Ken Livingstone, "You Can't Say That"

Book review

Like him or not (and this blog has always been a supporter), you've got to admit that public figures a-la Ken Livingstone are as rare as hen's teeth, especially in this day and age of spin, staged speeches and blind obedience to the party line.

Just try and count on your fingers the number of current MPs stemming from a genuinelly working-class background rather than academia, research or family fortunes. You may find you'll still have plenty of digits available.

Ok, Ken's autobiography may stretch a bit too long and its tons of details on 1970s local politics may test even the most passionate of political readers.

Still, unless you're prone to believe the rubbish routinely spurted out by the tabloid press, you've got to admire a man who (practically on his own) had the guts to take on both Maggie Thatcher and Tony Blair (as well as their fawning media machines) at the peak of their respective power.

And it's no coincidence that the most insightful chapters consist of the Thatcher government scrapping the Greater London Council elections in 1985, and Tony Blair's control freakery working overtime when votes were rigged in the vain attempt to stop Livingstone from running for London Mayor in 2000.

That is to say, the two dominant figures of post-1979 British politics showing that their mouthing of "freedom" and "democracy" was just that: an exercise in posturing, pomposity and egomania.

But his book is also an inspiring story of someone with the courage of his convictions in a political and media world stuffed with sycophants.

Livingstone must have felt very lonely each time he stuck to his beliefs and everybody reacted by throwing hissy fits and cries of "loonie leftie", "Eastern European tyrant", "pervert" and whatever other trick from the old book of right-wing character assassination.

Yet, ten or twenty years down the line, history proved him right. Quite a number of times.

Like when he was one of the few sticking up for Nelson Mandela while the Great Margaret Thatcher was busy calling him "a terrorist".

Or when the whole country was recoiling in horror at the prospects of sitting down for peace talks with Sinn Fein. Livingstone was physically attacked for pointing out that there was only one way out of the Irish issue. And guess who was proven right...

Or think how every single public figure today (barring a few remaining knuckle draggers) is at pains to portray themselves as "gay friendly". Ken Livingstone was almost literally ripped to pieces and hounded from his house when he was fighting for LGBT rights in the 1980s.

Now aged 66, with the London mayoral election on 3 May 2012, Ken Livingstone will be fighting what may turn out to be the closing battle of his political career.

Or hopefully not, if enough people realise that a millionaire Etonian buffoon acting as London Mayor won't actually do them any good.

The Best Moment of 2011

The scandal that brought the most vicious media thugs to their knees.

The notion that nature will eventually run its course, even when it comes to the humbling of the most brutal bullies, came to a belated realisation with the News of the World scandal.

What a picture, to see that particular brand of vicious, foamin-at-the-mouth, self-righteous faux-moralistic fury turning on its own creators.

The succession of the nastiest bullies in the British media tumbling like sacks of rubbish in a garbage truck was just amazing: the arrest of Andy Coulson, the fall of Rebekah Brooks, News Corp withdrawing its BSkyB bid, and finally the News of the World going to the wall, while the two Murdoch thugs pathetically feigned amnesia in the background.

The phone-hacking scandal was just waiting to happen. When somebody's power to bully and intimidate with such impunity is allowed to fester to such poisonous proportions, it's just a matter of time til the putrefying boil bursts.

No doubt soon things will settle and hordes of dimwits are already stuffing their gob with the notion that tabloid thuggery (ie the indiscriminate phone hacking of murdered children, dead soldiers and grieving relatives) is none other than "free press".

But for a moment, just a moment, it was nice to see journalism in the UK back to a version of itself that doesn't resemble a cross between Shaun of the Dead and The Wicker Man.

"Shit pensions for all!"

The right-wing solution to old age poverty

This blog felt the need to come back from the dead, if only as a one-off, courtesy of some of the most annoying red herrings that are floating about in the run-up to the public sector strike scheduled for November 30 across the UK.

I’m not talking about the typically contemptuous and shallow remark you often hear from the Tory right (as voiced on last Thursday’s BBC Question time by reptilian Tory MEP Daniel Hannan), which consists of tarring all public sector workers as “unproductive”, to which the obvious riposte should be: hope you never need your arse wiped by an “unproductive” carer or social worker in your old age, Mr Hannan, or that your house never needs “unproductive” firemen to put out a fire. And so on.

But that’s all by the by.

What is absolutely essential that we all stand up to, is the laziest (and, you will excuse me, most dim-witted) bit of criticism as thrown at the strikers. That is, “how dare those ‘privileged’ public workers stage a mass walkout and disrupt the country when most private sector workers are condemned to worse pension schemes”.

Leave aside the trite lie of “privileged pensions” in the public sector (the average being £7,800 - see this). Also, leave aside the fact that there’s nothing wrong, and everything right, in fighting to uphold the contractual conditions that public sector workers had signed up to in the first place.

What we should focus on is the warped logic according to which, because millions of people in the private sector are getting supremely exploited and taken for a ride with pension schemes ranging from very poor to non-existent (65% of all private sector workers have no pension at all – how’s that for a ticking bomb?), the right whingers’s solution isn’t to try and improve everybody’s pension.

No, they tell you, glaze-eyed, that the straightforward way out is simply crappier pensions for all.

They don’t think we urgently need to tackle head-on a future packed with even more millions of impoverished pensioners who will live longer, but with looser safety nets, less assets and even more deprivation than today. No, they just demand that the shrinking chunk of the population who still enjoy some protection for when they’re old and frail relinquish that too. Perhaps with a round of lashings before bed to beef up the penance.

Except, would they apply the same yardstick to any other walk of life? I don’t think so either.

They wouldn’t demand that people who expect decent treatment on the NHS stop acting like spoilt brats because what about those unluckier souls who catch MRSA in their hospital bed…

They wouldn’t tell you off for demanding the right to good schools just because some other people have to put up with crap ones…

And they wouldn’t give up their mansion because it’s not fair that the majority live in lesser places but still have to pay the same (and sometimes) more council tax so that the rich can enjoy their comforts better.

They wouldn’t do any of that. Because it would make no sense.

But, mainly, because this perverted race-to-the-bottom logic of “shit working conditions for all” instead of “better conditions for all” can only lead to one place – and with a series of socially devastating long-term consequences.

The sooner Tory brains cotton on to it, the better for everyone.

Paper Mask

British cinema's hidden gem.

This little-known British noir is testament to the fact that inflated Hollywoodian budgets are irrelevant when it comes to quality.

Unfortunately though, Paper Mask is also evidence that, no matter how good a film, without marketing machinery there's no chance of making it beyond -at best- a Channel Four 11 o'clock slot.

And that's how I first came across Christopher Morahan's hidden gem. It must have been at least fifteen years ago, late night at home while flicking through the channels only minutes away from hitting the sack.

I don't know what in particular, but Paper Mask grabbed my attention straight away. Mysterious without being contrived, minimalistic without being arty, chilling and disturbing without ever going over the top. Within a moment, I was hooked.

It's the story of a frustrated hospital porter (glib-tongued Martin, the excellent Paul McGann of Withnail and I fame) who, in a moment of madness, decides to steal the identity of a recently passed away surgeon.

The thing is, said doctor had just applied for a job elsewhere, meaning that it was the perfect chance for Martin to burn bridges and start with a clean slate, a door to prestige and riches that a lowly orderly would only be able to dream of otherwise.

Needless to say, however, Martin is heading for collision course. Aside from a vague familiarity with hospitals, the guy just isn't a doctor, which means a succession of wincing mishaps are constantly round the corner.

Yet his charming ways help him cajole nurse Christine (Amanda Donohoe, from Nicolas Roeg's Castaway) which, for Martin, would prove a godsend. At least for the time being.

Paper Mask guarantees suspence from start to finish. While the viewer is constantly wondering what is going to happen next, the concept is so subtle and original that you may even end up sympathizing with such a manipulative and dislikeable protagonist.

Alas, chances are you've never heard of this film.

Twenty years after it came out, there are rumours of a forthcoming DVD release which, if true, would finally hand one of the best thrillers to ever hail from the UK a belated chance to be enjoyed by the wider public.

A must-see if you can manage to grab hold of it.

Basement

"Face your deepest fears", says the tagline. That's right. You may have just wasted your money on the most useless film ever.

A few years ago my friends and I got into the habit of buying naff knockdown price DVDs for a laugh.

Two spring to mind, an American B-horror called The Dentist and an even worse one sporting the unbeatable title The Nosepicker. Proper cheap cheap cheap tacky dim-witted crap. We were pissing ourselves laughing at the crassness of the acting, the story, the soundtrack.

But it was great. There is something uniquely endearing about rubbish films.

In the unlikely event you may have heard of 2010's Basement, please be warned that it does not even make it into the above-described category. We are talking about something else here. Levels of nothingness that not even the most cynical of viewers could have anticipated.

Basement is the equivalent of being served a completely rancid dinner at a restaurant. Or the equivalent of buying a new suit only to discover that it's made of meat wrappers selotaped together.

What is unbelievable is the idea that someone, somewhere, thought that this thing could be knocked together, let alone produced, and that nobody along the way was honest enough to tell the director, the screenwriter, the producers or whoever that perhaps jacking it in would have been a more dignified move.

There's no danger of a spoiler because this film is about nothing. In theory the premises are interesting, not miles away from The Hole: a group of people are lost in the woods and end up in a dark and creepy basement. "Wow", you'd think, "Great!".

No it isn't. Because that's where it all ends. You wait and wait while the characters redraw the boundaries of the expression "dead end" and, within half hour, it's quite obvious that nowt's ever gonna happen.

The rest is some sort of tedious, repetititive, shallow, unengaging and inconsequential bilge. It goes nowhere. It says nothing. It's not even dumb. I guess it's the closest a film ever got to representing the concept of nothingness which, in a way, you could argue is actually an achievement.

Oh, and by the way, the acting is the worst ever. By far. Times ten.

"Basement" is like a Year-9 project carried out by a group of kids messing about with some recording equipment. Except worse.

Avoid.

Lessons from Japan

They call it clean and efficient, but it takes one thing to go wrong for nuclear energy to cause apocalyptic damage.

This must be the first time in history a devastating natural disaster is made a million times worse by the added danger of an imminent nuclear one.

If the fifth largest earthquake since 1900 and a catastrophic mega-tsunami weren't enough, Japan is now having to deal with the worst threat of radiation leaks the world has known since Chernobyl.

And while the entire world population are wishing the excellent Japanese people to get through this terrible moment as soon as possible, it is also vital that we learn -and quick- from the events.

The point is. If a country as efficient as Japan, with the most advanced infrastructure and the most sophisticated earthquake engineering and seismic vibration control, can experience such levels of destruction and nuclear devastation, one is entitled to wonder if nuclear power is worth it at all.

For all the best state-of-the-art safety measures in the world, it can take one earthquake, hurricane, tsunami, human error, fire, terrorist attack, you name it, to completely fuck up and contaminate an entire country, its natural resources and tens of millions of people for decades.

They say that nuclear power is safe, but in my lifetime alone this is already the second time that nuclear devastation is taking place (please look at this).

Once again, it just needs to happen once to ensure absolute havoc for a very long time.

Germany's decision this morning to shut down all their nuclear plants built before 1980 and to order an overhaul of all the others can only be saluted. Every single other country should follow suit.

Why the West should intervene in Libya

The "Libya-has-oil" argument is at risk of becoming the first time people are penalised for sitting on natural resources.

With civil war escalating and Libyan rebel forces losing ground to Gaddafi's troops (see here), a number of people have called against Western military intervention against the Libyan regime (see for instance the excellent Daily Maybe).

In short, the case against stepping in consists of:

a) the painful legacy of the Iraq war (which this blog opposed consistently from the outset); b) the fact that stepping in would hand Gaddafi a powerful ideological card; c) cries of hypocrisy related to the West's continuing support of other dictators in the Middle East (ie Saudi Arabia); d) the certainty that "[intervention] in Libya has more to do with control of that country's oil resources than with support for Libya's people" (also see Noam Chomsky on the matter).

No doubt their case has some merits. If there's one thing the world should have learnt from the devastating legacy of the trigger-happy Blair/Bush years, that is that military might should only be deployed as a very last resort.

But here is the thing.

Gaddafi is winning. What is currently looking like a massacre will turn into genocide the moment the entire Libyan territory returns under his complete control. That is possibly the only thing we can be sure of. The man is a sanguinary madman and he's already promised "a bloodbath".

Imagine for a second that David Cameron turned from jumped-up Tory to sanguinary dictator overnight and started slaughtering, say, tens of thousands of people in those Northern areas where local councils are opposing his cuts. Imagine you were stuck there, witnessing reprisals, massacres and disappearances.

Your side has tried to resist for weeks, but the battle is looking increasingly desperate and the prospect of a total bloodbath nearer. How would you feel if the rest of the world expressed their support simply by "freezing assets abroad" or expressing "firm condemnation" via a UN-sponsored piece of paper?

Would you not welcome foreign troops to save the lives of those around you?

"Will [military intervention] do any good?" asks Jim Jepps. I ask him to simply consider what will happen the moment Gaddafi's troops bag their victory. What good will come from that is beyond me.

And the oil thing.

We're witnessing the paradox of penalising tens of thousands of innocent people just because their country happens to be oil-rich.

Would you idly stand by the Srebrenica massacre if you found out that Bosnia was sitting on huge oil resources, just in case accusations of predatory opportunism may be levied?

Can you honestly say to those people "sorry to hear your house got bombed, mate...I'd help you if your country didn't have oil resources but, seeing as it has, we'll let Gaddafi slaugher you otherwise it looks bad on us?".

How does that work? It would probably be the first time in history people were actually discriminated in reverse on the basis of oil.

And yes, the West is propping up some appalling regimes around. It is right that we point out the hypocrisy.

But, given the failure to stop genocide in both Rwanda and in Bosnia, wouldn't it actually be refreshing - for once - if Western governments showed that military might can be used to genuinely rescue people from mass slaughter instead of the usual display of botched-up ideological crusades a-la Iraq?

It's true. Western leaders (with Blair and Berlusconi at the forefront) were kissing Gaddafi's hands for years. They armed him and pampered him. But so what? Isn't making amends and reversing crap and unethical foreign policy something to welcome with open arms?

Also read: When America left Arab Rebels to the Slaugher.

Another Year

Mike Leigh's run of form continues.

Review by Claude Carpentieri

If there ever was an imaginary Award for Best Social Observation and another for Best Depiction of the Ordinary, Mike Leigh would probably make a clean sweep each time.

His new release Another Year follows in the footsteps of some of his best work - 2002's All or Nothing and 1995's Secrets And Lies to mention but two.

This, however, is probably the first time Leigh casts his lens solely on the middle classes.

Past criticism that most of his work is allegedly a patronising take on the working classes as downtrodden salt-of-the-earth types was always ingenerous. And, like in every other of his films, Another Year goes to show that dysfunctional interaction and social ineptitude, contentment and loneliness, delusion and caring alike have all little to do with class as they're just integral to humanity.

At the core of Another Year, a couple approaching retirement; husband Tom (Jim Broadbent - Slater from Only Fools and Horses), a geologist and wife Gerri (Ruth Sheen), a psychologist. Their house, a large and cosy one in a leafy London suburb. Their son, Joe (possibly separated at birth from Keane's lead singer), an affectionate, sensible young lawyer. Their relationship, an island of warmth, affection and security amidst a social cluster where all of their friends and extended family seem to struggle with solitude and assorted demons.

The film unravels over a year. Each season, a friend or family visits Tom and Gerri, initially proudly claiming that "all is fine" and that "they're happier than ever", only to gradually let on - generally courtesy of a few drinks - that the picture is a totally different one and that, actually, loneliness and ageing are corroding them from within.

Another Year works because of its contemplative, gentle pace and its minimalistic touches. It wouldn't be a Mike Leigh film if the camera work wasn't so subtly masterful and the depiction of the most precious details so intense.

But Another Year also works because it never wishes to lecture anybody on anything. It's just a take on the fact that sometimes companionship can serve as the best refuge against ageing, insecurity and depression.

An absolute masterpiece.

The Mechanic

Two reviews for the price of one.

One.
The mere sight of big/fast cars makes you wet your bed. Films where burly geezers square each other up without flinching one bit give you a feeling of excitement which is only comparable to when you squash bugs or when you watch Jeremy Clarkson testing a new motor.

You probably think that smiling at someone in public makes you a wuss because you're a true man and any deeper than The Fast and the Furious makes it too hard to deal with emotionally.

If you ticked all of the above (and also if your parents used to lock you in the garage when you were a naughty child), then you'll probably find that The Mechanic is genius and you should watch it and spunk in your pants.

Two.
You just know from the start that the main bloke in the film (Jason Statham) will survive with barely a scratch. He takes no shit and he's built like a brick shithouse. The words predictable and boring start flashing in neon lights as the first five minutes unravel.

This is a geezer's equivalent of Sex & The City, the type of stuff that girlfriends only watch at the movies just to keep their manly boyfriend happy and to make up for when they forced him to watch Valentine's Day and, of course, Love Actually.

Oh...and Donald Sutherland has gone downhill and you just don't think that lots of guns, car chases, broken limbs and gravity defying jumps make for good entertainment, light or otherwise.

The retro-looking poster is great though. The gun even matches the colour of this blog.

Shoot yourself in the foot...

...but not if you're Ashley Cole.

Imagine an ordinary worker picking up the most powerful/borderline legal air rifle on the market and shooting a random bloke for fun. The victim would "bleed profusely" and require medical treatment.

How long do you think the shooter would last before being disciplined and/or fired? Five minutes? A day? Two tops?

Well. Not if you're a Premier League football player and certainly not if you're name is Ashley Cole.

He wasn't even suspended for one poxy game. Apparently he said the word "sorry", so all is ok.

As this may set a legal precedent, see if you want to try it yourself. Shoot someone on the arse. Just for a lark. If the rozzers get involved just say that you're "sorry" and that was enough for Ashley Cole to get away with it.

Your case will be watertight.

A League Cup of their own

Birmingham City FC, 27 February 2011.

No shame

Insincere, dishonest, or just Nick Clegg?

Nick Clegg, in an article he wrote while in opposition to the then Labour government (Daily Mail, 4 Aug 2009):

"It appals me that, so far at least, no one in government seems prepared to lift a finger to help [Gary McKinnon]. But it is even more shocking that the Labour government has sat blithely by and watched it happen.

It is time for Gordon Brown and his Attorney General, Baroness Scotland, to step in and do the decent thing. Yet this case is about more than legal technicalities and political treaties. It is about compassion, knowing the difference between right and wrong - and the sorry truth is that the Labour Party lost its moral compass long ago. But the clock is ticking. The Prime Minister just needs to pick up the phone to make this prosecution happen. I urge him to do so, before it is too late. ".

That was in 2009. What happened in the intervening 16 months is well known. A general election took place and Nick Clegg's party got into a coalition government with the Conservatives.

Yet, aside from the new government ordering a psychiatric reassessment (it would be the fifth) on Mr McKinnon, the situation hasn't changed one bit.

Apart from one thing. That is to say, of course, Nick Clegg's view.

Look at what the current Deputy Prime Minister (the same person who urged the Labour Party, Gordon Brown and his Attorney General "to step in and do the decent thing"), wrote in a letter to Gary McKinnon's mother the other day:

"As these are legal proceedings, I have been advised that it would be better for you and me not to meet and discuss the details of the case at present".

Then look at how the LibDem's own Pravda (LibDem Voice), engaged in crook-eyed logical somersaults to rush to their guru's aid.

"Let’s imagine if Nick had decided not to go with the advice that he’d been given and decided to meet with Janis Sharp. Could that have compromised the case? Could it have made things worse for Gary? Is it right that the Deputy Prime Minister in his official capacity should be perceived to take a public view about an ongoing Court case?"

Oh. Is that so now?

And how come you didn't think, say and write the very same thing 16 months ago?

Just be ashamed, LibDems, you bunch of opportunists with the memory-span of a mite.

The King's Speech

Will the story of King George VI make a clean sweep at the Oscars?

Today's headlines report that the forthcoming 2011 Academy Awards will mainly consist of a battle between The Social Network and The King's Speech.

Our money is on the latter.

And that's because, while most other films centred on royal families and nobility tend to be drowned in tweeness, romance and people prancing about while talking in riddles, The King's Speech covers totally different territory.

No doubt the film is also an interesting take on the historical events surrounding the abdication of Edward VIII and the dramatic run-up to World War II. But it is first and foremost a human drama about the scars brought about by the pressure and expectations of a repressive upbringing.

The story is centred around Prince Albert (Colin Firth), second son of King George V, a man whose severe stammer affected his public engagements and social interaction at various levels.

Spurred by his wife Elizabeth (Helena Bonham Carter), he decides to see Mr Lionel Logue (Geoffrey Rush), an Australian speech therapist and teacher of elocution. Not without hurdles, an unlikely friendship starts developing between them, as Mr Logue graduates slowly from inferior subject and subordinate to trusted confidant.

And so it emerges that Albert's speech problems stems from the typically dysfunctional and repressed childhood that generation after generation of royals have endured, a state of affairs brilliantly depicted by Johann Hari in his 2002 book God Save The Queen.

Bullied by his brother, repressed by his father and painfully corrected for his left-handedness and knock-knees, Albert grows up to believe that far from ever being good enough to lead, he will always be a source of embarrassment and scorn. Until, that is, Lionel Logue's intervention and a series of unprecedented historical events will help Albert (soon to become King George VI) overcome his stammer and deliver one of the most dramatic speeches in world history.

Ultimately, it is both David Seidler's powerful script (himself a stammer sufferer as a child) and Colin Firth's moving interpretation of Albert that make The King's Speech stand out. And yes, also hopefully mop the floor (twice over) with The Social Network.

"At least we removed a sanguinary dictator"

What the recent events in the Middle East show about Tony Blair's corrupt moral code.

Imagine if you had a quid each time you hear the dwindling band of blind supporters of the Iraq war reciting that sorry little line as the best justification for Britain's biggest foreign policy atrocity of the last forty years.

"At least we removed a sanguinary dictator" is a sentence that oozes hypocrisy from each and every pore, a phrase rendered even more vomitous and hollow when you look at the hateful game of "this dictator good, that dictator bad" that Tony Blair played so well during his reign. With other people's lives, of course.

And so consider what his good mate and Michael Jackson impersonator Colonel Gaddafi is currently doing to his own people in Libya. In the last few days we learnt that his troops are "firing on civilians" and that 104 people have been killed in last week's pro-democracy demonstrations.

Courtesy, in no small part, of British military help agreed at the height of the Blair empire, the bitter irony being that while he was rinsing his gob with sermons on "exporting democracy to Iraq", Tony was shaking hands with Gaddafi and signing lucrative arms deals.

Our former Prime Minister, the same person who for years pontificated about the importance of removing Saddam the sanguinary, has been a staunch supporter of a selection of brutal Middle Eastern torturers and tyrants, Gaddafi and the "immensely corageous" Mubarak (see this for courage) to mention but two.

The recent events in the Middle East are the most painful reminder of Blair's corrupt morality.

Moralism...

...puritanism and illiberalism. Upside down.

It really makes you want to reach for a bucket, this spectacle of Silvio Berlusconi and his right-wing hangers-on accusing their opponents of "puritanism" and "moralism".

For decades, the tycoon and its supporters built a whole political fortune on moralising, lecturing and pontificating about the dos and the donts of anything under the sun: same-sex couples, women's right to choose, stem cell research, euthanasia, sex education in schools and much more.

All of the above, apparently, wasn't bigoted moralism, puritanism or minding people's own business. Nah.

What is "puritan" and "neo-moralistic" as well as "snoopy and illiberal", instead, is people recoiling in horror at the prospect of a Prime Minister paying for orgies with under-age girls. That's according to one of his top supporters in government.

Right-wing logic: you've got to love it.

Selective snow

Welcome to Osborneconomics, where the same snow can affect Britain's GDP but not that of other countries.

Isn't Chancellor Trustfund Osborne going to say anything about the terrible weather conditions of France and Germany over the last quarter of 2010?

Remember his comical claims that Britain's contraction of 0.5% was to be blamed on bad weather and everybody chuckled as they caught a whiff of BS?

Well, confirmation that Osborne was talking nonsense came out today in the form of comparative figures across various EU countries.

Guess what, the same big freeze, record temperatures, extensive snowfall and assorted disruption somehow failed to affect GDP figures in France and Germany. They may have slowed down a little, but still the former grew by 0.3% in Q4 of 2010 and the latter by 0.4%, a sharp contrast with Britain's output.

For the record, December 2010 was officially Germany's coldest in 41 years and the snowiest ever.

Something doesn't add up with Osborneconomics.

Daily Mail typo of the year

Look at the caption above. It was visible until earlier this morning on the Mail online (alas it was later amended).

Little Fockers

The successor to Meet the Parents.

Six years after Ben Stiller and Robert De Niro emerged as one of Hollywood's most unlikely comedy duos, the Meet the Parents franchise returns with male nurse Greg Focker and his wife Pam the proud parents of twins Henry and Samantha.

Greg's hard-earned family approval is destined to plunge to new lows as ever-suspicious control freak Jack Byrnes (De Niro) develops a new obsession: he is now on a mission to appoint his successor in charge of the whole family.

This will only mean more pressure on Greg, as his father-in-law can't help but stick his nose into his business - queue the familiar succession of misunderstandings and cringeworthy moments leading up to Jack trying to get his daughter back with her ex Kevin (Owen Wilson).

And while Dustin Hoffman and Barbara Streisand's contributions are purely nominal, Wilson and new addition Jessica Alba are pivotal in adding extra spice to the whole story.

Yet it's not quite clear why the follow-up to the mega successful Meet the Parents and Meet the Fockers was slated by critics. Perhaps the default cynicism that tends to surround sequels may have something to do with it.

No doubt none of Little Fockers is groundbreaking comedy and, yes, a lot of it relies on poop scenes and all-too-familiar slapstick, but so what?

Exactly like its predecessors, Little Fockers does what it says on the tin without any high-brow ambition or post-ironic pretension.

The film contains a selection of laugh-out-loud and crude moments: from the "Sustengo" bits (which carry tons of cringe factor -especially the scene of Ben Stiller administering De Niro an injection in his private bits) and the two protagonists' trip to the kids' new school, to the random references to Andy Garcia or the final youtube video complete with remix.

Little Fockers may not mark a watershed moment in the history of comedy but it'll make for ninety minutes of good entertainment.

Jamie's 30-Minute Meals

Far from lecturing and patronising, Jamie Oliver is actually suggesting that good and healthy food should be accessible to everybody.

I like Jamie Oliver.

Britain's most recognised chef has taken so much stick over the last few years amidst accusations that he is "lecturing people" (quote: Health Minister Andrew Lansley over Jamie's School Dinners) and meddling with their eating habits.

And yet, in a media world where celebrities, chefs included, seem to be earning fame and plaudits by virtue of shouting the F-word (literally) or the C-word louder than the next person, Jamie Oliver deserves praise for keeping away from cheap shots and loud-mouthed gimmicks.

More than anything, however, Oliver deserves credit for dishing out tons of advice on how to make your own food without ever coming across as inaccessible or over-complicated. Which is no easy feat.

At first glance, some of the dishes included in his latest series Jamie's 30-Minute Meals may look extremely elaborate and offputting. And yet they're not. It's amazing how much you can do in less than thirty minutes and with the simplest of ingredients.

More, Oliver's programme is based on extreme realism.

Pre-packed artificial microwaveable ready meals have become such a tempting option for most (this blog included) because, after a long day at work, the last thing most people fancy is a gruelling cooking session or a supermarket quest for exotic ingredients.

Which is why, far from lecturing and patronising, Jamie Oliver is actually on a mission to make simple yet good and healthy food accessible to everybody and not just the wealthy.

Most importantly, he doesn't think -shock horror- that everything has to be made from scratch. What matters, like Oliver himself writes: "this kind of cooking is all about using every minute wisely, having fun and reclaiming your kitchen for the job it was meant for".

The Tourist

Winning hands down the Oscar for undeserved nominations.

Too many genres applied to a film can be a clue to its muddled nature.

For evidence, look no further than star-studded mega-budget movie The Tourist.

Described as, in succession, action, thriller, comedy, drama and romantic, The Tourist was designed to cash in on the pre-Christmas season and capitalise on big names like Angelina Jolie, Johnny Depp as well as on tons of glamour and beautiful scenery. It's not for nothing that it was described as "two of the world’s most beautiful people in one of the world’s most beautiful cities".

Nothing, however, can save a flimsy story and a weak plot, and The Tourist is no exception.

The initial intrigue withers within fifteen minutes when the story sags and it becomes apparently that this is a thriller with no thrills and nowhere to go but opulence, chocolate boxes and Angelina Jolie's lips.

Incidentally, her preening persona grates after a while and Johnny Depp looks like he hasn't really grasped what the directors have asked him to do. That is, of course, supposing that they knew themselves which, judging by the whole thing, is quite unlikely.

Cliches of 2011 #4

"Use the off switch or change channel".

The recent controversy triggered by the TopGear trio of Disco Vicars (Clarkson, Hammond, May) and their round of offensive comments dressed up as just-a-bit-of-fun prompted the usual charge of lame justifications.

From "no-one cares" (read "I don't, meeeeee, therefore it follows that the whole world doesn't either") and "haven't the Mexicans more important things to think about", to "this country is losing its sense of humour", the defenders of casual bullying and casual racism have been out in force to stick up for the three white upper class broadcasters.

The lamest defence, however, comes in the guise of the trite "You don't need to watch TopGear. Use the off switch or change channel".

Which really says a lot about some people's sapped power of observation. Because:

a) TopGear is paid for by the taxpayer - that is you and me and the bloke over there. You may change channel (and rest assured Clarkson's is the last TV programme this blog would want to watch), but still you won't be able do jack to stop your own money from being used to fund Clarkson and his side-splitting remarks about the disabled, the blind and various vulnerable people.

b) This is no page-32 article written in dubious taste and published by some local paper we're talking about. Alas, TopGear is the most popular BBC programme worldwide. Me and you may switch off the telly, but in the meantime tens of millions of people abroad will have found more reasons to believe the Brits' growing reputation as a nation of small-minded xenophobic little islanders.

c) Like Steve Coogan wrote in his Observer piece this morning, "tolerance of casual racism [is] arguably the most sinister kind [as] [i]t's easy to spot the ones with the burning crosses".

So here's a question for the "I'm-Not-Racist" Brigade: what's more dangerous and more hateful, a twat dressed up in ku klux klan robes that everyone can see, or a (not so) subtle and growing set of xenophobic remarks thrown left right and centre and dressed up as "just-a-bit-of-fun"?

If no-one ever stood up to bullies and racists in the name of "getting-a-sense-of-humour" and "relaxing", telly would still be packed with stuff like The Black and White Minstrel Show and Curry and Chips.

You may be content enough to switch channels, but I don't want to be forced to spend £145.50 a year to reinforce the notion that the British constantly look down on everything foreign, thank you very much.

Jeremy Clarkson and his sidekicks can play the bully if they want, but not with the taxpayer's money.

PS: Incidentally- Three Brits pouring scorn on Mexican food saying that it's like "sick with cheese on top"? Brits laughing at other people's food???? Now what did you say about sense of humour?

Click here to access the full list of cliches (2010-11):
"Young female TV presenters are a response to market demand".
"You've GOT to own your own home";
"Society benefits from extreme wealth at the top";
"There are jobs out there if you really want one";
"The Royal Family brings in tourism revenue".

Steve Coogan 5 Jeremy Clarkstwit 0

Britain's top comedian slams Top Gear bullies.

You may have heard about the recent (minor) stir caused by Jeremy Clarkson the school bully and his two sidekicks Richard Hammond and James May with their latest round of embarrassingly lazy, xenophobic and unfunny comments.

After preying on the disabled and the blind (ha ha bet your sides are splitting), homosexuals and prostitutes, sweatshop workers and various nationalities that aren't the B-R-I-T-I-S-H (to be uttered in a proud, low-pitched tone), this time the three idiots decided to pick on the Mexicans.

However, the best answer to the current wave of testosterone-fuelled Clarksonite brand of bullying dressed up as "the-right-to-a-bit-of-fun" came from legendary comedian and Alan Partridge-creator Steve Coogan.

His article for today's Observer is just spot-on. Especially when he refers to "the regular defence you tend to hear – the tired line that it's 'just a laugh', a bit of 'harmless fun'" and to "the current "'postmodern' reaction to overzealous political correctness, [...] a licence for any halfwit to vent the prejudices they'd been keeping in the closet since Love Thy Neighbour was taken off the air".

Berlusconi opens government to fascist party

How the Italian far-right went from God, Nation and Family to actively supporting an orgy host.

His conduct in government and a series of unfortunate remarks may have suggested otherwise but, until yesterday, Italian PM Berlusconi was at least able to reject accusations of flirting with fascism on the grounds that his allies were either former or reformed fascists who more or less turned their back on Mussolini.

Well, not anymore.

With his never ending scandals denting his popular support and the Italian right looking increasingly divided, Berlusconi is desperate for any vote he can grab.

This is why he announced yesterday that the unashamedly far-right party La Destra (The Right) have now joined his coalition and that one of their top dogs will soon be offered a ministerial post.

La Destra is Italy's direct equivalent of the BNP, except even more fascist. Though no doubt a very small party, tallying just over 680,000 votes (2,2%) at the 2009 European Parliament election, the group are the country's most outspoken apologists for the country's fascist past.

And indeed theirs is vintage stuff: from fascist-era typeface adorning their literature to their continuous references to christianity, "action" and "traditional values", all the way to their überfascist official slogan of "Dio, Patria e Famiglia" ("God, Nation and Family"), one thing you can't accuse La Destra of is lack of coherence.

However, how the "god" and "family" bits are going to sit next to a Prime Minister known for his penchant for orgies, libertine parties and underage prostitutes, no-one has yet managed to explain.

You bet that's going to be the most entertaining bit.

Un buen dia lo tiene cualquiera

A series on contemporary European cinema.

3) Un buen dia lo tiene cualquiera
(Spain, 2007)

The Noughties went down in history as the golden age of Spanish cinema.

From internationally acclaimed horrors like REC and The Orphanage to amazing dramas like Volver or Julia's Eyes, Spain spawned one gem after the other.

Outside Spanish-speaking countries, however, most releases remain best-kept secrets and the excellent black comedy Un buen dia lo tiene cualquiera (rough equivalent "Everyone's gotta have a good day") is a case in point.

Based on genius social observation, Santiago Lorenzo's satire is a take on the plight of today's thirtysomethings and the extent people may go to escape incertitude and general skintness.

With his dot-com company gone bust, Arturo has lost literally everything. His only hope lays in a local-authority project that offers young people and students a place as live-in carers for frail and ill OAPs. And while Arturo may be a bit long in the tooth to qualify, with the help of a couple of kickbacks and dodgy documents, he manages to land a room at Onofre's, a pensioner known to social workers and nurses as charming, quiet and docile.

No doubt things seem to be looking up. In order to keep his rent-free status, all Arturo has to do is administer the old man his medication and keep him some company.

Little does he know, however, that behind the poor OAP there's a rabid Mr Hyde setting out to make Arturo's life a mysery.

Manipulative and vindictive, Onofre is a true force to be reckoned with. The result is an escalating war between the two featuring a series of comical moments that will both baffle and entertain the viewer until the end.

Welcome

A series on contemporary European cinema.

2) Welcome (France, 2009)

Bilal has an impossible plan.

Having reached Calais after a 3-month journey from war-torn Northern Iraq, the Man Utd-obessed refugee is desperate to cross the Channel and make it to London where his beloved girlfriend Mina has recently emigrated with her family.

After an aborted early attempt that was thwarted by the police, Bilal conjures up a strategy to defy the freezing waters and swim all the way to England.

Not being a fine swimmer, however, he realises that he's in need of some intensive training.

This is how he meets local swimming instructor Simon, (Vincent Lindon) a surly, middle-aged French geezer who's in the throes of divorce papers and major changes in his life.

As the training sessions continue and the two develop an unlikely bond, the story meets a major turning point when Bilal finds out that Mina is suddenly being forced to marry one of her cousins in London.

With the boy getting increasingly impatient and unsettled, Simon learns first-hand the intense prejudices and restrictions that illegal immigrants and asylum seekers endure, cue his hostile neighbour (whose doormat sports the word WELCOME in capital letters - oh the irony) grassing him up to he police for "aiding and abetting" illegal immigrants.

Directed and written by Philip Lioret, Welcome's intensity is not always easy to digest and the drama and anguish of its final moments may prove too much for some people to take.

Yet, the film's gentle and minimalistic script and its touching tale of determination and humanity will make you feel grateful for allowing you into its world - a world that too many people refuse to acknowledge, blinded as they are by xenophobia and the convenient refusal to accept that some people are desperate and will do anything to escape war, poverty and devastation.

An extraordinary story that will stay with you for days.

Das Leben der Anderen

A series on contemporary European cinema.

1) The Lives of Others
(Germany, 2006)

More often than not the most effective or tensest moments in a film are delivered through subtle details. A single nod, a close-up, or even silence can prove more crucial in building-up a story than a million gimmicks.

The Lives of Others (original title: Das Leben der Anderen) is possibly the best film I've ever watched in terms of how subtlety is at the core of a powerful story.

Written and directed by Florian Henckel von Donnersmarck, The Lives of Others is a drama set at the peak of East German communism. It's 1984 and no-one suspects that one of the most stifling and controlling political regimes of the twentieth century is actually a few years away from dissolving.

East Germany was home to one of the most powerful secret police forces known to man. Making sure that nothing could ever change, loyal and devoted Stasi informers were there to obediently enforce submission. Threats, arrests, carrots and sticks were dished out with varying degrees of brutality by an army of zealots competing for who could gain the prize for the most righteous servant of "the state" and make a career out of it.

Except that, when your entire concept of power is based on grassing people up, it's only a matter of time before the entire edifice crumbles.

A state like the former DDR was bound to be consumed from within. Everyone was a potential suspect. You were monitored if you dissented and you were monitored if you didn't - the idea being that you've got to have something to hide if you're toeing the party line so religiously.

These are the premises behind The Lives of Others.

Playwright Georg Dreyman (Sebastian Koch) is one of the few artists the regime hasn't managed to alienate or force into exile.

His loyal and inoffensive work, with the added bonus of being one of the very few DDR writers still read in the West, grants him a fairly privileged life and access to powerful friends.

His life, however, is about to be turned upside down as powerful Stasi officers start suspecting that not even he is above suspicion.

Determined to dig up dirt, they decide to put him under strict surveillance, bugging his flat and monitoring everything 24/7. The task is assigned to officer Wiesler, ruthless, dedicated and robotic as well as a firm believer in the East German state and therefore a rising star within the secret police.

Trouble is, Wiesler will soon realise that behind Dreyman's surveillance there is a gruesome abuse of power. A mighty Minister has cast his eyes on the playwright's actress girlfriend, Christa-Maria - blackmailing her into an affair.

What makes the story particularly fascinating is the way it unravels. Each of the characters maintains an aura of mystery about them until the end, almost in line with the general state of mistrust that reigned supreme in the former DDR.

And so the viewer is not quite sure whether Dreyman has indeed something to hide, nor is it obviously clear that Christa-Maria is not involved in something shady. Wiesler himself - is he truly warming up to the people he is monitoring or will he put his loyalty to "the state" before basic issues of humanity?

Also masterful is the meticulous reconstruction and depiction of East German landscapes. Minimalistic designs, modernist offices and barren interiors add up to perma-grey skies and a rarefied atmosphere to portray a sense of general sallowness and fear.

Intense, claustrophobic and suspenseful, The Lives of Others is a gripping tale of humanity before it's a drama or a thriller.

Awarded the Oscar for Best Foreign Language Film in 2006, it is definitely one of the best productions to have hailed from continental Europe over the last few decades.

Conviction

What a waste of a film.

In 1983, Kenny Waters was convicted of the brutal murder of a woman in a town in Massachusetts. Little was known at the time that the case was going to become one of America's biggest miscarriages of justice, with Kenny ending up locked away for eighteen years over something he never did.

Tony Goldwyn's Conviction is the true story of how Kenny Waters' sister Betty Anne embarked upon a two-decade long mission to have her brother freed.

At any rate, the story is obviously compelling and even moving at times. The intention is obviously good and it certainly helps that both main actors, Hilary Swank (interpreting Betty Ann) and Sam Rockwell (Kenny Waters) pull off a fine performance.

The problem, however, is that the film fails completely to convey any sense of drama and involvement as the whole thing unravels in a totally mono-dimensional manner. For almost two hours it bangs on about one thing and one thing alone without any subplot, twist or character development or anything that encourages the viewer to give a particular damn.

Compare it with other films based on judicial cock-ups and assorted legal wranglings (In the Name of the Father or North Country to name but two) and the result is a lot of squandered potential and a story that comes across as both drawn out and uninspiring.

In other words, more of a Sunday afternoon TV film than a Hollywood release. Avoid if you can.

127 Hours

One of the contenders for this year's Academy Awards.

Danny Boyle is one of those film directors I have never been able to decide whether I'm a fan of or not.

Some of his films I watched a dozen times each. There was Shallow Grave, one of the best thriller noirs of the 1990s. Or, The Beach, starring Leonardo Di Caprio, a gripping depiction of human nature and the way communities implode under the weight of envy and factionalism.

Then there's Slumdog Millionaire, showered with praise and awards, a touching tale of exploitation and expectations set in modern India. And, of course, Boyle was also the man behind one of best the horror films of the last ten years, the disturbing 28 Days Later.

However, what's annoying about the most famous living British director is what seems to be the 'ultra-cool' and 'in-with-the-kids' factor. Some of his stuff is reminiscent of those 'cool students' circa-1998 who would look at you in amazement at the news that, no, you don't actually like Moby or Fatboy Slim. "What? Really, man? But Moby is sooooo cool!".

Cue the irritating camera work. The fast forwarded bits. The industrial amounts of clipped images. The super trendy soundtracks, and god forbid if the film tallies two consecutive seconds without music in the foreground. And so on.

Trainspotting springs to mind, one of the films I've never been able to actually grasp - which is my own fault no doubt.

Still, you can't fault the man. Radcliffe's biggest export seems to have struck gold again, as his latest release is one of the hottest contenders for this year's Academy Awards.

100% based on true events, 127 Hours is an engrossing tale of survival and endurance. It's the story of Aron Rolston, an adventure sports fanatic who became trapped by a boulder in the Utah canyons in 2003.

Played by the excellent James Franco, Aron inadvertently falls into a crevice with the added bad luck of a massive boulder tumbling til the point it's encased against his arm.

As the place is literally in the middle of nowhere, the protagonist embarks upon a race against time, loneliness, climate and physical pain in an increasingly desperate quest to get out alive.

And what a desperate quest it is. Most viewers would probably wonder what they would have done had they been in his shoes. Not a lot, probably, if you consider that Aron was fighting alone while standing up for five days with all but a trapped arm, a cheap swissknife and a water flask.

Which is what makes this film particularly special. Aron's emotions are portrayed masterfully, with his sense of panic and despair gradually spiralling out of control as his life begins to flash, literally, before his eyes. Bravely, however, the man manages to keep his nerves under control, which is ultimately what will allow him to survive to tell his story.

A must-see.

To Melanie Phillips and the bigots

"Don’t demand the right to spit in the face of gay people, and claim you’re being picked on when you’re asked to stop", Johann Hari, The Independent.

Spot-on.

Paranormal Activity 2

The prequel to one of the scariest horrors of the Noughties.

When the first Paranormal Activty came out in 2009, this blog professed its outmost admiration.

There was a horror film that did what it said on the tin. A slow and relentless build-up which resulted in tons of suspense without relying on monsters, zombies or any sort of camera trick. I obviously speak for myself, but when I watched it, it really freaked me out, which I guess is what a film called Paranormal Activity should be doing in the first place.

One year down the line, and its follow-up came out in the guise of a prequel.

The formula is still the same, except that the story is now centred around Kate's sister's family and a series of spooky events in the weeks prior to what happened in the first film.

There are both a different director (Tod Williams) and writer (Michael R. Perry), but you wouldn't have noticed, given that the same minimalistic touches and meticulous attention to the build-up are applied this time as well.

In short, still very scary, except that this time you more or less already know what to expect, which detracts a little from the tension and the anticipation.

However, if you did miss the first one, this is likely to make you jump big time nonetheless.

The bad news is that a third instalment has already been commissioned for October 2011. As it's very difficult to see where the story can go any further without trivialising it in the style of Saw (now likely to be in its 22nd incarnation) or Final Destination (except that it's never final), one could be forgiven for their scepticism.

Paranormal Activity 2 is released on DVD on Feb 8, 2011.

Blame the weather

Why Osborne's excuse that snow is to blame for the collapse in economic growth is comedy material.

Britain's economy contracted 0.5% in the last quarter, the most in a year, according to the latest from the Office for National Statistics.

While everybody agrees the figures are evidence of a double-dip recession on its way and even the CBI boss accuses the government of "lacking vision" ("Measures that cut spending but killed demand would actually make matters worse", in the words of Sir Richard Lambert), Chancellor George "Trustfund" Osborne had the cheek to seriously blame last month's snowfall and cold temperatures.

No doubt because he had first-hand experience of both.

But let's just suppose Osborne was right. At the end of the day, it is true that last December was the coldest on record.

It still isn't enough to explain entirely such a massive slump to the point of also cancelling out completely October and November.

The truth is that no amount of comical excuses from Britain's Chancellor will cover up for the devastating decisions they've inflicted on the country.

And a simple comparison will be enough to expose his bullshit for what it is.

December 2009 was also an extremely cold month. Granted, not as extreme as December 2010, but still the Met Office described it as the coldest on record since 1995, with heavy snowfalls and widespread disruption to the economy.

Yet that didn't prevent the economy from growing last year for the first time in six quarters (see this).

More. Look at January, February and March 2010. The three combined were all much colder than usual (January in particular was "the coldest over the UK since 1987 and equal eighth-coldest in a series from 1910") and each of them was officially listed as "anomalies" in terms of mean temperatures.

Guess what? The economy grew over that quarter too. No mention of bad weather there, eh?

The truth is, Osborne is useless and this government is so inept that they would still deny a piece of evidence if it stared at them in the face with a sign that said "evidence".

Neanderthals

...More likely she wouldn't with someone like you, Mr Gray. Bargepole and all...

***UPDATE***
And guess who, dear Reader, is sticking by the two Neanderthals? The Daily Mail, of course, with a supremely condescending and patronising piece by Julie Welch.

Look at this dribble of goo in the guise of print:

"Right or wrong, most men – not arty leftie metrosexuals, but the vast majority of blokes – appreciate the game because it offers male-only companionship. Somewhere that isn’t complicated by the presence of women. They want a place where they can be neanderthal and boring, where they can swear, behave badly, let off steam and, yes, be sexist. There aren’t many places left for these emasculated men to simply behave like blokes. Football is one of the few areas of life left that allows them to".

So, according to Ms Condescending, if you don't form a pack with other men, hang around in caves, smash the place up and make monkey noises, you're an "arty leftie metrosexual". Like, if "the vast majority of women" don't just giggle and slog away in the kitchen and talk about make-up and gossip about the latest on Heat magazine they're all bitter lesbofeminists, right?

And since you're at it, Welch. Would you also include racist and homophobic slander as part of the legitimate right "to simply behave like a bloke", or is that too "censorship and criticism"?

The abolition of election campaigning

Why the government's NHS proposals have pushed bullshit politics to untenable levels.

The run-up to the general election. Those dreaded weeks when the country is bombarded with oily messages, grinning politicians hugging babies, kids, huskies, or anything immediately at hand.

Those useless televisual feasts where leaders nod to borderline-whiplash levels, the smarmy "I know what you mean" can be heard over and over, and Nick Clegg calls everyone by name without the slightest grasp that he may be 'overdoing it' a bit.

The quazillions spent on multicoloured placards, posters and assorted ads. The junk flowing through the letterbox, the tedious door-knocking, the bingeing on promises and proclaims.

Wouldn't it be a wonderful idea if all of the above was done away with?

There is now irrefutable evidence that election campaigns are not only useless and a waste of money, but also outright deceitful.

We had plenty of that when Labour was in power and we're having more of the same (except at a faster rate and even more barefaced) now.

For all the industrial amounts of political gobbing off we heard last year, there was no mention from either the Tories of the Liberal Democrats that tuition fees were going to be hiked up; that VAT was going to be increased; that the NHS was going to end up mangled and "reorganised" from the top down; that sick and disabled people were going to suffer cuts of up to a third in their incomes; that child benefits would be touched; that the Education Maintenance Allowance for disadvantaged students was going to be scrapped at a stroke; that more measures were going to come in to make it easier to sack workers...and the list could go on for hours.

And make no mistake. For all the bullshit they will try to feed you, this has nothing to do with "compromise". It is crucial we understand that neither of the Coalition partners promised or even suggested any of the above. It is not as if the Tories or the LibDems are reluctantly taking on board what the other partner had advocated all along.

Far from it. Both Tories and Lib-Dems fervently denied they would have anything to do with each and every one of those policies and, in some of those cases, they actually campaigned against (i.e. VAT rise, tuition fees, etc).

The recent bill on the NHS is just taking the piss.

So here's the proposal.

Do away with election campaigning. Scrap it, ditch it, just knock it on the head. Give all that money to charity. On polling day people will cast their vote on the basis of what they've seen in practice over the lifetime of that parliament and after plenty of evidence of how MPs' decisions actually affected their lives.

That should be more then enough to make up their mind. Bullshit politics has now reached tipping point.

About bleedin time

"Andy Coulson quits as David Cameron spin doctor".

Shameless David Laws

Where the word "hypocrisy" pokes its ugly rear.

Today's Guardian treats its readers with the squalid spectacle of a Coalition supporter, David Laws, championing the mass cuts that have just been unleashed on the country.

And while there's nothing new in hearing a government cheerleader reciting the usual script, what makes it particularly grating is the fact only last May millionaire David Laws was caught red-handed claiming £40,000 to pay rent to his boyfriend.

Sure, Mr Laws was not the first MP who fiddled the system and defrauded the taxpayer. But he was certainly one of the most outspoken "hard-liners" when it came to pontificating on "the pay and perks of hundreds of thousands of public sector workers", which is where the word "hypocrisy" pokes its ugly rear into the equation.

So for him to smugly lecture ordinary people on why their nosediving standards of living (squeezed incomes, higher bills, higher VAT, mass redundancies and huge cuts to public services - from care workers to the police and from the NHS to food inspectors) are actually a good thing, that's just taking the piss.

This ruthless (as well as electorally suicidal) lack of empathy highlights the importance of not having a political elite stuffed, literally, with millionaires who are clueless when it comes to the price of bus fares or gas bills and the way they impact on ordinary people.

PS. Since we're at it. Laws writes that:

"in April the first Lib Dem-inspired increase in the personal income tax allowance will boost the incomes of basic rate taxpayers, and take hundreds of thousands of low earners out of income tax altogether".

This is a piece of LibFibbery that we're hearing time and again. What they rarely tell you however is that:

a) It won't be until 2015 that the increase will actually begin to cover the full £10K threshold. That's if it goes ahead (there are already reports of grumbles amongst Tory ranks);

b) The forthcoming £1K increase will be cancelled out by the VAT hike and galloping prices.