Andy's Glasses

We all love The Oscars. Don’t we? We all stay up all night long to enjoy the wonderful spectacle and razzmatazz, see the dresses, hear the speeches, roll around in hysterics at the compare for the night. If they can find one.

Actually, we don’t. Well I don’t. I love movies but have never found the Academy Awards worthy staying up for. To me its always been a bit irrelevant. Mainly because I have no idea what ‘The Academy’ does the rest of the year. If it does anything. And the whole, let’s face it, really American event is a touch too saccharine for this British palate.

Yet it has a power. ‘ACADEMY AWARD WINNNING…’ is a guarantee of more people seeing the film, the star, the director, the cinematographer’s 3rd assistant’s nanny, because historically its the ultimate accolade. And more people means more money. And that’s how the world goes round.

But I’m not alone in finding the whole thing a bit ‘irrelevant’. And because relevance is the Academy’s sole purpose to the entire movie industry, that is a big danger for its existence. If the potency of ‘AWARD WINNING!!!’ is reduced to ‘yeah, so what?’ then the role of the academy is reduced to nothing.

So we had the ‘too white’ years in which any actor, director or writer of any colour whatsoever was almost institutionally ignored, and now we have the reversal. Because the Academy just has to stay relevant, it can’t just pick massive and pure white blockbusters each and every year. And pick it does. Let’s face it ‘best movie’ is a rather subjective judgment, as is best anything, so it becomes a bit political.

This year Green Book won the best movie award. I didn’t see it. Because in trailers it looked a bit clicheed, a bit stereotypy, a rather predictable culture clash reversal with an urbane, sophisticated black dude and a ‘talian New York wise guy goodfella on a road trip in the still segregated South in 1963. It shows the bigotry, the hypocrisy, the stupidity of segregation and how a Northern virtual dim-wit was oblivious to it, having had no experience of such in NY City.

Yet Spike Lee decided it was a movie about racism too much from the white perspective and went to storm out when Green Book won its award. Whereas Black Klansman, for which Lee won best director Oscar, a great movie which depicts the horrible racism, bigotry and hypocrisy in the South, is presumably fine.

But Lee had to win an award, because the politics demand that he do so, and quite deservedly, if not for Black Klansman, which was an ok movie, but for his vast work over decades. Which is always how the Oscars have worked.

So I’ll continue to ignore the Oscar Ceremony, the babes in 50,000 dollar dresses, the bling, the often embarrassing and seemingly endless speeches, but reserve the right to be influenced by the ‘ACADEMY AWARD WINNING’ banners on movie posters.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Have you ever done a ‘speed awareness course’? If you answer ‘no’ then you’re either an overseas person or not a real person. I don’ think they have such things in foreign lands. In America you get fined for speeding. There’s never a question there of taking away the right to drive any more than there is taking away your gun(s). In Russia the rich people speed all the time; race up and down the boulevards in their Ferraris and hot Mercs. If the poor speed in their 1973 Ladas (almost an impossibility) they just go to Siberia for a few years, then a few more.

But here, if you get caught speeding, you either take the ‘points’, on your driving licence, which don’t make prizes, and a fine, OR, you can do a ‘speed awareness course’. Which costs about the same as the fine, but you get no points on your licence. Though the insurance companies are aware (all data is public) and reserve the right to SCREW YOU OVER at any/every opportunity. Because they’re bastards.

Speeding is what normal, sensible people call ‘driving’. It’s called ‘getting where you’re going’, rather than dithering around polluting the fucking atmosphere with no apparent goals or aims or desire to ever get anywhere, as most seem to do. Generally in the ‘fast lane’, with their lights permanently on hi-beam.

I know every speed camera on the North Circular Road. Intimately. I drive my dad home every Friday night and have done for years. But they must have put a mobile or temporary one and apparently I was going a bit faster than the limit. I didn’t even try to deny it because if I don’t know there’s a camera there then I will be speeding. I can’t help it.

I’ve done a speed awareness course before. Big surprise there. You can only do one every 5 years so I have to be careful now. But the idea behind them is simple. To make people aware of the increased danger of driving too fast. Not the danger of getting caught, that’s pretty obvious, but danger to ‘others’. And rather than just say that, they spend 4 fucking hours (which you never get back) showing you graphs and charts and scenarios and death statistics and horror photos and engage in a brainwashing process to pre-condition you that every time the speedo goes over 30 you start involuntarily sweating. And it works. Generally until you get in the car to come home. At which point ‘the race is on’ once more. It’s a pantomime. But you have no choice.

And the Oscar for ‘an actor looking engaged and interested when HE’S BORED FUCKING SHITLESS!!!’ goes to…

Me.

Happy monday, drive carefully.

A xxxx

The political spectrum is changing. Well, not changing, it can’t really change, just the whereabouts of the various party positions upon it. Labour shifted to the left. The process started with ‘Little Tosser’, who used the professional name of ‘Ed Milliband’. Who took Blair’s 40% to the left, and Brown’s 50%, and moved it to about 60% to the left. As he had to. Part of the deal he did with the trade unions when they sharpened the knife he used to stab his brother in the back to win the leadership. Then along comes Corbyn who says ‘fuck dat!’ and moves the party to about 95% to the left. Not quite 100% because at that point the spectrum becomes a loop and looks exactly the same as 100% to the right. Outward fascism, dictatorships, end of democracy. Call it ‘Hitler’s Germany’ or ‘Stalin’s Russia’, even ‘Putin’s Russia’, ‘Franco’s Spain’ or Mao’s China, its all the same. Failed models in which the people get totally shafted, regardless of the stated ideology behind that shafting.

The Tories have shifted to the right. Cameron was about 60% to the right (about the same as Blair, note), but May, much more the social reformer, took it originally back to about 55%, just slightly right of centre.

And then came Brexit.

Which has divided all parties, except the Lib Dems but only because they’re too small to ‘divide’; it’d be like splitting the atom. And the Tory divisions have resulted in a strong, hard right element, driven by the ERG (European Research Group), which is another name for those few UKIP people who haven’t yet been revealed to be neo-nazis but fucking hate foreigners of all sorts nonetheless. And hate Europe most of all. So some have nick-named the Tory party ‘blueKIP’. Which in my (facile and childish) mind, puts the Tories up to about 70% to the right. Too far for me.

11 MPs have left their parties this week. Probably because of these relative shifts in party positions more than even antisemitism or Brexit. Though all are pretty much a consequence of the polarising effect of Brexit.

Should these ‘traitors!’ stand in bye-elections? As they are no longer representative of the party they belonged to when voted? Great question. Strictly, the answer is ‘no’. Because the electorate voted for their specific name. And that’s what they got and still have. But really that’s never the case. If you ask people who they voted for in a general election they don’t say Luciana Berger or Mike Freer or Chukka Umana, they say ‘I voted for Corbyn’ or ‘I voted for May’. We elect individuals but we’re voting in a government and a prime minister. In which case they should stand for re-elections to see whether the people they represent want them or the party they just left.

The main case against bye-elections though is that they are what Corbyn wants. And therefore any right-minded, free-thinking, non-racist person should want the opposite.

And I really like the idea of new, modern, properly centrist party run by decent individuals. And if they’re all remainers? So be it.

Happy sunny Sunday

A xxxx

Chelsea football club have been banned from the football transfer market for a year. By FIFA, the world’s highest authority in the sport. For ‘impropriety’ in the contracts of 29 junior players. Which is a bit like the Pope de-frocking a cardinal for sexual offences. But this is a good thing as clubs generally ignore all rules and regulations, particularly rich clubs. Like (fucking) Chelsea. And remember, the most important rule; if its bad for Chelsea its good for the world.

And a transfer ban for any team is fairly bad, unless it was for Spurs for last year when it would have made no difference, but Chelsea are a team famous for trying to ‘buy their way out of trouble’. And they always seem to be in trouble. So they spend a lot. A helluva lot. With their manager under massive pressure due to… due to… due to the team playing shit and losing games, his position looks even more fragile. Though Chelsea are due to appeal, which historically results in the ban being delayed by 12 months. So expect big spending at the Bridge should that occur. It’ll be like doing a double shop with Ocado. But with the distinct possibility of losing Eden Hazard in the process.

But what a weekend of sport we have. Currently watching (in great discomfort) Spurs at Burnley, followed by the rugby later on this afternoon. Rampant England in Wales. And tomorrow we have the Caribaou Cup final, which I really don’t care about, but its Chelsea against Manchester City so might be at least ‘watchable’. Though the league match between Liverpool and Manchester United is a lot more tantalising a prospect.

Add in a few games of tennis in the glorious February sunshine (WTF??) and it would be the ‘perfect weekend’. Other than the game at Burnley has just finished. And that’s horrible, just horrible.

Happy (fucking) Saturday

A xxxx

The whole world is talking about jihadi brides returning. Well, my whole world is. That’s me, Mel, The Times, the News, Question Time and Lila. And on the radio too. Not radio two, but The radio, TOO. In fact on LBC. The phone-ins have been talking about pretty much nothing else since Shamima was ‘found’ by the Times journalist in the camp in Syria. And now even Corbyn’s piped up and says she must ‘come home’. But as we all know, he loves a terrorist and can never have too many around him.

Much as I’m appalled by her appalling views on various atrocities and the fact that she shows no remorse… well, a little bit after they withdrew her citizenship, so even that must be questioned, she pretty much must come back to Britain. Sajid Javid’s actions the other day can be seen by some (well, by me) as being a slightly politicised way of having a ‘Churchill moment’, of elevating himself in the public’s eyes from creepy little diversity-quota-filler to Man of Action! Like Maggie Thatcher became over the Falklands. But she was much more a man that Sajid could ever be.

The lawyers will wrangle, Shamima’s parents (or, I’m guessing by the amazingly honest, clever and superb letter they submitted yesterday; their legal team) will fight and essentially she is British and no-one else will take her. Obviously she must face the consequences of her actions, but back she’ll come. With her tail under her hijab.

A young woman on LBC, an educated ‘British Muslim’, all nice vowels and tolerance and anti-jihadi liberalism, was stating her case for Shamima’s return. And, with the presenter playing devil’s advocate and pushing a little in the interests of ‘good radio when you’ve been discussing the same thing day and night for 10 days solid’, she suddenly spurted out “WELL PEOPLE WENT TO FIGHT FOR ISRAEL IN THEIR WARS AND THEY WERE LET BACK IN!!!’

And it was the assumed equivalence that shocked me. Yup, shocked me. Along with the ease and casualness with which it was thrown out there. And the fact that this woman, seemingly so intelligent and educated, could run a parallel between people going to fight a cause that, in her eyes and many others, was unworthy or in many ways ‘wrong’, with fighting for a cause that threatens OUR very way of life. A war about the Middle East in the Middle East as opposed to a death-cult culture which is sworn to the destruction of our ways, our nation, our very existence. One is at worst ‘morally questionable’, the other a direct threat to Britain.

Worrying. Very worrying

Happy Friday

A xxxx

They’re back. Liladays. They went away due to staff issues, but they’re now resolved so we’re back on track. And the ‘full thing’. Wednesday night sleepover running seamlessly into Liladay. Brilliant. Though ‘sleepover’ implies, errrr, ‘sleeping’ and I don’t wish to convey the image of… of… of sleep. Sleepover is what it should be. Lila has different definitions. Because in the ‘old days’ (she’s now 22 months old) Lila went to sleep at 7 and woke up at 6 and that was it. The dream. Which turned into a nightmare a few months ago and we don’t know why. But now she’s up once, twice, thrice, in the night and then, best of all, official ‘morning’ starts, well today, at 5.15. Last week was a bit earlier. So today counts as a ‘lay in’. Though doesn’t feel like it. Unsurprisingly.

And I try to explain to her. About diurnal rhythms and sleep cycles and quote to her from studies of sleep depravation in Abu Graib and Guantanamo Bay. I draw her graphs, bar charts, sine curves. Then she draws them. In fact that’s pretty much all she draws; graphs without any coordinates. In pink and blue AND purple. Bit of green. All over the newspaper, the walls…

But the fact of the matter is that she is so unrelentingly adorable at any time other than 1, 3, 5 in the morning, that once you see that smiling little face, its over. Ya had me at ‘smile’. The rest I’ll get over. In the fullness of time. Then she gets ‘busy’. And it doesn’t stop. Ever.

I think she woke up this morning because she was concerned about the new group of resignees in Westminster. The 3 Tory MPs who have abandoned the seemingly sinking ship (rhymes with ‘stinking shit’) of the government benches to sit as newdependents with Chukka and Lucinda et al. With no party, no backers (that we know of) and no hope of any immediate influence in the world. But they’re basically The Remain Party. That’s their collective common ground, if not their stated reason for desertion. And ya know what; its about time we had one of those. Because arguing Brexit all of every day for almost 2 years has gotten us precisely nowhere. So we might as well stay. (Run and hide immediately. London’s safe).

Happy exhausting Thursday

A xxxx

The new in-party of ex-Labour disgruntees has now grown to a massive 8 people. Yet if they get 4 more they’ll have the same number of MPs as the Liberal Democrat’s. Which is interesting but irrelevant in a way that the Lib Dem’s themselves are somewhat irrelevant. I’m just happy that Labour is in difficulty and hoping that it is catastrophic in nature. And just to illustrate a wonderful point, yesterday Labour MP Ruth George posted on social media that the new Independent Group (as they’re called) is probably being funded by Israel. She later withdrew and apologised, but, I mean, I mean, I mean… FUCK ME!!! Will they never learn? Jewish conspiracies in response to accusations of inventing Jewish conspiracies? Sensitive.

Because its not all about anti-semitism. On the news every night there are stories from Venezuela about the horrendous economic conditions which have lead to starvation. Children are dying from malnutrition in the country with the world’s largest oil reserves. There are only 2 people, possibly in the entire world, who don’t believe that this is true. That it is in fact some ‘conspiracy by the West’ to taint Nicolas Maduro. One is Maduro himself, who maintains that all is fine. And the other is Jeremy Corbyn, who refuses to admit that a nation following the socialist paradigm could fail so tragically. Even though, historically, every single one has.

Corbyn would have not just let Shamima Begum back into the country but invited her to tea and probably made her a Dame. He loves a terrorist, which is as odd as it is true. He loved the IRA until they sadly(???) disbanded, then moved on to more hate-preachy type Islamic fundamentalists and other murdering rabble.

But Sajid Javid, the Home Secretary decided not to. Let her in, that is. In fact he stripped Shamima of her British citizenship. Which is a bit radical, and awfully fast, but he will have the nation’s support. Whether he has the support of the legal appeals people is yet to be seen. The criteria for taking such an action are simple. If you represent a danger to Britain, you can’t come back. And even those fairly sympathetic to Shamima originally (everyone’s sympathetic to her poor, unfortunate kids, everyone; you’re nothing special) then listened to her views on the Manchester bombing. Which were basically ‘well they’re bombing us over here (in Syria) too; other side of the coin, shit happens’. She has no remorse, she has no sympathy or compassion for the parents of the children murdered in that IS inspired massacre, and now she’s banned. But only if they can get her Bangladesh citizenship, to which she’s entitled. Cos you can’t leave people ‘stateless’. Even really horrible people.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

So 7 MPs resign from the Labour Party yesterday and more are expected soon. As well as many disgruntled Tories too, they fear/reckon/dread (depending on your standing on the political spectrum. If you’re a ‘Green’ then just say ‘ohmmmmm’ and hug a tree).

The only resignation that didn’t come yesterday was that of Maurizio Sarri. There again, why would he resign. If he gets sacked he gets the balance of his contract with Chelsea, doubtless 10 to 15 million quid. Like every other Chelsea manager whose been sacked, virtually one a year for the last decade. So don’t expect his resignation any time soon.

And what has gone wrong at Stamford Bridge? We already know what’s wrong at Westminster, which is pretty much everything, from Corbyn to Brexit to… errr… Corbyn. But Chelsea have an amazing squad of players. They ‘know how to win’ things, they have that mentality and yet…

History repeats. There’s something, which must be there in the players, in the dressing room, which has the power to destabilise the team. And when managers fall foul for whatever reason, the team just stops playing for them. It happened with Morinho, it happened with Conte and now its happening with Sarri.

Personally, without getting too surreal or Stephen King about this, I reckon that there is an underlying evil that pervades the entire Chelsea ‘thing’. Like it was built on an ancient burial ground and the spirits are restless, and during home matches they leave their old graves and inhabit the bodies of the fans and players. Bit like Pirates of the Caribbean on the ghost ship. But that’s just my hypothesis.

Last night I watched as a really lacklustre Chelsea were horrendously outplayed by Manchester United. Not by matching the Blues attacking but by controlling the game totally from the back and then exploiting weaknesses in Chelsea’s midfield. And Ole Gunnar Solskjaer is a wily dude and knew precisely where to exploit.

Because Sarri took the world’s best holding player, the best disrupter of attacks in the world, N’golo Kante, and put him as a winger. Where he is ok. But Chelsea have a wealth of talent in that position. So the holding role goes to Jorginho. Who is simply not up to the job. And obviously, for some reason, the players have the hump with their manager and the team are underperforming massively. Which is pretty good news for most of us, not quite so good for Chelsea.

Resignations to follow.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx

Its happened. What, for all other people is ‘hot news!!’ about a splinter group of MPs leaving the Labour party today, but as I predicted and anticipated this yesterday, for you, this is old news. I am Nostradamus! Why have they left? I think one sub-headline on the BBC’s newspage sums it up beautifully, reading: “A guide to Labour antisemitism claims”. Its such a vast topic that it needs a user-friendly ‘guide’ to plot you through it. But good luck to Chukka and Luciana et al who are presently just gonna sit there as ‘independents’ but inevitably, in time, either Corbyn will be assassinated by me or they’ll form a new party. John McDonnell, the Scumbag-in-Chief’s chief Scumbag, said that they shouldn’t have left. That they’d be better off ‘fighting their corner’. Like Luciana Berger hasn’t been doing just that for 2 years producing no change other than the increase in the levels of personal abuse she suffers. McDonnell continued: ‘Labour is a family’. Right. A totally dysfunctional family of abusers, wife-beaters and morons headed by a unilateral totalitarian dictator in a fucking beret. Someone should call social services. A mere 7 have run so far, but I fear (read: ‘Hope’) that more will follow.

Meanwhile Shamima Begum wants people to show her some sympathy, some compassion, and let her come home. She was ‘just a housewife in Syria’. Well, she should have gone to Bradford instead, then she could come home any time she wanted. Her new baby was born yesterday, so mazzletov to her and the family. Though its not about whether she’s in Syria or Turkey or Bradford or Ruislip. Its about why she went. And that was to become the Jihadi bride that she wished for. And in doing so she bought into the whole IS shtick. And I’m sure she showed ‘compassion and sympathy’ as her husband and his mates and her whole new ‘family’ (not the Labour ‘family’, a different one bent on a different kind of destruction) beheaded and raped and killed and tortured their way across the Levant.

And its not just the arguments about the morality and desirability of ‘welcoming’ home someone with a poisoned mind, its a logistical nightmare too. Britain has no diplomatic ties to Syria. Has no forces there, no consular staff, no-one. So before we decide what to do with her, she has to make her way to Turkey. Back the way she came just 4 years ago. I would say ‘wiser’ but somehow I doubt it.

Happy Monday

A xxxx

I love movies. I love all types of movies. Action thrillers, action thrillers and also action thrillers. Ok, that’s a joke. I’m not even keen on action killers and wouldn’t see a ‘Bond’ if ya paid me in gold-plated Aston Martins. But I will see a thriller and I’ll see art house and I’ll see absolutely anything by the Coen Brothers and wouldn’t miss any new Woody Allen, even though he’s now Hollywood’s most celebratedly perverse and sick hate-figure of a Hollywood abusive Jew, after Harvey Weinstein. Sometimes art must transcend life. I suppose I really like ‘Indy’ films because they’re always a bit ‘different’ from the mainstream. But then the Indys get bought by the mainstream studios to increase their offerings beyond mere blockbusters and thus really should rename them Ds. Because no longer independent they must ergo be Dependant.

But its Oscar time. When all the good movies come out. They save them. For the ‘recency effect’. The last great film you saw was the best film you saw. Unless its shit.

So we went to see ‘If Beale Street could talk’ last night. Which was a million miles from ‘shit’. It’s a powerful film. It’s a sad film. It’s a charming film. It’s a tragic film. And most of all it is an exceptionally beautiful film. But a film so self-consciously aware of its own beauty that its also something a very slow film. And I don’t know how they do that when the plot seems to move much more quickly than the action. Yet every shot is considered, contemplated, cogitated upon, mulled over and presented in the most wonderfully beautiful manner. The acting is fantastic and strong. The characters believable and, yes, beautiful. So for 2 hours you wallow in this astounding beauty whilst feeling the pain of the plight it represents. Because this is not a happy film. You want it to be as happy as it is beautiful but that is probably the whole point. Beauty is skin deep and in this case that skin in black, in Harlem, in nineteen sixty-something. And the poignancy of the tale is in stark contrast to the amazing cinematography.

Thus it becomes a very ‘interesting’ film. Slow but never boring, spectacular to watch but rather sad and tragic. And, obviously, the tale of institutional racism. Back then. Which is rather like it is ‘back now’ but without so much shooting.

Happy Sunday

A xxxx