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Freedom Calls...
"We the undersigned petition the Prime Minister to Scrap the planned vehicle tracking and road pricing policy." At the time of writing a massive 1,683,277 people have signed the petition, over one and a half million members of the electorate petitioning the Prime Minister to stop the road pricing policy, and yet despite heralding the need for debate, Mr Blair is unrelenting in his plan to get this through. His editorial in Sunday's observer demonstrated that he sees debate as him talking and us listening, not so much a debate, it would seem, but a lecture. The Sparrow encourages signing the petition, writing to your MP and making him aware that he will not be reelected to his seat if this legislation is passed, and should the legislation be passed then the only action for any member of society who values liberty is mass civil disobedience, The Sparrow is willing to be prosecuted for said disobedience if it comes to the crunch, are you? As blogger Guido Fawkes says on his site, in a democracy the people should not be afraid of the government, the government should be afraid of the people.
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You don't even get a hug
The Peacock struggles for a snack. Cup a soup (or generic equivalent – please don’t sue me, Batchelor’s). What is it about this particular foodstuff (I use the word advisedly) that makes it quite so glue-like and yet watery in consistence? There’s a definite art to mixing all of the powder into the boiling water, and it’s one which I have not yet mastered. As I write, I have a steaming mug of Big-Supermarket-Thick-and-Creamy-Tomato-Packet-Soup sitting next to me. I followed the instructions to the letter, pouring the quite alarmingly orange powder, interspersed with various unidentifiable and equally brightly-coloured bits, into the mug, then poured boiling water over the top of it. I stirred and took a sip. The taste was nondescript and a large, gluey lump made its way up from the bottom of the mug and into my mouth. I stirred again, harder, faster and longer this time, scooping at the bottom of the mug to make sure that all the powder had dissolved. Surely that had done it. I took another sip. The soup was slightly thicker this time, but still tasted of very little. Another stir-sip combination. Ooh. I think I may have got a bit of minutely-diced carrot that time. I’m being transported back to the days when I first started eating baby-food, and I’m not impressed. I stir again, sip once more. Repeat until I reach the bottom of the mug. Not only does it taste of nothing, by now it’s stone-cold as well. And hey, whaddya know – there’s a layer of gunk on the bottom of the mug that has somehow resisted the insistent mixing and formed itself into a strange orange glue, reminiscent of poster paint. Still, at least my stirring hand has had a good workout. |
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Be My Anti-Valentine
![]() Picture taken from Be My Anti-Valentine at meish.org/vd/
So, the burning question for this time of year is what are you doing for Valentine's Day? Yep, that well-known Hallmark Holiday is just about to roll around again. It only seems a minute since I was last sitting awkwardly in an overpriced restaurant, elbow to elbow with hundreds of other couples, eating substandard food and wishing that we'd had the courage to stay at home and ignore the whole debacle. This year it's going to be different chez Peacock. For a start, I'm single on Valentine's Day. I don't think this has been the case since I was a student and, looking back with the benefit of misty-eyed reminiscence, VD (ha - that acronym never fails to bring a wry smile to my beak) was so much more eventful in those days. The most notable occasion was when my housemates and I went to G.A.Y. the night before VD and discovered that one of our number (male, and at the time in a serious relationship with a girl) was, in fact, gay. Unfortunately, the girlfriend discovered this by coming round a corner in the club and finding him snogging a guy. VD morning was therefore spent eating a LOT of ice-cream and chocolate while watching Hollyoaks and crying. Okay, not all that different to the average student Sunday morning, but it was imbued with extra pathos that day. Another year, another housemate. She'd been seeing a rather dishy young man for a few weeks, who decided to dump her the day before VD. The same day, our house cat was run over and killed. Once again, VD was spent in a sea of tissues and ice-cream, before going out in the evening and drinking quite obscene amounts of cheap beer in her student union, falling over drunk and (in my case) throwing a pint over a particularly persistent guy who I'd had a brief dalliance with a few weeks before. Ah, heady days. A few years later and I’ve disappeared to Switzerland for a skiing holiday with friends, leaving my boyfriend of the time at home while I drink far too much gluhwein, eat far too much fondue, get a tan and nearly break my neck while attempting to do a particularly showy jump on one of the blackest of the black bump runs. Needless to say, I hadn’t had such a good time in ages. Now, I realise that none of these examples are classically perfect ways to spend the (allegedly) most romantic day of the year, but at least they were memorable. I'm a Peacock, not a Lovebird - it's all about the drama. This year, therefore, you will find me out with friends, handing out red roses and kisses to passers-by, dancing like I've never danced before and laughing like there's no tomorrow. This year it's all about loving the life I'm living and creating a day to remember - go on, give it a go, I dare you. |
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The Constitution is dead, long live the constitution?
The Sparrow puts the case against the resurrection of the EU constitution. European leaders will meet in Madrid this weekend in an effort to save the EU constitution after it's sizable defeats in referendums in both the Netherlands and France. It's an interesting idea, reviving the constitution, being as the rules of engagement at the start of the whole constitution plan were that it must be okay'd by every member state. Surely even the blindest, most self absorbed bureaucrats could have seen that at least one country would reject it, although one must assume that were it one of the smaller countries they would have been bullied into saying yes, but no one expected the French to give it the brush off. |
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Columnist Watch #1: You're The One For Me Fatty
Mic Wright begins this irregular series that takes columnists to task: http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/story/0,,1992062,00.html Zoe Williams sometimes acts like a drunken stand up, who, finding that her audience no longer laughs at her jokes, resorts to self-aggrandisement and petty abuse. In this rant, for which she is no doubt handsomely rewarded, she lays into all those women who feel the need to diet. “Why“, she wonders “would otherwise intelligent women, educated to a high standard, interested in global politics, etc, etc, worry about something so meaningless as their weight?” It appears that Zoe, dressed in a fetching chiffon scarf in her byline picture and often seen desperately clasping a glass of wine in the pages of G2, has reached a state of Zen where her physical appearance no longer concerns her. Or perhaps it is because she, unlike the “vain and stupid” women who fixate on their weight, simply has the world’s fastest metabolism or a partner who couldn’t care less what she looks like because of her enormous and incredible intellect. Either of these assertions may be true. However, her attack on those women who do feel the need to worry about their weight is illogical and insensitive, based on shock tactics and flimsy assertions.
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There is power in the union?
The Sparrow considers the state of the union... Three hundred years ago today the Scottish Parliament ratified the treaty that hastened its own end; January 16th 1707. The act declared: "The two kingdoms of Scotland and England, shall upon the 1st May next ensuing the date hereof, and forever after, be United into One Kingdom by the Name of GREAT BRITAIN: And that the Ensigns Armorial of the said United Kingdom be such as Her Majesty shall think fit, and used in all Flags, Banners, Standards and Ensigns both at Sea and Land." It was a momentous achievement (although far from popular north of the border), paving the way for peace at home and the building of the Empire. Three Hundred years on, however, the union is at its weakest ebb since the defeat of the last Jacobite uprising in 1746. Discontent in Scotland is common but this time it is matched by growing dissatisfaction in England.
In 1999 in an attempt to make the Union fairer and pacify the protests for a Scottish Parliament, the Labour Government devolved some power to a new Scottish Assembly. Far from making the system fairer, however, this parliament has led to a system with even more imbalances.
The problem seems to be coming to a head since Gordon Brown is a Scottish MP who as Prime Minister would have power to create laws and bills that rule over England, yet would not effect his own constituency. Add to this the fact that Scottish constituencies now have two MPs, one for Westminster and one for Hollyrood, and you have a sufficiently confusing and unfair system to cause an even greater desire for change, as opposed to pacifying it.
While in the past conditions have not been right for them to gain both popular support at home and a desire for change on both sides of the border, it seems that this may be the year that they finally break through. If they do they will seek a referendum in Scotland on independence and, should that win approval of the people must then appeal to Parliament at Westminster to dissolve the Union. This makes matters complicated, because the Scots MPs at Westminster would be surely inclined to vote to keep their jobs, rather than for independence, however surely true democracy dictates that in the situation of an elected Scottish Parliament holding a referendum and demanding independence, the only just thing to do is give it to them.
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ITV Play...us for fools
King Crow gets in a flap over ITV Play's deceitfulness... The overnight television quiz is the preserve of isomniacs, maniacs and the truly desperate but they should at least have a fair chance of winning as they cradle the receiver and paw at the redial button. Not if ITV Play has anything to do with it. The ITV channel created purely to further prove the axiom that a fool and his money are easily parted, has been found in breach of the broadcasting code by Ofcom following a quiz about items commonly found in a woman's handbag. On September 21st 2005, the dead eyed host invited viewers to "identify things you find in a woman's handbag." When, after the usual hyperactive shouting and seemingly pointless countdowns, the game ended, only seven of the 13 prizes for revealing correct answers had been won. The remaining answers included "balaclava" and "rawl/rawl plugs" - a trade name for wall plugs. One can only assume that the producers had interviewed former members of the provisional IRA and DIY fanatics. Ofcom found ITV Play in breach of rule 2.11 of the broadcasting code, which states "competitions should be conducted fairly" and concluded that: "The inclusion of these answers was unreasonable and the competition was not conducted farirly." It is its first ruling against the channel but it is not likely to be the last. Other answers on that night included "rubber band", "directions", "false teeth", "contact lenses", "driving licence" and "plane tickets". Viewers were lured into using their underevolved fingers by the sample answer "mobile phone". ITV claimed that the full list of answers was reviewed by a senior producer and the channel's business manager prior to broadcast. These people are either a) idiots or b) married to very unconventional women. It did concede however that the answers in question "whilst not impossible, were unlikely to readily identified and were therefore inappropriate" - translation: "We had no idea that anyone with the intelligence to complain would be awake at that hour." Presented by frightening automatons barking idiotic phrases in sparsely decorated studios, these shows are the programmed equivalent of ambulance chaser ads and are just as cynical. More people should follow the example of the woman who called into the station and responded to the host's bleating for an answer with a deadpan statement: "I can't believe you get paid for this." |
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