Open letter to Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats

On the 6th May 2010, I voted Liberal Democrat as I have in every election prior – local or national – since I have held a vote, strongly believing that no vote is a wasted vote. I was filled with optimism on that day – your party, as ever, was the progressive party of choice, with views mostly allied to my own and in areas of disagreement your party argued their case to an extent I sympathised. I was brought up by my parents to believe that a right to vote should be cherished, to be something to never lose.

To this end, I travelled to the other end of the country to help a family member standing as a Liberal Democrat candidate for a local government position canvass, leaflet and advertise the party before the general election. I was a member of the party when I was younger and I hoped to be proud enough after 6th May to join again.

After the coalition was formed, I carefully listened to what the party were saying – given how distasteful I found the concept. Attempting to accept that the economic situation of the country was so dire that we would indeed have to be more realistic with planned items on the Liberal Democrat manifesto, I trusted that the party would ensure that a progressive theme was maintained and cut backs and revenues would fall on the richest first.

I believed in a progressive party, who would temper the Conservative ideology of reducing government back to a minimum. I thought my vote would protect thousands of people on low wages, look out for public sector workers and protect the economy from the banking crisis happening again and punish those who took risks. After all, it is the tax payer now footing the bill for a great proportion of the banking sector, it should not be the tax payer losing out. Your party, and you personally, stood on a promise to reduce, prevent or abolish tuition fees in higher education. Above all, your party was the party that I thought would not lie to me; with all the promises of changing politics for the better and making the electorate believe in politics again.

Now that you understand the reason I voted Liberal Democrat, I have a confession. I am now ashamed I voted Liberal Democrat on 6th May 2010. Since then, every announcement from the coalition has been wholly against why I voted the way I did. Your party has outright lied to the electorate over tuition fees, your party has been complicit in countless job losses in the public sector and you were sat there on the front bench as George Osborne MP announced cuts to hoorays and cheers by your new bed fellows.

While these feelings left me ashamed, they were nothing compared to an incident I now feel physically nauseous over. I voted in support of a party of xenophobes. Watching Question Time last night on BBC1, Jeremy Browne MP failed to illustrate any point of view without raising his voice and shouting another panel member down. While I concede Jack Straw MP was nearing the same style of debate, he now looks a rather more palatable option after what was said later on the subject of the treaty with France. I was disgusted to see the representative of the party I voted for stringing along a tirade of small-minded remarks about the French people. I sincerely felt at any mention of Germany, he would be goose-stepping around the studio complete with finger posed moustache.

I not only feel ashamed, I feel wholeheartedly sorry for the British people my vote was for your party on 6th May 2010 – my only comfort being the Liberal Democrat candidate in my constituency of Ribble Valley came a distant third and so I made a marginal difference to the outcome.

Please be aware that my cross will never again land alongside a Liberal Democrat candidate, and thank you and your party for ensuring that I have little interest in voting again.

I welcome any response, but do not expect one.

somewhere in Nigella Lawson's straining brassiere

A review of Vampire Diaries (ITV2), based on a response originally posted to a friend's enquiry about said show's merits.

Apparently, vampires and related occult creations are full of the sexy.  We can determine this from the utter truck loads of it on the silver screen, your local Waterstone's and ancillary channels of terrestrial broadcasters' television listings.  The reasons for this are hard to pin down, but it is fair to assume it conditioning for the imminent arrival of Beelzebub.  Vote for that, Middle America.

So, on to Vampire Diaries.  From the little I was forced to watch the other day after I misplaced the remote during Celebrity Juice, and frantically threw around furniture to discover its location before my mind decided to labotomise itself in order to avoid further damage, I can conclude that it is a mixture of True Blood and The OC.  You probably may swap mentions of The OC with mentions of Dawson's Creek, One Tree Hill, Gilmore Girls or Hollyoaks - in short, we're talking most of E4's scheduling. For those not in the know about these inexplicably popular televisual experiences, I'll help by introducing an abridged description of each:

• True Blood is based on a popular series of novels and well acted, well written and for the most part entertaining - just ignore all the hocus-pocus mumbo-jumbo stuff and you'll get along with it fine, I did and I hate this kind of rubbish normally.

• The OC [Gilmore Girls, Dawson's Creek, One Tree Hill..] is an American teen drama set in a warped reality bubble surrounding a script writer's internal frustration that he is horrifically ugly, unpopular and still lives with his mum; I say all this by assumption: I have never had the misfortune to accidentally watch the actual show, just trailers for it when I have had no V+ gold banked while watching something else on Channel 4.

So the ingredients are there for a deliciously well prepared, wholesome dumpling perfectly spiced by sexually liberated naked nymphettes living somewhere in Nigella Lawson's straining brassiere. Unfortunately, some snotty YTS kid made the stew it floats in; consisting of foetid road kill chunks, a ladle full of Sweet and Low sweetners, pooh flakes derived from a recent toilet visit and a dash of jizz produced when looking at the aforementioned sexually liberated naked nymphettes preparing dumplings.

Basically, you will find eye candy to perve over (but not enough nudity to really titilate), there's plenty of pointless camera spaffery to prove they're making an arty, edgy, teen-centric drama and a soundtrack of a whiney, nauseating middle of the road din. I didn't watch it long, but enough to ascertain that it probably has plot lines that are smugly surprising, omnipresent cliff hangers (OMG will they, won't they?!?!?) and the regular nonsensical twist.  All this and if anything appears impossible they have the comfort blanket that while The OC is based in a bubble of hyper-reality floating in a normal reality world, Vampire Diaries is that same bubble of hyper-reality surrounded by an atmosphere of complete bollocks.

{Originally posted to my facespace notes}

missing a fridge is a bit weird

A discussion of sentimentality

A strange thing happened today; I learned of the demise of a piece of equipment and it made me sad.  Me, a born cynic who doesn't really sign-up to the realms of sentimental attachment to inanimate objects.

Until it happened, I outwardly displayed I thought it wrong, while secretly jealous of those who did.  I suppose if you think of the secretly held shame of a Tory politician feels when reading the coroner's report into an erotic asphyxiation death, you're near the mark of my feelings this morning.  My aloof logical side told me I want to show nothing, but deep down I knew I was conflicted and wanted to mourn the loss of a Philips filter coffee machine.  I suppose I need to explain to myself and therefore others why such an attachment to a small electrical item exists.

It was nearly seven years ago, at a tender age of 21 that I stepped up the stairs to my first real job - at the offices of Cinemas-online.co.uk.  With bright eyes and a satchel-full of naivety I was introduced by Andrew and Colin onto the programming team by drinking black, strong, caffeine-rich filtered goodness that beforehand I wouldn't have touched.  However, mug after mug guzzled kept me sharp in order to get code finished before deadline.  I remember the regular trips to the supermarket buying the raw materials for such a high level of consumption; indeed I'm still benefiting from those Nectar points now, after finding my card in an old box.  There was the time someone purchased French-blend by mistake - the nasty horrible stuff made us go dry for a day, until productivity dropped to a point where we decided to nip out to buy some real stuff.

That little little device was a wonderful thing.  Perhaps I am too quick to dismiss sentimentality, or perhaps my sentimentality is more worthy than that of others.  I mean missing a fridge is a bit weird, as is an old pen.  However, for some reason that Philips Comfort Plus filter machine caught me this morning.

{Originally posted to my facespace notes}