I am SO stuffed

Andrew Randomly Notes the 10 Commandments (gaah! can't say that: it has hideously judeo-christian overtones) the unbreakable laws of our new social contract. (via DK as usual, who got it from Chris at Strange Stuff)

Given that your "over-stuffed leather armchair" of a Pedant-General is:

• white
• male
• heterosexual (I'm sorry, but the Guardian would hold this as relevant)
• married

we can safely assume that I am basically stuffed. I might as well give up now.

But then, seeing as I am also:

• from a landed-gentry family
• public school educated
• an Oxbridge graduate
• licenced to keep and use a shotgun
  
• a practising Anglican communicant
  
• lately a Commissioned Officer in Her Majesty's Armed Forces
  
• paying to educate my children privately
• right-libertarian in outlook
  

I have got nothing to lose really.....

The Relentless March of Reason

Hurrah, hurrah, and Thrice Hurrah!

First this and then this. Extraordinary! Is there no limit to the reasonableness of our Nu-Labour apparatchiks?

It is almost enough to make one believe that members of the Labour party are in fact almost human.

Breast-Feeding and Jury Service

You can always count on your hidebound and old-fashioned Pedant-General sticking his nose in where it is least expected and even less welcome. This time, it is to the thorny topic of breast-feeding. [maybe "thorny" isn't quite the word I am looking for, most especially in this context. Ouch.]

I have been mulling over this topic for some time - haven't we all? - but have been prompted to publish by this little quip from Mr Seat. His, otherwise laudable, suggestion that breast-feeding mothers should move to Scotland - Lord alone knows our birthrate is miserable - misses one crucial point: Jury Service. Keen-eyed followers of this will, of course, have noted that a court room is not

"a place where children are"

and is therefore not covered by the bill.

Oddly enough, I have a very personal angle on this. You will have noted that the youngest master P-G is still but a babe-in-arms, albeit an absolutely huge one. So it was with a degree of horror that Lady P-G received a letter from HM's Court Service, informing her that she was in the frame for jury service. There was a certain amount of consternation in the grace and favour apartment, but this was overcome and a letter duly dispatched to the clerk of the Sheriff Court, explaining that - whilst Lady P-G understood the gravity of her duty - the youngest master Pedant-General is still at his mother's breast and is therefore part of the bargain, unless the clerk might agree to a deferral: if the clerk wished to avail himself of Lady P-G's services in the capacity of Juror now, he would have to put up with a certain degree of mewling and puking as well - an "all or nothing" deal, possibly even "double or quits" if you will. We suspected that his presence (youngest Master P-G, that is, not the clerk of the court) might not be conducive to the orderly conduct of the criminal justice system, endearing though he undoubtedly is. (Again, youngest Master P-G, that is, not the clerk of the court - I have no comment as to the endearingness or otherwise of the clerk).

To his immense credit, the clerk agreed (to the deferral, not the endearingness of the youngest master P-G: he appeared to have no comment on that). Let us not have complaints on the inflexibility of this nation's civil servants.

Compare and Contrast

How interesting. How absolutely fascinating.

I was fulsome in my praise for Neil Harding in my post this morning largely because of the valuable service rendered in the pursuit of reason:

He has conducted the discussions in such a manner as to allow the issues to be thrashed out properly. This is sterling work and, sadly, a rare occurence in politics. What is even more notable and infinitely precious is that he has faced up to the force of argument arrayed against him and chosen the path of reason over dogma. He has been convinced to change his mind.

Complex issues require complex arguments, detailed analysis and, most of all, time. It takes time properly to argue an issue - the ID card battle chez Harding took almost a month to reach a conclusion - time which is not (and cannot be) afforded in any MSM outlet. Furthermore, complex arguments and detailed analysis tend not to play to the lowest common denominator and are hardly ratings winners. So it is therefore unremarkable that political debate in the MSM is too constrained to allow for anything but cheap shots.

On this note, you don't get much cheaper than the behaviour of the Immigration Minister, Mr McNulty, which prompted this letter from the author of the LSE's report on the cost of implementing ID cards:

Sir - What is going on with this so-called "debate" on ID cards? While appearing on the BBC's Hardtalk last week, immigration minister Tony McNulty claimed that, at a recent meeting in the House of Lords, the LSE had "admitted" that its estimate of the cost of ID cards was "hopelessly wrong". We made no such statement, and no one who attended that meeting could possibly make that inference.

This is typical of how debate over ID cards has degenerated into grand-standing and misrepresentation. With some minor adjustments, we stand by the figures we published in our June report. The reason our calculations differ from those of the Home Office is that we focused on the cost of implementing the scheme across government, while the Home Office estimated merely its own departmental costs.

Where to begin? Who is to blame? How can the race to the bottom be halted? It's enough to make you wish for a benign dictatorship...

Neil Harding Repents

The eponymous, nay egregious, Mr Worstall brings a bumper crop in this week's Britblog round-up.

Most notable is his first entry: Neil Harding, whom I referred to earlier as a moron, has been brought back from the dark side. This is a major victory for the blogosphere and one in which I am proud to have played my part, humble and tangential though we all agree it to have been.

However, we must all reflect on the man that is Neil Harding. He has argued his case extensively and forcefully. This has been an extraordinarily tough battle covering an enormous chunk of his output - and I dread to think how much of his time - for the best part of a month. The discussion threads in each one of these posts are equally extensive. What is noticeable is that whilst the debate has been heated - both sides having heavily entrenched positions - it has remained civil throughout. The ball was played, not the man.

P-G Prescription:
I disagree, very very deeply, with Neil's position on a great number of important topics, but where previously I dismissed him as a moron I must now repent. Neil has shown himself to be principled but fair. He has conducted the discussions in such a manner as to allow the issues to be thrashed out properly. This is sterling work and, sadly, a rare occurence in politics. What is even more notable and infinitely precious is that he has faced up to the force of argument arrayed against him and chosen the path of reason over dogma. He has been convinced to change his mind.

This requires a commitment to reason as the arbiter of men and very substantial guts on his part. This sort of behaviour is worthy of the deepest respect.

Neil's objections are primarily technical in nature - that the technology will not work - rather than principled - that ID cards change the fundamental relationship between the citizen and the state. We therefore still have some work to bring him fully into the fold.



(HT: Longrider, who has been active in the discussions chez Harding also)

Peel's Principles

A correspondent in the top letter to the Torygraph today reminds us all of Sir Robert Peel's Nine Points of Policing.

I reproduce them here, in full, for two reasons. Firstly, Sir Robert's prose is of superlative quality. No mention of "diversity" or "partnership" or any other meaningless flim-flam. Secondly, they were correct at the time and - tellingly - remain true today. I have added a little emphasis for good measure.

Sir Robert Peel's Nine Points of Policing

1. The basic mission for which the police exist is to prevent crime and disorder.
2. The ability of the police to perform their duties is dependent upon public approval of police actions.
3. Police must secure the willing co-operation of the public in voluntary observance of the law to be able to secure and maintain the respect of the public.
4. The degree of co-operation of the public that can be secured diminishes proportionately to the necessity of the use of physical force.
5. Police seek and preserve public favour not by catering to public opinion but by constantly demonstrating absolute impartial service to the law.
6. Police use physical force to the extent necessary to secure observance of the law or to restore order only when the exercise of persuasion, advice and warning is found to be insufficient.
7. Police, at all times, should maintain a relationship with the public that gives reality to the historic tradition that the police are the public and the public are the police; the police being only members of the public who are paid to give full-time attention to duties which are incumbent on every citizen in the interests of community welfare and existence.
8. Police should always direct their action strictly towards their functions and never appear to usurp the powers of the judiciary.
9. The test of police efficiency is the absence of crime and disorder, not the visible evidence of police action in dealing with it.

Would Sir Robert, I wonder, approve of this sort of behaviour? Or this? Or this?
But I suspect this gentleman dreams wistfully of the day when he might be able to apply them.

Unreliable Evidence

This lucky gentleman extrapolates from his unprotected tomato crop - which I can only assume to be an unalloyed benefit - directly to the perils of global warming.

In turn, I shall extrapolate from the outside temperature measurement (provided by my lovely toasty warm car) of 2 degrees below freezing to suggest that all residents of Southern England are morons.

We Are Completely Surrounded By Morons

You might well expect your moustachioed, hidebound and vigorously reactionary Pedant-General to use the photograph above as evidence of the assertion in the title to this post. But, as is so often the case, you would be wrong.

I submit that these three gentlemen are noble, fine, worthy citizens acting in an entirely rational and sensible manner, though I grant you that we must note the caveat that two are New Zealanders and the third American.

My gripe is with a much more pernicious group: the leader writers of the Times. Consider this outpouring of effluent. Whether or not the Old Farts have indeed "dropped a clanger" by awarding the Rugby World Cup to a country that punches so far above its weight in terms of population and where over half the adult male population plays the game regularly (as opposed to one which doesn't), the following statement is extraordinary:

"The haka has increasingly become a tool of intimidation."

What do they expect? It's a WAR DANCE.

How right they are

Deogolwulf would be SO proud:


You are 'regularly metric verse'. This can take
many forms, including heroic couplets, blank
verse, and other iambic pentameters, for
example. It has not been used much since the
nineteenth century; modern poets tend to prefer
rhyme without meter, or even poetry with
neither rhyme nor meter.

You appreciate the beautiful things in life--the
joy of music, the color of leaves falling, the
rhythm of a heartbeat. You see life itself as
a series of little poems. The result (or is it
the cause?) is that you are pensive and often
melancholy. You enjoy the company of other
people, but they find you unexcitable and
depressing. Your problem is that regularly
metric verse has been obsolete for a long time.


What obsolete skill are you?
brought to you by Quizilla

Curriculum Crapulissimus

Your self-critical yet earnestly pedagogical Pedant-General is nothing if not a "follower-in-the-footsteps-of-Socrates". I know enough about the ugly, messy, hilarious and infuriating business of rearing children to know that I know really very little indeed.

To demonstrate just how little I do know, I shall make a wild assertion, entirely unsupported by clinical trials or any credible scientific methodology:

The process of bringing up children to be worthy, law-abiding and productive citizens shares one remarkable similarity with the efficient operation of a market ecomony: It is not possible to gather sufficient information to allow it to be planned from the centre.

To paraphase a popular slogan untimely ripped from a televisual advertisement, whilst I may be entirely ignorant on these matters, I do know a man who isn't. But then, she isn't a man either.

Enter the simply inestimable Dr Miriam Stoppard, who rounds on the absurbd plan for an infant curriculum with vigour, precision and decades of experience in the field. As usual, all I can do here is to implore to read her article in full, then write to your MP (or other such freeloading bandit or loser as may claim to represent your best interests whilst frittering away your hard-earned cash on taxis and fact-finding trips to the Caribbean).

I can do one more thing though: I can demonstrate just exactly what a crock of sh*te [forgive me - this topic always makes me cross] is the idea that "the man in Whitehall would know what is best" for my children.

The idea that there can be an infant curriculum is just so obviously laughable as to be, well, obviously laughable. Every child is unique. Each develops in his own time and in his own way, with his own character, with his own likes and dislikes, his own strengths and weaknesses. Worse still, the mark of a healthy, normal child - the irrefutable evidence of a parent that is doing a "good job" - is the degree to which the child appears to be an individual - i.e. that resists attempts at box-ticking.

Consider, if you feel up to it, the three young masters Pedant-General. They come from the same stock [aspertions to the contrary will be met by stinging writs from a pretty vicious lawyer wot I kno - what are you saying about my wife?]. They have been raised by the same people and under the same conditions of faded glory, noble rot that sort of thing. In short, they share both nature and nurture, yet they could not be more different.

The Eldest Master Pedant-General:

• walked at 16 months;
  
• talked at 16 months;
  
• had conquered the word "Paediatrician" [which I can still barely spell. Ninme, before you get excited, you spell it wrong in the US] at 18 months;
  
• wants to be a scientist;
  
• probably will be an artist of some sort (see here and here, bearing in mind that he is only 5 and a half);
  
• indulges his own interests regardless of what his peers might think, yet;
  
• is incredibly easily led astray and joins into small child mob bad behaviour unless kept on a very short leash;
  
• can't kick or catch a ball to save his life;
  
• frankly isn't remotely interested in being able to kick or catch a ball;
  
• talks loudly and incessantly, particularly in the morning;
  
• has no time for jigsaws;
  
• cannot be prised from a book - indeed I have had a letter published in the Times on the topic of his fondest for books;
  
• never follows instructions when building lego: he builds what he wants to build;
  
• can discern - correctly - citrine from quartz, malachite from tourmaline and a Tornado from an F14 Tomcat;
• goes about in a sort of amiable daze, deeply consumed with his own thoughts.
  

By contrast, the Middle Master Pedant-General:

• walked at 14 months;
• talked at 18 months;
• wants to be a cowboy or Robin Hood;
  
• currently is a knight and a very chivalrous one at that;
  
• is canny beyond measure - his favourite phrase when caught in the act of some misdemeanour is to bat his eyelids at Lady P-G and say "Mummy, you're so boooful". Those who suggest, scurrilously, that her teeth are Lady P-G's softest part will need to revise their estimation of her on seeing her reaction to this;
  
• has a natural eye for a ball;
  
• loves jigsaws;
  
• doesn't really draw;
  
• climbs anything and everything - he is a regular little spiderman;
• Runs with the pack, but knows how to deflect trouble.
  

The youngest:

• walked just before his first birthday;
• isn't talking yet;
• weighs more than his middle brother and can pin him to the floor if required (He sometimes does so when it isn't strictly actually required, but there we are);
• doubles up as an automatic custard-eating machine - you never know when you might need one;
• might actually be a Pterosaur, rather than a small boy. It is possible that this might discount him from the analysis on the basis that he is an unreliable data point, but hey, who said this was a scientific survey.

In short, I defy anyone to come up with a meaningful and useful checklist that would capture , codify and compare the qualities of these three children, yet they are all fantastic in their own way. Even at the earliest stages of their lives, when you have to beat off the Health Visitors with a big stick to stop them measuring and weighing and charting, such an approach is fruitless. In my experience, there are two types of Health Visitors: ones that measure and ones that don't. A measuring Health Visitor frets when junior fails to gain his statutorily decreed 0.348kg or whatever it is that week. By contrast, a good Health Visitor peers round the door, looks at a happy gurgling thing chewing a rattle and declares:

There is nothing wrong with your child. Need anything else?

There is only one box that needs ticking: It would be labelled:

Is this child happy, healthy and displaying an interest in the world around? Or not?

We don't need a government inspectorate to answer that and no government inspectorate is going to be able to create the conditions for it to be answered satisfactorily if such conditions do not exist at the time of inspection. In essence this approach is almost a parody of this ghastly Nu-Lab government. It is about symptoms, not causes. It is about equality of outcome, not opportunity. It is about state control not individual freedom.

What we do need is are parents that are prepared to put in the time, love, effort and commitment - not money, mark you - to encourage their children to be the best that they can be. If that condition is not met, no amount of nannying and no amount of taxpayers' money is likely to improve the lot of the hapless child. Why is this not blindingly obvious?

All Hail the Kirk Elder!

On the day that the European Court Of Auditors declined, for
the eleventh time, to give the EU's accounts a clean bill of health, we rely on the Kirk Elder to tell us how these things are really run.

Freedom of Information - An Alternative View

My extensive network of informers tells me that many of you (You know who you are. So do I...) believe that your secretive and sneaky Pedant-General is keeping files on you all. Paranoia being a useful state in which to keep the citizenry, I am certainly not going to give you the satisfaction of confirming your worst nightmares. Suffice to say the your furtive Pedant-General mutters darkly every time the words "Freedom of Information" waft towards his "shell-like".

With this in mind, consider this missive received via the electric pigeon at the Grace and Favour Apartment this morning from a chum of the P-G:

All,

With only 6 weeks of family time left in Sydney as bub three grows big and strong, our thoughts are already shifting to the place that is currently 30 degrees colder [Russia that is - keep up at the back there] .... where, it turns out, everyone's tax records are for sale again.

For the last couple of years, this database has included everyone's personal, financial and tax details - [Chum's Name deleted to protect the innocent. Oh come on - who am I kidding: he's in it up to neck...], Khordorkovsky and Putin included.... and it is the reason a lot of expats only give their office address to state bodies. This from the tax office that currently demands that all personal tax payments come from a personal account in the name of the taxpayer - your company can't pay your tax for you.

Hope you are well

******************************************************************************************************************
Black Marketeers Peddle '04 Taxpayer Database

Moscow Times, November 7th

By Anastasiya Lebedev
Staff Writer
The black market has a hot new item for sale -- a database listing Moscow taxpayers' 2004 incomes along with contact information, Vedomosti reported on Tuesday. Available both online and in disc form for as little as 1,400 rubles ($49), the database contains last year's tax data leaked from the Federal Tax Service, the report said. It is the third such list of sensitive information to go on sale since November 2004.

Uncovered at a kiosk at Savyolovsky market in Moscow by reporters -- who were able to verify their own incomes -- the appearance of the newest, 2004 version of the database highlights a lack of official action in dealing with the issue. Federal Tax Service spokeswoman Yelena Tolgskaya was unable to confirm a leak, adding she was confident the service's information protection system was secure. But an outside party should handle any investigation into the matter, she said.

Law firm Pepeliaev, Goltsblat & Partners advises complaints be directed to the Prosecutor General's Office, said Yelena Ovcharova, a senior lawyer at the firm, confirming the disclosure of tax information is a criminal offense in Russia.The prosecutor's office would have to take action if people registered their complaints, leading possibly to a criminal investigation and charges against the tax officials behind the leak, she said. "The problem is that people frequently just give up and don't complain," Ovcharova said.

The Prosecutor General's Office could not immediately provide information on how often it received such complaints. A spokeswoman for the Interior Ministry, which is in charge of the police force, said ministry officials were too busy with preparations for this Thursday's Police Day holiday to comment.

aaahahahahahahaha!

Food and Sunlight

That frightfully nice chap Squander Two poses a suitably multicultural conundrum.

What do Muslims [in the Arctic Circle] do when they have to fast during the hours of daylight and the sun doesn't set for two months?

Your well-travelled, -read and -worn Pedant-General, noted polymath that he is, naturally has the answer.

I know the answer because a chum of mine did an "Officer Under Training" tour scrubbing nuts [you know what those Navy types are like] on one of HM's ships whilst it trundled round the Arctic. One of his fellow trainees was a floppy on loan from the R Saudi Navy. After a few days it was noticed that his performance had degraded somewhat (though I am also led to believe that this was a pretty remarkable feat in itself...) and it was eventually discovered that, indeed, nary a morcel has passed his lips since crossing the Arctic Circle.

Frantic signals followed, as the Captain was loathe to have a death on his watch, even if it would have raised the ship's average IQ and operational effectiveness fairly substantially. The Chaplain of the Fleet duly conversed with the uber-Mullah of the R Saudi Navy. A fatwa followed that decreed that the sun could be considered to be below the horizon between 9pm and 3am, during which time the fast could be broken.

So that would appear to be the answer. As with all these things, however, it does beg a number of follow up questions, such as:

1. What happens to the Muslim population of Scotland when Ramadan falls over the summer? Even in Glasgow - where most Scots Muslims reside - the longest day affords only a few hours of darkness and, as we know, you can't prepare food until after dark. Do they all get a special dispensation? If not, why not?
   
2. How will the inhabitants of Longyearbyen get along when they are part of the the "Ummah"? Or are the ambitions of the Caliphate tempered by a dislike of Arctic regions?
3. When Allah dictated his requirements for the way-the-world-ought-to-be to Mohammed, why didn't he include a little bit about life in the Polar Regions? After all, they were inhabited at the time.
   

P-G Prescription:
The Floppy gets 10/10 for devotion to the cause, but he has a good crack at winning himself a Darwin Award for his trouble. Muppet.

P-G Sets the Pace

No sooner do I alert the world to the definitive answer to the nonsense being peddled about Intelligent Design, than I find that the REALLY big guns have taken up the story.

Well, well, well: P-G sets the pace.

One Year On: E.J.Thribb on Arafat

Whoever said that Islam takes itself too seriously badly needs to read this.

Superb.

ID KOed

I came across Popper's concept of Falsifiability the other day when I was looking for something erudite on the balance between freedom and security.

It reappears rather marvellously here. A textbook application: Sir Karl would have been proud.

Now, let's have no more of this nonsense.

Libby for Defence Minister

I remarked earlier that Libby Purves might make a suitable candidate for...

SUPREME RULER OF THE UNIVERSE

This was, of course, a little flippant. I suspect, however, that she would make a very passable SoS for Defence.

That is all.

Law and Order - An alternative Solution

Following the publication of DK's manifesto, I am delighted to provide a little addendum to my policies published as part as my brief as the Home Secretary to the benign dictator.

I seem to recall muttering darkly on this very topic a little while ago.

Hang the Prosecuting Attorney.

Now that's a policy I can endorse....

Oh my life....

Your nervous and jumpy Pedant-General has plenty to be going on with.

• There are morons with which to contend.
• I have Lady P-G's never-ending plans for extragant shows of bonhomie to fight off.
• I have an unenviably brimming "in-tray". (I must confess, though, that Her Majesty's Office of Pedantry in unencumbered by deluded dunderheads trying to foist "Management Information Systems" or other such modern fiddle-faddle upon it and hence remains one of the most productive and efficient agencies of the state.)
• The arrival of the third young master Pedant-General caused Lady P-G to declare fondly:

  "two children just seemed so... manageable"

  She is correct. Unfortunately for the Gentleman Usher of the Cat'o'Nine Tails - who is tasked with keeping your dashing and elegant Pedant-General in top top order - the mewling and puking doesn't just happen in the nurse's arms.

In short, I have my plate full.

So pity your overstretched and desperately poorly remunerated Pedant-General when an old school chum introduces him to this.

Gaaah! Treasure Hunts and fancy electronic gadgetry in one all-consuming pastime.

The DK Manifesto

... is now posted.

Look on, ye mighty, and despair...

Enough Good Eggs to make a Decent Omelette

Blogrolling. That's what we need around here. Especially when it is raining outside. Strengthens the character something marvellous.

What we can't have is dithering. Shilly-shallying is not what we want. Nor, in an ideal world, would we want any Stumbling or Mumbling. That would not do. Not in the least.

However, the world - at least when I last received a report from a rather soggy Gentleman Usher of the Cat'o'Nine Tails from his vantage point in the OP atop the grace and favour apartment - is not ideal. So we will have to make do with the "snotty nosed little provincial oik" as he is. To confound things, he is rather good. Good enough, certainly, to be listed as an egg of that quality. Besides, he sends me a pleasing amount of traffic and, "hit-hound" and "page-view junky" that your grasping and miserly Pedant-General is, that is always a good thing.

At the other end of the scale, we have this stout gentleman. His arrival in the dreich end of the Scottish Blogosphere has been heralded already by a bewildering array of the great and the frankly terrifying.

Quite what the the Senior Citizen from Peebles would make of this lot I dread to think. We, the crusty old editorial team at "Infinitives Unsplit", doubt that

we, the crack young staff of “The Hatemonger’s Quarterly,”

actually number more than one and hence cannot really be plonked under the "Group Blogs" heading. However, hailing as it does from the other side of the pond, we further doubt that such staff would be acquainted with the "Royal" use of the first person plural pronoun. Ergo, they must be sinister. I wouldn't put it past them to have plans to conquer the world and subject us all to as much hatemongering as we can collectively shake a stick at.

So that's settled.

Impeccable Lineage

The great Tim Worstall directs us all to this.

The diabolical DK does so also. He very charitably - if mildly inexplicably - lists me as an "influence", whatever that might be.

Of course, regular readers of this little ennui of mine know well that your affable, aristocratic and august Pedant-General is of the most impeccable lineage.

With a father of this calibre, what else would you expect?

Some Light Relief

Following on from the nonsense about ID cards below, I think we all need some light relief.

Thankfully, your jovial and "Hail-Fellow-Well-Met" Pedant-General has just the very thing: A small conundrum for you to solve:

Picture the scene:

1. Your precise misdemeanour is not known, but suffice to say that the bastards have caught you for it.
2. You are miles from nowhere and there is no help in sight. In short, you are on your own. (don't worry - there isn't a bacon sandwich involved in any of this).
3. The aforementioned bastards have tied you up in stout hessian rope and have hung you (upside down) from a tree.
4. To compound matters, a very hungry lion has discovered you and waits below, licking his lips in anticipation.
5. To compound matters even further, the bastards have placed a lighted candle below the rope that holds you out of reach of the lion, so that, in due course, the rope will burn through and that will be you.
   

At this stage, you would be permitted - even expected - to say "απορεω".
Pictorially, your situation is as shown below:



So, the question is: what do you do?

I will allow you a moment to consider your options. You may then click here to reveal the answer.

No peeking!