Patronising Tweet Of The Day #2

 I really thought my go at Mastercard recently would put an end to this sort of thing, but no, it's summer, the real admen are all on holiday and the apprentices have taken over the laboratory. Today another financial institution, who really should know better, decided to serve me this in my Twitter feed:

 

 

This is the same NatWest who, having occupied a prominent position on Ruislip High Street for some 100 years, (I include their ancestors, such as Westminster Bank), have announced that the branch is to close. The nearest branch will be at Uxbridge, not far but anyone going from Ruislip will have to allow a minimum of 30 minutes for the round trip.

"Never stop starting". I thought this was a reference to a vintage car where the choke was left out on a cold day. I recall driving my family's Ford Anglia in such a way, the car jerking forward and then spasmodically stopping before a fresh push on the throttle (being careful not to flood the engine) kicked it back into life. Cars don't do that any more. They can indeed be accurately described as "never stop starting".

I don't suppose this was what NatWest had in mind. It must be a kindly exhortation from them to the rest of us - "Hey you lazy lot, stop slacking and get on with it. Never, I repeat NEVER stop starting! If we catch any member of the public not starting we shall confiscate their paying-in books!"

Sod that. I shall stop starting as much as I like. I shall wake up on a fine sunny day and think "Today is the day to do a bit of starting. Not right away, let's have breakfast and a leisurely sit-around first, then maybe a nice cup of coffee but definitely before lunch, or at least very soon after it, if it's not clouding over by then and there's no test match to listen to, okay, maybe in the late afternoon, no, it's too late, the moment has passed. Tomorrow. That's it. Tomorrow I shall start. I shall not stop. I shall not fail in the eyes of NatWest. I will never stop starting again. Unless it rains."

You might have thought that having dreamed up this stupid slogan, the admen (or the interns) would put their feet up with a sigh of content and get back to gambling billions of our money on derivatives (whatever they are). But no. No patronising tweet is complete without a hashtag slogan. And what a slogan it is. Einstein, Weinberg, Hawking, Smolin, Rovelli¹- your boys took a hell of a beating. The boffins at NatWest have got there first. Time is not just relative - it has been collapsed entirely. Tomorrow begins Today! There is no future because you are already living it. 

This must make office life rather tricky down at the bank. 

"Withers, I'd like to see you tomorrow to review the Arkwright files"

"You mean later today sir. Tomorrow begins today"

"Ah. Yes. Damn, have to slot you around 11pm due to all the other things I had scheduled for tomorrow that are of course happening today. By the way, you're dressed a bit casually, aren't you?

"I'm off to the golf course for the tournament"

"But that's not till the day after tomorrow"

"Exactly sir. But as tomorrow begins today, then the day after tomorrow must be tomorrow but tomorrow begins today. Bye, sir"

Finally, in the interests of transparency, I should point out that I do not bank with NatWest and am unlikely to do so in the future (assuming the future exists). I shall be even less likely now that they have removed the nearest branch to me. Or <cue sinister music> can it be that tomorrow actually started yesterday and I have already opened an account with them? <fade out sinister music, replace with continuity announcer> "Tune in next week, whenever that is, to find out".

Note

1. The first few physicists specialising in time, relativity and cosmology, I could think of.

Heatwave Update #3

 Wildfires have broken out across southern Europe, forcing the evacuation of towns, campsites and holiday resorts. There have been casualties, including firefighters.

Not to be outdone, we had our own heat-driven apocalypse in NW Middlesex this afternoon. Fires on the parched fields at Hatch End forced rail cancellations. There was a report of a fire in Wembley. And closer to home, the normally marshy low-lying land near RAF Northolt went up in smoke, closing the A40  for several hours. 

Photo: Adam Crts on Ruislip Community Group, Facebook

It was supposed to rain this evening as the heat at last recedes, but as usual we got nothing bar a thick grey cloud cover and increased humidity. Or so I thought until, whilst writing the preceding line, Mrs C pointed out of the window to some real wet-type stuff falling from the sky. It was the briefest of showers but right now we will gladly take anything. 

Heatwave Update #2

The hot air remaining overnight contributed to a rapid rise in temperatures this morning. UK records began to fall and at 1:00pm a new high of 40c was measured at Heathrow, uncomfortably close to us here in what used to be beautiful Ruislip. It is, however, much breezier than yesterday, a hint that the weather system that has been locked over Europe for a week is shifting.

 There is almost no other topic on the news, although Conservative MPs continue to ballot for someone to succeed B. Johnson who, having been hailed as the greatest human in history not so long ago, is now still our prime minister without power or honour. 

Mrs C and I took a brief stroll round the block last night. It was like a Mediterranean holiday in the balmy air with people coming out after hiding in their shuttered homes all day. Except that the lively bars and cafes were missing and only a crowd outside the pub contributed to that southern European feel.

Heatwave update #1

As predicted, it was 37c this afternoon in the scorched, baking plains of what they used to call beautiful Ruislip. The news was dominated by reports across the country showing cars melting, Rutland Water evaporating and mile-long queues to buy ice-creams. [Some slight but permissible exaggeration here:Ed] We remained steadfastly indoors. It was warm but comfortable in the living room with curtains closed and a fan on. Tonight may be less pleasant as massive amounts of stored heat burst out of the brickwork and converge on the bedroom. A local weather station is optimistically predicting some precipitation (rain, in other words) but all too often, in these situations, we see the clouds waft overhead without giving us some blessed relief, so I am not getting any hopes up.

We're Heading For A Heatwave

 The title of a long-forgotten pop song from the late 1960s seems peculiarly suitable right now. All of Western Europe is roasting in an unprecedented heatwave. Temperatures above 40c are being experienced from Spain to the Balkans. In Britain, having had a couple of days at around 30c we are bracing ourselves for a possible 40c in the next couple of days.

Fortunately the Commuter household no longer has to commute and can bunker down at home with a supply of cold drinks, damp towels and darkened rooms to ease the discomfort. 

I shall update this topic in due course

No Place On The Sofa

Here is an update to my recent posting about the approach to discuss my published work on "SkyTV". This message came in today:

 

 Hi Anthony, thanks for your interest. Pls this come with a small fee, please have a look at the offer available and come back to me and we can talk, thanks; https://www.myeverywomantv.com/booksandauthorstv

Oh, a small fee. Well, I don't mind receiving a small fee, all contributions gratefully received in these difficult times, just stick it in a plain brown envelope and slide it casually into my jacket when nobody's looking, used notes preferred.

I checked the website. 

Ah. I am supposed to PAY them a small fee. £59 to have one shot on their TV channel or a chunk more to do a series.  

After I collected my senses, sipped a restorative brandy-and-water and allowed my manservant to apply cold towels to my throbbing forehead, I managed to gather sufficient strength for one final reply:

I don't think I see much point in paying you to advertise a book that has been out-of-print for 40 years. In fact, I don't see any point at all, really.

Really that should be the end of the matter. But then a series of video call requests began coming through. God, don't these people know it's a blisteringly hot Sunday and the correct thing to do today is rest, enjoy the Tour de France (or the Wimbledon men's final, if you must) and put off work until the morrow?  

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.

-&-&-&-&-&-&-&-

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.