Eurovision. More camp than a Nuremberg Rally - but not as frightening.

You would expect that by Tuesday morning all memory of Saturday night's Eurovision Song Contest would have faded and that few people would even remember who the winner was. Not so it seems and still the debate about bearded ladies, Polish porn and Russian homophobia trundles on. Personally I lost interest when Terry Wogan retired and I don't remember Eurovision ever being more than a Saturday night stay-in for the elderly, skint or just musically unhinged. However for the rest of the Europe it's incredibly important and this strange production that is more camp than an Olympic opening ceremony has the power to expose once again all the old fault lines of a continent. Mind you, I suppose that if we must have nationalism and bad songs it's as well that these two curses  are contained together within   this sequined spectacular. Anyway, forward to the World Cup!

Tally Ho!

I have only once ridden a horse. It was at a not very well supervised 'dude ranch' type set up in France and was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. For all of that I respect the skill of riding and the ability to control a strong and unpredictable animal. Riding to hounds, foxhunting, must be an exciting and satisfying activity and although I have never had the slightest desire to take part myself I can understand why others do and I reckon that the sight of a hunt in full gallop is quite something. There is no doubt about it, hunting on horseback is the preserve of the well off. But then so are a lot of things. I have met very few people of my political persuasion who approve of hunting and many comrades have been appalled that I don't share their condemnation of the hunt. I remain firmly out on a limb when it comes to hunting and just wish that a fraction of the energy spent defending foxes had been spent demanding the repeal of anti-working class legislation. Now we hear that pro-hunting lobby group Vote OK have promised to get the Tory vote out if Cameron will pledge to repeal anti-hunting law. That limb I'm perched on is getting close to breaking point.

Art and Anarchy in the UK.

From Ali Sloper to Tank Girl, from Viz to V For Vendetta there is no more subversive form of art than the comic. Comics Unmasked, the new exhibition at the British Library, is a real treat for fans of comics and the wonderful cast of iconoclastic anti-heroes who have stepped out of their pages from Victorian times to the present day. It's all recorded here in this wonderful exhibition and so too is the effort of the establishment in all it's guises to ban this form of expression. Everyone from Mary Whitehouse to the Communist Party have at one time or another got their knickers in a twist over comics. It's just a shame that the British Library now charge admission for exhibitions. Some of the people who might get the most out of Comics Unmasked will probably be put of by the £9.50 demanded on the door. I note that the British Library have made a big effort to warn parents about all the sex, drugs and rebellion on display. Under 16's parental guidance and all that - no mention of the possible effect of us over 70's getting over excited.

The right to buy for private tenants. You know it makes sense.

It was recently suggested on Ian Bone's blog that The Class War Party should adopt a policy of "Right to Buy" for tenants in the private sector. A cracking proposal I reckon. The right to buy for private tenants and with a 60% subsidy. That should give buy to let landlords something to think about.  Vote Bone. It may not make sense but at least it's a laugh.

Time to take another look at zero hours?

Many years ago Solidarity published a pamphlet simply entitled "The Lump" that attempted to take an unbiased look at the building trade work practise of the same name. I don't remember all of the arguments and never having been employed in the building game am not best qualified to comment but I do know that simply challenging the knee jerk lefty response to casual employment was enough to bring down a cascade of shit onto the head of the author. Perhaps it's time to take a similar look at zero hours contracts especially in view of the latest announcement that JSA claimants may lose benefits if they refuse zero hours employment. There is no doubting that zero hours contracts suit employers and the very fact that it tends to be the most vulnerable workers  in the least organised and worst paid industries that end up with such contract should set alarm bells ringing. But casual work does suit some people and it seems to me, and yes I have done a lot of casual work as it goes, that the trick is to get the best possible deal out of it. All I'm saying is that lefty knee jerk reactions are frequently wrong and that a hard look at the facts, no matter how uncomfortable, is always the best way.

The workers garden.

There is no getting away from it, and events like today's annual plant and seedling sale always bring it home to me, in our neck of the woods allotmenteering is an almost exclusively middle class hobby. Alright, I live in an area that started out pretty middle class and has become increasingly so as property prices have spiralled up, but even that can't account for the fact that where as the chattering classes are beating the gates down to get a plot, the local proles seem to be not interested at all. I know that this is a shocking generalisation and no doubt things are different in other parts of the country but we have hardly any working-class plotholders under 70. Why is this? Of course, at one time keeping an allotment was pretty much the preserve of the working class male and gardening itself was a hobby that cut across class lines. Just as military history tends to be victors history and the history of nations the history of their ruling elite, so it is with something as mundane as a spot of gardening. We know all about what Capability Brown designed for the aristos and who planted what at Sissinghurst but comparatively little has been written about the countless number of ordinary folk who laboured in their spare time in order savour the simple pleasure of growing something. A new book, Gardens Of The British Working Class by Margaret Willes, put this omission right. At a cover price of twenty five quid it might be something to order from the library rather than buy.

St Paul's. I blame the parents.

The paedophilia scandal that is set to engulf St Paul's School will no doubt come as a shock to those parents, the ink still wet on their cheques, who are about to send their little darlings to this supposedly noble institution. The British Public Schools are a law unto themselves being exempt from tax, Ofsted inspection and the wilder aspirations of Gove The Alien. The snobbish creeps who send their offspring to these schools do so in order to secure for them a place at a "good" university, ensure that they talk posh and , most important, make friends with the right sort of people. But there is a price to pay for this and it's paid by some unfortunate children who fall prey to the staff perverts. I blame the parents. If you want to keep your kids away from paedophiles don't encourage them to associate with Catholic priests and the same thing applies to Public Schools.
Our esteemed Chancellor Gideon Osborn is a St Paul's old boy. I wonder if he will be called upon to give evidence at any stage?