POST EARLY FOR CHRISTMAS! At the time of writing this, it may already be too late to ensure your annual Yuletide Greetings arrive by Christmas Day. The Royal Mail struggles to cope with the mountain of letters and packets that have accumulated in vast warehouses around the country, as a result of continued industrial action. Intransigent unions, spiralling debts, incompetent management and a failing service – watched over helplessly by a dying government – all have combined to bring this once proud flagship organisation to its knees.
There are many similarities between this dispute and that of the Fleet Street and Wapping printers over thirty years ago. Like the Royal Mail, the newspaper industry had a long tradition of ‘Spanish Practices’ where many employees enjoyed working less hours than they were actually paid for, whilst managers turned a blind eye, until this inevitably became financially unsustainable. This had gone on for several decades until it was seen as normal custom and practice, very much as it has become in the Royal Mail, the only difference being that the printers were paid astronomical wages compared with postal workers. And like the Royal Mail, any manager having the nerve to ask employees to work the full shift they were paid for, was accused of bullying tactics. Quite honestly, having seen some of the ugly union characters chosen to man the picket lines in both these disputes, I would suggest the bullying came from the shop floor union representatives fighting to protect outmoded practices. This is a pity really, because most of us see our postie as a friendly face to greet us each day and bears no relation to the militant yobs we see on our TV screens. If ‘modernisation’ means requiring workers to fully complete their paid shifts, then I fail to see the argument, especially at this time of high unemployment and very few jobs to be had.
Because of the similarity between the printers and the postal workers disputes, I feel bound to remind them of what happened at Wapping in the seventy’s. An obscure Australian multi-millionaire Rupert Murdoch took on the powerful print unions and won. He sacked all the printers and replaced them with non-union workers on his own terms. Yes there were riots at the factory gates with mounted police taking part in bloody exchanges with militants, who thought they had the God-given right to their jobs. Eventually their leaders capitulated and calm was restored when it was obvious this was one battle they weren’t going to win. And peace has remained throughout the printing industry ever since that historic time. I only mention this because I don’t want to see my friendly postie being led into oblivion by self-serving militant union leaders who are dinosaurs from another age - and another ‘foreigner’ emerging and sacking the lot of them.
Let us hope that by the time you read this, common sense will have prevailed
WAS THERE ANYTHING more cringe-making than Sarah Brown’s contrived introduction to her husband’s speech at the Labour Party Conference? She confided in delegates how much she loved him and his quirky ways, even if the rest of us don’t.
I couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for this grown-up man having to sit there among his peers and listen to such heart-wrenching guff, even if he might have been in on it? Most boys will recall the embarrassment of their mother’s turning up at the school gate when they came out surrounded by their mates, or being collected from their first disco at the unearthly hour of 9 pm, to ensure they didn’t get up to any mischief. And it’s not unusual to observe boys walking several paces behind their parents in public, with their heads bowed low, in case they are unfortunately seen by someone who knows them. Maybe Gordon Brown was different and was not so keen to show his youthful independence.
This latest political charade had me thinking. Just suppose Peter Mandelson should at some time become Prime Minister, as some commentators suggest; do you think his Brazilian male companion will turn-up at a future Labour Party Conference to give him a glowing introduction before his debut speech? Just a thought!
DON’T YOU FIND it strange how politicians have such short memories? This might have something to do with the fact they are much younger these days, a bit like policemen! I only mention this because the government has raised the idea of supervised hostels for teenage single mothers, as if this was something new. Don’t they know that such establishments existed in Victorian times and in fact there was a Mother & Baby Home in Erith as recently as the 1960’s. Long before the first high street charity shop, this was where we donated any unwanted clothing, prams and other useful items, until the State took over their welfare with generous housing and funds from the taxpayer. I realise that today’s ministers have selectively ignored Britain’s past, as if it never existed (unless it is to apologise for slave labour 300 years ago), but surely there is someone among their army of advisers who could inform them that their latest bright idea is nothing of the sort.
MY HEART SANK when I read of Pope Benedict XVI planning to visit Britain in 2010.
This reaction had nothing to do with any religious belief, so Catholic readers can relax.
It was the painful reminder that I was among those who suffered a financial calamity when Pope John Paul II visited these isles in 1982. My company was commissioned to produce and distribute the Official Guide for his arrival in Canterbury. Charles Forte also had the catering concession for this venue. Many thousands of copies of this highly prestigious publication were produced and our sellers were directed with military precision to their positions around the area. Likewise, thousands of hot dogs and burgers sizzled away in readiness for the vast crowd that would be witnessing the Pontiff’s arrival by helicopter in the designated field on that Saturday morning.
I watched the event unfold at home on TV and was proud to see the product of many months planning and printing on display; the same way I expect that Charles Forte was admiring his culinary offerings. Exactly on time, the liveried helicopter slowly emerged from the distance and the excitement of the crowd was palpable. This was the first visit by a Pope to these shores for several hundred years and we knew that we were witnessing history in the making. The huge machine descended majestically from out of the sky and continued on…..and on….and on, completely overshooting the designated landing site to deposit its important passenger in a field a couple of miles away!
I felt the blood drain as I mentally calculated the loss of sales of our Official Guide, never mind how many hot dogs and burgers would have to be fed to the pigs. The security services had instructed the pilot to land well away from the crowds because they had received a tip-off of a threat to the Pontiff’s life. As a result, we had to pulp many thousands of copies of our beautifully produced souvenir publication, the product of many months of hard work. So now you know why I don’t want reminding of another visit by another Pope.
YET ANOTHER POLICE OFFICER who does not need to purchase a Lottery ticket.
A Sikh policeman with the Greater Manchester force was instructed to wear a helmet during riot training, which one would consider a sensible precaution. But predictably, he said this caused him panic attacks, stress and palpitations, resulting in him going off sick. Equally predictable, he took his bosses to a Tribunal which awarded him £12,600. Bank robbers must sometimes think they are on the wrong side, considering the risks they have to take to get this kind of money.
AT THE TUC Conference in Liverpool back in September, the Brothers and Comrades were facing the biggest recession in their lifetime and should have been addressing the dire state of the economy, mounting unemployment, the decimation of the automotive industry, greedy bankers who brought the country to the brink of bankruptcy, postal workers strikes and the abysmal performance of the government. Plenty here to get excited about you would think, yet what was it that was exercising the delegates brain cells? The harmful affect of stiletto-heeled shoes on women union members. It’s at times like this that I believe I am living in the bizarre world of Alice in Wonderland.
BORIS JOHNSON appearing in EastEnders, Tony Blair about to become President of Europe – I honestly don’t know how much more of this I can stand? The prospect of legalised euthanasia is becoming more attractive by the day!
ONE OF THE NASTIER aspects of modern life is the increasing culture of compensation. And nowhere is this more despicable than when children are used as pawns by greedy parents. I was saddened to hear that parents of children who had contracted the E.coli bug from animals at Godstone Farm had been approached by a firm of solicitors with the intention of pressing a legal claim against the farm’s owner. And this was whilst some of the children were still recovering in hospital. At least one of the parents had the decency to say the health of his children were his first priority, before considering any claim for compensation.
As I see it, this unfortunate episode highlights everything we need to know about the sickness of our sick society.
JUST WHEN I THOUGHT we were beginning to see the back of this spreading social phenomena, Hillary Clinton comes over here and plants a full ripe smacker on our innocent Prime Minister’s surprised face. I’ve never been a willing participant in social kissing, particularly when it involves aged aunts, other men’s wives and meeting with strangers for the first time. It must be sheer hell for pubescent boys instructed by their mother’s to kiss her female friends from the WI, or even worse, their aged granny with the hairy top lip.
Who started this ridiculous nonsense, because I certainly don’t remember having to suffer such an indignity when I was a lad? In fact, had I been forced to show such faux affection to strangers, then I would have preferred it to have been on Brigitte Bardot, every lad’s pin-up from that era. I suppose it is the equivalent of the Inuit tribe rubbing noses upon greeting! I blame this all fairly and squarely on the excitable French, who insist on grabbing you and eagerly pressing their Gallic (or should that be garlic) mouths against both cheeks on every occasion you meet. And this is by no means restricted to the opposite sex, not such an unusual occurrence from the ‘filthy French’ as my mother used to refer to them. Mind you, it did not escape my notice that Mlle Bardot was indeed French.
Things appeared to be looking better when the threat of Swine Flu arrived and the fear of transmitting dangerous germs discouraged such close encounters and we could look forward to returning to the more civilised method of greeting people with a warm smile and a friendly handshake. That is, until the brash Hillary Clinton turned up and revived the sloppy gesture all over again. Mind you, it could have been much worse, had husband Bill made the journey in her place. Presumably no one other than Monica Lewinsky would welcome such friendly overtures from the former US President, when even shaking his hand might make you feel a little queasy!
EXPERTS WARN that the most vulnerable groups for contracting Swine Flu are the under 16’s and the over 60’s. No mention of MP’s who have had their snouts immersed in the trough then?