Yearly Archives: 2013

Guest blogspot: Bring on Those Funny Money Woes! by Kate Atkinson

I’m not normally one to voice my political opinion – this being a matter very close to my heart, I tend to get angry and upset very easily when met with the same meaningless, patronising, verbatim Daily-Mail-headline retorts I’ve been hearing for years. However, it occasionally gets too heated and (usually after bursting into furious tears) I want to add my two pennies’ worth.

Edwina Currie

This morning, I was listening to the debate on Five Live about Iain Duncan-Smith’s recent claim that he could (and would) live on £54 per week. I listened as Edwina Currie declared this a reasonable amount with which to get by; I listened as Stephen Nolan ‘challenged’ her to put her money where her outspoken mouth is; I listened as they suggested going for it together. What a lot of people heard was a very hesitant deal being made, and then backtracked upon as Tories do so very well. People saying, ‘there’s no way she’ll do that, there’s no way – it’d be too hard…’ I heard, however, a highly condescending offer being made to the poor, dumb masses, by these two very generous and philanthropic rich people.

Here, you little insects! Guess what we’re going to do? We’re going to have a go at living your peculiar little impoverished lifestyles for seven whole days! I mean, we’ll probably still be living in our mansions with our central heating and our cleaners and our freezers full of food, not to mention that we’ll still be perfectly mentally healthy due to our previously untroubled lives… and it is, of course, quite beside the point that we personally would no doubt be able to live on just what we have now, and absolutely nothing extra for a number of years if we were to be so daring, but a week should be fun enough, don’t you think? What larks!

Besides this, though, there’s the fact that these two will return to their respective lifestyles feeling that they’ve had a ‘fun experience’, as Currie referred to it live on the radio, and that they’ve actually made a point or done some good. And still there will be people living on even less than that. People that have no choice, no get-out clause – and yet Currie still stands by her principle that we can only pay ‘what we can afford’ to poor people. Oh, really Edwina? So it’s okay to cut their resources even further – to tighten the noose and see just how much more it’s possible to bleed out of them? Two words: bankers’ bonuses. We can afford those, apparently. And there are the other discrepancies: Currie suggesting that her having to live on less than £54 per week in the 60s being comparable to living on the same now. Nolan not actually giving a damn about the state of living people have to put up with, as long as his show is listened to and his wage delivered at the end of each month. I could bring up everything, and would, if I didn’t know it would get shot down with whines of ‘but Edwina says’, and ‘let’s agree to disagree’.

Just wanted to have a small attempt at fighting against this supercilious effort to pour oil on troubled waters – we’re not falling for it and we will never be on your side.

Iain Duncan-Smith: Anyone Can Live On £7 A Day

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Iain Duncan-Git

Iain Duncan-Smith could live on £53 a week I reckon, just as most of us could feel quite excited about the prospect of going on a survival course or boot camp or something similar. He’d think of it as a change, something exciting, a sort of toff’s challenge. It’d be a thing for him to do, and something he’d be able to drone on about having done at his club, or whilst having a snifter at the 19th or whatever. He could do it – say for a week or a fortnight, or even a month, and then write a book about it and we’d never hear the last of it.

So make the bastard do it for a year with no get-outs, cut him off from his well-stocked freezer and cocktail cabinet and his fat wallet and bank account, and dump him in a three-bedroomed flat on a sink estate, complete with 25% bedroom tax. See how he fancies that.

Not one little bit, is my guess.  But I’d love to see him try.

Leeds United Back at the Crossroads

Bye bye, Colin

As the final whistle blew after Leeds United’s most recent defeat at home to Derby County, in many ways it just seemed like business as usual. The team had huffed and puffed, flattered to deceive, taken the lead through a goal of genuine quality and then finally – as seems all too normal – frittered away a fragile advantage to end up with nothing. It could be a metaphor for the entire season, or even for the whole three year period since United dragged itself back, by the skin of its teeth, to the second tier of English football which represents the very minimum acceptable status for a great old club. It’s been three years of hollow promises, screwed-up priorities, bizarre transfer activities and chronic instability.

The last point – that lack of stability – has been felt even more acutely than ever these last few weeks. Ever since Neil Warnock made his first wistful noises about wanting to be in Cornwall with his family and his Massey-Ferguson, the alarm bells have been ringing. The one thing above all that any sports team needs is a high degree of certainty as to where it is going and how it proposes to get there. Take away the certainty, the sense of direction and leadership, and – try though the individual team members might – the fine edge will be taken off that team’s performance. In a game of fine margins, as any game is at a high professional level, the lack of that edge makes all the difference.

It’s actually been worse even than that for Leeds. Rumours of a second takeover won’t go away, and memories are returning of the long and drawn-out saga of last summer, with all the disruption that entailed for any planning and preparation for the season ahead. Those rumours have gathered pace, and have come to a head at about the same time Warnock made it clear he was sidling towards the exit door. So not only does the team itself lack for leadership and the security of knowing who’s calling the shots on the football side – the whole club is embroiled once again in a fever of speculation as to who will own it, or various discrete chunks of it, by the time the next transfer window opens, and the all-important work has to start in order to ready us for a tilt at promotion next time around.

The past week has seen 10% of the club sold off to a “strategic investor”, but there is no clarity as to what this might mean for team-building. Is it any wonder that the mood among fans, despite reduced admission prices, is one of apathy at best? Now it has been confirmed that Neil Warnock has indeed parted company with Leeds United, so a club in a state of anguished flux must seek the right appointment at a time when it’s difficult to see any credible candidate being tempted to take up the challenge of restoring direction to a once-mighty ship, now seemingly rudderless and hopelessly adrift.

So we find ourselves speculating on two fronts, as this season sputters to an uninspiring close – always supposing that we don’t get dragged into an unseemly scrap to avoid relegation. Fans are bound to speculate after all – it’s in the nature of passionate support that we will be preoccupied by what, if anything, the future holds. But at Leeds United, more than at most clubs, that speculation is undertaken in an information vacuum and in almost complete darkness in terms of what’s going on behind the doors.

What we can and should do, with some degree of self-righteousness, is point out that the changes taking place now regarding team management might more usefully have been accomplished weeks ago, when there was still a realistic chance of making the play-offs, and when the introduction of a degree of certainty might have paid dividends. The points so carelessly tossed away in recent weeks as Warnock has yearned for his tractor from afar, taking his eye right off the ball, would have seen Leeds bang in contention. Last minute equalisers conceded at Wolves and Leicester, silly home defeats to Huddersfield and Derby, awful beatings at Ipswich and Barnsley, all these avoidable calamities add up in terms of points we could and should have taken. A Mick McCarthy at the helm, or maybe a Nigel Adkins or – dare I say it – a Simon Grayson, and I’m convinced a good proportion of those points could have been snapped up, and we might yet have found ourselves occupying a play-off berth right now. The club, the new owners, have let a golden opportunity slip through their fingers, from the moment those alarm bells started to ring.

Now, they simply have to get it right. There’s been a bit of talk around the city this last few days – wouldn’t it be strange if the Leeds Rhinos and Leeds United both had a winger called Ryan Hall, and a coach called Brian McDermott. Maybe that could now come to pass, and I for one wouldn’t object – as Mr McDermott has done a genuinely competent job at Reading, and was possibly unlucky to get the sack there. But whoever we get, he has to be installed, made to feel happy and welcome, and backed financially to undertake the surgery the squad still undeniably needs. The right appointment would still get the crowd back onside, as would some definitive statement of intent from the current owners about their plans. It has to happen, and it has to happen soon, or we can write off another season in the long-term quest to return to the top flight – it will now be a minimum of ten years out of the Premier League and a club like Leeds simply has to aim to be there in order to have any chance of fulfilling the potential that its still-devoted fans and its global profile afford it. A return to the top, then, is now a matter of increasing urgency.

So here we are again, at yet another crossroads, between managers and with everything up in the air for the umpteenth time. Situation normal. But it can’t go on. Whatever happens between now and August, one thing we know beyond doubt is that we certainly can’t afford another season like this one.

Tories Need to Learn That Carrots Sometimes Work Better Than Sticks

Peter Lilley

Ex-Cabinet minister Peter Lilley has unwittingly put his finger on a possible answer to the “spare bedrooms” issue, which has been used to justify the iniquitous Bedroom Tax. Interviewed on BBC Radio Five Live, the former Social Security Secretary attempted to defend savage cuts to Housing Benefit by remarking that his constituents are always complaining that they’re overcrowded in their one-bedroom social housing units. Why then, argued Lilley, is it fair for other tenants to “under-occupy”, and have one or two “spare bedrooms”?

The problem is, of course, that as in all its dealings with the poorer end of society, the Coalition has decided that the bludgeon is the most effective instrument of Government. Hence the rightly-hated Bedroom Tax; ill-conceived, improperly thought-out, poorly presented and unfair to the nth degree. No account is taken of whether there is a genuine option for people affected to move to smaller properties, nor of whether the cost of this undertaking is feasible for them. Any consideration of the distinct needs of the disabled, which may medically justify the use of separate bedrooms for couples, has been specifically ruled out.

A possible answer – a fair, practicable answer at that – lies within the rhetoric of Lilley’s attempted justification of the unjustifiable. If, as he says, there is still a big problem of people suffering from overcrowding, and being in need of larger properties currently under-occupied by smaller families – then why not simply engineer some means whereby these two groups can be made aware of each other and thereby facilitate property swaps? A large part of the reason why the “under-occupiers” won’t be moving is the lack of availability of smaller properties. If “swaps” could be facilitated, on a large enough scale, then we could have a mutually satisfactory solution to the problems of both groups. It would be necessary of course to incentivise such a plan – perhaps a transitional payment and/or financial assistance with removal costs and other formalities. It’s a question of square pegs in square holes – the solution should be neat and simple. But the Government don’t see it that way, because they’re instinctively suspicious of the motives of the poor, who they see as wishing to hang on to their “something for nothing” at all costs, and they are therefore determined to hammer these unfortunates who have no scope to either move on, or pay the rent arising out of the imposed cuts in Housing Benefit.

The whole issue comes down to this Government’s pathological preference for the stick over the carrot. They are bolstered in this instinct by the leanings of their natural supporters, Mail readers and the like, who wish to see “the smack of firm government” applied to anyone who has been sufficiently demonised by a press that seems intent on disseminating Tory propaganda. The ultimate aims of the Bedroom Tax haven’t been all that well clarified either. We hear about the “unfairness” of under-occupation, but it’s being acknowledged that a primary goal is to save on the Housing Benefit bill, with half a billion pounds being mooted as a first year economy. How does this help get larger families into larger properties? Cutting the income of the “under-occupiers” is hardly the best way of persuading them to incur removal costs to move to a smaller property, possibly in the private sector at a higher rent – because all the over-crowded families are in the one-bedroom social housing properties. It’s a real mess, round pegs in square holes, square pegs in round holes, and no strategy to facilitate any sort of reversal to mutual advantage.

Iain Duncan-Smith

Ministers right now are in a full state of alert, ready at the drop of a hat to respond to annoying and inconvenient criticism from the likes of church organisations, fully primed to do their best to defend the indefensible, as Peter Lilley was clumsily attempting to do. To this end, they are prepared to come out, bare-faced with the most unconscionable rubbish. Iain Duncan-Smith, a man who recently claimed £39 expenses for one breakfast, has asserted that he would be able to live on benefit subsistence levels of £53 weekly. Utter nonsense, of course, but this is a symptom of desperation in the face of a tidal wave of opposition, for a government that will brook no alternative. The problem these ministers have is that they are increasingly aware the measures they’re being asked to speak up for are bad policies, and – much, much worse for any mid-term government – bad politics. The current administration are wide-open to charges of callousness, misrepresenting salient facts about poverty and an abject failure, indeed refusal, to listen to any source – however well-informed – that doesn’t unswervingly endorse their chosen path. That’s the kind of leadership that got Thatcher removed – and David Cameron, if he hasn’t already given up hope of winning the next election, increasingly looks in dire need of a Plan B.

Practically, I believe that what I might be tempted to term “The Lilley Plan”, allied to sensible investment in the construction industry, could go a long way towards solving the conflicting issues of over-crowding and under-occupancy – as long as it would be properly funded and incentivised. It’s still a matter of trying to get people to move out of homes they may have lived in for years after all; which is still uncomfortably close to social engineering. But if carrots are tried, for once – instead of the endless battalions of Tories wielding sticks – then maybe some progress could be made, and there would be benefits too for the wider economy of more investment in construction; jobs, taxes raised, housing options created, growth – that sort of thing. They’re all distant and unattainable dreams for the Coalition at the moment, but maybe, just maybe, a little more of an imaginative approach to government might reap some reward.

But it is the Tories we’re dealing with here, and they’re brought up from the nursery to think they know best so – you know – don’t hold your breath.

The Waste Land (A Land Laid Waste by Gideon’s “Reforms”)

The Waste Land

A paraphrased adaptation – with apologies to T S Eliot.

This variation was written to coincide with the first day of the UK Coalition Government’s so-called “Welfare Reforms” which will savagely cut into the income of the very poorest, at a time when millionaires will benefit from massive tax cuts. April 1st, the starting date of Gideon Osborne’s main assault on the most vulnerable members of society, quite aptly also marks All Fools’ Day.

The Waste Land

April is the cruellest month, raising
Bedroom tax out of the disabled, mixing
Malice and discrimination, stirring
Tory hearts with millionaires’ tax cuts.

Winter kept us cold, covering
Doormats with higher fuel bills, feeding
A few of the poor from distant food banks.
And we were frightened.

What are the roots that clutch, what branches grow
Out of this Tory rubbish? Son of man,
You cannot say, or guess, for you know only
A heap of broken promises, while the Sun bleats,
And the Coalition gives no shelter, the government no relief,
And Parliament no sound of explanation. Only
There is despair under this evil regime,
(Come and feel the despair under this evil regime),
And I will show you something different from either
Your shadow at morning striding behind you
Or your shadow at evening rising to meet you;
I will show you fear in a handful of “reforms”.

Shantih, shantih, shantih.

Please Support This Blog and Get The Truth Out There

I’d like to invite and entreat any WordPress users who feel that the current government of the United Kingdom are acting in a callous manner towards the poor and vulnerable in society to read, follow, share and otherwise support this blog.  I ask this respectfully, but in the hope of gaining your support, because I need your help – or I’m just whistling in the dark.  I believe that, from small beginnings, I can help to make a difference – but not on my own.

In among all the Leeds United and other light-hearted football rubbish within these pages, I’m trying to get a serious message out there as to what this despicable Tory-led Coalition government is doing to people who are being unjustly targeted, and are extremely ill-equipped to fight back.

I’m talking about people driven to suicide by vicious cuts to what is already poverty-level income.  People in extreme stages of ill-health being found fit for work, and dying mere days afterwards.  People who are almost blind, suffering from paralysis, multiple amputations, cancer, cardiac failure and other distressing, limiting and life-threatening conditions, being told that they’re fit for work, being accused – in effect – of shirking.

Meanwhile, the lucky ones earning in excess of £1 million a year will shortly benefit from a £100,000 a year tax-cut – an amount EXTRA for each of them every year that might otherwise fund four newly-qualified teacher posts – or more nurses, better healthcare, less child poverty.  But no, these vast amounts of money are going straight into the back pockets of those who are already fat cats, creaming off the resources so desperately needed elsewhere.

Do you think this is right?

Do you think this is fair?

Do you think this is just?

Or do you think that the truth about our government’s policies should be told, and then spread as far and wide as possible, so that people sit up and take notice of what’s actually going on?  Sharing a blog is the modern-day equivalent of shouting from the rooftops.  So – let’s shout a little.  Please.

It will be June at least before I can hope to gain endorsement by the News Now platform, and so gain a wider audience. In the meantime it would be extremely helpful if WordPress readers/users could help me to expand my readership, with a view to spreading that truth where currently we seem to see mostly lies and malicious propaganda. You may well, if you’re the type of person I’m aiming at, who hates injustice and stands up for the disadvantaged, find some stuff that you can agree with!

Please take a minute to have a read, and then share with your like-minded contacts.

Thank you in advance.

Anger and Resentment – an anti-Tory Rant

Come; let us fulminate a little against hypocrisy, callous cruelty and double standards.

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Apples & pears – stairs. Jeremy Hunt – MP

It has been announced today that Jeremy Hunt, Secretary of State for Health and Rhyming Slang, will introduce measures requiring trainee nurses who wish to be funded by the NHS, first to work for a year as a healthcare assistant or support worker. The move comes amid claims that many trainee nurses, educated to degree level, consider themselves “too posh to wash a patient”. Mr Hunt’s stated aim is “to improve compassion in the NHS”.

Other innovations to be put in place following the report into 1200 “needless deaths” at Stafford Hospital will include:

  • A new chief inspector of hospitals to oversee an inspection system modelled on Ofsted, the schools watchdog
  • A statutory ‘duty of candour’ on hospitals and GP surgeries to stop them concealing mistakes
  • A ban on gagging clauses preventing NHS whistleblowers from speaking out
  • An ‘elderly care tsar’ to protect the interests of older people in care homes
  • A new criminal offence to prevent managers fiddling figures such as waiting times and death rates

Without wishing to be critical of every element of this raft of proposals – there are actually one or two surprisingly worthy notions in there – the idea of a Tory minister introducing rules and regulations to “improve compassion” does rather take the breath away. This is especially the case at a time when the Tory-led government is acting savagely to reduce the income of many of the poorest and most vulnerable members of society, whilst aiming to protect the rights of bankers and their like to receive bonuses amounting to multiples of their already-massive yearly salaries.

There are also many voices being raised in protest at the so-called “Bedroom Tax” which, it is being claimed, will end up costing the country more in evictions and consequent re-housing than it hopes to save in Housing Benefits. The Benefits Cap too has come under heavy fire. This was introduced with the sound bite of shift workers leaving home early in the morning, and seeing drawn blinds next door behind which snore feckless benefit claimants living a life of luxury at the taxpayers’ expense. It has been pointed out, however, that many claiming benefits are in low-paid or part-time work, that being all that is available, and need state benefits to top up their miserably low wages; hardly an endorsement of the Workers and Shirkers theory. There’s really not a whole hell of a lot of compassion shining through any of these policies, so a charge of double standards is hard for Jeremy, Gideon and their incompetent friends to evade. But this government does not acknowledge or admit to misconceived ideas or mistakes. Perhaps a “statutory duty of candour” would be a good idea for ministers too, then?

It does in any event rather raise my hackles when some ex-Charterhouse Head Boy like Hunt starts lecturing nurses and other dedicated professionals about coming across as too posh to get their hands dirty. Pot, kettle, grimy-arse. And it’s not even as if Mr Hunt has always managed to keep his own well-manicured paws all that clean – but it’s the mud of scandal that’s allegedly contaminated them, rather than the results of honest hard work in a hospital sluice.

In 2009, Jeremy officially came to the notice of the Parliamentary Commissioner for Standards, after allowing his political agent to lodge in his taxpayer-funded home, and failing to reduce his claims on Additional Costs Allowance – although he was found guilty of nothing more than a “misinterpretation of the rules”. But how much confidence does that inspire in a man who tilts at high office? Jeremy did pay the money back though. Well – half of it, anyway.

In 2010, it was Jeremy’s mouth getting him into bother, now that his hands were out of the till. He suggested that football hooliganism played a part in the death of 96 football fans in the Hillsborough disaster; when in reality lack of police control and the presence of terraces and perimeter fences were established as the causes of the tragedy. This necessitated a humiliating climb-down and a grovelling apology.

Then in April 2012, hard on the heels of David Cameron’s vow not to associate himself with anyone involved in aggressive tax avoidance, Jeremy was outed by the Telegraph as having reduced his own tax bill to the tune of £100,000 by receiving dividends from Hotcourses in the form of property which was promptly leased back to the company. The dividend in specie was paid just before a 10% rise in dividend tax and Hunt was not required to pay stamp duty on the property. Naughty, naughty, Jeremy.

As usual then, or so it seems to those of us who suspect that the government’s stance on a wide range of issues is not unadjacent to hypocrisy, these latest mealy-mouthings from a Tory minister reek of double standards and bitter irony. Why is so much of their rhetoric aimed at people who are dedicated and professional, struggling against the odds and against government cutbacks to do a massively difficult job in almost impossible circumstances? Why must every official report into some awful tragedy – and the Stafford Hospital deaths were nothing less – result in a scapegoating of the people at the sharp end, doing the real work, when instead or at least also we should be looking at management and policy-makers? And just what the hell is an “unnecessary death” anyway? Or should I be asking for a definition of a necessary one? Couldn’t we talk instead about “avoidable and unavoidable deaths” and then move on from there to see who is really responsible for the avoidable ones not being avoided?

The attitude of government towards low-paid professionals in essential services has always troubled me, simply because of the fundamental difference in terminology – depending on which end of the scale is being discussed. It’s been the case for most of last century that nurses – for example – have been referred to in radically different terms as compared to bankers – for example. It’s still the case today, folks, and it goes like this:

Nursing is a vocation. People at the bottom have a vocation, you see, which means it’d be a shame to spoil something so pure and unselfish by doing anything as sordid as paying them properly. If they have this vocation, what else do they need, after all? Meanwhile, bankers – lacking anything quite so splendid as a vocation – need “incentives” to keep them here to ruin our economy, and at all costs stop them fleeing abroad (to ruin someone else’s.) It’s been seen as very important by successive governments that we get this distinction and know our place. So, remember. At the bottom: vocation (low wages). At the top: incentive (huge bonuses). It’s the Tory way.

As long as we keep accepting the sheer hypocrisy and double standards that are being routinely shoved down our all-too-receptive throats, then quite frankly we deserve the government we get, though saddling ourselves with this shower seems positively masochistic – oh, but I forgot – we didn’t actually elect them, did we? But while this sort of crap continues to be so meekly accepted, the likes of Jeremy Hunt, and his fellow born-with-a-silver-spoon-in-their-mouths cronies in the Cabinet, will continue to get away with policies and actions that seem set to drive more and more people out of their homes, off to the nearest food bank and maybe even over the brink of despair into suicide. A Scottish writer took his own life the other day, leaving a benefits decision notice in lieu of a suicide note. A Birmingham Coroner has noted that he officiated at five inquests into self-hangings in one day recently, and that the trend of suicides is way up. This is the human cost of this government’s policies, and meanwhile they’re blithely having a go at hard-working, dedicated people like nurses. “Too Posh To Wash”. Doesn’t the sheer, arrogant smugness of it just make your blood boil?

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Gideon Osborne

Meanwhile, Gideon Osborne (pictured) was in Europe recently, arguing against proposals to cap bankers’ bonuses at 100% of salary, or 200% if shareholders approve. Generous enough, you’d have thought. And guess who found himself in a 1 to 26 minority? Yep, it was our Gideon, bravely standing alone while everybody else saw sense – doubtless though, his heart was bleeding at the thought of impoverished City types trying to figure out which was the gas oven and which the dishwasher, prior to sticking their heads in and – down to their last measly 10 million – ending it all.

I honestly think that the Tories, heedless of the plight of their poodle partners in the coalition, those hapless, treacherous and doomed Liberals, have given up any realistic hope of re-election in 2015, and are set on accomplishing as much of their malign agenda as possible in this Parliament. Surely this is the only explanation for the tidal wave of malicious policies that flow from them, like a torrent of sewage from a long sea outfall pipe. They seem set on victimising massive, and massively vulnerable, swathes of society; the type of people that are not going to vote Tory anyway, and who therefore seem to be classified as expendable. And with the other hand, they’re equally determined to protect their natural friends and allies from the icy blast of austerity that is making this prolonged winter seem even colder and more hostile than the weather alone can manage. Don’t forget, it’s only a few more sleeps now until those in the million-a-year class get their £100,000 a year present from Gideon, an annual reduction in tax for each of them that could pay the salaries of four newly-qualified teachers. How do you like them apples, chaps? That’s what you get for being “One Of Us”, don’t you know.

And so, seemingly, it will go on, right up to the bitter end in just over two years – assuming, that is, that They don’t decide to do away with elections altogether, or maybe instigate a small but popular war somewhere – there is a precedent for saving an evil and despised government this way. How are the Argies fixed these days for a bit of a scrap, I wonder? We’ve heard the sound of sabres rattling already.

But if democracy does survive, what sort of a country will we be living in by 2015? What will be the death toll of benefit reform and austerity, whether it be from suicide, starvation or hypothermia? How will the rich have used their quarter of a million pound tax windfall? Not to create jobs, not with Workfare providing slave labour in defiance of the courts and circumventing that inconvenient minimum wage legislation. No need, old fellow.

We’ll need to take stock then at the next General Election; those of us who are still here. And we’ll need to go to the ballots in overwhelming numbers, sending out a message to those who have stomped all over us since 2010 that they’re out, and that they won’t be back until and unless they’ve learned a little humanity.

Above all, we’ll be charged with the massive responsibility for making sure that we get it right next time. We simply can’t afford another mistake like this one.

Memory Match No. 5: Leeds Utd 4, Southampton 0 (25.11.1978)

A journey further back in time for this week’s Memory Match, to the golden, hazy days of theImage late seventies. This was a post-glory era Leeds United, but not too bad a side for all that – especially during the early part of Jimmy Adamson’s Elland Road managership. These were the days when the famous old stadium was dominated from all four corners by the tallest floodlights in Britain, towering 260 feet into the Yorkshire sky, and illuminating proceedings with their distinctive diamond-shaped arrays of 220 lamps each. Genial Jim Callaghan was Old Labour’s last Prime Minister before Maggie Thatcher took charge for the Tories, we said goodbye to two long-running police drama series in Z-Cars and The Sweeney and songs from the soundtrack of hit musical Grease figured large in the singles charts along with the likes of Kate Bush, the Bee Gees and Boney M.

Leeds at this point were a club still trying to re-establish themselves as a success following a distinct decline from the greatness of Don Revie’s all-conquering United warriors. The previous two seasons had seen progress to both domestic semi-finals, but defeat to Man Utd in the FA Cup, and Brian Clough’s Nottingham Forest in the League Cup had blocked the path to Wembley on each occasion. Billy Bremner had moved on, Norman Hunter had gone – but the home crowd had a new favourite in Tony Currie, one of the few players who could genuinely live up to the sobriquet of “Midfield Maestro”. Currie had been signed from Sheffield United in the summer of 1976, and as the 78/79 season dawned he was surely in the prime of his career, shining for club and country alike, pulling the strings which controlled the team’s performance and frequently doing just as he pleased against helpless opponents.

This season had started with the surprise appointment of former Celtic manager Jock Stein to replace the sacked Jimmy Armfield. I still remember being on holiday in Spain, and my Dad chucking a hard-to-obtain English newspaper across at me with the headline “Stein For Leeds” on the back. I had been delighted, but sadly Big Jock’s stay at Elland Road was a mere 44 days before he left to take up his dream job as Scotland manager. So it was Adamson’s Army which greeted the teams on a bleak November afternoon as newly-promoted Southampton provided the opposition. Leeds’ home form had been reasonable, with a draw against West Brom and a narrow defeat to Arsenal in the previous five games, though Birmingham and Derby had both been convincingly beaten, and there had been a welcome 2-1 victory over Chelsea. Attendance levels though were relatively disappointing other than for the traditionally attractive matches against top teams, and a fairly sparse crowd of 23592 turned up for what was, on the face of it, a mundane fixture.

Leeds started as they preferred, attacking the South Stand end of the ground so as to save the Kop for a second-half assault, and they had the breakthrough after only fourteen minutes. Trevor Cherry, coming out of defence, played a probing ball up field where the burly Ray Hankin rose to head downwards to little Brian Flynn. United’s pocket dynamo was always adept at picking up possession in dangerous areas and making good use of the ball, and he was quick to scurry across the edge of the Saints penalty area towards the right, where he neatly slipped a pass to Arthur Graham. The Scottish winger was well-known for his ability to cut in from either wing, and once he got the ball in space on either foot, he could be quite lethal, as he proved now. Moving back infield, he easily evaded a defender before turning smartly to fire left-footed past former Halifax ‘keeper Terry Gennoe into the bottom right-hand corner. It was a clinical finish, giving the Southampton stopper no chance at all.

Eight minutes later, the lead was doubled, and this was a collectors’ item of a goal. Not since Boxing Day 1975 had Paul Madeley troubled the scorers, but here he was suddenly in what was nose-bleed territory for him, just outside the opposition area as Graham rolled in a pass from the right. United’s Rolls-Royce, as he had been dubbed, was a Mr Versatile of many years standing, having worn every outfield number for Leeds, but he was never exactly prolific in front of goal. Now though he seized on Graham’s pass and struck a left foot shot which took a cruel deflection, hopelessly wrong-footing Gennoe who could only watch as the ball bobbled into the net. 2-0 to United who were cruising at half-time, having been rather unluckily denied a third when John Hawley’s header thudded against an upright after a flowing move down the left.

The second half was only ten or so minutes old when one of the most famous Leeds United goals in living memory drew rapturous applause from the fans massed behind the goal at the Gelderd End. Tony Currie had been in full-on matador mode all day, taunting opponents with his mastery of possession, effortless control, trademark step-over and change of pace. His range of passing on form like today’s was almost Giles-esque, and there really is no higher praise than that. It had always looked like being Currie’s match to dominate, and now he scored the goal that cemented his place in United folklore. Snatching possession midway inside the Saints half, Currie mastered a lively bouncing ball before advancing on a nervously retreating Chris Nicholl. Rather than doing anything so mundane as beating his man, Currie looked up and, using the Saints defender as a shield, he simply bent the ball around him on a beautiful, curving trajectory, past the diving Gennoe to nestle in the far right-hand corner of the goal.

“Oh, my goodness!” intoned an awestruck Martin Tyler commentating for Yorkshire TV, “…and Tony Currie milks the applause that is so deserved.”

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The rout of the Saints was complete on 65 minutes, when a Trevor Cherry cross from deep on the right caught the visitors’ defence hopelessly square, leaving Hankin in space and onside. Yugoslav defender Ivan Golac, who had never scored in English football until today, now broke his duck in the most undesirable fashion, chasing back nobly to dispossess Hankin who was casually weighing up his options, but tragically succeeding only in lifting the ball over his ‘keeper and into his own net for 4-0.

For much of the remaining 25 minutes, Leeds seemed to take their foot off the gas somewhat, and allowed a Southampton side – who had, in truth, battled well throughout – a number of pots at David Harvey’s goal. The Leeds ‘keeper though, unaccountably frozen out of a Scottish International side that could well have used his agility and experience, was equal to everything thrown at him, and preserved a clean sheet without being troubled unduly.

It hadn’t been a fantastic match, or indeed an especially memorable one, apart from two superlative goals from Graham and Currie. History shows, too, that Southampton would have the last laugh that season, coming back from trailing 2-0 against Leeds United in the first leg of the League Cup semi-final at Elland Road, to draw that game 2-2. They then completed the job with a 1-0 victory in the second leg at The Dell, going through to lose the Wembley final against Nottingham Forest.

But for United it was the season that saw us back into European competition for the first time since our ill-fated European Cup Final against Bayern four years previously, and the Saints win contributed its fair share to that achievement. Sadly though Tony Currie was soon to depart, his then wife apparently homesick for London. He duly joined QPR and eventually graced Wembley at club level himself as Rangers played Tottenham in the FA Cup Final of 1982, before injury drew a close to a flamboyant and entertaining career. Leeds without Currie were never quite the same force again, and we were now on the downward spiral to eventual relegation in the 1981-82 season.

In many ways then 1978-79 was United’s last hurrah in the top flight, our last decent stab at competing in the top league until Howard Wilkinson restored that status in 1990; and Tony Currie was certainly in my opinion the last real Leeds Legend of the immediate post-Revie era. For me, he was one of the greatest, and I mourned his departure more than most I have witnessed over the years. It felt like the end of an era when he went, and so it ultimately proved to be. But Currie left us with some magical memories, perhaps the greatest of which remains that terrific banana shot at the Kop End, a goal worthy of any superstar, and one fit to grace any occasion.

Next: Memory Match No. 6: West Ham Utd 1, Leeds United 5. Upton Park was frequently a happy hunting ground for Leeds, and the Whites’ cause was aided on this occasion by a couple of Hammers dismissals in a May 1999 game where – for once – we seemed to get the rub of the green where the ref was concerned.

Leeds United For Sale Again – But What Happens In The Short Term?

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Leeds United’s Elland Road Stadium

Leeds United are officially up for sale again, just three months after GFH Capital completed their “bargain purchase” of the Club from cuddly Uncle Ken Bates on 21 December last year. This news might be received with joy, despair or indifference, depending on your current attitude to the low-budget kitchen-sink drama that is LUFC these days.

The joyous ones are the optimists, dreaming that – at last – a rich billionaire (as opposed to the sort of impoverished billionaires normally linked to the Club) will come steaming in on his souped-up camel, and purchase for us long-suffering fans the baubles we have craved ever since winning the Last Proper League Championship.

The pessimists meanwhile are withdrawing their heads back under the carapace of their impenetrable gloom, pausing only to remind the rest of us that they knew all this takeover talk was bollocks right from the start last May, that no-one with any dosh would come within a mile of Leeds United, and that we’ll now probably be sold back to Ken Bates for ten bob after a second administration, so that he can fulfill his stated aim of reducing us to the Ryman League, Division Three.

Personally, I’m languishing among the indifferent tendency, somewhere between these first two groups. I’ve quite frankly had enough of Leeds United this last year or so, especially after the battering all our psyches took with the roller-coaster TOMA* saga of last summer, and being roundly laughed at and suffering from chronic urine-extraction by dopey fans of daft little cobble-stone clubs (you know who you are.) It’s just not good for morale, and mine is shot through, thanks very much.

The thing is though, the Club has somehow to carry on its business of playing games of football with some appearance of trying to win them, and maybe in the process attracting what they are nowadays pleased to call “customers” through the computerised turnstiles. And this undertaking is not helped at all, not in the least, by any measure of uncertainty among the fanbase. Last summer was awful, and now – with GFH Capital apparently anticipating completion of a sale withing a window of between six and twelve months – we have more of the same in the offing. So another transfer window will pass without the urgent surgery needed to transform the current squad into a lean, mean winning machine. Another six months to a year during which the creeping disease of apathy will spread further throughout the body of support, once so vibrant and fanatically motivated. The manager is off, the latest boy wonder Super Sam is being tipped for a move to a proper football club and the fans are in the dark – as usual – regarding any long-term vision for our once-great Club.

Surely (you’d have thought) there must be some plan, some concrete strategy, for getting back to the Premier League, which is the only environment where a club like Leeds United – with its history, tradition, remaining infrastructure and global fanbase – can hope to survive and prosper. This has to be the minimum aim, and nobody with any ambitions of running the club should be under any illusions – once the Promised Land is reached, the support will not be content, like any old Wigan or Norwich, with mere survival. The Leeds fans will want to swagger in like they own the place, have a brief look around, and then win it. That’s what we did last time, 21 years ago, and the fact that it’s a totally different world nowadays will not stop that urgent demand for success, that imperious need to take on the game’s elite, and make them eat crow.

This demand, this greed and yearning for past glories to be repeated, can serve either as an inspiration for ambitious and visionary owners, or as a millstone around the neck of people who might want to come in, seek to have the club tick over in the lower reaches of the Premier League, and depart with some sort of profit. Obviously it’s to be hoped we might attract the former type, but they’ve not emerged as yet despite months of speculation about the shape of things to come post-Bates. The time is fast approaching when decisions need to be made for the good of Leeds United, about its strategy for success in the 21st Century, its model for progress in the new high-finance structure at the top end of the game and the picture it can justifiably paint for the fans of the type of club they’re going to have to support going forward. GFH Capital told us that they were here for the long haul, but now they’re jumping ship faster than the scarediest rat, making some of us wonder just how quickly that ship is sinking. What leadership can we expect from them now, what confidence can we have in them when they’re already yesterday’s men? Meanwhile we all remain firmly, blindly in the dark, where we’ve spent the bulk of the last decade, wondering what’s to become of our beloved Leeds.

Now that’s far, far too long a period of unhappiness and uncertainty for a group of people who have – mostly – continued to shell out their hard-earned, buy the tacky merchandise and roar their support from over-priced seats during a period of sustained failure and mostly crap football. The fact is that the Club is bang to rights on accusations of gross complacency and mistreatment of its prime asset – the highly vocal, passionate and still predominantly dedicated support, both immediate and match-going, and more generally in all parts of the globe. Fans want to know what’s going on at their club; quite understandably they want to be involved, they want to feel part of what’s going on. The Club have callously disregarded all of this for ages now, recent cosmetic gestures towards “fan engagement” notwithstanding, and despite welcome moves towards a more realistic pricing structure. There just hasn’t been enough transparency, and now we’re going to enter another disturbing period of uncertainty, to emerge eventually – well who knows in what shape we’ll emerge? Treat any group of “customers” (if we really must so term fans) with such blatant disregard and such arrogant refusal to consult them and address their concerns, and eventually – even with fanatics and people who live their lives through their obsession – you’ll lose them. I’ve been a fanatic, for 38 years, at some cost to my financial and social well-being, and yet they’ve damn nearly lost me. I’m starting to prefer my football wrapped in a film of nostalgia – it’s less painful than the current reality. But whatever defiant noises I might make, and however much I might warn of erosive apathy – I still care. Too deeply for my own good. And there remain thousands like me.

But we can’t carry on like this. It’s got way beyond a joke, and the jibes from opposing fans – all too well aware of our history, and nursing the standard anti-Leeds chip on their shoulders – are far less worrying than the grumbles of discontent from the ranks of the still-faithful. Get your act together, Leeds United, and do it soon, or preferably do it NOW. We’re still with you. But for how much longer?

*TOMA – For the uninitiated, this is an acronym referring to the perceived unlikelihood of Leeds United benefiting from a buyout to its advantage. Take Over My Arse.

Gideon’s Bible – The Budget 2013

Imagine you’re a talented young TV screenwriter, looking for a smart new idea for a satirical comedy lampooning incompetent and uncaring politicians.  You’re looking for a main character, ideally in high office and making decisions on a daily basis that shape policy.  You’re probably going to make him a Tory because – let’s face it – that’s where the laughs are at when it comes to making fun of MPs for their comic nastiness value.  The best comedy contains a kernel of truth too, so you need to be careful about such matters as your character’s political affiliation, personal background, appearance and history; all of these are potentially rich sources of laughter, whilst at the same time making your audience nod knowingly and say “Yes, I know that guy.”  But beware: don’t make your creation too similar to, or identifiable with, any real-life public figure.  That’s overkill; and anyway you’re probably better off going for an amalgam of several well-known public figures – more versatility of character there, and so more potential for laughs.

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Gideon Oliver Osborne

Until relatively recently, you could have done a lot worse than adopt the following pattern: your fictional man is pictured (right) – note the superficial resemblance to Rowan Atkinson’s “Mr Bean” character; the rubber-faced grin, the eyes that appear to betray barely a glimmer of intelligence.  Perfect.  This would not be a cuddly, genial chap though – he’d be an heir to some minor aristocratic title and the beneficiary of inherited wealth.  He’d have been born with a silly name, which he’d later change for something he felt sounded more straightforward.  His socialist mother would agree with him about this, if not about much else.  Educated at a public school, he’d have progressed to Oxford, and followed the well-trodden path to power familiar to many Tories born to privilege and destined to inherit a fortune through no effort on their own part.  Despite these advantages he would be an outspoken critic of what, with no apparent sense of irony, he’d term “a something for nothing culture”.  On being handed control of the country’s purse strings, he’d set about tackling national debt by cutting everything in sight that benefits the poor and vulnerable, whilst ensuring that his banker mates in the City should continue to enjoy seven-figure bonuses and a reduced rate of tax for the highest earners.  Lots and lots of scope for poking fun at clueless, selfish, old-school-tie politicians there.

Well – forget it.  Think again.  Back to the drawing board.  Your ideal, fictional, made-up Tory Twit is a non-starter – because sadly he’s all too real.  And really, it was looking so good – the model outlined above seems too stereo-typically an example of Tory Boy grown up and wreaking havoc for there to be any real risk of him actually existing.  But step forward Gideon Oliver Osborne, who decided at the age of 13 to be George after his war-hero grandfather.  Whether he considered ridding himself of the initials GOO is not recorded, but in keeping with its stance on authenticity and veracity, this blog will refer to Mr O. as Gideon – besides which, he just looks like a Gideon – there’s not any real bluff, honest George quality there.

Gideon is due to present his latest budget tomorrow and you can bet any last few coins you might have left – if you’re a victim of Tory/Coalition policies since 2010 – that there won’t be any good news for those of us “all in it together” at the bottom of the economic pile.  On the other hand, you might like to wager a goodly chunk of your forthcoming £100,000 a year tax-cut – if you’re one of those “all in it together” in the million-a-year bracket – that you and your kind will be protected from the chill wind of austerity blowing through the real-life parts of our nation.

Gideon’s actions might confuse those who expect their politicians to practice what they preach (i.e. “The Gullible”).  He stands four-square behind his opposition to those who have to live on benefit having a spare bedroom – even if, for reasons of disability, there are sound reasons why two adults might not be able to share a room.  Gideon feels that this is an unfair burden on the tax purse, and he displays a characteristic insouciance about the bulk of evidence which points to devastating effects on the lives of those affected.  Yet strangely, his attitude to his own housing situation displays rather less regard for the nation’s tax-payers than it does for the wealth and comfort of one Gideon Oliver Osborne Esq.  His actions in respect of “flipping” his second home allowance onto a constituency property with an increased mortgage attracted some criticism, which must have been very hurtful for not-so-poor Gideon.  This property was later sold for an estimated £400,000 profit.  Very nice, squire, very nice indeed.

Gideon may not look too clever in his picture, but he’s certainly managed to do alright for himself since leaving Oxford.  There were brief forays into the world of employment during which he acted as a data entry clerk, putting the details of the recently-deceased onto an NHS database, and he also worked for a week at Selfridges, during which he was responsible for folding some towels.  Perhaps the seeds of future greatness were sown at the NHS, and indeed Gideon has continued to make his contribution to death statistics via his enlightened policies in respect of public expenditure cuts.  Some say that it was in his towel-folding retail days that he truly found his métier, there being comparatively little scope for screwing up.  For someone who has recently been reported as telling colleagues that his main aim is “to avoid fucking up the Budget”, towel-folding would seem a comparatively safe occupation – for himself and, indeed, for the rest of us.

So, what is my final advice to you, the aspirant TV writer?  Well, I’d be tempted to wait a while yet, and see what else Gideon gets up to before putting pen to paper.  It’d be a pity after all to fall prey to criticism that the fiction has failed to live up to the fact, and there may well be depths of ridiculous and callous policy-making that our esteemed Chancellor has yet to plumb whilst continuing, somehow, to make sure that his own inherited nest remains nicely feathered.

Watch this space.