Smile Down Upon Your Son, Hey, Hey.

Here it is! Laid out before you for your delectation is the very troublesome part 43 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”. This has been an absolute nightmare to get to this point, but I still don’t think it is right. There is going to be work needed on the edit I think, so any feedback will be most helpful.

There is another quiz question associated with the part number. Given that I think it is an easier one, the picture clue is more obscure. As always, I give you the answer.

OK, the quiz question out of the way, here is my mantra. This is a serial. Any new-joiners should start with the opener known as Part One.    

The troublesome recap has now settled into its new home. You can find the recap here!

Now read on...

The revealing of the elephant that had been lurking in the room was never going to pleasant.  Smithy had squirmed and fidgeted in his chair wringing his hands and steadfastly refusing any eye contact with Jones. There were long silences punctuated by Smithy making occasional false starts on his explanation. Each false start from Smithy made Jones twitch slightly and grip the arms of his chair even tighter.

Smithy eventually started by describing the accident to Rosa Constantine. Rosa was a young, vibrant and ambitious officer. They had been on a raid and one of the suspects had climbed out of a window and climbed up onto the roof of the small industrial unit. Jones and Rosa had spotted him. She had sprinted up a fire escape after him. Jones didn’t call her back.

As Rosa chased the suspect across the roof, Jones had directed things from below, he ran alongside the unit catching glimpses of the suspect and Rosa above. The suspect reached the edge of the roof and leapt across to the roof of the unit next door. Rosa paused, composed herself and then made the leap herself. Jones had run along the front of the unit and watched the suspect leap from that roof onto the roof of the next unit.

Rosa made the leap, but quickly re-appeared on the edge of the roof. For a few seconds, she had tried to regain her balance with flailing arms, but to no avail. Rosa fell and broke her back.

Inside his head, the memories slunk out from behind a heavy curtain. He’d been the first to reach Rosa. As soon as he got there, he realised she was in a bad way. He screamed for an ambulance as he tore off his jacket. It appeared she was sleeping, but the way she lay contorted on the concrete. It was clear she was in a bad way.

Jones alternately screamed for an ambulance and made Rosa promises. As she lay there, Jones promised that she was going to be OK and that he would get the man who pushed her from the roof.

Only, she didn’t make a full recovery. Her broken back meant she was consigned to a wheelchair. It didn’t help that the man on the roof got away. Worse still was the insistence of everyone that there was no evidence of a push, only of a fall.

As Jones continued to try and disturb the stubborn recollections that lurked behind the curtains in his fallible memory, he became aware that Smithy had paused and was looking at his ashen face.

“And?” Jones glared back at Smithy.

“Well...” Smithy looked back down at his hands in his lap. “You know...”

Jones continued to glare at Smithy while letting the silence build.

“It wasn’t your fault, everyone knows that.” Smithy spoke quietly when the silence became too heavy to hold. “But you wouldn’t listen to any of us. “

It took long applications of many heavy silences, but Jones managed to drag the rest of the story from his reluctant sergeant.

After the raid, catching the suspect on the roof became an obsession for Jones. He spent longer and longer in the office, sacrificing food and sleep in his quest to find him. The only breaks he took where to visit Rosa. After each visit he would return home and demolish a bottle of whisky. His behaviour and moods became increasingly erratic. If anyone tried to suggest he take a break, he would flare into an incandescent rage and become paranoid. He started sleeping under his desk. The tablets he took to keep himself awake served to exaggerate his moods.

Then the obsessions began. The need for Jones to wash his hands after touching any of the case files. The compulsion that everything on his desk was organised in an exact manner and the way even a misaligned pencil caused him to accuse his colleagues of sabotage and worse.

It all came to a head when Jones had become convinced he had his man. They had him in the interview room and Jones had been questioning him when he produced a cast iron alibi. Jones had erupted and flown at the suspect. It had taken three of them to restrain him. It required two more to get Jones into the ambulance. He had been admitted to St Michael’s Clinic. They’d all thought his career was over, that Jones would never be allowed to return, but he did, helped in no small measure by the way he handled his evidence when the Maryfield’s case came to trial.

It was like having an elderly relative recount their memories of a fondly remembered day at the seaside only ten time times worse. Your memories are of the sun, energetic games on the beach; ice-cream; noisy, bustling arcades; candy-floss and chips eaten out of the wrapper.  The elderly relative recounts tales of sun-burn, children getting lost on the beach, exorbitant prices and projectile vomit on the car journey home. When you hear the alternative version, you realise that there is truth, but it is as if the version relates to somebody else.

“So, I went mad.” Jones broke the long silence that followed Smithy’s account.

“No, guv.” Smithy’s voice was a hoarse whisper. “You had a breakdown caused by stress, guilt, a lack of sleep, no food, booze and those damn tablets. Those tablets caused you to lose your grip on reality.”

“What is worse, you think it is happening again.”

“No!” Smithy glared at Jones. “Glynn, we just want to make sure it doesn’t.”

In Awe of the Land of the Free

My gallipot yeomen, there has been another delay to Part 43 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”. The draft is just about ready to post, but the old synapses went off on one again.

That isn’t actually true, they went off on two.

Firstly, I was devastated to read that the UK National Health service is not going to be handing out ‘Pink Viagra’ on prescription. Such news would normally have me spewing words onto my keyboard like a teenager who’s overindulged on the scrumpy. It would have me berating the good people at the National Institute for Clinical Excellence on behalf of the fairer sex. The article, by Dr Petra Boynton , suggested that the drug doesn’t work and there were side effects in its use. This confused this particular Hector. As the side effects included dizziness, fatigue and sleep problems, I thought that it must surely be that it worked too well!

Yet, the major synaptic disruption came when I read the blog entry in ‘Facts Are Strictly Optional’. I read it and felt those all too familiar stirrings in my brain that often signals my synapses about to fire off in unintended directions (or that the cabbage was past its best in the Bubble & Squeak). I found myself replying, only to discover that my reply was too big for Blogger to cope with!

So, I suggest that you go read the ‘Facts Are Strictly Optional’ piece – otherwise you won’t understand what the hell I’m on about in the reply below!

Dear Michel,

Your blog on the wrapping prowess of US State Department staff has caused great interest and no little consternation in my country. The palace hasn’t had this much of a buzz since the unfortunate accident which saw my elder brother’s bed filled with several nests of the killer bee.

As Crown Prince, Head of State, Prime Minister, Lord Chief Justice and Head of the Army in my great country, I have had occasion to receive gifts from the land of the free (see Note 1). The wrapping of these presents is always greeted with great awe and wonder by my staff.

I had always assumed that it was because somehow the wrapping was devoid of kittens - here you cannot get wrapping paper that does not have young felines upon it. Our only wrapping paper factory is old and in much need of modernization as it was a gift from the Soviet Union. At the time, ideological thinking was that wrapping paper without kittens inflamed ambition of the Bourgeoisie.

As an aside, our lack of effective wrapping paper is something that could be easily rectified. It would help us  if your really nice president, when he next has to settle the White House utility bills,  could have a few words with the people at the World Bank while is waiting for a teller to come free. A few hundred thousand dollars would enable us to upgrade the factory and become a big player in the international gift wrapping market, thus helping to lift my people from poverty.   

After reading your blog and talking to one of my staff, I discover that this awe has nothing to do with the fantastic consumer choice in America. Their eyes do not open like saucers because of the lack of young cats in various humorous or 'awwww' inducing poses. Their jaws drop because of the way that the bundles of greenbacks (See Note 2) or the latest gadget (See Note 3) have been packaged without the apparent use of sticky tape (See Note 4).

Your blog is therefore an education to me. As a result, I have called together my countries greatest minds to ensure that we too can compete with the superpowers when it comes to gift wrapping and have our nation take its deserved place at the top table of international diplomatic relations.

However, it appears that our national treasury cannot run to the cost of an international trip to New York to purchase wrapping paper without kittens, so when your President Obama next drops into your office (See Note 5), please tell your President Obama to excuse the wrapping paper on the phallic tribal carving enclosed (See Note 6).

I am hoping for an invitation to your great country to meet with your president. I have so many questions, not only about the mystical gift wrapping skills. For it is a source of great mystery to me how he finds time to play golf with so many world leaders and still have time for gift shopping. My third wife says that he must send Hilary Clinton down to Macy’s, but surely she has little spare time what with having to pander to Ex-President Clinton’s well documented appetites?

Thank you again for your time and your country's generosity. I hope that it gives you great pride that your skills with the sticky tape cause such awe in my court.

If you do find yourself in my great country, please feel free to drop by the palace. I will personally organise some communal smoking of ganga weed, music and dancing by way of celebration of your skills. Should you wish to stay a while, I’m sure that I can ask one of my wives to let you stay in her hut, but I’m afraid your husband would need to sleep with the young warriors in another part of the palace.

Americas Staunches Friend,

Crown Prince Alba Marranga Betoovee.

PS. When the next round of international aid comes around, please could I remind the White House tailor that I am a 46 inch chest with a 30 inch long trouser. The last suit was rather uncomfortable in the summer heat and the trousers were a bit like a cheap hotel.

There you go then, my mischievous synapses are playing up again. I will return with the next part of “A Couple of Tenors Short” very soon. If you are stuck for something to read, you could try my ideas on ethical business taxation (if you haven’t already). If you still have some time left over you could go to the UK Government’s Freedom site and rate and comment upon my entry on that site.  

Note 1: I must take issue with your assertion that America is not the land of the free, for I have never had to pay for any of these gifts. I have only ever been asked to allow a small corner of our land be used by your military to store giant metal tubes of candy or some such totally innocuous content.

Note 2: For which I am eternally grateful, but would be better received under plain wrapper in small denomination, used bills.

Note 3: Which are always very lovely and shiny with a decoration of half eaten fruit, but totally useless due to the rather intermittent availability of lightening juice throughout my land.

Note 4: Here we do not have the luxury of many branded goods and are forced to use the much inferior European Sellotape brand.

Note 5: This is a very inefficient way of communicating. In my country we have a much more efficient way of getting people to bond, motivate people and increase physical contact amongst staff. We utilise the bonding and motivational qualities of group smoking of the ganga weed. If you like, I can send some over to President Obama, but tell him not to do the smoking of the ganga weed in the Oval Office because it will stain the wallpaper.

Note 6: Please make sure that your great president reads the instructions very carefully before he displays it at the foot of the bed he shares with his first lady. My cousin had one just like it and it inflamed the passions of his wives so much that he ended up ruptured and exhausted. We had warned him about using the powerful magic of the little blue pill, but he ignored us all. His death was a great shock to my people, but the poor man died with a huge smile on his face and eventually, we were able to nail down the lid on his coffin.

Restoring the Synapses to Their Natural State

Right now, I would have thought my email inbox would be overflowing with complaints that I have yet to post the next part of my draft novel. This could be a severe case of gremlins munching their way through BT servers, possibly that there is a shortage of dried frog pills to sustain my loyal readers, or maybe that some people have yet to discover Part One.

Rest assured, I will be treating the world to the next instalment soon. Unfortunately, today I am in the mood to indulge myself by posting a few synaptic rambles.

The problem is that I got myself stuck on my soapbox about my ideas for ethical business taxation which led me to the UK Government’s Freedom initiative and the associated website. The good news is that I posted my ideas as an entry on that site (See Note 1). The bad news is that it has sparked all kinds of random synaptic activity and visits to strange websites in dingy corners of the interweb.

While I work tirelessly on this service for the community, my son and daughter (See Note 2) both watch The Sooty Show.

Before the election campaign started, I posted a blog about the need for hope and confidence. It is probably an indication about my inability to detect much hope seeping into the British psyche, that when the YourFreedom site initiative came along, I rushed into it almost as fast as a peckish Tory Cabinet Minister to the Murano (See Note 3).

You might not realise it from reading my ramblings here, but I am basically an optimist. It is just that experience has taught me that a healthy helping of cynicism and a warped sense of humour is required to counterbalance this (See Note 4).

My early experience with the site was not a particularly happy one. It was slow, rather bug ridden and lacked most of the features that I would expect to make it ‘user friendly’ (See Note 5) and supportive of a consultation and debate. The developers (See Note 6) had obviously not bothered to cast a glance at the concepts behind a wiki when throwing together the design. Such was the disappointment; it caused me to go into a state of mourning. As with every major disaster or national sorrow, I was so devastated, I felt the need to develop a conspiracy theory.

Still, with the persistence of the lingering odour of a kipper stuck behind a kitchen cupboard, I persevered and presented my idea to the population of the UK.

I waited. For some reason, probably software faults on the site, the population were not experiencing cartoon lightbulbs appearing over their heads. My entry wasn’t making headlines in the national press. Sian Williams wasn’t emailing me about joining her on the breakfast TV sofa (See Note 7).

Soon it was obvious, I needed to kill some time. I realised that wheels of government turn slowly. That the phone call from a senior civil servant, inviting me to present the idea to the UK cabinet might be a way off. So I decided to read some of the other offerings and offer up my views and the benefit of my wisdom.

Oh God, I wish I hadn’t. I could have just amused myself with humerous videos. The offerings on the site caused me to weep and hyper-ventilate in turn. What really depressed my and had me searching for the nearest user for a lend of his syringe (See Note 5), were the offerings from numerous small business owners.

Politicians tell us that the future of the economy is in the hands of small businesses.  If that is the case, then we are in real trouble. Those on the site seemed to have a very strange idea as to what their responsibilities as business owners  and (assumed) members of the human race actually were. Most made the Daily Mail seem like the Socialist Worker.

Thankfully, I am over that now. My daughter took a break from watching vintage children’s TV and pointed me to this wonderful, acerbic, YourFreedumb  blog. Having read it, I feel a lot better. My sense of optimism remains a touch dented, but thankfully, my cynicism and sense of humour are replenished.

My only regret being that I didn’t think of it first. Still, no matter, tonight I am off to a talk by Terry Jones on Medieval Lives – that should get the old synapses back into order.

Note 1: For all of you who have yet to see my entry on the YourFreedom site, post a wonderfully supportive comment and give it a high mark, be warned. There will be a test on the subject later and failure to obtain a pass will result in you being given detention and being deprived of chocolate for a month.

Note 2: For those who did not know, both my children are in their 20s. It is highly unlikely that I will be called upon to provide parenting courses.

Note 3: Yes, that’s right, £60 for three courses and I bet they don’t serve a decent pint of mild or provide bottles of ketchup and brown sauce on the table. Although Gordon Effin Ramsey would like to treat me to the full works, I promise I’ll write him a spiffing review on this very blog.

Note 4: So far, this mixture of raw optimism and my natural, exuberant flair combined with cynicism and an ability to laugh at the ridiculous has kept me out of the reach of men with large butterfly nets and avoided residency in a rubber room. The dried frog pills help too.

Note 5: Yes, I know that I am on record as hating the term ‘user’ when applied to computers. The term still makes me wince and brings images of a man without hope thrusting a syringe in their arm in the mistaken belief that it will provide a chemical induced salvation.

Note 6: I hope that none of my Merkin readership are giggling at the back there? You really shouldn’t be sitting smugly with the idea that such poorly implemented e-government initiatives are unique to us Brits. The company behind this, Delib, are also working with the US administration on  ‘crowd sourcing’ apps for among others, the Department of Homeland Security – not feeling so secure now, eh?

Note 7: Although I know now this is due to those gremlins hidden in the BT servers feasting upon my emails.

The Cautionary Tale of Albert Nightswerve, the Widget King.

My balneal yeomen, many apologies if you are waiting for Part 43 of “A Couple of Tenors Short”, but those of you who have been following this blog may have realised that I discovered my battered soapbox while I was dry-cleaning my llama. It brought back good memories and I have decided to give it a bit of an airing over my ideas of ethical taxation in business.

I have already drawn your attention to my ideas over how voluntary corporate taxation could be used to encourage the best ethical practice in business. Indeed, I have already entered the idea on the UK Government’s Freedom site here as well as providing a copy on my Blogspot site, here.

Today, I am hoping to convince more people of the benefits of this idea by relating the cautionary tale of Albert Nathaniel Nightswerve, the Widget King. It is in the hope I can persuade more people to go to the Freedom site, comment and give the idea a high score. If I can, who knows, maybe a politician will take notice and I will get the chance to explain the idea in more detail within the corridors of power.

Albert Nightswerve was the second son of Nathaniel Nightswerve, the brewing and embrocation magnate. While away at University, Albert had a wonderful idea about how to produce a better widget. Funded, by his father, he opened Acme Super Widget Ltd in a small allotment shed in deepest Northamptonshire.

The Albert Nightswerve widget wasn’t exactly an overnight success. Albert spent many hours tinkering with his widget. Eventually, the hard work started to pay off and the orders started to trickle in.

The entrepreneurial Albert took the opportunity andmoved his operation to a lock-up garage behind the gas works, a few hundred yards from his allotment.

It was with good reason that Albert became known as the Widget King. Albert was a man of principle and strong character. Despite the various trials and tribulations he faced, he vowed that Acme Super Widget Ltd would operate ethically and responsibly. That his company would not only bring the world the best widget possible, but he would make sure that it did it in a way that stayed true to his high ethical principles.

He vowed that he would treat his employees as people, not as payroll numbers and that he would never lay anybody off who wasn’t prepared to leave. When the company moved to a state of the art factory complex, he made sure that there was a crèche, a medical centre and a social club. The company operated a good pension scheme, offered good salaries and generous paid holiday. Albert wanted to make sure that his employees were rewarded for their efforts and loyalty.

The cost of the new factory was inflated a little by Albert’s insistence that it be energy efficient and that it include a recycling unit that would allow old widgets, even those from other manufacturers, to be recycled and pollution avoided.

In his quest for the perfect widget, Albert invested in research and development, new plant and encouraged innovation.

The suppliers were also in Albert’s mind. All bills were paid promptly, even though this meant having to have a few extra staff in his accounts department. On occasions, he even paid in advance when he knew a good supplier was experiencing cashflow issues.

Acme Super Widget Ltd also made sure that it put something back to the community by making sure that a proportion of profits went to local charities and that staff were encouraged to participate in local schools and voluntary groups, even if this meant giving them a few extra hours paid leave.

As the company grew, Albert was rightly proud of his achievements. On the day that the company became Acme Super Widgets Plc, he took all his staff and suppliers out on a free picnic.

Then along came Joseph T. Bloggs.

Bloggs Corp had been watching the widget market and realised there was a commercial opportunity. They designed their own widget. Taking advantage of EU and government grants and by borrowing from the banks, they set up a factory in a development area to produce it. Employing a slick salesforce supported by a massive advertising campaign they entered the market.

There was little difference in the Widgets so it became a good old corporate set to.

Apart from the salesmen, Bloggs paid the lowest wages it could to its staff. It didn’t give a pension or healthcare. Terms and conditions were determined by the statutory minimum. Wherever they could they used agency staff rather than employees.

Bloggs didn’t bother to recycle old widgets or get involved in community projects. Payments to suppliers were done on their terms, often 50 or 60 days after the invoice date. They renegotiated terms regularly, every time exerting pressure on suppliers to reduce prices or adding fees and penalty clauses.

Faced with all of this, Albert worked even harder and Acme Super Widgets did manage to compete, mainly because Bloggs Corp had to service a large debt.

Yet, when it came to the profit figures, Bloggs Corp were better. They had a bigger profit. Their share price was higher, their shareholders gauging success purely on profit.

Then one day, Joseph T. Bloggs used that share price to his advantage and launched a hostile takeover offering Bloggs Corp stock for Acme Super Widgets stock. He cited his efficient ways of working and promised to introduce his efficient business practices into Acme.

Albert died the day after Bloggs Corp closed his factory. The entire town came to a halt as his funeral cortege moved slowly through packed streets. His passing was mourned by his now unemployed workers. Suppliers came from miles to pay their respects.

The state of the art factory was shipped to Eastern Europe piece by piece to be re-assembled and staffed by even lower paid workers. Eventually Bloggs Corp closed their other UK factory and transferred all production there. The UK based suppliers found they had lost all widget custom as that too moved abroad.

There’s nothing left of the Acme Super Widget factory now. It was sold off for executive housing to repay some of the Bloggs Corp debt.

The UK widget industry, once the best in the world is no more.

The annoying thing is, that it all could have been avoided. Having an innovative ethical based corporate tax system would have meant that Albert’s principles would have been rewarded and his profits and share price improved. His ethical principles would have been rewarded by money off his tax bill. The higher profits would have meant a higher share price, thus avoiding the takeover.

So, my grieving yeomen, listen to this cautionary tale and think hard. I hope I’ve convinced you that ethical taxation that rewards men of principle and vision like Albert Nightswerve, the late and deeply mourned Widget King. Good corporate ethics makes a huge difference to peoples’ lives.

If I have convinced you, then please take time to visit the Freedom site, vote and comment. Who knows, you could be giving Albert a long lasting and fitting memorial.

It is times like these that I wish I still had that scratchy label in my underpants and could get this message out to more people. No longer having the tag of ‘most interesting’ that brings the curious to my ramblings, I rely on you to make mention of this blog in your own and spread the word. Make sure that principled entrepreneurs like Albert are rewarded.

Thank you for your time and your patience.

It Doesn't Work, Nick!

This morning, I happened to notice a BBC News item reporting that Nick Clegg, on behalf of the UK Government has launched a consultation with the British public over ways to improve freedoms and reduce the numbers of laws and regulations that have an impact on our lives.

Having found my thoughts continually returning to how businesses behave, I took this to be a wonderful opportunity to share my thoughts on ethical corporate taxation, so I signed up

For those with an infinite supply of patience, you can actually see my offering on the Government’s Freedom site here.  For those of you with lesser patience, I have made a copy of it and placed it here.

Those of you who went and read my copy of the entry on my blogspot site can go away and make themselves a cup of tea, maybe bake themselves a cake and reorganise their sock drawer. It might be a while before those who went to the Government site rejoin us.

OK, if everyone is back, then I’ll continue.

You might have guessed that I was less than impressed by the implementation of the site. It is poorly laid out, slow and is rather sloppily tested. For something that is supposed to be capable of conducting a comprehensive consultation with the British public, it leaves a lot to be desired.  

While I had hoped to spark off an intelligent debate over an innovative way for rewarding ethical standards in business, I find my contribution consigned to the bubbling swamp of yet another poorly designed and hurriedly implemented government IT system.

If you like a good political conspiracy theory, this hands you one on a silver platter. This particular initiative is fronted by Nick Clegg, Deputy Prime Minister and leader of the Liberal Democrats, the junior party in the coalition government. On the home page of the site you are greeted by his smiling face and chirpy little video introduction. I hate to say it Nick, but I reckon that the Tories took one look at the site and decided that they didn’t want their names tarnished by this amateurish software. Face it, lad, you’ve been stitched up, if not by your coalition partners, then by some second rate software development outfit who probably charged you a fortune for the privilege!

It is highly unlikely that Nick Clegg or any of his advisors will actually read any of this. Yet just in case they doubt the damage done to both the initiative and their reputation, consider this: If the software was any good and the website was actually fit for purpose, this blog post would have been all about how wonderful it is to have a government that consults and the fantastic advantages behind ethical based taxation – instead it is all about another failure in Government IT and the egg all over Clegg!  

In short, Nick – IT ISN’T WORKING FOR ME!