I am now back in the UK, with the all important task of preparing for Christmas. As well as BUBB’s legendary office party to organise, there will be a sleigh-load of receptions and drink-ups to fit in. I have been banned from organising the office Secret Santa after last year’s scandal when I rigged it to ensure that everyone bought me a pressie. The trustees got wind of it and I was severely reprimanded. But still avoided the (Santa’s) sack. So this year Fab Jobsworth has done it and I have drawn Hector Rule. Any suggestions as to what I can get him would be very welcome as to me it seems he already has everything he wants. Except my job.
I will also be attending a number of high-church Christian ceremonies and services celebrating this most pagan of festivals. This is not because I am particularly religious – as far as I am concerned there’s too much religion in Christmas, we need to put the commercialism back into it. But it does give me a chance to comment on the architecture of various churches and chapels and wheel out some Biblical quotes.
And there is the BUBB nativity play to organise. This is always tricky to cast though Geof Sachell will be sweet Baby Jesus and Marina McMoan will be Mary. We always struggle to find any wise men but Ben N’Jerry will play a King who comes from the North bearing gifts of Gold-plated brollies, Gampinsence and Umyrhhbrellas. I will play the shepherd and the rest of the team will be sheep blindly following me about. Joseph (played by me) and Mary will travel to Oxford, naturally, and try and gain shelter for the night. After being turned away by all of the local prisons, which are full, they head to a pub in Blacbury where the innkeeper (played by me) invites them in and they all get trollied on fizz.
Hopefully, I will be able to get some partying in by wearing one of my many other (festively adorned) hats as well. I know that the organisation formerly known as Umbrellabuilders has some unspent money that will only go to waste come the end of March so I reckon we can have a proper knees-up with some of that.
And I am planning to release a Christmas single. Without giving too much away it will be a festive reworking of one of Rihanna’s classic choons.
I updated my Xmas card list over the weekend (Dylan Twirley removed and I need to find out James Purnell’s new address. Again). And I have taken a strategic decision that Hubert Carrington at NCVO will get one this year but I won’t send it until the last minute. I didn’t send him one last year whereas he did send me one. I figure he won’t bother this year and will then be embarrassed when he gets mine without time to hastily dash one off in response.
And tomorrow sees the launch of the Boggmas Gampvent calendar. This will be hosted on my blog and also on my Twitter feed. Join the party!
As well as mince-pie munching and mulled wine guzzling we will have to observe the correct protocol around the pre-Budget report next week. This involves firing off our usual wishlist of things that we know won’t happen and then having a hissy fit afterwards when they don’t happen.
Monday, 30 November 2009
Sunday, 29 November 2009
Trinidad - a highlights package
I finally dragged myself away from the beach and arrived at the Commonwealth conference in Trinidad on Wednesday. It was, if I’m being honest, about as much fun as IMPORTANT PEOPLE blathering on about IMPORTANT ISSUES, and most of it was way over my head
As well as speeches and presentations there was a series of round table discussions at square, triangular and hexagonal tables. The main talking points were the financial crisis and climate change. And how are we going to deal with them? Simple. We have produced a 14 million page document which will be printed off and delivered by aeroplane to every single Commonwealth citizen. Funded by all the member governments, this should not only leave a carbon footprint the size of Belgium, but could bankrupt some of the smaller, poorer countries and use up a shitload of paper. Take that, rainforest!
Still, all of our hot air on climate change and the environment will be a useful primer for the Copenhagen lip service gathering next month. I fully expect that this event will come to a grizzly end a lot quicker than the politicians expect it to.
Speaking of carbon footprints, all of my own travelling has trampled its size nine all over the globe lately, but it’s OK cos I have grown a bit of basil in my window box in East Lambeth.
Away from the real problems of the world I was horrified to read, as I lay on the beach, comments by the Witchfinder-General Sandy Burnham-Drownham about the NHS being the government’s preferred supplier of umbrellas for medical reasons, eg. to those with an allergy to rainwater. Once I had looked up the word “preferred” in my dictionary (Oxford English, naturally) I got quite angry. What about the umbrella sector?
This coupled with another attack on the brolly sector by the unions, which included a spelling mistake (you’d never catch me lazily getting someone’s name wrong in my blog) means that we face a real threat from those who say public sector good – brolly sector bad.
Luckily, I had some light relief on Thursday night as I was able to catch up with some of my cousins, who live their life in limerick form.
One, the first Bishop of Calcutta
Was known as a bit of a nutter
He got all divine
On communion wine
And smeared all the wafers with butter
Next day, I was forced to go to Tobago for a day trip. I protested that I had already been there but to no avail and I was frogmarched by police out of the hotel and onto the boat at some ungodly hour.
There was much excitement on Friday night when Queen arrived. Some people think it a travesty that Brian May continues to flog this bloated pomp rock horse post-Mercury but they did a stirring version of Fat Bottomed Girls and the assembled dignitaries were shaking a shoe with aplomb.
But now it is time to come home. There is much important stuff to be done. Christmas is fast approaching and the BUBB Christmas party needs some thought. After all, my arse won’t photocopy itself.
As well as speeches and presentations there was a series of round table discussions at square, triangular and hexagonal tables. The main talking points were the financial crisis and climate change. And how are we going to deal with them? Simple. We have produced a 14 million page document which will be printed off and delivered by aeroplane to every single Commonwealth citizen. Funded by all the member governments, this should not only leave a carbon footprint the size of Belgium, but could bankrupt some of the smaller, poorer countries and use up a shitload of paper. Take that, rainforest!
Still, all of our hot air on climate change and the environment will be a useful primer for the Copenhagen lip service gathering next month. I fully expect that this event will come to a grizzly end a lot quicker than the politicians expect it to.
Speaking of carbon footprints, all of my own travelling has trampled its size nine all over the globe lately, but it’s OK cos I have grown a bit of basil in my window box in East Lambeth.
Away from the real problems of the world I was horrified to read, as I lay on the beach, comments by the Witchfinder-General Sandy Burnham-Drownham about the NHS being the government’s preferred supplier of umbrellas for medical reasons, eg. to those with an allergy to rainwater. Once I had looked up the word “preferred” in my dictionary (Oxford English, naturally) I got quite angry. What about the umbrella sector?
This coupled with another attack on the brolly sector by the unions, which included a spelling mistake (you’d never catch me lazily getting someone’s name wrong in my blog) means that we face a real threat from those who say public sector good – brolly sector bad.
Luckily, I had some light relief on Thursday night as I was able to catch up with some of my cousins, who live their life in limerick form.
One, the first Bishop of Calcutta
Was known as a bit of a nutter
He got all divine
On communion wine
And smeared all the wafers with butter
Next day, I was forced to go to Tobago for a day trip. I protested that I had already been there but to no avail and I was frogmarched by police out of the hotel and onto the boat at some ungodly hour.
There was much excitement on Friday night when Queen arrived. Some people think it a travesty that Brian May continues to flog this bloated pomp rock horse post-Mercury but they did a stirring version of Fat Bottomed Girls and the assembled dignitaries were shaking a shoe with aplomb.
But now it is time to come home. There is much important stuff to be done. Christmas is fast approaching and the BUBB Christmas party needs some thought. After all, my arse won’t photocopy itself.
Wednesday, 25 November 2009
Fashion tips for CEOs
When travelling, always go for lighweight, non-iron shirts. Oxford cotton, naturally. Other helpful hints include: Never put your pants over your head when going through passport control and don't wear comedy Mickey Mouse socks to official functions. Oh and remember that duffle coats and Caribbean beaches don't mix well. I should write a book. Or at the very least be brought to one.
Tuesday, 24 November 2009
Life's a beach
It's Tuesday so I must be....out of the office, probably abroad. Yes, I am in Trinidad. At least I thought I was, but I went to Tobago by mistake. No matter, it is very nice here and I'll saunter off to the correct destination once I've had a few more rum punches, coconut croissants and Caribbean cliches.
I've certainly been racking up the air miles this year and my passport has more stamps than a toddler's tantrum convention. I have now visited over 10 countries. And that doesn't include the North. Or Wales. I can't exactly recall what is happening in Trinidad, something to do with brolly sector honchos from Commonwealth countries and some big Commonwealth shindig. A quaint, patronising throwback to the heady days of Empire it may be (we will be speaking the mother tongue, Oxford English, naturally) but it shits all over the bureaucratic nonsense that is the EU.
We will be discussing some pretty fundamental human rights issues and Uganda may be in for a blow to the kidneys if they don't back down over proposals to give the death penalty, or even worse, send people to prison for prancing around with an umbrella in a "gay way". I am all for innovative solutions to filling yet more prisons, run by us naturally, but it wouldn't work in the UK, where most people just look miserable when carrying a brolly.
It would be nice if Fab or Geof were here to carry my bags and fan me with cocktail umbrellas. But I saw an interesting snippet about Obama's recent trip to the Chinese takeaway. Or was it China? No matter: "Obama made at least some impact on the Chinese public, though, as soon as he got off the plane in Shanghai: He was carrying his own umbrella. That impressed many Chinese, who are used to seeing their political leaders with an underling holding their umbrella for them. One Chinese online commentator suggested: “Why don’t we learn from U.S. President Obama’s spirit of umbrella-holding?”"
I do agree with Obama in that I don't let anyone hold my brolly for me. But that's because I don't trust them. I have seen Hector staring longingly at a number of cherished pieces from my collection. However, there is nothing wrong with showing staff who the boss is and getting them to perform menial tasks. That's what they are there for. I don't even bother with delegation. I let Hector do that for me. Saves me more time for foreign jaunts.
I've certainly been racking up the air miles this year and my passport has more stamps than a toddler's tantrum convention. I have now visited over 10 countries. And that doesn't include the North. Or Wales. I can't exactly recall what is happening in Trinidad, something to do with brolly sector honchos from Commonwealth countries and some big Commonwealth shindig. A quaint, patronising throwback to the heady days of Empire it may be (we will be speaking the mother tongue, Oxford English, naturally) but it shits all over the bureaucratic nonsense that is the EU.
We will be discussing some pretty fundamental human rights issues and Uganda may be in for a blow to the kidneys if they don't back down over proposals to give the death penalty, or even worse, send people to prison for prancing around with an umbrella in a "gay way". I am all for innovative solutions to filling yet more prisons, run by us naturally, but it wouldn't work in the UK, where most people just look miserable when carrying a brolly.
It would be nice if Fab or Geof were here to carry my bags and fan me with cocktail umbrellas. But I saw an interesting snippet about Obama's recent trip to the Chinese takeaway. Or was it China? No matter: "Obama made at least some impact on the Chinese public, though, as soon as he got off the plane in Shanghai: He was carrying his own umbrella. That impressed many Chinese, who are used to seeing their political leaders with an underling holding their umbrella for them. One Chinese online commentator suggested: “Why don’t we learn from U.S. President Obama’s spirit of umbrella-holding?”"
I do agree with Obama in that I don't let anyone hold my brolly for me. But that's because I don't trust them. I have seen Hector staring longingly at a number of cherished pieces from my collection. However, there is nothing wrong with showing staff who the boss is and getting them to perform menial tasks. That's what they are there for. I don't even bother with delegation. I let Hector do that for me. Saves me more time for foreign jaunts.
Monday, 23 November 2009
You pay what you get for
I am going to reheat another tired old campaign of mine now. I have long felt that the standard of brolly governance would be much improved if people could be paid to look after their gamps. Ignoring the fact that most people quite happily own a gamp voluntarily and are happy to do so and that having adequate time to devote to looking after an umbrella is often a bigger barrier than the money, I will still push this suggestion forward in the hope that I can make a tidy packet from overseeing yet more brollies. Some have pointed out that this would simply lead to all of the bigger and more expensive umbrellas ending up in the hands of 20 or so brollycrats milking a comfortable second living. And as long as I am one of them what's wrong with that?
What I really need now to finish off my argument is to shamelessly piggyback on the memory of a respected high profile brolly sector notable who has died recently and was once connected with a committee that had some radical views that are only very tenuously linked with my own. I could then claim that my ramblings are just a 21st Century reworking of hers even though they aren't and anyway, she isn't here to defend herself any more. But even I wouldn't do that would I?
The other reason why high salaries and extra remuneration is so much on my mind recently is that I accidentally bought this recently and have cashflow issues. Apparently, if you wave your hand around during an auction you can end up buying something you don't want. Who knew?
What I really need now to finish off my argument is to shamelessly piggyback on the memory of a respected high profile brolly sector notable who has died recently and was once connected with a committee that had some radical views that are only very tenuously linked with my own. I could then claim that my ramblings are just a 21st Century reworking of hers even though they aren't and anyway, she isn't here to defend herself any more. But even I wouldn't do that would I?
The other reason why high salaries and extra remuneration is so much on my mind recently is that I accidentally bought this recently and have cashflow issues. Apparently, if you wave your hand around during an auction you can end up buying something you don't want. Who knew?
Thursday, 19 November 2009
A brave trek to sanctuary
On Monday, my blog had a picture of a poor delicate flower of a brolly which had been abandoned after sustaining severe injuries in last weekend's winds. As you can see from these new pictures, there is still hope for it. Yesterday I noticed it had moved 2 feet and was sheltering 'neath a rock.
I would get a reputation such as the great Victorian leader Gladstone (himself linked to umbrellas) had for assisting fallen women.
Tuesday, 17 November 2009
Personalising stuff for members
We launched our interim first draft not-quite-finished initial-findings-with-no-firm-conclusions-as-yet report of BUBB's Commission on Personalisation yesterday. All attendees received their own personal copy with their name on it.
The personalisation agenda is a big opportunity for the brolly sector, especially if we all work together as one. If everyone was made to have their name emblazoned on their umbrella it would mean people could be re-united with their lost gamp much quicker if they leave it on the tube. And it would save the government a fortune on ID cards.
After that I went to a meeting with the excellent brolly sector team of Veronica Squif and Vanessa Doublechin who batter us in government by doing things like suddenly pulling the plug on the campaigning fund that people used to fund the printing of slogans on gamps. Witches. This is clearly not compliant with the terms of the Compact (a small fold-away brolly that fits in your handbag) and is something I really should be making more noise about instead of wittering on about peripheral concerns such as Lotte Shight and the bankers. But as Hubert Carrington's mob at NCVO have already taken up the baton on this one I am finding it very difficult to agree with them and work in partnership.
The personalisation agenda is a big opportunity for the brolly sector, especially if we all work together as one. If everyone was made to have their name emblazoned on their umbrella it would mean people could be re-united with their lost gamp much quicker if they leave it on the tube. And it would save the government a fortune on ID cards.
After that I went to a meeting with the excellent brolly sector team of Veronica Squif and Vanessa Doublechin who batter us in government by doing things like suddenly pulling the plug on the campaigning fund that people used to fund the printing of slogans on gamps. Witches. This is clearly not compliant with the terms of the Compact (a small fold-away brolly that fits in your handbag) and is something I really should be making more noise about instead of wittering on about peripheral concerns such as Lotte Shight and the bankers. But as Hubert Carrington's mob at NCVO have already taken up the baton on this one I am finding it very difficult to agree with them and work in partnership.
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