I'm sorry I didn't take my camera to the Pedal on Parliament event yesterday. It started in the Meadows, and the lines of cyclists under the avenues of cherry blossom were a splendid sight. The police estimate for numbers was 2500. Spokes estimate 3000.
There are some great copy-proof pictures on Flickr.
It was a bright day with a freezing north east wind, and the clothes you wear for cycling are not the warmest ones for standing around in waiting for the pedal march to begin. All ages there - small kids on cycles with stabilisers, smaller ones on bike seats or in buggy-trailers. Bikes of every descriptions - old roadsters, mountain bikes, racers, unicycles and tandems for three. People in smart, sponsor-logoed club clothing or in tweed suits, though of course day glo yellow cycling jackets predominated. Then through the Meadows, and down the Royal Mile. To the motorists we must have been their nightmare - the contemptible speed-impediments bunched together, in huge numbers. To me, used to being a minority on the literal fringes when cycling through the streets, it was heartening to be in the mainstream for once and part of a dominating majority.
Then down to Holyrood. The grass area below the new Scottish parliament is a good area for rallies - it's spacious, and also sheltered from the wind.
The politicians who addressed us had won clout for their activities on behalf of cycling. One stressed that they were not talking about "funding for" but "investment in" cycling - that is, cycling is not an add on, but as an integral part of transport and the economy in general. Others (I didn't note who said what) evoked Stockholm and Scotland's climate change measures.
In Edinburgh cycling has increased from 1% to 7% of road use and it has been assigned 5% of the transport budget. Pressure from local groups like Spokes, along with some effective councillors, have made a great difference. My naked eye has seen far more cyclists commuting and, as a spin-off, more cycle shops opening. Near where I work two more have opened in the last year. I'd say there were six within easy pushing-your-cycle distance.
Updated:- There was a similar event in London - turn out of 10,000. A couple of accountshere.
Shakespeare's birthday and death day so here's a bit from Kenneth Branagh's Henry V. This is the speech of parlay at the siege of Harfleur. I think it was left out of the Olivier version, which was made in World War II, and was colourful and patriotic.. Branagh's take on Henry V was to make it far greyer, muddier and bloodier than Olivier's, emphasising the horrors of war.
Henry V. How yet resolves the governor of the town? This is the latest parle we will admit; Therefore to our best mercy give yourselves; Or like to men proud of destruction Defy us to our worst: for, as I am a soldier, A name that in my thoughts becomes me best, If I begin the battery once again, I will not leave the half-achieved Harfleur Till in her ashes she lie buried. The gates of mercy shall be all shut up, And the flesh'd soldier, rough and hard of heart, In liberty of bloody hand shall range With conscience wide as hell, mowing like grass Your fresh-fair virgins and your flowering infants. What is it then to me, if impious war, Array'd in flames like to the prince of fiends, Do, with his smirch'd complexion, all fell feats Enlink'd to waste and desolation? What is't to me, when you yourselves are cause, If your pure maidens fall into the hand Of hot and forcing violation? What rein can hold licentious wickedness When down the hill he holds his fierce career? We may as bootless spend our vain command Upon the enraged soldiers in their spoil As send precepts to the leviathan To come ashore. Therefore, you men of Harfleur, Take pity of your town and of your people, Whiles yet my soldiers are in my command; Whiles yet the cool and temperate wind of grace O'erblows the filthy and contagious clouds Of heady murder, spoil and villany. If not, why, in a moment look to see The blind and bloody soldier with foul hand Defile the locks of your shrill-shrieking daughters; Your fathers taken by the silver beards, And their most reverend heads dash'd to the walls, Your naked infants spitted upon pikes, Whiles the mad mothers with their howls confused Do break the clouds, as did the wives of Jewry At Herod's bloody-hunting slaughtermen. What say you? will you yield, and this avoid, Or, guilty in defence, be thus destroy'd?
So you do the flaneur's wander round the internet and via a hyperlink at one of your haunts, you settle yourself down at a post. Modern life. . .
And this is what you find:-
Simon Cowell has only one true love - himself
Why does the hollow, narcissistic king of karaoke have such a hold over our lives?
One of those "we" "our" references - speak for yourself and your loser mates, Mr Paid-Blogger. So Mr P-B goes on to write his 1000 words about the mental energy he has spent on Simon Cowell is mental energy that only a society in the state of decline would thus have him spend:-
Perhaps the end approaches for the Cowell Dominion, as it did for Mr Blair once he decided that Britain was too insignificant and tried to crack the US. The Cowellite stranglehold on TV audiences, on both sides of the Atlantic, appears to be weakening. Yet it is folly to write him off while he still fascinates so deeply that one cannot read about his preference for black toilet paper – a peculiar choice of hue for reasons plainly unsuited to your breakfast table – without borrowing Metternich’s question about Talleyrand’s death to ask: “Now what did he mean by that?” There is no answer. The only lesson taught by examining the intimate life of Simon Cowell is the hackneyed old one about ourselves. We remain marooned in a time of such gruesome fin de siècle decadence that Mr Cowell’s perplexing taste in loo rolls must, like everything else about him, be analysed for clues to its wider implications as if it were a Supreme Soviet pronouncement at the height of the Cold War.
If this is the fin de siecle decadence, "we" are for horrors to come, and "we" will look back on "our" time when we analysed Cowell's anal-wipes with the same nostalgia as the post-World War I generation for the golden summer of England, 1914. Also, isn't it grand to be out of the Cold War, and in more frivolous times? Mr Paid-Blogger will soon be evoking rationing and the blitz as being better for our characters than gaming and Madonna's stage costumes.
Paid-Blogger hasn't got the honesty to say, "I am really interested in Simon Cowell and so are a lot of my readers." No, he's writing serious analysis on what it means to be interested in Simon Cowell, putting it in a cultural context. He's not a writer for Heat, but a sociologist. That is a trick that The Guardian pulls and now it has spread to the Daily Telegraph. I wish it stuck to its old Tory guns and went on about cuckoos and herbaceous borders.
I can't be bothered reading the thread - "we" have such short attention spans - but I do hope some High Court Judge is there asking, "Who is Simon Cowell?"
If you are idiot enough to want to read more, here's the link.
Pedal on Parliament: a mass ride on Holyrood Gather at the Meadows on April 28th (2pm for a 3pm start)
Pedal on Parliament will be gathering cyclists from across the nation to cycle on Holyrood to tell our politicians that cycling matters, to show our need for safer cycling and cities fit for people. Please join us and help make a Scotland fit for cycling!
Background
In February, up to 2000 cyclists gathered in London to cycle on the Westminster Parliament in support of safer cycling and cities fit for people. On April 28th, to coincide with a follow-up ride in London, Pedal on Parliament will be gathering cyclists from across the nation to cycle on Holyrood. We’re asking everyone who cycles in Scotland – or who would like to cycle, or would like their families to cycle, but who doesn’t feel safe – to join us for a big ride of our own – and a big picnic. Young and old, keen commuter or weekend pedaller, fit or not – you don’t even need to be on a bike. You just need to show up and add your voice to help make Scotland safe for cycling.
What do we want?
We have created an eight point manifesto to help Scotland’s devolved government reach its target of 10% of journeys by bike by 2020, a target which is now also embedded in its low carbon and obesity strategies. The government’s present Cycling Action Plan [CAPS] is far too limited to achieve the target, whilst the proportion of the transport budget allocated to cycling remains wholly inadequate at under 1%. Our manifesto covers:
Proper funding for cycling.
Design cycling into Scotland’s roads.
Slower speeds where people live, work and play
Integrate cycling into local transport strategies
Improved road traffic law and enforcement
Reduce the risk of HGVs to cyclists and pedestrians
A strategic and joined-up programme of road user training
Improved statistics supporting decision-making and policy
So it was worth it - the rehearsals, the practice at home, the horrible stomach-twisting and cold-sweat nerves I get before performing. We played a blinder, and went down a storm. There were a load of bands playing that I've seen over the years, and they were all rocking at the top of their game. It was a grand memorial gig. Fritz would have really liked it.
Kudos to the organisers. Every band started on time with none of the usual delays. The sound engineer was excellent. A brilliant night.
The first act I saw were Fraktured Fingers – an amalgam of (I think) Frak and Nicotine Fingers. Appropriately enough the first song that I heard all night was written by Fritz and it kicked off a hugely enjoyable half hour or so of punky/new wave pop.
I'm remembering a musical version of Peter Rabbit that used to be played on the children's story time on the radio.
Mrs Rabbit's song went:-
My name is Mrs Rabbit, And happy is my lot, See what beautiful, Children I have got, I work for them, And pray for them, And teach them how to be, Most respected members, Of the bunny family.
Chorus:
We're a happy family, We're a happy family, And we live in the roots, Of a big oak tree, Flopsy! Mopsy! How could they be sweeter. And funny little Cottontail And Peter.
Peter's aria was on his own naughtiness and how he wished he was good:-
Why do I do it? (can't remember most of it)
I think a halo, Would suit me, Dangling over my head, When they behold me, They wouldn't scold me, They'd say, well done instead.
Peter sneaks into Mr MacGregor's garden and then is spotted by Mr McGregor:-
Stop thief! stop thief! Not another lettuce leaf, Will you have
Radishes, parsley, Carrots, baby peas, Each of these are not for you, But for me.
If I catch you, you will die, And you'll be rabbit pie, Supper for my wife and I!
Stop thief!
Peter gets away and returns home, traumatised by the experience and has to be put to bed by his mother.
The whole story comes back to me. I went to a small primary school where the older children often taught the younger children. I can hear someone's voice - was it Alan Blythe's - asking us, "Now why did Mrs Rabbit buy five currant buns when she went to the shops? Why not 4 or 6?"
We did the calculations - Flopsy, Mopsy, Cottontail, Peter - and the mother of course!
(I wrote this to have the pleasure of pasting the exquisite illustrations. I can't find the lyrics for Peter Rabbit the Musical on Google. )
I've done pieces about Spiked's modus operandi and scribendi in the past, but for those who haven't the patience to read them, here's a handy compendium of the Spiked method.
Take a subject, any subject.
Submit to Brendan O'Neill.
You will be told to write on the subject using the following six options:-
1. [Subject] reveals a contempt for the working classes. 2. [Subject] is thinly disguised misanthropy. 3. [Subject] is merely an exercise in liberal self-congratulation. 4. [Subject] encourages a culture of victimhood. 5. [Subject] shows we’re governed by alarmist scaremongers. 6. [Subject] is an attempt to censor dissent.
What a horrible night Thursday was. I had vaguely expected to hear of another humiliation for George Galloway on the electoral trail, and with that, and Press TV being shut down I thought he would disappear from sight and hearing. But he comes screaming back. I have to give him a grudging salute for his strength and indefatigability. He certainly wrecked my sleep.
Socialist Unity were crowing over his triumph. I made a couple of comments on the victory evening:-
"How utterly wretched. Shameless pandering to religious prejudices wins an election in mainland Britain. I suppose if there had been an appropriate seat up for grabs in Belfast he could have pushed the Catholic buttons - gone on about being anti-abortion, say.
And even more wretchedly, a bunch of activists and politicos who regard themselves as progressive cheer him on."
"That little hint that his opponent wasn’t a good Muslim because he had had a drink in the past – how would he have managed a similar ploy if he had been chasing a Catholic vote? Once, in stricter times, he could have suggested:-
My opponent has eaten meat on Friday; My opponent has used a condom; or My opponent has considered divorce
but Catholics are far more liberal these days.
What would be a clever hint to make about your opponent’s impurity of religion in order to chase Catholic votes rather than Muslim ones?
After all, if politics are going to be conducted through communalism, we should start thinking of the tactical advantage of comparative religious observance. That Ed Miliband guy’s an atheist, isn’t he?"
Those comments were deleted of course.
I was disgusted at the religious communalism that ran through this election. I thought that was what the Yanks did, out-godding each other as they chase the Presidency.
But Galloway - all praise to Allah at his victory and that he's on a mission from God, and those that don't vote for him will go to hell. Saying of his rival,
"When I hear Imran Hussein say, you should vote for him because he's a Pakistani, because he is a quote, unquote "Muslim" I don't know whether to laugh or cry. On the question of Islam, God knows who is a Muslim or who is not. . . Everybody knows he's never out of the pub.
Rather missing the chance of saying, "Let's drop religion from this election. It shouldn't matter."
Politics as expression of religious tribalism is poison whether in Glasgow or Cairo. I added Bradford to the list of B's that Christopher Hitchens spoke of when asked about the peace-making aspect of religion:-
“I was to imagine myself in a strange city as the evening was coming on. Toward me I was to imagine that I saw a large group of men approaching. Now-would I feel safer, or less safe, if I was to learn that they were just coming from a prayer meeting? […] Just to stay within the letter ‘B,’ I have actually had that experience in Belfast, Beirut, Bombay, Belgrade, Bethlehem, and Baghdad. In each case I can say absolutely, and can give my reasons, why I would feel immediately threatened if I thought that the group of men approaching me in the dusk were coming from a religious observance.”
Galloway is coy about whether he has converted or will convert to Islam. A couple of theories:-
1. If he converts and then after losing Bradford West he needs a seat where he can play communalist Catholic politics e.g. Belfast or the west of Scotland, he would have to be received into Catholicism again. That might just make him look opportunistic and inconsistent.
2. If he converts and then unconverts, it could make it inconvenient for him in some countries he will no doubt be visiting eg Iran where apostasy is illegal.
Since my initial outrage I have read some analysis - that West Bradford is a peculiar seat; that the politics there were corrupt and clan-driven; that Labour has played communalist politics there for years themselves and this was now biting them in the bum ; that the voters are kicking all the main parties, as they often do in by-elections; that only a rock-star politician like Galloway could have pulled it off. So it is unlikely to be the trend towards communalist politics that I feared. You can only be communalist in constituencies which will accept it.
I am though pissed off with the Bradfordian for electing him. Galloway's over-blown rhetoric turns my stomach but a lot of them, especially the young ones, lapped it up. Bradford spring! for Chrissake. Who does he think he is? Answers own question - a kind of cross between Saladin on a white horse with a train of Saracens fighting the Crusaders and Lenin leading the masses. He really does see himself as a man of destiny, with God on his side.
When he says things like " From the Punjab to Palestine, from Bagdhad to Bradford, everyone will sit up and take notice for by the Grace of God . . .I have a strong voice." he believes in his own fantasies and gets his followers to believe in it as well.
By the way, note in this video that when addressing people in Bradford he doesn't adopt a cod Yorkshire accent, though when addressing Arabs for some reason he puts on a weird Arab accent eg in this one where he extols Assad and Syria's democracy and human rights record.
Well, he's got MP written after his name now, which will make him a more acceptable courtier to whatever particularly bloody, repressive despot whose hand he wants to kiss. Saddam is gone, Assad, the man who upholds the dignity of Arabs and Muslims*, will no doubt be gone soon. There's Ahmadinejad and sadly there will be some ugly Islamist regime established in at least one of the countries that have gone through the Arab Spring. He'll be at its leader's court, discussing "Zionism" and saluting this new lion with many Your Excellencies and that serious, respectful look and understanding nods.
Update:-
The newspapers are gleeful that Galloway tweeted "Shattered but happy after the Blackburn triumph.
Well, he is a rock star after all. There are times when the lead singer greets the crowd "Hullo Liverpool," when in Manchester, and "Hullo Madrid," when in Lisbon. (I know this has happened but "rock star" "wrong city" "hullo" isn't turning me up actual instances of this).
Being Galloway, he couldn't just say, sorry, stupid mistake. No, someone has to have hacked into his twitter account. I can't do the technology but it seems that is unlikely. But being Galloway he has to lie about it. No doubt it was an American and Zionist propaganda plot against him.
(*If you can bear it, read Amnesty's report on what Assad's security forces visit do to the regime's opponents)
