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Introducing the British Patriotic Party

In case you’re not British — or British but not interested in politics — you may not be fully aware of the current state of affairs in the UK.

For the past few weeks, one of the big newspapers has been reporting on the way British politicians have been using some very creative methods to use taxpayers’ money to supplement their income. Although the sums of money involved are mercifully small (thousands rather than millions of pounds), the principle of the thing has upset a lot of voters.

The governing party, Labour, has lost most support over this, probably more by virtue of being the ruling party during a recession and after many years in government, but all the main parties have been affected, which has led to a lot of panic over the thought that extremist parties might gain from this.

Most of the attention has been focussed on the spectre of the British National Party, a party with what it likes to portray as a robust response to immigration, but is really just thinly-veiled racism. With European elections coming up this weekend (Britain votes tomorrow), people are, perhaps understandably, worried at the prospect that the BNP might actually get four or five seats.

My response to that is not to panic. It sounds awful, but then again, the European Parliament has almost 800 seats in total, so the BNP aren’t going to get anywhere. And the record shows that when the BNP get seats on local councils, they flounder helplessly: at least one BNP councillor only ever spoke twice in session, and one of those was to ask what “abstain” means.

Unnoticed, the UK Independence Party, which is only slightly more successful at hiding its racist instincts, looks set to get twice the number of votes the BNP will get. UKIP already has nine MEPs in Strasbourg, but is as useless as the BNP. Elected on a strong eurosceptic platform, UKIP voted to allow Spanish fishermen into British waters. Even UKIP isn’t a credible threat.

To my mind, this constant talking up of the BNP as a threat is playing into their hands at a time when voters may be in the mood to threaten the main parties: it’s certainly giving them a lot of publicity they don’t deserve, and in any case, the last time British voters wanted to register a protest, they went for the Greens. The evidence is they may do so this time round as well.

That seems logical to me: casual racism is no longer socially acceptable in most circles, and “going green” is currently at least a little fashionable, so much so that Conservative politicians like David Cameron and Boris Johnson are rather over-keen to be photographed sitting on bicycles (although at least Johnson, the Mayor of London, doesn’t have a car with his documents on the back seat following him at a discreet distance, as Cameron, Leader of the Opposition, is accused of doing).

But people refuse to ignore the BNP, so we might as well join in on the attack. Not that there’s much to contribute to the sum of human knowledge: apart from a few unthinking supporters who’d vote for anyone waving a Union Flag, everyone knows the BNP is, basically, racist. When the BNP says they’re for “voluntary” repatriation but will offer “incentives” for people to leave, we all know that these “incentives” are the sort that might have been inspired by watching The Godfather and The Untouchables. And anyone who bothers to read the BNP’s manifesto knows that they actually have no policies at all, beyond a sort of vague wish to return to the kind of mythical golden age that exists only in Famous Five books.

The BNP, like all modern west European fringe movements I’m aware of, is a transparent joke. (Some of their members are, admittedly, thugs with criminal records, but as parties they really are quite amusing.) This is really the message I’m trying to get across here:

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This is my home town

I was in England last week, attending my sister’s wedding. This gave me a chance to show the world where I come from.

On the Boyle

If you’ve been living under a rock for the past week or so, you may have missed the buzz about Susan Boyle.

Susan Boyle is a contestant on Britain’s Got Talent who’s caused quite a stir. She’s a fortysomething-year-old church worker who looks like a fortysomething-year-old church worker, and appeared on stage in front of Simon Cowell, Piers Morgan and Amanda Holden looking, and acting, like a fortysomething-year-old church worker trying to make an impression. The audience sniggered when she said she wanted to be like Elaine Paige, and she had them on their feet and cheering with an excellent performance of I Dreamed a Dream from Les Misérables. Since then, she’s hardly been out of the headlines.

Now, I do take my hat off to Ms Boyle. She has what are called “learning difficulties” as a result of a difficult birth, was teased mercilessly at school, and it’s almost as if all this time she’s been plotting her revenge by cultivating a great voice and the talent to go with it. Good for her, I say, and I hope she goes on to bigger and better things.

But the whole hype is, shall we say, a little much for my taste. It took a one-liner from The Now Show to distil my thoughts into one, pithy sentiment: it’s faintly ridiculous that Piers Morgan should be practically reduced to tears at the revelation that a not very glamorous woman could actually sing.

An ordinary person who can sing? Why does that surprise us? Last year we had Paul Potts, so it’s not a huge revelation. And were we not all outraged at the news that the pretty, but not very talented, girl who “sang” at the opening ceremony of the Beijing Olympics was actually lip-synching to a recording of another, talented but not very pretty, girl?

Amanda gushed about how this was a wake-up call for us all, while Piers (or was it Simon? — they’re both equally obnoxious people) mumbled something about this being the biggest surprise in his three years on the show. Meanwhile, the thing people, encouraged by the press, have been obsessing about is not the fact that Susan Boyle is a great singer; but that Susan Boyle has bushy eyebrows and a cat called Pebbles and yet is also a great singer — as if those facts had anything to do with each other at all.

So there it is. We express moral and democratic outrage because China saw fit to do a Milli Vanilli on us, yet we refuse to believe that a woman untouched by Botox can sing. The official YouTube video of the performance has had something like twenty million hits, most, I expect, people who’ve probably never even been to a musical in their lives and think that Les Misérables is a play about depressed homosexual women, and watching it to witness this astounding spectacle. Far from being a triumph of talent over glamour, this episode merely proves that we are so obsessed with glamour on stage that anything else is incredible.

And so Susan Boyle, a genuinely talented singer (and, apparently, a natural at that), has become a freak show. I think that’s unfair on Ms Boyle. And if you think I’m being unduly harsh: Would you have reacted the same way to her performance if she’d looked like Jennifer Aniston?

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No, seriously…

My wife found this. I have a hard time believing it, myself.

Feeling sheepish?

Our house is filling up with animals. Not live animals; various different ornaments and cuddly toys, including a couple of elks, several cats, a hedgehog and a huge blue rabbit.

Last night, my wife came home with her latest purchase, apparently some form of Easter tree ornament. Or rather, ornaments.

Photo of nine small sheep ornaments (75kB)

She said she found them in a supermarket, and they looked at her.

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