Take five... or maybe six

As if stringing words together into sentences and gathering sentences into paragraphs wasn’t difficult enough, I now have to learn to count. The English Baccalaureate consists of six subjects, not five, unless you count ‘science’ as one subject in which two passes are required, which is confusing. I blame a post on the BBC website which stated ‘five’ but counted two as one, not helped by (possibly inaccurate) reports from last year which suggest that from the time it was first mooted the science part of this new benchmark has been beefed up. Never copy other people’s homework.

Take five

I am both exasperated and amused by the reaction to the introduction of the English Baccalaureate. The response has been much the same as when school ‘league tables’ were introduced, with an additional complaint thrown in for good measure. The familiar concern is along the lines of different populations and diverse backgrounds making any such measurement ‘unfair’, or that some children are better suited to vocational study. I have some, but not much, sympathy for this view; because whilst the make-up of the school provides context for the answer, it is irrelevant to whether the question should be asked.

As an average parent living in an average area, I fully expect there to be disparity between my local schools and those in a more affluent part of the country; where practically possible, I also have every right to know what those differences are.

The English Baccalaureate takes existing data and measures how many pupils achieved passing grades in five ‘core’ subjects; maths, English, two science, one foreign language and either history or geography. There is no additional work for school, teacher or (most importantly) pupil, yet the same tired arguments have resurfaced along with a new and equally irrelevant grievance; that this measurement has been applied retrospectively. I might as well complain that a distance once measured in yards is now given in metres.

And what’s to stop the IPPR, teachers unions or other agitators from crunching the data on a different set of subjects, creating their own Baccalaureate if you will? Indeed, the correct question for the Commons Select Committee is not “why those particular subjects” but, given the internet, why not in addition allow the public to compare schools based on selected subjects of their own? It’s only information, why so afraid?

You say Keynes, I say potato

Admittedly I can’t recollect much about the Keynesian economics I was taught at school; the little I remember revolved around the idea of flattening out the peaks and troughs, running a surplus through the ‘good’ times and thus having money for ‘infrastructure’ investment during the ‘bad’. But there were two fundamental problems I had with this as a teenager and they are the same two problems I have today:

If investment in infrastructure is required, what has this to do with any economic cycle? Are we saying we should time any such expenditure accordingly? That doesn’t seem likely. Or are we to invest in something that normally we wouldn’t consider? That doesn’t seem sensible.

My main concern however was more human; I couldn’t envisage any government being able to show the self-restraint necessary during the boom years to run a surplus. The previous government proved this point chillingly by gorging through tax receipts during the larger part of the last decade, and still managing to build up debt to eye-watering levels.

But having a dig at Labour, fun though it is isn’t what I wanted to get off my chest; it’s the continued use of the ‘Keynesian’ adjective. To be valid, this is a qualifier that can only be applied to an extended period of time over which there has been both ‘more’ and ‘less’ expenditure, otherwise it’s… well, fluffy nonsense used to justify spending money we haven’t got on things we don’t need. Talk of ‘Keynesian-style’ investment is gibberish because of what has, or rather hasn’t, gone before; I may as well take a fiscal contraction during the 1980’s of Margaret Thatcher and call it Keynesian; and I can’t imagine anyone arguing that.

Our Lord, Ferguson

Whereas I can easily pin-point the moment when athletics died, with Ben Johnson in 1988, football isn’t so easy to discard - the nonsense off the field is part of the drama, hell I miss Jose Mourinho, but I doubt I’ll ever miss Alex Ferguson. I couldn’t care less about mind games, they’re puerile and a fall-back for lazy journalism, but I do care about the use of debatable decisions to question the integrity of others.

…you want a fair referee. You want a strong referee anyway and we didn't get that. I don't know why he's got the game. I must say that when I saw who was refereeing it, I feared the worst.

Last season Ferguson received a two match touchline ban (with another two suspended) and a £20,000 fine for questioning the fitness of the referee Alan Wiley. Doubtless the defence for his attack on Martin Atkinson will be a couple of controversial incidents that went against Manchester United, a defence that is completely irrelevant. It’s OK to say the referee made a mistake, but it is simply not acceptable to say the referee made a mistake and from this insinuate that he is corrupt. More than that, it’s pathetic. Doubtless he’s already forgotten Wayne Rooney’s deliberate elbow in the head of Wigan’s James McCarthy – the assertion that there “was nothing in it” was absurd. One hopes the Football Association will pull their finger out, put the boot in, and inflict a punishment appropriate for a repeat offender.

A kind of subject

So I use the Chrome browser and have done ever since it came out. It has a clean interface, it's beautifully simple to use and it's as fast as they claim; on those occasions when I open Firefox - for the "what does this look like in other browsers" test - I find myself drumming my fingers waiting for it to load.

I particularly like the Gmail desktop notifications that Google now support for their browser. I might as well comment on the online music business as to Google's use of HTML5, but what it has impressed on me is that slow move away from applications running on a desktop operating system, to those running on the web. At home I've recently found myself closing Outlook and keeping the browser open - and of course that's what Microsoft is afraid of.

The wild west

Desperate to find something to keep me occupied, after dropping the family off to see Joseph! at the Bristol Hippodrome (I wasn’t desperate enough to join them), I remembered there was a cinema entrenched within Cabot Circus. It had “de Lux” in the name, it was showing True Grit and best of all it had an online booking service - I wouldn’t have to talk to anyone.

But the online booking service wasn’t working so I took a chance with the 24 hour booking line; (I thought) all you have to do is press numbers. Alas, whilst that’s enough for Barclays it’s not enough to book a film and I was obliged to speak to the software on the other end. It was a short conversation:

Good afternoon and welcome… If, for example, you are calling for the Showcase cinema in Birmingham, simply say Birmingham, otherwise please say which Showcase cinema you are calling for.

Bristol.

I’m not sure if you mean the Showcase cinema in Cabots Circus, Bristol City centre or… Leeds.

Then I remembered I'd been using Chrome earlier; maybe I should try the old-timer, good old Internet Explorer, still good for something… and my ticket was booked.

All I needed was a cover story. It’s easier than explaining to Little Miss R why she can’t watch certain films, Black Swan was bad enough, and since she holds back from talking to people she doesn’t know - can’t imagine where she gets that from - I decided to meet a friend.

What’s his name?

Oh… ummm… Rooster Cogburn.

And then I added:

He probably looks a little different to how I remember.

Yet despite being a Coen brothers production, this new version is reassuringly familiar. It’s more subtle than I expected, the guys in black are mostly a shade of grey, and surviving, like the rest of us.

The changing face of the BBC

Some, admittedly enjoyable, mealy-mouthed nonsense from the BBC today; from a report on Iranian warships entering the Suez Canal on their way to the Mediterranean:

Israeli [sic] considers Iran a threat because of its controversial nuclear programme, development of ballistic missiles, support for Lebanese and Palestinian militant groups, and promises to destroy Israel.

It was at least an honest, albeit rushed, assessment; I particularly like how Iran’s well documented threat to 'wipe Israel off the map' is added almost as an afterthought. Later in the day, however, the report was amended to:

Israel considers Iran a threat because of its controversial nuclear programme, development of ballistic missiles, support for Lebanese and Palestinian militant groups, and Tehran's repeated anti-Israel rhetoric.

So “promises to destroy Israel” becomes “anti-Israel rhetoric”. You know, I’ve occasionally used anti-German rhetoric when they beat us at football (so every few years), but really...