Happy New Year

It’s a well-worn cliché that dark, cold January is a month filled with gloom and despond after the revels of Christmas and the New Year. Far be it from me to overturn such a glorious and experimentally verified truism, so I won’t even try. I’m dealing in good old fashioned dour northern misery and anti-Thatcherism this time.

David Cameron, yesterday

I’ve only just seen this Grauniad article from January 4 that talks about the moves to rehabilitate Margaret Thatcher’s political reputation. From a personal point of view this is both futile and unneeded in equal measure. For her political descendants, like  Boris Johnson (like a Labrador in human form), and Dave “Otto the Autopilot” Cameron, no rehabilitation is required. In the political classes, the Thatcherite view of the free market has effectively triumphed. This applied to Bliar too, and even Brown ended up viewing the economy through a prism constructed by  Thatcherism. At the same time, amongst those she damaged, Thatcher will never be forgiven. Ask someone in Glasgow, Teesside, Liverpool or the coalfields of Durham and Yorkshire what they think of Margaret Thatcher, and listen to the splenetic torrent that washes back over you in reply. Never in living memory has a political leader been so divisive and corrosive to the country.

In the course of his article, Seamus Milne writes:

But her authorised biographer, the high Tory Charles Moore, has no doubts about the The Iron Lady’s effective political message. The Oscar-bound movie is, he declares, a “most powerful piece of propaganda for conservatism”. And for many people under 40, their view of Thatcher and what she represents will be formed by this film.

This quote made me laugh on so many levels. The first is the laughable suggestion that anyone under the age of 40 would be remotely interested in watching a movie about this fossilised, vicious harridan. The second is the sentiment, echoed by Cameron only this week in a platitudinous, content-free smugfest, that the Thatcher template is not one he intends to disavow. All the Prime Minster’s announcement provided was a yawning sense of déjà vu, as economic instruments that had failed vast swathes of the country in the 1980s were rolled out again by those without any clue of what they were doing.

This yawning sense of disconnection was reinforced on last night’s Question Time, where both Baroness Warsi and the aforementioned Charles Moore helpfully managed to demonstrate the old adage that, “it is better to say nothing and be though a fool than to open one’s mouth and confirm it”, by opening their mouths repeatedly. Moore managed to be splendidly patronising to the audience in his answer about the plans to privately fund a new Royal Yacht. Then the thought occurred to me that, with all the money sloshing around on the government benches, maybe the chaps could have a small whip-round to pay for it themselves. Warsi was no better on the question of an estuary airport of London. I though London needed an ew airport like Birmingham needed an high speed rail link, but a very sharp member of the audience pointed out that you could build the airport in Birmingham and actually give HS2 a purpose.

While the previous paragraph might seem like a bit of a ramble off the thrust of this post, it just helps to illustrate that the priorities and the worldview of the government are already so out of kilter with everybody else. I could talk at length about this, as it seems I haven’t even started about Scotland, HS2, disability benefits, or the futility of sending William Hague to South America on a diplomatic mission when he’s as welcome there as Ebola right now. But these are for another time, because the mammoth in the room is still the economy (here’s where I get back on thread, folks).

Current economic policy is still predicated on the austerity drive that has been demonstrated to be ineffective and, in fact, actively harmful. The deficit is actually getting worse because the economy is starting to shrink; Osborne doesn’t really want to talk about that, but the latest wave of retail failures are not heling. Like the scorched earth Pol Pot economics of the 80s, there is no plan B in the minds of policy makers. The cure for our economic woes is rather like treating someone with a sprained ankle by amputating their leg to the knee, and its just as foolish.

Still, soon it will be spring. And we’ll only have to listen to the build up to the Olympics for another 4 months. Yay.

Dave Gorman – Middlesbrough Town Hall (November 11 2011)

It’s been a while since I saw Dave Gorman: about eight years, in fact, looking back at the promotional material for Googlewhack Adventure (which, if you haven’t seen yet, I advise you to go and buy immediately).  Because I liked Googlewhack Adventure and, to be honest, lots of the other stuff he’s done, I was really looking forward to this slight departure from other stuff of his I’d seen before. Previously, Gorman’s approach has been to pretty much deliver a lecture, based around an overarching theme or project. But with gags. Lots of gags.

Not this time. True, there were plenty of gags. Very good gags in fact, so you won’t be disappointed. This time, though, there’s no real great theme, just a collection of topics and thoughts, joined together like most other stand up shows. The big difference here is the use of Powerpoint.  He’s made use of Powerpoint a fair amount in the past, so it helps a couple of the early one liners if you’ve seen him working the medium before.

Now, I use Powerpoint a fair bit: I teach in a university, so that’s not much of a surprise. But Gorman is a master at it. Lots of the fun in his comedy seems to come from the misdirection of flow, leading you to an unexpected punchline, which is delivered using the Powerpoint mechanism (well, that and the brief spasms of almost primal rage that crop up from time to time).  There are lots of people using Powerpoint out there who should watch this as an object lesson in how to do it.

But, the key point in amongst all this is: yes, he’s funny. Very, very funny, and so is his show. You should watch it. It’s great. nnd so is the support act, Jay Foreman, evne though he looked a lot like Daniel Radcliffe in the spots at the end of the evening playing Land of Hope and Glory as DG’s accompanist. Buy his CD, it’s well worth a fiver of your money, even if you only listen to track 20.

Mike Harding – Middlesbrough

Back when I was a kid, my Dad worked with a bloke everyone called “Jeff”, even though his name was actually Trevor. Jeff was a funny bloke, was a pretty good darts player (even managing to play on TV against pros). But Jeff liked his folk music, and had a load of records. He also liked his comedy. And on one occasion he lent my Dad a couple of Mike Harding albums. So, at eight years old, I first heard the Rochdale Cowboy. I remember staying up late to watch his shows on BBC2 and being struck by this strange bloke with the loud dungarees and John Lennon glasses. And the albums have stayed with me. I could probably recite huge parts of them, having listened to them so often; the word “wassock” often punctuates my speech.

So when he announced he was doing a comedy tour for the first time in well over a decade, what else could I do but buy a ticket (well, three actually. One for me and one each for my parents, who are still fans). And last night was the night he landed back in the Boro, in the Middlesbrough Theatre. I love the “Little” Theatre: it has a lovely,warm, cosy atmosphere. I’ve seen a few shows there and have always enjoyed being around. The capacity is around 450, and last night it was full. The audience were mostly my folks’ age, but there were a few younger ones there, like me. I make my way over to say hello to BBC Tees‘ Bob Fischer in the foyer before the show, just so he’s aware who the idiot who sends all that rubbish into his show actually is. Bob’s a very nice chap.

The show is billed as Me, a Guitar and Some Daft Stuff. That’s not quite true: there are two guitars and a mouth organ too, but nothing else that you’d call frills. But that doesn’t matter when you have someone who can spin a yarn like Mike. The first thing he does is one of my favourite things of all: My Brother Sylvester, his version of which, to this day (I discover later) isn’t available because he’s being prevented from buying back the copyrights to some of his earliest recordings,  Early on, he drops the obligatory local references into his opening stories and the audience laugh in recognition; we’re with him already. There’s a mix of old favourites and crowd pleasers we can all join in with, a mix of familiar stories and newer observations before, all too soon, it’s time for the interval and some very nice Honey and Ginger ice cream (no suicide juice for me, I’m driving).

After the restart the pace continues, but is punctuated by the one serious song of the night, a beautiful version of his own song, Bomber’s Moon. At this point the audience are so quiet, to quote the man himself, you could hear a cockroach fart. And then the fun continues some more. Finally, all too soon, it’s time for the last song, a rousing audience participation number. There are no encores, he explains, because he doesn’t like the pretence of waiting behind the curtains to see if the applause is loud enough. Instead, he’ll spend the time more usefully out front, signing stuff and chatting with fans.

I buy a copy of Flat Dogs and Shaky Pudden to go with the copy of Komic Kutz I brought for signing. The queue is bright and good natured, though we could be there for longer as its so easy to chat with him. Many do, as they swap news of shared friends or memories.  After my folks do, I get my CD’s signed and shake his hand to say thanks. And that’s it: off home we go.

It pleases me no end to realise that someone I admired hugely as a kid and who had a major influence on me in a lot of ways turns out to be such a decent and lovely bloke. I’ve heard this from other places of course, but it’s nice to have it confirmed for yourself.

This Too Will Pass

They say that you should never go back. Steve Jobs ignored that, but then that went for a lot of other conventional wisdom too. And so it was, that in 1997 Steve Jobs went back to Apple, all those years after have been forced out of the company he and Woz had stated by John Sculley. The speech he made at the Boston Macworld Expo that year remains, in my mind, one of the great mission statements of the tech era.

This later 1997 Q&A session at WWDC is also amazing, partly because it shows how passionate he was about the whole project, partly because of his willingness to engage with the developers, but mostly because he lays out exactly where he wants Apple to sit in the computing ecosphere

This is where the plan for the future of Apple was laid on the line. And if things needed to be said that annoyed or antagonised the faithful then so be it. And scariest of all is the fact that this is exactly where Apple is now. The foundation for the company that Apple is now can be traced back to that presentation and to those values. It’s also a great example of the Reality Distortion Field that surrounded jobs at times, but only the truly remarkable have the power to be able to bend the world to their will in that way. And Jobs was remarkable. He has managed to change to computer industry several times, with the introduction of the Mac, the iMac, the iPod, the iPhone and the iPad. All of them were game changers. Yes, he could be an asshole to work for, but the key thing was it was done to make the products better; to deliver things that people didn’t even realise they wanted. When management consultants try to tell you what a Transcendental leader is, this is what they mean. And now he’s not there.

Apple will be the poorer without him, of course. for the short term the direction and the plan is secure, but in the longer term things look different. Is there anyone with the vision and drive who can push the company on? Tuesday’s iPhone 4S launch didn’t exactly inspire huge amounts of confidence. thoughts for another time, right now, I think this sums things up best:

Same Ol’ Shite, Different Year

Ah, bless! It’s conference season again, and here we are watching the Prime Minister (and I still can’t quite believe that happened) trying to rally the troops. Not just the stiffs mouldering gently in Manchester, but us.  You know, the plebs.

According to the BBC website, Cameron’s speech ‘urged a “can-do” attitude and the “spirit of Britain” to see the country through to better times’. For some reason I have visions of the melty-faced man standing on his platform leading a chorus of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” at this point, or piping the Dambusters March into the conference hall to rouse the post-lunch dozing of the geriatric masses.

It’s really hard to know where to start on why this speech, and the conference in general, is so idiotic and patronising. But, one must start somewhere, so let’s go for it:

1. Remember before the 2010 election when Cameron re-branded the Conservatives and got rid of all that blue in the party image, and all that flag waving? Strange how it had all marvellously reappeared on the Conference stage this week.  You couldn’t move for the Union Flag.  Which annoyed me no end, because it’s not theirs to appropriate.  But still, this is a minor quibble…
2. This morning, a draft of Cameron’s speech was released to the press, who picked up on a phrase he used about management of debt. The original text read:
   

   “The only way out of a debt crisis is to deal with your debts. That means households – all of us – paying off the credit card and store card bills.”

   This magically became:

   “The only way out of a debt crisis is to deal with your debts. That’s why households – all of us – are paying off the credit card and store card bills.”

   But that was only after a shitstorm of criticism for the rather patronising off the cuff remark that only a very wealthy man could make so easily.  But that’s not what annoyed me the most. What did annoy me most of all was the fact that, not actually having the balls to say what he meant in the first place, he cowered behind a “drafting error” and, ever the slimy PR droid, watered down what he originally said. Except such remarks stick, all it has done in the minds of many is confirm him as the arrogant pissweasel many of us already knew he was.

   The coverage wasn’t entirely positive, including this, earlier post excoriating the PM for his lack of basic macroeconomic knowledge and using JM Keynes’ Paradox of Thrift to smash him repeatedly around the head for his stupidity. And still, he tries to exclusively blame the previous government for all the economy’s ills, at least to the public. At the recent inter-governmental meeting to try to paper of the cracks of the Greek fiasco, Cameron was forced to admit it was a global problem. Better yet, until 2008 and the banking crisis, Cameron’s Conservatives had pledged to match the then government’s spending commitments. Something doesn’t add up, so his pop at Ed Balls (even though he’s a bit of a tool) is a bit rich.

3. Noticeably, Gideon’s well out of the way in Europe, and so unable to put his foot into his mouth once more. His speech to conference this year was so memorable I can’t remember a single thing he uttered. As a student of Modern History at Oxford, you’d think that our non-economist Chancellor would at least have a nodding acquaintance with the last time a government tried a massive austerity plan after a major financial crash (Herbert Hoover in the US in 1929). Too much to hope for, clearly.
4. Theresa May. Sweet Jesus! Nothing to see here, move along…
5. Which brings us to Michael Gove. Unfortunately. Or rather, to Cameron’s praise of some of the policies implemented by the man selectively bred over generations to remove his chin. Cameron was fulsome in his praise of the momentous step giving teachers the power to search pupils’ bags, but not so vociferous about the mess that getting a school place or the entire exam system is. And he was noticeably very, very quiet on universities, which are a disaster waiting to happen.
6. Then another lazy pop at the benefits system which, though it does suffer from abuse, is not as big a money pit as money lost through tax evasion. Strangely silent on that one. As ever.

The worst part is that the message is the same across the mainstream political spectrum. None of the major parties is engaged with the public in any meaningful way. Clegg is a dead man walking; Milliband’s just a twitchy dork in an anorak. All from the same self-selecting and hermetically sealed off socio-politcal class. None of them are in any way convincing, or even credible. So the antipathy towards the political class is only going to get worse. And the hacks are fiddling while Rome burns around us, scoring their schoolboy debating society points over each other.

If anything, Cameron’s speech shows just how out of kilter he is with the country at large. Cuts are only just starting to bite, and are getting worse;  the cost of living is spiralling, especially for heating and fuel bills; economic growth is flat-lining. Now, even the IMF is yelling at them to rein back on the scorched earth deficit reduction “strategy”. But there is no plan B, no clue, no idea. If his speech was pitched to make him sound somehow Churchillian, or even like Captain Mainwaring at a push, all he’s done is make himself look like Private Pike.

And breathe…

Ghost Town

So, the inevitable has come to pass. It was fairly easy to predict but, oddly, no one in Westminster seemed to want to think about it. As horrible as these scenes are, it isn’t too difficult to understand (without condoning) why it’s happening. Much will depend on Cameron’s reaction to the violence when he gets home. Already his reputation is tarnished, following the first wave of News International revelations.  I rather suspect he will revert to old style authoritarianism to appear decisive, though I think this will only make an already widening schism between parts of this country even greater.

Back in 1981 The Specials had their final hit with the totemic and iconic song Ghost Town. It painted a picture of a desolate country with vanishing hopes of any kind of future for the young (unless they came from wealthy backgrounds). It isn’t a song of historical record any longer, it’s current all over again. So much seems as it was thirty years ago at the moment.  The economic convulsions are taking place against a blizzard of political infighting. Politicians are as despised as the press and the bankers; the centre of many towns are becoming the desolate hulks the song portrayed (especially in the North); the economy creaks under the weight of political inertia and people are worried about their future. The difference this times that people are even deeper in debt than before and ever more fearful of the precipice.

However, the actions of idiots, who have seen this as a ready excuse to steal, loot and destroy, have given the political classes the excuse to ignore the underlying problem. The focus will move to clamping down on the symptom and will not even look at the underlying problem of the breakdown of our society. It’s noticeable that the Prime Minister has stopped using the phrase “Broken Britain“. As an ex-PR man he knows all too well that that phrase can now be hung around his neck as the effects of government economic policy begin to bite. We don’t need to guess; we’ve seen it before and it was horrific for many.

But what do we have to lead us now? A complacent, disconnected and distant political class, whose understanding and knowledge of the rest of society is dwindling as the years pass. The big surprise is that the anger that has built up so far has not exploded earlier. And we still haven’t felt the full impact of the government cuts, the cuts that local authorities will have to continue, spiralling energy prices for homes and worse.

Do you remember the good old days before the Ghost Town?

Sex, Lies and Superinjunctions

The current Mexican stand-off between Parliament, the twitter mob and the judiciary descended further into the realm of farce this afternoon when Liberal Democrat MP John Hemming named the footballer, CTB, at the centre of the most high-profile super-injunction as Ryan Giggs. Pretty much anyone who has a Twitter account has been aware of his identity for some time, as has anyone in Scotland since yesterday, or indeed anyone anywhere except England, where the injunction is still in force.  Giggs is not the only person to be named on Twitter, of course. And, to date, there are thought to be over 70 such orders in place. They seem mostly to be in place to allow the wealthy to sidestep public embarrassment, though in at least one case blackmail has been involved.

Such cases illustrate significant problems in negotiating the vertiginous balancing act between the privacy of the individual, enshrined in human rights law, specifically Article 8 of the European Human Rights Convention (the right to respect for private and family life) and the rights enshrined in Articles 10 and 11, which codify the freedoms of expression and assembly.

It’s difficult to work out whether the primary impetus of what has been going on on Twitter these last few weeks has been driven by a prurient need to dig into the lives of the famous, or whether a deeper (and more pernicious) principle is at work: that one’s right to privacy is largely determined by one’s ability to pay for it. What is abundantly clear is that, a quarter of a century after Spycatcher, the British legal system has apparently learned little about stables and horses.  The High Court are now in the ridiculous position of enforcing an injunction that is useless. Whatever the rights and wrongs in the Giggs case, there is a pressing need to protect the privacy and dignity of his wife and family, though one wonders how easy this is, given that she must have been able to hear most of the songs floating around Old Trafford yesterday. The Lord Chief Justice claimed that new technologies risked, “making an ass of the law” and further asserted that “misuse of modern technology” would curtailed at some point. This might seem to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons.  Twitter doesn’t need to make an ass of the law as it stands; the law seems to be doing a perfectly good job of that by itself.

Things are complicated still further by events in New York, with the arrest of Dominque Strauss-Kahn, former head of the IMF, or the reporting of an extra-marital relationship between Fred Goodwin and a senior colleague. The Goodwin case is interesting, as it points out the difference between the rather more prurient interest in the Giggs case, and the possibly more-relevant-to-the-public-interest behaviour of Goodwin, as it may have affected his performance and functioning in his position at a vital time for himself and the bank. In both these cases, privacy laws helped prevent disclosure of information into the public domain, which may have been in the public interest for the public to know. In France, Strauss-Kahn’s run to the French presidency may have foundered earlier than it now surely must have done, whatever the outcome of his trial. In the UK, Goodwin’s performance, and some of his decisions, may have been scrutinised with a new perspective.

The salient issues, such as they are, appear to be these:

1. The law is unable to keep up with the pace of technological and social change.
2. The law is seen to be unfair, ineffective and risible by a huge number of people in this country.  It is seen as a tool of the wealthy to shield themselves from public gaze that might undermine their carefully contrived public personae. Any system of law is only sustainable as long as it enjoys the confidence of those subject to it, and right now it is not clear whether such confidence exists in this apparatus.
3. It is difficult, though perhaps not impossible, to enforce the kinds of order the UK courts might want in a multi-jurisdictional world. Twitter is based in the US (though it was apparently about to open a UK office. Let’s see how that one pans out now) and would need orders served in US jurisdiction to allow the seizure of personal details requested. This would probably be in conflict with US First Amendment laws, so would very likely fall on deaf ears.
4. There are, however, examples where the use of such an injunction may be justifiable, and where the public interest is not served by such knowledge being in the public domain.
5. The law as it stands is unfit for purpose and needs to be looked at. Properly.

We need to find a balance between the individual’s right to a reasonable expectation of privacy and the rights of a free press to report events in the public interest without let or hindrance. This is not the same as being able to print things in which the public might be interested with impunity, but what we, as citizens, need to know. The current circus is not really helping anyone, and the law is doing itself no favours by holding an arresting but futile hand up to the waves that are battering it.

Ten Years Gone

Yesterday was the tenth anniversary of Douglas Adams’ death.

I don’t honestly remember the first time I heard The Hitch Hiker’s Guide To The Galaxy. I suppose I must have been around 10 or 11. In fact,  I probably saw the TV show first.  Even at that age I enjoyed Monty Python and Spike Milligan‘s Q, so this didn’t seem too much on a limb for my taste. I do remember, however, being lent the two albums that sprung from the show by Paul Williams when I guess I was around 13 and having what could only be described as an epiphany. To me, SF was arid, ponderous stuff like Asimov’s Foundation novels (don’t get me started: I love Asimov’s non-fiction writing, but his novels drain me of the will to live). But this was different; it softened me up for Terry Pratchett‘s work later on. and it got me to read some PG Wodehouse. Thanks, Douglas, I owe you a debt for that.

Because of his notorious difficulties with writing, Douglas Adams left us with rather less material than he might have done. But God, what he left was good. Today, thirty years after first seeing and hearing h2g2, I still retain a fondness for it that is probably irrational.  H2G2 contained a lot of rather insightful observation and social commentary on the modern world, masquerading as a series of gags, which I suppose was its great quality. Even today, I think there are vast tracts of the radio show and book I can repeat from memory, but it still doesn’t diminish my occasional wish to go back and read it again anyway.

However good I thought h2g2 was, however, was as nothing to the love I developed for Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency, which not only cannibalizes two of his own Doctor Who scripts (Shada and City of Death), but manages to be witty, interesting and profound; he manages to sneak a rather good, serious short essay on the representation of data a good twenty years before it became a hot topic on the web.  It’s a book that seriously made me think about the way I looked at the world, and it influences me deeply, even now, in my career entangled in the World Wide Web. Here’s to, “the fundamental interconnectedness of all things”.

Then add the fact that, as much as many laud Stephen Fry as a tech commentator (which, in my own qualified sense, I do too),  Fry himself would be the first to admit that he’s only filling a gaping Douglas-sized hole. And Douglas would never have made the mistake of not knowing how GPS worked, as Fry did on an episode of QI.  Adams’ own writing and work like Hyperland and Last Chance To See were insightful, prescient and influential. I hope in years to come we’ll see him in the same way as we look at HG Wells or Aldous Huxley today, just with better gags.

Election Aftermath

Here in t’north of England life is starting to look very dicey. We manage to be rampantly and systematically buggered by every Conservative administration that pokes and wheedles its way into Westminster. The fact that they have performed reasonably is a depressing sight, though this is mostly in their Southern heartlands.  The gains for Labour in the North show the coalition that, frankly, they can “Carry On Buggering”* as they have enough support from the Midlands down to continue pretty much as is. Cameron, with his head that forever looks like face painted on the side of an over-inflated balloon, is laughing in a nauseatingly smug way now. His plan to basically do what he wanted, using the LibDems as human shields has worked beautifully.

For Nick Clegg, the bell is tolling.  What this election demonstrates is that he has led his party into the Valley of Death. It may take a generation or more for any kind of trust and credibility to be restored, if indeed it can be at all.  But Cameron will cling to him, even if his party don’t. It is easy to see grass-roots dissatisfaction with him, and the LibDem members of the government, boiling over fairly soon, however.  Simon Hughes possibly realised that last night. As he sat in the studio during the election coverage he had the miserable demeanour of a man who’d dropped a tenner and found a pound, desperately trying to defend the indefensible.

It’s also hard to imagine him gaining any comfort from the AV referendum. Cameron played him like an old Stradivarius to get the timing right. It was clear that a referendum was going to have a party political dimension and so it proved, even if the campaign (rather unedifyingly) felt like watching two groups of monkeys at the zoo picking up and throwing their shit at each other. So, electoral reform is also now probably dead in the water for another generation. How may Liberal Democrats will look at tomorrow’s wreckage and stand wondering exactly what kind of position they’ve put themselves into, not to mention what exactly is it that they are getting from the Coalition. To many, they just look like Sock Puppet Tories. And perhaps that anger has been the reason for the meltdown they’ve experienced.  Hilariously, though, listening to the likes of Paddy Ashdown and some other figures, there is a feeling that “we’ve been given or kicking, lets move on”, as if this is an endpoint. Worryingly, for the Coalition, this is probably just the beginning.

We find ourselves in a 1981 landscape, with a deep recession, swingeing spending cuts, a Royal Wedding and riots. And ‘ even summer yet.  The cuts haven’t fully bitten yet and the strikes and disputes have yet to really bite. Meanwhile the LibDems find themselves in 1975: members of a coalition with no real impact or power and a vanishing level of public support. The levels of complacency in some quarters about the road map for the future and the levels of public anger to come are quite breathtaking.

Meanwhile we in the North are cut adrift. A positive Scottish independence vote in the next few years (now not an impossibility, especially if the SNP continue to do a reasonable job) would effectively mean that we would be permanently saddled with a government we don’t want and consistently don’t choose.  For us, in that circumstance, democracy would be a pretty hollow joke.  Some might say we should have chosen to have regional parliaments when we given the chance. But they fell flat because they didn’t offer any real power for the regions at all.

Any chance of extending the Scottish border down to somewhere near Humberside?

*The great lost Carry On film.

Richard Herring: Christ On A Bike

Richard Herring, in full flow

Richard Herring is certainly not a comedian to everyone’s taste. Indeed, there seems to be no middle ground. You either love him or hate him. I tend to fall into the former category, so last night I went out to the Saltburn Community Theatre to see his latest show Christ On A Bike: The Second Coming, having seen him in Whitby last year doing Hitler Moustache.

The Community Theatre is pretty small and basic, but that, I suppose is a large part of the charm of small venues. It was the first time I’d been there. Even then it was difficult to identify quite where the show was, but I did manage to get there, parked and into a seat before the show began around eight.

Christ on a Bike was first performed around a decade ago, when Herring was nearing his 33rd birthday. Around the same age as Jesus when crucified, in fact.  Although ten years older, he thought that it was time to revisit a show of which he was still proud (it was his first solo stand-up of substance).

A confirmed atheist, Herring has wondered a lot down the years he has such a particular fascination (or obsession) with Jesus. Perhaps it was being brought up in a Christian home with relatively devout parents. He talked rather touchingly about his (headmaster) father’s faith.  As he has passed forty, however, this fascination has made him wonder exactly what he he achieved and to question whether his non-belief (or his father’s belief) is a sensible position.

The highlight of the show is the deconstruction of the first page of the New Testament, in the gospel of Matthew, where he points out, during a discussion of Jesus’ lineage (including such gems of names like Zoroabel and Booz of Rabach) that the very first page of the revealed word of God and the Second Covenant contains the most glaring of errors.  I won’t give it away.  Even worse, the gospels of Matthew and Luke can’t even agree on Jesus’ ancestry.  He manages to rattle off the entire line of Jesus according to the Gospel of Matthew without recourse to visual aids, not a trivial task.

One of the striking things about Herring’s comedy is that, mixed in with the knob gags (of which there are plenty), is a core of considered thinking about the world around him and the people in it.  It’s fairly clear that Richard sits somewhere on the liberal left, and the studied narcissism and  self-flagellation is a neat device to crow-bar some of the nagging doubts that most of us have about some of these topics.

He didn’t convert me in the end. I stayed an atheist, as well as a fan.