Dinner, conference, party, exhaustion

Feeling a bit better now so I’ll write up the bits I can remember of the last few days.

The pre-conference dinner on Wednesday evening went off incredibly well. We had 8 MPs, 2 permed secretaries, 3 mincers and the head of the no. 2 policy unit. So plenty of meat for my members to get stuck into, though on reflection we probably should have served chicken rather than roasted human flesh.

I had to have a quiet word in the umbrella minister Veronica “Gubbins” Squif’s shell-like after she took the piss gently out of me during her speech. No one gets away with that. And when talking to an influential guest with the ear of the Chancellor, I slipped him a micky then tattooed the words “Umbrella Bank needed urgently” on his forehead.

It ended up being a late night but it was an early start at the conference the next day, where we had more top speakers than you could shake a brolly at. Although I did try.

I kicked things off with some wise words from Genesis. In many ways the situation that BUBB is in at the minute as an organisation mirrors this pop combo’s own in the mid 70s. I am obviously Peter Gabriel – flamboyant, larger than life, sometimes incomprehensible while Hector is Phil Collins. Quiet, steady and providing the strong backbeat that underpins my own work, while waiting patiently to unseat me and change direction. And then release a series of ever-increasingly bland MOR solo records.

As Phil put it himself:

“Just as I thought it was going alright
I find out I'm wrong, when I thought I was right
It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all

Running around, staying out all night
Taking it all instead of taking one bite
It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all

I could leave but I won't go
Though my heart might tell me so
I can't feel a thing from my head down to my toes

So why does it always seem to be
Me looking at you, you looking at me
It's always the same, it's just a shame, that's all”

I can’t remember all of the presentations as I was twittering away like a good ’un (“If you follow me, I will follow you”) rather than concentrating. But my Great Aunt Maud and Vanessa Doublechin both sounded eloquent and erudite without actually saying much.

BUBB’s own Northern soul, Ben N’Jerry also quoted some Genesis.

“Ooh, Superman where are you now
When everything's gone wrong somehow?
The men of steel, the men of power
Are losing control by the hour

There's too many men, too many people
Making too many problems
And not much love to go round
Can't you see this is a land of confusion?

Well this is the world we live in
And these are the hands we're given
Use them and let's start trying
To make it a place worth living in

I won't be coming home tonight
My generation will put it right
We're not just making promises
That we know, we'll never keep”

Some appropriate philosophy there I am sure we can all agree.

Then it was off to party. The brilliant Fab Jobsworth had got hold of some fireworks but there was a bit of an incident involving Barkles. The age-old safety rule says that pets should be kept indoors on bonfire night. However, I can report that this is daft advice if you decide to light fireworks in your house. Unfortunately a stray rocket set fire to the hound’s back leg. Geof Sachell responded instantly by dousing the poor mutt in champers, while I shouted out “Don’t waste the good stuff”. We had a good laugh afterwards, especially when my superb head of comms, Marina McMoan joked that we should rename the singed creature “Sparkles”, which ironically is the name of the dog in my spoofer Stephen Bubb’s blog.

It is all a bit of a blur after that but I must have gone for a late night bike ride if the evidence presented in this picture taken the next day is anything to go by.

As I blog I look at the lemon that my sister gave me and contemplate how many BUBBles I have consumed over my 5X years.

Bleurrrrrgggghhhh

Not. Feeling. Great. Will. Resume. Blog. About. Dinner. Conference. Party. Over. The. Weekend. It. Has. Taken. Me. Ten. Minutes. To. Type. This.

Anyone want to see a picture of me as a baby?

I will write some in-depth waffle from our conference today later. The important thing to say for now is that lunch was tremendous, really first rate. There have been some presentations as well, but they are just filler really between the coffee breaks and lunch.

And as word has somehow leaked out via the twittering classes, my supposed-to-be-private birthday party is tonight at the Well Oiled Brolly Tavern, East Lambeth. If you want to attend you need to knock three times on the back door.

Meeting heroes: Jack, Mandela and Reggie

Another early start! Barkles was not impressed at missing out on his walk once again while I swanned off leaving a trail of exclamation marks behind me! This time a breakfast at BUBB's offices (which I found after asking a friendly local bobby) with Jack "Far right" Herbert MP, the Tory spokesperson for DefRoes. Having come across Jack on quite a few occasions now I am deeply impressed. He is one of the Tories and will be in power soon so I will say what it takes to keep him sweet. Bright, thoughtful and charming. I'm a fan. And shameless.

This is also in no way connected to the fact that when he had the justice brief he was clear the brolly sector had to play a much bigger delivery role inside and outside prisons. Quite right. You can smuggle a lot of contraband into chokey inside a gamp.

We began with a little banter on meat eating (as you don't, usually!) when I asked him what he was planning to do on farting cows . "Ride 'em like the gassy broncos they truly are," he replied instantly. His recent blog was eloquent on the glories of roast beef and the iniquity of the recent Stern pronouncement on cutting out meat eating to save the planet. Heaven forbid that we should give up prime hunks of steak for the greater good.

This led to comments on the absence of bacon butties in the BUBB breakfast offering, though the Lidl rice krispies were particularly excellent. Jack argues, correctly in my view, that we need to encourage people to be sustainable rather than penalise them. If people are told they can't eat meat then it risks turning them away from taking sustainability seriously. We must beware the "hair shirt" brigade who want to scare and punish us all. Hear, hear! No hair shirt tendency at BUBB I can assure you! We will go to great lengths and personal sacrifice to prove we don't have a hair shirt mentality and will punish ourselves rigorously in pursuit of presenting such an impression.

I then had a meeting with some geezer with a normal name that I can't even begin to bother spoofing, from LURCH (London Umbrella Recycling Community Hub). He told me how the Victorian Umbrella Loving Vintage Association had offered the local council a deal to provide rain protection in their parks with their splendid old age brollies. An offer refused by the Council who contract this out! Government has to realise that the umbrella sector can play a useful role on many levels.

I then had a meeting with a Global Hero, but at many removes. I was meeting 3 of the bar staff at a pub frequented by South Africans. It's a real privilege to buy a drink from people who lived in the same country as the Mandela family. There are few figures more admired globally than Nelson Mandela and what a thrill it is to now be able to tenuously and shamelessly use his kudos for my own personal benefit, especially as in the 80s I was active in opposing the wickedness of the South African apartheid regime by boycotting Chenin Blanc and cape oranges. Probably.

Then on to a meeting with another Hero (and I do use the capital H for grovelling effect) of our sector, the great Sir Reggie Coining. Reggie is not just one of the pioneers of venture capital in the UK but the author of the idea of a umbrella investment bank here, funded by unclaimed brollies. He must be so disappointed at how the government have let him down, especially considering how much dosh he has donated to the Labour party in the hope of deflecting attention away from his own very cosy non-domiciled tax arrangements.

It is one of the joys and honour of the BUBB role that I am able to meet with such eminent and interesting people, whether they like it or not. And hopefully to convert those contacts into making real change for our membership . I think that is what is called a caveat for endless hob-nobbing and name dropping.

Finally, I am wondering whether I should trade in the Blackberry for an i-Phone. Or as I call them, a me-me-me-Phone. Waddya reckon? Could make a nice birthday present for myself.

Measuring impact impact impact impact impact

Everyone wants to measure the social as well as the economic impact of umbrella organisations. And so there are some 70 different impact measurement tools around. What I want to do is find an impact measurement tool to measure the impact of different impact measurement tools. And then create something to measure the impact of that tool and so on ad nauseum in a never-ending spiral of measuring rather than actually doing anything.

I saw a great example of impact measurement from Germany today, pioneered at Doodlebug University, and as soon as I have it translated into Bogglish so I can properly determine whether it is bollocks or not, I will let you have the powerpoint slides. But before then I would never dream of promoting something I don't really understand just because it fits in with my not so hidden agenda.

And it is all systems go for our annual conference on Thursday (and don't forget, it is my birthday as well - feel free to lay on your birthday wishes via the comments box or Twitter). I am looking forward to cheerfully saying that the worst of the recession is yet to bite, in a very smug way. To be honest there have been times when I did worry whether the umbrella sector would suffer as badly as I predicted but thankfully it looks like the time-lag effect is going to be positive, at least for my soothsayer reputation, if not for my members.

Celebrating All Saints

Yesterday marked the 16th anniversary of All Saints so I went to a special sing song event. Readers who know of my almost fanatical devotion to the vocal charms of "umbrella-ell-ella" chanteuse Rihanna will not be surprised that in the 1990s the Appleton sisters, Melanie Blatt and Shaznay Lewis rocked my world with their exquisite female harmonies, infectious melodies and philosophical lyrics.

A group of fans get together every year to have a massive karaoke party where we belt out gems from their peerless back catalogue.

An extra treat this year was the attendance of the Anglican church's arch-pop-culture-bishop, Dr Rowan Williams (pictured). Obviously he came in disguise and removed his false beard to escape media attention but he led the chorus on "Never Ever" which was a real treat.

Also present was one of London's leading karaoke exponents, our intern Jan Tygers, who is currently working on BUBB's policy of sucking up to the Tories. Not only does he earn the distinction of being one of the first work experience bods in history to be spoofed in a blog but he has a fine set of pipes. He does not sing in the office, or not so as I have noticed but then I wouldn't have as I am never there. My staff could be hosting whole productions of The Ring in my absence for all I know.

Rain pelteth

Sitting in the waiting room at the hospital so plenty of time to blog, tweet and catch up with emails. After a successful eye operation earlier in the year I am booked in for follow up surgery. While the initial procedure went well, a slight correction is required as apparently I am squinting too far to the right as the general election approaches.

I seem to have upset the BBA (British Banking Apologists) with my comments last week about its chief executive, Lotte Shight. Apparently she didn't say we should all "move on" from the banking cock-up. This was a quote wrongly attributed to her by the press and then repeated by popular satirical news programme Have I Got Paraphrased News for Those Who Believe Everything They See on the Telly. OK, Lotte, I am prepared to apologise but stop whinging about it eh? Move on, darling, move on.

I also decide that perhaps I should retire from Twitter as there is too much unpleasantness and bad puns on there. However, my big decision provokes little reaction, other than "well sod off then" which is bloody typical. When Stephen "national treasure" Fry gets a little grumpy and threatens to stop it is BBC news. When I do it, nothing. I even have to set up my own "Save Robin Bogg" campaign. But people need to see the bigger picture. Twitter would soon fold without me and my 167 followers.



My spirits are lifted, however after a stroll by the Thames. I have an excellent lunch at the Ponce de la Tour which is of course where Bill Clinton once had an overpriced steak with Tony and Cherie. This gives me a shameless opportunity to include a picture of Bill with the umbrella I gave him in New York recently.

Note that I am not in the picture as I am taking it. If I were to be in it as well it would look suspiciously like I had asked someone to record the apparently casual and unstaged moment for posterity.

While this is a spurious reason to include a photo I think I can do better. I muse upon the journey of the Thames to the sea and how the seas join the ocean and if you keep going you might land up on a Pacific island where the natives are head hunters, just like my good friend Donald Holding (click on the link for a reminder of what he can do for you as I rarely mention it myself).

Admittedly, Donald's publicity material is a little basic. It was designed by someone he headhunted (Oxford graduate, naturally) but unfortunately their strengths were in poetry not graphic design.

Speaking of poetry, Blacbury looked splendid at the weekend as it was pissing it down. The whole town was like to bubbles when rain pelteth (I don't want to be patronising and arrogant now but I am going to be anyway - rain pelteth is a poetic allusion to those schooled on the national curriculum and so unaware of poetry. Obviously only those of us who have had proper education could possibly even begin to hope to enjoy literature.)