This article is for my public sector employed, Guardian reading, wider family. It is for the oh so middle class lefty sociologist pals of the Mrs and for my business partner Darren Atwater who, being Canadian, is on the wrong side of history on everything and is by definition a deluded lefty. When it comes to Brexit, which sort of remoaner are you?
Of course Britain’s head teachers (700 of whom earn more than £100,000 a year) could have taken the day off to go on a march against education “cuts” in London during their 13 weeks annual leave. They did not but are marching today as the state funded propagator of fake news, the BBC reported with pleasure. At least that will mean fewer head teachers getting six year olds to write same sex love letters to each other.
The BBC admitted that, as the Government stated, actual spending on schools had increased last year to its highest ever but insisted that it real terms it had been cut by 8%. Really, is inflation running at 10%? Why did no-one tell us this. For that is what a real term adjustment actually means.
But not if you are a head teacher or the BBC. Its real term adjustments are for increased number of pupils and higher costs. Yes pupil numbers are marginally up but that does not feed through directly into costs. A 1% or 2% increase in pupils does not mean you need 1$ or 2% more teachers or classrooms or school playing fields. There is an inbuilt economy of scale.
And of course costs may have gone up. Head Teacher pay, for instance, went up. But you do not “real term adjust” how much the Government gives just because some Guardian reading fat cats award themselves even bigger cream allowances.
There may or may not be an issue with education funding but serving up bogus data and having Pravda report it as fact is not going to help anyone have an informed debate about it.
And thus there will be a small ceremony on Saturday. My daughter will take Joshua for a walk allowing a few of us to bury the urn close to that of Kitosh whose ashes were finally laid to rest here a few years after his demise and to say a few words of farewell. There is not room underneath the rhubarb plant where the body of Oakley’s Companion Tara lies.
Meanwhile, the Mrs is in Belfast on a piss up, I meant serious academic conference. I have been left strict instructions about washing, cleaning and other matters that can wait until Friday afternoon a couple of hours before she gets back. I have also been left a book called Goodbye Mog which I MUST read to Joshua.
Mog is a cat who lives with a ghastly family of tedious do-gooder liberals and my right-on sister has sent a number of Mog books for Joshua to read. I make a few changes as I read them to my lad, to make Mog’s dreary Guardian reading family a bit more entertaining. Your son wants to dress up like a Greenham Common woman? Fine. But allow me to explain to Joshua that this is not normal. Dirty Harry does not dress like that because he is a real man. Comprende? The daughter is a vegan? Whatever – that is why she looks like she has cancer. Eat some of Mog’s food FFS and get healthy you pathetic snowflake.
But this book, borrowed from the library, is about Mog’s demise and what happens next. It is predictably drippy but I will obey orders. I’m a good German. Last night, Joshua and I watched the Paddington Movie but maybe tonight I shall inflict Mog’s demise on the poor boy. And then we can watch an old Clint film to cheer him up.
I have been consistent over many years in my belief that at almost every level the Oxfam charity is not fit for purpose, as you can see from a stream of articles HERE. I try to persuade my reactionary old father that he should stop pretending to my PC sisters that he is one of them by giving money to Oxfam but to no avail. Maybe today I might get my way, you see it appears his cash has been spent on underage hookers.
Dad should have cancelled his direct debit a few weeks ago when Oxfam launched a ludicrous report on poverty. Its claim then was that the 62 richest folks in the world had the same wealth as the 3.6 billion poorest and that this poverty ( i.e inequality) must be eradicated and that we should give it cash to stamp that out.
Of course that is nonsense. In the Oxfam work view if we were to shoot the 62 richest folks (can I have Saint Bono if, after all his tax avoidance the old hypocrite is on the list please?) and burn all their cash thee gap between rich and poor would narrow so there would be less of what we define as poverty. Of course this would make absolutely no difference at all to those who are in absolute terms poor, starving or unable to afford clothing or housing.
Relative poverty is a concept for middle class and affluent lefties to wank off about. Absolute poverty is what must be tackled. And you do that not by attacking the rich but by encouraging capitalism which, where it has been allowed to flourish, has seen the numbers of folk starving or without housing fall dramatically. Absolute poverty still flourishes in economies drowning in NGOs but starved of capitalism.
My father almost accepted that point but he still supports Oxfam. Maybe today's headline in the Times might change his view. It seems that seven Oxfam workers put up in luxury accommodation by the charity in Haiti were using their Oxfam wages to have sex with hookers, many of them under-age. The workers included the head of Country operations and while four were fired the three most senior were allowed to resign to spare any blushes.
Accountability is always weak in organisations such as Oxfam but now Dad knows where some of his generous donations have gone. I appreciate that he is keen to leave as little as possible to what he terms the "nest of vipers"that is to say my five siblings and me. But, perhaps, there is a marginally less degenerate charity employing a few less Guardian reading tossers on £100,000 a year or more and spending a bit less on underage hookers than Oxfam out there who he might consider bankrolling?
However, I generally did wear one. Partly that was to annoy Guardian reading friends of my Mrs who used words like nationalism and imperialism when they saw the flower appear. And partly because I have real respect for the ordinary men and women who made the ultimate sacrifice for their country. However pointless the conflict, and World War One was the ultimate in pointless wars, those who fell were brave and believed they were doing the right thing in serving their country, whichever country that was. They have my respect.
How things have changed in just a few years. The left is resurgent. And so we see the Rev Steve Bailey of Oadby banning Onward Christian Soldiers from his Remembrance day service lest it offend folks of other faiths. The only non Christian who regularly attends Bailey's Armistice Day service is a Hindu veteran who things the vicar is a loon. Of course he is.
Over in the little read and patronising rag that is the dreary Independent last year, perennial loon Robert Fisk argued that the poppy was racist since it was largely worn by we Brexit lovers who want to throw our wartime allies (the Poles etc) out of Britain. Of course we do not and have never said we would and outside the media bubble millions of ordinary folks wear poppies as a quiet sign of respect for men of all races and all colours who died fighting for their country. They have nothing to do with Brexit or racism or anything bad.
There may be a few racists who wear poppies but that does not mean they own the flower. This is the sort of logic that for many years saw metropolitan elitists like Fisk shun the National Flag since it had "become the symbol of the extreme right". Of course it had not and eventually that idiotic thinking was abandoned.
In the face of more pressure from folks who are wrong on every great issue of our time to wear no poppy or a white poppy, my mind is made up. It is a red poppy for me with money going to a good cause, my respects for the dead paid and my contempt for an increasing number of the living demonstrated..
If folks like me say that Jeremy Corbyn's Labour party is so infected with the virus of anti-semitism that it has become institutionalised I am accused - as an out and proud right winger but also as a proud Zionist - of smearing. The video below is remarkable in that it is produced by and features a raft of fully paid up Guardian reading, left wing academics, many indeed are Labour Party members. It is a truly shocking expose of the evil at the heart of the British left.
I suggested to the Mrs, a Guardian reading sociology lecturing paid up member of the Labour party, that she should start looking at Irish websites to see where we will flee in the event of a Labour victory on June 8th. She seems unconvinced. Worse still, our household is a democracy and eight month old Joshua will get the casting vote.
I have done my bit. He waves his arms enthusiastically as I chant "lock her up" if we see Hillary Clinton on the TV. He is a quick learner. I have amended certain nursery rhymes so that they give out a powerful message on the virtues of hard work, thrift and self reliance. But the Mrs offsets this by taking him to Politically Correct Nursery Rhyme classes run by the crackpots at Bristol City Council. No more drunken sailors, etc.
And now I discover that Bernie Sanders is in Bristol tomorrow. I have suggested that if it is okay for Bernie to have three houses we should too but I fear that is not what the old fool will be discussing. Joshua will be brainwashed with a lot of nonsense about how Corbyn is the answer to all our problems, global warming, the evil Trump and other matters. How I pray that he will loudly utter his first words "lock her up - drain the swamp" at an opportune moment.
I fear that he will not and the emigration vote is thus looking like 2-1 against me. But I still have hopes that Joshua may see the light with a bit more prepping. The Mrs is beyond redemption
I am back in Bristol for a few days and was wandering back from lunch with Joshua when we happened to pass the Conservative Club. The door was open and i was conscious that I needed to renew my father's membership. Though not a Tory, or indeed a Bristol resident, he likes the idea of being able to access cheep beer at a place not far from our house.
Thus, while spending £16 on the renewal, delighting in the idea of pinning Dad's membership card up on a wall at Shipston just to annoy my pious left wing public sector employed sisters, I asked if anyone was in the office upstairs which the Conservative Party uses at election time. It seems not. They must have been obeying the election halt called by Mrs May after the Manchester attacks. "Shame" said I, "Joshua and i were hoping to pick up a poster."
Luckily the lady said that they had a selection behind the bar. I eschewed ones celebrating Mrs May, I wanted to have lots of blue and the word Conservative on it, in order to really ensure that the Mrs (Labour voting, Guardian reading sociology lecturer) was annoyed as much as possible.
We on the right believe in freedom of expression but the Mrs points out that she owns the house and I am only a lodger and has thus barred myself and Joshua from displaying our nice new poster. This is regrettable - should I refuse to pay my rent?
Eight month old Joshua appears to want to nibble the poster which I take as a sign that he is a good Tory. Remember my son: greed is good. I want to put it in the window of the spare room which is where myself and Oakley are sent when one or other or both of us are in the doghouse.
From the folks who were among the 48% not the 52% a demand for "democracy not hypocrisy." In second place is "I am not leaving." Hmmmmmmm bad news for the silly witch holding that: "darling I am afraid that the votes of all those nasty old working class folks and white van drivers who voted to quit count for exactly the same those of as pampered Islington Guardian readers - in two years time we are ALL leaving."
It is called democracy and some folks should just accept that a democratic mandate trumps a tyranny of the minority any day.
The panel on BBC Question time were, with the exception of Peter Hitchens, who was predictably superb, truly dire. A daft lefty celeb, a truly thick labour MP - wasn't this a repeat? But it was the audience that never ceases to amaze me. How does the BBC manage to find a crowd week in week out which views the world so differently from the population as a whole. Last night's episode was a classic. Describing someone born outside the UK with a non British passport as a foreigner got one hissed and booed. That is a fact FFS. The highlight was an obviously middle class Guardian reader flagging up the real danger of Brexit: English people refuse to work in Cafe Nero so who will serve her a morning frothy semi skimmed organic Fair Trade latte? . I kid you not. At every level this sums up the insanity and lies of the remoaners, a matter I cover in this podcast.
As a father, I know how useful the goggle box can be as an assistant parent and thus after my mother's death my father understandably relented and bought us an old black and white TV. Who can blame a newly single parent from seeking assistance in this way. But for the first eight years of my life we lived without a TV and I think that I watched just three, or maybe four, programmes in that time.
This meant that when the boys and girls and Byfield Primary rabbited on about the latest rubbish on the box I had no idea what they were on about. On the other hand it meant that my sisters and I read lots of books and would while away evenings in front of the fire drawing maps or writing stories. That perhaps was the foundation for all three of us eventually getting into Oxbridge.
But mum did relent on three occasions. There was the wedding of Princess Anne. I do not think that either of my parents were ardent royalists. In fact I am pretty sure that my own Republicanism may have its roots in discussions we had as a family. But Anne's wedding was the biggest national event since the Coronation and so I watched that with my mum somewhere in the village.
The other times we were allowed to watch TV were programmes my mother and father actually wanted to see, Uncle Chris Booker on the telly. In the early 70s his big thing was not the EU. Do not tell anyone, but my great Eurosceptic uncle actually voted to stay in in 1975 unlike my, now Guardian reading Euro loon, father who loyally campaigned for the No side for which his Bennite father, Sir john winnifrith, was a spokesman. Back in the early 70s, 99% of scientists were warning us that global cooling was a fact and that a new ice age was on the way, so Chris had no need to debunk global warming myths. Instead his big thing was campaigning against the destruction of lovely old houses in London to make way for tower blocks and this twice made him the campaigning journalsit of the year.
And so dressed in my pyjamas and my sisters in their nighties we would walk up the little path that ran by the non Daventry side of Butterwell farm up to the nearest of two cottages behind our house. There lived Jack and Doris Boddington, the sort of folks whose families had lived in Byfield for centuries. Is it a coincidence that the surname was the same of the neighbouring village of Lower Boddington? In their garden which bordered onto Mr Peter Thompson's field behind our chicken barn, Jack kept a white rabbit called, I think, Snowy who will feature in the tales of the field at a later date. And that is all that I remember about Jack and Doris other than they were very old and a kindly couple.
They would welcome us all into their cottage. we would drink cocoa and watch Uncle Chris. I cannot remember that, aged five or six, I found his documentaries very interesting but it was exciting none the less, not because my uncle was on the telly but because, when you watch only one programme every two years, any programme was amazing. I wonder how many seven or eight year old's today can say they have watched only three programmes on the telly?.
I have noted before how the Guardianista cinema of choice for Bristol's pious liberal middle classes is the Watershed which encourages its devotees to comment on the films being watched by pinning post-its to a board. This brings out the worst in me.
Jackie, the story of JFK's widow, is one film showing right now. And thus one of the so much better than the plebs intellectual elite had posted "How sad that in 50 years the American Presidency goes from Camelot to Spamalot".
You are so fucking funny original and incisive are you not Mr Guardian reading tosser? Thus perhaps the only Donald Trump supporter ever to set foot inside the Watershed grabbed a post it and noted words to the effect of:
The hypocrisy of the liberal Elite. One President sleeps with half the women in DC and is a praised, another just talks about it and is pilloried. One almost starts World War three and is a hero while one tries to bring peace by talking to the Russians and is a zero. Go figure.
Given the commitment of the left to free speech my guess is that mt post it will have been removed within hours.
The left would tell you that the lower life expectancy of poor folks is down to poverty forcing them into unhealthy lifestyle choices. I will gloss over the fact that more poorer folks smoke or drink heavily than the affluent although no-one forces them to do so and just focus on food. Junk food is expensive. Healthy food can be far cheaper.
When in Shipston, staying with my father, I bought two pheasants from the butcher, pre plucked at £5.99. I saw many folks in the local Co-Op who were happily loading their baskets with more expensive pre-prepared junk meals.
For the past two nights the Mrs and I have dined on the pheasant. On Monday I roasted both and we ate one together with the last of the Christmas vegetables: sprouts in a garlic butter and honey glazed carrots. Last night I used up the last two large potatoes from Yuletide, making roast spuds. The other pheasant was reheated on a base of chopped onion on butter with a pint of stock added later with a dash of port.
That last bit of port was an extravegance but the total cost of two meals for two adults was, by my calculation, just under £7.50. That works out at £1.875 per person per meal. And what we had was healthy, balanced, filling, tasted fantastic and was far cheaper than junk food.
I realise pheasant is seasonal and probably only available for rural folks but equally I am pretty sure that if I went direct to someone in Shipston and was prepared to pluck a bird I could get those birds even more cheaply. Let the peasants eat pheasants.
If folks eat themselves to death it is not because they are poor it is because they make that lifestyle choice irrespective of what nanny state tells them or how much of, other people's, cash Guardian reading employees of the nanny state chucks at them
It was Oakley's birthday last week. Thank you to those who left messages for him on his facebook page. He is now fifteen. But I need to record that he is now starting to behave very badly indeed.
Naturally my Guardian reading Mrs gives the cat the run of the house whatever the scale of his crimes. And thus at about four in the morning he comes, from his main bedroom, the nursery, galloping up the stairs to the main bedroom. After wandering to the end of the bed in a circular direction as if he was attempting a Fosbury flop he launches himself on the foot of the bed.
He has now taken to marching to the top of the bed, ignoring the Mrs and lying on the pillow directly on top of my head. If that does not wake me up he may stick his claws into my shoulders. Naturally it is deemed a "breach of his 'uman rights" not to allow him in the room. Thus this is a daily ritual which only ends with me waking up and as I amble downstairs Oakley shooting passed me to start bleating in the Kitchen for food.
I offer him some food and head off to switch on my laptop. By the time I head back to make myself a coffee Oakley has scuttled off back to bed where he sleeps on my side gazing at the Mrs. But not before he has left me a present on the front doorstep. Sometimes its wee, at other times worse and now and again both.
I am beginning to think that I might raise with the Mrs the issue of my 'uman rights rather than those of Oakley. Surely mine trump his? You might think that, but as I describe his latest crimes, the Mrs just gazes at Oakley and whispers sweet nothings to him. In her eyes he can do no wrong. I am at the bottom of the 'uman rights pecking order in this house.
I thought it was a good name. Unusual and reminiscent of an era when Britain made things, was a truly prosperous nation and before we all demanded shelter from cradle to grave in the safe space underneath the great Money Tree. But the Mrs disagreed. And so our son is called Joshua not Ebenezer.
I saw a production of the Christmas Carol last week and poor old Scrooge got a really hard time. In the first part of the tale he is a hero, a wealth creator, a provider of employment, the sort of man we can all admire. Then those pesky ghosts arrive and in the space of a night they turn him into a Guardian reading liberal with a spine made of Jelly. The play ends with him giving Bob Cratchit a huge pay rise.
What we are not told is that as a result of pushing Bob up to a "living wage" the firm of Scrooge & Marley got into severe financial difficulties and was forced to cease trading. It was okay for for the Cratchits. With seven kids, the welfare state looked after them and Bob signed up for housing benefit and the full works. With food banks providing all the junk food the family needed, Bob was able to spend the vast welfare cheques on fags and a subscription to Sky TV.
As for poor Ebenezer, he was mentioned as a model employer in a column by Owen Jones and was given an MBE after hiking Bob's pay but when the firm went under there was no whip round at the Guardian.
Instead it called for an enquiry into the dividends Scrooge had paid out many years previously, in better times. Ebenezer was stripped of his gong and died in penury and disgrace.
The moral of the tale is that Ebenezer should have told the ghosts (played by Owen Jones, Polly Toynbee and Keith Vaz) where to stick it and carried on creating wealth as a heroic Victorian entrepreneur. Instead his life was ruined and he ends up a pathetic figure who no right thinking individual can do other than pity.
Post Trump the BBC tries hard to show it is balanced by having an American on the Question Time panel. Naturally it always chooses a nutso liberal democrat so that he or she can join the other panelists and hand-picked audience of Guardian readers in saying that the victory of Trump reminds them all of Adolf Hitler and is awful. Heaven forbid that Question Time might actually invite on an enthusiastic Trump supporter to represent the 59 million. So this week's token yank was Mariana Mazzucato who actually teaches crazy economics over here at Sussex University. God only help her students.
Asked about Tony Blair making a possible return to front line politics she said that he was not credible because he thought that Labour needed to reach out to wealth creators, that is to say the private sector. You and I might think that Blair is ruled out for rather more serious reasons like lying to parliament about WMD, starting illegal wars, spending the past few years making millions working for Wall Street banksters and murderous dictators, etc, etc.
But not Mariana. That is because she wants us to recognise that the way forward is to accept that it is the public sector that is going to be the creator of wealth. Oh silly me and those other two million folks who risk our capital to set up small businesses to create jobs and generate incomes and profits on which taxes are paid. We are idiots and should just stay in bed. The state can go and create businesses for all. and everyone will be rich and happy just like they were in East Germany. Right on comrade..
To think that our taxes are going to pay the wages of this woman defies belief. Oh silly me. Her filling the minds of young folks with this rubbish is creating wealth, me risking my capital is doing nothing of the sort.
Okay Nimo is not exactly a neighbour. She lives in Easton a district of Bristol that is a bit more expensive than our own and full of edgy Guardian reading lefties. The Mrs and I both work but don't get to live in such a big house as Nimo because...she's on housing benefits. I pay my taxes so she gets a nicer house than me. Or maybe not as the lazy lardbucket has now, finally, been evicted after two years despite left wing action group Acorn and her sanctimonious neighbours trying to foil bailiffs with a human chain around chez Nimo.
Lets start twelve years ago when Nimo arrived here from Holland and moved into this house with her five kids. She is getting benefits but apparently is able to afford trips to Kenya to see her terminally ill dad. So she is a Kenyan, clearly not fleeing persecution, who lives in the UK in a big house paid for by the grateful taxpayer. What's not to like about that as I continue my working day that started God knows how many hours ago?
Nino reckons that her landlord wants to evict her because she complained about the damp. The landlord points out that she blocked workmen who tried to fix that problem and his more pressing reason is that she is more than three grand in arrears with her rent and refuses to pay up. What a bastard he is for demanding that he gets an economic return on his capital. He is just a typical uncaring capitalist pig. No wonder all the edgy left wing twits who live in Easton are on Nimo's side.
Meanwhile Acorn bleats about the cost of rented accomodation. It blames evil capitalist landlords. It does not consider for a second that it is our generous housing benefits system that pushes up rents across this City since the taxpayer will happily pick up a tab of up to £500 a week. If benefits were restricted to a level that would fund accommodation only in the very poorest parts of Bristol then rental prices in areas such as Easton would slide. What's not to like about that? I see no reason why my taxes should boost the profits of private landlords. Do you?
And so lardbucket Nimo has now waddled off into "emergency accommodation" paid for by the Council. I wonder how long that will last? I cannot imagine that private landlords will be lining up to offer her a house given that she may block any workmen who want to make repairs and that she now has well publicised form when it comes to not paying rent? One imagines that the whale like Nimo will thus be housed by the state for a very long time indeed.
How has it come to this? The stupidity of Acorn and the sort of loons who live in Easton is no surprise to me. But why is Nimo in this country at all? She is fleeing nothing. We should welcome with open arms folks who want to work hard who will make this country a better place for all but this fat slob is clearly just a taker not a giver.
It is all very well saying, as the middle class liberal left does constantly, that the UK is a rich country but as it happens we are running a vast deficit. The interest alone on our national debt is £45 billion a year. In the end, taxpayers have to pick up the tab and it is lower income taxpayers and the middle classes who feel that hit the hardest.
Here in Bristol many of the sort of folks who simply cannot afford to live in Easton are those sort of taxpayers. And the liberal elite wonders just why we, the great unwashed, are so pissed off with the way this country is structured. Enough grumbling, back to work for you and me, we have taxes to pay to support Nimo's next holiday back to Kenya or her "need" to live a subsidised existence in a better part of town than where I get by with no expectation that the State should or would upgrade me.
Like Labour front bencher Emily Thornberry, our morbidly obese three legged cat Oakley is terrified of actually meeting a member of the working classes. Thus when a man fixing the bathroom wanders in or the cleaners arrive, as soon as they start speaking Polish he bolts and hides. Maybe Oakley is a racist and does not like Poles? Actually It is not that they are speaking Polish as on the odd occassion we have found Brits who will eschew welfare to work for £12 an hour, he also runs, especially when he hears a hoover revving up.
It is not that he is scared of people. When we have guests, even the mother-in-law who visits tomorrow for an extended stay, he is most affectionate. But when a member of the working classes crosses our thresh-hold, Oakley runs upstairs into a bedroom and buries himself under a duvet. He will only emerge when the house is once again free of the working classes.
I wonder why he became such a snob? I suspect it is the middle class Guardian reading public sector employed pals of the Mrs teaching him bad habits. "Oakley watch out there is a white van pulling up outside! Run...he has a real job and might vote Tory! " Meanwhile No 1 friend of Oakley, Mu, who is a novelty among the friends of the Mrs in that she actually has a job in the productive part of the economy, is still acting like a crazed Millennial and playing Pokemon Go on a daily basis. And on her last visit she once again detected a Pokemon above Oakley. He was, as you can see, not impressed.
After the summer holidays the army of obese and semi literate feral horrors who make up the nation's school age population should be heading back to classes today. But they reckoned without the overpaid bunch of idlers who are the teaching profession for across the land many kids face an INSET day.
An INSET day is when the kids stay at home, forcing parents to arrange costly and inconvenient one -off child care, but the teachers wander in for training on how to ensure that the A* rate in GCSE basket weaving goes from 101% to 103%. There are five INSET days a year which must explain why, in an Orwellian sense, standards are rising
The teachers have, of course, just finished a six or seven week summer holiday. In a normal world they would have had an INSET day last Friday so inconveniencing no parents and giving the brats an additional day of high quality education. But these are the teachers we are talking about. I pointed out HERE how very well paid teachers are these days. Luke Johnson emailed me to say I was being too generous. For a person in the private sector to be as well off as a teacher one needs to account for the extraordinarily generous pension scheme provided for the teachers. Effectively you should be adding another 30% on top of their already generous pay.
I note that on the Mumsnet website some poor mum had the nerve to suggest that teachers should organise INSET days in their annual holidays which are - depending on the school and including public holidays at least 13 weeks a year but in many cases 14. Force teachers to have INSET days during school holidays and then the shirkers would have just 12 weeks a year which is a about 150% more than than the rest of us. This poor mum was flamed by hoards of angry teachers who clearly had time on their hands to vilify this poor soul who raised a legitimate point. One teacher explained how after arriving at work at 8.30 she rarely left before six and if you add up that monstrous workload and spread it over 48 weeks ( the non holiday year of the rest of us) it still equates to 37 hours a week which , she stated, was more than the average "office worker".
You can hear the contempt as this middle class Guardian reading leftie spits out the words "office worker". For teachers view themselves as more than office workers. They are "professionals" like doctors, lawyers and accountants. Clearly when you demand pay parity with the doctors you are always going to look like a relative pauper but what of those lawyers and accountants, folks who work in the private sector where market forces not just the black hole that is the State purse, dictates pay?.
The crass naivete of the teachers and most folks working in the public sector about life in the public sector is all too apparent. Perhaps it is because they spend all their lives at work and outside of work mixing with other public sector workers moaning about the Tories, Thatcher and how fucking stressed they all are. In the private sector your contract might say 35-40 hours a week but in the white collar private sector you try sticking to those hours and see how far you get? Hint: nowhere.
Lawyers, accountants, managers, IT consultants, wicked City folk all take their work home with them, they work weekends, they work hours that teachers would regard as a breach of their human rights. They face job insecurity and are slated as evil capitalists by the angels who work for the state who demand we praise them for being such fucking angels. The wicked folk in the private sector throw fewer sickies and have normal holidays than those who work for the state. And it is clear that teachers, lecturers and all those other Guardian reading idlers just cannot conceive of a life like that. They have no idea of what life is like in the productive economy and just how cushy an existence they enjoy. Enjoy your INSET day you greedy, lazy and self righteous bastards.
Jeepers!. Folks must have thought I was a deluded lefty as the Mrs sent me off to Sainsbury's with a rafia bag emblazoned with the name and logo of her "new" university on it, so as not to use any plastic bags. It could have been worse, the Mrs does have one from a recent conference she attended. It boasts the emblem of "The British Sociology Association." It might as well say "mad middle class Guardian reading lunatic."
At least if I meet any comrades from the Labour party it might continue to fool them that I am as barking as the rest of them and not a closet Tory4Corbyn or indeed Tory for any other lunatic who will lead the People's Party to Destruction. Actually on that note my local MP, the nutso Kerry McCarthy has invited me out in Bristol tonight.
Kerry wants me to come and hear Owen Smith and warns me I ashould book early to avoid disappointment. I bet that even nutso McCarthy can't say that with a streight face, Comrade Smith's rallies so far have been so badly attended he could have held them in a telephone box and there would still have been standing room at the back.
Anyhow, back to the bags the Mrs foists on me. I do my best to ensure that no-one thinks I am a lefty by wearing either a Mark Steyn or a Ron Paul T-shirt but I sense that in this rather traditional part of Bristol such statements are rather lost on most folks.
I kid you not, this is a lecture from the highly respected US college, the Massachusetts Institute for Technology (MIT). The lecturer was from the University of Melbourne and, before you laugh, your kids in the UK will be taught this sort of crap by their Guardian reading liberal left lecturers too. The full gory details:
The Ecology and Justice Forum In Global Studies And Languages Presents Ghassan Hage is Future Generation Professor in the School of Philosophy, Anthropology and Social Inquiry, University of Melbourne. Introduced By Bettina Stoetzer, Global Studies And Languages
This talk examines the relation between Islamophobia as the dominant form of racism today and the ecological crisis. It looks at the three common ways in which the two phenomena are seen to be linked: as an entanglement of two crises, metaphorically related with one being a source of imagery for the other and both originating in colonial forms of capitalist accumulation. The talk proposes a fourth way of linking the two: an argument that they are both emanating from a similar mode of being, or enmeshment, in the world, what is referred to as ‘generalised domestication.’
Ghassan Hage has held many visting positions across the world including in Harvard, University of Copenhagen, Ecoles des Hautes Etudes en Sciences Sociales and American University of Beirut. He works in the comparative anthropology of nationalism, multiculturalism, diaspora and racism and on the relation between anthropology, philosophy and social and political theory. His most well-known work is White Nation: Fantasies of white supremacy in a multicultural society (Routledge 2000). His is also the author of Alter-Politics: Critical Anthropology and the Radical Imaginary (Melbourne University Press 2015). He is currently working on a book titled Is Islamophobia Accelerating Global Warming? and has most recently published a piece in American Ethnologist, titled: “Etat de Siege. A Dying Domesticating Colonialism?” (2016) that engages with the contemporary “refugee crisis” in Europe and beyond.
No further comment is needed on the decline of the West
Around 40,000 kids are not going to school today because their stupid left wing parents have instructed them to go on strike. The overpaid and lazy teachers, no doubt delighted that they have even less work to do as they look forward to their ten week summer hols, support the strike. Who suffers from #Kidsstrike3rdMay and why?
Of course it is the kids who suffer since they have one day less of being taught all about global warming killing all the polar bears and why we must stay in the European Union because its racist not to do so, as well as a few minutes of learning the three Rs.
If its not bad enough that your parents read the Guardian and fill your impressionable young minds with crap at home, now these poor souls are also being deprived of what passes for a State education as well.
Apparently the strike is in protest at the imposition of new SAT tests by the wicked Tories which, it is claimed, are stressing out the youth of today. The evil Tories have spent too much time listening to evil capitalist employers complaining about how younger folk cant read and write and not enough time noticing how everyone gets 27 A*s at GCSE. And so they want more tests for the kids which is stressing out the poor lambs as well as the over-stressed and underpaid teachers.
Of course it is all the fault of Thatcher. Or perhaps these days lefties just blame it all on the Jews. Whatever.... as a rule of thumb if a Guardian reading teacher tells you something is good you just know that it is very bad indeed.
Living with a Guardian reading sociology lecturer I need no reminding that it is International Women's day. Natch I gave the Mrs a thankful pay on the backside after she cooked my breakfast and reminded her that my new West Ham top was a bit dirty and that she should not forget it when putting the clothes wash on. But how to celebrate this great event? With some photos of women from around the world who show that there are no glass ceilings, who demonstrate how powerful women can be, who are role models for our daughters and who will infuriate every feminist in town. Let's start with some athletes.
How about the best paid female athlete in the world? Oh, what you mean she has been a 10 year drug cheat and has just got banned from playing tennis. Poor Maria Sharapova. Hmmmmmm maybe we should look outside sports?
How about in politics? Aha I can see that the feminists are foaming as they await a picture of Mrs Clinton. But as it happens I'd want my daughter to look up to a woman who got to the top on her own merit rather than on the coat-tails of her scumbag Husband, and who was not a serial liar/insider dealer and supporter of welfare addiction. My second photo is theregore of Britain's greatest ever Prime Minister, Margaret Thatcher who worked her way up from humble origins fighting snobbery as well as sexism and got to the top on merit alone.
It is sad that in some parts of the world women's rights have headed backwards over the past three decades. Women are deprived of education, forced to cover up and in some cases sold as sex slaves in the Middle East.
But some women are fighting back, putting their lives on the line every day to ensure there is a tolerant, open, democratic society where women and other minorities have full rights. I refer, of course, to the brave women who fight alongside the men within the Israeli Defence Forces. Come on liberals, what is your problem with these uber-feminists fighting the forces of reaction?
Finally, how about a tribute to a best selling female author who once again shows that it is the hard working, gun owning Conservatives who have all the best lines. Yup, on International Women's day who couldn't be in love with Ann Coulter.