#55 SHOULDA LEARNED THE LANGUAGE...

"Shoulda learned the language before they came over here...": one of those popular vehicles of prejudice which rolled off the public tongue in the 60s and 70s before political correctness made people a little more careful and covert. Not necessarily from 6 year-olds though, which I experienced in an infant classroom in 1968.The fact that the young offender knew nothing about race and immigration, and was probably just echoing a parental comment at the breakfast table was not comforting: he had reproduced the remark with all the hostile feeling of the original. It was one of the strands which, for me, grew a 50 year preoccupation with racism and its effects. Another was an overheard conversation in a school staffroom in which it became clear that a teacher in a multiracial school was under the impression that West Indians came from western India, and was curious why they were 'different to the rest'. Ignorance is not always bliss. Neither is it the principal cause of prejudice and racism, as many believed; so that 'education' is a necessary but not sufficient solution. That lecture must wait for another day...

I have often quoted Conor Cruise O'Brien's sanguine words: "Anti-Semitism is a light sleeper". Equally, wider racism has been waking up all over the Western world, all over again, in the last few years. If anyone thinks that UKIP, Brexitism, and Trumpery does not have a basis in racism, resonates with it in the population, and so reinforces it, then they are very naïve. For 'a concern with immigration', read 'excluding further non-white people'. For 'culture clash', 'property values', 'religious values', 'already over-crowded schools' etc., read 'we don't really like you very much', Britain for the British, America First, and France about to declare itself with a resounding vote for pulling up the drawbridge against migrants. When we say, 'we don't like you', we don't mean you, of course, you're different, but as a group, you must admit they're very....you know..

I have to declare an interest, as the grandson of Lithuanian Jewish immigrants at the dawn of the 20th century, fleeing persecution, wanting a better life (then, as now), in a more welcoming Britain, which did not require them to live in a jungle in Calais, or risk their lives and liberty stowing away in trucks and boats and planes. They spoke virtually no English, but a generation later had contributed a doctor, two pharmacists and two teachers to British society. Whose jobs did they take? You don't have to be a Remainer to work out that subtracting 'immigrants' from the national equation, renders large parts of our economy and society unviable, the NHS being the prime example.

Language is always a potential barrier for many migrants, but as English, improbably, becomes the international second language, this is less important. This process has accelerated with the growth of the internet and probably owes more to American influence across the world than the delights of our native tongue. I say 'improbably' because objectively, it's poor choice of international language, it's so hard to learn - because it is so irregular, which means that the learner has to master every individual instance of, say, a particular pronunciation, not just follow a simple rule. How bewildering and defeating must it be to encounter the syllable 'ough'.  It must be very tough (tuff) and rough, although (althow) a moment's thought (thort) will tell you that if you get through (throo) it, and have a thorough (thorerr) grasp of the language you may learn to cough  (coff) when asking the directions to Slough (ow!), or worst of all, Loughborough (I give up). I believe there are one or two others to add to this list, but I can't recapture them right now: if you can, please write them in the comments box at the very end of the post, it's driving me crazy. (I think you mean 'crazier'. Ed)

It follows that anyone who is determined enough to master the language, to actually do so, anyone who loves our country, our countryside* and our culture enough to put themselves through this ordeal, should be granted citizenship. Though you can forget about making it compulsory: imagine how our expats would have felt about being forced to learn native American, Australian, Maori, Hindu, or more recently Spanish, Portuguese and Floridan.  Much better to just conquer the place and make them learn our language. It worked for us. Now we don't have to learn any other languages at all. Olé!

*There is a paper-thin excuse here for reminding you of Stephen Fry's memorable definition of Countryside: 'killing Piers Morgan'









And just in case (no excuses, please) through some oversight, you missed last week's post, I am reproducing 'America' from West Side Story'.  If not the most cogent summary of the immigrants' condition (though it probably is) it is certainly the most dazzlingly enjoyable, by a country mile (no pun intended; but where on earth does it come from?  Ditto 'long chalk?). Poignant and joyous.

Comic Relief has rolled around again. Red Nose Day is Friday  24th March. I usually watch some of it, get to feel a bit guilty about the things I spend money on, money which could be better used by other people, roll over on the sofa, phone in £50 and feel momentarily holier. And then it occurred to me that I had never actually actually raised money for them, and not out of some 'principled' moral stance ("They shouldn't have to come round with the begging bowl, The Government should provide the necessary aid, this let's them partly off the hook"). Fact is, our Government is relatively generous with Aid, but it's still a fraction of the need, so that children suffer and die while others stand on principle. And with the post-Brexit atmosphere thick with hostility to immigrants and foreigners, who knows how many super-patriots will abstain from giving this year?  The British public's generosity in these telethons is remarkable, but the charities need more support than ever this year. It would be good if there could be a decisive swing of the pendulum away from the Little Englanders and back towards the generous inclusive haven we used to be, and supporting this charity towards its best ever total would send out a clear signal that Farage and Co have simply got us wrong. We are not them: we are better than that.

Many years ago I started to fund-raise for the so-called orphanage in Siret, North East Romania, having visited it and found myself in one of the most desperate places on Earth. Some of the children were indeed orphans, but most of them were discards, those children produced in the course of the Ceausescus' bizarre population expansion programme, whose parents had the choice between keeping them and starving, or leaving them at an orphanage, to grow up in total deprivation and squalor, but with a chance of some sort of life. It was a kind of Sophie's Choice.

We did several different kinds of fund-raising, from selling students our lecture notes so they could listen to the lectures instead of frantically scribbling illegibly the whole time - to quiz nights. The quiz nights were a phenomenal success: everyone had a good time, had a little or a lot to drink in a great atmosphere of banter, insult, red-blooded competition, cheating, grassing up, comedy, and much else besides. They were far and away the best social events of the year. Initially they raised a few hundred quid a time, eventually over a grand, all for having a bloody good night out with friends. It was the Comic Relief principle of having fun while raising money. Admittedly, hosting the last one in drag added a certain je ne sais quoi to the evening, but it was an opportunity to indulge I couldn't pass up: all those lovely clothes in my wardrobe that I could only wear at weekends with the blinds down :-).

This is what I'm proposing: you find a venue: school hall, scout hut, pub, restaurant, your front room, local library, hotel, anywhere with a bit of space, and beg for it for free. Someone will say 'yes' for the profit on the drinks or the good publicity. You then register the event with me (via Facebook chat message, or the comments section at the end of the blog, giving me an email address/tel no. which will not be disclosed or sold to anyone. Likewise, I'm not putting my address or email out in full sight of the scammers, either.

I send you a complete QuizNight Kit with questions, answers, answer sheet template, and all the instructions on how to run it successfully, based on 22 years distilled experience of doing it  - and some publicity material to use. This is all free, and I will be scrupulous in ensuring there is no financial gain to me, by covering my own costs and having you send the money direct to Comic Relief, with some kind of tagging so that we know how much we've raised in total. The whole thing is easy, immensely enjoyable and a good but cheap night out.  The quiz itself, come the time, will be on my blog, passworded, and that password will be sent to you shortly before the date of the event you communicate to me.

All you need to do is get a venue and start publicising it. The venue will need to have EITHER a large Flatscreen TV which you can hook up a laptop to, using a cable with an HDMI plug at either end (get one at Maplins, Curry's or any good electrical store); OR a video projector and screen, which a lot of people have these days for home cinema. That's it: except you can embroider the event a bit, with a party afterwards, some performance by a local band, dance troupe, stand-up comedian, make extra money through drinks, food, a raffle, pass round the hat when they've drunk a bit, ally it to another event like a school play or market etc etc.

I'm going to put on two quizzes locally, one the usual type of General Knowledge Quiz, only with all the bells and whistles ('multimedia' with pictures, sounds and music) AND a Football Quiz: you can order either or both from me. The Quizmas Quiz which so many of you tuned into and apparently enjoyed was the pilot experiment for this to happen, to test the delivery system. That's the kind of thing I'm providing, now it's over to you........ Do it now, and make an old man very happy (and many kids).

A bone to the dog is not charity. Charity is the bone shared with the dog, when you are just as hungry as the dog. Jack London

Too many have dispensed with generosity in order to practice charity. Albert Camus

Giving feels good, but it's also good for the bottom line. Charity is a viable growth strategy for a lot of companies.  Blake Mycoskie

Supermarket bagels. It doesn't matter what sell-by date they have on them, they're stale. Not stale in the sense of hard and unbreakable, just hard and rubbery, like a dog's rubber ring or bone. A fresh bagel from a Jewish baker is delicious, soft and light, not un-chewable and threatening Tetanus-like lockjaw. Supermarket bagels are a travesty. There should be a law against them. Some Scholar should turn up a Mosaic Law forbidding the consumption of supermarket bagels. "Thou shalt not consume them, better you should eat nothing: zero, zilch, nada". 

Goldberg was bragging to his boss one day: "You know, I know everyone there Is to know, worth knowing. Just name someone, anyone, and you'll find I know them."  Tired of his boasting, his boss called his bluff: "OK, Goldberg, how about Tom Cruise?"
"Sure, yes Tom and I are old friends, and I can prove it. So Goldberg and his boss fly out to Hollywood and knock on Tom Cruise's door: Tom Cruise opens it and shouts :"Goldberg! Great to see you.. you and your friend come right in and join me for lunch". Although impressed, the boss is still sceptical. He tells him he just got lucky with Tom Cruise. "OK name someone else" says Goldberg!" 
"President Bush

"Yes," Goldberg says, "I know him, let's fly out to Washington."

And off they go. At the White House, Bush spots Goldberg on the tour and motions him and his boss over, saying, "Goldberg, what a surprise, I was just on my way to a meeting, but you and your friend come on in. Let's have a cup of coffee first, and catch up."

Well, the boss is very shaken by now, but still not totally convinced. After they leave the White House grounds, he expresses his doubts and  Goldberg implores him to name someone else"

 "The Pope," his boss replies. "Sure!" says Goldberg. "I've known the Pope a long time." So off they fly to Rome. Goldberg and his boss are assembled with the masses in Vatican Square when Goldberg says, "This will never work. I can't catch the Pope's eye among all these people. Tell you what, I know all the guards so let me just go upstairs and I'll come out on the balcony with the Pope."  And he disappears into the crowd headed toward the Vatican. Sure enough, half an hour later Goldberg emerges with the Pope on the balcony.   But by the time Goldberg returns, he finds that his boss has had a heart attack and is surrounded by paramedics. Working his way to his boss's side, Goldberg asks him, "What happened?"
His boss looks up and says, "I was doing fine until you and the Pope came out on the balcony, and the Japanese tourist next to me asked, "Who's that on the balcony with Goldberg?" 

Some time ago I suggested other people might like to contribute to this blog: art, bits of writing, work in progress, reviews, anything really, that you might like to try out in public. Now that the readership has touched 2000 per week, it represents a platform which may be worth using. While reserving editorial control, and not promising to publish anything automatically, please let me know of any material you would like to share with a wider audience. Contact me via Facebook chat, sending the work as an attachment. Don't be shy. Gwan...

Denial is a very good film. Timothy Spall is at his best, portraying David Irvine, the real life Holocaust-denying, Hitler-sympathising historical researcher and author, who pursues a young American critic through the courts in order to rescue his reputation as an academic historian. She is played by Rachel Weisz, earnestly and emotionally, and nearly successfully, though handicapped by her glamour: some stereotypic notion insists that campaigning American academics are unlikely to be beautiful, though Julia Roberts did well with a similar role in Erin Brokovitch.  Spall manages to be disgusting and somehow almost likeable at times, as you realise that he really believes that the Holocaust was a fabrication and has to turn logical somersaults in order to maintain his beliefs in the face of the evidence. Why? Because he is profoundly anti-Semitic and fascist with any number of connections to the Far Right who regard him as an intellectual champion (though little of this is disclosed in the film). Well worth seeing.