I just saw this on facebook and it made me crease up with laughter!

It may be satirical, but this short Newsthump article posted in reaction to the beeb airing the first part of The Rise of The Nazis is worth a chuckle. Apparently, the outists  are getting all huffy and puffy because  they think the beeb might be taking a dig at them through it. It was, of course, an  excellent,  fascinating documentary timed to mark the anniversary of the beginning of World War Two, but you have to wonder  there is some truth behind the satire: this won’t  be the first time echoes of 1930s germany have been noted; it is very possible to see the airing of these programmes as a type of  warning. I can’t help feel that this article is making a valid point, as well as taking the piss out of Outists at the same time. And if they really are getting angry at the beeb over these shows, surely that  tells you something about them  too.

Bojo is now threatening to call a general election if  Tory MPs rebel and vote to delay brexit. That tells us all we need to know about the p’tahk: he thinks the possibility off losing their seats is enough to make MPs side with  him, as though they are shallow enough to put their personal careers before the future of the country. I’d prefer to believe that not even a tory could be so wretched, and Brexit is shaping up to be so obviously catastrophic that  any intelligent person would vote to delay it. Then again, we live in fucked up times, and I suspect the possibility of losing their seats to the bunch of scumbags Farage calls his party might be enough to make the tory tosspots fall into line. No doubt that’s what johnson is gambling on.

Today will always  be remembered as the day the Pope got stuck in a lift.  ”’Pope Francis has apologised for arriving late for his weekly prayer in St Peter’s Square, saying he was stuck in a lift in the Vatican. The 82-year-old pontiff said he had been trapped in the lift for 25 minutes because of a power outage before he was freed by firefighters.” Mind you, it’s a bit odd that God would let such a silly thing happen to  the man supposed to be his earthly representative. Oh wait….what’s that you say?…Maybe  god doesn’t exist…..Now there’s a thought…

I sadly couldn’t make it up to the big Anti-Brexit protest today, as much as I’d have liked to go, but I think this just about sums up my feelings on the subject:

I now firmly believe that all these people (and more) ought to be rotting in jail cells for the damage they’ve done and suffering they’ve caused.

My old university friends Steve and Chris are down in London this weekend, so I went to join them for a few hours this afternoon. They’re staying at Steve’s brother’s place in New Cross, and are going to see some sort of Japanese wrestling up in Stratford tomorrow. It  was great to see them, meeting up at the Royal Standard before going to New Cross for a barbecue. We spent most of the time talking about film and television, although politics came up once or twice: they’re both as bemused and incredulous as I am about the current state of affairs. They both seem to have taken to fatherhood like ducks to water,  although they  have lost none of their weird, zany senses of humour. I didn’t feel like staying out too late, but part of me thinks I should have stayed longer to make the most of their visit. It was great to spend a few hours with them, and I hope it won’t be too long before we meet  up again.

I’m quite pleased with what happened last night. I had seen the film festival organisation committee were going to meet up in the White Swan, just around the corner. At first I didn’t think I would go, not having been to any of the other meetings this year, but then, after dinner, I decided to go just to say hi. They’re a great little group of cinephiles, and I wanted to apologise for not contributing to the festival this year.

Of course,  as soon as I got to the pub I was recognised and greeted warmly. I told them I felt guilty about not going to the meetings this year, showing them my blog entry, but the guys insisted that no apology was necessary. They understood that it had been a bit of a  rough year, and there would always be next year, they said. For now, though, the 2019 festival was all organised and good to go.

It was a social meeting – basically a chat in the pub – rather than a proper organisational meeting. I stayed  for an hour or so, then headed  home. The Charlton  And Woolwich Free Film Festival sounds like it will be superb  this year. I’m glad I went last night, though, as it feels like I’ve put something right.

Today is one of those days when I feel I ought to write something about the political situation on here, but I find myself lost for words.  Such days are becoming more and more frequent, although I think today takes the biscuit. How the hell can that lying little unelected p’tahk currently  squatting  in Downing Street  have the arrogance to suspend parliament and force through Brexit? Bojo knows that it’s increasingly likely that Parliament would vote to stop a no-deal brexit, so he is trying to bypass it. He is putting his own objectives above the views of our  democratically elected representatives, effectively acting like a dictator.  We should all be very, very angry about what has happened  today, and demanding that Johnson is removed  from power immediately. In all seriousness, we cannot let him get  away with this.

If you ask me, it’s looking increasingly likely that Donald Trump has some kind of learning difficulty.  The possibility was first mooted three years ago when he was up for election, and it’s still being discussed. As much as he tries to deny it, Trump has no idea what he’s doing. If he does turn out to have learning difficulties, though, surely that would raise another issue: what would  it look like if he was then booted  out of office because he had learning difficulties? How discriminatory and uninclusive would it look? As likely as I feel it is that Trump is somehow intellectually impaired, and as unfit as I feel he is to be the head of state of a superpower, if it turned out Trump does have learning difficulties, from a disability rights perspective, removing him from office because of  them would be very ugly indeed.

I can’t make my mind up what to write about on here today: cricket, pies or the heat. Yesterday’s Ashes test result was incredible and surely deserves to be noted on here (let’s hope we keep it up), but on the other hand I feel I ought to say something about the current pie-related political farce too. Either way,  though, it is far too hot  to write much. Perhaps we should all just go find a cricket match to watch in the sun, while enjoying some lovely pork pies while we can.

My australian friend Darryl’s PhD thesis is now online. He uploaded  it yesterday, and I had a quick read of the introduction. At first glance it is a very, very impressive piece of work about the issues surrounding forming romantic relationships when you use a communication aid. I must admit, though, it made me  feel like a bit of a failure. I know more and more doctors these days: more and more of my friends seem to be getting PhDs. Both  my brothers have  theirs, as do two of my cousins. It makes me feel like a failure for only having a master’s, and a small voice in my head tells me I should have tried harder to get a doctorate. But then, another voice replies that an MA is still quite an achievement, and nothing to be ashamed of. Not everyone has a master’s, after all. Oh well, I suppose there’s still time yet, so it just remains for me to congratulate Darryl heartily on his awesome achievement.

Although it barely scrapes the surface of the issue, I think this is a welcome article from the beeb.  Much  is currently being said about the modernisation of the James Bond  character  in the next  film: is he a misogynist, imperialist anachronism in need of modernisation to stay relevant, or might an attempt to update 007 to twenty-first century values change him too much? i’m not sure I can answer  that. Bond, as created by Ian Fleming, is a horrible, despicable person; the idea that there are people like him running around protecting the country, licensed to kill, should be deeply troubling. Yet we seem to find this  fantasy incredibly appealing, so much so that he fronts cinema’s most successful, longest-running franchise. The question is, is it now time to bring this character  into line with modern, democratic values, or would doing so remove that essence of the character – the idea of this suave, rebellious spy  who  does things  his own way – which makes him so enduring?

Staying on the subject of film, I certainly think this might be worth a watch. I’m as worried as anyone about the rise of Christian fundamentalism in the states. It seems to  be getting more extreme and reactionary. Hail Satan is apparently about one form of reaction to that trend: people have started calling their selves Satan worshipers, insisting they have as much right to  their freedom to worship as the christians. They have my full support, although it does remind me a bit of Pastafarianism,  and some have accused them of trolling. Either way, it’s certainly true that fundamentalist Christianity holds far too much power in America, both socially and politically, and it’s good to see that some Americans are as concerned about it as the rest of us.

I was in the cafe in the park earlier, where I saw a poster for this years Charlton and Woolwich Free Film Festival. I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t take part this year: I felt so low a few months ago, so distracted by what was happening in my personal life, that the idea of attending meetings and contributing ideas was allowed to slide. More to the point, I didn’t feel I had any good, solid ideas to contribute.

The poster in the cafe advertised the screenings of about eighteen films, mostly contemporary mainstream fare. While other members of the festival’s organisation team each propose a film to screen at a certain venue, in the past I have preferred to contribute my own thing to these events, such as giving a talk on cinephilia or screening one or two of my own short films. To be honest, though, this year I was out of ideas and would probably have just gone with the flow and advocated a mainstream film to screen.

The thing is, as important as screenings are, I feel that film festivals shouldn’t just be about watching films. Surely they can also be used to say something about films and our relationship with them. That’s why I haven’t just done a simple screening as my contribution in the past. It’s just sad that, this year, I didn’t have it in me to put in the usual effort. I must admit I feel quite guilty about it, but then, there’s always next year.

I keep thinking I should use more pictures on here, just to add a bit off colour and variety to my old page. Today I decided it was  time for a picture.  That’s all well and good, but the problem is finding a picture I fancy posting here. Oh well….expect more   imagery soon.

I just got back from a nice long walk to find this rather  squeal worthy news. The long-awaited title of the next Bond film has finally been revealed. Due out in April next year, it will be called No Time To Die. That sounds like a good, Bondish title if you ask me, although it remains to be seen whether the film is any good.  As this will be Daniel Craig’s  final film as 007 before the series is once again rebooted with another actor, there simply won’t be the same impetus to do a good job. That aside, though, it’s off to a good start judging by this little sequence.

If you ever begin to think  that filmic analysis and proper intellectual engagement with film has died in the Youtube era, have a gander at this. I know it’s a bit lazy of me just to flag these videos up without commenting much, but this analysis of  the political, historical and racial dimensions of Gone  With The Wind really is impressive. It’s a long two part film, but it’s worth sticking with, not least for the light it sheds on American culture, both historical and contemporary. Here, an extremely knowledgeable, articulate young american skilfully employs modern web video techniques to create  a very detailed exploration of one of cinema’s classic texts. The depth he goes into wouldn’t be out of place in a book by, say, Murray Pomerance or David Bordwell, yet in his video he uses  clips from all kinds of places, as you find fans doing. I know I’ve flagged videos like this up two or three times recently, but I’m becoming more and more impressed with the stuff I’m seeing on Youtube about film. Of course, by no means is it all up to this standard, yet there seems  to be an effort in the online cinephile community to make deeper, more intellectually engaging output,  and that this output  is becoming  just as  detailed and cerebrally rich as it’s offline equivalent.

I wish the beeb would publicise some of it’s BBC Three content a bit more sometimes. I just came across a reference to  a program called Living Differently  on facebook. The reference concerned a young woman with a rare physical disability, so I decided to follow it up.  I found an entire series of programs about people with  a wide range of disabilities which I never knew was there. Of course, having only just come across it, I have no idea whether they’re any good;  there’s a risk that this could just be some kind of modern freak show. Yet if, as I suspect (or hope), this program is an attempt to inform people about the many types of less well known disability which exist, and how the people with those conditions live their lives, then it is doing a considerable public service. I just wish television like this was  a bit better publicised.

As sometimes happens, I found  myself wistfully thinking about going for a walk up to Swettenham this afternoon. It’s a grey, miserable day here in  south London, and it has to be over decade now since I rode my chair up those lanes. I could either simply do it on Streetview, or I could watch  this lovely little  video. It was made by a guy two years ago, walking along paths and roads I once knew quite well with his wife and baby. The scenery jogged so many memories that I just had to flag it up on here. It takes me back to my early rebellious days riding around in my F55 – he even goes through a gate I remember having trouble opening. (Mind you, I think he mistakes the River Dane for a stream).  The countryside is quite beautiful up there, and the film  captures the architecture of the village’s medieval buildings so well that I thought it definitely deserves a blog entry. Or perhaps I’m just a Cheshire lad who has  been away  from the fields too long.

I think I’ve mentioned on here before how I wear a baseball cap with ”Fuck Brexit” and ”Bollox to Brexit” badges on it. Of course, I don’t wear it  everywhere (I take it off when I’m at school, for example), but I see it as an important way of showing my opposition to what is going on. These days, though, I find I’m getting complemented on it  more and more: I was in Ikea this afternoon, and one of the guys assisting me said he liked my hat; then, rolling home, a woman crossing the road beside me said ”I like your badges”. It also happened the other day when I was in the building society. It’s happening more and more. People seem to be becoming more vocal in their opposition to Brexit. Let’s hope that this is yet another sign that the tide has  turned, and the days of this embarrassing farce are numbered,

I would feel like a totally negligent blogger and Star Trek fan if  I didn’t direct everyone to this fascinating and impressive piece of  analysis by Steve Shives. In it, Shives looks at the economics of Star Trek. It’s a subject I’ve always  been quite curious about, but at least a couple of  professional economists have taken a look at it in some depth. I like how, in the future Trek Shows us, humanity is no longer driven by greed  or the desire for personal acquirement. That is probably one of the prime reasons why the  program is so popular. As Shives concludes too, that is a future surely worth striving for. Also, on a totally different note, this video is an excellent example of  how intellectual and analytical online fandom is becoming too.  Hats off to Steve Shives

Surely – surely – Brexit is as dead as a doorstep after this news. ”A US-UK trade deal will not get through Congress if Brexit undermines the Good Friday Agreement, the Speaker of the US House of Representatives has said.” Not  only must  it be dead insofar as it endangrs our trade with america, but also in that it threatens the Irish peace process. In that one short sentence, then, we  can see how mind bogglingly stupid Brexit is. I know I should avoid posting these short little rants as blog entries, but this really is getting beyond a joke. If the UK is a serious country which values things like  peace processes and international accords properly, it would cut this Brexit crap instantly.

I laughed my head off when I saw this on my Ipad on the bus earlier,  but I think it’s very apt..

Lets hope it forshadows something yet to happen.

I’ve never known exactly what to think of the Green Party: broadly speaking, I agree with the green, environmentally friendly agenda, but the party goes slightly too far for me to vote for. However, today it and it’s leader, Caroline Lucas, has lost all semblance of credibility they  ever had. She is talking bollocks about a  government of national unity made  up entirely of women to get the country out of the Brexit crisis, because, she says, women argue less between themselves.

Truth be told, I’ve never heard anything so idiotic: of course women argue! They are probably worse than men! Women can be as bitchy as fuck, and as deceitful and self-serving as any man. It’s obvious that Lucas is just saying this foolishness because it would give her, as a woman, a chance to be in government. Yet any sensible person can see it’s patently absurd: for one, it would mean a government  which discriminates according to gender, something completely out of place in any modern democracy.

Lucas’ ravings will obviously just be ignored. Yet I just worry that such tripe dents the credibility of those fighting Brexit. We are supposed to be the sensible, intelligent ones; When people like lucas spout shit like this,  it makes remainers look as nutty as the outists. When the public hear people like Lucas frame the case for a second referendum in such stupid term, they may start to think Brexit was a good idea after all. I thus hope Lucas just shuts the smeg up, and, like Farage, keeps her idiotic ideas to herself.

Today is my brother Mark’s birthday. You know, I’m always in two minds about noting these family occasions on my blog: it is, after all, supposed to be for political and social commentary (well, that and Star Trek and James Bond stuff). Yet the fact is my family and friends mean a hell of a lot to me; I know that, without my parents, brothers and friends, I wouldn’t be in anywhere near the position I am today. Mark and Kat are currently in the south of France on holiday with the kids. I really hope they’re having a great time, and that Oliver and Elise are having fun with their Dad.  As for  myself, I’ll just wish my older bro a very happy birthday, and promise to call him soon.

The web is now predictably rife with rumours and speculation about the return of Captain Picard to star Trek. I don’t think I’m alone in being very, very excited about it. As I think I’ve said on here before, my eagerness to see this series probably outweighs my excitement to see James Bond appear at the Olympics or the return of Monty Python in 2014, truly phenomenal though both were. As you can imagine, every trekkie there ever was is hanging onto every morsel of information they can get. There is quite a lot out there, including the news that Riker himself, Johnathan Frakes, has already directed a couple of episodes.

Perhaps the news that interests me most, though, is the pretty firm info that the characters Hugh and Seven of Nine will both be reprising their roles for the programme. Both characters are Borg or former Borg, implying that the Borg feature heavily in this series. Picard has a complex dramatic relationship with the Borg, so can we infer from this casting that the new series will touch upon it? Given Johnathan Frakes’ involvement, could we see references to First Contact (1996), which Frakes directed, and even my beloved Ahab scene? That possibility really has me interested.

I could be completely wide of the mark here, of course, but having two recovered drones on the cast list would certainly imply that the theme of escaping from the collective will feature quite heavily in this series. If that is so, surely a reference to First Contact and the scene I spent so long writing about for my MA is pretty much inevitable. To see that, to see Picard mention that scene, even just once, would make my entire year.

If you want to read about just how inhumane things are becoming under the Tories, just read this. A man with CP in Liverpool now faces eviction and institutionalisation weeks after his brother, who had the same condition, died, and he can’t afford the rent. They obviously supported eachother, both emotionally and  economically, but now the local council want to turf the surviving brother out. What worries me  is as  Brexit ransacks the economy more and more, heartbreaking stories like this will inevitably become more and more commonplace.

Just for the record and in case anyone is wondering, I’m  not the powerchair user going the wrong way around a welsh roundabout in this video.  ”Stephen Quick captured footage on his dashcam of a woman in an electric wheelchair going the wrong way on a roundabout.”  Admittedly, I’ve done some stupid things in my chair over the years, but I do try to stay well clear of roundabouts, welsh  or otherwise.

I go up to stratford fairly often these days: I really like that area around the Olympic park and Westfield shopping centre – it all feels so sleek and new, yet so peaceful. What I find most striking, though, is the thought that, just a few years ago, that area was completely different. Until relatively recently, that area was a neglected urban scrubland. Thanks to winning the right to host the 2012 olympics, that area is now one of the coolest in London, with it’s sleek new buildings, pretty rivers and paths, and awesome sports and cultural events. It’s one of my favourite areas of London to go to, and I’m sure I’m not alone in that.

That makes me wonder, though: if Stratford can undergo such a transformation, could other areas of the capital benefit from similar treatment? One of the things I love most about London is that it’s constantly changing and being modernised: if the area around Stratford can be changed so drastically and amazingly, what can be done to other areas? For one, I think there are still areas of woolwich which could do with work. Of course, the old arsenal area is getting a makeover due to crossrail; but to the west of that, up by the Thames near the Thames Barrier, there are still shabby old warehouses left over from another era. Think what could be done to that area if it got he stratford treatment

My first automatic suggestion would be a cinema complex, but there are already two or three first rate cinemas in the area, so another might be overkill. Yet the fact remains that area by the thames has vast potential, especially given the opening of the Elisabeth Line next year means it’s foot traffic is about to shoot up.

Of course I’m sure that’s not the only area of London which could do with looking at, but going through it yesterday afternoon, I was really struck by the contrast in the feel of these areas. It’s as if different boroughs of London get vastly unequal treatment and pots of funding, which doesn’t seem completely fair. The question is, if stratford can get transformed due to the olympics, as north Greenwich was on the back of the millennium, what other mega-events are needed to spur the modernisation of other London’s neglected suburbs?

I swallow a vitamin pill every day with my breakfast. I probably get  all the vitamins I need with my food anyway, but I feel it’s best to just make sure. Vitamins also apparently help stave off absences. The only problem is, they also make my hair and nails grow more quickly. The nails aren’t a problem as they  get worn down as I type. The way the vitamins make my hair grow, though, irritates me as  it means I need mote frequent haircuts. I already need another trip to the barbers,  and it feels like I only had one a few   weeks  ago. And, as I think I’ve noted on here before, I loathe haircuts. Oh well, I suppose it’s the price you pay for staying healthy.

Does Romesh Ranganathan know what he’s doing? I watched his travel show again last night, and it seemed very strangely framed indeed. I usually love that kind of program, especially Michael Palin’s travelogues. No doubt Ranganathan wants to become the new Palin, but his show last night addressed the viewer in a way I must say I did not like at all. As I touched upon in this entry last year, I find his style odd, and even a little condescending. It was curious: the presenter seemed unable to decide what his role was exactly; one minute we were hearing a standard, professional voiceover of the style you find in any documentary of this kind. In the next shot, though, Ranganathan wasn’t talking directly into the camera as a presenter ordinarily would, but past it as if talking to the film crew, like he was pretending to be an ordinary guy off the street who somehow just happened to have a film crew following him about. The result is a program which seems to want to be two things at once: professional Palinesque travelogue and semi-amateur comedy travel show. Ranganathan attempts to come across as both a professional and a subversive, comedic amateur. It’s as if he can’t decide what his role is so he tries to be both. The result, though, is he just comes across as an irritating twat who should leave this work to people who understand the genre. As fascinating as the places we are shown are (last night’s program about Mongolia made my feet itch) I must say that I find the result of this wanting to be two things at once rather greedy and irritating. It is almost as if the guy doesn’t fully understand what he’s doing.

For my next powerchair, I fancy getting one of these babies! Mind you, given my balance, trying to go to the park  on one could be a challenge.

Something rather splendid happened this afternoon. I headed over to Eltham again: I’ve been going there a lot recently, to try to get to know the area. The more I know it, the more at ease I’ll probably be once I move there. When I went there  a few days ago with John, we found a large park with a nice looking cafe. It was closed then, so today I thought I’d try  to find it again so I could sample the coffee. The weird thing is, I can’t for the life of me find that park. Today, though, I found something even better: Going down a road I hadn’t explored yet, I came across a cricket pitch called the Eltham Pavilion, and saw  that there was a match  being played. I assumed,  of course, that I wouldn’t know either of the teams, but I thought I’d stay to watch for a bit anyway. It was a nice looking ground with a great-looking pavilion.

However, I was wrong,  as, rolling up to the picnic tables at the boundary, who else should I recognise but James and the Blackheath Mighty Eights – the very team I usually watch in Charlton Park. I think my mate James was as surprised to see me rolling up to him as I was to see him, but it was an amazing, awesome moment. I love how these little coincidences seem to happen in this city quite regularly, although the team is part of a South-East London league, I suppose it wasn’t so far fetched. Either way, it was a great moment, and I spent the next hour or so watching some splendid cricket, before catching the bus home.

As for the  cricket pitch, I think I’ll definitely be going there again.

I did something a bit silly today (well, a bit sillier than the normal range of silliness I get up to). On a spur of the moment whim, I decided to create The Ill-Informed Ramblings of a Cripple Facebook Page. I’ve been blogging here for sixteen years, which seems quite an achievement, and it felt worth celebrating. Perhaps it might take it a step further, or inject something new to my blog. I’ve yet to work out what I’ll do with this page, apart from uploading old blog entries to it; and so far only a few of my facebook  friends have been invited to ‘Like’ it; but my hope is it will somehow broaden  the scope of my little  site.

I love my Ipad and I’m a proud communication aid user, but wouldn’t it be cool if you could just think what you wanted to say to get your message across? According to this Guardian article, ”With a radical new approach, doctors have found a way to extract a person’s speech directly from their brain.” Obviously it’ll only be used with the most severe brain injury patients, and it’s a long way from perfection,  but I think it’s definitely  an  exciting development.

Perhaps one of the worst things about Brexit is that it has given a green light for the worst, most idiotic views to be expressed. We now get all these loudmouth idiots like Farage in the media, saying all kinds of bigoted bollocks, and fools listening to them think they’re political rebels speaking repressed truths. Whereas a few years ago any form of bigotry was frowned upon, to some listeners, guys like Farage are breaking the bonds of oppressive political correctness. The utter knob Piers Morgan seems to see it as a way of getting attention, deliberately restyling himself into what he thinks is a figure of controversy, but mistaking hatefulness for rebellion. They seem not to realise that ideas like political correctness are designed to protect rights, guard against discrimination and ensure fairness. Instead, these right wing nutjobs on talk radio frame political correctness as something which holds people back, and by breaking its rules they’re being heroic rebels. The listeners then think it’s ok to spout all kinds of bigoted shit, thinking not that they’re being discriminatory or hurtful, but independent minds rebelling against a form of left-wing oppression. All of a sudden it has become heroic to spout all kinds of nastiness, and the more people object, the more in the right they feel.

This strikes me as very dangerous indeed. These fools would have their listeners believe that the whole of the mainstream media is some kind of clandestine mob intent on controlling our thoughts, and that by spewing the right-wing nonsense they do, they are valiantly rebelling against it. That, of course, is tripe, and these scumbags should just be seen as the hate-spewing bigots they are. The danger is, it will go too far, and people will start to mistakenly believe bigotry and discrimination are acceptable; hallmarks of independent minds rather than outdated stereotypes and simplicities rejected by wiser, more learned minds.  Unfortunately this is the stupidity the eu referendum has unleashed: the outists now think they have free rein to spew all kinds of obnoxious views, which they frame in the guise of fighting against politically correct oppression; and the sheep who don’t see these bigots for what they are will just emulate them.

I knew it was only a matter of time before we began to see riffs off Happy And Glorious, and last night I came across this fascinating little film. It’s obviously made to advertise a hotel up in Blackpool, but what strikes me  is the effort, time and money which must have gone into making it. They obviously couldn’t get Daniel Craig or any James Bond actor (or indeed the Queen) to be in it, but the hotel and production  company must have spent quite a bit playing with and paying homage to the film in the 2012 Olympic opening ceremony. I  like how it doesn’t take the piss, but plays with the original, making the film a nice little tribute.

I think this is too amusing not to link to. There’s a new trend online of photoshopping Donald Trump’s head or face onto kid’s bodies, so he looks like a child.  It’s very fitting I must say: he is, after all essentially a child: a spoiled moron labouring under the mistaken belief that he is somehow an alpha male, but without the foggiest idea about politics or how to run a country. The same can be said of Farage, Robinson and the buffoon currently inhabiting Downing Street. The thing is, while playing with pictures might be good fun, what we need is a way to put these children in their places

I suppose you could say it has been a weekend of rewatching things I was familiar with anew. It has been a very interesting weekend certainly. I decided to go to the cinema last night: having heard so much about the new version of The Lion King, I decided it was time to go and get it watched. Suffice to say, I wasn’t disappointed; just a few minutes in and my jaw was on the floor. The graphics are amazing. I have never seen a film so visually stunning. I was drawn in immediately, and must admit I was whisked away with the rest of the audience: the plot, the characters, the songs were just fantastic. I also really liked the self-referential flourishes in the film – the nods to the original, as though the film was playing with the fact it was a remake. I drove back from the cinema last night in awe at what I had just seen. It’s the type of film which can only be truly enjoyed on the big screen, so my decision to go was certainly a good one.

Today, though, I was in for another, even bigger treat: John and I went up to The Globe to see A Midsummer Night’s Dream. John suggested it a week or so ago, and, while J isn’t the type of chap who I thought would be into the Bard, it had been so long since I had been to the Globe that I took the offer up enthusiastically. Indeed, it must have been seven or eight years since I last went there with Lyn, Andrej and Natalia. As soon as I entered the theatre this afternoon, though, I began to ask myself why I didn’t go far more often. It really is a magnificent place, one of the jewels in London’s ever-growing crown; and with groundling tickets only five quid a pop, there’s no reason why it can’t become one of my regular haunts.

I had been slightly worried that, among the standing groundlings in front of the stage, I wouldn’t be able to see much sat in my powerchair. I needn’t have worried: I was escorted to a special platform at the front of the audience, from which I had an excellent view of the action. As for the performance itself, it really was a treat. I was roughly familiar with the play having studied it back at school, but this was something else. It was a thoroughly postmodern performance, to put it mildly, and while it stuck fairly hard to the script for dialogue, everything else seemed open to be played with, with lots of contemporary references and songs. It was a bit like something my friend Ricardio might have directed at university. There was even a reference to the Lion King, probably cued by the recent release of the remake, but giving me a nice link with yesterday. In a way, though, the postmodernity of the production felt like it suited the original text, which, after all, is quite abstract in itself, with its talking donkeys and meddling fairies. I left eager to find out more, and the website offers quite a bit of info, but I really want to delve deeper into what that company has done. That sort of contemporary production wasn’t the type of thing I’d automatically associate with the Globe, yet the actors used the space magnificently, and I left curious to know who the director was (perhaps I knew them from university). It was a really interesting new take on Shakespeare, and for the second time this weekend I came home glad that I had gone.

While I wouldn’t go as far as calling myself a philologist given I only know english (well, and a bit of french, as well as a smattering of Klingon and Sindarin), I have always had an affinity for language. I see myself as a writer: writing has always been my primary outlet, and I can express myself much more eloquently in writing than using my natural voice. (Saying words like ‘juxtaposition’ or ‘vainglorious’ isn’t easy with athetoid cerebral palsy). I also love the way language changes over time, and how one morphs into another. It is far from stationary, with no iron clad rules; that is part of the beauty of language.

It therefore sickens me to hear that some arrogant Etonian p’tahk has taken it upon himself to try to dictate what words and phrases can and cannot be used in Westminster. Just who the hell does Jacob Rees-Mogg think he is? Such arrogance really, really annoys me: it’s as if he assumes his class makes him superior to the rest of us, and that he can arbitrate what form of language is correct and permissible.

The buffoon is not, of course, superior to anyone. For one, he is not that remarkable academically, only having got an upper second bachelors on history. While that might be a fair enough achievement, it does not qualify Rees-Mogg to become Lord of The Symbolic. He is trying to place himself on an intellectual level which he has no right to: in trying to set these pretentious rules down, Rees-Bogg is stating that the way he says things is correct, and the rest of us are wrong, asserting a social superiority he just does not have. In trying to dictate what people say and how they say it, he’s asserting himself as master of the Symbolic, and the Symbolic, in Lacanian Theory, underpins and structures reality, shaping our Imaginary and how we perceive the Real.

For anyone to assume they have the social authority to do that is, of course, the height of arrogance. Some of the most incredible people I have ever known can’t ‘speak’ in the conventional sense, much less use a snooty, pseudo-aristocratic accent. Many, such as the young people at school or at Onevoice, used forms of language and grammar which were unconventional, but that did not matter in the slightest, as long as they could express themselves. And I truly believe with every fibre of my being that any of them would be far, far better qualified to run the country than an overprivaleged moron born with a silver spoon in his mouth. He might not be a moron on the level of his education (a degree is, after all, a degree); but for Rees-Mogg to assume that that degree, combined with a concept as outdated as class, automatically gives him the authority and expertise to decide how people should speak and write, betrays a naivete about how the world works so severe that it can only be called moronic. An upper second can, after all, be bettered, so Rees-Mogg clearly isn’t the intellectual  giant he seems to want to portray himself as. What matters is what we say, not how we say it; language should be used to build bridges, not set people apart. And it certainly shouldn’t be used as a tool for claiming utterly unearned social authority.