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?

Media, Thoughts, Life | No Comments »

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.

Mark Jones

Contact me through www.earlyworksarchive.com

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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.

Mark Jones

Media, Thoughts, Life | 1 Comment »

Here at Control Wee there is the philosophy, ‘if someone else wants to do the work for you, then why not let them’. Although we enjoy writing, we are more than happy to publish the rants of others. Delegation, management gurus will tell you, is a key leadership tool. And so we are going to use it whenever possible.

Mark Jones, a friend of CW, has kindly written a post for us. It speaks for itself, so needs no further introduction. Thanks Mark.

I was reading a newspaper article the other night that, once again, was widely condemning the British Broadcasting Corporation.

In another corner of the room, my housemate was leaning forward, his hands were tightly gripping a controller for the Xbox 360, and a look of intense concentration was etched across his face.

For anyone who does not know what an Xbox is: it is Bill Gates latest attempt to dominate the living room space with a next generation games machine.

For entertainment purposes, we also have a Sky television box, a computer and a DVD player with a wide selection of titles. My housemate, whom I shall call Mr X, has spent most of his free time sat at the Xbox, nigh on worshipping its addictive capabilities. Very capable it is too: you can now play poker, chess or any other game with anyone in the world. The small white box, which bears a passing resemblance to the obelisk in 2001, is considered to be the future of entertainment.

The Skybox, DVD player, and most prominently the five main terrestrial television channels are becoming less attractive (and less used) by the minute. Is the Xbox really that great. Or are Sky television et al severely lacking?

Now, back to that newspaper article. It details in length the excessive salaries paid to the BBC staff, taxi cab fairs which would seem excessive even to Caligula, and a general feeling that the BBC treats the licence fee payers with contempt. The words ‘Gravy’ and ‘Train’ are used several times in the article. There is also mention of the competition scandal involving the programme ‘Blue Peter’. Apparently a competition was organised which involved children voting for a name which would be appointed to a Blue Peter cat. The makers of Blue Peter (all fully grown adults) decided against the name chosen by the children, and chose a name they had concocted themselves.

From this you might assume that they had to change the name as the winning moniker was racist or somehow not politically correct. Well, actually, they just felt their name was better. So, yes, fully-grown adults defrauded children. Sad isn’t it?

The newspaper article concludes by stating that morale at the BBC is at an all time low, and that there may be strikes due to staff cutbacks. The cutbacks are needed as apparently the BBC overestimated the amount of money it would receive from the Government (something about spending money before it is in the bank anyone?). There is no mention in the article of how the BBC’s problems can be fixed. You must remember that a lot of journalists highlight problems; they do not suggest how they may be solved.

It might seem that I have a serious gripe with the BBC and that nothing would give me more pleasure than to see them out of business. But this isn’t true.

I admire and love the BBC. I grew up with it and regard it as a friend who taught me about the world, entertained me, and crusaded for peoples’ rights, whether they were in the UK or another continent.

However, something has gone wrong at the BBC of late. It has become a flabby, uncouth old man who is out of touch with modern Britain. It resembles a bullied and confused employee, when it should be the assertive and on-the-ball employer.

Rather than just mouthing off I’ll list my own recent gripes with the BBC now. I’ll even suggest some solutions – I am a licence fee payer after all.

BBC Radio 4

First things first, kick out all those smug useless Oxbridge graduates who have been nowhere and done nothing. Many of them are at the BBC only because of their University connections. Their whimsical reports about how they went to Italy when they were sixteen to get an ice cream are irrelevant, lazy and unimaginative. Get them out and about and tell us what is going on in the world today. Allow them to keep their raspberry-coated boring tales of youth to themselves. Where is the new Alistair Cook? Where is the new John Simpson?

BBC News

I want to see news reporters who look like they have seen some action, not pretty boys with perfect hair or celebrity dolly birds who would look more at home in an issue of ‘Hello’ magazine. Can the BBC not revolve their foreign correspondents and have them cover the news desk once in a while?

While you’re at it, some good news would be a plus. Have you asked people why they have stopped watching news bulletins? Could it be they find the programme content depressing? By good news I don’t mean Paris Hilton’s latest fashion folly or a plug for someone’s book or album. I mean stories about people who are out there doing good for their community, or trying to inspire those around them – go out and find them!

BBC Three and Four, BBC News 24

Scrap them now. They are out of touch, lazy and both about as cutting edge as a spoon. “These are great original services which represent the future of digital broadcasting” the BBC insists on telling us. Since when was putting ‘Rambo: First Blood part two’ on every night of the week original?

Newsnight and Top Gear

Don’t you dare make any changes to these two programmes. You are lucky to have them and they are the only two shows the public like. If anything you should scrap a lot of your new services to increase the budgets of these two programmes.

Digital radio shows

Scrap these. They are a waste of the licence fee and the money would be better spent elsewhere.

BBC web pages

Your BBC news page is the best on the internet and should be expanded. Please don’t waste any money on ‘niche’ web sites that are pompous and irrelevant.

Documentary cut backs

Don’t do it! Shut down your digital television and radio channels – it is time to put your house in order.

Star Power and Star Salaries

Here is the answer to your most publicised problem: YOU the BBC are the employer!

You should not be dictated to by stars or their agents: these people should be bloody grateful you gave them a job. Working for the BBC is an honour and a major boost for anyone’s career. Stars do not guarantee an audience; a quality programme will get a good audience every time. Remember your adaptation of ‘Pride and Prejudice’ back in 1996? For me it was your finest hour. Was it full of bloated, overpaid stars? No it wasn’t. Good material should come first before you start to bend over for star’s salaries. Start with established and popular material such as classic books or reinventions of popular programmes.

On the subject of bloated, we (your audience) are sick and tired of those dinosaurs you keep overpaying. Their eyes are glazed from all the free booze and their waistlines are straining from all the business lunches. Many of them are unkempt, unshaven and nearly as big as the couches they are sat on. Make them walk to work before you pay hundreds of pounds to have them carted up and down the country in a taxi.

There is an argument to say there isn’t any new talent our there. I totally disagree with this. I’m no daytime TV fan, but I think you’ve found a good presenter in Dominic Littlewood. This is a guy who was a used car salesman and has had no formal television training, but he has more charisma in his big toe than many of your RADA trained planks.

There are natural characters working on markets, driving taxis, and fixing boilers. Why don’t you have an X Factor show based on finding new presenters? You want lean and hungry people who will be grateful for the opportunity and won’t demand earth-shattering salaries.

It seems the BBC worries that they would lose their audience if the ‘stars’ left them. How many ‘stars’ leave television shows and end up coming right back? This happens because the programme was bigger than they were. Dragon’s Den has succeeded because of its formula, not its ‘stars’.

So what should the BBC do? Why not install someone radical or generally different? Wouldn’t it be great to see a boardroom full of people who are difficult, blunt, can criticise and most importantly: know what they’re talking about. It would be great to see John Simpson, Jeremy Clarkson, Jeremy Paxman, and anyone else who is either eccentric or has openly criticised the BBC, calling the shots. At the moment they have too many cooks in management, their indifference and the meals they are serving taste rotten.

Also, the BBC should start accepting criticism. BBC employees who criticise their employer should not be told to keep it to themselves. They should be listened to. Why not even have an internal debate about the future?

Conclusion

The BBC are in a period of illness, but there is a cure and the sooner they take their medicine the better. I wish them all the best and hope I see them in good health soon. I hope the BBC starts to listen to what their public says, and most importantly remembers that they are the boss.

Mark Jones

Media, Thoughts | 4 Comments »

We’ve been doing some really serious planning for the Rickshaw Run thing lately.

——————————————————————————————

Megha: On Diwali and Holi, I am a kid on steroids

Andy: I was a kid at Holi, kitted out with full gun and ammunition

Andy: but last night I was the mature onlooker

Andy: that’s something we should get for our Rickshaw Run auto — a super soaker

Megha: Yes!

Megha: Let’s get a super soaker

Andy: not sure who we’d fire it at?

Andy: any little shits who give us grief I suppose

Megha: and bystanders

Megha: and traffic cops

Megha: and YOU!

Megha: and Naxalites in Bihar

Megha: that’ll scare them away

Andy: their automatic machine guns will be no match for the rapid squirt of water that we will emit

Megha: Of course not. Even thinking that it will be is foolhardiness and not optimism on their part.

——————————————————————————————

Sorted. We are packing the Super Soaker with the rest of our luggage

Words, Rickshaw Run, Adventure, Thoughts, Life, India, Travel, Uncategorized | No Comments »

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)

Poetry, Words, Thoughts, Life | No Comments »

My old man always used to say to me, “start as you mean to continue”. So that is exactly what I’m going to do. I’m going to have a whinge, a moan, a good old fashioned grumble. What’s your beef, you might ask. Why do you want to fill one of your first blog entries with negative comments? My answer to you is that I’m British and complaining is what we’re best at. In fact, most people are disappointed nowadays if they meet someone from England and are not greeted with a barrage of whining. We like to indulge in self pity at the wrongs that have been done to us on a regular basis.

Add to my nationality the fact that I currently live in India and you will realise that this is the perfect cocktail for continual and incessant complaint. The locals here must think I’m a right grumpy sod. And they’re probably right.

Anyway, I was walking home from work last night and, as I turned the corner, I saw a sight which filled me with trepidation. Immediately in front of the building where I live, lots of men were scurrying around like ants, putting up some kind of structure. Nearing the hive of activity I realised to my horror that they were erecting a temporary temple. This could only mean one thing – noise. And lots of it.

That evening, as I relaxed in my room, I was pleasantly surprised by the fact that, even though many people were hanging around the temple, the kafuffle was not disturbing me greatly. Maybe I had been too hasty in assuming that these people would carry on their celebrations with no regard for anyone else. I had heard someone muttering something unintelligible over the PR system and a few Hindi songs had been played at a reasonable decibel level, but nothing too extreme.

At around 11pm, the time when it becomes illegal to play anything over a loud speaker, I decided to go to bed. No sooner had I put my head on the pillow than it started - a cacophony of sound which seemed to be aimed directly at my window. A live band was playing traditional, along with some contemporary, Hindi music, and a guy was mouthing off at the top of his voice as if it was the middle of the day. If I had been having a conversation with someone in my room I would have had to shout – that’s how loud it was.

When I closed my eyes, had I not been trying to sleep, it would have been an awesome experience. The volume and proximity of the music was such that it seemed as if the musicians were actually sat around my bed. I could hear the keyboards and singing ever so clearly and could have sworn that the drummer was sat just to my right, by the door. It was quite surreal. For about 5 minutes I tolerated, and almost enjoyed, the occasion. But then, when I realised it wasn’t going to stop any time soon, I started to get a bit irritated.

As 2am rolled around with no let up to the celebrations I was wondering if there was any way I could force them to put an end to the racket. But I realised that any attempts I made, legal or otherwise, would result in a severe beating from the locals, falling out of favour with the particular god they were worshipping and a great big wheelbarrow full of bad karma.

By 4am, as the ruckus still hadn’t showed any signs of dying down, I had resigned myself to the fact that I would be tired and moody at work the next day. And then, finally, at 6am, the music relented and the compere ceased with his inane drivel.

I have never known as much peace and tranquility as I did right then. My ears were ringing, but the silence was golden. I soon drifted off into serene slumber, only to be woken by a hawker at about 7am and my alarm clock at 8.

Oh India, what joys you abundantly supply me with.

Thoughts, Life, India | No Comments »

Go away. We’ve got nothing for you at the mo

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