I woke up this morning surprised to see that the general concensus among the papers was that David Cameron was seen to have performed best in the third and final Leaders' debate, ahead of the frankly obvious winner, Nick Clegg, who completed a hat-trick of 'wins'. I wouldn't even go as far to put Cameron in second, Gordon Brown battled away like grizzled boxer and spoke sense, while Cameron just generally seemed clueless and unable to defend his party's policies.
Cameron derided Brown's economic policy as 'desperate stuff', yet was unable to say precisely why. Cameron had no response because he has precious little upstairs, thus resorting to such empty rhetoric. Similarly, when Clegg grilled him on his proposed immigration cap, asking him specifically, yes or no, if the cap would have had any effect on current immigration rates, and all Cameron could do was squirm and evade and bull about something else, anything to avoid saying the patently obvious 'no'. In contrast, the Lib Dems controversial immigrant amnesty was ably defended by Clegg. This was something I was unsure of the logic behind it, but it seems a sensible method of dealing with a problem that is already here, and the criticisms of the other two - that it would encourage people to seek asylum unfairly - are redundant because the Lib Dems' proposed tighter immigration policy would limit this effect, and it won't apply to anyone who arrives after the end of this calendar year.
Other issues where Clegg impressed was the banking crisis. Whether his proposals would be put into effect - I don't know whether the government has any influence over salaries - I can't say, but the Lib Dems' decision to put an end to the rediculous bonus culture seems like a positive approach. Furthermore, a division between 'high-street' and investment banking would avoid a meltdown as serious as the one we are currently suffering.
Another facet of Lib Dem policy that seemed questionable is the joining of the Euro, however after doing a bit of research earlier in the week I found no mention of a plan to join the Euro, something that Clegg denied yesterday: "No I'm not advocating entry to the Euro, and I'd only ever advocate it, by the way, if ever, if economic conditions were right...and it would have to be put to referendum anyway." While scrolling through the comments on a few of the Guardian articles it seems a few people are calling Clegg's position a lie, but neither the Lib Dem manifesto or Telegraph summary make any mention of entry to the Euro.
Last thoughts: Cameron - how can you trust a man with such a shiny chin? Gordon - during his days as Chancellor he did massive amount to alleviate child-poverty, and was incredibly successful. I can't help but feel he does have redeeming features. Clegg - wants to repeal the Digital Economy Bill, bravo.
Friday 30 April 2010
Friday 16 April 2010
The Great Eccentrics: Stanley Unwin & Stuart Hall
Let me draw your attention to mssrs Stanley Unwin and Stuart Hall, two men who have an unparalleled grasp of the English language in its spoken form. Firstly Stuart Hall, a presenter/commentator, who seems to speak entirely as if scripted by the fellows behind the magnificent introductory speech by V in V For Vendetta. Perhaps most famous for this beauty during BBC Radio panel show Fighting Talk. How much better televised football would be these days if ITV or Sky let him have a crack at it. I guess some people simply are just too clever for their own good.
The second man, and the one who I'm going to spend the most time on, is Stanley Unwin, part-comedian, part-recording artist, and inventor of Unwinese. Unwinese is essentially gobbledegook, and it's basically just hilarious to listen to him speak it. I found out about him through 60's psychedelic classic Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, by The Small Faces, in which he bookends the (brilliant) songs with his language. I tried to find online what he actually says, but for once Google failed me, leading me to the assumption that no one has ever bothered to transcribe his marvellous spiel. Here goes. (Songs in brackets)
(Hapiness Stan) Are you all sitty comfy-bowl two-square on your botty? Then I'll begin. (Rollin' Over) Now of course like all real life experience stories this one begins once a polly-tighto, and Hapiness Stan whose life evolved in ephemeral coloured dreamy most, had his pure existance and his being in the deep-joy of the multicolour of the rain-bowls, oh yes, his homes are Victoriana Sharabold's, this is a four wheeled folloloped-pft-ft-pft-ft out the back-grove. Now as eve-duddest-deep aproachy, his eye on the moon, all time sometime deep-joy of a full moon scinty-lady dangly in the heavenly abode. But now only half, Oh blow your cool, man! he doodthisdeepthoughtcus (?) What is the folly of this half-dissapeary of the moony most? And as the light of the scinty-laden changed through timely most, stoppet still, and he did a deep-thoughtcus. What, absolutely smashing flakety he was. So gathering all behind in the hintermost he ploddy-ploddy foreward into the deep thundermould of the compligadden forest to sort'nt this one out matey. Where at mandythoughtcus, where at? Oh dear.
(The Hungry Intruder) Now after little lapse of time, Stan became deep-hungry in his tum-lode, oh, after all he struggly-trickly out several mile-lode, and anyone would suffer underthis, so suddenly he did a deep-thoughcus: out with his luncy-bag, just about to do a little nib-lode of his mincey-meaty when...(The Journey) And now the fly was overwhelming with this deep generosity of Stanley's give give give of the foodage because all I've {chomp chomp chomp} suffered the foodage, he looks at Stan and says, Is there anything I can reciproclow in doing the joy for the return for your generos- if you'll give me food and stuffy. Stan, I am looking for the other half of the moon and dangly, this is my folly, show me where the missing half of that moon. I don't know, said the flyrooturly, but I know someone who knows. If only I was big enough to transporty-most, I'd takee there my self - I would do this. And Stan, having the possessey power of the magicold, ah, standitover, rolley-up-the-sleevey, wave the hand hovelyhovvelyhovvelyhovvely and uttered these magic words: if all the flies were one fly, what a great enormous fly folloper that would bowl, and there, incredib- oh dear, hovveryhovvery! Now the fly recalls with these wordage, Not only will I transport them there but I will also hear the deep-joy of a songlode in your ear-drobes, that I will do.
(Mad John) And so, seaty-comfybowl, on the back of the most of this enormous buzzy most of this fly - vvvfffft they tooky off like an escaped velocy like the rocket floating into orbey. Now after floating high up, over the mounty, through the deep valley of that, for seven whole days they did a very soft and flat belly landing, if I may put it this way, where they landed - a tranquil beauty-spot before a deep thunder-mole of a forrey, like a fortress in the undergrope there it was, and the fly said it "I must leave you here" and he pointed here with his fly-type fingold - it was all feathery-feathery - it said, "Mad John," markedthee words, "he livet in a cave there in this deep forrey, and he will transpork for you not only the moon itself if you lookit, but the philosophy of life itself" And Stan had a mutual joy for this, and reach up and cuddly-most of this big fly, and very hard to embrace it (affectionate fly noises) mm mm kissy and the fly tickle-ee with his whiskers in his earlode, and off he went...
(Happy Days Toy Town) And so Stan walket towards the cave, and in his mind, markee word: Mad John. ffff deep-thoughtcus on this, all a trimlode, looking into the dark and peering into the backgrove of black in there, and then appeared Mad John, in fine fine foldy silken robes, all white haired, scinty-laden beard and dangly, cor, the beard must be fruity-four years old to grow it and grow it all nightlode, what. And he was glowing, with a friendly light, oh dear joy, and a voice full of the cockney cockney cockney, all joy of life livey and eminating from the cocklode of his heart-strings. Called to see ya, man, what's in your hangup, man? I waited seven whole days for ya! Not still worried about scinty-laden moon and dangly eh? Stan, hegedededege yes, thats why I sought'n you out here and tritlytritly how on the back of this fly you told me. And John, linket arms with him and walkey out stebber by stebber, and he pointed at the cockney fourfingold, there! up in the heavenly bode! What? Stan realised now which just struck him like a snaffaro blurdy which coming out now that he never thoughtcus before. As the sun rises in the eardy mordy, so the recall of the moon in the eve, ah, and he thought, hmm. And the fly had something extra special he thoughtcus to say to me if he wolde, and John looky-happy, and atractn his earnestly of his eyeboldes, straight nose to nose, eye to eye, both for it. Of course, I nearly forgot it, just you listen...song...So remember the very special words: happy daylung toilettownnewspaperchuckleysmileo. They all had a lovely turnout; nose came, huckleberrytwicklemyfingold, boy blue left his horn stuffing under the setee and brought his mellodrobe and freaked them all out, oh what a mind-blast! Jackie Jill, knees up mother brodie, oh what a joy of a trickly howthere. Oh I hope you turn out three-quarters half as lovely won't you wouldn't have any joy, stay cool won't you?
Fin.
I think this might be the most pointless thing I have ever done. Actually, I'm slightly dissapointed, going through it has revealed it to be less deep-joyfully whimsical that I thought it might be. It was also bloody impossible to transcribe, partly due to the recording and partly having to decipher words that aren't recognisable words.
Corrections in the comments, please.
The second man, and the one who I'm going to spend the most time on, is Stanley Unwin, part-comedian, part-recording artist, and inventor of Unwinese. Unwinese is essentially gobbledegook, and it's basically just hilarious to listen to him speak it. I found out about him through 60's psychedelic classic Ogden's Nut Gone Flake, by The Small Faces, in which he bookends the (brilliant) songs with his language. I tried to find online what he actually says, but for once Google failed me, leading me to the assumption that no one has ever bothered to transcribe his marvellous spiel. Here goes. (Songs in brackets)
(Hapiness Stan) Are you all sitty comfy-bowl two-square on your botty? Then I'll begin. (Rollin' Over) Now of course like all real life experience stories this one begins once a polly-tighto, and Hapiness Stan whose life evolved in ephemeral coloured dreamy most, had his pure existance and his being in the deep-joy of the multicolour of the rain-bowls, oh yes, his homes are Victoriana Sharabold's, this is a four wheeled folloloped-pft-ft-pft-ft out the back-grove. Now as eve-duddest-deep aproachy, his eye on the moon, all time sometime deep-joy of a full moon scinty-lady dangly in the heavenly abode. But now only half, Oh blow your cool, man! he doodthisdeepthoughtcus (?) What is the folly of this half-dissapeary of the moony most? And as the light of the scinty-laden changed through timely most, stoppet still, and he did a deep-thoughtcus. What, absolutely smashing flakety he was. So gathering all behind in the hintermost he ploddy-ploddy foreward into the deep thundermould of the compligadden forest to sort'nt this one out matey. Where at mandythoughtcus, where at? Oh dear.
(The Hungry Intruder) Now after little lapse of time, Stan became deep-hungry in his tum-lode, oh, after all he struggly-trickly out several mile-lode, and anyone would suffer underthis, so suddenly he did a deep-thoughcus: out with his luncy-bag, just about to do a little nib-lode of his mincey-meaty when...(The Journey) And now the fly was overwhelming with this deep generosity of Stanley's give give give of the foodage because all I've {chomp chomp chomp} suffered the foodage, he looks at Stan and says, Is there anything I can reciproclow in doing the joy for the return for your generos- if you'll give me food and stuffy. Stan, I am looking for the other half of the moon and dangly, this is my folly, show me where the missing half of that moon. I don't know, said the flyrooturly, but I know someone who knows. If only I was big enough to transporty-most, I'd takee there my self - I would do this. And Stan, having the possessey power of the magicold, ah, standitover, rolley-up-the-sleevey, wave the hand hovelyhovvelyhovvelyhovvely and uttered these magic words: if all the flies were one fly, what a great enormous fly folloper that would bowl, and there, incredib- oh dear, hovveryhovvery! Now the fly recalls with these wordage, Not only will I transport them there but I will also hear the deep-joy of a songlode in your ear-drobes, that I will do.
(Mad John) And so, seaty-comfybowl, on the back of the most of this enormous buzzy most of this fly - vvvfffft they tooky off like an escaped velocy like the rocket floating into orbey. Now after floating high up, over the mounty, through the deep valley of that, for seven whole days they did a very soft and flat belly landing, if I may put it this way, where they landed - a tranquil beauty-spot before a deep thunder-mole of a forrey, like a fortress in the undergrope there it was, and the fly said it "I must leave you here" and he pointed here with his fly-type fingold - it was all feathery-feathery - it said, "Mad John," markedthee words, "he livet in a cave there in this deep forrey, and he will transpork for you not only the moon itself if you lookit, but the philosophy of life itself" And Stan had a mutual joy for this, and reach up and cuddly-most of this big fly, and very hard to embrace it (affectionate fly noises) mm mm kissy and the fly tickle-ee with his whiskers in his earlode, and off he went...
(Happy Days Toy Town) And so Stan walket towards the cave, and in his mind, markee word: Mad John. ffff deep-thoughtcus on this, all a trimlode, looking into the dark and peering into the backgrove of black in there, and then appeared Mad John, in fine fine foldy silken robes, all white haired, scinty-laden beard and dangly, cor, the beard must be fruity-four years old to grow it and grow it all nightlode, what. And he was glowing, with a friendly light, oh dear joy, and a voice full of the cockney cockney cockney, all joy of life livey and eminating from the cocklode of his heart-strings. Called to see ya, man, what's in your hangup, man? I waited seven whole days for ya! Not still worried about scinty-laden moon and dangly eh? Stan, hegedededege yes, thats why I sought'n you out here and tritlytritly how on the back of this fly you told me. And John, linket arms with him and walkey out stebber by stebber, and he pointed at the cockney fourfingold, there! up in the heavenly bode! What? Stan realised now which just struck him like a snaffaro blurdy which coming out now that he never thoughtcus before. As the sun rises in the eardy mordy, so the recall of the moon in the eve, ah, and he thought, hmm. And the fly had something extra special he thoughtcus to say to me if he wolde, and John looky-happy, and atractn his earnestly of his eyeboldes, straight nose to nose, eye to eye, both for it. Of course, I nearly forgot it, just you listen...song...So remember the very special words: happy daylung toilettownnewspaperchuckleysmileo. They all had a lovely turnout; nose came, huckleberrytwicklemyfingold, boy blue left his horn stuffing under the setee and brought his mellodrobe and freaked them all out, oh what a mind-blast! Jackie Jill, knees up mother brodie, oh what a joy of a trickly howthere. Oh I hope you turn out three-quarters half as lovely won't you wouldn't have any joy, stay cool won't you?
Fin.
I think this might be the most pointless thing I have ever done. Actually, I'm slightly dissapointed, going through it has revealed it to be less deep-joyfully whimsical that I thought it might be. It was also bloody impossible to transcribe, partly due to the recording and partly having to decipher words that aren't recognisable words.
Corrections in the comments, please.
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