Nothing has been written on here for a very long time and, so as not to over-exert myself, I thought a copy and paste job would be most appropriate. Control Wee by name, ctrl-v by nature.
This image dropped into my mailbox a couple of weeks ago. It’s obviously an attempt at humour, and a pretty good one I reckon. But how close to the truth of the matter will it prove to be? Some of my friends are starting to look like Faith Ogden already, and I must admit I can already relate to a few of the statuses. The only question is, will Facebook be able to keep up with us as we get older? And do people always develop a sudden liking for knitting and cardigans, and a disliking for modern ‘music’ when they become old, or are these things cultivated over a period of time?
Anyone would think that Mr Jones has too much time on his hands. Following on from his critique of the BBC and his observations on how the media treated Ms Mills is this scrutiny of recruitment processes currently being used in the UK. And, if we’re honest, he doesn’t seem overly impressed.
I was once again perusing the newspapers yesterday; currently their story of choice is the suspicion that many people in England who could work are choosing not to.Now if, like me, you are wondering how people can live without an income, it seems that many of these non-workers are claiming sickness benefits.
If you read the English papers often enough, you will also know that the benefit system has come under scrutiny of late when it was revealed that some people are claiming they cannot work due to acne.While this news worries me, as does the rise in the number of what is known as NEETS (not in education, employment or training), I cannot help wondering if the reason could also be partly down to recruitment techniques in England.This may be hard for some people to believe, but I will try to convince you through some past and present experiences.
In May of this year I was unfortunate enough to receive redundancy. The office where I was working was closed down as part of a restructure.I was happy with my severance pay and had no bad feelings towards the company I was leaving, as I enjoyed my time there.
I must say the thought of a change in my working life was quite exciting.I immediately began to look at vacancies and sent out application after application.I have had a few interviews and am pleased to say I will start employment in the coming week.However, I have also been shocked at the conduct of some companies who have interviewed me and I include two quick summaries.The names have been changed to protect both the innocent and the guilty.
Interview One:
I arrive promptly at the time given.I am kept waiting for 15 minutes, no explanation is made as to why my interview has not started at the time given.I am also dismayed to hear two members of the reception staff moan that they only knew about the interviews ten minutes ago.Eventually I am led through to an interview panel of two people.The interview begins by the panel addressing me by a different name and I have to explain my correct name twice before they catch on.A member of the panel tells me that they had my name as ‘Jim’. I apologise and explain my name is Mark (it has been since birth).I also note that in front of each interviewer is a copy of my application form, and even though I read it upside down: it clearly states my name as Mark Jones.I wonder if anyone has bothered to read the application.The formality of any regular interview begins “This is Susan, you will be working for her and myself, my name is Tim.”I am then asked to explain to the panel what their company does.I have always wondered what the point of this question is, but I give a detailed answer and smile.I am then asked a series of questions which ask me to give examples of A)When I have felt most stressed B) When I have felt most under pressure and C) Can I give examples of when I have found my work to be difficult and on and on.The questions were so downbeat I felt like I was going through psychoanalysis.By the end of the questions I feel so drained I am desperate to see that the panel has a sense of humour.Susan proceeds to draw my attention to the job description; she feels I do not understand what they are asking for.I find this odd as I have memorised the job description and none of the questions I have been asked seem to relate to it.It also seems that the NHS have paid for ‘Susan’ to have a sense of humour bypass.In addition she has a good cop/bad cop personality, and no answer I give seems to be right.At one point I expect Gene Hackman to storm into the interview room and ask me if I pick my feet in Poughkeepsie.The time eventually comes to leave and I stagger out of the interview feeling like I have blown it even though I answered all the questions in detail and passed all the tests.
Interview Two:
I arrive at the interview location and take a seat.Across the room from me I overhear members of HR studying someone’s GCSE certificates. They are quite scathing about the person’s results and I am amazed that this is done in front of other applicants.I am led through to the panel. This time there are three people.Once again the questions are of a very downbeat and negative tone.In both of these interviews I get the feeling I would not enjoy working for these companies. My last employer was easy going and there was also a light atmosphere in their offices.One of the panel seems particularly narked about something. I try to ignore it and keep on answering the questions with a smile.Once again I leave the interview feeling like I have been on the set of the exorcist.
In neither interview was I offered a coffee or asked to tell the panel about myself or my activities outside of a working environment.Everything was overformal.
At the end of the day I received no feedback, no letter to tell me if I got the job (one must only assume these days) and none of my references were taken up (I could provide three excellent ones when needed).Academically I had enough paper to pass: one BSc degree and one Masters degree.In the last four years I have had only six days of absence due to a vicious bout of the flu.
Now, of course, no one can or should be expected to be given a job.But the bizarre structure of English recruitment surely needs looking at.I know of countless people who are excellent friends and employees and I am amazed that they have either been rejected for good jobs or have given up and taken up a position they do not like or is not what they are looking for.They are also surprised at who has been selected to manage them and have found that they do their own work and that of their manager.How were these people chosen for the job?
As a country we must ask how our expert recruitment system has elected the worst style of management England has seen in decades.Our post office system is ruined and falling apart, one of England’s biggest banks is close to collapse; our NHS is ineffective despite the billions the Labour government continues to pour into it.In all these examples the Chief execs and head management are due to receive millions of pounds in bonuses regardless of the fact they have ruined the companies they were recruited to protect.All of this is happening while other workers are being given their marching orders.Is it me, or do you also wonder how recruitment in England works-please let me know.
Last week I went to the post office.Not a very interesting topic to talk about most people would think. A little mundane for a blog, some might say. However, this is India and no trip to a government-run organisation passes without some kind of stress-inducing event taking place.
My aim was simple.To send off the paperwork for the Rickshaw Run.It had to arrive in the UK within 8 days and I had no doubt that the Indian postal service would ensure this happened.
On arriving at the Post Office I tried to find the end of a queue to join, which was difficult considering the number of people jostling for a position in such a confined area.Eventually I found some semblance of a line and stood at the end of it.
While waiting my turn I started to make some observations.Firstly, I noticed that only 1 person was serving, even though about 30 customers were waiting.Secondly, I realised that there were about 20 post office workers – or should I say people who are paid to spend every day in the post office – milling around behind her.None of them appeared to be doing anything productive and it would have made sense to me if they had helped out by selling some stamps or something.But what do I know.
After I had been waiting for 15 minutes the sole server stood up and went into the office at the back without a word of explanation to anyone.It transpired that she had gone for lunch.I expected someone else to take her place in order to continue dealing with the customers, but this didn’t happen.Instead, we all had to stand there for half an hour watching numerous staff doing nothing in particular, while she filled her face.
No doubt feeling refreshed after her lengthy lunch, the lady returned to her desk.At this point I made the stupid assumption that she would start serving people again.But no.Instead, she and the rest of her colleagues took the opportunity to give presents to each other.I have no idea what they were celebrating, but I’d been waiting so long by this point that I felt well enough acquainted with them to be deserving of a gift myself.
When she finally sat down again I breathed a sigh of relief.Finally she would get on with serving some customers.Again I was mistaken.This time she pulled out a variety of wedding invitations and took about deciding which was the nicest, having an in-depth discussion with her friend about it.
Eventually, I saw the look in her eye change.I could tell that now she was definitely ready for business.Alas, as she attempted to get back to work she realised her Internet connection wasn’t working.After much searching, and with the use of great technical expertise, she discovered the problem – it wasn’t plugged in.On solving this great mystery she did the right thing and went back to looking at the wedding invitations.
I am not the most patient of people in these kinds of situations, but the joy I felt when I was finally served more than made up for the pain I had suffered during the previous hour of psychological torment.
I generally think its bad form for a foreigner to criticise a country that is not their own. My response is normally, ‘well if you don’t like it, go back home’. I love India, but like a woman, that does not mean there aren’t things that annoy me about her. In the last four years I have spent about half of my life in India, and feel that this qualifies me to speak my mind without being seen as an arrogant outsider.
Our guest ranter, Mr Mark Jones, seems to have nothing better to do than wax lyrical about the British media these days. He has become somewhat disillusioned with the way they behave and the quality of news they share with the general public in recent times. But if that motivates him to keep on writing stuff like this then long may it continue…
Last week saw Sir Paul McCartney’s soon to be ex wife, Heather Mills, appear on British television accusing tabloid newspapers of hounding her, and generally making her life a misery.Another point that Heather made was to accuse Journalists of making things up, mostly in regard to her impending divorce case with Sir Paul McCartney.
In the eyes of the British media, Heather Mills is a liar, a gold digger and a self publicist all rolled into one.In daily columns, British journalists have vented their anger at Heather’s antics, stern words appearing every day with new slants and new accusations.This fevered anger had been growing stronger by the day.Heather Mills had kept quiet and was only seen in paparazzi photos exiting countless airports to pursue her media career, which up to this point had included a stint on an American dance television show.
It seems that the mounting pressure and criticism pushed Heather over the edge, and on England’s favourite breakfast programme known as GMTV, she decided to vent her spleen.She accused the British tabloids of lying, and of inventing huge sums of money which she claims she has not demanded from Sir Paul McCartney.Heather rounded off the interview by stating that in the following days to come, the tabloids would increase their hate campaign against her.The general consensus among the public was that Heather Mills had played right into the hands of the tabloids and made a show of herself.
But had she?
The following morning after her exclusive interview, GMTV invited one journalist who has an intense dislike of Heather Mills into their studio to vent her anger at Heather’s rant.In the eyes of non biased British journalism - was there also a guest there to defend Heather’s complaint?
No.
The same bias occurred on the BBC’s breakfast programme where another tabloid journalist attacked Heather Mills with equal vigour.Once again there was not another panelist there to defend the complaints from Miss Mills.The weekend newspapers were equally scathing in their review of her actions “How dare you criticise us about criticising you” was the general consensus.This was topped off with the usual unflattering photographs of their enemy.When looking at the whole picture, it may seem likely to some that the media had played into Heather Mills’s hands.
In the following days, polls suggested that a large slice of the British population had begun to see eye to eye with the gold digger/liar/self publicist.I must admit I felt the British Media were acting like a mafia.Not one journalist suggested or considered what the incident was incurring on the individual involved.That would be what the mafia call an ‘Omerta’.Journalists it seems were covering each others backs.Perhaps it was the feeling that someone like Heather Mills could inflict damage to them, and more importantly their viewing and sales figures.
The general impression this incident gave of British journalism is not one I would like to see repeated.It may be true that Heather Mills is a gold digger and a self publicist (would she be the first?) but her treatment has resembled that handed out to society’s worst criminals such as murderers and rapists.Another cause for concern is the rise of the ‘Indoor Journalist’ as I like to call them.Many newspapers in Britain now feature columns run by celebrities who want to give us their unique view on the lives of other celebrities.Their comments are usually critical and scathing, but their articles are also turgid beyond belief.I can only imagine that their idea of journalism is to write a few sketchy articles (normally devoid of fact) while sat at home with a coffee, squeezed in-between their busy presenting career or whatever else they are supposed to be doing.
Meanwhile up and down the land, journalists of a better calibre are driving to and fro around the country, perhaps in other parts of the world conducting interviews, collecting facts, assessing the atmosphere, only to find that their articles are rejected in favor of the growing number of celeb journos who feel it is their duty to give us their thoughts on the private lives of other celebs (usually no mark red carpet walkers).
Am I defending Heather Mills?Not particularly, but her situation has highlighted a growing concern that is affecting British newspapers: they are becoming out of touch with the people of Britain.They must remember that they are dealing with a new, techno savvy generation who will not be fooled by manipulative photographs, or the building up and pulling down of celebrities (an activity that is becoming very tiresome).They would do well to rethink their strategies and to take a closer look at their own print.If they do not, then in this world of internet journalism they will not survive.
Don’t worry.We are not going through a psychological period of confusion about our self worth as the title might suggest.And we are not turning into schizophrenics.Even though my continual use of the plural first person might imply otherwise. However, half of Stevie Wonder’s DrivingSchool is starting to get a little anxious. Generally preparations for the Rickshaw Run have been going well. The entry fee has been paid; the paperwork has been sent off; 26% of the funds have been raised; we have looked at a list of stuff we might need; and have glanced at a big map of India.What more can possibly need to be done at this stage??
Well, in the current state of play, 1 of our team members will be attempting to enter Nepal using an expired sports club membership card and a couple of hundred Rupees as baksheesh.This does not mean we are awaiting the legendary efficiency of the Indian government authorities to return a passport.No.It means that the necessary bumf required to acquire such a document has not yet even been placed into their oh-so-capable hands.
I’d love nothing better than to whinge about the bureaucracy of the powers that be and complain that they are not pulling their fingers out.But no doubt I will be able to do that once the paperwork has been sent off to them.I remember a fine, sunny day back in September, when Miss Kehar informed me that she had spent the afternoon completing her passport form.Overjoyed was I to hear this news.Yet, since that day, something has prevented her from taking the next step of placing the sheets of paper in an envelope and dropping it through a letter box.
Of course, everything will be fine, and her passport will surely be ready in the nick of time.But Megha would not be Megha unless she left it ‘til the very last minute and ended up making both herself and me panic.
In January 2008, Andy and I are going to be taking the risk of our lives.
We’ll be driving across the length of India right to the mountains in Nepal, in the lamest, most fragile and most breakdown-prone piece of engineering ever made here — the great Indian auto-rickshaw. And this is all for a noble cause — charity.
We need to raise at least a £1000 for the world famous charity org Mercy Corps before this 15-day-long odyssey. We’ll be trying to avoid cutting ourselves open, breaking our heads or crashing into oncoming trucks or a tree or a dog because dogs are nice. We might even have to slay pythons, manoeuvre our way around a mud slide, hang from a cliff until help comes by and all that jazz — all while driving on not so particularly nice Indian roads.
The least you can do is help by donating towards this cause. You may do so by clicking on the widget on the side or here. You can pay as little or as much as you like. We’d be more than thankful. In exchange if you’d like us to stick a picture or spray paint your name or a message for a loved one on our auto or anything crazy, we’d love to do that. We are open to ideas.
Here’s what the awe-inspiring auto-rickshaw and our team logo look like.
Yeah, we’re calling ourselves Stevie Wonder’s Driving School. Some people think it’s clever.
Starting from Kochi in south India, we’ll be driving up north, right through the central Indian plateau area and all the way up to the mountains until we cross into Nepal. Since all the teams taking part in this charity race organised by the TheAdventurists.com are free to take any route that they desire, the approximate distance that we are looking at covering within a span of 15 days is at least 4,500 km.
The tentative routes that a lot of people are planning to take are:
If you’d like to get more information on this wicked race and our charity ambitions before you finally click on the ‘PAY’ button, you may directly contact us here: controlwee@gmail.com
We at Control Wee never used to like poetry.We used to think it was boring, dull and, if we’re honest, completely pointless.At school it was only the geeks and the gays that used to take any kind of interest in this area of English.The only ‘poems’ that could hold our attention for more than a couple of seconds had to meet certain criteria. They were not allowed to be more than 5 lines long, had to contain rude rhyming words and make no sense whatsoever.
So, imagine our surprise when we stumbled across two poems which made us stop in our tracks and re-think our whole philosophy on poetry.Maybe this sudden appreciation of the genre was something to do with maturing as we get older.But there are so many other signs to indicate we are not yet able to claim a place at the grown ups table that this can’t be the case.Instead, we like to think that these odes are so good they would make anyone catch their breath.
Written by Perls, a Gestalt psychologist, this ‘prayer’ shows the author’s belief that people should concentrate on satisfying their own needs.If you do this and meet someone then it’s cool.If not, then you can still be happy.
Gestalt Prayer
I do my thing and you do your thing.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations,
And you are not in this world to live up to mine.
You are you, and I am I, and if by chance we find each other, it’s beautiful.
If not, it can’t be helped.
(Fritz Perls, 1969)
Three years later another psychologist came up with a rejoinder to Perls’ verse. He seems to disagree with the sentiments of the first poem, saying that it is important not just to focus on yourself, but to look to the other person and how you relate to each other.I don’t want to say too much as it’s open to interpretation, so take a look yourself.
A Gestalt Poem
If I just do my thing and you do yours,
We stand in danger of losing each other
And ourselves.
I am not in this world to live up to your expectations;
But I am in this world to confirm you
As a unique human being,
And to be confirmed by you.
We are fully ourselves only in relation to each other;
The ‘I’ detached from a ‘Thou’ disintegrates.
I do not find you by chance; I find you by an active life
Of reaching out.
Rather than letting things passively happen to me,
I can act intentionally to make them happen.
I must begin with myself, true;
But I must not end with myself;
The truth begins with two.”
(Tubbs W. 1972. Journal of Humanistic Psychology, (12) 5 Beyond Perls)
So, although the Scottish duo I refuse to name anymore got this music event off to a not-so-musical start, their performance lived up to everyone’s low expectations.Their legendary party classic managed to encourage a few people to join in vocally for the first couple of minutes.But it failed to inspire the kind of sing-along we have become used to at the end of a heavy night, with arms are draped over mates’ shoulders and the feelings of solidarity and brotherhood coursing through our veins as we raise our voices in unison.I have no doubt that the lack of inebriation had something to do with this.
A little later an artist of a completely different calibre took the stage.Hailing from Scotland, Paolo Nutini was a great choice to occupy the Saturday mid-afternoon slot. At just 20 years old his voice has a maturity and husky vibrance which can captivate the mood of slow ballads as well as more upbeat tunes.With most people now supping their 2nd or 3rd beer of the day his music had a real relaxing effect.Even though a few of his songs could depress if you listen to the lyrics, this didn’t seem to matter – people were just enjoying the melodies.And when the first few chords of New Shoes were struck, pockets of people all around the arena could be seen dancing some kind of thigh slapping Western jig, cowboy hats and all. While some might claim that Nutini has been forced into the mainstream by his music label, his current brand of music seemed to hit the spot as the sun began to shine on HylandsPark. He’s obviously talented as he can sing, and play, music from several different genres effectively.Here’s hoping that he is allowed to demonstrate his versatility and true talent in the future rather than being forced to write music that his bosses assume the fans want to hear.
The weekend spent at V was pretty intense. Not only did we have to stand up for 12 hours a day listening to bands, but we were also required to drink copious amounts of beer and consume numerous whopping ½ pound burgers with everything on.It’s a hard life. The point I’m trying to make here is that, although I’d love to write about all 20-something bands I saw, it will just take me too long to do.So I’ll just pick out a couple more that stood out.
Pete Doherty always seems to be in the news for the wrong, or right, depending on your point of view, reasons. Not a week goes by when he is not arrested for alleged drug abuse, possession of illegal pharmaceuticals, assault, theft or something along these lines.I don’t think it was anything to do with his offstage antics, but I had never really paid much attention to him musically, either when he was in The Libertines, or now he is the front man of Babyshambles.So when my mate suggested we go and have a listen I wasn’t too keen.But based on the fact that I had decided our complete itinerary so far, it seemed a little unfair to turn down his one request.
So it was that I found myself surrounded by trilby-wearing cockneys.As we awaited the arrival of the ‘shambles on stage I must admit my expectations were not particularly high. However, as soon as Doherty ambled out I realised I was going to enjoy their set. Bottles, glasses, cans and indeed anything that could contain liquid for more than a few seconds started raining down on him.Oh what joy to see someone who continually gives it out getting it back for once.All those taking part in the pelting seemed like avid fans of his so I couldn’t quite work out why they were intent on attacking him.Even more confusing was the fact that people were willing to waste their partially consumed beers. Maybe retaliation was what they were looking for.If that was what they wanted, then that’s what they got.Mid-set one beverage appeared to land on its mark.I half expected Doherty to throw it back or get in a strop and march off stage.But he didn’t.Instead he took revenge by …………….. throwing his guitar at the audience.From where I was stood I couldn’t see if it made contact with anyone, but I was pleased to note the ingenuity he had used when picking his weapon.I expected the instrument to be gone forever, carefully secreted down someone’s pants.So I was amazed when a security guy appeared from amidst the crowd carrying it like a prized possession.During the remainder of the set Doherty lashed his microphone stand and microphone into the crowd and, on at least one occasion, spat on those at the front.All in all it was a thoroughly enjoyable show and demonstrated to me the bond that can exist between a performer and his audience.And, I must say, the music wasn’t bad either.
Although The Killers, The Kooks, Kasabian and Jet were all awesome, the last band I want to talk about has a lot more history than all these put together. Exactly a week before the start of V this year, Tony Wilson passed away. In Manchester and the North West of England he is considered nothing less than a legend for his contribution to the music scene over the last thirty years.So much so that there is even talk of erecting a statue of him in the city centre.The band most closely, and inextricably, linked with him are, of course, the Happy Mondays. In their early days the Mondays were groundbreaking with their fusion of indie rock and house music testing waters that had not been entered previously.It was obviously effective. And the fact that they can still get people dancing to the same tunes 17 years after the release of Pills ‘n’ Thrills and Bellyaches is testament to the influence they have had for the last two decades.
Shaun Ryder still has the same distinctive voice that made him famous all those years ago.Looking at the man tells a different story though.He’s filled out substantially, seems perpetually tired and sat down while singing the majority of his songs. Paradoxically though, listening to Kinky Afro, Loose Fit and the unforgettable Step On, the energy he created with his voice was tangible and reminiscent of The Hacienda days.This was undoubtedly aided by the relentless enthusiasm and commitment shown by the Mondays iconic resident prancer, Bez. With Ryder less than a week away from turning 45 we can’t expect him to be in peak physical condition.But what we do want is someone who can inspire us to dance and sing along to his music.And he does a damn good job of that.
Other bands at V 2007 (in no particular order):
Jet, New Order, Rodrigo y Gabriela,The Coral, The Killers,The Kooks, Kasabian, Foo Fighters, Kanye West, Manic Street Preachers, Primal Scream, McFly, Seth Lakeman, Pink, James, The Editors, Basement Jaxx,Damien Rice, Mika,KT Tunstall, Ocean Colour Scene, The Fray, Sophie Ellis Bextor,The Goo Goo Dolls, James Morrison, The Cribs, The Fratellis
When I first considered writing a review on V 2007 I thought it would be a piece of piss.During the 2 days of music and 3 days of drinking so much takes place that there was no doubt in my mind it would be easy to knock up a decent post.But when I sat down and started recalling the weekend, the realisation hit me that it would actually be a tricky job.
When you go to a standard gig it is only necessary to comment on the main band, while possibly reserving a sentence or two for the warm up act(s).But a festival is a different kettle of fish.At this kind of event you are combining 3 days of tomfoolery in a massive field with a choice of well over 100 artists to listen to.
The first big decision it’s necessary to make on arriving at the venue is where to pitch the tent.The spot you pick needs to be situated close to the stage-end of the field, while being as far away from the portaloos as possible.This is irrelevant at Glastonbury as anyone attending that particular festival expects, and in fact craves, to get covered in shit.It’s all part of the experience and if they go home smelling of anything other than a cesspit they are disappointed.The festival-goers at V, I feel, are a slightly different breed.Here all the girls walked around in pretty pink Wellington boots and belt skirts, not in the hope or expectation that they would get their feet dirty, but because they thought it was the kind of look one should have at such an event.At Glastonbury a pair of trainers with their soles hanging off would have been substantial and robust enough to deal with torrential rain and flooded fields.Of course, I should remind myself that I was at the HylandsPark venue, in Essex, this time and perhaps that had something to do with the scanty attire of the ladies.I seem to remember everyone wearing a lot more clothes when I went to the Stafford venue a few years ago and it was a damn sight hotter.
Having pitched the tent and cracked open the first of many canned beverages it’s then time to make the second decision.Which bands should we watch?Sitting in a circle under our gazebo were about 10 people, representing a cross section of society. So, it was obvious that we would all have different priorities when it came to our favourite artists. What was certain right from the start, though, was that all present had their hearts set on seeing The Proclaimers early doors on the Saturday.
The next day, 5 minutes into The Proclaimers’ set everyone was getting restless.A few thousand people had gathered to hear them with only one thing on their mind.And of course, that was to get some beer. But the queue for the beer tokens was so long that all present were having to put up with “Wee Jimmy”, or whatever this band’s latest drivel is called, without being the slightest bit intoxicated.
Oh I’m sorry, please ignore the last two sentences.That was supposed to say, the one thing everyone had on their mind was to hear “I would walk 500 miles by The Proclaimers.This is the only song anyone knows by this band, so predictably they left it until the end.I’m sure this was not because it is good to finish on a high note, but rather due to the fact that everyone would have left the arena if they had played it any earlier.
Obviously The Proclaimers were recruited to the V line-up as a novelty piece.A way of setting a benchmark of comparison for the rest of the weekend.It was a shrewd move by the organisers to put them on one of the main stages first.They knew that when any other bands played thereafter, the very least anyone would say was “well, they’re better than The Proclaimers.”Against them, every artist would appear good.That is, except for Mark Ronson.
I’ll post the rest of the V review in a day or so (with more musical content next time).
