No, I am not a corporation—and the charities should shut up

The thoroughly sound blogger, Dick Puddlecote has been rather kind about your humble Devil, re: the whole Fake Charities thing.

Mr Puddlecote, quite rightly, points out that I did not do it because I was in the pay of some shadowy corporation, conglomerate or think-tank—I funded the whole thing out of my own pocket and my own time (as did the volunteers who helped).

You will hear a lot of bluster from the charities who have been caught with their hands in the nation's till over this; they will try to blame corporations, or perhaps those nasty think tanks and their shadowy funders. But it is incontestable that this egregious abuse of taxes was first discovered by a guy who just enjoyed recreational political writing; was never paid for his work; did it in his spare time; and just knows a wrong 'un when he sees it.

It was a victory for the blogosphere and was a grass roots campaign which has gone from a corner of the internet to the upper echelons of the state, resulting in a rule which is - as we speak - prompting 'charity' meetings up and down the country to formulate plans as to how to keep their noses in the trough.

Quite so.

The charities and their various hangers-on are accusing the government of "silencing free speech".

This is a total fucking lie.

Charities can still say precisely what they want: they just cannot use money—extracted by force from you and me—to do so.

Good.

The Olympics Tickets Balls-Up

NB: I am not the Devil

Still the whining goes on about Olympics tickets, and still no-one seems to have identified the problem.

Look. I was given a ticket for an event which I won't be attending as it has no value to me. Ain't I the hideous one, eh?

Its original price, according to what I can find out, was £87 if you were to buy it from the official site. I'd have sold it for a fiver and been ecstatic about it, except that I'm not allowed to by law.

The unauthorised selling of Olympic tickets is a crime under the Olympic Act punishable by a £20,000 fine, and police have warned they will take tough action against touts.

It therefore resided, until recently when the council picked it up, in my recycling bin.

We know very well why this approach was taken. It's because there is an attitude in our country which is so fearful of "the privileged" sucking up tickets by virtue of being rich, that every effort has been taken to stop them doing so. It's easy to concede that there is some merit in that, even if it can arguably be seen to be driven by ugly envy.

However, it's been done in such a cack-handed way that they have forgotten how good humans are at sorting themselves out and ending up with a mostly decent result.

The London 2012 organisers had already priced anyone without a massive deposit account from buying the vast majority of the popular tickets anyway, quite rightly too as they are obliged to get return for the tax cash they have spent.

But while those who seem committed to egalitarianism and (presumably) re-distribution of wealth, are happy to see the rich restricted from buying seats at the expense of the less well off, they have woefully overlooked the more important aspect of re-distribution of value.

The value I placed on that ticket was quite literally zero. I would have happily given it away but for the fact that I had no-one to give it away to as no-one in my social circle was interested in one adult ticket (the spectre of over-bearing security and oppressive restrictions on what is allowed on the day of 'celebration' may have contributed to the disinterest, I reckon).

Someone, somewhere, would place a different value on it, though. If I was able to offer it for sale - in a free market - the person who valued it most highly would be able to see the event and be just as ecstatic as I would be for receiving, say, a fiver for something I personally thought was worth nothing.

They might believe it's a steal as they were prepared to pay only half of the £87 asking price, but got it for a fiver. I'd be dead happy that I got £5 for something which wasn't absorbent enough for me to even find value by wiping my bum with.

If the organisers are so dead set against re-distributing the natural value of Olympics tickets - by way of brutal laws involving £20k fines, no less - how on Earth can they be surprised that they are left with empty seats all over the place?

The only possible result is that just about everyone is left unsatisfied. Except, oddly enough, the privileged and the rich who the rules were meant to frustrate in the first place.

Meanwhile, Mrs and Mr SportsFan are allowed to believe that it's a corporate failure, instead of a massive mistake by those who swallow our taxes and refuse to recognise that a free swapping of value could have put bums on many of those empty seats the BBC, and others, are scratching their muddled heads about.

No problem, she's a helicopter

[NB: I am not the Devil]

There seems to have been quite some consternation about this image in our more excitable press ...


... but since the BBC saw fit to weigh in too, it's worthy of comment.

The main problem, as most seem to see it in this risk-terrified society we seem doomed to eternally suffer, is that somehow the kid was in danger.

After receiving attention from the picture posted online of Ffion without a helmet, Ms Pritchard was quick to stress she never did anything she believed would put Ffion at risk.

"The route I was climbing with Ffion [at Three Cliffs], there was no risk of any rock fall. I knew 100% it was safe," she told BBC News.

"The person below me was very competent, I had a mountain climbing instructor there too and I'm pretty confident of my own competence.

"I was top-roping [which prevents a climber falling down the cliff surface], which is very safe."

Now, firstly, it has to be said that this is Ms Pritchard's kid so any judgement from anyone else is - how shall I put this - none of their fucking business. However, since personal or family business is now apparently the business of every arrogant self-righteous moralist with a broadband connection, I'll jump in on the woman's side on the safety debate.

It looks scary for anyone who doesn't like that sort of thing, but if you don't like that sort of thing you don't climb. As such, you're hardly qualified to talk with any confidence about the perils of climbing.

The explanation offered certainly stacks up, mind, and is backed by people who do climb, like the Climbing Association (or whatever it's called) spokesman who seemed rather bemused at the hysterical attention when questioned on Radio 5 yesterday.

So there's nothing to see here then.

But, then again, there's nothing much to see for the kid either, as you can judge from the picture on the left.

What is bothersome about this whole story is why, oh why, is the woman so determined that her two year old must accompany her in every minute of her waking life?

It would appear to be another outing for the mindset of the modern 'professional' parent who feels that there is this big competition to outwardly show their parental love more than the next guy or gal.

In America, the term is usually expressed as 'helicopter', whereby the parent hovers incessantly, unable to leave their offspring alone for any length of time without supervision or 'bonding'.

A fan of babywearing, also known more prosaically as using a sling to carry a child, Ms Pritchard explained: "It was very much having Ffion and being a full-time mum that I started getting outdoors with her. I was keen to explore the surrounding area as I didn't know it."

Err, forgive me for stating the obvious, but rather than an hour or two of studying the back of Mum's head, wouldn't the time-honoured practice of leaving her in the capable hands of a babysitter or other family member be more horizon-broadening in learning to interact with differing human personalities? I'm pretty damn sure a two year old girl would much prefer hammering the head off a Barbie doll than smelling her Mum's sweat on the side of a mountain, too.

You see, this smacks more about the Mum wanting to be seen as perfect, outwardly displaying her credentials, while simultaneously doing what she wants to do - at all times with her kid by her side - rather than some exercise in childhood awareness.

Each to their own, and it's up to Ms Pritchard how she occupies her kid, but - crikey - can't we ditch this idea that kids are the be all and end all of life once one has pumped one or two of them out*?

We have a society infected by kids brought up to believe they are the centre of the universe, and whose parents are so wedded to them that any hardship life throws at the little sprog is deemed somehow unfair, a mindset which is readily taken up by youngsters with a beef on society once they realise that life is actually bloody difficult. As has always been the case, and always will be.

I might be wrong, of course, but something tells me that young Ffion will be one of those poor kids who are doomed to a future where the parent is scared of allowing them to use the bus on their own till they're old enough to shag, and they wouldn't wish to do so anyway as they know little about the outside world than what they have seen under the protective eye (or back of the neck) of their Mum.

And that affects us all to some extent. If only because anyone brave enough to release the reins and allow early self-determination for their kids is often derided as a shit parent simply for doing so.

What's more, once society feels able to make such judgements due to the proliferation of perfect parenting templates, you have a situation where people who climb rocks with their kid tied to their back invite ill-informed condemnation on safety reasons from complete strangers.

Funny, that.

* I say this as someone who has pumped a couple out myself, by the way