The Devil is in the Detail...

-

 

I'm angry, angry, angry. You might well ask, so what's new? Two things, one trivial, one slightly - I'm employing radically ironical understatement, here - less so. In the first instance, I simply have lost my best reading glasses, somewhere between leaving the pub - two drinks only! - and arriving home: this annoys me greatly, but in no way gets near to my ire at the sorry performance of the incumbent administration [UK customers only] regarding the PPE procurement debacle.

His Majesty's Opposition tabled a debate in the house, which was duly handled admirably by them this afternoon, offering the government every opportunity to come clean and open the books surrounding the VIP fast-track procurement process during the early days, weeks and months of the Covid-19 pandemic. No acceptable reply was forthcoming. No explanations, no apologies, not even any real attempt at mitigation was offered: just the usual, bullish bullshit and bluster, trotting out the same crap and partiality that has become the 'normal' in the Tory universe. It was instructive that their number on the government benches was, shall we say, countable on the fingers of one hand...

But, there is one absolute fact - and for once in this weird world of 'alternative facts' and fluid realities, a concrete and incontestable one - that should override all discussion and settle the debate, once and for all. PPE MedPro were fast-tracked their nearly £1/4 billion contracts on the say-so of a peer of the realm who has been subsequently proven to have pecuniary interests in those transactions, before the company was even incorporated. That, my dear reader, is simply, legally, fraud. And no fucker has pointed that one salient fact out: You can, and should, go to prison for that: Baroness Mone et al. are complicit in a financial crime, end of: this is no longer a matter for political debate, but one for the criminal courts. Please, people, just get on with your jobs: we're paying you, after all is said and done.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Of Feedback & Wobbles

-
Image
Many years ago I came up with an analogy for poorly damped feedback loops. The feedback loop that prompted this frankly tart analogy was indeed a horror. Anyone who remembers shame-faced their first attempts at clutch control resulting in the good old kangaroo launch across the lights only to stall in the middle of the crossroads will have some idea of the kind of data transfer lag involved in said system. The analogy I made was that of a large blancmange. Untouched, a model of stasis and eminently stable and predictable; but prod the bugger and the resultant chaotic behaviour needs a very complex physical model and some very decent computing horsepower to predict its outputs, if at all. The system in question was a large and complex audio-visual display at what eventually became 'The Electric Mountain' in Llanberis. We were ultimately contracted to maintain the thing having been witness to and peripherally involved in its installation. Certainly not involved in its des...
Read more

A Time of Connection

-
Image
I was just reflecting on the vacuum of continuity that's left behind when someone dies: that sudden sense of disjoint, of fracture, in one's personal history that takes one completely by surprise at the oddest moments. These pinch-points in memory can often yield some surprising revelations of fact about periods in one's past. One such occurred to me tonight, tending my rather lazy meal of pizza in its journey from shrink-wrap to mouth via the oven. Al's recent demise still catches me out from time to time: the space he left bounded by forty plus years of friendship. But the thing that struck me tonight was just how much change was happening on a personal and social level in the very early years of our acquaintance. Between moving here from Birmingham in September 1980 and our buying our first proper house eighteen months later, all manner of things occurred that would chart the course of our lives to the present day. At around the time of our meeting Alan & Irene [...
Read more

Sister Ray

-
Image
Ray Keats - aka Ann Key - local artist & family friend, died this morning. She'd been ill for some years, but never let it get in the way of her work or of tending to the massive network of friends, colleagues and fans she had accumulated over the decades. Her house on the High Street of Rachub, just below where we live - a former cockle factory(!) - bought many years ago when she and her late husband Ronald moved here from Manchester to set up home in Yr Achub, is currently still home to her paintings and drawings, and the front window displays her work, including the last drawing she made in hospital, just days before she died. Her good friend Colin has been a diamond in her latter years, looking out for her and just being there when she needed him. She will be much missed by this tiny community of ageing bohemians up here in the hills, but suffice it to say, George, her cat, will be well looked after now she's gone.
Read more