Political Spot

Good evening, from the NTP political centre.

I was lucky enough to understand the end of the Cold War, and feel the relief of Europeans and the coming together of nations who had been separated by ideology for decades. The legal successor to the Soviet Union (which, for a supposed dictatorship, voted itself out of existence) is Russia. Russia failed to come to terms with the demands of the capitalist system, many of it's soldiers were unpaid for months, and there were starving thousands who had worked all of their lives and whose pensions were worthless.

Under the variable Presidency of Boris Yeltsin, Russia dug in for transition to capitalism and braced itself for some further harsh years. To aid liquidity, the nation sold off many of the nationalised industries in a massive privatisation move. This worked wonders, with many of the businesses proving to be hugely profitable, a source of tax revenues for the nation, and drawing tentative investment from the West.

On the eve of the Millennium, Boris Yeltsin handed over power to a virtual unknown, the unassuming short-term Prime Minister, Vladimir Putin. Nothing too serious was mentioned about his KGB past, as the world celebrated 2000.

Fast forward nearly a decade. The men who owned the privatised businesses are now rich beyond the dreams of all but a handful of people. These men are now, in some parts, household names. Roman Abramovich, anyone? The companies that generate the highest profits are those which utilise Russia's abundant natural resources, like Gazprom (gas) and Sibneft (oil). 

Due to resources dwindling elsewhere, and other factors, these resources are suddenly enormously valuable, and Russia holds the keys to energy prices for most of Europe.

If, for example, a nation failed to appreciate an aspect of Russian foreign policy then the Russian government could turn off the gas to that country or increase the price dramatically. In winter, this could bring a shivering nation to it's knees. Which is more or less what what they did to Ukraine in 2007.

During the last year, Putin's tenure as President came to an end, and he moved downstairs to become Prime Minister whilst 'puppet' President Dmitry Medvedev was elected. Spookily, Medvedev used to be on the Board of Directors at Gazprom.

With the rearming and new confidence of the Russian Army, allied to the strategic power balance with the countries that rely on Russian resources, it would take a bold leader (or a suicidal one) that would challenge Russia or Putin to a fight.

And this is where we are today. With Russian troops and navy surrounding and probing inside Georgia, Georgia's biggest ally the United States is reduced to throwing strong-sounding comments instead of bullets.

The United States will never invade Russia, and neither will it provide the more realistic idea of sending fighting troops to support Georgian defences. The chance of accidentally or deliberately firing on Russian troops is too great a mistake to make. And the 'coalition of the willing' are already hugely stretched with our War on Terror.

As diplomacy, calls for withdrawals and ceasefires are sternly put forward by Condoleeza Rice and George W Bush, it is interesting to draw a parallel with the Iraqi invasion of 2003. At no time were the Iraqi Government given the opportunity to come to a table to talk over their differences with the US. And I find it offensive that the US has the gall to chide Russia for "illegal entry into sovereign territory", as American troops still patrol Baghdad.

As Mark Thomas pointed out; Iraq was invaded not because it was strong, it was exactly the opposite, it was because it was weak.

With the United Nations Security Council being made up of five permanent members and five temporary ones, and Russia being one of the permanent members, unanimous decision to censure Russia will never happen.

And this is why we are in the situation where Russian Generals can make claims that even The Sun can't make any more sensational:

Just for contracting themselves with the US's missile defence system, Poland is now under threat of a nuclear strike. Where does this leave Britain, with its American Army bases and Union Jack painted nuclear missiles in Norfolk?

Is this a temporary phase for Russia, or is this the start of a dangerous new period in world history?

Ladies and Gentlemen, giving you the headline story of rest of my life: The New Cold War.

I Was A Teenage Hitler Clone

Idea for a film! Not my life story. Honest.

It is November 1989, in a secret laboratory somewhere hidden away in East Germany. Two bearded ginger scientists rush around feverishly knocking over bottles and shovel papers into a concrete mixer. There is panic in the air. There are suggested links to cloning in the laboratory. As they continue to destroy ‘evidence’, they uncover a long forgotten safe, which has never actually been locked.

Inside, there are some effects, an old parcel of papers, and a dusty test tube with a tooth in it.

The scientists stop and look through the papers. This is the writings of Otto Unterhosen, the fabled researcher from the early days of the East German regime. They are agog at the unexpected discovery.

Detailed diagrams and graphs, and copious black and white pictures. The investigation becomes more hurried, then stops when they see a photograph of Adolf Hitler.

There is a circle of red crayon around one of his teeth.

Our two scientists make the link that the tooth is the last remnant of Hitler. Obviously, being communist faithful, they jeer loudly at the tooth of the detested leader of the fascist regime.

Their thoughts turn to the possibility of using the stored DNA in the tooth to clone a Hitler that could possibly be used good; maybe propping up the falling communist government, and the thought also occurs that they could make lots of them to chain to benches across the nation to be given a good hiding at any opportune moments – a stress Hitler? 

Anyhow, this is to irresistible an opportunity to miss, and with the sounds of ‘freedom’ playing on their radio, time is ticking down. They boil the tooth and extract the DNA in a way that is only possible in a short comic film. Preferably with tweezers.

So our scientific heroes (for want of a better phrase) store this DNA in a container with obvious danger markings. Knowing that time is against them, they shovel all the rest of the available papers into the concrete mixer and run out of a side door, leaving mess everywhere.

Here, there is a plot detail I’m yet to decide on; somehow the DNA makes it to a city in England, either on purpose or design. Is there a crash of some sort, or a plot that sees one of the scientists move here and marry.

This plot is vital, as it follows to the main crux, as very soon the Hitler DNA is (either by accident or criminally insane scientific design) impregnated into a ‘nice woman of child bearing age’. The more wholesome the better, this decades equivalent of Felicity Kendal, if you will. Scientists go to ground, in hiding.

Fade to black.

Caption: Today…

A skateboard park in suburban UK land. A cheerful helpful teenage voice is out of shot, saying polite and thoughtful things. Wide shot of the teenager reveals teenager in typical Emo clothes, but with obvious Hitler fringe and downy moustache.

Cue mishaps, as the child struggles to come to terms with occasional outbursts that are out of keeping with his wholesome upbringing, and lots of Nazi style imagery which the Emo kid fails to connect with. The essential point of the humour is that the central character has to totally oppose the views of the Nazi party, and if possible, come across as the Anti-Hitler.

Eventually the scientists come out of hiding when they see the kid win a national niceness competition of some sort and try to track the kid down.

In the end the kid is told about his genes, and he’s happy with it as the message is it’s out upbringing that defines our character and not out hardwired DNA.

Title of the film? No idea. But I’d pay to see it. I may have to write star, film and direct it myself though…

Maplins – Poorly Constructed Consumer Rant

I really dislike Maplins. As I have mentioned before, everything I have ever bought from there has been an absolute disappointment. Including the new satellite receiver I bought a few weeks ago. I returned it to them today, expecting a prompt refund.  This didn’t happen, and it may take fourteen days to get my money back, as the unit has to be sent for testing. Whilst there, I saw that they have raised the price by £10.

After this, I questioned the receipt; after all it said “return me within 14 days for a refund”. Ah, but the unit has to go back for testing before Maplins can me the money.

Maplins have taken my money hostage. I have nothing to show for my receipt in terms of goods. 

Arseholes.

I shall never set foot in that blasted shop again, unless it is either to continue to claim my money back, or to fart loudly.

Double arseholes.

Bringing The Summer of 1986 Bang Up To Date

Hello.

If you have ever thought to yourself; "What happens when the people at major financial institutions have to wait between bits of work finishing?", well the answer is usually find something else to eat. However recently, thanks to an inspired moment of lunacy from Miss P, we bring to you the smash hit from the summer of 1986 re-worded for the binge-drinking generation. Obviously, writing something about chavs would be easy, and they wouldn't work as well with the 'source material', so here is the middle class - far too much wine - surprised man in chinos - version. With full accreditation, and directions for the music video too...

Lady Gone Red

With sincere apologies to Chris De Burgh

New words by Nothing Too Pretentious and Miss P

Scene: Dark alleyway. Brick wall behind. Man wears sports pullover around shoulders. Man looks thoughtful into middle distance. Gentle movement of busy town centre in background. Music begins. Man sings:

I’ve never seen you looking so munted as you did tonight

I’d never seen you have a fight

-

I’ve never seen so many doormen ask you if you wanted to leave

They’re looking for a little more calm, given half a chance

I couldn’t see that dress you were wearing

Oh, the highlights in your hair that match your eyes; you might be blind

The lady gone red, is hanging off me, cheek to cheek

There’s nobody here, it’s just you and me, you scared them all away

But I hardly know, this mad bint by my side

I never will for-get, the way you drank tonight

I’d never seen you looking so spaced out as you did tonight

I’d never heard you talk such sh*te, you were amazing

I’d never seen so many police want to be there by your side

They threw us out the pub, they took our drinks away

And I have never had such a feeling

Such a feeling of complete and utter shame, as I do tonight

The lady gone red, is hanging off me, cheek to cheek

There’s nobody here, it’s just you and me, you scared them all away

But I hardly know, this mad bint by my side

I never will for-get, the way you drank tonig-hight

I never will for-get, the way you drank tonight

The lady gone red

The lady gone red

The lady gone red

My lady’s gone red.

Scene: Dark alleyway, wider shot. Man holding wife’s hair back as she vomits spectacularly. Fade out with close up on man’s crushingly disappointed face.

Organised

Evening,

I am running the Fantasy League that will probably be worth three days of unpaid work, as well as being the most responsibility I have been given since starting work at a bank.

I have no fear; at the weekend I visited Muji on New Street, and was overcome with a Zen like calmness and desire for order. This exploded across my life over the past few days, and I have been de-cluttering and ordering everything within reach. Observe:

Nearby there is a sign announcing "Get Organised or Die Trying". I spent about £8 on a wonderous heavy plastic set of drawers that have sprinkled Japanese, efficient, elegant magic to my work desk at home. I also bought a spray bottle that not only sprays and does jets, it works, and works well and has a satisfying silence and grace. The Honda of spray bottles, if you will. My basil plant (Ocimum basilicum) will surely be watered to death over the coming days.

The crappy satellite dish is ready for return, my lunch for work tomorrow was prepared in stunning fashion at 7.21 this evening. How long will this last?

So I am largely organised. I didn't get an interview for the job I was after; never mind. The pile of post I was complaining about from my printer has gone; KABOOM! Actioned and filed. 

Two tasks down, several more to go.