I was just looking though some more of Darryl’s videos, and came across this. I’m now well-used to driving my wheelchair along the streets of london: I usually stick to the pavements if at all possible, and reprimand myself for taking the odd risk. However, I now think I’m quite a safe driver after seeing dazz virtually playing wheelchair chicken on the streets of Bangkok. I warn you – this vid isn’t for the faint hearted.

After watching Jeremy Corbyn’s speech yesterday, I’m honestly considering joining the labour party. I found it impassioned, well thought through, and chimed with many of my views. In fact I was so taken with it that, immediately after the show, I got into my chair and sat of for the Labour branch office in greenwich. I know you can join up online, but I needed a walk; either way they were shut.

I think I’ll keep trying, though – or at least keep thinking about it. I’ve long been hesitant about joining any political party, preferring he freedom to flip sides and change my mind. But with so many now being oppressed by the tories, the Lib Dems having proven themselves traitorous, and with corbyn fashioning a new kind of politics so in line with my own views, now may be the time to nail my colours to a single mast.

My friend Darryl just sent me a link to his latest video, and I’m genuinely lost for words. It concerns something Darryl has invented to address an often overlooked aspect of disability equality, which he calls his Bummunicator. For all my experience writing about and analysing film, I have no idea what to say about this one, other than, ”Holy shit you aussie bastard, that’s genius!” Go watch, although whether it is safe for work is debatable.

I was talking to my parents yesterday for my weekly dose of family news and parental nagging, when they put an idea to me. Mum and Dad suggested that it’s time I should start writing longer pieces. They’re right, of course: I’ve been conscious for a while that my daily blog entries are often on the short side; they’re just reflections that trot off I about twenty minutes, post on here, and forget about. While I like this form of short reflexive prose, and honestly reckon that over the years I’ve written enough on here to fill at least one substantial volume, it’s time I started something more sustained. My blog is a good contribution to art and society and I intend to keep it up, and the same certainly goes for my script-writing; but it’s time I started writing some longer and more in-depth prose too.

The question is, what. I need a subject. All those years ago, it was Alan who suggested the subject of cinephilia for my masters; from that suggestion I got down to research and, to cut a long story short, seven years later had produced a 40,000 word thesis. I now want to get back into that longer form of writing – something that I can get my teeth into. But for that I need something to look at; a subject sufficiently engaging that it keeps me going for months or even years, and so far I’m struggling to find one. I’m open to suggestions.

I must say I’m feeling rather pleased with myself this morning. Yesterday saw me out for the second Saturday in a row, and once again I didn’t touch a single drop of alcohol. I had seen an event posed on Charlotte’s sister Poppy’s facebook page, and, rather on the spur of the moment, decided to go. It was due to start at two thirty, so I thought I’d pop over to Lewisham for a couple of hours and be back home in time for tea. The thing was, there was so much going on in the end I didn’t get home ’till gone twelve. The people were lovely; the food was great (poppy helped me to eat a burger, which was very kind of her.) In the evening there was a DJ on – Frith, a friend of C’s from chester – and I asked him to play one of lyn’s tracks; it was wonderful to see everyone dancing to it. The cool part is, as Poppy pointed out, it sounded as good as ay other track being played; nobody realised it wasn’t ‘professional’. Then after Frith an awesome rock band took to the stage; from the first chords they played I could tell they were going to rock.

The best part is, I had a wonderful time and was perfectly sober. Since university I’ve had a habit of associating good times with beer; but yesterday I stuck to Beck’s alcohol-free beer and had an even better time. I could really enjoy myself: watch people, chat, convey what was going on to Lyn via my Ipad. Had I been drinking proper beer, I’d have been drunk by about five and have missed a great evening. Thus last night, together with the Saturday night before it, taught me a valuable lesson.

Mind you, in a way I did go home early: the event was due to go on ’till 4am, but I was getting tired and there were no more bands due on, so I thanked Poppy for a great day and set off home. On the bus, I determined that not drinking beer is the way to go: yes, alcohol gets you into the party spirit and makes you want to dance (more), but then it either puts you to sleep or gets you into trouble. I realise it’s not the way to go, and there are better ways to enjoy yourself. Let’s put it this way: whereas previously I’d have got home so tired I’d barely be able to control my body, when I plugged it in last night my Ipad was down to one percent battery I’d been chatting so much. It was it, not me, that needed to be put to bed,

I think I better flag this very well written blog entry by Claiming Crip up. It concerns a piece of ‘pity porn’: it seems a photo of a McDonald’s staff member helping a disabled man eat appeared on the web recently, and everyone went crazy about the kindness of it. Yes it was kind but, as the blogger explains, that’s no reason to covertly take he guy’s photo and splash it all over the web. After all, the guy probably just wanted a bite to eat. If that ever happened to me, I’d be furious – a good deed is no excuse to invade someone’s privacy.

I was jus on google earth again. Today, for some reason I had a hankering to take a look at Congleton: I haven’t visited my old home town in years, and I suppose I was feeling a tad homesick. What I found, though, astonished me. There’s a bypass in the town which, when I was little, I remember being a simple, straight road. Then they put a roundabout on it; then a petrol station; then a Tesco. Now, going around it on google streetview, I could barely recognise it, it was so built up. To be honest it quite took my breath – has it been so long that my home town is now so unfamiliar? Of course, being a londoner now I’m used to built-up areas (on that note, yesterday I nipped over to Canary Wharf to take a look at Bloodhound ssc – very cool) but I remember that place being a large, rather scruffy field. It just made me think ”what has happened here?” I suppose it just means I ned to go visit my parents again, to reacquaint myself with my old town before it changes any further.

Following my discovery of the existence of Bronies yesterday, I found myself playing an amusing little game. Yesterday afternoon, whizzing through Charlton Village in Rotarran (I still can’t get over how well that chair handles, btw) I caught myself wondering whether I was passing any My Little Pony fans. Given, from what I learned yesterday, virtually anyone could be a Brony, I kept thinking ”Is he a brony? Are they bronies?” I became especially curious when I passed a group of goths. The fact that this strange subculture exists and you never know who blogs to it sort of changes one’s perspective on society; there are even groups in the military. I find myself fascinated, so I’m sure this is a game that will keep me amused for quite some time.

Last night before turning in, we watched a channel four documentary on The World’s Weirdest people. After segments about paranoid americans preparing for the apocalypse and Japanese actors who you can hire to pretend to be your relatives, there was a bit about people who call themselves ‘Bronies’. These are adults – often fully-grown, heterosexual men – who are fans of My Little Pony. I had never come across them before, but as odd as it struck me, I was instantly fascinated: why would anyone other than preteen girls be interested in this show? Of course, when I told Lyn that I was going to look into this phenomenon, she had a fit of the giggles; but this morning I googled it and turned up a wealth of information, including this documentary. The movement seems to be about friendship and loyalty, as well as the very rejection of mainstream gender stereotypes which I have long advocated. While I don’t think I quite get it yet, and I’m nowhere near becoming a Brony myself, I am definitely going to look into this further – I want to see what these people find so compelling about a kid’s show which, from what I’ve seen to date, is nauseatingly saccharin. There are aspects of fan culture to this phenomenon, which ties in with my MA work; yet it has an oddity to it – an oddity I find fascinating. Besides, it makes a change from bond and Star Trek.

I am, I’m afraid, in a considerable amount of pain today. For the last two or three days I have had a very sore right shoulder. I had no idea what was causing it, but it was starting to make me very grumpy indeed. I felt even more bitter towards prams on busses than usual, and the only thing cheering me up was piggate. This morning, however, it hit me: the armrest on my new chair was too short, so the control was in the wrong place. That was screwing up my shoulder.

Still in a foul mood I set off to the wheelchair shop, worried that they wouldn’t be able to do anything; but once there a new, longer armrest was ordered. It was a problem easily solved in about five minutes, and although I have to wait for it to arrive, my shoulder feels better already. While there’s a small chance it won’t resolve the issue, I have a feeling it will do the trick. It just amazes me how a problem which seemed so major this morning could fade so quickly.

When I posted my entry yesterday, I had no idea what was about to hit the mainstream press. Does the fact that I loathe tories laughing at ‘us’, but relish laughing at tories make me a hypocrite? Mind you, who could help laughing at the news that CaMoron face-fucked a pig? By late afternoon yesterday, it was all over the web; it was quite fascinating to watch the memes emerge and evolve so quickly. Everyone was relishing it, and still are. This scandal will probably not blow over for quite some time – the bast bit of all we get to watch CaMoron writhe in agony, hating every moment of it.

It’s exactly what the piece of shit deserves. Mind you, I just worry that, amid the fun, we will forget the more serious allegation in the book that CaMoron knew about  Lord Ashcroft’s tax status. If that is true, the shit really hits the fan: being caught lying is serious; it could be the end of CaMoron’s premiership. Then, no more CaMoron, no more needless cuts, no more persecution of people with disabilities. The bastard can swan off to the nearest farm and screw all the dead animals he likes.

Now, I feel like a bacon butty.

A couple of days ago online I came across a ‘joke’ supposedly taking the piss out of Jeremy Corbyn. It was just a poorly photoshopped image trying to liken Corbyn to Compo from Last of the Summer Wine, but it really pissed me off. By what right do tory-types make fun of corbyn? He as more honour than the entire tory party put together. I know it sounds silly, but the sneering arrogance the picture implied made me angry; why should the tories have the right to make jokes attacking the opposition when they’re the ones who deserve to be hauled an front of a judge on human rights charges? I know humour is – or should be – free for everyone; it does not belong to the left; but the sneering arrogance of the picture combined with my knowledge of the suffering the tories are causing made me very angry indeed. (see also this entry)

When I watched Monty Python last year, I presumed that, in terms of shows, things couldn’t get better. I had just watched the greatest comedy troupe play live virtually on my doorstep, thirty years after they had last performed together, in a reunion virtually everyone had thought impossible. How could you possibly top that? You can’t! I now rank that night up there with meeting Sir Patrick Stewart and watching Lyn play at the paralympics as one of the great events of my life. The only similar thing which could get close is if, say, Guns N’ Roses got back together and went on a world tour, and that isn’t gonna happen…

Or is it? I just came across this piece in the Mirror: ”Legendary rockers Guns N’ Roses are in talks over hitting the road next year on a money-spinning reunion tour.

Frontman Axl Rose, 53, and lead guitarist Slash, 50, have buried the hatchet after years of feuding and now look set to perform together for the first time since 1996. Promoters reckon a series of worldwide gigs with the classic line-up could make the musicians an estimated £65million.” While no details have yet been released, I’m sure a London gig is very likely – possibly even at the O2; and if they are going to play her, just try to stop me getting tickets. As when I got wind that Python were reuniting, this is certainly a story I’ll be keeping an eye on.

I went to the pub for the first time in weeks. My friend Luke and his mum sally invited me to ta get together at the George V in woolwich. To be honest I was in two minds about going: I’m still abstaining from alcohol, and I knew he temptation to have a beer would be enormous. But it had been ages since I had seen luke and sal, and I was keen to maintain a good friendship, so after a good dinner I set off.

At first silly me went to the wrong pub, but a few frantic message exchanges put that right. Sally was there already, and it felt great to see her. I think she was taken aback when I told her I’d be sticking to coke, but after I explained my reasons she understood. Luke got there with his new PA shortly after and, after saying hi, went straight to the bar to get a round. A pint of bitter was soon placed in front of me – it took all the willpower I could summon not to put my straw in and start to suck. A voice at the back of my head kept saying ”just one, just one”; but I knew that one would lead to two, two to three, and before you knew it I would be repeating the trouble of a month ago. That could not be allowed to happen, so I stuck to my Coke.

In the end it turned into a cool evening. We had a good long chat: Luke’s now at college doing an ITC course, and was very proud of his new student badge. When the time came for me to go, sally gave me a big hug – she’s having a bit of a rough time right now, so, she said, it was good to see me. I said we should meet more often, and she agreed.

I rolled home happy to have seen them, and rather proud of myself for sticking to my guns and not drinking beer. I got in about half eleven; I think Lyn was a tad surprised to see me still completely sober. It just goes to show you don’t have to drink to have a good night out. But I think that is the way to go, and this morning, totally hangover free, I’m now thinking up ways to see Luke and Sally again.

I didn’t bother to name my last chair. It was a low, unnimble Volt with a footplate designed by a buffoon; I was so untaken by it that I couldn’t find a name for it. In fact I was considering calling it something like Sapoc, for Slow-Ass piece of Crap, but got no further. Yesterday, however, I had a new chair delivered, a Rascal P327, and I was instantly taken by it: although marginally slower than my old, much loved f55’s, it is more nimble than the volt, and impressively agile. In fact by the time I had taken my first proper walk on it to Woolwich and back, I had fallen in love with it.

I decided she needed a name. I decided to continue the tradition of giving my chairs star Trek related names – my F55s were called Defiant and Bat’leth – But what?

Scimitar, after the Romulan (or was it reman) ship in Nemesis? Nice, but that film was a bit crap. Then I hit upon it: Rotarran! I love Deep Space Nine, and the IKS Rotarran was general Martok’s flagship during the dominion war – the ideal name for a swift, agile powerchair. Rotarran it is then – may she bring me honour! Qa’pla! [img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/new chair.jpg[/img]

Donald trump famously recently boasted about being a billionaire, speaking of his wealth as if it was a major character quality. To that I would reply: ”A thief can become a billionaire if he steals enough.” It occurs to me that such an attitude goes to the heart of everything that is wrong with the right-wing, conservative mindset. To measure the value of a person by his wealth alone is utter folly. I have many good friends – Lyn, Charlie, James, Esther – but I love them for their kindness and warmth, not their wealth. Having a fortune is a sign that a person has been greedy and unscrupulous; that one has pushed one’s way to ‘the top’ over the bodies of countless others. Thus it sickens me that Trump, this selfish, arrogant, disgusting little man, is trying to become the world’s most powerful person, as if having so much money gave hime some kind of innate right to it.

Recently, when I go to bed, as part of my going-to-sleep routine, I’ve been trying to think up scenarios which could be as cool or cooler as Happy and Glorious. If 007 can meet the queen, what other combinations could have the same mind blowing effect? Well, last night I came up with one. Before you say it could never happen, I’d point out that people would probably have said the same of the idea that the queen would one day parachute out of a helicopter with James Bond. If that can happen, surely it’s possible for the Pope to appear with the Monty Python troupe in the Spanish Inquisition sketch. [Devious spastic chuckle]. I know it’s far fetched, and I’m still trying to think up what the pontiff could do in the sketch, but the image of the head of the catholic church alongside Palin, Cleese et al in their red robs and big red hats is one I now can’t get out of my head. How awesome, how hilarious would that be? Of course there would be major hurdles to overcome if it is ever to materialise, this song being quite a big one, but it has to be worth a go.

I was messing around on google streetview yesterday, one of my favourite sites, when I found something cool. I was looking around Oxford when, to my surprise, it allowed me into The Head of the River. Street view now allows users to go into pubs how cool is that?! Check it out. This is good for me as I’m currently off the beer ’till christmas, so this sates my desire for horse brasses and oak beams without me getting into trouble. Not only that, I found I can visit bars I’ve never been: I’ve always wanted to go to Sloppy Joe’s Bar, Key West, Florida since hearing of the Hemingway Legend, and yesterday I did (albeit virtually).

You would think that the UK being reported to the UN for human rights violations would be major news, but there was not a word about it on the beeb’s lunchtime bulletin. According to this Guardian report, ”For the past three and a half years, a handful of people at DPAC have been diligently gathering and submitting evidence to the United Nations, asking it to launch an investigation on the grounds that both the previous coalition government and the new Tory administration have been responsible for ‘grave and systematic violations of disabled people’s human rights’.” The UN is taking these allegations seriously, as there is growing evidence that ‘we’ are bearing the brunt of the damage: ”According to analysis by the Centre for Welfare Reform, disabled people have been targeted by cuts nine times more than most other citizens. It also found that people with disabilities, who make up one in 13 of the population, bore almost a third (29 percent) of the cuts. It was against this backdrop – with people buckling under the strain of fitness-for-work WCA tests and escalating benefit sanctions – that activists sought help beyond the UK.” You know a grave empasse has been reached when you country is being investigated by the United Nations; but what shocks me almost as much is that there is not a word about it on the TV news – forget Corbyn at PMQs, this should be the top story.

Lyn’s awesome new EP, Treacherous Sea, is out today. Please go buy it!

[img description=”undefined image” align=”centre”]/images/treacherous sea.jpg[/img]

CaMoron has been deliciously ‘owned’ by Vladimir Putin this morning. According to this Mirror story, in response to CaMoron calling Corbyn a ‘threat to national security’ (as if the p’tahk deserved the authority to decide wha is a threat and what isn’t), Putin – or, rather, the Russian embassy tweeted ”Just imagine UK media headlines if Russian President called a leading opposition party threat to national security?” If that isn’t epic ownership, I don’t know what is. Mind you, it’s also very telling: it goes to show how despotic, authoritarian and dictator-like the tories are becoming, as well as how rattled they are by Corbyn.

I know I don’t go to that many football matches, but this news that ”All Premier League clubs have agreed to improve access for disabled supporters by August 2017” is surely to be greeted warmly. One of the major drawbacks of life with a disability is not being able to do a lot of the normal social stuff others do. Thankfully in recent years things have improved greatly: where you never used to see wheelchair spaces in cinemas, they are now commonplace; you can now get on to busses; more public places are being made accessible than ever before (and, to that end, I might personally have played a role in the installation of this ramp). It’s good to hear that football grounds are at last coming into line with that trend; and, who knows, it might encourage me to go to more matches.

I just came across this great little Paul Krugman piece in the New York Times, where he argues that Corbyn’s election was inevitable as he was the only candidate opposed to the narrative of austerity. Krugman points out that the idea that austerity is necessary or vital is essentially a lie everyone, including all our media, has bought, but which the facts don’t actually support. At last someone – Corbyn – is standing up to it. The question is, why it took so long, and why are others so ready to swallow tory lies.

The obvious choice of subject for my blog entry today is the election of Jeremy Corbyn as labour leader, but truth be told I don’t know what to write about it. Of course, on one hand I’m ecstatic: I thoroughly agree with most of Corbyn’s views. At last we have someone unafraid to stand up to the tories and their lies; unafraid to speak up for the downtrodden and disenfranchised; unafraid to call the bullshit of austerity what it is – merely a cover for making unfairness and selfishness permanent. Yet I just worry about how much he’ll be heard: the right will try to shout him down and call him a socialist (as if it is an insult); they will try to belittle him and call his politics outdated. Already the Mail has vehemently attacked him; the tories claim to be relishing the opportunity to ‘discredit socialism once and for all’, too dim to realise that Corbyn has more humanity and compassion in his little toe than in the entire tory party. Amid this onslaught, I’m not sure Corbyn could ever be elected. Could he ever become Prime Minister, or have we all become irredeemably selfish thatcherites, too wedded to neoliberalism even to listen to him?

I just found some quite important news, predictably ignored by the mainstream media. According to this article on the disability news service, the UN is now investigating the UK government for grave violations of disabled peoples’ rights. The investigation was triggered by Disabled People Against Cuts (DPAC), who went to the UN with a catalogue of human rights breaches caused, in one way or another, by what the tories are doing. It just goes to show that my rants on here aren’t just hyperbole and vitriol: what CaMoron and his minions are doing through their quest to decimate the state has caused pain and anguish for thousands; thousands have already died as a direct result or have been driven to suicide. At last they might face justice at the United Nations.

I popped over to UEL this afternoon to ask if I could be of any assistance to them this year. The chap who runs the RIX centre, Andy, wasn’t there, but I spoke to Mark, his Number One. He seemed glad to see me, and assured me that they would let me know if anything came up. He also told me that the video they had been working on, about the Apex choir, had been finished. You may recall that I mentioned them on here a while ago, having been to a couple of their gigs to help with the film. It is a fascinating group made up of singers with autism. I still wonder whether they could collaborate with the Paraorchestra in some way. Anyway, the completed film can be seen here.

I haven’t seen charlotte since we watched the Cat Empire together earlier this year, but I want to keep my tradition up in wishing her a happy birthday. We chatted briefly online earlier, and it sounded like C is doing well. She told me that she has a new choir to lead, sending my mind back to the awesome music she and the gospel choir made at university – that now seems like a lifetime ago. Whatever Charlie’s doing, though, I’m sure it will be great; and I’m sure she’ll be having fun tonight!

My friend John just got back from Hungary. I just found the following on his Facebook page recalling the love and compassion he was witness to in Budapest. I hope he doesn’t mind me reprinting it here, as it is genuinely one of the most beautiful, humbling things I think I’ve ever read. It also makes what can seem so distant on the evening news really hit home

[quote=”John E”]I have just got back from the Keleti railway station in Budapest where a few days ago clashes between riot police units and refugees took place. Impressions of the evening – sensational; crazy chase after the ball and jostling with syrian kids compensated me the last few days of contact with haters in the internet. Seeing the Hungarians sharing hot drinks, sandwiches and secondhand clothes I forgot about fascist and xenophobic sentiments prevailing in the cyberspace. Budapest is a party-city, so a individual natives (with hands in plastic gloves, indicating that they work as volunteers) sip beer with smiles on their faces, the girls handing out items of need wear mini-skirts: different customs do not pose a problem, and the phrase ”clash of civilizations” again seems to be incompatible with the reality – because after all, it belongs to the virtual realm, it echoes merely in the airwaves – but when a man stands in front of another man, face to face, looking into each others eyes these slogans are no longer relevant … Despite the harsh conditions (because the deeper the night, the cooler), a unique atmosphere pervades annd hits me acutely. It’s the first time I’m in this kind of situation, and I did not know what to expect. ”All we have HERE is given out of LOVE from the Hungarian PEOPLE, not its government” – says inscription on one of the boards. I like it this way! Throw TV in the trash, organize independently, get from the bottom to the top, act – and you can forget about both radicals and xenophobes from distant countries, as well as about those of our own backyard…[/quote]

I know, as a leftie, I’m supposed to be against institutions like the monarchy, and indeed part of me does find it grossly unfair and outdated. Yet I must admit that part of me has a soft spot for old Liz. In a world of constant change and turmoil, she has always been there; for the last 63 years she has been a fixture of British society. I find quite a bit of comfort in that. Thus, on the occasion of the queen becoming this country’s longest ever reigning monarch (some time this evening, apparently) I wish her well. Mind you, it has to be said that I’m only this supportive of the queen because of Happy and Glorious, as it was in that short film that her majesty revealed her more playful, human side. Everyone probably thought that she would be above such things, but in a way in that film she redefines herself as more in touch with contemporary culture than we thought, and, dare I say it, rather cool. It was quite a coup, if you think about it. In 2012, then, the queen earned my respect, and I therefore wish her well today.

My dad popped round for a visit today. My parents are in town, and dad often comes for a cup of coffee on such occasions. As usual we discussed this and that – how the family is doing, and so on. Today we touched upon the next bond theme. I mentioned I had heard Sam Smith might be doing it; dad hadn’t heard of him, and we left it there. Moments after Dad left, though, I checked the news and, coincidence of coincidences, found this story. Smith is indeed doing the theme for Spectre. It remains to be seen, of course, how good a job he does, and I have my reservations. I realise I’m probably being a tad unfair on the guy, but the question is whether an X factor contestant can really match up to the likes of Shirley Bassey, Carly Simon or Tina turner – I have my doubts.

It may be a couple of years old, but Lyn posted a link to this remarkable presentation on her Facebook page, and I thought I’d flag it up here too. Imogen Heap is a musical pioneer who creates sounds using electronic equipment she controls by moving her body. That is, rather than pressing notes on a conventional instrument, she can wave her hand or shake her leg to generate sound. It’s quite fascinating to watch, and utterly postmodern; but what I find especially interesting is how this technology can be used by people with disabilities to create music. While you would probably need fairly good motor control to get something resembling a good tune going on this device, by effectively rendering the space around you an instrument, it certainly helps open up the boundaries of what is possible.

I just came across this rather interesting little bbc article on how people with disabilities are reclaiming the old Victorian idea of the freak show. A group of disabled performers in bristol called Cirque Bijou have come together to perform, showing off their bodies and the differences they have. The pivotal point is, this is something they have chosen to do. Whereas in the past so-called freaks were forced to perform for another person’s profit, these performers have reclaimed the freak role and made it their own; they have reclaimed their bodies. Just as I ironically use the word ‘cripple’ in the title of my blog, they have taken control over what was once a form of severe oppression. From what I hear, performers in the old victorian circuses were quite literally slaves; now, by reclaiming both their bodies and the language used to describe them, the performers – the freaks – have become the masters. Moreover, displaying their bodies in such a way demystifies them, so hopefully this circus would help to remove some of the fear surrounding disability too. It shifts the focus from ghoulish voyeurism to one of admiration. Thus I think this is a great idea, and I wish them well.

This must be the best idea I’ve come across in quite some time. It’s an article proposing we swap Katie Hopkins for 50,000 Syrian refugees, and I wholeheartedly support it. I’ve had enough of that judgemental cow polluting the journalistic discourse with her attention seeking bile; I’d rather feed and support 50,000 desperate people who will probably end up contributing to society. Moreover, in Syria, Perry might learn to keep her obnoxious, baseless opinions to herself. Thus, while this may have started as a joke, it is actually a very good idea.

I think I’ll flag this short video by Mark Kermode on the relationship between books and films up. It is a subject which fascinates me, and I touch briefly upon it in my MA. As the Good Doctor notes, there seems to be a tendency to think a book is always superior to a film. But to me they go hand-in-hand. They are vastly different art forms, but they often complement each other. They can also shed different perspectives on the same subject. As Dr. K notes, a film can inspire one to read a book, or visa versa. All this was first addressed, I need to say, on the pages of Cahiers du Cinema in the fifties and sixties, but it’s good to see Kermode touching upon it once again.

Last night in bed I was thinking about Happy and Glorious. I realise it must seem odd for me to still be so fixated upon it, but this short film intrigues me even now. Part of the reason for that comes from the fact it was so unexpected: who would have thought we would ever see the queen ‘meeting’ James Bond and parachuting out of a helicopter with him? Isn’t she supposed to be above such populist things? It was out of the blue, broke our perceptions of royalty and was very, very cool. At one and the same time, it questioned our perceptions of royalty in a completely surprising way yet said something we all knew about British culture which is always left unsaid. How very British.

That got me thinking: where else might we see a similar breaking? Could anything else, any other combination, elicit the same reaction, the same degree of amazement and surprise? It occurred to me that Japan still has an emperor just as we have our queen; the interesting question is, would Japanese culture allow a similar type of play? Happy and Glorious said something about Britain’s relationship with it’s monarchy; could Japanese culture allow for a similar juxtaposition of reverence and irreverence, tradition and modernity? I don’t know much about Japanese culture, but the impression I get is that it wouldn’t – it is much too reverential and conservative. Then again, one might have said that of British culture before 2012. Thus Happy and Glorious opens up the possibility of such things happening elsewhere: if Bond can escort the queen to the olympics, surely anything else is possible and nothing is out of the question. But what if it is? what if the Japanese see their emperor – who, to them, is more like a god – as above such things? what does that say about their culture and ours; their relationship to monarchy and ours? These are the cultural implications of Happy and glorious which, believe it or not, still interest me. What would be fascinating is if we see a similar stunt in Tokyo in 2020.

I think this video is definitely worth flagging up. It’s a RT interview with Paula Peters, a key player in the disabled peoples’ movement, detailing just how harmful the tory cuts are. As Peters explains, these cuts have cost hundreds of lives, and have pushed many more – Peters included – into states of absolute despair. It is little wonder that the UN is coming in to investigate that insult to humanity IDS and the harm he is doing through his ideologically-driven reforms. I’m just relieved that at least one news channel is covering this disaster; I daresay you would never see such an interview on the beeb these days.

I must say the idea of a disabled people’s party is appealing. Although it might face questions of scope and accusations of being a one trick pony, a party of people with disabilities standing up for people with disabilities may be just what we need. We’re being largely ignored by mainstream parties, shat on my the government. I just came across this interesting Guardian piece about how such a party has been set up in Cordoba, Argentina. While they have faced a few problems, it appears to have been largely successful, albeit on a small scale. It makes me wonder whether the time has come for such a party here. Mind you, it would probably face many of the problems the movement has at the moment, with a pushy, authoritarian few presuming to speak for the many. Then you have the problem of who is eligible to enter

The summer is on the wane, and autumn’s coming

Yet, sat here in our garden with you, I couldn’t be more content.

The distant rumble of the city goes on, but here there is

Silence, as I watch you drift in and out of an afternoon doze.

Beneath my feet, grass, wet and green; Above, the sky blue but speckled with cloud

The tweets of birds and rumble of planes.

But, here, now, all that exists is this quiet moment of calm

No traffic, no planes, no city.

Just you and I, the wet grass

Our love, and the waning summer.

It may be my imagination, but there has definitely been a change in the air. It’s as if, with the onset of the Embers of the Year, everything as suddenly become much duller and grimmer. As if with the coming of autumn everyone has hunkered down and gone back to work; settled into the usual humdrum routine that will last until christmas. I was just at the local special school asking if I could volunteer, as I’ve done every year for the last five – my version, I suppose, of returning to work. I know I shouldn’t feel so glum – after all, the metropolis has a habit of throwing up nuggets of awesomeness when you least expect – yet, with the sky so cloudy and bleak, it feels like the city has returned to a routine which, while reassuring, is ultimately very dull. Having said that, I thought the same this time last year, and look what awesome things followed.