My father was, of course, right when he said it was ridiculous to deny CaMoron’s legitimacy as prime minister. It did indeed make me ” sound just like the wingnuts in the States who refuse to accept Obama as President.” The last thing I want to do is sound like one of those lunatics. Yet I was writing yesterday from a position of absolute powerlessness: we have a government which I cannot stand, poised to wreck the benefits system. It has arrogantly awarded itself a five year fixed term, during which time life will become increasingly worse for disabled people and the working classes, just so taxes can be lowered. I cannot abide their lies, arrogance and selfish worldview. To deny CaMoron’s legitimacy as PM may be folly, but what I can deny is his claim to rule for the benefit of all. His policies benefit only the wealthy, upon which basis, given government should work for the good of all, I also deny conservatism’s claim to rationality itself.

I do wish the media would stop referring to David CaMoron as the prime minister, because he isn’t. at the risk of sounding a bit of a lunatic, given that he was not elected by the majority of people in this country, I refuse to recognise CaMoron as my PM. I have many objections to his policies – I think they are backwardslooking, insular, and Neoliberal. Behind his ‘austerity measures’, one can easily detect the individualist, ‘I’m all right Jack’ attitudes that have always been Tory hall marks. And it is precisely these attitudes that are going to send us straight back into recession, and probably depression. Moreover, within the conservative party, there have always been non-progressive, xenophobic attitudes intent on repressing immigrants, ethnic minorities and anyone different from ‘normal’. I strongly suspect these attitudes are still there, however much Tories try to hide them.

This is why I still refuse to recognise CaMoron as prime minister. The fact is he does not have my respect. I know it won’t achieve anything, and is purely a symbolic act, butt if I convince other people to do the same, maybe we can get the asshole out of a place where he has no right to be.

Lyn and I spent yesterday at home, for the most part. I did some work on my thesis, and Lyn composed music in her studio. I did, however, get to watch some TV, and boy did I get a treat. At around midday, Howard Hawks’ ‘His Girl Friday’ (1940) was on. To me, this film is an exemplar of Hollywood of classicism: shot magnificently and highly efficiently, the dialogue almost crackles with greatness. There was one long scene where the whole film comes together – its almost totally dialogue driven, with almost no extra diagetic music. I only whish I could write a fraction as well as that. I’d forgotten how magnificent that film could be – no wonder Hawks was a favourite of the Young Turk writers of cahiers du cinema.

If that wasn’t enough of a treat, in the evening I stumbled onto another gem, this time in terms of comedy. I found a show called ‘Roger and Val have just got In’ on BBC2 (I think). It had Dawn French in. while I like French’s work anyway, I was amazed by this show. The entire episode was composed of just one scene with two characters. Again, it was totally dialogue driven, yet the dialogue was used to create an entire scenario, an entire world with characters who had discernable personalities. For the second time yesterday, I found myself very impressed.

It just goes to show there’s hope for telly yet. There is usually so much dross on, but there are still some gems which you can stand up next to the Hollywood greats.

We recently employed two new personal assistants – a polish couple who recently migrated. I must say how impressed I am with Andrzej and Natalia; I think they have previous experience of personal assistance work. Today, for example, we had a very successful shopping trip. We had a good conversation about British culture in Costa; I was trying to expand Andrzej’s English vocabulary. Rather mischievously, I told him about the phrase ‘smeg head’. Mind you, although I know it’s from Red Dwarf, I’m not entirely sure what smeg is, apart from something obscene. So, in that spirit, I’ll send you here.

I already really like Andrzej and Natalia; they strike me as highly intelligent people. We’ve already had some fascinating conversations, about subjects as diverse as the Russian revolution to the status of disabled people in Poland. Hopefully they’ll be the first conversations of a great many.

One of my online associates contacted me with quite an interesting idea last night. She wrote: ” tactics Matt, split the Lib Dems more than they are split already and the coalition falls. Too lat to stop all the damage but best case scenario. Bigger the protest better for splitting already disenchanted Lib Dems.” As far as I am concerned, this coalition is bad for the country and so must go. The liberals are now effectively the Tories lap-dogs; they seem to have betrayed their instincts in return for power. Yet ttheir support is crucial to CaMoron’s premiership. In other words, take out the lib-dems and the coalition falls. Given that it is doing so much damage to our economy and society, this government must be overturned as soon as possible. Yet, the question is, how do we make Nick clegg put aside his lust for power, and realise that he is playing into the hands of the Tories?

Last night I watched quite an interesting piece on Newsnight about Muslim women wearing the hijab or niqab. It is, of course, a very complex issue, but these women were essentially arguing that they wear it as part of their identity. As I wrote here, I think anyone has a right to wear what they want, and these women have a right to wear veils if they wish. But if this is so, then so do I. given my dress sense often crosses gender boundaries, and given my attitude to religion – that it is just another grand narrative to be deconstructed – why shouldn’t I be allowed to wear a veil? I think it would be a strong statement. If these women feel it liberates them, might it not liberate me?

I will, of course do no such thing. There’s a feeling in the pit of my stomach saying this might be a step too far. Pink party frocks are one thing, but donning a niqab is another. Wearing a dress might get a few odd looks, but nobody will kick my head in, which is what I suspect will happen if I put on a veil. Yet this begs the question why. If we really live in an open and tolerant society, why shouldn’t the same rules apply for everyone, or doesn’t transvestism cross religious boundaries?

It is true that it is only in hindsight that one sees with clarity. For example, I was recently wondering about the best meals of my life: for some reason, I began to wonder, which were the best meals I’ve ever eaten. I came up with a list of three: firstly, there was the seafood buffet I had on new years eve 06/07, in Sydney with my family. We had flown in from the ‘red centre’ that evening, and were lucky to get spaces for the festiivities in our Sydney hotel. The seafood was delicious, and the fireworks made it one of the most memorable evenings of my life.

Then there was the Cuban risotto I had in Paris. When I went there with charlotte, two years ago, we found a little Cuban place near the champs Elysess. I remember it vividly for two reasons: it was there that I drank my first authentic daiquiri, and it was there that charlotte tried to learn to dance Cuban style. I remember it being a truly amazing evening, and one of the best of my life.

The third meal on my list is the least recent, and the most special. In 1994, my parents tool me to the west coast of America. We rented a van, and we toured California, Nevada, and Arizona before going back into California. On one of the last nights, we were up in the Rockies, in Yosemite. Despite the incredible natural beauty, I was miserable, as the chalets we were staying in didn’t have any TV sets. That evening, despite me being in a preadolescent huff, I remember my parents, my brothers and I sitting, up among the redwoods, playing Chinese whispers over a pizza. The sky was so clear that we could see Venus between the mountains. I was young and in a huff, but, looking back, I think that was one of the most magical evenings of my life.

My point is, I think retrospect is the key; none of my favourite meals felt significant at the time. You cant grasp the significance of an event until enough time passes that you can look back on it. Maybe this is the case with politics: Gordon brown is currently portrayed as inept, but I suspect retrospect will show that he saved us from a worldwide depression. I know the two examples are worlds apart, but it is only through hindsight that one can realise the significance of anything, from your three finest meals to the efficacy of a prime minister.

It would seem that hung parliaments are now in fashion. The exit polls of Australia are currently showing that that country too is headed for the type of political turmoil that we went through. I like Australia and Australians, and I really hope that they are spared the shambles we are in, where an essentially far-right party is hiding behind a liberal junior partner in order to make it look respectable. Somehow, though, I don’t think the aussies will stand for that; for the most part, they seem to be a friendly, liberal bunch. On the other hand, its interesting to note ask why elections are so close these days? Is it a sign of insecurity? Might it betray some major worldwide trend – a trend showing widespread unease and indecisiveness? As the societies of the world become increasingly mixed, with people and ideas flowing more freely, I think it’s a sign of the times. The one place we’re not seeing this is the united states, where political views seem to be becoming more polarised, more extreme and less tolerant. What this all means I don’t know, but I cant help wonder where it will lead.

One of the things I love about living in south London is that I am living in a multi-ethnic, multicultural community. The other day, for example, I decided I needed a haircut – my hair was getting quite long and matted. Remarkably for a place as small as Charlton, I had a choice of two places: Trims, where me and Lyn usually go, is a unisex salon run my a nice old lady. The other place, just up the road, is more of a barbers. First I went to trims, but the woman was busy and told me to come back later. I was about to go home, but then I decided to give the other place a try.

This turned out to be run by Turkish gentlemen. Now, at this point I should point out that I no longer have any grievances with the Turks, despite their continued occupation of northern Cyprus. As a kid, I used to listen to my Greek grandfather far too keenly. Anyway, putting politics aside, I rolled in. it was a cross between a conventional British barbershop and a Turkish or Arabic barbers: I was fascinated to see a man being shaved, not with a normal razor but with an old cut-throat razor. I thought those things had been made illegal, and I’d never seen it before. It was like going back in time, or to another place. it felt like something you see on Michael Palin programmes After the shave was over, the gentleman was given a hot towel to put on his face.

Soon it was my turn. Of course, I only needed a haircut – there was no way anyone was coming anywhere near my face with that razor. The haircut I got was efficient, but a bit too short for my liking: I don’t think they get many guys with CP in there, and, as usual, my head kept shaking. Nevertheless, I was still fascinated, as I’d never seen anyone get a shave like that before. but that could just be me being a bit of a yokel. I never saw such things in Cheshire, and it all still feels exotic.

I just saw quite an interesting report on BBC news. the outgoing president of the Royal College of Physicians, Air Ian Gilmore, has called for the legalisation of drugs, he thinks that, if drugs like heroin, cocaine and cannabis are legalised, their use can be regulated and made safe. I, like any other intelligent person, agree with him. It isn’t that drugs are bad; the problem is that their prohibition leads people to get involved in crime. If drugs were regulated, they can be made safe and given out in controlled quantities.

Now, I know from experience that drugs other than alcohol aren’t for me. I have, however, many friends who smoke weed regularly. In the disabled community, many people go through chronic pain which can only be controlled through such drugs. Moreover, as I wrote here, ” No doubt there can be some harmful consequences from such activities, but I have only observed the positive consequences – people having fun, feeling mellow and being happy. I’m informed that the harm comes from ‘bad batches’, which would suggest to me a need for legalisation and regulation of such substances. Bring it away from the underground; this way, at least, the problem of drug crime can be irradiated.” The case, for me, therefore seems obvious: legalise drugs, tolerate them, and – forgive the pun – open your mind to the bigger picture.

Of course, I can’t see this happening with the current government in power. Despite their pretences, the Tory mind seems closed to ways of thinking other than their own. It is, however, good to see someone in authority is still capable of thinking outside the narrow constraints of conservatism.

CaMoron is away on holiday, leaving his lackey clegg to speak to the press. He was towing his master’s line, claiming to be clearing up a mess while pushing through a conservative, individualist ideology. I whish someone would ask him, when, exactly, did he decide to sell his liberal ideals, and how much did the Tories pay? Nick Clegg is a traitor; he has betrayed the working class for his own self gain, for which he and his party should never be forgiven.

Yesterday was an interesting day – very busy, tiring, but very interesting. Lyn and I need a new PA: Dan, for reasons I need not go into here, isn’t working out. So Lyn recently put an ad on Gumtree, and the result, I must say, was very surprising. I always had trouble recruiting new staff up north, but here, in a vast city where virtually everyone is looking for a job, it seems much easier. All thus week, Lyn kept me informed of the number of people coming to be interviewed: it kept going up and up. In the end, eight people were scheduled to come, but one dropped out at the last moment.

Yesterday, then, was rather hectic. At first, I was rather nervous, but Lyn and our Saturday PA Kasia kept everything in order. Kasia really impressed me yesterday, especially given we rather dropped her in it. We conducted four interviews – two were couples – each lasting about an hour. By the end, we were all knackered. I can’t give many details, but I must say we were very impressed by two of the candidates, one of whom recognised my books by Barthes. However, we haven’t made our final decision yet.

Interviewing, then, is an exhausting process. After it was over, we went to the local for a much needed drink. I reckon we earned it yesterday.

I feel rather stupid now. I have a maltron extended keyboard, the keys of which sometimes stick when I dribble. When this happens, my pc emits a large beeping sound, so I unplug it and leave it to dry off. I did this a week ago, but when I plugged the keyboard back in, it didn’t work.

I waited and waited, but my keyboard didn’t seem to be drying. On the other hand, the sound had stopped, so I left it plugged in. the lights were on. On Tuesday, on the advice of my parents, I went out to buy some contact cleaner. I went all the way to North Greenwich, hut when I got there I was told I couldn’t buy any contact cleaner without proving I was over 21. so, on Wednesday, back I went, with my passport, this time buying the stuff I needed.

Yesterday, I kind of prevaricated, but this morning I decided that the problem needed solving. Besides, I had a hunch: I looked behind the keyboard, and, as I suspected, it had been plugged into the wrong hole! It was simply a case of asking Dan to plug it into the correct port and I had my keyboard back. I can blog properly again! If only I had realised sooner.

In my hectic life down here I forgot to wish my older brother mark a happy birthday yesterday. He’s 29 I rarely see Kat and him these days. but I am thinking of him and I hope he had a very good day.

my keyboard is currently on the blink, and writing anything remotely intellent usng the on-screen keyboard would take more patience than I curently have, so I think I’ll directt you here.

Normal revolutionarry ranting will resume shortly.

I still think we need a revolution. Well, maybe not a full blown, fire and pitchfork revolution a la France or Russia, which, lets face it, were rather messy, uncomfortable affairs. But we do need some kind of uprising. CaMoron has already proven himself to be an idiot in the international diplomacy department; and osbourn’s cuts will send us back into a recession which, thanks to brown, we had just got over. It is clear we are being lead by intellectual lightweights, guided by greed, selfishness and the ideology that they, the rich, have a right to rule. We deserve better; we need better. We cant have five years of this.

I am not too sure how much detail I should record about this, as it could be sensitive, but I think it should be blogged about. My partner Lyn keeps getting invoices from the local council for her care. No cover letter comes with them, just an invoice. Obviously they worry Lyn a great deal: her personal care is usually paid for through direct payments and so on, so we don’t understand why they are asking her for this money, which is a hefty sum. She got another such invoice recently, so we rang up to ask why she was getting asked for this money. Predictably, it seems that there has been an administrative cock-up and quite a few people have received such invoices incorrectly. Lyn was told not to worry, but to be honest I think it was a rather unpleasant mistake to make. Lyn is the type of person who can handle almost everything, but wouldn’t you be petrified if you got invoiced for money you didn’t have for a service which is ordinarily paid for but which you couldn’t do without?

Yesterday was quite a cool day. Darryl came to visit. I’ve been speaking to Darryl, online, for about four or five years, but we had never actually met as he lives in Adelaide. He’s a very cool guy, and I must say I really like his PA, Ferg. They were in Europe for a conference in Barcelona, and fit in a visit to London.

I was really pleased to meet him, as it was because of Darryl that I met Lyn. Darryl told Lyn about me, so she looked me up on the web, and the rest, as they say, is history. Thus finally meeting him, here, with Lyn, was very satisfying indeed; hopefully it will be just the first of many times I see him. Who knows: maybe we can go visit him in Australia one day.

CaMoron is currently on the radio in the midlands trying to sell his spending cuts to the people. in other words, he’s trying to appear a man of the people, trying to tell us these cuts are the wisest course of action. It makes me sick: why doesn’t he just admit that these cuts are ideologically motivated? Why doesn’t he just say ”I’m going to cut your services, benefits and standard of living so I can give my rich friends a tax cut”. That’s the truth of it. Instead he’s giving us all a fatuous little show, trying to pretend his politics is not the greed-motivated, narrow-minded set of edicts it is. CaMoron is already fucking up international relations too. The stupid little man must go.

We were over on the south bank yesterday afternoon, enjoying the city. It was a lovely day, and it was quite busy. We’d taken the tube to Westminster, then crossed the river. There, near the London eye, we found a load of street performers – people pretending to be statues and the like – and it gave me an idea. I began to wonder if I could be such a performer: after all, these fools were making money just by standing still. Obviously the idiots on the south bank would give money for anything.

So, the question is, what could I do? I can’t stay still for toffee, so obviously pretending to be a statue is out of the question; I can’t draw or play an instrument either. I might be able to recite poetry from my lightwriter. I decided that doing a live version of Spastic Ballet might be cool, until they arrested me, I needed the loo, or I fell over. I’m still trying to think of something.

After looking at these street artists for a bit, we went to the British film institute for a coffee and to see if there was a book store. I found something awesome in there: the bar in the BFI sells Vespers, made to bond’s original recipe, and, of course, shaken, not stirred. I didn’t have any, as it was very expensive and too early, but I think I’ll definitely have to go back there, with or without my tutu.