Tag Archives: The Brotherhood

I’m great, me

I realise that blogging is often accused of being a self-referential circle jerk.  But, to those naysayers, I offer a ‘so the fuck what’ because we all need a little external validation now and again.

And so I present to you… a man on t’internet saying how great I am: here.

It is difficult not to agree, of course.  I would love to, except that we had a similar debate at work today and the greater number were indeed outraged by Ms Berger’s perceived crime of ignorance of her constituency-to-be.  This follows the Liverpool Echo’s sterling efforts in catching her out on a couple of questions of local interest.  I can probably forgive her the one about the Mersey Tunnels, as I wasn’t sure how many of the blooming things there were either.

But she didn’t know who Bill Shankley was.  I mean, what the hell?  Surely that information appears on the first page of the important stuff she printed off Wikipedia to read on the train up to her interview.

Or maybe she spent the journey considering what she would say regarding the problems affecting Wavertree today rather than a football manager from our fathers’ time.  I know it might be sacrilege even to suggest it, but the only way knowing Shanks’ name is going to help her as a Labour MP is if she has this quote pinned up on her wall or possibly carved into her arm:

The socialism I believe in is everybody working for the same goal and everybody having a share in the rewards. That’s how I see football, that’s how I see life

Labour’s in the fight of its life at the next election.  Fighting for everything it professes to believe in, for all that it claims to have achieved since 1997, facing charges that it has broken Britain and a commentariat that seems to believe the party deserves to be out of power for another generation.

I would like to believe that constituencies deserve dedicated people, no matter where they hail from.  But if picking ‘the Londoner’ leaves such an open goal for opponents to shoot at, that it is as if Reina had gone up for a corner and been beaten to his line when they caught us on the break, then perhaps, this time, I have to concede that it is not worth the risk.

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A couple of innovations to make your experience of ten minutes hate a more enjoyable one:

First, I am now on twitter, so there are even more opportunities to see inside the workings of my brain.  Updates on politics, books, music and occasionally football can all be yours by clicking on the icon on the left hand side of the screen.  You can view some of my recent updates further down as ‘telescreen updates’ if you want to see what you will be in for.

While you are scrolling around in that part of the site, take a look at the list headed ‘The Brotherhood’.  Here you will find some of my favourite writers on all aspects of modern life.  Take a look and let me know what you think!

Finally, I have updated some of the tags on earlier posts, so it should be even easier to find the particular brand of spleen you are seeking vented.

Ignorance is NOT strength, apparently.
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A blog is for life…

…not just for Christmas.  Right?  Right.

So, it is two weeks to Christmas and you are bored of work.  In a short time you have to spend enforced periods with your nearest and dearest convincing them that you have more to offer than tales of a boring job and an embryonic drinking problem.  With that in mind, let ten minutes hate help by offering a slew of great writing and opinion pieces that you can shamelessly pass off as your own over the turkey this festive season. 

So you got very angry about the Daily Mail, Jan Moir thing.  You emailed everyone you knew to tell them to do something and then, like most sensible people, you moved on.  Unlike the writer of the Enemies of Reason, who instead dives headfirst each day into the immense ocean of shit that is the Mail and the Express and their comment pages, to provide superlative source material for the winding up of Daily Hate-reading relatives, like this post.  

 Then there is markwoff, navel-gazing in the warm surroundings of The Mortal Bath and pondering if responsibility for climate change can, after all, be pinned on ocelots.

Hop out of the bath and head to The Flying Rodent for gems such as this on why right wing-nuttery is a good thing:

Veiled nastiness is devilishly difficult to combat, but open idiocy and naked meanness defeat themselves. The Labour Party have proved that one single-handedly.

On the day I write something so good on here, I will probably close down the site and have it immortalised in bronze for future generations.  Unlikely though. 

If all this political commentary is sitting on your tummy like a million over-cooked sprouts, you should check out Neil’s songs of the year at The Bleeding Heart Show.  Alternatively, if you long for more politics like you long for extra helpings of Christmas pud, check out his explanation of the-enemy-of-my-enemy-is-my-friend culture of UK political blogging and be astounded.

Or you could try to demonstrate that you have been surviving in the big city on more than Pret sandwiches and late night kebab shop forays by memorising some of DeboraJane‘s recipies and hitting the kitchen when everyone has had enough of turkey.  Only you might want to tell your mum that this one is called something else…

Finally, for commentary on Tiger Wood’s dalliences which doesn’t fall into the temptation of referring to the women involved as ‘birdies’, read Alex Song’s Cultured Right Foot.  Sport journalism so insightful, you could almost forgive him for being a Gunner.  I said almost.

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