Gaslighting the nation

My first and, I promise, last post about party politics and the 2019 General Election...

With all apologies to fans of Hugh Jackman
(and for very hurried, Photoshop-less graphics work)

I suppose you have to have some kind of grudging admiration for Johnson and his Tory-boy chums. I mean, they have learned. They have really learned. Not just from their own past campaigns, and from those of New Labour (when did you last hear the phrase "spin doctor", by the way?), but also from the right-wing upstarts of the Brexit Party and, most of all, from the Republicans' Trump campaign. For right now there is nobody, literally nobody better at repackaging a narrative and peddling it as truth than Johnson et al. Or more accurately, because Boris is not actually as clever as some people once thought, Conservative Campaign Headquarters, CCHQ. Someone there is really earning their 30 pieces of silver.

Take last night's climate debate on Channel 4, an event to which all party leaders had been invited and all bar Johnson and Farage showed up. Now it's easy to see why Farage ducked this - the more the general public see of him, the less they like him. Far better for him to concentrate on blowing his dog-whistle to ensure the continued support of those that already back him; he knows he's not going to win anyone over, least of all on the environment. But Johnson? The man who is, lest we forget, still Prime Minister and leader of the largest party in the last Parliament (and the man whose backers have plenty of investment in fossil fuels, and the man who wants to be best buddies with eco-catastrophe Trump...). For him to duck a debate on what should really be the defining issue of our time? Scandalous. And he was rightly called on it. Social media was awash with the scorn being poured on him for ducking this. #ChickenBoris was trending, and CCHQ didn't like it. What was to be done?

And this is where they earned their money, again. Because, uninvited and unexpected by Channel 4, they sent Michael Gove along at the eleventh hour. And to ensure their preferred narrative could be repackaged and peddled to depict the Tories as the aggrieved party, Gove even had his own camera crew with him; his, or rather CCHQ's, perspective could be captured rather than Channel 4's. Because look, here was Michael, all eager, politely asking if he could be allowed to participate in the climate debate because, after all, he had been Environment Secretary, and wasn't it important for the Conservative position to be heard... well yes, Michael, but if it was so important, why not send the party leader to a leader's debate?

Credit to Channel 4, they played it with a straight bat. The production team were consulted. The other party leaders were consulted. And the answer was, rightly in my view, thank you but no. As you may have seen, they empty-chaired Boris and Nigel, replacing them with ice sculptures that symbolically started to melt during the debate.

And so there should be two stories this morning: one, what the attending leaders actually had to say at the debate; and two, the cowardly non-appearance of Conservative party leader, Boris Johnson. But the whole thing has been repackaged by CCHQ and the public is being told no, that's not a fair depiction of what happened, the things you have seen and read with your own eyes are not correct. Look, enviro-Gove attended the debate but nasty old Channel 4 wouldn't let him in. Don't you see, it's Channel 4 and the other party leaders that were the cowards, for refusing to debate Michael. Oh, and look, we sent Boris's dad along too, to say charmingly baffled things about WhatsApp, in the hope that it might evoke a rose-tinted nostalgia for that time when Boris was on HIGNFY a lot, you know, when he was more popular. Don't believe the truth, people, believe our truth. And if that's not gaslighting, I don't know what is.

Of course this repackaged narrative of the Tories as media victims is also quite handy for legitimising a threat to review Channel 4's public service broadcasting remit (and, by inference, funding). This from the party that has also banned the Daily Mirror from their campaign bus. The message is clear. Report us the way we want or else. That sort of thing reminds me of Soviet Russia. Or 1930s Germany.

The underlying message of this whole sorry story though is...you can't trust Boris. More than that, you can't trust the Conservative party. Whilst Johnson might be their notional leader, he's just a figurehead - witness his squirming response on the further cowardice of dodging the Andrew Neil interview ("Other people than me are responsible for those discussions and negotiations" - Christ, man, you're supposed to be the leader!). And you really can't trust him/them on the NHS. How many new hospitals, really? How many new nurses, really? Not up for sale, really?

I almost started this post by saying I don't have a particular political axe to grind. I'm not trying to get you to vote for a particular party. But I guess I have ended up here, imploring you not to vote for a particular party. Don't be conned. Don't be taken in. Don't vote Conservative.

More than that, though. Do vote tactically. Give our country its best chance of not having a Tory majority or Tory-led coalition. There are three main tactical voting guidance sites, so take your pick of these: remainunited.org, www.tactical-vote.uk and tacticalvote.getvoting.org - unhelpfully, they don't always agree, so visit all three and then use your common sense.

EDIT: Oh, and if you think I'm over-reacting to the manipulation and treatment of "dissenting" media by those in power, I've just read that the i newspaper has been bought by the owner of the Daily Mail... good luck to us all.

I used to love how he said "Pracatan"

RIP the marvellous Clive James, an absolute staple of my 80s and early 90s television watching...

And here he is, interviewing another hero, The Shat, because, well, why not?

He wrote some good books too...

Addendum

This was on the radio this morning, and it suddenly struck me that this is a song to add to last week's discussion of funeral playlists.

For a start, it's a wonderful Kinks song, and they were a band that was so important to the younger me. Then there's Kirsty's singing - I love the idea of her voice filling the crematorium. And finally, there are these lyrics, that I hope would be uplifting for anyone that shows up:

Thank you for the days, those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I’m thinking of the days, I won’t forget a single day believe me.
I bless the light, I bless the light that lights on you believe me.
And though you’re gone you’re with me every single day believe me.

Days I’ll remember all my life. Days when you can’t see wrong from right.
You took my life, but then I knew that very soon you’d leave me.
But it’s alright, now I’m not frightened of this world believe me.

I wish today could be tomorrow.
The night is long, it just brings sorrow, let it wait.

Thank you for the days, those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I’m thinking of the days, I won’t forget a single day believe me.

Days I’ll remember all my life. Days when you can’t see wrong from right.
You took my life, but then I knew that very soon you’d leave me.
But it’s alright, now I’m not frightened of this world believe me.

Days...

Thank you for the days, those endless days, those sacred days you gave me.
I’m thinking of the days, I won’t forget a single day believe me.
I bless the light, I bless the light that lights on you believe me.
And though you’re gone you’re with me every single day believe me.

Days...

There, that's nice, isn't it? A positive message to leave my nearest and dearest. And, as a bonus, the whole thing is over in three minutes. I don't think music played at a funeral should go on too long, do you? Anyway, here's three versions of the song:

Original video

Bonus TOTP performance

Source material...

And as an aside, the Kirsty MacColl website is an amazing resource and something of an Internet rabbit hole, with great detail about every song. Have a look sometime...

Down in the tube station at midday

I do love a bit of serendipity. Here's a case in point. I had cause to go to east London at the weekend, and found myself alighting the tube at Leytonstone station. And there, to my surprise, was a whole series of beautiful mosaics celebrating the life and films of Alfred Hitchcock.

I quickly surmised (and Wikipedia confirmed) that Leytonstone was Hitchcock's birth place. These mosaics were commissioned in 1999 to celebrate the 100th anniversary of Hitch's birth, and they're fantastic! I didn't photograph them all (tricky amidst the commuter hustle) but here are my favourites:

This is Cary Grant in Suspicion, here bringing his young wife a drink that she suspects to be poisoned. I love how the colour and pose suggest that threat and uncertainty...
 

Hitch directing Janet Leigh in perhaps his most famous film, Pscyho. Note how Hitchcock is depicted in red, to me foreshadowing the cinematic blood he is about to spill. Leigh is brilliantly rendered here too, but best of all is how the shower curtain divides Norman's face, symbolising his mother/son duality. At least that's how I read it...
 

Artistically my favourite mosaic, though it depicts a film I've never seen and know little about, The Skin Game. But what a striking image...
 

Want to know more about these, before you trek off to Leytonstone Gallery Tube? London Walking Tours have this excellent guide.

Sunday shorts: Bonus Track

It might not be true, but I like the idea that the band were asked to come up with a short song to hide as a "bonus track" on a CD. Don't blink...

Death at one's elbow

I was going to write about the funeral I went to earlier this week; about what it is to have a "good" death, and the not so good; about seeing distant relatives for the first time in a very long time; about fragility and mortality; about how many people might be at my funeral if I live as long as the deceased did (spoiler alert: not very many); and mainly about how I have never really faced death, not really. I am lucky, I know that - I'm in my (very) late forties and have got this far without anyone very close to me dying. The nearest I have been to grief is when my dog died - I was 15, and had a day off school. I have grieved for a lost friendship, but that's a very different thing (from seeing them every day to them being 3,000 miles away, since you ask). Bottom line - I will face it at some point, inevitably, and I don't think I will handle it very well.

I was also going to write about eulogies, who I'd want to read mine, and maybe whether I'd write my own, in advance.

And finally, because this blog itself would probably die without embedded music videos, I was going to write about what music I might want played at my funeral. I used to joke with The Man Of Cheese that I'd like The Last of the Famous International Playboys - how we chuckled. But really, what might I have? Maybe this...

Maybe this, or the more traditional version of it, as a parting message?

Or maybe this, even if it is a funeral cliché...

If there was anyone in attendance, I could bring them down with this:

Although if I chose any Bowie, it would probably be this, for the lyrical conceits of a hand reaching down for me, and the nightmares coming today...

So many songs, so many choices. Hopefully I've got a while yet to work it out. Or I could just say sod it, and plump for this:

If it's not too maudlin, got any thoughts on your funeral tunes?

Sunday shorts: What You Do To Me

Some short songs are so short but so good, you can't help but wish they were a little bit longer. Others are perfectly suited to their length, like this one.

And is it just me, or are there some chord sequences here that are reminiscent of Where I Find My Heaven by The Gigolo Aunts?

I'm as old as...

Shamelessly thieved from Rol at My Top Ten but expanded to a top twenty because I couldn't choose. The basic premise, in Rol's words is:

All this got me looking further into famous people who are the same age as me. I made a list and asked myself for each of them: do I really think I'm as old as they are? Are they older than me in my head... or younger? It's an interesting game to play.

I simplified this a bit, and just picked a random selection of (semi-) famous people who were born in the same year as me. And that's calendar year, not school year. Anyway, here goes, numbered but in no particular order:

1. Uma Thurman.

In my head, Uma is younger than me. That's because, in my head, she still looks like she did in Pulp Fiction, or Kill Bill, or Dangerous Liasions. Hmm. Mostly Dangerous Liasions, actually.

2. Matt Damon

Poor old Matt. They really did a number on him in Team America: World Police but if he'd retired after Good Will Hunting, that still would have been a good career, I reckon. And because it's youthful Will I associate Matt with, I thought him younger than me.

3. River Phoenix

Younger, of course. He'll always be younger than everybody, right?

4. Melania Trump

In my head... well, I had no clue, to be honest. I think when there's that much make-up and (allegedly) surgery involved, you can probably forgive me for not being able to form an opinion. And she's got bigger problems, to be honest.

5. Rachel Weisz

In my head, not younger or older than me but just exactly the right age for me... sigh.

6. Ethan Hawke

I used to think he was younger than me, because he played lots of fresh-faced roles. But as he's gotten older, a grizzled quality has emerged that would make me think him older than me. I'm not (too) grizzled yet, I hope.

7. Beck

I thought him younger than me, until I looked up the relatively recent picture of him shown left. Now I would think him older.

8. Vince Vaughn

Another who has made the transition in my mind from younger to older than me. Maybe being charged with drunk driving ages a man...?

9. Andre Agassi

I thought him older, if I'm honest. Maybe that's because he went bald early, but more likely because he was winning tennis grand slams when I still felt like a kid.

10. Louis Theroux

I would have pitched Louis as being pretty much the same age as me, in part because I could imagine him being in the same year at school as me, and us getting along. I am probably not alone in this delusion. Who doesn't like Louis?

11. Samantha Mathis

As a younger man, I had a bit of a thing about Samantha that was based almost exclusively on her role in the rom-com Jack and Sarah, when I thought of her as being about my age. By the time she appeared in American Psycho though, I had started to think of her as older than me.

12. Sadiq Khan

Blimey, the Mayor of London is my age. And I've done what with my life, exactly? If I'm honest, I thought him younger than me but hoped he was older.

13. Glen Medeiros

Something might have changed your love for him now, eh ladies? The 80s crooner has morphed into used-car salesman, by the look of it. I thought him older than me, not least because when he was famous girls my age liked him, so he had to older, right?

14. Claudia Schiffer

A difficult one. When I was young, I thought her older, because in 1989 when she was the Guess jeans girl she looked impossibly wonderful to gawky, gauche, teenage me (who had this poster on his wall). But now, I think of her as younger because (you guessed it) to me she's still the impossibly wonderful Guess jeans girl...

15. Christopher Nolan

I thought him younger than me, if I'm honest. A film-maker who could realise Memento had to be younger, brighter, fresher than me, right? Of course, I forget that when that came out, I was younger, brighter, fresher too. Oh time, you cruel sod.

16. Bernard Butler

If pushed, I probably would have plumped for Bernard being younger than me, solely because when Suede emerged he looked so fresh-faced and fey, so impossibly clean-shaven, that even to the youthful me he seemed young. Pah! What did the youthful me know?

17. Debbie Gibson

Ah, the perennial Electric Youth is not so youthful any more, is she? But for similar reasons to Bernard, I would have thought her younger - when she hit the airwaves, I felt too mature to like her, too grown up for such fluff. I know, I know...

18. Mariah Carey

As with Melania, I can honestly say I had no clue as to whether Mariah was older or younger than me. I think this is because every picture I have seen of her for the last 25 years has been so rigorously airbrushed or Photoshopped (example left is very recent), who could possible know if the subject was 25 or 50? Not this boy, for sure.

19. M. Night Shyamalan

I remember clocking Shyamalan's cameo in Sixth Sense and thinking, "God, he's young (damn him)." And that thought has stuck. Funny how first impressions last, eh?

20. Simon Pegg

I thought Simon the same age as me, not just because all his cultural references align so well with mine but also because, as we have already established, basically I am Simon Pegg, right?

I had fun doing that (cheers, Rol), probably much more fun than you all had reading it (sorry about that). If you have any comments to make that you haven't already made over at Rol's place, fire away...

The Good, The Bad and The Ugly ... news

The good

Jet suit inventor breaks speed record off Brighton beach - innovation, tech and a typical maverick inventor ... what's not to like?

Roger Federer beats Novak Djokovic at 2019 ATP Finals in London - that he can still be this good at 38 should boggle all of our minds.

The bad

Project Nightingale: Google probed over US patient data deal - remember when Google's motto was "Don't be evil"? No, neither do they.

Flooded Venice battles with new tidal surge - Venice is truly wonderful. Go and see it soon because it won't be there in 50 years.

The ugly

A rubbish story: China's mega-dump full 25 years ahead of schedule - there are so many, many ways in which the problems caused by our spiralling global population are manifesting themselves. Awful.

Donald Trump confirms pre-election UK visit - as if we didn't have enough happening on the domestic political scene, without old Tango-face Tiny-Hands rocking up and sticking his oar in. Though would any of the principals welcome an endorsement from this pariah?

An itch too sensitive to scratch

From the palace to the gutter...