Much Ado About Puffin': The No-win War

When Richard Nixon declared a universal campaign against narcotics in 1971 he made a dreadful mistake while choosing his words. He settled for the phrase: ‘War on Drugs’. The result: his administration therefore convicts every government in the world of losing a war as comprehensively as possible. I think it is clear to most sentient beings that victory is unobtainable. What hasn't been decided fully however, is whether it should continue to be fought or not.

Much publicity was drummed up recently by the crossed words between Peter Hitchens and Russell Brand. Most people have only seen this section of the debate, which is a shame as those two speakers were probably the least successful at delivering practical advice on the issue. With various other eminent pundits involved however, I was surprised at how little either side conclusively proved their points. Knock-down statistics had me ready to purchase a T-Shirt with “Legalise It” emblazoned across the front, right away. Then the counter-argument had me panicking to cancel my Amazon order the very next minute. When stats are twisted both honestly and dishonestly, the cloudiness of such a complex problem makes one feel utterly blind and ignorant. The best I can do is to explore how I feel in my heart and mind, because I think that will take me where I should be. Let’s see what happens.

First off: I do not think that anyone should be imprisoned for what they do to their own body. It is a ridiculous post-theocratic policy of prudishness that has prolonged more drug addictions than possibly anything else. Everyone knows that illegal substances are practically thrust upon jail inmates and this, coupled with a prisoner’s need for escapism, will never produce ex-addicts; only late ones. I can sympathise with a mother at the end of her tether sending her heroin ravaged son to the slammer. This is only because she has been sold this as a solution however; it will not be the prison that saves him. If he does rehabilitate then it will be because of self-control, possibly inspired by schemes imposed by outside forces. Where things descend into moral murkiness is when the debate shifts to how to discourage use in the first place.

The current technique used by most governments is to heavily punish the growers/dealers. It is almost wholly dependent on the theory of deterrents being useful, and it betrays a vast neglect for the other things the penal system claims to value (namely rehabilitation). While the act of enabling and persuading human beings to damage their bodies must be counted as an abuse of sorts, it is not as simple as placing a drug dealer alongside a wife-beater in a diagram of degenerates. An abusive husband is pathologically at odds with a civilised community; an unemployed teenager seduced by easy money is not so classifiable. I am not one who says that the crack dealers are forced into it by society. If they were, then they would stop selling once an adequate wage was achieved. However, if they did have money, they wouldn't sell the drugs. The majority should be treated as potentially law-abiding, and not as lost causes destined for endless criminality. In fact, addiction to Class A’s is more likely to result in that sort of existence. Who is the biggest danger to the future there then?

The darkest part of the story is the impact the drug trade has on the third world. There is also hypocrisy in parts of the bohemian contingent which serves to arm the conservative crowd. There are people on the fringe of society who make every effort to grow their own vegetables, buy fair trade chocolate, and distribute Green Party leaflets. A percentage of them also embrace the alternative lifestyle further and loosen the mind up on a Friday night with the aid of a little powder. It’s an argument that has been tainted by Daily Mailers collaring liberals and saying, “if you could see how many children you are killing by buying coke then you wouldn't do it”. The thing is though: drugs like cocaine are often produced in failed states that enslave children on pain of death. I know this group of users know this; they just haven’t woken up yet (and this type of existence requires not a little narcissism). Now, if anyone wants to focus completely on those hippies then fair enough; carry on buying the Daily Mail. What most conservatives miss, however, is the real (and much scarier) force behind it all. 

While the partiers in our land provide a steady trickle of cash to these baddies, the existence of the dark side is only made possible by the concessions of our Western powers. Moving on to the issue of heroin production, it’s perhaps time to talk about the link between gear and terrorism. The gangsters of Afghanistan are extremely prolific producers of opium that currently reap huge rewards every year. It does not take a genius to predict what the proceeds are being spent on. These post-Taliban bandits don’t want to become rap stars or buy Rembrandt's; they like doing bad things to all people.

If an intelligent being were to gaze down upon us from a properly functional planet, I would bet that they would make three immediate observations:

1. Why do these people have money and those people do not?

2. Why are those people hurting other creatures?

3. Why, by the name of Zakwan, is that rich country handing all the dope money over to those violent bastards?  

Without breaking one ethical boundary, a monopoly could be abolished and created simultaneously with the swipe of a pen. We need opium over here. Its essence is in our most important painkillers and that will not change in the foreseeable future. We currently buy it from Turkey who really don’t need an economy boost in the same way the Afghans do. I also predict that if the Turks lose their stand in that marketplace, they won’t descend into chaos. That country can look after itself; Afghanistan needs all the help it can get. A sturdy order from us could push a touch of genuine industry into a country that’s been struggling to escape the seventh century since…well the seventh century.

Let me float away from the premier league of class A’s and into the more smiley territory of marijuana. I'm not a smoker myself; my synapses appear to be largely disinterested in what the herb has to offer. I also disprove of anything that can permanently remove quality from the intellect. That is nothing but my own personal tastes though; I could include Kim Kardashian, One Direction, and Mormonism in the same list. Inhaling hashish is so common that one can make a highly educated guess that everyone you know has at least had the opportunity to try it. With its current availability the average user wouldn't notice many changes to his or her daily routine if the stuff was to become legit. I personally haven’t noticed our society turning into a collection of lobotomised hippies. So, with this in mind, how dangerous is it? It’s a fact that alcohol and tobacco hinder the health as much and I don’t want to even think about banning them! Legalise weed, empty a few cells, make some money, and perhaps notice a reduction of shady characters offering tainted grass.

Coke is another issue altogether. Whereas hemp can be grown by a fourteen year old in a suburban bedroom, a good rock of cocaine has probably passed through the tattooed hands of a dead-eyed murderer at some point. Unlike opium, we don’t have a medical use for it. Unlike cannabis, it can kill on impact. Like tobacco and drink, it is pretty damn addictive too. I'm sticking with my view that users should not be arrested, but I am voicing a concern about the properties of this white powder.

To focus on the South Americas (for obvious reasons), a duel approach would be necessary. When a crop like cocaine yields such high profits, extreme measures need to be taken to ensure production remains in place. Again, by giving the criminals a monopoly on production, we have gifted them a successful business that requires brutal techniques to sustain it. If legitimate companies were able to command part of the market, the underworld section would take a hit. Then once the criminal producers are no longer the kings of crystal, hit them again where we can officially punish them: firearms, corruption, and child exploitation are all issues within the cocaine trade. Coupled with decriminalisation, a zero tolerance policy on these things would weaken the structure of the industry. Fast forward to when this has finally happened, and what do you see? I see bags of the powder labelled up like glue is today. “This can kill you the second you snort it”. Education is our most powerful weapon as always.

I had to concede to myself that I couldn't discuss every narcotic here. So instead I settled for the big three. Obviously I could have written a similar piece on crystal meth, acid, and magic mushrooms (and occasionally I wished I had done). However, I know my limits and I have already pressed against them. I may not have all the right answers but I must qualify for part of a multiple choice.  

How to cook Roast Potatoes (Properly)

If there is a greater thing to chomp on than a perfectly roasted potato then I am yet to experience it. You all know the desired specifications of such specimens: “Golden brown, crispy on the outside, fluffy on the inside”. How many of you regularly achieve this level of spud-nirvana though? I possess the knowledge to lead you to enlightenment. Please give me the time to help, and I promise your Sunday roasts will always contain a little touch of greatness.

First things first: the potato. Predictable as it sounds, Maris Pipers will never let you down. King Edwards are fine too. Roosters go extremely crunchy. Desirees do the job. In fact, generic baking potatoes can tick the right boxes if treated right. There are more obscure ones but I am trying to make things easier; not more difficult. So as long as you pick from this list (with a nudge from me in the direction of the first three), then you are one step closer to a wonderful roaster. The process of cooking these little creatures should never stray from these four essential processes: peeling, par-boiling, seasoning, roasting. The genius is in the details though. 

The first step is peeling. One factor of achieving crisp edges is creating the edges in the first place. Unfortunately, perfect use of a peeler does make for a perfectly round potato. This limits the number of sharp edges you will have come boiling time. This is why I prefer to use a smallish sharp knife and do a slightly jagged job of it. That method is optional of course, but it does work. I do have to insist you peel them though; don’t pretend it is rustic to leave the skin on- it’s inferior and essentially lazy. Once peeled, you always need to chop them at least in half. Don’t forget that tiny little crunchy nuggets are just as important as big ones, so don't be fearful of splitting a medium one into three. Just make sure the overall result yields happy portions for all. 

Tip the spuds into a large pan and place under a tap. Rain cold water upon them for a while, stirring them with your hand until the liquid becomes clear (this is how you know the starch has been dispensed of). Tip the water out and refill with more cold until the potatoes are just about covered. Place on the highest heat with a generous heap of salt and bring to the boil. Once the water is boiling, wait about 5 minutes before you start messing about again. Now use a fork to test the potatoes by scraping along their edges. You are looking for the no-man's land between slightly disturbing the surfaces and breaking large chunks off altogether. Although I advise using 5 minutes as a starting point, I would say the most common cooking time here is 8 minutes. Once ready, roll them out into a colander and leave to dry out. This can be a relatively long gap depending on how long you need to prepare other things. I usually wait at least 10 minutes. Do not shake them around unless you have actually undercooked them and need to save the day quickly. If you have done them right, any disturbances will cause too much damage. 

In the meantime you need to heat up your roasting tray. I usually use plain olive oil because it's always around, and it works better than all the other oils you will have in your cupboard. Of course you can use goose fat, or dripping, but the procedure remains the same. Drizzle the stuff into your best roasting tray until it forms a 3mm coating across the bottom. You need to make sure it's not enough to risk greasiness, but enough to coat every potato evenly. Then place it into an oven that has been preheated to 190^o C (if you have a chicken on at this point cooking at 180^oC, this will just about suffice). It will take about 10 minutes to heat to the right temperature; the end result should be free flowing oil as you slant the tray to and fro. 

Next, gently place one potato into the oil and listen carefully. If it is silent, put the oil back in for 5 minutes more. If it sizzles and spits, let the oil cool for 1 minute. If it is somewhere in between, then continue the mission and introduce the rest of the gang. Turn each one over with a fork until you are sure every part as been anointed with oil, and liberally season with sea-salt and freshly ground black pepper. Place in the pre-heated oven for at least 45 minutes- do not even think about moving them around or turning them over! After this time they will be cooked nicely and slightly coloured. I personally like more dark crunchy pieces which take about 15 minutes longer. Either way, you will not be disappointed. Sprinkle with a little more salt and serve. 

Note: Some people like to add flavours such as garlic and rosemary. I have since moved on and simply enjoy the purity of potato flavour that this recipe provides. You are welcome to embellish things as much as you want of course. Just remember to show respect to the spud.  

The Riots: In My Words

There is a South Park episode in which Eric Cartman cannot comprehend the concept of guilt. His friends try in vain to explain why someone might feel bad even if they don’t get caught. It is a moment that sums up why he is such an immoral character, and therefore explains his extreme behaviour that drives most episodes. In the BBC program “The Riots In Their Own Words: The Rioters”, which aired on 13/08/2012, we can see that this kind of personality isn’t limited to the cartoon world.

We were introduced to a mixed group of people who were all involved in the violence and looting to varying extents. Some were doped up angry black youths; some were middle class rubber-neckers. Capable actors portrayed the individuals and the result was a plethora of different perpetrators. I’m sure the decision to have such an eclectic group of speakers was a calculated one to avoid being labelled racist, or snobbish, but it was also pleasant to hear diverse opinions.  The actors did a very good job of making the words sound natural and the personalities of the rioters became very clear indeed.

Early on we are introduced to a middle-aged Caribbean woman waxing lyrical about the Mark Duggan case. Her opinion was that this man had been unlawfully killed by a policeman, and that this was a legitimate reason for a race war between blacks and all police. She recalls being impressed that a violent gang of youths arrived on the scene to show solidarity with the whole black community. She even goes as far as to say it’s a pity a policeman wasn’t killed as a form of justice for Mr Duggan. Not the officer who shot the man by the way; just any, perhaps a family man- maybe even a black one. She also thinks that the rioters got things wrong when they began damaging public property. I suppose she wants one of those riots where nothing gets damaged then.

The next one to stick in the mind like a vision of a beheading was a young black male in his early twenties explaining not so much his motives, but rather his crimes. In frightening matter of factness, he boasts of how he robbed off robbers because it was easy and “what were they gonna do? Argue?” He rolls a joint and then expresses annoyance that the police keep searching him for “no reason”. He began to swell with pride when he claimed he stopped a branch of Halfords burning down. What sort of heroism are you envisioning? Well he was asked for a lighter and he said “no”. Maybe they’ll name a street after him. All he asks in return is that “they should let me sell weed”.

The most cringe-inducing person was a middle class white mother who began as an observer but found herself getting aroused by the scenes of destruction. She was one of those borderline bi-polar ex-hippies who earns a nice living but can’t resist the impulse to be absolutely selfish in the face of adversity. Her story is that she heard things were kicking off, so she scooped up her teenage daughter and immediately lost her in the midst of the chaos. If there is even an ounce of weight to the theories about economics or social injustice, then where does she fit in? Her reason was that it stirred up an old distaste for the police force and made her feel invigorated. Is that a frivolous explanation only a middle class liberal could come out with? I think it is.

There was a particularly soulless individual who put everything into perspective and made everyone else look good however. He seemed to be a teenager who displayed no redeeming features other than the fact he harbours potentially useful organs. The drivel that spouted from this collection of scum’s mouth was worthy of Tony Montana. His reasons for destroying local businesses were terrifyingly cold and logical; basically revenge for minor inconveniences. An off license that had previously asked him for I.D was top of his list. Next was a shop that refused to employ him. I do not know where this sense of immediate entitlement comes from with these youths who make no effort to deserve anything in the first place. The sooner this kid ends up behind bars the better, and let’s hopes he keeps reoffending inside so he never comes out.  

There was also a girl who would be sweet if she wasn’t so pathetic. She’s the classic victim story: she didn’t want to riot but she got swept away because everyone else was doing it. I’m sorry but a defence cannot be built upon the fact that you are sheep. It forces you to talk down to them: “If someone jumped off a cliff......”etc. If a shelf is placed in front of you with products on it and you don’t have the moral fibre to resist stealing something then you are someone who steals; not a victim. Being blind to the concepts of right and wrong is your responsibility. I would be ashamed to admit I got “dragged into it”. When did being easily led become a virtue?

The most impressive interviewees were the honest ones. The general consensus from them was that it was “all about the money”. One of the more articulate rioters clearly stated that no one was thinking about the government. The whole event could be summed in one phrase: Easy Money. I say his honesty impressed me, but he was also one who prolifically looted. He was one of the criminals terrorising the streets last summer and I have no idea what he did. He could have been nicking fruit pastels, or he could have been ripping people of mopeds. He doesn’t get a breath of sympathy from me either.

There was another middle class hippy type who couldn’t help but get drawn into the excitement of it all. He’s also one who, when confronted with that age old question, “To Loot or not To Loot?” he just didn’t know what to do! Call me old fashioned but I don’t consider it a complicated moral conundrum to decide whether or not I should take part in an attack on civilised society. I don’t expect to be patted on the back for this either. If all Hell breaks loose and I end up in Blockbuster video with windows smashed around me, I will not steal a copy of Spiderman; and not just because it’s rubbish.

I haven’t even described half of these characters and yet I will not find a shining beacon of humanity if I continue. I won’t mention the lad who blames his actions on a mental health issue then casually mentions he was stoned when the police came calling. I can’t be bothered to talk about the man furious at the world because of family fatalities; somehow using this to justify putting others in danger. Don’t get me started on the skunk-sauna disguised as a car in which gang members philosophise about what went down.  

The program ends with a concession that the causes of the riots are ultimately unclear. I beg to differ. If someone says they betrayed their better nature because everyone else was doing the same than that suggests less than average intelligence. If someone says that every black person should fight the police, then that reveals a simplistic view on race. When a kid justifies attacking an officer because that officer is enforcing the law, then that kid is not a clever one. A woman who enjoys watching communities burn while putting her daughter in the line of fire is bereft of the most basic impulse of the female intellect. Only brainless teenagers claim the right to act in appalling ways because society isn’t paying the way for them.

Do you hear what I’m saying? These events, this program, this current social climate, are proof that we are living in the most intellectually vacuous era in living memory. It isn’t economics, it’s not politics; it’s the absence of intelligence. It took days for these offenders to realise that destroying their neighbourhoods was probably a bad idea. That’s not even morals; it’s common sense. The ones who started it were fuelled by the brain wave that you can cause large amounts of trouble and have a few hours of stealing. That is the stupidest plan any human can come up with. It’s not even anarchy because it will only last a few hours before smarter people than you will stop it. There is no lower place for the brain to go than following the crowd either. “Why did you do it?” “Because everyone else did”, this is pathetic.

I’m sure it’s politically incorrect to blame stupidity. I’m also certain that other theories are more soothing to the soul. I expect to be contradicted, but for the moment I remain convinced. Years ago the very lowest classes also hung out in smoke filled rooms, but instead of surrendering to idiocy they discussed socialism and unions. They educated themselves and proved the elite wrong. These rioters however, have avoided culture and education like the plague. They organised their attacks on smart-phones. Do they know they can access Wikipedia on these devices? Of course they do, but they don’t give a fuck. You tell me why.     

The Earth's Cadence (or maybe not)

I don’t mean to begin on a terribly downbeat note, but at certain minutes I do revisit those childhood moments we all share. I suppose I am directly referring to the horrific fantasy of nuclear Armageddon. As newly-formed humans with inquisitive yet neurotic impulses, it is inevitable that fear of apocalypse will appear in the infant mind at some point. As adults, we do not shed these worries, we simply rationalise them. But what if the child was correct? Is it maybe an intellectual decision to stare out the bedtime window wondering whether bombers will appear on the horizon? Are sleepless nights as a 9 year old a safety measure; rather than a sign of ADD?

You don’t need to close the curtains and stick on your CD of ‘Gloomy Sunday’ to bring your mood to oppressively downbeat levels these days. Or maybe that isn’t time specific. There are many who had to live through Vietnam, Watergate, JFK, and Altamont. Try telling their teenage souls that Armageddon wasn’t round the corner. Shit happens. In a big world, very bad shit happens. In theory, the world can cease to exist at any second. We don’t know the unknowable aspects of the universe, and it is not a stupid child who wonders whether a Black Hole will turn us into anti-matter before I’ve finished writing this sentence. That’s all mind-bending stuff that will drive a physicist mad and it's all good fun. I, on the other hand, am talking about solid old-fashioned nuclear holocaust here though. Let's stay down to Earth.

Don’t worry. I haven’t got any insider information. I know no more than an average MSN page about the weapon activity of any country. I do possess the knowledge that everyone has. I know that England could wipe out Mars or something. America could blast us back to the dinosaurs. You know? That kind of thing. I doubt none of that crazy stuff. I just don’t dwell on the possibility of Obama locking himself away while spouting Kubrickian lines regarding P.O.E. I am not a radical theorist at heart; I like to go with evidence. Bring me a republican suicide bomber, and I’ll show you an anomaly. Bring me a martyr however, and I’ll show you a thousand more all carrying the same book.

What fool would like to argue that that 9/11 bombers wouldn’t have accepted a doomsday device to stick in the cockpit had it been offered? Their goal of suicide murder is a simple one; suicide murder. They had already been brainwashed as far as they could be and there was no touching them. We may wish to live on high horses in the West and claim that the problems are foreign policy, economics, and poverty. However, these extremists idea of charity is free acid for rape victims. I am not discussing the millions of moderates (who are named moderates by the liberals who claim to be tolerant and impartial, but appoint themselves to be the judges of moderation); I am talking about the clear group of sadistic maniacs who wish to destroy you and everything you love. Don’t talk about Orwellian oppression coming from your government before you acknowledge how Winston Smith’s prose would look from within the walls of Iran. If I write this blog in Tehran, I’m dead. So are any homosexuals I know. That’s how it looks. The phrase “wipe Israel of face of the Earth”, that has become so ubiquitous and therefore rug-swept, is more a universal declaration. If you don’t share their hatred for the target, you are the target.

I will take a rare digression from berating the theocrats to address the more obvious threat. North Korea is an enigmatic, robotic hellhole run by Stalin-type despots from decade to decade. The head of state is a rotting corpse. The last president was the result of having a father who wishes to run things posthumously. The current leader is a crazy looking kid who was brought up by that mess of a man. I’ll spell it out: the future is not Orange. What’s more, they actually have the nuclear weapons that the Ayatollahs can still only view thumbnails of. The mind baffles as to why Saddam was so severely dealt with, but the Kim crew have managed to build a kingdom that would feel fantastical if it weren’t so horrifying. I don’t know the details of what goes on in there (look up someone who does; there’s plenty from them), but I have seen pictures taken last year that echo, with precision, those images you remember from the most interesting history lessons at school. There is no way the mind of the public can be remotely free when you’re told the almighty leader is a cadaver who once achieved eighteen holes-in-one on his golf debut. Call me old-fashioned, but a lack of freedom and information always tends to breed problem states.

There is a reason to sleep tonight though. North Korea is not a state that’s big on the afterlife. The main man is almost a God, but there is no Heaven or Hell preaching going on. It’s all political and military fear. They don’t want the world to end. They want their strange concept of a country to flourish. They’re also clever enough to know that they can’t try any funny business if they want to see that vision through. Kim Jong Un can’t even poke Putin on Facebook without saying goodbye to his cousins first. He won’t destroy South Korea unless he wants WWIII. Maybe all he dreams of is WWIII, but we shouldn’t just assume that and proceed to lose our minds. They’re a bunch of dangerous folk, but they can remain in the group of ‘usual suspects’ for the time being. Don’t worry; he’s not in your garden with a pitchfork.

So I bring you back safely into the hands of the God-Botherers. Apocalypse can be a very attractive option for those who fearsomely believe that paradise is ready and waiting.  For everyone else, it’s like receiving a free voucher for Matalan; it’s a nice idea but you’re probably never gonna go there. Al Qaeda doesn’t care if we all die. Nor do those terrorists who operate in Israel. The Westborough Baptist congregation get weak at the knees at the idea. These are facts that cannot be disputed. They can however, be exaggerated, or muted.       

One thing to say over and over while you’re under the covers is this: they don’t trust science. Western scientists working on skin burning chemicals are not having regular meetings with the militia in Saudi Arabia. They are in separate camps. Technically, a ‘Muslim’ terrorist can’t use a nuclear weapon with any confidence. His primitive beliefs dictate that the atoms needed are not existent, and evolution is false so any cellular damage is impossible. They haven’t got the courtesy or intelligence to invent a plane to crash. How far away do think their research group is away from grappling with the theory of relativity? What the Korean’s (or the Nazi’s for the matter) have in common with us is a desire for advancement. We veer off into different roads at that point but science and learning remain in these two societies. Josef Mengele would have built a superhuman baby with rocket arms given the time and money. Bin Laden would probably have just managed to work the Velcro on his pair of Nikes.

So, I don’t think the end of the world is nigh, or even tomorrow morning. Armageddon is possible of course (it always is), and it will always prey on the mind of neurotic kids and long may that continue; it’s part of growing up. There is a time though, when that fearful curiosity becomes an intellectual handicap and the mind struggles to be both rational and happy. There are some warning signs to use as your canary down the mine. Firstly, Iran invades Israel (bad news, we then invade Iran and all bets are off). Second, North Korea tries it on Third Reich style (we can start writing long essays to go into the next generation’s history books). Thirdly and finally, we fuck things up ourselves (the EDL takes off, the opposition mobilise, mini-revolution).  So avoiding these immediate worries you can rest assured that those engine noises above your bedroom are simply low flying commercial planes. Why are commercial planes flying so low this far away from the airport though? Think about that instead!

I wanted this post to be a positive one at its heart. In a roundabout way, I think it is. 

Where the Wild Things are.

The Bristol Pub Rock Circuit.

When it comes to the Bristol music scene you have a couple of options. You can choose the ketamine fuelled holes to watch dubstep and drum ‘n’ bass. If you fancy metal or punk rock you can usually find what you’re looking for within the ‘suburbs’ of the centre. And there’s always the pseudo-professional circuit where the venues are bigger, and has-beens and wannabes share a functional symbiotic relationship. There is however, one potential night on the musical tiles that I have not yet mentioned: the Bristol Pub Rock Scene. For some, it’s a chance to hear ‘Sex on Fire’ before getting a taxi to town with the girls. For others it is the reassuring end to a hard week. To not a few local musicians, it is a way of life. What is the essence of it though? Is it special, or not even worthy of the pixels I’m spending on it? Let’s find out.

Let’s start with the motives for putting yourself in a position of vulnerability, surrounded by expensive equipment:

1. Money

2. Passion

3.  Attention

4. Obligation

The first one should be simple to explain; money being the ‘root of all happiness’ as the saying should go. Learn a few songs and get a few quid is easy money right? Picking up a guitar at 12, learning ‘The Best of Oasis’ and being offered £50 to stand up and play them does sound like a good deal when you’re 12. But try delivering a much wider repertoire every Saturday night, for five years, never dropping the song you hate the most, never playing that song you wrote and all at the age of thirty. Will £50 cover it? By the way, some of that is petrol money, and that beer wasn’t free.

            Occasionally you will see an eighteen year old drummer in a band of fifty-somethings. He is looking forward to spending his share of the fee on computer games. The singer on the other hand has just filled up his petrol tank just to get to the bloody gig. Aside from the well paid party or wedding, I think money can be ruled out as to why these bands still attempt to ‘rock the house’.

“Well true musicians will still play even if it doesn’t pay well” is possibly your next thought. If you can’t be bothered to get out of bed and play ‘Hotel California’ to a borderline indifferent crowd for the fifth time that month, then you don’t deserve to even own a tambourine. Well it is true that passion is a huge influence on why people still plug away at something on the way to, but more likely away from, superstardom. Where would Slash be today if he couldn’t swallow his ego and give the public a quick taste of ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’ every now and again? Well I’ll jump in there: Slash wrote some of ‘Sweet Child O’ Mine’.  Devoting your passion to someone else’s records is a big ask. You can enjoy doing the scream in the middle of ‘Won’t Get Fooled Again’, but you know deep down that 90% of the inspiration comes from Roger Daltrey being particularly angry, at a particular time, in a particularly successful career. Passion is reserved for the important stuff; a little enthusiasm can easily be the substitute.

The third motive I mentioned was attention. Celebrity culture has proven to be the Christianity of the modern era (I suppose its Bible would be compendium of OK and Heat: which isn’t too far off a description of the real Bible actually). The idea that that impulse would filter through to my Bristolian colleagues is not a crazy one; surely a little fame is better than none? I play in a band myself and I got a little rush when someone asked if I was, indeed, me. Imagine the Bristol equivalent to David Brent hearing that (that’s not me by the way), and the results would be astronomical. True fame though, is so far off for a pub band. Minor recognition may provide a small rush the very first time, but so does a cigarette. Would you continue smoking if every puff required a half hour sound check in front of abusive football fans who (hopefully) won’t even be there when you start playing? There is something else driving these performers, and it is not simply the yearning to be onstage I’m afraid.  

Finally, the list of theories ends with perhaps my most cynical one: obligation. Think of all the negatives I have raised so far. Can you think of five normal humans who would sign up for a year contract if I was to personally write the job description? The fact remains though that pub bands tend to last just as long as their millionaire counterparts. Camaraderie cannot be deemed insignificant in any group who survives a couple of years or more. If you have gained friends within your gang then you do begin to feel responsibility for others. If you cancel a gig, you let down four men, one pub and a hen weekend. Can you live with that? Can you live with that if the venue also happens to be your local? The thing is; many can. I’ve witnessed a band play three consecutive shows with a different singer every time. If people don’t want to play anymore, the lure of the local rock scene becomes less and less seductive. What really keeps the surviving bands together then? They can’t all be old school friends. I’m running out of ideas.

Luckily, I do know what it feels like to be in a Bristol Pub Rock band. I will do my best to capture the glory of it all. My apparent distaste for the life is far stronger on paper than it is in my soul. Let me attempt to paint a picture of a typical gig.

Any pub looks uninviting as you carry in your bass and bag of leads. Even if it is familiar, the stage looks smaller than before and the barmaid smiles less than you remember. There is a small crowd who sum up the term ‘unlikely audience’. Your saviour is the fact you are two and a half hour’s early, and once the football is over these people will hopefully make room for some proper music fans. You cart across monitors, keyboards, microphone stands, lights, amps, guitars and speakers. Sometimes the stage is a risen platform, but usually it’s just a small space in the pub that a sane person would never have put a stage. The six blokes watching the football inevitably snigger that one of your comrades has longer than average hair. You silently wish they would focus on the match a bit more.

The landlord is never there that early in the evening, and nor are the bouncers. It is you against the world as you navigate your way around electric sockets that are carefully placed one inch further than your cables will stretch. The assistant manager hears some guitar feedback and informs you that you’ll need to lower the volume. You explain that the drums cannot be turned down so she’ll need to wait until the sound check to assess things. The drums are set up, you play half of ‘You Really Got Me’; the manager comes back and says it’s still too loud. You think quickly and go up to your amp, pretend to turn it down, and wait ‘til show time. Those rowdy lads have thankfully disappeared. The only problem is the place is now empty.

Your official gig time is 9pm. I’m sorry, but AC/DC could turn up and they’d have to wait until quarter past. These places get about twelve people in at 9pm, it doesn’t look respectable until 9.20pm. You may need to wait ‘til half past. Hell, I know bands that wait until ten o’clock, blast through their set and go home. As long as you know what your venue will accept, you can pretty much do your own thing. 

Anyway, the place is filling out; you grab a pint at the bar, tune your bass once more and face your audience. It isn’t really scary; as long as that wasn’t your only pint. You know your set is good, you’ve practiced. You notice a group of people in the crowd who you don’t recognise. They look cool and are already dancing to Thin Lizzy on the Jukebox. This is gonna be good, you think to yourself. The drummer clocks eye contact with each of you, then taps his sticks miming, “one, two, one-two-three-four”.

You feel your plectrum hit the strings and immediately notice a blonde girl dragging her boyfriend onto the dance floor. Your version of Alright Now has passed the opening test. By the time the solo kicks in, a group of musos lined against the bar are nodding their heads: they will be your barometer tonight. Your singer isn’t the greatest, but an initial burst of energy has turned him into a temporary Elvis. You know he will hit every important high note tonight. You thank God you chose to follow with The Killers, and the audience is your congregation for the immediate future. There is a hiccup as an extremely drunk student grabs your singer’s hand and requests a birthday wish for her cousin. You all stifle a groan but really you are flattered she considers you worthy messengers. That manager from earlier continues to hover like a vulture, waiting to tell you to quieten down. You begin to harbour murderous emotions, but you do not feel guilty. She has the potential to ruin everything. For now though, she is dormant.

The set hits a high point. ‘American Idiot’, Don’t Stop me Know’, ‘Supersonic’, and ‘Dakota’, all pass within twenty minutes. It’s time to give the crowd a break now. Have a beer. The real test will be the second set.

Back on stage, a few winks are exchanged when Pink Floyd’s ‘Money’ finds favour with two couples on the dance floor. The musos at the bar withhold their nodding until your lead guitarist pulls off the solo. You remain quietly reserved. Wait ‘til we play the last few songs, you think to yourself. You know that very soon you will be ending with a power-trio of ‘Satisfaction’, ‘My Generation’, and ‘All the Young Dudes’. Can you stay calm? Should you stay calm? What does the concept of calm even mean within this parallel universe?!  

Your lead guitarist then proceeds to chop out Keef’s most famous riff, and your front man has managed to rekindle some of that energy he felt earlier. You want to jump up and down but you have a job to do (plus your beer is dangerously close to the monitor). That song ends and you now have the daunting prospect of tackling the greatest moment in rock bass history: John Entwistle’s solo in ‘My Generation’. The chords ascend and your fingers begin to thunder. Turns out...you f**k it up, but it doesn’t matter; the crowd are wired. It has become impossible to tell whether the drummer is actually pulling off a perfect Keith Moon impression or just being sloppy, but who cares? You finish with a middle-aged version of trashing the stage; making sure at least one cymbal is out of place. All you need to do now is remove your axe and await the crowd’s demands. You usually get an encore, and this evening doesn’t look set to buck the trend. It is so predictable that you simply mingle around on stage until the drunken cries of “More!!!” warrant further rock ‘n’ roll.

You have been perfecting the art of the closing song for some time now. ‘We Are the Champions’ is good but a little hard for your vocalist. ‘Let it Be’ is okay, but very cheesy. Likewise, ‘Hey Jude’ has even been overdone by Macca himself. A bit of Mott the Hoople may be the stroke of genius you require tonight and, as luck would happen, it goes down a storm. You nail the bass part that you mistakenly think everyone’s listening to. Your guitarist accidentally learnt the Bowie version, but the situation is salvaged by some improvised simplification. You have twenty people climbing on tables, loveless couples kissing in front of you, metal-heads slowly swaying. The biggest triumph of all though, is the musos at the bar playing air-guitar. Your alternative choice of The Darkness would have prompted them to shrug, but ‘All the Young Dudes’? They’re having a religious experience.

The landlord pays up and you have twenty minutes before you really have to leave. Have one more drink lads; apart from the singer who has to drive and therefore had to stop at four ales. You spare yourself a moment of reflection. Sometimes you think that although you could entertain fifty people, you could never entertain fifty thousand. If someone offered you Wembley on the strength of that performance though, well, bring it on. That’s your motive.

Is Great Britain a Christian Country?

Let’s outline a couple of fundamentals here. The Queen is the official head of the State as well as the head of the Church of England (as well as the head on our currency). The practice of marriage is currently faithful to scripture. The prime minister always seems to be a Christian, and the current one is for sure.  These are facts that cannot be denied, and it is why our country is not officially ‘secular’. But are these things just window dressing? Is the spirit of our population playing by secular rules despite the ecclesiasticism that remains? Is a constitution all that is needed to put the final nail in the coffin of theocracy?

Unfortunately, religion is a subject that most people are either uncomfortable or not interested in thinking about. You’ve heard the phrase, “no religion or politics over dinner”; as if they were in the same camp as, “please don’t wear your Swastika to the old peoples’ home”. However, none such etiquette needs be applied here, so let’s talk frankly about this issue. Oh, and just to warn you, I will not be discussing an EDL-esque argument about whether we could become a Muslim country. I am going to remain sane I’m afraid. 

How many people do you know that call themselves Christian? Even the churchgoing folk must concede that they really only talk religious stuff within the walls of their ever emptying churches. Secular arrows have picked away at the foundations of this Westernised incarnation of the religion; Darwin is a genius, Einstein is of course right, Edwin Hubble is an ally. What happened to this old stalwart of a church? A modern theologian is more sceptical than the average 70's atheist. If it weren't for the slight cultural allegiance to the Bible, the term Deist would fit like a glove. Then, once confronted with serious questions about how far they are willing to push their faith, agnosticism becomes most suitable. Since agnosticism began as a euphemism for atheism, what the hell is going on?

The Christian church wheels its big intellectual guns out occasionally, and yes, they have some really big guns. But the Bible never gets discussed. Jesus is mentioned occasionally but his miracles are played down. The theist steals every hypothesis offered by the great scientists and sacrifices it to their God. Quantum physics plays a bigger part now in religious debates than the Immaculate Conception. If this cluster-fuck of intellectual theology can form within the intelligentsia of the religious elite, then what is happening further down the ladder? In Britain, I believe it is disappearing. Let me first however, outline some of the effects of this.

As Chesterton famously said, “When people cease to believe in God, they don't believe in nothing; they believe in anything”. This means that if religion is relinquished, then the void is filled immediately by an equally dubious figure. I can sum it up with a recent experience of mine: I was chatting to my lovely hairdresser the other week- I will withhold her name- when the subject of church came up. I asked if she herself was religious and she said she was a fully paid up atheist, born and raised. I then proceeded to mention a few words of solidarity before the following sentence emanated from her lips, “but I do believe in ghosts”. I asked why and she said it was because her father did. We can tick another name on the atheist conversion list, but I don’t consider her to have even begun the registration process.

In a televised debate, Dr Barry Brummett made a similar observation. In his example he mentioned fitness as the substitute for faith. New diet fads become the obsession for people who no longer seek redemption. They now place all their attention on questionable fitness tests and unsubstantiated statistics; proving that credulity is still among their most prominent traits.

The growing secularisation of the west is allowing certain other things to flourish too. Who hasn’t noticed the physic charlatans who operate on niche channels, and mainstream shows? People don’t associate these mediums with the Christian Heaven, but are instead viewing the "other side" as a sort of pseudoscientific theory. These practiser's of the paranormal would have been burned at the stake in a society of Christendom, but the shackles are off and atheists are being born not grown. This means that the Bible isn't thrust into their laps as toddlers any more, so something has to fulfil the human desire for reassurance. What prompted our predecessors to create God is the yearning for a death solution. What can prove this more than the credit card numbers that are divulged in order to communicate with the deceased? This impulse remains until the fear of mortality is vanquished, and this is yet to happen en masse.

Just as these “atheists by default” are not necessarily on the same page as Dawkins, Gillette or Dennett; the Christian community has a similar problem. There is a large section of the church right now that could sum up their belief as: “I was brought up Christian and it never did me any harm”. This doesn’t exactly meet the demands of scripture and neither does their indifference to shellfish or the tolerance of menstruating women. Their concept of Hell has reverted back to a kind of Jewish level of existence, or sometimes it is completely denied all together. Genesis is flat-out laughed at within houses of God, and the teachings of Spinoza and Aristotle have somehow filtered into Jehovah’s plan for his proselytisers. Such folk of faith are likely to be one George Carlin skit away from full renouncement of the trinity, yet the ritual of Sunday communion is reassuring enough to keep them from doing so. Just as the tarot card readers aren’t on my list of atheists, these people should not be on the list of Christians.

Of course there are a great many Christians who are devout and I am not trying to belittle their strength of faith. I am simply saying that any statistic trying to measure belief against unbelief will never prove whether a population is swaying either way. Ignorance of religion is becoming more and more prevalent. I am willing to guess that millions of people in Britain are capable of ticking one box on the census, and then persuaded by someone to tick the other. It isn’t as simple as saying, “hey nine out of ten ticked Christian”. Explain what being a Christian means and a couple will rethink their choice. This isn’t condescending by the way; just that people can’t know what they haven’t been taught or tried to learn.  

The dilution of religion can only be a good thing. I don’t expect to have to explain this; look at an atlas for a sliding scale. However, the void left is a real one and stupidity is still running parts of the show. Secularisation is not synonymous with scepticism. Think of cold reading, astrology, graphology, dowsing, telekinesis and homeopathy. These are all non-compatible with organised religion yet they demand the same reliance on faith and gullibility. Pension funds and life savings are cleared on a daily basis by the perpetrators of these rackets. Worse still, missing children are declared dead by psychics before the bodies are even found. It would surely break the coldest of hearts to see the true effect of these consequences close up.

Taking into consideration all that went before this paragraph, I think I have to make my mind up on all this. I hadn’t quite known where I would end up as I was typing, but my gut instinct is pushing a conclusion towards my fingertips. My personal desire would be to settle for all the bad that comes from secularising society as long as we could dispose of everything that comes with theology. On balance, the crusades, sexual repression and 9/11 kind of beat the evils I mentioned previously. Though this is simply my personal wish, I also believe it may be fairly close to reality as well. Atheism is the easy stance really. You don’t need to believe in a celestial being, you don’t need to adhere to pointless moral laws, and you don’t have to be subservient to prehistoric humans. To actually try to be a Christian is an active move. It requires faith, servility, masochism, arrogance, modesty, gullibility and a complete disregard for evidence. You may be drinking the wine and eating the bread, but do you really consider yourself a manifestation of all of the above? However long humans continue to believe in the supernatural, faith will remain. It won't always be of the Judaic sort though.   

If all of this is indeed true then we cannot really call Britain a religious country, let alone a Christian one. We do however have a head of state and church that is about to celebrate 60 years at the top. She’s had a good run; can’t we have a constitution now?!  

The big issue

The Empowerment of Women

If you get obsessed with one phrase then please make it this one. Personally I cannot understand the person who fails to get goose-bumps at the mention of it. It may be the old Rolling Stone in me, but I have always had a passion for the company women can provide. It may be nothing more than the desire to hear an alternate opinion to contrast with the default Y chromosome’s, but I adore it. I may have to concede that my own entanglements with the fairer sex have left me spoiled, and that I have been cursed with rose-tinted lenses for being such an undeserving fool.  On the other hand, I know that the fight for equality is not just justified, but necessary. And like the civil rights movement, there is room for some well meaning idiots to get involved. I do not reference the civil rights movement light-heartedly by the way. What could be more serious than fairness for 50% of the population? 

I'm already ready for the jeers claiming we sorted this out with the suffragettes. If you are a humanist you look at every race and culture with the same eye you use on your own. It’s a strange concoction of liberalism and racism to smile when a tribe treats its’ women as slaves. A female MP may fight for the wearing of the Burka in order to present her views on religious freedom; but she fails to realise that it is not imposed by Islam but by sadistic men. The view that contraception is evil was accelerated by Mother Theresa and we do nothing more than politely agree or disagree. It may be intimidating to stand up and say: “Sorry you old bitch but we don’t want everyone in Africa to die no matter how Holy you consider your plan”. What does it say about the power of our male ancestors that a Romanian woman in this century can oppose methods that may save the lives and dignity of her fellow females?

Even if we forget Africa’s problems, we find an even more problematic system in our most recent history. Under the Taliban, Afghanistan was a shining beacon of what happens when women really become second class citizens. They could not have been oppressed anymore without actually being buried alive. You name it, they did it. They couldn’t study at school, couldn’t interact with men, and they couldn’t even show their faces in public. The result: a life expectancy of 44, record lows of literacy, record highs of burnt out eye-sockets. If we take this example as the lowest we could be achieving on this subject then why can’t we strive for the opposite? Check out your average office in England, and observe the 50% of ladies creating fantastic profits for multi-national companies. You may be anti-capitalist but you have to smile at the progress we have made.

I am in no way advocating forcing other cultures to follow suit. I would never wish to enforce a cultural revolution on a country that wasn’t an immediate danger to life on Earth. I simply suggest that we all unite and speak our minds about this issue. You may not feel as angry as when you heard Mexicans were dying on the state-line, or when you heard Mandela had another ten years to go. However, this is a much bigger issue than human beings have ever encountered.

The one negative comment I expect from this post be can summed up in one word, “patronising”. I can only talk what I feel, and I have made a pact not to lie at any point. I suppose if I am patronising I will have to deal with that. Perhaps I may prematurely defend myself and say that although I may be worthy of all criticism, I am not the biggest danger to women today. I must confess though, that I await wrath with a certain amount of expectation. The sisters are a glorious group, but just as diverse as us men. Funny that.

 I am happy to list a few things that would cease to exist if every society was up to scratch. As we speak you can observe: arranged marriages (obviously a ploy to subject a woman to a life of servant-hood), genital mutilation (not the foreskin, but the clitoris), the forced rape and procreation by the ultra-theocratic (something that has been introduced to Iranian law), and the stoning of rape victims in places such as Afghanistan. I’ll let you pray to as many imaginary friends as you want, I’ll even let you protest about meat production. But mess with my female friends.....No. That is not allowed.

I am not fighting for equal prize money for Wimbledon champions. I don’t care about the intricacies of politics resulting in fewer female MPs.  Making poverty history is a slightly bigger issue I think. We all say it, we all mean it, and we all slightly consider it. Want the quick answer? Empower women! Let’s not shy away here, populations are growing and we can’t deal with it. We do have a duty as humans to look after every living person, but we are afraid of saying certain things. We will not discuss contraception in a third world country because it comes across as population control by westerners. The other side of the argument is doing well however; the Catholics have convinced perishing tribes that condoms increase the chances of HIV. When will we wake up and realise that population is controlled perfectly well when the woman has power over her own womb? I sometimes scream inside when this concept is introduced as a revelation to some people. Is it not common sense? I would usually blame religion here, but I’m talking about more than that. It’s male domination, and it hasn’t ended.

Again, I feel this post being slipped into the category “Provocative”. I may have accepted such an accusation for previous posts but this is surely different. Any self-respecting heterosexual man knows the joy of seeing his girlfriend smile. Any intelligent woman knows that happiness derives from equality. Any decent scientist, statistician, philosopher, mathematician, politician knows that progress comes from the duality of genders. We can compromise on many things, but our allegiance with women is non-negotiable.  

You may notice that I wrote this from a male perspective, I referred to women in fairly detached way. Want to know why? I am a man. If you expect any more then you will only receive phonies.