Ashes To Ashes - When Fun Turns Funky

When England departed for the Ashes tour of 25-26 they did so with the promise of being star men, waiting to blow our minds. Instead, they've become the men who fell spectacularly to earth

The land down under has been one where England's men (and women) haven't found much to plunder in recent times. It's been 15 years since Andrew Strauss's side convincingly won the series behind the runs of Alastair Cook

From before wheels left the runway at Heathrow however, England had already put themselves under pressure. Despite the frantic frailty of the Crawley-Duckett-Pope triumvrate atop the batting order, the squad didn't include an alternate opener. Something that Mitchell Starc was all too happy to take advantage of, separating the opening partnership within the first six deliveries of the innings on several occasions

If the batting choices were baffling, more bewilderment lay ahead in the bowling department.

Shoiab Bashir was taken as first-choice spinner, but by the Sydney Test was relegated to third behind part-timers Will Jacks and Jacob Bethell. The fast bowling corps included Mark Wood, Jofra Archer and Gus Atkinson, all three of whom have a storied injury history and were as much use as a corpse by the time the final game came around

If selection was a puzzle, performance was a jigsaw with no picture on the box. Bravado and bouncers, vibes over viable gameplans, each poor choice on (and in some cases, off) the field defended to the hilt by coach and captain

With the series already looking lost, rather than get active in Adelaide the squad got looser in Noosa, choosing a minibar over match practice. The decision not to get some time in the middle under lights with the pink ball other than for those already on the fringes of the team backfired in Brisbane

So where now, as England stew on yet another spanking? Change seems inevitable, in both personnel and approach. England still have players they can build a team around with the right leadership, but a reset is required if they want to be heroes, even just for one year

Rob Burrow (1982 - 2024)

"In a world full of adversity, we must dare to dream". 

So says the mural painted on the side of Leeds Metropolitan University that bears the face of Rob Burrow. 

If anyone knew the meaning of adversity in a professional and personal sense, it's Rob. 

At 5'5" and under 11 stones in weight, professional rugby league player probably wasn't top of the list if you were asked to guess what he did for a living. What he may have lacked in height or weight though, he more than made up for in attitude and ability.  

A 16-year professional career that took in over 500 games for Leeds, Yorkshire, England and Great Britain with eight Grand Final wins and a catalogue of incredible individual performances wasn't enough to bring him notoriety outside the rugby league community, such is the sport's position in the UK media. 

 In typical Rob Burrow style, he signed off his playing career in 2017 with a Grand Final win at Old Trafford, his own personal theatre of dream-like moments. Sadly, it took personal rather than professional adversity to bring him that wider recognition. 

In December 2019, he was diagnosed with the currently incurable and life-limiting Motor Neurone Disease This was always an opponent that no amount of dazzling footwork or wholehearted defending was going to defeat. 

MND is a remorseless, rapacious condition. It strips away who you are from the inside out. It takes your ability to move, to speak, to do anything without assistance and it will not stop until it takes your last breath with it. 

It would have been easy after his diagnosis for Rob to hide away, to sulk or mourn his fate and that of his family. It sums him up as a player and a person that he did no such thing.

Shortly after his diagnosis, Rob took the field in his own testimonial game. It was obvious even at this point that the disease was starting to impact his speech and co-ordination, but nobody who saw it will ever forget the outpouring of emotion on and off the pitch that day.

As with every challenge, Rob faced his declining health with grit, intensity and humour. He devoted his time to being the best possible advocate for MND fundraising and research in the media for as long as possible.

Leeds now has the Rob Burrow Marathon. Leeds Hospitals Charity is fundraising for a new MND centre to be built, which will bear Rob's name, as does the player of the match award in the Super League Grand Final. 

In the face of personal adversity, his dreams may have changed but his desire to realise them burned just as brightly as the flames that seemed to shoot from his jet-heeled boots.

Rest well, Rob. You won't be forgotten.

Made of Steel - The Greatest Game within the Greatest Game

 I sat down over the weekend to watch the latest in BBC Two's excellent "Storyville" series of documentaries with more than a passing interest.

As a lifelong fan of rugby league and parasport (think of me as a British, less funny version of Adam Hills), the look behind the scenes at the rivalry between England and France both on the wheelchair rugby league pitch and off it during last year's World Cup promised to be excellent viewing.

What I didn't expect was for it to be so thought provoking about disability, the role sport plays in social inclusion and life in general.

For those who aren't aware, wheelchair rugby league is to all intents and purposes rugby league, just played on a smaller pitch, indoors, five-a-side and with everyone strapped into a wheelchair. The collisions can be brutal, the skill sublime and the drama every bit as intense as any other form of the game. It's a wheelchair-accessible version of the Physical Disability rugby league (PDRL) that Adam Hills produced his own documentary about for Channel 4,

Where wheelchair rugby league differs from many other parasports however, is that you don't need to have a recognised disability to play it. In its nearest Paralympic equivalents (such as wheelchair rugby - a very different game more akin to the Murderball you might have played as a kid - or wheelchair basketball) participants are graded on the basis of their disability and those gradings determine which players you can have on court at any one time.

In rugby league on wheels however, you don't need to have any degree of disability. To quote former England player and current Leeds Rhinos coach James Simpson (who lost both legs above the knee to an IED while serving in Afghanistan), "the chair is the leveller". Teams are restricted to two non-disabled players on the pitch at any one time. It truly is a game that anyone can play.

The origins of the game however lie very much in parasport. It was developed in France as a game purely for people with disabilities, but it has evolved into a sport for all, much to their chagrin. The French view the introduction of able-bodied players into the sport as being a safety risk and something that will deter those with more significant disabilities from taking up the game.

"The chair is the leveller" though, right? Well, not entirely say the French. Players without disabilities have better chair control and can generate greater speed and force into collisions as well as being more evasive. The documentary showed the effect of that evolution on players like veteran England international Wayne Boardman. A T4 paraplegic (essentially paralysed from the nipples down), Boardman found his time on the pitch at the World Cup severely limited, as without lower body and core function his chair mobility isn't as good as others in the modern game with a less severe (or no) degree of disability.

While Boardman himself is phlegmatic about the way the game has changed, the French see that as unacceptable and excluding disabled athletes. On a number of occasions during the tournament, France coach Sylvain Crismanovich expressed those concerns loudly and at length in media interviews.

To the English however, this comes across as an element of sour grapes. France had won the previous two World Cups and their domination of the sport was coming under threat from an England side featuring superstars of the wheelchair game such as Jack Brown.

Brown's story illustrates the quandary. His brother Harry lost both legs as an infant and grew up as a wheelchair user. When Harry initially took up wheelchair basketball, Jack was coaxed from the sidelines to give it a go alongside him and the pair went on to be part of the fledgling England rugby league team. Harry eventually moved on to play wheelchair basketball professionally and has won a Paralympic medal with Team GB - a route Jack couldn't have taken as a non-disabled player. Within wheelchair rugby league, Jack Brown is an instantly recognisable icon. A winner of the Golden Boot as the world's best player in 2020, his speed and chair control allied to his flamboyant nature make him compulsive viewing.

Does the sport want to lose players like Brown, or England captain Tom Halliwell whose foot injury as a teenager left him a temporary wheelchair user and who fell in love with the game during that period? If it were to become "disabled only", who determines the degree of disability that is permissible? Is England's Nathan Collins - who has dwarfism, but had played the running game growing up - sufficiently disabled to meet the criteria the French want to reimpose? Or should it only be those who are forced to use a wheelchair in their day to day life?

These are questions with no easy answers for administrators. The speed, impacts and skill of wheelchair rugby league are what make it compulsive viewing for live and television audiences. The final of the World Cup in Manchester last year drew a crowd some lower league professional football teams would be happy with and interest is growing through excellent coverage both on the BBC and Sky Sports.

Setting aside the inclusion argument, the documentary also showed the role that the sport can have in helping individuals cope with life-changing injuries. Ironically given the arguments above, probably best exemplified by wheelchair rugby pioneer and French international Giles Clausell.

Now aged 60, Clausell was a highly-rated rugby union player in France when he lost his left leg above the knee in a road accident. He spoke movingly of waking up in hospital and considering throwing himself out of the window, thinking his chances of a top-level sporting career were over, and what being able to play wheelchair rugby league has done for him in terms of his life post-accident. A similarly emotional story emerged from England's Seb Bechara, another lower-leg amputee as a result of a road traffic accident at the age of 18 who has gone on to win a World Cup, win the 2022 Golden Boot, be a professional musician and was one of the media stars of England's campaign, even appearing on Greg James's Radio 1 show.

Growing up in France having moved there as a child, Bechara found a mentor in the older Clausells when the youngster first joined the Catalans Dragons wheelchair team. The emotional bond the two share was clear in the scenes after the hooter in the World Cup final.

Neither Clausells nor Bechara are full-time wheelchair users, but wheelchair rugby league has played a huge part in both their lives. It has enabled both of them to play rugby league to the very highest level as well as becoming highly visible examples to others who may be facing up to a recently-acquired disability that it is possible to still be involved in the sport. It would be a shame if stories like those two, Jack Brown, James Simpson and others were to be lost to factionalism when the sport is finally breaking into the mainstream.

Made Of Steel remains available on BBC iPlayer. Even if you have no interest in sport, I'd recommend you give it a watch.

2017 Wet Wipe - the year in review

After a 2016 in which we'd mourned many of our favourite celebrities, voted to leave the EU and seen the US elect a semi-sentient Cheeto as President, we were glad to see the back of it.

How did that turn out?

January

Donald Trump is inaugurated as the 45th President of the USA, in the biggest success story for gaslighting since Victorian London. He then spent the next few days arguing the inauguration was bigger than it actually was, something he's had decades of practice at.

February

The Queen became the first UK monarch to celebrate her Sapphire Jubilee, marking 65 years in the job. She would have retired, but she still doesn't have enough national insurance to get a full state pension.

March

The UK government sends its Article 50 notification to the European Union. It's found three weeks later behind the bins, having been delivered by Yodel. 

A Suffolk man is arrested after having sex with 450 tractors. He misunderstood after being told to get inside it and do some ploughing.

April

The University Boat Race provides the UK with a fine metaphor for Brexit, as sixteen posh white men take things backwards as fast as possible. 

North Korea launches a missile that fails to get out of the country, making it similar to most Americans.

May

Buckingham Palace announces that the Duke of Edinburgh is retiring from public life, after passing the racially insensitive comedy baton to Boris Johnson. 

Nigel Farage keeps up his proud record of electoral success by backing Marine Le Pen to beat Emmanuel Macron.

June

Police investigate a cyber attack at the Houses of Parliament, which turns out to have been someone trying to get at Damian Green's porn stash. 

Jeremy Corbyn sacks some of the Labour front bench for voting against the party leadership. Irony hands in its resignation.

July

The UK government introduces mandatory registration for drones, despite complaints by Piers Morgan. 

Michael Gove attends the Great Yorkshire Show, figuring if you're going to spend all day talking bullshit you may as well go stand in it.

August

After being sacked from The White House, Steve Bannon vows to "go medieval". Although he already looks like he's got the bubonic plague, so that's a start. 

Former Trump adviser Michael Flynn admits talks with Russia over "simple things". Presumably his code name for Trump.

September

The Titanic Hotel opens in Belfast. First visitors were said to be impressed by the massive sink. 

Twenty clowns turned up to a protest about their portrayal in the new movie "IT". All got out of the same car.

October

Michael Gove claims the UK could export pigs ears to China, starting with every policy he ever made. 

US Vice President Mike Pence says he wants to see boots on the moon. Bit of a trek to pick up a prescription.

November

A rule change on Viagra allows the pharmacist to give you one over the counter. Although he might need to take a Viagra first. 

Twitter gives its users twice as many characters, immediately halving the number of tweets in every Seth Abrahamson thread.

December

Plans are set out for drunk tanks to reduce strain on the NHS. Although how having armoured vehicles weaving around the streets late at night is going to help I don't know.

Storm Dylan brings (mumbles), high (garbled) and what sounds like "macaroni furniture" across the UK.

SS

Overdrawn - The Autumn Statement

We've all been there.

The bank statement arrives and fills you with dread. You know it's not good, so you can't bring yourself to open it. Spare a thought then for Chancellor of the Exchequer Philip Hammond.

He's had to stand up today in the House of Commons and not only open the bank statement, but read it out to the entire country. And as you might expect, it's not great news.

Turns out that rather than fixing the roof while the sun was shining, we've actually spent the last six years of austerity living in a tent in the garden during the coldest winter on record.

We used to not have a pot to piss in. We're now so broke we don't even have floorboards to put the pot on. It's no wonder Hammond - who is now second on my list of Hammonds I never want to hear again, between Richard and organ - delivered the news with all the enthusiasm of a lame horse addressing a conference of glue manufacturers.

Tradition in the case of delivering bad economic news is of course to blame the last government, which Hammond did. Or at least, the last Labour government. Would have been awkward otherwise, what with half the last Tory government being sat at the side of him.

Course there's also a new kid on the blame block - Brexit. Turns out that estimating the economic impact of leaving the EU is a bit tricky though, when you don't actually know what Brexit means apart from Brexit. The Office of Budget Responsibility asked the Treasury to do it, and they declined.

Now to me, that means one of two things. Either they genuinely don't know - which is scary enough, given it's their job - or they do know, but the number is so bowel-clenchingly horrific that they don't want to share it.

At least we've "taken back control". The Brexit Bunch have got the Ford Anglia back that the EU stole from them in 1973, albeit the seats have been taken out, the engine doesn't run and it's on fire. Still, they've got their hands back on the steering wheel.

Pity whoever loses the game of rock, paper, scissors at Tory Central Office and ends up having to go defend this shambles on Newsnight. Hammond hasn't so much rearranged the deckchairs on the Titanic as given everyone in steerage a towel and told them not to panic.

It's not so much a statement, as an economic suicide note.

The Lord's Prayer (The Sun version)

Our Rupert, who art in hiding

Haggard be thy face

Thy kingdom's Sun

Its work be scum

Online, as it is on newsprint

Give us this day more teenage breasts

And push unto us more hatred

As we hate those who phone hack against us

Lead us not to information

But to ignorance made glory

For thine is the bigotry

The bile and the misogyny

Forever and ever

Arseholes

An Ode To Twitter - for World Poetry Day

Ten years have passed of Twitter
Hope you don't think me bitter
For laughing at poor David Cam
Making sweet love to a ham

Through absurdity and scandals
People with ever changing handles
Accounts who steal your best material
May they get a disease venereal

Let Facebook have get rich quick schemes
Twitter's more for silly memes
Polls with ridiculous votes
And fake inspirational quotes

So be it Bounce or Lanyard, Balustrade
Ron with porn bills he never paid
Boris flattening a helpless child
Or girl with bubbles running wild

Think of all the times you've laughed
At folk on Twitter being daft
Let's do our best to keep it silly
Please don't DM pics of your willy

Conquering The Cowboys - Keys To A Leeds Victory

The first two games in the 2016 World Club Series have resulted in convincing, chastening defeats for the Super League sides against last year's NRL minor premiers and Grand Final runners-up. So how do an injury hit and evolving Leeds Rhinos stop the rot and restore some pride to the northern hemisphere tonight against the North Queensland Cowboys?

Here are four key points they need to focus on.

Start Fast, Stay In The Game

In both games so far this year, the home side has been almost out of it inside half an hour. Against the well drilled Cowboys defence, Leeds aren't likely to post a bunch of points in a hurry so can't afford to get behind early in the game and be forced to play catch-up.

A good start also helps to keep what is likely to be a vociferous home crowd involved. Langtree Park and the DW Stadium were almost funereal in atmosphere during the second halves on Friday and Saturday. The Kiwi players involved in last October's warm-up game will tell you what a special atmosphere Headingley can generate on big nights under lights, and it's important the Rhinos give their fans something to stay with as they did on that occasion.

Disciplines

If the Rhinos lose the penalty count (and they don't have the greatest of historical relationships with tonight's man in the middle Richard Silverwood), the error count or the missed tackle count, they're not going to win. They need at least an even share of both possession and field position to be in the contest, which means not turning the ball over close to their own line or early in the tackle count. They have shown the ability to get into arm wrestles in big games, grind their way through and come up with the win. Tonight is going to demand that again.

They also can't afford to lose their defensive structure as often as Wigan and Saints did by having players flying out trying to make speculative reads and leaving massive holes. NRL sides structure their attack in such a way that they put a lot of runners at the ball carrier's disposal, and defenders need to remember that the ball is the danger. There's no point haring out to close down a runner if it leaves a big gap on your inside shoulder for someone else to stroll through. 

Doing the simple things well under pressure is what separates the two competitions, and to be successful Leeds will have to match the Cowboys at that both with and without the ball.

Use The Underdog Card

It's not often the Rhinos have gone into a big game as such huge underdogs, in some places as big as 5-1 to win the game. There's a host of good reasons the odds are so long as well - the transition after losing three big players including two massive leaders, the injuries to half a dozen potential starters, the young half-back pairing playing only its second game together at this level. Pulling off a win would rank right up there in the great nights of the club's recent history.

So they need to use the fact that everyone is writing them off to their advantage. There are players coming into this game with points to prove, whether they are established veterans looking to show they can still do it, players who should be at the peak of their careers but have yet to crack it at representative level or youngsters wanting to find out whether they can live with the very best in the world.

So use the fact that many pundits expect you to get a hammering to your advantage, by making it your motivation to run that little bit faster and hit that little bit harder.

Get Thurston

You don't win a Grand Final by being a one man team, in either hemisphere. Having spent so long witnessing at first hand what Kevin Sinfield could do to carry his Leeds Rhinos team to wins in big games though, the home side tonight will know more than most how important it can be to target the opposition's key man.

Thurston makes this Cowboys side tick. He's their leader, both in terms of game management and emotionally. If he's allowed to play the game with a tuxedo on because he's given too much awe and respect, he's a good enough player to carve Leeds to pieces.

I'm not advocating trying to take his head off with the first play of the game, but if he wants to play close to the line don't be afraid to put a shot on him just as he passes the ball. When he kicks, take him to ground afterwards. Don't let him lead the chase and put everyone else onside. This is Thurston's first competitive game of the season, so test how much petrol he has in the tank by having him make twenty tackles in the game as well as pick himself up off the floor continually.

He's very much the battery which powers this North Queensland side, so let's see how he and they respond when those energy levels get low.

Leeds are going to need to produce the performance of an era to win this game in the face of a whole host of reasons why they shouldn't. If they can do these four things though, it will go a long way towards providing what could be a magical night for the club and a shot in the arm for Super League.

An Open Poem To Kanye West

Kanye, oh Kanye

You said don't text till Monday

But now that Monday's gone we need to talk

You've been tweeting across the ocean

Full of raw emotion

You and me, let's take a little walk

See that woman with her brood

Queueing up for food

They can't afford to buy from a shop

You really think they care

That you're a debt millionaire

Or about your little Twitter strop

Over there's a refugee

Scared and forced to flee

Leaving everyone and thing they had 

So don't be such a clown

Shut the fuck up and sit down

Look at those who really have it bad

So now it turns out that you're broke

And begging from that Facebook bloke

Face your situation with some class

Show deportment, show some carriage

The last thing that your marriage

Needs is another massive ass

Sexuality Sells, And We're All Buying

This morning's Victoria Derbyshire Show on the BBC made quite a big deal over the fact that a British Olympic hopeful had decided to come out to the nation as gay. Such a big deal in fact, that they teased the story on social media, but kept the name of the athlete concerned as an "exclusive" for the show itself.

It turns out that athlete is race walker Tom Bosworth. No, me neither. The fact that a major broadcaster still considered his sexuality a matter of such utmost importance that it needed to not only be revealed to the nation live during the show, but trailed in advance just to whet our salacious appetites raises a couple of questions.

Firstly, is it news? Well, no. Not in the wider definition of the word as something of interest going on in the world that we need to know about. It's probably news to Tom's family, his training partners, teammates and friends - assuming many of them didn't already know - but not particularly news to the rest of us. I suspect the reaction of the nation will have been one of "meh" and get on with your day.

Secondly, why does a major media outlet consider it to be news, if most of us know that it isn't? Well you would have to ask the producers of the show that. Without wishing to answer on their behalf, I suspect they've looked at what seems to be work for daytime TV formats and decided that a story about someone's little sexual secret fits right in with the Jeremy Kyle/Loose Women style that  ITV peddle.

In short, they are using Tom Bosworth's willingness to reveal his sexuality to a widely disinterested nation for a bit of cheap, titillating television. Are we still really at that stage of our social development as a culture? Did Back to the Future just happen and all of a sudden we're in the 1970s again?

"But things like this help other gay people to find the confidence to speak out".

Do they really? Does the fact an athlete who nobody outside those with an interest in race walking has ever heard of has come out really provide that much comfort and security to a young person that they can feel safe about revealing their own sexuality?

I don't think it does. This isn't an age where being gay or lesbian (or anywhere between) is still punishable by prison or something that needs to be kept hidden away in a metaphorical closet. There are high profile, openly gay figures in sport, entertainment and politics who are showing that being honest about your sexuality is no handicap to having a fulfilling and successful life.

More damaging is the approach taken by the media that being anything other than heterosexual is something still to be considered surprising or news-worthy. That doesn't provide any kind of comfort or solace to anyone on the verge of coming out, whether they are in public life or not. It portrays non-heterosexual love as something so out of the ordinary or unusual that a major broadcaster has to devote time to discussing it.

In short the attitude of the media towards gay, lesbian and bisexual people in public life needs to change. It informs and supports prejudice, and creates an atmosphere which prevents people being who they really are. It contributes to potential mental health issues caused by the fear of revealing your sexuality. Enough is, as the song says, enough.

For National Poetry Day

Writing poems about poets
It really is quite hard
That's why it's sometimes easier
To call Shakespeare "The Bard"

Writing poems about poets
The tantrums and commotion
When you can't think of anything
For Andrew bloody Motion

Writing poems about poets
You're a hero or a villain
Depends on whether you leave out
That nice Ian McMillan

Writing poems about poets
To stick up on your fridge
Even ones with quite long names
Like Samuel Taylor Coleridge

Writing poems about poets
One of my pet hates
Is when you discover
That Keats doesn't rhyme with Yeats

Writing poems about poets
The travails and the despairs
Have finally convinced me
That I'll never be Pam Ayres

The Binary Life

It must be really nice, to live a binary life
Where everything is one thing or another
You're either left or right, either black or white
No choices to confuse, confound or smother

Run with the hounds or with the foxes, put it all in boxes
Pick a side and never cross the floor
Be messy or be neat, never the twain shall meet
Dig in those heels and stand up proud and sure

Your fact is never fiction, no scope for contradiction
All counter arguments are batted back
If you're short of a retort, as a last resort
There's always the ad hominem attack

To back up your opinions, summon all your minions
By starting all your tweets with a full stop
Make clear your intentions, by clogging up their mentions
Convince yourself that you've come out on top

So listen trolling hordes, you warriors with keyboards
From the chalice of my wisdom take a sup
Don't be a dickhead for your cause, it won't get you applause
Just told to do one, and shut the fuck right up. 

When sharing isn't caring

Social media has been in something of a schism over the last 24 hours, as a result of the news media's decision to publicise the ongoing refugee crisis in the Mediterranean by printing a picture of a dead toddler washed up on a beach.

There are many who, for no doubt what they consider to be the "right" reasons, have taken to sharing this image among their social networks - either by re-tweeting or sharing the picture itself or images of the newspaper front pages on which it features. It's their decision, after all it is their responsibility to decide what they share or don't on their own social media feeds.

So let me tell you why anyone who shares it into mine is going to find themselves swiftly un-followed.

The primary argument for doing so appears to be that it "raises awareness" of the true extent of the humanitarian crisis happening in the area, caused by ongoing civil wars and unrest in parts of Africa and the Middle East.

What I'm not quite sure of is whose awareness it is trying to raise. Those with access to Twitter and Facebook also have a world of electronic news media at their fingertips, in addition to television and radio news as well as the printed press. I find it highly unlikely to the point of flabbergasting that any of them are not already aware of the horrible situation which faces these people (I won't call them refugees from here on in, they deserve better than that). It has been the main focus of the media for the last couple of weeks at least, usually focused on the humanitarian cost in terms of lost lives.

In short, if you didn't know this was already happening, you must have been living in a cave, with your eyes closed and your fingers in your ears going "lalalalala".

So no, it's not "raising awareness" as the overwhelming majority of people you are sharing it with are already heart-breakingly aware thank you.

Neither is it helping the plight of the people suffering. Treating their corpses like some sort of merchantable commodity in order to sell newspapers, or attract television news viewers to your channel is an act every bit as inhuman as packing people into overcrowded, unsafe vessels in the first place. It gives these people no dignity, no respect, none of the things they are desperately fleeing in search of. It is simply picking over their corpses like vultures. If you choose to be complicit in that then fair enough, but at least have the decency not to try to drag me down into the cesspit with you.

Let's just posit an alternative reality shall we? Imagine if on 8 July 2005, the British press and news media had been full of lingering shots of the bodies of those killed in the attacks on London's transport network. Not photos of their happy, smiling faces provided by loved ones, but actual shots of their corpses, not covered by sheets on trolleys but lifeless in the streets of the capital. How would the public have reacted to that?

I'd wager they'd have been outraged. They would have regarded it as callous, insensitive acts of barbarism. After all, these people were someone's spouses, siblings, children, parents. Don't they deserve better than to turn on the television or open a newspaper and see the corpse of a loved one who lost their life in an unnecessary act of inhumanity?

So why is it different when it's a small child that nobody in the UK knows or is related to?

If you really, truly want to help reduce the human cost of this situation you're not going to do it by hitting a button and sharing an image. Lobby your MP to change the UK's attitude both to leaving countries unstable after half-arsed military interventions and to how it deals with the humanitarian crisis it leaves behind afterwards.

Give to one of the numerous relief organisations trying to put a sticking plaster over the top of this gaping wound in our humanity because governments are too scared of public opinion to dress it properly. It doesn't need to be financial. Donate food, clothing, anything that can be sold to raise funds rather than sat gathering dust in your spare room. Give your time to help these organisations who are not just "raising awareness" but actually doing something on the ground to help the most helpless.

If you've read all that and still think it's fine to go around using a dead toddler's image as a mark of your humanity go ahead, it's your life. But don't surprised if I and those like me choose to treat you with the same respect you treated that dead Syrian boy.

An Appeal On Behalf Of Victims Of Human Trafficking

As you may have seen on the news recently, there has been a substantial rise in the number of people - particularly young men - being trafficked across borders all over Europe.

Often, these people leave behind well-paid jobs and relatively luxury in order to go in search of a better, more stable life elsewhere. A place where they will no longer feel threatened or unappreciated. Where mobs don't bay for their blood on a weekly basis.

This dreadful human cargo reaches a peak towards the end of August, where the traffickers are at their most active before winter nights start to draw in. It's important that we make a stand at this time of year against this despicable trade.

This is David.

David lives in the north of England. He paid people traffickers 10% of a significant signing on fee to take him to Spain. Only by our operatives disabling a fax machine at the Spanish end of their operation were we able to save him and enable him to return to Manchester, where he has a nice, comfortable bench to sit on.

There are hundreds of young men just like David, being taken from their homelands to be left all alone in a country where they don't speak the language, have no friends and only a pittance of £120k a week to fall back on.

Please help us to stop this cruel trade in human lives by refusing to support those who perpetrate it and televise it for the amusement of their viewers.

Thank you for listening.

The Enemy at the Gate?

As you might have noticed, there's a bit of a thing going on at Calais at the moment.

Lots of people (many of them from countries where we've either actively bombed their infrastructure into rubble, or supported dictators who did it for themselves) are quite keen on getting into the UK. Many of them have survived hazardous journeys across the Mediterranean on unsafe, overcrowded vessels having paid people traffickers all their worldly possessions for the privilege.

They now sit by the side of the road, looking for ways to find some sort of egress into the UK, either in the back of a lorry or by walking 30 miles down a tunnel used by 150mph massive hunks of metal that would vapourise them on contact.

We're told by the government and their usual rabble of media acolytes that these folks are trying to get here for two reasons.

1. They want to claim benefits, and/or

2. They want to blow us up

Let's take a look at why both of those statements are absolute piles of bollocks, shall we?

They're only coming here to claim our benefits

So, you're sat in a crumbling house in Syria with bombs and rockets going off all around you, or starving to death in Sudan and you think "where shall I go to escape this hell?"

Obviously the clear solution is to whip out your smartphone, search "benefit rates and qualifying periods in the EU" and make your choice from there, right?

Do people not get how ridiculous that sounds? 

Even if the infrastructure existed for them to be able to make these considered comparisons, are we seriously suggesting that people climb off a boat on the Greek mainland and then in order to get their hands on £60 per week embark on a 3,000 mile overland journey with nothing except what they can carry in their pockets?

On the way, they pass through other countries that have very similar conditions for the receipt of benefits to the UK and indeed plenty who pay at a higher weekly rate. Surely if it was all about the benefits they would stop off in any one of those and make it their home?

They're coming from Islamic State to blow us up

Again, let's examine how logical that statement is.

IS clearly has no trouble getting its hands on money to buy weapons. It is funded in part by rich people from what is an incredibly rich part of the world and centre of its oil production.

It puts time and effort into recruiting and training its soldiers and planning guerrilla military campaigns and acts of terror.

So are we seriously saying that after all that effort, the most effective way it has of getting its operatives into the UK is to try and sneak them onto the back of a lorry at Calais having exposed them to potentially fatal journeys over land and sea to get there?

Terrorist 101 suggests that if you want your operatives to be able to move freely and without suspicion around the world, you either recruit ones that already have the right to live in the place you want to attack or you create false identities to get them into your target country legally, on student visas for example.

What you don't do is stick them in a leaky, overcrowded boat then bank on Barry leaving the back doors of his lorry full of Ginsters pasties open while he nips for a slash. It's ineffective, highly likely to be unsuccessful and basically plain bonkers.

Alright smart arse, why are they coming here then?

You want to know why? Simple really, it's because they like us and have heard good things about us.

They know we're a country which has a history of being racially tolerant. One where if you are prepared to knuckle down and work hard, there's a fairly decent chance you can make a reasonable life for yourself. One where the fact you're the wrong religion won't get you kidnapped, tortured and killed by your theological or political opponents.

In short, they like the image Britain has created for itself in large parts of the world as being a capital for enterprise, fairness and opportunity.

It's just a shame that so many politicians and media outlets are determined to ruin that image, by acting exactly the opposite in order to distract the indigenous population from the damage they are doing to it.

So next time you see a refugee camp at Calais, or a boat bobbing in the Mediterranean full of men, women and children that your government is quite happy to let drown, have a think about whether you would be prepared to put yourself through that for the promise of an extra £60 a week rather than barking to the dog whistle.

The Dead Politician Sketch

Scene: The interior of a pet shop. The shopkeeper is waiting behind the counter, as the door opens and the bell rings.

SK: Ah, Comrade Corbyn. Good to see you again. What can we do for you?

JC: I wish to complain about the politician I bought from this here establishment not hours ago.

*puts cage on counter*

SK: Oh yes. The Burnham. Lovely plumage, changes to suit the political climate. What's wrong with him

JC: I'll tell you what's wrong with him my lad. It repeats everything I say, that's what.

SK: No it doesn't!

JC: Yes it does!

AB: Yes it does!

JC: See!!

SK: That wasn't repetition, it can't have been. Look, he's resting.

JC: Resting? Resting? If I hadn't covered it in manifesto commitments it would be pushing up the deficit right now

AB: Up the deficit! Up the deficit!

JC: There! It did it again!

SK: No, that was me. It couldn't have been the Burnham because it's...err....dead. That's it, dead. 

JC: Dead?

SK: Yep. Dead. If he wasn't laying on his back you would be able to see the stab wounds. He's a stiff. Bereft of votes. Giving a speech to the conference invisible. Climbed up the party hierarchy and gone to meet his backers.

JC: Well if he's dead, I want a replacement

SK: Sorry chief. We don't have any more in stock. I could do you a Cooper or a Kendall

JC: What's the difference between them and a Burnham

SK: To be honest with you mate, fuck all.

Tube Strike Blues - with apologies to W H Auden

Stop all the trains, close off the underground
Prevent the customers from queueing, clutching their hard-earned pound
Silence the tannoys and with muffled moan
Turn out the public, have them find their own way home

Let the traffic copters hover, whirring overhead
Clog the streets with buses, a stationary sea of red
Put hi-vis jackets on the staff manning all the doors
Hire out a Boris bike, without reading every clause

Clapham North, East Ham, South Ealing, Acton West
My morning rush and bus replacement day of rest
My late nights, my weekends, my never having to wait long
I thought the Tube was here forever: I was wrong

Departure boards are not wanted now, put out every one
Ascend to the surface, step out into the sun
Mop away the urine, sweep up all the litter
For all you'll hear tomorrow is Londoners being bitter

Human Rights Act Song

(To the tune of Gloria Gaynor's "I Will Survive")

I never used to be afraid
Never petrified
Because I had the Human Rights Act
Sitting by my side
Now you spend so many days
Trying to get it repealed
But it won't yield
No matter how much force you wield
So now you're back
From your disgrace
Dressed up like a berk
That gormless look upon your face
We should have changed the bloody locks
We should have paid some of the fuzz
To say you called them plebs
And save us all this fuss

Go on now Gove, walk out the door
Just bugger off now, cause you're not welcome any more
Weren't you the one, with your sodding bill of rights
Stealing our freedoms
Giving us sleepless nights
Oh no, not I
I will survive
As long as there's democracy
We'll keep the HRA alive
We've got all our votes to give
We've got all our lives to live
It will survive
It will survive 

It's Just Not Cricket

Evolution is a wonderful thing. In the animal kingdom, it produces all sorts of varied fauna and flora, perfectly adapted to its environment. Without it, we wouldn't be here as a species with our capacity for language and innovation.

Even sport is not immune from the effects of evolution. As sport comes to the realisation it's part of the entertainment industry, it adapts and changes to ensure it can continue to attract the important spectator and sponsor income essential for its survival. Is it possible though that some sports have pushed the process too far, to the point where the sport itself has become lost?

The essence of cricket is the contest between bat and ball. The batsmen are trying to avoid being dismissed while also looking to score runs, while the bowler is trying to keep the runs to a minimum while taking wickets. In their attempts to engender entertainment though, have the administrators of the game pushed that balance past its tipping point?

Cricket has equated entertainment with one thing only - runs. The art of bowling well, whether that be the giant pace bowler sending down 90mph deliveries, or the spinner bamboozling the batsman with flight, drift and turn isn't regarded as what the spectators want to see. 

Every boundary struck is greeted with a Pavlovian burst of disco music, fireworks and cheerleaders, accompanied by the crowd waving the plastic signs provided for them by the sponsors. In contrast any wicket - particularly of the home side - is greeted with silence irrespective of the quality of the delivery that brought it about.

In an attempt to generate more "entertainment", laws and playing regulations have been tinkered with. Boundaries have become smaller and smaller, so even miss-hits and top edges fly over the ropes. Bowlers are given a much narrower window to aim at for a delivery to be legal. They are restricted on how many short-pitched deliveries they can bowl in an over. Captains are prevented from setting fields to stem them flow of runs by the number of fielders they can have in different positions.

Even that would perhaps be manageable, as the bowler still has one element in his armoury that he can call upon for assistance - the pitch. However, even these are now being increasingly tailored towards assisting the batsman. Lifeless, beige strips of turf that offer neither sideways movement nor excessive pace to provide hope for the bowler. In baseball, a pitcher can still throw a 90mph curveball irrespective of the ground beneath his feet. In cricket, the fast bowler can put in all the effort he likes but if the pitch sucks the pace out of the ball life becomes easier for the batsman.

Seven or even eight runs per over is becoming the new normality in the shorter formats of the game. If this continues though, then even that will be greeted with a "ho hum" response from spectators, who will want more and more. So what do administrators do then? What cricket has done is equivalent to football doubling the width of the goals to make it easier to score.

At the recent one-day World Cup in Australia, they used some of the largest grounds in professional cricket such as the SCG in Sydney and the MCG in Melbourne. Boundaries weren't brought in significantly, which meant batsmen had to work hard to hit fours and sixes and slower bowlers in particular got some protection from being slogged out of the game.

There needs to be a rebalancing of the game of this type between bat and ball, whether that is a relaxation to the fielding restrictions or guidance issued to groundsmen about the kinds of pitches they should be preparing and the size of boundaries. As it stands, the one-day game may be entertainment, but it's really not cricket.

Alternative Dating Apps - Twitter At It's Finest

I started on a train of thought about alternative dating apps - equivalents to Grindr, if you like. For example:

Flippr - for penguins

Badgr - for people sett in their ways

Beavr - for people who give a dam

Chuntr - for disgruntled Yorkshire folk

Twitter being the hive mind of clever, funny folk that it is then got to work with some of its own, such as:

Wankr - for people who don't want to meet anyone (@scottwilks)

Blattr - matching countries willing to pay bribes with people looking to receive them (@davidkirland02)

Splittr - for member's of the People's Front of Judea. Or the Judean People's Front (@TraineeJohn)

Farmr - for lonely country folk ((@markarnott30)

Coopr - for people with fez fetishes (@RugbyDiscipline)

Errrr - for the indecisive (@WashyAndIrony)

Mindr - for cockney wide boys (@TonyBraisby)

Xcalibr - for minor royalty (@raisemyboats)

Fudgr - for prevaricating politicians with a sweet tooth (@mactab52)

Coppr - for people who fell down the stairs, or were definitely armed (@johnnydobbo)

Needless to say, if any of these turn up on the App Store at any point in the future there will be legal action!