Tag Archives: Politics

Overcoming life’s inequalities

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Have you heard the one about David and Goliath? If you haven’t, just ask Zac Goldsmith. Anyone remember Zac? He’s the rich boy, former Tory politician who came up against the son of a Muslim bus driver, or so we were constantly told.

Well, so-called smart guy Zac didn’t exactly display many smarts in his campaign to become Mayor of London; deciding to follow some ill-conceived advice about pitching a mendacious focus on racism that completely back-fired. Mr Khan played the clever game, and is now the much liked Mayor of London. Go for it, Sadiq!

Well, dear silver spooned Mr G. then decides to play the ‘resignation on principle’ card. Playing to the favours of his super-rich constituents in a very leafy part of south-west London in order to be returned to parliament as an independent (aka a Tory in an ill-fitting disguise) . On this occasion the Tory wealth machine complacently came up against a Lib-Dem (who are they again?) woman, Sarah Olney (about as high profile as her political party these days). Sarah and the L-D’s play a canny game, and guess what? Yes, she is returned as the surprise new MP for Richmond Park.

half-cat-half-doorJuno wasn’t exactly backward in coming forward with the canny game. Here she plays the half-cat-half-door routine to lull unsuspecting goliath’s into her trap…

So, what has this got to do with anything, you ask? Well, just last night we had the appetising spectacle of a bluebird coming up against a wolf.

No contest, you shout! Well, just ask Zac Goldsmith about no contests. Certainly before the game started there was a moment (see the two opposing players nearest the camera) where the essentially dog routine of sniffing arses looked about to break out in a public place…

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city-v-wolves-2Two minutes into the match, and a thunderous strike from the wolf leaves the bluebird reeling… the obvious outcome of such inequality is only a matter of time. But, canny games are afoot, as the home team contrive to imitate a bunch of turkeys in search of a christmas oven. When David Coleman described football as a game of two halves, he was clearly clairvoyant with a futuristic view of this match. Two second half strikes from the Bluebirds and they put the canny in the can.

Until we speak again, for the record the final score on the hazy scoreboard represents Cardiff City (Bluebirds) 2 Wolverhampton Wanderers (Wolves) 1.

Struggles of the Liberal Elite

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First came Brexit then came Trump… the certainties of years of liberal ways of thinking and being were suddenly and unceremoniously being thrown out.

The power of numbers can be an amazing thing… for the minority who blatantly command the proceeds of wealth, to the detriment of the majority who are left to pick up the tab, there will eventually be one outcome…

down-the-panSpare a thought (but little else) for the greedy who now find themselves in times of turmoil and upheaval. A mere flicker of hope from the recesses of a Richmond Park by-election may well ignite flimsy thoughts of a return to the promised land, but a lack of leadership does not bode well.

And so it came to pass, on a cold afternoon in the Cardiff City Stadium. The liberal elite of London-by-Sea (aka Brighton & Hove Albion) high-rolled into town, with thoughts of rising to the number one spot in the Championship table, and a step closer to the promised riches of the Premier League. But this is the home of the Bluebirds, a solemn breed who have all-too-briefly tasted a seat at the top table, and harbour strange thoughts of returning. Strange indeed, as there seems to be a new take on the concept of enlightened leadership…

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For the record, the travelling Liberal Elite of Brighton were reduced to 10 men shortly before the conclusion of a 0-0 bore-fest. An afternoon that brought an outcome not too dissimilar to that of recent referendum and election experiences, for those with aspirations that ignore the reality for the majority.

Until we speak again, Broadsheet Bella seems to be looking in vain for a way out of the present darkening days (and Cardiff City FC struggle to find a way out of the grip of the relegation zone).

The politics of slaughter

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A clear summer’s evening in Cardiff earlier this year provided the backdrop to centenary commemorations of the start of the Battle of the Somme…

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So, it was fitting that another field, that of the Cardiff City Stadium, fell silent for a minute in memory of the ending of the colossal loss of life…

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Thus began another epitome of futile gestures! As generals stand on the sidelines, barking orders for younger men to throw themselves forward in attack. All who bore witness had nothing less in mind than slaughter of the opposition.

With all guns blazing, there was little to separate the two sides as the time arrived for the site of battle to fall silent…

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As the respective generals present their politician-styled banalities dressed up as post-match punditry, the locals claim the bragging rights from a Cardiff City 3 Huddersfield Town 2 victory.

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Until we speak again, it might be useful to take a leaf out of Bella’s studied approach to political reportage.

Lib Dems of football

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A brief taste of the power that comes with a place at the top table; a collapse of confidence throughout the natural support base; recent glimmers of hope of a revival, or maybe even a new dawn; only for the gloom to descend as familiar failings re-emerge…

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Am I talking about the recent travails of the Liberal Democrat Party, as they pick themselves up from an electoral pasting in 2015 with flickers of hope in a recent by-election? Or am I talking about a Cardiff City FC team having fallen from a brief sojourn in the Premier League, to recently occupying the bottom position of the Championship, only for a new messiah to raise that thing called ‘hope’ with a couple of wins and a draw?

right-hookCardiff City 0 Wigan Athletic 1 is the kind of unwanted result that brings a sharpened perspective to those who wallow in a land called hope. Juno offers a right hook as a wake-up call; and Rich Hall recently reminded us that “hope lies somewhere between wishful thinking and performing a rain dance.”

Until we speak again I guess I had better get dancing!

Kitten heels

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sleeping-catIt was a Wednesday, so it must be PMQ’s, which usually means Prime Minister’s Questions in good old UK parliamentary speak. With Theresa May installed as our Prime Minister the commentators have a habit of trivialising events, just as I am doing right now,  by referring to her passion for shoes, and an infamous pair of kitten heels she occasionally wears. This weekly event is billed as a gladiatorial battle where the PM takes on the bitter foe in a verbal joust about the issues of the day; and it usually ends up as some kind of a draw.

Strange that! Because this Wednesday saw the turn of a Wednesday to grace the local hallowed turf. We would see what steel our Sheffield born new manager was made of, as we take on his least favoured home city team, Sheffield Wednesday. This was billed as a gladiatorial battle with the home team taking on the challenge of bitter foe in a physical joust, and you guessed it, it ended up in a draw! Cardiff City 1 Sheffield Wednesday 1.

Until we speak again the unanimous verdict has been declared on the effectiveness of bitter jousts in general, and the the current mightiness of the local Bluebirds specifically…

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Cats for a new dawn

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thinking-catBella was often to be found in deep  contemplation. Could it have been a fretfulness for so-called hard Brexit’s yet to be? Maybe it was a fear of any game that involved a Trump card! Or, was she simply playing over in her mind a favourite feline chase, involving the exposing of claws to greedy bankers scurrying about the floor before her.

Whatever the source, it always seemed like she was in a mood for change. As a deaf bag of tumours, she had the full on experience of being one of life’s strugglers, for whom the promised bounty had found its way into the pockets of others… the chosen few.

A very same mass desire for change has equally gripped the deluded followers of a certain local football team. When you find yourselves bouncing along the bottom of your league, you quickly resort to emotional affectation underpinned by a complete lack of evidence or sound judgement. Collectively, you become a herd of cats in search of a new dawn. The banners are dusted off, and the gladiators take to the field before an inflated audience, many drawn to a one-off experience of the bogof (buy one get one free) variety.

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Until we speak again, a new manager and new players arrive, and the tale of unexpected cauldrons produces a Cardiff City 2 Bristol City 1 scoreline, enough to bring tears of joy to the emotionally impoverished Bluebirds witnessing the first goals scored at home by someone in blue this season. Just don’t start believing in a new dawn just yet, with Brexiteers’ and Corbynistas’ already laying claim to the realisation of the activists dream, some things come in three’s… so the 8th November in a certain gun-toting nation could yet make The Exorcist look like Mary Poppins! As for Warnock’s wonders…?

 

CL-UMP

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A coming together of protagonists for a staged event lasting 90 minutes, whereby the two opposing forces seem loved by the few and disliked by the many. Blows are traded, almost like handbags at five paces, until one or other side lands a decisive strike (or two). But ‘decisive’ is meaningless, as the competition on show is but a small part of the overall contest, to be decided at a date already determined for the conclusion of the campaign.

Immigration is not an issue for the two sides that have nothing but open arms (though limited economies) for the influx of outside talent; and there certainly were no walls being built by the home defence! I don’t know how many Hilary’s or Donald’s were on show, but there was a grim consistency in the message for the home believers, as Derby County just edged the bottom of the table duel at Cardiff City 0-2.

A poignant message could be viewed on the big screen… a lament for the cancellation of the home team’s Goal of the Month Competition; owing to the fact that the home team didn’t score any goals at their home venue throughout the month of September!

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Until we speak again Juno would have had no gender bias I’m sure, but her wishes for Hilary would be ‘deliver a knock out blow’!

Rotten Boroughs

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There was a time in the political history of Britain when cats with an interest in local matters  had little or no say in the election of those who would represent them… merely trapped in personal fiefdoms, you might say. They became known as Rotten Boroughs.

There seems to be more than a passing resemblance in today’s sporting contest with the concept of Rotten Boroughs. Just take a look at the extent of influence that their non-footballing owners have over the football appointments in their own personal fiefdoms!

This is also a clash that takes on a strong sense of being manufactured by media representations; where a ‘rotten‘ core of a rivalry has been projected onto a fixture that only very rarely used to involve ‘significant’ matches. It did however involve teams with a perceived rotten core of supporters, so this might well be portrayed as a derby for the rotten boroughs, at least in some twilight world of imagination. Today’s faux politeness requires that teams present friendly greetings before they play at falling over and getting the opposition players booked or sent off!

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But, this occasion is also spiced by the need for both teams to drag themselves out of perilous league positions in the early weeks of this season. After a mere handful of matches there is already an important question emerging on local lips…

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With a new manager, Paul Trollope, at the start of the season, I chose to name my fantasy football team ‘Pure Trollope’ for this year. As I have said before, this was meant to be ironic commentary, not a documentary! Though we can begin to identify the trollope way of playing emerging as a pattern… create chances, score nothing, then present a relatively poor opposing team a few chances to help themselves to a win. Sounds like the machinations of a rotten borough to me, as one of the dwindling numbers paying for the pain of watching a deja vu experience at each home game.

There again, it could just be that we are the activists who have little need for the power of influence that comes with winning matches and challenging for the big time. Why aspire to such heights, when we can enjoy a permanent state of moaning and disagreement with the way of things?

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If Bella was still listening to the current regular diatribe, she might well be asking if this was really about Cardiff City FC, as it sounds remarkably like the current commentary on an increasingly irrelevant Labour Party… a political party assuming a similar projection to the local team… sleepwalking to oblivion. [For those of you with little or no interest in the outcome the final score was Cardiff City 0 Leeds United 2; and Cardiff finally hit rock bottom of the league!].

Taking your seat

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Take a picture of this… it’s a cold Tuesday afternoon in January, and the House of Commons are about to hold a Department of Transport debate on the effectiveness of ‘cats eyes’.

Cats eyesTake a guess as to how many seats are occupied for such a brain numbing encounter? You don’t need to guess any longer, as the latest edition of ‘Pure Trollope’ (Paul Trollope being the new Cardiff City FC Manager) provides the answer for us!

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For the record, the final score was Cardiff City 0 Reading 1, and the home fans left en masse (if such a movement was numerically possible) as the fluorescent ones scored on 89 minutes.

Until we speak again, may your team on the pitch not outnumber the fans in the stands!

Labour Party travails

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They say “you have to be in it to win it”, well I wasn’t and they did, but not very convincingly. As I was surgically waylaid, it seems my team managed their first win of the season [Cardiff City 2 Blackburn Rovers 1]. However, it also transpires they won courtesy of two own goals by the same Blackburn player; so we still haven’t actually scored a goal all season!

That got me thinking of a political analogy… a team that doesn’t have to score because they can rely on the opposition scoring own goals for them. Sounds just like the luck currently enjoyed by the Conservative Party making up the British Government. Who needs to exert themselves when we have a Labour Party determined to shoot themselves up the proverbial?

Not supposed to happen

Until we speak again, would somebody please remove the blunderbuss from the possession of Her Majesty’s farcical opposition?