The Ministry Of Truth

The Two Minutes Hate will commence momentarily


Oh, the humanity…

By BigBrother, on November 29th, 2007, 10:22 pm.

I’ve had a cock of a day.

I had a lie-in, I’ve not set foot in the office and I’ve not done a stroke of work, but I’ve had a cock of a day.

Today, I was one of 160 “senior managers” (sic) forced to attend my business’s Annual Senior Management Conference. The experience was what I suspect it must be like for an atheist to sit in on an Alpha Course session when they’ve had a few beers, an E and a kebab.

Instead of lunch we had a finger buffet and a “speed networking” event, where we had to spend three interminable minutes getting to know people we hadn’t met before. Every Stepford Cunt I ended up with worked in either IT or Finance, so you can imagine how much fun I had.

Our instructions for this farce said that we had to tell each other (along with name, rank and serial number) what our “ambition” is. One of the Cro-Magnons from IT explained how his team was one of a series of IT teams “delivering change” within our business (no, I’ve not got a clue and I didn’t want to ask) and it was his ambition “to lead my team to be recognized within our business as the best deliverers of IT change and then to lead it to similar recognition externally, too.” And he meant every fucking word.

“What about you?” he asked.

“My ambition is to make it to the end of today.”

“I couldn’t agree more!” he exclaimed. “We must live every day as though it is our last and embrace every opportunity it brings!”

No salary on Earth could ever turn me into that kind of gimp.

In fact, I don’t even think a lifetime of polygamy with Nathalie Portman, Winona Ryder, Michelle Pfeiffer, Claire Danes, Naomi Watts, Anna Friel, Heather Graham, Halle Berry, Emmanuelle Beart, Kylie, a pre-Cruise Katie Holmes, Kate Moss and Keira Knightley could turn me into that kind of gimp.

The conclusion of the afternoon’s proceedings was to split the 160 into 16 groups of 10 and have each group “workshop” what we “feel” the “culture” of our business “is”. Each group then had to nominate a spokesperson to present the group’s results to the Venerable Chief Exec. Each spokesperson proceed to read identical lists of words off their flip chart…

GREAT PEOPLE
FUN
WORK HARD, PLAY HARD
TEAMWORK
RESPONSIVE
ENTHUSIASTIC
STRONG LEADERSHIP
CHALLENGING
…while naturally emphasising to the beaming Venerable Chief Exec in ever more obsequious terms just how important his Strong Leadership is and how we couldn’t possibly do anything - get out of bed, wipe our bottoms, think for ourselves - were it not for him. The only surprise was that someone didn’t actually get down on their knees and gobble him off in the middle of the room.

Kill me now. I beg you, give me my stapler and let me beat myself over the head with it until I no longer exist.

And in the highly unlikely event I find myself working for this bunch of evangelical zealots in twelve months’ time, remind me that I MUST arrange to take a holiday to avoid having to live through this debasement again.

1 Comment »

Wet Paint

By BigBrother, on November 29th, 2007, 12:51 am.

I only just got it in under the wire (7 minutes to spare, in fact) but here’s the rough first stab at the new format to mark the Ministry’s first birthday.

So, whaddya think?

5 Comments »

How Do You Mend A Broken Heart?

By BigBrother, on November 27th, 2007, 8:16 pm.

As I drove home from work (I stayed awake…), my iPod spat out There Ain’t Half Been Some Clever Bastards by the peerless Ian Dury & The Blockheads:

There ain’t half been some clever bastards -
Probably got help from their mum.
There ain’t half been some clever bastards.
Now that we’ve had some, let’s hope that there’s lots more to come.

Then I heard the news headlines and I see the financially prudent dream team of Harriet Harman and Jack “Christmas Club” Dromey have been at it again.

And I thought, “For a QC, she’s a fucking stupid twat.”

And then I thought, “Oi! Minister! No! That’s Political Correctness gone mad. She’s a fucking stupid cunt.”

The Minister’s slightly elevated temperature means that the Ministry’s first annual anniversary celebrations have been postponed for a couple of days, but a new SMIP and a new theme are both almost ready to go. For now, alas, it’s Night Nurse time.

1 Comment »

I did it Third Way

By BigBrother, on November 27th, 2007, 8:44 am.

“Bloody Hell!” I exclaimed as I choked on my dinner.  “How did he get to be General Secretary of the Labour Party?  He looks like an embryo.” 

“Actually, he looks like a Tory embryo,” remarked the Minister’s Wife.

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You choose your leaders and place your trust…

By BigBrother, on November 26th, 2007, 4:31 pm.

The Minister is unwell.  This morning I forgot my work badge and desk keys, briefly fell asleep at the wheel while on the A1(M) and then spilt my cup of tea all over the car park floor.  Something has to give.  At this rate it might well be the central reservation barrier.

The Minister’s car, dishwasher and central heating are also unwell.

It’s not easy being the Minister at the moment.

The Minister and his wife were delighted to spend much of the weekend slaloming around the nation’s motorway-and-cone network in order to do the 370-mile round trip to attend Beared Baby’s wedding in the middle of fucking nowhere in a God-forsaken hole of a hamlet outside Driffield (henceforth to be referred to as “Fuckingdriffield”) that, I am reliably informed, didn’t have a sewerage system until earlier this year and is in a county that doesn’t even exist (Humberside).

The northbound M18 possesses possibly the most depressing motorway sign in the country, heralding as it does the imminent proximity of that quadruple threat, Goole, Scunthorpe, Grimsby and Hull.  It doesn’t get much better when you hit the eastbound M62 and the signs start menacing you with Bridlington.

Still, there was the mild amusement of passing through Skidby and the “Please drive carefully” sign at its town limits.

And the enjoyment of remembering that heating systems in Yorkshire, like the people, have just two settings - “cloying sauna” and “frosty igloo”.

And at 104.9p per litre, the weekend set a new record for the price paid by the Minister for petrol.  Salt of the earth, though, Yorkshire people - they never fail to smile as they bleed you dry.

Roadworks, natives and signage aside, it was a “grand do” as the peasants say in the north.  It was particularly lovely to hear an almost entirely spherical female priest banging on in church about the importance of procreation in marriage when her companion to the reception appeared to be a fellow woman in comfortable shoes.  Square that circle, if you can, and I’ll attend the Alpha Course.

The Lancastrian groom may have thought the jibes in his speech about the locals’ accents went down reasonably well (and indeed they did with his family and friends), but the Minister’s Wife reports that the table containing his new brothers-in-law are very much looking forward to welcoming the newest member of their family just as soon as he dares to cross the county boundary once more.  “It’ll be lonely this Christmas without you…”

The repetitive thudding of massive potholes and the rhythmic snoring of the Minister’s Wife as the Minister drove EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THOSE 370 MILES provided an opportunity to muse on life, the universe and everything.

In summary, life sucks.  And the universe and everything aren’t in much better shape.

In a rare attempt to give credit where its due, I should say that Steve McLaren handled his final England press conference with a good degree of dignity and grace.  Speaking as an expert in leaving jobs, that takes some doing, however big the pay off.

But it’s the pay off that still narks me.  McLaren clearly would not resign because he knew that to do so would cause him to kiss goodbye to a reported £2½m.  It seems not to matter that he must therefore have already earned over £1½m in his 16 months in the job - £100,000 per match!  He has already been amply rewarded for failure - rewarded to the tune of more than half a century’s worth of national average salary.  By refusing to resign despite “taking responsibility”, he has been rewarded for failure twice over.

There was an appalling discussion on the risible Jeff Randall’s dreadful Weekend Business programme on BBC Radio Five Barely Alive last night in which the only example Randall and his guests could recall of an “honourable” resignation in business was, er, Gerald Corbett’s “resignation” as Railtrack Chief Executive in 2000.

Now forgive me for splitting hairs, but (a) Corbett’s resignation offer was not initially accepted by his “board”, (b) it only came after the third fatal rail disaster on his watch (the combined 38 dead at Southall and Paddington wasn’t enough; it took a further 4 cadavers at Hatfield to tip the scales), (c) he only “resigned” for a second time in a month because the government made him, and (d) the cunt still walked away with a full year’s salary (£400k) and £900k in pension benefits.

There is no accountability in British public life anymore, and while it’s obviously not the most pressing issue in 21st century Britain it is certainly one of the most depressing things.

The last person I can recall resigning without being pushed was Estelle Morris a full five years ago - and she still managed to bag a lesser ministerial role, a life peerage and a sheaf of private sector directorships into the bargain.  Before that and you’re back to 1982 and Peter Carington, the last British minister to resign voluntarily in response to a departmental failure.  So an entire quarter of a century has gone by without public life demonstrating to the great unwashed that there should be consequences to mistakes, incompetence and failure.

HM Revenue & Customs may be an independent body, but the taxman works for the Chancellor of the Exchequer.  The two Chancellors of the past decade bear ultimate responsibility for this unprecendented mess and for them to have allowed the HMRC head to take the blame is cowardly.

I’ll concede that it’s still too early to write off the Brown premiership - That Bloody Woman and Big Johnny Major would have given at least a limb apiece to be just 5% adrift in the polls at the halfway stage of a Parliament and with a Leader of the Opposition as derisory as Posh Boy Dave (actually, thinking about it, they did: Michael Foot and Neil Kinnock…) - but the most disappointing aspect to this sorry fiasco is that it could happen at all after a decade of Labour government, in particular the managerialist administrations of Blair and Brown.

Lacking any pretence of ideology, Blair and Brown have proffered nothing but managerialism for 13 years; if they have lost that (and the runes are not auspicious) The Project is all washed up.

Vitriol spent, the Minister and his wife send the new Mr. and Mrs. Baby much love and congratulations, a thank you for the invitation, and hope they are enjoying themselves on a three-week honeymoon to South America.  The gits.

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Pursued by a bear

By BigBrother, on November 22nd, 2007, 8:37 am.

I paraphrase, but bear with me.

Mike Ingham (BBC Football Correspondent): Steve, you said yesterday there would be no excuses if we didn’t qualify.  Do you have any excuses?

Steve McLaren (soon-to-be former England football coach): No excuses.  I apologise to the fans - we let them down; we didn’t play well enough.

MI: What went wrong tonight?

SM: It’s too early to talk about that.

MI: Why did you feel the need to change the formation and team tonight?

SM: It’s too early to say.  I’m still trying to work out where it all went wrong.

MI: Will you be resigning?

SM: No.  But it’s too early to talk about that.  It’s too soon after the game to talk about my future.

MI: But do you take responsibility for failing to qualify:

SM: Yes, I take responsibility.  But I’m not resigning.  Besides, it’s too early to talk about my future.

MI: Would you like to stay in the job if you are given the opportunity to do so?

SM: Who said anything about leaving the job?  Anyway, it’s too early to talk about that.

MI: Would you like a cuddle now you realise just how woefully out of your depth you’ve been for the past 18 months?

SM: It’s too early to talk about that.

Now with the honourable exception of the Paul Gray, the recently departed head of HM Revenue & Customs, how bad does something have to be in 21st century Britain before someone admits that the buck stops with them?

The Child Benefit CD Fiasco™ is so catastrophic that the Tory front bench hasn’t even called on a Minister to resign.  Career politicians such as Posh Boy Dave and Posh Boy George apparently recognise that this one is so utterly fucked up beyond all recognition that, well, it could just as easily have happened to them - and if an Eton and Oxbridge education teaches you anything it’s to show your opponent a small degree of compassion. 

So let’s not put on the steel toe-capped boots for this kicking.  This is actually serious.  This is the sort of thing that would have seen honourable men and women fall on their sword pre-Thatcherism.  And honour went out of British politics circa 1979 (Lord Carrington excepted).

So let’s, in fact, genuflect before That Bloody Woman yet again, shall we?

Ignorant people sleep in their beds
Like the doped white mice in the college labs
And nothing ever happens, nothing happens at all.
The needle returns to the start of the song
And we all sing along like before.

2 Comments »

‘Ave it

By BigBrother, on November 20th, 2007, 8:25 am.

Bliss.

John Reid suffered a baptism of fire at his inauguration as Celtic chairman yesterday when he was barracked as a “war criminal” from the floor at the Glasgow club’s AGM.
[...]
One shareholder told the Celtic board that Reid’s appointment represented “a direct contradiction to the principles upon which the club was founded” and that the new chairman was “not fit for purpose”.

Is there any chance we could convince Bliar to take over Leeds Untied?

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End Of The Innocents?

By BigBrother, on November 15th, 2007, 1:31 pm.

It was as grimly fitting as it is profoundly depressing that news of the BBC’s decision to scrap its Rough Justice series after 27 years should emerge on the same day that a man was convicted of the 1975 murder of 11-year-old Lesley Molseed in West Yorkshire, hopefully closing the book on perhaps the most heartbreaking miscarriage of justice these islands have known.  “Hopefully”, because Ronald Castree, the man sentenced to serve a minimum of 30 years in prison for the crime, claims he too has been wrongly convicted.

A day later, the Court of Appeal yesterday began hearing the appeal of another dubious conviction, that of Barri White for the murder in 2000 of Rachel Manning, highlighted by Rough Justice – one of 32 such cases featured by the programme since it was first broadcast in 1980, and which has seen 15 convictions overturned, a remarkable strike rate of 50%.

And today the Court of Appeal has ordered a retrial of Barry George, convicted on the most risible of evidence of the murder of Jill Dando in 1999.  This appeal – George’s second – was partly initiated because of a Rough Justice-style Channel 4 documentary putting pressure on the Criminal Cases Review Commission (established in 1997 at least partially because of the public pressure brought to bear on the criminal justice system by outlets such as Rough Justice) to re-open the case.

I took Criminal Law in the first year of my degree, when I was still vaguely interested in my studies (something that changed when I realised most lecturers were as clueless as me) and legal matters (something that quickly passes with any exposure to legal practice).

Having grown up being forced to watch the local news programmes for Yorkshire (despite not living in that bloody county and trying hard never to set foot in it), I was already aware of the Molseed murder, the conviction of Stefan Kiszko and the campaign protesting his innocence waged single-handedly by his mother Charlotte.  (The case was not featured by Rough Justice itself.)

Kiszko had what are today called “learning difficulties”.  He lived quietly with his mother, worked as a junior clerk in the local tax office and had never been in trouble with the police.

Under massive pressure to bring Molseed’s killer to justice, the West Yorkshire Constabulary – at the time also trying to deal with Peter Sutcliffe’s earliest attacks – seemed to fixate on Kiszko to the exclusion of all other lines of enquiry.

The police interviewed Kiszko without cautioning him, refused his request to see his mother and failed to advise him of his right to consult a solicitor.  After two days of intimidating solitary questioning, Kiszko signed a ‘confession’ that the police produced to him, telling him that if he signed he would be allowed to see his mother.

The police charged Kiszko on the basis of that ‘confession’, because of claims by some local girls that Kiszko had exposed himself to them, and because Kiszko had jotted down in a notebook the registration number of a car seen in the area around the time Lesley Molseed disappeared.

At trial, Kiszko’s defence team made a series of mistakes.  First, they failed to request an adjournment when the Crown produced thousands of pages of additional evidence on the morning of the murder trial.  They also ran a defence of diminished responsibility (that Kiszko did not authorise) caused by medicine Kiszko was receiving for a hormonal complain that was both factually incorrect and in respect of which they failed to produce any medical evidence.  Further, they failed to call medical evidence in respect of a ankle fracture shortly before Molseed disappeared that would have made it all but impossible for the grossly overweight Kiszko to scale the hillside to the spot where Lesley Molseed was killed.

Meanwhile, the prosecution team failed to disclose to Kiszko’s lawyers that the semen sample given by Kiszko contained no sperm (a result of his hormonal condition), while the semen stains recovered by forensic pathologist Ronald Outteridge from Molseed’s underwear contained normal sperm levels.  Tragically, the defence team would have had a cast-iron case had they correctly presented the defence of Kiszko’s hormonal problems, as Kiszko’s endocrinologist would have pointed out his patient was infertile.

The jury at Leeds Crown Court did not believe Kiszko’s claim that the police had bullied him and convicted him of murder by a 10-2 majority.  During sentencing, Mr Justice Park described Kiszko as a “monster” and praised the “brave and honesty” testimony of the girls who claimed to have been the victims of Kiszko’s indecent exposure.  There were widespread calls, including from Lesley Molseed’s family, for Kiszko to be executed.

Kiszko’s first appeal, in 1978, was rejected out of hand.  A convicted child killer, Kiszko was attacked repeatedly while in prison, where he developed schizophrenia.  His refusal to admit his guilt to the Molseed murder meant that he was ineligible for parole; this refusal was itself decided by prison doctors to be a consequence of his mental illness, further rendering Kiszko unfit for release.

Throughout the 1980s the increasingly frail Charlotte Kiszko campaigned ceaselessly for her son’s release.  On 26 October 1989, Charlotte Kiszko and her son’s new legal team presented a petition to the new Home Secretary, the pro-capital punishment Tory MP David Waddington – appointed that same day – for an investigation into his conviction.

It was not until March 1991, by which time Waddington had been replaced as Home Secretary and taken up a peerage, that the Home Office reopened the Kiszko case.  The enquiry discovered the prosecution’s suppression of Kiszko’s medical evidence, uncovered two witnesses who placed Kiszko miles from the scene of the crime at the time it was committed and established that the teenage girls has lied about the indecent exposure incident “for a laugh”.  In light of these findings, Home Secretary Kenneth Baker ordered an appeal, but Kiszko’s mental health deteriorated and he was admitted to a psychiatric hospital in December 1991.

Stefan Kiszko’s conviction for the murder of Lesley Molseed was overturned on 18 February 2002, the second day of his appeal hearing.  In quashing Kiszko’s conviction, Lord Chief Justice Lane said:

“It has been shown that this man cannot produce sperm. This man cannot have been the person responsible for ejaculating over the girl’s knickers and skirt, and consequently cannot have been the murderer”.

The trial judge and the Molseed family publicly apologised for Kiszko’s wrongful conviction and their comments about him.  The three girls (now adults) who had admitted to making the false indecent exposure allegations against Kiszko, West Yorkshire Constabulary and Mr. Outteridge refused to follow suit.

Though technically a “free” man, Kiszko’s mental and emotional vulnerability was such that he was unable to leave hospital fully for a further nine months.  But the damage was in any event too great: a destroyed man, Kiszko suffered a heart attack and died on 23 December 1993, 18 years to the day after he signed the ‘confession’ that incarcerated him.  He was just 41 years old.  Charlotte Kiszko died four months later.

Upon his release, the Home Office had announced Kiszko would receive £500,000 in compensation for the 16 years he wrongly spent in prison.  He received an interim payment but neither Kiszko nor his mother received the full amount.

In 1994 the senior officer in charge of the Molseed murder investigation, Detective Chief Inspector Dick Holland (also a prominent detective in the Yorkshire Ripper investigation), and the now-retired Ronald Outteridge were charged with perverting the course of justice for their alleged suppression of evidence against Kiszko.  On 1 May 1995 the case against the two men was dismissed on the morbidly ironic grounds that the passage of time had made a fair trial impossible.   Holland died earlier this year; Outteridge gave evidence in the trial of Ronald Castree.

Stefan Kiszko’s defence barrister at his original trial was David Waddington QC, the same man who as Home Secretary sat on Kiszko’s appeal petition for 18 months.  He would go on to become Lord Privy Seal and the Governor of Bermuda.  He has never acknowledged any culpability in his conduct of Kiszko’s defence.

On the day after Kiszko’s conviction was overturned by the Court of Appeal, the barrister originally prosecuting Kiszko, Peter Taylor QC, was appointed the Lord Chief Justice of England and Wales.  He died in 1997 and also never acknowledged any fault in the case.

The publicity Rough Justice brought to the cause of convictions as unsafe and unsatisfactory as that of Stefan Kiszko has been utterly invaluable, the service it has provided immense.  The BBC’s claims that it will still investigate such matters as part of its discredited, revamped and risibly sensationalist Panorama provide little comfort.

British justice remains unwell.  But British public service broadcasting is dying.

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No more worries for a week or two

By BigBrother, on November 4th, 2007, 12:04 pm.

My intention was to get down on paper another vitriolic state of the nation tirade before I jetted off on a week’s holiday to the glamorous Suffolk coast but, in the best line John Lennon ever wrote, “Life is what happens while you’re busy making other plans.”

Before I leave, however, I feel I should point out that a fine of £175,000 for shooting somebody seven times in the head and once more in the shoulder, at point blank range, while he was being held down by someone else, in a public place, in a manner that contravened the nation’s laws, amounts to £21,875 a bullet.  (There’s a management consultant somewhere who’ll tell you that’s a reasonable commercial risk to assume…)

It is also a full £55,000 less than Metropolitan Police Commissioner “Sir” Ian Blair earns in a year.

With each day that passes before somebody finally prises “Sir” Ian’s fingers open to prevent him from clinging to his office any longer, he earns more than £630.

Most electricians, I suspect, earn less than £630 a week.

Assuming they’re still alive to ply their trade, that is.

If you need any more proof that this country has become a morally bankrupt Chancer’s Paradise where nobody is accountable for ANYTHING, it is that “Sir” Ian Blair remains in employment today.

And with that I’m off, meaning that the Ministry is likely to be quiet for the next week or so - though I welcome all contributions, SMIPs and general abuse in my absence - and look forward to catching up with you all soon.

In between a lot of sleeping, eating, drinking and watching DVDs, I’m hoping to fit in a bit of writing while I’m away (including a few SMIPs for future publication) so I may come back with all guns blazing in the run up to the Ministry’s first anniversary on 28 November.  (You never know, I might even get round to putting a new lick of paint on the place to mark a year’s existence.)

A toute a l’heure.

2 Comments »

I’ll think of a witty heading when I’ve calmed down

By bearded_baby, on November 2nd, 2007, 10:54 am.

Gordon Brown, you arrogant, incompetent cunt.

Right, now I’ve got that out of my system, can I raise for debate whether Gordon Brown has a fucking clue about what he’s doing or not.

I’d like to say it was a recent dip in form, but his lack of political/management ability has been apparent from the very off.

Firstly, on the very day he was confirmed as leader of the Labour Party he announces that the winner of the Deputy Leader would also be Chair of the party.  This is not merely a slight resuffle, it is a funamental change to the organisation of the party.  Did he not think it might be nice to inform the members who were voting that that was his intention, or had he assumed that the party was his game now so he could make the rules up.

He then announced that the decision of the House of Commons which he disagreed with regarding the Supercasino would be set aside.  Whilst something had to be done about this decison, this anti-spinning PM had the gall to say that “all options would be looked at” whilst senior sources were saying it was “dead in the water”.  Well which is it?  And if you are going to not spin things, can you not try and do it a bit better, because that looks for all the world that you were spinning a decision you’d already taken.

 Then the farce of a Foreign Officer minister saying that the UK and the US would no longer be “joined at the hip” (playing to anti-war people and Europhiles), but then GB saying that the US is “our closest bilateral partner” (cue cheers from Atlanticists and war supporters).

 Then the own goal of the election that never was.  It is hard to believe that Tony Blair would have managed to turn a record lead for Labour in the polls in to a record lead for the Tories in just two short weeks.  But that was because, despite all his faults, Tony Blair (and his advisors) were much more skilfull politicians.

Now, with the Metropolitan Police found guilty of organisational failings that led to the killing of Jean Charles de Menezes, neither he, nor the Home Secretary, nor indeed any Home Office Minister is made available to comment on the verdict.  Given that they will have worked out strategies for the verdict going either way, it is shameful that the best they can do is do nothing.  I can’t imagine he would have buried his head in the sand had the police been acquitted.

 This issue is not a matter that he, or his government, can ignore.  It has affected Britain at an international level and has done a lot of damage to the reputation of the police in this country.  Gordon Brown should really be ashamed of himself.

I have heard two comments that sum up Brown well.  One from Michael Portillo on This Week, who said that Blair’s government, for all the accusations of being Presidential was not a one man show.  There was always Gordon Brown to offer opposition, plus other heavyweights such as Mo Mowlam, Robin Cook, David Blunkett, and Charles Clark.  Most of them finished their career in various states of ignominy, but they were never scared of the argument.  Sadly, Portillo correctly observed, this is now a one man show.

 A more pithy summary came from a friend.  Gordon Brown is a Chief Exec.  He’s not a Chairman of the Board.

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