Max Mosley is an odious and pompous autocrat. He personifies the upper class twit mentality that cripples this country. I know I couldn’t spend more than 30 seconds in his company without wanting to transform his face with a steel toecap boot. He has contributed greatly
in the transformation, and subsequent demeaning, of F1 and other motor sports from races where individual skill prevailed, to processions of technological genius where success is driven by money.

I don’t much like him.

But, I will raise my glass to him this evening over his rightful victory over the scabby rag The News of the World. If ever a victory for common sense and a person’s right to privacy was needed then now is as good a time as any. I only wish the punitive damages of £60,000 had been £6,000,000.

This rotten example of The Fourth Estate decided to follow a man into a private room and expose him to the world for some exotic sexual tastes. It makes me mad to think this grottylittle organ sits there in moral judgement on adult activities that are not illegal, whilst peddling titillation and soft porn to the nation. It’s the hypocrisy that gets me, exposingand berating the private lives of celebrities whilst showing topless pictures of 18 year old girls and actively advertising dubious ‘chatlines’ and mobile phone downloads. What next, exposing Elton John for sleeping with a man.....showing everyone that Amy Winehouse has a drink and drugs issue.....oh sorry I forgot they've already done that.

Uniform based orgies are not my bag, but if it is Max Mosley’s thing then surely that’s down to him and no-one else. The media and people in worldwide motorsport are now crying out for him to resign. I’d like him to resign as well but for reasons to do with ruining motor sport and not because some devout religious F1 fan is disgusted by his activities or other allegedly important, but more realistically powerful people are offended by his sexualproclivities.

The truth is none of them would have been any the wiser had the Screws not felt it necessary to tell everyone what a man does in his own private time with other consenting adults. They nearly got everything they deserved and should have been done - £6,000,000 is a message that would have made every tabloid think twice about propagating such utter banal and pointless crap. .

Max Mosley, I wouldn’t drink with you, but tonight I will drink to you.

Later , GJ

The Wage Slave (contd)

My first 1:1 with The Tub Thumper (TTT) ....abridged


TTT: So then, Jack, how do you feel?

GJ (says): OK, a little worn out but then the last few months have been ....a tad stressful
GJ (thinks) Like you give a shit....

TTT: Why's that?




GJ (says): Well, you know, not knowing what the future holds, not knowing if I'll have a job or who I'll be working for. being promised so much and then having it all taken away
GJ (thinks): Because you're all a bunch of egotistical fuckwits sat in Ivory Towers advancing your careers at the expense of others.

TTT: Well, understandable I suppose. But hey, it's all done and dusted now, and the good news is you're working for me!

GJ (says): Well, that is some good news at last. Although I didn't want to work in Problem Control.
GJ (thinks): Whoopy-fucking-do, an evangelist for a boss who doesn't believe in Evolution and doesn't have a TV and believes the world was created in 7 days. And hey, done and dusted? For fucks sake, have you no Christian compassion?

TTT: You won't be in Problem, you'll be a new team with a new function - Service Performance and Intelligence! SPI........what do you think?

GJ (says): Wow, sounds exciting. When do we start?
GJ (thinks): Smile, look happy, look enthusiastic. How bad can this be? I think I already know.

TTT: Glad you like it. How do you think the team will take the news?

GJ (says): They'll be thrilled! Some closure on the past and something to aim for in the future. They're a hardy bunch.
GJ (thinks): Fuck me, I've got my work cut out placating them. How the fuck do I spin this positively?

TTT: We'll also need to get to work on how we develop you, get you back on track.

GJ (says): Great, it's been a nightmare stagnating in such an environment of uncertainty.
GJ (thinks): Leave me alone. I don't need or want any patronising development. I'm quite happy with my team and role.

TTT: I notice that on your annual review you put 'under review' against long term aspirations, yet The Master told me you were hoping for your F Grade.

GJ (says): Well, I am reviewing my options in light of all the redundancies. It's fair to say my trust in The Company to look after me or even care about my future career is somewhat tainted. F grade looks like a departure lounge to me. And I've got a mortgage and family to look out for.
GJ (thinks): Oh yeah, I'm REALLY gonna put my neck in the noose! Happy comparative anonymity has served me well thus far for 15 years so it might as well serve me that way for the future.

TTT: (silence and bemused look)

GJ (says): I'm Ok with where I am. I'm a bit old to carry any further ambition in The Company.
GJ (thinks): I want to do something else, but as a wage slave I'm fucking trapped. Yep, That should get the blade sharpened!

TTT: Well..I'm surprised. I thought you were a bit more confident and upbeat than that.

GJ (says): Well, 5 months of uncertainty and protecting my team from the rumours and getting them to work as normal has been hard and I'm a little jaded.
GJ (thinks): Is this it? At 46 I've got to be preached at and patronised. Are you really too dim to understand why I'm a bit down?

TTT: Never mind, you have a break coming up so you can recharge the batteries and come back ready to drive the team and yourself on.

GJ (says): Yep, that's what I need, my holiday. I'll come back on full thrust and be ready to lead the team into new campaigns. it's really quite exciting......
GJ (thinks): Christ, she might as well have said 'never mind, have a cup of tea and everything will be fine' - You hypocrite jack, you fucking spineless hypocrite. Tell her the truth! Go on....there's a devil on my shoulder

10 seconds pass....

GJ (thinks): The Angel on the other shoulders smacks The devil in the mouth. Don't be a prick, say the right things, smile and lie through your teeth. it's not about you.....

30 minutes of banal Corporate Bullshit now ensues, relating to 'objectives and goals' and how they plan to engage with the employees to improve the Employee Engagement score.


GJ (says): Mmmmm.....yeah.....OK.......right.....and other reassuring but nonsensical words during this lecture whilst nodding head and with eyes glazing over.
GJ (thinks): Here's an idea for improving Employee Engagement. Don't treat us like fucking morons. Don't treat us like children. Don't make stupid false promises. Don't build up hopes and then dash them. Don't dress up messages in Corporate Gobbledygook Bollocks talk. Don't patronise people. Don't let people see private meeting invites. Don't feed the rumour mill. Tell everyone at the same time what's going on. Don't consult people and then totally ignore their recommendations.


TTT: It's good to have you on board. You'll be a great asset to the team and department.....

GJ (says): It's good to be on board. I'm sure it'll be a great challenge and we can deliver real value to the organisation.
GJ (thinks): Meet the new boss. Same as the old boss. I feel sick.


My Hypocrititis, a disease of the mind whereby I do exactly the opposite of what I think and what I want, is back and knows no bounds.

Later, GJ

We should pay for this!

It's a continuing complaint, but whoever came up with the 5 days at work, 2 days off ratio
was a dick. Time for a GJ campaign methinks, along the lines of "3 day weekends for all".....except those who work in shops, museums, golf clubs, football clubs, kebab shops,
bike shops, police stations, fire stations, ambulance stations, hospitals, chemists, pubs,
restaurants, cafe's, trains, planes, boats, leisure centres......you get my drift.

On Saturday I was up at 5:45 to drive to Skank's so we could execute Plan B to try and make up for the loss of last weekends Fairford Air Show, due to the bloody British summer of non-existence, by going to Farnborough instead. It was good day out and allowed me to put my Canon EOS-400D and it's 70-300mm telefoto lens through it's paces for the first time. It passed with flying colours. Both Skank and myself reeled off dozens of pictures, in fact for me it was close to 700, of glorious death and killing machines flying through the air at high speed and making a lot of noise. I've never understood people at Air Shows with ear defenders. Isn't the roar of the engines part of the attraction?

Air show photography is also notoriously tricky, especially for amateurs like me. On all my previous outings I've either taken an automatic camera or a digital compact camera. All you end up with though is the Viz comic's "Famous Air Show Photographs" section which is a dot in the sky! Having loaded Saturday's lot into the PC, I reckon I'll get around 100 decent ones after a bit of software re-touching to remove some issues.

I know it pisses the photo purist off, the fact that Digital photography can be easily re-touched and photo's enhanced, but for 99.999% of the worlds amateur photographers the Digital revolution which allows numpties like me to rattle off hundreds of pictures without carrying a wheelbarrow load of film around, then re-touch them via some fairly noddy software has to be a good thing doesn't it.

The Vulcan Bomber flew on Saturday, it's first flight ata major airshow for 15 years or so having been taken out of service in 1992. The picture was taken by Skank. It's cost TVOC (The Vulcan Operating Company) some£8m to get it flying again. To keep the plane flying will cost £1.6m per year. TVOC are walking around with the begging bowl on this one. After the disastrous cancellation of Fairford, depriving the Vulcan of a great chance to fly and attract sponsors. It seems crazy to me that many of our fantastic British achievements are left to rot. If an old building is likely to collapse, has the slightest most tenuous link to something historic or be knocked down, then we 'list' it and government funds are made available for it's upkeep as part of our national heritage. Very commendable.

But shouldn't this be extended to other areas as well? My hard earned tax goes on overpaid civil servants, wasteful QUANGO's and all sorts of things I don't agree with, but for some reason the British Government, irrespective of political leaning continually refuse to keep equally important parts of our heritage going. The Vulcan bomber, like the Lancaster bomber,like the Spitfire, like the original Ark Royal, like the original cross Channel Hovercraft and most of all like Concorde should all have been funded centrally from Government to allow them to continue flying or sailing at public displays. A case in point would be Concorde.

Keep one or two flying and I can guarantee they could have covered them in Sponsors logos and they'd have damn near recouped the operating costs outlay. I saw the crowd go silent when the Vulcan took off. I saw the awe and and heard the gasps when it flew past. People loved the thing. Concorde would have had the same effect. In the same way that people stop and stare at a vintage car, it reminds us of a time when we could not only think the innovations up, but still build them as well. Maybe it reminds us of a previous time when we may have had a justification for the prefix of Great.

Later GJ

The Parent Tax

Teenager has just got her first pay packet in her summer job as a lifeguard/receptionist at the local leisure centre.

£450 - tax free.

Am I being unreasonable to expect some 'keep' from her?

According to Hellsbells I am. According to Teenager I am as well. In fact everyone seems to think I'm being unfair.

Except me.

When I left school and got my first pay packet I took home £20. I had to give £10 of that to my Mum for my keep. So on that principle I reckon Teenager owes me £225. I've offered a discount as she goes to college in September, and decided that 20% would be reasonable - that's £90, which would keep me in Guinness/Magners for a month probably, or let me buy bloke stuff more regularly. I could spend it at Stamford Bridge on Chelsea tops and other Chelsea merchandising, which would save me surreptitiously hitting my credit card and smuggling the goods in past Hellsbells.

As an aside, all blokes who get married have to smuggle stuff past their partners. Partners think that all spending by blokes on stuff we need is unnecessary and is therefore unauthorised. I need golf clubs, camera lenses, camera extras, Chelsea shirts, Chelsea shorts, Chelsea jackets, Chelsea mugs, Chelsea pint glasses, iPods, DVD's, golf accessories, mountain bike stuff, power tools and computer gadgets. Any man knows this type of thing is all absolutely necessary. So why do us blokes all (and we do all) accept the fact that we have to secretly buy the stuff, smuggle it in under the radar system that all women seem to have and then wait 6 months before publicly using/wearing it? Women don't have to do this of course. No need for smuggling when they know damn well us blokes couldn't give a damn what new clothes or shoes they've bought. When they show this stuff off us blokes all know the correct stock answer of

"Yes love, it looks great. It makes you look younger/thinner/sexier" (delete as appropriate) .

Maybe it's time for some GoGB Liberation to take place here. When I'm brave enough I'll start the Let Blokes Buy Stuff Campaign from here.

Back to the Parent Tax. Why can't I claim this 'parent tax' from Teenager? After all, Teenager has had 16 years of money, support, toys, DVD's, mobile phones, computers, clothes and love off of me.

Completely unconditionally of course.

Later GJ

How not to keep a workforce happy (pt2)

At the time Mr Blonde was re-assuring us of our place deep in the warm and welcoming bosom
of The Company, it became clear the one thing he couldn't supply was the SM structure (remember we were in the Service Management or SM team of the larger Smoke & Mirrors or S&M Department...come on please keep up). This meant that none of us really knew who we would be working for and what the ramifications of Simple Tuesdays fallout would be.

But we were safe. Secure. Guaranteed. No more redundancies.

Of course we were.

Over the next six weeks we had several false dawns. Three times an announcement was due on
the structure of the SM team and twice mr Blonde cancelled. The third time we were called
together to tell us that nothing had progressed. In itself this set the alarm bells ringing and this turned the starting handle of the rumour mill which swung effortlessly into action. Mr Blonde was leaving, Queen Wasp was moving sideways, SM was dead in the water etc. I listened to the rumours, the chief one being that SM was being canned and that Mr Blonde was leaving by his own hand on a point of principle. This was the one I bet on, because it had been apparent that the S&M Leadership Team was far from being united. I mean, are leadership teams ever truly united? In my experience the back-biting, one-upmanship, arse-licking and political manoeuvring is worse at that level than any other. And Mr Blonde was not welcome.

In fact from day one it seemed his no-bullshit, straight talking, common touch style was at odds with the Stepford Manager, smile whilst stabbing, corporate gobbledygook bollocks speak culture of the others on the team. Queen Wasp, to be fair, was a big fan of his because she also has the common touch when required, however she is surrounded by arselikhan wannabees using their current positions as a stepping stone to further their careers. Billyboy is good, he knows his stuff and seems savvy enough to detach himself from the crap. A very astute political player I'd say. But The Rugby Player (big and ugly) is a dangerous person who went from all round good guy, to the full 'Stepford chip insertion' clone, spouting Corporate Gobbledygook Bollocks Talk at any and every opportunity. Aligned with The Drinks Waiter, a 6 foot 8 inch giant of a man from Portugal with zero personality except for brooding Latin menace and people skills to match Robert Mugabe, and Captain Darling, a man so anally obsessed with 'process' and pretty 'swim lane' diagrams and all the managerial skills of Frank Spencer one can only sit back and be amazed at how he landed his role, it's little wonder Mr Blonde was in the firing line. I reckon in any one on one situation Mr Blonde would have dwarfed these three intellectual fuckwits, but up against a combined force he stood no chance.

The last week of April came around and the rumours were at fever pitch. Mr Blonde hadn't been seen for 2 weeks. A meeting was called by Queen Wasp and we can see Billyboy on the list of invitees. This in itself was a cock up, because if nothing was changing then why did Billyboy, the head of another department, lets call it the Dirty Hands team, even need to be there?

Here's why.

At 14:00 on the last Friday in April, 2 hours before the weekend starts we trundle to another building within the Corporate Palace estate to be confronted with Queen Wasp, Billyboy and Mr Blonde. Queen Wasp sets the scene and says that the SM function was being scaled down from the original proposal and that Mr Blonde was leaving, just 4 months after starting. At his own behest! Mr Blonde, to his credit, then stood up and told us that the role and scope of what he'd been recruited for had been reduced to such a small size that he'd decided that it didn't match with what he'd been told to come and set up, so he was off to pastures new. As usual he didn't mince his words, and whilst Queen Wasp sat there, it was obvious she was not best pleased at losing Mr Blonde. When a cabinet minister resigns on a point of principle, doesn't that reflect on the PM rather badly? I was minded of Sir Geoffrey Howe's resignation speech when he left the
Thatcher cabinet.

Queen Wasp, a tad shaken recovered to tell us we would all be in Billyboy's organisation and within 2 weeks we would all know here we sat. We had , of course, only left Billyboys DirtyHands team 4 months earlier when Mr Blonde had started.

There would be no further redundancies.

Of course there wouldn't.

The 2 weeks went by once again. No meeting was called this time. However, several people were invited to 1:1's with Billyboy and someone from The SS...sorry......HR. Included in this was my old boss The Master, but also some others as well.

Guess what?

Redundant. Despite what was said they were all, bar one who actually got promoted, out from that very day. It was a smaller, less vicious version of Simple Tuesday. I may have had differences with them from time to time, but watching them clear their desk , smiling through gritted teeth and saying what an opportunity it was for them still made this a very bleak day indeed. In the case of The Master, a man who embodied every aspect of The Company and lived and breathed every ideal and value of The Company, this seemed particularly poignant. Again, it was the F band Club hit the hardest. They all got good packages circa a years salary in lieu of notice to bump the taxman, plus share deals paid up, cars given to them and preserved staff discounts/benefits for a year after leaving. Very nice. But you still have to find a job, still have to pay a mortgage, still have to feed the family and if, like The Master...and like me...you haven't been in the open job market for over 15 years then it must be daunting to face the savageries of the modern day rat hunt that is finding a new job.

Later, that very day I get the call from The Tub Thumper to tell me she's my new boss. She wants a 1:1.

Things can only get better...can't they?

Later GJ

How not to keep a workforce happy (pt1)

So why was work a pile of festering shite for the last 6 months? Well, you may recall that the announcement was made last year that we would undergo a 'transformation' (or what we used to call a reorganisation) of The Company's High Tech Pipes, Tubes and Strings Department. Lets just call it the Smoke and Mirrors Department from now on because frankly it's all black fucking magic to me. Of course this abbreviates to the S&M Department, which also has some truth in it as well.

Anyway, this transformation was being done because, to quote Queen Wasp "we can do this, and we're not doing it because we have to" - My internal response at the time was "of course not love, you're doing it for us after all we'd all hate to think it was happening on the pretext of cost savings...I mean perish the thought".

I'd pitched my views into the various meetings about where my team should be and what it should be doing, kidding myself that

a.) anyone was listening
b.) anyone gave a shit
c.) I gave a shit

I am very good at faux enthusiasm. You may also recall, Mr Blonde was employed at great expense to come in and create the new Service Management department, or SM as it would have been known. Hmmm....the SM thing keeps cropping up. A theme maybe? So, in came Mr Blonde on £100000 per year to sit in the corner and basically ignore people until you spoke to him. I quite liked him for his apparent straight talking, no bullshit nature and the fact that he allegedly supported Chelsea, although this has never really played positively for me as most senior managers who claim such things are living in BillyLiarLand, using their football allegiance as some sort of link to the proletariat that work for them in order to exploit and claim credit for their talents to an even greater extent than normal.

Cynical? Moi?

Well, we were promised several 'drop dead' dates for organisational announcements which is always a tense time despite the usual 'no redundancy' bollocks coming from Queen Wasp. Then, some bright spark on the UK board decided that The Company, and not just S&M needed a trim.

Well, when I say trim, I mean the Corporate equivalent of a Brazilian.....yeah I know what you thought that link might show!

The S&M 'transformation' was firmly shoved into the bin and overtaken by the UK wide initiative called 'Simple'. That's when things got really sinister. A veil of secrecy descended over the whole company, rumours started to build and spread and many people sustained injuries caused by constant jumping to conclusions. In March, Simple Tuesday, was announced whereby the whole organisation would find out who was in and who was out.

It was a bloody cull. Good people were given envelopes a goodbye message and a severance deal, the departure being blamed on their alleged 'performance issues'. Others suddenly found their role's were 'no longer required' and also left. Most were walked off the site that day and forced to hand back laptops and phones. Email accounts were deleted that day and remote access was locked down. Every building at the Corporate Palace had the doors manned by security guards. It was corporate carnage.

Except for us. We were in the SM part of the S&M department and Mr Blonde happily told us that those of us who hadn't been thrown out that day were safe and were part of the future. This was a double edged sword for us of course because some of us had seen our friends have their lives turned upside down that day and not in a particularly dignified manner. Of course not everyone was shifted out that day, just those who were in the F Band Club (see posts passim). The mere proletariat were given notice until June 30th. Some were given gardening leave, some were told they were expected in as part of the severance deal. Stay at home and you lose it for those expected to come in.

During this period the atmosphere had gradually darkened until Simple Tuesday, when it was positively black. The worst day I can ever recall at work, ever.

But it was over and we were safe.

We had a future.

We could start to rebuild.

There was no more blood to be spilled...................surely?

Later GJ

Great?

Can someone remind me of what exactly is Great about Britain please?

Our weather is shite. I mean just how much rain should we get in Summer. Shouldn't we get at least one heatwave? Can anyone remember a single run of 4-5 days this year whereby we got warm sunny weather and cloudless skies? Great Britain?

An incompetent government. Fuel prices rising, which in the case of oil I do understand is not their fault, but for electricity and gas are absolutely down to our own misguided privatisation program. The coal mine closure program added to zero investment in nuclear and green renewable technologies is another factor. This has exposed us to global markets and allowed foreign companies to buy our 'crown jewels', whilst remaining closed themselves, and for dubious foreign powers to hold us to ransom over gas supplies. Compare this to France with its expansive Nuclear electricity network reducing the French reliance on any foreign supplies. Never having had a single accident. Great Britain?

An incompetent Governement (2) - food prices rising, again because of policies which penalise the local producers and reward supermarkets with too much power. Oddly not enough power to control prices. Food fascism constantly being rammed down our throats, telling us whats good and bad to eat, whilst implying we're all fat useless unhealthy loafers who waste food. Not eating organic? Gone for the cheapest option because you're income is lower and you still need to feed the family? According to Gordon Fuckwit you're a complete heathen and the real cause of the problems. Great Britain?

Stabbings - every day, every fucking day and a Home Secretary sitting there saying the answer is to show youngsters the effects of what knife crime. FFS? Great Britain?

More taxes - yep, every day in every way Gordon Fuckwit will find yet another tax to apply under the guise of making us green. As if any of these taxes will ever be used on anything green. Or useful come to think of it. Great Britain?

House prices falling and an obsessed media determined to talk us into recession. I remember seeing Chris Morris on The Day Today in his prophetic vision of a war generated by the media. You can see it here. Great Britain?

A member of The Commonwealth, Zimbabwe, is run by a crooked, vindictive, mentally unstable dictator in Robert Mugabe, and Britain, like all the others does nothing except ask for sanctions and removes his honorary titles. Yep, that hit him where it hurts. Great Britain?

The list goes on, Wembley Stadium (late and overbudget), The Millennium Bridge (faulty and closed immediately after openeing pending repairs), The Spinnaker Tower (delivered 6 years late and missed the Millennium celebrations by some distance), The Beagle Explorer mission to Mars (assumed crashed), the Princess Diana memorial fountain (not a proper fountain and another failed design), The Millennium Dome (stood unused for 7 years). Great Britain?

Later, GJ