Although, to my knowledge, none of the money in my wallet is purple or any other colour apart from the usual grey, green and brown, I think this is definitely worth flagging up. Today is apparently Purple Pound Day, which is intended to draw attention to consumers with disabilities. “Shopping can be frustrating at the best of times, but for many disabled people it comes with even more unnecessary challenges – narrow aisles, no step-free access, rushed shop assistants. But one businessman and wheelchair user has turned his frustrations into a national event – Purple Tuesday – in a bid to get hundreds of retailers to improve their customer experience and tap into the £249bn disabled customers spend each year.” A step in the right direction – albeit a modest one – if you ask me, although as the bbc article itself points out towards the end, it is not enough to just have one day to acknowledge consumers with disabilities. Surely ‘we’ should be included and accommodated all year round.

Something rather cool happened this morning.

My friend Lee Donnelly  was a big WWE fan. I hadn’t really thought about wrestling since I was about ten or eleven, but it was  mentioned at donno’s funeral and I’d been thinking about it since then. Wrestling is very strange,  when you look at it: it’s obviously theatrical, yet it claims to be real, and the pretence of reality  is taken far further than any  other form of theatre. To any other person, it looks  pantomimic, yet it takes itself so seriously. It seemed very odd to me.

When  I turned my computer on this morning, I found this article about Wrestling on the BBC website.  I read it, and came across the name of an academic I didn’t then recognise Dr. Ben Litherland. Deciding it was time to look a bit further into this  bizarre phenomenon,  I plugged the name into google expecting to find a musty old academic, but the strangest thing happened: it turned out that I already knew the guy, and he was a school friend of my brother Luke.  We had chatted before, six  years ago, having come across each other not through Luke but  a mutual friend, James C. I love  how the web works sometimes.

We got chatting (again) and I told ben of my newfound interest.  Apparently, there is a growing literature on the subject, but Litherland said he was against the idea of a  ‘wrestling studies’. That seemed curious to me: if wrestling is an art, shouldn’t it be studied  like  any other (narrative) art form in terms of it’s characters and storylines? But he seemed to be suggesting it was something else; not just a weird panto about men hitting eachother or a type of soap opera. It has a real world, political dimension, especially when you consider that Trump has  appeared on it, and Vince McMahon was one of the biggest backers of the Trump campaign. That which I once dismissed as childish and puerile now seems worth looking into deeply.

Something very, very strange is going on with professional wrestling. It’s obviously fake, but claims to be real. It is presented rather like a soap opera, but disbelief is suspended and the illusion of reality is kept to the extreme. Ben even introduced me to their word for it: Kayfabe.  Something which might appear childish does in  fact take itself deadly seriously, and to it’s fans is  as real as any other sport. These people cannot actually be hitting one another or they would be seriously injured;  and the way in which the camera captures events outside the ring suggests the action is somehow planned and choreographed; yet, as in sport, events are shown live and the audience seem  to think they are watching events which have not been rehearsed. Thus I am baffled – what is it? Theatre? Sport? artform, or something else? How  can something which appears so silly have so much cultural impact? When I read a book or watch a film, I know I’m dealing  with a created artefact – something designed or created by someone to tell me a story or convey a message to me. Wrestling is obviously a similar kind of creation, yet it refuses to admit it is anything other than real (undertones of Lacan there, maybe?) I must admit I’m intrigued.

The world being as dangerous as it currently is, with nationalism dangerously  on the rise, I think I ought to flag  this article up.  ”French President Emmanuel Macron has urged world leaders marking the centenary of the World War One Armistice to reject nationalism. Addressing leaders in Paris – including US President Donald Trump and Russian President Vladimir Putin – he described it as a “betrayal of patriotism”.” A truer  word has never been spoken. To love one’s country is to love the things which makes it unique. By extension, that means one loves  how your country contrasts with others, which means engaging with other countries and cultures. To me, then, to just love your own country is folly; one must relish the whole of humanity in all it’s diversity,  working together across petty, arbitrary borders. We need to work as one, not compete. That is the only way we can avoid repeating the type of barbaric stupidity which ended a century ago today.

Just to update yesterday’s entry, late last night my good friend Debbie sent me  a link to an Ipad  troubleshooting forum. I just checked it out and  tried  one of the fixes I found there, and it worked. I suddenly have a  voice again. Hearing that  mechanised voice was such a  relief! I owe debbie a hug, and  a coffee! The trip all the way to the Apple shop in Stratford was pointless; it just goes to show how much  those so-called experts actually know, or rather, how  much they want to pressure you into buying new merchandise rather than giving you the solution to your problem.

I’m afraid to say that it has been a long, rather annoying day. Ipads are fantastic, useful machines – until they go wrong. Late yesterday afternoon I suddenly lost all sound output from my Ipad. That’s quite a problem for me  as I use mine as a communication aid. I had a look at it but couldn’t get it talking again, so today I took it back to the guys in Woolwich I mentioned  a couple of entries ago. This  time, though, they couldn’t do anything, and suggested  I take it to an Apple shop. After I’d returned home for a coffee, I set off for stratford – after all, I still rather like it up there. After I’d found the Apple shop, I told the young assistant what the problem was, and he kindly fastracked me to see a technician. The guy looked at it but couldn’t do anything: it turns out  that the headphone mode had somehow been locked on, even though there are no headphones connected. I was told I either had to reset my Ipad, losing all my data and specialist apps, or buy  a new Ipad. Needless to say, I came home feeling very frustrated indeed. Does anyone have any other suggestions?

I went up  to the British Museum yesterday. My friend John suggested meeting up there, having first proposed a trip to Oxford, and I thought it was an awesome idea. Seeing Oxford again would have been lovely, but we’d left  it too  late. Getting there was easy enough – just two busses – and once I was in there I was instantly fascinated.  They currently have an exhibition on on Syria, so  there were many ancient stone tablets from the middle east on display.  The Rosetta stone, of course, took pride of place, but there were many more around it. I couldn’t help feeling, though, that it was all decontextualised: taken out of their original places and transported several thousand miles to a rainy city in northern  Europe, these objects inevitably lose some of their original meaning. Wouldn’t it be better to see these fascinating pieces of art where they were made? And isn’t having them in the british museum in the first place all essentially an act of imperialist theft? Then again, you might say it is  better to house these artefacts here, where they can be correctly preserved, than leaving them in the war-torn Middle East; and leaving them in the countries where they were created would mean people like me would never be able to see them. I couldn’t make up my mind  either way, and came  home vowing to go  back there to see more when I can.

It worries me how dense I can be sometimes. A week or so ago, I was going down a steep slope in Maryon-Wilson park when I slipped out of my powerchair. I was fine,  as was the chair,  but a while later I noticed what appeared to be  quite a big crack in my Ipad screen. I tried to ignore it at first but as the crack got bigger I thought I better get the  screen replaced. Yesterday, then, I went down to Woolwich  to get it sorted. I asked in a couple of shops whether they do Ipad screen repairs, before being directed to a shop on General Gordon Square.

I handed the guy in there my Ipad, having first asked  him how much a  new screen would cost. Almost immediately, though, he smiled: the screen was fine, he said; I’d just  kinked the screen protector! I had completely forgotten we had put one on a few weeks ago.

The  guy replaced the protector, cleaned up my ipad, charged me a tenner for it (a bargain compared to the seventy quid a new screen would have cost) and  sent me on my way, feeling rather silly.

You   may recall that the very last entry I made before my  old blog went offline was about the summerhouse in chalton park. It had stood abandoned for as long as I’d lived in charlton, but I was interested to see that it’s renovation had begun. Well, I’ve been keeping an eye on it since then, and it has been fascinating to watch the building get transformed from a  derelict old shell. I would say it was halfway there now, but what’s cool is what it could now become. I popped into Charlton house this afternoon to ask about it: it  dates from about 1610, and was originally used as a banqueting hall. It must once have enjoyed phenomenal views northward over the river. Excitingly, at last week’s film festival meeting, there was talk of using it as a screening venue. And having hung around so many contemporary theatre students at uni, I’d wager it would make a great performance space. With that it mind, I just tapped it into Google and found this update on the Summerhouse’s restoration and refurbishment. It certainly looks like the old shack has a bright, interesting future (and I’m glad to see that it will be wheelchair accessible.

I just want to state this once and for all: from now on, as far as I am concerned, Brexit is illegal. More and more detail is  emerging  of the crimes committed by the Leave  campaign. It’s now quite clear that they broke the law over their funding. At the very least,  the Brexit process should be halted while the  electoral commission investigates. The only way  out of this mess is  to  hold a second referendum – now that the shit is truly starting to hit the fan and it  is becoming clearer and clearer that the 2016 was reached illegally, how  else can things be put right? Until then, however, I’ll continue to view the path the uk is now following  as illegal. How can anyone possibly respect such a dubious underhand and damaging result?

You would think that a man whose arrogance and stupidity has caused so much damage would have the  good grace to shut the fuck up and keep out of politics, but apparently David CaMoron is considering returning to frontline politics. Words completely fail me. Has the P’tahk any idea of the damage he has done and the division he has caused? To even be considering such a return implies that he thinks he is held in some kind of esteem, when surely anyone capable of independent thought views him with a mixture of derision  and contempt. He called  a totally unnecessary referendum to try to fix a problem in the Tory party, it backfired on him and as a result the entire country will be up shit creek for years. How can anyone have the gall to think he still has a right to  help  govern  the country? CaMoron should be on his knees begging our forgiveness.

How I wish more bus drivers were like the one in this Evening Standard story. When nobody moved to make space for a wheelchair user, a bus driver in Paris ordered everyone off his bus and  told them to wait for the next one. Bravo that bus driver! Although to be honest I can’t really see anything similar happening on the 422 down to Woolwich.

Yesterday I came across something very interesting indeed. When the halloween episode of Inside No. 9 was broadcast on Sunday evening, I thought I’d give it a watch. I usually like Reece Shearsmith and Steve Pemberton’s work. A few minutes into the program, though, the sound cut out. To check there wasn’t something wrong with our TV, I changed the channel – the sound was fine for bbc1. I changed it back and bbc2 was still silent, so I decided to watch the news instead.

Earlier though, I had come across a link to a Guardian article praising the program for it’s innovation. That, of course, aroused my curiosity so I decided before reading the article in full to give the episode another go. Strangely, though, the same thing happened: it started like any normal drama or sitcom would, with an old guy finding an old lady’s mobile phone, trying to reunite it with it’s owner. But then the same thing happens: everything goes silent.

The guardian article mentioned something about unusual happenings, so I decided to persevere this time. Besides, I was watching it on Iplayer where surely technical problems would have been dealt with. But instead of the sound coming back, the program cut to the bbc2 logo and the announcer apologising for technical issues. I began to regret not sticking with it two nights ago as the effect would have been intriguing: viewers would have been left wondering whether the beeb was having a meltdown or whether this was part of the show. Not watching it live the effect was somewhat lost..

What followed was half an hour of remarkable television which played with the viewer. It wasn’t clear what one was watching. At one point an old episode of Inside No. 9 was tarted, apparently to replace this faulty one, only for the new episode to return. Actors were shown in their studios, watching themselves on live tv and talking about the live twitter feed. Brecht’s fourth wall was torn apart so that we were left wondering where fiction stopped and reality began.

That, however, is what intrigues me. This program begs for analysis. For the bbc to agree to broadcast something like this, it would have to have been planned out to the last detail. Yet it gave the appearance of non-fiction. The actors spoke about themselves as they watched themselves on live tv speaking about themselves. It had a sense of the Real to it, exceeding the scripted and planned. At the same time, we know what we were watching is a pre-planned fiction by the fact it must have been filmed, edited and broadcast. After all, programs like this don’t automatically appear into existence. Try as they might, then, the program makers have to rely on viewers suspending their disbelief if they want to pull something like this off.

By and large, though, I think they succeed. The very fact that one is taken aback by the sound problem as the program begins means one is never totally sure what is real and what isn’t. From then on, the writers and directors play with the viewer, interweaving fiction and reality so that the mobile phone problem from the beginning of the program reappears at the end. We see hand held and head mounted footage cut together with news broadcasts, both of which we associate with reality but which we know must be part of the program. The result is highly inventive, intriguing, and very apt for a halloween special.

Lyn and I went to see David Byrne at the o2 last  night, our first gig in a while. Truth be told I didn’t know much about Byrne so I didn’t really know what  to  expect. I read he was big in the eighties as part of the band Talking Heads, but further than that things would be a surprise.

I was in for a treat. It’s always a pleasure to go up to the o2 Arena; having a phenomenal mega-venue like that virtually on  our doorstep is quite phenomenal. Byrne and his group put on a  great show, although there probably isn’t much I can say about it. I enjoyed hearing songs like Once In A Lifetime, which reminded me of listening it on  local radio on the way to school as a child. His style of music is very eighties, and a tad too dance oriented for my tastes. That  is to say, the group did lots of intricate dance routines which I felt distracted slightly from the music. Apart from that, it was a great evening. The o2 arena really is a fantastic venue, and I left wondering who we could watch there next.

The world has today taken yet another very worrying, very frightening turn. I first got word of Bolsonaro’s victory last night from my Brazilian cousin Christina, but waited to see confirmation of it this morning. It is true: Brazil has followed the UK and USA in losing it’s mind and succumbing to the mindless folly of populist nationalism. As bad as this is for Brazil – and it as now elected a truly despicable human being for it’s president – we should also be very concerned about where this trend is taking the world at large. Hard right  views are taking root all over the place; intolerance and xenophobia are once again becoming socially respectable having until recently been confined to uneducated reactionaries. Between Brexit, Trump and now the election of Bolsonaro, we are seeing a trend take hold which I fear will lead the world to a very dark place. All over the place people are being taken in by simplistic, tribalistic, ‘us and them’ narratives which opens them up to manipulation and exploitation.  They believe the conspiracy theories told to them by people like Farage, Trump and Bolsonaro,  not realising that they are being used. The world  has been here before some seventy years ago – surely we haven’t forgotten how that  dark episode in world history ended.

I realise this is a rather random, slightly  silly question, but I am  sort of curious about it (that  and I need something different to blog about). Not very far away in charton village is  a wall. It divides the park and the road, and I follow the pavement along it quite frequently. It looks very, very old – old enough to arouse my curiosity. Judging from the look of the brickwork and the height of a doorway cut into it, I’d say it was at least medieval. My question is, then, how can I find the age of this  wall?

No doubt the two weasels in question will try to lie their way out of being held accountable for their crimes, but yesterday Lord Alan Sugar stated  the obvious: Michael Gove and Boris Johnson should be tried and jailed for deliberately misleading the country during the Brexit referendum. I could barely agree with that more. Before the 2016 vote, they toured the country in a bus bearing a pledge to give the money we currently send to the EU to the NHS. They  knew full well that no such money existed, and that such a promise would be untenable; they just wanted to use our affection for our national health service to con us into voting to leave the EU. I find that utterly, utterly despicable – even by the low  standards of these troubled times.

However they might try to justify their lies and worm their way out of it, as far as I’m concerned, Gove, Johnson  and the other Outist leaders are criminals who must be held accountable for the damage their lies have done. Our rights, freedoms and prosperity are now imperilled because these snivelling insults to humanity conned the country into voting to return  to their Dickensian hell.

Slightly lazy blogging I know, but I think this conversation between  Slavoj Zizek and Owen  Jones is worth checking out. It’s pretty fascinating to hear them discuss what is currently going on in the world, from Trump to Brexit to Corbyn. There’s some really interesting analysis, but I think deep down both men are just as aghast as the rest of us.

I’m just flagging this story up simply because it’s so bemusing  and random. The fact that it’s on the bbc news website in the first place makes me chuckle. David Schwimmer has been forced to deny stealing beer from a shop in Blackpool after cctv appeared to show a Look-a-like  nicking cans from a shop up there. People on  social media identified him.  I find that funny on  two fronts: firstly, that it was allowed  to go so far that Schwimmer was obliged to make such a denial;  and secondly I find it funny that Schwimmer now knows of the existence of Blackpool.

Surely after reading this you’ll agree  the Outists have lost any grip on reality they ever had. With austerity measures driving more and more people with disabilities to suicide and Brexit about  to have a major impact on the economy, they’re now suggesting a new £120 million royal yacht  Britannia, presumably to  pander to their egotistic nationalistic image of  brand Britain. The dumbass Liam fox said:

“We believe that now is the time to commission a new Royal Yacht Britannia as a new symbol of global Britain, designed and built domestically to showcase the best of UK shipbuilding and industry, and as a platform for promoting trade.”

It would be quite funny, if it wasn’t so obscene. It’s as if they still believe Britain is a great empire ruling the  waves. Surely anyone so  deluded, whose grip on reality is so  obviously tenuous, cannot be allowed to rule and should be removed from government.

It is the monday morning after a great weekend. Seeing Steve and Jenny was terrific. I honestly don’t think I had seen Jenny since graduating our Batchelor’s eleven years ago. They make a lovely couple, and their two little daughters our bright as buttons. As Steve rolled me onto the train yesterday (I’d gone in my manual chair as Steve needed to use his car) I decided to go back up there again soon. Those days at the MMU campus at Alsager now seem an age ago, but it’s great that I haven’t lost touch with my old friends from there. I suppose, due to the internet, keeping in contact with people is easier than ever; but even so the occasional trip to go visit my friends is very welcome.

Mind you, part of me feels guilty that I didn’t go to the Brexit protest on saturday. From the look of the photos it was enormous (700,000 at the ‘People’s Vote march, compared to a piffling 1500 at the pro-brexit gathering of morons). Part of me wishes I went to that, but friends come first. And besides, there are bound to be more and more Brexit protests as the mountain of shit gets higher and higher. Not only did I get to see my friends and their two bubbly young daughters, but I also got to explore York. In all, not a bad weekend at all.

Not only is this spot on in it’s politics, but it struck me as such a great piece of creative writing that I just had to nick it.

This entry finds me sitting in a coffee shop in York city centre. I’m up visiting my friends Steve and Jenny, with their two adorable daughters, for the weekend. They live in Hambleton, a small Yorkshire village, and Steve and I have come in to explore York. It’s great to see my old university friends, although truth be told the trip up yesterday wasn’t so good: it turned out that the train I was supposed to be on was cancelled, and it took me about seven hours to get here. Anyway I’m here  now for a long overdue catch up, and it really feels good.

Like most people I suspect, I see Brexit as a project of the right: it does nothing but feed into a worldview of nationalism  and xenophobia, where nations are pitted against one another in petty rivalries. Surely humanity should be coming together rather than reinforcing our borders. Apparently, though, some on the left of politics are Outists too. According to this LSE article, such people argue that the EU is too neoliberal, and that it’s  regulations ensure private enterprise takes precedence over the state.  I know what they mean, but  I thought the article was worth flagging up because it shows what  a mistake such assumptions are. Brexit serves only capitalism: it is all about  breaking free of EU regulations and letting the most perverse form of capitalism flourish. As the writer puts it “Like many on the left, I oppose European directives requiring competition in the provision of public services, court decisions that imperil international collective bargaining, as well as its suppression of Greek democracy. However, these are problems and policies that are best opposed from within the EU.” Yes, the EU might have it’s problems and neoliberal leanings, but outside of it  we will lose the ability to control such tendencies and greed will  be allowed to run rampant.

Yesterday I took myself to go see First Man. I don’t go to the cinema enough, especially for a guy who professes to be a cinephile.  It was a really intriguing film. If perhaps it was a bit slow at times, it nonetheless gives us an insight into a crucial moment in American scientific and cultural history. The moon landings where when the American myth came of age:  as a country,, this is one of the primary stories that Americans tell about themselves. I think it is telling that we have a film like this released at this moment, with America struggling with it’s identity and uneasy about it’s place in he world. While much of it’s focus is on Aldrin, armstrong, and the interpersonal drama leading up to the Apollo mission, this is essentially a story of how the nation triumphed over all others, proving they could overcome all the drama to set a milestone for all others. Critics like Kermode have suggested that this film is not so much about space than about grief, with Armstrong struggling with the death of his young daughter, that plays into the notion of refinding one’s place in  the world. Yet to retell  this particular cultural tale at a point when americans feel laughed at or mocked, or when they no longer feel they have the prominence they once had, says quite a  bit about how things stand.

I know I’ve been posting these short, link-based entries quite a bit recently, but I just came across a video I think everyone should watch, disturbing though it is. This is a short consideration by a Yale philosophy professor of why Trump may qualify as a fascist. It’s very even-handed: he admits that the  word fascist is, more often than not, an overused political insult hurled at anyone whose politics we dislike, left or right. But in his analysis he looks at what trump is doing and the rhetoric he uses and compares it to the fascists of the past, showing they are frighteningly similar. It makes for very disturbing viewing. We may joke,  or wring our hands and write blog entries, but what is currently happening in the world is starting to become very frightening indeed.

Just in case anyone needs a  bit of cheering up (and who doesn’t these days?) check this video out of Eric Idle’s quite fascinating account of where a certain famous song originated. Yes, you could just dismiss it as him promoting his new autobiography, but I found  it an interesting insight into a fragment of seventies cinema and cultural history, which also brought a smile to my face. All together now…

I suppose it’s fair to say that I like hyperbole as much as the next man. In fact, Lyn has started to take the piss at how I tend to accuse anyone I dislike of being a fascist. Yet, scarily, I’m afraid to say things have reached a point where such accusations are no longer hyperbole, or a reaction to anyone whose views I find vaguely illiberal. Fascism is indeed returning: we are seeing it in brazil.  In America, I’ve seen reports of devious schemes to bar African Americans from voting. Trump also seems to be trying to generate a  personality cult around him, so that his  supporters believe what he says over any other source. That is exactly what Hitler did. Things are becoming very, very dangerous. It’s no longer  hyperbole – fascism has returned.

My sentiments entirely

When will we realise we are one civilisation,  put our divisions (but not necessarily our differences) aside, and start working together?

I just want to note that today marks ten years since Lyn first came to visit me at Alsager. I still remember the day vividly: I remember trundling over to campus reception in my powerchair to wait for Lyn and Zita. I was starting to get slightly worried that they weren’t showing up, and was just setting off to look for them, when a taxi came around the  corner carrying the woman who would become my partner.

That was how I met Lyn. My first real sight of her was through the back window of a Crewe taxi. It’s strange how you remember such details. The following ten years have, of course, been some of the happiest of my life. They haven’t always been  easy,  but when I think about all the incredible things which we have done  together – the 2012 Paralympics, watching Monty Python Live, going to a Star Trek convention and meeting Sir Patrick Stewart – my  mind is blown at the thought of how I could be so lucky.

If, like me, you have ever wondered where the expression ‘O.K’ comes from or what  it originally stood for, just check this video out. It comes from an 1830s american fad, apparently – who knew? A bit of a weird subject for a blog entry admittedly, but at least it clears one mystery up.

Something very, very scary is currently  happening to the world which I think we should be very, very worried about. I just came across a link to this article on my PA Paul’s facebook page. Paulo is Brazilian, but has been living in the uk for  about twenty years. Like a lot of Brazilians, and  a growing number of non-Brazilians, he has been watching what is going on there with deep concern. It now looks increasingly likely that Jair Bolsonaro will be elected as  Brazil’s next president. From what I read, the man is a disgrace to civilisation if ever there was one: He  thinks criminals should be shot rather than face  trial; he is deeply homophobic; he has eugenicist views on Brazil’s indigenous communities. How  Brazil could even be thinking about electing such a vile man is beyond me.

Yet it is happening more and more. In america Trump was elected; in the uk we voted for Braxit. Far right parties and views are on the rise all over the world. I wouldn’t like to speculate about the causes, but it’s probably connected with the global economic crash of a decade ago. It might also be a backlash against globalisation, or bigots might be taking advantage of people’s apprehension and ignorance over immigration. Whatever the reason, it’s starting  to look uncannily like what happened in the 1930s in Germany. As the article points out, Bolsonaro is using precisely the same tactics to woo people that the Nazis did. That  history is now repeating: full-blooded fascism is returning to world politics, and unless something is done about it quite quickly, I fear things will get very dark indeed.

I  just came across this clip from the James Corden Show with  Eric Idle, and instantly knew I had to link to it from  here. You can tell what’s  coming from the beginning, but I think it turns out to be quite a witty, funny and timely variation of a classic song.

The timeless children’s story of a twat who, turning up to Sally and her brother’s house one  day, proceeds to cause chaos with his tricks, helped by Thing 1 and Thing 2, aka Boris and Jacob.

I just got this exciting bit of info on the new Picard Star Trek series via the Google alert I set up. It now appears that it will be an ongoing series with multiple seasons, rather than a shorter stand-alone series;  and it will probably  hit our screens in Spring 2020. For  a trekkie like myself, that is very, very exciting news. While I know that there are one or two reasons to  be cautious about this new Picard series, which I touched upon here,  nonetheless I’m looking forward to seeing Sir Patrick Stewart back in that role more than  anything of it’s kind before. Please bear with me: I know I should be looking for other things to write about on here, but you can’t deny an old  trekkie the chance to geek out  once in a while, surely?

As in favour of positive discrimination as I ordinarily try to be, I must say that I agree with this news that James Bond will remain male. Fleming wrote him as a man; indeed he is an utter misogynist who treats women despicably. To suddenly turn Bond into a woman, for whatever reason, would be a complete departure from who the character essentially  is. That is not  to say I don’t think Bond shouldn’t change at all – I still say he can and should one day be played by a black actor  – but making  007 female  would necessarily mean giving the character female characteristics which would depart too far from what Fleming created.

Although it makes for rather uncomfortable reading, I think this essay in the New York Review of Books is worth a look.  In it, leading holocaust historian,  Christopher Browning, compares Trump to Hitler. While that is usually the preserve of ill-informed internet trolls, the points Browning makes  are valid and well measured:  while what Trump is doing does not equate to the type of full-on fascism we saw in the thirties, there are comparisons to be made which are very concerning. While Trump certainly has right-wing authoritarian pretensions, as Browning points out, the american system is such that it will stop the idiot going too far – we hope.

I know I said yesterday that I was going  to try to avoid politics from now on (as if I could!), but I just came across this article which I think is a must read. It spells out precisely what Brexit is all about, and has been all along: the deregulation  of the  uk and the imposition of the most sickening form of capitalism onto it. The referendum was won based on lies pouted by those bent on turning the country into a free market hell I’ve been saying that for ages: our human and consumer rights are now in grave jeopardy. No matter how pissed off I  get, the fact is this insult to democracy cannot be avoided, and has to  be resisted.

How much longer do we have to endure the spectacle of these embarrassments to human civilisation, dancing onto stages as if they own the place, telling us how wonderfully they are doing? I just watched the news, and hearing May’s speech made me so furious that I was ashamed at  the rage I felt. The tories care about nobody  but  theirselves. That they  pretend otherwise, even as statistics show 120,000 people have died as a result of their cuts, makes my blood boil. And don’t get me started on Brexit: the tories should all be on their fucking knees begging  our forgiveness for deliberately misleading the country, not trying to paint theirselves as some kind of heroes.

What I saw on the news this evening made me very, very angry; I felt powerless and frustrated, and it pushed me into such a rage that I embarrassed myself, so much so  that I think I better try to steer clear of politics from now on.

On Friday at school they began a new drama project with the kids based around superheroes, so I thought it would be cool to brush up on the subject by finally getting some of the Marvel films watched. I just finished watching the third in the 2004-2007 Spiderman trilogy. I wish I could write something more positive here: I was  expecting a serious, mature film, albeit one requiring some suspension of disbelief, about a character with extraordinary powers fighting crime. What I just watched, however, was some kind of puerile adolescent drama about a whiney little teenager who claims to be both a photographer and a physics student and his relationship with his next door neighbour. I found these films utterly nauseating and insulting to my intelligence. As a character, Peter Parker is a self-centred, arrogant little wanker; the actor who plays him, Tobey Maguire, is almost as irritating. We’re supposed to side with this guy, yet he treats his friends despicably. As for the script, I honestly think I could pull a better piece of writing out of my arse: the dialogue is pure cliche, the  plot nauseating.

I could go on, but I think you get the picture. I found these films dire. Like Star Wars films, they are kid’s films pretending to be for grown ups. The thing that most interested me  about these film,  though, was their use of New York: all three are set entirely in the metropolis, so the city becomes a stand in for the world itself. I wonder whether anything has been written  about that aspect  of films like these, and now intend to look into it. Apart from that, however, based upon the films I just watched, I have to say I am very disappointed: they are just a derivative, adolescent mess which I’m struggling to engage with at any level. Admittedly, I’ve just whizzed through them in three or four days, but they made me cringe so much that I rather doubt they would improve with further viewings, especially the third. On the other hand, these films are just one adaptation/interpretation of the original Marvel character. What I’d like to do now is seek out other screen incarnations of Spiderman to see how they compare, and that way build up a better idea of the character and his relationship with New York city.

I’m hoping this is genuine, and not the spoof I suspect it is.

Can something so amusing be real? I hope so.