Category: British

Cartoons capturing us

To me, it’s fascinating how a few lines of pen and ink can sum up so much. One of the great underestimated influences is the power of the cartoon. They speak of their times, they speak of social niceties, they speak of the ever-moving conveyer belt of humour.

Every day the cartoons of MATT[1] sum up, in a witty way, what the News has to say. A little composed abbreviation of an event, a thought, or an idea. Not the least bit easy to do unless that’s your talent. Believe me, I’ve had a go, and the results were not good.

A picture can tell a thousand stories. Substitute for page of words. Often this is said about photography and not so much drawing. Pictures have a language all their own. Their properties escape the communication difficulties that language can throw up.

Back to the few lines. A minimalist drawing in black and white with a sentence is the basic format. I wonder which comes first. The witty line or the image? I’ll bet that varies from person to person. An idea must spring from the mind first.

Let me say right away that not every cartoon hits the mark. I’ve got a daily tear-off New Yorker cartoon[2] calendar. It has a cartoon for the day. In the morning, I’ve torn off the last day and pondered at the worst of them, thinking what on earth were they on when they selected this one.

The reason I started writing these words is a reaction to the cartoons of H.M. Bateman[3]. He’s from another era. A world of English etiquette that has faded with time. Although, I expect if you go to the races at Royal Ascot[4] Bateman’s world lives on in its modern form.

What came to my mind is the link between social media and Bateman’s view of the world. A lot of his cartons depend on the notion that just below the surface the English are about to explode at any moment. Like the 1970’s sitcom character Basil Fawlty.

Under the social equilibrium that enables society to function there’s a seething mass of rage. A bubbling anger that can spill over at the least provocation. Then reason turns into unreason.

A sense that a minor faux pas reveals a sense of injustice that has simmered for years. One small social blunder and an avalanche descends on the poor victim. So, is social media behaviour merely an extension of a human characteristic that has aways been there? That we can easily take a violation of etiquette or social norms wholly out of proportion.

And my further thought. Have certain unscrupulous politicians learnt how to exploit this suppressed emotion. Have encouraged the volcano to explode on que. Prodded and poked it. Even having lifted the vail on the weaknesses of you and I, meant that they could get away with innumerable gaffes, and blunders. There’s an essay for a bored writer to take-up.

[1] https://www.chrisbeetles.com/

[2] https://www.newyorker.com/cartoons/daily-cartoon

[3] https://www.hmbateman.com/

[4] https://www.ascot.com/royal-ascot

Light in Dr Who

I’ve started so I will finish. There’s a good line. Don’t worry I’m not going to write about quiz shows but it’s time for another short review. I have seen the light. Well, switched on the TV.

Flashy clothes, 50s vibe and excruciating way of getting there. The second in this new series of Dr Who twisted and turned around an attempt to get home. There’s a theme. Adventures on the way home. Wonder where that idea came from? An odyssey of a flight in time, one might say.

In a digital age a flip back to an age of film was a nice touch. It’s kind of funny how animation is now so much easier done. Film is becoming a museum artefact. I don’t think it will get the popular revival that vinyl is getting.

Explaining a job like “projectionist” to newer viewers isn’t necessary. Wasn’t done. Takes me back to the small flee pit of my youth and the story of a living Volkswagen Beetle[1]. That’s quite freaky. Jumps in the film, munching crisps in the theatre and sitting in the dark when it was daylight outside.

The sinister and creepy monster turned out to be a being of light. Like a Twilight Zone moment, a menacing cartoon character came to life. Given the various realms through which the doctor travels, this is not unexpected. Good job there was only one of them to defeat.

Beings of light[2] are a popular science fiction theme. They crop up now and then on both good and bad sides. I like the ambiguity. That one entity can flip between good and bad. It wasn’t so much a tale of an evil moonbeam as one of light finding a path to becoming substantial and physical. The dark of night or, in this case, the cinema world turned the mischievous moonlight to the bad side. Only a release back into the bright light of day let it rejoin the sunlight and starlight of the universe.

Plonk in the middle of the show was a breaking of the fourth wall. That boundary between the fictional characters, the Doctor and companion, and the imagined audience at home. Suddenly one was real, and the other was fiction (even though they were both fiction).

After a good haunting the colourful cartoon menace was expelled. Given how easily it got into the cinema in the first place it’s a wonder this story isn’t repeated a million times.

Confusing at times, the suspenseful moments were jarringly technicolour. Sometimes less is more. This was a case of packing too much content into a rapid-fire story.

Having wrapped up a 1950s mystery, the Doctor is back to his time travelling.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbie

[2] https://babylon5.fandom.com/wiki/Vorlon

Who 15

As per tradition there was a moment of running down corridors pursued by robots. Add to that the shock horror realisation that it’s bigger on the inside than the outside and the staple diet of BBC Science Fiction is playing again.

Dr Who is rolling[1]. As expected, Russell T Davies works magic with a super-fast story line. In fact, so fast that I’m going to have to watch it again to figure out exactly what the featured rift in space and time did to the plot. Thematically up to date as the main baddy in control of the evil robots was both misogynistic and AI. I’ll give something away if I reveal that the two letters AI were not what they seemed. Not only that but the robots were redeemed.

Although there was a smidgen of absurdity and an expectation that the audience would draw of decades of Dr Who mythology, the show hit the mark. Afterall it’s entertainment not a profound reflection on the state of the world. It’s colourful Saturday night drama that the whole family can watch. Although in this case there was no need to hide behind the sofa. Also, a lot of the 21stC social commentary would be lost on younger viewers.

Because the series has been running for such a long time there’s a bit of repetition that creeps in. This is not bad per-se. It’s a reminder that coming up with truly original scripts is incredibly hard. Imagination has no limits but when pen hits paper past references helps move stories along quickly.

Adventures in space and time could go on forever. All time, in fact. The subject has no limits. Each version of the Dr Who saga will be set in the context of the audience’s everyday reality. So, the Daleks were a product of nuclear war, and now humanities greatest threat comes from billions and billions of electrical ones and noughts.

Playing with humankinds’ curiosity about space and time is fruitful territory. Imagery can be fantastical and push the boundaries of video production. If anything, Dr Who is modest in pushing at those boundaries. Mustn’t forget that it’s prime time entertainment. Real space and time are far more than a headful.

[1] https://www.radiotimes.com/tv/sci-fi/doctor-who-times-release-schedule/

Exploring Sunday

To the rationalist everyday is the same. Earth turns on its axis. We all experience day and night. Day and night change as the season change. It’s all mechanical and predicable. Even the builders of Stonehenge knew that there was a rhythm to the year.

Last night, to mark that transition between the cold winter months and spring, the clocks went forward one hour. So, I’m already out of sync with my normal routine. Happy with it. Those extra hours of light in the evening are a great joy. Time to get the garden in shape.

This seventh and last day of the week, has a marker too. Christian communities see this day as a day to take stock, to rest. We don’t entirely observe that tradition anymore, but it is a different day. A day when life takes a slower pace.

If I go back to my youth, Sundays were distinct. The day was always a time set aside for visiting relatives. Now and then, a church or chapel service in the evening. West Country village life was one of compromises. We went backwards and forwards between the Church of England and a small Methodist chapel in an adjoining village.

Sunny spring and summer Sunday evenings could be unlike every other day. Until my parents gave up the dairy, and reliance on a cheque from the Milk Marketing Board[1], everything we did had to fit around milking time. Cows have internal clocks. They know when the time has come for milking.

Lighter spring evenings opened the opportunity to go visiting or, as we often did, going for a drive. All six of us would get packed into the family’s Wolseley 16/60. Dad would head off over the hills and vales of Somerset and Dorset to get some relief from the constant demands of the farm. Later on, the 16/60 was replaced by a newer bright white Wolseley 18/85[2]. A quite dreadful car to ride in. It was a time when the British car industry was desperately trying to modernise. The Japanese had started to produce cars that were starting to offer better value and reliability.

Cruising around the country lanes was not only an opportunity to get out and about, but this was also a way of looking over the hedges and surveying the landscape. Finding out what the neighbours were up to. Checking out some new farming venture that was being talked about at market. Criticising poor husbandry or the dereliction of what was once a “good” farm.

This childhood experience has left me with a curiosity. Could be inherited. That need to know what’s around the next corner or just over the brow of a hill. It’s imbedded. Naturally, that curiosity was stimulated by the unending variety of the topography. On my trips to America, it has always struck me that driving for miles and miles can be easy, but it takes a long way for the sights and sounds to change. Somerset and Dorset, and I mustn’t forget Wiltshire, have a world around every corner. Sundays were explorer days. Adventure days too.

[1] https://discovery.nationalarchives.gov.uk/details/r/C179

[2] https://www.wolseleyregister.co.uk/wolseley-history/blmc/1885-six/

The UK’s Path Back to the EU

It’s great to see a debate in the UK Parliament[1]. Monday, 24 March saw a debate on the UK joining the European Union (EU). A public electronic petition[2] called for this debate. UK MPs get the opportunity to speak openly of their experiences of the outcomes of Brexit. There’s little that is positive and an ocean of negative.

Lucky for them, at the end of the debate, MPs are not called to vote on the issues raised in this petition. Nevertheless, there’s enormous merit in putting the facts in the public domain.

The 2016 Brexit vote was an unpatriotic act of self-harm, but it is history. Gradually, bit by bit, every part of British society is coming to the realisation that we need to do differently in the future. One day, I have no doubt that the UK will join the EU. The “will of the people” is not static. It is incredibly arrogant of Brexit supporters to say that it is static.

Besides, the inevitability of change means that new ways of cooperating will be found because it is in the best interest of all the parties. The UK is a liberal free-trading country that believes in the rule of law.

In the debate, Government Ministers can take what is being said and rethink. It is no threat to democracy to consider a rethink. In fact, for democracy to be stuck in a deep rut – now, that would be dangerous.

Today, Brexit has been a wonderful generator of piles of meaningless paperwork. It’s destroyed businesses and ruined lives. The enormous damage that has been caused is clear. Sadly, the people who cause that damage are not inclined to take any accountability for the mess.

In the debate, a shadow minister digs-up the grumpy past. It is shameful that the Conservative Party has nothing useful to say on this important issue. It is like listening to a bad recording of an old set of lies and proven nonsense. In speaking, this politician displayed no interest what-so-ever in improving the position of the country.

With all the talk of “growth” being so important to our future, it is difficult to understand a reluctance to address the festering wound that has been caused by Brexit. We can only be more secure and prosperous if we work more closely with our nearest neighbours.

The Labour Party leans on its election manifesto of last July. It’s an awkward act of sitting on the fence and sticking their head in the sand. Now, that paints a picture.

So called, “ruthless pragmatism” is a peculiar Government policy position. It can mean 101 things to 101 different people in 101 different places. Citing “global headwinds” to excuse obvious failings is no excuse for sustaining a burnt-out Brexit winding on like a runaway train. It would be wiser to question everything as the wholly new circumstances dictate.

2025 is dramatically different from 2015. When I first returned to the UK from Germany. The tectonic plates of global affairs have shifted. The Atlantic is wider. The Channel is narrower.

Oceanus Britannicus should be no barrier to trade and cooperation.

[1] https://youtu.be/yJdFBSAvAhU

[2]  https://petition.parliament.uk/

Laughing Through Politics

Maybe it’s not a new seam to mine. That rock of British popular culture that puts up a mirror to entertain us or even shock us. There’s always a space for the public to be tickled by the absurd or hamming up of clichéd characters. It’s struck me, particularly on rewatching British TV comedy, how what we find humorous is an indicator of how we might think more generally. Or there’s a peculiar connection.

Obviously, it would be good to look at this subject in an objective way. To see what the evidence says. However, it’s almost impossible to separate personal experiences from any general observations. Afterall, I went to school where we endlessly repeated lines from Monty Python’s Flying Circus. This had our poor teachers totally bemused. Long forgotten is the “woody and tinny words” sketch. It only took a teacher to say a woody word and we’d have hysterics.

Not that Python didn’t offer one or two educational opportunities. In imagination, if nothing else. Try “The Man Who Speaks in Anagrams[1]” as an example.

When Mrs Brown’s Boys[2] became popular, I knew we were in serious trouble. I may be a real snob, but this kind of British “comedy” is a throwback to the worst of the 1970s (almost). To me the show has no merit whatsoever. It’s a sop to a grim set of stereotypes.

Jamilla Smith-Joseph’s short article[3] does point out that British culture is one of seeing the funny side of both us Brits and those strange foreigners. Problem is that in a simmering Brexity climate, we find it so much easier to lampoon our nearest neighbours, European foreigners.

I matured from Python to then enthusiastically embrace “The Young Ones” in my anarchic student days[4]. Now, I rewatch the series and the impacts are curious. In so many ways 21st Century Brits have become tame and unadventurous. The sheer destructive energy that let rip on TV screens delighted in upsetting established norms. Now, lots of people are embarrassed by what was called “alternative” comedy at the time.

Then we grew-up and got jobs. Tony Blair came onto the scene. Born out of that period of change was such masterpieces as “The Think of It”. Hope and optimism descended into spin and panic.

Popular culture and politics do connect. Is it a mirror like refection or is it a subconscious trend indicator? Or even a driving force that sustains a current way of thinking?

British popular culture is not going through a creative period. In 2025, there’s not a lot to recommend. Oddly it’s a series that started with a low budget movie from New Zealand that I find is the best comedy of the moment. “What We Do in the Shadow[5]” is variable in places but has horrendously funny moments.

So, come on British writers it’s time to better lampoon the toolmakers son who sits on the fence. One leg here, and one leg there. Labour’s latest adoption of conservative attire is surly worth funny lines. Something original. Maybe even out of this world.

[1] https://youtu.be/Q1sXeUHBHgk

[2] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt1819022/?ref_=ttep_ov

[3] https://ukandeu.ac.uk/a-very-british-euroscepticism-the-popular-culture-politics-nexus/

[4] Yes, I really did live in a rundown brick terrace, with a hole in the wall as space for a payphone, and a dodgy builder come landlord. Carpets with slug trails and an icebox as a shower.

[5] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt7908628/

A Key Political Agenda?

Whatever you might think, I think Keir Starmer is turning out to be a better conservative Prime Minister (PM) than most have been in the last couple of decades. On his list of things to do is reforming this, and reforming that, and making bullish statements on the world stage. Agreed that there’s the usual amount of crafted BS. Compromise and dealing with reality, not the world as one might wish it to be, are as they ever are in politics.

He’s in the business of stealing the clothes of the official opposition. Across the chamber they panic. Yes, further along the benches, the howling menace continues to howl. Fighting amongst themselves this week. Questioning their leader is not allowed. However, it’s surprising how high they stand in opinion polls, even if this is meaningless at this point in the electoral cycle.

The normal opposition now comes from the Liberal Democrats and a small number of unhappy Labour Members of Parliament.

This week I was amused to read of the concerns about Quangos[1]. That takes me back. I remember writing a motion for a conference on that subject back in the early 1990s. At that time there was questioning of why there was so many Quangos.

As a country we seem to go through waves. They go like this.

For a while national politicians take the view that day-to-day operational decisions of a sector should be made by dedicated professionals and at arm’s length. This has the advantage of getting politicians out of the complex detail, avoiding blame when things go wrong, a degree of continuity and setting their minds to the higher calling of top-level budgets and policy.

Then, if sector hasn’t performed as well as desired, the Quango at the heart of the storm is set ripe for taking apart. Thus, day-to-day operational decisions go back to “accountable” politicians, surely to do better. This has the advantage of reigniting the pace of change, a chance to be radical, securitising lower-level budgets and the satisfaction of blaming the past system.

I think you can tell which part of the wave that has hit now.

A point of reference here is, as so often is the case, Yes Minister. There’s a story line where the civil service pack the Minister’s red box with so much information and decisions to be made that he’s completely overwhelmed. Initially, he’s keen to have information on everything. Then the realisation that path leads to madness slowly dawns.

Now, it’s not clear what type of civil service, and associated Quangos, the PM thinks work best. It’s not strange to say I don’t like what I’ve got. It’s better to have an idea what it is that you want. A reform agenda in name is a headline grabber. It’s not a substitute to having a plan.

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-politics-11405840

Review: The Autobiography of a Cad at Watermill Theatre

I’ve not done it. I’m always tempted. When I see Boris Johnson’s latest book on the shelf, to turn it around. Anything to discourage the good people of this parish from reading it. The picture of his smiling mug on the front of the book is a horrible reminder of the Brexit years. We’re still in them, and I dearly wish we weren’t.

A wasted decade. What for, I ask? It hits me that this is England. A society that is liberal to the core is obsessed with class. We don’t so much have a class system of the Edwardian era but what we have divides people almost as much. Every day the media trades on stereotypes borne of this embedded class perspective. Having lived in another country for over a decade, I can see it perhaps more than most.

We do joke about it. The pages of the satirical magazine Private Eye would have nothing to write about if “class” was truly a thing of the past. Today’s Parliament remains way overrepresented by a certain class of individual. Usually male.

Last night, I went to see “The Autobiography of a Cad.[1]” This is a story of an Edwardian. You might first think that there’s no relation to any politician of our time. It’s a about a man who has one true love – himself. It’s about how, even events as calamitous as WWI, offer him an opportunity to advantage himself usually at the cost of others.

The toff in question is fictitious. The play is a satirical comedy. It’s a highly entertaining evenings romp through the life of a rampaging chancer. Trust, truth and rules are as nothing in the face of his need to get what he wants. A faithful product of English public schools.

The cad is hazardous to anyone in his orbit. He has no idea of the havoc left in his wake. Ensuring others get the blame for his misdemeanours occupies much of his time. You are left wondering if this is instinctive or learnt this at Eton and Oxford.

Edward Percival Fox-Ingleby claims the title of political titan in his own made-up world. Comedy comes from his efforts to create a story of a colossus.

The play starts as it finishes. Fox-Ingleby standing at a lectern in the rain. Now where have we seen that before?

Watching this, with the intimacy of the Watermill theatre, I was in admiration for the three actors on stage. Galloping at the speed they were, throwing props around and transitioning from year to year was astonishing. I’d recommend this play. Best take a cushion. It’s a long romp.

[1] https://www.watermill.org.uk/events/the-autobiography-of-a-cad

The Impact of the English Civil War

Yesterday afternoon, I met King Charles. No, not the one who lives in Buckingham Place. No, not the one who hide up a tree. No, it was Charles I. Or at least a man dressed as Charles I.

Reasonably you might say, didn’t that King have his head cut off a long time ago? A lot depends on any recollection of English history you may have. It’s not a part of history that is taught in the national curriculum. Which is odd when considering how important it is.

Shaw House[1] is a beautiful Elizabethan building that has seen a great deal of history. In the 17th Century an English Civil War battle was fought there, and in the surrounding area.

In Newbury, 1644 was a turbulent time. As I understand it, the civil war that was raging all around could have been brought to a swift halt. King Charles and his forces, the Royalists, facing defeat, fled in the dark of night and made their way to Oxford. Thus, the Parliamentarian forces were left with a pyrrhic victory.

Eventually, the Parliamentarian forces succeeded. Charles I was tried, convicted, and executed for high treason in January 1649. The bloody execution of the war left a scar on English society. Brother fought brother. Families were torn apart. Nowhere was left untouched by the conflict.

The events in Newbury led to the formation of the New Model Army in 1645. Parliamentarian success may be traced to that decisive reorganisation.

The Earl Rivers Regiment Muster (Members of The Sealed Knot[2]) is a group of reenactors who bring the 17th Century back to life in the 21st Century. So, my day out at Shaw House was an immersion in times long past. People dressed up, showing off swords, muskets and pikes is entertaining and, without doubt, an important reminder of why today’s society is the way it is.

This was the time in English history when Parliament gained its supremacy. No more would the divine rights of Kings rule the English people. It’s true that the English republic didn’t last long but the supremacy of Parliament stuck.

Along with the re-enactments of battles there’s an exploration of how life once was. Exhibits of tradesmen and women the civilians who accompanied the armies. Reliving history by staging events beings alive the country’s past struggles. It’s a good reminder that conflict is ever with us.

By the way, if I had to choose a side, I surely would have been a Roundhead. The Royalist may have been said to be romantic, but they were on the wrong side of inevitable change.

POST: For more of the story BBC Four – Charles I: Downfall of a King

[1] https://www.westberkshireheritage.org/shaw-house

[2] https://www.thesealedknot.org.uk/

Arrival of Spring

It’s the time of the year that I like the most. OK, so I have a birthday in March. A good reason to take stock and look ahead. This year my age moves from one tick box to the next. So many surveys and questionnaires divide ages categories at 64 – 65.

My father-in-law, now long past, was an accountant. He’d often quote a dated joke. It’s more of a pun. “Old accountants never die; they just get broken down by age and sex.”

What’s even more special than that is the point on the astronomical calendar. No, not the astrological calendar. Although for note, I was born under the star sign Pisces. Which I am more than happy about. Smart, creative, and intuitive. Those characteristics might be plucked out of an astrologist’s scribblings, but I’ll take that.

Spring is sprung. The vernal equinox is on 20 March. And that’s official enough for me.

Usually, I have another marker for spring and it’s because of an English town, where I once lived. It’s the time of the Cheltenham Gold Cup[1]. This is a popular horse racing event held in Gloucestershire, UK. It has a huge impact on the town. I write this because back in the late 1980s I remember watching the racing in a snowstorm. Looking out on that huge bowl-shaped racecourse as snowflakes sprinkled the ground. Quite a picture, windswept and cold. It certainly was memorable.

On my calendar proper Spring can’t happen until the Gold Cup is done and dusted. This year that’s on the 14 March. Just before Spring officially begins.

By the way, I can squeeze aviation into this celebration of the onset of Springtime. The central area of racecourse in Cheltenham becomes a helicopter park. This experiences about 300 helicopter movements per day for the four-day duration of the racing. As the weather improves in the UK so general aviation wakes-up.

The seasons have a rhythm about them which is powerfully reassuring. Just at the moment, nothing in the News can be said to be reassuring. I’m sure, the signs of the zodiac didn’t predict these last few weeks. Rhythm has broken into arbitrary disruptions.

As the conflict in Ukraine continues the positions taken by western allies becomes ever more confused. To the extent that the word “allies” may need a second look.

I’d always say the Spring is a time for hope and optimism. I think we all are looking for that hope and optimism.

[1] https://www.thejockeyclub.co.uk/cheltenham-festival/