Clegg’s Emergency ‘999’ Call To The Tax-Starved Rich

Nick Clegg In usual Gobble-dee-gook mode

With the party political conference season almost upon us it’s bemusing to watch the ineffective jousting of the tories by Lib Dem leader, Nick Clegg.  Deeply wounded by a torrid introduction to office he continues to lurch from one self-generated crisis to the next.

Clegg’s call for an emergency tax on the rich is a little late in the day given recent government history on the topic and will only serve to raise mild amusement and a few eyebrows within Conservative ranks as well as doubts about his floundering leadership in his own.

Were an emergency tax-raising plan for our flagging economy deemed necessary I’d have anticipated something a little more creative and persuasive from the Deputy Prime Minister.  Instead we are presented with a proposal in which Clegg effectively wants to re-introduce a previous increase that was mainly reversed at the last budget – a reversal that he supported.

I also doubt if an intervention is justified at this time.  But then I have never before encountered such a shambolic government as this and following the tax debacle at the last  budget nothing any cabinet minister says about this subject should greatly surprise me.

Sadly, and despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary, I continue to expect better from government than what is being offered by this one.  Will I ever learn…

There are sound arguments suggesting that with an increasingly vulnerable and unpredictable situation developing within the eurozone we should refrain from increasing taxes of this nature and keep our powder dry until we need to rely on the muscle such interventions can provide.  However, in the event such an increase was to become justified, I think I’d temporarily increase corporation tax rather than income tax.

The banks have refused to lend to businesses who need the money to invest and expand. With uncertainty and fear a plenty, many have instead banked their profits; strengthened their accounts; reduced overheads and come out the other side more confident and secure than perhaps they had expected.

So bank balances are strong even though usual levels of output and expansion may have flat-lined or become reduced. The recent anomaly in a weakening economy but rising employment may in part be explained by this phenomenon. Some businesses may be taking on a few more employees – trainees for when they are ready to invest or expand again.

Many businesses are in a better position to pay an emergency tax than many others in society and if they aren’t investing or expanding then they aren’t contributing to the resolution of our faltering economic revival. The government needs to persuade them to do so.

Combined with a concerted effort by government to force the banks to lend – not the empty rhetoric and inertia characterized by them at present – we should begin to see the stimulus needed to alleviate our situation and give the economy a much needed kick-start.

Whatever the real solution to our present predicament, there can no longer be any no-go areas for government in the face of this particularly problematic debt and deficit crisis.  I would however qualify this by insisting that essential and compassionate provision for the ill, vulnerable, elderly and poor remains in place and an absolute priority.

Business owners are unlikely to go to the extreme of withdrawing their trade from the UK to move abroad if a rise in corporation tax is seen to be fair and temporary.   A small increase  may also go some way to silence those who argue that a rise in income tax upon the rich is counterproductive and won’t generate the revenue most of us would expect it to. 

Were their argument to hold up to scrutiny, it perhaps demonstrates that in taxation, as in life, what one expects can quite unexpectedly collide rather clumsily and uncompromisingly with reality. Nick Clegg’s unflattering spell in government is at least testimony to that.

The Fool On The Hill

Were the SDLP’s Alex Attwood genuine in his concern about the environmental impact of single-use shopping bags, he’d set about outlawing their use completely rather than cynically placing a levy on already hard-pressed shoppers from next April.

It’s quite tough enough out there for people  who are up to their eyes in an economic crisis and enduring high food costs; ever increasing utility and energy bills; pay freezes and cuts; frozen and cut benefits and generally struggling to keep their head above water without paying his petty, daft tax. End of.

A lifetime of terrorism.

The reality of terrorism has been a permanent feature of my life since I can remember.  I vividly recall being dragged from my bed one night as a 4 year old by my mother.  I could hear shouting from outside. My mother sounded nervous and worried and as a result I quickly became terrified.

Terrorists had planted a huge car bomb in the street next to ours and the entire estate was evacuated.  People spent most of the rest of that night in a field while the army defused the device.

We moved from that house several years later to live in a smaller, religiously mixed, private housing estate just opposite Belfast zoo.

I had a normal and happy childhood here and made good friends.  But outside this bubble it was chaos.

I would wait at the same bus stop on the Antrim Road each morning for the bus to take me to school.

During the hunger strikes I knew to take 4 steps backwards when the bus destined for the Christian Brothers school stopped to take passengers on board.

The school pupils would slide open the top windows of the bus and take their best shot. A machine-gun burst of saliva ensued, peppering the ground in front of me.

I was a protestant kid wearing a State school uniform and that made me a target;  I was on the wrong side of their argument.

Let them get on with it, I thought at the time.  I don’t have a problem with any of them.  As days turned into weeks, and without any reaction from me, they stopped.

Behind this bus stop stands a large Victorian-style house.  While I was growing up it belonged to the zoo’s head-gardener.

He was a very friendly man and often allowed me and my friends to cross his driveway to scale a wall and into the zoo without paying.

On one of these occasions I noticed him playing with his young son who was probably about 3 or 4 at the time.

His son was laughing hysterically while chasing his father round the family car with a soapy sponge.

I seem to recall that the boy had incredible blonde hair.  It was a happy scene on a perfect summer’s day.

One morning, several years later, a man dressed as a postman walked up the driveway of that house and knocked on the door.

The boy’s father answered and as he did so the postman reached into his satchel and pulled out a handgun.  He fired one shot into the man’s chest, mortally wounding him.

As the man fell to the floor the gunman reached inside the house and fired several more shots into his body.

I recall every detail of that morning to this day.  I remember what I was eating at the table when I heard the gun going off. I recall the school uniform I was wearing.  If I think for long enough I can hear those shots ringing out.   I recall telling my mother, who was sitting opposite me, that what we heard sounded like gunfire. I remember feeling shocked and completely numbed by the murder.

Each morning that I sat on the low rise wall at the bus stop following the incident, I felt the looming presence of the house behind me and the horror that had occurred there.

Most of all I remember being haunted by the thought of a young, blonde-haired boy standing over the carnage of his father’s body.

What I hadn’t known was that the man was a part-time soldier in the army.   Those that murdered him cared only for that fact about him.

At around the same time a neighbourhood police officer I knew was gunned down in a street less than a mile from my home.

It was reported that he wrestled one of the gunmen to the ground.  It was an instinctive but futile attempt to resist the inevitable; his assailants were up to 4 strong.  As they made their way to their getaway car, they let off a volley of shots into the air in celebration – like cowboys in a Western.

The officer was popular and affable and it was reported that this was the reason he was targeted.  To the mind of the terrorist a nice, friendly police officer didn’t quite fit the narrative of an oppressive British state and therefore he had to go.

In more recent times, a young man became a victim of loyalist terrorists not far from where I lived on the Whitewell Road.

His crime?

He had been wearing a Celtic football top.  In doing so his assailants identified him as their enemy, worthy of assassination.

Just imagine that.  It’s barely possible to come to terms with the type of mentality that it takes to make a murder like that a reality.

Fresh flowers are placed weekly at the spot where he fell, a permanent reminder by those who loved him that they’ll never forget him. The flowers also serve to remind those of us who live here of the sobering relationship between normality and conflict and sadly how closely the 2 have merged in Northern Ireland.

Terrorism.

No matter where in the world it has ever occurred it goes on to this day.  The greatest act of selfishness perpetrated by one human being upon another.

You don’t see things my way, I can’t tolerate you, you’re to blame for how I am feeling so you must die.

That is the dogmatic, selfish language of the terrorist. 

So, today, we commemorate the tenth anniversary of one particularly gross act of terrorism –  the September 11 atrocity on New York City.

We remember those many good people cut down in the prime of life for no other reason than to satisfy the vanity and will of those terrorists who follow a perverse and intolerable interpretation of religion.

I have great respect for America and her people.  I was horrified and disgusted at what was inflicted upon them that day.

Yet, during one of their darkest hours, I watched on TV as ordinary citizens of the US performed acts of heroism, sacrifice and compassion.

Their efforts humbled me and reminded me that terrorists will never, ever win.

So, as I remember the events of 10 years ago I also remember all that has come to pass in my life and those I have lived amongst.

I look back on acts of terrorism perpetrated on my fellow countrymen, and those throughout the world, and feel traumatised to the core for them and because of them.

Life is tough enough without terrorism.  But it is my conviction, born from my experiences and knowledge of Northern Ireland, that ultimately it is destined to fail.  It is those who hold true to love and democracy, not terrorism, who’s destiny is secured.

 

Following the riots, labour’s response is the right one.

While the right has launched its rabble-rousing vindictive against those in society it deems responsible for the riots, the labour party has largely remained level-headed in response.  This country needs labour to maintain that position.

For the announcements coming thick and fast from the tories should be enough to worry all of us about the long term direction the government may be leading us in relation to the rights and liberties enjoyed by all in our society.

The labour party has without reservation denounced the appalling and seemingly epidemic levels of violence experienced on our streets but has rightly tempered that with thoughtful views on the reasons behind it.

Indeed, Ed Miliband has himself made clear that he accepts that  labour should have done more while in government to tackle socio-economic issues that have afflicted certain sections of society for decades, and may have contributed to the present situation.

So I am concerned that some on the right of the labour  party, were I myself normally feel most comfortable,  are becoming critical of the party’s present position and what it is saying in response to the riots.

Their concern seems to be that we will lose all reason and damage our recent good form by sacrificing everything on a soft, hug-a-hoodie narrative that the electorate would never allow us to recover from.

They shouldn’t worry.

I believe the people are more than willing to try and understand what is happening on their streets and would welcome the sort of discussion that the labour party has been eager to promote.  But to indulge those concerns for a moment what stance would those on the right of the party prefer labour to take?

If the rioters, some as young as 10 years of age, get as far as managing to avoid the water cannon, or being shot dead by the plastic baton rounds our Prime Minister, by his own admission, is in favour of using, what next?

Do we then get those kids evicted from their homes along with the completely innocent family who reside there with them?  Do we then have those kids named and shamed prior to being forced into orange jump suits and made to work on our streets as a penance?

Would that be enough?

Or do we then proceed to close down social networking sites to stop those rioters, few in number, from organising more attacks and with it access for 99.9% of the population who are minding their own business and bothering no-one?

Would that satisfy our impulse for revenge on the rioters?

Or perhaps we should impose whole town curfews forcing trouble-makers to either stay indoors or face the consequences of walking British streets including that 99.9% of the population whose democratic right it is to walk those streets, who are minding their own business and who are bothering no-one?

Would that be enough to move the labour party into the apparently safe electoral ground of these reactionary, populist policies being arranged for the citizens of this country by David Cameron and the tory government?

The same policies, incidentally, that are in no way designed to resolve the major problems being faced by the communities in riot-affected areas but rather have been cynically designed to fix David Cameron’s broken, incompetent image in the eyes of an electorate disillusioned by the entire political establishment.

The police were caught out by unprecedented events on the streets of several English towns and cities.  They have now taken back control of the streets assisted by the vast majority of those people who want to live there in peace.

I believe we should have confidence in their ability to maintain that control and allow them to get on with doing their job.  Instead what we have at the moment is truly remarkable, unbelievable commentary from many on the mainland led by the right.

Britain has issues but it is not in crisis.  Let us hope that the labour party doesn’t
make the mistake of following the irresponsible and dangerous example of the government in the search for votes as just at the moment we appear to be facing an unprecedented and quite unnecessary
response to recent events.

Try Or Die?

So, just how can an abstention or a ‘no’ vote on UN Resolution 1973 on Libya, either in the UN or our own Parliament, be defended or justified in any way whatsoever when the certain outcome of a ‘no’ result at the UN would have subjected thousands, perhaps tens of thousands, of men, women and children to a mass slaughter beyond our comprehension?

I don’t understand how you can sit on the fence over an issue like this. It’s either right to attempt to save the lives of those who can’t defend themselves or it isn’t; there can be no in-between.

So which is it?

We can procrastinate and prevaricate and torture ourselves relentlessly and needlessly over the technicalities of a whole host of potential outcomes; but in truth it all comes down to a stark and arguably painful choice:

Do we stand up, be counted, and attempt to defend these
people and do so in spite of the very grave concerns that each and every one of us harbours about the risks involved, including the unknown, potentially catastrophic consequences?

Or….do we wash our hands of them and let them die?

Pretty Things

Had my instincts of self-preservation compelled me to do so, I’d have looked up the advice pages on wordpress and somewhere there discovered guidance on those topics that single, white, middle-aged men should on no account commit to blogging about.

At the very top of that list of pages my eyes may have fallen upon a solitary entry listed, “WOMEN”.

I am, however, perilously lacking in this respect and I’m not likely to ignore a week of news dominated at every turn by women.

The week started as the previous one had ended. Sky sports presenter’s Andy Gray and Richard Keys were making the headlines following their sexist comments against female assistant referee, Sian Massey. By Wednesday they were gone; Gray having been sacked the day before followed by Keys who resigned.

The two men had served at the helm of Sky’s premier league football commentary team since its inception 19 years ago. But they failed to acknowledge that in that time the country had moved on. Certain types of behaviour would no longer be tolerated. Revelations and accusations regarding the pair now seep daily from every pore of the media. It makes for painful reading with a capital Ouch.

Sky’s priority now is to rebuild the trust between it and its fee-paying audience, so perhaps they’ll plump for an anchorwoman to replace Keys. Top of any list must surely be the BBC sports presenter, Gabby Logan. Gabby is the daughter of former Leeds United midfield ace, Terry Yorath, and is as talented and knowledgeable about the game as they come.

Much further afield, In Egypt, pretty things have not been happening to the women there for a very long time. They have had it tough. Very tough. Last year, The Egyptian Centre for Women’s Rights (ECWR) published a report stating that the country ranked 125^th out of 134 in a league of countries in relation to women’s rights.

The report, based on findings of International human rights organisations, found that of all violent crime recorded in Egypt last year, an astonishing 71.4% was perpetrated against women. 27 incidents of rape were recorded daily, though this was dwarfed by a separate report which claimed that 95% of rapes in the country go unreported.

Domestic violence in Egypt affects a startling 33% of the female population. The public groping of women is reported to be common in some parts of the country as is their sexual violation by police officers.

So it is not surprising then that in this context the streets of Cairo and other major Egyptian cities have been thronged with women protesting in favour of change. “Dirty government”, they complain, as they rein bottles down upon police officers from the balconies of their homes. Egypt is experiencing revolution and women are in the vanguard of its momentum.

Meanwhile, in Washington, I watched as the most powerful woman on the planet, Hilary Clinton, went live on TV and issued a warning to the Egyptian government that it should not use repressive measures to quell the popular uprising in the country. The inference was clear, the message emphatic.

Closer to home, Conservative MP, Dominic Raab, was creating mischief. He had an article published on the Politics Home website, also covered in detail by the Daily Mail, entitled, “We Must End Feminist Bigotry”. The 37 year old member for Esher and Walton complained that men were getting a “raw deal” given recent, anti-discrimination laws that were designed to favour women.

Of his many complaints, his determination that, “divorced or separated fathers are systematically ignored by the courts”, stood out for me. I am a single father who has been fortunate in that I have not had to go to court to gain access to my son; but I’m conscious that many fathers aren’t so fortunate, and many fail to succeed when they get there. The law’s interpretation of access rights for fathers is nothing short of a national disgrace.

Though, I’d much rather Dominic Raab hadn’t attempted to tackle issues that genuinely affect and concern men by attacking women and systematically promoting the idea that they have legal privileges exclusive to their gender. In doing so, his article fundamentally undermined his argument.

On Thursday, I was watching on TV as Theresa May listened thoughtfully to Dominic Raab as he delivered his second whine of the week about the topic; this time in the Commons.

“Labelling females as obnoxious bigots is not the way forward”, she retorted. The chastened Raab squirmed uncomfortably in his seat and feigned amusement, but the damage was done; the home secretary’s rebuke was cutting.

When he arrived home that evening, I can’t help but wonder if Dominic Raab made his way upstairs for a private moment alone in order to tentatively determine if all his particulars remained intact.

Last week saw Yvette Cooper, Labour’s newly appointed shadow home secretary, up against Theresa May; following the formers recent appointment. The shadow home secretary tore into the minister over plans to modify the time terrorist suspects may be held in custody without charge and questioned the home secretary’s administration of the process.

The ever impressive Cooper was, for once, outflanked by an increasingly confident Teresa May who clearly believes she has the measure of her latest, opposite number.

The articulate and passionate Cooper is the master of detail, has great resolve and is passionate in her delivery. May, in contrast, is calm, astute and seemingly a good reader of her adversary. I suspect there is, or will soon be, poor chemistry developing between the two. There may be trouble ahead and I intend to reserve an exclusive, front row seat.

It was declared last week that Stella Creasy, the Labour and Co-Operative MP for Walthamstow Forest, is to become Labour’s next prime minister. This is according to John Rentoul, the Independent on Sunday’s chief political commentator. “She comes across well and looks like a tory”, he said.

Passionate about her constituency and those whom she serves, she can be found on twitter providing regular updates of her busy, daily schedule.

Despite the entire London Transport system being at her disposal as well as the most technologically advanced mobile phone, computer device and software, none of these can quite keep up with the breakneck speed with which Stella Creasy tends to the challenge of moving seamlessly from one set of constituency appointments to the next. Her twitter feed would suggest that Apple, and the London underground network in particular, need to significantly up their game.

Whether Dr Creasy, a psychology graduate from LSE, is a prime minister in waiting is anyone’s guess. Personally, I think John Rentoul was having a slow news day and allowed his mind to wander during a slack schedule. He certainly did her no favours by describing her as someone who looks like a tory. What exactly does a tory look like, anyway?

All the same, I wouldn’t dare underestimate the Walthamstow MP. She appears to be making an impact in the Commons where she has introduced a Bill to combat the scourge of legal loan sharking. She has proved adroit at mobilising all parties to participate in the issues concerned with the Bill and appears to be making headway.

Meanwhile, Labour leader Ed Miliband didn’t get a mention from John Rentoul.

Finally, on Saturday morning, I almost choked on my Mornflake oats when I opened up my twitter feed to discover Dawn Purvis tweeting live…from Iraq. The independent MLA, the only remotely interesting politician in Northern Ireland’s Stormont Assembly, was attending a conference on the role of women in peace-building, reconciliation and accountability. Should this have surprised me? Probably not, but it did.

Sometimes in life you are given little warning signs that signal the likely occurrence of greater events to come. You can either dismiss this seemingly insignificant nuance or embrace it for what it represents. Last week just may be a signal that we’re soon to enter a phase in politics when women will dominate, impose themselves and make a significant contribution to all our futures.

This post is testimony to that theory and to claim my stake that we are soon to witness its dawn.

Run For Your Life

Many people who are new to running tend to take it far too seriously. It’s a big thing to start running but you must do it in order to enjoy it and in a lot of cases that means changing how you feel about it.

Sit down for 10 minutes, alone, and really think about why you want to run. Running is precious me time. Should you manage to persist with it, you’ll become increasingly protective of that time.

When you’re body has adapted to regular running it tends to work more efficiently. It can help you to become more energetic and cope better with the stresses of daily life. It can also act as a catalyst that releases natural, feel-good endorphins into the body. Endorphins are produced in the pituitary gland and can enhance mood and help promote a positive and confident attitude.

For the running itself the most important thing is to see it as a learning curve like everything else. It’s a skill that comes to fruition when your leg joints learn to adapt to the impact of running; when your heart and lungs adapt to being used under pressure for sustained periods of time and, most importantly, when your mind adapts to running and you learn to recognise and confront its subconscious attempts to prevent you from doing so.

Therein does lie a fundamental truth about running. No matter if you attend fun runs, 6km or 10km runs, half or full marathons, you’re not just running alongside other participants. You’re likely to be competing against the fears, strengths and weaknesses present in your own head. It took me a very long time to understand that. When I did, running suddenly became a very personal, even selfish, pursuit, but an enjoyable and challenging one.

For the novice I would recommend running at a pace that you find effortless and for a period of 2 months’ stick with that pace and never deviate from it. Increase your speed only at the end of this period of time and even then only do so gradually.

I find short sprinting exercises at the end of each run helps the natural transition needed to achieve a progressive increase in pace without injuring your body in the process. Again though, gently does it.

Such measures can help prevent injuries to a body inexperienced to running and keep you motivated and hungry for more. You’ll also find that you’ll develop your own running style during this period of familiarisation with running. This is much better than one being forced brutally upon you by over doing it; leading to injury.

There is little to be said that is good or complimentary when face to face on the road with a newcomer to running who is significantly overweight. This is particularly true when that someone is accompanied by a personal trainer who should really know better than to have them out at all.

Lose the significant part of the weight before you embark on this pastime. In doing so you will reduce your exposure to a cabal of potential injuries that I guarantee will ensure your flirtation with running is a brief one – a never again to be considered exercise in improving your personal fitness.

The most common and debilitating of these injuries include ankle sprains, knee injuries, lower back pain, sciatica and, my own penance…. the curse of shin splints. Shin splints, incidentally, refers to a plethora of lower limb injuries one or more of which you may come to suffer from. It does not relate to one type of injury in a specific area. This is commonly misunderstood, even amongst more experienced runners.

The ability to run on grass, sand or other kind surface is not always possible, particularly for city dwellers. So at all costs avoid injuries caused by the ferocious impact of an overweight body on hard, unforgiving road surfaces. It is generally acknowledged today that the impact of running exerts the equivalent of 3 times your normal body weight on leg joints.

The right running shoes are the main priority when it comes to making an investment in your new found interest. There are many shoes on the market and, if you are new to running, you will discover quite a number of these will be adequate to meet your needs.

The more informed running shops have someone who understands different running gaits. These shops may also have a treadmill on the premises and a camera that can record your stride. Knowledgeable staff can then interpret what they see and offer advice on which shoes to buy.

When the foot hits the ground it can over-pronate. That is to say that the foot rolls inwards, excessively so in this instance, causing stress and potential injury; mainly to the lower leg. Some shoes are designed to minimise this.

But the thinking that specifically designed shoes is an effective counter measure to over-pronation is challenged by a core minority who believe that over-pronation is an evolutionary design system of the body that acts like a shock absorber, dispersing the forces of impact through the legs.

Consider the case of respected Ethiopian runner, Haile Gebrselassie, a recently retired world-champion marathon runner. He exhibits a severe form of over-pronation, as demonstrated by this video. Interestingly, the commentator does not reflect on his over-pronation as something necessitating a course of treatment.

In any case, your average runner is more interested in the practical implications of the argument rather than the science behind it. In my experience a combination of a body inexperienced to running, as well as one that was overweight, was directly responsible for the injuries that I received. When I resolved those 2 issues I found I could run injury-free in just about any type of running shoe. But that is just my own experience.

We obsess about diet more than at any time that I can remember. Every type of diet fad imaginable has been concocted, argued over, re-written or eventually abandoned. Sadly, many diets are the products of fashion. The architects of these diets want us to love their new, innovative recipes; heap gushing praise and sentiment on their creative ingenuity; marvel at their latest fat-burning pills and, of course, spend our money on it all.

How anyone who is serious about changing their eating habits can make sense of this explosion of information and advice, let alone afford it all, or even believe in a lot of it, remains out of the sphere of my current knowledge on the subject.

When I embark on a period of physical activity I stick to a few basic principles that have served me well. I never diet. I eat properly. There is a difference. I find some of the best nutritional advice available on this topic is available in men’s weight training magazines, some of which provide outstanding advice.

I eat lots and lots of fruit and vegetables. I tend to cut out certain goodies, at least initially. Alcohol is off limits. Well, almost. So too are cakes, sweets, crisps and chocolate. Bye, bye for now. I can catch up with them later on when I’m fitter and leaner.

We have a tendency to eat far too many carbohydrates today. Mashed, roasted or chipped potatoes are amongst the favourites. I have often wondered if this is an unintended legacy from the hard, manual labour of the industrial revolution, and of wars and rationing. Carbohydrates offer a bounty of energy and are readily available and inexpensive; the need for them in great quantities was a necessity in times past.

However, the fact is that we don’t need anything like the quantities that we all too readily consume today. The tendency is to fill the plate with them. I reduce mine significantly but would never, ever cut them out completely. We need a certain amount to maintain good health. I tend to stick with whole wheat pasta, brown rice and whole wheat couscous. I don’t exclude potatoes or white rice, but have them less often.

I consume mainly fresh fish and low fat meat that will include lean chicken, turkey and, more recently, rabbit; for protein.

About 15% or so of my diet consists of foods that contain essential fats. Brazil nuts, almonds, olive oil, peanut butter are a few examples. Oily fish like salmon and mackerel are also good sources. I have read that things like Brazil nuts help to burn body fat, not increase it as many people I know tend to believe. These fatty acids also help to maintain healthy hair, skin and play a part in healthy brain and sexual function.

Combined with running and weight-resistance training 3 times a week, using the above rules allowed me to lose significant, unwanted weight and I felt great.

We are all different, what works for me might not work for you. Running does not suit everyone. However, if it is for you and you stick at it, the benefits and enjoyment can be hugely rewarding.

Vince Cable – The sooner he goes the better for who?

Kill it, cook it, eat it….

I got caught out badly on Sunday night. I was flicking through Sky TV in that aimless fashion that continues to confirm my worst fears; television may be mostly harmless but it is also mostly grim viewing.

I fell upon a repeat episode from BBC 3’s, “Kill it, Cook it, Eat it” series on one of the channels. The programme concentrates on the lives of farm animals and their short passage from birth to cooking pan.

I became interested almost immediately as this episode concerned veal. I like to cook, and am especially interested in experimenting with a variety of foods.

Veal is a meat I am unfamiliar with and hoped I could learn more about. I had often wondered what it tasted like as, to my knowledge, I have never tried it.

This was to be no tame, culinary education on my part, though. The programme concentrated on the lack of popularity of veal amongst UK consumers, citing that many are put off by the relative short lifespan of each calf, many of which are slaughtered at 6 months of age; as well as the misinformed notion that veal is a tough, tasteless meat.

In fact, if cooked properly, as the programme demonstrated, it is as tender, tasty and nutritious a meat as you could wish to find.

As so often is the case, when the British palate stubbornly refuses to indulge the tremendous variety of locally produced and naturally occurring foodstuffs found within it’s land, and waters, its neighbours in France toast to its ignorance, raise their glasses, and avail of the product themselves.

However, in general, the prospect of rearing veal calves is not an economical one for most farmers in the UK, at least, that is, according to this programme. Farmers tend not to make a good return on their product, due to this lack of popularity.

One farmer complained that it was pointless to raise a calf for any period of time and go to the expense of taking it to market only for it to be sold for a nominal amount; £6 in the case he mentioned.

Up to this point, I had always considered veal to be an expensive meat because I believed it was considered a delicacy and therefore very expensive; hence its scarcity on our supermarket shelves. Now I was being told that it sold for £6 as a whole, live, though still maturing unit.

At this point the theme switched to the farmer’s hired hit-man and executioner. He arrived by lorry dressed in a grey, waterproof raincoat and trousers; and held a handgun, semi-concealed in his left hand.

He climbed over the gate of a straw-floored pen where x2, six-week old calves were casually pacing about in the blissful innocence of their lives. He approached one from the front and aimed the gun directly at the temple of its head; the calf approached the barrel quizzically, briefly touching it with its moist nose. The man took a step back and fired once, the opening of the barrel less than 6 inches from the head of his target.

A dark, vacant hole immediately appeared between the eyes of the calf, like some sort of magic spell had been cast upon it. Its legs buckled and collapsed in an instant as its head bounced on the straw-covered ground upon impact. “The brain is dead but the nervous system will cause the body to convulse for a period of time,” remarked the commentator, as the flawlessly formed body of the young animal shook uncontrollably on the straw floor and bright red blood now flowed from the gaping hole in its head.

The man was already in front of the second calf whose curiosity in the gun was immediately extinguished as a shot rang out and it too collapsed and convulsed in front of the camera.

Death in an instant exacted on 2 helpless, trusting young animals. They were to have no cognizance at all of the fate that was to befall them. That, some would say, is a blessing, at least. Yes, I suppose that’s right.

But normally I can handle these events and attempt to reason them away and subdue any conflict that may arise in my emotional response. I’ve learned to develop a thick skin to cope with the hard reality of life as it serves up one cold, unreasonable outcome on top of another.

But this night I was off-guard, presumably in some vulnerable, emotional place feeling like a reluctant resident yet bound for the time being.

Perhaps it was because I’d left my kid with his mum earlier that evening. Maybe I was missing him and the fact I don’t get to be with him for 3 or 4 nights of the week now when every instinct, thought and emotion persuades me that being with him is where I should and must be and that not being there for him means that I can’t affect what happens to him.

Perhaps I think too much, and worry too much – I’ve certainly inherited a worry-gene.

Or, maybe, what happened to those animals was simply wrong and that life is tough and unpredictable enough without snuffing it out merely because it causes temporary, financial inconvenience and it, for once, genuinely appalled me in a profound way.

Perhaps my usual defences were down and as a consequence the truth seeped through like a blade that pierces between the ribs into the heart.

In the end though, I’m pleased to report that I’ve since recovered. I’m a normally functioning, fully integrated, meat-eating member of society once more. I shall just have to build up those defences even stronger and less permeable than before.

Heaven forbid that I should become an emotional victim of the utterly pointless and cruel prejudices we sometimes serve on that most valuable of all things, life itself.

The Lost Leader

The long-running exchange of mutually abusive texts between us reached fever-pitch yesterday, all as a result of the Labour leadership contest. And, there’s no point in disguising the fact, my best friend is right. He, of hardcore Tory mindset, poignantly cut to the chase by sending through a final sermon, “you’re a member of a party that you can’t even vote for and treats you like a 2^nd class hanger on….mental case”. Quite – the Northern Ireland dilemma, support UK Labour but vote for who, exactly? I’m utterly gutted tonight and am fleeting between moments of self-ridicule and not a little embarrassment for feeling this way. But I can no more change how I feel about the political ideology of the Labour Party, or the outcome of its leadership contest, than I can change what woman I was born to or what day of the week it is at any given moment. I can forgive myself for how I feel because I feel this way for the right reasons; there is no malice of forethought attached as a penance. David Miliband was my first preference choice for the Labour leadership, his brother Ed, second. The other 3 candidates had no chance. I have admired the abilities of David Miliband for a long time. He was at the heart of constructing the policies that delivered the Labour Party its thumping election victory in 1997 and he continued in that vein by employing his brilliant mind in new, innovative ways by developing ideas which benefitted and enriched our party and served our people through 3 successful and historic terms in Office. His time as this country’s Foreign Secretary was a period when he blossomed into Labour’s obvious successor. It didn’t surprise me to learn that on his visit to Britain in August, Pakistan President, Asif Ali Zardari, was reported to have actively sought out David Miliband, feeling more at home in his company in order to discuss his country’s profound problems, rather than that of our own Prime Minister, David Cameron. That isn’t to say I haven’t had my moments of doubt about David. Doubts that have had more to do with the manner and style he employs to express his ideas rather than the substance behind them. Inexplicably, during the Hustings, he at times looked disinterested, remaining silent when opportunities arose for him to confront the ideas and views of other contestants. At those moments, when you are instinctively motivated to move in for the kill, David Miliband failed to express the ideological passions that reside within and drive him. In contrast, his brother Ed was vocal and passionate throughout. Ed Miliband is, in a tactical, intelligent sense as unashamed an opportunist as you could reasonably expect to encounter. If there is one attribute that I’ve discovered in him in the last 4 months it is that. He recognised that his brother would fall victim to the accusation of being too closely aligned with Tony Blair, Gordon Brown and New Labour – a willing and loyal foot-soldier bound by conditioning and loyalty to remain ever faithful to its cause, regardless of the consequences. Ed Miliband positioned himself as the change candidate, committed to reconnecting the party once more with its core support and renewing the trust between the leader and the party’s grassroots. Secondly, and related to the New Labour issue, he identified a sizeable but frustrated core of support within the party that was not naturally cohering with the overtly left-wing tendencies of Diane Abbott. Ed Miliband duly obliged, looked the gift-horse in the mouth, and won them over. If David Miliband was initially disappointed and a little disconcerted by his brother’s decision to challenge his expected ascendency to Labour leader, he closeted it well. In retrospect, there was a definite Ides of March feel about how Ed went on to despatch his brother to the likely and ignominious fate of chancery on Labour’s back benches. What a tragedy, what an appalling and insufferable waste of outstanding talent. Ed Miliband won this campaign by playing a dangerous game that may come back to bite him and the party he has embarked upon leading. Getting the unions on his side and winning the leadership contest as a result of their votes, provides the Tories with top quality ammunition and charges of “Red Ed” during a time when it is they that should be under the spotlight. The label of “Left-wing Labour” sits perilously alongside a memory that has been plaguing me today – that now infamous Michael Hestletine speech at the Conservative Party Conference in which he won over the faithful with a devastatingly simple military analogy of a marching army, but with a twist, “Left!….Left!….Left! Left! Left! The greatest trick Ed Miliband pulled in this contest was convincing the disillusioned Labour supporters out there that he was not an inherent believer in New Labour. Now that he has assailed to leader, he has to deliver a left-wing agenda that he does not believe in and therefore simply can’t deliver to the unions and those more broadly who won the leadership for him. Indeed, he will probably spend the next few years facing down Tory and media accusations that he is old, left-wing Labour in both style and substance by feeling it necessary to continually prove by words and deeds otherwise. This dangerous cocktail of accusation and counter-measure will ultimately disappoint those who have supported him and cause untold confusion in the electorate at large. It is bound to undermine the chances of the Labour Party at the next election and beyond. My fear is that it will make Ed Miliband, and the Labour Party, unelectable – that and the fact that he is at times unconvincing. As for the other candidates in the race I got their final position by the end of play today spot on by the end of day one. About 4–6 weeks ago Ed Balls gave up the pretence of running for the leadership and instead set down his claim for Shadow Chancellor. He was extremely convincing in how he set about the Tories dogmatic economic agenda, dissecting it with ruthless efficiency; the inexperienced Tories were left reeling in his wake. Andy Burnham is a nice, down to earth labour Party MP. You’d have him in your Shadow cabinet and government as a safe pair of hands. He is not a leader. Diane Abbott led a cynical campaign which targeted her male contestants, their education and perceived privileged upbringing and that did little to encourage the membership to support her. As well as that, you simply cannot predicate an economic agenda based entirely on the eradication, desirable though it may be, of Britain’s nuclear deterrent. It looks unlikely now that she will be offered a job in the Shadow Cabinet, or at least it should look that way. I knew straight away when David Miliband walked into the conference hall this evening that he had lost. He simply is not the sort of man that would smile from ear to ear upon being told he was the new party leader. It would not be in his nature or style to act so crudely or be so insensitive to the feelings of those whom he had defeated. But tonight belongs to Ed Miliband. Before my personal disappointment this night is misunderstood as an attack on our new leader, let me say this. I’m letting off steam. I’m disappointed. I want to trust, support and fight for Ed Miliband. He is a good and honourable man. In these days of MP claim scandals and public cynicism in politics, Ed Miliband is a damn good alternative. I could enjoy a good pint and a conversation with him and feel right at home. I did, after all, have him as my second preference and for good reason. Ultimately, he will be facing the Tories in the Commons and fighting for the Labour Party and that in itself will intuitively win me over. He can expect my full, unwavering and loyal support from Northern Ireland. That is, except for tonight and for a little while thereafter. Tonight, I am a wounded soldier feeling sorrow for a fallen comrade, and it hurts.