The MOD media machine - great taxpayer value

A British hero. Employed by a bunch of zeros. More lions and donkeys


One of those facts which complete floors me was casually announced without any further reference on Radio 4's "Today" program.

The Ministry of Defence employs 400 people engaged in media and/or PR.

This in itself seems quite a lot. There are, after all, only 650 MPs serving the interests (I use the word with great caution) of the country - no seriously, they're not just self serving expense-monkeys. Perhaps.

400 people? I presume some of these are quite well paid, and would, if employed within other industries, be regarded as experts.

So why is then that the MOD can hardly run its own affairs, let alone publicise or promote them with anything other than a shame faced bleat that makes me cringe.

Quite frankly, if this is the best they can do with 400 people (some of who I guess are paid to obscure or block news), then really, they need to try harder. Even the news which is obfuscated tends to find its way into the public domain at some point.

As my sis Ab would say, "what a complete shower".

As I wold say too many cooks, say, around 350 too many?

In remembrance of Saint Kizzie (the dog)

Nicki the guide dog's predecessor, Kizzie, died in January, but we only found this out, by accident, yesterday.

Kizzie, or Kizz, Kizzer, Frizante, Zig Zag Wag, Zigger, Miss Dogg, Mrs Tubington - a panopoly of names - was a very good dog indeed, both a laid back guide dog and a furry ball of friendliness to have around the house. Never in yer face, but always affectionate and happy to be cuddled. She was as much my pet as Mrs D's mobility tool and though I hate the use the word in relation to a dog, friend.

She had oodles of personality, once jumping in between The Wife and I during a pre-marriage quarrel. A few years after this, we re-united after some time away in Ireland, at Heathrow, and while we both hugged our greetings at the baggage reclaim exit, Kizzie waited, until, with a huge degree of constanation, let a most put-out sounding whine - almost a squawk: "COME ON - WHERE'S MY SNOG?"

Some things Kizzie was infamous for:

- Crossing her paws while lying on her tummy - very "lady-like".

- Making very grumpy huffing sounds when she'd had enough of anything.

- Having her nose close to the ground, even when on the harness, a habit which we never managed to fully break.

- Being the only dog I would ever trust to walk without the lead, even when close to busy roadds. Even with me, she was incredibly responsive and careful.

- Eating and wishing to eat.

- Testing the boundaries of the pecking order by taking a dump in tube stations, even after she'd had one recently. Despite what The Wife says, I feel this to be a deliberate ploy rather than accidental. The time interval between craps was always between 6-7 months.

- Not coming back. Her walking skills were great, her recall was, lets be frank here, fucking dreadful.

We know than because she was the most helpful and useful of dogs, she can only be reincarnated as an elephant, the most noble and more importantly LARGE beast going.

Mike Allen - Alan Partridge's doppelganger, hip hop god

One of my heroes from tennyhood was old. I mean, actually older than my dad - he was born in 1942. He looked like Alan Partridge. He even SOUNDED like Alan Patridge. He was a DJ, who like Partridge, came on at night. So you can tell, it wasn't John Peel - he came later. This man was white, but played mostly black music. A dancer he was not, although most of the music he played was dance orientated.

What David Rodigan was to promoting reggae, Mike Allen was to early hip-hop. I was in my mid teens, and my parents taste in TV, bad even then, meant that my solace on Saturday nights, and later on Sundays, was my shitty little Sonatel clock radio cassette. Armed with fresh, or more likely, much recorded over TDK D-90, my fingers would hover over the record button waiting for the mad, incredibly creative world of mid 80s hip hop and electro.

A number of thoughts spring to mind.

1. He may have been at least two decades older than his audience, he was genuinely and highly respected in the hip-hop world. Really, how on earth did it happen? It was like having your favourite, subversive uncle round on a Sunday, one armed with a massive and intersting record collection. He'd make your dad seem a saddo and everything was offered with a knowing wink which said "we know your old lot can't help it - but come on boy, let's spin the next Roxanne record to get your ears into".

2. How did Capital Radio go from being a station which was almost public service broadcast quality in its range of programming. Saturday nights as I rembered it:

1800 Greg Edwards' Soul Spectrum - soul and jazz-funk.
2000 David Rodigan - reggae and lovers' rock
2200 Mike Allen - hip hop

Now, at this point, you could say that we have a particularly "black music" agenda here. Music whose fans might have been made up of three sets of fans, but there's a commonality of race. Here's the banger though; the next one was...

Brian Rust - playing gramaphone and big band tracks

SAY WHAT!?

This had a massive impact in my musical choices believe it or not. By the time my finger had hit the record button for the last time, it was midnight. And that meant I was usually ready for bed. And of course, since the radio was on, I'd actually just whack the sleep button and carry on listening to Brian Rust and his collection of scratchy 78s. Very eclectic and no effort on my part other than the maintenance of a keen interest in just about everything requiring a beat or a stave.

When and why did Crapital lose its eclecticism? I've not listened to it for decades.

3. Its sad that Mike's natural heir on the radio. Tim Westwood has such a wanky voice. I wasn't actually interested in the music so much in my late teens. It had come a lot more political, shouted at me, told me what to think and wasn't a bunch of posturing funsters bopping along to an Art of Noise styel soundtrack. I like it much more now.

I missed Mike Allen immensely, in fact I could barely believe it when his show was pulled.

Allen wasn't hip. He wore ties. He looked like your dad. He presented the "housewives show" in the afternoon mid-week. The idea that your mum could enjoy him as much as you did on Saturdays was a bit weird, slightly disturbing even. But fuck me, did he know his stuff? Did he love the music? I've no doubt about it. Did the kids respect him? Abso-bloody-lutely. Could he be employed to do this today? Not on your frigging nellie. How very, very sad and what a brutal indication that we've kissed goodbye to the enthusiastic amateur. Now we'd have some hip with the kids arsehole airhead who knows nothing about the music apart from what his musical advisor briefed him on pre-show.

I regard myself as truly blessed having grown up with this show. My suburban childhood in Hayes was pretty dull by many people's standards, but nevertheless, it was a GOOD childhood. Likewise, I was bespectacled, white and not your hip hop stereotype. In fact, genuine b-boys would have kicked my head in. Allowing myself to be taken out of my world of school and a safe, loving West London home into the grafitti-smeared environs of Harlam, South(south) Bronx, and LA was almost like an adventure to ancient Persia or Timbuktu.

I've a lot of thank you for, Mike.

Much respect.

Tower Block of Commons, Channel 4

I'm not sure what planet Channel 4 have been on over the last few years. Their programs have become progressively worse, to the point where I can barely watch them. Shame, because in the 80s, they made some of the best TV in the world. The Tube, programs about (shock! horror!) gays, lesbians, black people. Wowza. Then it all went to rat-shit.

However, I have been impressed with the first programme in a series called Tower Block of Commons. It works like this.


"At 666 there lives a Mr Miller, he's a local vicar and a serial killer"...

Four MPs leave the comfort of their own homes (which are mostly rather posh, as you'd imagine since we've paid for most of them, sometimes twice) and live with the peasantry in their tower blocks. One of these tower blocks is a hop, skip and jump from my home. Taken out of their natural environment, needing to deal with such exotic tasks as shopping, dealing with a deficit of cash and an excess of time, the MPs seem to be able be required to cope with two things.

1. To get a feel for what it's like for the majority of us on the other side of the tracks.

2. To talk to said people and discover what life is like from their point of view, and even, in the case of Mark Oaten, to actually do something about the problems they face.

Much has been said about the petulant behaviour of these MPs, so I shan't go there again. Though, I do have to single out Austin Mitchell, who came across as a completely alienated twit, unable to empathise with his host (who seems to have been kicked out her flat especially so that Mitchell and spouse can move in for a few weeks), and I would imagine, the majority of his constituency of great Grimsby.

Oaten, seems to have borne the brunt of mockery aimed at him from the British press, and some of the more vocal youths of Dagenham, but, I think it is he who has come out of this rather well, after what appeared to be only major traumatic event for him (some kids said, rather nastily, that he may have AIDS - he is gay, and the comment was childish).

I'm not sure what the technical word is, so let's call them innkeepers. Out of all of the innkeepers, Cathy, typical of many of my neighbours, comes across rather well. Streetwise, kind, but more than a little depressed at the way things have turned out for her. I can understand why she is depressed. I work about 15 minutes walk away from her block of flats, and from the outside they look tidy enough, though right on the edge of the A13 motorway, so hardly in the beautiful surroundings. It is the disgusting state in which she is forced to live: with mould on walls and window sills, that would weigh you down. Why hasn't the council cleaned this up. I would suggest in most cases that the residents take some responsibliy here, but this is a systemic problem through the whole block; a specialist job and one way beyond the financial means of most people, let alone council flat dwellers, many of whom I know in this estate, are on benefits (I was told it was about 80 percent).

I was expecting this program to, do as other TV documentaries featuring ordinary people tend to do, which is patronise them. Sorry, that actually shouldn't say , I forgot myself for a sec. It must be quite a difficult job for Channel 4 executives. On one hand you have a group of individuals, MPs, nearly universally hated in this country right now, due to their greed and incompetence and in Blair's case lies. On the other hand you have a group of people to whom over the last few years their only purpose has been to serve as an increasingly large target for sponges. Basically, anyone who is not part of the Hamstead media set is potential fair game.

It must have been an almost impossible task not just to let it all blow and and head straight for the Roget's thesaurus in order to find suitably sarcastic terms for all of us. But somehow, the program was, I feel as balanced as a piece of reality TV could be. Contrived to some extent, yes, patronising, yes again, but less than I thought could be possible. And neither all the peasantry featured, nor all the MPs came out looking like buffoons either.

And I feel, that in the same way Susan Boyle has become a minor celebrity despite her obviously non-sleb cred, Cathy may also be the new voice of ordinary Britain. If she hasn't got a TV show of her own by December, I'll be very surprised. She would make a very good working class version of Anna Widdecombe - the voice of reason, given to you by your best friend's mum rather than by your warty great aunt Matilda. Watch this space

Tower block of Commons is on Channel 4, Monday, at 2100.

Big Keys Comparison by TechReady

A small moment of fame! I demonstrate a couple of specialist keyboards for my firm, www.techready.co.uk.

. I'm the sexy dude in the Sweden T-shirt, not him with the baseball hat (that's Gabriel and he's a numpty!!! But we'll forgive him)

Hazell Dean - Heart First

At 14, I had a mild crush on Hazell Dean - my sis used to rib me mercilessly cos of it.

So I was delighted to find this (gently remixed admittedly) gem of a track on Youtube. Soft dance, and a very early Stock Aitken Waterman production at a time when they were more Hi-NRG and creating to the gay crowd than strictly commercial. Like the lead sound in the middle 8.

Britain can't cope with the snow - SHOCKER

I'm sick of hearing how bad our council and transport systems cope in snowy weather.

We can't deal with hurricanes, and we don't have solar panels in our deserts either.

Hardly a surprise as we neither have hurricanes or deserts.

We don't get a lot of snow. Mostly we get no snow year in, year out. Scotland does, and that's why it deals with it as well as Germany and Sweden, countries which also get a yearly kerplunk of snow.

I wish people would stop whining and know that we in England especially, don't deal with snow because it simply isn't there most years to be dealt with.

Enjoy the white powdery stuff. This variety is cheaper than coke.

Snow

Some views from the house last night. The second one is of the back garden, where there are no streetlights. I find the high level of light pollution scary. Looks mightily ominous.

Protesting in Wooton Bassett

Just heard about the planned protest by Muslim groups in Wooton Bassett.

I really don't like the war in Afghanistan and think our government are a pack of deceitful liars with an agenda which as a modern day peasant, don't understand. Not sure if they do, really, either. Just get told by the useless fecks at the MoD and America what to do, and do it.

We should pull out now. We should never have been there at all. I perfectly understand the need for these groups to protest. I feel the same.

But wouldn't this particular protest in this particular town be like pissing on someone's grave at their funeral?

Wooton has become symbolic for the nation as a place of grievance. Its a nice place - I've been there and was called "sir" by someone much older than me. It is rare enough to be called "sir" by anyone. It is also the place where real people, serving real wars get remembers. Not some amorphous group, but John Smith, Sapper.

They really need to think this one through. A protest is fine. But a mark of such blatant disrespect will really nark the vast majority of us who don't support the war, but truly don't want to see our soldiers and airmen blown to smithereens doing a job whose political ramifications they have very little say over. They have families and friends who give a toss for them as humans.

Youth

I'm applying to join the Youth Hostel Association of the UK.

When does one stop being a "youth"?

At 40, I hardly feel "yoof-ful". The church I used to go to, when I did such things, used to extend the concept of "young people" to those whose hair wasn't naturally grey. And I bet even silverhaired dudes could still be counted as young with the help of a bit of Clairol or Just For Men.

There is a reason of course, for this tardy application. Cheap accommodation abroad.

Miranda Hart

The lovely Miranda? Or is she?

I wish I could make up my mind as to whether Miranda's the best thing that's happened to comedy in the last year, or whether she's just a tall bird with an overly plumby accent. If you swapped the Roedean with a Yeovil, she wouldn't sound too far removed from Pam Ayers.

There is something remarkably compelling about her.

Too much food

Forget dieting, I've never bought into the many and varied diet fads which spring up this time of year, with th exception of Atkins - which works but is boring over time, and difficult to integrate into a reasonably active social life (eg, I drink and eat out, er, about once a month, smile).

This time I've just eaten too much food.

So I'm cutting down in order to feel better. I still love food, and I do question anyone who regards food alongside such phrases as "guilt", "oooh, aren't naughty?!" and other puritanical guff.

Not guilty, just uncomfortable having my stomach stretched to the max over Christmas.

Happy new year.

Muslim burial food

No, not an anti-Muslim post, just a dodgy pun.

Since those of Muslim faith like all funeral proceedings done and dusted more or less minutes after the victim of Death has become permanently kaput, do you think funeral directors hand these waffles out?

This brand is either named after an off the shelf company, or is simply a foreign food manufacturer's attempt to appeal to our need for speed, along with a doff of the cap to Middle England's affection for the old manor house. Not sure which.

Iceland microwaveable breakfast: the verdicts

Here's the verdicts on the Iceland mixed grill microwaveable breakfast.


Mrs Dukc's verdict.

CHIPS: As greasy as chips can be. Soggy but quite pleasant.
SAUSAGE: Almost inedible, greasy, contains a adult gorilla’s daily salt needs.
GAMMON: Very high on salt but perfectly acceptable.
BURGER: Bought back many happy memories of “economy burgers with onions” from the 1970s. Pretty good, though nutriotionally suspect.
BEANS: Not as juicy as expected (good). Soaked up the grease nicely from the rest of the food.

Overall mark: 8 /10
Though good value, don't feel the need to try it again.

Mr Dukc's verdict:

CHIPS: Soggy, greasy, pleasant.
SAUSAGE: What people with no money feed their kids. Very suspect flavour but with a surprisingly firm texture. Not as rough as Richmond so-called “Irish” sausages. If you’re Irish you’ll know how much of a lie this description is.
GAMMON: Very salty, pretty meaty and actually a big portion for the money. Rather impressed.
BURGER: My mum used to buy these in 1977. A cross between a Telfers Economy burger from Bejam and a Goblin tinned special. Really rather nice though completely scummy.
BEANS: A long way from being the anaemic mess I suspected they would be. Did what I hope they would do. Good soaker of grease.

Overall mark: 8 / 10.
These are 10p more expensive than a Pot Noodle so these are indirect competitors. Whereas a pot noodle is scuzzy but llikeable, this is scuzzier still and possibly less lovable (dragged down the by sad sausage), but heavier. So if you're hungry, go for these. If you want a completely doggy snack that won't fill you but tastes sweetly nostalgic, the noodles win.

Cheapest breakfast ever

I am about to tuck into what is probably the cheapest breakfast you can buy in the UK. Iceland sell a £1 pack containing a sausage, a flame grilled burger, a piece of "reformed" gammon, chips and beans. Yep. £1.

And the best thing is that is microwaveable in 6 minutes.

A review will follow very shortly.

Tesco's ginger card "gaff"

So, Tesco has had to withdraw a card with the message "Santa loves all
children...even GINGERS ones".

A couple were pictured in The Sun being "offended" by it. Is there a
special kind of "rent-an-offendee" rate The Sun pays out? Everyone seems to
be potentially offended. I'm offended by Rupert Murdoch's continued
existence, but hey ho.````````

I can think of many bigger and better things to be offended by.

But I still don't get it. Why is being ginger "funny"? I don't think this
is the case outside England, is it? Many of my Ulster in-laws are gingers
but I can honestly say that when I've been over there, a chortle-fest about
hair colour has never been on my mind.

Could someone explain this to me?

The worst part of London

Quite an interesting conversation heard on a train I was travelling on, while on the way to Birmingham, last Friday:

American Woman (W): I live in the worst part of London.
English passenger (EP) Where's that?
W: Dagenham
EP: I don't know where that is.
W: Its a long way out. East on the District Line. Really dull, very flat, full of people who aren't that bright.
EP: Sounds awful.
W: It is. When I came here for my job I was shown pictures of Knightsbridge and Kensington. My friend lives in South Kensington. I was so jealous. Dagenham's y'know, desperate. The last resort.

Being an inverted snob, and a resident of that fine town now for ten years, I had to pipe up:


ME: Oh Dagenham. Nice place. Cheap. On the tube. Great neighbours, hardly any crime where we live. What's not to like. Oh, by the way, I've lived there for ten years.

Completely embarrassed silence.

To be fair, at least the passenger actually lived here. I do get enourmously brassed off with people who have never been to places like Bognor (where my family live) and Dagenham without having been there, and feel the need to make some sneery and usually inaccurate remark. If you've never been to a place, using an area's reputation alone as a means to sneer at the place is just snobbery for the sake of snobbery.

I would say BRITISH snobbery; however, the particular passenger, as I say, was American.

But, at least, with people like that sneering at the perceived "failed" areas like ours: the joke towns, the chav estates and the perceived urban shit-holes, at least they don't entertain us with their presence

I grew up in Hayes (a joke town, at least if you're from Uxbridge or Ealing), lived in Deptford, Bognor (which used to dubbed "clown town"), Hackney (known, when I moved there in 1993 as the "dustbin of London" - but not now kiddies: a expensive dustbin indeed) and Dagenham, all places I've liked for various reasons.

So what's the deal, snobs.


I am currently reading: Estates, by Lynsey Hanley. This book is a compelling blend of psychogeography-meets-sociology. Am agreeing with much of it.

Pizza menu de jour: Haweli Indian

Looks like this fun packed feature has been mis-named as today's menu is, yet again, an Indian treat. Not really a treat as I've not tried eating here either so "treat" may be a prematurely optimistic label. Having covered myself in case of treat disappointment and possibly litigation, it may be a treat as there is only one decent Indian round here that I am aware of, so the competition is somewhat flimsy.

It has the word "free" on it. Always encouraging in these hard times.

By way, in case you're curious, thus far I've not needed to raid the menu cupboard. The menus featured so far have all dropped through our letterbox the day before I proudly displayed them here.

Pizza menu de jour: Pizza Hut - its a sin!

Apparently, meat eating is the new sin. Still, beats the usual target of smokers, the obese and ASBO (possibly also obese) kids. Count me in as being one. A sinner, not an ASBO kid - I'm far too old, though definitely obese.

This menu at least has the benecit of attractive design. I may well give the sinful pizza a spin this Friday, if I didn't indeed chuck it.

Faher forgive me
I tried not to do it...

(I saw me a pizza
And ate right through it)

- sorry Pet Shop Boys

Pizza menu de jour: Shabana Indian

Today is the turn of this little cutie, the Shabana Indian (or sorry, Bangladeshi and Indian to be exact). Not been here so can't vouch for the quality of the food.

However, it has a welcome spot in our menu pile as good quality Indians are sooooo hard to find in Daggers. Hot curry is kind of limp in my experience. So, Shabana, its all hangs on you.