UNDER THE INFLUENCE

What exactly is an influencer? is it someone who gets paid for saying that they like stuff, stuff that they wear and stuff that they use? If so, thats sounds like a pretty easy way to make a living.

It would seem to be a requirement of the role to be something of  a vacuous narcissist with an ego that is disproportionate to any level of talent or expertise. Companies have always had movie stars, sportsmen & sportswomen, musicians and other notables endorse their products but there is an underlying theme of those people being what you would call celebrities based on their ability within their chosen fields.

The Influencer is the modern day endorsee and their qualifications for such a role are somewhat vague, to say the least. I guess its the volume of product out there that companies want to promote that has led to the need for finding people to promote it; enter the Influencer.

The Influencer may say that they are the right person in the right place at the right time, and in this age of celebrities from A-Z they have jumped on the wagon.

I think its a case of, not so much, "if they didn't exist they would have to have been invented", but more, "if you build it they will come"

CHEERS

Becks in action. Return of the pint. Pubageddon. Drinkpocalypse. Yes the UK resumed service, outside anyway, in Pubs up and down the country. 

In Hornchurch (probably) a man wearing a fisherman's waistcoat had a pint of John Smith's in a JD Wetherspoons at the crack of dawn. In Shoreditch (possibly) pub 'bants' resumed around tea time outside the Nail Gun Arms. In Huddersfield (presumably) a group of builders wolfed down a full english accompanied by pints of Guinness. In Richmond (allegedly) a table full of upwardly mobile rugby shirt wearing pals quaffed draught Peroni whilst sitting on a pub bench overlooking the passing rowing clubs.

It's funny that us pub goers can so easily pick up where we left off and happily accept paying 400% more for a pint than we have been doing over the last months at home via the off license. We do this because a pint in the pub is about more than a pint in the pub. It's hard to explain but a pub pint just feels different. There's a ritual to it, a familiarity and a custom about the whole process.

The Pub is a particularly British creature; I'm not talking about bars I'm talking Public Houses. I welcome the stage one reopening and look forward to a full reopening in the near future. This should help reduce the number of pubs that have gone to the wall systematically in localities country wide. It's important that our pubs thrive as its a cultural touchstone and one of the last bastions of real community. Cheers.

WHAT A LIBERTY

Let's be clear, its all about opinion but I think that America is becoming the haven for this country's most irritating loud mouths. The wretched James Corden has managed to charm US audiences with his ego driven brand of dubious charm. Gordon Ramsey decided to ditch his credibility and become a reality TV celebrity across the pond; his bullying schtick was deemed acceptable in his heavily staged Kitchen Nightmare series. Now Piers Morgan has taken his bloated persona back  stateside to dig out Meghan Markle to anyone that will listen.

They seem to go to the land of the free to have the freedom to be oafish and arrogant without censure. Perhaps the US gives them the liberty to be liberty takers.

These people are not unfortunate exiles, they are bridge burners who place success above other important considerations of basic human qualities. The least one can say about these transatlantic ambassadors of arrogance is that by taking themselves across the sea their voice and influence is diminished at home.

Emma Lazarus'  sonnet The New Colossus needs a rewrite to reflect this trend;

"Give me your trite, your bores,

Your  massive egos yearning to bleat free,

The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.

Send these, the hopeless, bad tempered to me,

I lift my lamp for these media whores"

The UK the public may not be the brightest but some things wear a bit thin. Clarkson, Keys and Grey, that bloke from the SAS, all wrote their tickets to ignominy as we don't have unlimited tolerance and we see through self inflation eventually. Maybe they will turn up in the United States at some point as part of a perverse ex-pat community of charmless charlatans. Birds of a feather and all that.

THE CELLULOID STREETS OF LONDON

As its Good Friday, it got me thinking about The Long Good Friday, the 1980 London gangster film directed by John Mackenzie who went on to direct A Sense Of Freedom the brutal Glasgow set biography of gangster Jimmy Boyle. Barry Hines who penned naturalistic pieces with political leanings wrote ii and the stars Bob Hoskins and Helen Mirren would become mainstays of British cinema.

The day from hell for mob boss Harold Shand is depicted with grit, realism and a bruised glamour. We see Shand, unable to face progress on anything other than his own terms, gradually lose control and his hubris leads inevitably to his down fall brilliantly crystallised in the wordless ending scene; one of the greatest final scenes in cinematic history.

London is an underused backdrop in movies and with this in mind I’ve had a look at films set in London that manage to capture the flavour of the city in some way. Many of the blokesploitation films that were launched off the back of Guy Richie’s fanciful idea of London’s underbelly have not aged well or are caricatures of London life therefore no place for them in my list of 10 favourite London films. Nor is there room for the Ian Curtis middle class rom-com and its numerous copies as it, again, paints a very niche idea of what upwardly mobile Londoners get up to.

1. Performance (1970)
2. An American Werewolf In London (1981)
3. The Long Good Friday (1980)
4. Nil By Mouth (1997)
5. Oliver Twist (1948)
6. Night And The City (1950)
7. Blow Up (1966)
8. Naked (1993)
9. Repulsion (1969)
10. Bronco Bullfrog (1969)

Honourable mention to Pressure (1976) & Babylon (1980) two early examples of films charting the Black British experience in London. Hard hitting, unflinching while retaining a real humanity.

PARK LIFE

Now that the dust of outrage and misinformation has settled here's the real story from someone who was there. Yes I'm talking about  Covidgedon, Tuesday 30th March, Primrose Hill; The Gathering Of The Clans, Apocalypse Now, Primrosestock etc

The sun came out on Tuesday and the rules changed the day before. The cocoon burst open and the butterfly of optimism flew out and headed to Primrose Hill. Groups of six lay down on their collective blankets, popped the corks and broke out the Canapés to bask in the unprecedented view of London town. Well, I say groups of six, but there were also Magnificent Sevens, Dirty Dozens and what seemed like the 300.

The youth of London and beyond were out and about on the hill, a couple of girls had driven from Slough to enjoy the "beef' free environment of this picturesque corner of London and the atmosphere was one of a festival rather than an angsty jamboree.

The old bill showed up and made their presence felt but any feeling of aggression or threat from those gathered was absent, rather the ambience was one of cocksure youth stretching out and promenading.

Reports of a stabbing were misguided. Yes a fracas took place at the top of the hill and some idiot stabbed someone on Gray's Inn Road Islington but it was disingenuous how the two incidents were glued together to provide an 'I told you so' story on feral youth.

The crowds were diverse, the humour good and by and large the biggest negative in terms of the social contract was the disregard for keeping Britain tidy.

In terms of Covid, we all know that one of the by products of being young is the misguided theory of invincibility which meant that social distancing was disregarded by a good many.

People have been adhering to Lockdown for what seems a lifetime and within this period there have been stories of  illegal gatherings at christenings, protests, weddings, birthday parties, football league title celebrations and members of the good and the great bending the rules for their own private and exclusive events, we also have a number of cases of our elected officials taking liberties with impunity, so we need to look a bit deeper when we see a crowd of predominantly young people doing the same; having double standards is an easy trap to fall into.

I thought there were too many people getting a bit carried away with group numbers but I also saw many many people happily adhering to the rules. 

Was Primrose Hillgate a concern or was it just an understandable collective sigh of relief? not sure, but what I do know is that when I was young I didn't have to live under lockdown, I was free to go wherever I wanted to without worrying about undesirables attacking me as I simply avoided certain areas, and as  for pandemics, we had the Aids crisis but precautions could be taken to manage its spectre.

The days and weeks ahead will be interesting as parks and open spaces greet groups of sun lovers. Let's hope that a sense of group  responsibility filters in and that a collective approach to managing one's debris becomes a habit.

The summer of 2021 will be an interesting one, not least for this current generation of young people who have and are living in unprecedented times..

COMIC BOOK ARTISTS : THE COUNTDOWN

Time for a list.

Sometimes only a list will fill the void of creative ennui, so here's one that places my favourite comic book artists into some sort of rough order.

Hope you enjoy/agree/disagree whatever takes your fancy.

1. Eduardo Risso- Everything he touches is dynamically subtle

2. Jack Kirby -put simply; The King

3. Barry Windsor-Smith - The Pre-Raphaelite of the comic world 

4. Jaime Hernandez-Master of controlled panel story telling

5. Frank Quitely- Detailed observations and composition from the quiet Scot

6. Paul Gulacy-Master of Spys, guns and girls

7. Frank Miller-On his day the most innovative artist since Moebius

8. John Buscema-The Mr Reliable of action

9. John Byrne - The most scanable artist in the buisness

10. Uderzo / Hergé - Hard to separate these masters of story telling, but they both played a key part in my love of reading and sequential art

Honourable mention- Has to be Steve Ditko, a reclusive character with a unique vision.

Of Course there are many more that I could have mentioned, Wally Wood, Jim Steranko, John Byrne, John Bolton, Joe Kubert, Alfredo Alcala, Jim Lee, Bill Sienkiewicz, Frank Frazetta, Neal Adams, Dave Gibbons, Alex Nino, John Romita, Kurt Swan, the list is endless but I've restricted it to my 10 favourites...today.

LET'S COOK

Dear reader, there is no easy way to say this so I will just come out with it;  think I may be addicted to Masterchef.

Yes the culinary challenge broadcast weekday evenings on the BBC has got its hooks in me and is basting me in its light entertainment juices. 

I find myself saying 'let's cook" at the drop of a hat. I exclaim "happy with that?" at the slightest of excuses and the phrase "a good plate of food" leaves my lips at every mealtime.

I now know that rack of lamb is the TV cook's nemesis, that the wobble is the most important part of a successful panna cotta and that soil is not just for gardeners but is is a legitimate part of plate presentation.

I've now grown accustomed to Greg Wallace's egg shaped noggin and John Torodes' squirrel like cheeks as they devour and critique plate after plate of signature dishes and bold experiments.

I have learnt to enjoy the triumphs and disasters with equal measure. Who can forget Scott on 'Master Chef The professionals'? His signature  dessert of choux buns imploded and his  crepe suzette, which was his speciality on the cruise ship where he spent many months, was a disaster to rank alongside the Nazi's attempt to take Stalingrad. 

I now hang on the words of the critics as they munch through their plates of contestant's dreams. Grace Dent; the thinking man's Hylda Ogden with her Northern analogise. The Raffish Jay Rayner; the cookery version of Lawrence Llewelyn Bowen with his acerbic quips, and that other royal bloke. 

The master Chef glossary has seeped into my everyday life. Jus, Sous vide, Crumb, Ceviche, foam, infusion and deconstruction are now words utilised out of context in everyday discourse.

I'm even watching The Great British Menu as a snack between meals of Master Chef.

Maybe one day I will be able to ween myself off the need for MC. Perhaps I can just save myself for the professionals and possibly restrict viewing to the later stages. 

Who am I kidding? I've got Master Chef Mania  and I like it! There I've said it! Cloak me with a Master Chef apron and anoint my head with a Red wine and confit duck reduction. 

THAT WAS THE YEAR THAT WAS

 

So a year, 365 days under the shadow of Covid-19. It's amazing how adaptable humans are and this period has highlighted that adaptability. Of course there have been those that have refused to take precautions under the guise of personal freedom and those that use ignorance as a crutch, but the majority have managed the minor inconvenience of wearing a mask (properly). Social distancing is a bit vague and it depends on which part of the city you are in to an extent but agin, most are aware of the need to observe the practice. 

Yes, there have been illegal gatherings and rule flaunting but this applies to the minority of the public.

Life under lockdown and the broader sense of restriction has been a challenge, not least for our mental health and this is where perhaps the biggest challenge has been. When routines change so do motivations, when habits are altered the comfort of regularity is disrupted. There was always going to be a limit to sour dough baking, Netflix series, Zoom meetings, arts and crafts and enthusiasm for daily exercise which left many with feelings of ennui but we rallied didn't we?

I'm running out of gas it has to be said and the slow crawl to what we would consider normality seems inexorable, but it's about keeping going.

Not seeing friends and family will have helped us see the true value of those relationships and the hope of a warm summer and getting together is a candle to gaze into.

A year, 365 days that have changed so many things. It's a period in history that will be looked back on by historians as one where we, by and large, galvanised and girded our loins. I await the future with optimism and a little uncertainty and that in itself is normality.

TWILIGHT OF THE GOBS

 

There was a time when Benny Hill, Miss World, Mind Your Language and the Black and White Minstrels were prime time regulars but those days are rightfully gone. It seems that time is up for the prime time pomposity of a generation of big mouths. The likes of Keys & Gray are now on a foreign streaming service, Clarkson is now neutered and hosts a game show, Piers Morgan is out on his ear and Gordon Ramsey hosts an anaemic flop of a TV quiz. 

Is it that we just got tired of their bombast and out-dated mind set or is it that their type of badinage had worn so thin that it snapped?

The insipid replacements seem to be a cross between Paddy McGuinness and Tim Lovejoy; an unthreatening, albeit irritating, presence across all networks. We’ve traded in smug bombast for insouciance.

The TV personality is a strange creature. Their main skill is being able to read an autocue and hold a series of segments together and for a long time that ability was allied to having a pseudo controversial style and delivery and many revelled in this rage against the PC. But it was always going to fizzle out, it was always going to quietly deflate; pop rather than explode.

Like the dinosaurs before them they have been obliterated by a meteor of disinterest. They've been deprived of positive bad press, just bored press

The thing is that you can fool the public quite easily but the worst thing you can do is become predictable and stale and that’s what happened with these stalwarts of the caramac Slip on and boot cut jean.

PEOPLE WILL THINK

"I am the publisher of the Enquirer. As such, it is my duty - I'll let you in on a little secret, it is also my pleasure - to see to it that decent, hard-working people of this city are

not robbed blind by a group of money mad pirates because, God help them, they have no one to look after their interests! I'll let you in on another little secret, Mr. Thatcher. I think

I'm the man to do it. You see, I have money and property -If I don't defend the interests of

the underprivileged, somebody else will - maybe somebody without any money or any property and that would be too bad." Charles Foster Kane

Why do the tabloid press thrive on negativity? It has to be because it sells papers. Money, that's their bottom line. But why do people like to read negative stories, hear about bad things and get gratification from controversy?

If sales didn't boom with their stories of bile they wouldn't publish them.

I personally don't care what celebrity A says about celebrity B. I'm not invested in a bloke that had seven children by the age of 19. I'm not interested in what a professional royal watcher (and what sort of a job is that anyway?) speculates about what one of the Windsors thinks about something.

But, what is important is the way in which the tabloid press use the unique platform they have to deliver the truth, expose corruption and inform the public fairly and impartially. This was once the default position of the press; a noble pursuit of the truth.

Charles Foster Kane : Now look, Mr. Carter, here's a front-page story in the Chronicle about a Mrs. Harry Silverstone in Brooklyn who's missing. Now, she's probably murdered. Here's a picture of her in the Chronicle. Why isn't there something about it in the Inquirer?

Mr Carter: Because we are running a newspaper...

Mr Carter: There's no proof that that woman is murdered, or even that she's dead...It's not our function to report the gossip. If we were interested in that kind of thing, Mr. Kane, we could fill the paper twice over daily.

Charles Foster Kane: Mr. Carter, that's the kind of thing we are going to be interested in, from now on.

What tabloidism has wrought is the exploitation of the very worst in people. The beady eye of the envious neighbour peeping through the net curtains with scant regard of the consequences to the subject of scrutiny.

Disparaging articles based on Race and Class shift units and the thinly veiled 'subtlety' with which these stories are constructed is a national disgrace, but still those stories are lapped up.

Once The Sun was the prime mover in the print media of hate but this style has been adopted across the board with the Daily Mail at the pseudo respectable forefront of gotcha journalism.

Is it the case that demand feeds the tabloids or the tabloids create demand? What's clear is that there are dark forces at work and once a subject is targeted they don't let go. Recent  events show clearly that a sustained attack can take place for no reason other than prejudices and preconceptions.

I don't read, much less buy, tabloids but unfortunately a hell of a lot of people do and as long as this is the case demonisation of difference will continue to be legitimised.

The institution of a free press based on values has been replaced with an Orwellian media that instructs people in how to fear difference and exploit suffering. The best intentions of genuine newspaper men and women has been superseded by trenchant manipulation that, rather than being met with disdain and outrage is embraced by many.

“- Emily Monroe Norton Kane: Charles, people will think...

-Charles Foster Kane: What I tell them to think.”

A POST HIBERNATION POST

As the lockdown evolves and changes are on the horizon here's a handy guide of what to look for in the coming weeks and months as our forced hibernations come to an end and we the seeds of normality begin to sprout

The first man to have a drink after lockdown. We will see a news feature about the first man to haver a pint after the pubs reopen. His name will be Tony and he'll sup his landmark pint of John Smith's at a Wetherspoons in St Albans at 8.00am 

He'll be wearing a fisherman's waistcoat with a pair of glasses on a string around his neck. he'll also be sporting a beard and combat trousers.

An increase in discarded Nitrous Oxide Canisters. A return to the days of lockdown 1 will see the return of these used silver capsules clogging the inside lane of roads throughout the country as users emerge blinking from their bedrooms for a bit of communal happy gas ingestion.

Crowded commuter trains. Social distancing will go out of the window at the first opportunity as short memories kick into action. The need to get back to work will be offset by the need to cram, sardine like into the carriages of a dismal rail service.

The daytime drinking boom. As people reconnect in pub gardens there will be a surge in drink orders as the public gorge themselves on ice cold pints, refreshing shorts and crisp Pinot Grigios. For those still on furlough this offers the opportunity to get paralytic by 4.00 pm before realising that drinks are considerably cheaper when bought from the supermarket.

Moaning about being too busy. After months of inactivity and boredom there will be a new era of complaining about being back at work. The sound of "Christ! I wish I was back at home on the sofa watching Ready Steady Cook" will be heard the length and breadth of Britain's workplaces. The exclamation of "I really need a holiday" will also ring out loud and clear.

A crazy June. With the proposed return to 'normality' in June coinciding with The European Championships its quite simply going to be the greatest excuse for complete mayhem since VE day. Late night kebab consumption, back seats of  Ubers covered in vomit, fast food emporium stabbings and night bus rampages lay ahead as the United Kingdom raises it's collective skirt and does a celebratory jig that lasts all month.

All this and more awaits us in the brave new world of post Covid Britain. Hooray!