Know Your Place
Sunday, July 3
What a great weekend. I am absolutely shagged. Three days of canoeing up, and then down, the Thames, camping on its banks, getting alternately rained on and sunburnt. Boy it leaves your shoulder muscles in a ragged state. But what a wonderful river. I've been thinking about my relaitonship with it and I realised that, over the last few years I have walked to its source twice, canoed up it, lived on it, written a book set on it (don't search the bookshops for it. Those damned publishers don't know what they're passing up. Don't get me started!) and am now working on it. None of this was really planned, it just kind of happened. Now the Thames and I are in a fully-fledged relationship that just sort of crept up on me. Isn't that so often the way?
It's wonderful up there. Coming back downstream we just stopped paddling for long stretches, and just slowly floated. No noise at all except for the reed warblers in the rushes, the sheep on the bank, the grebes diving, the coots, the wood pigeons in the willows. We saw three kingfishers, a cormorant, an oystercatcher (bizarrely), plenty of little birdies, various fish, gorgeous plantlife. Everything except a water vole, which I'm just going to have to save until next time. Bliss.
Our only mistake was talking a little transistor radio. Listen to the weather, I thought, and maybe the odd bit of news. Big mistake. All I got all weekend was Sir bloody Bob this and Live sodding 8 that. Then I got back, this evening, to more emails pleading with me not to let up on my anti-celebrity campaign. I really did try, but ... a man's got to do what a man's got to do.
Welcome back, then, to paulkingsnorth.net - the best place for intemperate, foul-mouthed occasionally unfair but usually entertaining anti-Live 8 coverage. Get down with the wisdom of the lock keeper. Feel the rage and be purged.
But why, I hear some of you cry? Why are you so mean to Sir Bob? And that lovely Bono? They're only trying to help. And surely it's better than doing nothing? Surely they're using their influence for good? Surely?
In a pig's arse. Where do I start? They're smug, arrogant and self-satisfied. They sell an idea of consumer politics: just come to the concerts, kids, and all will be well. They are complicit with power. They have the gall to claim to represent the poor of Africa (and yes, Bono said this, outright, last week and was unapologetic about it) at the same time as they praise the policies of Bush and Blair. They promote the neoliberal 'development' of a continent they don't live on. And if they succeed in getting a G8 debt relief deal with privatisation strings attached, they could end up doing more harm than good.
Last but not least, they have helped the G8 politicians neuter a massive global resistance movement which, at Seattle Prague and Genoa, was brave enough to put up a genuine, if unfocussed, chellenge to power; replacing it with pop concerts, arse-kissing and Blairite bullshit. They are a fucking disgrace and they should all be drowned like rats.
[Look at them. Jesus. And will you take those fucking sunglasses off when you're inside? You look like the whole world's dad.]
Still, let's get a sense of perspective. Sir Bob urged us to get one last night, I believe. I semi-heard him on the radio, in between loud and painful retches. I believe he said something like: 'Sometimes it falls to a generation to be great. You can be that great generation!'
Isn't that so lovely? Did you see how he gave us all his permission? In his honour, then, let's just take a look back at some of those other great generations, so we can see where we fit it:
1930s: great generation goes to Spain to help fight against fascist regime.
1940s: great generation saves country from invasion and helps liberate continental Europe from Naziism.
195os: great generation builds welfare state.
1960s: great generation fights for womens' rights and racial equality, and helps tear apart class system
2005: great generation buys wristbands made in sweatshops and sponsored by multinational corporations. Great generation goes to free pop concert. Great generation's wristbands fall off in the shower a few weeks later, by which time they've forgotten what they were for anyway. Two old Irishmen get invited to meet the Queen. Elton John's record sales pick up. Everyone feels better about themselves for a while. Capitalism's wheel continues grinding the bones of the poor to make cheap and rather nasty bread.
I feel so proud. I hope you do too.
It's wonderful up there. Coming back downstream we just stopped paddling for long stretches, and just slowly floated. No noise at all except for the reed warblers in the rushes, the sheep on the bank, the grebes diving, the coots, the wood pigeons in the willows. We saw three kingfishers, a cormorant, an oystercatcher (bizarrely), plenty of little birdies, various fish, gorgeous plantlife. Everything except a water vole, which I'm just going to have to save until next time. Bliss.
Our only mistake was talking a little transistor radio. Listen to the weather, I thought, and maybe the odd bit of news. Big mistake. All I got all weekend was Sir bloody Bob this and Live sodding 8 that. Then I got back, this evening, to more emails pleading with me not to let up on my anti-celebrity campaign. I really did try, but ... a man's got to do what a man's got to do.
Welcome back, then, to paulkingsnorth.net - the best place for intemperate, foul-mouthed occasionally unfair but usually entertaining anti-Live 8 coverage. Get down with the wisdom of the lock keeper. Feel the rage and be purged.
But why, I hear some of you cry? Why are you so mean to Sir Bob? And that lovely Bono? They're only trying to help. And surely it's better than doing nothing? Surely they're using their influence for good? Surely?
In a pig's arse. Where do I start? They're smug, arrogant and self-satisfied. They sell an idea of consumer politics: just come to the concerts, kids, and all will be well. They are complicit with power. They have the gall to claim to represent the poor of Africa (and yes, Bono said this, outright, last week and was unapologetic about it) at the same time as they praise the policies of Bush and Blair. They promote the neoliberal 'development' of a continent they don't live on. And if they succeed in getting a G8 debt relief deal with privatisation strings attached, they could end up doing more harm than good.
Last but not least, they have helped the G8 politicians neuter a massive global resistance movement which, at Seattle Prague and Genoa, was brave enough to put up a genuine, if unfocussed, chellenge to power; replacing it with pop concerts, arse-kissing and Blairite bullshit. They are a fucking disgrace and they should all be drowned like rats.
[Look at them. Jesus. And will you take those fucking sunglasses off when you're inside? You look like the whole world's dad.]Still, let's get a sense of perspective. Sir Bob urged us to get one last night, I believe. I semi-heard him on the radio, in between loud and painful retches. I believe he said something like: 'Sometimes it falls to a generation to be great. You can be that great generation!'
Isn't that so lovely? Did you see how he gave us all his permission? In his honour, then, let's just take a look back at some of those other great generations, so we can see where we fit it:
1930s: great generation goes to Spain to help fight against fascist regime.
1940s: great generation saves country from invasion and helps liberate continental Europe from Naziism.
195os: great generation builds welfare state.
1960s: great generation fights for womens' rights and racial equality, and helps tear apart class system
2005: great generation buys wristbands made in sweatshops and sponsored by multinational corporations. Great generation goes to free pop concert. Great generation's wristbands fall off in the shower a few weeks later, by which time they've forgotten what they were for anyway. Two old Irishmen get invited to meet the Queen. Elton John's record sales pick up. Everyone feels better about themselves for a while. Capitalism's wheel continues grinding the bones of the poor to make cheap and rather nasty bread.
I feel so proud. I hope you do too.
Posted by Paul at 6:32 PM 
2 Comments
Fantastic - I thought that there was strangely evil in the air this saturday but couldn't quite put my finger upon what. Chris Moyles' 'Its all brilliant! You want to see my MPH pants?' really captured my imagination - snoop dogg was the only genuine artist there in that he just sang about himself followed by 'West west Yaa' which is what i was thinking.
Thanks for your blog - i like to know i'm not the only one who thought live 8 was the greatest moment... i mean joke in history.
I was seriously worried about it all, and more than a little bit angry with people who should know better handing the G8 the opportunity to look like they give a damn. But just as I was about to turn off the telly and hit the vodka in a bid to exorcise the image of Saints Bob and Bono, what to my wondering eyes should appear but the greatest philanthropist of our time. Billionaire Bill reassured me that Live 8 was the greatest thing that humanity had ever done. So now I'm feeling really priviledged to have witnessed such a world-changing event. Thank you, Bob, for saving the world (again).
Posted by: 
at 1:40 PM
