Tattoo Noos

Having spent considerably longer than I would have wished at various airports over recent months it has been hard to ignore the increasing number of tattoos being displayed by people of all shapes and sizes as they jet off or return from some exotic location. At the turn of the last century Lydia the Tattooed Lady was an attraction at a freak show, as someone who has never felt the urge to express my personality with ink it is now me that it is feeling like a freak.

Apparently it is now called ‘body art’ - Hang on a minute! The Mona Lisa may have sported a few dodgy moustaches in text books in her time but I don’t recall her having a tattoo on her hand or face. Michelangelo never felt the urge to adorn his statue of David with a tat. When you create a masterpiece why spoil it with graffiti? Well that is my excuse for not wishing to blemish my pristine torso. Aficionados may argue that the complexity of some of the designs is art though for most people the effect is more akin to street graffiti.

To me, needles signify pain and there is no way I am going to permit anyone to start poking holes in my body even if it is in the name of art.

Most tattoo parlours still remain tucked away in back streets together with the dodgy taxi companies, questionable fast food outlets and private clubs (so I am told). To obtain a license for tattooing or skin piercing you need to demonstrate that you are a ‘fit and proper’ person to run such an establishment. To my mind, that is not sufficient proof of competence as a tattooist or as an artist.

Growing up many of my uncles sported tattoos they collected during the war, usually it was an anchor or the name of a loved one. War veterans may not want to talk about their wartime experience but I have yet to find one who did not want to talk about their tattoo.

Later on I became aware that there was a trend for both men and women to have discreet tokens tattooed on various parts of the body. Butterflies, spiders, hearts, stars, devils and dolphins started to appear on shoulders, ankles or wrists.

What struck me at the time was the number of people who later came to regret having the tattoo and either wished or took steps to have it removed. If like me you have little confidence in the abilities of those applying the tattoo then chances are you will have even less faith in the abilities of those removing them.

In the 80s, my employer maintained a strict policy on customer facing staff that while tattoos were permitted they were not allowed to be on show, which effectively meant that you needed to wear a jacket or long sleeve shirt if you were talking to a customer.

‘Tatu’ means a marking in Tahitian and they have been used for various purposes ever since Neolithic times. Some times they were used as badges with a particular significance, some times as ornamentation. When I look at the extent to which some people have taken the current trend it would seem to me to be less of a fashion statement than a sign of prosperity. It is hard sometimes to determine when a professional footballer scores a goal and removes his shirt, is he celebrating the goal or demonstrating his wealth by showing off his latest artwork?

Warriors used to have tattoos signifying their bravery. One of my school inmates glorified in the self-proclaimed hard-man monicker ‘Bone Crusher’ (which us mere mortals took to mean some ugly encounter with a chicken’s wish bone). He was the sort of child that only a mother could love, which I guess is why he had the word ‘Mum’ tattooed on his bicep. Those less kind would claim that it was a demonstration of the boundaries of his limited vocabulary. I mean, how ‘hard’ do you have to be to have the word ‘Mum’ tattooed on your arm? Maybe ‘Rhino Shagger’ or ‘I eat puppies’ would convey a more menacing image. Even the words ‘Bone Crusher’ would have made more sense, though he was not particularly macho and I don’t remember his biceps being particularly well defined anyway.

Smart money would say that ‘Mum’ would have objected to such a tattoo.

I can only imagine that there is an incredible amount of time needed to complete a large artwork and I suspect that it does not come cheap. From comments I have read most people choose to have tattoos that have a special significance or meaning in their life. Given that people’s circumstances and views change throughout their lives having something so permanent etched onto your body has the potential of coming back to bite you (possibly in the very place that the artwork is placed). Talking of which, I wince every time I see Cheryl Fernandez-Versini on TV. Not that I have anything against her or the floral tribute that covers her posterior, it is just that my granny used to have a pair of cushions with almost exactly the same design on. They too had a crack down the middle. Over the years they lost their shape and started to sag, which regrettably is what will happen to Cheryl’s backside in the fullness of time.

Who knows what prompts people to have a tattoo or why they select a particular design, for now the best I can think of is, as Cheryl would say, ‘Because I’m worth it’.

1066 and all that

This year is the 900^th anniversary of Harold getting one in the eye from those pesky Normans. The end of last month saw the 50^th anniversary of one of this countries better days when we put one over ‘the other Becks’ in beating Franz Beckenbauer’s German team to win the 1966 Soccer World Cup. 

 

By a strange quirk of fate memories of the Battle of Hastings are most commonly depicted in colour through the Bayeux tapestry while most of us who were around for the world cup will probably have watched the match on a grainy black and white television set. The colour footage that is trotted out at every opportunity to relive our former glories was captured on film. Colour broadcasts did not emerge in the UK until 1967 and even then initially it was only on BBC2.

I was 8 at the time of England’s greatest footballing success and remember the occasion well. The family had been planning their annual break for several months – on this occasion it was to be a fortnight at a bungalow in Dymchurch. It was only at the last moment that my father learned that there was no television on the site so, having meticulously packed and secured everything in place ‘Myrtle’ the family car was unceremoniously stripped to make way for the TV set. (more on Myrtle later). For those who never experienced the pleasure of watching the white dot disappear from the screen when the set was turned off I should perhaps explain that television sets in the mid-60s were typically around the size of a modern dish washer with a screen area the equivalent of the door on a small washing machine. Packed full of diodes and valves the sets were both bulky and heavy.

I should also explain that in addition to mum, dad and yours truly the other passengers were my 5 year old brother and 2 year old sister. Allowing for cumbersome buggy, baby necessities, food for at least 3 days and clothes for every permutation of British Summer to describe conditions inside my father’s trusty Wolseley 1500 saloon were extremely cramped.

For the first half of the 70 mile journey mum occupied the front passenger seat together with my sister and her ‘tardis’ handbag of baby stuff. I can’t recall exactly where we were when we were forced to stop as my brother took the opportunity to demonstrate his prowess with projectile vomit, pebble-dashing both inside and outside of the rear of the car and securing him a place in the front passenger seat for the remainder of the journey in the process. 

 

In hindsight you could argue that my parents’ should have anticipated the situation since my brother did have previous form for travel sickness. Undaunted by the delay we managed to make it to the site shortly after lunch. Cases were quickly despatched to the bedrooms and the next hour was spent finding a suitable position for the TV set, which if I recall correctly was balanced between 2 chairs. There were no extension leads in the 60s, or if there were we certainly did not have one, which restricted our options in placement of the bulky set. The remaining time prior to kick up was spent trying to find the optimum positioning of the aerial. Personally I was happy with the picture when my brother was standing on the chair by the bay window holding the twin pronged device above his head. Unfortunately, standing still for longer that 10 seconds has never been my brother’s strongest suits so we were forced to accept the next best option and dangle it from the curtain rail using a coat hanger and elastic strapping.

Memories of Myrtle are fairly mixed, thankfully she had red leather seats, it sounds plush but they were not very comfortable, especially once your brother had puked on them! I remember there being a lot of chrome on the car and wood panelling on the dashboard; the radio was functional but the sound quality from the solitary speaker was usually drowned out by the noise of the engine. It seems to be a generational thing that so many cars look alike. My knowledge of cars is not good but there are certain shapes of cars that to the untrained eye could have been manufactured by any one of 30 different companies. In the 50s cars were influenced by curves while in the 70s angularity was the vogue. In the 60s the overwhelming trend seemed to be the ‘bubble’. The Austin A30, Rover P4, Morris Minor, Ford Popular, Humber Hawk, Sunbeam Rapier, Hillman Minx and Wolseley 1500 all had a pronounced ‘bubble’ to their cabin – hence ‘Myrtle, the turtle’ - a noble beast but not renowned for their speed, or elegance. (A bit like the driver actually).

Due Diligence, Deluded Ignorance or Damned Incompetence?

There was a wise old teacher who enjoyed his work even though his classroom was small and dark. OK – It was a long time ago, there was no Ofsted and this is my story! One hot Summer day he decided that he needed a change so he came up with a plan to take his class outdoors. He suggested to his students that he was prepared to conduct the lesson in the shade of the old oak tree on the edge of the school playing fields. He reasoned that the fresh air and change of scenery would help them to concentrate. As an added incentive he was prepared to buy them each an ice-cream but this offer could only take place if they all agreed to the plan. A casual inspection of the damp patches on many of my classmates shirts and their languid expressions I felt sure that the suggestion would receive a good reception. Even the class bully had given up flicking rubber bands at people’s ears as he too wilted in the heat.

To your average hormonally challenged teenager this proposal would be a no brainer but as I said this was a long time ago. Half the class immediately grabbed their books and headed for the door while others whooped in joy. Even those that had fallen asleep were stirred to investigate the commotion. We all ignored the one person who remained at his desk, stoney faced, with his arms folded. As the noise abated he announced to the world that ‘he did not like ice-cream’. In most schools with classes of around 25 you will usually find 1 or 2 pupils who will object to most things for no other reason than to draw attention to themselves. Invariably these pupils are soon tagged by their classmates and subjected to a mixture of scorn, contempt and indifference appropriate to their action. But this student was not one of the usual ‘troublemakers’ leaving the teacher with little option but to withdraw his offer and send a couple of us to retrieve the group that were already half way to the playing field. Despite the fact that there were quite a few of us who would have willingly eaten the spare ice-cream, we dutifully spent the rest of the afternoon cooped up in our stuffy classroom listening to the wonders of ancient Mesopotamia on account of one individual’s obstinacy.

For the past decade every month the MEPs tasked with running the European Community up sticks from their Brussels HQ to attend a 4 day session at their secondary base in Strasbourg. The cost of moving the 1000 MEPs plus equipment, translators, security teams, etc leaves the European taxpayers with a bill estimated to be around £130m per year. The cost of building the second parliamentary building in 1999 was £50m and there are 100 full time staff employed to maintain it for the 12 monthly visits. None of the MEPs see the need to decamp once a month and in a climate of economic austerity all are agreed that this is an unnecessary expense and would like to see it scrapped – except for the French, who have the power of veto on this subject. This is not surprising given the financial boost and prestige that it brings to the region whenever this circus comes to town.

Once again the wishes of the majority are scuppered by a lone objector.

Part of the success and/or failure of the EU is tied into its desire to appease everybody. Think how often a family sits in front of the TV unable to agree on what to watch that evening; compare that to a situation where representatives from 28 countries try to reach an agreement on a single course of action. In my head I see 2 conflicting images, ‘He that pays the piper calls the tune’ and ‘giving turkeys a chance to vote on the future of Christmas’. My head is full of conflicting images, but I am used to it and life goes on no matter my state of confusion.

This is not an article on the European Referendum, for which neither the Remain or Brexit campaigners have put forward a sufficiently good argument for their cause. I think most people will be aware of the key arguments on the debate by now but I’m not sure that anyone could explain the strategies that either camp would adopt were they to win the vote.

In the spirit of fairness I would point to another story that caught my attention this week which demonstrates the UK’s capabilities as a technological and economic power house. Only the British could build an international airport on an exposed hilltop. The new airport on the British dependency of St. Helena in the South Atlantic has taken 4 years to build at a cost of £285m to the taxpayer. Only upon testing the runway was it learned that the crosswinds have posed such a significant problem that it has been deemed unsafe and the opening that was due to take place in May has now been delayed indefinitely. Footage of a British Airways 737 attempting to land showed it lurching from side to side and the wings flapping like a drunken goose. My suspicion is that the preliminary testing was carried out at the same wind tunnel laboratory where the labrats demonstrated the inability of safety glass on high speed trains to survive the impact in collision with a frozen chicken.

At least the choice between Hillary Clinton and Donald Trump is out of our control. Unedifying as each of them is we Brits can do little but sit back and await the outcome of the US elections in November.

June is usually such a genteel month; the sound of leather upon willow, the trooping of the colour, the smell of the barbecue as thoughts turn towards holidays. This year seems to be particularly busy for all sorts of reasons.

I must admit that the build up to the European Football Championship has been far more entertaining than the political posturing on either side of the pond. This is not simply because for once we have a strong representation by the home countries but it is rarely that I have felt that the English have had a squad with such potential – not being given to bouts of over-enthusiasm it could be ‘the Leicester effect’ or maybe I have OD’d on my hayfever medication.

This weekend sees the climax (or yet another climax) to the Queen’s 90^th birthday celebrations as well as the funeral of Mohamed Ali. Thankfully both stories have managed to force the political rhetoric off the front pages, if only for a few hours. Arguably they are 2 of the most recognised icons of the 20^th century and it is right that we should honour their contributions and achievements. As role models go you can only admire the dignity with which they have lived their lives.

In the background there is also the build up to Wimbledon as well as the Olympic Games in Rio starting in August. The England have already demonstrated their usual inconsistency, doubtless the footballers will follow suit and Andy Murray will put us all through the mental wringer as he frequently has.

With so much going on it would be easy to overlook a story that personally I find quite alarming and significant. One that I feel will run for some time to come – that is the fall out from British Home Stores.

The department store has been a staple of the British High Street since 1928 but has been in decline for many years. Sadly, the company could not live up to their slogan of ‘Modern living, made easy’ and in April they were placed into administration with debts of £1.3bn, which included a £571m pension fund liability and puts 11,000 jobs at risk. With no buyer in sight it will almost certainly mean that the remaining stores will disappear within weeks.

What has emerged since the announcement for liquidation has been the turmoil over the past couple of years that has brought down this company.

Like many department stores their fortunes had fluctuated over the decades but since the start of this century their path had been plotted by serial entrepreneur and City darling, Philip Green. Having bought the company for £200m in May 2000 the then owners sold it in March 2015 to Retail Acquisitions for a nominal value of £1, shortly after which it was announced that 51 of the 171 stores were at risk of closure.

It is only this week that a parliamentary committee has been able to ask some of the questions that seem to have escaped anyone’s attention during this period. Ultimately, responsibility for filling the pension blackhole will fall on the taxpayer, which perhaps explains the government’s belated interest.

What has emerged this week is that Dominic Chappell, the owner of Retail Acquisitions is a former racing driver and entrepreneur who has been declared bankrupt on 3 occasions and had very little experience of the retail sector.

BHS chief executive, Darren Topp, described Dominic Chappell to the parliamentary committee as a "premier league liar" and "Sunday pub-league retailer" who had his "fingers in the till". He went on to explain to MPs that when he objected to a £1.5 million transfer to a company owned by a friend and fellow board member of Dominic Chappell, Mr Chappell threatened to kill him if he made the information public.

Mr. Chappell was quick to point the finger at Philip Green for the failure of the company and Mr. Green is scheduled to give evidence to the committee on Wednesday.

Philip Green’s financial dealings could hardly be described as transparent given that his Arcadia group, the former parent owner of BHS, is owned by Taveta Investments, the company owned by his wife, Lady Tina Green.

Into the mix we can also add yet another billionaire pantomime villain, Mike Ashley, whose efforts to rescue the company amounted to nothing. Just days before, he had agreed to attend the same parliamentary committee to answer concerns about some of the working practices at his own firm, Sports Direct.

It has not been a good week for British business, especially when Brexit have been banging the drum for British industry.

Following the exploits of Robert Maxwell in the 1980s pension rules were changed to ring fence pension funds giving them more protection.

Asset stripping has always been a tawdry part of business life, I am not sure whether the BHS débâcle constitutes pantomime, farce or has the makings of a suspense movie. There should be serious questions about the role of the pensions regulator in this case as well as the need to review a business system that allows someone with a poor track record to take control of a company and devastate so many people’s lives.

A 14 year siesta

Congratulations (I think?) to Joaquín García, a Spanish civil servant, who managed to absent himself from work for 6 years while still drawing his full €37,000 salary from Cadiz City Council. His absence finally came to light when his name appeared on a list of those being considered for a 20 year long service award and the Deputy Mayor decided to contact him.

In 2004 Mr. Garcia was sent to a post at Cadiz Water to oversee the building of a new water treatment plant. A subsequent investigation in 2010 revealed that colleagues at the site had no knowledge of his whereabouts and simply had assumed that he had been recalled to City Hall.

It was later revealed that he may actually have skipped work from as long ago as 1996. The phantom employee made a complaint that it was the council's responsibility to ensure that he attended his place of employment and it was not his fault if they were negligent. He also stated that he had suffered workplace bullying on account of his political beliefs.

When challenged as to what he had been doing during this time he was unable to provide any answer. He also claimed that he feared for his job and was too depressed to report the alleged harassment. He subsequently retired in 2011 and was ordered by the court to repay €27,000 in compensation, the equivalent of 1 year's net salary.

I feel certain that there will be those who will say this could only happen in Spain, but I am equally sure that there will be a few managers in this country who will be having sleepless nights wondering how many phantoms there are on their payroll that have slipped beneath the radar of detection.

The left hand not knowing what the right hand is doing would seem to be a common management mantra in the modern work place so it is perhaps understandable that one department may have no knowledge of another department within the same organisation. Nevertheless to make yourself virtually invisible for 14 years is simply mind-blowing. Do they have no phones in Spain? If I was to leave my desk unattended it would be buried under a mountain of post within a month. What happened to all of this man's mail? Sooner or later someone must have complained or returned the items to the sender. Had no one picked up on the fact that this employee never responded to any of their emails?

There must have been a time when the office needed to be re-decorated, the electrics tested, a fire

drill scheduled or the cleaner noticed that they hadn't emptied a particular waste bin for several months.

You can't blame the guy for wanting to escape. In my days of working as a 'pencil jockey', when staff had to use writing implements instead of keyboards there were 2 thoughts that frequently crossed my mind. If I were to suffer a fatal heart attack at my desk, how many weeks would it be before anyone noticed that I was dead? My work colleagues were predominantly male so it would be unlikely that any of them would pass comment that you had been wearing the same clothes for several days. Nor were they likely to pass comment on any unusually odious smell. It has to be said that there were a few of my colleagues who, from time to time, gave me reason to suspect that they may have expired (probably from boredom).

The other thought that used to cross my mind involved working for a fantasy firm based loosely on my perception of a few dubious characters I had encountered. It is said that staff at banks often while away the hours dreaming of ways to beat the system or what they would do with the money if a sum with a huge number of zeros mysteriously appeared in their personal account. Similarly, the firm of 'Scribble and Scratch' as it became known opened the door to endless opportunities of breaking the tedium of the working day.

The nature of the hypothetical business changed occasionally but ultimately I decided that the scheme I had in mind was best suited to the legal profession, primarily because the underlying principles seem to simply focus on relieving the client of as much money as possible in exchange for the minimum level of service.

To this end neither Messrs Scribble nor Scratch had any formal legal training, preferring to rely on their own version of 'legalese', a technical jargon which sounded plausible to the layman. The pretence was that the couple had worked together in the customer complaints department of some indeterminate company and their legal expertise was gleaned from reading the range of warranties on various goods. Under the rules of the game Scribble and Scratch were on their uppers, working from a garret above a kebab shop. Their office consisted of a shared desk, a phone, a laptop, a dartboard and a kettle.

The idea was to invent scenarios for them to 'deal with creatively' that involved them doing as little as possible. The acquisition of 'money' was not the primary goal, it was the accumulation of points that was the real objective. Points would be awarded based on the nature of the scenario, the time taken to 'resolve' the issue and the inventiveness of the responses. The longer it took to resolve the issue the more chance you had to score points. Nothing was deemed off limits and the more devious or absurd the action or explanation the higher the score awarded. The dartboard was the arbiter of any delays incurred whether it be minutes, hours or days. This could mean the length of time a customer was kept waiting on the phone or the number of days required to obtain a replacement part. Penalty points were deducted if you were required to take any positive action to assist the customer, such as sending a letter (as opposed to simply lying about it). Adhering to the principle of 'one step forward, 2 steps back' it was sometimes advantageous to instigate a positive action in order to open up fresh opportunities to further bamboozle the customer and convince them that you are on the case.

Sadly, technology has moved on, which has rather removed the need for staff to think creatively in such situations. It would seem that the only explanation or excuse required by any individual working in a service industry these days is to blame the technology. The advancement of phone systems now means that customers can be placed on hold for days or transferred from department to department ad infinitum without any human intervention. Some companies either choose to put no contact details on their website or alternatively list so many contact numbers that there is little chance that any customer would be able to get in touch with someone capable of dealing with their enquiry.

It is infuriating to see so many websites where the customer relations department is portrayed as a sizeable group of impeccably groomed, ethnically diverse, grinning faces in ultra modern offices. This seems to be a favourite ploy for local authorities and utility companies many of whom see placing the words customer and service in the same sentence as anathema.

Messrs Scribble and Scratch may have gone to that great garret in the sky but they could equally be sitting on a beach in some tax haven having become insanely wealthy by cornering the market in red tape and doing absolutely nothing.

BBC None - and now for something completely indifferent

The dear old BBC is fast becoming synonymous with Bargain Basement Crud. The standard of television over the festive period shows just how much the quality has dropped over the years. Not only were old programmes being repeated but even certain films and current programmes were being show several times across the week. Is this simply a means to fill the schedules or are the BBC now trying to copy the approach used by many of the digital broadcasters.

In the week before Christmas the BBC announced that they would be pulling out of their contracted coverage of Formula One 3 years early. This year they have also announced major changes to their online coverage as well as plans to move BBC3 from terrestrial TV to online only and reduced coverage of next year's tennis at Wimbledon.

Of course, the BBC are not alone in finding the need to make drastic cuts to meet their budgetary obligations. The loss of the Grand Prix coverage is simply the latest in a significant list of sporting events to be removed from terrestrial channels. In many cases these sporting events have been picked up by the commercial broadcasters who have been more able to finance the purchase of the rights to show these occasions. For many years there has been no live cricket shown on the terrestrial channels and this year live coverage of all European football competitions moved from ITV to BT.

Even in the hayday, when the FA Cup Final warranted a full day of programming with simultaneous live coverage of the match on both BBC and ITV, the BBC always came out on top in the ratings, with superior quality commentary and analysis. Even with shared coverage of recent World Cups few would argue that the BBC's coverage overall was better than ITV's offering. I don't think it can simply be explained away by the need for advert breaks. Personally I find that the coverage of most sporting occasions comes across with more passion and authority on the BBC than it does on its commercial rivals. It could be argued that the coverage of cricket highlights on Channel 5 and the racing on Channel 4 is an improvement on what was available on the BBC, but you should also take into consideration the changes in technology that have made this type of coverage successful.

I don't begrudge any sportsman from earning a decent living from their talents though I do question the ridiculous sums commanded by some of the elite and the hype that goes into promoting these events. One of the highlights of this year was the Rugby World Cup, hosted in this country and televised by ITV. The tournament was terrific, especially the performances of some of the lesser fancied nations but contrast the hype and build up given this year's tournament to that of 15 years ago – Not every game is a grudge match, sport is there to be enjoyed, it is not a matter of life and death, though sponsors seem convinced that the only way that people will watch such a spectacle is to portray it as such.

Maybe this is one of the reasons that I feel that sport on commercial TV has often fallen flat over the years; whereas the BBC have been able to present an opportunity for a viewer or listener to be part of a sporting event be it good, bad or indifferent, the commercial stations feel the need to sensationalise or ramp up the excitement whether it be justified or not.

In recognition of the increasing obesity problems in the country the government are seeking a push this year to encourage more people to get active in sport, I am not sure that reducing the number of sports shown on terrestrial TV will help their efforts.

Returning to funding challenges faced by the BBC, it remains to be seen what effect the cuts will have on their news output. For decades they have enjoyed a reputation as one of the most reliable sources of global news even where there are organisations better placed to provide a superior quality service.

For over 90 years the Met Office has provided the weather forecasting services for the BBC, though their contract is not being renewed since the BBC have been forced to look at cheaper alternatives from next year, which may mean foreign companies providing the information in the future.

Also disappearing from the BBC's output will be 'The Voice', the Saturday night flagship for the New Year. They originally paid £20m for the right to show the programme in this country but have announced that they will not be bidding to renew the contract which runs out after the forthcoming series. This is hardly surprising since one of the companies responsible for the making of the programme has recently been acquired by ITV.

There are those that say that the BBC should not be looking to make entertainment programmes and should simply concentrate on their public service remit. To these people I would suggest they refer to the Royal Charter and Agreement granted to the BBC which is reflected in their mission statement: To enrich people's lives with programmes and services that inform, educate and entertain. The same mantra that Lord John Reith was championing back in the late 1920s.

Just glancing through the TV listings for the festive period reminds you how diverse and successful the BBC's output has been over the years. Morecambe and Wise, The Two Ronnies, Dad's Army, Blackadder, Porridge, Last of the Summer wine, One Foot in the Grave and Dr. Who all turned up in one guise or another on various channels, not just the BBC. Considering that many of these programmes are now over 40 years old it is testament to the creative teams behind these programmes that their appeal has endured.

Old, black and white episodes of Steptoe and Son and the Likely Lads routinely appear on the schedules of other channels. The sad fact is that if you take these programmes, the films, the soaps and the natural history documentaries out of the schedules, what are you left with?

It could be argued that talent shows such as Opportunity Knocks and New Faces have been replaced by X-Factor, The Voice and Britain's got talent – but has it really? What happened to the light entertainment extravanzas. The closest you get to the old music hall format is Live at the Apollo where one comedian follows on from another with a 10 minute routine, what happened to variety?

It is understandable that there have been cutbacks in the production of costly shows but there now seems to be an over-reliance on simple formulaic programmes filling the daytime schedules. Cookery programmes, home improvements, panel shows, game shows and quizzes are cheap to make since they follow a set format and are quick to make. The BBC are as good at making these programmes as anyone else but there seems to be a trend of these programmes crossing over into the peak-time scheduling.

My fear is that the opportunities for new writers and actors is being eroded at a time when public interest in the theatre is on the rise. In the 60s and 70s programmes like The Wednesday Play and Play for Today gave new writers and actors a platform. Writers submitting works for these series included Ian McEwan, John Osborne, Dennis Potter, Stephen Poliakoff, David Hare, Willy Russell, Alan Bleasdale, Alan Plater and Andrew Davies. The producers included the likes of Michael Apted, Lindsay Anderson, Ken Loach, Stephen Frears and Mike Leigh. Thirty-minute Theatre also saw contributions from Dennis Potter, Jack Rosenthal and John Mortimer. Quite apart from some singular notable successes, several ideas were later developed into spin-off series.

Between 1961 and 1975 the BBC also ran a regular series called Comedy Playhouse, a series of half hour one-off comedy shows. The 120 episodes shown across the 16 series spawned 21 sitcom series including Steptoe and Son, Till death us do part, All gas and gaiters, Up Pompeii!, The Liver birds, Not in front of the children, Are you being served? And Last of the Summer wine.

Comedy writers of the quality of Galton and Simpson, Eric Sykes, Spike Milligan, John Sullivan, Dick Clement and Ian la Frenais, David Renwick, Carla Lane, Roy Clarke, Richard Curtis and Ben Elton, David Nobbs, John Cleese, David Croft and Jimmy Perry do not grow on trees. Not all of them were instantly successful though their pedigree now speaks for itself.

There is no set lifetime for a comedy series and longevity is not necessarily a measure of success, only 12 episodes of Fawlty Towers were made, The office (12), Reggie Perrin (21), Some mothers do 'ave 'em (22), Blackadder (24), The Royle family (25), The good Life (30), One foot in the grave (42), Only fools and horses (64), Are you being served? (69), Dad's Army (80), The Liver birds (86), Last of the Summer wine (295).

Compared to that Not going out presently numbers 54 episodes, Outnumbered (34), Miranda (20), Citizen Khan (27), Mrs. Brown's boys (27), The Kumars at no. 42 (53) and Count Arthur Strong (13). I couldn't give you a plot line from any of this list though I give you plenty of them from shows in the previous list.

The questions is in 30 or 40 years time will anyone be watching repeats of Citizen Khan or Count Arthur Strong with the level of affection shown to any of the fore-mentioned, who still regularly top the list of all-time favourite comedy shows.

To me, it is not simply a question of the quality of the writing but also the casting. Nearly all of the great British comedy shows have called on the talents of established theatre actors whereas the modern trend seems to want to produce comic vehicles for comedians which very rarely seems to work. Michael Crawford and Nicholas Lyndhurst were both child actors, Harry H Corbett, Warren Mitchell, Richard Briers and Leonard Rossiter were never comedians, Ronnie Barker and David Jason were character actors, Wendy Craig had been appearing in films throughout the 50s and all the Dad's Army cast came from a theatrical background.

The demands of stand up comedy (being the constant focus of attention) are different from a sitcom, which is often an ensemble piece. Very few people can claim to have been equally talented in standup, sitcom, comedy and straight acting. The only person who comes readily to mind is Robin Williams. The only Brit I can think of who has performed all 4 genres is Lenny Henry though his only claim to fame in a sitcom was the Fosters, in the early days of his career. Alan Davies could possibly tick all 4 boxes though his one outing in a sitcom was dropped after the first series. Eric Sykes is to my mind the most complete package though I don't think he ever did perform standup comedy, despite writing for many of the top comedians over the years.

Back in the 60s the situation was just as tough as it is now, there were only 2 (later to become 3) channels, equipment was heavy and pre-historic by modern standards, the hours of output limited and censorship demands strict. The BBC were even then subject to financial constraints yet they still managed to push the boundaries of what was achievable by being innovative and taking chances. I don't think it is that people are any less creative now simply they are not being given the chance.

Some of the sets in the 60s dramas may have been flimsy and the camera angles may not have been as effective by modern standards but the programmes were far more entertaining than watching a couple from Middle Wallup browsing around a boot fair for 'bargains' that they can sell for a loss at an auction.

The quest for instant success remains the Holy Grail in almost all walks of life, whether it be the next wonder drug, the next Lionel Messi or the next blockbuster movie. The desire is there but the commitment is not. These things do not happen by chance, the narrower your goal the harder it is to hit the target. This is effectively what has been happening for the past 30 years.

How many of the great shows of the past would have seen the light of day in the present circumstances?

A re-introduction of Play for Today, or its equivalent, has been discussed in the past and rejected. The cuts in budgets are hefty and unwelcome but given that they cannot be stopped perhaps this is the time to re-evaluate and look to build for the future. Allow producers to be more experimental, encourage writers to be more creative, forget about viewing figures for a moment and give actors and writers a chance to learn what works and doesn't work on TV.

Humbuggery!!

Sad to see that no expense has been spared with this year's continuity links on BBC2. Half a dozen warblers screeching 2, two, too, to … 2, two, too, to the tune of several traditional seasonal ditties. It isn't even half way through the month and I am already climbing the wall every time the closing credits of a program start to role. I know that the BBC are under severe budgetry constraints but how many media graduates were required to come up with the idea that simply repeating the name of the station ad infinitum would convey the spirit of Christmas.

I would suspect that by the New Year there will be viewers seeking counselling for post traumatic stress having had this wretched tootling bouncing around in their heads for weeks. Remember the days of the Soccer World Cup when the singing or humming of Nessen Dormer was banned from the workplace? These days political correctness would mean that such actions would breach employment law though I think that if colleagues are determined to exercise their right to tootle in the workplace then they should go and join the pariahs in the smoking shed.

I hope that other government agencies are also taking note of the BBC's lead and look forward to seeing similar cut backs at a time when austerity is the key word. Perhaps BoJo will send us each a party popper in place of the New Year Fireworks celebrations. Maybe the Queen could arrive for the State Opening of Parliament on a Tuk-tuk in her onesie and a paper hat. Better still, forget the speech altogether and just send an email.

Given that literacy rates are falling why do we need libraries any more? Why do we need to build more schools and hospitals? We don't have enough teachers and nurses to staff those that we already have. Maybe we can solve the overcrowding in our hospitals by installing bunk beds.

The country are not building enough new homes for us to live in, there aren't enough graves to bury us in and the pressure groups complain that there isn't enough free space for us to enjoy the countryside – Nowhere to live, nowhere to die, I am not sure what the alternative is.

I am guessing that this year's FIFA Christmas party in Switzerland will be the non-event of the year – expect a low turn out especially from the South American delegations. At least Sepp Blatter, will be able to save a few bob on Christmas cards. I don't expect he will be receiving too many in the post either (other than from Russia or Qatar), though he might just get one from the FBI which probably won't be wishing him a prosperous New Year.

Congratulations to Tim Peake on becoming the first British male astronaut, a proud claim to list on one's CV but 6 months on the Russian Space Station is a bit extreme in the Christmas avoidance stakes. Do you think sprouts taste better in space? A question for Heston Blumenthal I think. Personally my choice for avoiding the Christmas mayhem would be to be an England test cricketer. They always seem to spend the festive period in warmer climates, nice hotels playing with their mates. I am available for selection and given their erratic batting performances over recent years would consider that I still have something to offer in the middle order or even at the top of the line-up.

Congratulations also to anyone who had a bet on Leicester being top of the Premier League at Christmas, I suspect only hardened Foxes supporters would have dreamed of that. I wonder what odds you would get on Donald Trump becoming the next US President and Jeremy Corbyn the next British Prime Minister. If that prospect doesn't strike fear into your heart then you really should see a doctor (while there are any left).

Once again the press have been talking up Christmas ever since August, oblivious to the grim events that have taken place over recent months. Barely a day has passed without headlines of global economic crises, immigration concerns, corporate corruption, terrorist atrocities, global warming, Chelsea's demise or falling audience figures for the X-Factor. Never has the festive notion of peace, forgiveness and well being to all mankind been under so much threat, for that reason alone I shall be putting up the decorations, lighting a candle, sipping a toast to absent friends and hoping that a mince pie (or two) will not leave a bad taste in my mouth.

A Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to one and all.

Back to the future too.

I suspect I am not alone is having spent the best part of October glued to the telly watching the Rugby World Cup. Undoubtedly the best 2 teams did meet in the final (even if I do have a certain sympathy for the Scots who were deprived of a historic semi-final place by a poor refereeing decision against the Aussies). Whether the current All Blacks side is the best ever, I am not so sure. They are a great team to watch but so were the Welsh in the 1970s, and there have been a few All Black and Wallaby teams that would also be staking a claim for that accolade.

Given that the final took place at Halloween I was disappointed that the Aussies did not get into to the spirit, I was rather hoping that the Kiwi Haka would be faced off by the Wallabies sporting werewolf hands, neck bolts and vampire teeth.

Two other events in October caught my eye, one being the Welsh soccer team qualifying for a major championship for the first time since 1958 and the other being Back to the Future Day, which as any film fan could tell you is 21^st October 2015.

Sadly, for the England rugby squad it was more back to the drawing board than back to the future. Like their fellow cricketers and footballers they flattered to deceive and suffered a humbling exit from their own world cup due in part to poor discipline and some strange team selections.

The frailty of the cricket team was once more exposed with the lack of a class spinner and inept batting performances taking their toll in every form of the game.

Once again the hype surrounding our footballers is on the rise; as if nothing has been learned from the debacle that was their world cup exit. So they may be top of their pool in the European championship qualifiers and have the only 100% record, but this is hardly the most challenging of groups. Based on present performances which of our superstars, if anyone, could be considered for a place in a Best in the World squad, let alone command a place in a World XI?

There is a huge element of Groundhog Day to our sporting prowess and it unlikely that much could be learned from a Back to the Future experience if the achievements in each sport over the past 30 years was to be honestly evaluated. The games themselves may have evolved and there have been a few major successes during this period but overall our performances at almost every level have failed to keep pace with the changes while other countries have been quicker and better at adapting to them.

Sport aside, it was good to read some of the comments about Back to the Future 2 which, for me, is as watchable today as it was when it was first released. President Obama tweeted to wish everyone a Happy Back to the Future Day and even David Cameron made a lame reference to the film in a jibe at Jeremy Corbin during Prime Minister's Questions in Parliament.

In Houston, Texas, headquarters of the DeLorean Car company fans of the film gathered to pay homage to the creators of the gull-winged car that was adapted for the film.

The film trilogy may have featured flying cars, hoverboards and self tying shoe laces which may not yet be commercially viable but in may other aspects some of the futuristic predictions are now readily available. Video calls have been around for some time and wearable eye glass screens, which have been used by the military for many years are now slowly finding a use in the public marketplace. 3D movies have been around for some time though opinion regarding their effectiveness remains split and fingerprint technology is becoming increasingly useful in many fields.

Flat screen televisions are not disimilar to the roll-up flat screen TV in the McFly living room. The film was spot on with the prediction that these screen would be voice activated, which is now possible using smart technologies. Computer-controlled door locks were also another successful pointer to the future as was the depiction of drones.

A version of the hoverboard is available though it is reliant on a magnetic track to supply the lift. Nike have a patent for the self-tying laces though these remain a distant objective.

In the film Doc is seen throwing rubbish into the car's waste converter to supply it with power. There are a few trials currently testing the use of recycled food waste and sewage to power buses as well as plans to use agricultural waste as a petrol supplement.

One motoring prediction that did not hit the target was barcode numberplates, which sounds like a good idea but is a bit problematic for visual identification of a vehicle if you don't have a scanner to hand.

Perhaps closer to reality is the fact that the cars in the film made very little noise, not unlike the hybrid and electric cars that are now is use.

The film suggested that faxing would play a significant role in our futures. In itself this would seem to have been a strange choice given that the concept of the fax machine had been around since Napoleonic times. It should also be pointed out that the world wide web was created in 1989, the same year that BTTF2 was released, and it would be a further year until Sir Tim Berners-Lee invented the first web browser.

 

I love this sign that appeared on the noticeboard at Waterloo Station.

 

Perhaps less successful with their predictions were the ideas of smart clothing, though this is an area that is currently receiving increasing attention. The film makes use of LED displays on police helmets, technically possible but yet to be adopted by any police authority.

Despite recent advances in weaving technology within different fabrics the possibility of being blown dry by your clothing is likely to remain a distant idyll.

Sadly, many of the thoughts regarding rejuvenation are also likely to remain a distant wish though doubtless millions will continue to search for the holy grail of youthful looks using botox, cosmetic surgery, potions and creams.

The one area that was overlooked completely in the film were the stellar changes to mobile phone technology. Mobile phones were still chunky and expensive back in the 80's and anything but smart.

In hindsight many of these advancements have been fueled by and geared towards consumerism which simply reinforces the belief, if we did not already know it, that progress is driven by the pursuit of money. How many ideas do not make it off the drawing board because the concept is financially unviable.

There is probably more technology on the latest smartphone than there was on the first Apollo spacecraft to land on the moon though for most of us it is simply a toy to enable us to contact our friends and family one way or other, search the internet or take photos.

It is sometimes good to look forward and think of things that we would like to see improved or invented, not everything will be achievable or welcome but that is progress. Part of me wishes that the DeLorean only had a reverse setting, to a time when life was simpler and more fulfilling but there is also that part of me that will always want to know what lies just around the corner, what the next great breakthrough will be and what the future holds for us all.