How to lose votes and influence no-one

When I was in the sixth form my school was visited by each of the major political parties and the Liberal party. I can't remember much of what was said but I do remember that they didn't exactly cover themselves in glory.

As befits a Liberal party spokesperson I can barely recollect what they said. I do vaguely remember a comment about proportional representation but that's rather par for the course. Given that I like our parliamentary representatives to be true representatives of, and directly accountable to their constituencies, the Liberal party was always going to have a hard time winning me over.

The Conservative party spokeswoman rather embarrassingly replied to a question on unemployment by saying that it was "the price of freedom". Oh dear! I seem to have air-brushed the rest of her presentation from my memory, which is probably just as well.

The Labour party spokesman was young, good looking and very cool. Brad, as I shall call him, could relate to the kids. We knew this because he wore jeans. He started out quite well but inevitably tripped himself up over the question of Mrs Thatcher (even now I have a hard time calling her Margaret). Maggie was such a bête noire for the political left that it was impossible to debate any subject without socialists of the time (and even today) bearing their fangs. Brad's mistake, when asked why his party hadn't produced any female leaders, was to make a number of originally light hearted sexist comments doubting the femininity of the prime minister; even questioning whether she was a woman at all. Unfortunately he didn't stop there, though I confess I did rather enjoy the uncomfortable look on the face of each teacher present. Even the teachers wearing corduroy jeans (a dead giveaway) looked shocked. It's just as well I don't resort to such stereotypes…

I was reminded of this visit recently whilst listening to a political commentator on the radio. The basic gist was that the makeup of the electorate was roughly the following; 30% would always vote Labour, 30% Conservative, 10% Liberal and the remainder would be undecided. As a result, he argued, political parties had become savvier in targeting those precious floating voters.

So I wondered; had there been an outstanding spokesperson all those years ago would it have made a difference? I'd like to think so. Though the representations were uniformly bad, they were from people who at least gave you a flavour of what their party represented. Back then there was a little less nous which made it a lot more honest. Nowadays there is more shrewdness, voters are more cleverly targeted but with the unfortunate consequence of a homogenised offering from parties that have all turned a lighter shade of beige.

A softer heart

In the Spike Jonze film Adaptation Nicolas Cage plays Charlie Kaufman, a screenwriter with writer's block, whilst also playing his less talented but soon to be more successful twin brother. It's a great film that provides a clever literary conceit to its screenwriter (of the same name) and also to a previous film from the same director, Being John Malkovich.

I would love to be able to write something as funny and cerebral as Malkovich or Adaptation but, if I were to push this fantasy, I would wish for something more traditional. John Irving described it best when he said of The World According to Garp that he hoped it would "break a few softer hearts". Alas I am not a writer. Like the fictional Charlie Kaufman I haven't a clue what to write; though unlike Charlie Kaufman, when I finally have something to say I won't know how to say it. I suspect that if I had the aptitude my dreams would be more earthly bound.

Just when I thought I was out...

People often deride software developers for having an unhealthy obsession with science fiction and lacking the necessary social skills to communicate effectively with the outside world. A gross caricature; in our defence we're a sensitive lot. It's true. I still shed a tear when I think of poor Obi-Wan cut down by his old apprentice, but then don't we all?

One thing we certainly share with the real world is that nagging fear that the skills that once made us necessary are no longer of value. Hence the constant urge to work using up to date technology, including the latest programming languages; god forbid you should have to revisit earlier versions. Strangely enough though, whether you are allowed to work with the latest tools might seem to be in inverse proportion to your level of experience. Personally however I'd rather have an experienced SQL developer loose on my database; an exposure to the latest version of SQL Server doesn't make you immune to bad database design.

In IT knowing too much can sometimes appear detrimental to your career. That old application you thought you were shot of? Guess what? You're the only person who knows how it works and something needs fixing. Even when it's an application you've had nothing to do with, because you have experience of working in the Jurassic period some sly colleague manages to cut you down with this dubious information. But in cutting you down you'll become more powerful than he could possibly imagine...

Three-quarters of a day in the life

My alarm goes at 6.15am. After a number of "snoozes" I finally wake up, get out of bed, and drag myself to the bathroom. It takes a while for me to focus but perhaps that's just as well. Make my way downstairs, straight out the door and into my car. It's peaceful at that time in the morning. It's quiet most of the time and I like it.

Not so keen on the drive. Around 30 miles but the route I take and the time at which I travel mean it's rarely a drain, except those occasions when the motorway is closed and then it's somewhat less than pleasant. Today I'm starting a new regime. No comfort snacking, a good bracing walk midday and exercise in the evening.

I drive off around 7am, through the empty town centre and along the twisting back roads until I reach the old Severn crossing. I make a conscious effort at a cheery "hello" to the person manning the tollbooth before crossing the bridge into Wales. The rest of my journey is motorway; first the M48, which has little traffic, followed by the ever busy M4. I miss the days when I could journey by train.

Arrive at work early. Car park is empty. I'm feeling a bit run down so I make a detour for Starbucks. Finally sit down at work, coffee one side and chocolate muffin the other, "snooze" the less important task reminders and read my e-mail. I've set myself a goal for what I want to achieve today so open up the project on one screen along with various database tools, and on the other I display the design. Decide I'd better answer a few of those e-mail queries and then it's heads-down and code away. If I can avoid looking anyone in the eye I may remain uninterrupted for the morning.

Several interruptions later and lunchtime arrives sooner than expected. Despite enjoying the work I'm already behind schedule so skip lunch and pop-down to the snack machine. Pretty sure a diet of Doritos and a Mars Bar isn't good for me but it could help the schedule. I have a quick browse on the BBC website to keep up with what's happening in the world outside (apparently there is one) and then it's heads-down and code away. If I can avoid looking anyone in the eye and crouch low enough in my seat, hiding behind my two monitors, I may remain uninterrupted for the afternoon.

Several interruptions later I notice a number of people packing up and going home, the office is half empty. I weigh up whether I should work late again, whether my schedule was realistic or whether I should just write it off as "one of those days". Either way I can't see myself doing any exercise this evening. I look around the office to see who's left and catch someone's eye.

Raggedy Man

Once time was kind

You looked the part

Although most missed

Your healthy heart

Still work you do

Now fit and trim

Won't stop the time

From reaching in

Your greying hair

The aches and pain

You've worked too hard

For little gain

Arthritic bones

Weren't in the plan

Can't hide the truth

You're a raggedy man

Bad sport

East European countries of the old Soviet bloc could be distinguished from the rest of Europe in three key ways.

• First was the use of the word 'democratic'; as in 'German Democratic Republic'. Was it irony or were they just taking the piss?

• Second was their love for the colour grey, putting aside the issue of whether grey is a colour.

• Thirdly was the highlighting of any sports related triumph to mask their own failure.

An obsession with sporting success has been a feature common to all manner of unsavoury regimes so it's somewhat unsettling to find organisations in Britain fixating in the same way. Whatever happened to the belief, dare I whisper it, that winning isn't nearly as important as 'being the best that you can be'. This noble ethos has long since been corrupted to 'being the best no matter what'; a belief that leaves many feeling impotent in their ability to effect a worthwhile change in the lives of others.

Sport used in such a way, instead of inspiring people to lead more active lives, pushes them further back into their comfortable sofas whilst they no doubt bemoan the lack of sporting success.

What time's the football on?

Pictures, Places, People

Pictures in my mind
the memory jars,
Re-opened scars
you'll find

Places I have seen
reduced to waste,
With teargas laced
unclean

People talking who
the soul now wear,
That once I shared
with you