122 days until I am 40

It occurred to me this morning that there are 122 days remaining until I turn 40 years of age. That’s 122 days INCLUSIVE of today and my upcoming birthday. 

That’s an imposing milestone; one so imposing, in fact, that it has spurred me out of more than five months’ slumber to start writing ODHSNM again.

To those who have missed me, what can I say? At a certain point, the excuse I had prepared – that I had forgotten the log-in details for Blogger – actually became true.

All sorts of mad shit has happened since April when I declared (somewhat prematurely, I now realise) that I wanted to become a children’s entertainer. I’m sure that you were crying out for the interpretive wisdom of Roger of Sicily to help make sense of it all. When you needed me, I wasn’t there for you. Soz an’ all.

What does it mean to be approaching 40? When I was a boy, I remember thinking “in the year 2000 I will be 24”. It seemed impossibly distant, not least because as a subscriber to 2000AD I had very clear ideas about the degrees of technological advance and societal breakdown that would need to  be gone through before we arrived there.

Today, I have written down a series of goals that I will attempt to achieve in the next 122 days. Well, 121 days. If all the things I dislike, disavow and regret about myself could be brought under the heading of a single word, that word would be “habit”. My goals are all about breaking habits. I’m going to write about how I get on – to keep you all amused and to keep myself honest. And to make it so that not every single blog post title for 2015 starts with the word "it". 

It’s Party Time

Who you gonna call? HE MAN

When I am finally kicked out of my current job, I will have to give serious consideration to the idea of becoming a children’s entertainer.

You may assume that this is because all I really want in life is to bring laughter to the bright little faces of boys and girls, and yet have found myself – tragically – counting someone else’s shitty money for a living.

Not at all.

It is because, through some mysterious, ineffable quality, I find myself being uncharacteristically good at it. I am good at it without actually trying – which is by far the best way to be good at anything.

Don’t ask me why, but children find me effortlessly charming, delightful and invigorating in a way I can only dream of being viewed by fellow adults. It is equally mystifying to my wife, Katie...errr...I mean Elvira of Castille, as it is to me. I am also fully CRB-checked.

So this weekend, I found myself Master of Ceremonies at the birthday celebrations of my elder child (Roger Jr). In this capacity, I was responsible for the amusement and safety of approximately 40 children aged 4 to 7, equipped only with a 15-song musical playlist, two jars of sweets, some balloons and an oversized cardboard Minecraft head.

Those who know me only from my pre-parental life may regard this as a scenario akin to handing a chimpanzee a loaded machine gun and a bottle of scotch and solemnly asking it not to cause any trouble.

Well, I have changed a lot in seven years...

My objectives were clear -which I find to be an indispensible element of any successful undertaking:

• Wear these children out enough that they would sit through an hour-long magic show without going Lord of the Flies on the magician (who, I should add, kicked off his act in style with a sincere threat to walk out if he was booed).
• Ensure everyone survives until the food is ready.
• To the extent that it is compatible with objectives 1 and 2, permit fun to occur.  

I don’t really know how or why, but my series of “games” proved a great success. Nobody won, nobody lost. While the states “in” and “out” formally existed, there was no practical distinction between the two. The only real difference between each game was whether I was bellowing the order to “run over there” with or without a musical accompaniment.

It is an intoxicating experience, having an audience hanging on your every word and obeying your every command. I can assure you, the feeling of power and possibility is only marginally diminished by having several members of your otherwise rapt congregation smacking you over the head with a balloon while you deliver your proclamations. The Pope, Hitler and Martin Luther King never had that to contend with. 

This is what it's like

It would be wrong to say that my audience was under my control. A surfer who rides a giant wave only gives the appearance of having mastery over the unstoppable force which could overtake him and drag him under at any moment. If you hesitate or show any fear or doubt, you’re finished. You can only know what it’s like if you’ve been there.

Even my own kids (the aforementioned Roger Jr and four-year-old Tancred) were largely swept away in the madness of the crowd, and played the games along with the others for almost a full two thirds of my allocated slot.

It is practically unheard-of that so much time (20 minutes) should pass before the irresistible temptation to commandeer a monopoly of Daddy’s attention kicks in.

Of course, each son was only responding to an “amber alert” in their own scale of priorities – amber being parental attention focused on any person other than themselves. A red alert, of course, is invoked only if that other person is their brother. At this point the doctrine of struggle by any means necessary through to victory at any cost is immediately put into action. Fortunately, the crisis never escalated to that level from which – as you know – there can be no turning back.

So my stint as a children’s entertainer ended with Tancred sitting on my knee, demanding to be bounced up and down and Roger Jr attempting to prise the iPad out of my hands to play “What Does The Fox Say” for yet another unsolicited encore.

But in terms of the goals I set out to achieve, I have no hesitation in declaring in the whole experience an unalloyed triumph.

We all have our talents – some more valuable, dignified and lucrative than others. I seem to be good at keeping the attention of primary school children for short periods of time.

However, I am fully booked for the upcoming months and therefore not available for your child’s party. Maybe next year. 

It's Not You - It's Me

“In a democracy people get the leaders they deserve,” said Joseph de Maistre. He didn’t mean it in a good way.

I have lived through quite a few general election campaigns and paid good deal of attention to the last few. I have never witnessed one this depressing.

It has, however, at least given us something new – alongside the traditional all-you-can-eat dogshit buffet – in the form of parties campaigning on the basis of who a vote for them would exclude from a future coalition government.

That the political parties and the media have utter, naked contempt for us – the voters – is not new.

But in the past, the voters have always at least been allowed the “king for a day, fool for a lifetime” privilege of being treated as though it was them who choose the government. Not this time. Now we are being treated to the spectacle of post-election coalition wrangling before any ballots have even been cast.

As anyone who voted Lib Dem or Conservative in 2010 – and cared – will have noticed, you can’t be sure that what it says on the tin bears even the scantest resemblance to what’s inside any more. Not, of course, that you ever could, I suppose. It was a “coalition” of a different sort that inflicted the Iraq War on the world.

I'd much rather have than one of these than a school for my kids

It’s a common lament that the political media focuses too much on personalities and not enough on policies. That’s true up to a point: apart from being pretty sure that whoever wins, taxpayers like me will be expected to stump up £100 billion for Trident (the most expensive sock stuffed down the underpants in human history), I have very little idea what else the various parties are offering. Or rather are pretending to offer right now in the hope of fooling enough of us peasants into putting them in power so that – much like Charles I – they can do whatever the fuck they like without reference to us for five more years.

OK, so the political class despises us and we despise them. But considering how many needy neurotics the British public is clearly made up of, it surprises me how rarely anyone seems to wonder “what if it’s not everyone else – what if it’s me?”

What if the public gets held in contempt because it never disproves that it is WORTHY of contempt? In the past, people could kid themselves that it was the papers shoving “who is the best-dressed leader’s wife?” articles down their throats – now the analytics will prove that THIS IS WHAT THEY WANT, if they have to have politics at all.

So what’s the answer? Well, clearly not voting isn’t it.

A year or so ago (back when I used to blog regularly...) I wrote in praise of Russell Brand and his anti-voting point of view. Actually, it was less a blog about Russell Brand and more of an opportunity to quote long passages from HG Wells, with whom I was then obsessed.

Over a hundred years ago – A HUNDRED YEARS AGO! - Wells said that democratic elections give ordinary people “an exasperating fragment of choice between the agents of two party organisations, over neither of which he has any intelligible control”.

All that’s changed is the number of party organisations.

Best-dressed party leader, 1922

Churchill said:

Democracy is the worst form of government, except for all those other forms that have been tried from time to time.

I sympathise a bit with the idea of refusing to participate in a charade of democracy. But then I have no doubt whatsoever that the people who make it most frequently and loudly are precisely those who would shirk the responsibility of an active, participatory democracy most vigorously.

It IS much easier to criticise than to come up with a constructive alternative - and it's even easier to parrot criticisms other people have thought up for you. 

That doesn’t mean that your criticisms should be ignored just because you don’t have all the answers. But if all the carping about politicians all being the same etc was put to some constructive use – who knows? – maybe an alternative that doesn’t equate everything that is not precisely what we have now with totalitarianism or dictatorship could be figured out.

We get bland mannequins like Cameron and Miliband because we demand them. We have earned them. 90% of government is administration and the remaining 10% is presentation (mostly making out that the other is Hitler or Mao or whatever).

Come on! The difference between “destroying the NHS” and “saving the NHS” is a fractional difference in budget and private sector involvement AND YOU KNOW that any promise made on these points will be treated as negotiable in future. What we are seeing on a large scale is the narcissism of small differences literally played out in all its tribal idiocy.

They don’t believe it. You don’t believe it. So why are we doing this at all?

It’s Nerf or Nothing

I’m not a pacifist. I think that violence is the only answer to certain questions. Like the interwar writer and peace campaigner Storm Jameson said about the Nazis, I accept that some things are worth killing for.

But that doesn’t mean that I approve of or like militarism and the glamorisation of violence that we – and especially our kids – seem to be subjected to. Violence is an evil that is occasionally necessary.

As a general rule, Elvira and I have discouraged our boys from having toy guns. Not entirely out of explicit principle – I still remember my boyhood friend in the 1980s who was kicked out of the Woodcraft Folk for drawing a picture of a cannon, which seems to be a matter of putting the cart before the horse – but at least partly because we don’t want them to develop a casual attitude towards the prospect of killing others.

Because that’s what an awful lot of what boys get exposed to through child-oriented media seems to promote. Most of the cartoons that they choose to watch and the video games they choose to play involve fighting of some sort.

Also speaks like a 1930s gangster - WHY?

OK, you expect stuff like that in things like Ben 10 but when the bloody Care Bears are apparently referencing the Vietnam War (or rather films about the Vietnam War) by shouting “fire in the hold” and “incoming!” there’s surely some cultural mutation that’s gone a bit wrong.

Alright, little kids are not likely to get the references (and when did “referencing” things become clever in itself anyway?) but why make the reference to war or war films other than to consciously or unconsciously normalise and make attractive the idea of war?

I grew up as a little militarist through no direct fault of my parents but just by exposure to a pro-violence culture. I thought the Falklands War was the coolest thing ever, primarily because we (Britain) won. In pretty much any scenario, to me and my friends, the baddies were the Germans – despite the Second World War having ended more than 30 years before we were born.

What scientists look like

The hangover from these assumptions are still present today. Watch any cartoon. If there’s a mad or evil scientist in it, he will have a German accent. And he may well be wearing a monocle, which is a cliché that was outdated even by 1939.

Thankfully, we are little more careful today than to casually demonise other races and nationalities to our children. An Afghanistan or Iraq-based version of “Battle Comic” is unimaginable.

Nevertheless, kids are still fed the idea that there is such a thing as cannon-fodder which can be “destroyed” (note the regular use of phrases about “destroying” someone in cartoons as a blatant euphemism for “killing” them) without consequence. It’s just that today it’s robots or aliens or something else non-human that’s been placed outside our moral community, not Japs or Krauts.

To be honest, I think it would do more good to children to show one of these “destroyed” aliens screaming in pain, shitting itself and crying out for its mother than sanitising death to the point where they’re indifferent to it. But instead, we just see the fallen body flash and then disappear – if we even think about it at all. This indifference was parodied to great effect in the first Austin Powers movie, where we saw the henchman’s wife finding out he’d been killed.  

This all brings me on to Nerf guns. Our kids got some of these for Xmas. I wish they hadn’t. Now, if the people who got them are reading this – in no way am I having a go at you about this. Guns are appropriate and popular presents for boys. That’s just the world we live in, whether we like it or not. They were always going to end up with toy guns, it was just a matter of when. The kids loved them and I’m not going to deny that even I enjoyed playing with them.

It looked like this

I had toy guns when I was a young ‘un, ranging from cowboy revolvers to replica M16s. I particularly remember my own Mauser automatic pistol – which, being German, was inherently an evil weapon.

Apart from spud guns though, I don’t think they fired anything. Nerf guns fire sponge darts with a soft plastic tip. They use what appears to be the same mechanism as used by air guns (I stand to be corrected if that’s wrong – it’s not like I do any research here...). They propel those darts with a surprising amount of force. If you got shot with one, it would sting a bit.

Now I’m sure Nerf and other “airsoft” stuff is safe enough to comply with legal standards and that you’d really have to be doing something stupid in order to have somebody’s eye out with one. You can certainly throw a ball, or a toy car, or a rocking horse at someone’s head and do them just as much if not more harm as you can by shooting them with a Nerf gun.

But have you seen the adverts for Nerf stuff? They feature paramilitarised American teenagers – old enough to impress kiddies and young enough to frighten the grown-ups – romping around, Call of Duty-style, discharging blasts from their rapid-fire, multi-barrelled plastic guns, and then proclaiming in a voice laced with menace that “it’s Nerf or nothing”.

If this was taking place in real life, they would – of course – be shooting at each other, or unwilling nerds. But that can’t be shown on TV. And nobody is likely to get very excited about shooting tin cans any more.

So do you know how they’ve got round that problem? Bloody zombies.

Yes, Nerf “zombie strike” weapons are for shooting zombies: kids today’s Germans.

Zombies offer the advantage of having the precise same anatomy as a human being whilst it is nevertheless unambiguously ok to shoot them because they’re evil or because it’s self-defence or something. This is a Nerf machete. Only for killing zombies, obviously.

In no way does this desensitive kids to violence...

And so Nerf takes us over the line from cartoon violence into real world violence where we go around pointing guns at human-shaped objects that we understand to be incapable of suffering and/or deserving of death. And when we pull the trigger, we don’t just get a feeble “rat a tat” noise like we used to – we launch something that behaves very much like a bullet.