Monthly Archives: February 2009

Cringing bankers!

herald21

Well, that ought to become a Captain Haddock- type expletive, but Malcolm finds the grilling by John McFall‘s Treasury Committee quite rivetting stuff.

The Masters of the Universe are put to the question, and with many responses show the fright of rabbits skewered by the approaching headlights of doom.

Into which delightful private misery, the Lady in Malcolm’s life inserts two comments:

  • It makes a change to see fire and brimstone being heaped on the heads of others than teachers.
  • Haringey Social Services looks good by comparison: they only lose a child every four or five years. This lot have imposed misery on millions for any foreseeable future.

To adapt King Lear:

Turn all her mother’s pains and benefits
To laughter and contempt; that she may feel
How sharper than a serpent’s tooth it is
To have a thankless HSBC customer! Away, away!

Not, of course, that endowment policies played any part in Milady’s Ulster venom.

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Postscript:

In all this lies a neat analogy.

There is an interesting little note (available on line) from 1975 hidden in the Margaret Thatcher archive. It is a note from Adam Ridley to Thatcher:

I formed the strong impression that the Bank [of England] are more worried about the inflationary situation than some other parts of the official machine… First, they have recently carried out an elaborate analysis of [wage] settlements in the public and private sector since the TUC’s wage guidelines were published last June, taking care to consider not only the size of the individual awards but the period between settlements. As far as I can gather their conclusion is that though private sector settlements may on average be of smaller size than those in the public sector, their greater frequency has led to a faster rate of growth in wage rates in the private sector. This is consistent with the information one can glean from the FT’s monthly survey.

These are the words of the later Sir Adam Ridley of Hambros (remember them?), and the Director General of the London Investment Banking Association. Clearly an expert witness, he is advising Thatcher that her anti-public sector rhetoric is misdirected. In the mid-70s it was the private sector stoking up the wage-inflation. Somehow, that accusation went unheard.

The bane of Thatcher still percolates through the British blood-system. She not only did for much of British productive industry, but her manias led to our present debilities.

Let us focus on the housing market, for therein lie the festerings of our “toxic debt”, both sides of the Atlantic. It was, in passing, also a debt which was predicated to continued oversaving (now, there‘s something straight out of the Marxist manual!) in the Chinese economy, to be reinvested in dollar stocks.

First, there was the “right to buy”, which ensured that the most desirable local authority real estate was sold off at gunpoint, leaving the decaying residue in public hands, and a destitute underclass trapped into ghettos. Let us pass over that national disaster as decently as possible.

More significant, though, is the destruction of the mutuals. For most people (like Malcolm and his ilk) the first step on the property ladder was not a mortgage, but a savings account with a Building Society. How quaint!

When one had proved one’s prudence by accumulating a decent deposit, one might be granted a mortgage. That was a system which had survived two World Wars and numerous other tribulations. It was not, of course, good enough for the Heralds of Free Enterprise. In the late 1980s, Thatcherism deliberately blurred the distinctions between banks and mutual building societies. In short order, the Societies “demutualised” (which meant they became banks in their own right) and then were absorbed by the bigger beasts in the banking jungle. This was made possible by the Thatcherite Building Societies Act of 1986.

Almost by programme, the Herald of Free Enterprise piled onto the sandbank in March 1987: it was an omen of what was to happen to the rest of the free-enterprise banking system.

Let us remember that the jury at the inquest on the 187 killed at Zeebrugge were warned by the Coroner they could bring in a verdict of unlawful killing only if they:

believed a criminal act had been committed and that there had been gross negligence.

The jury did just that.

The sand-bank off the Belgian coast no more leaped unannounced on the Free Enterprise ferry than did the housing crisis on the bankers. Nor was it all written in the stars. In both cases the disaster, as history will record, should have been foreseeable. Both were the result of overweening ambition and carelessness. So we might conclude, of Thatcherites, bankers, and ferry operators, as Dryden said, back in 1681, of Shaftesbury:

A daring pilot in extremity;
Pleas’d with the danger, when the waves went high
He sought the storms; but for a calm unfit,
Would steer too nigh the sands, to boast his wit.
Great wits are sure to madness near alli’d;
And thin partitions do their bounds divide…

Indeed.

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The triumph of the will-not

One of the more disgraceful episodes in recent political history should be laid firmly at the doors of Haringey LibDims and their MP, Lynne Featherhead.

The exploitation of the Baby P case became a witch-hunt. Anyone who observed the abuse and latent violence of the demonstration on the steps of the Civic Centre could see this went further than normal decent political protest. Personal abuse was clearly being machinated and co-ordinated by some malign spirit. Malcolm’s comparison was, and remains, les tricoteuses at the foot of the guillotine in the time of the Terror. Some were clearly intent on making their demand to “cleanse Haringey” and “name and shame” something more than soap-and-water.

Remember: all this hostility and emotion was being stoked up — not against the malefactors in the case — but against well-intentioned public servants.

Well, the LibDims achieved one of their ends, but not the one intended.

Malcolm had a bit more than a whisper from one on the fringes of the LibDim scene, curiously an individual Malcolm had previously assumed to be more at home with the Trot lot, that the Baby P business was seen as a convenience. The aim was to raise the temperature in advance of the expected Seven Sisters by-election. Any doubt should be removed by the posting on the Flock Together LibDim website:

I know from the calls we have been receiving in the office how angry many of you are over the constant failings in Labour-run Haringey services – especially in recent week, over the appalling tragedy of Baby P. The Labour administration encourages and presides over a culture of secrecy in which mistakes were covered up and whistleblowers ignored. By defeating Labour in the by-election we can send those responsible the only sort of message they understand, and elect a hard working local champion for the people of Seven Sisters who will hold Haringey council to account.

Moreover, the LibDim PPC, David Schmitz, was drafted in as a candidate for the by-election: a further PR move designed to raise his individual profile.

In fact, the LibDims ran a very poor third, well behind Labour and Conservatives. Ha!

But that is not the end of the story. There is, though, another story in the curious matter of the New Britain Party (i.e. a totalitarian fringe group) who promised to stand in the by-election and didn’t, and the “independent” ex-Tory “writer, broadcaster,  artist and designer of posters, cartoons and jokes” who did.

No, the end of the story (as of now) is the achievement of the LibDims propaganda effort, as reported in this week’s Ham & High Broadway edition:

More than a quarter of social services posts in Haringey are vacant … of the 203 positions within children’s services. 60 are vacant.

That is information “obtained under the Freedom of Information Act” by the Tories. In Malcolm’s day as a Councillor, he would have compared the establishment figures in the annual budget with the actual full-time equivalent or even asked the Chief Executuve or Head of Service a direct question. No need to wait for official clearance: it’s hardly a matter of national security.

Anyway, screams and yells from Tories and LibDims, all crying “stinking fish!”

It turns out that the reality is somewhat different. The establishment of the department is 199 full-time equivalent personnel. There are — count them! — just five vacancies. That suggests to Malcolm that the appeal to other London authorities for co-options has worked.

It means that the 651 children in care, or on the child-protection register, are all allocated to social worker supervision.

It also means that the nauseating LibDim campaign to undermine public service morale in an essential service will have to continue.

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Son of Bugarov

arshavinIs Malcolm the only one eagerly looking forward to commentaries of future Arsenal matches?

He is relishing, in the heat of the action, the sportscaster coming to terms with with the name of Arsenal’s new acquisition: Andrei Arshavin.

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Peggy Sue

The BBC website tells Malcolm that Peggy Sue is 68.

Today’s the anniversary of Buddy Holly’s death. So Malcolm adopts the same view that John O’Hara did, on the death of George Gershwin:

I don’t have to believe it if I don’t want to.

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The siren for the two-minute hate

One of the reasons that Malcolm hopes and expects LabourList to survive and3011061 prosper is to show there is an alternative to the right-wing shops of horrors.

Not just in ideology, but in rhetoric, content and depth.

Malcolm’s distaste springs from his occasional and deeply regretted past flirtations with the Staines-by-name, stains-by-nature site. Paul Staines justifies his continued publication of foul-mouthed threats thus:

don’t read the comments, half of them are mad window lickers.

Similar salivators turn up on Montgomerie’s slightly-nicer ConHome. Montgomerie and Isaby constantly try to raise the tone, but their contributors defeat them. However, the true joy of a regular visit to Montgomerie’s bijou nest is to observe the constant schizoid conflict between outward partisan loyalty and the inner libertarian beast.

Finally, there is Iain Dale‘s discreet Tunbridge tea-shop. Here things ought to be more genteel. Even so, the odd fenestro-linguist turns up. In the most bizarre connexions. For example, Dale was making quite reasonable points derived from the Observer‘s piece on Norfolk flood-warnings.

This is picking up a debate that goes back some way. Here, for instance, is the Norfolk County Council Fire and Community Protection panel, a full two years ago:

The flood sirens in Norfolk are historically there to be used by the Police in consultation with other agencies to assist in advising communities to evacuate their property as flooding is imminent.

The Flood Sirens are old World War 2 Sirens and are becoming increasingly problematic to maintain and are not considered by the Police or the Environment Agency as being fit for purpose.

Many members of the Norfolk community are not wholly aware of what the flood sirens are used for and visitors to the County, whether from within the UK or abroad, certainly would not be.  The continued use of the sirens in their present form has the potential to cause confusion within the community and  hinder ability to respond to any incident effectively.

If the Wells Town Council were to take over the responsibility for Flood Sirens, issues for consideration would be finance, maintenance, including Health and Safety, and operational use and control.   It is essential to ensure a coordinated response to flooding around the Norfolk Coastline is maintained.   The police undertake this co-ordination.  The Floodline Warning Direct System is nationally recognised and offers an effective system of flood warning.

Well, there’s a degree of special pleading and dissimulation there; but the official view is based on a degree of commonsense. The topic has had several outings, including one on the BBC Norfolk website, linked to the 55th anniversary of 1953. It has taken a while for the issue to reach Caroline Davies, at the Observer:

Coastal communities haunted by memories of catastrophic floods that claimed more than 300 lives in the UK say that controversial plans to scrap Norfolk’s flood sirens and replace them with warnings by phone message and text could put lives at risk.

The Environment Agency and police claim outdated sirens could cause “confusion and panic” during evacuation. But anxious villagers believe the new system, under which the agency warns residents by phone, email and local radio, is too confusing for the elderly, many of whom live in the most at-risk areas.

Malcolm has blogged this episode previously, and has no intention of repeating himself here (though his contribution to the Dale debate is worth a visit).

What repulsed was the requirement, once again, to get out the Windolene. Here are three contributions to the moderated Dale discussion (omitting the bainstorm from one humorously identifying himself as “I hate Red Ken and Fatty Brown”):

  • This country, under this administration has become a basket case. Human Rights = Criminals Rights. Health and Safety is the Wimps Charter. Compensation for a scratch! Once we were a Nation of strong men and women. We have now been reduced to couldn’t care less society. [sic]
  • Perhaps this area doesn’t return a Labour MP by any chance? [No: it's a Lib Dem and an Olde Etonian Torye. But that would have involved the taxing effort of looking it up.]
  • Meanwhile expect sever storms with freezing winds as all fringe nulab.gov.uk initiatives get shelved. The UK is broke! [again, sic]

It makes Malcolm wonder if anything is cast out at the moderation stage. And this, let Malcolm remind himself, is the sane end of the cyber-market.

Does it all remind Malcolm of anything?

Well, the opening chapter of Orwell’s dystopia for a start. At 1100 every morning, the citizens of Airstrip One and Oceania are corralled before the telescreens to join in the Two-minute Hate, to abuse Emmanuel Goldstein, the Enemy of the People:

A hideous ecstasy of fear and vindictiveness, a desire to kill, to torture, to smash faces in with a sledgehammer, seemed to flow through the whole group of people like an electric current, turning one even against one’s will into a grimacing, screaming lunatic.

Yes.

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What to make of this? –

A SENIOR Ulster Unionist says he would look forward to Jim Allister being re-elected to the European Parliament ahead of a DUP candidate.

David Burnside claimed the TUV leader and current MEP was more deserving of unionist votes because he had stuck to his principles and not lied to the electorate.

Girls! Girls! No gouging in the scrum!

It seems barely five minutes since Reg Empey was in a huddle with Jim Allister.

But there’s a further dimension to this:

Mr Burnside’s endorsement of Mr Allister as the second best preference to his own party’s candidate Jim Nicholson will, though, raise eyebrows.

He was speaking at an event in the Dunadry Hotel, attended by Conservative Party Shadow Secretary of State Owen Paterson.

The focus of the speech was mainly about why “the coming together of the Conservative and Ulster Unionist parties is one of the best and most progressive moves in Ulster politics in recent history”.

Very mysterious!

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Misguided, asinine, but legal

castlerock-sepiaCastlerock in the County Derry can be pretty bleak at this time of year.

Correction: any time of year.

The town has its attractions: well, one — the heroic views from the beach. Depending on the wather, there’s a clear line-of-sight to the headlands of Antrim and Donegal, and the shadow of Scotland on the horizon. Look due north, and the next land-mass is probably Alaska.

Malcolm has a soft spot for Castlerock, despite the north wind and the town’s unflattering appearance. Two of the nicest people Malcolm knows live there.

Which is why Malcolm knows the town is a-flutter with real news:

Two people have been charged with the murder of a man and a woman in 1991 in Castlerock, County Londonderry.

An inquest at the time of the deaths of Trevor Buchanan and Lesley Howell found a verdict of suicide.

Last week the police re-opened their investigation as a result of receiving fresh information.

A 50-year-old man and a 45-year-old woman are expected to appear in Coleraine Magistrates Court on Monday morning.

There’s a bit more in the Mail: the dead couple are named:

Policeman Trevor Buchanan, 31, and dentist’s wife Lesley Howell, 30, were found dead in a fume-filled car parked in the garage of a house in the seaside town of Castlerock, Co Londonderry in 1991.

At the time police said they died in a suicide pact.

The Belfast Telegraph had the first quiver on Friday. The Irish Times had it as “breaking news” (and about the most complete version yet in print)  on Saturday. It’s now reached the UK nationals. Even in the digital age, it obviously takes time for them to bring the news from Ghent to Aix, 120 kilometers or so. Particularly when it’s such a roundabout journey :Browning sent his riders via Lokeren, Boom, Mechelen, Aarschot, Hasselt, and Tongeren — which suggests someone needed Michelin map 716 or Google.

What’s so daft about this is that it was the husband of the dead woman who walked into the police station to confess to the murders. He was involved in an affair; and the “suicide” was, as Redfellow Hovel’s resident Miss Fancypants describes, a “crime of passion”.

Now, knowing that, fit surname(s) to the arrested couple. Yet, they are not named in any of today’s published sources, “for legal reasons”.

The law is, indeed, an ass.

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