Monday 24 September 2012

more on hillsborough by when saturday comes


After the Liverpool v Manchester United game went off without a hitch yesterday, the first game at Anfield for Liverpool since the recent revelations about the cover ups and lies surrounding the Hillsborough disaster was a dignified event as far as both clubs and supporters were concerned, with tributes, balloons and songs  (and a lucky win for United).

There has been an awful lot written about the report, the deaths, the police, government and fans in the last week or so (and over the last 20 odd years), but the rather splendid 'When Saturday Comes' football magazine got it spot on in the issue immediately after the event, back in 1989.  It deserves reading in full, and l have pasted it below.  Let's hope the guilty parties are punished for their roles in this, but sadly, l don't hold up much hope.

Here's their write up

Like you, we have read a hell of a lot about Hillsborough over the last couple of weeks. We quickly reached saturation point, partly because there are a limited number of ways in which the same points can be made without becoming repetitious and partly because so many stupid things have been said. One thing deserves to be reiterated, however. The deaths of 90 people (*) at a football ground in Sheffield were not just another tragic accident. Instead, they were a predictable consequence of the fact that the people who run English football have stumbled from one crisis to another without evolving a coherent, consistent policy to deal with any specific problem. The rise to public prominence of the FSA and the spread of the independent magazines has encouraged the belief that supporters might finally get the opportunity to wield some influence on the way football is administered in this country. An incident such as this demonstrates both the urgent need for such a development and the amount of work that still needs to be done. Slow progress is being made but nothing has really changed. The individuals who run football clubs with, in many cases, breathtaking incompetence, continue to manifest total disdain for football fans. Periodically, the cast-list is shaken up — new additions to the familiar clutch of pompous businessmen seeking personal aggrandisement — but the attitudes are as entrenched as ever. The same policemen adopt the same aggressive attitude to football, insisting that it should be treated as a public order problem rather than a form of entertainment. The same prejudice is attached to all football fans, deemed to be passive accomplices to the sociopathic minority. The police see us as a mass entity, fuelled by drink and a single-minded resolve to wreak havoc by destroying property and attacking one another with murderous intent. Containment and damage limitation is at the core of the police strategy. Fans are treated with the utmost disrespect. We are herded, cajoled, pushed, and corralled into cramped spaces, and expected to submit passively to every new indignity. The implication is that “normal” people need to be protected from the football fan. But we are normal people. “The Football Fan” is not an easily defined social stereotype, whatever the tabloid cartoonists may choose to believe. All manner of people go to football matches. A few of them are intent on unleashing aggressive instincts which are also manifested in wine bars on a Saturday night or in tourist hotels on the Costa Del Sol. Thuggish behaviour is rarely reported in any detail when it can't be directly linked to a football match. Football is being made the scapegoat for a society brutalised over the last decade. Yet, a proportion of law officers are afflicted with the same oafish sensibility that is exhibited by a minority of fans. Since this magazine first appeared, we have regularly received letters complaining about specific police actions. The correspondence has come from a broad spectrum of our readership and builds up into a weighty indictment of general policing policy at football matches over the last three years. A large proportion of the Liverpool supporters who angrily spoke out against the police tactics at Hillsborough will have had previous bad experiences which served to further fuel their sense of grievance. Fans and the police have developed a prejudiced view of one another that has served only to create barriers that are of as much significance as the perimeter fencing. Then there are the administrators. Their attitude is one of utter incomprehension and cowardice. They don't stick up for football supporters because they basically neither understand nor like them. The FA have abdicated any responsibility for the events of Hillsborough in typical fashion. Faced with crisis and degeneration, they have failed to take positive steps to resuscitate the game. They have obstructed change where it was proposed by the powerless (the fans) but prostrated themselves before a political establishment that would be quite happy to see the game destroyed. Complaints about safety and comfort were ignored because they were being made by supporters. Official action will be taken now, because the same points previously raised by fans are now being made by the government and the media. Their stupidity and cowardice over a long period of time allowed Hillsborough to happen. Symptomatic of their paralysis is the frequency with which a certain phrase crops up in their public pronouncements. We are informed, with wearying regularity, that football needs to "put its house in order'". This is, of course, a laughably imprecise phrase, intended to imply a commitment to resolute action. Needless to say, it means absolutely nothing. Clubs have to accept a proportion of the blame. They own the fences and turnstiles that helped to cause the disaster. Sheffield Wednesday officials seemed to believe that, in an emergency, it would be possible to evacuate a large number of people thorough a tiny gate in the perimeter fencing. They and their colleagues at other League grounds across the country insult loyal, put-upon customers with the pathetic standard of amenities on offer. They have failed to develop long-term strategies that rely on anything beyond glib slogans about families and the importance of sponsors. The executive box holders get central heating and smoked glass but the huddled majority don't deserve even an unobstructed view and a roof. There is very little common sense applied to football. In no other area of life is the victim treated with as much disrespect as the perpetrator, nor the majority held to be guilty of the crimes perpetrated by a minority. But, ultimately, what happens to us doesn't matter. It is our own fault for being football fans. That is why MPs always ignored pleas from supporters' organisations seeking to prevent the sort of disaster that has become a reality. Whatever they may say, few politicians gave any indication that they cared about football fans before Hillsborough happened. Suddenly everyone knows the answer. A fortnight ago, they didn't even hear the question. It didn't take very long for Hillsborough to become our fault. Indeed, initial reports pinned blame on supporters who were believed to have broken down a gate. Later, as the analysts set to work, blame was heaped upon the large number of fans who arrived without tickets. Then the police's press department piped up, revealing that many were drunk and generally doing all the things that fans are famous for. Had the television cameras not been present to record the disaster as it unfolded, many people would have unquestioningly accepted the garbage that has been pumped out by some of the tabloid hacks. Fans have been both the prophesiers and the victims of Hillsborough, but who believes that they will be invited to play an active part in solving the problems that it highlighted? We will be obliged to meekly accept the remedy offered. Standing has been proved to be bad for us, so we must sit. Stadiums in urban areas are, without exception. unsafe places for large numbers of people to congregate, so, for the common good, all teams will eventually be required set up home on industrial estates in the middle of nowhere. Better still, we are to pay for the changes that are required, despite the huge burdens already endured and the fact that the government takes vast sums of money from the game. By the time this issue appears, the deaths of those Liverpool fans will have become just another "great story" disgorged by a media which revelled in one of the few disasters that happened live in front of the world's press. After a couple of weeks, there isn't much mileage to be derived from sombre proclamations that "It must never be allowed to happen again". Of course, it will be allowed to happen again. The ID Cards bill with provisions that almost guarantee that such a tragedy will be repeated is to be pushed through nonetheless. No surprise there. Even after the Zeebrugge sinking, dangerous ferries are sailing the Channel, and on the London Underground, safety of passengers takes primacy only over ensuring that the chocolate machines are functioning adequately. Some football officials smugly assert that such a disaster couldn't happen at their clubs. What they really mean is that now it has happened to someone else, odds are that it won't recur for a little while. It is less the Safety of Sports Grounds, but, rather, the Law of Averages that they see as adequate protection for their customers. Disasters are happening so regularly now that we have developed a meaningless set of pseudo-religious rituals to acknowledge them. As has been clear for a long time, no disaster is worthy of the name until leading religious and political figures are officially informed and have given suitably trite quotes to the press. This immediate reaction is followed by The Visit. The seniority of the visitor is determined by media interest and death toll, and is, of course, performed primarily for the benefit of those clicking cameras. Survivors' stories are served up in tandem with chilling reminders of how easily death can take any of us. All such rituals, crassly inappropriate in the main because they are so formularised, are supposed to make us feel that a mixture of fate and circumstance was ultimately to blame. The key ritual of this organised disinformation is an inquiry. “Experts” are called forth (in this instance, few people other than football fans have any relevant expertise to offer). After accusations are made and refuted, a report is produced and the cheapest and most politically expedient bits form part of a new law. The rest is made voluntary. Identification of the real culprits is lost amid desperate, scurrying attempts to avoid blame. The same people who indignantly call for the fences to be torn down now are the same ones who demanded that they should be put up in the first place. Thanks were duly said for there not having been any perimeter fences at Bradford, but no long-term lessons were learned from that fire. Superficial responses were the order of the day. This is why it isn't all that surprising that the government wants to continue with the dangerous ID cards. It has weathered a sufficient number of crises to know that concern passes very quickly. They obviously reason that all will run smoothly if they can only hang on until something else is on the front pages. However, the ham-fisted attempts to bolster prejudices against football fans through the front pages of the Sun has rather backfired this time. Once more, everyone is offering opinions on the game and its followers. Can it ever be the same again? Should it continue at all? A number of journalists have trotted out their "I'll never go again" line, much as they did after Heysel. It seems that any measure is justifiable in the wake of Hillsborough and some sort of punishment seems to be the accepted solution. The prime minister has no expertise to offer in this situation. She is blindly determined to act, and to be seen to act in accordance with her public image. She has nothing to say and yet remains shrilly determined to emphasise the fact. Most of what we have outlined here has been said before. Some of it is repetitious, because football fans have gone on at considerable length in the past about most of these issues. To no avail. No one listens. Perhaps they won't listen now, because after all, we are only supporters. We derive no pleasure from saying any of this. We would much rather crawl into a corner and forget about football for a few weeks, but that isn't possible.
 (*) This was the death toll at the time of writing

toodle pip

Sunday 23 September 2012

tom jones and janis joplin



Tom Jones and Janis Joplin together, singing 'Raise your Hand' in 1969.  What's not to like?

toodle pip

Saturday 22 September 2012

my hitch hiking / gay or bi story


I put this up on the Afterword site, so l thought l might as well share it here as well.
Enjoy!

I used to hitch hike all over the place when l was younger, and it's how l discovered l am not bi or gay. I was picked up outside Catterick (oop North) by a lorry driver on the way to that there London, as l was off to see Status Quo in 1977. I was a pretty long haired boy at the time, so he may have thought l was a girl when he stopped for me in the dark. Outside London, he stopped for 'a rest' and got into his bunk (behind me) for 'a sleep' while l stayed in the front seats. After a short time he said he was turned on, and would l give him a wank. Not a question l got asked everyday, but as l was into T.Rex a lot when l was younger (and loved Bolan), plus eager to try most things, l thought 'What the Hell, l may even like it and may actually be gay or bi'. I leant back and did the deed, and after he had finished (I must have been good), he offered to wank me off. That was the precise moment l realised it didn't do anything for me, and l wasn't interested in other blokes in any sexual way. As you can imagine, this tale goes down a treat in the pub, as l will tell anyone prepared to listen, and am encouraged to do so by my mates. I'm not ashamed of it, I got to see the mighty Quo, and the lorry driver had his wank and didn't kill me, so it was a result for all concerned. Happy days.

toodle pip

Friday 21 September 2012

old spurs programmes









I got these programmes through the post the other day by mistake, as the guy was meant to send them to someone else, but he had got confused as l had also ordered some stuff from him. Both are for Tottenham Hotspur games (against Luton Town and Torpedo club Moscow).  They have been returned, but it's amazing how much programmes have changed since the days these came out (in 1957 and 1959).  I've got programmes from the early 1960's, but they are still related to the programmes of today.  These however, are just four sheets of paper each.  I've got better ones than this for Oxford United friendlies in the 1970's.
I also bet there were a lot of hats, rattles and rosettes on display at the games, and no hooligans.  Then again. it was only 12 and 14 years after the Second World War, which is no time at all.  Perhaps paper was short.  Now it's gone too far the other way, and l don't bother with modern programmes, as they are too expensive and glossy for my (old git) liking.  I'd rather get a fanzine nowadays, as there's better content and more to read most of the time, and at least they are independent.  Then again, l've also pretty much stopped going to games, so what the hell does it matter (and on the same subject - what does anything matter in the great scheme of things?). Time for another lie down.

toodle pip

astronomy photographer of the year 2012







The results are out for the Astronomy Photographer Of The Year 2012 by the Royal Museums Greenwich, and they're not too bad at all. The names and more information can be found here, as l can't be bothered typing them all out.

toodle pip

romanzo criminale is back!


What joy!  Romanzo Criminale season 2 has started, and it's already great.  One of the best TV programmes ever, and it makes me laugh out loud when l compare the acting on this to that of The Bill.  If you haven't seen it before, do so (or buy the box sets).  It's superb.

toodle pip

Thursday 20 September 2012

jacks gone missing and the rabbits arse is clean


Well. there's a big mystery at the moment, as our cat Jack seems to have disappeared.  She is 22 and is on her last legs, deaf and half blind (it's an old photograph above), but she appears to have buggered off somewhere to die.  This took us by surprise as she has not gone out of the cat flap for about six months, and was her usual self (batty and wobbly) last night, but we can't find her anywhere in the house or around the garden.  The FPO has been out leafleting, but we don't hold out much in the way of success. I just hope it was quick.

On a related note, we spent ages cleaning the crap from the idiots rabbits arse last night, and even gave him a bath to clean him up.  He was chuntering away, clean as a whistle in the living room afterwards, but we're cutting his nails on Sunday (after the football).  That will please him.

toodle pip

Wednesday 19 September 2012

nick cave at home


Nick Cave at home back in the day.  Scuffy bastard.   l thought our place was untidy but he is taking the piss.

toodle pip

the men (1950) - fred zinnermann




Marlon Brando's film debut, and a starling performance it is.  He plays a young soldier who is shot at, wounded, and turned into a paraplegic, which he is not happy about at all (in fact he's pretty bitter).  He eventually tries to accept his fate and re-unites with his old girlfriend (and even gets married), but still has major issues (as is to be expected).  the film used some real life paraplegics (The Men) and Brando worked with them beforehand to try and inhabit his role and do the justice. Some dated acting is present and correct, but  Brando and the other injured soldiers are great, and it's well worth a viewing, even if the ending is sudden and sentimental.

toodle pip

jane fonda by dennis hopper


So this is how the other half used to (and probably still do) live.  Swanning around in bikinis shooting bows and arrows in the sunshine.  This is Jane Fonda in 1965, and the photograph was taken by Dennis Hopper.  I bet drugs were taken before or after the shot.

toodle pip

inside hitler's germany - mathew hughes and chris mann


As it says on the front, 'Inside Hitler's Germany' tells of the events leading up to the Second World War and the aftermath of the First World War, and how the populous was treated, educated, encouraged to obey, tow the line, and to hate.  Adolf Hitler and his Nazi party get progressively stronger as depression takes hold, as he promises a better future for the country, and most are prepared to believe him, as there is little else for them that is working.  It obviously all goes wrong and lots of people suffer and die (including the German people), but it's interesting to read of how society can be manipulated and encouraged to discriminate against others, such as, in the German case, Jews, Gypsies, Homosexuals and those with physical or mental ailments, until the final conclusion of the death/extermination camps and Germany's defeat.  This can easily be repeated, so don't forget your history brothers and sisters, or you'll be like a vegetable in this society (Misty in Roots).

toodle pip 

the admirable critchen (1957) - lewis gilbert






The Admirable Crichton (known as 'Paradise Lagoon' in the States) stars Kenneth More playing his usual easy going and charming role as the eponymous butler, who, when the family he serves gets shipwrecked on a deserted island for two years, becomes the 'Guv' of the island, with his former betters and masters following his instructions.  He is also about to be married on the island to one of the ladies, until a ship is spotted and they return to England, where the social order is once again established.  It's about equality, class, romance, and the notion that some men are meant to rule (or lead), and it is an old school family film with charm and some humour.  It is based on the J.M Barrie 1902 play, and also on the real life 'Admirable Crichton' (James Crichton - a right clever git and sportsman who l would have hated).  The FPO also pointed out that he is the bases for the butler in Red Dwarf called Kryten, which never occured to me.  Damn!  I hate it if she spots something l hadn't noticed or been aware of!  Divorce!!!!

toodle pip

three guns and roses books




I read these three books by the members of Guns and Roses one after another, and even though it is only recent history, there are disagreements about some of the things that happened to them, which makes you doubt the validity of some history books or oral records.  Obviously this is not helped by the fact there were copious amounts of drinks and drugs consumed, and l wonder how much of the actual events are 'artistically enhanced' by the co-authors, as l'm sure they couldn't be recalled coherently by the band members. The books were as expected, lots of drink, drugs, trying to make it, untold wealth, bitter fallings out, and trying to deal with Axl Rose and his tardiness and mood swings, before them all getting (or trying to get) straight.  Duff McKagan seems to have got his act together completely, and is now also into health and studying.  Steven Adler is trying, but is a long way from conquering his demons.  Slash seems to have settled down a bit and stopped the smack, but he was the most annoying out of all three, wrecking brand new hire vans, smashing things up, and abusing hospitality and favours, but in a total 'complete arse' kind of way, not in an any kind of cool 'rock and roll' way.  It also annoyed the hell out of me that there were glaring mistakes in the books that had obviously not been checked, proof read, or edited properly.  The Clash did not sing about Hammersmith Odeon, it was the Hammersmith Palais, which is even in the title of the song (White man in Hammersmith Palais) and Donington Festival (which is, after all, pretty well known) is not spelt 'Donnington'.  Axl came across as a sweet and loving friend in times of need, but a complete egotistical tyrant and pain in the arse otherwise, who people were afraid to confront, in case it made him worse (so of course he got away with his bad behaviour and got worse anyway). There were tales of struggle in the early days, living in squats, practise spaces and on couches, but all of them could go home if they wished to recharge their batteries, get some food etc, although Steven certainly had some bad experiences while out on the streets. I always say, it's not easy being rock and roll, and you have to put the hours in and suffer sometimes, and these boys certainly did. Just a shame it disintegrated so quickly.

toodle pip

Tuesday 18 September 2012

dexys at the sage









A splendid time guaranteed fior all at The Sage in Newcastle last night, where myself and the FPO, plus Robbo and Kerry, went to see Dexys (formally Midnight Runners).  We all stayed at the Premier inn, so had food and drink there first, before heading into town and then across to Gateshead. As it was also my birthday celebration, l also nabbed presents (comics and a graphic novel) and bubbly was quaffed.  Dexys played their new lp first (One day l'm going to soar), then a few reworked oldies.  It was the first time l've been to The Sage, and l must admit, it was pretty impressive, and pretty space age from the outside.  More drinks and food afterwards, then a late night and early morning, as the girls wanted to be up for breakfast.  Too early for my liking, and l felt terrible, but perked up after kipping for an hour on our return home.  No 'Geno' but splendid nonetheless.

toodle pip

the pacemaker is up and running


I had to go for my check up at Northallerton Friarage Hospital yesterday morning to see if my pacemaker has been fitted OK and is working properly.  I'm glad to say it is, and it is currently kicking in and rebooting my heart about 4 hours or so a day, due to my hearts laziness and it slowing down.  This sounds a lot worse than it is, as the pacemaker is set to activate and take over in if my heart drops below 60 beats a minute, and as mine is a pretty lazy son of a bitch (like it's owner), that is pretty often.  The battery charge  was lowered to make it last longer, but apart from that, lt will be another check in six months, then yearly.  I am now officially bionic. Hurrah!

toodle pip

Monday 17 September 2012

me alice - alice cooper

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Sunday 16 September 2012

35 years ago today - marc bolan


Marc Bolan and T.Rex were my first musical love, and it was 35 years ago today that he died after being in a car crash.  I loved that man (for a while), and still love the early T.Rex stuff.  He was full of bullshit, vain, egotistical, desperate for stardom and followed a formula once the hits arrived, but he was also a classic otherworldly pop star who knocked out some great tunes.

toodle pip

tom jones and janis joplin



Tom Jones and Janis Joplin together.  What's not to like?  A great performance.

toodle pip

Saturday 15 September 2012

toy story 3 (2010) - lars unkrich



Watched Toy Story 3 just before going away, as we had an extra day to spare due to a mix up (more of that at a later date), and wasn't that bothered about watching it at first, but it soon sprung into action and it was well worth it,  with the story alternating (once again) between pathos and comedy.  The toys accidentally end up in Sunnyside day care, but soon realise it is not as much fun as they expected, so try to escape and return to Andy's home, before he goes to college.  It's funny, it's moving, the animation is improving all the time, and some tears were shed at the end of it (I may have got something in my eye). Great stuff.

toodle pip

aspirations for your child


Talk about showing what little faith you have in your youngster getting a decent education, let alone planting those subconscious aspirations for when the little princess has grown up and is looking for employment later in life.  Why not just get her started early and let her practise cleaning real toilets around the home, or even better, hire her out to clean your neighbours toilets for a bit of extra pocket money.  Kids have to learn early on that life can be hard.

toodle pip

little angus young


I know rock stars are usually a lot smaller than you think, but this picture amazed me.  It's Angus Young of AC/DC  signing autographs in Perth, and there is no way l would have visualised him being so small.  The worst thing is, l've even been to see AC/DC a few times back in the day, and although l knew he wasn't tall by any stretch of the imagination (or his backbone), l didn't expect this (or The Spanish Inquisition).
My brain hurts (again).

toodle pip

Friday 14 September 2012

x factor humiliation



Now that l have returned home, l have been tidying up, washing clothes, and catching up with the TV (while drinking wine).  Rather sadly, The X Factor was one of the shows l usually tape and flick through (not in that way) in case there is anyone good on it.  This performance above, and the reactions to it by the crowd, the panelists, and more importantly the children, have made me uneasy about watching the programme again.  Alison Brunton is obviously deluded that she can sing, and thinks she has a chance of getting into the charts.  She is mocked and then applauded, but the crowd are laughing at her, not with her.  This sort of thing often occurs on the programme, but they are dealing with real people here, and the two poor kids that are filmed cringing with embarrassment will have to put up with all the ridicule and humiliation due to it.  Brunton is an adult (although maybe barmy), and has a right to make  a fool of herself if she so wishes, but the children should not have been filmed and exploited, no matter how they try to dress it up as concern, a laugh, or 'they should be proud'.  What next?  Laughing at the (apparently) educationally or emotionally sub normal or retarded as they delude themselves they have the magical 'X' Factor?  Oh, l forgot, they do that as well.  It's my own fault for adding to the exploitation by watching it in the past, but count me out from now on.

toodle pip

back from holiday


Damn!  I am now back from holiday, so normal service shall be resumed in the next day or so.


toodle pip

Saturday 1 September 2012

gina rinehart tells the poor how to get rich


This sort of story is priceless for an old Socialist like myself.  Gina Rinehart, an Australian mining tycoon (of Hancock Prospecting), who is the worlds richest woman, has told the poor that they should stop smoking, drinking and socialising so much, stop being jealous of the rich, and spend more time working. "There is no monopoly on becoming a millionaire"  according to her, and the poor should stop complaining.   This is from a woman who is for lower minimum wages and less tax.  How did she become rich?  She might have worked hard and invested well, but it helps if daddy leaves you $75 million, which coincidentally, is what happened to her (and she has definitely been sitting around eating and drinking a lot).

Perhaps if the poor in Australia got together, went on strike, and refused to work for crappy wages (including in her mines) they would improve their status and monetary gain immediately (as long as they stuck together).  How about them taking over the mines and getting rid of her, and then running them as collectives, so everybody gets a share in the profits?  That would certainly help the poor and redistribute the wealth.  I would not advocate killing her or violence of any sort to remove her from her no doubt enormous homes and leadership job, but l wouldn't lose any sleep if that happened.  In fact l would rejoice - like Nazareth themselves (Loud and Proud).

Time for an uprising - once again the rich are taking the piss.

toodle pip

wartime bombing and the munich bomb


 Dresden


 Nuremberg


Burning bodies in Dresden


Cologne


The above photographs are from 1945, and show some of the aftermath of bombing raids over Germany during the war.  Nowadays, you can't imagine what it must have been like to have bombs dropped on you on a regular basis, and it's also amazing that the flattened cities were rebuilt so quickly, when you think of all of the work that must have been involved.  It must have taken ages just moving all of the rubble and demolishing unsafe buildings.  This also applies to English cities as well, and l remember lots of bombed out places when l was a kid in Liverpool. 

To give an idea of what it must have been like, a war time bomb was discovered in Munich this week, and the safest way to get rid of it was to detonate it.  The video demonstrates how powerful just one bomb could be, let alone a whole bombing raid.

We have got it soooooo easy.

toodle pip