Category: Media

14-years

All political parties have factions.  If the aim is to corral all liberals, social democrats, conservatives, or socialists and keep them under one roof it’s always going to be a hard job. Even as we speculate about the shelf-life of the traditional political ideologies, they remain powerful.

Liberals can be particularly difficult in this respect. It has been said that getting liberals to go in one direction is like trying to herd cats.  However, that picture is a dubious one in times when great injustices must be addressed, or a good cause strongly fires campaigning spirits.

What’s fascinating is the decline and fall of “normal” conservatism. That mild mannered compromise between self-interest, traditional values and deference has slowly fallen apart. It could be because of its poor fit with modern society but it’s more likely to be because it has ripped itself apart from within. Factions have strengthened and the core beliefs that formerly bonded people together have fractured. Brexit may have been both symptom and cause.

There’s the case that populism has been radically amplified by modern media. A crescendo of views and all we hear and see is the peaks and troughs. Anything in the middle is drowned out.

So, the current Prime Minister’s (PM), let’s remember we’ve had a few, calls for unity. It’s a trumpet sounding in an anechoic chamber. Not likely to be heard, except by himself and those standing next to him. Their smiles are professional smiles. Their hopes are forlorn.

Analogies are fun. Another one came up this week as the Parliamentary byelection results appeared. The British electorate could be compared to a sea going super tanker. That is, being big and having so much momentum, changing direction takes a long time. Once that direction has set there’s not much that can be done in the short-term. That national super tanker maybe going slightly left of centre whatever happens. Of course, a crude analogy isn’t necessarily true. It’s more of a prediction of what might happen if pivotal events do not intervene. That’s easy to say. It’s less easy to anticipate such dramatic earthshaking events.

One thing I can feel confident about is that this is not a re-run of 2019. No way. Nor is it a re-run of 1997. A vital ingredient is missing. We have no charismatic political leaders. Vision is in short supply.

Facebook has a habit of throwing up pictures from the past. One it threw my way this week was of me standing in Crawley town looking every bit a parliamentary candidate. That was 2010. I looked at the image and thought – if only I’d had some inclining of what was to come in the next 14-years.

If only I’d anticipated how badly the coalition would turn out for liberalism. If only I’d anticipated what foolish gamblers Cameron and Clegg were in thinking a national referendum would silence the Europhobic hordes. If only the Labour Party hadn’t gone on a doomed left-wing romp. If only the reality of Johnson’s unfitness for office had sunk in earlier.

Looking back provides lessons. It doesn’t predict what will happen next. We all to often get hooked on linear projections based on where we stand now. Forecasting is as much a mystery as ever it has been. That said, I think doing the maths is better than looking at the tea leaves or seaweed. A narrative for the future could read – don’t think “that’ll never happen,” think change is natures way of keeping us on our toes.

Here’s a prophecy. This one has good and bad. Long talked about and feared by those who milk the status quo, Proportional Representation (PR) will be implemented for national elections in the UK in the next 14-years. The dated model of big tent political parties will crumble. Ballot papers in years to come will have something for everyone. So, what’s bad about that transformation? Populism will not die. It will just eke out an existence in many new forms.

QT

Over the years the BBCs Question Time (QT) debate programme[1] has played an important part in political discussions. It was a must watch for political activists and students at all levels. In fact, anyone interested in understanding the political views that permeate the country.

Unfortunately, the programme has declined to become a dull backwater for viewing if there’s nothing else on. The format is locked in to an awkward seeking of balance at the expense of an inquiry into the reasons and justifications for widely different views. There’s little in the way of vigorous cross-examination or investigation into the core values of the speakers.

I don’t want to blame the person who chairs the debate or the BBC for hanging on to the QT heritage. The programme has played an important part in the life of the country, in the past.

I don’t want to be one of those social media complainers for whom any deviation from the age of Robin Day is a blasphemy. Those black and white days are a wonderful snapshot of a long-lost era. The relationship between the public and their politicians has changes beyond recognition.

There’s no doubt that we have all become somewhat more superficial than may have been the case in the past. Politics has become something that is marketed to us as a commodity. It shouldn’t be that paper thin.

At its best such a debate programme gets to the fundamentals. If it merely tracks yesterday’s headlines the results are predicably shallow. Audience and panel members simply echo what we already know. What we’ve already heard elsewhere throughout the day.

What I want to know is more of the why and less of the what.

Say, a social liberal politician objects strongly to a dilution of human rights and a hard right leaning conservative welcomes such a dilution. We may already know that’s the positions they have adopted and campaigned on but are those positions of convenience or core beliefs?

Exploring what panel members really think and what they might really do is surly more interesting than allowing them to play to the audience, at home or in the room. I want an objective chair to put the panel members under pressure to uncover any deceptions. Deference born of an obsession with balance is as bad that born of class or impoverishment.

One of the parts of the format that seems unquestionable is the requirement to answer questions posed by members of the public. The audience is supposed to represent the members of the public not in the room. They rarely do. I’d much rather see a town square type format. That’s where the members of the public engaged are not so pre-selected or self-selecting. Walk out into a typical high street and randomly ask what question do you want answered? Do it live.

QT needs a major shakeup. It’s not quite dead. Its revitalisation is possible, but it needs to get off its current path.

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006t1q9

Bland & Blue

How do we get the politicians we do? There’s no originality in that monster question. If we look across the Atlantic the most political peculiar fight is going on. A couple of elder gentlemen running as fast as they are able. I have to say that with solemnity as I’m in my sixties. The United States (US) has a fight no one seems to want, brought about by an inability to plan successions.

In Britain, I look around and see a country full of capable and talented people and then compare them with the political choices in front of us. Big choices are going to be needed this year. The limited choice is as peculiar as any. It’s maddening.

This week, a full gloss blue leaflet popped through our letterbox. Now, I’ve no objection to people putting traditional political messages through the letterbox. One of my favourite sayings is from a long-gone Cornish politician of great merit. If you have something to say, put it on a piece of paper and stuff it through the letterbox. David Penhaligon[1] would make that a mantra. It was about community politics. It was about talking about the local issues that were of most concern to local people. Focusing on what matters.

Anyway, the folded A4 headshot that came through my door looked more like an advert for dentistry than a local political message. Gleaming smiles are fine. When they gleam so much and so wide, I’m reminded of the jailed politician in the second Paddington Bear movie[2]. More of the same and can I count on your vote? No meaningful substance.

The fictional Peruvian bear who travels to London in search of a home would have swiftly been sent to Rwanda by this mob. Paddington’s admirable and lovable qualities wouldn’t last ten minutes in real 21st century Britain.

I’m assuming this was a paid political leaflet distribution. The Post Office (PO) gave us two copies in two days. Along with some pizza adverts. This is not material carefully delivered by dedicated local party activists. No, it’s a commercial distribution. Remarkable when considering that Reigate’s constituency is a “safe seat”, where the past results for the Conservatives hardly need counting. Just measure the length of the ballot pile on the table.

These expensive colour leaflet distributions happen long before an election is called so that the costs don’t have to be counted in the election expenses of the candidate.

What’s surprising is that this shiny blue leaflet didn’t have a single potholes picture. That’s where the candidate or prospective candidate stands over a pothole and points. Implication being that they will solve that problem. No pictures of flood waters or the attendant sewage outfalls that have become fashionable on political leaflets. No pictures of traffic hazards or schools that need money spent on upkeep. No pictures of abandoned plans to improve local railway services. Just bland page fillers.

Nothing from other Parliamentary candidates – yet. Let’s hope they have something to say.

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

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Paddington_2

Votes count

Sneaking past the national news this week was a change that is of more than a little significance.

For more than a decade, I did live outside these shores. All the time that I did, I continued to vote in local and national elections. At that time, I still had an address in the UK. What would have happened if I’d continued to live abroad, for more than 15-years, is that my right to vote would have been taken away. This so-called 15-year rule meant that millions of British citizens were excluded from voting.

During the referendum of 2016 a great number of British citizens living abroad were unable to vote for or against Brexit. At the time this was seen as a great injustice. This was especially true for those who maintained strong links with the UK.

Now, almost without anyone noticing, the UK is aligning itself with other major democracies in the world. The 15-year rule has been scrapped. Some people estimate that the change to the franchise could mean an additional 3 million British citizens will have the right to vote restored.

British citizens living abroad, who no longer have an address in the UK, can now register to vote in UK General Elections. Which is convenient given that one is imminent. Naturally, this still requires those who are eligible to know about the change and to register to vote.

Interestingly, it’s the Conservatives who promised to enact “Votes for Life” in three previous election manifestoes. It’s taken a long time but the reality of the extension of the franchise is now with us[1].

The ability to donate to political parties comes with these changes. Maybe that’s one reason that Conservatives were persuaded of the need to change voting rights for the British abroad.

There’s still a possible Brexit related uncertainty. Should they occur, each UK referendum has different voting rules. So, the general restoration of the franchise may not impact any future vote on the reversal of Brexit. That would be a matter for specific legislation.

Lifelong voting rights have both a plus and a minus. For most people who retain interests in the UK it’s a matter of natural justice. They may have UK pensions, pay taxes, or have family members that are directly affected by changes that British politicians can, and do make.

For those people who have completely severed ties with the UK it maybe argued that this restored right to vote is generous. However, there’s no obligation for those who have no interests in British governance to register to vote.

Given that the British abroad can all participate in national elections, it will be interesting to see if future UK governments take more interest in their situations.

Starting on 16 January 2024, if you are a British citizen living abroad, now is the time to act. Register to vote.

[1] https://www.gov.uk/voting-when-abroad

Distraction

The Rwanda debate is an enormous distraction. I know there’s a hard core rump of Conservatives who will jump on the deterrent argument in a microsecond. It’s nonsense. For people who are willing to risk their lives to cross the busiest shipping lane in the world, the possibility of deportation isn’t going to make an ounce of difference.

No, this is mainly lawyers, talking lawyerly talk about what lawyers might do. Then getting wrapped around the axial about what their colleagues may or not think. Trying to fly the dark flag of nationalism higher than anyone on the green benches. All the time with their eyes on the headlines of tabloid newspapers[1]. No surprises, no innovation and chance of making a difference.

The bill in Parliament has little to do with the practical realities of the problems that the UK faces. There’s also the pernicious euro bashing opportunity that some of the more unscrupulous MPs are only too happy to exploit. There’s nothing more they like than to point fingers at others to avoid taking any responsibility for the current situation.

A week in Parliament gets wasted. This is not unfamiliar when governments have run their course. They wander around concerned about making a show. Troubled about opinion polls. Wondering how to hang on to their jobs. This is not a good season for practical problem solving.

Sitting in a local cafe drinking coffee isn’t the best way to judge the public mood at the moment but isn’t the worst either. So, I’ll paint a picture. An unrepresentative picture. Ironically, the picture comes from the old town hall in this town. A place that, no doubt was the seat of much local debate and discission in past decades. Now a coffee shop for a major brand. Where isn’t?

To my right a gentleman, who must have been at least in his 70s, sat in a comfortable chair head down engrossed in the Daily Mail. One of the few people with a daily newspaper in hand.

To my left young people sitting over their studies. Flicking between their workbooks and mobile phones. Consumed by their mate’s chat. Busy with something but who knows what.

In front, a group of female friends taking the time to meet. Exchanging stories of the week. Families, children, distant relatives, work, money, holidays, in fact all the topics of everyday life.

Where does the Rwanda debate sit with this random selection of coffee shop drinkers? In my estimation only with the man who may have caught the headlines. The only consolation prize for the Conservatives is that one man maybe likely to be a regular voter. Goes out in all weathers and marks his cross in a box.

Now, I hope I’m not maligning anyone. It’s mighty foolish to look at someone and say I know how they vote. Do that on the doorstep and be immediately surprised. Believe it or not I’ve known lifelong socialists who read The Sun newspaper for the sports stories. Or that’s what they’ve said.

The strategy of the Conservatives would seem to be to try and secure their core supporters having given up on the thought of winning a general election they still don’t what to lose too heavily.

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/blogs-the-papers-67989069

Look ahead

The predictions are not good. That said, this is not 1997 all over again. For one, social media didn’t exist when Tony Blair was swept to power. Prices are almost double what they were 27-years ago. Astonishingly, average house prices have gone from about £55,000 to over £250,000.

One analogy worth mentioning is the schism in the Conservative party. It’s what they often do when their coalition breaks down. The political distance between the moderate “one nation” types and the mad, swivel-eyed loons on the right (using the term coined by Lord Cameron) is too big to bridge. The right remains bitter at the part played by the current Prime Minister in ousting Boris Johnson.

Unity can be forged in common interest. In this case professional Conservative operators will do almost anything to stay in power. That’s much as it ever was. Money still fuels their campaigning machine. Even if donors must be thinking that burning piles of cash is a better investment.

1997 saw Katrina and the Waves winning the Eurovision Song Contest and the rise of ‘Mondeo Man’ signalled change. The Spice Girls[1] were at their peak and Buffy the Vampire Slayer was a must see on TV. It was a different time.

General Election preparations, rumours and stories are going to be the meat and potatoes of 2024. If the situation continues as it is there’s a chance that the Labour leader will get a large majority more because of the public’s boredom with the party in power.

There’s not much of a sign of a great new hip Britain emerging from an era of troubles and turmoil. Labour is trying to make pragmatism exciting. Almost as if the thought is that shining a bright light on greyness makes it electrifying. The people’s flag may be red, but it looks toned down and ruddier brown than in past lives.

Elections are an opportunity for yet unheard characters to find their voice. Already one or two people are starting to emerge as good on the stump. 

MP Wes Streeting is starting to sound as if he knows what he wants to do and can express it in a coherent manner. Maybe it’s his local government experience that is coming through.

MP Daisy Cooper[2] has campaigning zeal that is hard to ignore. She looks like she is in a hurry to get things done. We surely need people with a more internationalist perspective.

Let’s expect election campaigning to be dirty, dishonest, and unpleasant. Today, so much of politics is a response to circumstances. It’s got to be more. People expect more.

When a political party, an awkward coalition of ideas, comes to the point it has no new ideas it needs to go. The Conservatives maybe heading for an electoral wipeout. What we need now is a set of ideas fit for this generation.

[1] @spicegirls

[2] https://www.libdems.org.uk/daisy-cooper

On my radio

Out on the edge of the city of Coventry is the campus of Warwick University. At the heart of the campus is the Warwick Arts Centre. I recall “Rockpile[1]” when they played a UK university tour in 1978 or 9. One of their concerts was at the Warwick Arts Centre and I was there.

It was a fantastic night. No idea how I got there or got home to my rundown student accommodation in Coventry. My student days were at what was then called the Lanchester Polytechnic. A clumsy group of post-war modernist buildings strung up in the centre of a struggling city.

Music-wise I was living at the centre of the known universe. Between 1978 and 82 Coventry was alive. Venues were full. It was a youthful eruption of music. There was an air of decay in the crumbling manufacturing heart of the West Midlands. The brutalist and raw concrete architecture of the city was gathering moss, springing leaks, and not living up to the idealism that built it. Maybe the cost of living was not so hight, but something kicked-off an explosion of creativity. The energy of 40-years ago made its mark on popular culture.

Anyway, what I’m recalling here is a BBC Radio 1 DJ. She was that at the time. This week Annie Nightingale[2] has passed away. It seems fit to remember her with her finger on the pulse of what was happening. She was at the Rockpile Warwick Arts Centre concert, seeing and being seen. Much senior to the students in that hall. That didn’t matter one bit. Whispers went around in respect – that’s Annie Nightingale. We knew we were at a special event.

There’s another recollection I want to get off my chest. It involves cassette tape and an amber-red Sunbeam Imp[3]. Making compilations was all the rage with cassette tape. In this case it was Annie Nightingale’s compilation. Probably in the early 1980s.

Who knows which Halloween it was, but I had one recoding of one radio show she did that was my favourite car tape. Her instincts were prefect. It was one of those tapes that could be played repeatedly wherever I was going. My school days echo with the “Monster Mash.” A smile comes over my face when I hear Barnes & Barnes and Fish Heads[4]. Or “Werewolves of London” by Warren Zevon[5]. Don’t Fear the Reaper by Blue Öyster Cult. A great selection of fun packed horror-themed tunes.

Annie’s Halloween radio show was a masterpiece. She defined cult classics. Her earnest side aside she was mischievous. In a box. I know not where that tape may still exist. I’ve a mind to look for it. Thanks Annie.

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

[2] https://www.theguardian.com/tv-and-radio/2024/jan/12/annie-nightingale-radio-1-dj-dies-aged-83

[3] https://classicmotorsports.com/articles/not-mini-sunbeam-imp/

[4] https://youtu.be/cn73Wtem0No

[5] https://youtu.be/c6M89iDabwM

Chat

Yesterday afternoon, at the till in a major supermarket and the man in front of me was getting stressed. I was standing in line waiting without a care in the world. In front of the man, in front of me, the till assistant, or checkout operator, dependent on how you see it, and a customer were locked in day-to-day conversation. Just being sociable. From what I could hear that customer may have once worked in that supermarket at some time.

The man in front of me was getting grumpy. He turned back and muttered his disdain for the shop’s staff because they were holding him up. Their everyday conversation was an afront to him. They were wasting his valuable time. Not overly aggressive but he had an agitation that often comes from a degree of unwelcome stress. He was in a hurry or at least heavily felt the pressure of time.

When I got to the till the assistant asked: What did he say? I quickly paraphrased what was said. Conscious that I had no desire to inflame the situation that had now passed by. Reactions can be unpredictable. We live in an era of polarisation.

The gentleman working at the till was into small talk. He clearly loved to chat to customers. Then for me he put that in context. He said that when it gets to about ten, in the evening, people are more than happy to talk as they pack their shopping. With some people it’s the only conversation they have in a day. He was proud that staff were encouraged to be warm and friendly.

Now, there’s a contrast. The life of Mr busy, busy, busy verses the life of the forgotten. That division is at the heart of one of society’s biggest troubles. A tribe that is over-employed, anxious, and living on the edge and a tribe that is lost, lonely and forgotten.

One prone to exasperation and being impatient. The other desperate for social contact and empathy. How on earth did we construct a society that tries to work on that level? Not only that but supermarket managers are desperately trying to automate everything[1]. Already there’s three types of automation in that you can do your own till check in a couple of different ways.

The milk of human kindness shouldn’t be sneered at. Wow. You see how quickly I reverted to Shakespeare without even knowing it. That simple phrase has its origins in the play Macbeth. The play that I was forced to read at school. The play that did nothing much to lift my appallingly bad grades at English. To Lady Macbeth, the “milk of human kindness” was objectionable. To her real men had no need of it. We all know where that led. Don’t go there.

So, next time you are standing in a short que, stomping your feet, imagining the clock spinning around, give it a rest. If you find yourself thinking this is too much, I can’t deal with it anymore, do a double take. Relax. Breath slowly. Dig deep and discover some small talk. It might be more meaningful than you first think.

On another subject. I agree with Graham Nash[2]. A day in the life[3] is a truly great song. It’s life as a musical tapestry. The song wanders around the mind using hardly any words but painting a picture all the way up to the sky. I’ll not heaping yet more praise on The Beatles, they’ve enough for several centuries. That said, May 1967 was a magical moment. Even if I did only know it with toy cars and in short trousers. It’s not the daily news but I’ll bet there’s probably now more holes in Britain’s roads than ever.

[1] https://www.bbc.com/worklife/article/20170619-how-long-will-it-take-for-your-job-to-be-automated

[2] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Graham_Nash

[3] https://genius.com/The-beatles-a-day-in-the-life-lyrics

Call to account

Accountability. There’s a nice word. It’s kind of biblical. It’s one of those so-called golden rules. An account is about balance and fairness. “Do unto others as you would have them do unto you”. A simple and straightforward notion.

I’d say that means that we expect ourselves to account for errors and misdeeds, and we are often our own greatest critics. In balance then we expect others to account for their errors and misdeeds.

Our society doesn’t have a police officer standing on every doorstep. That would be intolerable. What we call civilised behaviour requires each of us to be accountable for our action, to ourselves as much as to everyone else.

Listening to the story of the Post Office (PO), and its persecution of postmasters, it’s apparent that the innocent individuals first questioned themselves before they questioned the failing computer system that they had been forced to use.  

Go back 20-years and Computer Weekly[1] was pointing out that the large-scale transition from a paper-based system to a computer system was going badly wrong. An accountable institution would have urgently investigated and fixed any problems, which are not unexpected in the introduction of a new system. In this case, cover-up and denial seems to have been the strategy. Then blaming the innocent and going to extreme measure to punish postmasters.

The PO did not do unto others as it would have them do unto it. The corporate blindness to injustice and its self-protection mechanisms were the worst of what an institution can be. Now, the appalling injustice is evident to everyone and it’s difficult to understand where accountability was in the past. By cruel imposition, accountability was distorted by the powerful.

I hate to say it but there’s a general lesson in what has happened at the PO. In the last 10-years there are numerous significant national failures where the strategy of blame and going to extreme avoidance measure has prevailed. The billions (£) wasted on personal protective equipment (PPE)[2] during the pandemic is only one case. The billions (£) wasted by Truss in a few days. Don’t start me on the billions (£) wasted on Brexit.

In our democracy the notion is that accountability comes through free and open elections. The argument goes: if you don’t like what they have done you can kick them out. If there is such a thing as natural justice, we might expect that to happen. I remain an idealist in a year of elections.

I sat down in Morrisons[3] yesterday morning. There was a copy of a national tabloid newspaper lying around. I picked it up to read it with my tea. The line it took, on the one hand, is to highlight the injustice of the PO scandal. On the other hand, it did its best to exonerate the current government and cast shadows over the opposition. Not much honest accountability. Conservatives, who have been in power for more that a decade, are swiftly trying to rebrand.

Golden rules are great but political expediency is much in play as we run up to a General Election. I hope that the public will see through rebrand underway. Let’s hope.

[1] https://www.computerweekly.com/feature/Post-Office-Horizon-scandal-explained-everything-you-need-to-know

[2] https://www.transparency.org.uk/track-and-trace-uk-PPE-procurement-corruption-risk-VIP-lane

[3] https://groceries.morrisons.com/

Snow

In Hertford, Hereford, and Hampshire, hurricanes hardly ever happen. Good job too, I’d say. The phrase is from a song called: “The Rain in Spain,” in the musical My Fair Lady. That was a Christmas treat. It’s antiquated but still a wonderful classic film[1]. Yes, some of the miming is rather questionable but the story is told in a leisurely and wonderfully warm way. It’s just enjoyable entertainment.

It’s not pitching. What’s not pitching? The snow. The snow is not pitching, I said. This morning when we had flurries of half-hearted snow. Snow not sleet. The sort of light snow that I could be confident in saying was going nowhere. It danced around in the air more for performance than doing anything that was going to mess-up my day. Fluffy and gentle and certainly no hurricanes.

Sue looked at me. She’s done this before. You see London folk are hardly acquainted with the term I used to describe what the wispy snow was doing. Strangely, I thought Chat GPT would draw the same blank on the use of this verb of mine, namely to pitch. It didn’t. Whereas Microsoft’s AI hadn’t a clue when I asked did about “Hertford, Hereford, and Hampshire”, for my simple West Country verb it got it right away. Although, the AI’s explanation was to say that the word was from the city of Bristol. How could it have known any better?

It’s an alternative word for settle. The snow fell but it didn’t settle. I’d say the snow fell but it didn’t pitch. I’d say that instinctively. So, ingrained I’d wonder why anyone would use a different word. It means that the snow that was falling disappears as soon as it hit the ground. In other words, it’s too warm or the snow not plentiful enough for any accumulation or hazard for that matter.

Fictional professor Henry Higgins would no doubt have looked at me with disdain. Londoners have this way of thinking that theirs is the only valid English language spoken. What will the proliferation of digital bots do to innocent regional quirks? Will Chat GPT become a snobbish tyrant like Higgins? Or will it become like a journalist writing for The Sun newspaper? Writing as if my reading age was about 10 years old? I have no answer to that one.

It would be a shame if inevitable electronification stuffed us all into the same box. Ironed out the ripples and variations in langauage. Gave the pedants a leg-up and arrogantly kicked the rest of us. Will we need a Campaign for Real Speaking?

On another point. Conversations can go off at abstract tangents. One thing I’ve noticed about AI is that when it’s fumbling for an answer it will throw-up anything with a vague link to the subject of interest. It’s saying – I’m still not sure what you’re asking so I’ll take a blunderbuss approach.

Today, I learnt something I already knew. I knew it because last year I did a lecture at the University of Hertfordshire. However, the information had disappeared into the far corners of my brain. The University of Hertfordshire has an American Football Club called the Hertfordshire Hurricanes. I wonder if some cocky smart alec[2] named the team because of the musical. I’ll bet – not.

POST: An answer could be that the site of the University is the site of a former British aircraft factory. The de Havilland Aircraft Company Limited. However, the Hawker Hurricane was not produced on that site. de Havilland did produce propellers for the Hurricane.

[1] https://www.imdb.com/title/tt0058385/

[2] https://grammarist.com/usage/smart-alec-and-smart-aleck/