Oh, Jeremy Corbyn?

Having now returned from Glastonbury I’m working through writing a blog about my fun in the sun, but in hitting the part where I talk about Jeremy Corbyn addressing the huge crowd at the Pyramid Stage on the Saturday, I discovered it was taking a life of it’s own.

That wee speck on the stage in the distance is Corbyn. This is from the disabled platform from the top of the field and gives you a size of the scale of the crowd which was simply huge for an afternoon audience. For a wee while there seemed a sense of hope from many in that crowd as Corbyn represents a ‘newer, gentler’ politics and tens of thousands chanted Corbyn’s name.

At this point I felt a wee shudder of depression as I’d seen this sort of adulation before with the SNP and voiced concern with that back in November 2014. Although like Sturgeon and Salmond, I admire much of Corbyn’s personal politics (except on Scotland and Brexit but more on those in a sec) the idea of the leader as that of a personality cult isn’t good for politics and one of the reasons I’ve shied away from supporting the SNP, though I did vote for them in June because of an excellent local candidate. In fact Ian Dunt makes many good points about the problems with the cult of Corbyn here.

I look at people chanting ‘Oh JEREMY CORBYN’ and see people not in control of their critical faculties. That’s a dangerous thing for a politician to see because it means it doesn’t just feed their ego it means they think they can do things purely for the benefit of their vocal support and this brings me to Brexit. Corbyn is a Brexiter. We know this and last night there was a vote in the Commons that ensured that Jeremy Corbyn is willing to sacrifice jobs for votes because his position of leaving the EU’s single market means jobs will be lost and a form of austerity imposed because Corbyn needs Labour voters in the North of England to remain loyal so it means he’s putting restricting immigration ahead of jobs. A shufty at social media sees Corbynites tying themselves in knots trying to defend Corbyn’s ”jobs first Brexit’ which would see him ‘having the same access to the single market and customs union we have now’. Sounds fine but it’s just a big a load of shite as when Boris Johnson, Nigel Farage and Michael Gove said we’d have this last year.

However because Corbyn is a pretty decent bloke and seems to have a soul he can’t be pushing an ideology that’s going to damage so many people’s lives who were chanting his name last weekend in a field in Somerset? Well, yes, because as an old acolyte of Tony Benn he’s always despised the EU and the only way he’ll be able to renationalise on the scale he wants is out the EU. If that means a decade at least of people struggling then because Marxist theory sees the struggle as a noble goal in itself the ends will justify the means.So Corbyn was vague about Brexit during the election campaign and gave politician answers on the times he was pushed because he knows his plans are as damaging as the Tory plans. Sure the end result may well be a better place but the getting there will have hurt and hurt badly.

Then there’s Corbyn’s words and actions about Scotland. I find it extraordinary that south of the border Corbyn comes over a pretty decent bloke, but the minute he passes Gretna he turns into a giant cock. He talks of an ‘unnecessary’ second independence referendum but his position on Brexit leaves us with no choice because Jeremy Corbyn’s Brexit policy would wreck Scotland. I’m not saying independence would be easy, it wouldn’t, but the position with the two major Westminster parties is losing free movement, the single market and customs union. The argument now is in the shape of the world after the 1st April 2019 as to whether we’re fucked and the government won’t care (Tories) or we’re fucked and the government will be a wee bit sad about it (Labour).

In a representative democracy 48% of the UK electorate are not being represented, the people of Scotland are being told they don’t have a choice and everyone is trying hard to pretend this might not unleash hell in Northern Ireland. The only voices being heard are those of the Brexiters and their opportunist lapdogs like Ruth Davidson, the rest of us are open eyed in horror as now uncritical Corbyn supporters jump into bed with the Brexiters to defend Corbyn because all critical thinking is gone and this is what their echo chamber tells them to do.

So was I inspired listening to Corbyn last week? No. Am I concerned by him? In relation to how his policies would hurt Scotland; you can be damn right I am. Do I think he offers a chance to people in England? Possibly, but unless you all stop the football chants, stop celebrating the fact he lost another election but boosted his position in the party (people are not having better lives because Labour won Kensington) and tell me how things can get better when his Brexit policy puts everything at risk I will carry on treating Corbyn with a critical eye because frankly, many on the left need to do just that otherwise we’re rubber stamping a different sort of austerity

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The magnificent world of David Lynch

The return of Twin Peaks has been a pretty wonderful affair that’s managed to mix the mystery of the plot with the quirky weirdness with whatever is in David Lynch’s head to produce something unlike any television probably produced on either side of the Atlantic this century.

In an era where the cliffhanger is king and ‘Netflix and chill’ is the mantra, the idea of a television series that doesn’t just tell a story, doesn’t just work as a piece of art, but pushes the medium in a way that it rarely has ever been pushed. Episode 8 of Twin Peaks starts following the ongoing plotline with the evil Dale Cooper and his scheming, but then it takes a turn around 15 minutes into the episode after this Nine Inch Nails song.

Now I suggest watching the episode in its entirety because it is simply a spectacular bit of television, especially after the above song where Lynch totally cuts loose and pours his visuals on our stinging eyes and because we’ve been starved of watching art we soak it all up.

See as much as programmes like The Walking Dead, Breaking Bad, Preacher and the likes are all entertaining, even artistic explorations into the world they inhabit but they don’t push it and don’t push the expectations of the medium as it stands. We know most episodes will end in some sort of cliffhanger or question that will be answered next episode because you’ve got to keep people watching. With Twin Peaks Lynch doesn’t give a fuck about cliffhangers or how television should be so we get insanely long takes of people sweeping floors or Nine Inch Nails popping up or the 45 minutes of episode 8 after the aforementioned NIN song. I can safely say that my favourite film/TV moment of the year so far is the eighth episode of Twin Peaks as it is so unique, so bizarre yet does so much with the confines of the medium that watching it again I was stunned by what Lynch managed to do as much as I was the first time.

And what was so glorious is that what is essentially a series of art films and images strung together to make an experimental narrative told a story and even then every single expectation you have as a viewer is subverted and played with to the point when it ends you want more not because there’s a cliffhanger, but because you know you’re watching something so special that you have to see what Lynch does next. Too often on television a creator is given total freedom and we end up with a crushing disappointment but this isn’t the case. This is brilliance and I want to see how Lynch tops all of this and that’s the best sort of artistic cliffhanger.

Coming Down

I have returned to Glasgow after a week away at Glastonbury and a quick visit to Bristol. I am knackered, worn out and need more sleep so hold on tight for a big Glastonbury 2017 blog as other priorities take their place.

I will say it was needed, and it was splendid. In fact, I could do it all over again. In maybe a week but not right now as I feel tired and emotional..

Not a great year in terms of lineup but the crowd were fantastic this year, barring the odd wanker. Roll on 2019!

The road to Glastonbury 2017

If you’re reading this then I’ll be well on my way from Glasgow, and in fact I’ll have been in Bristol since Monday evening, Easyjet permitting. I’m fully stocked up on my drugs too.

So let’s all enjoy Glastonbury in what promises to be a hot, dryish one and if you’re coming down don’t be a dick and leave a mess like last time.

So, of course expect a blow by blow account once I’m back in Glasgow and the festival is over until the next one in 2019, that’s right, 2018 is a fallow year so this is going to be a good one…

Glastonbury Man: BBC documentary from 2000

It’s that time of the year where many of us look to a field in Somerset as it is the time of year for the Glastonbury Festival. This year I’m returning after a brief intermission for nearly dying twice in 2016 and I couldn’t be happier.

I’ve written in detail about all the previous festivals I’ve attended (just search Glastonbury in the bar above) since 1992 but as we get ready for this year’s festival lets look back to the year 2000 where modem’s burred and chirruped as we went online, 911 was just a number, Scottish independence was an unrealistic dream, UKIP were a pathetic joke, and Tony Blair was still a cunt.

The 2000 festival is something of a landmark. It is the last pre ‘superfence’ festival and therefore the last festival that felt like the one I first attended in 1992 some eight years earlier. it was a festival that marked 30 years since the first one and in many ways closed the book on that era when the festival could still claim to be counter-cultural. It was also the third year of the BBC televising it and before the festival they produced an excellent wee documentary about Michael Eavis which is simply glorious.

Enjoy and I’ll see you all in a field in Somerset…

Europe is our playground

Tomorrow the UK and EU will engage in Brexit negotiations which is like trying to negotiate with an accountant about what part of your body needs to be cut off needlessly while Nigel Farage sits laughing and wanking over pictures of Donald Trump in the background. We’re seeing a government with no plan, no clue and in the wake of a disastrous election result and the fallout from Grenfell. For a skilled, strong leader this would be tough. For someone like Theresa May this will be impossible.

Yet the political landscape is that most parties are now talking only of the least shittest outcome or a ‘soft Brexit’ as it’s called. It’ll still hurt, inflict poverty and have austerity for a generation, and that means politicians of most parties are trying to sell it. Here’s journalist J.J patrick pulling up Jeremy Corbyn’s latest Tweet about how a soft Brexit will be a world of soft absorbent puppies and gold coins.

Brexit is going to cost. It’s already cost us an estimated ¬£100 million, and as Patrick says, hard and soft is an irrelevant distinction. If I cut your leg off with a razor sharp blade or an old rusty sword, one might be better and quicker in the short term but both leave you without a leg.

So we face Brexit negotiations starting tomorrow with both main UK wide parties in favour of a massive act of self-harm that will bring upon us crushing and lasting poverty for the most vulnerable yet people on the left and right carry on for ideological reasons. Never has the phrase ‘may you live in interesting times‘ felt like a curse.

Scotland’s sense of ‘we just can’t’ has to be overcome

The other day on Twitter I had an interesting chat in regards a painful part of the Scottish character prompted by this post.

There’s a Scottish character trait that is self-defeating, which is bad, but what’s worse is that trait is made with because we make mythology of glorious failure. From the numerous failed¬† World Cup campaigns, through to failing life expectancies, Scotland accepts its fate like a condemned man walking down the corridor to the gas chamber. We’ve been inbuilt to accept our fate and to accept failure as ‘well, that’s how it is’.

It’s one of the things that made me leave Scotland in 1988. I couldn’t accept a future where my lot in life is accepted as ‘how it’s supposed to be’ because my ambition was curtailed in a social and cultural way. Things have changed to be fair but that attitude of just accepting what life has given you still persists, and although things like the independence campaign has energised people we still have politicians coming out with lines such as ”Scots are not genetically programmed to make political decisions”.

On coming back to Scotland I see this attitude challenged, mainly with younger people who’ve not had Labour or any other part of the Scottish establishment drill into them their depressing poison but things are still slow moving and this attitude keeps people unthinking, and worse, people in poverty or suffering because they’ve been told all their life to just shut up and suck it up.

Fuck. That. We have to change and we have to do it sooner rather than later.