Christmas Irritants 2021

 

Perhaps it's me and some “unconscious bias” but I find that my list of candidates for irritant of the year for 2020 have failed to mend their ways.  Theresa May continued her selective recollections but just does not get it that nobody cares. Gary Linekar whined on whilst challenging Tittymarsh for ubiquity and poor Sam Coates had difficulty keeping his halo in place as he inclined his head in conspiratorial inquiry with each broadcasting scoop. Jeremy Hunt’s brass neck extended to improve his view in hindsight whilst wee Nicola continued to be her ghastly self.  Winkleperson, resplendent in the King’s new suit of clothes just doesn’t get it either – she is neither funny nor interesting.  Mushroom still hasn’t worked out what Motsi Mabuse is for but she remains uneasy on the eye. I’m almost ready to rehabilitate Jurgen Klopp, whose tooth whitening job looks like it needs a touch up but I will reserve my judgment on the sour kraut until Liverpool start losing a few. Meantime the bling-laden Lewis Hamilton continues to opine on everything that shouldn’t be bothering a millionaire, let alone one dubbed a knight of the realm for services to arcade games.  And what can be said of the Sussexes without one’s stomach churning?

But 2021 has still thrown up a few new irritants.  The forced confection of jollity from Alexander Armstrong, who gets everywhere these days, should make Classic FM a no-go area, at least until the ding dong merrily season is over for another year.  And what an entrance from Julian Knight, Chairman of the Digital Culture Media and Sports Parliamentary Committee, even though your no-nonsense star chamber waistcoat didn’t fit.  No doubting where you stand on Yorkshire County Cricket Club but just a shame you didn’t take account of all the evidence before pronouncing sentence. Alexander  and Julian join of last years worthy mentions who continued to plough on regardless.  Their Royal High-horses, the brand now firmly gripped by Meghan Duchess of Sussex, continued to astonish and dismay as it seemed not to occur to either them that the rest of humanity had rather more to concern them their soppy, cringeworthy and excrescent manifesto. Nevertheless, the crown this year goes to anyone who proclaims “our” NHS, George Cross, as “world class.”   Just try proclaiming that that to the soldiers, sailors and airmen (sorry, now “aviators”) who will spend yet another Christmas season helping out!

 

 

Lockdown by Stealth

 

Have we begun another lockdown by stealth?  If nothing else, the rising uncertainty is reported to be having a significant effect on Christmas bookings in the hospitality industry. Similarly in the residential environment, the prospect of another disjointed festival looms. Like the dissident constantly in fear of a knock on the door by the secret police, we sit on the edge of the sofa waiting for the Prime Minister to interrupt the evening’s viewing with yet another grave announcement (whatever happened to Parliament for grave announcements, by the way).  Perhaps the Prime Minister knows more than he feels able to tell us and, in the interests of maintaining public morale, we should trust his judgement to get on with things on our cowering behalf.  Unfortunately, the evidence of competence is not on his side and our confidence in his authority may be misplaced.  Against the predictable chaotic response to the exhortation for the population to turn up for a free-for-all at the nearest vaccination centre and order a suitable supply of lateral flow tests, we are told that the so-called vaccine passport is essential to prevent spreading “the virus” in crowded settings.  But hang on – to get a vaccine passport and attend potential super-spreader events, I need two doses of a vaccine.  However, according to the PM, two doses of the vaccine are not enough to be effective and so I need a third booster dose. So what, for goodness sake, is the point of a vaccine passport, the qualification for which is an, ineffective, two doses when the minimum requirement appears to be three shots?

Send In The Clowns

 As the stables are cleared at Yorkshire County Cricket Club, presumably in a desperate attempt to regain favour with the English Cricket Board and, thereby, avoid bankruptcy, I note that Darren Gough has been appointed the “interim” Managing Director of Cricket.  I have never met Darren Gough although I have admired him playing cricket and putting on a creditable show to win the third series of Strictly Come Dancing.  According to Sky, he is currently enjoying a “lucrative broadcasting career.”  The closest I came to him was at New Road, the home  Worcester County Cricket Club, in June 1992 during a match between Worcestershire and Yorkshire (which Worcestershire won comfortably).  In those days, Worcestershire Members, of which I was one at the time, could sit to the side of the Members Pavilion under the visiting players dressing room balcony.  During a lull in play on the day in question, Darren Gough held forth in an extraordinary monologue from the balcony  - impressing his opinions on anyone within earshot who cared to note his pearls of wisdom.  Amongst other things, Yorkshire’s Managing Director of Cricket designate was particularly forthright about the inadequacies of the Yorkshire Committee in general and the Chairman in particular.  It is to be hoped that his new relationship with Lord Patel, the Yorkshire Chairman, will be less problematic otherwise the employment designation of “interim” may prove a hostage to fortune.

 

Life of Pi

 

Social media was awash yesterday with startling facts about a new Covid variant. With plans scarcely in place to deal with the Omicron plague, the WHO has designated a brand new threat Pi (not to be confused with Phi which will not emerge until later in the alphabet). Little is known about the Pi variant at this stage: it may be more virulent than previous variants or it may not. Symptoms could be serious or relatively mild. Either way, world leaders insisted that the public should not panic and continue their life according to current regulations. New restrictions will be imposed in due course, the Department of Health added, reassuringly. Asked about contingency planning for the Pi variant, the Government said that they were very much on the front foot and that Plan C was well developed. It is understood that radical new methods of protecting from Pi have been discovered by Government scientists working round the clock. Apparently, brown paper gives 96.37% protection against the new threat. The Department has begun covert acquisition of millions of large brown paper bags. But, in another humiliating U Turn, the Government has been forced to go cap in hand to the international marketplace since UK production of brown paper bags has been run down by serial Tory neglect. MPs on all sides described the brown paper situation as disgraceful and that Ministers had been asleep at the wheel.  In attempts to calm an increasing sense of panic the UK Health and Security Agency said that enough brown paper bags would be procured to ensure all adults could be protected and there was no need for personal stockpiling. They added that jumping into the brown paper bag and crumpling the top would keep us all safe. However, the public should wait until given specific instructions to enter into their brown paper bags, warned UKHSA, since premature donning would reduce effectiveness by up to 6.73% in lightly waxed paper and even 7.63% in plain paper, according to recent tests at Porton Down. This guidance, of course, only applies in England because Scotland and Wales have already announced contrary restrictions. If in doubt, the public should call 111 and they will tell you exactly what you can do – ever serve you right is our corporate DNA, said UKHSA.

 

 

Channel Crossing Victims

 

I don’t suppose a couple owning mobile telephones with satellite navigation facilities would, necessarily, be denied claiming that they were fleeing from persecution, war, famine and liberal intolerance.  They might well be.  On the other hand, owning a sophisticated mobile telephone and paying the bills, implies some sort of economic independence.  It must be expensive to travel across most of Europe to reach the northern shores of France, conveniently just a few miles from the draw of the United Kingdom.  I expect the insignificant cost of a foot passenger ticket on the ferry from Calais to Dover would have been welcome for the final leg of the long trans-European odyssey but most recent visitors to our channel shores have preferred more unconventional transportation.  Again, I understand, not an insignificant expense but, one assumes, a bargain into which the travellers and the boat providers entered into freely?   I doubt whether tickets for the Channel passage are issued or whether various consumer protections would be applicable in event of vendor default.  In short, if a deal looks too good to be true then it probably is so caveat emptor could be helpful advice to potential travellers in future.

Meanwhile, in UK, the bills mount up: temporary food and accommodation, medical treatment and vaccination, permanent housing, welfare support, education, and, of course, the fat salaries of the army of lawyers generously provided so that none who make it here are ever returned from whence they came, whatever the circumstances.  Indeed, less than one in 1000 of the 45000 or so known illegal immigrants has even been prosecuted  never mind dealt with, in the last couple of years.  Then add the millions we are paying our French friends to regulate their own coastline. We do not hear of the cumulative cost of all this and, of course, we could not possibly have a free discussion about the social consequences.  And yet the tide of migrants/refugees/asylum seekers/economic chancers/potential 5^th columnists, however classified for political correctness, are all, universally, “victims.”  But I just wonder, looking at the respective profit and loss, who are the real victims in this crisis?

Police, Fire and Crime Commissioner

 

It is a polling day today for the election of the Police, Fire and Crime Commissioner for North Yorkshire police area occasioned by the premature departure of the previous incumbent who said something silly.  I sat in and observed the selection process for my party’s candidate.  Mere members were prevented from participation in any questioning or clarification process so each candidate, of the all-female short list of two, enjoyed a session with a single inquisitor whose benevolence afforded both copious opportunity to declare their “passion” for fighting crime and their determination to stamp out this and that and any other blight on society. Assuming the other candidates on the ballot paper are of a similar standard, I see no point in voting today.  I wondered how best to register my disgust with the whole charade and decided that it would be more effective to turn up at the polling station in the village and then spoil my ballot paper, which would, at least, be recorded, rather than just to ignore the whole process.  Anyway, it is a nice afternoon for a walk.  Meanwhile, in a nearby layby, a police constable is eating his sandwich whilst monitoring his speed detection device.

My Solution to the Fishing Dispute

 

Apparently, the issue that is driving Britain and France towards a full-on trade war is whether a pitiful number, 56 I understand, of small French fishing boats are entitled to fish in our coastal waters.  The qualification for renewing fishing rights, post Brexit, is childishly simple – prove that you have fished there before, for only a single day in the last few years, and we will renew your permit. The majority of French fishermen have found the low bar of qualification easy to surmount but a few applications have been refused.  From a French point of view, refusing a fishing permit is a prima facie breach of the Brexit Trade agreement.  From our point of view, permits have been refused only when the applicant is unable to prove that they are qualified in the first place.  The resulting feud is a pissing contest, “par excellence.”  If the consequences of escalation were not so serious, it would be very easy to laugh.  Macron, having marched his adoring electorate to the top of the hill, is not going to back down now and, from a British point of view, concession on such a nit-picking and economically insignificant point as this could prejudice our negotiating position on more important matters in the future. It will take a grand gesture, by one side or the other, to save face and move forward.  Sometimes only a bold and breath-taking “coup de theatre” will do.

Looking back on my time in the “Green Ink” environment of my previous post, I remember being startled by a security assessment on the potential future Naval Attaché for one of our Embassies overseas.  The security assessment had been submitted to my boss in Intelligence for his approval as the final arbiter in these matters.  My experience in security vetting was strictly limited to having been the subject but I expected the narrative reports I was about to check would have covered the usual ground of financial probity, political leanings, potential blackmail through homosexuality, honesty, drinking habits, gambling, debt etc, all the things that would make a potential spy stand out rather like Kim Philby didn’t.  I was, therefore surprised to read the single sentence assessment of character which had been signed by an Admiral – “I know this man!”  This indeed was a grand statement with at least two reputations standing on just four words.

It now occurs to me that little Emmanuel could learn something from this that could be helpful in resolving the dispute.  All he needs to do is to write to Boris with a bold statement, like the aforementioned Admiral, that he knows all these jolly fishermen personally and is confident that they are all good an honest “Jacques.”  Boris would have no alternative, as a gentleman, but to accept his counterpart’s word, grant the outstanding permits accordingly, and we could all then live happily ever after. Of course, zut alors, if the Macron declaration should later prove to have been economical with the truth, then that would be a matter for France to deal with and explain to the world.

 

 

Green Dreaming

 

A friend’s idle inquiry, “how much electricity does a heat pump use and how much do they cost to run,” prompted me to flick to Google on the mobile phone.  A helpful site informed me that, for an average 4-bedroom house, a heat pump with capacity 9-16 KW, depending upon the standard of insulation, would be required.  Mushroom Towers was constructed in 1996, according to the standards of the time so I suspect additional insulation and higher capacity radiators would now be required to keep us warm, even with a high capacity heat pump on continuously, as recommended.  At our age, we’d rather not feel pinched so let us assume a 16 KW pump.  That is an awful lot of electric fires on all the time.  The standard variable tariff with my current provider quotes a rate of 15.83 pence per KWH – until March 2022 when goodness knows what the cap increase will be – to say nothing of the cost of installation.  A Screwfix best-seller, rated at 12KW, would set me back £7799.99 including VAT to which should be added; the installations cost including higher capacity radiators and additional wall insulation.  Without reporting to the precision of Excel to crunch the numbers, on face value, it would seem impossible to construct a coherent business case to dispense with my trusty 24-year old gas boiler even if, according to British Gas, “we can’t get the parts any longer,” and I should need to replace it, like for like.

Although the economic case doesn’t stand up, who would say that they don’t want to live in cleaner and greener world?  But are we really confronting an existential climate emergency or is it more likely that the so-called “emergency” is only speculation of what could happen, other things being equal?  So it could be worth reminding ourselves how we arrived at this net zero race to the bottom.  The Spectator reminds us that it was Theresa May, in a throw away line at the fag end of her disastrous tenure, who committed us to reach net zero emissions by 2050.  This grand design was accepted with “minimal debate or scrutiny.”  Yet here we are, committed by our Parliament, to a “Net Zero Strategy,” but with no clear idea of the costs to individuals or the impact on their lives.  I realise that, by questioning the King’s new suit of clothes, I have become a “climate change denier,” which, as Charles Moore observes, is “a deliberately libellous term, echoing the Holocaust.”  Doubtless other paragons  of climate change virtue would simply brand me “scum,” in the vernacular of current political debate.

In truth, I do not know whether we face an existential climate crisis or not and I am certainly not well enough informed to opine on the most cost effective and socially acceptable measures we might ned to put in place in mitigation.  The debate has become so polarised that it has become impossible to reason – the politicians bound headlong on a virtuous journey, the global warmers shrieking that disaster is merely round the corner and those who are not too sure branded head-banging deniers.  Someone needs to call time out – time to stop and reflect.

Recognising the “groupthink de jour” surrounding environmentalism, Allister Heath, writing in the Telegraph, argues that, “the green challenge is too important, its implications too dramatic, to be left to an establishment that has embraced net zero as if it were a new religion.”  He suggests the public should have the final say through a referendum.  A referendum would afford the opportunity for all issues, not just the science of climate change, to be exposed and scrutinised.  Who, especially in a post-Brexit democracy, could argue with that?  Of course, we should need to fight to ensure that the establishment did not rig the question on the ballot paper but any party promising an open referendum on the momentous costs and changes inherent in the Net Zero Strategy would get my vote, and many more, I suspect.

But will our political elite, so intent upon cementing their place in the hall of virtue fame, take heed. They should do, especially if they have read Roger Scruton.  This extract from “Green Philosophy – How to think seriously about the planet” should preface all parliamentary discussion on the environment:

“The solution to the real environmental problems will always elude us, if we cast away the one human motive that is able to take over when markets fail, which is that of public spirit. But whence comes public spirit? It comes from patriotism, from love of country, from a sense of belonging and of a shared and inherited home. It comes from believing that this problem is our problem, and therefore my problem, as a member of the group. That belief disappears when anonymous bureaucracies confiscate our risks, and pretend that they can regulate them to extinction. Those commonsensical observations are all but politically incorrect, in a culture that has surrendered so much to the state, that it no longer trusts the ordinary human instincts.”

In other words, trust the people who elected you (in the privacy of the polling booth)!

 

Green Ink

 

I see that Sir Alex Younger, a former head of MI6, the Secret Intelligence Service, visited the set of the new James Bond film. Apparently, he had donated his pen, filled with the distinctive green ink in which it is customary for “C” to pen minutes and sign his name.  This reminded me of my tour in Defence Intelligence.

Sixteen years after enlisting in the Royal Air Force I found myself on an upward career trajectory although, at the time, blissfully unaware of the time bomb planted in my service record by a mendacious former Station Commander, Benny Jackson. I was just about to graduate from the Advanced Staff Course at Bracknell and had been appointed, following an agreeable interview in 4^th floor office at the Ministry of Defence, the Personal Staff Officer of a Director in the Defence Intelligence Service.

My introduction to Whitehall in general and the secret world of intelligence was a blizzard of briefings and indoctrinations all conducted during the office Christmas Party season at the Ministry in Whitehall. To say that I was surprised at some of the insights and revelations would be an understatement. The Aubrey, Berry and Campbell trial, the “ABC Trial,” had ended but the aftermath was febrile. I remember, as we broke for Christmas, that my head was spinning with who’s who and who did what.  Box this or Box that, our friends across the river or similar relatives in the West Country and who was that chap who said he had an office on the 6^th floor with a MOD telephone extension?

It was a steep learning curve in an exceptionally busy office environment. We staff officers to the Directors, all off similar seniority but very different backgrounds and specialisations, nevertheless bonded in an informal social group, the MADSODS, which included the American Defense Intelligence Agency Liaison, DIAL.  We all got along very well personally which helped smooth the passage of day-to-day business. One day, during my first couple of weeks in post, The MA to the Director General of Defence Intelligence (DGI) who controlled the Defence Intelligence Staff (DIS), called by to appraise me of a delicate issue which I needed to solve. Apparently my boss, a Royal Air Force Officer, had taken to writing minutes and signing his name with green ink.  The MA informed me, laconically, that, “there are only two individuals in the intelligence community who sign their name in green and neither is your boss.”  It was now up to me to raise the delicate issue. My boss did not take the observation well and, feigning outrage, demanded to know who was complaining. Learning fast, I replied that the issue had been brought to my attention unofficially and in confidence but I felt I should mention it now in case any embarrassment should arise downstream. My boss grunted angrily but, as I withdrew, I think I detected a crack of a smile on his face.  I few minutes later, the office intercom buzzed and my boss asked for a selection of coloured pens.  Sheila, the stalwart secretary rushed to the stationary cupboard and immediately provided a rainbow of felt tips from which I removed the green. “He chose brown, of all things,” said Sheila as she resumed her seat at the typewriter in the outer office.

Proof that the delicate issue had been resolved was provided a few days later. Directors had been requested to comment on some proposal or other, and, as was the procedure, each had replied on the minute sheet of the classified file. Acknowledging the minuted discussion, DGI had written, “Greville (not his real name) has commented, in his now familiar dried blood!”

So I had learned that “C” signed his name in green ink but, in those days, the name of the post holder was secret and there was certainly no website with a smiling photograph to aid recognition.  This was a disadvantage because, sometime later, having arranged a lunch at a club in Piccadilly for some foreign defence attaches I was waiting in the foyer, to direct guests to the correct venue. “C,” also happened to be a guest but how should I recognise him? I wondered whether, using some sort of racial profiling, I could pick the most likely candidate and introduce myself: “excuse me Sir, do you happen to be head of the secret intelligence service?”  My dilemma was short-lived because moments later someone touched my arm and said, “are you waiting for me?”

Excitement at Church Fenton

 

A bit of excitement at Church Fenton today with a couple of Spitfires visiting.  The 2-seater appeared to be operating joy rides.  This passenger must have paid for a good 45 minutes!  Deep pockets? Whilst waiting for the Spitfire to return, I marvelled at the huge circuits the flying instructors seemed to be allowing their student pilots to plough. In my day, we tried to keep the down wind leg within North Yorkshire.

The Game's Not Straight Boris

 

For as long as I can remember, Conservatives, particularly in opposition, have characterised an increase in National Insurance contributions as tax on jobs. Nothing has changed except now, as a gale of public disquiet about the NHS treatment backlog threatens to further undermine perceptions of Conservative competence, something must be done, say the pointy-headed focus groups. So, in a breach of an explicit manifesto commitment and disguised as a hard-choice Covid recovery strategy, it has become a question of don’t read my lips. The leaked proposal to shift the risk of long- term social care provision from individual to state will be greeted by thigh slapping hoorays in the affluent heartlands of Conservative support. Whatever levelling up means, this isn’t it. According to Fraser Nelson, as many as 1 in 6 pensioners have assets in excess of £1m. Offspring of this fortunate slice of society will be salivating at the thought that their inheritance will be safe from the demands of long-term care provision for Mum and Dad. Trebles all round? In a double whammy to hard working families, or whatever the current political euphemism for this section of the electorate might be, most working people will see their take home pay decreased whilst their affluent neighbours are laughing all the way to the probate office. The press says Boris’ proposals are a political gamble.  Well, they might be but in this event the game’s not straight.

Big Watch - Pay by Cheque

 

“Big watch - pay by cheque,” was often what the, probably long-suffering, local population might have ascribed to the young Royal Air Force pilots undergoing flying training at the several flying training schools in England in the 1960s.  Less than 20 years after the end of WWII, there were plenty of pilots about.  Lots of new ones, like me, and lots of veterans with lots of stories to tell.  Like larger-than-life John Buckland who frequented the Woolpack on Tuesday Market Place.  With his MCC tie and an inexhaustible fund of ripping yarns, the Lancaster pilot and decorated Pathfinder, became an interesting attraction for the Saturday lunchtime customers.  More so, even, than the landlord’s voluptuous wife Pam who knew full well what she was expected to display when asked for a bottle of White Label Worthington from the bottom shelf.  John Buckland always paid by cheque, cash being somewhat vulgar. John knew just the chap to supply me with a little beauty of a second-hand car – “just the ticket,” he assured me.  Paying for the car by cheque was not an option but cash would secure the best price.  Fortunately, for me, my account with Lloyds Bank Limited, Coxs & Kings Branch of 6 Pall Mall SW1, was in the same state as it had been since being opened upon enlistment in HM service – somewhat overdrawn.  So, for me, cash payment was out of the question and there was no deal resulting, thank goodness.  Others were not so lucky before John Buckland, exposed as a ruthless trickster, slunk away.  Almost, that is, because a year or so later he was spotted in London by Mac Hart, the landlord of Foldgate Inn at Stradsett.  Unfortunately, in the ensuing chase John Buckland gave Mac Hart the slip and that was that – Mac never got his money back.  These days I almost never pay by cheque.  I bank online and make all my transactions online.  With the expansion of contactless payments, I have installed a payment facility on my phone so now, at check out, I can just wave my phone at the reader and get on my way.  Confirmation of the transaction is almost instantaneous so there is no need for a receipt.  John Buckland would have had a hard time today.  Neither are there many big watches about – letters to the Telegraph report a spate of thefts from the wrist in broad daylight. At least they don’t seem to be cutting off the arm with a machete which, apparently, happened to hapless car passengers leaving their limbs draped out of the window in downtown Angeles City next to Clark Air Force base in the Philippines. I’ll probably start wearing my old aircrew watch and leave the Rolex in the safe.

Having just volunteered for a PCR test with the Zoe app I was horrified to learn I tested positive and am now isolating for 10 days.  Never volunteer for anything, particularly, “research into the common cold at Porton Down,” was good advice to us as recruits but I have ignored it in retirement.  To relieve the impending boredom of isolation perhaps I shall invest in a smart watch – just the ticket?  Modern technology will monitor my blood oxygen level, heart rate, and blood pressure and alert me to any deterioration to my current good health – almost too good to be true?  And, when I am allowed out again, through the wonders of near field communications, I shall be able to install my payment app on my watch and simply wave my wrist at the card reader as I pass by.  Big check, pay by watch – how about that?

Driving Licence Anxiety

 This looks like useful information:

SIR – John D Frew (Letters, August 23) seeks to prove the status of his driving licence. This can be done on the DVLA website under “View or share your driving licence information”.

This only requires the licence number (which he would have if he is renewing) and his National Insurance number. The status of his licence will promptly be revealed and can be shared with anyone else who needs to know, such as car hire companies.

Martin Hodson
Loughborough, Leicestershire

Blurred Boundaries and Bluster

 

On 8 Jun 21, The Boundary Commission for England (BCE) published its initial proposals for new constituency boundaries. There is an eight-week consultation process, ending tomorrow.  A “statutory distribution formula” means that England will be allocated 10 more constituencies than at present with each constituency containing about 69-77000 voters.  Presumably the BCE remit did not include an assessment of whether today’s Parliament was fit for purpose?

The proposals for this part of Yorkshire see my constituency, Selby & Ainsty, being split, respectively, between new Selby and Wetherby & Easingwold constituencies whilst our neighbours, Elmet & Rothwell are abolished and their wards distributed, apparently, randomly.

Whilst the BCE proposals were available for all to see on their website, my own party conducted a consultation of their own.  I came by a copy of “Submission of the Conservative Party regarding the Initial Proposals of the Boundary Commission for England for the Yorkshire and the Humber Region,” on Tuesday 27 July 2021 and noted that, “we cannot emphasise enough how important it is to get members of the public, community groups, etc. to write in support of individual elements of the proposals.”  It was also clear that it was CCHQ policy to withhold these proposals until 26 July 2021.  Doubtless, many Conservative Party colleagues, who could have been consulted along the way, will feel dismayed that they are now being invited to fall in behind a fait accompli by the deadline of 2 August 2021.

The subject proposals are presented in detail and a great deal of effort must have been expended in their compilation.  That said, in the limited time available for scrutiny, the proposal itself appears to be something of a dogs’ breakfast and seems to ignore the knock-on impacts on adjacent territories.  On the other hand, it scores, demonstrably in party self-interest.  This is disappointing at a time when our party seems to be very short of recognisable policy initiatives in key areas such as:

•         Paying for Covid and controlling spending
•         Dealing with the hospital back log
•         Catching up with lost education
•         Social care reform
•        Illegal immigration control
•        Energy sustainability
•        The reality of Net Zero aspirations

not to mention “levelling up,” whatever that means.  Voters could be forgiven for getting the impression that MPs were more interested in shoring up their positions with what looks like old-fashioned gerrymandering than dealing with current social and financial challenges.

For what it’s worth, the BCE proposals, at least, have the merit of equalising the electorate numbers in the respective constituencies.  But, if we are not going to address the fundamental issue and radically reduce the total number of MPs overall, one may ask what is the point of tinkering with boundaries within the existing Westminster behemoth?

Meantime, this morning’s Sunday Telegraph may make uncomfortable reading for CCHQ.  Janet Daley, talking about the triumph of slogans over policy, concludes with the advice, “there may be some quick routes to getting the electorate on your side but treating them like idiots isn’t one of them.” Simon Heffer opines that, “it will require a Government with strength in its convictions – and the confidence to face head-on the messy reality of post-pandemic Britain.”  That’s just how Mushroom sees it in this decidedly messy part of Yorkshire.

 

 

 

 

 

Bowing to Racist Pressure

Last year, I took exception to a “Black Lives Matter Statement” signed by the Chief Executive, the President and the Chair of the Diversity and Inclusion Working Group of the Royal Aeronautical Society, which was published in the July 2020 edition of Aerospace, that learned Society magazine.

The Society had used the death of George Floyd in America to make its own statement “about racism and injustice towards black people.”  Incontrovertibly, the Society stated, “we will not tolerate racism, social injustice, or inequality.”

However, at the same time, Society appeared to admit to “hidden institutional or systemic bias across our wider networks” which, on the face of it seemed imply that the Membership were complicit.  I urged the Society to publish examples and evidence of these injustices, specifically, so that members may do what they can individually by way of remedy.  Otherwise, it seemed to me, that all Members and Fellows were pleading guilty to racism and injustice by their association with the Society.

I did not receive a satisfactory answer to my letter although the Society, patronisingly, recommended their diversity training programme to cure my ills.  I do not know what motivated the RAeS to assume an automatic posture of contrition but it was particularly disappointing that, “in seeking to promote the highest professional standards and provide a central forum for sharing knowledge,” I felt that the Society’s response to the Floyd affair, if one had even been necessary, had simply been a band-stand of fashionable slogans.

On the same subject, the online abuse suffered by some members of the England football team has been, rightly condemned and, I understand, all of four alleged culprits have been charged.  But, amidst the barrage of self-righteousness and before we admit that our country is irredeemably doomed, could somebody please tell me where else in the world there is generally more tolerance to minorities than in the UK?  

Manipulation of the News Movement

 

When the media manipulator Kamal Ahmed was sacked during a restructuring by the BBC, Mushroom shed a few crocodile tears.  Ahmed’s shameful manipulation of trade data during the Brexit debacle was allowed to stand despite a lengthy exchange between Mushroom and the know-alls at the BBC so ever serve you right.  By ditching Ahmed the BBC was dangerously exposed since the BBC News Board was left marooned without a BAME representative.  Presumably, the BBC argued, without a minority ethnic representative, the quality of news would be deleteriously affected?  Although, I don’t know about you, but I haven’t noticed much difference in the BBC news output as a result so, with Ahmed gone, it looks like win-win.

Unfortunately, Ahmed seems to have fallen on his feet and has co-founded a new platform called the “News Movement.”  Apparently, News Movement is intended to deliver “trustworthy and objective” information, through “high impact” stories which hold “the powerful” to account.  Deciding what is important, which of the powerful to target how to make an impact should be right up Ahmed’s editorial street.

Green Road to Ruin

 

The government said it would cut carbon emissions by 78 per cent from their 1990 level by 2035, instead of 2050 as previously intended. I wonder whether the PM has been inspired by Princess Nut Nuts and her coterie? Anyway, it’s a great idea, and who could possibly object to a policy of saving the planet except for one important detail: who pays?  I am sure our Government will get round to telling us what it will cost, not just the impact on our outgoings but on our future way of life. Perhaps we shall be treated to a solemn announcement from the spanking new, and now, apparently, unnecessary Downing Street media centre?  When we are let into the secret and the political machine has measured the reaction, I suspect an element of electoral pragmatism will be injected into further climate virtue gestures.  Meantime, they may care to start with a scan of Roger Scruton’s superb Green Philosophy subtitled, how to think seriously about the planet.  Scruton argues, convincingly, that top-down solutions to climate problems are destined to fail.  It is public spirit that will carry us forward:

“But whence comes public spirit? It comes from patriotism, from love of country, from a sense of belonging and of a shared and inherited home. It comes from believing that this problem is our problem, and therefore my problem, as a member of the group. That belief disappears when anonymous bureaucracies confiscate our risks, and pretend that they can regulate them to extinction.”

But telling people what is good for them seems fashionable these days, just look at the incessant diatribe from the Archewell Foundation, “uplifting communities.”  Come to think of it, whoever is driving the headlong rush to green virtue may already be finding the Downing Street policy straitjacket too constraining and might and feel, like Megan and Harry, that they should strike out on their own.  How about “The Greenswill Foundation” as a megaphone?

 

 

HRH The Duke of Edinburgh

 

I only met him by accident, in the early years of this century at the Royal Aeronautical Society in Hamilton Place.  I had attended an early evening lecture and, afterwards, the corporate sponsor had extended generous hospitality to the participants.  A big crowd lingered after the event, wine flowed freely and the noise level rose accordingly.  During conversation with some colleagues, I caught sight of an old friend at a distance and, after due interval, shouted my excuses to my colleagues and made my way through the throng towards my old friend.  Arriving at my friend’s circle I was immediately conscious that the company was trying to tell me something, but nobody said anything.  Glancing round for a clue, the person on my right who had a decent space on his left into which I had just inserted myself, became strikingly familiar.  I remember beginning to blurt out an apology for my impertinence but HRH would have none of it – he called upon my friend to introduce me and then continued the joyful banter as though nothing had happened.  What a charming man he was!

Clear-Eyed View of Defence

 

Oh dear, I spent a 35-year career in the Royal Air Force being encouraged by my Army colleagues to believe that warfighting capabilities such as boots on the ground, concentration of force, overwhelming firepower and mobility were key to winning battles.  I now understand that such shibboleths were merely “shields for sentimentality.”  I am trying to take the Defence Secretary’s advice to remain “clear-eyed” and hope, for all our sakes, that the novel defence proposals work when needed.

The sad truth, which has been apparent for some time, is that the UK could not field and support a fighting division.  That's it - time to pull down the shutters.

Courage Under Fire

 

When Sir Humphrey Appleby praised Jim Hacker’s policy as “courageous” he meant that the Minister was proceeding without regard to the political consequences of his actions. Not the present danger of going over the top against a hail of opposition bullets but rather the enemies his actions would make amongst his own ranks, his rivals ever eager to exploit a political aberration. Perhaps that is what President Biden had in mind when he praised the Duchess of Sussex's “courage" in her interview with Oprah Winfrey, the nearest thing to divine sovereignty in the USA. After all, there is nothing brave in stabbing an unarmed old lady in the back.

 

 

Antisocial Distancing

 

Despite the Covid rules for keeping one’s distance I expect life in the average Royal Air Force Officers’ Mess has continued as usual.  In my sheltered time as a bachelor inmate, one found that the Dining Room was fully furnished with large rectangular oak tables set for breakfast – perhaps 6 or 8 place settings at each.  Whilst the staff would have preferred to serve and clear one table at a time, the usual preference of the Officers on entering the room at the start of the day was to choose an unoccupied table.  Here, in silent isolation, there would be room to spread the morning newspaper and tiresome early-morning conversation could be avoided.  I understand that in some Army Regiments, diners at breakfast might wear their hat to indicate to brother Officers that they did not wish to be disturbed.  And who could imagine a gentleman inconveniencing another Officer in the Ante Room by deliberately taking an adjacent armchair?

Rejoice!

 

The curse of Mushroom appears to have struck my old adversary, the news manipulator Kamal Ahmed.  Ahmed is a BAME news executive which, Mushroom has heard, is fashionably treated as if it were a wildlife protected species.  Astonishing, then, that the BBC, of all organisations, has dispensed with his professional services.  The BBC, shock and outrage, has contravened its own diversity rules.  Several BBC news presenters, we are told, have “raised concerns” - but not about the woke sausage machine of BBC "stories" Ahmed leaves behind, we may be sure.

Help from Our Friends

The day after I posted my previous piece about the importance of defending ourselves and not relying on "our friends in the EU," as the Prime Minister calls them, Allister Heath wrote:

"At a time when Britain is taking moral stances on Hong Kong and Alexei Navalny, the EU continues to suck up to the Russians via Merkel’s beloved Nord Stream 2. At best, the supposed European superpower intends to act as some sort of amoral non-aligned player, friendly to China and happy to take NATO handouts in return for nothing."

The delusion that the EU is responsible for peace and harmony in Europe is a matter of faith, not historical analysis, says Robert Tombs.  Tombs cites evidence from Sir Ian Kershaw, "who ascribes post-war peace to the defeat of Germany ‘once and for all’, to the Cold War and superpower hegemony, to new prosperity, and to nuclear weapons – not, in short, to European integration."

Hopefully, in the wake of the spiteful Article 16 debacle, more Rejoiners will begin to see the EU as unreliable and, as John Gray puts it, "the dangerous myth of some semi-sacred institution."

UK Must Defend UK

 

With the performance of the EU over their Covid vaccine strategy even attracting criticism from some of the most ardent “Rejoiners,” it could be helpful to remind everyone about defence.  Although Covid dominates our attention, a determined enemy would relish the opportunity to gain an advantage whilst our attention was focussed elsewhere.  To remind, Article 5 of the NATO Treaty requires all the signatories to come to each other’s aid in the event one of them is attacked – the principle of collective defence.  Could that be relied upon? Following the Russian annexation of Crimea in 2014 , Julian Roepcke, writing in Standpoint, reports a black joke in the German security community:  “if Russia invades the Baltic states, Germany will of course honour its NATO commitment and defend them – once the German public approves this in a binding referendum.”  As for EU defence initiatives, they offer a full spectrum of military assistance short of actual fighting capability and could be safely ignored.  As Richard Barrons put it, their several Headquarters "provide day care for middle-aged officers" and are "unable to deploy anywhere robustly and quickly."

The astonishing behaviour of the EU over so-called, “vaccine wars,” should remind those in charge of UK defence that we should ensure we are able to look after ourselves.  Recent events give no cause for optimism that the EU could unite on anything (except hatred of Brexit), let alone collective defence.  All of which bodes ill for the future of the new Queen Elizabeth carriers which, with only 48 F35B aircraft, pack only a modest punch and will require the support of allies to maintain even that capability.

The Media Diet of Gloom

 

A week ago I received my first shot of the Pfizer vaccine at a nearby surgery.  I had been notified by text by my GP a few days earlier and, having followed the link provided, booked myself an appointment 3 days hence.  Old habits die hard and I arrived 10 minutes early, intending to conduct a timing holding pattern for a precise arrival.  “I’m early,” I informed a door monitor.  “Not to worry Sir,” she replied, “please stand in this space and await instructions.”  I did exactly as I was told and less than 5 minutes later, suitably perforated, I was given an information leaflet with the time I was permitted to leave the building written boldly on the front.  I felt elated as, from the evidence of excited conversation, were others.  In my RAF career I quite often encountered people doing difficult jobs under pressure, so I know what good morale looks like and the evidence of a sense of pride and achievement was all around the Tadcaster clinic.  Thank you everyone concerned!

But to listen to the news or press briefings it would seem that Covid matters are not going well.  Actions, like Goldilocks porridge, have been taken far too early or far too late.  The vaccination schedule is a shambles with London and Scotland missing out because of vindictive incompetence by this wretched Government.  Schoolchildren are being deliberately starved to death and single mothers driven to desperation to provide.  NHS beds are full and staff overwhelmed with the system in crisis.  Brexit warnings are coming home to roost with food shortages in Northern Ireland and fishermen in Scotland screaming we told you so.  Lorry drivers who failed to fill in customs declarations are being turned away from border controls.  Even the England Cricket Team, losing the toss to Ceylon but still managing to bowl the hosts out for under 150 and be within sight of overhauling the first innings total for the loss of only 2 wickets on the first day, found their efforts merely described as a ”decent start” on Classic FM.  All told, any elation at receiving my vaccination has quickly evaporated and I am back in my normal lockdown depression mode.

How much better things must be on the Continent, the European Union which we have just, stupidly, abandoned?  An old colleague now living in Southern Germany tells me that they are maybe hoping for the vaccine to reach them in, “a couple of weeks or so.” Bild, a German newspaper, is rather more impatient using side headings such as, “pitiful,” “stumbled,” and “mocked,” when discussing the roll out of a vaccination programme in the EU.  Bild concludes, “the most bitter irony for Europe is that the one foreign politician our liberal commentariat have most mocked for years - Boris Johnson - is also the only one who acted swiftly and decisively when it came to securing the vaccines. The number of doses the UK has available speaks for itself. And it was the sensible federalist Europeans who have failed so miserably.”

If even the German version of the Sun red top has it in for the EU Covid response, surely it is time for the media to acknowledge that the UK, excluding the rebel Nicola’s SNP enclave of course, is doing something right?  Time for us all to wake up to the possibilities of leading the world Covid recovery – my glass is half full and the sommelier is hovering.