STOP PRESS–DAVENTRY LOCAL ELECTIONS 2014

Following on from yesterday’s twitter conversation with the Labour Candidate for Weedon Ward, Daventry, Northamptonshire in the Daventry Local Elections 2014. I received this tweet:

 

 

 

 

What does that mean? “We are not leafleting Weedon ward”? Well how are you going to get the electorate to know who you are and what you are going to stand for? How can the electorate be informed?

 

Imagine. “Yes, well we’re not going to tell people what our key products are we’re just going to open and hope for the best”

 

Only someone with totally misguided confidence would run in a local election and not tell the voters who they are and what they stand for. Good for you Mrs! Good for you! You’d have been better off spending the electoral deposit on something like a trip to Cromer. Or some cakes.

 

“Dav Labour Doing good work” – How? Where? What sort of work??

 

“Standing up for local services…” – On the bus because they need a seat? In a field? Doing the hokey cokey? – “…and a living wage for DDC staff”

 

Well as a member of the public who isn’t a member of Daventry District Council, what good is that for me?

 

Honestly! What on earth?! It’s as if she doesn’t want to win.

 

Ah well…The offer still stands…Come and tell me why I should vote for you…

Local? Elections?

 

Apparently there are local elections coming up soon. I say apparently because as most of Warwickshire aren’t having any, there is very little in the way of posterage, bannerage or flyerage in the sleepy semi-rural area of Leamington Spa that is Radford Semele.

Ah, Radford Semele. You know? I thought Brierley in South Yorkshire was a sleepy little insignificant village, but that was a nuclear political battle ground compared to here. I suppose the difference may be because in Barnsley the local press is still mostly independent and local politicians vie for column space to show how good a job they do or, as in the “mayor” of Brierley’s case, how many fat fingers he had in juicy local pies.

Radford Semele. Well, there’s nothing much political about it. There is a parish council and a handy, recently vandalised, village notice board. But other than that, nothing. I think at the last election I saw one flyer, but that was for the BNP so that doesn’t count.

Now, regular readers, not that there are any, would probably remember my foray into the world of poking local politicians into action when I emailed the “Mayor” of Brierley, Alex Vodden,  and asked such questions as: “Why don’t you have a website?”, “What exactly do you do?” and “Why does a small insignificant village on the outskirts of Barnsley need an expensive mayor?”. But you would be forgiven in forgetting as I recall I did not receive a reply anyway (possibly because of my name). Though a few months later a website did appear which, curiously, hasn’t been updated in 2 years.

Then there was the time at the General election where I invited the MPs vying for my vote to attend at my local pub for a chat and a pint to convince me why I should vote for them in the first place. I attended. They didn’t. So I didn’t vote for any of them.

Now I am based in this tiny speck on the map next to ROYAL Leamington Spa and I’m kind of sad that I haven’t bitten into the bitter apple of local politics in the same way. It could be that the local press, well the Leamington Observer, is more of a “ONOES DOG MESS ON MY PAVEMENT” kind of rag compared to the Barnsley Chronicle. It could be that ROYAL Leamington Spa is just too posh for local politics. Or it could be that I have been too busy re-establishing a career to fuck about with local politicians. I suspect the latter.

So I took it upon myself to find out about the local parish council and started with my good old friend Mr Google. I asked Mr Google to search for “Radford Semele Parish Council”. The hits I received were a bit disappointing, a few mentions in old PDFs and a bit about the contact details for the Parish Council clerk on the Warwickshire Council website. The parish clerk, it appears, is some jobbing due-for-retirement-solicitor, but that’s all there is. Disappointed? Not really. I’ve come to expect that sort of thing with local democracy over the years.

I mean, here we are with the most powerful communication tool ever and what do local politicians do? Ignore the marketing power of it! What better platform to get your message across than the Internet?

Fair enough, I thought. Maybe I’m looking too local and so I widened my search into the local Parliamentarians. It was then I discovered the wonderfully lazy conservative MP, Jeremy Wright. Ah, Jeremy. What do you actually do in the big house in Westminster? Not very much it seems, if theyworkforyou.com is any indication.

 

As it states on his page (http://www.theyworkforyou.com/mp/jeremy_wright/kenilworth_and_southam):-

 

 

Numerology

Please note that numbers do not measure quality. Also, representatives may do other things not currently covered by this site. (More about this)

• Has spoken in 1 debate in the last year — well below average amongst MPs.
• Has received answers to 0 written questions in the last year — well below average amongst MPs.
• Replied within 2 or 3 weeks to a high number of messages sent via WriteToThem.com during 2008, according to constituents.
• Has voted in 81.15% of votes in this Parliament with this affiliation — above average amongst MPs. (From Public Whip)
• People have made 1 annotation on this MP’s speeches — below average amongst MPs.
• This MP's speeches, in Hansard, are readable by an average 18–19 year old, going by the Flesch-Kincaid Grade Level score.
• 111 people are tracking this MP — email me updates on Jeremy Wright’s activity.
• Has used three-word alliterative phrases (e.g. "she sells seashells") 92 times in debates — below average amongst MPs.

Source: theyworkforyou.com

Now to give him his due, Jeremy is a bit of a voter, however, it appears that he doesn’t say much in the big house really. To further illustrate, you see the bit that says “111 people are tracking this MP”. Well I’m one of them. I have been for almost 2 years now. Do you know what? I haven’t had an update about him in ages. I suspect he may have lost his voice, so when I contact him, I might offer him a Zube or something. And yes, he does sometimes bitch and moan about the inconvenient HS2 running through his back garden with some opposed to the scheme, but with added “But it’s tough, it’s for the good of the country….vote for me anyway”.

Anyway, I had a bit more of a poke about to see what old Jezza has been up to. Where he lives. What his interests are. But that would mean writing lots more and, no doubt, you are already bored of reading this. So I’ll leave that….analysis….for a future date.

Oh, and Jeremy? Don’t go changing stuff….I’ve made copies…..

Landscape

If I fell through a hole in time and travelled back 25 years. If I then looked out of my bedroom window across the field behind the lane with no name and beyond the field behind the field behind the lane with no name, not only would I have upset Mrs Edson's daughter, but I would have seen the winch wheel of a pit stack.

Had I then gone downstairs and beyond the rear door of San Tor, tootled down the lane with no name and onto the corner of Church Street and Common Road I would probably have been able to see one of the largest collieries in the UK stretching out in the distance before me. There would have been power stations, winch houses, the constant drone of colliery activity and the like.

I would probably have seen a constant pedestrian traffic of orange overalls walking down the hill into Grimethorpe wherein those wearing the overalls would probably have stepped into a cage and travelled deep below the ground for a day of mining. In fact, had I gone to any number of places around the neighbourhood I would have seen similar sights of industrial activity. Trains and lorries laden with coal bound for the steel mills and power stations that peppered the vista.

I would have seen people milling about; doing their daily business with smiles upon their faces asking after neighbours and discussing Morecambe and Wise or some such. These same people would have been unaware of the devastation they would face over the next fifteen years or so. When their livelihoods were taken away from them by a government leader bent on revenge for the winter of discontent. A way to quell the voices of discontent and the socialism which threatened their brave new world.

Spin forward through time once more and where there was employment, there is but social decay in the shape of unemployment, bigotry and drug use. Houses that once were grand now look tatty and unkempt. Parades of shops that once boasted green grocers, fishmongers and butchers now stand boarded up and empty or populated by takeaways and offices of antidrug and employment building social enterprise groups. The contrast is vast.

Travel to Liverpool 30 years ago and similar sights would have been seen, instead of coal miners you would have seen dock workers. Sheffield and Doncaster, steel workers. Newcastle, ship builders. The Midlands, motor industry.  An industrial past so memorable yet so long gone.  All gone. Thanks to the brave new world instigated by the Thatcher and perpetuated by the Blair governments.

Sure, industry would have struggled to compete with low cost foreign imports. It was a natural shift from production to service industries. However the speed in which the transition took place was so swift that few were prepared for the following years. This wasn't 100 years ago, this was twenty to thirty years ago. Heck, even during my education traditional jobs such as butcher, baker, factory worker and the like were still discussed. Now, most of these jobs don't exist.

Who to blame? The governments? They were the ones that set this passage in motion. The people? Reluctant to pay more for goods produced on home ground they would prefer cheaper imports to paying to maintain other peoples lives. Nobody? A natural transition that occurred as predicted by Marx? I can only speculate.

But what is clear is that since the industry was taken away very little has been put in place since. Sure Liverpool's main industry now is education and tourism. Sheffield's it could be argued is sport and culture. But places like the Midlands and Barnsley remain places difficult to find work in. Even the brief respite of call centres which have since been outsourced overseas only provided negligible difference.

As the population continues to grow unsustainably. The economy will continue to falter. Socialist ideals such as national health care and education  now too expensive at current prices will require more and more funding. The future is bleak, the future is most certainly not orange. Taxes need to increase. With increases in taxes, salaries will need to be increased. As salaries increase so will the drain on GDP. Inflation increases, held off artificially by government backing supermarkets and industry will surge and rocket, things will be bad.

Let's think about a pie. Mmmmm pie. It is a nice pie. We all want a slice of this pie but some want bigger slices than others because they think they deserve a bigger slice. So to cater for the demand on pie we bake a bigger pie. But then people say that they want a piece of the pie that is comparative to the slice they think they deserve. The circle continues.

But let us go back to South Yorkshire and look around.

Think of the seaside town that is no longer popular with tourists. The once grand and splendid arcades now shuttered or populated by pound shops. The streets of dilapidated guest and boarding houses now multi occupancy dwellings inhabited by ne'er-do-wells, the down at heel and misguided immigrants. Pensioners wander the streets or sit outside once proud homes dreaming of times past when the new housing estate was once the local lido. Think of how this once popular place was alive with people happy and at peace now degraded, it's heart ripped out by cheap foreign holidays. Then consider this seaside town land locked. You might now be imagining somewhere similar to Grimethorpe, Goldsthorpe, Mexborough and the like. Once proud pit villages populated by hard working proud people with facilities to cater for them provided by the pit owners.

Take the pit away and these places become that landlocked seaside town. The streets once burgeoning with shops now boast 1001 curries, kebabs and tanning salons. The schools once constructed in an age when architects considered the art of the building design instead of functionality now empty, burnt out or demolished. The churches whose congregations once boasted over 200 parishioners per service, now guarded by razor wire and awful looking grills to protect the already damaged stained glass windows. The pit itself, long cleared away, the ancillary buildings few of which remain are but depots for reclamation yards or meeting places for drug addicts and the destitute.

This is the brave new post war post industrial England. Sure there are sleepy villages, vibrant cities and bustling market towns in well to do areas, but for every Harrogate, there are many more Grimethorpes. These deprived areas like a rot will take a lot more than money, social schemes and the like to treat. With the decline goes pride, with pride lost there is little but apathy, with apathy comes decay. The wealthy international companies know this and they feast on the decay with their burger shops, their big name brand supermarkets, their "you must buy this because you need it" attitudes. Sucking the communities dry of the wealth which is then sent south or overseas and not reinvested in the local communities. We really only have ourselves to blame.

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Cross posted to my Livejournal.

Empee Empee

Jeff Ennis goes this year. He used to live next door to Mrs Edson you know.

I live in Barnsley East. I’ve never been canvassed by an MP and shoving your tatty bit of paper through my letterbox just makes the cats and the recycle bin happy.

Currently the potential MPs for my area are (in no particular order) -

 

John Brown - Lib Dem: Beardy gent

Former lecturer, former manager of a plastics company.

Been about a bit. Lived in places such as St Helens, Congleton, Barnsley, Sheffield, Doncaster and Loughborough.

Has a degree in Metallurgy.

 

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Caven Vines - UKIP: Shifty looking beardy gent

Seems to be based in Rotherham which isn’t all that far from Barnsley East but still.

Has a bee in his bonnet about immigrants, muslims and Britain being British.

Says “We need representation by MPs who are not afraid to speak out for what the people of Britain want” – Well I want a new car and £10000 please :D

 

 

 

 

 

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Colin Porter – BNP: Odious sounding shouty pointy man

Other than a leaflet buried on some nationalist website and a couple of news clippings about him being all shouty and pointy. The only  other reference I could find about this gent is this Youtube video - http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0cPDF6IDxz4

Curious really. Considering he’s putting himself forward for election. Furthermore, he seems to be stuck on issues that have no weight on the global or national scheme of things. I’m sure people living in Warrington would be furious to know that truck drivers are driving along B roads in Barnsley…..

 

 

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 James Hockney - Conservatives: Slimey looking toff

 

This guy seems to have a career covering the south. Cambridgeshire, Ely and the like. Apart from kindly “helping to get a Learner Centre up and running in South Yorkshire”. I doubt he’s even looked at Barnsley except on a map.

Oh wait…it appears he went to a brewery….in a different part of Barnsley. Bless him.

 

 

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Michael Dugher - Labour: The ungoogleable man.

 

Seems like this chap has been floating round the country like an unflushed turd. I doubt he even lives in Barnsley...or for that matter knows where it is.

However he does seem to already have some parliamentary connections so even if he doesn’t get the job he can still make tea and advise on whatever it is he advises on.

 

 

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This, it seems, is the motley band of chaps that want my vote. Now apart from virtually no web presence, these guys seem to think that they can tell me what they stand for  by telepathy…or maybe some sort of osmosis or something. However, because I’ve lived my life wrong, I am unable to receive messages through the ether due to my fat head being somehow defective.

So, like last time there was an election my offer still stands. It even applies to the horrid shouty pointy man. Let us go for a pint at the Three Horseshoes and discuss why I should vote for you because unless you do…I won’t have any idea why it is I should give you my vote.

Political Pints

Margaret Thatcher had her gardening. John Major had his soap box. Tony Blair and Gordon Brown; cups of tea with grass root voters. What would swing me? Well a pint with me in my local would probably help…..

I’ve blogged before on how little contact my local political representatives have made to the people that matter (See these various Livejournal entries), those people being…well…me and others like me who are called upon to do their duty and put a cross in a box every few years. Indeed, the same really could apply to prospective MPs.

In all my years I’ve never been canvassed. Either in person or by any other personal means. Now I know some will say “Oh but Stegzy you daft pillock, there are far too many people for all the MPs to go and visit them all and that is why they have special talks and things in community centres”. Others might say “Oh well you should get leaflets and that through your door surely that should be enough”. Well no…it isn’t.

When I moved to Yorkshire the country was undergoing an election. I was new to Barnsley and had no idea who was who or what the the people who were asking for my vote stood for.

So, I took it upon myself to look up the local prospective candidates in the local press and on the web and I contacted all the candidates via email inviting them to come to my house and tell me why I should vote for them. (see this entry)

Surprisingly.

Nobody came.

Not even a “Thanks” or a “Hey yeah while I’m dead busy like I can’t really drop everything just for one vote”.

Nothing

I thought to myself that come the general election I would extend that offer to the people hoping to be elected to parliament for the Barnsley East ward.

Then Gordon goes and visits some people at their house for a cup of tea.

Well. Fair enough, with having to finish my degree and being in two places most of the time I didn’t get round to making that post.

My intention, as I alluded to, was to invite political prospectives to come and tell me why they deserved my vote and not the other guy rather than have them shove a piece of paper through my door with a few general statements about what current issue they deem to have importance.

Now I can hardly expect Gordon, Nick and that other fella to come round to my gaff together and take me for a pint, but the idea would be nice. I can just imagine it, me and political big wigs having a pint in my local or, for that matter, in my lounge…like the lads…not that the “lads” ever come round to my gaff, but you get my idea.

No, perhaps expecting the big fish to visit the tadpoles is a bit far fetched. But my local MP…well that’s a different matter. They’re not there yet. My current MP is Jeff Ennis, who, you might be amused to know, used to live in G the Human Dog’s house next door to mine. Anyway, I understand that Jeff is standing down at this election. I never got to meet good old Jeffy but I can imagine him sipping an ale with Mrs Edson (the lady that lived in my house before me) or nipping down to the Three Horseshoes for a little snifter of sherry with the lads.

So as there is a vacancy coming up and I’m still unaware of anyone wanting to try and fill Ennis’ shoes I thought I’d extend the offer once more.

It is highly unlikely that anyone from Barnsley let alone anyone from the Barnsley East and Mexborough ward will be reading this but hopefully some enterprising PR person will pick up on it and see it as a boon for selfpromotion. But…here goes…if you are a prospective candidate or are hoping to run for election as the MP for Barnsley East and Mexborough….get in touch. Please. Come and meet me and we’ll have a one to one. I will ask you about the issues that matter to me and which way you would vote on my behalf, should an issue arise in Parliament.

Of course nobody chuffing will come. Nobody ever does. And then I’ll sit there, vote card in hand, clueless about who to vote for.