
As it is over 30 years since the fateful winter of ’79 and the cabinet minutes of the time are being made available, I thought I’d drag out possibly the most politically charged album of recent years out and give it a listen with fresh ears. Well, quite jaded ears, really – I’ve been listening to the revelations about James Callaghan’s last days in office.

I have to share with you some of my musical habits as the naughties draw to a close and the teenies begin. Where does a dyed in the wool Radio 4 listener get his musical inspiration from these days? I don’t particularly want to live in the past; the Katie Melua-laden nonsense of Radio 2 doesn’t appeal (not since that red-headed stepchild Evans minor has taken his place as the nation’s favourite tw*t) – although I openly mourn the passing of the Janet and John innuendo fest from that station – nor the Moylesian banality of Radio 1. I cannot listen to Heart/Radio Suffolk/Vibe FM (or whatever it is nowadays) and be inspired to purchase anything at all. So music radio is all but finished for me as a way of persuading me to buy fresh stuff to listen to.

I’m going to try to stay a little calm and detached during this entry, largely because this is affecting me directly at the moment. And we all know that you can, in the heat of the moment, launch the exocet rather than just the depleted uranium shell that would be the more appropriate weapon. (How can depleted uranium ever be appropriate? )

John Peel – gone but not forgotten – used to have a ‘festive fifty’, invariably populated by such dizzy luminaries as Half-Man Half-Biscuit and Splodgesnessabounds. Well, having walked into yet another shop playing that compilation of shocking christmas tunes (was it me or was 1971-75 the era of the christmas tune? Even Sailor had a christmas ditty…) I feel compelled to compile my unfestive (and anti-christmas) top five. A selection of songs that you may not have heard – spotify can be your friend here – but I have….and I appear to have been saving these up all my life for a cathartic rant. So here goes
I had the misfortune to listen to a friend describe the process by which people are made redundant in organisations these days. Rather than just pin the redundancy tail on the poor donkey who will be the recipient of the job loss (hand them a cheque and say “sorry, it didn’t work out”), these HR idiots first decide that two people are in the frame for the the loss, and then subject them to a process whereby they have to compete for their job – the job being called the ‘Competitive Slot’. This process takes up to 3-4 months, during which the poor people are made to perform like cage fighters with each other, trying to out-do the other and be the ‘winner’.
I’ve been unemployed ^h^h^h^h resting for most of this year, save for a month at a disastrous cluster-fsck anarcho-software-as-a-m*sturbation-aid house where the CEO felt that you couldn’t possibly have any use unless you had read at least two self help books and three “feel the fear and then finger-bang your cat” type books a month – but that is for another post, I feel.

I watch very little TV. I don’t have a license, for a start [1], so I tend to use iPlayer and – heavens – torrents, which works quite well, I find. So, I’ll watch ‘Lost’ on the day that it is aired in Canada, and ‘The Mentalist’ before the new series has even been begun in the UK.

I’ve been a fan since I don’t know when…2001, maybe? ‘Quiet is the new loud’, anyway. They have always occupied the area in my musical leanings that was vacated by EBTG when they went all ‘dance’ and filled it admirably. It is just that the quantity was always lacking. Imagine my surprise today then, at the discovery of new product from the Bergen (that the place, not the bread) boys….

