Now, where was I......

By Paul Flower on Jun 26, 09 06:20 PM

It's festival season. I note this as some weak explanation of my tardiness, even if I'm not entirely sure what tardiness means. The fact is that at my stage of advanced adulthood if I go away for three days to an event like the Isle of Wight Festival then it's very likely to take me at least double that time to recover, by which time it's time for the next event which, this year, is Hard Rock Calling currently taking place in Hyde Park (I'm in a portacabin sheltering from the rain).

My tiredness means that I'm barely able to string a sentence together. To be fair this doesn't usually stop me from trying but the consequence is that I'm the only one that can understand the aforementioned sentence. Not a great selling point if the aim is to have more people reading this blog, which it is. Tell your friends!

The other issue is that post-festivals I can generally fall asleep at the drop of a hat. In fact don't bother dropping any hats as I'll be snoozing before it hits the floor and completely unable to pick it up. Now you understand what I was saying about the sentences making sense.

My original idea for this week's blog was based around 'buying British' or at least 'buying local'. It was prompted by the news that a West Bromwich MP had spent £160 in a Solihull Tanning Salon and claimed it back on his expenses. I had decided that his constituents would be less outraged had he actually spent the money in West Brom rather than Solihull. Then - on doing some research - I discovered that he actually hadn't been in a tanning salon, that his handwriting had probably said 'Sandwell Training Centre' or similar.

It's annoying when research like that diverts you from what might have been a potentially humorous riff. The truth may be that it would've only been humorous to me, but that's beside the point. I had also, for many weeks, been trying to find some link to lampooning Hazel Blears. I'm particularly fond of shooting fish in barrels, metaphorically speaking, and my issue with her was that motorbike she was so fond of being photographed astride.

I realise the impossibility of always buying local but have generally felt that MP's have a duty to support British industry, particularly in a crisis/depression. Ms Blears may claim that as she rides an Italian-built Ducati she acts as a European, for me the fact remains that I think she should really be riding a Triumph and supporting workers in England.

Driving a Toyota myself I'm widely open to ridicule (that's just my lack of driving skills) and claims of hypocrisy, but my feeling throughout this whole crisis in Government is that people would have been more willing to 'let things go' if they felt that MPs were supporting them, buying local or buying British would have been a good start.

So, that's where I was going with this blog until it all fell apart. Then Michael Jackson died and it became a little difficult to get the tone of anything right. I initially wrote on my twitter that I hoped he'd be given the dignity in death that was lacking in the latter years of his life. I promptly went on to read about sixty or so jokes about MJ sent to me by people who probably didn't agree. I laughed at some of them so doubtless I'll be burning in hell at some point, that'll be the hell I hadn't believed in up until the time I found myself burning in it.

It's been hard to judge the mood since then. There's no doubt that MJ had some very devoted fans, all of whom will be mourning his loss for some considerable time. In a celeb-obsessed media this has translated into many pages of coverage - most of which is currently sombre, but you can believe that it'll become more salacious in the coming days and weeks. Watch this space - or don't. I'm off for a sleep.