Ever had the certain misfortune of living down a Butt Lane? I used to. “How’s the butt?” they would ask, “is your butt for sale?” others would quip. Oh how these people would joke with the pretence of comedic skill. “Get lost” I’d say, offering the greatest of all the comebacks in my arsenal.

Please shed a tear because for many people in England embarrassment about ones address is a prevalent emotion. Loonies Court suggests all the residents to be strait jacketed nut jobs whilst Bell End, well, it’s just not very tasteful is it? Street names are a familiar adage for England; they certainly make maps more of an interesting read than their American (34th Street etc) counterparts. But for those unfortunates that happen to live in streets like: Bummers Hill, Knob Lane or Fanny Street, street names are simply not a joke.

Take for example that common Middle Ages street name: Gropec#nt Lane. Not particularly elegant but nonetheless popular. Indeed this name has been sported in many cities throughout the ages including: Bristol, London, York and Newcastle. In fact there is still a Grope Lane that exists today in Shrewsbury. As times changed (and morals too) we saw the decline of the number of Gropec#nt Lane’s in our fair land. However, supposedly creative town planners couldn’t be arsed to stray too far from the name, some simply shifted it to Fondle Street or Poke Skirt Lane. Imagine living on these streets!

 The author with a particularly amusingly named sign.

Southerners often scoff at the north; “It’s grimy, it’s bleak, it’s stupid”, some even go so far as to warn tourists that a trip there is pointless: “Oh you needn’t bother going past Birmingham, nothing else to see from there onwards”. Some think themselves better than their northern neighbours: “don’t you know all Scousers are vagrants and criminals?” So what’s so special about southerners eh? What makes them think there so much better? The answer is obviously unclear.

The name “United Kingdom” is bitterly ironic; how are we “united” when the north and south of England are divided, Wales and Scotland want independence and Ireland wants its northern part back? The problems may well stem from the second industrial revolution. By sheer chance, natural resources were more abundant in the north. Local supplies of coal, iron, lead, copper, tin and limestone resulted in excellent conditions for the development and expansion of industry. But the south raped the north of all its riches. Whilst northerners grafted on and risked their lives in dangerous mines, the fat cats of the south processed the materials and sold the outcomes.

One must read Orwell’s “Road to Wigan Pier” to understand the social discrepancies that exist between north and south. Despite being half a century old the book still remains prescient, the stereotypes it perpetuates and consequentially attempts to strike down, are still the same that the south holds towards the north today. Indeed, Orwell realizes these stereotypes are nurtured and developed when he states: “That was what we were taught–the lower classes smell”.

The north doesn’t smell, nor is it any bleaker than south. The north is home to good people, beautiful countryside and dominant football teams, it’s about time the south wised up.

- “I don’t think our football team has a realistic chance of winning the world cup….”
- “I’d quite like our government to join the Euro…”
- “I think the Duke of Edinburgh is an excellent human being….”
- “Tim Henman has won Wimbledon…”
- “The Daily Mail was very insightful today….”
- “The French are an excellent race of people….”
- “I don’t think there are enough speed camera’s on our roads….”
- “I would like it to rain a little bit more…”
- “I think Tony Blair did the right thing….”
- “Hello there neighbour, how are you?…”
- “Eastenders was so realistic tonight….”
- “The Queen’s dead….”
- “Spandau Ballet were an important band…”
- “Simon Cowell has done so much for the music industry….”
- “Put Danny Baker back on TV…”
- “Jade Goody is really intelligent….”
- “That Anthony Cotton show is the best thing on TV…”
- “I think we should release Ian Huntley…”
- “Maybe we should ditch the Union Jack and take up the Stars and Stripes…”
- “Yuri Geller can really bend spoons….”
- “Anne Widdecombe really is quite attractive…”
- “Hugh Grant is such a versatile actor…”
- “Our TV license is great value for money….”
- “Council Tax is so cheap these days….”
- “We have enough national holidays….”

This week: 3 “Great” British Bands That Annoyed Society

When it comes to music Britain has consistently provided the ‘cutting edge’. This has occurred largely in the rock field which has spawned many influential artists that have continued to impact deeply upon British culture. I just want to touch on a few of those bands who seemingly upset the society of their times.

1. Sex Pistols

Formed in London in 1975, the frontrunners of the British Punk movement caused a spine shattering impact on a country plunged largely into disarray by a failing Labour government. They burst onto the scene by attacking the sycophantic press, swearing on daytime television and loudly voicing their discontent. In reflection back on the antics of their day, it seems increasingly difficult to believe the extent to which they were able to upset the society of their era.

2. The Smiths

Spawned from the British indie scene of the 1980’s, The Smiths delivered an increasingly controversial front man who was willing to attack the hypocrisy of Thatcherite England whilst advocating independent virtues such as Vegetarianism. Often lyrically sardonic, Morrissey was much more clear cut in his interviews with the British media, once reflecting that: “One can have great concern for the people of Ethiopia, but it’s another thing to inflict daily torture on the people of England”, in his scathing attack on the proposal of Band Aid.

3. The Rolling Stones

Judged to have been too provocative with their long hair and flamboyant clothes, The Stones were seen as the bad boys of 60’s British Rock. Sordid tales of drugs, women and wild parties did little to revert this image in a world of social upheaval and revolution. Such demonizing could hardly have been helped by The Beatles cultivation of cleanness and youth, which many saw as the better role model for the children of the 60’s.

It’s got really cold, wet and miserable in the last week. Welcome another long English winter. The long dark nights are drawing in, the scarves, gloves and hats have come out the bottom of wardrobes, and thermals nestle underneath our clothes. This is your life for the next five months, so you best make do.

There is nothing worse than a double glazing advertisement. However, there is nothing worse than not having double glazing. How am I supposed to function in a terraced house, with irregular heating hours and with single paneled windows in the middle of an English winter? I don’t have a death wish, but death does indeed seem on the cards.

A balding middle aged man harangues another during another insipid double glazing commercial, I can hardly stomach it. My shivering wreck of a body takes me to a place that seems entirely closed to me – that of actually ringing the advertisements flashing number. I had always thought I was particularly hard; able to withstand both extremes of temperatures, but my sulky resignation to irritating marketing ploys defies all my previous self respect. I ring the number, the man from the advertisement seems a lot calmer now, he’s lost some of his flustered excitement and seems to want to get down to the real nitty-gritty of selling me some extra window panes.

What am I thinking! Am I the only person in the whole country that has been sucked in by the most excruciatingly painful advertisement on TV? What more damage can a winter do to a man’s own self respect!

Earlier in the week the Daily Telegraph reported that teams of police will be on guard to control crowds when a large new Ikea store opens in Coventry later this month. It’s hard to fathom exactly why police presence is required in the case of simply opening a furniture store. Is it that they’re they expecting hordes of middle aged couples to riot mercilessly over depleting stocks of an overpriced lampshade? Please don’t get me wrong, I realise Ikea shoppers are perfectly capable of reenacting scenes of the D-Day landings in their zealous attempts to snap up items like the Linford Christie designed shoe horn or the Wayne Sleep designed cat flap, so maybe police control is necessary after all?

Ikea’s invasion of our own nation very much seems to simulate these expectant scenes in Coventry. It rushed into our traditional pine furniture markets and killed them off in its pronouncement over the imperativeness of modernism and ergonomics. Even MFI is dying a slow death and as much as I had wished this is as a small child being dragged around its fitted office and kitchen spaces, I never stepped into an Ikea until much later.

Even then I don’t believe that I had to force my way inside, I believe I just walked in calmly and spent a nice Sunday afternoon wishing I had the money to buy a nice shiny little fork. I must admit though that I find it a little absurd this enthusiasm for people to go furniture shopping just to later be bamboozled with having to assemble nine pieces of irregular shaped wood with about seven types of screws. Still, I continue to wonder whether the citizens of Coventry will be relaxed in their response to the grand opening, or will the X-Factor be rudely interrupted by news broadcasts of an all out Ikea war in the Midlands? That would suddenly spice up a bland televisual experience of your usual Saturday night at home.

I don’t really know what to make of this other than the argument that the best candidate for the job should get this position regardless of  their ethnic background. As Martin Luther King Jr famously said in his address at the March on Washington Movement in 1963: “I have a dream that my four little children will one day live in a nation where they will not be judged by the color of their skin but by the content of their character”.

This week: 3 “Great” British Childrens TV shows

As a kid growing up in the late 80’s/early 90’s I had the privilege of being exposed to some particularly great shows. Whilst in every generation there seems to come a new phenomenon; whether it’s Teletubbies, Thomas the Tank Engine or even Tin Tin, for me there was always certain shows close to my heart. Here they are in no particular order:

Bananaman
Voiced by the Goodies and based on the comics of the late John Geering, the adventures of Eric Twinge and his crime fighting alter ego ‘bananaman’ stirred me into a pathological hatred of any other form of fruit. It is because of Eric’s incapable love for the news reader Fiona, and her subsequent love for bananaman that I was known to keep devouring large quantities of the monkey fruit.

SuperTed

At one time in my life the ‘welshness’ of shows like SuperTed and Fireman Sam made my English accent my mortal enemy. In trying to refute it, I was dreaming of becoming either the Ted (whispering the secret magic word for my power) or subsequently his space-dust empowered companion Spotty. What was particular haunting was the sideline the creators made in producing exceedingly tasty SuperTed Vitamin Tablets; unfortunately rumours of your friend getting their stomach pumped abounded far too frequently.

Poddington Peas

BBC’s healthy obsession in combining cartoons with fruits and vegetables seemed to strike a particular chord between me and my young friends. I expect that during the airing of this show Birdseye sold more peas than ever. The peas story ‘down at the bottom of the garden’, where all garden objects were gargantuan beasts, also caused a shift in attitudes towards allotments. The once boring, banal plots suddenly became the centre of the universe for subverted young minds like my own. I want those hours back.

Where we have: “Ello there, guv”, a greeting commonly exhibited amongst male friends of certain familiarity, which is fairly centric to London, and almost always precedes the further inquisition; “how’s it all going?” there then exists the: “Hello, how are you?” which is a largely formal way of inquiring about an acquaintance, and is also probably the most sensible way of greeting someone of an unfamiliar appearance. Then there is “alright?” and that’s where the trouble begins.

“Alrights” place in the catalogue of English greetings is a particularly difficult one. It isn’t really a sentence or a question. It is mainly nonsensical and is largely devoid of true sentiment. It has however turned into something of a necessary tool for teenagers and young adults alike. Give any other Anglophonic nation the ‘A’ word, and receive stony stares, bewilderment or even a literal response; “Yes I’m doing great thanks” – is exactly the kind of response a mumbled “Alright” deliberately attempts to avoid.

“Alrights” function is to simply acknowledge the presence of someone recognized, whilst indicating that there is no time or will to stop and exchange niceties. It is in a way a form of dismissal, which is abused by the shy and retiring types of our nation. The adoption of the word in this new context has significantly marked a dramatic departure away from its adjectival or inquisitive purpose. It is now a very familiar greeting, or indeed non-greeting, that has wormed its way onto the streets of Britain and has burrowed deep into heart of our youth culture. The next time someone mutters “alright?” counter them with a; “I so desperately need to talk to you!” and watch the awkwardness unfold.

  Saying “Alright” is tantamount to burying your head in the sand.

To round off a rather political tone this week, I’d like to draw your attention to British Universities and the current debates being channeled through such institutions. Currently at the University of Sussex; an institution which some agree that I should be privileged to attend (but otherwise I am not so sure); a debate is raging over whether the controversial British political party the BNP should be allowed to air their views on the campus facilities.

Sussex with its long tradition as proprietors of free speech, seems to have finally realized the limitations of adhering to something which in truth can only be an ideological concept. A society in which there is complete freedom of speech, is something that can never surely be realized as long as it continues to remain pluralized and variegated. In saying ‘we are for freedom of speech, but this voice shall remain silenced’, is there not a slight return to the totalitarian repudiations that the University is guarding against so fervently in the first place?

For those of you who don’t know your BNP from your B&B, the BNP is a party which runs on largely fascist principles. Although distancing themselves from the stereotypical racism one might come to expect, a strong sense of xenophobia and fear of racial mixing is propagated by the party’s assertions. It is important that we hear their voice in order to determine what is wrong and what is right; if such voices are repressed and sentiments ignored, do we not then come in line with their own strategies of authoritarian control and silencing the voice of the minority?