Welcome to the Late Show

Thanks to Tom Watson, the Labout MP who's blog I mentioned (not positively I might add) for this page of poetry by an MP. My view of MPs is being assaulted on all sides. When I did Economics and Public Affairs (at O Level) I knew all the main cabinet ministers and their shadows because plainly they were intellectual giants. Now we have a procession of suits and yes men (not so many women yet despite Blair's babes.) The dismal performance of the MPs team on University Challenge (The Professionals) and the sad attempt at teen cool have finally made me give up all hope that someone in Government or Opposition has an intellect which matches their position. The poems are like mine WHEN I WAS 16. Blank verse like this is like tennis without the net; it is prose with line breaks. Can't fault (all) the sentiments though. My mid-life crisis is probably going to be the realisation that my country is ruled by people with less intellect than me. Remember that quote (seems the wrong word for something so old) from Plato? I do not want to be a politician so anyone who writes and tells me to get up off my backside and do something about it will get no response.

A gull has just flown lazily by the window and I got a sudden impression of being on board ship. It is a pity that the sea breezes for this image are not present. It is like a Sauna in this office at the moment. When I got petrol this morning, the heater above the door to the kiosk was blowing HOT air down on me. Why do American ideas on foreign policy and bad TV, catch on in this country while the useful things from over the other side of the Atlantic, like air-conditioning and cold beer, do not? Just imagine the hairy-jumpered brigade if all beer was sold at 2 Centigrade. They would get so hot and bothered that they might even have to take their fingers out of their ears. Sorry! That is a bit harsh isn't it. I mean warm beer is a tradition and I am all for traditions, like ... well make up some of your own because that is what everyone else seems to do these days. The market stallls in Liverpool City Center are a tradition, despite the fact that the centre has only been pedestrianised for twenty years.

I would have thought that the right to an undisturbed night's sleep was one of the basics of the Human Rights act and yet do you realise that one of the riders to this grubby legislation is "except where a Government can show an economic reason against a decision in someones favour based on the act? So the poor people who live near airports have to put up with night flights because it is econmically necessary. Everything is down to money these days. All parties seem to have this view of the mighty greenback being the first consideration. I wouldn't be surprised if in twenty years time, someone was aquitted of murder after basing their defence on their economic needs coming before and moral aspects. This decision goes this way and yet someone claims that banning foxing hunting breaches human rights. I liked Alice. She was the only sane one in Wonderland.

I must add that having looked through the BBC site many of the mentions of the European Human Rights law were actually positive decisions regarding care homes and many of the rest were ambiguous like a convicted Drug Trafficker claiming that the tapes used to convict him were obtained illegally. It does balk that someone who makes his living out of such an illegal activity has the cheek to claim things like this but it does have implications for all of us if tapes can be made just because of suspicion Maybe there should be riders on such cases which state that no claims can be made on behalf of individuals after conviction but that the case can be investigated on behalf of the convict as part of a wider-ranging human rights investigation for which no payout would be made other than to the organisation carrying out the investigation.

I would like to talk to you about endings. Zombela. I am so happy I could dance.

The Battle of Britain Flight went over our house yesterday. They were there for the Carnival just down the road. We had the Red Arrows over before but it was the distant roar of the Lancaster which got me running into the street. There is just something really wonderful about that deep spitting of the engines. Twice in a year and at different ends of the country.