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Showing posts from May, 2012

DEAD SOULS

1.The Wrong Kind of Victims
The last few days have witnessed possibly the worst atrocities committed in the town of Houla by Bashar al-Assad's regime; unfortunately the list of events competing for this sorry title increases daily. This morning I held my nose and visited the Stop the War website, of course there was no mention of the Syrian massacre.
Let us now do an exercise Here is a newspaper cutting from a major broadsheet newspaper,

The Israeli regime has been accused of renewing its attack on the Palistinian settlement, scene of the ongoing Palistinain Israili conflict's most gruesome single massacre, as Israili forces unleashed sniper fire and artillery shells on civilians trying to flee.’
Can you imagine what the Stop the War website would, rightly of course,make of such an attrocity? Now as it happens I have substituted Israel for Syria in this account, which comes from the Daily Telegraph’s report of the latest mass murder committed by the Syrian regime. The Stop the Wa…

THE LEVESON TRUTH COMMISSION

When Cameron was forced to set up the Leveson enquiry[1] he thought he was just throwing a particularly nasty problem into the long grass; how now he must regret the day his hand was forced. Instead of just exposing the particularly nauseating activities of a significant element of the tabloid press, it has turned a glaring spotlight onto our ruling elite and their grotesque enmeshment with the Murdoch and his long term project, a project that has already debased our democracy, turned politicians into lapdogs and massively increased the crudity of popular culture.
We were not supposed to see all these corrupt, toe curling and outright silly e-mails and text messages with their L.O.L.’s and XXX’s; we were not supposed to be able to glimpse into the seedy world of private dinner deals, nods and winks, the cosy chats over coffee and the consequent brazen deceit of the public. Now thanks to Leveson these things are exposed for the whole world to see. What Cameron wanted was a fig leaf, wh…

WECOME TO THE LONDON OLYMPICS CARE OF UNION CARBIDE, PREVIOUS SPONSORS OF THE BHOPAL DISASTER.

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I see that some people are upset that Olympic relay torches are being sold on e-bay, for, it seems, considerable sums of money.[1] I think I’m shocked that they’re shocked; the Olympics now a multi million pound branding exercise in corporate promotion, of everything from Coca Cola to McDonalds,[2] with a range of dubious corporations such as Dow Chemical, Rio Tinto and BP all seeking to clean up their image on the back of Usain Bolt and Rebecca Adlington
In a particularly grotesque development, nigh on impossible to satirise, ATOS an organisation whose role is to hustle sick and disabled people back to work, is sponsoring the Paralympics! Perhaps the makers of Agent Orange should sponsor Paralympic synchronised swimming?
Whilst for ordinary Londoners the Olympics feels like an event imposed upon the hapless city; tenants are evicted to provide a sky high rent dividend for landlords out of Olympic visitors, tube and bus services will be severely disrupted whilst special lanes will be c…

THE POLITICS OF DANCING NEW LOOK MAY 2012

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To celebrate the Queens Jubilee[1] I am re-vamping the Blog a little. You can see that I have given it a new spring like appearance, though do not be fooled by this verdant innocence, the grass contains snakes.

I have created 2 new stand alone pages, Posh Boys Tales of Cameron and the Upper Sixth will now form a separate page, with the tale regularly updated to reflect their ongoing adventures. Secondly, in tune with my love of the culinary arts I have had the temerity to create a stand alone recipe page, which will contain my own inventions and some of my favourite recipes. Wherever possible I will price these, since one of the skills I am seeking to develop is the cooking of quality tasting food on a budget.  As always feedback is always welcome.
The Novel 2024/The Last Revolutionary remains at:-
http://alextalbot2024.blogspot.co.uk/
Whilst poetry and short fiction can be found at:-
http://alextalbotdancingonthinice.blogspot.co.uk/


Thank you for visiting The Politics Of Dancing.






[1] Not …

LONDON LETTER MAY 20 2012

I returned to a grey London, cold in the morning, the apartment block encased in scaffolding, with green cladding wrapped around it as if the block was in a plaster cast; all very depressing.

A momentous week internationally with the Greek people being scapegoated for a capitalism system that appears to be imploding. Now I am not an economist[1] but even I can see the madness of trying to produce economic growth through austerity. As the Greek economy lies prostrate the German Chancellor demanding ever greater austerity reminds me of the 18th century ‘physicians’ hurrying to further bleed the dying patient.
These are as I say momentous days, the equivalent of those periods in history like the 1929 Stock Market Crash. Of course what people actually living through such events are pre-occupied with is trying to sort out the garden, preparing for a funeral or wedding, searching for mislaid keys or bank statements, history like life taking place when you are busy doing other things.
I watched…

POSH BOYS 2

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HOW JOHN FOTHRINGTON THOMAS JUNIOR GETS TO HEAR ABOUT CAMERON AND THE TOWN GIRL AND THAT ALL IS NOT WELL AT GREYTOWERS
The rumour running around the whole school now descended upon the delicate ears of John Fothrington Thomas. They were indeed delicate ears and these were far from delicate rumours. In truth the scandal concerning the highly esteemed David Cameron, DC to all the chaps in the upper sixth, Head Boy, senior prefect in Blue House, Captain of the first eleven and Rebecca the landlords daughter from the New Inn had been a whispered secret for some time, but its descent upon the innocent ears of John Fothringtom Thomas Junior of the lower fifth was a cause for him of deep consternation, for if true it suggested that the most esteemed boy in the school, the wondrous batsman who scored sixes with an elegant ease, was, of all things, could it be possibly true, a cad? Surely this could not be true; again if true it would mean he had been walking out with a girl and a town girl at …

SENTINEL AND VELVET

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Dear Reader the following events took place very recently in a place very close to where you live.


SENTINEL AND VELVET
A Fable for 11 – 81 yr olds






http://alextalbotdancingonthinice.blogspot.co.uk/2012/05/sentinel-and-velvet.html

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SQUEEZED FROM THE TOOTHPASTE TUBE

There is some Tory MP by the name of Bone;[1] who seems to imagine it is the height of wit to adopt the device of quoting the real or imagined remarks of Mrs Bone as if she were the font of all wisdom and something called ‘common sense.’Can someone please advise him to the contrary by playfully striking him on the head with a plank of wood?

I would say I do not mind so much the constant rain,[2] but this would be untrue since I do mind, I take it personally, but what really irks me is to be constantly told that it is the wrong sort of rain, rain at the wrong time or simply insufficient to deal with the drought.[3] Thames Water have now taken it upon themselves to place adverts on the tube at every stage of your ascent or descent on the escalator pushing this latter point home, this feels like having a custard pie rubbed in your face just as you are about to emerge once more onto the London Streets to get yet another soaking.
The astonishing arrogance of your average right wing Tory MP …

A SHROPSHIRE LAD[1]

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Tomorrow I will be travelling back to Shropshire. I say back as this is where, as the Americans say, I was raised and where, to paraphrase Philip Larkin, my adolescence was unspent.
Shropshire is the most quintessential English county, indeed one could say that Shropshire is England; travelling further north you cross the border into another country which is, helpfully, called The North. This itself is subdivided into sub states, such as Yorkshire, full of people who can best be described as queer folk, not to be confused with an over predominance of homosexuality but in the sense of people who imagine themselves wholly different from the rest of the human race,and who are we to argue. Further North still there lies a strange country called Geordie land, a place where people speak in a tongue hitherto unknown to humanity, indeed if it can be called speech, let alone be categorised as a language. The less said about these strange people the better.
To the west is the independent city sta…

GREEK COCKPIT

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‘It's clear that there is no alternative to austerity. Angela Merkel's most important allies, the ratings agencies, would immediately and mercilessly punish countries that run up excessive new debts.’[1]

When I was young it was the ‘gnomes of Zurich,’ now it is the faceless, unelected, unaccountable, often feckless and reckless Credit Rating Agencies who hang like a spectre over democratic politics. We are now entering the age of democratic structures that offer it citizens the Henry Ford choice, you can have any colour you like so long as it’s black.
Yesterday on the news programmes out popped the pundits, insouciant to the claims of democracy, declaring that it did not matter which way the French people voted it would be the markets that dictated the direction of the French economy.[2]
Throughout Europe it is the unelected bureaucrat, the academic, the business tycoon and the men, and occasionally women, deemed to be ‘above politics,’ whatever that might mean, who are presentin…

POSH BOYS

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POSH BOYS
TALES OF CAMERON AND THE UPPER SIXTH STARRING PICKLES THE FAT OWL OF THE REMOVE “I say you chaps,” it was the much abused Clegg Senior, still called The Fag behind his back, who popped his head around the door, interrupting the late afternoon feast, “have you seen David?” Osborne took another mouthful of crumpet and looked up from where he was reclining in the sequestered window alcove and sighed, “No Cleggy old chap he’s down at Matron’s, didn’t he tell you. He always sees Matron on Thursdays!” Clegg smiled shyly, “Oh right, thanks chaps,” he hesitated for a moment, looking at the tempting plate of crumpets. “Do move along old chap” it was Two Brains Willets who broke his silent deliberations, “your creating a draught and we are having a something of a private meeting old boy.” “Right ho,” Clegg closed the door and silently slunk away. “He is an awful clot that Clegg,” declared Grayling. “Utterly wet and windy,” interjected Duncan Smith. “Total Arse,” concluded Gove. “Definite streak…

CHRISTOPHER HITCHENS, ORWELL AND THE ORWELL PRIZE

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The shortlist of the Orwell prize has been released with Christopher Hitchens name excised from the list. I cannot find any particular reason for his exclusion though it would not have bothered The Hitch, for as Robert McCrum has observed in The Guardian:

Really, it's a shame Hitchens is no longer around to make hay with the ideas that: a) he was troubled by prizes; b) he had somehow always hankered after the Orwell trophy; and c) there can be any meaning whatever in handing out posthumous awards to books whose authors are beyond the reach of lunch, dinner, and especially critics.[1]
However it is interesting that both Christopher Hitchens and Nick Cohen have both been ignored by the panel. Given the absence of transparency one can only speculate.
Some have stated that the panel was only interested in previously unpublished material and as Christopher’s book Arguably consisted of a collection of essays going back several decades it lay outside their concern. Well on that criteria Or…