Remembrance Oneday

During a particularly stagnant Maths lesson, the class doodler, who sat at the back and scribbled his education into the oblivion on the back of his exercise book, took things a little too far. Having filled his pages with a variety of cartoons, graffiti and scribbles, he found the time to colour in his Remembrance Day poppy using his TippEx marker to turn it a lurid shade of white. When the teacher spotted his artwork, his excuse for changing the poppy to white was he was “a pacifist.” Detention beckoned - shame on him.

We’re in to that final quarter of the year where we wearily turn on our television sets, crank up the car radios or flip open our papers only to find Christmas screaming back at us. More often than not, the message is to head in the direction of our local friendly retailers as soon as we can so we can part with our well-earned cash and make ourselves feel like we haven’t sinned against Yule. Come on, get on with it, it’s almost Christmas Eve, you slacker.

I remembered to take note of the first advert for Christmas. It was on my car radio on the morning of 23^rd October. A full nine weeks before the big guy in red was due to do his work. I try to avoid getting angry in my car at all costs, but I now hate the furniture company who slung Christmas in my face a full 63 days too soon. Fair enough, sales this year on the High Street have been dismal, most of the blame squared at the equally awful summer we’ve had keeping everybody indoors. You can only sell so many sets of Ker-Plunk. Still, why should we be burgeoned with the fallout of their failing profits with another aggressive Christmas hard sale?

It’s the same complaint of excess and overkill each year, and yet it’s always confusing as to why the exact opposite happens for Remembrance Sunday. The papers make every effort to slip a poppy.jpeg in to their masthead as early as possible, and shame on those newsreaders that ‘forgot’ to wear their poppies – have they no respect for the dead?

I will not wear a poppy until the morning of Sunday, 11^th November.

Am I being disrespectful? Am I ungrateful to the thousands of people who gave the ultimate sacrifice? Certainly not. I’m simply trying to remember the point of why we remember. For all those that tut-tut at those who don’t wear poppies in the days, or even weeks, running up to the big day itself, shame on you. For those who have ridiculously large poppies strapped on to your car, your opinions are respectfully noted. Just know that this Sunday is taking those two minutes to ensure that everybody across the land stops and considers, ensuring the same madness and needless loss of life need never happen again. It is what runs through your mind during those two minutes, not what runs through your lapel.

Political Review - September 2007

It’s quite something to stick your neck out and call an election before it’s been called by the powers that be, but it’s difficult to see how this can be anything else than the point of no return.

David Cameron has played a masterful stroke to commit Gordon Brown, despite lagging behind in the polls, in forcing his hand. Brown had been careful not to drop the e-word once in his keynote speech at the Bournemouth Conference, instead setting out his stall with policy rather than pinning his heart to the ballot papers. Now, though, the Prime Minister is committed.

To shy away from a snap election now would quickly spell disaster for the Scot, who has alleged to have been hard at work behind the scenes in gearing up a team ready to make a manifesto, drum up support from ministers to backbenchers and still have enough time to craft some of those fancy red rosettes. The sum total of Brown’s withdrawal, however, will amount to backing off because of Cameron’s confidence.

Similarly, though, many hardcore Tory supporters are getting fed up with Call Me Dave’s shift towards the left, in particular his strong stance on green issues and climate change striking a dull note with Middle Britain and failing to cajole the environmentally-conscious towards a Conservative vote. Many supporters of the Conservatives want a leader that matches their ideology, and if Cameron fails to win an impending election he won’t be sticking around much longer.

Poor Sir Menzies Campbell. There’s no point hiding behind it any more, as much as he tells us the gulf between old and young shouldn’t make a blind bit of difference in politics, his age has rendered him unelectable. The Lib Dems are stuck in the same position on the polls, well off the pace from the big two. The election could also make or break the third party’s leader, as anything other than significant seat gains could well trigger a vote of no confidence.

With all three seemingly placing their trust in the hands of the electorate, it could turn out to be one of the most hard-fought snap elections ever seen.

Cold War Tactics From Highbury

Having set up two news arenas for two different areas of writing, my journals have operated in independent harmony, both providing similar format of articles in sportsitegeist, and the journal you’re reading now, websitegeist (thanks for visiting).

It’s hard to envisage a moment so early on in the infancy of both sites that their world of writing could collide, and I’m left with the dilemma of having to choose which site this article ought to go on.

The story, which is still bubbling under the surface at the moment and not yet uncovered even by BBC or major news websites, concerns that of the blog known as Chicken Yoghurt, who have broken the story on a number of fellow bloggers who have suddenly found themselves without an online mouthpiece. This doesn't concern your average Joe Blogg(er)s, even the blogs of Boris Johnson, MP for Henley and London mayoral candidate, have mysteriously dropped off the radar. And suddenly, Arsenal Football Club have become embroiled in the battle.

If this sounds like some postmodernist spy thriller (or even a spoof version), you may be surprised to hear it's very much true. Even more bizarrely though, it all concerns Alisher Usmanov, Russian oligarch billionaire who's just landed a princely stake in the North London team.

Now Usmanov has invested his wealth in a British asset, many bloggers have linked and re-reported articles suggesting that his previous dealings in the Russian empire are to be tarnished with the same murky brush as that of Roman Abramovich, accusing Usmanov of obtaining his wealth through the illegitimate and corrupt methods associated with the oligarchy under Gorbachev.

These accusations did not go down particularly well in the Usmanov camp, and least of all with his lawyers, who successfully campaigned to remove the blogs of anyone reproducing said story. The problem is now that the webhosts who quickly bowed to the pressures of legal action, and thus sanctioned the removal of blogs to cover up the story with 404-not found error messages, are facing something of a backlash. The word has quickly spread of the blogs which have been shut down without warning, and in a sterling protest for free speech, bloggers are quickly telling of Usmanov's attempts to silence the story, along with links to all other blogs running the story. The idea is that the lawyers will have to eventually file a case to shut down the entire Internet to save the story from getting out.

This will warm the hearts for anyone who's wanted to speak their mind using the Internet when everything in the real world seemingly doesn't care. While I prefer to report on the matter rather than join arms of the e-comrades, it's nice to know that websitegeist is now part of the number of sites Usmanov's lawyers will have to contend against to keep this story schtum.

It doesn't matter if it's true or it's an outrageous piece of libel, the point is that doing the rounds with a highly-paid legal team and intimidating the webhosts in to removing an entire blog amounts to bullying, scaremongering and the sort of propaganda coverups that, in the more extreme cases, lead to the end of Alexander Litvinenko. I'm certainly not trying to tar Usmanov with the same brush, but the dirty tricks campaign to get this off the Internet certainly doesn't rub well with Western culture.

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UPDATE: 27th September

Since running this article, Chicken Yoghurt has reported 291 websites which have carried the story, and Bloggerheads is now back online. The takeover attempt at Arsenal seems to fallen flat, with the club reporting ashtonishing £200 million profits, making them the second most profitable football club in the world, and hardly in need of a cash injection.

Political Review – August 2007

One of the main points of starting Websitegeist was to shift away from the blog culture and less of the first-person chatter. Not that blogs should ever be scorned; a lot of people have a lot of things to get of their chest, and it serves as a staple fixture on the Internet.

Some people are deeply unhappy with themselves and their lot, and thus their blog has turned in to a bolus of angst and, if poorly written, emotional ramblings. Others preferred to take only the good bits of their life and splash it across their blog, leaving out the bad bits to deal with themselves. There’s no problem with either of these extremes – pain and optimism are two of the things that make us all different. And for the most part, pain-blogs and optimism-blogs keep both parties content in their writing.

But how about writing about things that other people would like to think about? Thus WSG was born.

The problem with political writing is that it’s a little bit like a meal at a Japanese restaurant – rather than one big course to sink your teeth in to, there’s lots of little dishes to pick and choose. Which is why, rather than writing lots of mini-articles about small fry goings-on in Whitehall, our attentions are turned to the political spectrum once a month.

David Cameron’s had a rough ride of late trying to dampen the ‘Brown bounce’, which has lasted longer than expected. Finally it would appear he’s bringing round the Conservative press to convince them he’s a textbook Tory. Manifestos have been dropped slowly in over the past few weeks in to a melting-pot of ideas.

One of the most tantalising offers is the prospect of lower taxes. It’s certainly a juicy carrot dangling right in front of us as far as pledges go, but this was followed with the hint that it would leave families and married couples best off. For a nation with rising numbers of single parents, it makes you wonder how many people will take the bite.

Slowly, over the course of the month, other blurbs came out. Improvement in the armed forces. Tough crime control. Improved schooling.

It all sounds extremely appealing to the swing voter, and sees a definitive shift to the right from Cameron, and he’s done it with aplomb. The problem with Michael Howard’s pledges was he promised too much all at once – and promising tax cuts with a range of improvements in public services simply doesn’t add up in terms of budget.

Still, with a snap election still a possibility, the careful placement of Conservative values rather than ill-conceived soundbites is enough to have Gordon Brown on his guard.

Finally the new PM appears to have settled in at No. 10 and selected his personal favourite colour curtains (he kept them red); now time for action.

The choicest moment came when the thought of a Bank Holiday in November was proposed. In a shift away from his original British Day brainchild, he settled on the idea of celebrating local heroes. Not the way we all saw it; to us, it’s another day off. Everyone loves a treat from the government.

Elsewhere, though, things have been relatively quiet in the Brown camp. Armed forces remain in Iraq, and Brown has (quite sagely) kept mostly schtum on foreign policy where Blair would’ve been quick to stamp his mark on proceedings. We await further developments, but Brown needs to start picking up the pace as his bounce wanes.

Much more vocal has been Sir Menzies Campbell. For the poor Lib Dems, airtime can be scarce, and press coverage is really dependant on the mood of the editor’s scissors. However, they’ve done well to voice some pretty valid concerns. Problem is, it’s all they seem capable of.

Critical of future flood plans.
Critical of the gambling plans.
Critical of the prison strikes.
Critical of George W Bush.

Alright, I think I speak for all of us that we’ll grant him the last one, and their proposals for zero carbon Britain certainly hold a decent appeal to their electorate. But let’s hear some really practical solutions and we can start to listen to what they have to say rather than laughing things off whenever they run with their latest big idea. Coming up is the Liberal Democrat Blog Of The Year. Maybe we’ll see if my pain-blog / optimism-blog theory is right.

Foot & Mouth II - The Disinfectant Strikes Back

If I were qualified enough to write reviews for films, I’d have the recent release of Evan Almighty down as a whimsy high-budget sequel that’s on the mark in terms of originality but very, very cheesy. Our eponymous hero Evan is called upon by God to start acting like - and dressing akin to - someone called Noah. I’ve never been a fan of spoilers, so I’ll just say he builds something, a certain event happens, and he saves a lot of souls. If the movie doesn’t sound like your cup of tea, the ripoff novelisation is now available in all good bookshops (Genesis chapters 6-9).


The fallout of the downpours in the Bible version was a lovely rainbow, creatures saved and the world cleansed of evil. The fallout of the floods in the south this summer is the much-maligned sequel of foot and mouth disease. In its first modern outing six years ago, the cattle epidemic was the maladie du jour for press and satire when it became apparent it wasn’t half as serious as its BSE big brother. Now the remake is out in farmyards now, and we’re no longer cracking wise with "foot in mouth" gags or making rather corny mad cow puns – it’s a lot more serious now, it would seem.


Yet, somehow, it’s quite comfortably contained. Cordons have been set up and DEFRA are taking the job in hand with professional expertise. I’m no microbiologist, but there’s only so much you can do to stop molecular bacteria from setting up shop in a new farmyard. Thus I wouldn’t call it an outbreak; for the most part, it’s been a lot of mild panic without any immediate cause for concern.


Sorry if this angle on the hot-topic news sounds cynicism border on the apathetic; I must admit, it is. Like the recent flooding, it’s something we can make a whole lot of fuss about without having to take much action. One of the main reasons is that human fatalities from foot and mouth are extremely low. That is, of course, nothing to take mildly; mutations of the disease are a huge risk, and it’s quicker to stamp out the strain now before it becomes too late. In the meantime, though, there’s not too much cause for concern – the disease should be contained and eliminated within time and the wave of paranoia will quickly wane. And sales of Big Macs should be back on the rise – a nation can rest easy.

God The Scapegoat

Returning from a holiday where the blazing sun was melting and terraforming the pavement underfoot, it was a bizarre feeling to be told that our flight was delayed because Heathrow’s main runaway was in danger of becoming riverbed to a shoal of marine animals. Very well, I’m embellishing a little, but to be informed of such apocalyptic flooding in 35 degree heat just didn’t feel quite right.

In 1953, meteorologists were consulted at length by those orchestrating the coronation of Elizabeth II. The general consensus was that, from previous meticulous record-keeping and that year’s trends, 2nd June was the best time for the big day. Let’s just say that it was a good job Lizzy’s crowning was an indoor event.

For those not familiar with the British fixation with weather, I only hope you can understand that our temperate climate is prone to throw up the most dramatic and bizarre weather possible. Sure, folks across the pond will report of hailstones in Maryland, mudslides in San Francisco and a dozen tornadoes in between. But you know what to expect there. As folk who are frankly unsure what the weather’s going to hurl down at us, we feel the need to comment on it ad nauseum.

This year, flooding on the business end of the River Severn and the western area of the Thames has had anyone clutching a microphone with cameraman in tow scrambling for soundbites of despair from the poor folks whose homes have just been wrecked. Some reporters even got so close to the water it seemed as though one quick plunge and they’d be ably breast-stroking their way to their next story.

Still, far be it from me to go off and lambaste the media. This article is all about blamelessness.

Another fixation in this country is to always find blame for someone or something when it all goes to pot. The best example of our fascination for a hate figure is every other summer, when English national football team are either dumped out of the European Championships under dubious circumstances, or dumped out of the World Cup under utterly diabolical circumstances. Be it a crucial refereeing blunder, a bolus of players unable to handle the pressure of a penalty shootout or a striker getting himself needlessly sent off for stamping on opposition testicles, we’ve got the lot.

Still, this year there’s no major football, so we’ve got something else to find blame for. Problem is, when its Acts of God we’re talking about, how can we shake our fists at the Almighty? Noah certainly didn’t, he just nodded politely and built the Ark. I don’t mean to get tangled up in to a pseudo-religious rant, it’s just rather humorous to observe so many people getting extremely agitated, trying to blame the lack of the Azores High squarely on the shoulders of any politician who dares to don a pair of Wellingtons.

So who’s the big winner? Well our new PM must be pretty pleased with himself – his first national crisis he could do nothing to prevent. David Cameron’s been caught out in Africa, rather unfortunate timing with Commons currently in recess. Meanwhile, the biggest winner has to be August – never has this month when we usually pin our hopes on good weather carried so much expectation. As I post article this with just minutes of July left, it’s safe to say optimism never felt so good.

Jamie Shoesmith is currently away.

Live Earth - Greener Than Green?

Bounding down the stairs on Christmas Day at five years old trying to catch Father Christmas doing his business right in the middle of the living room under tree, I rounded the corner only to find he’d already been. Fortunately, I’d been a good boy that particular year, and sitting there was a brand spanking new Amiga 500+ rather than anything unpleasant.

Joining the state-of-the-art computer system (well, it was at the time) was a box containing a rather sought-after video game. Straight from the cartoon was the platform game, to give it its full name: Captain Planet® and the Planeteers™ by Mindscape Games. Environmentalism, back then, had a rather corporate edge.

So inspired was I by Wheeler, Kwame, Linka, Gi and Ma-ti’s heroics in saving the planet, I had the back pages of the instruction manual photocopied, which contained ten eco-friendly tips to help save the planet. A poorly-drawn poster later and the word was out; I’d send anyone who gave a damn about our Earth a copy if they provided a stamped-addressed envelope. One person replied. Still, I think I managed to get through to him, and that I’d done my bit for the environment. I threw the other 19 unused copies in the bin and thought no more of it.

In a similar fashion to the above anecdote, Live Earth's resulting fallout is a confusing lot. Intentions were unclear from the outset; sound bites on Radio 1’s Newsbeat bulletin had many of the US acts struggling to explain what, in fact, climate change actually is.

More to the point, many of these acts were indeed being ferried to their respective stages about by means that were, to put it bluntly, taking rather a large dumped on our o-zone layer. Razorlight appear to be the worst offenders, who went to great troubles to get very enthuse the message in to their art well before their set at Wembley, only for the band to realise they were due to play a gig in Scotland on the same evening. How did they get there? No prizes for guessing. The Planeteers would be spinning in their bio-degradeable graves.

With detractors pointing out that 90% reduction in carbon emissions is pretty much unfeasible, what exactly was the point of Live Earth? That statistic, which may seem like a load of hot air (sorry), was the ‘big picture’. Problem is, it didn’t serve as a call to action to anyone. America won’t bow to such an outlandish idea in the meantime. China has just emerged as a key player in climate change; how to take them on is still a grey area.

Sorry to sound so negative – it’s just things don’t quite add up.

Live8 had a tremendous pressure point aimed directly at Gleneagles, and without it ever taking place, the summit would’ve probably harked back to the days when it was no more than a fireside chat instead of exactly how much each country could pledge to make poverty history.

Even Captain Planet had more of a point to it – do what you can, personally, to reduce waste and leave the planet as you’d expect to find it. That seems to be the soft undertone of Live Earth, but to many (including the 1% populace of the USA who actually tuned in) the message may well be sadly dwarfed by those picking apart the logistics of saving the world.

Brown must play the cards we least suspect

Finally, almost with a hint of wheezed despair, surely the most protracted and prolific moving of houses ever witnessed is completed this week, the title deeds for a cosy yet prestigious semi-detached, coming complete with respectable views, en suite and prime ministerial seals falling in to the hands of Gordon Brown.

Those who have protested vehemently at Brown’s path to leadership being as straightforward as an instruction manual for making a sandwich should get the soft prod of all those who voted in Labour’s favour at the last general election who marked their ballot sheets safe in the knowledge that their vote represented the condition that Brown would, at some point, sweep to the premiership. For all intents and purposes, this is the way both parties would have wanted the changeover to happen – albeit with a few looking perplexedly at their watches. For them, the lingering waft of a snap election hangs tantalisingly airborne.

Where, then, does one pick up the pieces of the life they’ve been longing for now for over a decade? Certainly, if and when a deal was struck between two gentlemen in a restaurant, could one ever envisage stepping in to the country we live in today?

The Daily Mail will tell anyone who’ll listen that the country’s gone to pot. David Cameron will tell anyone who’ll listen (a number steadily snowballing, it would seem) that things need to change – though what these ‘things’ and whichever this ‘change’ is or are or ever will be seems to shift on a weekly – if not daily – basis. Brown’s going to have a hard time figuring out how to tackle Cameron, as he seems to avoid that most taboo of tactics, spin, he does seem to have a talent of exploiting key areas when most needed to be called upon.

Brown is left, like so many seafaring politicians to bold enough to take on the high seas of power, between that marooner’s kismet of a rock and a hard place. He could stride in and play his forte, the economy. It sounds limiting, but taking on the economy can apply to may areas – economy in schools, economy in healthcare, economy in the fight against terrorism, economy in taxes…he’s spoilt for choice.

To set the groundwork for an immediate shock and awe campaign, though, it could be suggested that Brown’s main offensive is doing a bit of the ol’ razzle-dazzle on the things we’ve expect him to help out in. One of his first ports of call will be national security; not just sweeping statements about pulling the troops out of Iraq “when the time’s right” or “acting in the best interests of the people” – we’ve heard all that before. Year after year his pre-budget report announces the highest sustained economic growth since clichés began. No, say something that’ll really make us think - no more Tony to keep your hands tied.

Second area will be climate change – the temptress that’s become the ultimate in poisoned chalices. Don’t blow your own horn about how you’re doing ‘your bit’, of course we know you’re not using a removal van with all the nasty CO2 to move house – you’re moving in next door. And as for cycling, I really don’t think anyone wants to see a lycra-clad prime minister incumbent. No, actually doing something will be good; if Bush won’t play ball, then attentions must turn to China to follow our lead.

Thirdly…well, I’d hardly want to say exactly what needs to be done. I’m no politician (thanks, but no thanks) and it’s not for me to scoff at advisers who have it all figured out. Just surprise us, Gordon.