June 7th 2004 - June 13th 2004
Sunday Achtung
Saturday Manifest
Friday Go England
Thursday Turn again
Wednesday Monkey business
Tuesday Hello Dalai
Monday Wrong
Sunday 13th June 2004
Fascinating news about the discovery of a German Border Collie with a reported vocabulary of 200 words. Not sure which words they are, however.
"Achtung! Papers please!"? Or perhaps even that time-honoured favourite, "For you, English, ze war is over".
Saturday 12th June 2004
Now that London's elections are over, and Ken has been returned, as suggested, with a narrowed majority, perhaps it's time to start dreaming up some genuinely innovative policy initiatives. Here are my suggestions:
Follow New York's recent example, and declare a blitz on noise.
Never mind Oxford Street, let's see a campaign to pedestrianise any thoroughfare that can demonstrate a well-defined ethnic or cultural constituency of its own. Gerrard Street is already there; Old Compton Street is the next obvious candidate. And then let's add Brixton's Electric Avenue, Stoke Newington High Street, Cable Street, Stroud Green Road...
When four or more people share a cab, the grateful city picks up the tab.
Ban mobile phones on buses and personal stereos on the tube. (Invent spurious technical rationalisations as necessary: it worked for litters bins on the Underground, after all.)
License only those fast-food outlets as are prepared to distribute their products in branded packaging, then fine each outlet £1 for every item of their packaging found littering the streets.
Walking is eco-friendly; the presence of pedestrians on the streets of the city ensures a safer, more vibrant public culture at any time of day or night. Give all citizens a free pedometer, and a rate rebate for every 50 miles they clock up.
Friday 11th June 2004
I can't quite remember where I read it now, but I was particularly taken by the recent account of two little old ladies standing at the bus stop, increasingly bewildered by the number of cars driving past bearing the St George's Cross.
And one explains to the other: "I expect it's because they want England to do well in these European elections."
Not much chance of that, you might think.
Thursday 10th June 2004
My fellow Londoners - who will you vote for in today's mayoral elections?
The dodgy one? The very dodgy one? Or the slightly less dodgy one?
Despite the faint whiff of outlaw allure that still clings to 'Red Ken', Livingstone's maverick stance as the people's comrade has been fatally undermined by his recent return to the potentially stifling corporate embrace of the Labour Party. And then there was the business about that scuffle involving his pregnant girlfriend. And don't you just hate the way he's got his name attached to more or less anything that happens in London?
The Conservative, ex car salesman 'Steve' Norris, shot his credibility bolt when he accepted the post of Chairman of Jarvis plc, the company widely held responsible for the Potters Bar train crash. Bad judgement, if nothing else. And then there are those stomach-turning memories of his five simultaneous mistresses. Would you want to sleep with this man? I think not.
Simon Hughes, on the other hand, takes blandness to new shallows. The fact that he looks a trendy vicar doesn't help (his campaign material begins 'Dear friend'). And some of us haven't forgotten the ease with which he parachuted into his seat at Bermondsey following the viciously homophobic campaign against Peter Tatchell - something of an irony for a man who, ahem, Never Married. (It was Livingstone who said "I am in favour of coming out right away". But he was talking about Iraq.)
Enough, I hear you cry. I want politics, not personalities. This is not Big Brother, not yet. What about the fundamentals, the issues, the policies? or, to put it another way, what's in it for me?
The sad and unglamorous truth is that the Mayor of London has very little real power. He, or (hello!) she, cannot disentangle us from Iraq, can do nothing about, or for, asylum-seekers, has no say on Europe, and precious little influence over government spending. And on those few issues where they could make a real difference - transport, for example, or fighting crime - the candidates show a depressing unanimity.
The most noticeable diferential is their attitude towards the congestion charge, introduced by Livingstone and largely judged a success. Ken, understandably enough, now wants to extend the charging zone; Norris, for no good reason that I can see, wants to abolish it; Hughes (yawn) wants it to stay the way it is.
On other transport issues the candidates are united in pledging to ensure that the Tube runs later - though only for an hour or so, and only at weekends. (A good start, nonetheless, and an indication that they all understand the importance of concentrating less on abstract issues and more on the day-to-day realties of living in the capital.)
The candidates are also united in their attitude to urban crime: they're agin it. (Room here for a true maverick to salute London's Dickensian roots by adopting "More Crime!" as a campaign slogan.) Although they all want more neighbourhood police, Norris has gone furthest by seeking to emulate New Yorker Giuliani's 'zero tolerance' policy, complete with a deeply uncool 'blitz on graffiti'. Next thing you know, they'll be banning chewing gum.
Given the capital's role as destination number one for immigrants of all cultures and complexions, the thorny question of race relations draws surprisingly little of the candidates' attention - unlike the pernicious UKIP and BNP, they prefer to play it safe.
The only minority group thought worth throwing a bone to is the gay vote, with all three candidates coming out in favour of a London-based Gay Museum - a tame little concept initially floated by the openly gay Green candidate, Darren Johnson. (No sign this time round of any of the candidates openly supporting gay cruising, sadly.)
Once you get downwind of these scant specific initiatives, everything rapidly deteriorates into standard manifesto-speak. Hughes promises Londoners "an integrated transport system", whatever that may be. Livingstone wants to "improve air quality by making London a low-emission zone". Norris hopes to make London "the vibrant, safe, world-class city it should be" (so much for Surbiton).
So how to decide between them? (And you must decide, because abstaining from lack of conviction is effectively a vote on the side of passionate intensity, namely the BNP.)
Remember, it's not a contest between opposing political philosophies. We see precious little of that even in national politics these days: deciding who to put in charge of London is entirely a question of pragmatic self-interest.
If you're a driver (which I'm not), you'll have a view on the congestion charge. If you're a parent (which I'm not), you'll want to know more about plans for parks and play areas. For me, it's largely about transport and, inevitably, about Livingstone's record on transport.
I've still not forgiven him for allowing that steep rise in black cab prices shortly after he was elected: the cost of a cab home from my office went from £5 to £10 overnight, and these days I daren't even dream of getting a cab gome from a club.
Given his loud insistence on taking responsibility for every transport-related decision ever made, I know Ken won't mind me holding him the long-lived chaos surrounding the Vauxhall bus-station against him, nor the shameful lack of a night-bus that runs directly from there to my front door.
On the other hand: the buses are better these days, the Oyster card is finally working as it should, and, hello, London Partnerships Register?
Ken it is then. But reluctantly - he's cocky enough as it is.
Wednesday 9th June 2004
In Vauxhall last Sunday evening, on my way to Horse Meat Disco, bright-tailed and bushy-eyed as pledged, I passed by the railings that separate the grassy knoll behind the Royal Vauxhall Tavern from the oft-bewildered pedestrians on the pavement.
Three little old ladies, weighed down with carrier bags, stood there staring across at the antics of the hundred or so gay men scattered chattering across the grass.
I got the impression, for no good reason, that these women were Portuguese, an impression that was confirmed when one of them dragged her gaze around to her companions, raised her not inconsiderable eyebrows and exclaimed: "Chimpanzé!".
Tuesday 8th June 2004
We take some quick photographs, and, as he poses, I try to ask him to elaborate on his comments criticising the massive inequalities of wealth in the West."Yes, it is wrong," he says as he smiles. "Why do the rich need so much? We each only have one stomach. Well, not you," he says, looking at my belly. "You appear to have two."
Monday 7th June 2004
Mis-quotes, typos and spelling errors usuallly get quoted on sites such as these primarily for their entertainment value, especially when the slip of the keys provides a meaning that was not originally intended.
Alongside this, there's a definite schadenfreude to be had in knowing that there, but for the grace of God and a sharp eye, go I.
Sometimes, though, you have to draw attention to something simply because it's so plainly, dumbfoundingly, page-crumplingly WRONG.
As with this morning's Independent:
......previous week
