The Diving Bell, the Butterfly and the Number 61 Bus.

As I stand at the bus-stop in Maryhill Road, an overweight man puffs his way by, completely drunk. Bent over, he walks along the level pavement as if he’s walking down a very steep hill. The woman standing next to me turns round and says ‘Is that no’ terrible? At this time in the morning. Ah’m tellin’ ye, Glasgow’s getting worse, so it is’
The fact that she herself is totally pissed seems completely lost on her. Her breath stinks, a cocktail of stale and fresh booze. She sways on her feet. As she talks, her head swivels unsteadily up and down and from side to side. I begin to worry that it will fall off completely. And if it does fall off, what should I do? Should I try to catch it? Or should I just let it bounce on the pavement, act as if nothing has happened? Is that rude? Would there be an awkward silence? Should I pick it up and hand it back to her, saying here, I think you dropped your...Before I have time to decide however, my bus appears at the top of the road.
I sit near the back. Not at the very back because I don’t want to get trapped behind the druggies and drunks who are sure to get on this bus as always. I take my book out. A proud act of defiance against my surroundings. The Diving Bell and the Butterfly. A wonderful book about a man who suffers locked-in syndrome. That’s to say he’s completely physically paralysed yet at the same time is totally lucid inside that body. Anyway, it is only a hundred pages long but I still can’t finish it due to my inability to block out my surroundings. I try once again. No good, my attention is drawn to the sound of two Polish chattering away on the seat in front of me. Not speaking Polish myself, it sounds like gibberish. The sort of language people talk when they‘re very drunk. Slurred incoherent gibberish. Still with the huge number of Poles now in the city, this gibberish is now the constant background music to the Glaswegian nonsense you would normally hear otherwise. And I know, it’s only a matter of time, evolution, before the Polish gibberish and Glaswegian nonsense will merge into a curious babble no-one but the severely inebriated will be able to understand.
A man in a donkey jacket gets on and sits in the seat opposite me. I can’t help noticing he opens up the free paper and immediately reads the football pages. I find this annoying. This town’s obsession with Rangers and Celtic. How I would love to take his paper and throw it out the window. ‘Get a life!’ I would shout. ‘Get a bleedin’ life!’ Why don’t you try to read a book like me? That’s culture mate. Not Rangers and Celtic. I mean do you really care? Do you really care about footballers who earn more in a week than some of us will earn in three years?’ I don’t say that of course because if I said that I may end up suffering from locked in syndrome myself. And what would be the point in that? No. That’s right. No point. I look out the window and see the bus has already reached the city centre.
A mobile phone rings. A well dressed man in front of me takes the mobile phone out of his inside jacket pocket. It’s ringtone is clearer now. A sectarian song from one side of the Old Firm. I don’t know which. It’s just another form of gibberish. A couple of faces turn round and glare at the man. Others like me don’t bother. Don’t want the bother. It’s just some more background music on the way to work.
At the next stop a couple of guys in tracksuits get on the bus continuing a conversation from outside. ‘...ye’re kidding me, Malky’s in the digger just for stabbing some guy in the face with a screwdriver? That’s no real man’. The conversation is as much for everyone else to hear than themselves. To let other people know they think stabbing a guy in the face with a screwdriver is no big deal. Aye, very good. Very good. Twats.
We reach the East End. I don’t know why there’s such a hooha about these TV programmes where people are trapped in the seventies and eighties. If I want to travel back to the seventies, I just visit the East End of Glasgow. Gap sites long since developed into modern chic flats in other parts of the city remain gap sites in the East End. Shops which closed down in the seventies remain closed but still displaying the same shop signs they did from that time. East end fashion as it is, remains, parkas, long hair, even flares. The East End. Life on Mars.
We pass Parkhead Stadium. Home of Glasgow Celtic. A impressive and imposing Green cathedral resplendent against a brave blue sky. The car park is filled with Porsches, BMWs, and the like. So much wealth in an area of so much poverty. Just like it’s counterpart in Ibrox. Yet, just like it’s counterpart in Ibrox this place is worshipped. Can’t the people see the irony? How wrong it all is? Is it just me? I find it all so annoying and try to get back to my book once more. But not for long. I look out the window.
Near the addiction centre, one man in particular catches my eye. A white skeletal face so ravaged by heroin that it is barely more than a skull. He genuinely looks as if he has died and has just risen from the grave. It is frightening and shocking, painful to see and desperately sad.
I put the book back in my bag. It’s no use. I’m so full of rage myself. I want to shout and scream at the top of my voice at the injustices and inequalities of the life I see around me. But I stay silent. Like I’m suffering my own form of locked-in syndrome. I can only stay silent. And watch. And listen. And then maybe, someday leave. Move to a nice small town in England or abroad. That’s the dream. The hope. The dream which flutters in my mind against the diving bell of my everyday existence. Never mind, here’s my stop. I get off the bus and go to work.

I love Jaws. Such a great film.

Jaws must be one of my favourite films. It must be because I must have seen it more than a dozen times. Through choice I may add. I love it simply because it's such a great film. In that it's so well made. Every part of it is excellent. The script. The story. The music. The acting. The atmosphere. The setting. And of course the direction. It's just a wonderful film. And it was no surprise to hear Steven Spielberg say a lot of the time he was just a young guy playing it by ear, still learning his trade. A lot of the time he wasn't quite sure what he was doing. It's one of those works of art which becomes great when everything just comes together. And so often great works of art happen when a great artist does something by throwing stuff together and seeing what happens. Jaws is one of those times. A great film by a director learning what film is capable of.

P.S. I won't mention the rubber shark which is admittedly the films weak point. Then again even with a completely unrealistic shark it's still a great film.  

Why are dentists so expensive?

I went to the dentist the other day. What? Isn't that what blogs are for? To tell you I went to the dentist? What did you expect? That I'd tell you I met the Secretary General of the U.N to complain about the price of cigarettes? No, I went to the dentist. The point is how much it cost. I earn a low wage by the way. Just in case you didn't know. I expect you to feel sorry for me. But like I say the point is even though I earn a low wage I still pay the full amount. Is that fair? Is God a dentist or what? I mean I'm talking half a week's wages just to get a check up. It seems that in Britain, day by day, it gets harder and harder to just survive by doing an honest day's work. And by an honest day's work, I'm not including dentists.
Like I say I'm genuinely miffed.You know what parents should do with children? They should take them aside at a reasonably early age, like two, and say "Look son, this is what will happen if you don't brush your teeth every day. And instead of showing them a picture of some unfortunate person with black and missing teeth, they should just show them your average dentist's bill. "Yes, I know son, it isn't pleasant, but I'm showing you this for your own good. That's right, two hundred pounds for a spit and polish Children would rush to the bathroom in their thousands, scrubbing away for all their worth. I'm sure of it. Every dentist would go out of business and I would be happy for a change. So there.

What's the point of voting in Britain right now?

I really enjoyed watching the Intelligence Debates on Bloomberg this morning. The debate in question was whether the two party system was good or bad for America. This two party system debate is something which is also relevant to the UK I feel. Especially since the Lib-Dems have, for the moment at least, become part of the Tory party. But even without that recent development, Britain has basically had two choices when it comes to elections, Conservative or Labour. And over time I feel this has become bad for Britain. Over time I say because in earlier decades the two parties did more or less represent the two sides of Britain. It quite correctly reflected that Britain was divided between left and right. Not so much rich and poor or upper class and lower class because the Conservatives in certain places were known as the working class party for instance. But generally the choice between Tory and Labour was enough for most people. There was enough difference between the two parties to say there was indeed a choice to make. Yet in both parties desire for power they moderated their policies to try and encompass more people and gain more votes. And so as both parties moved towards the centre, by the time we get to the end of the nineties they as good as met in the middle. There was practically no difference between the policies. Which meant when the voters went to the polls in the election last year they were really voting for the personalities involved rather than the policies involved. This was no more apparent than when we had the three political leaders having a live TV debate for the first time. It was more like an X-Factor reality TV contest rather than intense political debate. It wasn't about what they said but rather how they said it. As such Nick Clegg was suddenly a front runner in the election. A man representing a party whose policies were still a mystery but what mattered was he talked a good game. So he was suddenly seen as a front runner. Surely such a situation where policies are secondary to personalities isn't healthy. And again this has simply came about because of the two/three party system. The possible changing of the voting system may help change the dominance of the the two parties in Britain. But even then who else is there to vote for in the UK? What other parties are out there ready to step up to the plate? The British National Party? The UK Independence Party? The Greens? These are parties which are based around one particular issue. They don't appear to be legitimate national parties with real national policies. That's why I feel more than ever before there seems to be no real choice when it comes to voting in the next election. We don't just need a new national third party. But we need a new national fourth, fifth sixth and party and so on. We need good legitimate national parties to spring up and blossom over time. Because if not there is a real possibility this present political personality contest will develop into a nothing more than who has the best hair, voice, jokes, smile, shape. If one of those taking part in the live TV debates was a very popular TV or film star, a stand up comedian or the latest winner of another reality TV contest, those with the real power know it would help their party win the election. The US perhaps has gone there already. And I feel there is a real possibility of that happening here in a couple of elections time. Those in power will say that everyone should vote. It's not just their democratic right but their democratic obligation to do so. But can you really blame people if they don't vote? What's the point when there is no real choice? There is no real choice because there is no real difference between the main political parties. And this is a result of the two/three party system we have in Britain. If it doesn't change then more and more people will be making the choice not to vote at all. Who can blame them?

There's been such an 'uproar' about the Rangers-Celtic match the other night. And quite right too. I love Glasgow but as with a lot of people and their home towns, there's many times I hate it too. Probably why I no longer live there. And when I see the mentality of certain people in regards to football and violence I'm glad I don't live there any more. There's a Glaswegian macho pride in being aggressive and in Glasgow being a violent town. And that same misguided, immature mentality is no where more prevalent when in comes to the rivalry between Rangers and Celtic. A rivalry once based on purely sectarianism is still just the same after a hundred years of violence pretending to be sport. The hate and aggression in the face of Neil Lennon squaring up to Ally McCoist tells you everything you need to know about the Old Firm and the violent side of Glasgow. But that hate reflected in the face of the Celtic manager is also reflected in the hospital casualty wards and the homes where drunken hyped up men come back and take out their pent-up aggression on their wives and family. Of course the very well-paid footballers in their luxury houses and comforted lives don't give a damn about that even if they had the intelligence to understand it in the first place. What I found really offensive today was the attitude afterwards summed up by Jim Jefferies the Hearts manager who said he found the whole thing 'quite tasty'. Alex McLeish had a similar attitude as well as all the ex-players who I seen interviewed. It was pathetic. They all had that same macho pride in thinking they were 'tough'. And that's an attitude many Glaswegian men have. They think they're tough cos they live in a tough town. It's quite sad and immature and a reason I wish Rangers and Celtic were banned altogether from football. But that ain't going to happen. They're not going to change either. Especially if there is money to be made out of violent sectarianism. Which is all Rangers and Celtic is about at the end of the day.

There's talk right now of whether Britain and some others countries should take military action against Colonel Gaddafi. This would be such hypocrisy on behalf on the British Government. Since for so long Britain was an active supporter of Gaddafi. Especially as now a lot more is coming out about the amount of atrocities Gaddafi committed over the years. Whilst all the time Britain with others was dealing with this tyrant for the sake of business and oil. As a Scot it also makes me reflect in particular on the disgraceful decision by the Scottish Government to free the Lockerbie bomber. A man who possibly received his orders direct from Gaddafi. The argument the Scottish government used at the time was that it was for compassionate ground. The government argued the decision to free him was in the spirit of Scottish law, if not the spirit of Scotland itself. That even though Megrahi murdered 270 people, because he was (apparently) dying of cancer, it meant he should still be released to die in his own country. Even in the face of this man committing the biggest atrocity ever known on British soil, the Scottish government said it was the Christian and Scottish thing to do to still show compassion towards Megrahi. Yet the logic of the Scottish government is fatally flawed. Because there is one vital ingredient needed to make the Scottish governments argument remotely plausible. That ingredient is remorse. Megrahi never showed remorse. And as such the Scottish government has shamed Scotland. The decision to free an unremorseful mass murderer was deeply immoral and actually goes against everything the majority of Scottish people believe and what Scotland itself stands for. For that alone Alex Salmon should find himself voted out of office at the next election. Yes, I do believe or I would like to believe, as a Christian and a humanitarian that there is no crime so evil that you still can't find it in your heart to forgive. But the first step in that long journey is for the perpetrator of that crime to show some kind of remorse. And I repeat this is something Al Meghrahi never showed. And therefore he should never have been shown compassion and been freed. It would be nice to think when it comes to everything associated with Gaddafi we've made enough mistakes already. Let's not make another by using military action in Libya.