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Post by slowcoach on May 13, 2016 15:21:18 GMT 2
I am baffled by the apparent incompetence of the UK's EU Referendum "Remain" campaign. It is almost as though they want to loose, but the other lot aren't much different.
What happened to Cameron's Renegotiated Agreement, which he said he would campaign on? Have they found that all mention of immigration is toxic?
I fear that it will end as a plebiscite on just whether or not voters hate all things foreign that aren't tourist destinations or food.
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Post by Baz Faz on May 13, 2016 17:10:53 GMT 2
The Remain campaign is pathetic. Obviously they have been told to scare voters with doom and gloom if the UK votes to leave. There is no positive message about staying. Osborne can't even get his doom-mongering right. He says that leaving the EU would mean house prices falling. I can imagine millions of people who cannot afford a house perking up and deciding to vote Leave.
Mrs Faz and I are firmly in the Remain camp, me mainly for economic reasons, Mrs Faz for political reasons. She felt strongly enough to write a letter to the Times a couple of weeks ago, which the paper duly published.
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Post by slowcoach on Jun 17, 2016 16:10:10 GMT 2
I was surprised by a Leave Campaign TV Advertisement. I get attentive when I see maps with arrows that mark flows of wealth and peoples across national borders presented in a negative light.
I need to say that I have watched rather more propaganda productions than is normal and I can make certain connections which exist in my mind at least.
I wonder if the makers used such maps based on the knowledge that they work, or at least have worked before, or that they thought it a good idea they had had in isolation.
Such propaganda pieces have precedents made during WWII, and differ according to viewpoint. Some made by the Allied Forces, specifically the USA, try to square a circle and not be overtly racist. Some, one in particular, made by the Axis is crudely racist, or rather, specifically anti-Semitic.
After watching the advert, and without comment, I asked my wife what see thought, and see observed that all that was missing was rats crawling on top of each other.
Perhaps it is not as provocative as I make out, but what were they thinking. Here it is (for those who have escaped seeing it):
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Post by OnlyMark on Jun 17, 2016 19:38:14 GMT 2
How accurate is this figure of 350 million per week?
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Post by slowcoach on Jun 17, 2016 20:36:32 GMT 2
How accurate is this figure of 350 million per week? It is all of: accurate, totally misleading, and not very precise. It is the gross figure due (rounded up), which the UK would have to contribute were it not for the rebate (as negotiated by M Thatcher). Then there are the subsidies and development monies that come from EU funds to the UK. Courtesy of The Grauniad: Gross £342m/wk Nett of Rebate £248m/wk Actual £136m/wk As a point of reference the £350m/wk (£17.8b/yr), represents 1% of UK GDP, so the actual net flow of funds is ~0.4% of GDP. |
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Post by auntieannie on Jun 17, 2016 22:30:35 GMT 2
Both campaigns are as bad as each other, lacking facts, rich in slander and scare-mongering.
I suspect all the heads in both sides would personally benefit in case of leave winning. but the country would benefit in remaining.
The EU is no panacea by any means. there are things that need changing there.
The atmosphere is so horrid right now! Such a lot of tension, it is tangible.
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Post by shrjeff on Jun 18, 2016 4:04:59 GMT 2
the one 'positive' aspect is that brits no longer have the right to complain and ridicule americans  (sadly  ) |
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Post by auntieannie on Jun 21, 2016 8:59:27 GMT 2
I finally found this website. it is really rather good: ukandeu.ac.uk/It keeps me awake at night knowing that those who stand to lose the most from leaving the EU are being swayed by the drip-drip poison of a mega-rich man averse to paying taxes. What will happen to the poor, the sick, the disabled, the very old who haven't got the money to pay for their care if we sign away our guarantee to being treated with decency? |
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Post by slowcoach on Jun 21, 2016 15:05:45 GMT 2
What will happen to the poor, the sick, the disabled, the very old who haven't got the money to pay for their care if we sign away our guarantee to being treated with decency?
In the Workhouse Christmas Day by George R. Sims (1877)
It is Christmas Day in the Workhouse,
And the cold bare walls are bright
With garlands of green and holly,
And the place is a pleasant sight:
For with clear-washed hands and faces
In a long and hungry line
The paupers sit at the tables,
For this is the hour they dine.
And the guardians and their ladies,
Although the wind is east,
Have come in their furs and wrappers,
To watch their charges feast:
To smile and be condescending,
Put puddings on pauper plates,
To be hosts at the workhouse banquet
They’ve paid for – with the rates.
Oh, the paupers are meek and lowly
With their 'Thank'ee kindly, mum's';
So long as they fill their stomachs
What matters it whence it comes?
But one of the old men mutters,
And pushes his plate aside:
'Great God!' he cries; 'but it chokes me!
For this is the day she died.'
The guardians gazed in horror
The master's face went white;
'Did a pauper refuse his pudding?'
'Could their ears believe aright?'
Then the ladies clutched their husbands,
Thinking the man might die
Struck by a bolt, or something,
By the outraged One on high.
But the pauper sat for a moment,
Then rose 'mid a silence grim,
For the others has ceased to chatter,
And trembled every limb.
He looked at the guardian's ladies,
Then. eyeing their lords, he said,
'I eat not the food of villains
Whose hands are foul and red:
'Whose victims cry for vengeance
From their dank, unhallowed graves.'
'He's drunk!' said the workhouse master.
'Or else he's mad, and raves.'
'Not drunk or mad,' cried the pauper,
'But only a hunted beast,
Who, torn by the hounds and mangled,
Declines the vulture's feast.
I care not a curse for the guardians,
And I won't be dragged away.
Just let me have the fit out,
It's only Christmas Day
That the black past comes to goad me,
And prey my burning brain;
I'll tell you the rest in a whisper, -
I swear I won't shout again.
'Keep your hands off me, curse you!
Hear me right out to the end.
You come here to see how the paupers
The season of Christmas spend.
You come here to watch us feeding,
As they watch the captured beast.
Hear why a penniless pauper
Spits on your paltry feast.
'Do you think I will take your bounty,
And let you smile and think
You're doing a noble action
With the parish's meat and drink?
Where is my wife, you traitors -
The poor old wife you slew?
Yes, by the God above us
My Nance was killed by you!
'Last winter my wife lay dying,
Starved in a filthy den;
I had never been to the parish, -
I came to the parish then.
I swallowed my pride in coming,
For, ere the ruin came,
I held up my head as a trader,
And I bore a spotless name.
'I came to the parish, craving
Bread for a starving wife,
Bread for a woman who'd loved me
Through fifty years of my life;
And what do you think they told me,
Mocking my awful grief?
That "the House" was open to us,
But they wouldn't give "out relief".
I slunk to the filthy alley -
'Twas a cold, raw Christmas eve -
And the bakers' shops were open
Tempting a man to thieve;
But I clenched my fists together
Holding my head awry,
So I came home empty-handed,
And mournfully told her why.
Then I told her "the House" was open;
She had heard of the ways of that,
For her bloodless cheeks went crimson,
And up in her rags she sat,
Crying, "Bide the Christmas here, John,
We've never had one apart;
I think I can bear the hunger, -
The other would break my heart."
'All through that ever I watched her,
Holding her hand in mine,
Praying the Lord, and weeping
Till my lips were salt as brine.
I asked her once if she hungered
And as she answered "No,"
The moon shone in at the wondow
Set in a wreath of snow
'Then the room was bathed in glory,
And I saw in my darling's eyes
The far-away look of wonder
That comes when the spirit flies;
And her lips were parched and parted,
And her reason came and went,
For she raved of her home in Devon,
Where her happiest days were spent.
'And the accents, long forgotten,
Came back to the tongue once more,
For she talked like the country lassie
I woo'd by the Devon shore.
Then she rose to her feet and trembled,
And fell on the rags and moaned,
And, "Give me a crust - I'm famished -
For the love of God!" she groaned.
I rushed from the room like a madman,
And flew to the workhouse gate,
Crying "Food for a dying woman!"
And came the answer, "Too late."
They drove me away with curses;
Then I fought with a dog in the street,
And tore from the mongrel's clutches
A crust he was trying to eat.
'Back, through the filthy by-lanes!
Back, through the trampled slush!
Up to the crazy garret,
Wrapped in an awful hush.
My heart sank down at the threshold,
And I paused with a sudden thrill,
For there in the silv'ry moonlight
My Nancy lay, cold and still.
'Up to the blackened ceiling
The sunken eyes were cast -
I knew on those lips all bloodless
My name had been the last;
She'd called for her absent husband -
O God! had I but known! -
Had called in vain and in anguish
Had died in that den - alone.
'Yes, there in a land of plenty
Lay a loving woman dead,
Cruelly starved and murdered
For a loaf of parish bread.
At yonder gate, last Christmas
I craved for a human life.
You, who would feast us paupers,
What of my murdered wife!
'There, get ye gone to your dinners;
Don't mind me in the least;
Think of your happy paupers
Eating your Christmas feast;
And when you recount their blessings
In your smug parochial way,
Say what you did for me, too,
Only last Christmas Day.'
The Workhouse System is now long gone but the mediaeval Poor Law was only repealed a few years after WWII.
The solid appearance of civilization is a thin veneer.
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Post by slowcoach on Jun 21, 2016 16:20:57 GMT 2
the one 'positive' aspect is that brits no longer have the right to complain and ridicule americans (sadly ) To partially repeat my last comment: The appearance of civilization is as thin as being but a generation ahead of other less noble nations. |
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Post by slowcoach on Jun 21, 2016 16:39:41 GMT 2
It keeps me awake at night knowing that those who stand to lose the most from leaving the EU are being swayed by the drip-drip poison of a mega-rich man averse to paying taxes. Class is alive and ill in England. It is not a surprise that those with a hatred of plebeians should entice them to their cause by redirecting the hurt felt due to their precarious existence on to a hatred of foreigners. |
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Post by shrjeff on Jun 21, 2016 17:38:12 GMT 2
[/p]
The Workhouse System is now long gone but the mediaeval Poor Law was only repealed a few years after WWII.
The solid appearance of civilization is a thin veneer.
[/quote] from memory: the poor laws were not medieval but elizabethan, 1597 revised 1601... this is the first time a government provided aid to the indigent but required the recipient to be a member of a parish... the goal was to keep the serfs on elizabeth's buddies' estates as cheap labor, thus going to the cities to try to make their fortune would make them ineligible for assistance, effectively tying them to the estates... so one has to read the poem in light of the centrality of parish residency... |
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Post by slowcoach on Jun 21, 2016 18:25:51 GMT 2
from memory: the poor laws were not medieval but elizabethan, 1597 revised 1601... this is the first time a government provided aid to the indigent but required the recipient to be a member of a parish... the goal was to keep the serfs on elizabeth's buddies' estates as cheap labor, thus going to the cities to try to make their fortune would make them ineligible for assistance, effectively tying them to the estates... so one has to read the poem in light of the centrality of parish residency... It had earlier, if tenuous roots, but you are right, although but the first titled "Poor Act" was Tudor (1552), the big one was Elizabethan. But labour law restricting the movement of labour was mediaeval. From Wikipedia:
It followed the Black Death in England 1348/9 and the Peasant's Revolt 1381, and failed by some accounts. [/p][/p] |
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Post by slowcoach on Jun 24, 2016 9:28:44 GMT 2
Welcome to Misoxenia
You`re welcome to it.
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Post by Netsuke on Jul 1, 2016 17:00:39 GMT 2
What will happen to the poor, the sick, the disabled, the very old who haven't got the money to pay for their care if we sign away our guarantee to being treated with decency?
In the Workhouse Christmas Day by George R. Sims (1877)
It is Christmas Day in the Workhouse,
And the cold bare walls are bright
With garlands of green and holly,
And the place is a pleasant sight:
For with clear-washed hands and faces
In a long and hungry line
The paupers sit at the tables,
For this is the hour they dine.
It was Christmas Day in the workhouse The merriest day of the year The paupers and the prisoners Were all assembled there. In came the Christmas pudding When a voice that shattered glass Said, “We don’t want your Christmas pudding So stick it there with the rest of the unwanted presents.” The workhouse master then arose And prepared to carve the duck He said “Who wants the parson’s nose And the prisoners shouted “You have it yourself, sir.” The vicar brought his Bible And read out little bits. Said one old crone at the back of the hall “This man gets on very well with everybody.” The workhouse mistress then began To hand out Christmas parcels. The paupers tore the wrappers off And began to wipe their eyes, which were full of tears. The master rose to make a speech But just before he started The mistress, who was fifteen stone, Gave three loud cheers and nearly choked herself. And all the paupers then began To pull their Christmas crackers. One pauper held his too low down And blew off both his paper hat and the man’s next to him. A steaming bowl of white bread sauce Was handed round to some. An aged gourmet then called aloud “This bread sauce tastes like it was made by a continental chef.” Mince pie with custard sauce was next And each received a bit. One pauper said “The mince pie’s nice But the custard tastes like the bread sauce we had in the last verse!” The mistress dishing out the food Dropped custard down her front. She cried “Aren’t I a silly girl!” And they answered “You’re a perfect picture as always ma’am !” “This pudding “, said the master, “Is solid, hard and thick. How am I going to cut it?” And a man cried, “Use your penknife sir, the one with the pearl handle.” The mistress asked the vicar To entertain his flock. He said, “What would you like to see ?” And they cried, “Let’s see your conjuring tricks, they’re always worth watching.” “Your reverence, may I be excused ?” Said one benign old chap. “I don’t like any conjuring tricks. I’d sooner have a carol or two around the fire” So then they all began to sing Which shook the workhouse walls. “Merry Christmas!” cried the master, And the inmates shouted “Best of luck to you as well sir!” |
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Post by slowcoach on Apr 18, 2018 9:36:30 GMT 2
That which is going on in the UK, is truly shameful.
Just the sort of behaviour that typified other, thought of as lesser, countries; or so we are prone to believe.
The Nastis have been at it again, pursuing their racist agenda at the expense of both the individual and immigrant groups as a whole.
The scale of the current atrocity is still to be revealed but the brutality of the methods is quite clear.
Pause for one moment to ask: If this is how we are going to treat our own citizens, how will we treat foreign immigrants in the coming years?
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Post by OnlyMark on Apr 18, 2018 11:01:24 GMT 2
You mean the "Windrush" situation?
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Post by slowcoach on Apr 18, 2018 12:54:43 GMT 2
Yep!
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Post by slowcoach on Apr 19, 2018 20:58:49 GMT 2
From the yesterday's Order of Business (House of Lords) a pre-tables question from a government peer:
I couldn't make it up!
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Post by slowcoach on Apr 30, 2018 11:50:57 GMT 2
Damn,
There is a narrative of geography, history, politics that links current, recent, past events.
What has Grenfell Tower got to do with "Scandal", Cable Street, Teddy Boys, Windrush, Allosemitism, Blacks, Dogs & Irish, Orgreave, Jarrow, Brexit, Mosely, Nasti Party, Northern Defeat, Southern Hegemony, Carnival, Empire, ... ?
There is also a counter linking of events, a faux liberal rosy reading, that has displaced it.
Damn.
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Post by auntieannie on Apr 30, 2018 18:05:12 GMT 2
And at least nasty amber has had to step down. Wish the others were forced out as well.
And what do you make of social media's interference in politics?
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Post by slowcoach on May 2, 2018 9:30:47 GMT 2
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Post by slowcoach on Sept 20, 2018 10:04:16 GMT 2
Missive from the "Hostile Environment" Front:
Once a Great Nation.
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Post by slowcoach on Dec 11, 2023 12:26:08 GMT 2
My wife received a missive regarding a school class reunion her friend attended. The six attendees, would be aged about eighty and are from Southeast England.
her friend expressed her unease at just how racist the other five were.
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Post by Scrubb on Dec 12, 2023 1:45:30 GMT 2
Depressing.
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Post by auntieannie on Dec 17, 2023 23:11:04 GMT 2
and now this:
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Post by slowcoach on Dec 18, 2023 10:21:51 GMT 2
Thanks
For me, the best bit is the last third which covers all the quietly announced corrections to the policy.
Perhaps more sinister is the abolition of working age disability. They are reclassified as workshy. My paraphrasing, this is not the official terminology,
Unemployment due to Working aged disability used be quite steady or declining but since the the start of 2020 the workshy count has been increasing by 10,000 a month on average, and no one seems to know why. Perhaps they should be asked.
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Post by Netsuke on Jan 10, 2024 11:43:46 GMT 2
Reading the word Misoxenia, one could be forgiven for thing it is a garden weed. It just sounds like a garden weed!
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Post by Baz Faz on Jan 10, 2024 11:48:56 GMT 2
Reading the word Misoxenia, one could be forgiven for thing it is a garden weed. It just sounds like a garden weed! I thought it was killing rabbits. |
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Post by Voy on Jan 10, 2024 15:30:45 GMT 2
what Baz said, especially for Aussies.
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(sadly 
)
