Chat Show Fame, Here We Come

 I received the following missive on the horrible direct messaging system that Facebook employs, Messenger. It is from somebody I don't know (and I thought only Friends could send dms) but anyway this is what it said:

Dear Author AnthonyG¹,   would you like to come on SKY TV  to talk about yourself and your book/read a review or an excerpts, or what you prefer. My name is Carol Azams, myself with Award winning Author David P. Perlmutter are starting Books & Authors TV  to support authors by promoting their books on Sky Television.  Pls reply for if interested for more details. Thanks
Today at 12:13
 

 Gosh, "Author AnthonyG". How flattering. And how odd. For though am I indeed a published author, as my reply below confirms, I find it impossible to believe that I could have been deliberately selected from the vast number of more popular authors who actually have books in print/digital rather than me with my academic effort from 45 years ago. 

There is a real Carol Azams who presents a TV channel, and a real David P Perlmutter, an author who lives not too far from me. I assume the message is genuine, albeit perhaps sent out as part of a huge batch by an intern (Yes, once again, and why not) and that they will sift out the most interesting and photogenic respondents to come round for a cosy session on the sofa and a nice cup of tea and biscuit in the green room afterwards. There is no way I would be chosen out of this process.

I must admit the idea of being whisked off in a stretch limo, to be flattered under the studio lights while a rapt audience struggled to hold back waves of applause did, for one infinitesimal moment, hurtle through my cortex before an gang of neurons from the "Don't be so bloody stupid" department laid into it. And then with common sense prevailing I submitted this reply

Dear Carol, what a wonderful invitation. The only book I have actually had published was "Financial Accounting", Hodder & Stoughton, 1978 and I know the chapter on inventory valuations under current cost accounting is one that people still argue fiercely about in pubs even to this day. Alas, a planned C4 documentary on "Great undiscovered accountants of Middlesex" fell through quite recently but I am confident that the ratings for any show with me in it will be off the scale. Depending on how big the scale is, of course and whether it goes under 0.

At this point, because I was typing on a real keyboard, I hit the space-bar to insert a paragraph. Bloody Messenger interprets this as the Send Message instruction so I had to add a coda
 

Sorry for pressing the enter key too quickly, I really hate using Messenger. All the best, Anthony.

And there the matter rests. Ms Azams (or Taz) has yet to reply, which does seem to make the use of a direct messaging system pointless. I am rather hoping to be invited to join them as one of the chat show hosts, perhaps doing the Cyril Fletcher role as seen on the much-loved BBC show That's Life. Cyril, as I recall, lolled about in a comfy chair and inserted short and pungent witticisms after Rantzen and Co had routinely blasted the Gas Board, or British Rail or BL or other reviled British enterprises for failings in their dealings with the public. Certainly beats actually trying to write another blasted book.

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Other chat show presenters! If you wish to join the bidding war for my services, now is the time to contact us at the usual address and submit your plain brown envelopes complete with tasty contents. Terms and Conditions apply and are fully covered in my latest trilogy Terms and Conditions: The Beginning, Terms and Conditions: The Editor Strikes Back and Terms and Conditions: The Reckoning (complete with itemised bill, VAT and non-discretionary Service Charge).

Footnote

1. My real name was used but I've redacted it to match my blog id

So Long, Boris, Part the Second

 Six years ago we witnessed as neat an act of political assassination as we might have wished to see. Michael "the Slithy Tove" Gove wielding the stiletto into the disbelieving back of our local MP and arch-opportunist B Johnson. The Tove's disavowal of his old chum forced Johnson to back off from his attempt to win the leadership of the Conservative Party.

That was a long time ago (politically speaking) but Johnson bided his time, bringing Gove back into government when he pushed out the hapless Theresa May. 

Yesterday the two antagonists had a grand showdown. Johnson's government has spectacularly exploded in the last two days, following the resignations of his Chancellor and Health Secretary, and then more than 50 other ministers and political appointees. Last night a delegation of them went to Downing Street to tell the incumbent to start packing his bags. Johnson resisted. Gove, who was one of the rebels but who had not resigned, was then sacked. Astonishingly, the newly appointed Chancellor has also expressed no confidence in his Prime Minister but remains in post. More astonishing still, this morning on the radio the Attorney General not only said he should go but that she was putting herself forward to succeed him. Oh, and she remains in post.

Even as I write these words, the news media are reporting that Johnson (who yesterday was going to fight on because he had a "mandate") will stand down but remain until the autumn. Or something.

It is impossible not to gloat over the downfall. The lies about Brexit and the cynicism  about the Northern Ireland protocol are shameful enough but the colossal waste of public money during the covid pandemic, the "partygate" scandal and the cover-up, the knee-jerk defence of any corrupt behaviour by a fellow Tory and the final straw - trying to defend the appointment of a drunken groper as a deputy whip and the the constant  whining "We've apologised so now let's all forget about it and move on"- these add up to an unanswerable indictment.

I believe that Johnson has seriously jeopardised the future of Britain. The SNP are now pushing for a second independence referendum and are much more likely to win it this time. The tensions in Ireland might undermine the Good Friday agreement. Putin's horrific invasion of Ukraine that began in February may, in part, have been launched because he saw the continuing divisions in the West as working in his favour. Britain, once a beacon for freedom, is now a country where migrants, who have made the long and extremely hazardous journey to reach our shores, may be deported to Rwanda.

Johnson did at least prevent the election of Jeremy Corbyn as prime minister, a man whose worship of anyone who wears a balaclava and brandishes a gun was genuinely terrifying. What else of his legacy will be regarded as worthwhile remains to be seen.

Patronising Tweet of the Day

 This little gem appeared on my Twitter feed the other day

How awfully kind of those nice chaps and lady chaps at Mastercard (an organisation with which I currently do no business whatsoever). Let us examine the two elements of this, thankfully short, exhortation.

 However you spend each day with Debit Mastercard - what a delightfully laissez-faire, mellow and friendly attitude. We don't care what you do with our card, they seem to be saying, you can stuff it in your pocket or use it to sculpt pottery¹. Perhaps grip it tightly between two knuckles to add extra bite to your forehand jab when street-fighting, or try flicking it sideways and see if you can decapitate a pigeon, Oddjob-style.   It's entirely up to you. 

Note the intrusion of the word "day". I mean, I have credit cards and use them now and then but I don't exactly spend the day with them. I have my life to lead and doubtless they do their own, plastic², thing, perhaps being condescending to my loyalty cards whilst having a mutually respectful relationship with my driving licence. I don't wake up and think "It's a lovely day, how shall I make best of it?, I know, I'll go out with the cards, it'll be such fun". If I need a credit or debit card, I extract it grudgingly from my wallet, plonk it on the reader and then put it away before it starts having ideas about the two of us going for a drink and having a really deep and stimulating conversation.

Anyway, the "however" makes the first phrase somewhat otiose anyway, because clearly it doesn't matter what I and the cards actually get up to. So onto the meat of the gist.

"Spend it doing what matters most to you".  Yes. Sure. I wasn't going to. I thought I would do a few things that really are utterly repugnant, then some irrelevant stuff and finally maybe ask around on social media for ideas about what matters most to others. But Mastercard have cut clear through the fog and put a glaring searchlight on the crux. I should do what matters to me.

I really don't know what the people³ who compose these homilies do all day. They obviously don't inhabit the world that you and I do. They must actually think that, unless they give some instruction in how to live, we would make a hash of it. I have news for them. I shall do what matters most to me and and I shall do it whether they tell me or not. Not only that, I shall do it without spending a single instant of my day with my Debit Mastercard, because I don't have one and I am certainly not going to apply for one, because then I would be doing something that doesn't matter most to me.

The end result of this tweet has been to irritate me and to antagonise me against the brand of Mastercard. Well done, guys. You only had one job and you blew it.

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 Footnotes

1. This is a real thing, I went on a pottery course years ago and cards were highly recommended for moulding wet clay.

2. I so wanted to use the word "plasticky" here but it doesn't seem to exist.

3. I assume our old friend Taz has got himself another summer internship

The One-Day Heatwave

 A plume of Saharan air brought temperatures of 32c in the south-east yesterday and left us with a fairly stifling night. Normally one might expect several days of heat but today a thick band of cloud kept it cool all day and as I write, at 7:00pm, it is actually below 13c. 

The desert air left its mark on my car, sadly. We had some thin rain this afternoon and now it is covered in dust. I'm not happy. I took it to the car wash a couple of weeks ago (actually included as part of my annual car service because the garage seems to have contracted out its traditional valeting) and it looks like I shall have to get the old bucket and sponge out.

The Met Comes Good

 Here's something not seen that often. The RMT union has called a strike today and most of the stations in central London are shut. Every one of the traditional tube lines has either no service or a "special" service (meaning very long gaps between trains). Except one. The good old Met appears to be running normally. Which, given that I need to travel on it fairly shortly between beautiful Ruislip and Finchley Road, is rather nice.

Tube status at 11:00am