Next week there may be some trouble. I wanted to try and spin some sentences as a preemptive strike against an inevitable media backlash.  I don’t think I’ll win many over, I just wanted to get in there first.  And maybe plant a few seeds for thought.

Three months ago I cycled down to the London Stock Exchange to watch what I has assumed would be nine blokes in balaclavas fighting the police to get a girl guide rig down.  I was greeted by one the largest displays of civil disobedience I have ever seen.

I went along armed with my camera, a packed lunch incase of kettling and a rucksack crammed with cynicism.  I left 12 hours later with a curious sense of disbelief at the uprising I had witnessed.  It was like nothing I had ever seen.

I am sure most of you have watched the battle between my support, my sarcasm, my admiration, my intrigue and the complete loss of my social life to the Occupy movement.

As I watched site after site (there are currently four) bloom, burst, explode with enthusiasm, implode with politics, argue over the tiny things and never fail to pull together over the big things; I watched microcosms form and gel. The place had me fascinated.  

Four tiny world’s of humanity at the extreme, were flourishing.  It has been like life on fast forward.  I have seen people laughing, crying, shouting, dancing, I have seen people learn how to talk and learn how to listen, I have seen people fall in love, I have seen people fall out of love, I have seen people lose their kids due to their association with the camp,  I have seen people get their kids back due to their association with the camp.  I have seen art, I have heard lectures, I have heard some of the most ridiculous ideas I have ever heard in my life and I have heard some of the most inspiring ideas I may ever hear.  And I found my hope.

We are living in times when marching, letter writing, petition signing seem to be a tolerated tradition as opposed to methods of effective change.  Even one of the greatest tools of the worker, a general strike, is heralded as an inconvenience as opposed to the people seizing their rights.  It had been a long time since I felt I had seen anything that really made a difference.

Yet over the past three months I have heard and seen people so dedicated to trying to make a difference that they are wiling to sleep the winter months on concrete in the heart of the city they are battling.  It has turned a few square miles of central London into a village, where you know people when you walk down the street, you can pop in for a cuppa or a curry and most importantly nearly any hour of any day, you can engage in political discourse with someone who has something to teach you.

And it has been a tsunami of education.  From dance classes to choral arrangements, from cooking classes to conspiracy theories, from a free university to a kitchen that was feeding hundreds every night, from classical actors to pop stars, from the Occupied Times to Occupy Records, from lay preachers to window cleaners, from agitators to meditators - this hub is fit to burst with ideas of people just trying their damnedest to make a difference and live the change they want to see.  

Yes there have been times when you have to separate the weed from the chat, but isn’t that all part of life and all it’s complexities too?  I’ve yet to meet anyone who can tell me that drink and drugs were never a problem in London prior to the camps being set up.  Occupy got critisised from the outside for alcohol problems and encouraging the homeless.  I sat on the inside and listened to people ask questions about a society that lead to these issues in the first place.

Much as people have tried to dismiss the Occupy movement as being too fluffy around the edges with it’s message and too gritty for the public at it’s core, it’s achievements beacon.  The Occupy movement have started dialogues the world over about a system we are living in which makes the richest richer and the rest of us lose the very pillars of a society that people fought for us to access.  These conversations have been on the front pages of the national and international press, on the lips of passers by and in hushed conversations by office water coolers for months now.  A murmur that this isn’t good enough.  That the few having enough, isn’t enough.  A murmur that is growing into a rumble.

The strongest fault I can find with Occupy is that it has arrived too soon.  That rumble that is growing is the sound of malcontent.  Over the next six months, as more people lose their jobs, their houses and their sense of being able to provide for their families, I suspect there are going to be a lot of people jig-sawing “Oh, that is what they were on about.”.

I am not-so-classic city sort with a grown up job, grown up debt and I’m possibly the world’s worst CEO.  I cried when the court ruled in favour of The City of London and against OccupyLSX this week.  

On Wednesday night I sat at the top of the steps of St Paul’s in the spot where I had stood in amazement three months ago.  And that was before I had any idea how incredibly all consuming this tented city of inspiration would evolve.  As I sat there I tried to piece together some of the incredible scenes I have seen, heard, witnessed, diffused, sparked and absorbed over the past 96 days.

A homeless lady called Shamrock stood up at the General Assembly meeting that evening and spoke the crowd: “I have been homeless for years.  And I cannot remember a time before now, when I have been treated with such respect, warmth and encouragement.  I wanted to say thank you all for being so kind.” with that her voice started to crack, she started to cry and just about managed “And I just don’t want you to go”.

I cried that day, not because I expected different from the court, but because I am going to miss having somewhere I know I can find such incredible intense inspiration.  Even though I believe this is the merely first draft in a gale of change, I really am going to miss it.

I feel like I have just witnessed something I hope future generations will learn about as part of our vibrant social history.  What an incredible honour it has been.  

If the evictions turn out to be another tale of the bobbies vs the hippies with a couple of classic photos of a few people kicking off, it would be amazing if you could try and initiate a few dialogues about what an incredible journey this has been so far, and how natural it is for people to chose to defend somewhere they have come to feel is both home and family.

To everyone who has camped out, acted out, cooked out, given a talk, listened, witnessed, visited, cleaned, decorated, emailed, tweeted, started conversations, taken the time to think about any of this - and for taking the time to read this - to all of you, my deepest thanks.

See you at the next round.

#OccupyGratitude

**So this is massively untidy. I am sure there should be a neat way of doing it but those that care won’t mind and those mind won’t care.  Maybe I will make all the photos line up some time. Or maybe I’ll be doing something much more exciting with my time**

Each photo is placed above a link to the full album set.

Enjoy.

London

PS

Want to see own some of my favourite prints? Search @HeardinLondon on ebay.  Yes I hate this flogging stuff bit, but we’ve all got to fund our silliness somehow and I’d be an eejit not to mention it.

These are some photos I would have liked to have shown my mum. 

I hope you have enjoyed them instead.

May your 2012 be filled with dreams exceeded.

@HeardinLondon x

Mum 1947 - 2011

PS Mum would kill me if I didn’t tell you that you can buy some of these as prints or mini photo books by searching @HeardinLondon on ebay

No matter what you think of the Occupy movement, the idea of cleaning up an old building that has been disused for seven years and turning into a free arts space, education and community centre is hard to fault.  Especially when that building happens to belong to a bank.

Last Friday some people from the Occupy London camps entered an old disused building through an open window that belongs to UBS.  What? I hear you exclaim, UBS who have been involved in massive tax evasion controversy in America?  The same UBS that allowed a rogue trader to slip through the net with an estimated $2 billion?  Not UBS who stung mortgage borrowers for up to 67% interest?  The alleged bank of choice for Mr Bin Laden?  Not the same UBS that many people say bank-rolled Saddam?  Shockingly, it’s the very same UBS.

What could be a more perfect antithesis of the government’s slash and burn policies, than to rehouse the projects for the people which are being desecrated inside a bank?

After a week of watching lefties run around like Challenge Anneka with dreadlocks, their achievements have been nothing short of brilliant.  I have seen people cleaning windows at 7am on a Sunday morning, I have sat in meetings in the dark until the electricity was officially registered then nothing was being stolen, I have seen (unionised) plumbers check the building to see which taps are safe for drinking water, I have seen a first aid rota being set up, I have seen a recycling scheme put in place that is more comprehensive than most councils.

And that is before you start looking at the building itself.  They have workshop rooms, a cinema, a film studio, an editorial room for the newspaper, a kitchen, a library, and inter-faith prayer room, an arts and crafts room; and they are trying to set up and clean and make safe at least one new room every day.

In one week they have a programme of lectures from university scholars through to city traders and MP’s, they have workshops from martial arts through to poetry writing, they have had performances from artists such as Mark Thomas and Billy Bragg and staged a top notch cabaret.  They have local youth clubs who have been crushed by the cuts using the rooms, pensioners who got slapped by UBS giving testimonials and visiting vicars proclaiming UBS leaving the building empty for so long is nothing short of wicked.  In the original sense.  The place is alive.

UBS’s own ethical policy states: “We behave with respect and integrity.” Let’s see if they honour their own manifesto.

This is what Big Society looks like Mr Cameron.  It will be interesting to see how quickly the banks try to evict the very idea that the government are trying to sell us as a solution.



If you want to see what is going on down there, check out their amazing programme of free events (which currently runs until February!): http://www.bankofideas.org.uk/events/

If you want to get involved and run a workshop, give a lecture or do a performance please fill out the form on their website: http://www.bankofideas.org.uk/events/

If you know of a community service that has been hit by the cuts and could use the space, they would love to hear from you: bankofideaslondon [at] gmail.com

If you want to tell UBS’s marketing department that they’d be wise to allow them to stay a while, contact them here: http://www.ubs.com/1/e/media_overview/media_emea/contactinformation.html

Follow them on Twitter @BankofIdeas #BankofIdeas

My photos of the bankofideas so far:
http://www.demotix.com/news/930220/occupy-london-repossess-derelict-ubs-building-city
http://www.demotix.com/news/930657/look-inside-ubs-building-squatted-occupy-london
http://www.demotix.com/news/931497/occupy-londons-bank-ideas-opening-ceremony
http://www.demotix.com/news/933489/occupy-london-bank-ideas-community-centre
http://www.demotix.com/news/933491/inside-bank-ideas-occupy-londons-space-old-ubs-building



References:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/personalfinance/borrowing/mortgages/5329469/Shared-appreciation-mortgages-cheap-money-backfires-on-borrowers.html
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/UBS
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/finance/2935936/UBS-help-for-Iran-broke-US-sanctions.html
http://www.ubs.com/1/e/about/code_of_conduct.html

It sounded like a brilliant idea doomed to failure to me.  Let’s emulate the Occupy Wall Street protests. In London. Outside the Stock Exchange. On a Saturday afternoon.

A week on from UKUncut’s protest to draw attention to a bill which was a passing through the House of Lords to desecrate the NHS, 2000 or so people had blocked Westminster Bridge, one of the largest acts of civil disobedience this country has seen in years, and the media had barely yawned at it.  

The House of Lords only have one duty, and that is to safeguard what is good about this country.  They failed in their duty by failing to listen to the people of this country (and  over 12 hours of their own debate).  By not rejecting the NHS bill after such massive opposition from so many different angles from banner waving lefties to clergymen and medics they rendered their House pompous, vacuous and obsolete.  But the House of Lords did not just vote down public and professional opinion that day, they, they voted down my optimism.  

And so, it was was with more reticence than enthusiasm I found myself and my camera trudging off to the London Stock Exchange to witness what I suspected would be a very short-lived temper-off between the placards and the riot shields.

I could not have been further from the mark.  I am rubbish with numbers but I’d estimate there being around three thousand people loitering around St Paul’s cathedral as every entrance to Paternoster Square (where the London Stock Exchange is) was guarded by two deep layer of police wearing their finest sternest.

As events unfurled that day from kettles through to Julian Assange Lording up like Jesus in leathers, I was impressed but not convinced.  The general point of unity appeared to be, we’re all unimpressed with the status quo, but what now and what next?

I did not for a single moment expect the police to allow them to get a tent up.  In the UK you are allowed to make a fuss and be a bit naughty as long as you don’t break anything; but if you are still here by nightfall (even if that’s because you have not been allowed home) then woe betide you.  I left the steps of St Paul’s at 1.30 am just as the police were closing in again and bringing more Alsatians to snarl at a collection of hippies shuffling to a samba band to keep warm.

The following morning I awoke to the news the Canon of the cathedral, Giles Fraser had asked The Met to back off, granting the peaceful protesters the leave to remain.  The church made a decision to defend peaceful protest where the government and the police want to stamp it out.  An astounding moment of social history appeared to be unfolding like a nylon tent before our very eyes.

The following three weeks have been so well documented from every possible angle I see no need to add my opinions to the debate, other than my Twitter feed of overheard’s and photos.  So why am I penning this?  Well, I wanted to share my thoughts on the camp, then I want you to ignore them.

Whatever your judgement on the camp is (and I am sure you have already formed one) there is absolutely no denying it has got people talking.  From closed clergy doors to city coffee machines to undercover hacks to tourguides to tea rooms, this protest has instigated a lot of conversations about why so many people are unhappy.  Even when these conversations start with “Why are they there?” or “What do they want?” they seem to very quickly evolve into dialogue about what people feel so strongly about and why they are willing to sleep on London’s streets.

Scratch the surface and the majority of people are all too willing to add their layer of disenfranchisement to the debate, be it pensions or healthcare, or the bankers or disability rights or libraries or food speculation of the environment or legal aid or, or, or, or… seriously, do you know a single person who is not pissed off with their lot right now?

With so many voices of malaise is it any wonder that no clear signal or trite soundbite can be found amongst the camp?  People are angry enough with the way the system is working against the many and benefiting so few that they are willing to sleep on cobbles, I think that is a pretty strong message in itself. 

In a generation and times when politicians seem to spend most of their time side stepping questions and pointing fingers at other parties, it seems a little lame to disregard a three week old protest camp for not coming up with clear policies.

So every day, clouded with a fresh level of cynicism I plod on my lunch break from my city office through Finsbury Square and down to St Paul’s, and every single day I have found some thing to inspire me.  This rag tag bunch of vagrants, miscreants, hippies and politios have created two of the most inspiring and engaging sites you will find in London right now.  You’ve heard they shit in the cathedral doorways right? (Honestly, I simply don’t believe this, I’ve never seen an area so clear of litter you will struggle to spot a cigarette butt).  You know most of them don’t sleep there, though? (I’ll stick my neck on the line here and state this is a complete lie.  Don’t believe me?  I’m there every night, I see it,  Still don’t believe me? Watch this video: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aBYAUl4O5v4&feature=player_embedded).  But did you know they’ve got a library down there?  That they are running workshops and talks through the day, every day?  They have a bike workshop, a cinema, a post office, a kitchen which is feeding 500 every night, last week end they had a bouncy castle for the kids, they’ve got a prayer tent, they have a first aid rota, they have a clothing store, they’ve got a piano, they have a tent for homeless people who may happen to turn up and need somewhere to stay.  The place is incredible.

They have meetings called General Assemblies which are like mini versions of Questiontime at 1pm and 7pm on the steps of St Paul’s every single day where a few hundred people try and work out ways forward for the good of the many as opposed to the benefit of the few.  Using consensus not democracy (ie every person must be heard and every objection listened, to as opposed to 51% to win a motion) hundreds of people participate in debates at the using hand gestures that makes it look like Pan’s People do politics.

Yes things take a long time to get going and discussed, but there are a lot of people to consider, and isn’t that the point?

The place inspires me.  Even the bits that don’t, intrigue me.  It is such an incredibly interesting time we are living in.  There are hundreds of people on London’s street’s right now trying to lay down some seedlings towards a fairer society.  With so many voices in the camp there are bound to be some I don’t agree with, and that’s okay. I am comfortable enough in my own views not to need everyone to feel the same.  In fact people down there who’s views oppose mine have a lot to teach me, about my own stance as well as there’s.

So why did I say I want you to ignore my views?  Because I think if you can, you should get down there and make your own.  Not read someone elses, but go and look for yourself.  I am not over-exaggerating when I say I really think this is an incredible moment in social history; I think your kids might be learning about this in years to come, and it is happening right now.  On Saturday 15th October 2011, 181 of these camps went into occupation worldwide.  People trying to work out a path towards a better way of doing things.  Yes, there are going to be problems and yes there are going to be mistakes, but they are learning and bloody hell they are trying.  I take my hat off to them for the commitment to their ideals. 

I want people engaged, I want people thinking.  In a society where people seem to care more about voting in X-Factor than in an election, these conversations are imperative. If you think it’s a load of rubbish, get down there and start conversations about that too.  Irrespective of whether their message is the one you think is the answer, let’s keep these conversations burning. 

If you are in London, I urge you to get down there to visit the camp.  Start conversations and ask questions. The place is alive with of ideas, dialogue and hope.  And by St Paul, the tent maker, if there’s one things this City needs right now, it’s hope.

Here are some of my photos from the camp:
http://www.demotix.com/news/875047/protester-occupy-st-pauls-square-london
http://www.demotix.com/news/875650/anonymous-occupy-london-protest-st-pauls-cathedral
http://www.demotix.com/news/875832/occupylsx-protest-outside-st-pauls-cathedral-london
http://www.demotix.com/news/891764/occupy-london-and-anonymous-spreads-finsbury-square
http://www.demotix.com/news/895159/day-four-occupy-finsbury-protests-london
http://www.demotix.com/news/902712/st-pauls-occupy-protest-camp-interfaith-sermon-cathedral-steps
http://www.demotix.com/news/908587/occupy-london-stock-exchange-protests-continue

PS
As I’m not your classic image of an anti-capitalist, I’m a city bod with bills to pay, I’d be a fool not to mention I am trying to flog some photos to try and fund my bad habits:

http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/Civil-Disobey-Original-photo-print-HeardInLondon-15-x-10-/320778882952?pt=UK_Art_Photographs_RL&hash=item4aafe94f88

http://www.ebay.co.uk/itm/St-Pauls-Cathedral-Bat-signal-original-photo-HeardinLondon-11-x-8-/140632110192?pt=UK_Art_Photographs_RL&hash=item20be53b470
Shameful plug over.

I read a blog the other day.  It had a good idea in it, but it was proposed in a rather spiky manner.  The poster kindly agreed for me to be able to rephrase it. 

The points raised were propositions for the Occupy camp outside St Paul’s, but I think they are sturdy enough for anyone to seize.

Three simple steps for big change:
1. Write a statute criminalising lobbying by businesses.
2. Launch a petition to collect 1 million signatures demanding parliament enacts the anti-lobbying statute.
3. Present the statute to parliament for enactment.

The original poster was @fatcouncillor whom I am grateful for allowing me to edit this into something that might be a bit more digestible.

Although I am British born, my mother was American and I grew up for a few years in the States. Before she died, my mother brought us back to the country of my birth. She did so because having seen first hand the horrors that occur under the American system, she was only too aware of the value inherent in our proud history of free higher education and healthcare. She would have been devastated to see that already we’ve lost one of those two wonderful British freedoms. Whatever we do, let’s not lose the other.

See you on the bridge.

#SaveTheNHS

#BlockTheBill

Sunday 9th October 2011, Westminster Bridge

http://www.ukuncut.org.uk/blog/block-the-bridge-block-the-bill

The assault on the NHS is accelerating into a massacre and there is only one person that can stop it.

Politicians in this country do not want free health care for the people of this country.  Andrew Lansley himself has his office funded by a private healthcare company. There is only one person that can save the NHS from the mortuary - and that is YOU.  Hundreds and thousands of you.

The politicians proved they have no intention of listening to the public or the medical professionals. Despite so much opposition, they still intend to make this bill law by 20 March. The only way we can get this bill dropped is to get the House of Lords to hear us.  And our voice has to be loud and diverse.

It is not enough to think this is a done deal.  It is not enough to say you emailed an MP.  It is not enough to say you read a story once about someone having to wait five hours for an X-ray.  We need to be out on the streets.  We need to be visual and we need to be big.  And we need to be fast.

Sunday 18th March is Mother’s Day. 

The mother of all health services needs some motherly love on that day. 

A call to action has been raised in London for a march on 17th - which is brilliant, be there, but we potentially have EIGHT DAYS to get our voices heard and we need to use every opportunity we have.

I propose at 1pm on Mother’s Day we attempt to turn Parliament Square into a graveyard.  Could we fill the square with midwives? What could be more visual than grandmothers handcuffed together?   You name it - we have got do do it.  This needs to be big. It needs to be visual, it needs to be creative enough to get the media talking and the politicians listening.

If we allow this bill to pass, we will never get our NHS back.  

If you think market forces are a good thing, please look at the railways.  The government have no mandate to make the biggest changes to the NHS since its creation - and they are not listening to the public nor the professionals who are opposed to this bill.

The Archbishop of Canterbury said “The NHS is institutionalised altruism.  Generations to come will never forgive us if we let this bill pass.”

This is the fight for our lives.

See you on the streets.

FAQ about the Health and Social Care Bill
http://abetternhs.wordpress.com/faq/

Dismantling the NHS
http://www.redpepper.org.uk/dismantling-the-nhs/

And if I may, a personal tale of why the NHS is so important to me.

My body is a bit rubbish. Sometimes it does not do the things it is designed to. I have a neurological illness that means some days my legs don’t want to walk, some days my arms aren’t fit for hugging and sometimes I can’t see.

And it’s amazing. It is amazing because it reminds me constantly how astounding the human body can be. It is the key to a treasure chest of reminders of what an incredible structure I inhabit.

Why am I telling you this? Because the reason I have been able to find the glitter in the shit is in grave danger.

I have this brilliant in-built tap on the shoulder to be grateful for what I have, as these things could disappear in the blink of an eye, quite literally. Every time my body does what I would like it to, it is like a butterfly landing on your hand on a summers day. Every single time. Being able to move my fingers to type this is nothing short of magic.

The only reason I have been able to find gratitude, if not joy, in illness is because we have a National Health Service that is built upon care.

I am looked after, assessed, examined, supported, prodded, poked, handed drugs, written to, phoned up, chopped about, talked to and listened to.
For free.

It is so important, I’ll repeat that. For free.

Because I am not bound by invoices, I am at liberty to get on with the important stuff, like living.

But it is not always like this, and we are on the cliff edge of a health business which will be run like the banks: with money as the motivator behind every decision.

There is absolutely no doubt that if private health care firms are involved in the choices medics are able to make about your health, the foundation stone is profit not well being. Businesses are designed to make money. They are not designed to care.

I am under no delusion that the NHS does not need a first aid kit; but for this to be pushed by companies who have a responsibility to their shareholders to make as much profit as possible is simply paradoxical.

I have seen glimmers of what a health service ruled by money looks like. It is sleepless nights, it is pain, it is being offered quick fix drugs not long term prevention. It is death.

I see this already in the under staffed, over worked and under resourced waiting rooms in hospital, after hospital, after hospital.

I see it in my GP’s eyes when she tells me she would love to help me more but that they are simply not allowed because of budget restraints. With a flicker of regret that betrays she knows full well the words she is forced to utter offend the hippocratic oath.

My mum died a year ago today. There is a drug that would have extended her life. A drug that is widely available in Europe and America, but it was not licensed in the UK as it was deemed too expensive. My mum was very poorly, but she was a fighter. The fact remains very clear, my mum is dead right now because of a decision to save money.

How many times have you heard this scenario? Not many in the UK, I am sure. That could all be about to change.

If you want my mum’s story to be the exception, not the rule, you need to act, and you need to act fast. This is the very last chance we have of a National Health Service and not Health Business ltd.

We are fast approaching midnight on the NHS. Every single action counts.
Email your MP, write letters to a Peer or ten, sign a petition, talk to people, tweet about it, join the very public display of action to ourside Parliament on Monther’s Day. Get the message out there.

On 18th March we need to gather as many people as possible together for one last visual reminder that the NHS is not theirs to sell.  Let your voice be heard.

My mum would not forgive me if we let the NHS die without a fight.


Nye Bevan founder of the NHS said that The National Health Service will survive “as long as there are people left with the faith to fight for it”.


Let’s prove him right.


#SaveOurNHS

I signed up to Twitter a year ago today.

I remember doing it.  I was sat on the hardest seat in the world in the hospital canteen whilst my mum was asleep hearing piped songs of cheer and smelling melted plastic wrapped food.

I remember I signed up simply for the fear of the fact that I just  didn’t understand it.

I had no idea it would change my world.  I am aware of how ridiculously over dramatic that sounds, but it really has.

I’ve laughed with people on here, I’ve cried with people on here, I’ve been genuinely happy at people’s news and really wanted to help people through some hard times.  I’ve spread rumours, news, photographs, pleas and giggles.

It is using this strange website that I have learnt to find my feet again through some really tough months.  I won’t bang on it all again, but the support I received throughout my mum’s death was astounding.  From people sending messages of support and comfort, through to linking me in to important political stories when I could barely read, through to people telling me their stories of giving blood.  I don’t have words to express how much that meant, but you moved me to believe in humanity again when I was startled by the world.  And in this day and age that’s no small feat.

There is a longer version of that early part of the story here for those of you who wish for more details:
http://www.heardinlondon.com/post/3926787963/the-following-friday-six-months-of-living-on-the

Sometimes I look at the number of tweets I have posted with horror.  I try to convince myself that at least a third of them is me saying thank you to people, a third of them is retweets of people funnier than me, which leaves me one ninth photographs of other people’s talented work, one ninth political ranty pants and  one ninth cheap jokes.  I think that’s a fair personality diagnosis.

When I entered this playground I did it anonymously and told no one - I just started typing.  In my real life, I started up my business when I was 18.  My whole adult life I have never had the freedom to completely speak my mind as I have always had to be slightly aware of how that reflects on my company.  Who could have imagined my uncensored self and my running Benny Hillesque dialogue would be so much more popular than the toned town version I had spent the last thirty odd years trying to work out how to rein in. 

One of the strangest things about Twitter I never would have expected, is that it is the first time I have ever been able to take a compliment.   People have no reason to follow me unless they find what I am typing interesting or funny.  I can’t be oh-so-terribly British about it and find a million brush offs as to why that couldn’t possibly be the case; I type some words, they go all the way to space and back, and sometimes, they cause the corners of peoples mouths to raise - how completely bonkers is that?

So I thought on my self nominated second birthday I get to do what I want, and that is to elaborate on my first mass thank off.  There are brilliant people I follow and lots of them.  Sometimes too many in fact.  When I remember I am meant to be running a business and doing things other than type to strangers on the internet, I have a list called “Essentials” of folk on here who are just that.  They are people who no matter what else is going on, I choose to read. They are the key people that make Twitter a place I come back to every day.  Allow me to elaborate:

@MattLeys
Funny, political, left on, spot on and all round tall egg. Bloody nice chap, you can smell it a mile off.  Matt tweets so perfectly like one of those friends you wish you had in reality, I think I might have made him up.

@SimonNRicketts
If you need your faith restored in journalists, Simon is the chap for you.  On the case and intelligent.  You will always hear a good thread through him, without the bullshit; and he makes me think. When Twitter leaps on a bandwagon, I often find it is Simon who is the first to fold his arms.  But more than that, he’s a witty bugger too.

@TamsinChan
If I had to get all of my news from one source, would it be the BBC?  Or Al Jazeera?  No. It would be Tamsin.  She reads the whole of the internet every single day, sifts out the irrelevance and feeds back to us in handy digestible chucks   This lady’s capacity to find articles on nearly every issue of every day astounds me.  I think she is magic.

@GlennyRodge
I am not sure I need to tell you how funny I find Glen.  I retweet him so much you are bound to find lots of him in your timeline anyway, but he is a Twitter treasure chest.  Not only funny but someone who has been a real gent when I’ve stumbled over a few times. If Twitter were measured on smile ratings, Glen would have won twice.

@AmateurAdam
Rude crude, inappropriate, sordid and sometimes cheap, I knew Adam and I were likely to get on.  He might well post some of the funniest one liners you will be horrified you laughed at.  And I he once told me “we share no cultural capital”.

@MediocreDave
Common sense talking, dry, witty, silly nit wit.  He makes me laugh, he has his finger on the pulse of all things the youth care about. He is a breath of fresh air for political ranters.  At times when I have been sad or grumpy he has pretended to fall off his chair because he guessed (correctly) it would make me laugh.  What more could you want from Twitter?

@ElliottClarkson
Official tests show that Elliot of one the most under followed funny men on Twitter.  A manly sausage roll eating, beer drinking softie who is as funny as most of Twitter put together.  And penner of one of my favourite tweets of all time: “I think I have a man crush on Professor Brian Cox. Come on Professor, bum me and teach me about the universe.”

@OctoberJones
Silly scribbler extrordinaire.  An absolute joy in my time line.  One liner wonder, a mind filled with kids TV shows and robots.  There is rarely a tweet sent from this typing dog that does not make me giggle.  Need proof?  During the royal wedding, when Twitter was talking about what things people had on their heads, he made this: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zcMYi9P6DR4

@NickMotown
A genuinely funny, funny man.  A fine example of Twitter at it’s best.  He fills my timeline with thing’s I wish I’d been funny enough to say.  I shall never be that funny.  I would be extremely surprised if Keith Chegwin does not at least have him on a list, if not a hard drive. Read him, he’s a cracker.

@MooseAllain
A giant of wit, silly and talent.  I have heard many people say Moose is one of Twitter’s finest, but he is also an incredible artist.  The equation is simple, the more of his amazing work you buy, the more time he gets to spend on here entertaining us all.  Looky here: www.worldofmoose.com

@MattWhatsit
There may be some of you foolishly not following Matt.  This means you may never have had an evening of #drunkmatt in your timeline, and for this you have only yourself to blame.  He’s rather funny when he is sober too.  He took a break* recently, they did tests and Twitter was 17% less fun without him.
*abandoned us

@TheDollSays
Twitter royalty.  Dolly has a turn of phrase that could wilt concrete.  Her observations of her daily doings are finely chiseled lumps of rock she is preventing herself throwing at her colleagues and people on public transport, by sharing with us, the group.  She’s not all wrath, she is also fabulously funny.

@TruthSandwich
The Godfather of twitter.  When people ask if Twitter is just a whole load of celebrities talking about their breakfast, I defy you to not be able to tempt them in with TruthSandwich’s stream of unconsciousness.  A master craftsman at a turn of phrase.  He is brilliant and banter with him is nothing but a pleasure.  True Twitter gold.

Also on this list are two wonderful luddites @subvertiser who gets a mention for making my journey’s around London more fun with his own bread of billboard doctoring and naughtiness.  Utterly rubbish at Twitter, but worth following for the occasional gems dropped in the street; and the wonderful @markthomasinfo, the kind of friend I drew with crayons when I was a kid.  I’d sing his praises more, but he’ll only complain more of this was not about him.  He’s not only worth a follow but go and see his shows too.

These are the people I am really very grateful to Twitter for bringing into my days. I constantly wrestle with trying to keep the number of people I follow under a self imposed limit.  I nearly always fail.  I have started using lists.  I try to reply to all my @’s and sometimes forget, when I have to do things like work.  I would happily spend nearly all day on here dicking around and rarely talking to anyone.  Addicted is not the word.  Sometimes my flatmate asks how HeardinLondon’s day was and we discuss it in third person.

This was not a point in my life I could possibly imagined could have been filled with so much laughter, and for this I am grateful to you lot beyond words.  Thank you, really, I think you are all bloody brilliant.  I’d say I can’t imagine my days without you lot, but I can, and it’s simply not as much fun.

I’m off to try and make my real life as much fun as HeardinLondon’s, now. 

I’ll be back shortly, with too many photos.

x

Please #GiveBlood

I was irritated by Twitter yesterday.

It’s something I’ve seen lots of you go through before, but last night was the first time I felt like maybe this wasn’t a party I wanted to be at.

There was some nastiness about yesterday and even more people telling each other off.  I am not sure which was riling me more.

So I thought I’d have a nice healthy rant.  Come on in. There’ll be a motivational song at the end.

Yesterday made me realise over the last few weeks my timeline has become a little bit like the “Prolier than Thou” club.  And today I dangle the word “club” with tweezers in front of myself with internet distain.  So let’s start here.

The hashtag #27club is vulgar and trite.  So much so, I am surprised we didn’t see #Norwayclub #famineclub cropping up. Addiction is not a club, and to label it so is the kind of belittling shite the News of The World would spray as a headline.

Ah, yes, the News of the World.  A paper I am elated to see the back of, but I did not really appreciate the deriding comments towards it’s readers (and those of other tabloid papers).  Yes, I think they pump hatred into people’s days, but surely belittling their readers is nigh on akin.  Targeting the advertisers was brilliant.  Targeting people, readers and perpetrators, was not. 

Rebekah Brooks has made some very evil decisions in her time. Does that make her evil? I think not. And here’s why.  Because if you believe that some people are “good” and some people are “bad” then they do not have to be accountable for their actions.  There is no need for change if they are in the “wrong” camp.  If some people are “bad” then  surely it is not their fault.  If some people are “bad” then there is in fact no hope.

I watched @mattleys get Twitter slapped for saying that if Murdoch did not exist someone else would be in his place.  People lashing out at him reading that as defense of the Murdoch hate factory.  When I believe (and correct me if I am wrong Matt) he was pointing out that if Murdoch, for example, fell of the side of a yacht, someone else would probably pop their greedy head up in his place and fill their own bank account.

Yesterday my timeline was filled with people telling other people off for making distasteful comments about the tragic death of a young woman, yet I did not see a single distasteful comment about Amy Winehouse.  I saw hundreds of people saying you can’t compare Amy / Norway / Africa, but not one Tweet comparing them.  I don’t disagree with the point, but perhaps a reply to the people posting the stuff may have been more effective.  It is similar to telling others to boycott something they’ve never contemplated buying, a direct link or a back up to a story is going to hold way more sway than just a hashtag.  It’s more than preaching to the converted, it’s well intentioned misdirected action, but it could so easily be filtered to the ears that may need to hear it.

And then there was the case of Jonnie Marbles.  I am very aware of the fact that I know Jonnie, I know him to be a really genuine and kind bloke; I am aware that this colours my judgment.  But onslaught and abuse he received was vile.  You might not agree with what he did, but does that mean his actions are as odious as those of Murdoch (or Pol Pot)? I think not.  It’s a contentious view point I know.  I have issues with Jonnie’s actions because I fear it jeopardises a freedom we have fought long and hard for in this country.  There are few countries who would allow members of the public into a such a hearing; and in a lot of other countries he would have been shot by an armed guard.  I am also aware the other side of my fence is not a commonly held view either, but I find custard pies funny.  It was just a bit of foam. I grew up being spoon-fed The Goon Show.  I find the labeling of a bit of ill-timed-badly-thought-through slapstick with common assault baffling.  He didn’t hit him.  It wasn’t violent.  It was a custard pie.  It wasn’t wise.  But it was just a custard pie.  Looking at some of the abuse he received for it made me fear for humanity.

I like you when you are informative Twitter, and I love you when you are funny.  As @mattwhatsit has been rather eloquent at pointing out lately, it’s good for us to have different views.  It’s healthy.  We learn stuff.  But where you are just sat around telling each other off or picking on people, I feel like I’ve gatecrashed Justin Beiber’s fanclub disco and I am not sure what I am doing here.

If it’s as simple as some people are evil and the rest of “us” aren’t, then as they have the ultimate get out clause, let’s all stop trying and join a hashtag game.

I’m selecting this as the closing hymn to my Sunday sermon:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yEitrZU-nCw

Thank you for taking the time to read my diatribe.

#GetBetter