THAT WAS THE WEEK THAT WAS

LONDON LETTER 28th APRIL 2012

It seems to be raining in London now in proportions that would cause Mr Noah some concern; the sky is constantly slate grey and even when the sun does break through it does so merely to tease.

I have been absorbed by Leveson[1] and all events political. It is ironic that these events have taken place in a week when the BBC has moved its morning breakfast show to Manchester, in a silly attempt to be ‘politically sensitive’ and  to appease the anti-London brigade and show the BBC’s ‘commitment’[2] to the north. The result, as of course any halfwit could foresee, is that non of the primary actors in this unfolding drama was anywhere near the studio, all the interviews took place by video link from London!

The shortlist of the Orwell prize has been released with Christopher Hitchens exorcised from the list. (Nick Cohen, whose wonderful book You Can’t Read This Book, was released in January is not on the list either). This from a prize that was awarded to Mathew Parris!
The prize now has become a joke, not worth winning, except of course for the cash.

Watching Murdoch performing as Mr Humble at Leveson was particularly nauseating. However what struck me was what a pedestrian mind! It’s always the same with these bullies, with their ‘aura’ and ‘dynamic personalities,’ when stripped of their ability to frighten and intimidate they are seen for what they really are, rather pathetic, sad figures who seem to have been born minus whatever that quality is that makes the rest of us fully human.

The mask slipped just once and you knew then what this man was capable of, oh for happier days when he could have got on the phone to ‘Becky Brookes.’ “What have we got on this man Jay? He must have some skeletons? Go through his extended family, brothers, sisters, his wife and kids if you have to, I want to do his legs!”
Several people emerge from the whole sorry affair with real credit; one of them being Tom Watson MP. It is easy now to forget the level of threat and intimidation that he faced from News International [NI] and also how close NI came to getting away with it. If it had not been for the sheer dogged determination of people like Tom Watson and Nick Davies they must just have pulled it off. Tom is a good old fashioned working class socialist, very much in the old Labour mould; this is why the Sun hated him so much, he could not be bought or frightened off, and why they labelled him so dismissively ‘the tub of lard.’ He represents a dying tradition.

On a purely personal note I met on Friday with John, a man who is acting effectively at the moment as my literary agent. Unfortunately I cannot fully name him; however he has done wonders in locating outlet for some of my material, in particular a fable I have written for adolescents called Sentinel and Velvet. I cannot thank him enough for his efforts. During the course of my meeting with him he asked if there was anything on my blog that people would find offensive. I was not, unfortunately, quick witted enough to reply, “I certainly hope so.” It would however be somewhat ironic if I broke onto the wider literary world as a writer of anthropomorphic children’s stories!







[1] I think the current fashion is to render this, ‘literally glued to the television,’ conjuring up images of my self and a tube of super glue trying to establish an unnatural bond with my somewhat dated Sony TV.


[2] Another meaningless word, trotted out whenever actual thought fails.


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