The Sun Has Got His Knife Crime Hat On

 In the period of July to September in 2007, England and Wales saw an anomalous drop in assaults and knife crime, whilst simultaneously experiencing one of the wettest summers on record.

Following on from this, it was hypothesised that the rate of knife crime in the UK is inversely proportional to the annual rainfall.

 Naturally, muggers and madmen are unlikely to want to hang around in drizzle.

 So for that reason you could think that the typically uninspiring British climate stands as a grand example for the saying “every cloud has a silver lining”.

 However, if we were to apply Newton’s third law of motion to metaphor, in that every metaphor has an equal but opposite folk-saying, a darker trend emerges; in the brightest light there is darkness, the brightest hour comes just before dusk, we are more likely to be murdered on a sunny day.

 And it’s with that in mind that I’m cautiously enjoying the glorious weather recently lighting up the lives of millions across the UK. Everyone is rushing outside to enjoy barbeques, play sports and potentially kill me.

  Are the parks and shopping streets now full of witnesses or hidden assassins? I know you can stab someone unnoticed in a crowd. I’ve seen it in at least three films and done it myself on the X-box.

 Would I be safer at a barbeque thanks to the company of a trusted group and a healthy supply of our own sharp knives and cutlery?

 In fact, if we were to ignore all other variables and research on the matter it could be considered evident that the increase in knife crime is caused by the abundance of small gangs of people, drinking outside while carrying sharp metal objects.

 Meat is murder. Barbeques are a killing spree waiting to happen.

 Whilst I could hypothesise how and when we’ll be murdered until the cows leave home, rest assure that if you live in the UK, within a week or two the rain will make a welcome return and all potential man-slaughterers will be back inside watching television like the rest of us.

 So enjoy it while it lasts. By which I mean the sun as well as the following respite from crime and\or your doomed, doomed existence.

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Somewhere a tribe of Native American people don't do Rain Dances. They do Statistically-Lower-Violent-Crime-Rate Dances.

The Sinister Underbelly of Shaking Hands

Strong handshakes frighten me. And that’s nothing to do with fearing anyone’s physical strength in itself but rather a fairly sensible mistrust of anyone who’d want to begin an introduction by showing me how physically strong their hand is.

I’ll accept that in a multitude of careers and situations a strong handshake would be a welcome first impression; if we were to be working together on a fishing boat or standing on the doors of a nightclub for example. In short; situations whereby a person’s grip strength may have something to say about their aptitude for the job.

But when you’re a freelance creative meeting an estate agent?

A strong handshake on this occasion can only mean one of three things:

1. The shaker is trying to convince me that we’re both real masculine folk of the hardy, hands dirty workforce of the world; which we aren’t.
2. The shaker wants me to be aware of his physical power for purely personal reasons; maybe I’ll respect him more if I think he can climb a rope.
3. He is of the school whereby a ritualistic activity is given far too much practice and consideration to be natural.

We’re both clearly soft young men of the sort whose regular lives require all the physical prowess of a five year old so I’m always taken aback by the classic “step. Turn shoulder. Shake. Shake. Nod. Step back” approach precisely because of how aware I am that it is something cultivated solely for creating the initial illusion that we are both trustworthy, diligent men who have grown strong through labour.

Which we aren’t.

It’s not the relaxed handshake of a good friend of a friend’s you met in the pub. It’s not the handshake that demonstrates trust between yourself and your girlfriend’s father. It’s the handshake that purports a professional persona that doesn’t quite fit. When the first thing I learn about a person is that every wink, smile and comment is being lifted directly from a company manual, I unsurprisingly trust them less.

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It’s quite frankly bizarre to think how unnatural a custom dating back to the 5th century B.C can seem. So much so in fact that people not only read but get paid to write articles and books about how to successfully shake hands with another human being. It should be a pleasant, brief show of trust that all too often becomes dirtied by egotism and bland, corporation prescribed methodology.

In any sane world we wouldn’t need to be told how to shake hands, let alone win at it.

Next Week: How to Win at Shaking Hands.

Will include:

• Analysis of likely opponents.
• Step by step instructions.
• A reference to one of the greatest martial arts films ever made.

Riots as Language and Illiteracy

Ever since we entered “the technology age” it has become increasingly apparent that the youth will always be ten steps ahead of the last generation. Never has there been a better example than last week, when hundreds of young people made a pre-emptive strike by practicing large scale smoke signals and communicating through semantically charged street theatre even before David Cameron publicly announced the possibility of a social media crackdown. Never mind the fact that Iran and Libya have already proved the futility of attempting to block modern communications and that David Cameron himself declared all that freedom of speech and the internet were “the entitlement of people everywhere; of people in Tahrir Square as much as Trafalgar Square” (although perhaps he meant this in the reverse of the sense we took it at the time) these admirable youngsters have taken things a step further by showing that they are prepared to organise themselves even if an EMP takes out all the electrical appliances in England.

For example, setting fire to car generates a particularly thick black plume that warns others that petrol has become too expensive to make personal car ownership a reasonable expectation. Stripping random people naked not only warns us about incoming hot weather (or possibly just warmth from nearby fires) but it suggests a recommendation for the removal of an unnatural, puritan modesty as forceful as its imposition; the deeper symbolic meaning suggesting that none of us should be ashamed of whom we are. Stealing large screen televisions is an outcry against our wasteful use of energy and its role to play in global warming; by hiding and stock piling these items Britain’s looters hope to save the planet. Or at the very least counter balance the green house effect of burning all those cars.

Dr. King is famously quoted as having said that the “riot is the language of the unheard”. Whilst throughout history acts of mass public disobedience have been read as powerful denouncements of oppressive regimes and demonstrations of a community’s refusal to accept injustice, I hope he’d agree that in any theoretical language the ransacking and burning a small local grocery store is a clear media attention grabbing method of informing the nation that you are a cunt.

NOTW As Free Press (if we ignore the prison metaphore.)

A lot has been said about the News of the World debacle. Although during the discussion some very important angles of the situation have been too widely ignored.  Sure. I’d concede that they may have committed “a few” illegal acts (possibly over 4,000) but in the rush to dish in on the righteous outrage\juicy gossip, I feel that we’ve forgotten about the real victim here: freedom. Both freedom to and freedom from.

 I’m talking about the freedom of journalists to report matters of public interest, such as whether the parents of missing children are worried, or if people feel sad when their loved ones die in terrorist attacks. Possibly the sudden rise in anti-freedom of the press sentiment is a backlash of the post-wikileaks era. A paranoia brought on by the uncertain legal world of electronic communication.

 To those bearing such sentiment I would demand that they think back to the good old days of reporting when, with police approval, members of the tabloid press would have to break into the homes of victim’s families and rifle through drawers for letters, study the placement of family portraits and smell pillows in case some salty residue might betray a mother crying herself to sleep the previous night. That was real journalism; a vast array of maverick semi-private investigators funded by advertisers and people who like to read slosh over toast. In this case, journalism is just another facet of life being made easier by emerging technology.

This brings me to the other side of the magnanimous coin of liberty; freedom from. I’m quite certain you’d agree that many people suffering personal tragedy don’t want to be hounded by more than 60 million people they don’t know to explain all the details. Surely then it’s better that these people are left alone whilst we pay someone to illegally access their personal information and relay it to us in print. Done properly this will be accompanied by a pixelated photo of them taken from behind a hedge.

 Much like Kenneth Clarke’s proposal to reduce rape charges for an early plea of guilty; we cut out the suffering of the victims by cutting down on all the other troublesome parts of the equation that cause them to be actively involved in the legal procedures concerning them and the tribulations they have endured.

 Laws, much like anything else, are a matter of balance. If you’re willing to break the law and risk prison to find out whether a pop singer is happy with her new boyfriend then by all means you’ve clearly earned that private information and should be supported. If you’re caught in the act you will even have access to legal aid.

This can only be right; legal or otherwise, you need help.

Dying Children Sell Better Than Sex

The UK held a referendum last week to decide whether or not we should make a minor adjustment to our voting system. The “no to change” won the referendum by an astonishing 68%.

 What makes this most surprising is that one of the primary campaign angles was “Vote No or a Child Will Die.”

 Seriously; 

 I’ve often attempted to come up with the most ridiculous and offensive marketing campaign imaginable (on the off chance I ever had enough money to rent advertising space nation wide and enough indifference to neglect the amount of homeless children who’d have to look at it.) However, this Prime Minister backed, serious political campaign had only previously occurred in my early drafts and was quickly dismissed as “too crude.”

 I’ve decided that for once, perhaps I should humbly accept that I was wrong.

 Claiming that a child will die unless you follow an order, irrespective of the veracity of that claim, just might be the solution to all of our problems.

 I’ve made a few examples below:

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Unfortunately, it appears that veracity is the Achilles heel of the dead child argument. Oxfam has had to up its game to “these children will get nice clothes and be well educated” rather than just “survive”.

 Some day they might grow up to be business people.

 Some day they might address the imbalance that has left third world children slaving away to make trainers for less money than I might stop to pick up off the floor.

 Some day they will own global corporations and the advertising posters will look like this:

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