Andy's Glasses

Do you believe in democracy? I do. But only when it works in my favour. If Ed Miliband had won the election I’d have opted for Sharia rather than his, or Corbyn’s, brand of ‘total bollox’ rule.

Do you believe in justice? Punishment fitting the crime? A society based on a strong morality? Yet one that moves with the changes to the demands of the majority?

No, neither do I. But they gave women the vote anyway. Then they did away with the death penalty, stopped using torture chambers and started banging on about equality. Of all things. As if all people are basically equal. Imagine.

But we do all that because its what we believe in. Apparently most of Europe is pretty much in accord about those societal fundamentals. Its what makes us Europe. America, Australia, even undeveloped countries like Canada, where adultery was invented (on an industrial scale), all have similar values. Similar but not identical. Which is as it should be. In America they still have the death penalty. Its called ‘the right to bear arms’. And is very commonly used and very indiscriminate. They also have state funded death in a lot of states in accordance with their laws.

Does that make the democratic/Euro-Amer-Aus version of society the only way to be? Is it the best way to be? Is it the most advanced, civilised, evolved or correct way to be?

We think so, because we’re all brought up on that particular value system. The Greeks invented democracy (bit ironic bearing in mind recent events). The Romans invented baths. But there’s loads of people who choose not to shower every day. (Unfortunately many of them travel on the Northern Line).

Other countries run to their own laws. Unbothered by the vagaries of ‘democracy’ and judicial process, they opt for something different. Something more tribal perhaps. More feudal. Ultimate rulers. Local warlords. Sharia. Ways that are alien. Seemingly barbaric at times, apparently contingent on how much pleasure the 4th wife gave the Main Man the night before as to what punishment might be meted out today.

And these systems aren’t ‘wrong’ because there aren’t absolutes in such matters of society. They’re just ‘not as we understand nor would ever choose to do’ and thus can appear abhorrent to our wet and western way of thinkage. Where women not only get to vote but some of them are even allowed to work. Though obviously not at the same rates of pay as men.

In India they have a ‘caste’ system. Its awful. By my way of thinking. Condemning people, from birth, to a certain and pre-defined life path, by virtue of their parents. And recently, a low caste man ran off with a high caste woman, who happened to be the wife of another high caste person. Nothing Ashley Madison about this, it just happened. And off they ran. So the village elders have decided on a punishment to fit the crime. The low caste man’s two sisters are to be publicly raped.

That’s fair.

And just.

According to them. According to westerners it is simply appalling. The punishment is not only worse than the crime, but illogical, nonsensical and stupid. As well as kind of punishing the wrong people.

But its not our business to do anything about it. Other than be saddened and sickened. And also eternally grateful for what we know and understand as ‘civilisation’ but others choose to disagree or refuse to be enlightened about.

We can appeal to such people in those places. But they don’t share our views. Nor do they have to. The whole concept of fairness is based on your particular viewpoint. However fucked up that may be in someone else’s eyes.

Same with countries. When we interfere with Iraq, with Afghanistan, with Syria, we created a fucking monster. The void left by the whole Arab Spring was the vacuum into which ISIS flowed, Libya crumbled, Syria is in crisis. And all because these places weren’t run according to our ideals.

Yep, it really is a fucked up world out there. Or maybe in here, I’m not sure now.

Happy Saturday

A xxxx

This time its from Melbourne. Where scientists (well, they always call them that, don’t they? but who knows, really?) analysed 88 studies of gender issues in the workplace and decided that ‘covert everyday sexism can damage women’s health’. The damage being depression and ‘deep psychological harm’ in an undefined way. And this is Australia. A land so subtle that chat up lines range from: “get yer tits out, Sheila, its yer lucky night!” to “wanna fuck?”

These studies were more concerned with constant workplace niggles. Digs at women, references to their attractiveness (“she’s a DEFINITE 9, that one”) to lower wages and difficulties in attaining promotions.

And they must stop. Now. We can’t have anxieties and possible depression caused by flirting at work. These ‘men’ must be stopped. Castrated. Put on bromides. Forced to abandon any ‘banter’ that could possibly be misunderstood as ‘sexist’, an umbrella that is growing by the day.

So whilst we’re talking about the need to reduce stress, I want politicians to act against people who drive at 25mph in the fast lane on a clear road. I want no supermarket queue at Waitrose, because its depressing. I want to pay less tax, earn more money, have more sunny days (like today… at the moment), more empty seats on the Tube, an end to roadworks, faster wi-fi and I want Spurs to win the league.

No, they’re right, its easier to try to stop men being men. And good luck with that.

Another facet of manliness is measuring dicks. We do it all the time. I never go to the toilet without a tape measure. But billionaires do it in a different way. They buy boats. But not just any boat. They buy a boat that is bigger than anyone else’s. That’s what Andrey Melnichenko is currently doing. Phillipe Starck has designed him a yacht (so far costing £300million and it remains an artist’s impression) that, at 142 metres is bigger than Abramoviches, bigger than the Sultan of Anywhere’s, bigger than big. Its fucking massive.

It is said that the best two days of a boat-owner’s life are the day he buys his boat and the day he sells it. I wonder if that applies to this excessive act of extravagant vanity.

Happy sailing

A xxxx

Terry Hallard is unique. He was at the Shoreham air show tragedy on Saturday. That was the worst air show disaster (they rank them; soon there’ll be a ’50 best airshow crashes’ programme on channel 4) since 1952 at Farnborough. And what makes Tel (I’m sure he won’t mind…) unique is that he was at that one too. Yep, he was 12 years old at Farnborough, when 31 people died, and he is now 75 and was there when 11 died in Shoreham.

So the question is: is Terry Hallard the luckiest man alive? Or the unluckiest man alive?? And for good measure: would you invite him round to your house for dinner? When he seems to have the rather odd superpower of making planes hit the ground very near him.

Another plane crashed yesterday too, a light aircraft in Quebec. That’s in Canadia. Not the good bit but the French bit.

So is this a sign that its p’raps not the time to get in anything that goes more than 3 feet off the ground, or do the statistics now fall so far against another plane crashing any time in the next 7 years, that there’s never been a better time to fly?

Whilst pondering that we need to discuss ‘ladies-carriage-gate’. Jeremy Corbyn sort-of proposed, more just kinda mentioned that for security and safety of women travelling on public transport, particularly at night or alone, they should have designated ‘women-only’ carriages on trains and tubes. Sounds reasonable. Yet the other 3 Labour leader candidates have lambasted this suggestion. Because a women’s carriage idea is ‘just putting a sticking plaster’ on the problem when what we really need is to educate men, particularly drunk men, that assaulting women, either physically or verbally, or even being suggestive or provocative, is simply wrong and must be stopped.

I don’t agree with the women’s carriage idea either. How you gonna pull women when they’re locked up in their own cage? But Corbyn’s idea, however flawed, is in fact an idea. And a pragmatic suggestion with immediate impact. One must feel that changing the entire male psyche of a nation who spend most evening in a state of partial intoxication may take a little longer to achieve.

Sticking plasters work, that’s why we have them. So, much as I don’t agree with Corbyn (ever!!!), I actually find myself disagreeing with his detractors more. Does that make me a closet socialist?

Happy thursday

A xxxx

Jermain Defoe, the (for the moment) Sunderland striker, is hiring a PA. An assistant. To help him run his life. I’m almost kind’a hoping that the first task of his newly appointed Person Friday will be to get him back to Spurs. Where he was. Twice before. And where, really, he belongs. Not necessarily where his heart lies. That’s in a numbered account in Switzerland. Probably next door to Sepp Blatter’s.

But Jermaine is rich, he’s famous and he has placed an ad for a Miss Moneypenny, for a Pepper Potts, for someone to help organise his busy schedule and pick up his dry cleaning. And so much more. Lots more.

For a mere 60 grand a year (its what he’s offering) he wants all of the above, sort out the mansion (which has both discotheque and hair salon, of course), become a bit of a Bilko in charge of his motor pool, service the dogs, wash the Warhols, do a Nigella in the kitchen, become his own private Ocado and possibly clean his football boots.

On top of all this, he wants to become a ‘global brand’. Jermain Defoe Inc. Complete with Facebook and other social media tie-ins. In short: he wants to be the next Kardashian. But smaller. Perfumes, ranges of clothes, perhaps music (well, he likes music, I’m guessing; how hard can it be to ‘get involved at the highest level’?). Maybe politics. He can’t spell ‘Conservative’ but would be ok with the Greens or UKIP.

JD (as the ‘brand’ will be known) scored a hat-trick for Sunderland last night. Probably just to impress the applicants for his job. Then he was led away by his posse of bodyguards, his agents, stylists, publicists, spokesmen and their assistants to his private jet to take him 40 miles home. Because that’s what being a global brand involves.

Oh, and the assistant must be female and she if she’s not better looking than Tom Cruise’s PA then don’t bother applying.

Come back to Spurs, Jermain, and I’ll be your PA.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

The latest wisdom to come out of Australia is that to avoid a shark attack you need to dress like a zebra. Sharks are famously scared shitless of zebras and will avoid confrontation with that most docile of cud-chewers at any cost. Have you ever seen a fight between a shark and a zebra? No, no-one has, those cowardly fish never go to the forests to find stripy horses. So if you choose to surf off the coast of Australia, or ‘shark-central’ as its known, it is advised to do it in a zebra suit.

Apparently sharks only see a dark shadow of swimmers/surfers against the sky and ‘mistake’ the person for their normal food. But their normal food is ‘meat’. More accurately ‘any fucking meat’ be it fish-meat, seal-meat, mammal-meat or human-meat. “Meat is meat”. That’s the tattoo sharks would all have if you could tattoo underwater. But if you wear stripes, as the shark comes out of the water to start lunch, it gets confused, visually, and says: “oh, sorry, mate, thought you were something else” and gently swims away. Bloody sharks…

John Terry seems to have difficulty staying on the pitch at present. He lasted 45 minutes last week before being substituted and just a little longer this week before being sent off for assault and battery. Though in Morinho’s eyes, ‘he did nothing’ and it was all the ref’s fault. That’s unusual. Pedro looking like a worthwhile addition to the squad, sadly.

Manchester City trounced Everton, previously unbeaten in 1 game. Possibly 2. But City looked very dangerous. Very good, in fact. Quite scary. They seem to have ironed out the creases that were very evident towards the end of last season and progressed back to the ‘fucking awesome’ level of seasons past.

Arsenal play Liverpool tonight. Is this the first 6-pointer of the season? I’m going to check with the points award committee and I’ll get back to you.

Happy Monday. Keep away from sharks. And zebras.

A xxxx

We’re having a heatwave in London. Almost 32 hours without rain. Yesterday the temperature rose to a whopping 30 degrees and even at midnight last night it was still 26 degrees of gorgeous humidity and sticky sweatiness. Lovely. We don’t get too much continuous sunshine here, you really need to go to the third world for proper weather. When you see pictures of global starvation and boatloads of migrants and desperate souls, the sun’s always shining nicely in the background. I suppose you can’t have it all.

Or, in Spurs case, you can’t really have anything.

Well, one point, but that’s not much. Not enough. Not what you really deserve. And its not about what you deserve on merit of the play, more what you deserve on moral grounds. Spurs deserve to be top of the league. They deserve to be great. They deserve to be brushing aside all who come before them. It would be the right thing to happen. But the bastards in football are insistent that you actually have to win games before they give you the points. Its not fair, but its the way it is.

So we went to Leicester. Well, they did. I stayed at home to wait for my new tv which didn’t (fucking) arrive due to courier meltdown. Never mind. Black’n’white’s good enough for the time being and 3 channels is more than enough.

We played badly, we held possession but did fuck all with it. We gave the ball away, missed chances and looked sadly in need of more players. About 11 would do the trick. Well, 10, I’m very happy with our goalie. Then we scored! Brilliant. 81 minutes. Too late for a Leicester come-back? Apparently not. Equaliser in the 82nd minute. Bastard foxes.

Lucky I’m a Bournemouth fan. (As of about 5 o’clock yesterday). ‘We’ won at Upton Park. ‘Our’ first win in the premiership, everrrrrrrr. And what a game. Ok, bit shambolic all round, nowhere more so than in West Ham’s defence, but 4-3 is a great scoreline. It says ‘chaos’. It says ‘panic and pandemonium’. It says ‘West Ham are being punished for conning the council and the government into sponsoring their lofty Olympic Stadium aspirations when they haven’t got a pot to piss in’. Scorelines can speak volumes.

Time for Daniel Levy to get his chequebook out, I feel. One week to go. Let’s go panic-buying.

Same old same old…

Happy Sunday

A xxxx

Ok, Jeremy Corbyn is a nob. Fact.

He’s a very very left-wing socialist who wants to re-nationalise everything that ain’t nailed down, will ‘abolish austerity’ (read: borrow so much money that previous levels of national debt will seem like chump change), he courts Islamic terrorists, donates to holocaust-deniers, joined in the pathetic rhetoric that ‘Israel could have been responsible for 9/11’ and is generally considered to be a worthless, clueless piece of anachronistic shit. Fact(s).

And he’ll become the next leader of the Labour party. Fact.

Unless he’s killed very soon. Fucked.

The Labour Party are the second largest party in the country. They are the Opposition. Ok, if Scotland had more people Labour would probably be third by now. Praise G-d they don’t.

Those eligible to vote in the leadership election have increased from 200,000 in May to over 600,000 now. Half of whom are possibly, probably, maybe, could be just bad people who want to vote for Corbyn because he is unelectable in a General Election. Perhaps those people aren’t all ‘bad’. They’re just abusing a system in which for just 3 quid you can vote in the leadership ballot. And its worth 3 quid of a lot of people’s money to virtually guarantee that Labour will not win the next election.

But what’s interesting (because Corbyn really isn’t) is what’ll happen after he wins the party leadership. Because his first job is to form a ‘shadow cabinet’. And most Labour mps with any clout have already refused to be part of it. Which means all that’ll be left are a bunch of like-minded Trotskyist has-beens with a value system based in China in 1972.

The real ‘leaders’ will abandon Corbyn. The other leadership contestants have already declared themselves unavailable. Except for Andy Burnham. The most ‘flexible’ (read: ‘desperate’) of the contenders. He’s already pitching himself way left of where he started to try and usurp a bit of Corbyn-mania for himself. “Yeah, I can do socialist” spouts the Scouser. He speaks like Steven Gerrard but looks like Scott Tracey (Thunderbird 1). And he’s a tosser who moves with the flow. Not a great characteristic for a leader. Fact.

3 weeks to go. Another nail-biting finish. Except its already been won.

Happy Saturday. Fact.

A xxxx

Thou shalt not commit adultery. That’s one of the 10 commandments. I think. Sounds like something Moses would have brought down from the Mount. Thou shalt not kill. That’s definitely up there.

But adultery, like ‘honour the sabbath to keep it holy’ and ‘love yer mom & dad’ are kind’a taken with a pinch of salt by many. They’ve slipped from being major crimes to become minor misdemeanors. Not many worship graven images any more, so we’re all up on that one, just down on a few others. Football ruined the whole ‘sabbath’ thing for many. But in a good way.

And whether you believe that G-d actually wrote those commandments hisself, (or hersself), or whether someone just thought they were a good idea and need to be ‘out there’, they provided a moral framework. Not just for the holy, the pious, the deeply religious, but for everybody. They were kind of absolutes of ethical living.

But the world changes and in small ways morality changes too. Acceptability changes. I still reckon killing is pretty much a no-no. ‘Killing in the name of G-d’ is therefore rather a contradictory, hypocritical, stupid concept altogether.

But we’re not talking about killing. We’re talking about adultery. Not so much coveting someone else’s wife. More: shagging her. Or her daughter. Adultery is no longer considered to be such a big crime. But it is big business. Big enough that Canadian company, Ashley Madison, made it into a hook-up app of massive success and doubtless equally massive remuneration. They connected up would-be adulterers and adulteresses. Adultery is not a sin. Getting caught is.

And now they’ve been caught. The millions and millions of subscribers to Ashley Madison have been ‘outed’ by evil forces on the dark web.

And they are evil. Much as adultery, if not part of the vague and watery concept of an ‘open marriage’, is a terrible breach of trust, people will do it. And they should be free to do it. I’m a big believer in absolute freedom. So you can fuck up in as big a way as your heart dictates. Or your dick heartaches. Thought the collateral damage can be massive and protracted.

Ashley Madison promoted adultery. They had fab taglines like: ‘have an affair; its good for you’ and ‘shag someone else’s wife/husband; you’ve got a spare hour’. Well that was the gist of it. They actually encouraged, sought out and cajoled people into having affairs. Though true, only people who subscribed, at a not insignificant cost. But it was just another little ‘niche’ designed to take advantage of people’s frailties. To find a chink someone’s security and just prise it open a touch further. With the major promise of ‘secrecy’ and ‘discretion’ and ‘absolute anonymity’. And now their email addresses are all over the web.

Including over 200 with Vatican addresses. Is the Pope having an affair? Does that mean he prayed with Muslims? Ate chopped liver??

We can only ponder.

Happy Friday

A xxxxx

This is an online advert for Premier Estates Wine. They’re Australian. In case you might have missed the reference due to the subtlety of their advert. And its caused a shit-storm. Which is like a ‘twitterstorm’ but less digital. “Its in bad taste!!!!” they cry, unaware of their own ridiculous innuendo. But its not. Its clever. In a rather tacky, Aussie way.

But apparently any reference to or implication about pubic hair is verboten. I don’t know why. Its hair. We all have it. Though lots choose to shave it, shape it, remove it, colour it or collect it in little jars…

Personally I don’t find this advert offensive in any way. I cannot possibly see it as ‘sexist’ nor ‘demeaning’, ‘vulgar’ or any of the other stupid catchphrases used to try and shame people just like me into feeling guilty over enjoying the creativity of the ad.

But there again, I was born without a sexist gland. That’s the organ that makes you shriek in horror at the first sign of objectification. That makes you vomit when you see a poster in the station using a slim, fit babe to advertise bikinis (but only if you want to sell them; otherwise feel free to use a great ugly lump with a moustache; see if that ‘bottom line’ affects your ‘bottom liine’).

Tessa Jowell, labour party possible for mayor(ess?) of London once Boris leaves to become the Ayatollah and run Iran’s nuclear programme, has stated quite clearly that one of her main aims is to take sexist or sexy advertising off of buses. Though as a feminist (but ain’t we all) who has been fighting such tut for 15 years, it has become her priority. The objectification of women, the constant presentation of unrealistic, aspirational body shapes in models, the images of ‘perfection’ that cause every 14 year old girl to run to the toilet with her fingers down her throat.

I didn’t take offence when Eva Hertzegova called to ME personally clad only in her wonderbra, ‘Hey guys’. I really didn’t. Because getting (most of) her tits out was NOT objectification. It was the other, much better cliché, it was ’empowerment’.

Yeah, I struggle with that one too. One tit’s ‘objectification is another’s ’empowerment’. Tomaytoes, tomartoes.

My main concern is that we might end up with boring buses, adorned with adverts for gluten-free pulses and kale, for firms of chartered accountants, for the Toyota Prius. A dull and meaningless landscape that would be.

And the old adage that ‘sex sells’ is sadly or very gladly, still true. Could even be modified to ‘sexism sells’. Because it does. And gets people talking about it too. Double whammy.

Keep adverts sexy, make them totally pornographic for all I care, as long as they’re amusing and cause massive offence, I’m happy.

Happy Wednesday

A xxxx

So the question is; who will be the first top flight manager to get sacked this year?

Even though its quite ridiculously early to even consider the season as barely under way, you can’t help but wonder.

In the red corner is Dick Advocaat. The ‘manager’ (if you call that ‘managing’) of poor, hapless Sunderland. They ended last year pretty shitty and seem to have elevated ‘shit’ to new levels for the new term.

In the black corner is Steve McLaren, everyone’s favourite umbrella-wielding tart. Faced with the seemingly impossible challenge of keeping both Mike Ashley and the Toon fans happy at the same time AND simultaneously, Moaning Mac looks to be on something of a hiding.

And I’m going to introduce a blue corner. Just for Chelsea. Because although Morinho is on about 55 million quid a year and has a 54 year contract; its only money. If Chelsea don’t improve soon he’ll just have to go. And they’ll get in a proper manager. A good one. One who respects doctors and doesn’t conjure up conspiracy theories. On Sunday, after the Blues’ 3-0 drubbing at Manchester City, Jose stated that his team ‘were the best team for 45 minutes’. Chelsea were the best team in the second half. Manchester City only beat them for one half. Surely its about quantity then, rather than quality. Because whilst City were the better team they managed to put 3 past Chelsea and when (in their manager’s oddly distorting eyes) Chelsea were better, they scored none. For the poor fans its awful. If they wanted to support a team who ‘play brilliantly for 45 minutes’ yet fail to score, they’d go to Arsenal.

Whilst it gives me great displeasure to do so, I also have to make mention of Mauricio Pottechino at Spurs. Not because we don’t love him (jury’s out), not because he isn’t great (jury’s out) and not for any other reason than ‘its what Spurs do’. They sack managers who aren’t producing. I don’t like it, I’m not happy about the rotating door on the manager’s office at the Lane, but its what happens.

Bournemouth last night received a bit of a reality check at Anfield. Not about how tough football is in the Premiership, they probably knew about that. But about how referees ‘see’ things differently at intimidating, partisan stadia. So Bournemouth have a perfectly good goal disallowed early on for a foul that wasn’t and lose to a Liverpool goal that was perfectly offside. So had the game been played in a neutral park somewhere in Wolverhampton, Bournemouth would have won the same match 1-0. But at Anfield, they lost by that very score.

Welcome aboard, Cherries.

Happy Tuesday

A xxxx