It is all change in the United Kingdom.

No other period in history has had such a profound effect upon the people of this country than the period that began with the swearing in of our shiny new prime minister, Liz Truss.

Normally, the monarch’s acceptance of the new prime minister took place at Buckingham Palace in London, but there was “concern” for the health of the other Liz, Queen Elizabeth II. So, with great reluctance, the people behind the scenes decided that Ms Truss should travel to Balmoral, the royal castle in Scotland, for the ritualistic meeting between Her Majesty and the prime minister.

There is no video of the event, but some photographs; and when those photographs were released later in the day (September 6), they were shocking.

Just three months on from the Platinum Jubilee celebrations, Queen Elizabeth had looked the picture of health back in June in comparison with the tiny, frail stick insect that stood before her 15th prime minister. The arm that reached out to shake Ms Truss’ hand was covered in purple bruising, a clear sign of “mottling,” which occurs when the heart is unable to pump blood to the vital organs in the body. The monarch’s face was puffy but smiling, and the final photo of the Queen, standing alone in front of the fireplace, was the saddest and most shocking of all. It was indeed clear that the end was nigh.

Quite how nigh it was came as a shock to both the Royal Family and to the country as a whole. Initially, the Queen’s children and grandchildren continued life as normal, perhaps burying their heads in the sand in respect of just how seriously ill their matriarch and the country’s head of state was. As someone who has gone through the death of a parent, as I’m sure one, if not both, of my readers have as well, I can’t blame the Royal Family for this, because I did the same thing, too, when my mother died.

Within 48 hours of the meeting of with Liz Truss, Queen Elizabeth II, head of state of the United Kingdom and the Commonwealth for 70 years and 214 days, was dead. As a news reporter said on the day of the Queen’s death, she was the rock upon which modern Britain was built. Three out of every four people in Great Britain, Northern Ireland and the rest of the Commonwealth, did not know of life with any other monarch except Elizabeth.

I am no monarchist. I instinctively find the idea of an hereditary monarchy abhorrent. Why should we curtsey and call someone “Sir,” or “Ma’am,” just because someone else has decided that these people should be born into a higher position in a society than me? Nobody bows and scrapes in front of me just because I can play Paul McCartney’s “Blackbird”?

But I also love history – and, in the case of England, Great Britain, Northern Ireland, France, Germany, Spain – indeed, just about any civilised or uncivilised society in the history of the world, has or has had some form of monarchy at its head. Some nations have replaced their monarch with a president, i.e. they have become a republic, but that president is still treated with the same degree of reverence we give to royalty, so what’s the difference? Ah yes, it’s the fact that they were voted into office, no matter how corrupt the election process was, they still had an election process.

And if you love history, you’ve got to deal with a history of various monarchies, and monarchic dynasties. No matter how disgusted you might feel about the idea of it all, you have to deal with it, because you cannot change the past by hating it. I know – I’ve tried.

Anyone with a pulse will know that for the 10-day period of “official mourning”, the United Kingdom came to a virtual standstill. Well…that’s not strictly true, life did carry on to a certain degree, I still got my Morrison’s shopping delivered, went to the dentist, and so on, but let’s say life continued but with a black tie on.

On Monday 19th September 2022, an extra Bank Holiday was declared in the UK, ostensibly to allow the public to watch the state funeral of Queen Elizabeth II on the telly. And watch it they seem to have done – 28 million of us, that’s almost half the country – watched the funeral according to preliminary viewing figures. That would be equivalent to about 150 million in the United States, or 800 million in China. I haven’t heard those kind of viewing numbers since the Morecambe and Wise Christmas TV specials in the 1970s.

So now we have a new sovereign, King Charles III, the first with that moniker since the father/son team in the 17th Century. Charles’ first namesake is remembered in our history as being the only monarch to have been beheaded by his subjects as a traitor for proclaiming the Divine Right of Kings and, for 11 years at least, England (and Scotland and Wales) became a republic.

In 1660, however, Charles II returned and the monarchy was restored – with some changes, of course, which eventually led to the monarch’s current status as a constitutional one; seen more as a figurehead and used more or less as a mascot for state occasions rather than being one who actually made any meaningful decisions on how the country is run. The monarch merely gives his or her assent to the decisions made by the government of the day. But the monarch is still in his or her position by birth-right, you still have to bow and scrape, but you know who’s really in charge.

At no other time in the history of these islands has there ever been a change of prime minister and a change of monarch within 48 hours of each other.

These are indeed extraordinary times, and while King Charles III still looks a little like a rabbit in the headlights, not being sure and being guided as to what to do next, Liz Truss has hit the ground running, and has made it abundantly clear as to who she is going to cut taxes for, and who she is going to send into abject poverty with rising oil prices, rising cost of living, and longer and longer queues for medical appointments at NHS hospital, for which she will pretend that she can do nothing.

We know who really is in charge, don’t we? x

Just recently, I watched a video on YouTube by the historian Dr David Starkey. He is an expert in tying up the events of the past in Britain’s history with those of the present. Historians have an annoying habit of speaking about historical events in the present tense, as though they are happening now; but in Dr Starkey’s case, there is at least an obvious reason for it. It’s because it is happening now.

On September 8, 2022, an innocuous-sounding date on its own, an historical event occurred: the death of the longest-reigning monarch in English – or British – history, the late Queen Elizabeth II. The list of historical events that have taken place during her reign is eye-watering: our American friends may be interested to know who their president was when we last had a change of monarch: it was Harry S. Truman, the only president – in fact, the only leader in the history of this planet – to use nuclear weapons in anger.

Whatever your interest or area of expertise in life, have a quick think back to who its leading light was back on February 6, 1952, the date of the last accession to the throne of a British monarch. Have a little look back on how much your little corner of knowledge has changed, or developed, since the lyrics of ‘God Save the King’ became ‘God Save the Queen.’

Now that those lyrics have changed back again, much is uncertain; but was is certain is that the new King Charles III will not reign, if that word can still be applied to a ceremonial figurehead, for as long as his mother did. And, even if he does, I will not be around to be proved wrong.

But hang on, you hear me cry, what has 1707 got to do with anything? First of all, let me establish something: there is certainly longevity in the genes of our beloved British monarchy: King Charles III is only the thirteenth accession to the “throne” of Britain since Queen Anne did so on 1 May 1707.

When Queen Anne, the last surviving monarch of the House of Stuart, became queen of Great Britain and Ireland in 1707, she had already been monarch of England, Scotland and Ireland for over five years.

Huh???

I said, when Queen Anne, the last surviving monarch of the House of Stuart…

Listen, I’m not deef, I heard you the first time. I just think you’re spouting gibberish!

I’m not spouting gibberish; I assure you I’m making perfect sense. In 1707, Queen Anne signed the Acts of Union – that is, she signed the second of the two Acts of Union which was passed by the Scottish Parliament, effectively dissolving itself, and forming what we know know of as Great Britain – the union of the three states of England, Scotland and Wales, all governed by the Parliament at Westminster. Ireland, like Scotland had before it, remained a separate state but sharing, for the time being at least, its monarch with the new Great Britain.

The first Act had already been passed by the English parliament in 1706, so Queen Anne already knew she was going to have to surrender one of her crowns to herself. The first Union of the Crowns, in 1603, occurred when the outgoing English monarch, Queen Elizabeth I, died without issue, leaving her throne to her double first cousin twice removed, King James VI of Scotland (thence King James I of England). But this so-called Union, despite its being referred to as a single crown, was nothing of the sort – merely an acknowledgement by the monarch to reign over two states as though they were one, but in fact they weren’t. Despite Great Britain’s existence on paper, it didn’t really exist in practice.

When James I became king in 1603, I believe it was his intention to unite England and Scotland completely. But the English parliament in Westminster – and, probably, with some justification – feared that it was the King’s intention to rule over England with the same degree of absolutism as he was used to in Scotland. Westminster said, “No!” The king tried again in 1610; Westminster said, “No!” The king died in 1625 and his son, Charles I, tried several times and each time Westminster said, “No!” In fact, they said no with increasing ferocity, to the point where, in 1642, a civil war erupted between the King’s troops and the Parliamentary ones. Parliament was ultimately triumphant and, in 1649, it cut off its monarch’s head. If ever England was without a Head of State, it was then.

After an 11-year interregnum, the late King’s son, who had fled to The Netherlands or France or somewhere, was restored to the English, and Scottish, throne(s), as Charles II, in 1660. But, although united, the English and Scottish crowns were still separate ones. And, to make matters worse, Charles II died in 1685 without any legitimate children. It fell to the late King’s brother, as James II, to assume the throne(s).

But, there was a problem that someone forgot to foresee. James II was Catholic.

Arrrgghhh….if he was only anything else but Catholic. It turns out that, while your average Joe on the street (if they could be called streets – those muddy, plague-ridden dirt tracks that passed for streets in those days) was largely tolerant of someone’s religion, that already over-privileged band of men elected to Parliament weren’t.

Don’t forget, at that time, England and Scotland – despite sharing a monarch – were still separate sovereign states. That’s important to remember for the time being. Anyway, both Parliaments flatly refused to pass any of the king’s measures into law. James II returned to the old mantras that had served his father Charles I so badly, and basically told his parliaments, I am your king, appointed by God, no man can get in the way of that, you’ll do as you’re told.

Oh, here we go again, said the parliaments.

When James II had a son, James, on 10 June 1688, both England and Scotland breathed a sharp-intake of breath, as the prospect of a Catholic dynasty became a reality that no Parliamentarian seemed to be able to stomach. His daughter, Mary, already 26 years old, was Protestant. I told you it was complicated.

Within weeks of the royal birth, James had seven bishops tried for seditious libel. This was even more complicated. Despite being staunchly Catholic, King James issued a series of Declarations of Indulgence, in which citizens of both England and Scotland could all enjoy the same liberties in religious practice whether they be Catholic, Protestant, Scottish Presbyterian, whatever.

Yet the established churches, the Church of England and the Scottish Presbyterians, both objected to it, despite the fact that they could have enjoyed much more tolerance from their Catholic monarch. They objected to it because the Declaration had no specified limitations; in other words, you could be any denomination you liked – or, worse still, Jewish, Islamist, Buddhist or Jedi*. (*Just kidding. There was no such thing as Jedi then.)

The king then tried the old classic trick of, we are the King, we have Supreme Authority, you will obey us without reserve. The king had already gotten rid of both the English and Scottish Parliaments in 1685 and 1686 respectively, and now he attempted the same with the established churches. Seven bishops who refused to read the king’s Declaration in church were tried for sedition, which is basically an attempt to lead people against the ruling authority. They were acquitted on 30 June 1688, but it was already too late. The King’s authority was gone. Another civil war seemed inevitable; only the arrival of William of Orange and his wife Mary (remember? James II’s Protestant daughter) on British shores in November 1688 prevented that war, and James was kicked off the throne.

This restored the relative stability in Britain, or so they thought. It wasn’t over yet. Mary II seemed fit and healthy, yet she contracted smallpox in 1694 – but even that was complicated. At first, she seemed to recover, and it was thought that she had suffered from a minor form of the illness, or perhaps even measles. But it was not the case – her illness had simply turned inward and she died on December 28, leaving her husband William to rule alone. This he did until 1702, when he too died, leaving the country without issue once again. Why can’t anything be simple, eh?

So it was up to his sister-in-law, cousin and heir Queen Anne to take the throne and try to introduce some stability in this country for a change, which she did by signing the Acts of Union in 1707. All Anne had to do was get pregnant…

Anne had a whopping seventeen pregnancies during her lifetime, and of these, sixteen were dead before the age of two. The seventeenth, William, duke of Gloucester, died at the age of 11 in 1700, the same year Anne experienced her final stillbirth pregnancy, all before she became queen. Whether she or Parliament expected her to expect again, she was to die in 1714 without further issue, causing the Privy Council to look to Germany for the next monarch, George I of Hanover.

George I became king because the other claimant, James Stuart – remember, son of James II? – was Catholic, and therefore not the rightful heir. William III had signed the Act of Settlement in 1701, meaning that subsequent claimants to the throne of England, Scotland and Ireland could only be Protestant.

And it was upon that basis that King Charles III signed his accession to the throne of Great Britain and Northern Ireland (added later; a whole other story) last Friday.

So Charles III has vowed unequivocally to uphold the values of the Protestant Church of England – despite fact that he must surely be at loggerheads with his own church leaders by being the first monarch in English history to ascend the throne as a divorcee. It seems they have gotten round this by proclaiming Charles’ wife, Camilla, not as Queen but as Queen Consort. Oh, that’s all right, then…

In case anyone is wondering why I am anti-monarchist, it is for the above, and other, reasons. I don’t, as some do, object to them as people; I’m sure they’re all great at parties. Indeed, I happen to think that William, the future William V, would make an excellent king. But it is the sheer level of hypocrisy behind the scenes merely for the sake of keeping the tradition of a constitutional monarchy going, allowing a hapless family to live a life of luxury and privilege for which all they have to do is shake hands with us ordinary folk all day long.

Therefore, when I see videos go viral just because Charles is waving dismissively at his staff to remove a pen case off the table, I just place my metaphorical head in my metaphorical hands and go, you don’t know the half of it. If that’s the best you can do to demand that King Charles III abdicates the throne then you need to go back to your history books and study them carefully.

It always happens to the Charles’, doesn’t it. Charles I was beheaded for demanding the Absolute Right of Kings, Charles II died without issue leaving James II demand the Absolute Right of Kings and force his own abdication…and Charles III told someone to remove a box of pens.

Many dismiss Dr Starkey’s gifts as a historian because of his tendency to over-dramatise even current events, never mind historical ones, but I happen to think he is an excellent historian, one of our greatest, with a magnificent ability to tie the events of the past with those of today and make us understand the truths of what is unfolding right in front of our eyes.

The last time we had a coronation, in 1953, there was no Elvis, there was no Beatles. There was no Clint Eastwood, there was no Olivia Newton-John. Albert Einstein, Ralph Vaughan Williams, Jean Sibelius and Igor Stravinsky were all still alive. Even the great Cliff Richard was only 12. Thus it is little wonder that much of the Commonwealth – and indeed the rest of the world that knew and recognised Elizabeth II as a Head of State – is looking on with dazed amazement at the events unfolding in the United Kingdom today. Anyone under the age of 75 is not likely to remember any other sovereign except Queen Elizabeth II.

Yet the machine that took over once she breathed her last at Balmoral last Thursday afternoon was as well-oiled and well-rehearsed as any that has been invented or created in the last 70 years, because they have had centuries of tradition upon which to base their actions. And don’t forget one group of individuals who are as stunned as we are – not one of them doesn’t look as though they have been hit by a 50-ton truck in recent days – and that is the royal family themselves. Not one of them looks as though they have the slightest clue what is going on, or what is supposed to happen next. Thank goodness they have that well-oiled machine working in the background for them to point them in the right direction. x

Dearest Reader(s):

We are about to become victims of the biggest robbery this country – and possibly the world – has ever known.

We have been warned – threatened – by the UK government that our energy prices are about to go through the proverbial roof from October. This is on top of the increases that many have experienced for most of 2022, if not before.

This has struck terror in the hearts of many citizens of the UK, as they wonder how they are going to find the money to pay for this same energy that, just one month ago, cost significantly less.

In the UK, there is a so-called ‘regulator’ for energy supplies, and, like all other British ‘regulators,’ it begins with the letters ‘Of’ – in this case, Ofgem. As I’ve said already, many households in the UK have experienced massive price rises already and, instead of looking out for the consumer like a regulator is supposed to do, it raised its cap on energy prices – in other words, the maximum amount an energy company could charge its customers.

On 26 August 2022, Ofgem announced that it was raising its price cap from an average of £1,971 per household to £3,549! That’s a rise, in one go, of around 80%.

This is unbelievable. But, you know what, instead of saying, you know, our customers are paying enough as it is for something that is essentially intangible, so we’ll keep the prices as they are for now, you could almost hear the drools of saliva hit the floor as the shareholders and senior executives saw just how much money they could make instantly.

It’s out-fucking-rageous.

I would like to ask our brand spanking new prime minister Liz Truss – rhetorically of course – a few questions.

First – is this almost nightmarish price hike a piece of fake news, designed so that your first act as prime minister will be to find a mythical £100bn of public money – tax-payers’ money – to fund payments to every household to cover this hike, so that they will feel more inclined to vote for you should you decide to call, I don’t know, a snap election in the near future and guarantee yourself five years as an elected prime minister with an elected government and a mandate?

Secondly, and giving you the benefit of the doubt on the first question, and assuming this £100bn to be genuine, which is scary, where is this money coming from? From government borrowing, eh? Adding it to the national debt, eh?

This question in itself invokes so many sub-questions, it is difficult to know where to begin. First of all, isn’t that precisely the sort of fiscal policy that might be suggested by someone like, I don’t know, Jeremy Corbyn, the most arch-Labour leader Labour has had since the days of Wilson and Callaghan, ie, pre-new Labour, and the leader that put that party back forty years from which it still stands no chance of recovering? That leader they’ve got now, sounds like the school bully in the year above moaning to the teacher while his voice is just breaking. Gimme an ‘H’! Gimme an ‘-opeless!’ What have you got? Sir Kier Starmer.

I digress, as ever. Apparently, the man tipped to be Ms Truss’ new chancellor, Kwasi Kwarteng, wrote recently in the Financial Times that to pay for the PM-elect’s plan, the growth rate of the economy will just magically be increased to pay for the extra burden of debt, partly funded by…oh God, I can barely bring myself to write these words…shrinking the public sector.

Christ! The British public is now exactly where the Tories want them – too cynical and jaded to even get upset beyond writing a few cheap and insulting comments on BBC News, or perhaps a blog such as this one. There’s too much at stake – too much telly to miss, too many liberties are at risk if you were to take to the streets and protest, for example. No, the time for that is gone, and the Tories know it. That’s why the government is allowing Ofgem, on behalf of the energy suppliers, to get away with this.

Of course, we have to be careful when we say ‘energy suppliers,’ because we are actually just talking about a few men and women at the top – not the actual energy suppliers who come to your home and turn on your energy, and/or fix it when it inevitably goes wrong. And, doubtless, they take 99% of the misdirected heat from the customers too afraid to tackle the people who will really benefit from all this.

Make no mistake – just because your energy bills will be going up 80% in October, after the 24% rise here and the 37% rise there – your energy is not going to be 80% better quality, is it? You’re still going to have to call out the engineers just as often, wait in call centre queues for just as long, or tied to ridiculously lengthy contracts just because they gave you a nice pen.

Ofgem’s website (https://www.ofgem.gov.uk) is, unsurprisingly, rather low-key about the destruction they are about to wreak on the finances of many households in Britain. You can get help, they say, or maybe even a grant, if you can’t afford your energy bills. They recognise the fact that everybody needs to use energy of some sort, but their automatic right to take your money regardless whether the price hike is worthy or justified is a given.

I actually LOL’ed (Laughed Out Loud, for the less clued-up to the lingo) when I saw Ofgem’s definition of the price cap as a “backstop protection from the government, calculated by Ofgem.”

Since gas prices are suddenly at a 30-year high, (that’s the excuse that the government’s ‘regulator’ are using (I’m sorry, I just cannot write the word ‘regulator’ without ‘inverted commas’ around it) and our bills are going up by around 80% of what they are now (that’s after the other rises), does this mean the following:

• That everything that needs energy to be manufactured – bread, cars, jewellery, puppets, Elvis wigs – are going to go up by a similar percentage so that those manufacturers can cover their own costs?
• That all of the staff who work for the energy companies – the engineers, the fitters, the call centre staff, are all going to have their wages increased by anything like 80%? No, of course not! You’re lucky if you can squeeze 1% out of them! Funny, that…
• That the salaries of the staff that we have really needed over these past two and a half years – doctors, nurses and other hospital staff – will be increased by anything like 80%? No! We saw how the government, and the local NHS Trusses (ho, ho! I bet that joke will come up at some point in the tabloid press – you’re welcome!) have thanked their staff for all their hard work and commitment.

Oh, and back to this squeezing of the public sector that Mr Kwarteng wrote about in his recent article? We know that the Conservatives will use any and every excuse to do exactly that – sack one more librarian, one more road sweeper, one more rubbish bin operative. How is that going to help when the smell of shit starts wafting through Windsor, Kew, Westminster, and rural Sussex? Your collective Tory turds are going to be blocking up your pipes because there’s no-one to fix your drains.

The very same CEOs of these energy companies are going to have to make use of their new yachts to escape the smell of their own shit – but make sure you have returned your library books and put them back on the shelf yourself, otherwise the machine will generate an automated notice of a small fine on it, and your world will come collapsing around you.

And what’s going to happen when COVID comes back, as it inevitably will, because it’s never gone away, has it? Where will all the district nurses be to administer whatever vaccine is the flavour of the week? You’ll be asking for even more volunteers to do the job for no pay.

There we are. Welcome to post-Brexit Britain. Yes, energy prices are rising sharply across Europe, but the UK still holds the 2nd place for the highest cost of electricity per unit in Europe. How this equates with the gas prices I don’t know. All I do know is that there will be many people across the UK who will be struggling to feed their families – not just because of the price hikes themselves, but because of the tax and inflation that is sure to follow.

Hopefully, the British public will wise up to the fact that they can no longer trust the major political parties to look after them and put their best interest first; we need to take a chance and elect the GREEN PARTY who will convert all our energy to renewable, and give Putin the middle finger with his blackmailing and grabbing us by the balls. x

What a f**pping weekend it has been.

On Saturday morning (UK time) I was awakened to the shock news that Foo Fighters drummer Taylor Hawkins had been found dead in his hotel room as the band prepared to take the stage for a gig in Bogotá, Colombia. Police were quite rightly being cautious about the cause of death, but when the autopsy report came back with 10 different drugs, including benzos, opioids and tricyclic antidepressants, in Hawkins’ urine, you knew where this was heading. I will most likely be writing more about this later, when further facts have been established. Personally, I have a vision in my mind of exactly how the complete autopsy report will come back, when all of the tests are done, and how that report will be spun for the benefit of the world’s media, I’ll write more then. Because that’s not what I’d like to talk about right now.

What a shame for Taylor Hawkins and Foo Fighters.

The following day, yesterday, brought news that legendary rock band Genesis had just played their final gig, in London, perhaps appropriately. I am a huge fan of this band – in all their ‘eras’ with or without Peter Gabriel, with or without Steve Hackett, and as a trio (or not). I even loved their various solo careers; that’s how committed I was.

But I have to say, Phil Collins is now officially worse than Frank Sinatra. I think he’s on his third retirement; and, furthermore, becoming more like an embarrassing tribute artist version of himself with every tour. He may also try to kid you into believing that he has every right to perform as Genesis if he wants to. Well…OK, but to perform as Genesis you need the agreement of at least two other gentlemen and, let’s face it, it would only really make musical sense if you could persuade FOUR other gentlemen to take part as well. And he and I both know which four gentlemen I’m referring to.

The Genesis The Last Domino? tour was first announced I think back in 2020, but just as with everything else, COVID-19 ruined any chanced of it happening that year, and almost did the same the following year, but in fact the tour did begin at long last in September 2021. When it did begin, and videos began appearing on YouTube, I was shocked. Shocked, I was. It was as though Will Smith had walked up to me and smacked me in the gob.

Phil Collins sat in a chair all evening, never once went near a drumkit, and, despite all their great songs being re-tuned to suit his voice, still managed to sing every one of them flat as the proverbial pancake. In short, it was the worst performance I had ever seen by any band, either in person or on video, in more than forty years of gig-watching, concert-going and just general live music-loving. The tour should never have happened. Why Phil Collins agreed to do it is a mystery; but, a still greater mystery is why the dicky doodle doo the other two agreed to do it either.

What a shame for Phil Collins and Genesis.

But here I am about 17 paragraphs in and I’ve only just reached the topic I would like to discuss – one that happened just hours ago from the time of writing this. An incident that took place at the 94th Academy Award® ceremony in Los Angeles in which actor Will Smith climbed on stage, calmly walked up to the comedian Chris Rock, who had just made a joke about Smith’s wife, the actor Jada Pinkett Smith, (whose struggle with hair loss was so bad that she had shaved her head), and lamped him one. I’ll not go into the details of the joke because a) it wasn’t funny and b) you can read it on exactly one and a half million and four websites already.

But you see, Smith wasn’t simply at the awards as a spectator – he was nominated. His performance as the father of tennis legends Venus and Serena Williams in the film King Richard was thought good enough by the Academy® to qualify for a Best Actor® Award®, and – blow me down if he doesn’t go on to win it!

Now, here’s the kicker to this story because, being the winner, Smith has to return to the stage and make a speech thanking everyone he has ever known. But here’s the thing: because of earlier events, he also has to make a very public and very explicit apology. Not to the public, not to the man he smacked either; no, this apology was to the Academy (of Motion Picture Arts & Sciences®, in case anyone’s interested).

And in Smith’s tears, you can see very real fears that his career was suddenly and very publicly in jeopardy, and perhaps more importantly in that moment, he could find himself stripped of the one award that he and millions of other actors prize.

Smith’s justifications for his actions was that, like the man he played in King Richard, he was fiercely protective of his wife and family.

That’s bullsh*t right there, a huge pile of it; fresh, steaming, hot, stinking.

Because, let’s face it, jokes like that affect him as a man, as the chosen protector of his wife and family. And it is this pseudo-justification of the incident that have led some of the more ‘tabloid’ corners of the tabloid press to suggest that this incident was in fact staged as a publicity stunt to promote the movie.

I’m sorry, but that, too, is bullsh*t.

If I was in Will Smith’s shoes, and I felt in superior physical shape to another man who’d just made a cheap crack about my wife, I’m pretty sure I would have done the same as Will Smith – let me just get that out there. But that does not stop me from the view that Smith ought to be stripped of his award. I would expect the same to happen to me if it was me, and even if it didn’t happen, I would feel that I did not deserve the award anyway. Oh yes, and that’s before we get to:

The Academy® Awards® are now officially the most pointless thing that everyone associated with movie making dreams of receiving. The Smith Smackdown just made the Oscars® newsworthy again, and maybe that’s the point – we’ve all just fallen for some Smith-bait, or smackbait or something like that. If you are not connected with movie making in anyway, you most likely don’t give a rat’s ringpiece about the Oscars®. If you are, then the chances are an Academy® Award® is all you dream of. And that is why Will Smith bubbled like a b*tch during his speech.

What a shame for Will Smith and the cast & crew of the film King Richard. x

It would be remiss of me not to rant to some degree on the topic of Vladimir Putin‘s decision to invade the sovereign state of Ukraine, apparently to save it from “de-militarisation.”

The events that have occurred since February 24, 2022 are so many that they can all be summed up in one simple question: What the hell does Putin think he is doing?

One of his initial excuses at the time of the invasion was his annoyance at what he called “continuing NATO agression” (not an exact quote), to which NATO shrugged its collective shoulders and said, “We haven’t done anything!” (again, not an exact quote).

That just about sums up the level of Putin’s lies to and deceit of his own population. His egomania has evolved to such a degree that no-one can question his authority even in the slightest without bringing a change of underwear.

As both of you know, I am a pacifist, against all weapons, and would much rather both sides were able to lay down their arms and Russia leave quietly and unceremoniously, leaving Ukraine to be a sovereign nation once again.

But, we know this can’t happen.

Therefore, what are the citizens of Ukraine supposed to do? Lie back and think of Ukraine while the Russian army simply rolls in and takes over once again? Of course not!

I have never seen an act of collective bravery in my lifetime as I have seen from Ukraine in recent days, starting with its president, Volodymyr Zelensky. This man, a former TV comedian, ought to be in line for a Nobel Peace Prize, if he isn’t already. His bravery and leadership should be an inspiration to every world leader on the planet.

And the many thousands of men and women over there who have sacrificed all they have; nay, even their very lives, to keep the nation free for those who are unable to fight for whatever reason. And, in doing what they are doing for their country, they are providing an example, once again, for the citizens of the world to follow and take to heart should – God forbid – the worst happen in their (our) own country.

If Joe Biden ever offered Boris Johnson a free back door exit out of the country and to safety, I fear I do not foresee him saying without hesitation I need ammunition not a ride. I do not see the people of the United Kingdom running to the aid of our military heroes in the same way that the Ukrainians have, for fear they might miss the eviction episode of Strictly Come Dancing.

I’m very proud to say I saw the people of Ukraine stand up against the deranged dictator Vladimir Putin. I admire them, and I only wish that I had the courage to do the same. I admire President Zelensky, and I despise Putin for this unprovoked attack, his reasons for doing it, and also his behaviour, like the spoilt bully in the school playground, once he discovered that his victims are fighting back far stronger than he ever expected them to. He is not getting his way, so he sends them – and the entire Western world – a chilling nuclear warning which he thinks is going to change anything. It does not. Even my pacifist eyes can see that if Putin were ever stupid enough to use a nuclear weapon, he would very likely consign Moscow and the rest of civilized Russia to be bombed out of existence; not to mention what would happen to the rest of the world.

So, people of Ukraine: don’t give up, defend your nation to the last man, as I am sure you will. You are very inspiring. I do not like war, I do not condone it. But you have shown great courage. It is not for me to say, don’t fight because I hate war, because I am not in your situation and I fully endorse your decision to defend your property with everything you have, for what that’s worth, and I hope that your Western friends and neighbours will answer any call for help in the near future should it be required. I also hope that Putin is forced back out of Ukraine with minimal bloodshed and that he is isolated from the rest of the world politically for what he has done – not to mention my fervent wish that someone has the courage to remove Putin from office and imprison him as soon as is convenient. x

Time: December 2019.

Somewhere, in a land culturally entirely removed from our own, something stirred.

Right from the word ‘go’, we knew it was liable to spread quickly, insidiously, and without favour, and it did.

Soon, we all had it.

That’s right; in December 2019, this disease spread from Middle England right out, knocking down the ‘Red Wall,’ destroying everything in its path. In December 2019, this country voted Conservative. Again.

And Johnson Minor, the very epitome of the Eton bully boy, the boy given whatever he wanted just to shut him up, became Prime Minister of the former United Kingdom.

And we must learn to live with it.

All attempts to get rid of it failed. Not because we didn’t know how, but because we were to apathetic to get off our Strictly Come Dancing-fed arses to do anything about it.

Quickly, though, our scientific brethren came up with a vaccine that would render the Prime Minister so powerless, so impotent, that he would be forced to resign immediately. But, with every attempt to remove him from office, Boris Johnson introduced a new ‘variant’ of Conservatism that affected more people than the vaccine could cure.

The Opposition was forced to look inward at its own vaccine and took the decision to get rid of it and start again. So, the Corbynista vaccine was removed and in came Sir Kier Starmer. Oh, no! They’re going to cure this disease by injecting it with itself!

This method was bound not to work, and so it proved. The Sir Kier Starmer vaccine was weak, insipid, it did nothing for those who took it except turn them into watered-down conservatives.

The ‘Eton’ variant is still here. And we must learn to live with it, because we cannot destroy it. It is too endemic among the population now. We have spent so much money trying half-heartedly to defeat it that it has ruined the economy. And just yesterday, the man who claimed he didn’t realise that the party at 10 Downing Street on the eve of Prince Philip’s funeral was a work do, raised the level of National Insurance contributions by 1.25%, or £39billion, to pay for NHS backlogs caused by the Eton variant – and earlier, more deadly ones such as Brexit, and Tony Blair.

CONSERVATIVE-19 has brought this country to a standstill. Its constant variations enabled it to dodge a cure; the vaccines were almost set up not to work anyway. CONSERVATIVE-19 was able to reproduce itself in key areas of the country, such as the so-called ‘Red Wall.’ Ecologically, the disease has wreaked havoc among those whose responsibility should have been to stand guard over the environment and preserve its beauty and majesty for those in the future to enjoy. The Eton variant allowed its victims to enjoy fox-hunting and badger-culling in rural areas. The disease was so strong that it survived weak and half-hearted variants such as THERESAMAY-15; but soon, when CONSERVATIVE-19 took hold, we were quickly back to those dark days of INFINCHENZA-79 when almost the entire country was decimated.

Is it all lost? Has Boris Johnson returned the country to the conservative stupor we went through during the ealy 1980s? I hope very much that there is a way out. There must be. I don’t know what it is at this stage, but despite there being no evidence to support it, I very much hope that some kind of vaccine will be introduced that will make Conservatism a thing of the past, like tuneful pop music or Matthew Kelly.

But for now, all we can do, all we must do, is defeat it by learning to live with it. Someone, please, come up with a vaccine. x

Basically, what is happening in the United Kingdom may well be happening in your country also, perhaps for the some of the same but most likely for other reasons, too.

Let me explain:

In the United Kingdom, our government is preparing its population to ‘live with the virus.’ Gradually, restrictions are being eased, one by one. This means, OK, we tried everything, we’re beaten, we give up, etc., etc. A radical change from two years ago, when we were going to beat it, no matter what. But that in itself is not the worst thing this government has done re: COVID, because if the same situation has not happened in your country, then it will.

There are dictatorships around the world that have not behaved as brazenly selfishly as Boris Johnson and Merrie Eton-Spoonfed ‘Men.’ The Queen, Her Majesty for Christ’s sake, sat alone in the chapel at Windsor Castle, a small and forlorn figure in black, at a time when she needed her family the most, and buried her husband of 73 years with a mask on her face. The night before, Conservate Party workers got themselves royally pissed, if you’ll pardon the expression, at Downing Street. They probably missed the funeral on the telly because they were too hung over to switch the thing on.

Yet the Queen unselfishly insisted that the funeral be conducted along social distancing guidelines no matter what the emotional cost to herself. I have never supported the Queen in anything before, ever. But this generation of Conservatives are beyond heartless; they would have caused Margaret Thatcher to turn away in shame.

It simply defies logic that any group of people, let alone our government, can behave in this way, especially those in the public eye, and even more especially, our Prime Minister. As if attending the event was bad enough, he then goes on to try and pass it off by saying that, and it almost seems as though italics are not enough, he didn’t know that the event was breaking the rules because it was supposed to be a work event!!! I mean, Christ Almighty! You just have to double-take repeatedly to make sure that these words were actually uttered by a sitting Prime Minister of Her Majesty’s government.

Imagine if Disraeli, Gladstone, Lloyd-George or Sir Winston Churchill had uttered those words. Imagine if, during the darkest days of World War Two, when people up and down the country, including the royal family, turned their lights out and sat in darkness because so ordered by Churchill, the following day after a particularly vicious bombing raid with many dead and buildings razed to the ground, the public found out that Sir Winston and his staff had held a boistrous party with all the lights on and music blaring away. We’re over here, Hitler, come and find us!

Well, Mr Churchill, what have you got to say for yourself? Churchill: “Um…er…well, I appreciate that it looks bad but it was a work do and nobody told me that the rules applied to us?” (Question mark at the end deliberate to suggest the idiotic raising of tone that people seem to do these days.)

Mr Churchill, scream the press, you idiot!!! Nobody told you? You made the rules! The press lobby repeatedly for his resignation, or, better yet, his dismissal. But the Conservatives ride out the storm and soon people forget about it.

Let me assure you, dear reader, that the above scenario featuring Sir Winston would never have happened. But it happened in 2021 thanks to a bumbling, witless newspaper editor who lucked himself into the top job in British politics. Boris Johnson’s American lookalike, Donald J. Trump, said and did more stupid things during his four years as president, but none came even close to this; and we’re talking about someone who said he had a clever uncle.

Again, I find it difficult to believe that I agree wholeheartedly with a Tory, but David Davies this week said, “in the name of God, go!” Does he need it any clearer than this? x

This has been a difficult two years, we all know that, and it’s ongoing.

Whether you’re famous or not, things have been tough for some. A pandemic with a disease called COVID-19 at the centre of it has grabbed the newspaper headlines – and the world – for almost two years now.

And I’ve no doubt that there are many in this world who have suffered immeasurably as a result of some poor lab assistant who accidentally dropped a vial containing a bioweapon on the floor of one of the top virology laboratories in the world in Wuhan, China.

Most everything came to a complete stop, and in particular those things that it was deemed people could do without, or in thoses cases where the virus, once it escaped from China (which was very easy), could spread rapidly.

One notable area of life, which is at the centre of a surprising number of people’s lives, that came to a complete standstill was that of live music.

Yes, there are bands who are gazillionaires who tour by numbers, but many millions of people depend on it for their livelihoods and for a year and a half, they were blocked from doing it. While I could focus on those poor nameless unfortunates who lost their business on the back of an 18-month moratorium on playing live, I’m not going to. I’m going to focus on one of the gazillionaires: rock band GENESIS.

Often people will say, it’s a long story, if they do not wish to go into all the gory details of what exactly is wrong with them, but with Genesis, it really is a long story.

And you can find out an awful lot about them if you just Google, “Genesis Phil Collins“, and see what comes up. Forums, blogs, official sites, unofficial sites, all sorts. So, you’ll be pleased to know that I’ll not go into much of it here, except very superficially or if it relates to this rant.

Genesis have been a band for a long time; since around 1968. Initially, of the current lineup, only Mike Rutherford and Tony Banks were in the band. Phil Collins joined as the band’s drummer around 1971.

But, using the domino principle of which they are so fond and indeed wrote one of their epic songs about, this affected that which affected this which affected that, which affected this until they became a hugely successful band by the early 1990s.

But then Phil Collins upped and left the band back in 1993, for reasons we still don’t know to this day. Poor Messrs Rutherford and Banks tried to continue with a new singer, ex-Stiltskin singer Ray Wilson. That experiment failed. Why? Because there is only one Phil Collins. He is uniquely talented, a one-in-a-million personality. A gifted drummer and singer. At least, he was. When he went, all the air farted out of the Genesis inner tube, and the two remaining members were forced to call it quits.

…But Collins must have felt guilty about the manner of his departure, because in 2007 the band announced a reunion tour as a way of thanking the fans and saying goodbye to them properly. I went to two of the shows. They were magnificent. When that tour was ended, and the inevitable live album was released, that was it; it was over.

As the years went by, Phil Collins’ health took several turns for the worse. Despite declaring that he was “Not Dead Yet!” in 2016, he was eventually forced to perform entire concerts seated in a chair, after some botched operations to repair nerve damage left him with, well, nerve damage. He could no longer play the drums, one of the biggest tragedies in rock. Never mind, he had a solution: his then-16-year-old son Nic, who was just 16 at the time. The kid was a revelation. Not even old enough to drive, that boy played the songs with a maturity of Chester Thompson, Collins’ other drummer, who must be, what, fifty years older than Nic?

But fans kept calling for a Genesis reunion, especially a Gabriel-era reunion, which would have meant Collins was back on the drums for the entire gig, which was simply not gonna happen. But you could have knocked me down with a feather when the band said in early 2020, all right then, we’ll get together, but only as the pop three-piece.

Now, the COVID-19 pandemic, which is now so endemic that it becomes the central argument of any discussion of any topic in the world today, in this context meant that the tour had to be postponed several times, and even now there’s some doubt whether they should have gone ahead at all. You’ve only got to look at Phil Collins to ask that question.

A number of performances were recorded by fans and placed immediately on YouTube. Genesis should have those taken down immediately if they want anyone to look forward to going to the gigs. Phil is in terrible shape, and I saw Elvis Presley’s final filmed concerts in June 1977, just eight weeks before his death. Phil looks worse than that. I saw Chris Rea soon after he almost died from pancreatitis. Phil looks worse than that. I’ve seen people days from death from COPD, thanks to smoking. Phil looks worse than that. Musically, this concert tour is not just one of, but THE worst thing I have ever seen in 40 years of attending concerts and watching them remotely on video. It’s shameful. And not because of the music itself, although it’s sad to listen to the band’s desperate attempts to accommodate Phil by transposing the songs so far down that they almost sound like slow dirges of themselves. And he still can’t manage it.

But more importantly, Mr Collins sounds horrendous. He’s out of tune almost the whole time, his voice is ruined. He can’t breathe properly and for the first time, Genesis are using backing singers to finish the lines that Phil Collins, one of the finest rock vocalists of the 1980s, cannot manage.

So, in order to massage these phenomenal egos, tens of thousands of people in the UK and the USA are being expected to pay over $100 a TICKET to see Phil Collins mangle the Genesis back catalogue when the band could have met in a garage somewhere and played through the songs for their own enjoyment. They probably still could have used better sound and lighting than I’ll ever see in my lifetime. You could go to a pub, buy a drink and watch an amateur Genesis tribute band full of six-year-old Dutch stage school kids that were better than the real thing on Monday inst.

I’m not angry, just very, very…sad. Of course, Genesis are well within their rights to tour if they want, just as the audiences are well within their rights to piss away their hard-earned money to go and see this, this, embarrassment. But if I was Phil Collins’ doctor I would never have signed off on his medical insurance certificate. What the blue blazes is going on here? Maybe we will never know. x

Dear Reader:

Look at that! It’s more than one year since I wrote anything in this blog. Thirteen months ago, March 30, 2020. Did I miss something?

No, seriously, have I missed anything?

I only ask because in those thirteen months, I have left my home I think four times.

And every one of those was for some form of medical appointment.

So, to go out, meet friends, see anything, do anything, gigs, movies, castles – I haven’t been out since late February/early March of 2020.

And, as you can see, I’ve been largely blogless in all of that time. Even Facebook, to whom I would turn to instantly have a rant if my coffee was too weak, has more or less remained silent for me, particularly for those long-winded rants for which I found such an adoring audience last year that I turned my attention to ranting via a puppet.

I remember hearing something, around the time of my last blog entry last year, something about a… virus? I think I mentioned it then. Does anybody know anything about what happened to that? My guess at that time was that it would, like the SARS so-called “pandemic” before it, peter out into nothing after a huge media hype-fest, you know, we’re all gonna die, that sort of thing, and three people and a cat died in rural Australia.

Obviously, for the families of those three people and that one cat, it would have been devastating, but a world-shaking pandemic? Really? Come on…

And then there was Brexit. Again, around the time we all got locked down last year, our beloved Prime Minister Boris Johnson (is he still Prime Minister?) told us that, if the European Union didn’t play ball with us fairly, then we would be forced to leave the EU without a deal, but that we would go it alone boldly and bravely like no nation had ever done before, except Norway.

I predicted around the time of the 2016 Referendum that the government would be hyping up the no deal thing right up to the very last moment, so it would be no deal; no deal, no deal, no deal no deal nodealnodealnodealnodeal DEAL!!!!! Right at the very last moment, the night before the deal was due to be done deadline, our attention-starved political class would be showing how they had our best interests at heart, and would absolutely not be making deals that would line their back pockets with million-pound cheques, and a last-minute deal always has that bit of extra drama about it, like that last-minute Solskjaer goal at the 1999 Champions League final. I’m guessing that’s what would have happened. Anyone know what went on there?

I seem to remember something about there being a US election in the US. Did that happen? Did Donald J. Trump, the most hated man in his own marriage, win re-election without any further incidences of impeachment? As far as I remember from that far back, former Vice President JOSEPH R. BIDEN Jr. was going to stand against Trump, but I can’t believe that happening, simply from the standpoint that, by the time of the election date, Mr Biden was due to be 78 years old, which might be the new 40 in some people’s book, but not his; he was already getting a bit forgetful, and was spending a little more time in his little Baltimore basement bunker than was good for him.

So, there was the potential for a lot to be happening last year, and that was just from the three possible events listed above; not to mention the billions – trillions – in lost concert and movie revenue, sports revenue, revenue revenue. So, that makes me rather glad that, once again, all of the above most likely DIDN’T happen and it was all just a bunch of over-hyped baloney as it always is. Still, gives the millions of media moguls, the news networks, something to do, doesn’t it? Create world panic, a panic-demic if you will, over something remotely trivial such as a lab assistant – whoops! – dropping a very fragile vial of a virus in a lab, and the Chinese government being forced everyone to keep quiet about it in order to save face. No worry that it could cost over three million lives and infect anywhere from one to two hundred million people, and go on and on and on year after year; so much so that even the least paranoid folk on Earth were forced to invent conspiracy theories about it. Thank GOD it didn’t happen that way.

And what about the British Royal Family eh? The Queen and Prince Philip, they’ve been married for so long I don’t think she could cope without him. It would be tough for Prince Harry to come back from sunny California for some event such as a royal funeral.

Well, you might think everything here is wild fantasy, conspiracy theory, whatever. I’m sure I’ll be proved right and it will all happen eventually. Then you’ll be sorry. x

It looks as though I’ve written a review of the new biography of Max Steiner by Steven C. Smith, entitled Music by Max Steiner: The Epic Life of Hollywood’s Most Influential Composer.

In case WordPress aren’t clever enough to post a link with this note, then I shall do so here – two links are better than none, are they not?

New Steiner Biography

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