John Ryley’s Times article should explain that: this is in the style of a schoolmaster chivvying three naughty boys. Not even Pax Jeremiah would take such an attitude towards party leaders. I’m sure that Young Dave would jump through Rupe’s hoops, but then, he wants the Murdoch endorsement. Pa Broon knows he isn’t going to get it, and Corporal Clegg wouldn’t dirty his hands, thanks very much. And if the other two didn’t show, Young Dave sitting there on his tod would be pointless.
Ryley could see his cameras roll over more than one empty chair. Serve him right.
The cameras, he says, will be rolling, whoever does or does not turn up. And he pledges that the debate will be offered to other broadcasters as a simultaneous transmission. But then, he would, wouldn’t he? Sky News has such little audience share that Ryley and his pals are sufficiently desperate to get themselves more. But who will chair Sky’s dash for greatness? Well, it could be Adam Boulton, an immodest man with a lot to be modest about – including the coherence of his written English, as I noted previously – and he’s been allegedly blogging about the subject. I say allegedly, as the grammar in the post is almost faultless: I’m realistic enough not to suggest that he saw my critique of his written English, but clearly the message has got through from somewhere – if you’re going to say it, say it properly.
But, and not for the first time, I digress. What if two of the three party leaders fancied the challenge, but not Sky News? There would certainly be alternatives, other broadcasters more than happy to host them, and moderators that all three would be prepared to accept. The most obvious would be the Beeb, where a leaders’ debate could be done as a Question Time special: David Dimbleby would be acceptable to Labour, Lib Dem and Tory. Alternatively, Channel 4 and Jon Snow would also fit the bill. But why might that be acceptable where Sky would not?
A reading of John Ryley’s Times article should explain that: this is in the style of a schoolmaster chivvying three naughty boys. Not even Pax Jeremiah would take such an attitude towards party leaders. I’m sure that Young Dave would jump through Rupe’s hoops, but then, he wants the Murdoch endorsement. Pa Broon knows he isn’t going to get it, and Corporal Clegg wouldn’t dirty his hands, thanks very much. And if the other two didn’t show, Young Dave sitting there on his tod would be pointless.
Ryley could see his cameras roll over more than one empty chair. Serve him right.
Stop Arsène About
Uefa have made their decision, and every viewing of the replay supports them: Arsenal striker Eduardo has been handed a two match ban for the latest incarnation of the Jürgen Klinsmann memorial dive. Gunners supporters will no doubt feel aggrieved, but neutrals will welcome a firm stand against what nice people call simulation, and those of a brutally honest disposition call cheating.
Unfortunately, Arsenal manager Arsène “Clouseau” Wenger is having difficulty admitting that Eduardo’s behaviour is out of order, describing Uefa’s pursuit of his man as a “witch hunt”.
Perhaps someone can get “Clouseau” on the pheune, tell him he has no rheum for argument, and not to meunkey about any further.
Unfortunately, Arsenal manager Arsène “Clouseau” Wenger is having difficulty admitting that Eduardo’s behaviour is out of order, describing Uefa’s pursuit of his man as a “witch hunt”.
Perhaps someone can get “Clouseau” on the pheune, tell him he has no rheum for argument, and not to meunkey about any further.
Tuesday, 1 September 2009
Departure Time?
As the number of British dead in Afghanistan passes 200, support for this war is starting to look wobbly. But, it might be thought, the clincher is that the US are still there, and still for seeing it through. Don’t you believe it.
Because in today’s Washington Post, columnist George F Will has said in forthright and unequivocal terms that the time has come to get out. The Post is a serious and often influential voice from the US’ Mainstream Media. And Will puts it plainly: we’re propping up a corrupt régime, the Taliban aren’t being permanently cleared out of regions like Helmand, the Kabul Government exercises control over no more than a third of the country, and it is estimated that only Somalia has a weaker state.
Also, the USA has the permanent spectre of Vietnam to remind its leaders what happens when an incumbent Government and its armed forces aren’t in control of their own country. It is worth recalling J K Galbraith’s analysis of the prospect faced by the USA in Indo-China:
“The saving of South Vietnam allied the United States with individuals whose moral posture few could defend. The gallery included corrupt and despotic politicians, corrupt and cowardly generals and a vast assortment of independent larcenists”
[The Age of Uncertainty, p249]
Fast forward half a century, substitute Afghanistan for South Vietnam, and there you have it. There will be more voices calling for an end to this involvement, and if the USA goes, we will have to go too.
Will ends by quoting Charles de Gaulle: “Genius ... sometimes consists of knowing when to stop”. Quite.
Because in today’s Washington Post, columnist George F Will has said in forthright and unequivocal terms that the time has come to get out. The Post is a serious and often influential voice from the US’ Mainstream Media. And Will puts it plainly: we’re propping up a corrupt régime, the Taliban aren’t being permanently cleared out of regions like Helmand, the Kabul Government exercises control over no more than a third of the country, and it is estimated that only Somalia has a weaker state.
Also, the USA has the permanent spectre of Vietnam to remind its leaders what happens when an incumbent Government and its armed forces aren’t in control of their own country. It is worth recalling J K Galbraith’s analysis of the prospect faced by the USA in Indo-China:
“The saving of South Vietnam allied the United States with individuals whose moral posture few could defend. The gallery included corrupt and despotic politicians, corrupt and cowardly generals and a vast assortment of independent larcenists”
[The Age of Uncertainty, p249]
Fast forward half a century, substitute Afghanistan for South Vietnam, and there you have it. There will be more voices calling for an end to this involvement, and if the USA goes, we will have to go too.
Will ends by quoting Charles de Gaulle: “Genius ... sometimes consists of knowing when to stop”. Quite.
A Question of Potentially Improved Judgment?
Six weeks’ holiday? Who’s running the country? Even given that these questions are part of the annual silly season, it does seem strange that Pa Broon, nominally workaholic Prime Minister, has managed to put his feet up for a whole six weeks, managing even to keep head below parapet on the al-Megrahi release. Or has he?
Because I don’t buy into this one. Brown doesn’t do “six weeks off”. The idea that someone who regularly puts in eighteen hour days – and every day – can suddenly switch off is not credible. He might not have been visible to the inhabitants of the Westminster Village, but he’s been up to something. And this may have been a good time to work, away from interruption and scrutiny.
Previously, I’ve noted that Brown has exercised questionable judgment on a number of occasions. If he expects to lead Labour into the next General Election – and that must come within the next nine months – then this is an area he has to sort out. If he’s for real on any kind of future, expect there to be differences in presentation, perhaps also personalities (don’t be surprised to see Big Al putting in the odd appearance, for instance) following the holidays.
The first test looks to be PMQs: Young Dave is jolly angry about the al-Megrahi business, and says there are limits to realpolitik (the kind of assertion that could prove as uncomfortable to a future Cameron Government as “ethical foreign policy” was to Tony Blair). How Pa Broon bats that one away will be instructive.
Because if he doesn’t, then that’s one more chance of pulling out the rabbit gone.
Because I don’t buy into this one. Brown doesn’t do “six weeks off”. The idea that someone who regularly puts in eighteen hour days – and every day – can suddenly switch off is not credible. He might not have been visible to the inhabitants of the Westminster Village, but he’s been up to something. And this may have been a good time to work, away from interruption and scrutiny.
Previously, I’ve noted that Brown has exercised questionable judgment on a number of occasions. If he expects to lead Labour into the next General Election – and that must come within the next nine months – then this is an area he has to sort out. If he’s for real on any kind of future, expect there to be differences in presentation, perhaps also personalities (don’t be surprised to see Big Al putting in the odd appearance, for instance) following the holidays.
The first test looks to be PMQs: Young Dave is jolly angry about the al-Megrahi business, and says there are limits to realpolitik (the kind of assertion that could prove as uncomfortable to a future Cameron Government as “ethical foreign policy” was to Tony Blair). How Pa Broon bats that one away will be instructive.
Because if he doesn’t, then that’s one more chance of pulling out the rabbit gone.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
