Monday Moan 72

WE DON’T CARE WHAT YOU THINK

The press keep on telling us that they are the defenders of freedom in this country and, therefore, that there should be no shackles placed on them. They appear completely unmoved by Leveson, phone hacking, High Court trials, public disgust or anything else that suggests they should mend their ways.  They tell us they have changed, they have learned lessons from the past, they will be squeaky clean in the future and we should just trust them to do the right thing. 

Thus we have their furious reaction to Parliament’s endorsement of the Government’s new Royal Charter on Press Regulation and their determination to press ahead with their own, clearly more press-friendly, version. 

And thus we have the  The Spectator magazine joining with other press organisations to say they won’t take any notice of the Royal Charter,  with their Parliamentarian of the Year award, usually (as you’d imagine from the title) given to an individual single MP, being awarded this year to the 15 MPs who voted against Government plans.  And to top it all we have Bore-us Johnson, comical Mayor of London, urging all editors to follow the example of The Spectator and refuse to abide by the Government’s plans.   

Bare-faced, brazen disregard for anything other than their own views and self-interest.

 TALKING OF BARE-FACED AND BRAZEN ... 

Who should pop up on my screen on last week’s Question Time than Vicky Pryce, recently detained at HM’s pleasure in one of our most congenial of prisons.  Not content with trying to milk her illegal activity for all it’s worth through the publication of a book about her thoughts on prison, she sat and smirked her way through the TV programme in a bare-faced, brazen disregard for all that she had done, in a way that any editor of a UK newspaper would have been proud. 

Apparently there is absolutely no truth to the rumour that Chris Huhne was originally booked for this episode, but that Ms Pryce agreed to his request to do his time for him.

MOZART KNEW BEST

Music is one of the great joys of life to vast numbers of people.  It doesn’t matter what kind of music you like – there are so many to choose from and it is a dangerous path to tread to suggest that one form or style of music is better than another, no matter how firmly you may believe this to be the case.  That one form may be more complex, more difficult to play or sing, more varied in its dynamic range, etc. than another is unarguable – but whether it is “better” depends on too many things to make it worth arguing about. 

Having said that, we are all free to say what we like best and to choose not to listen to things we don’t like.  And we can all have an opinion on what works and what doesn’t, on  whether we think one version of a piece of music is better than another. Knowing a piece is a double-edged sword, because if the rendition you hear does not fit with your own view of how it should be performed, there is a danger you will be disappointed.   Of course, you can still enjoy it even if it isn't performed in exactly the way you hear it in your own mind, but if it strays too far either from what you like, or from what you consider to be a reasonable interpretation, then you will be disappointed.  You may even start to rant at the radio. 

So here goes.  I was listening to the radio the other day and smiled when the announcer said that the next piece would be the second movement of Mozart’s clarinet concerto.  One of the most well-known pieces of classical music, it is a favourite of mine for a whole host of reasons.  Unfortunately, the recording that then came over the airwaves just didn’t do it for me.  Far too fast and with so much embellishment,  improvisation or, as I see it, unnecessary extra notes, that the melody was sometimes almost indiscernible.  A bit like a Mariah Carey version of almost any song – you know the tune is in there somewhere, but it’s pretty difficult to work out where. 

Mozart is generally reckoned to be one of the greatest composers who ever lived.  I like to think he knew what he was doing when he wrote his music.  I’m OK with people interpreting in the sense of speed, volume, emphasis, emotion, etc. But unless he specifically invited people to improvise a section, I’d rather just hear the notes he wrote rather than those someone else has added because they think they know better than Mozart.  They don’t. 

OH JOY, IT’S CHRISTMAS ALREADY

The Christmas season has now started.  How do we know this?  Because it’s now impossible to watch the television (apart from on the advert-free BBC, free of adverts that is for anything other than its own programmes) without being bombarded with this year’s crop of cringeworthy Christmas adverts for the major retail stores. 

I blame John Lewis.  A few years ago they ran some ads that were actually quite entertaining and, possibly, quite successful in enticing people to think nice things about the store and maybe even spend more money there rather than elsewhere.  Unfortunately, every retailer now feels obliged to produce its own seasonal advertisement, which usually involves the viewer having to sit through some uninspiring footage of Christmas scenes and a few gifts, to the background of some seasonal music, with the only saving grace being the guessing game as to which store's name will come up at the end – “oh, that’s an ad for XXXX is it?”  

Apparently, some people have been heard to say that this year’s John Lewis ad has made them cry.  Really?  I can’t see why, unless it’s because of the realisation that you’ll never get that two minutes of your life back, having listened to Lily Allen try to ruin a perfectly good Keane song. 

Still, at least they haven’t made the same mistake as Tesco, and used a Rod Stewart track.  I wonder how many people will decide not to patronise Tesco this Christmas as a result? 

P.S.  A SUGGESTION POST-RUSSELL BRAND .....

A friend of mine was moved to comment on the Russell Brand article from last week  with the suggestion that “perhaps British Constitution could be introduced as a compulsory topic in our schools, not as an optional exam subject but just as an informative introduction to how the huddled masses have fought and won the right to help shape the way the country is run and why they can at least make a choice in who runs the country. It would, of course, have to be pointed out to them that the ballot paper does not carry a "Whatever" option. Yet.” 

Well said Sir!  Couldn’t agree more.  Perhaps my own interest in current affairs and in matters political and historical was developed during the time I spent mustering a low-grade A-level pass in British Constitution all those years ago.  At the risk of sounding like that old bloke who used to sit in the corner of the pub every night, it didn’t do me any harm.

Monday Moan 39

 

I know I shouldn’t smile, but ……..

An Aston Martin DBS costs around £180,000, or it did until production was discontinued.

A Vauxhall Corsa costs around £10,000 when new.

Last week an old and rather battered Corsa, fetchingly painted in various shades of pink, managed to run into the side of a sleek, black DBS whilst the latter was standing at a petrol station being refuelled.  The story had its funny side, of course.  The pink Corsa was being driven by a woman with pink hair, for example, and then there was a troubling degree of pleasure at seeing something so valuable damaged by something so cheap and unpretentious (ok, apart from its colouring).

But some other things troubled me about the story as well.  First, the DBS owner’s immediate assertion that the vehicle was a write-off, beyond repair.  Oh really?  Look at the picture and see how much damage there is, and then consider whether writing off such a valuable car with that amount of damage might possibly be one reason why your insurance premiums are at an all-time high.

And then there were the comments from Aston Martin, whose spokesman is reported to have said “The DBS is not of the understated elegance of a DB9, nor the youthful agility of the V8 Vantage. It is explosive power in a black tie, and has its own unique character which will equal that of James Bond.'    

I’m guessing this ‘quote’ must have been taken out of context, but even so, what on earth is it supposed to mean?  Don’t these people speak English any more?

 

From our Bavarian correspondent

So, Arsenal came away from Bayern Munich with a 2-0 victory rather than suffering the humiliating loss that many had predicted.  Going out of the competition on the away goals rule seemed particularly harsh, given that they actually won the game against all the odds.

Those odds were high.  Bayern have now played 16 games at home against English opposition in European competitions.  Only one other side has beaten them over 90 minutes (yes, I know this ignores Chelsea’s game last season, but over 90 minutes that was a draw; after extra time that was a draw; then Chelsea prevailed in a penalty shoot-out).  Anyway, which other English side has managed to lower Bayern’s  colours?  None other than Norwich City, who won there in 1993. 

Most of all, I loved the way that the pre-match atmosphere was described on the Bundesliga’s own website -  “The stadium has remained relatively empty [40 minutes before kick-off] – it’s too cold for the fans, who have seemingly opted to stay inside as long as possible whilst they eat their pre-match sausages …….” 

Sausages for the Germans, beefburgers for the British. What do Italian or Spanish fans eat before I game, I wonder?

 

It’s all a matter of priorities

Chris Huhne and Vicky Pryce were caught lying about which one of them was driving when a speed camera registered that their car was being driven too fast.  

Toby Hayden battered his girlfriend at a cashpoint after the machine failed to allow him to withdraw any money.  He was drunk. He was serving a suspended sentence for a previous violent crime. He assaulted two police officers who turned up at the scene.

One of these crimes was, essentially, victimless – nobody got hurt, nobody suffered as a result of the illegal action.  The other saw assaults on anybody who happened to be there at the time.

All three of the accused were convicted.  Two of them were sentenced to time in jail. One of them was given a community service order.

Can you guess who received which sentence? 

No doubt my learned friends would be able to explain it all.  It’s all a question of priorities, I suppose.  Perverting the course of justice is just a more serious crime than beating up an innocent person on our streets and then assaulting the police officers who came to investigate. 

Or should we have just a tiny worry bead that the legal system is bonkers?

  

Standards and incompetence

A quiet lunch out in a hotel that advertises itself as "the perfect place to sit back, relax and enjoy the delights that we have to offer" should not feature in the Moan, should it?  Well, I’m afraid it does – and on two counts.

First, doesn’t anybody dress up to go out for a nice meal these days?  I know that nobody bothers with a tie and jacket, even for evening meals in rather nice restaurants.  That battle was lost a long time ago.  But I was still surprised to see that in a large party out for a meal to celebrate one of their number reaching the age of 55, t-shirts outnumbered both polo and rugby shirts amongst the men, and jeans were the unanimous choice of them all.

Second, what kind of an establishment invites you to take your tea and coffee in the lounge before checking that there is actually space in the lounge for you to sit?  Yes, you’re right - an incompetent one.

Monday Moan 38

It all depends on your perspective

When I heard the story about Nani being sent off at Old Trafford the other night in the Manchester United v Real Madrid game, I initially assumed that it was one of Wayne Rooney’s more agile conquests who had managed to evade security in order to remonstrate with him about failure to pay his debts, or something similar.

 

It was only later that I realised my mistake and that the furore was about someone being sent off for a trivial offence at Old Trafford and that this had affected the result of the game.  Now, so many players have found themselves on the wrong end of dubious refereeing decisions at Old Trafford over the years that this hardly constituted news, except that in this case, unlike almost every other, it was a Manchester United player who had been sent off and not a visiting player.  Now that really is unusual!

 

How instructive was it to read the comments of former United players on this episode?  Well, Roy Keane, not one usually associated with being on the side of the angels, thought the referee was right - "I think the referee has actually made the right call. Everyone's upset about it and it's slightly unlucky, but it's dangerous play. Whether he meant it or not is irrelevant. It's dangerous play - it's a red card. You have to be aware of other players on the pitch. Does he think he's going to have 20 yards to himself? "  

 

On the other hand, Paddy Crerand, (for younger readers, he played for Manchester United from 1963-1971 and has since found himself unable to say a bad word about the club and has refused to have surgery for the removal of the red and white blinkers he was given as a leaving present)  apparently thought that "Roy Keane was in a minority of one. Not one person said it was a red card except Roy. Why do we not talk about the 99.9% of people who said it wasn't a sending off.”

 

Warming to his theme he added, “Why are we talking about Roy Keane - because he played for Manchester United? Well, let me tell you something. I played with Manchester United, I played in a European Cup final, Roy didn't. The referee was wrong."

 

If you want objective analysis devoid of personal bias or animosity then don't bother calling Paddy Crerand.  If you want old-fashioned vitriolic nonsense, then he's your man.

 

 

 

 

Vicky Pryce – taking it well

According to many in the media, the Liberal Democrats have been rocked by ‘sensational claims’ that Vicky Pryce, ex-wife of Chris Huhne and now failed plotter and convicted liar, confided in them two years ago.  According to that unbiased bastion of objectivity, the Daily Mail, this was “a nightmare for a party still reeling from sexual harassment allegations”.

 

It seems that Pryce has now claimed, in previously undisclosed emails to a journalist, that she told some important people in Liberal Democrat circles that her husband had done some bad things.

For example, she says she mentioned that Huhne had ‘behaved badly’ and said to others that there might be a scandal about to break over Huhne. That, it seems, is the substance of the 'sensational claims'.  Wow.

 

Pryce has admitted to a campaign of leaks and planted information designed to get back at Huhne for his treatment of her when they were married.  She has been, to all intents and purposes, a woman on a mission to exact what she thought would be delicious revenge.

 

For such an apparently intelligent woman it is amazing that she did not think through the likely consequences of her actions.  Had she done so then surely she would have realised that they were likely to see her go to prison as well as him?  And given this background, why is the UK media so keen to peddle other allegations made by her, in a crude and transparent attempt to drag as many people as possible into her ugly and spiteful world?

 

With any luck she will be sentenced today to a spell in jail, where she can reflect on her foolish pursuit of revenge and we can be spared from having to read any more about her.

 

 

 

Bolshie at the Bolshoi

The story of the acid attack on Sergei Filin, the Bolshoi ballet’s artistic director is full of some deliciously over the top diva-esque intrigue.

 

Bolshoi soloist Pavel Dimitrichenko has been in court this week and has admitted paying someone to attack Filin, but only to beat him up and not to throw acid in his face.  Sub-plots abound, with most of them seeming to involve Dimitrichenko’s girlfriend Anzhelina Vorontsova or her teacher and mentor Nikolai Tsiskaridze who was, apparently, none too pleased that Filin was given the top job rather than him.

 

I am not yet convinced that this is anything other than an elaborate hoax being played on us by the Russian media.  The story is almost unbelieveable and the casting questionable.  The biggest clue to the subtefuge, however, was to be found in the ‘court’ scene last week. Look at the person playing the part of the policeman guarding the suspect – nothing more than a camp ballet dancer in an unconvincing disguise, I think. 

 

 

 

Celebrate success

Arsene Wenger and his Arsenal team have been slated in the media this year for another season of failure.  Things are looking black for Wenger and the club. They face another season without a trophy. It is also possible that for the first time under his managerial reign – 16 consecutive seasons so far - Arsenal might not finish above Tottenham in the league. That really would be a mark of failure.  The crowing that comes from Tottenham fans on the rare occasions that they have managed to beat Arsenal during that time has been in stark contrast to the utter silence, indeed the complete invisibility, of those same fans on other occasions.  If they are to have a moment of triumph then goodness knows how they will manage to control themselves.  Enjoy it while you can, would be my advice.

 

But before everyone gets carried away with their perceived failures, let’s remember that no matter what happens this week in the second leg of their tie against a dominant Bayern Munich, Arsenal have survived longer in the Champion’s League this season than any other British team.  OK, not the most stirring of achievements, and some might argue that this is just a quirk of the fixture list, or that Nani has given them a helping hand, but Arsenal fans won’t care.  When you are starved of success then you make the most of the little things.  Just ask Tottenham fans.