The Great Wee Azoo

Morrissey vs Ultravox - Belfast Waterfront Hall

2009-05-04T23:28:00.004+01:00

Morrissey has always enjoyed an iconic position in popular music, buoyed by an army of loyal fans, some of whom were observed passing letters and gifts to their idol as he showcased his new album, Years of Refusal at Belfast’s Waterfront Hall on Saturday night.

At one point, a particularly ardent fan seized the microphone and gushed about how thankful he was that his idol had come to see us all and save us with his songs. Morrissey nodded smugly, shook another hand and received another letter.

Strutting and flailing beneath a blown-up image of a bare-chested sailor, chomping on a cigar and flexing his muscles, Morrissey sang his way through a selection of his back catalogue, interspersed with the occasional tune from his days in The Smiths.

Nothing beyond recent single, I’m Throwing My Arms Around Paris, stood out from the new album. Songs from Morrissey’s previous (better) album, Ringleader of the Tormentors, were wholly absent, while tracks from You Are The Quarry dominated the rest of the set. The highlights of the evening were an energetic rendition of The Loop and the mournful, Seasick, Yet Still Docked.

Although Morrissey and his band delivered his solo material with aplomb, older tunes seemed to drag, without the mellifluous guitar of Johnny Marr. This Charming Man, Girlfriend in a Coma, Ask and Some Girls are Bigger Than Others were robbed of their delicacy and instead became translated as plodding pub anthems.

There’s probably a section of the audience that expects this old material, although I feel Morrissey’s performance would be improved without it. Such songs might be better realised either stripped down as acoustic versions or transformed by modern production techniques; but these days, Morrissey seems too rooted to the traditional garage-band format to attempt anything that might develop his talents in a more interesting direction.

Things were altogether different the following evening, when Ultravox took to the same stage.

Never having been a big fan of Ultravox, I only decided to attend the gig when I found out they were playing Visions in Blue. It was the only Ultravox seven-inch single I possessed as a youth, mainly due to the robotic, electronic section that formed its second half. Besides, Ultravox were one of the panoply of bands that lit up a childhood spent dazzled by practically anyone on Top of the Pops in the early 1980s.

My earliest memory of Ultravox is of them performing their best-known track, Vienna on Top of the Pops in early 1981, with singer, Midge Ure resplendent in leather fetish hat, white vest and pencil moustache.

For this reunion performance, Ure was bald and barely recognisable behind dark glasses. Vienna, though, sounded just the same with its stabbing white-noise, spooky synth washes and Billy Currie, melancholy on the violin.

Accompanied by stark blue lighting, cold spotlights and a pulsing backdrop, the entire effect was akin to an old episode of Blake’s 7. The dystopian-future mood was invoked by the proto-techno of Mr X, The Thin Wall and Your Name (Has Slipped My Mind).

Alas, the science-fiction air of doom and alienation wasn’t to last and the rousing guitar-driven hits, Hymn, The Voice and Dancing With Tears in my Eyes had the audience on its feet, clapping and hooting.

Unlike Morrissey, Midge Ure did not receive letters or gifts from his followers, and when one overjoyed fan rushed to the front of the stage to dance, two tuxedo-wearing bouncers emerged from either side of the arena and politely guided him back to his seat. I had the distinct feeling that the gushing Morrissey fan from the night before, along with his myriad companions, would greatly disapprove of the entire experience.

Enormous Turnip Awards - Chronicles of Long Kesh

2009-01-31T19:57:00.009+01:00

Martin Lynch's Chronicles of Long Kesh, which finishes its debut run at Belfast's Waterfront Hall this evening, should perhaps have been subtitled Carry On Up The Kesh, such was its jokey tone and lack of any intellectual or political depth.

I'd never seen a Lynch play before, so I had nothing to measure it against, although it was hard not to be reminded of Steve McQueen's 2008 film, Hunger, which told the story of the 1981 Hunger Strikes on a painfully stark canvas. While McQueen explored the tensions between the main players, underlined with brutality and political self-determinism, Lynch resorted to folksy sitcom.

It might be unfair to compare The Chronicles of Long Kesh with Hunger, but it speaks volumes that the former was produced by a black Englishman, while the latter seemed to have dropped off the local Arts Council-funded conveyor-belt populated by the same old writers with little new to say.

Lynch is clearly a populist, but there is something deeply unsatisfying about reducing the story of Long Kesh to a series of cliched and comedic set-pieces that would not have looked out of place in an episode of EastEnders. Republican and Loyalist prisoners were presented as cyphers, despite the best efforts of a decent cast, and women were portrayed as needy housewives.

By the end of the whole thing, the experience became suspended somewhere between The Full Monty and the denouement of The History Boys as we got a singsong and a roll-call of the eventual fate of each character. In short, Chronicles of Long Kesh was theatre-by-numbers.

Martin Lynch, step up to the podium and accept your turnip.

Simple Minds - Odyssey Arena, Belfast

2008-12-07T18:51:00.006+01:00

Prior to going to see Simple Minds at Belfast’s Odyssey Arena last night, I’d imagined the band’s fans to fall into two distinct categories: those who thrilled to the pre-1982 fusion of electro and funk that championed Simple Minds as princes of the new wave, and those that shook their fists to the lumpen stadium rock that came with later success.

As an older and heavier Jim Kerr and Charlie Burchill arrived on stage to the strains of Waterfront, the fists were raised across the arena and middle-aged dancing commenced. My initial bewilderment soon turned to smug satisfaction as the thunderous aplomb of their 1983 hit gave way to the electronic pulse of 1980’s I Travel and the stadium fans sat down. I’d have danced, but I would have been on my own.

This was the last date on Simple Minds current tour, celebrating thirty years as a live act. I’d come to see their 1982 album, New Gold Dream, which was played in its entirety. As Someone, Somewhere in Summertime segued into Colours Fly and Catherine Wheel, it was as if a completely different band had claimed the stage. Even the bombastic light show shimmered to a cool, sophisticated purple, in harmony with the spectral synth washes and fluid bass lines.

It was a brave move for Simple Minds to incorporate this landmark album into the middle of their performance; at times, it seemed as if they were in danger of losing the audience. A line of stadium fans sitting behind me went to the bar during the sublime Big Sleep and Somebody Up There Likes You.

Normal service was resumed as the Eno and Byrne-inspired King is White and in the Crowd gave way to Up on the Catwalk and Don’t You Forget About Me. The people in the row behind me returned to their seats and it was all fists punching the air again.

Even the cloying sentiment of Belfast Child failed to deter the acolytes. As with Van Morrison’s Gloria, offered by way of a gift earlier in the set, they hooted, stamped their feet and sang along.

“Some day soon, they’re gonna pull the old town down,” Kerr sang, before assuring, “No chance!” The crowd roared its approval. Though, coming in at two hours and twenty minutes, and delivering a performance that would shame bands half their age, I reckon Simple Minds deserved the applause.

Ladytron - Live at The Stiff Kitten, Belfast

2008-11-30T18:01:00.013+01:00

If they had been around back in the early 1980s, Ladytron would have been the kind of band you would have fallen in love with on watching them perform their latest hit on Top of the Pops, sandwiched between The Human League and Adam and the Ants.

With their infectious blend of electro-pop and fuzzy post-punk, Ladytron exist in the tradition of those few bands that are best characterised by a string of glittering and perfect pop singles. It’s therefore a shame that none of their songs have so far been able to make any significant impact on the pop charts.

Looking as if they had been styled by a Teutonic Mary Quant, Mira Aroyo and Helen Marnie appeared on the Stiff Kitten stage like parallel universe versions of Agnetha Fältskog and Anni-Frid Lyngstad. The hausfrau image sat perfectly alongside the bubbling electronics and squalling guitar. The on-stage roving spotlight that settled on one band member before gliding away to gaze on another cemented the Nuremberg-chic.

We were informed that Mira had broken her ankle that morning, and so remained seated at her keyboard, looking at times as if she was weeping. There would be no blank-faced, Abba-esque back-to-back singing then, which is how I imagined Ladytron would present themselves to a live audience.

Opening with Black Cat the set list mainly concentrated on songs from the last two albums, including Ghosts, Season of Illusions, High Rise, Soft Power, International Dateline, Seventeen and current single, Runaway. The four-members of the band were supplemented by two others, including a live drummer, who provided added punch to the sequenced percussion. At times, the vocals seemed too far back in the mix and much of the top-end sounds were lost amid the thundering bass. It was as if My Bloody Valentine had descended on the sound desk.

Fighting in Built up Areas, with Mira intoning in Bulgarian and Helen on breathy backing vocals, demanded to be immortalised in a stylish horror film, in much the same way that Bauhaus had electrified the opening scenes of Tony Scott’s The Hunger. The spotlight was replaced by a flickering strobe, which sparkled like a million flashbulbs over the attentive audience.

Due, I imagine, to the broken ankle, there was no encore. The performance ended with Ladytron’s best-known single, Destroy Everything You Touch. It’s the sort of song that should have gone to number one and stayed there for weeks; yet, in a world where Top of the Pops has been replaced by the mucky horrors of X-factor song contests, such crimes are to be expected.

Advertising Standards Authority vs Free Presbyterian Church

2008-11-22T15:43:00.015+01:00

The Advertising Standards Authority has this week ruled that The Belfast News Letter was in breach of The Committee of Advertising Practice Code Clause 5.1 in publishing a full-page advertisement from Sandown Free Presbyterian Church.

The advertisement, published on 1st August 2008 and headlined 'The Word of God Against Sodomy' was timed to coincide with Belfast's annual gay pride festival and parade. It voiced its disapproval of homosexuality in typical Biblical vitriol.

Seven people complained to the ASA, who initially recommended that the complaints should not be upheld, although noted that a final decision would be taken by its Council.

The Council this week ruled out any consideration that the News Letter or Sandown Free Presbyterian Church acted to incite hatred but instead upheld complaints on the basis of CAP Code Clause 5.1, which notes that "Marketing communications should contain nothing that is likely to cause serious or widespread offence," and "Particular care should be taken to avoid causing offence on the grounds of race, religion, sex, sexual orientation or disability."

Commenting on the advertisement, Sandown Free Presbyterian Church quoted "God's truth," to mask its homophobia, while the Belfast News Letter noted it felt it appropriate "to express relevant views surrounding the issue, despite the fact that those views may be abhorrent to some," and that a refusal to publish the advertisement would have been "an infringement of freedom of expression on a matter of public interest."

The ASA has recommended that the advert should not appear again in its current form. The ASA has also informed Sandown Free Presbyterian Church to "take more care in future," to avoid causing offence and advised the church to seek a view from the CAP Copy Advice team before publishing future marketing material.

Since the ASA doesn't impose fines and holds no direct powers of legal censure, it seems likely that the Free Presbyterian Church will take little notice of its ruling. However CAP Code 61.8 notes that persistent offenders may be required to have some or all of their marketing communications vetted by the CAP Copy Advice team until the ASA and CAP are satisfied that future communications will comply with the Code.

CAP Code 61.10 goes further. It notes that if marketing communications continue to appear after the ASA Council has ruled against them, the ASA can refer the matter to The Office for Fair Trading for action under the Consumer Protection from Unfair Trading Regulations 2008 and the Business Protection from Misleading Marketing Regulations 2008. The OFT can seek an undertaking that the marketing will be stopped from anyone responsible for commissioning, preparing or disseminating it. If that is not given or is not honoured, the OFT can seek an injunction from the Court to prevent its further appearance. Anyone not complying can be found to be in contempt of court and is liable to be penalised accordingly.

This suggests that any further homophobic pamphleteering by Sandown Free Presbyterian Church could be directed back to the ASA, with the possibility of the church ending up in court.

At the very least, a warning shot has been fired. However, one wonders what happened to all those complaints to the police earlier this year, regarding Iris Robinson MLA's outspoken views on lesbian and gay people.

I recently attended a performance of DV8 Physical Theatre's 'To Be Straight With You' at London's National Theatre. During one scene, Robinson's homophobic ranting was played to barn-yard music, while performers in animal heads trotted around the stage. The audience hooted with laughter at the narrow provincialism described by the piece.

Such provincialism is the preserve of the Belfast News Letter. A newspaper of integrity would not have carried such an offensive full-page advertisement. Rather than engage in any significant journalism, the Belfast News Letter colludes with the rhetoric of fundamentalist loathing and echoes the spirit of a faded empire. I see nothing within the pages of that newspaper to convince me otherwise, although I hope it sees fit to print a full-page apology in one of this week's editions, along with a copy of the ASA's final adjudication.

To access the text of the full-page advertisement, as it appeared in the Belfast News Letter, click the image above.

Moron Moments - Corn Market Upgrade

2008-08-20T09:22:00.013+01:00

The modernisation work on Belfast city centre's tired pavements is well underway. In the main, the results are impressive.

Yet, I'm surprised that no one thought to relocate the electricity box that stood beside the old bandstand in Corn Market.

Now that the bandstand is gone, the electricity box stands alone and incongrous in the middle of Corn Market, at the approach to the new Victoria Centre.

It would appear that amid the hysteria that surrounded the development of Belfast's flagship shopping centre, someone forgot about the little details.

Lou Reed's Berlin - Belfast Waterfront Hall

2008-06-25T11:48:00.007+01:00

The last time I went to the Waterfront Hall in Belfast, I was greeted by a very lacklustre effort from Sinead O’Connor. Although I had higher hopes for Lou Reed, who brought his Berlin tour to the venue last night, I left disappointed by an average performance and bewildered by the audience’s hysterical reaction.

My main gripe was Reed’s tendency to sing the songs according to whatever lyrical phrasing that pleases him. Okay, they’re his songs and he can do what he likes with them, but I’d have preferred them to sound more like they do on the record. Surely that’s the point of presenting an album in its totality, live on stage. Reed’s delivery is generally conversational but I thought his ambling, talking style ruined The Kids and Caroline Says II.

The Berlin album runs for just under fifty minutes. Reed and his band compensated for this by ensuring the closing bars of nearly every song repeated over and over, while Reed and his guitarist engaged in over-bloated guitar jamming.

The mood improved towards the close of the album. The Bed and Sad Song translated beautifully and Reed sang in time to the music, although the refrain of the latter song seemed to go on for an age.

The encore consisted of near-unrecognisable versions of Rock and Roll and Satellite of Love. Reed’s boredom must have been complete by this point, as he didn’t even bother singing most of the words, leaving these duties to his bass player, backing singer and child-choir. Unfortunately, the final song The Power of the Heart was marred by Reed’s guitar sounding distinctly out of tune with the rest of the band, although Reed seemed aware of this, judging by his perplexed scrutiny of said guitar as he continued to play.

It seems standing ovations are commonplace in the Waterfront Hall. Like O’Connor last month, Reed’s audience was quickly on its feet and clapping like mad. Maybe they were on strong drugs, or something. The people in the row in front of me were waving their arms and whooping. I didn’t quite get it, although the sight of middle aged men dancing in the aisle and supplicating themselves, hands outstretched to their hero was somewhat bemusing.

Maybe I was just spoilt by an excellent Leonard Cohen performance in Dublin the week before.

Two Minutes Hate - Iris Robinson

2008-06-10T19:26:00.012+01:00

On looking at pictures of the DUP's new ministerial team, I was reminded of Gore Vidal’s assertion that “Politics is show-business for ugly people.” Never has such a horror-show image assailed my eyes.

Absent from said pictures is MP MLA Iris Robinson, who has recently exhibited herself as ugliest of all, with her uncompromising views on lesbian and gay people.

It all started last week, when Mrs Robinson appeared on BBC’s Nolan radio show to praise the efforts of one-time moral crusader, Mary Whitehouse. It wasn’t long before she connected with the DUP homophobic mainframe and used her Christian beliefs to attack the morals – or lack thereof – of lesbian and gay people, although Mrs Robinson used the rather outmoded term, ‘homosexual.’ She spoke with a kind of smug superiority and even chuckled, as if she was sharing a joke.

There was nothing sophisticated or socially responsible about Mrs Robinson’s comments or tone. She seemed unaware of the impact of her words and denied she was fueling the sort of violence that was visited on Stephen Scott, a 27 year-old gay man who was attacked in Newtownabbey the previous evening.

She noted: “I have a lovely psychiatrist who works with me in my offices. I have met people who have turned around and become heterosexual, so it does work. This is a long process. The gentleman, who is a psychiatrist, but more importantly is a born again Christian, has links right across the world. I’m happy to pass on any names to him!”

The “lovely psychiatrist,” is Dr Paul Miller, an honorary clinical lecturer at Queen's University Belfast and senior health advisor to Mrs Robinson. He also came onto the Nolan show to talk about how he was able to turn gays straight. He said he felt compelled to undertake such work after one of his patients, who was struggling with his sexuality, died by suicide. This statement was delivered without insight or irony.

Dr Miller’s views have since been dismissed by the Royal Society of Psychiatrists, whose statement noted: "Such treatments do not work and can actually cause quite a lot of harm. Homosexuality is a state and a sexual orientation and is not a question of behaviour."

You would think that would be the end of the affair, but Mrs Robinson was not to be gagged. A couple of days later, she reappeared on the Nolan show to continue her tirade against lesbian and gay people. One notable exchange focussed on the Oxford English Dictionary's definition of the word ‘Abomination’:

Nolan: Do you think, for example, that homosexuality is disgusting?

Robinson: Absolutely.

Nolan: Do you think that homosexuality should be loathed?

Robinson: Absolutely.

Nolan: Do you think it is right for people to have a physical disgust towards homosexuality?

Robinson: Absolutely.

Nolan: Does it make you nauseous?

Robinson: Yes.

Nolan: Do you think that it is something that is shamefully wicked and vile?

Robinson: Yes, of course it is. It’s an abomination.

Mrs Robinson is now under investigation by the PSNI, following complaints.

You would think that would bring the matter to a close. Not so. Mrs Robinson reappeared soon after, and equated gays with murderers:

"Just as a murderer can be redeemed by the blood of Christ, so can a homosexual. And that’s the message and it’s the word of God and if anyone takes issue they are taking issue with the word of God."

There have been cries from many quarters for Mrs Robinson to apologise, which she refuses to do, and to resign from her post as chair of the Assembly Health Committee. There’s even a Make Iris Robinson History campaign on Bebo.

It will be interesting to see if police action is forthcoming. Article 9 of the Public Order (NI) Order 1987, notes:

"A person who uses threatening, abusive or insulting words or behaviour, or displays any written material which is threatening, abusive or insulting, is guilty of an offence if :

(a) he intends thereby to stir up hatred or arouse fear; or
(b) having regard to all the circumstances hatred is likely to be stirred up or fear is likely to be aroused thereby."

Whatever happens, I can’t help but feel that Mrs Robinson’s current media profile may be related to her husband’s elevation to the post of First Minister of the Northern Ireland Assembly last week. She either has a strong competitive streak and seeks to claim her own place in the limelight, or wishes to somehow undermine her husband’s recent achievement.

However, in considering the religious fundamentalism of Mrs Robinson and her followers, I’m reminded of a speech about the Party’s sexual puritanism, in George Orwell’s 1984:

“Sexual privation induced hysteria, which was desirable because it could be transformed into war-fever and leader-worship… There was a direct intimate connection between chastity and political orthodoxy. For how could the fear, the hatred and the lunatic credulity which the Party needed in its members be kept at the right pitch, except by bottling down some powerful instinct and using it as a driving force?”

Sinead O'Connor vs The Ulster Orchestra

2008-05-14T17:51:00.007+01:00

I wasn’t a fan of Sinead O’Connor before going to see her performance at Belfast’s Waterfront Hall on Monday night, but I was prepared to be won over. After all, the union of a seasoned artist of some notoriety with the Ulster Orchestra would surely be something special. Sadly, it wasn’t.

The orchestra performed splendidly in reinterpreting a selection of O’Connor’s songs. The only problem was the singer herself. For the entire performance, she remained moored within a three-foot radius at one end of the stage, shuffling lazily back and forth with no attempt at communication with the audience. Such was her detachment, that I felt she might as well have situated herself behind one of those plastic noise-reduction screens that stood across the stage.

Towards the end of the performance, O'Connor stated she hadn’t talked because this wasn’t just her gig, but everyone’s. Yeah, but we came to see you Sinead, even if it was for free. Maybe you have to pay to get a glimpse of the energy that tore up the Pope’s picture, riled against imperialism and converted to the priesthood. You could be forgiven for thinking an impostor had been wheeled on stage. At one point, I couldn’t work out if O’Connor was nervous, bewildered, bored or embarrassed. Maybe, she was all of these things.

As for that voice… Well, where was it? She whispered her way through Don’t Cry For Me Argentina and croaked through Nothing Compares 2 U with the occasional yelp echoing former glories.

Yet, perhaps as a testament to O’Connor’s lack of prowess, both these songs were the strongest of the set. The Emperor’s New Clothes seemed to act as an unwitting sub-title to the tone of the evening. Her own material seemed to just amble along, although the reggae influenced Lamb’s Book of Life acted to lift the torpor towards the end of the set. I couldn’t believe she got a standing ovation. I remained firmly rooted in my seat.

“Oh, but she’s all grown up now and has three or four kids,” said an equally nonplussed friend afterwards, seeking to excuse Sinead’s lack of vitality.

Yeah, but so has Madonna, and she was writhing away like a mad thing on the TV the other night.

That’s entertainment!

In The Penal Colony

2008-05-14T17:08:00.010+01:00

Last night, BBC Northern Ireland exceeded its usual banal standards and served up a programme entitled 'NI WAGs'.

Narrated by a worryingly over-enthusiastic Christine Bleakley, we were presented with Northern Ireland’s WAGs. WAG is shorthand for Wives And Girlfriends and is a term normally attributed to the android-like empty-heads wedded to premier league footballers. In the Northern Irish sphere, I wasn’t quite sure who these WAGs were associated with, although a couple of lump-faced dopes in fashionable clothes were paraded across the screen to stamp these twittering fools with some sort of questionable credibility.

This peek at the aristocracy of emptiness was delivered without irony and with the apparent aim of showing just how transformed, glam and cosmopolitan the Wee Province has become. I found myself wishing the war would come back as one vapid empty vessel after another squeaked about the importance of hair or style as they shopped on the Lisburn Road, which was laughably described as both “Millionaire’s Mile,” and “Northern Ireland’s Bond Street.” Who were they trying to kid?

“I’ve got shoes in Hollywood and shoes in Dublin,” gushed one of the WAGs in a chiding mill voice.

“A girl’s gotta do what a girl’s gotta do,” cheeped another rather ordinary-looking twit. Referring to an associate, she continued, “Lisa has everything. She’s totally high maintenance!”

The camera crew, obviously burdened with more money than sense, followed the faux creatures on a shopping trip to Las Vegas and back to a dull looking awards ceremony at Belfast’s Café Vaudeville. Here was the pinnacle of local WAG life.

“Anyone who’s anyone in Northern Ireland is here tonight,” gasped the breathless Christine Bleakley as the camera roved over a parade of dressed-up nobodies.

I was reminded of Kafka’s In the Penal Colony where criminals are assaulted by a horrendous torture machine that carves the names of their crimes and sentences onto their backs. I feel that such a device should be permanently installed in Café Vaudeville, with the WAGs the first to be thrown onto it, followed by the production team at Waddell Media, who birthed this vile programme, and the shallow dolts at BBC Northern Ireland, who think this kind of nonsense passes for good TV.

Squintergate

2008-03-29T21:29:00.009+01:00

Strange, censorious things have been afoot in the publishing houses of West Belfast this week. I’m reminded of an episode of Doctor Who, where a villainous fiend travelled back in time to rewrite history, so that what you think you remembered never actually happened.

It all started with the recent death of Frank ‘Bap’ McGreevy, a former republican activist who was terrorised and killed by children outside his Lower Falls home. Soon afterwards, The usually loyal Andersonstown News published a harsh attack on Sinn Fein and Gerry Adams in particular, blaming him for failing to take any responsibility for the lawless state of a constituency where much of his electorate live in fear of anti-social elements. The author of the piece, Squinter (AKA Andersonstown News editor, Robin Livingstone) asserted that Adams had failed as a leader and dismissed Sinn Fein as having abandoned the people of the lower Falls “who now fear the night a million times more than they ever feared the Brits or the loyalists.” Strong words.

The article was repeated on Squinter’s website, but don’t go looking for it as it has mysteriously disappeared. And if you take a look at this week’s Andersonstown News, you’ll notice that Squinter’s weekly column has also disappeared.

It would appear that Squinter touched a nerve in vocalising what many in West Belfast have been talking about in private. Instead of treating the matter with any degree of seriousness, Gerry Adams issued a rather wet complaint in which he outlined his disapproval at the tone and timing of the piece before attempting to rally his community to act as one to help secure jobs and make the Falls a better place to live.

The Andersonstown News replied with a sycophantic apology, which is all the more bizarre in that the author of the article in question issued it. Thus, Mr Livingstone has demonstrated himself to be a journalist of little worth, while illustrating that the Andersonstown News is nothing other than a propaganda sheet for Sinn Fein. So much for free speech. It appears that the party once censored by government is now quite happy to censor any voice of dissent emerging from within its former fan base.

Thankfully, Squinter’s article has been preserved over on Slugger O’Toole. However, the dissenting comments from West Belfast residents, which accompanied its original online version, have been wiped away forever. They made interesting reading. One came from a Sinn Fein activist, embarrassed by the truths contained in Squinter’s missive. Another reinterpreted Bobby Sand’s quote “Our revenge will be the laughter of our children,” as an ironic statement on the wayward youth of the lower Falls. Many scorned Sinn Fein for abandoning the likes of Ross Road, the site of Mr McGreevy’s death, for their holiday homes in Donegal.

In publishing his attack on Adams, Squinter had given permission for those in West Belfast who have had enough of Sinn Fein to speak out, which is what makes the disappearance of the article and all accompanying comments, deeply sinister. It’s like locking the stable door after the horse has bolted. Stalin would be proud.

As if to add insult to injury, the headline sitting aside Adam’s complaint on the front page of this week’s Andersonstown News cries: “We Want Bap’s Home Levelled.” It would appear that it’s not enough to blame the police, the Housing Executive, Uncle Tom Cobbley and all. You see, it was the flat that was to blame for all this nonsense and to demolish it will ensure that all anti-social behaviour will also vanish.

There’s a picture of MLA Fra McCann, with a stern faced companion. She’s wearing Reebok and glares at the camera, as if willing the very site of the murder out of existence. Only then will the whitewash be complete, for there will be nothing to remind us that anything actually happened.

Such is the nature of the distraction wheeled out by the party machine as the cracks begin to appear across its once-confident façade.

Pop Britannia

2008-01-19T15:23:00.002+01:00

According to Episode Three of BBC4’s Pop Britannia, which I managed to endure most of last night, it was the glamour of Adam Ant and Visage’s Fade to Grey that heralded the arrival of the New Wave scene of the early 1980s.

Perhaps producer Ben Whalley failed to notice that prior to Adam and the Ants’ first chart hit in 1980 and Fade to Grey reaching top-ten status the following year, a whole raft of talent had already laid claim to the post punk scene, although the likes of Depeche Mode, Japan, Ultravox, The Associates and Simple Minds failed to get a mention.

Instead, we got the same weary and well-worn checklist of received wisdom, which this programme acted to reinforce. It went something like this: Glam rock. Check. Rick Wakeman is rubbish. Check. Sex Pistols. Check. Duran Duran on a boat. Check. Frankie gets banned. Check, etc.

Even when trumpeting the ‘British Invasion of America’ in the early 1980s, Soft Cell’s Tainted Love – which topped the charts in 17 countries and stayed in the US charts for a record breaking 43 weeks – was nowhere to be seen. Gary Numan, who was a couple of years ahead of Visage, with Are Friends Electric and Cars – was also absent.

Suddenly, we were transported to the mid-eighties, but we got Mel and Kim instead of The Smiths and The Cure. I managed to switch over, while Thatcher’s poster-boy, Pete Waterman was in mid-flow and before the clichéd Blur vs. Oasis Brit-Pop snooze-a-thon appeared.

Speaking of the series, Whalley said: “The BBC, due to its unique position, is perhaps one of the few places in the world that can attempt to create content of this scope.”

This roughly translates as: “We’ve got all the footage and we can string it together any way we please, to make another facile, dumbed-down clip show to go out on Friday night.”

John Luke Mural Mentioned in Assembly

2007-12-12T01:46:00.001+01:00

While looking through the Northern Ireland Assembly's Written Answers to Questions of Friday 30 November 2007, I noticed that the matter of Belfast's lost John Luke Mural made a welcome appearance.

Nelson McCausland MLA asked the Minister for Employment and Learning to provide the date the John Luke Mural was removed from the Belfast Institute of Further and Higher Education complex at Millfield and the current location and ownership of the mural.

The minister, Sir Reg Empey MLA replied: "The John Luke Mural was removed from the Belfast Metropolitan College’s Millfield site on 2 February 2003. It is owned by John Eastwood and Sons Ltd and is currently in storage at Walter Graham Haulage Ltd, Airport Road West, Belfast."

Mr McCausland's motive in raising this issue is unclear. The Great Wee Azoo awaits developments with interest.

The story of how the famous mural fell into private hands can be found here.

Enormous Turnip Awards - Clapham Junction

2007-07-23T09:42:00.001+01:00

Clapham Junction, written by Kevin Elyot and broadcast last night on Channel 4 as part of it's Gay Season, should perhaps have been subtitled 'One Ring to Bind Them All' since its narrative centred around the meanderings of a civil partnership wedding band through the lives of a group of gay men in London.

The opening scene indicated that we were to be presented with something very different to what gay drama had offered up in the past. Delivered entirely without irony, it saw a TV commissioner rejecting a gay-themed script because he felt the whole "gay thing" had passed its sell-by date. If only Mr Elyot had listened to his scripted avowal. Rather than illuminating the prevalence of homophobic violence in today's society, Clapham Junction laid bare the writer's internal homophobia. What followed had little to say about the lives of gay men in 2007.

The gay lives portrayed here were, for the most part, brutish and without redemption. Sexual couplings were drug-fuelled, violent and often took place in public toilets, where heads were banged off walls and cocks thrust through cubical partitions. We had the usual array of queer stereotypes, including the married man who gets a bit in the toilets on the way home from work, the self-loathing psycho who loves his Nan but commits acts of random violence against other gay men, the frustrated schoolboy and the alcohol-swigging predator, who can't keep it in his pants, even on his wedding - sorry, civil partnership - day. And most startling of all, there was a man who was "inside for interfering with youngsters." Quite what a paedophile was doing in a drama which announced itself to be the story of 36 hours in the lives of a group of gay men is anyone's guess. Lesbian characters were wholly absent.

"I like the Third Reich," said the 14 year-old history student, as he made sexual approaches to the sex offender, conjuring up hackneyed images of merry queers in Nazi uniforms, mincing about to Liza Minnelli records. "Perhaps we enjoy sniffing around in dark places," said another character at an oh-so-polite, middle class dinner party which vainly attempted to contextualise the queer zeitgeist in a stream of clumsy dialogue.

Later, one of the awfully polite women at said dinner party goes all funny because the sex offender lives close to her. She's so affronted that she has to run home lest the vile paedo interferes with her son. Rushing to her son's room, she discovers he's gone. But what's this she sees across the street? It's her boy, framed in the sulphurous light emanating from the window of the paedo's lair. She rushes over and an unlikely confrontation ensues. Meanwhile, our cute-faced psycho gets a taste of his own violence and ends up trying to touch up the gay doctor, even though he's stretched out, bashed and bloody, on a hospital stretcher. Wouldn't you? You see, the doctor notices that the psycho has The Ring, which actually belongs to the doctor's partner, who gave the ring to the waiter after he had sex with him. The waiter then got murdered on the common and was discovered by the psycho, who had actually met him earlier in a club. They all lined up and with a big heave-ho, the enormous turnip was pulled up out of the ground.

Clapham Junction was TV drama trapped in a self-loathing, 1980s timewarp. It was like witnessing a piece of right-wing propaganda emerge from a parallel universe where Russell T. Davies' Queer as Folk, with all of its pathos and exuberance, never happened.

Clapham Junction, step up to the podium and accept your turnip.

Bad Art - Kieran Doherty Wall

2007-07-21T19:53:00.002+01:00

Oh, my eyes! Just look at this thing I discovered on a gable wall in West Belfast.

It's not exactly a mural but a painting on boards, which have been joined together and framed.

The subject of this art atrocity is republican hunger striker, Kieran Doherty, who died in 1981 after 73 days without food.

I've no idea who the 'artist' of this piece is, but he or she should be stopped from inflicting such art crimes on the general public.

I'm particularly taken with Mr Doherty's mutant arms, one of which reaches forward to rest awkwardly on his leg while the other hangs limp, as if broken. Observe the breast pocket and those little creases on the right sleeve and bellow with laughter.

Public art should surely do something to lift the tone of an area and imbue its residents with a sense of community pride and identity. This dreadfully inept painting just makes me want to turn my gaze away to hide my embarrassment.

Somebody, please take it down and get an artist who actually knows how to paint to design a replacement.

Bad Art - Johnny Adair Book Cover

2007-07-14T11:19:00.005+01:00

While walking through Easons the other day, my eyes were assailed by this laughably posed image of Johnny Adair on the cover of a book about him.

The book, 'Mad Dog' is ghostwritten by a Scottish News of the World journalist and is published by John Blake Publishing. A blurb on the back cover announces that Johnny is "Dedicated to achieving lasting peace." Quite.

I would suggest that John Blake Publishing is guilty of elevating this horrendous creature to the status of vapid celebrity with this ludicrous image. Its crass composition and lack of subtlety plumbs the depths of celebrity porn. What's worse is that its placement among equally irrelevant books by Victoria Beckham, Jordan and Jeremy Clarkson reframes the crimes of Adair as subjects of mindless gossip to be unit-shifted to equally mindless consumers.

'Mad Dog' will either end up in the bargain bin or be turned into a film, with Adair as its script editor. We are surely living in the End of Days.

The Dismal Twelfth

2007-07-13T10:37:00.001+01:00

During yesterday's TV broadcasts, BBC Northern Ireland seemed to be doing its best to dress up the annual Belfast Twelfth of July parade as a fun-filled carnival. Presenters, Joe McKee and Clifford Smyth wittered inanely as fat, tattooed, corner boys swung their drums and beer bellies along the wet Belfast streets to the whining strain of flutes. Lord Mayor, Jim Rogers was there, spouting delusional rhetoric about how Catholics and ethnic minority people could enjoy the parade. As if to underline his foolishness, the Ulster Special Constabulary Lodge marched by.

The Ulster Defence Regiment was also represented. One banner displayed an army checkpoint. Others showed images of churches and unionist political leaders and announced their adherents as 'Bible and Crown Defenders' from various regions. Vans draped in union flags crawled by, sheltering geriatrics. "There's a great atmosphere here," said Clifford Smyth, attempting to convince himself that his trite comments had any bearing on reality.

Impartial BBC reporter, Helen Mark, talked to bystanders about how it's all wonderful for Northern Ireland. A DUP counsellor spoke of the parade as one of Europe's best folk festivals. Tourists from various nations were paraded before the camera to impart positive sound-bytes, although this tactic backfired somewhat when a man from Slovakia said that it all reminded him of the communist parades of his youth.

To listen to the voice of the BBC, you could be forgiven for thinking that the whole spectacle was akin to a Notting Hill style knees-up. All rational and objective analysis went out the window.

It was much the same over on UTV where, amid last year's recycled, cost-cutting graphics, tourists were similarly thrust before cameras and children danced on bouncy castles. "What's really nice is that for the first time in Hollywood, King Billy is leading the parade," said the announcer as a portly gentleman in a wig and period dress perched himself atop a white horse.

Back on BBC One, Sarah Travers strutted out onto a virtual, techno-set to preside over a montage of lobotomised reportage. The tone was jovial, light-hearted and filled with cliche.

"At times it seemed more like Glastonbury," said one BBC commentator, as the camera roved across a field hosting predictable, political speeches from the backs of lorries while church bands played from beneath rain-blasted tents. Here is a world where balding, municipal officials, draped in sashes, mouth Biblical platitudes while women with bad haircuts make the sandwiches and praise The Lord.

At the heart of this empty spectacle, the Orange Order was reconfigured as a family-friendly, tourist interest with the local, broadcast media as its unquestioning cheerleaders. The emperor wasn't wearing any clothes but no one on TV was prepared to admit it.

Comparing Pavements

2007-07-09T09:31:00.002+01:00

I'm just back from an excursion to the Iberian Peninsula and I've brought back some lovely pictures of the pavements of Portugal and Spain.

Cast your eyes at the well-maintained pavements below and compare them to the dreadful pavements of Belfast city centre.

First, the Spanish and Portuguese pavements:

Now, brace yourself for an assault by the Belfast pavements:

I gather plans are afoot to regenerate Belfast city centre. Whether the money will be used to give these disgraceful pavements a much-needed makeover remains to be seen.

Pavement Hieroglyphs

2007-05-11T18:51:00.001+01:00

Strange, multi-coloured hieroglyphs have appeared on the streets of downtown Belfast.

Most of this street-art is centred around the Ugliest Street in Belfast, making me wonder if the ugliest street is about to get a whole lot uglier.

As I photographed the offending graffiti, I noticed that many of the brick pavements have been further marred by fresh fillings of black tarmac. Such is the policy of the Northern Ireland Roads Service.

I'm unable to decipher the meaning behind the pavement scrawlings, but since many are grouped around manhole covers and other street furniture, I'm speculating that Roads Service is about to dig things up and fill in the resulting holes with more unsightly tarmac.

However, I'm prepared to be proved wrong. Perhaps Roads Service has seen the errors of its penny-pinching ways and is about to embark on a major pavement improvement scheme.

The Great Wee Azoo will keep you updated.

Bog Meadows and Baby Graves

2007-05-01T09:27:00.002+01:00

On Sunday, I went for a trip to the Bog Meadows Nature Reserve, the largest stretch of untamed marshland in Belfast and home to much wildlife. The site is managed by the Ulster Wildlife Trust and is the recipient of a UNESCO award.

Had UNESCO visited at the weekend, it might have been disappointed by the apparent lack of conservation assigned to the area. I counted at least five shopping trolleys, either cast into the canals or dumped amid the foam upholstery of a discarded chair and the rusted frame of a old bicycle. A possible sixth shopping trolley seemed to have biodegraded into the wet earth, with only a single remaining wheel betraying its presence.

There was something upsetting at witnessing a mother duck and her cute brood of ducklings attempting to negotiate their way around an array of detritus dumped in the stream.

Things were no better down at the pond. Signs which once provided information on the habitat had been torn away. A man and two children were throwing bread to the wildfowl, while drinking from fizzy drinks cans. Once the picnic was finished, the cans and associated rubbish were thrown into the reeds to join the other litter dumped there.

I went looking for the bird hide, which was advertised on a map of the area but I couldn't find it. Eventually, I meandered into a stretch of mucky forest before tumbling over a fence into the baby graves of Milltown Cemetery.

The baby graves, displaying stone teddy bears, sleeping angels and faded flowers, looked like the kinds of graves children might design for themselves, if they had the chance. They are small and bright and clustered together beneath the knotted weeds at the most salient edge of the Cemetery.

Although I'm not an expert on the history of Catholic burial, I'm aware that the church forbade babies who were stillborn or who died prior to baptism a place in their Heaven - or to put it in church lingo, the babies were denied communion with the Beatific Vision. Instead they were interred in unconsecrated ground and condemned to inhabit the Limbo of Children, a kind of netherworld between Heaven and Hell.

On examining the gravestones in the plot, I couldn't see one that extended beyond 1979. Many were dated in the 1950s and 1960s. I've since discovered that it was 1970 before the church introduced a funeral rite for unbaptised infants and 1992 before the Catechism of the Catholic Church noted that babies who died unbaptised might still be saved.

However, on 20 April 2007, the Catholic Church's International Theological Commission published a document entitled "The Hope of Salvation for Infants Who Die Without Being Baptised", which notes that the Limbo of Children remains a "Possible theological opinion," but indicates there are "Serious theological and liturgical grounds for hope that unbaptised infants who die will be saved and enjoy the Beatific Vision." It also states that "These are reasons for prayerful hope, rather than grounds for sure knowledge," and concludes: "It must be clearly acknowledged that the church does not have sure knowledge about the salvation of unbaptised infants who die."

It must also be acknowledged that publications issued by the International Theological Commission are not recognised as authoritative church teaching. The musings contained in the document suggest that the Catholic Church doesn't really believe in Limbo but isn't going to officially endorse its banning or issue any apology to the parents of generations of dead babies. Such is the compassion of the Vatican.

In researching this post, I came across this article which tells the story of eighty year old Mary Salmon from Letterfrack, Co. Galway, who, in 1994, finally witnessed the Catholic Church blessing her two dead children and many others, who were refused a Christian burial sixty years ago.

Speaking of the stillbirth of her children, Mrs Salmon said: "I didn't even get to see the baby. My husband had the child in a little box and took it to the seashore two miles away. Then I lost another baby and it was buried there as well. Hundreds of babies are buried here. We were told they were in Limbo and could not be let into consecrated ground."

Mrs Salmon has raised a memorial stone to all of the dead children buried in the unconsecrated plot at Letterfrack. Her actions are not unprecedented. In opposition to the church, John Tohill, once Bishop of Down and Connor, who died in 1914, chose to be buried in the unconsecrated plot at Milltown Cemetery, so that the blessings bestowed on him would extend to the entire plot.

More recently at Milltown, the Catholic Church has erected a rather ugly monument to na leanaí (the children) although there's no information display to indicate the reason for this structure's existence. It's even surrounded by a metal cage, probably to deter teenage drinkers from inhabiting the space, although said drinkers couldn't do any worse damage to the memory of the dead babies than the damage already done by the Catholic Church.

By the way, I eventually found the bird hide, although it was hidden behind a locked gate at the other end of the cemetery.

Separated at Birth - Chaney and Dodds

2007-04-25T11:52:00.001+01:00

Northwin and PFI in Northern Ireland

2007-04-13T18:27:00.001+01:00

On examining the impact of the Private Finance Initiative in Northern Ireland, it becomes clear that one consortium towers above all others: Northwin.

The Northwin Consortium comprises some of Northern Ireland's leading construction companies, including Farrans Limited, Braidwater Enterprises Limited and John Graham (Dromore) Limited. It has been involved in the construction of a number of educational facilities in Northern Ireland.

In Belfast, Northwin was involved in the construction and operation of Wellington College and Balmoral High School. These projects cost around £18m.

Wellington College was originally to be a thirty-six acre site but ended up with only eleven acres. The rest of the land was used by Northwin to build 350 houses, which they then sold at a large profit.

Speaking at the launch of the Wellington Square housing development in June 2002, Sir Reg Empey, representing Belfast City Council, said:

"The Council have been encouraging redevelopment of existing land within Belfast, which helps to reduce traffic difficulties on approach roads and continues the reinvigoration of the city.”

However, once the tenants took possession of their new properties, they discovered that their bedrooms were not as big as they should have been. An advertising brochure noted the rooms should have measured 10' 2" x 8' 7", instead of the existing 8' 8" x 8' 7" - a difference in excess of 12 square feet.

Northwin was fined under the Property Misdescriptions Act 1991, after admitting falsely describing the size of the bedrooms.

On 21 May 2002, a month prior to Sir Reg’s ringing endorsement of the Northwin’s scheme, Monica McWilliams MLA, addressed the Northern Ireland Assembly:

“To date, my experience of public-private partnerships has not been healthy. I want to give an example of something that occurred in my constituency, South Belfast. There were rugby and hockey pitches on the site of Wellington College. Northwin Ltd moved in to develop the site. I understand that the school was built on a much smaller scale than was initially thought to be required, leaving no room for expansion. The development benefited from public land. I attended a public inquiry at which those responsible for planning control were in dispute with the Department of Education over what should have happened to that public land. As we all know, developers win such disputes. What was a piece of green land and open space is now gone.”

Yet the warning signs had been flagged up years before, in the Northern Ireland Forum for Political Dialogue report: ‘The Implications of Public/Private Partnerships for Education Services in Northern Ireland’ (5 December 1997). It noted:

“Third party revenue proposals could involve conflicts of interest over incompatible alternative uses of spare school lands or facilities. Both Wellington College, Belfast and the North West Institute, Londonderry have valuable surplus lands which could be developed for non-educational purposes. The public sector needs to be sure that the true value of surplus assets is reflected in the level of repayments so that a fair share of the benefits goes to the public purse. Commercial attractiveness will lead to “cherry picking” of school projects and the danger of skewing development away from education priorities and running foul of the government’s own policies on equity.”

The Belfast Education and Library Board (BELB) should have paid heed to that report. It might have avoided the PFI disaster associated with Balmoral High School.

In 2000, the BELB signed a PFI agreement with Northwin to construct a new building for Balmoral High School.

However, the completed building was twice the size than that which was required. The school began to witness dwindling enrolment figures and ended up only 40% full.

Yet under the PFI deal, the BELB is contractually obliged to keep making payments to Northwin for the next twenty years. The consortium has already been paid between £800,000 and £850,000 per year for the provision of Balmoral High School and has received land worth £3.28m as part of the PFI deal.

The BELB has decided that closing the school in August 2007 is its best option.

In 2004, the Audit Office examined five early PFI projects for schools and colleges in Northern Ireland and noted that almost all of them were of a lower design quality than schools built through the traditional public funding route.

On 24 April 2001, Price Waterhouse Coopers (PWC) presented a written analysis of the use of public/private partnerships to the Committee for Finance and Personnel. The report notes:

“There are also many misconceptions associated with Public Private Partnerships. It is important that misconceptions are identified, defined and overcome so that Public Private Partnerships become an accepted and standard form of public procurement… There has been very little use of the Private Finance Initiative in the water and sewerage, roads and public transport sectors. However, there is a need for substantial capital investment in these sectors, and international experience suggests that projects in these sectors are suited to the Public Private Partnership approach.”

With the restoration of the Northern Ireland Assembly, one anticipates that the new Committee for Finance and Personnel may well reach for PPP/PFI as a solution to the postponed water rates. Doubtless, Northwin will be waiting in the wings.

John Luke Mural Falls into Private Hands

2007-04-01T17:30:00.001+01:00

In July 2000, the Belfast Institute of Further and Higher Education (BIFHE) signed a contract with Northwin Limited, to enable Northwin to provide a replacement college building on the old Millfield campus site.

The project would cost around £20m.

The Northwin Consortium is the leading educational Private Finance Initiative provider in Northern Ireland and comprises some of Northern Ireland's leading construction companies, including Farrans Limited, Braidwater Enterprises Limited and John Graham (Dromore) Limited.

After the old college buildings were demolished, all that stood on the site was a single section of wall, 9 x 6 meters, heavily wrapped in protective coverings. It eventually disappeared and work began on building the replacement college.

The new campus became operational in September 2002, with Graham Facilities Management providing the on-site catering, cleaning, porterage, security and the day nursery in addition to building and engineering maintenance over the next 25 years.

I often wondered what became of that last remaining section of wall at the old college site. Painted on it was a mural depicting Belfast’s industrial past, by celebrated local artist, John Luke (1906 – 1975). Luke began work on the mural in 1961 and worked on it intermittently for ten years, but never finished it.

Although known as a traditional easel-painter, Luke turned to mural painting in 1950 when he was commissioned to paint a mural in Belfast City Hall to mark the 1951 Festival of Britain. Another mural by Luke can be found in Rosemary Street Masonic Hall.

Under a Freedom of Information request, I contacted BIFHE to inquire after the mural and discovered that the Institute made an application to the Heritage Lottery Fund for £44,500 funding to remove the mural from the old Millfield site and donate it to the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum. However, according to BIFHE, the Ulster Folk and Transport Museum was unable to give any guarantees about when the mural might be placed on public display (a condition for funding imposed by the Heritage Lottery Fund) and the funding was withdrawn in February 2007.

Meanwhile, John Eastwood and Sons Ltd stepped into the picture and claimed the mural under a salvage clause in a demolition contract they had with Northwin. BIFHE initially defended Eastwood’s legal challenge. However, following protracted negotiations and legal advice the institute reluctantly conceded ownership.

The mural, once a public asset and part of Belfast's artistic heritage, is thought to be worth around £250,000 in the right location. I've no information on who was responsible for allowing the mural to fall into private hands, or if anyone at BIFHE was disciplined over the matter.

BIFHE is currently in discussions with Northwin on a project involving the replacement of existing accommodation at campuses in Brunswick Street and College Square East. The capital value is approximately £42 million.

Image: The Old Callan Bridge, Armagh 1945 by John Luke

Devolution Deadline Day

2007-03-26T15:33:00.001+01:00

Moron Moments - Frankie Gallagher UPRG

2007-03-22T10:42:00.001+01:00

After the threat of implementing water charges in order to drive the electorate to the polls, the British Government has today announced it will throw £1 million at the Ulster Defence Association, clearly in an attempt to secure unionist support of a new assembly at Stormont.

I'll not bother complaining about how this expenditure is to be delivered to an armed and active paramilitary group, while many small charities are forced to downsize or close due to a lack of government funding. I've done this already: here and here.

Frankie Gallagher of the Ulster Political Research Group, a thinly veiled front for the UDA, appeared on BBC Radio Ulster this morning and tried vainly to justify the merits of this latest funding package. He noted that the loyalist community and the loyalist paramilitaries are one and the same and explained ongoing loyalist violence and racketeering as resulting from the actions of criminals using the good name of the UDA.

Amid the squall of bleats and excuses that ensued, came this wonderful gem of clarity from Mr Gallagher: "We're on the long march, like Ho Chi Minh and all the other Chinese philosophers who did that."

Such is the intellectual capacity of the UPRG and all who sail within it.

Rather than complain any further, I suggest that Mr Gallagher invests his glittering prize in the establishment of an education centre as a matter of grave urgency.

Big Bad Cahal Daly

2007-03-18T21:08:00.002+01:00

Inspired by the Northern Ireland Press Photographers Association, whose work is currently on display at the Ormeau Baths Gallery in Belfast.

Assembly Election Blues

2007-03-13T16:21:00.001+01:00

Forgive me for failing to wade into the arena of political commentary associated with the most recent elections. I’ve grown tired of the whole miserable and predictable affair. At least one consolation of the outcome is the relegation of Bob McCartney, Diane Dodds and Paul Berry to the skip of political history, although McCartney’s overwhelming vanity will doubtless prompt a reawakening, much in the mould of a returning Buffy villain.

And forgive me for not joining in with the mewling of appreciation directed by all and sundry at newly elected Alliance member, Anna Lo.

I recall Mrs Lo appearing on TV some years back, when loyalists were condemning the Chinese community for daring to consider Donegall Pass in Belfast as the location for their new community centre. Leaflets were circulated noting that the proposals for the new centre ‘undermines the community’s Britishness.’

At the time, Mrs Lo said nothing of the racism inherent in loyalism, failed to point her finger at the villains and ended up issuing only oblique comments on Chinese people not being accepted. Perhaps the beleaguered Chinese community feared that any criticism directed at the loyalist tormentors would result in attacks against them. Unfortunately, it’s not an untypical response from minority groups faced with such intolerance.

In Northern Ireland, there is a belief that minority communities tend to shy away from any identification with the orange and green landscape that surrounds them. A friend of mine pointed out that he felt many immigrants tended to subtly align themselves with political unionism, since it’s the dominant culture and to do otherwise would be to cast oneself as opposed to the state.

I’ve sometimes found that, within the gay community in Northern Ireland, many of the male-dominated groups tend to gravitate towards a unionist ethic, despite the unionist political parties having displayed a woeful and homophobic gay rights record. I think this alignment has something to do with a need for queer activists to engage with Westminster in an attempt to overturn homophobic legislation.

Lesbian groups, on the other hand, lacking any British legislation directed against them, haven’t needed to talk to Westminster to the same extent, which perhaps explains the existence of a more visible republican ethic in many lesbian groups here.

Limitations aside, the gay community (or should that be communities) in Northern Ireland has made many efforts to engage with ethnic minority groups. However, within the ethnic minority communities, there exists an inability – or refusal – to join with the queers in opposition to all kinds of intolerance, no matter where it comes from or what shape it takes. I’ve attended many meetings and rallies where the drive to combat racism is shouted from platforms by the usual faces, without homophobia ever being mentioned. It’s as if the many homophobic attacks never happened, skilfully airbrushed away to placate the apologists for religious dogma who prevail within some anti-racist circles.

I don't want to be too hard on Anna Lo. I'm sure she has achieved a great deal through her work for the Chinese community. However, when she demonstrates an ability to make the kind of minority community alliances that reach beyond those she's used to working with, then I’ll pay attention to what she has to say. Alas, I don’t expect it to happen anytime soon.

ChildLine

2007-03-11T16:19:00.003+01:00

Inspired by the Northern Ireland Press Photographers Association, whose work is currently on display at the Ormeau Baths Gallery in Belfast.

Swimming Pool Chemicals

2007-02-27T10:21:00.001+01:00

After a streaming and red-eyed experience while swimming in a local pool, I got in touch with Belfast City Council to see if they could let me know what chemicals are used in council swimming pools. After a long wait, I got the following list of chemicals from the manager of the pool:

Calcium Hypochlorite tablets are used to generate Chlorine that is required to destroy the organic contaminants in the water.

Poly Aluminium Chloride is a flocculation agent which helps the sand filters to remove very finely suspended matter and algae, colouring matter and a portion of the bacteria in the water.

CO2 gas is used for pH control while Ozone and UV treatment is used for pool disinfection and helps reduce the level of chlorine required in the pool.

Liquid Algaecide kills or inhibits the multiplication of algae in the pool.

Sodium Bicarbonate is used to raise pH while Sodium Bisulphate is used to lower pH.

Chlorine is used in all Belfast City Council pools. A few pools in the UK use Bromine-based disinfectants but apparently there are doubts about the evidence for their effectiveness as compared to chlorine-based disinfectants. With heavy bather loads, such as in Belfast pools, Chlorine use is recognised as best practice within the industry.

After an on-line search, I found this site, which explains that eye irritation usually arises because of an inadequate water-balancing process (i.e. the relationship of different chemicals to each other in the pool). Therefore, it would appear that the red eyes occurred due to an inadequate amount of chlorine in the pool.

Education Electioneering

2007-02-08T12:42:00.001+01:00

Electioneering swung into sharp focus this morning when a gaggle of local politicians were wheeled into BBC Radio Ulster’s odious Nolan Show. The discussion (and I hesitate to use this word; ‘rant’ would be more appropriate) centered on integrated education while Nolan snorted and waved his arms in a display of predictable indignation. The entire episode reminded me of a 1970s James Young sketch, wherein various personalities exercised their sectarianism for cheap laughs. How little things have changed.

I didn’t catch the name of the Ulster Unionist representative, but he wasn’t one of the inner luminaries I recognised. He noted he was once in the UDR and squeaked for a little about terrorists in government. The DUP’s Iris Robinson upheld the state system and attacked integrated education, addressing Sinn Fein’s Catriona Ruanne as ‘That lady,’ while Ms Ruanne accused Mrs Robinson of playing the sectarian card. So far, so typical.

However, it was the SDLP’s Carmel Hannah who brought the quarrel to a depressing low in her description of local schools as either ‘Catholic schools’ or ‘Protestant schools’ thus underlining the sectarianism which I imagine is inherent in her party’s education policy. I was reminded of Richard Dawkins’ warning that we should never refer to children, for example, as ‘Catholic children’ but as ‘Children of Catholic parents’. The children are blank slates until they are conditioned, like Pavlov’s dogs, by zealous elders. Dawkins goes further and describes such contamination of child minds as akin to child abuse.

The squabble didn’t progress any further than these surface issues. No one was capable, or willing, to initiate an argument for the introduction of a secular education system. Ms Ruanne made the most coherent arguments, but stopped short of condemning the Catholic Church’s influence on schooling.

There was no mention of her own party’s mixed messages regarding the Private Finance Initiative – a government scheme which allows private companies to make huge profits through capital investment in the building of schools and hospitals. Indeed, during his brief tenure as education minister, Martin McGuinness acted like a master illusionist when he abolished the eleven-plus selection test with one hand, while administering PFI schemes with the other.

However, it would appear that the party has since backtracked on its support for PFI. In the introduction to a twenty-one-page policy paper on its website, Sinn Fein now condemns PFI as “An effort by the British Treasury to tighten its control over northern fiscal policy and to privatise public services.” Quite.

For a more coherent overview of the horrors of PFI, I suggest a trip to this article on George Monbiot’s site.

Meanwhile, I see that the Association for Quality Education (an alliance of groups opposed to the introduction of comprehensive education in Northern Ireland) has decreed that 'Computer Adaptive Testing' be considered in order to determine which child goes to which school. In short, the computer will decide. It's like something from dystopian fiction and conjures up images of rows of blank-faced children, plugged into flickering computer monitors while Stephen Nolan's missives ring in their ears.

Moron Moments - Lord Maginnis

2007-01-24T13:17:00.002+01:00

Since the Police Ombudsman's unmasking of the RUC as a corrupt entity, unionist opinion has been muted or steeped in denial.

Over the last few days, Lord Maginnis has provided the loudest voice of opposition to Nuala O'Loan's investigation.

The Ombudsman's report noted that, between 1991 and 2003, RUC Special Branch paid £79,840 to a prominent UVF member who was acting as a police informer. They protected this informer (cited as Informer One) and other informers, and facilitated situations in which informants were able to continue to engage in paramilitary activity. Informer One was involved in ten murders, ten attempted murders, the targeting of an individual for murder, a bomb attack in Monaghan in 1997 and various paramilitary attacks, drug dealing and other criminal acts.

In the course of her investigation, the Police Ombudsman noted that several retired, high ranking officers either refused to cooperate, lied, attempted to obstruct the investigation or gave "farcical" answers, illustrating a "Contempt for the law".

Important documents went missing, were lost or destroyed. Evidence was withheld or concealed. Sham interviews with informants were conducted by Special Branch handlers, misleading interview notes were created and informers were released without charge. On one occasion, Special Branch officers discovered munitions at an informers home and did nothing about it. Junior officers were instructed that records should not be completed and forensic exhibits were destroyed.

On another occasion, after witnesses noted the killer of Gary Convie and Eamon Fox had a goatee beard, Special Branch officers allowed Informer One to shave off his goatee while in police custody.

In short, following in the footsteps of Stalker, Stevens, Cory and Barron, Mrs O'Loan has demonstrated what many already knew or suspected - that the RUC was routinely colluding with loyalist paramilitaries.

Confronted with this damning expose, Lord Maginnis has been barking and bullying his way though a series of TV and radio interviews, demonstrating that he is unable to construct a single, coherent argument to support his accusations that Mrs O'Loan is wrong. Instead, he shoots the messenger, attacks the integrity of the Ombudsman and accuses her staff of ineptitude.

In his apparent role of loyalist totem, through which all unionist psychology is channeled, Lord Maginnis dismisses the report as republican propaganda. His protestations are akin to those of a sex offender who refuses to accept he has done anything wrong, despite clear evidence to the contrary. Such is the nature of the unionist psyche.

Unionists seem unable or unwilling to accept the truth - that their empire was built on discrimination, corruption, collusion and cover-up. Instead of facing up to the realities of the past, Maginnis and his cronies clutch at straws, shriek with unfocused hysteria, point fingers and defend the agents of depravity as their vile little world frays at the edges.

"We've a great deal more experience than the Police Ombudsman's staff," shrieked Maginnis, during a TV interview on Monday. Quite who this "We" refers to is unclear, although it must be noted that Maginnis is an ex-UDR member, an organisation which was riddled with loyalist paramilitarists and had nineteen of its members convicted of murder.

The finding of the Police Ombudsman can not be allowed to be swept under the carpet. It is important that a full, public enquiry be conducted into this issue and that criminal prosecutions follow. The RUC should be stripped of its George Cross and Sir Ronnie Flannigan, Chief Constable of the RUC during the period of the investigation, should be held accountable and sacked as HM Inspectorate of Constabulary.

Detractors howl in derision at the notion of a public enquiry, citing the cost as prohibitive, although one can only guess how much money is spent on terrorising the citizens of Iraq, where former RUC officers, made redundant as a result of the Patten reforms of policing, now serve as private security contractors.

Indeed, one wonders if the disgusting tactics of the RUC have been exported from these shores and are now alive and kicking in Basra, Fallujah and Baghdad.

David Ervine is the New George Best

2007-01-18T11:03:00.001+01:00

Following its tedious and interminable coverage of the passing of George Best last year, BBC Radio Ulster continues to wallow in its cult of celebrity death. This time, David Ervine of the Progressive Unionist Party is the subject of adoration.

Mr Ervine died just over a week ago and, as expected, BBC Northern Ireland's airwaves have since been awash with lachrymose eulogies. Yesterday's edition of Talkback dedicated its first thirty-five minutes to mewing over Mr Ervine, often plumbing the most moronic and laughable depths.

One commentator noted that Mr Ervine was an icon for Protestant youth and a leader akin to Nelson Mandela and Martin Luther King. I restrained myself from falling off my chair at such comparisons, although I couldn't help my mouth falling open.

"He gave me hope for Ulster," said one caller. Another noted that perhaps a scholarship should be offered in Mr Ervine's name, or a college established to "help bring people together."

It was suggested that the new Northern Irish stadium should be called 'The David Ervine Stadium' or that a bronze bust be located in City Hall.

The mewling and rending of garments continued. Blinding light poured from the radio. Phrases such as "The other persuasion" and "The Province" littered the discussion. Presenter, David Dunseith sighed with remorse. A pastor, and friend of Mr Ervine, spoke about hymns.

A caller noted: "I wish there was another airport we could name after him."

At this point, I abandoned restraint and fell off my chair.

Such is the state of reasoned journalism at BBC Radio Ulster. There was no significant exploration of Mr Ervine's role as a representative of an armed sectarian organisation committed to ensuring Unionist privelage through the killing of Catholics. Dissenting voices were absent, doubtless excised at the switchboard. Those whose comments managed to get read out were described as individuals unable to move on. The airbrushed cult of celebrity prevailed.

I searched for an antidote to these exaltations and came across this rather stark post by Liam Mac Uaid. I suggest Mr Mac Uaid be given a slot on Radio Ulster sometime this week, preferably just prior to Hugo Duncan's inane twittering, when an entire nation races for the off-switch.

Belfast Street Art

2007-01-13T19:48:00.008+01:00

Here I present some of Belfast city centre’s street art.

This first selection is mainly from Mexican tattoo artist, Dr Lakra and Spanish artist, Geso.

Both artists were in Belfast last summer for Urban Eyes, an event organised by Belfast City Skinworks, Skullduggery Tatu and Catalyst Arts.

Aside from painting on walls, Dr Lakra, who has exhibited in London, Paris, Los Angeles and New York, also works graffiti over old magazine advertisements and found photographs of Mexican idols, masked wrestlers and pin-up girls.

As much as I admire the Day of the Dead-style pictures, their location on a fine, redbrick, Victorian building irks me somewhat. I’ve walked past this outdoor gallery often, but only recently ventured down the derelict College Court to actually examine the works and take some photographs.

Alas, since then, the art has been attacked by Morlocks with spray-cans and some of the painted figures now sport crudely drawn genetalia from their heads and bodies.

This next collage of photographs is of the last building standing in Edward Street, also decorated by Dr Latka.

It probably won’t be long before it’s pulled down to make way for the new St Anne’s Square development (due for completion in Autumn 2008).

Finally, I present for posterity what’s left of a mural from renouned artist, Mode 2.

I think this piece, in College Place North, was realised in August 1998 when Mode 2 ran mural workshops in Belfast. The paint is peeling and the inept tags of local Morlocks have molested most of the original artwork.

I imagine it will soon be painted over to complement the nice new building, which has recently risen up alongside it.

Update on Unionist Homophobia

2006-12-12T16:52:00.001+01:00

I've just discovered the transcript of the proceedings in the Transitional Assembly yesterday, when members debated over the new Sexual Orientation Regulations, designed to protect lesbian, gay and bisexual people from discrimination in the provision of goods and services.

All thirty-nine opponents to the regulations were either from the Ulster Unionist Party and the DUP. Those in favour included Sinn Fein, Alliance and SDLP. David Ervine of the Progressive Unionist Party was the only unionist to vote in support of the regulations.

The unionist argument was couched in Christian rhetoric. Caitriona Ruane of Sinn Fein noted the DUP's history of homophobia and accused the party of using homophobia for political gain.

Alex Maskey of Sinn Fein referred to Ian Paisley's various campaigns against gay rights: "For many of us, the history of the DUP — and perhaps, even more so, that of the Free Presbyterian Church — will lead many of us to believe that a strong homophobic strain runs through that strand of our society. Many of us believe that, and our belief is based on the experience of seeing many years of strong campaigns that were headed by the leader of the DUP, who is sitting on the Benches opposite."

Patricia Lewsley of the SDLP referred to the DUP as the "Discriminating as Usual Party."

Paul Berry, former-DUP golden boy, who last year was alleged to have engaged in a sex act with another male in a Belfast hotel, remained silent throughout the debate but voted with his former party-colleagues in opposing the introduction of the regulations.

This is an update of this post.

Bad Art - Michael Stone

2006-12-11T19:19:00.001+01:00

In the wake of Michael Stone's recent attack on Stormont, many of the news reports noted that Stone was an artist, although none mentioned how amateurish his artworks actually are.

The pictures I've seen display no understanding of technique, composition or ability.

Two of his dreadful paintings appeared on eBay in the last week. One, entitled ‘Kneeling Nude on a Red Background’ had a ‘buy-it-now’ price of £9,995. It wasn’t met and the item mysteriously vanished from eBay before the auction closed.

A second, untitled, nude came with a signed photo of Stone posing by its “sister painting” which is entitled ‘Coeruleum Sunrise’. The bidding started at £4,000 and the auction closed this afternoon without any interest.

These works are really bad. The reds and blacks which act as a background to the nudes, coupled with the clumsy graphic style, suggest a boy's bedroom from the 1980s. The female nudes look as if they've been badly copied from a pornographic magazine.

Bizarrely, the listings noted that a percentage of the sales would be donated to Relatives for Justice, a Northern Irish victims charity with offices on the Falls Road and an interest in uncovering British Army and RUC collusion in murder.

However, Stone's artistic nadir has to be a sculpture, currently on eBay with a starting price of £3,500. Behold the red hand, cast from a Glaswegian loyalist as it arises from a piece of bog oak, slate and a cog wheel.

I'm not quite sure what this piece is trying to convey. Perhaps, in his delusiory state, Stone thought that the presence of the bog oak provided him with some kind of artistic credibility. Alternatively, Stone may have recently become aware that his art was rubbish and decided to go back to the day job.

We all know what an exhibition that turned out to be.

Bad Art - Republican Sinn Fein

2006-12-11T18:57:00.001+01:00

Today, the Belfast Telegraph printed a news story about Republican Sinn Fein’s Christmas card, complete with a picture (which I reproduce here). As you can see, the image is of Santa wielding an AK-47 rifle and uttering ‘Up the Republic’ in Irish.

As expected, hands were flung up in horror and words of condemnation were issued from the usual quarters.

However, none of the reports have mentioned that the artwork is truly awful. Isn’t there anyone in Republican Sinn Fein’s marketing department with an appreciation of art?

Illustrated cards of this standard are excusable if produced by a children’s charity. By releasing this inept and unsophisticated image, Republican Sinn Fein announces it isn’t a political organisation that should be taken seriously.

United Colours of Homophobia

2006-12-11T15:50:00.001+01:00

Today, the DUP and friends turned their attention to gay-baiting in an attempt to frustrate the progress of the new Sexual Orientation Regulations, which are designed to stop businesses discriminating against lesbian and gay people in the provision of goods and services.

Thirty-nine Assembly Members voted in favour of a motion condemning the British Government's plans to introduce the regulations. Thirty-nine voted against and the motion was rejected. The regulations will take effect from 1st January 2007.

Although Jeffrey Donaldson and George Dawson of the DUP led the charge against the Sexual Orientation Regulations, one can be comfortably assume that the vast majority, if not all of the other thirty-seven supporters of the motion were from within the Unionist bloc.

Unionist homophobic loathing was well illustrated during the introduction of civil partnerships for same-sex couples in 2005. The issue of whether or not to allow gay couples to use Lisburn City Council's wedding room threw unionism into such a tizzy that more than £20,000 of rate-payers' money was squandered seeking legal advice on dealing with the issue, only to find that any actions to block gays from the wedding room would be illegal.

At the time, Councillor Edwin Poots of the DUP likened homosexuality to alcoholism and drug addiction while the Ulster Unionist Ronnie Crawford said he was disgusted by gay websites that he had happened across in researching civil partnerships. How one happens across disgusting websites while researching government policy remains unclear. Perhaps, Mr Crawford strayed from the path to explore some of his own interests.

The comments by Jack McKee of the DUP demonstrate the influence of religious fundamentalism on political decision-making: "I believe that God made Adam from the dust of the ground and that he made woman from the rib of Adam and he made her as a helpmate for him. This is my personal belief and I believe it with all my life. I do not believe man came from monkeys, and all that."

DUP Councillor, Maurice Mills went a hilarious step further when he decreed that Hurricane Katrina was sent by God to punish the New Orleans' gay community since it arrived just days before the annual gay mardi gras. He's also an expert on the AIDS epidemic in Africa, noting that the "abominable and filthy practice of sodomy has resulted in the great continent of Africa being riddled with AIDS, all at great cost to the nations and innocent children." Quite.

This is what he said about the 2004 tsunami, which savaged parts of Asia: "These disasters are no coincidence, as God only honours those who honour him. I would ask why we don't see disasters like these taking place in Europe. Scripture says righteousness exalts nations. Asia is not a Christian continent."

In 2004, the DUP's Newtownabbey councillor, Arthur Templeton, was convicted of harassing a gay candidate during local government elections. Following the court case, he said he believed homosexuality was "Against God's teaching."

Examples of Templeton's behaviour are childish in the extreme. He apparently bent over in front of the man he was harassing, patted his backside and said, "Here you are, John." He also called him "queer" and offered to hold his hand while crossing the road.

Christian religious fundamentalism is so embedded within the Unionist political psyche that it's hard to see how any enlightened or progressive thinking can emerge from within it. Instead, we're transported to some weird, sepia-tinted parallel universe where everything revolves around the gospel hall and swings are padlocked on Sundays.

I'm reminded of the world conjured up by the BBC adaptation of Jeanette Winterson's 'Oranges Are Not The Only Fruit' where the reaction of evangelicals to discovering homosexuality in their midst is both chilling and comic.

Paul Berry must know something of this attitude. The former-DUP member and ardent gospel-singer, was suspended from the party in 2005 and then forced to resign after allegations surfaced that he had a sexual encounter with another man in a Belfast hotel. It transpired that Mr Berry's alleged sexual partner had arranged the whole affair as an elaborate trap in order to make a statement on DUP hypocrisy.

I wonder how Mr Berry voted today.

Moron Moments - Hain, Bell and Stone

2006-11-27T12:20:00.003+01:00

Local ventriloquist doll and Speaker of the Northern Ireland Assembly, Eileen Bell, has accomplished a feat that would have previously seemed impossible. She has ensured Ian Paisley's "No," actually means "Yes."

Although Dr Paisley noted on Friday that he was in no position to make a nomination to the Northern Ireland Assembly, due to Sinn Fein's inaction on policing, Mrs Bell announced otherwise.

The question must now be asked: why did we never sieze upon Mrs Bell's powers of double-speak long ago?

With Mrs Bell leading the vanguard, Paisley would have said, "Yes," to Sunningdale, the Anglo-Irish Agreement and the Good Friday Agreement. "Never, never, never!" would have been transformed into "Always, always, always!" Think of the bloodshed that would have been averted.

But, Mrs Bell was merely mouthing the words of Secretary of State for Northern Ireland, Peter Hain. It didn’t matter what was said in the Assembly chamber; Hain and the Northern Ireland Office ensured it was translated through their own political spin machines, for their own preferred ends.

And just when things couldn’t get any more ludicrous, enter stage right, former British agent, Michael Stone, equipped with an array of accessories including nail bombs, an axe, a garotte and a gun.

The attack that followed was darkly comic, particularly the scenes where Michael Stone's glasses were knocked off and the female security guard held his legs up while he lay on the ground, shouting like a mad thing.

Stone's reappearance was akin to the reactivation of a long dormant sleeper or resurgent comic-book villain. The fans didn't see that one coming. It was like the return of the Cybermen to 'Doctor Who' in 1982. How we fell off our seats in astonishment.

Either his actions were fuelled by mental illness, the desire for further celebrity or he was guided, like Mrs Bell, by some sinister intelligence.

Whatever the motivation behind Stone’s inept attack, it has acted as a successful distraction from the serious problems faced by Mr Hain.

The Secretary of State must recognise that his ambition for the role of Deputy Prime Minister is threatened by Mr Justice Girvan's call for an inquiry into the circumstances surrounding the appointment of the Victims' Commissioner.

To date, there has been no serious examination of this affair by either Westminster or the London media, proving that no one over there really cares about what goes on over here.

Perhaps, now that the High Court has orderd an inquiry into the illegal actions of Mr Hain, the need for the Northern Ireland Office to produce a spectacular diversion is upon us.

The Ugliest Street in Belfast

2006-11-22T20:38:00.001+01:00

It has become a bit of a cliché to note that most people walk around cities without ever looking up at some of the architectural wonders ranged above them. I would suggest that people look down when out walking, particularly in Belfast city centre, which is home to some of the most offensive examples of street paving I have ever seen.

Castle Lane has to be the worst. Surely, there can'’t be a single person willing to defend this paving disgrace. Take a walk along Castle Lane, from Royal Avenue to Corn Market, and you'’ll see what I mean. What was once a reasonably pleasing brick-paved lane has become a patchwork mess of mismatched stones and tarmac. Where a brick has been damaged, tarmac has filled its space. Even the manhole recesses have been filled with tarmac. In one instance, where some of the bricks in a manhole recess have been damaged, we get a sloppy mix of brick and tarmac, with one brick sporting a tarmac filled hole. Click on the photograph above to increase its size and witness this atrocity.

In one place, the words 'Castle Lane' used to be etched in the paving. Now it just says 'Lane'’ as the tarmac has obliterated the rest.

The paving disaster doesn'’t stop at Castle Lane. Look at Corn Market. What is going on? As soon as the bandstand was removed, an ugly amalgam of paving bricks was quickly thrown down. The result is a slightly sloping, many-coloured, paved mound. Didn'’t anyone think to level the surface first?

It would appear morons at the Roads Service are to blame. Since the mid-1980s, it has been Roads Service practice to replace broken flagstones with tarmac, as tarmac is cheaper than any other form of paving. They don't seem to give any consideration to aesthetics.

Just last week, I noticed a tiny square of tarmac embedded in a brick pavement, close to my home. Doubtless, this square will eventually spread like a cancerous growth and spoil the rest of the pavement. Perhaps I should follow the example of 67 year-old Gary Kelly, a Turf Lodge pensioner, who recently sat on the pavement outside his home and successfully prevented Road Service replacing the broken paving stones with tarmac.

"Tarmac is just depressing to see, " said Mr Kelly. "It is only a small matter, but it's the principle of the thing."

Moron Moments - Party Piglets

2006-11-19T20:04:00.001+01:00

Yesterday, I saw an advert for Party Piglets and my mind flash-backed to a long-forgotten, damp evening on Victoria Street, where I once witnessed the disturbing sight of a group of morons waving and wailing from a British Army Saracen as it sped along the wet road. On recalling this moment, I felt as if a repressed abuse memory had surfaced.

On returning home, I checked out the Party Piglets website. Further horrors flickered into life on the computer screen. Here was a company that hired out British Army vehicles for the purpose of partying. These vehicles, which once cruised the streets, disgorging boy-faced soldiers with stern expressions and guns, now offered - according to the website - "the ultimate party experience."

In the 'Galleries' section, additional morons pose alongside Saracens, brandishing rifles and looking stupid. Local drag queen, Titti Von Tramp - not usually noted for her subtlety - is pictured astride an army jeep, legs akimbo. I think she is stimulating masturbation with a beer bottle in one picture, but I'm not entirely sure what might be going on. And if that's not enough, you can have a male stripper, dressed as an RUC man, if you so desire.

"The best craic I've had in years!" announces Kevin Connolly, editor of 'That's West Belfast' magazine on one of the website pages. Now, I'm sure I'd have heard of 'West Belfast Magazine' if it actually existed. I Googled it - and Mr Connolly - and came up blank. Surely the unscrupulous Party Piglets didn't invent it to give credence to their insensitive and crass enterprise?

Revisiting that rainy night in Victoria Street, I wondered how someone who had experienced the death of a loved one at the hands of the British Army might have felt on witnessing the drunk youngsters, shrieking hysterically from the speeding Saracen, feather boas fluttering in the slipstream.

Welcome to Theme-Park Northern Ireland. Here, every day's a party. Don't forget to pack your 'Lonely Planet' and don't mention the war.

Awfully Awfully at Castleward Book Fair

2006-11-05T18:44:00.003+01:00

The Castleward Book Fair didn't advertise itself as an event where one had to pay admittance.

I pointed this out to the apologetic, elderly gentleman from the National Trust who greeted me as I arrived. He was embarrassed enough to forego the usual £3.80 per person entrancee fee and instead let me in for £1.80 - the child's fare.

Although charmed by his generous gesture, I was still somewhat disgruntled at having to pay anything into an event where I was expected to buy books, especially as the 18th Century mansion was closed to the public.

Anyway, the books were cheap and in plentiful supply. Colour stickers marked the £3 bargins from the £1 bargains and I even managed to get a copy of Ladybird's classic 'Downey Duckling' for 10p. I made my way to the pay point where elderly ladies with fixed grins and cut-glass accents rifled through the flyleaves in search of prices. I contested this attempt at flyness by pointing out the blue stickers on the spines of the books, denoting the price as £1 per book. The ladies gasped in humble apology and directed me to the bookshop next door, which I was informed held similarly priced goodies.

In the bookshop, a female customer, hobbling on a crutch, was in dialogue with another woman and a man, both of whom appeared to work in the shop. The women were dressed in tweeds and seemed to have modelled their appearances on Queen Elizabeth II. They held fixed-grin expressions and spoke with the most affected upper-class accents I've ever heard. As I made a play of browsing the shelves, I strained to ascertain the geographical location of said accents, but the feat was rendered impossible as the women's voices seemed to duel with one another to see who could sounded most royal. There was no geographical source for these voices. The entire performance was couched in crude snobbery. Irony was entirely absent.

"I wonder if you would suggest some light reading for me?" the woman with the crutch asked of the other woman. Her tone suggested she was more used to giving orders to servants.

"Why, I wouldn't know what kind of books you would like," answered the female shop assistant.

"I just need some light reading to send me to sleep," whittered the customer, ignoring the subtle protest of the other woman. "As long as it doesn't have any swear words. They're everywhere these days. It makes everything simply trying."

"One can't even go to the cinema," interjected the man, similarly accented. "It's wall to wall swear words. One for effect might be acceptable, but it's just wall to wall."

"It's dreadful," lamented the woman with the crutch, her tweed shifting uncomfortably.

"Oh look, there's one you might like," relented the female shop assistant. "'Sophie's World.'" She turned the book over and made a pretence of reading the back cover. "But who is Sophie?"

"I really need some light reading for when I get up in the night," the customer said. "We've mostly got biographies and such at home and I usually lose interest after a few chapters. I just get fed up. I really need some light reading."

"There's one. Hemmingway?"

"No."

"What about Barbara Taylor Bradford? 'Voice of the Heart'?"

"No."

"Joanna Trollope?" offered the shop assistant, examining another book, a pained expression creeping into her carefully maintained mask. "'Brother and Sister?'"

"No," the reply came, delivered in a bored tone.

"Oh, there's Dirk Bogarde."

"No."

"Oh, now look at that one," came the riposte. The shop asistant reached for a volume about the British Royal Family. She opened the pages and allowed her features to relax into quiet supplication. One would swear that sunlight poured from the photographs printed within as the general mood of the exchange improved considerably.

"Now, isn't that awfully telling," she said, pointing to a photograph. "That was taken just before they split up." She turned the book over. "It's by Jennie Bond."

"Didn't they get rid of her?" asked the woman with the crutch.

"Oh, yes," the other woman giggled. "They got rid of her, didn't they?"

"Oh, yes. They got rid of her."

"Oh, look. Kate Adie!" cried the shop woman, retreiving another book. "Philip and I are terribly impressed by her. Terribly impresed. You know, I said to my daughter, 'What do you want to do when you grow up?' and she siad, 'I want Kate Adie's job.' We're terribly impressed."

"Yes," came the reply. "It's not really light reading though, is it?"

"No, perhaps not," the shop woman said, disappointed at the rejection. She looked around at the books surrounding her, a vacant expresion on her face.

"Ronnie!" she cried. "Where's Ronnie?"

Enter Ronnie stage left.

"Here he is," purred the shop woman. "I call and angels descend." She flashed a row of pointed teeth at the other woman, who absently poked a nearby box of books with her crutch.

I wondered if I should intrude and ask the woman if she would mind picking out some books for me. I relented and left the claustrophobic shop.

I got into the car and turned on the radio. Radio Ulster was playing archive audio footage of the opening of Belfast's Queen Elizabeth Bridge on 4 July 1966 by Queen Elizabeth II. The shipyard workers - explained the plum-voiced announcer - were arranged on a floating pontoon, bedecked with red, white and blue bunting. Flags waved gaily. Queen Elizabeth II "very graciously" opened the bridge. She smiled and waved at the onlookers. The crowd cheered.

Queer and Loathing in Belfast

2006-11-03T15:49:00.001+01:00

Since it'’s festival time in Belfast, I took myself along to the newly refurbished Grand Opera House to see Alan Bennett'’s 'The History Boys'’. I'’d avoided all spoilers, including the recent film, so I had no idea what the play was about. It's certainly witty. Bennett'’s one-liners and parochial observations are reminiscent of Quentin Crisp at his most acidic or Victoria Wood at her most deadpan.

However, I was most struck by Bennett'’s rendering of the three gay characters - although I use the word '‘gay'’ somewhat loosely, as it isn'’t mentioned in the text. Instead, we have the camp pupil Posner using the more clinical 'homosexual' - a word Bennett would probably use to describe himself.

The other homosexuals include Hector, an aging and inspirational teacher and Irwin, a younger and somewhat uncertain rookie teacher.

Hector is forced into early retirement due to his propensity for fondling the genitals of his unfazed male pupils, while transporting them on his motorbike. Irwin agrees to 'suck off' a pupil, before ending up in a wheelchair after a motorcycle ride with Hector. We'’re left to speculate whether or not Hector's hand wandered in the direction of Irwin's crotch during the motorcycle ride, which left Hector dead and Irwin paralysed, although the suggestion that improper queer fondlings lead to death and disability was clear.

The play ends with a rollcall, which details the future prospects of the pupils. They all go on to great wealth and success, except (you guessed it) Prosser, who ends up alone, his only friends being those of unspecified identity on the Internet. Oh well, at least he remembered his beloved Hector.

Recently, I saw Alan Bennett appear on TV to talk about '‘The History Boys'’. He mentioned his male partner, which surprised me, as I'’d taken Bennett to be one of those characters who skirted around the issue of his sexual identity. Perhaps the autobiographical content and success of 'The History Boys' has encouraged him to be more honest.

What worries me is that Bennett'’s own self-loathing has produced a play in which heterosexual characters flourish while gays are doomed to lives as either pederasts or lonely outsiders. More worrying is that such lazy and old-fashioned cyphers are delivered to a public who hoot with laughter and rain awards on the play.

As an aside, the public image of the gay male was further reinforced by Marie Jones and Maurice Bessman in their underwhelming play 'The Liverpool Boat' which is running at The Docker’s Club in Belfast. Thankfully, the most offending scene, in which a grotesque stereotype of a gay man was wheeled out for laughs (and they laughed uproarously) has been removed following complaints. Although painful to watch this ill-judged caricature, its setting in a working-mens club added insult to injury. One hopes, like another famous Belfast ship, 'The Liverpool Boat'’ sinks without trace.

Unionist Foot-soldiers Exit Stage Left

2006-10-06T13:04:00.001+01:00

For an hour-and-a-half today, BBC Radio Ulster waxed lachrymose at the demise of the Royal Irish Regiment, with much mewing over the history of its former incarnation, the Ulster Defence Regiment (UDR).

Michael Copeland, a former UDR man, spoke to presenter Seamus McKee about how he and his companions in terror "Did their bit for Ulster." Phrases such as 'The Province' were scattered throughout this eulogy. He spoke in a sentimental fashion about a Catholic recruit, fearful of 'service' on the streets, who said: "What am I going to do on the streets of Londonderry? How can I come out against my own community?" One would imagine that usage of the term 'Londonderry' would provide an adequate solution to that problem.

"You can almost hear the thoughts of people," gurgled Seamus McKee in a reverential tone as he described the widows and families gathered at the Balmoral Showgrounds in Belfast. His faux-plummy accent was choked with equally faux remorse.

A UDR Greenfinch was interviewed. She described her pride at serving in the UDR, noting her duties as a security searcher in Belfast during the 1970s. I recalled a story from a friend, whose baby sister had her pram searched going through those 1970s security barriers. The child's mother hoped the baby would void its bowels as the Greenfinch attempted to search its nappy.

I also remembered an occasion when, stopped by a UDR patrol, I was questioned by a pig-faced soldier who asked me my address. I told him and the answer didn't suffice. He asked for my previous address, which also didn't compute. I had lived at many addresses over the years, primarily in ethnically mixed areas. Unable to determine my religious background, the pig-faced creature grew red with fury and apoplexy. But this is a minor complaint compared to the murders, the collusion, the harassment and the rifle butts in the face suffered by others.

Back at the Balmoral Showgrounds, a commentator noted the presence of the great and good from within unionism - Reg Empey, David Trimble, Archbishop Robin Eames, Jeffrey Donaldson, David Forde, Lord Alderdyce, Ian Paisley and Ian Paisley The Next Generation.

Alasdair McDonnell from the SDLP was also there. I wondered what had brought him to this carnival of unionism. Didn't someone tell him about the long history of UDR collusion with loyalist paramilitries? Didn't he know that nineteen members of the UDR were convicted of murder? Has he ever wept into his tea at the dreadful killings of the Miami Showband?

Cue a rather magnanimous Brian Feeney, obviously wheeled on to give some sense of balance to the unfolding event. Mr Feeney wasted no time in assuring the listeners that the UDR was loathed by Catholics. He noted that members of the paramilitary Ulster Defence Association (UDA) often joined the UDR and made up 15% of the regiment between 1975 and 1976. He also reminded listeners that, up to 1980, it was perfectly legal to be in both the UDR and UDA.

Mr Feeney was swiftly cut off by Seamus McKee, who doubtless swooning in ecstasies, handed over to a commentator who described how Queen Elizabeth II had arrived, wearing a rather fetching suit and hat of purple, complete with a purple-edged umbrella, for alas, it was raining.

At this point, I felt compelled to switch on the TV to see this outfit in all its glory. There it was, resplendent in the rain with BBC Northern Ireland's Noel Thompson fawning like his aural counterpart on Radio Ulster.

The British national anthem was played. And played again. And again. Queen Elizabeth II craned her neck awkwardly to watch some helicopters fly overhead, a look of bored resignation etched on her face. She handed over The Conspicuous Gallantry Cross to the Royal Irish Regiment, paying them off in much the same way she payed off the equally abhorred RUC.

Soon after, a black limousine arrived to whisk Queen Elizabeth II back to the world of fresh air. The assembled dignitaries broke up into bewildered groups. The RIR marched up and down. The rain stabbed against the wet concrete.

Who Talks Like That?

2006-10-05T11:24:00.003+01:00

Last night, BBC Northern Ireland broadcasted 'You Thought You Knew... Belfast City Hall' fronted by Sunday World journalist, Jim McDowell.

BBC Northern Ireland apparently believes Mr McDowell to be a popular and accessible front-man, as he's appeared on several recent TV shows. Perhaps the corporation considers him to represent a certain type of local, working-class personality generally absent from TV screens. Mr McDowell certainly adopts the persona with some aplomb, complete with faux-working class growl, reminiscent of the exaggerated Belfast accent one normally finds on beer commercials.

When trails for this programme aired during the week, I found myself asking the question, 'Who actually talks like that?' I was heartened to hear Gerry Anderson say the same thing on BBC Radio Ulster yesterday as he humourously mocked McDowell's less than dulcet tones.

The programme itself presented a rather superficial overview of the (mostly unionist) history of Belfast City Hall. Mr McDowell swaggered around the marble corridors like an uncouth dolt, sounding more and more like Honey Monster as the programme continued. Even Andersonstown News editor, Mairtin O'Muilleoir seemed infected by the monster-speak, as he started talking in a similar accent when McDowell descended to interview him. The DUP's Sammy Wilson, sporting the usual bad haircut, appeared like some king spide dispensing wisdom from Robinson's Bar, circa 1979.

The entire display created a kind of vapid smokescreen which seemed designed to lull the viewers into a false sense of camaraderie; one where we could laugh along with city fathers without reference to sectarian politics, rest our weary elbows on the rough-hewn table on which the Ulster Covenant was signed and consider a future of Catholic mayors and gay weddings. Sure, weren't we all there? And wasn't it a laugh?

'You Thought You Knew... Belfast City Hall' was like flicking through a rather insubstantial, glossy magazine. It gave the vague impression of being part of a conspiracy designed to fool a generation into believing there is no such thing as history, with Mr McDowell as its mawkish poster-boy.

Money Grabbing Loyalists Strike Again

2006-10-03T15:44:00.001+01:00

With all of that money being thrown at loyalists by the British Government, it is perhaps unsurprising to find that the South East Antrim Brigade of the UDA this week asked government for £8.5 million.

It would appear that this UDA unit wishes to disband and needs the money to help it on its way to becoming a community development organisation. It notes that the £8.5 million could create 74 jobs.

One imagines that there must be 74 members of the South East Antrim Brigade of the UDA. Most community development organisations rattle along with a mere handful of staff members.

Tommy Kirkham, a spokesman for 'Beyond Conflict' (presumably another UDA-adjunct) which backs the proposal, stated he believes the money could bring an end to loyalist paramilitary activity in South Antrim.

Reasons as to why the South East Antrim Brigade of the UDA can't just stop its campaign without having money thrown at it remain unclear.

Mr Kirkham's group is presenting a plan of action for government consideration, but notes that the proposal is not a prerequisite for ending paramilitary activity. This tactic is generally referred to as a bribe.

Meanwhile, the government has just withdrawn funding from Belfast's Rape Crisis Centre, citing failure to meet government accounting requirements.

Perhaps, like the South East Antrim Brigade of the UDA, the Rape Crisis Centre should consider engaging in killing people and drug-dealing as a way to secure further government funding and a massively inflated staff complement.

Good and Bad Loyalists

2006-09-21T13:10:00.002+01:00

Not satisfied with all that money thrown at them by the British Government, those irksome loyalists have decided to threaten the safety of senior Irish diplomat, Aine DeBaroid.

The police noted they believed the threats to be credible and Ms DeBaroid, who was engaged in outreach work with loyalist communities in Belfast, was quickly transported to Dublin.

Frankie Gallagher from the UDA-linked Ulster Political Research Group said: "In East Belfast we never took any money to get any resources in and yet we had a fantastic relationship with Aine, where she came and helped us in an advisory capacity."

Last night, during the BBC's ten o'clock news bulletin, newsreader Mark Carruthers noted that the threats came from 'dissident' loyalists and that the other (presumably nice) loyalists wanted Ms DeBaroid to come back to Belfast.

Since no loyalist groups are currently on ceasefire, one wonders who these '‘dissident'’ loyalists might be. It would appear that BBC Northern Ireland, adopting the role of apologist for government policy, has created this 'dissident' terminology to help define good loyalist from bad.

Earlier this week, The British Government announced it would give £135,000 to loyalist areas to enable conflict transformation. In June of this year, the British Government announced that £33million had been earmarked for loyalist areas.

Information on previous British Government funding to loyalists, in the shape of arms and intelligence to support campaigns against Catholics and Irish nationalists, is unavailable.

Last year, a study by Deliotte for the Department of Social Development found that Catholics are much more likely to live in areas of weak community infrastructure than Protestants.

Other research, conducted in 2005 by PricewaterhouseCoopers, disproved the claim that Protestants are less likely than Catholics to get Union Peace II funding to build up community infrastructure. Over half the money spent under this heading went to people in Protestant areas. The Department of Finance and Personnel regards the research report as internal and has not published it.

Details of both these reports can be found at The Northern Ireland Council for Voluntary Action (NICVA) website.

Requests for copies of any research undertaken by the Ulster Political Research Group will be met with blank stares.

Moron Moments - Ian Paisley Jnr

2006-09-14T20:52:00.001+01:00

Democratic Unionist Party assembly member, Ian Paisley Jnr continued his campaign of sectarian foolishness today when, in a statement to the BBC, he claimed Catholics in north Antrim had been attacking their own homes to make it look like Protestants were to blame.

Mr Paisley Jnr also remarked that a recent paint bomb attack on the long-suffering Harryville Catholic Church in Ballymena "appears to be the work of republicans".

His paranoid rant continued: "This self-imposed attack is evidence that a considerable amount of the attacks recently carried out in north Antrim are not only self-inflicted by republicans but are part of an orchestrated effort by republicans to stir up sectarian activity to discredit the local unionist community."

One would imagine that the local unionist community, led by Mr Paisley Jnr, is quite capable of discrediting itself with such blather, rather than expect republicans to help them along. Also, Mr Paisley Jnr's methods of ascertaining "the work of republicans" in this context remains unclear. Did the colour of the paint give these alleged rogues away?

Local police district commander, Superintendent Terry Shevlin said: "I wouldn't say for one moment that those people targeted are perpetrators."

Well, We Brought Ours!

2006-09-12T12:25:00.001+01:00

Last Sunday, I took advantage of European Heritage Open Day 2006 and went off to visit some of the north's greatest icons of British Imperialism.

The first stop was HMS Caroline, moored off Alexandra Dock in Belfast.

According to the brochure, HMS Caroline, a Royal Naval light cruiser, was launched at Birkenhead in 1914. It is now the sole survivor, worldwide, from the Battle of Jutland. Still in commission, the ship came to Belfast in 1924 to serve as headquarters for the Royal Naval Reserve in the six counties (the brochure says 'The Province' here). Our guide explained that the British Army recently occupied the ship and used the towering crow's nest as a watchtower to spy on the colonised people of Belfast. Everywhere, dull paint peeled from the hull, revealing spreading rust. The Union Jack hung limp from the ship's bow.

Next on the agenda was the former Harland and Wolff Headquarters on Queen's Road. It's a fine, three storey sandstone building, dating from 1919, although it has witnessed better days. The expansive interiors, containing the drawing offices, were in a sorry state of disrepair. According to a woman from the Titanic Society, surveyors have been examining the viability of restoring the building, although no plans exist to develop such an undertaking. The Titanic Society wants the space to be turned into a library. Other unnamed individuals want to see a hotel here. In its glory days, the building and its surrounding shipyards, stood as a symbol of Unionist might and anti-Catholic prejudice. Its ruination illustrates the current state of that former monolith.

After a trip to the rarely-open Friar's Bush Cemetery, I made for Hillsborough to investigate Hillsborough Castle. This 18th Century mansion was the residence of former colonial overlords and, since 1972, has been the home of a long list of British secretaries of state.

On entering, a rather fey footman gathered the crowds around him, and announced that he might sing us an aria while we assembled ourselves in the hallway. An elderly couple, standing directly in front of me, began speaking to the footman about the previous night's 'Proms in the Park' at Belfast City Hall. The conversation went something like this:

Old Man: We had plenty of arias last night at City Hall.

Footman: Oh, was it good?

Old Woman: It was very good, and the weather was great.

Footman: Of course, we're not allowed to take our flags down there.

Old Woman (defiantly): Well, we brought ours!

Footman: Good for you.

The dialogue was delivered with the kind of casual arrogance which assumed everyone in the room shared the same opinion.

We were ushered through several other rooms, all splendid with riches and treaures. The flag-waving pensioner and her associates cooed and bleated as guides revealed information about visiting royalty, displayed Queen Elizabeth's gowns - as designed by Norman Hartnell - and opened autograph books to display the signatures of Prince Charles, George Bush and Colin Powell. The old couple touched the seat where Queen Elizabeth once sat, as if expecting an amorphous exchange of energy to flood through their flabby frames.

The dining room glittered with expensive tableware, Tyrone crystal, elaborate menus and royal portraits. It was easy to imagine the colonial governors and their royal masters drink and make merry while their armed foot-soldiers wreaked havoc on Belfast's streets.

A further room demonstrated, via an accompanying photograph, the scene where Tony Blair, George Bush, Condaleeza Rice and others plotted the destruction of Iraq during their visit here on April 2003. The old woman mewed and made doe-eyes at the scene. There were no photographs of those who demonstrated outside.

The world of fresh air was never so welcome.

Welcome to the Great Wee Azoo

2006-09-12T11:14:00.003+01:00

Many years ago, somewhere between the Age of Internment and the Age of the Internet, Belfast City Councillor and Ulster Unionist, Jim Rogers was filmed by local TV at Belfast Zoo.

Mr Rogers was complaining - as he often does - about some crisis at the zoo. I can't actually remember what he was prattling about, although I think it may have had something to do with a proposal to close the zoo.

Red-faced and indignant, Mr Rogers protested against the proposal. He couldn't understand why anyone would want to take such action.

"This is a great wee azoo!" he exclaimed.

Such was his fury, that Mr Rogers repeated this phrase several times, turning a serious issue into one of weird comedy. What was this 'Azoo' he spoke of?

After some thought, I reckoned this 'Great Wee Azoo' must be something akin to 'Our Wee Country', 'The Province' or - and I shudder to echo the words - 'Norn Iron'. These phrases have often been uttered by Jim Rogers and his Unionist friends, primarily to legitimise the Northern Irish state as a glorious wonderland best viewed through Brookeborough's rose-tinted spectacles.

Some of these phrases are simply trite. 'Our Wee Country' is particularly sick-making. It's not unsurprising to find it used as the name of a Northern Ireland Football Club website. Others, such as 'The Province' are stupid and inaccurate. The province of Ulster has nine counties, six of which reside within the Northern Irish state. 'Northern Ireland' and 'Ulster' are not the same thing. But try telling that to the broadcast media - particularly the BBC.

So welcome, one and all to 'The Great Wee Azoo'. Please don't feed the animals and leave your rose-tinted spectacles at home.