Whats in a word?

Like any other discipline, political and social sciences throw up some interesting terms that are largely unfathomable to outsiders. One of my favourites has always been 'crippled epistemology' We all have a unique epistemology. It is the sum of all the sources of information a person has been exposed to. What you have read, heard, seen, or experienced, and most importantly, how you have interpreted all these things. In short, it is how you know what you know.

A crippled epistemology is not a good thing. This is what can happen when people with shared interests and beliefs come together to the point where they communicate with and relate only to one another. Eventually all other information sources are excluded, and they become locked into their own obession. Inevitably their beliefs and values become distorted; they cease to understand reality, or to be of interest to anybody outside their own community. Its sort of an intellectual form of in-breeding.

That is 'crippled epistemology', or to give it an anacronym that might be considered highly appropriate, UKIP.

Another term that I only recently came across is 'Hypothetical Causal Reconstruction'. I will call it HCR simply because I don't want to keep typing it out in full. It is quite obvious what it means, I think.

This is basically "What if we had done this....", or more likely "What if we had got it right first time?" Invoking the negative conotations of HCR is a clever way of saying "I screwed up, and I don't want to talk about it.

Lets apply a bit of HCR to UKIP.

What if Kilroy had bided his time in 2004 and waited for the promised UKIP leadership in 2006?

What if Lord Pearson, then party leader, had not urged voters to back the Tories in the 2010 General Election?

What if the UKIP party name had appeared on the ballot papers in the London elections this year?

What if UKIP's collective epistemology were not crippled?

I could go on and on. If UKIP were a movie, it would be the Keystone Kops, it really would.

The sad thing is, there is now no effective eurosceptic voice in the UK, and with a referendum on our relationship with the EU seemingly looming, that could be a disaster. In favour of continued membership we would have the Conservative, Labour, Liberal Democrat and Green parties. Opposing continued membership we would have UKIP and the BNP. Can you see the problem here?

Its a shame it has come to this, but UKIP is now a liability for the withdrawalist arguement. It has always been thus where the BNP are concerned, of course. If you want to be taken seriously, the last you want is them agreeing with you.

A journalist recently described UKIP as a "nutter magnet". Some years ago I would have argued strongly against that comment, now I would agree with him. Its such a pity, it really is.

Beaver Smells a Bit Musty When It Gets Damp....

Its true. Arriving back in Brussels on Friday after a trip to Strasbourg, I stretched my weary limbs (its a 5 hour drive), and went for a walk, as is my habit.

And then the rain came, and Oh Boy it came down!

As an ex-Boy Scout I am Always Prepared, and so I had on my favourite and most trusted cowboy hat, a nice piece of kit from Texas (made from Beaver skin), that has kept me dry through many a rainstorm and blizzard on camping trips in the Ardennes and other places.

Actually, it is knocking on a bit now, but it fits like a glove, and I am reluctant to let it go. But when it gets waterlogged it does tend to get a bit musty.

I found myself in a bar, watching the first half of the England-Sweden game. It was a wee bit packed, but I found that I was able to clear a bit of space around me, thanks to my damp Beaver. Sadly, a couple of Belgians took offence at the fact that I was standing in front of them. They came and stood real close - one in front of me, one behind. It may be that the musty titfer reminded them of their dear Mama, or maybe the fact that I hadn't shaved for two days excited them in some way (or maybe this also reminded them of their dear Mama), but they were real close, and the one in front insisted on backing into me about 5 times.

Now, the Kidney punch is always a sure winner, and it has the advantage in that it does not need much backswing. Should you find yourself needing to clear your view during tomorrow's match with Ukriane, you might bear this in mind.

Now the moral of this story appears to be, (and I dont't know if this applies equally to men and women) if you want to get your way, keep your Beaver moist, and don't shave! What the hell good that is going to do for me I don't know, as I don't expect this bizarre situation to repeat itself anytime real soon. Or at least, I hope not.

Its raining in Waterford.....

Its been a heck of a week! Campaigning in Ireland with Nikki Sinclaire and the team, putting the argument for a "NO" vote for today's referendum on the Fiscal Treaty.

Dundalk, Dublin, Kildaire, Cork, and a host of villages in between. Last night we arrived in Waterford, which is a highlight for me - my maternal Grandfather was from Co. Kilkenny - and what a beautiful place it is.

It didn't look so nice at 7am this morning though, doing the last minute leafleting in the pouring rain!

The best bit however has been the reception we have received from the Irish people. Popular opinion is clearly against the treaty, but many feel bullied into voting "YES", and so they are pleased to debate with us and have a host of questions for us. Lets hope that we have managed to reassure at least some of them that the world will not end if they reject the treaty.

At the moment, the gap is a narrow one, and a collapse in support for Labour - who are taking a lead in the yes campaign - might throw up an unexpected result. Let us hope........ 

A 98th Birthday Party....!

My very good friend Glynne celebrated his 98th bithday some days ago. We had a lovely gathering - Champagne, Welsh Cakes, too much chocolate cake, and we told jokes and sang a bit as we always do. I cannot claim to be a Welsh speaker, but thanks to all those lovely Friday lunches with Glynne, I am getting the hang of Ar Hyd y Nos.

Glynne is a former soldier with  the London Welsh. He is a Normandy Veteran, and was one of the troops who liberated Brussels from the Germans in 1944. He retains his Welsh accent despite having lived for decades here in Brussels. He married a very pretty girl here, and raised his family. But now he is alone, but with many good friends.

He is a lovely gentleman, with a keen mind and a great love of literature. Our mutual friend Norman, an ex Royal Navy man from Northern Irelend was there with us, along with good folk from all parts of the UK and Belgium.

In 1939, Glynne served as an Ack Ack gunner at RAF Wattisham. I was there myself as a young airman from 1979-1983. We also have a colleague here in Brussels, Julia, who spent time at the base herself. There is a corner of a Belgian bar that is forever RAF Wattisham.......

Classic.....

This week we realised a long standing ambition when we held the inaugural meeting of the EP's informal intergroup on Classical Music.

Dmytro Sukhovienko, an esteemed concert pianist and a good friend of mine was there, as was Tom Wise, former MEP, who did good work on supporting the cause of classical music. All in all, a good meeting and one that generated some good ideas and proposals.

This Time Next Year, Rodders, We'll All Be Millionaires!

 Having occasionally paid attention to my lecturers, I can tell you that Psephology is the study of election results - it comes from the Greek word Psepho, which means 'pebble'. The ancient Greeks used to cast their votes by placing a pebble in a jar.

As election results go, it doesn't require the wisdom of Pericles to work out what happened at last week's local elections in the UK.

The Lib Dems were punished severely for being totally ineffectual, and Labour benefited from the predictable mid-term expression of disatisfaction with the government. The Leveson enquiry hasn't helped the Tories of course - let's be honest, we are all absolutely convinced that they offered support for Murdoch's BSkyB takeover bid in return for editorial support. Skinner was right - the posh boys are in trouble, and their underlings are being thrown to the wolves in order to protect them. I suspect they may run out of underlings before this one reaches its conclusion....

But what about UKIP? The party has never done well at local elections - it is a 'top-down' party, with little serious effort or investment at the local level. One might have expected, however, something more than a zero net gain, and a wipe-out in London.

The latter disappointed me somewhat, having done a lot of work on the ground there up until 2004. I had fully expected UKIP to win at least one seat on the London Assembly, but no, it was, as wipeouts go, total. Of course, we are talking about a party that could not even manage to present itself correctly on the ballot paper, and ended up with a derisory 1.96%. Who the bloody hell was responsible for that, I wonder? Only the BNP did worse - and not much worse either

The local manifesto was totally unsuited for local elections (nothing new there).How many times are wind farms mentioned in this piece of political illiteracy? In fact, opposition to renewable energy per se literally jumps out of the pages here. In a YouGov poll last year, 56% of those asked supported more wind power "than at present". So that's 56% of the electorate scared off straight away. How can any party possibly hope to form a majority even at local level when it is trying to appeal to 44% of the population at best? This is madness. Note that the Greens did marginally better than at the previous local elections, and managed third place in the London Mayoral election.

It is worth noting that in the same poll, 76% were in favour of more solar energy. UKIP does not touch this at all in its manifesto, instead it just keeps recycling the same lines about wind energy. I wonder why that is? In fact, UKIP's energy and environment policy has not been updated since 2008, and even then what is on the party website is a misrepresentation of the paper produced by the relevant policy committee.

I am told that the person responsible for the local manifesto is actually employed by a member of another political  party. That might sound impossible in any other context, but remember - UKIP is the party whose leader actually donned a Tory rosette and urged voters to reject his own candidates at the last general election.

UKIP has been boasting that it is replacing the Lib Dems as the third party. To get this into perspective, UKIP has 9 councillors, and the Lib Dems - who suffered their worst results ever last week, have 431.

But if the party's maths are as good as its policy formulation, then what the hell!

Country Sports - A New Sector?

I always enjoyed shooting - I was at Bisley a couple of times in the late 70s as a cadet in the Air Training Corps - and I carried on during my time in the RAF. Mostly full bore, but some .22 and pistol  shooting. Its a great sport. I still love guns, and I still shoot. The thought of hunting never really appealed to me though- I don't see how it can be considered fun to shoot a living creature, unless they are IRA, in which case that's something of a public service, of course.

So there I was, just a few short days ago, driving through Yorkshire and admiring the scenery, when a fantastic idea occurred to me. Country sports are often considered to be somewhat exclusive, and inaccessible to many. So it occurred to me that it would be a good thing to 'democratise' the concept, and to make it more accessible by opening up what seems to me to be a whole new sector in field sports.

Hunting sheep.

Think about it - there are hundreds of thousands of them on the Yorksire dales. They don't actually do anything except chew cud or whatever, and they are slow movers, so hunting sheep would be a great way of getting into the sport. Even an Afghan on poppy seeds couldn't miss one of those.

This idea could even be extended to include a whole new concept in hunting - the machine gun. If you were a sheep, what would you prefer, being electrocuted, then hung up by the hind legs and slaughtered in front of all your pals, or would you rather take a couple of rounds of 7.62 in the side of the head whilst peacefully gazing across the moors?

Think how much money this would inject into the subsidy industry (or farming, as it used to be called).

I don't really understand sheep. But it occurred to me as I was wistfully watching them and considering the best angle to go for a head shot, that these animals are sadly unaware of their purpose in life. Think about it - of all the zillions of sheep that ever lived, not a single one of them ever had any idea of how nice they taste.

Tragedy in Brussels

We have a transport strike in Brussels at the moment. Very sadly, a bus inspector who was called to the scene of a collision between a bus and a car on Saturday morning was struck in an altercation and he died as a result. This is a dreadful thing to happen, nobody should have to be in fear of their personal safety as they go about their daily business.

From this awful tragedy, some lessons might be learned, we hope.

In Brussels, if one is involved in an incident with a bus, the bus driver is always right. Even if he has pulled away from a bus stop without indicating or checking his rear view mirror - it is incumbent upon car drivers to always give way to a bus whatever the circumstances. My 7 year old son and I had a nasty close shave just a few days ago when a bus took a sharp right turn and came partially over the pavement, missing us by inches. The driver was talking on his mobile phone and not looking at all where he was going - as he drove away he was blissfully unaware of the near miss that we had just had. I have been spat at by a bus driver because I had the audacity to complain when, whilst watching me get off the bus, he deliberately closed the doors on me. Maybe I was moving too slowly for his liking, but I was nursing a broken knee at the time, my leg was in a brace, and I was not too sprightly. I have seen doors being closed on baby's pushchairs at least twice. I once complained when a bus parked across a pedestrian crossing whilst my son and I were crossing a busy roundabout . Rond-Point Schman -  forcing us out into the road to negotiate heavy traffic at rush hour to reach safety.. My remonstrations to the driver earned me a sneer and a raised finger.

I would have thumped that driver if he had accepted my challenge for him to get out of his bus, there is no question about that.
Tram drivers and metro drivers are no better.

None of this excuses violent behaviour, and nothing can justify the killing of an innocent man going about his work.

After the Schuman incident I complained in writing, and pursued the complaint vigorously. I was told by the transport company, STIB, that it appeared to be a training issue, and that the driver would be spoken to. I am not entirely confident that he was actually spoken to, let alone given any kind of advice about his appalling attitude and behaviour, as STIB has no concept of, or indeed interest in, customer service.

But can you imagine the frustration that the paying public and motorists feel when we are treated with indifference and even contempt on an almost daily basis? When lives are endangered due to the incompetence, indifference, and negligence of partially trained staff? I would have struck that bus driver at Rond-Pont Schuman, if he had given me the chance. He raised his finger not just at me, but at my son, who was then 6 years old. I was furious almost beyond the point of self-control. In the light of Saturday's events I am so relieved that there was no violent confrontation - this is a lesson for all of us as to how quickly events can get out of control and can end tragically.

There is a culture of contempt for the customer, and for the public in general (especially other road users) within STIB. This culture can lead, as I have experienced myself, to frustration, anger, and raised tempers. An innocent man, a 56 year-old with a family, who came to Begium from Albania in search of a better life, has unwittingly, and undeservedly, paid for it. And that is a tragedy indeed.

"The Train is About to Depart. Please mind the Crap"

One of my great pleasures is listening to the dawn chorus each morning. It seems to be very strong at the moment, but I do wish they would maybe leave it out until about 6am. 4 in the morning might have been alright for Faron Young , but I find it a tad early to be singing outside my bedroom window.

So feeling suitably cheery after a couple of hours of chirping, I made my way to the Metro this morning. My local station is at the most 90 seconds walk from my front door, and that short journey brought me back to earth. I had to negotiate no less than 5 puddles of vomit on the pavement.

I know that such things happen in any town or city, but Brussels is particularly bad. There is also the matter of dogs. There is absolutely no social stigma attached here to letting one's mutt dump on the pavement in front of all to see. On New Year's Day 2009, I stepped into a lift in a Metro station only to find that a dog had dumped in there. At least I hope it was a dog.....

Belgians do strange things on the Metro. I am not making this up, but at my local station there is a pole dancing club. Where else in the world will you find a pole dancing club in an underground station?

"The train for Stockel will dapart in one minute, and in 2 minutes Anne-Marie will get her tits out behind platform 2.  and enjoy your journey but please mind the crap".

Only in Belgium...

A touch of the old spirit, at last!

HMS Dauntless is deploying to waters around the Falkland Islands. Prince William is about to start a stint on the islands, and members of the Commons defence select committee will be visiting the Islands in March.

We are told that this is all coincindental, and that it has absolutely nothing to do with the 30th anniversary of the Argentine invasion on April 2nd.

Yeah right.

And isn't it nice to see a bit of good old fashoined sabre rattling?

It happens.....

I had a bit of an unusual start to my day. I was walking through Parc Leopold this morning, quite early, when the parrots arrived. This park is home to a large colony of bright green parrots that I am rather fond of. They make a heck of a spectacle as they dart noisily around Brussels in close formation - they can turn up anywhere at any time, but Parc Leopold is where they call home.

About 100 of them were heading towards me, and I was on high ground so I figured they would pass pretty close. As they flew overhead I looked up, and one of the little bastards shat in my eye!

I hate it when that happens.

Back in 2004 I had a similar experience with an owl. This was particularly remarkable as it happened in Rotherhithe, and east London is not a place usually associated with owls. As a result of this I am probably one of the very few people on God's earth who knows what owl shit tastes like.

My grandmother always used to tell me that it was good luck - although getting a faceful of partially digested rodent entrails is probably the kind of luck that most of us can do without.

Some are more equal than others....

I am really pleased that Prince Phillip, who I have always regarded as a bit of a national treasure, is up and on the prowl after his recent heart scare.

I am also delighted that the NHS was able to scramble a helicopter to take him to Papworth for the best treatment available in Britain.

But I must ask..... if a 90 year old bloke from a council estate had an identical problem, would he have had identical treatment? Or would he have had to go through NHS Direct before being taken by ambulance to his local General Hospital before being put on a trolley with a little note on the end of it saying "Do Not Resucitate"?

I think I know the answer to that question.