G.I. James's Blog, page 2

For Freshers

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 11 October 2023)

Good morning, Dear Son (Daughter, Nephew, or Niece), 

Congratulations again on securing a place at your chosen university. This is a real achievement in itself. Settling in, I hope? Freshers’ Week survived and out of the way, I trust? Introductory lectures starting now. Exciting. Very different from school, I am guessing. Anyway, I thought I would drop you a note to offer some practical advice relevant to Uni life, tips gathered and gleaned during my recent undergraduate experience. 

As you would expect from an antique Boomer like me, there will not be many of the kind of tip currently circulating print and social media, articles by bright young columnists offering advice on navigating university that appear mainly focused on making friends, budgeting, work, drinking, and taking care of one’s mental health — most concluding that the important thing is purchasing the correct air fryer — all useful stuff, I am assured, and to be noted, I am sure. But among this youthful wisdom I have not found much mention of study, apparently germane to focus on everything else. However, I possess a parental outlook equally concerned with the primary purpose of your next three years — the pursuit of knowledge and the attainment of a solid degree. I hope you are sitting comfortably.

The good news is that this year, your first year, all achieved marks, however good, however bad, will not reflect in your ultimate degree grade (that is assuming you pass your exams and modules!). Therefore, this introductory year of university will be most usefully used to familiarise yourself with Uni life and to develop decent independent study habits. Please note that although this is good to know, first year covers fundamentals and offers no excuse to take your foot off the gas. But it does mean there is no need to get particularly down on yourself or overly anxious if your first few assignments do not quite go to plan, or initially you find the coursework tough. It does mean there is plenty of time and scope to orientate and to find your higher educational groove. Happy days.

So, what are decent independent study habits? Well, a degree is not intended to be impenetrable, but to be intensive and time-consuming. You will find no success in looking for shortcuts. To achieve your very best you will need to put in the required hours, and then some more. So, it is often a beneficial technique to treat your study like your job. Set regular hours. 20-30 hours a week nose in books, plus tutorials. Evenings and weekend off (where possible). And to try to keep a week or two ahead with your reading. This last simple strategy should mean less stress, for if you get stuck on something or, one morning, you find it impossible to get motivated, you have a little time up your sleeve.

To reach your full potential, do not rely on lectures, tutorials, and workshops. It will be more profitable for you to fully digest relevant material before attending and using time with your tutors as refresher sessions during which you can dot i’s, cross t’s, and focus on any terms or ideas you did not fully understand during independent study.

Unless you are very fortunate, you will come across modules, assignments, or chapters, that upon first inspection you feel are of lesser relevance or little interest. But rather than coast through ‘boring’ topics that appear to be beyond your scope, treat such areas as excursions to places you will never visit again. That is, rather than stay in your room grumbling and wasting your time, double down and visit every corner of the subject as though you will not return. You never know what surprising nugget of interest you might discover. For example, my passion for the rebellious Russian composer Dmitri Shostakovich resulted from digging deep into a classical music assignment that I assumed would spawn neither love nor interest. I am still a Soul and Reggae man, a lover of bass and beats. But had I not concentrated on that classical music assignment, my personal life would be Shostakovich-free and as such, less rich. Serendipity. Furthermore, an all-around knowledge of your subject and the ability to cite from the widest range of relevant source material will prove invaluable for your future modules.

Results. The scary bit. Be minded that most results fall into the category of ‘not as good as we hoped, not as bad as we feared’. Also keep to the front of your mind that you have elected to be measured by academic standards. Tutors are testing students’ ability to understand and interpret coursework, nothing more. It is also crucial to appreciate that your tutor is not looking to find out how brilliant you are, but how well you know your way around a specific subject and how accurately you can answer a set question. When you drift off topic, or your words are not clear enough, when you lean too often on quotes, or have obviously crashed out an essay in a panic, there is little point in railing against the system or complaining that disappointing results are someone else’s fault. When you do not achieve the mark you hoped for, take a day to be outraged and upset, I did, but then embrace some humility, speak with your tutors, and absorb and apply the feedback they give you. 

If you find yourself really uninspired, really think you have made a mistake, never be frightened to consider switching courses or modules. You are the boss of you, you are paying for this, and only you get to live your life. Stay interested. First year is the best year to keep your options wide open.

Be curious about courses other students are studying. Make your social life a positive life. While free and available, join several societies. I would suggest at least one team sport. Hang out with motivated people who are going where you are going. Duffers going nowhere are to be avoided. Inertia is not the reason behind going to university, and individuals choosing not to take their studies seriously will only hold you back. As always, ignore dangerous and negative peer pressure (not Pier Pressure), be smart enough and tough enough to walk away from foolishness, and do not measure your achievements or judge your actions against those acceptable to others — you will always fall short of your best. Be home by twelve because all bad things happen after midnight (true story!). And as well as avoiding all bad things, you will miss nothing worthwhile (also true).

Ignore and never ever repeat the current nonsense spouting from right-wing politicians concerning ‘low value degree courses’. Hypocrites. For a surprising number of them took the famously ‘low value’ PPE (Philosophy, Politics, & Economics) yet are currently scrambling around in a panic hoping to stumble across a Daily-Mail-appealing policy that may result in the Conservatives not being humiliated at the next general election. Ignore them, they will be gone soon (fingers crossed).

Remain conscious that for a fleeting moment you are stood on an ancient rock flying through infinite space. So, do not walk about with your headphones on. Engage with the universe, landscape, flora, fauna, buildings, and people. Eyes and ears wide open. It is all a miracle.

Never ever scratch jock-itch!

Homeless

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 27 September 2023)

Imagine this. Homeless. Where will we rest tonight? Down by the seafront? Up in the hills? Curled up in a damp high-street doorway? Moonlight sleeping on a midnight lake. With little in terms of cover. Can we imagine that? The easiest response is that those nightmares could not possibly visit our sheltered lives.

Easy, but what if our admirable life-stories had taken alternative plots. An unbearable lockdown during which we had fallen for a destructive but unshiftable alcohol or drug habit. Easily done. Street, beach, or forest? We can no longer afford rising mortgage or rent payments. Our partner kicked us out yesterday. Strong winds destroy our homes. Do not enjoy the support of family and friends. Cannot access an emergency hostel because there is nowhere to leave our beloved dog. We are not from here. Just out of prison. At the very bottom of the housing list.

Imagine suffering with increasingly unmanageable mental health issues, a military Veteran perhaps. An existence already so complicated that additional ideas of settling into a permanent home, any thoughts of rent, bills, complex responsibilities become muddling thoughts; enough to raise feelings of dread and distress. An almost existence that can go on so long, become so ingrained, that a familiar bench becomes more appealing than the insecure promise of a soft, dry, but unfamiliar one-night emergency hostel bed. Imagine that.

Imagine also suffering from chronic physical and health problems, all without a permanent address. With no photo ID, accessing routine public services has become an insoluble challenge. Registering for a doctor or getting hospital treatment requires ID (unless all but unconscious). No fixed abode. No dentist. No banking to receive those financial benefits to which we are obviously entitled.

So, here we are, entirely destitute. Weather turning. Winter coming. Where shall we go? Again, the easy answer is that the horrors of homelessness are hypothetical and could not come calling. But what if they do? For I am suddenly within arm’s reach of sixty years old. Spent large parts of last winter moaning and groaning about how difficult and expensive it was to keep cosy at home. Would not last more than a moment if forcibly exposed to the elements.

Putting myself aside (tough ask), the past week I have been trying to imagine being seventy-two years old (wince), and having slept rough for years, and years, and years. Never moving up the housing list. There is little doubt I would be feeling that the council and other relevant agencies must be holding some kind of bespoke vendetta against me. The only explanation as to why my needs have been ignored for ever. The only explanation as to why I must still live like this. At seventy-two years old.

Putting subtle subtext aside, one of our senior citizens has resided in the Aberystwyth prom storm shelter pretty much since it was rebuilt. He is a resilient gentleman who reminds me that there, but for a misstep or two, go I. The man arrived in mid Wales in 1969. This aging man will turn down all offers of a hostel bed, he says. Would prefer a familiar hard surface than surf unfamiliar rooms, with unfamiliar people. As often as not, unfamiliar people with antisocial tendencies and all-too-familiar drug and alcohol problems. Tonight, and tomorrow night, a seventy-two-year-old Aberystwyth legend will feel safer sleeping rough on the prom than within a hostel. Imagine that.

Although not large numbers, there is a visible rough-sleeping problem so recognisable to Aberystwyth residents that many have come to know our homeless by name – alternatively, must turn away an awkward eye as we drift past a real person, evidently fallen, evading state safety nets, on the concrete and yet to rise up.

There is no simple remedy for this stubborn homelessness. Cannot place such a diverse group of characters into one ‘needs’ basket. No single answer, strategy, or policy that will solve what is a complicated puzzle of requirements. But for me, however the man on the prom got there, whatever the backstory, it is time for local agencies to link arms in concerted effort to negotiate a safer and comfortable autumn and winter. Frail, vulnerable, seventy-two years old. A man who says he would prefer a warm permanent address, even though warmth, dry, and comfort may take time to get used to.

If I ruled the world (imagine that) or was in a leadership position in one of the many social or medical agencies that intersect homelessness, urgent conversations would be the order of the day. No more patronising offers nor deaf instructions. Knowing better than to try to tell this irrepressible OAP what to do. No option to wash our hands of him. No longer someone else’s problem. My responsibility must be to prioritise, to listen, and successfully facilitate the man on the prom’s transition into safe permanent managed housing before another hard winter sets in. To treat and restore to good health. The alternative, and I hesitate to go there, is that one morning, one year, Aberystwyth will need to react (or ignore) finding this gentle pensioner dead on the prom. Imagine that.

Lyrics taken from: Homeless (with Ladysmith Black Mambazo) Paul Simon, 1986.

To Serve and Protect?

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 13 September 2023)

We love British police. What I mean is that most rational individuals imagining unpoliced societies picture terrifying anarchy. For this reason, we should be truly grateful to those women and men who everyday hurry towards disaster, individuals sworn to protect us from each other and from ourselves. Those of us who have lived elsewhere may also revel in a police force that does not require routine bribery, that individually and as a collective can be openly criticised, and occasionally held to account. A lifetime of travel leaves no doubt in my mind that British police are the best in the world, and I would prefer to be policed by no other force I have ever encountered.

However, the fact that British police are to be loved, celebrated, and supported does not make British policing perfect. Far from it. For however essential police officers are, right now, the reputation of UK policing is engulfed in flames, an inferno that is making many crucial policing tasks more difficult. For example, recent polling reveals 71% of adults think the culture of policing has to change in order to better respond to violence against women and girls, and a worrying 10% of women indicated that they would now be less likely to report a sexual assault to the police.

A factor in this reputational demise, the Chief Constable of the Metropolitan Police concedes, is that police officers are rarely policed with the same rigour as the general population. Bad apples are retained, a festering culture of unchecked racism, misogyny, and homophobia resulting in an unceasing flow of scandals and disciplinary hearings across England and Wales. Unfortunately, not only is every policing region firefighting the same reputational conflagration, but many, including Dyfed Powys, appear to be dousing paraffin on the blaze.

Just as British police forces should be doubly focused on rebuilding trust and restoring relationships with law-abiding residents, directives from an increasingly extreme Home Office look to expand policies that destroy trust and pander only to the most swivel-eyed conservative constituents. Confrontational strategies that are particularly out of step with a young, progressive, and relatively low-crime mid-Wales.

While Plaid Cymru wish to distance Welsh policing from such Westminster interference by fully devolving the Criminal Justice System, Plaid Cymru’s only Police and Crime Commissioner has chosen a path in unity with Suella Braverman’s authoritarian mindset. At a time when few around here have been clamouring for more aggressive policing, latest figures show a bewildering 240% increase in the use of stop and search.

Dafydd Llywelyn, the elected Plaid Cymru Police and Crime Commissioner (PCC) for Dyfed Powys states that he is “confident and has been reassured by the Chief Constable (CC) that despite the increase, Dyfed-Powys Police does exercise its powers responsibly, ethically, and proportionally”. That this increase “demonstrates an unwavering dedication to maintaining public safety through proactive approaches”.

Proactive policing is a welcome strategy that seeks to deter crime before it occurs. Positive but difficult examples of proactive policing would be more patrols in crime hotspots, improved community relations, or educating and encouraging residents in domestic crime prevention. Unfortunately, thousands of unjustified stops and searches offer a considerably less strenuous route towards improving Proactive Policing statistics, but the strategy has little effect on crime, is self-defeating in any ambition to restore plunging trust, and is clearly counterproductive in dealing with local scourges of Class A drugs and domestic violence. This is because domestic violence and drug dealing are crimes seldom solved by stopping random people in the street. These serious and persistent offences are most often solved with intelligence flowing from the public, from trusted police-community relationships.

PCC Dafydd Llywelyn claims that his Quality Assurance Panel and Independent Advisory Group safeguard the public by reviewing stop and search. But a quick flip through these panels’ findings shows that whatever the procedural misstep identified, any and all explanations offered by the police will be meekly greeted with, ‘oh that’s okay then’. Meaningless evaluation so long as these panels all but always conclude that, irrespective of lapses in procedure, every police intervention is acceptable. And so, providing effective cover for misconduct and a fast track to public distrust.

No mention from the PCC that such a staggering increase in stop and search is only possible with further movement away from approved police guidelines. No mention from the PCC that thousands more law-abiding residents are coming under unjustifiable police scrutiny. Last year, almost seven thousand individuals across Dyfed Powys, overwhelmingly young and white, needlessly waylaid, too often left fuming and feeling humiliated. Many thousands of upstanding Welshmen feeling increasingly distanced from an apparently hostile police force. Hostile to interloping drug dealers, yes please. Hostile for our law-abiding young folk, no thank you.

And mid-Wales policing has become more antagonistic. A decade ago, every few days, patrolling officers would pop in for coffee and chats. Building relationships. Upon reopening, though still welcome, I discovered a shift in culture. Not hostile enough, I suppose. Too woke, maybe. Too few Bobbies on the beat? More scowling required? A backwards step in community policing, whatever the reason.

On the upside, a few months back, the PCC and Dyfed-Powys Police Chief Constable, Dr Richard Lewis, were willing to sit down to discuss stop and search, racial disparity, and community relations. A meeting that concluded with an obvious question; what are they going to do to improve a situation all agreed was unacceptable? The Chief Constable’s suggestion: “let me and Dafydd have the time to have a really important conversation. We need a bit of time to digest.”

Good to their word, a few weeks later Dafydd and Richard returned. I wondered what the results of their deliberations would be. What change is coming?  But they arrived with no solutions. They determined that everything the police do is correct. They asked if I had any suggestions of my own. I do. The very same suggestions I venture at every opportunity. That stop and search should never be used as a fishing expedition. That when stop and search powers are used (and they should be used), police officers rebuild public trust by working within approved guidelines regarding genuine suspicion.

Sadly, it appears that warm words from the PCC regarding meaningful engagement and being held to account amount to nothing. Lip service is evidently fine. But please do not expect actual action. The PCC has sought out reasons to conveniently discontinue these conversations. Conveniently, because the key lever in rebuilding trust, to reduce aggressive and counter-productive policing, is the one lever that the PCC and CC are enthusiastically pushing in the wrong direction.

Former police officer Dafydd Llywelyn requires reminding by his sponsors within Plaid Cymru that the Police and Crime Commissioner’s role is not to act as defender of police misconduct, it is to be the voice of the people. Reminded that he was elected on a Plaid Cymru ticket to hold his Chief Constable and the Dyfed-Powys Police Force to account. Time that Dafydd and Richard better characterise Plaid Cymru’s progressive policing manifesto and resist being champions of the Conservative right.

Boomers on Motorbikes 🤬

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 30 August 2023)

I have been incapacitated. Forced to recognise evolutionary adaptations involved with walking upright, combined with growing older and slumping over desks, are not conducive to a healthy neck. All summer long, considerable “discomfort” (as crippling agony is commonly referred to within medical circles) has thwarted any attempt at writing. Bugger. Unable to wave my arms about, unable to bang fists on hard surfaces, unable to take to this page to challenge local and national nonsense has been a frustration for me (if a relief for others).

            But at last, I am on the mend, back in my writing chair, bursting with angst and ideas, perched at an ergonomically improved workstation (plus taking regular movement breaks). But where to begin? Perhaps a reassuring report of a rapid and positive journey through our understaffed NHS system? Sorely tempted to lambast our Editor’s philistine intervention into poetry (he is wrong, his poem was rubbish, and worst of all, he refuses to publish my masterpiece). Or maybe a timely attack on the increasingly Gotham City instincts of Dyfed-Powys policing; intrusive and counterproductive overreach that has resulted in an astonishing 240% year-on-year upsurge in stop and search. Then there are those pesky Tories, still maintaining a virtue of being on the wrong side of everything. Or Welsh Labour’s mealy-mouthed reaction to incoming service cuts due to a £900m shortfall in budget – ‘not our fault, Guv’. But for now, trifling concerns must wait. Priorities being priorities, I feel I must recommence with an overdue rage against an increasing blight of Boomers on motorbikes.

            As a dyed-in-the-wool liberal, I subscribe to politics in which we are each permitted to engage with our mid-life crises in whatever way we choose. However pathetic, testosterone deficient, and try-hard it may appear, if senior citizens wish to squeeze themselves into leather catsuits, fantasise about what their life has come to, and peacock through the Welsh countryside in a prepubescent look-at-me manner, then that is up to them. However, what does invite challenge is gatherings of largely white, largely middle-class Boomers being privileged in ways other groups and demographics can only dream of.

            For instance, while cars, caravans, dogs, skateboards, and beer cans are warned away from the Aberystwyth seafront, the most annoying of all, elderly dickheads on ear-splitting motorbikes, continue to be embraced with incomprehensible enthusiasm. I mean, which utter moron thought it a good idea to site a motorcycle posing park right next to an operational bandstand? The mismatch is immediately clear to any creature with ears:

            A bright and looked-forward-to Sunday morning in early summer, for I am not likely to miss the promise of an American gospel choir performance on the Prom. A performance accompanied by unnecessarily over-revving Harley Davidsons. If relentless and competitive interruption were not enough, there suddenly appears an overweight, leather-clad pensioner striding belligerently through the audience, uninterested in quality music, intimidating folk out of his path, and eventually getting up in my face. I won’t step aside, I’m like that, and do well to send the wannabe bully on his way with crystal-clear Anglo-Saxon instructions ringing in his ears rather than toss his old bones in the sea. But I am frowning, and my uplifted mood has vanished.

            If any other noisy, occasionally antisocial demographic, be it young people, eco-protesters, or God forbid, Black people, deigned to descend in such numbers upon Aberystwyth, I suspect they would be greeted at the Dyfed-Powys border by a formidable, confrontational, and interventionist police presence. If any other group spent the weekend seeking out the cheapest beer, binge drinking like adolescents (Irie’s has never sold more Red Stripe lager than the last scooter influx), then jumping Sunday morning onto boy-racer machines ill-designed for Welsh roads, I predict that there would be cops everywhere. The number of stops, searches, tyre checks, paperwork checks, drug tests and breathalysers undertaken would likely satisfy even our eager Police and Crime Commissioner’s and enthusiastic Chief Constable’s insatiable appetite for uplifting their Proactive Policing statistics. And all without the strain of tackling more persistent criminality, such as domestic violence, the distribution of Class A drugs, and our region’s disappointing reoffending rate.

            Of this massive intensification in regional stop and search, I am dubious that a proportionate number, if any, of these stops were inflicted on hungover white Boomers on bikes. While reports of fatal traffic accidents involving motorcycles on mid-Wales roads appear with terrifying frequency, reports of charges and convictions of this privileged cohort are all but non-existent. Who could sensibly dispute that noisy bikers on a drinking spree would be treated entirely differently were they overwhelmingly Black, or in their teens?

            I know not every Boomer on a bike is a complete arse. Despite full-throated disclosure of my entirely justified assessment that old-man bikers are an all-around pain, several genial groups of senior enthusiasts adopted our bar for their recent weekend away. I can confirm that many, perhaps most, though having patently obvious insecurity issues, are perfectly lovely human beings. We now display a Ceredigion Scooter Club sticker, proudly, though a touch ironically. But however adorable the members of Clwb Sgwter are, and however profitable they might be (not very), my new scooter pals should not be permitted to block the pavements, pollute town centre air, and dominate the prom just because they buy a few cheap beers. Motorcyclists should be neither privileged nor protected. Like everyone else, they should be made to leave their ridiculous toys on the edge of town and catch the bus in. Perhaps use the opportunity to get a few thousand steps under those voluminous leather belts. At our age, believe me, daily exercise is far more important than schoolboy posing.

While on the subject of two wheels; more people on bicycles, good thing; more bikes flying along town-centre pavements, bad thing. Let us not wait for a flurry of serious accidents before clearing the pavements of fast-moving traffic. And one more avoidable catastrophe for less thoughtful cyclists to consider; blinding oncoming traffic with one of those increasingly popular supernova-like front lamps really is Darwin-Award-winning foolishness. Just saying.

Rubbish Relationships (for I am an expert)

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 22 March 2023)

I am rubbish at relationships. Ask anyone. Perform poorly in any form of double act. Enjoy spending time doing my own thing, unbothered, with little in the way of considerations and responsibilities. Too self-interested and self-absorbed for a companion.

            My primary issue with partnerships is a ‘need to compromise’; a permanent drag on independent action that the intimately entwined preach as worthwhile. Travel further together, they say. Fly faster alone, say I. And perhaps this severe allergy to compromise is why I foresee nothing but frustration and misery for Plaid Cymru in their determination to slip further into bed with Welsh Labour.

            For years, Plaid Cymru have been flirting with Welsh Labour. Most recently, a 2021 agreement saw the two parties cooperating on a range of policies. But their ‘Cooperation Agreement’ was never a coalition deal, more like a no-strings-attached extra-marital affair insomuch as Plaid supports Welsh Labour’s budget through the Senedd yet Plaid has no ministers in the government. I have been involved in several relationships like this; benefiting only one party, dysfunctional, doomed to failure.

            Plaid Cymru leader Adam Price seeks to explain the lopsided romance in terms of coalition being ‘better’ than opposition. Price argues, “when it’s not possible in one step to become the leading party, then it’s still better to be in government as a partner with others than the alternative, which is to have no influence at all in opposition”. Price also claims a coalition with Welsh Labour will broaden the base of support in all parts of Wales and suggests getting into government as the pragmatic means to independent ends: “to reach independence Plaid Cymru needs to be in government – hopefully leading the government – but certainly to be part of government because that’s how we can build the bridge towards an independent Wales.”

            But Price’s promises ignore Keir Starmer’s conference speech in North Wales last week, during which the Labour leader asserted the role of Welsh Labour was to keep Welsh independence “at bay”. So, although the raison d’etre of Plaid Cymru is to work towards independence, Plaid have convinced themselves their future lies in coalition with an anti-independence Welsh Labour. Rather than highlight the shortcomings of ideological opponents, better to park their core goal and pursue the chance for minor ministerial appointments.

            How brief the memory. Does Plaid not remember how quickly Liberal Democrat support haemorrhaged after going into coalition with ideological opponents? How collective cabinet responsibility forced the Lib Dems to abandon their principles, most notably student tuition fees? How the Lib Dems bit their collective lips, collectively backed, then collectively bore responsibility for unpopular Tory policies. How they lost all credibility in the unedifying process. How fast ‘I agree with Nick’ turned into political irrelevance? The reason for the Lib Dem’s spectacular failure was that they compromised. The obvious lessons for Plaid Cymru? 1: stick to principles. 2: there are no shortcuts to lasting power. 3: raise your political game.

            Which is why it is concerning that Price also views coalition as a potential arrangement for Labour to stay away from Plaid seats at the next election. Price suggests that if Welsh Labour want to stop the Tories “then don’t send your leader and minibuses of canvassers to Ceredigion and Caernarfon like last time when they can be more usefully employed elsewhere”. A deeply lazy notion that infers Price views coalition as an opportunity for Plaid to reduce political choice in mid-Wales, and perhaps elsewhere. For is Price also implying that Plaid in coalition might not challenge Welsh Labour’s 30 Senedd and 21 Westminster seats?

            Coalition not only invites political oblivion for Plaid Cymru but also mutes Plaid MSs’ and MPs’ criticism of Welsh Labour. It is unwise to diss the in-laws. But stifled debate is hardly what is needed right now. As such a vote for Plaid Cymru, at best, will become a vote for the status quo. A vote for a backroom deal to diminish our democracy. A vote to entrench Welsh Labour and drag our nation further away from any plausible path towards Welsh independence. But Mr Price, we would vote Labour if this were what we wanted.

            Plaid Cymru’s bright idea to hook up with Welsh Labour smacks of short-term desperation. Smacks of crowbarring an unsuitable partner into one’s life in fear of becoming extraneous. Desperation perhaps intensified by persistent reports of a toxic culture and misconduct within the party that has resulted in Price telling Plaid’s conference delegates that the party “must do better”.

            But the prospect of a Plaid coalition with Welsh Labour is not ‘doing better’ for the constituents of Wales. Embracing a minority role in government is a strategy that concedes defeat before the electoral battle has even begun. A strategy that results in a question for those who cannot see the point of voting for a Westminster-facing Welsh Labour – what is the point of voting for a Labour-supporting Plaid Cymru?

            In the past I have voted for Plaid Cymru and would again like to row in behind Plaid (or something similar) and be represented by an uncompromising, Wales-focused, left-leaning political party. A party with the integrity to stick to core principles and the ambition to win power by embracing the daunting challenge of becoming more politically persuasive.

‘1984’, again.

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 8 March 2023)

Here we go again. China recast as an evil empire for spawning Covid, deploying spy balloons, arming the Russians, collecting our data from CCTV systems and TikTok – violators of Human Rights. Radically different geopolitics than being discussed in the South of France, March 1994:

            Although we have our feet up in the quiet hotel bar and each sip on excellent malt whisky, the late Sir Edward Heath is not in the best of moods; the former Prime Minister’s flight delayed five hours when the Provisional IRA began lobbing homemade mortars onto the runway at Heathrow. My younger self is not soothing his understandably irritable disposition. “That’s not right,” I interrupt.

            Sir Edward knits great eyebrows, continues explaining why authoritarianism in China is acceptable due to their huge population. Our kind of democracy just couldn’t work there, he says.

            “Nothing to do with it,” say I. My idealistic position, the Tiananmen Square massacre fresh in my mind, that we should aspire and agitate for all people to enjoy the Human Rights taken for granted in the West. Not for the first time Sir Edward calls my thinking naive.

            Sir Edward should know, visiting China on 30 occasions and developing consequential friendships with Chinese leaders including Mao Zedong, Zhou Enlai and Deng Xiaoping. His personal efforts heralding a quarter-century ‘golden era’ of relations between China and Britain. Boosting trade and economic opportunities, military cooperation, high-level state visits; far more in the British interest than grumbling about Chinese Human Rights violations. A moneymaking golden era demands such trifles are to be politely understated or expediently ignored, as per Sir Edward.

            Colour me sceptical, for I am old enough to have absorbed George Orwell’s 1984 when the narrative was entirely set in an uncertain future. Decades later, Orwell’s commentary appears more prophetic documentary than dystopian fiction, featuring a still recognisable world of constantly rotating, two-against-one alliances between three superpowers:

Winston well knew, it was only four years since Oceania had been at war with Eastasia and in alliance with Eurasia. […] Officially the change of partners had never happened. Oceania was at war with Eurasia: therefore Oceania had always been at war with Eurasia. The enemy of the moment always represented absolute evil.

George Orwell 1984

            It is hard not to see current realigning between NATO, Russia, and China again mimicking Orwell’s dystopia. Hard not to relate to the collective amnesia we are expected to develop during such geopolitical shifts. For I remember not so long ago being informed that China along with Russia were our buddies. I remember Putin sipping tea with Queen Elizabeth, Xi supping ale with David Cameron. I remember that the diminished threat, the implausibility of tank battles raging again across modern Europe, were the primary (and now defunct) reasons presented to the British public for hollowing out our Armed Forces.

            But our “golden” relationship with China became increasingly fractious after the UK began supporting Hong Kong’s democracy movements. Worsened further after the UK Parliament’s Defence Committee released a report that suggested the removal of all Huawei equipment from UK 5G networks, over security concerns. Worse still after the UK imposed sanctions on senior Chinese officials involved with the mass detention of Uighur Muslims and worse again after MPs passed a motion declaring the mass detention a genocide. Terminally, at the end of last year, Prime Minister Rishi Sunak used his first major foreign policy speech to highlight the creeping authoritarianism of Xi Jinping’s government and the threat China poses to British values. “The so-called ‘golden era’ is over,” Sunak said, “along with the naive idea that trade would lead to social and political reform.” So, Oceania, Eurasia, and Eastasia have again shifted alliances just as George Orwell depicted. Xi and Putin best friends. Enmity towards the United States and its NATO allies far more important than any other differences.

            So, what has all this to do with mid-Wales? Well, Welsh public bodies using Chinese-made CCTV cameras are being asked to scrap their systems after increasing concerns that Chinese firms could be required to co-operate with Beijing’s security services. UK CCTV Commissioner Fraser Sampson (bet you didn’t know we had one of those) asserts the use of Chinese surveillance systems is a “real risk on every corner”. Accordingly, the UK government has instructed departments to stop installing Chinese surveillance systems on sensitive sites.

            So, what to do with those Chinese CCTV systems bought by the Welsh government and by three of four Welsh police forces? (we also have Chinese-made CCTV in The Vaults. Whoops). Well, the Welsh government plans changing their system, but not immediately, intends using Chinese-made CCTV for the foreseeable future (same in The Vaults, for the current system works well and would be expensive to immediately replace). Any outright ban, the Welsh government say, would need to be implemented at a UK level. Likewise, in defending a Dyfed-Powys Police spend of £1.5m on Chinese CCTV, the force’s Police and Crime Commissioner Dafydd Llywelyn said while he understood concerns, it would be hard to “immediately de-establish” the system. But “we have got significant safeguards in place in relation to our CCTV system,” he reassures.

            I am relieved to note Wales not quite so knee-jerky in its reaction to this latest round of shifts in global alliances. For had we really cared about security or ethical procurement we would not have installed Chinese systems in the first place (The Vaults included). So, calling for immediate removal appears an expensive geopolitical gesture, a day late, a dollar short – dollars our strained public purse has already parted with. And then, from whom should we buy future CCTV systems? The Americans? Saudis? Pursuing “trade and investment opportunities” the Welsh Government have become quite pally with Qatar right now, apparently. But procuring from ‘allies’ with dodgy Human Rights records is what got us in this mess in the first place, isn’t it?

            Contrary to Sir Edward’s impression, it is not naive to object to Human Rights rolled out to dehumanise an enemy yet ignored or explained away whenever economically or politically inconvenient. That the death penalty in the United States hardly gets a mention. Nor Guantanamo Bay. Little protest against Turkey’s treatment of its Kurdish minorities, nor its suppression of media. Reluctant to undermine ‘golden’ relationships with Human Rights violators such as Saudi Arabia, the UAE, or Israel, and in turn discount our own inhumane treatment of refugees and asylum-seekers.

            It is incredibly naive to swallow the notion that we and our allies never abuse Human Rights or to pretend that it only matters when bitter enemies do terrible things. It is also naive, as Rishi Sunak recently noted, to imagine that increased trade and presenting an appeasing silence will lead to social and political reform. Therefore, not being naive is why we should remain subscribed to Orwell’s 1984 theme that as global politics shift and shift again, the pursuit of universal Human Rights, home and away, with friend and foe, must remain fierce, consistent, and entirely incorruptible.

Be Careful What You Wish For…

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 22 February 2023)

At one time or another, almost every contributor to the Cambrian News has opined on the woeful transport links to and around mid-Wales. I certainly have. Probably will again so long as it remains quicker for my Suffolk-based Mother to reach Barbados than venture to Aberystwyth.

Welsh Labour’s Mark Drakeford seeks to explain our situation in suggesting that “easy routes between north and south have never been possible in Wales”. Channelling the simplistic thinking of his inner Donald Trump, the First Minister elaborates, “in the end it’s just the nature of our geography. We’re a mountainous country. I sometimes read it said that if you flattened Wales out, we’d be maybe as big as France. It’s just that all our land is hilly up and down.”

What a crock. Swathes of France are vastly more mountainous than Wales. As are almost the entirety of Austria, Switzerland, and Liechtenstein. Alpine regions each boasting a famously efficient and integrated public transport system.

What Drakeford actually means is, ‘we have never bothered and have now run out of money, so almost all major roadbuilding and road-safety projects in Wales are scrapped (er… over environmental concerns)’. That the Welsh government is yet to figure out how it will fund the critical-for-mid-Wales bus industry beyond the summer.

So, Drakeford’s stoic message is that we manage; “we have an effective train service, you can drive – it’s not the most straightforward of routes. But we’re used to it, it’s what we’ve dealt with for 2,000 years.”

Incorrect Mr Drakeford. There exists no ‘effective train service’ here, and on top of this, essential bus routes are being rapidly surrendered. This is not what you in Cardiff deal with; this is what we alone in mid-Wales deal with. And it should be noted that 2,000 years ago, the Romans completed a road from Chester to Caernarfon, along with many others, forming a network and investing more in improving transport links around these parts than Welsh Labour currently think feasible or fitting.

Mr Drakeford’s resigned utterings do not radiate the can-do attitude one hopes for in political leadership but are statements that illustrate precisely where mid-Wales sits among the priorities of Westminster-led politics. The reality that mid-Wales is caught in the unenviable paradox of not enough population to command better transport, but unable to maintain this small population without improved transport links. For there seems little doubt that long-term neglect of mid-Wales transport infrastructure contributes to the recently reported falling population of Ceredigion. Neglect set to continue with investment in roads curtailed without putting in place any plans for improving our public transport system. Those who remain here, assumed to be content staying home.

It appears that we in mid-Wales are expected to be mollified with the recent transport review’s laughable conclusion that expense lavished on the Shrewsbury-Birmingham train line will have knock-on benefits for mid-Wales. Apparently, we should be comforted by such measly crumbs. We should accept that unless one lives within a couple dozen miles of town, there is no such thing as a day trip to Aber. No such thing as a night out in Aber. A few miles inland and, “we’d love to come, but we can’t get home.”

So, our patch of Wales is set to remain cut off and hard to get around. With island-style intimacy and community. No one is ever ‘just passing through’ Aberystwyth so we will continue to be spared the prospect of surprise visitors; ‘we were in Liverpool, going to Cardiff on the express train, so here we are’ or ‘with Aber only an hour from Birmingham along that new amazing M44, we thought we’d drop by’.

Imagine Aberystwyth accessible for the day-tripper, becoming like Southend and Bognor Regis. Half a million Brummies moaning about the beach every bank holiday. That would change things. Think of the acres of new carparks we would need with an M470 running from Conwy to Cardiff. Great for business, certainly. Not so great for a peaceful writerly resident. Worse still, better transport links would rid me of my go-to excuse for rarely visiting anyone – too far, mate. I would need to develop an alternative convincing reason for not calling on friends and relatives in England. It is undiplomatic to explain I much prefer being here.

We can pine for new motorways, better roads, and faster rail links, but they won’t happen anytime soon, and as stated, be careful what you wish for. I would miss the isolation, miss our sense of independence. We are a neglected outback. Hard to reach, characterises our society, our business, and this is often why we live here. So perhaps, for now, we should embrace the reality of our wider dislocation and focus attention on us.

For us, re-establishing rural connectivity within mid-Wales is key for our dispersed society and struggling local businesses. So, eight shiny new electric buses running between Aberystwyth and Carmarthen are welcome replacements. But not nearly enough. How about hourly between Aberystwyth and Newtown, Aberaeron, Machynlleth, and other nearby towns business-boosting day-trippers might actually come from?  Buses are underused around here only because the service is so skeletal as to be useless. Invest in a regular, affordable, and dependable local public transport network and residents will use it. Weekend night bus anyone?

Accounts and Accountability

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 8 February 2023)

Over the past couple of days, I have been toiling with the unenviable task of swapping business accounting packages. This involved making copies of financial reports, checking for double entries, installing data feeds from the bank. Reconciling everything. This is no fun, just work that needs to be done. For carelessness in accounting attracts the eye of HM’s authorities, which can be extremely costly, and if wilful, may result in criminal sanctions. At this point it is tempting to digress into the downfall of the erstwhile Chancellor of the Exchequer, Nadhim Zahawi, to reflect again on a Tory politician found lacking in moral compass. However, focus remains local.

            The new accounting package is finely tuned and informative, yet according to this software, I am about to dip into deficit. But lucky for me, the algorithms can only crunch predictably subdued January sales figures. There is no drop-down menu to indicate that the students went away, of dry January, or that almost everyone is low on funds because of Christmas and a cold snap. February will be better.

            However, if costs do continue to increase, and if revenue did remain static, unlike our council tax and police precept, I could not compel Aberystwyth residents to increase their Rum consumption by 7.7%. Like any other business, The Vaults would either have to cut operating costs, increase borrowing, or dip into reserves (if fortunate enough to have any). The same economic reality as for all under-pressure households.

            My question is why Ceredigion Council did not deploy some of their multi-million-pound reserves to cover part of this year’s exceptional shortfall and to protect already struggling Ceredigion residents from three-figure rises in council tax bills? Going forward, how about cutting costs by downsizing? The council might think to part with some their enormous property portfolio. Start by disposing of those empty assets that currently drain under-pressure financial resources. The council have invited suggestions for what to do with the little-used Canolfan Rheidol site. Sell it.

            Furthermore, at a time when the Police and Crime Commissioner announces his 7.7% increase in Police Precept, Dyfed Powys can little afford for police officers to continue wasting their time and in doing so squandering our valuable resources. And stopping thousands of law-abiding citizens is a wilful waste of money when well over three-quarters of intercepted individuals are sent on their less-than-merry way. Thousands of officer-hours spent unsettling residents; time spent on paperwork (when required); wasted time and money that would be better spent on the effective intelligence-led policing our vast region requires.

            When operating within their own guidelines, Stop and Search is undoubtedly a useful policing tool. But with reputations of police forces across the UK plunging, current over-enthusiastic deployment results not only in wasting the valuable time of police officers, of the public, but also further undermines reputations at a time when public trust in British policing has never been lower.

            This unrelenting misuse of Stop and Search by the Dyfed-Powys Police Force will be solved when officers are commanded to operate within existing guidelines. Police guidelines we should all to be aware of, and police officers regularly reminded:

            Stops should not be carried out on:

the smell of drugs alone.physical appearance [not even Black people!] – unless matching a description of a suspect.being a known criminal or known drug user.being in an area of high crime and drug usage.

            These important parameters make clear the police are not permitted, on a hunch, or even a whiff of weed, to stop or go fishing in the pockets and bags of our menfolk. That being Black, or a young man, or out late, or around South Beach, are never in themselves sufficient grounds for unwelcome police scrutiny. That unless our behaviour is genuinely suspicious, where we go, what we do, and when we do it, is no business of any well-intentioned police officer.

            Following existing guidelines and therefore acting only with ‘genuine suspicion’, one might expect the vast majority of thousands of police stops in the region to result in operational ‘success’. On the contrary, Police reporting consistently shows that Dyfed-Powys police officers almost always get it wrong when guessing who is and who is not a ‘genuine suspect’. What a colossal waste of our valuable police precept and obviously operationally counterproductive when it comes to alienating law-abiding men who otherwise may have provided valuable community relationships for Dyfed-Powys Police.

            This can all change with two simple directives from our Chief Constable. Firstly, that Dyfed-Powys Police Officers follow existing police guidelines, that ‘genuine suspicion’ means an officer is confident that any stopped individual is committing a crime or is about to commit a crime. Secondly, that getting this judgement almost always wrong is poor policing and will no longer be acceptable; no longer encouraged by the Chief Constable to provide a low-effort boost to the Force’s proactive policing statistics, as now appears the case.

An Aside

With my sharpest and most acerbic pencil poised, it was much to my chagrin that I found myself agreeing with the two fundamental arguments of Conservative Association Chairman, Patrick Loxdale’s first article (Right Field – 25/01/23). Baffled, I read it again – to make sure.

            Ignoring the dubious deployment of more complicated mathematics (I suspect we may need to get used to that), Patrick, in successfully counting to two, identifies the important point that unlike most modern democracies, legislation passed by the Senedd does so without the critical scrutiny of a second chamber. Where we diverge in ideology is that from my side of the political fence, this democratic deficit adds another good reason for Welsh independence, a process during which a second chamber, likely an elected chamber, would almost certainly be created.

            Patrick is also right to highlight the possibility of nefarious motivations and the potential undemocratic consequences of increasing the number of elected members to the Senedd. If the answer is more MSs, probably best to revisit the question. And if such an increase intends to provide ‘jobs for the boys’, or attempts to benefit one particular political party, such expensive expansion should be resisted. Especially now. But in the longer term, we need not fear grand schemes for party entrenchment. We the people are fickle. In a heartbeat, established political parties all but disappear – I refer to the Liberal Democrats. New political ideas rapidly emerge and immediately control the agenda – I refer to UKIP. For we Brits are open to hearty and persuasive rhetoric. We like a fresh voice with an appealing new take. No party gets to lock themselves in, however much they might try. Study recent-history books, perhaps the next General Election, to be reminded that politicians who take our electorate for granted do so at their political peril.

A Bartender’s Observations on Alcohol

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 25 January 2023)

Our students are back. I have missed them. For a zesty perk to life in The Vaults is being twice-weekly surrounded by my own children’s excitable generation. Life-affirming young people bursting with new perspectives. Fresh food for my middle-aged mind. Interested and interesting. Sharing the inspiring and confusing outlook of having one’s whole life ahead. Reaffirming that experience is no substitute for youth, yet still eager to hear from the old school.

            Such salad days are prime times for experimentation, for new and challenging experiences, one of which is striking up an independent relationship with alcohol. For being legally permitted to buy alcohol has been long regarded as a significant threshold and its unsupervised consumption viewed as a seductive indicator of maturity – an initiation that all too often does not go well. For most of us can remember an alcoholic beverage that we overindulged in during this phase: half bottle of peach schnapps – flashbacks? – I can barely make my way down Lidl’s soft fruit aisle without stomach heaving.

            So, for a grizzled bartender, how should Britain’s drug of choice be approached? Personally, I am an intentional and practised lightweight when it comes to drinking. A brain quickly turning to mush is not my idea of good company nor time well spent. Regretting more that I say (and do) is detrimental for my overly grandiose sense of self. I am also likely to be sick and any hint of hangover will completely wipe out at least the following day. For these reasons I view getting plastered as undesirable self-harm – the correct relationship with alcohol for an individual who makes a living behind a bar.

            From my side of the bar, I get to watch how alcohol acts as a depressant, an effective tranquiliser that neither makes over-consumers more fascinating nor feel any better about themselves. And although the freeing and fortifying effects of getting a touch oiled can generate fun free-flowing chat, and although there is little that compares with the taste of spirits aged in the tropics for a couple of decades, stepping around Aberystwyth, day or night, illustrates the easy habit, the destructive mission that binge-drinking can almost instantly become.

            As if needing a reminder, occasionally is found a young and slumped head (overindulged elsewhere, I hasten to add), a formative mind in turmoil, crying in confusion, conveying the likely-to-be-ignored lesson that alcohol does not drown sorrows but stokes miserable fires. A reminder that we could save ourselves a lot of pain were we to be persuaded that alcoholic drinks (like relationships) are best partaken when already feeling good about ourselves. Cup of tea? Glass of water? A taxi to take you home?

            And we also understand that over the medium and longer term, alcohol abuse is a soul- and life-sapping elixir of inaction and ill-health. A fast-track to frustration, dissatisfaction, to unleashing those insecurities that vent as disfunction, crime and violence. Nothing new here. A substance that if recently discovered would be banned in an instant for its addictive qualities and antisocial consequences.

            This is why selling alcohol (both on- and off-sales) bears legal responsibilities to oversee and to avert harm caused by the abuse of alcohol. A duty to keep a firm paternal eye on the youngsters, and a less preachy but fraternal eye out for those old enough to know better. A duty of care that a night tour of Aberystwyth (and any student town, I suppose) suggests might be taken a touch more seriously. An obligation to guide patrons towards associating alcohol with fun and pleasure, to protect from disorientation and pain. To dissuade from downing the unpalatable, bingeing upon the cheap as unnecessary but costly signalling to adulthood, bingeing out of habit, or as ineffective anaesthetic for trouble and misery. For I do not want my peach schnapps type of irretrievable aversion-therapy experience associated with drinking rum. Bad for business. Patrons encouraged to enjoy the socialising vibe. Seduced by tasty drink, not by drinking. Better for business. Better for everyone.

            And anyway, conversations across the bar confirm easy society remains the primary motivation for stepping inside our bars and pubs. We are not here to get messed up, but to partake in the British drinking culture: people, friends, and community. We are here for the chat, the bants, an away-from-home, tongue-loosening environment in which to relax and ally. For grown-up therapy.

            In this way, our night life remains a vital social tradition, a positive experience never more important than for a transitioning age-group that endured lockdown during foundational years, important years that for most of us involved roaming, raving, and continuously making friends. So get out, young and old. Get about. Society is good for us. Just remember to take it easy when it comes to the booze.

Never do Nothing

(Published  Cambrian News  (print editions) 11 January 2023)

I listen to timeworn audiobooks while I sleep. The uncomplicated and familiar narratives of Sherlock Holmes, Dick Barton, and Bertie Wooster are never enough to keep me awake, yet mask much of the random noise generated from a busy town corner. Nevertheless, last night I was roused by frightful screaming.

            Sitting up, holding breath, another dreadful cry chills my soul. Never do nothing, I remind myself. But where is the unholy quarrel? In the street, a room next door, or in the building opposite? Slowly forming an action plan, I anticipate the next scream. I will look from the window, I conclude – might need to go outside – ring the police perhaps – never do nothing. Another scream. And then another. Suddenly identifiable as the ear-splitting wailing of a clearly irritated insomniac herring gull. It is 2am. The bird population don’t normally make such a distressing din at this time of night. I take my overdue breath, roll over, fall back to sleep.

            Maybe attacks on the women of mid Wales pray on my mind after learning that domestic violence is the number one issue facing the Dyfed-Powys Police Force. Office for National Statistics figures show 5,600 domestic abuse-related crimes were recorded by Dyfed-Powys Police in the year to March – overwhelmingly male on female – fifteen every day – the highest number since records began. Realising that the blue light whizzing by is increasing likely to be hurtling towards a report of domestic violence.

            Increasing domestic violence should be the business of all residents. So had last night’s screaming been human in origin, I would have acted, eventually. Never do nothing. On the other hand, no one wants to call out the cops for seagulls. Yet, as serious as measuring our immediate response to genuine altercations, is examining what our society is doing, or not doing, that results in these unacceptable levels of violence.

            Alcohol often appears high up the list of contributing factors. Undoubtably a catalyst, but not a cause, and certainly no excuse. For however much alcohol consumed, most men are not struggling to control pent-up aggression towards women. To be clear, violence against women is binary behaviour; a man is either willing to physically assault women and girls, or not.

            Though clearly not the only factors, I view male insecurity alongside a misguided sense of entitlement as the twin peaks of the persistent brand of toxic masculinity that results in violence against women and girls. My generation witnessed the erosion of God-given rights, granite-like cultures of men presiding over their wives and children, slowly and reluctantly chiselled away. Entitlements to wolf-whistle, to slap and pinch, to harass, stalk, and rape, only recently rescinded. But progress won has been a disowning process that has frightened and confused those characters in need of the psychological reinforcement gifted by hand-me-down traditions of male superiority.

            For casual and permissive misogyny was the air breathed during my generation’s formative decades, a stifling but stubborn culture that served no gender well. An era during which mainstream entertainment projected Alpha males from John Wayne to Sean Connery regularly slapping about their ‘hysterical girls’, to be rewarded with thanks or a kiss. Cringeworthy (now criminal) fantasies, nowadays often consumed and celebrated as some form of instructional evidence for the overcompensating Alan Partridge generation. A generation from which the domineering and confrontational behaviour of Alan Sugar, Simon Cowell, Jeremy Clarkson, Piers Morgan (and many other desperately vainglorious Boomers), rather than considered Neanderthal and shameful, is still presented as immune to social consequence, as admirable leadership, and how masculine power is acceptably dispensed. What misleading, demeaning, and corrupting examples to offer and accept.

            For those pups younger than I, pumping weights and punching someone senseless is still (as always) viewed as an unambiguous signal to testicular fortitude. Though nothing new, the shaven-chest-beating extreme misogyny of Andrew Tate is today’s version of antisocial conduct mis-sold as status enhancing to boys struggling for self-esteem.

            Tate (currently detained in a Romanian jail while human trafficking and rape investigations are conducted) is a former kickboxer who harvested infamy after being removed from TV show Big Brother when video emerged depicting him attacking a woman with a belt. Tate gained further notoriety online, portraying to impressionable boys and insecure young men a brand of swaggering masculinity that suggests men should be feared, women submissive, his ethos somehow gifted by God. Tate was eventually banned from many social media platforms after announcing that women should bear responsibility for being assaulted. Yet disturbingly, this is a ban being reviewed and rescinded, just as teachers across Wales report a rise in boys quoting Tate and his pseudo-masculine like. The latest digital-age mutations of the self-gratifying but bankrupt themes of Morgan, Clarkson, of the creators of Bond and Barton.

            The reality most men understand is that any character reliant on bullying or physically domineering behaviour possesses a complete misunderstanding of what it has always meant to be a man of status. The timeless and unflinching masculinity of care and protection, of patronisation and fraternisation.

            As such, domestic violence is a male issue, a conversation to be acknowledged and more widely undertaken by men. And, in reducing domestic violence, in demonstrating what real men look like, it is time to decisively concede misogyny is always our business to highlight and confront. The bottom line is that in the face of abuse and domestic violence, genuine Alpha males will never do nothing.