£6.50 an hour Amazon pays in South Wales.
Guess who else takes on seasonal temps? Yup, Royal Mail.
Paying £6.45 an hour in Swindon.
Amazon are bastards and Royal Mail’s a national treasure that shouldn’t have been sold off.
Let’s take all of these myths in turn. Britain’s social housing stock remains large, accounting for 18pc of all homes. True, this is down sharply from 32pc in 1981, with around 1.8m homes privatised under the Right to Buy policy. But the experience of other European countries shows that the Government doesn’t need to build and own homes itself to make sure that the needy have accommodation – it is far better to allow the private sector to build enough low-cost lodgings by getting the planning rules right, and for the Government to focus on directly helping those that require assistance. If there is a plentiful supply of property, and thus lower rents, the cost to the taxpayer need not escalate uncontrollably, as it has done in the UK.
ust 17pc of homes in Francois Hollande’s socialist France are social housing, less than in the UK. In Germany, it accounts for just 5pc of homes. Ditto in Italy. In Belgium, it’s 7pc; in Ireland, 8pc; and in Finland, 16pc. Even Sweden, the place where British Leftists used to go on pilgrimage before they pioneered for-profit free schools, only relies on social housing for 17pc of homes, also less than us. Almost wherever one looks in Europe – and the source for these figures is the Dutch ministry of the interior’s housing statistics in the European Union 2010 – one finds that social housing is much less important than it is in the UK.
Only three European economies rely more on social housing than we do: the Netherlands, where it accounts for 32pc of all homes, Austria at 23pc and Denmark at 19pc.
Most interesting, I hadn’t realised all of that.
Oxford Brookes University gets in a flap over students’ partridge-plucking exploits
Descendants of Clive of India and the man who led the charge at the Peterloo Massacre are among undergraduates who ruffled authorities’ feathers
There does have to be a place where the dimmer children of toffs go to hang out for a few years. Seems it’s changed since I were a lad: used to be Cirencester Ag college, now it’s Oxford Brookes.
How nice to see that while times and fashions change some things remain the same.
Circulating the light-hearted pictures of a child dressed in a water melon costume on Monday, Lord Sugar wrote: ‘The kid in the middle is upset because he was told off for leaving the production line of the iPhone 5.’
Jaysus, Mary and Jossph, this isn’t racism you damn fools.
Police contacted the complainant twice, urging her to make a statement at a police station, which she eventually did, and yesterday police confirmed that officers from Merseyside’s Hate Crime Investigation Unit took several days to decide whether a crime had been committed by the Labour peer’s tweet.
However, the remark was in the end classed as a ‘hate incident’ – which means no further action will be taken, although details will be kept on file.
Can we hanbg them all, including the police, for wasting police time?
Britain needs its own plan of affirmative action to stamp out generations of racial injustice and to stop the gap getting even worse, the veteran American civil rights leader the Rev Jesse Jackson has said.
Jackson is touring Britain to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Dr Martin Luther King’s “I have a dream” speech about racial justice in the US, which inspired people around the world and galvanised opinion to end segregation.
Jackson told the Guardian that successive British governments have failed to stamp out racial discrimination, meaning ethnic minorities have been denied justice.
He dismissed claims that enough people can succeed on their own merit without additional government measures to overcome historical disadvantages. Jackson said Britain needed its own affirmative action plan to overcome disadvantages passed down the generations such as lack of access to capital and being locked out of centres of power.
Look, I’m sorry, but we’ve our own method of dealing with this. It’s called sex.
We’ve integrated generation after generation of immigrants over the millennia and the way we do so has always been the same. People have sex with each other and their children are therefore of mixed background. That whole stew of mixed backgrounds is what becomes the British (or if you prefer, the English). The current inter-marriage (umm, well, these days, not really marriage but having children with) for Afro-Caribbeans in England is something extraordinary like 30%. That is, 30% have their children with someone (or someones) who is not themselves Afro-Caribbean.
It really doesn’t take that many generations of this sort of thing before the entire country is a tiny tad towards the cafe au lait colour and no one notices anything else at all.
And despite all this talk about how the British aren’t really very good at this sex stuff we do seem to have worked out how to use it to get along, as above.
But our European neighbours also learn English in large numbers, and soon the only monoglots left will be British. A monolingual society in Britain is no more likely to be successful than those that exist in the Amazon jungle and New Guinea. The upper classes will presumably continue to cultivate languages because elites know how to reproduce themselves (the present cabinet is the most polyglot in recent history). But schools are failing everybody else by not insisting that a far larger proportion of the rising generation acquire a good knowledge of at least one foreign tongue.
The one no one ever seems to have an answer to is, OK, but which foreign language?
And no, from bitter personal experience I will not accept the answer that having learnt some of one then learning some of another is easier. It ain\’t.
So, let\’s work from personal experience here. As a child I learnt a little bit of Italian. Only a bit mind. Then at school some French. Very much schoolboy French but it\’s enough that if I go and actually stay in France then after a couple of weeks I\’m just about able to tell a joke in a pub. This ain\’t fluency by any means.
Then I worked in Russia for a time. Learnt enough Russian to have business meetings in the language but not the social language. I can\’t discuss Dostoyevsky in Russian for example. But then I can\’t do that in English either. Living in Portugal has given me supermarket Portuguese. I can get my meat cut the right way, order bottles of gas etc. But I actually live and work in English so no more than that. And now I\’m in Czech and German. I actually find the former easier (although I\’m told that I speak my few words of it with a terrible Russian accent that doesn\’t go down well) and the latter, well, sorry, I just don\’t get it at all. I can, for example, count in Czech but not in German.
So, to those who insist that I should have learnt a language other than English properly. Which one? Over the past 50 years, which one should I have put the couple of thousand hours of study into? That couple of thousand hours which is necessary (ie, that\’s a full working year) to gain some reasonable level of fluency? I would assume that no one at all thinks I should have tried to learn all six.
Or, more pithily, if the English must learn another language, which fucking one?
Vicky Pryce, who was jailed for taking speeding points for her ex-husband Chris Huhne, has been stripped of an official honour. In this she joins the ranks of Fred Goodwin, Idi Amin and Kim Philby. Others, like Conrad Black and Jeffrey Archer, have kept theirs. Is the decision right?
Sigh. Black and Archer are peers. We do not have a system which allows someone to be stripped of a peerage. You can execute them and they\’ll still be peers right up to the moment that severed head falls into the basket. You can then prevent anyone inheriting that title.
But you can\’t take away a peerage.
Shortly before D-Day Trautmann was transferred to France to train new recruits. He fought in several desperate delaying actions across France, and then at Arnhem; by now he had been awarded two Iron Crosses and promoted to corporal.
While regrouping in the German town of Kleve, he was buried alive for three days when the Allies bombed a school where his unit was billeted; most of his comrades were killed.
In the confusion that preceded the fall of the Reich, Trautmann decided to make for Bremen. Briefly held by the Americans, he was finally taken prisoner by a British signals unit whose soldiers greeted him with: “Hello Fritz, would you like a cup of tea?” His lifelong love affair with Britain began at that moment.
Weird, but perhaps not so bad:
“My education only began the day I arrived in England,” Trautmann recalled. “People were so kind and decent, they didn’t see an enemy prisoner, they saw a human being. The British made me what I am … When I visit Germany, they say to me: \’Be honest, you’re English through and through’. And I’m mighty proud so to consider myself. I come back four or five times a year and always think \’Great, I’m home.’”
His sons, meanwhile, are princes of Tatler: profligate and ignorant, they inhabit a remote Chelsea pond. Harry is known primarily for inheriting the jocular racism of his grandfather. He once called a fellow soldier \”our little Paki friend\”; and what great-grandson of George VI would be so stupid as to wear a Nazi uniform as fancy dress? William just seems desperately unhappy, an anxious sacrifice too befuddled by his destiny to grasp its needs or meaning. We read of £4,000-a-night hotel suites; of £250,000 dresses; of publicly owned helicopters taking detours to amuse the princes and their friends. Last Saturday the princes attended a wedding; an RAF Sea King appeared and circled the castle. (The Ministry of Defence said there was no detour.) This is not forgivable expenditure. This is the wages of unthinking entitlement and mindless greed.
They\’re actually doing what people rather expect young princes to do aren\’t they? One has gone to war, as his Uncle did, the other flies search and rescue. All rather feudal, that there are princes, that they do this military stuff. But all rather according to the script as well, isn\’t it?
Calm down everyone. This is Radstock we\’re talking about.
My brother\’s just spent near a decade doing food and logisitics n\’stuff for the Americans in Afghanistan, including long spells in Helmland etc.
He once turned down the offer of a pub at peppercorn rent in Radstock. Too violent a place you see.
Britain is a deeply divided country. Inner London is the richest part of the entire European Union, while Cornwall and Wales benefit from the regional aid dispensed by Brussels.
As John B often points out if you took London out of the picture then inequality in hte UK would be entirely normal. For, without London, the UK is an entirely boring Northern European economy. London is part of that Great Global economy and that\’s where a lot of the recorded inequality comes from.
And as I like to point out, if we actually adjusted incomes for costs, most especially house prices in London, then a lot of UK inequality again disappears. Precisely because of this dominance of London consumption inequality is very, very, much lower than income inequality.
\”the goddammed English got their heads up their ass\”.
It does rather explain the place, doesn\’t it?
Slam! That’s the sound of doors banging shut on my fantasies. I’d long dreamt of spending what I refer to euphemistically as “the next phase of my life” in a sun-splashed Mediterranean villa, feasting on a diet of olive oil, pasta and Campari, sending postcards to envious oldies stuck here. In this Somerset-Maugham-meets-The-Best-Exotic-Marigold-Hotel scenario, I would be tanned and lithe from swimming and tennis; and blissfully laid-back, my only concern the Vespas roaring beneath my balcony.
I nursed this dream so lovingly that the only question in my mind was whether I would plump for the Costa or Cortona. No more. First Spain, now Cyprus, have sunk into desperate straits; Italy looks as if it could go the way of its neighbours. The derailing of the southern economies has cheated tens of thousands of Britons of their investments, and millions of our dreams.
Crashing economies and falling property prices make your expat dream cheaper you fool.
You can get a two bed pied a terre a little inland from the Algarve (say, 12 km in) for maybe €60 k these days. That\’s a house BTW, not an apartment. €150k and up will buy you a three bed house w/garden.
Something I noticed when living on the West Coast of your delightful land. Accents don\’t really change very much over distance. It is indeed different in some of the urban areas of the east, but out west there\’s not much change.
The UK is somewhat different:
Miss Ridley says her favourite saying is \’now then\’, meaning \’hello\’.
\’People up here have no idea what you mean and say, \”ah, you mean \’Aal reet,\”\’ she said.
\’Some of the dictionary isn\’t actual words, it\’s things like we might say \”tortured\” meaning \”pester\”, whereas up here it\’s the more serious word.
\’The other thing is we\’d say, \”shot us that over here\”, for \’throw that over here.
\’Up here, they\’d say \”hoy it ower here\”.\’
That\’s the difference in only 40 miles of distance, between two industrial towns up in the NE of England.
And there are plenty of parts of the country where the accent (if not so much the slang) will change almost violently over a distance of perhaps a mile or two. Inhabitants of my native Bath will know what I mean if I mention Twerton and Moorland\’s Road for example. Can\’t be more than two miles between them but the accent is very different indeed.
The data is likely to deepen concerns about the widening gulf between the capital’s “bubble” economy and the rest of the country. Between 2007 and 2011, London’s economy grew by 12.4pc, despite the painful impact of the financial crisis on the City.
That rate compared to growth elsewhere which ranged between 2.3pc in the East Midlands to 6.8pc in the South West, the Office for National Statistics (ONS) said. The South East, boosted by proximity to London, was close behind at 6.4pc.
The British economy is largely explained by it being mostly middle ranking, middle performance, northern European with a giant bolus of the outperforming global economy in the middle, in London.
That\’s just what it is. Shrug.
Queen forced to cancel trip to Swansea after being struck down with suspected gastroenteritis
For the last 156 years the Britannia Coconut Dancers have blackened their faces and donned skirts for their annual dance through the Lancashire town of Bacup to ward off evil spirits in a tradition recalling the area’s mining history.
The Nutters’ dance traditionally takes place on Easter Saturday over a 12-hour period, taking in various pubs and locations in Bacup.
There is one part that does not ring true though:
After taking legal advice, the group refused to pay and vowed to proceed with the event with or without the co-operation of the local authorities.
Following a month-long stand-off, the authorities have now backed down.
Bureaucrats? Backing down? Has the revolution already happened and no one told me about it?
And it shows up one of the oft unappreciated details of the way that the \”life in service\” worked. It wasn\’t actually a life at all.
Florence Georgina Copeland was born on December 8 1912 in West Ham, London, the daughter of a Billingsgate fish porter who was killed in the Great War. Having taken Flo and her younger brother to live at Wells-next-the-Sea in Norfolk, her mother remarried and had three more daughters.
Aged 16, Flo went to London, where she found work as a kitchen maid
So she enters service in 1928 or so.
In 1940 she married Robert Wadlow,
Which was the end of her life in service.
There were those who stayed in all their lives, yes. Those who became butlers and housekeepers for example. But for the majority of servants it was a period of life: almost, if I dare say it, an apprenticeship. There were indeed a couple of million servants around the turn of the last century. But not a couple of million who were simply servants all their lives: rather, a very decent chunk of the population passed through service for some number of years.
Very different from how we normally think of it.
In from our Antipodean evidence collection branch:
The Dutch themselves regarded the whole thing with delighted astonishment. They marvelled that, at such a time, Heads of Departments and members of the Board of Admiralty should amuse themselves writing rhymes and deal with a serious matter in such an apparently frivolous way. One of the Dutch officers commented, \”No wonder the English win wars\”!
A report has come in from the Soemba,
That their salvoes go off like a Rhumba,
Two guns, they sound fine,
But the third five point nine,
He am bust and refuse to go boomba.
D. of P. and D.G.D. referred for information
D.D.O.D.(M) added to the marking as a mark of courtesy.
Director of Operations Division (Foreign)
Desperate but not serious, eh?
After school tutors priced out the grasp of middle class parents
Middle class parents who want to prepare their children for school entrance tests face being priced out of the market by the super-wealthy who are willing to do \”almost anything\” to secure the best tutors.
I do tend to think that this sort of thing is what really drives the urban bien pensant hatred of inequality.
Very little to nothing to do with the gap between the hoi polloi and the upper middle classes that are the movers and shakers in the worlds of the professions, arts, journalism and NGOs. Rather, the yawning gap between those movers and shakers, who are of course as movers and shakers entitled to the very best the world can offer, and those who do something productive with their lives like banking, captains of industry and entrepreneurs.
It\’s the gap between the 10% and the 1% that drives the anger, not that between the 90 and the 10.
As an example, I seem to recall that Joan Bakewell has a decent house in Mayfair (mebbe Belgravia) bought decades ago off an arts journalist\’s income. Laurie Penny just ain\’t gonna be able to repeat that particular purchase. Polly ditto, a very decent indeed Georgian in Clapham. A Guardian salary (even a Polly style one) simply would not allow such a purchase these days.
Which leads to a prediction: if that 1%, or 0.1%, could be brought back to earth then they\’d be happy and sod the workers.
Or, how dare those horrible people in trade make so much more than we who are vastly more important, the intellectuals and thinkers of society, the natural aristocracy?