Biting the Hand That Feeds

Seriously, go complain about something else

According to the United Nations’ refugee agency, the UNHCR, 7,165 men, women and children live in the Mavrovouni camp, a rudimentary facility of tents overlooking the sea. It was constructed in a matter of days after fires gutted Moria, the island’s holding centre, displacing about 12,500 people overnight. Since the blazes, more than 5,000 asylum seekers have been transferred to the mainland.

Sounding the alarm in November, Human Rights Watch said authorities had failed to carry out comprehensive lead testing or soil remediation before moving migrants to the EU-funded temporary site, which was a firing range from 1926.

We’re supposed to carry out those long and expensive tests and recoveries in an emergency?

To argue that the place isn’t perfect and perhaps it should be moved is fine. To whinge about not spending three months testing when things have to be done now is not.

And He Calls Himself a Literary Editor?

Sam Leith:

Personally, I\’d think primary school children would be rather better off starting on Spike Milligan\’s charming Ning Nang Nong than The Rime of the Ancient Mariner or Daffodils. The first joy of poetry is in its sound-effects – which is why kids love silly rhymes and limericks. It introduces the idea of language as play.

Clearly the young shaver doesn\’t actually know his Spike from his elbow. The finest piece of poetry produced in the 20 th century was indeed by the aforementioned Mr. Milligan, but it\’s not Ning Nang Nong, rather:

A thousand hairy savages

Sitting down for lunch

Gobble gobble, glup glup,

Munch, munch, munch.

I ask you, the young of today, eh?