Thursday 18 September 2008

Lehman Bros, HBOS etc. - A Nation Mourns

Yes, we were right all along. The whole Thatcherite thang - cutting taxes on the rich, allowing banks to do what the hell they bloody well liked, pretending the government had no legitimate role in the economy - it was all bollocks. Those of us who voted Callaghan in 1979 and Foot in 1983, who have been leant on for decades to admit we'd got it all wrong - well, as we now know, WE HADN'T. The 40% top tax rate was a disaster from the start, bringing in the massive boom/bust cycle which kept the Tories out of power for more than a decade - though sadly not convincing NotLabour governments to reverse it. Given enough rope to hang themselves the banks duly did - though of course those who were really responsible never paid the price, which is being paid as always by ordinary working people. Given that these guys have fucked up our economy while still remaining filthy rich themselves, what are we going to do? They should either give up their ill-gotten gains, or DIE. As they're clearly not going to do the former, how about the latter?

Class War demonstration outside the Stock Exchange, Monday 22nd, 12 noon, Paternoster Square EC4, nearest tube St. Pauls - don't precisely know what this will achieve, but may just prove a starting point and we'll take it from there. But the physical security of the rich now has to be threatened, as they've threatened ours. Let's see some DEAD BANKERS! The forthcoming Winter of Discontent is going to eclipse anything that happened thirty years ago.

Monday 8 September 2008

The invisible hand gets the shakes....

We're told that government doesn't need to interfere in matters economic. The market is great and will prevail (or something like that). That is, of course, until it might mean important people losing money.

The US government has found it necessary to take over the two big mortgage guarantors, which bear the cute, homely names "Fannie Mae" and "Freddie Mac", which are normally not glossed even in the British press. Now, it could be argued that this doesn't make much difference; in both unlovely acronyms (FNMA and FHMC, since you don't ask) the F stands for "Federal". But, apparently, they weren't Federal until yesterday. What does this mean? That the people who run them were paying themselves enormous salaries on the grounds that they were commercial enterprises while not actually bearing any of the risk, perhaps? Perish the thought. And of course now they are government-run the bosses will go back to public-sector salaries? Well, of course they will.

Sounds rather like our own dear Northern Rock. Its bosses were lending stupidly, knowing that everybody else was risking their neck but that they themselves were risking bugger all, but they knew that the government couldn't let them swing in the wind as an electorally significant number of people would otherwise suffer. Well, any justification capitalism could possibly have rests on the risk-taking of entrepreneurs. This must mean that if things go tits up these people are on their bikes and living in a two-up-two-down terrace. Otherwise we'd be better off having everybody working for the State, drawing shit wages but doing sod all work for them. Less opportunity for disaster, and less hassle all round.

And no-one should ever forget; everyone on a high salary has got it by blagging and status-mongering, rather than by any conceivable version of market forces. And so no harm could ever be done to the wider economy by taxing them to buggery and beyond.

Apologies to the blogosphere for absence

Another long hiatus, in this case caused by the CELTA English-teaching course I’ve just completed.

They warned us at the beginning that the course we were taking was pretty intensive. I took this with a pinch of salt, but discovered soon enough that they weren’t bloody kidding. Haven’t worked so hard for quite a while; it ain’t an easy option, and for people without experience of academic study it may be a bridge too far. One guy dropped out after three days, and I damn nearly dropped out halfway through, but was persuaded back on board. The main problem for me was that, there being no CELTA course in my home town despite its two universities, I had to travel 120 miles every day, and due to unforeseen engineering works (aren’t they all unforeseen?) this meant five hours’ commuting on top of the eight-hour day. Alarm set for 5.45 a.m., and by the time I got home and had had a bite to eat it was getting on for 9. Now some people may be able to get on with written work and lesson planning at that sort of time, but I sure ain’t one of them; too much of a piss-artist for a start. So it was scraping by from start to finish.

Interesting lot of people on the course. I expected them (on the evidence of a mate who’s been in the biz 20 years) to be largely female; in fact blokes had a 10-8 majority. I wasn’t even the oldest on the course – there was a splendidly barmy woman who was pushing sixty. As a seasoned Islamophobe, it was probably salutary for me to be paired with one hijab-wearing Muslim lady for class work, and with another one as my teaching partner. (Both of them were training to teach English to women in the Greater Manchester Muslim community, and one can’t have any objection to that.) In fact one of them I fancied the jilbab off, but it wouldn’t do to mention any such thing.

The students were delightful. As they can’t charge people for practice lessons given by the likes of Muggins, these lessons were offered free, and quite a mixed bag they attracted. Not as many Asians as I’d expected and rather hoped; just a few orientals, and rather more strong silent North Africans, with the odd Hispanic. There was also an ancient Russian woman – God only knows what she was doing there; the first time she attended our class she sat on her own giving off the occasional impassioned diatribe in Russian and frightening the daylights out of the young students sitting around her. But both we and the tutors were jolly kind to her – personally I’m prepared to cut a lot of slack for someone who grew up in Russia in the early days of Stalin – and she settled down and became quite amenable.

The organisation of the course was a bit chaotic, but after enough of us had complained they got their act together and made sure we all got through. On balance I’m glad I did it, but wouldn’t want to do it again. Nor have I the first idea where I’m going to use it.

Islamophobia reasserted itself at the end, reassuringly. After the last day of the course the Christian and secular majority wanted to go out on the piss, but we thoughtfully changed this into a Chinese meal to try to be nice and inclusive for our Muslim colleagues. Even so we only managed to bring one of them along, and only after we’d repeatedly assured him that we were going to a restaurant and not a pub. It was one of those buffet restaurants, and once he’d got his plate filled he went to sit down at another table, presumably because it was not on to share a table with people consuming pork and beer. We wouldn’t have even minded that if he hadn’t then scarpered without contributing anything to the bill….Sod ‘em, sod ‘em, SOD ’EM! I’ve no objection to people who don’t eat and drink certain things; but I know dozens of people who don’t drink and will still come to the pub and have an orange juice. If you have to make such a bloody arse of yourself then you shouldn’t complain if we start getting prejudiced against you.