Primary Education...

As you'll remember, Or So I Thought... can never resisted delving into the baffling world of American politics from time to time and what better excuse for another vitriolic rambling than this morning's Party Primaries, in which Delaware, the state we have to thank for such revolutionaries as Henry Heimlich, inventor of the Heimlich Manoeuvre and Teri Polo, Helen Santos out of off the West Wing, elected ultra-Conservative Christine O'Donnell to a position of power.

'What's wrong with ultra-Conservatives?' I hear you cry. To which I say: "We've been through this NUMEROUS times. Have I taught you nothing?!"

To clarify, Christine O'Donnell ran on the rather audacious pro-gun, anti-abortion, anti-masturbation ticket- I can only expect that Nick Griffin is scribbling notes furiously (and, no, 'scribbling notes' is not a euphemistic expression in contradiction with that last point)- and even by Tea Party standards is a little-bit right wing. The ideology is perhaps just a little odd -Killing a foetus - WRONG, shooting another human being - FINE, Masturbating = ADULTERY - but then I wouldn't expect anything less from the Tea Party. O'Donnell, whose totally credible backers include gun-toting, blow-up politician Sarah Palin and the National Rifle Association, has won a victory that is being cheered by the Democrats too however, who see the Tea Party as an easier fight than their moderate Republican counterparts.

To be fair, they've got a point. In the article that I found out about this from (from The Guardian, of course) they refer to Tea Party supporters as 'sympathisers'. If your party members or followers are known as 'sympathisers', you're almost certainly barking up the wrong, Fascist tree. That said, if there's anywhere crazy enough to vote in Palin's gun-loving, non-masturbators, it's (*an implied tiny and very isolated section and certainly not a majority of*) America... ahem...

Where's the Beef... Oh She's Wearing It...

Apparently some people have only just noticed that Lady Gaga is off the wall mental. To cut a long story short, the diminutive songstress turned up to MTV VMAs (which, to be fair has a track record for this sort of thing with, only last year, Kanye's God Complex becoming just too powerful to allow Taylor Swift to accept an award in peace) in a dress made out of meat.

Meat, of course, being the primary tailoring material for centuries... oh, hang on, no it isn't. You don't wear raw meat to an awards ceremony, you mentalist, this isn't a Tom Green film. Naturally PETA have blown their motherflipping top over this. Now, I must confess that I don't subscribe to the vegan thing, I don't have superpowers (we all love referential comedy...), but even I can tell that wearing a meat dress is a pretty stupid idea. Not least because it's highly unappealing to look at and I can only imagine that feeling the cold flesh of mutilated animal against your skin isn't the most pleasant sensation in the world.

Now, no-one would expect Lady Gaga to turn up in something normal (which ironically would actually be a much more effective and impactful statement), hell, next time she might just cut her losses and turn up wearing a hollowed out deer, however I can't help but feel that perhaps she could have considered maybe silk or, if you simply must go down the food route, tapioca or something.

Also, pretty much all her songs sound the same. A fact highlighted particularly well by any montages of her songs performed on dreadful TV talent shows. I mean they're catchy, but not to my taste really... and they all sound the same. This is in no way a personal attack on Ms. Gaga (I'm now refusing to use her honorific title), in fact I remember reading a brilliantly insightful and frank interview by Caitlin Moran that displayed Gaga as personable, self-deprecating and very human indeed, however I don't understand why she couldn't have popped into Tesco, say, and bought a cheap and cheerful little number not hacked and stitched from the flesh of a sentient being.

Saturday Night at the London Palla- Oh, Hang On...

Britishness is a curious thing, tricky to quantify exactly. I know where I am on a scale of weeping at Elgar's Nimrod to putting little flags on a white van, but the two aren't necessarily mutually exclusive, yet (and allow me to be painfully middle class for a moment- although I've already given that away by admitting to the whole Elgar thing ((I just have something in my eye is all))) is there perhaps anything that presents pure concentrated Britishness quite like the Proms and, more specifically, the Last Night of the Proms. Who could argue with the flag-waving and everyone joining in (each in his or her own key ((Tom Lehrer references for the win)) of course) with Elgar's magnificent arrangements of Parry's 'Jerusalem' and 'Land of Hope and Glory'?

Well, I'll tell you who could argue with that: Bruce Forsyth and Tess Daly, that's who. For, on the very same evening as the Royal Albert Hall shook to the thundering chorus of Pomp and Circumstance March No. 1 in D Major, BBC Television centre shook to the thundering chorus of clumsy footing and celebrity clapping as another team of hapless but enthusiastic amateurs took to the floor for the launch of the new series of Strictly Come Dancing. Alright, so the events that I've listed didn't exactly coincide per se, but it sounds much more exciting this way. I should also point out that this 'launch' of Strictly Come Dancing came 3 weeks before the actual series begins and mostly resembled a PE class where Ann Widdecombe was inevitably picked last.

The roster was revealed, featuring such pop culture luminaries as Paul Daniels and Goldie, to a series of increasingly laboured gags and then paired off predictably with the show's professionals (that's 'predictably' as in the pairings were predictable, rather than them obviously being paired with professionals as opposed to say goats or members of the BNP) over what seemed like about 5 or 6 hours, with the pauses usually reserved for results shows used here simply before reading out a name in a bottom-clenchingly infuriating waste of airtime. Instead of those pauses we could have had more dances choreographed by the new team of old favourites like 'that one that won with Ramprakash' and 'the other guy, you know, the blonde one' where people drop from the ceiling on wires to swing jazz versions of pop-rock.

I say predictable pairings, by that I mean that as soon as I heard Widdecombe was involved, it was patently obvious that she would be given to Anton, who I can only assume did something to massively upset the production staff somewhere around the second series and has carved out a living as a sort of carer for the celebrities with the most left feet. I also had a suspicion that male duffer of the series Paul Daniels would be inflicted upon Ola, after her triumph last year, that proved well-founded. After each group of 3 or so pairings, Brucie would hand over to the judging panel for ludicrous conjecture from Len about 'surprise packages' and 'good pairings' based on nothing but the brand new celebrities' abilities to walk down stairs without breaking an ankle, nonsensical, superlative silliness from Bruno, camp cynicism from the maestro Craig and well, a look from Alesha that suggested she was just happy to still be there being, as she is, in no way a qualified professional dancer/choreographer.

I'll offer my own staggeringly unfounded speculations right here, right now -

• Patsy Kensit - Will be one of those ones who's either really good or really rubbish.
• Gavin Henson - Might just be too big a rugby player to be good at celebrity dancing. Good feet for a big lad, though.
• Tina O' Brien - Oh yeah! I remember her out of off of Corrie.
  
• Jimi Mistry - He'll do well... I've seen The Guru...
• Ann Widdecombe - Could be painful, but she's no X-Factor-class mug without an iota of self-awareness. She knows exactly what she's doing. Sadly, this isn't Celebrity Big Brother and 'game-plans' won't get you anywhere if Anton can't swing you around his head like a cape.

Boom!

Friday Pictorial the Twenty Fourth: Memoirs

Let's face it, none of you have actually read the Blair memoirs, right? Yeah, but have you actually read them? Hmm? Didn't think so. Don't worry though. I've bitten the bullet and digested the text for you in this handy video.




Ooh Yeah! Satire! *fist pump*

Why Can't We All Just Get Along...

Twitter people will know that I spent a hefty percentage of yesterday banging on with some idealistic pseudophilosophy, but given that Pastor Terry Jones is still intent on burning the Koran on 9/11 *sic* (don't know why he can't just go back to doing the 'bishop on the landing' sketch) and a radical Muslim leader calling for retaliatory US flag burning (should be grateful it's not retaliatory US citizen burning), clearly the world has learnt nothing from several millennia of Eastern and Western philosophy. This means it's about time for Or So I Thought... to lay down some precepts of its own.

The First and most important precept is that regardless of other people's beliefs/religions/philosophy, Or So I Thought... and its readers shall not attempt to belittle or indoctrinate (apart from Scientology... that's fair game). The best example I can use to illustrate this is that I don't like Hip-Hop, I don't 'get' Hip-Hop but I'm not going to tell someone that likes it that they're living a lie and should face the empirical fact that AOR is better, because no actual good can come of it. Which brings us neatly to:

The Second is that the illusion of empiricism has caused too much philosophical hate and, as compelling as empirical evidence is, it does not automatically give its subscribers a right to be maladroit about it. Heavily linked to the first, this precept is again designed to stop people antagonising people of different belief systems. The most important tenet of this philosophy is choice. If a person is happy with the choice they've made philosophically, telling them that they're wrong, thrusting evidence, no matter how definitive, in their faces and forcing them to lose any faith they once held in anything (there being a God, there being no God, there being multiple gods etc.) is simply not going to solve any of the world's problems, many of which have in fact been caused by non-adherence to this precept.

The example most prescient here is the rather militant branch of Atheism that has emerged in the last few years. Several figures (I won't mention names) have developed somewhat of a cult of personality around themselves and have made themselves, or in some cases have inadvertently become, a god to their followers and have since used the excuse of empiricism as a shield for self-righteousness and the belittling of others. Now, I'm not saying for a moment that Atheists are more culpable than any other philosophy (Christianity has been guilty of this a number of times throughout history, ditto Islam and in Modern History perhaps the Gaza conflict is an apt example, all of which think that they have evidence too), however they ('they' is a word I'll use a lot. I'm yet to find a satisfactory school of philosophy) are the most recent example and, even then, in no way am I referring to all Atheists, but rather a select group. Naturally Evolutionary Science should be taught in schools and not Creationism, however in a good deal of writing and broadcasting there's a tendency to take a stance of aggression and sanctimony (I'm sure they'd hate the irony of many of the nouns and adjectives that I've used throughout this piece). There's a difference, albeit a fine one, between letting empiricism speak for itself and using it as an excuse for the abasement of others.

In extreme layman's terms- just because you're right, there's no need to be a dick about it.

The Third is that conflict in the name of this or any philiosophy is wrong. What happened to the good old days of wars for resources... like oil and... oh...
On a serious note, historical conflict based on simple greed or territorial disputes instead of forcing one's philosophy on another group of people and therefore subjugating them, in which the aforementioned reasons are invariably given as an excuse (Crusades, Nazis etc.), were far less embarrassing for all involved. (See: Alexander the Great, Napoleon, etc.)

In Summary:
1) The Philosophy of Respect - Treat all other philosophies with respect. Life is far too short to ruin other people's happiness and the knowledge that you've done so but are right will be of little comfort in this ultimately futile existence.
2) The Illuisory Shield of Empiricism - Empiricism is worthless if it cannot be delivered with tact. Think of the humility and savoir faire with which Darwin presented his evidence and strive to do the same.
3) The Disrepute of Philosophical Conflict - The rights and wrongs of one and another's philosophies should never be considered a satisfactory rationalisation for conflict.

Phew, to quote the brilliant Nick Mohammed's Mr. Swallow - "It's not very funny this bit, is it?!"


Samuel E Robinson has an AS level in Philosophy, but a Masters in Pseudophilosophy from the University of Life... ahem...

The Twenty...

So, the Barclaycard (ahem) Mercury Music Prize was awarded to last night to The XX, a band with songs so good that they were the sountrack to the 2010 General Election (second 'ahem' of the sentence). But instead of definitively answering which album was the best of last year (which, to be fair, the Mercury has never managed yet anyway), the Awards instead threw up more questions.

1. What was up with Nihal last night?
2. Seriously. Dark Brown shirt and jacket with BLUE JEANS? What?!
3. He did some accents too. Why?
4. He then said "I think the XX is an album already on everyone's coffee tables." Hmm?
5. Are they? I don't think they are.
6. Who keeps their albums on a coffee table?
7. Midlife crisis? (It would explain a lot)
   
8. Why didn't Mumford & Sons win?
   
9. Again, a serious question. Why?
10. How come KT Tunstall is immune to Lauren Laverne's contagious pregnancies? It claimed Miranda Sawyer during the course of the evening but not the Scottish singer/songwriter. Why?

In all seriousness, I was very much hoping that Mumford & Sons would win. Their brand of anthemic, alternative folk has proved popular with critics and fans alike and their debut 'Sigh No More' is a fantastic collection of songs. Drawing more from traditional Americana than the British folk scene, Mumford & Sons feature banjo-driven tales of loss, pain and regret. From the hugely catchy 'Little Lion Man' and 'The Cave' to the ethereal title track and the fury and disenchantment of 'Dust Bowl Dance', the quartet display their brilliant songwriting talent. Perhaps the biggest weapon of these young folkies is the voice of Marcus Mumford. Dripping with pain, pathos and righteous indignation, Mumford's subtle, rasping voice could lend credibility to even the most introspective compositions and is on display best in their live performances. I've never had the pleasure of seeing them in the flesh but their televised performances at various festivals and shows are remarkable. Every debt to their fans paid in power, sweat and raw emotion, with each concert played as if it's their last. Do pick it up.

Why Cowards Is at the Centre of the Comedy Universe...

Many of you will have seen Him & Her last night, the new bedsitcom from Stefan Golaszewski, the Alan Bennett of his generation (I will make that strapline catch on, mark my words). A beautifully observed study of two unemployed twentysomethings in their flat, it perfectly showcases what I rather pretentiously christened the 'Cowards School of Theatrical Comedy' (I know, I'm an arty arse, but Rick Edwards retweeted it, so I plan to spread this term for the current epoch of British comedy).

Stylistically, the Cowards School creates comedy from the juxtaposition of Mike Leigh-esque realism and the brilliantly absurd. This permeates the performance poetry of Tim Key, the songs of Tom Basden and the writing of both Stefan Golaszewski and Lloyd Woolf and its influence is spreading fast. More comparable with short plays than sitcom episodes or sketches (best observed in Him and Her and the beautiful The Caravan sketch involiving the lottery ticket from Cowards). The style is not limited to the quadrumvirate of Cowards however and encompasses the work of a wider selection of related comics/actors/filmmakers (though more often than not, the line can be followed back to Mssrs. Basden, Golaszewski, Key and Woolf) including Joe Wilkinson, Diane Morgan (now performing as sketch duo Two Episodes of MASH, their most recent show directed by Golaszewski) Alex Horne, Jonathan van Tulleken, Mark Watson, Jonny Sweet, Nick Mohammed, Rick Edwards and many more. Indeed Edwards' 'The Boot Sale', as featured in the Virgin Media Shorts shortlist, is another prime example of the style (starring Wilkinson, Morgan and Basden and directed by van Tulleken), with its bittersweet tale of man finding hard to let go (Further Reading/Listening: Key's 'All Bar Luke') .

Each project is a veritable 'six degrees of separation' that leads back to Cowards or one of its practitioners (see diagram A) and yet the BBC did not recommission the television programme of the troupe that started it all. We were given 3 brilliant episodes, but no more (though their two superlative radio series' are available as audiobooks ((which I never think is the correct term for this kind of thing really))). All four members are individually endeavouring to further the spread to great acclaim as well. Edinburgh award winner Key has a book and an vinyl album of his poetry available later this year, Basden's play 'Party', also adapted into a series for Radio 4 recieved highly favourable reviews and featured some very bright comedy talent (including the wonderful Jonny Sweet and Nick Mohammed), Golaszewski's plays (Stefan Golaszewski Speaks About A Girl He Once Loved and Stefan Golaszewski is a Widower) recieved huge plaudits and Him & Her deserves the same praise and, after a break to focus on writing and acting, Woolf is returning to his highly original stand-up.

I have been challenged on my comment regard Golaszewski as 'the Bennett of his generation', but I find it a perfectly valid comparison. Both portray brilliantly observed characters laid bare, for all their failings and strike a careful balance between pointed, witty humour and pathos. While the language and voice may differ, the ideas conveyed and the methodology are far more similar than one may imagine from a superficial glance.

DIAGRAM A
A quick study into my earlier claim (note that not all potential permutations and links are included ((lazy, not enough paper etc.)))


So, here's to Him & Her, to Golaszewski and to the Cowards School of Theatrical comedy. Long may it grace ours screens/radios/stages.