Black Lives Matter Protests boosts Trump's re-election in November 2020

Like all right minded people, I was sickened, horrified and appalled at the slow, deliberate and brutal death of George Floyd at the hands of Minneapolis Police Officers. 

As we all are painfully aware this gruesome incident sparked fierce protests not only in America but across the globe including in the UK demanding change and justice for Mr Floyd and his family. 

I thought for one glorious moment that this would be the tipping point where all people from different economic backgrounds, races and political affiliations would have coalesced together under one banner to fight for genuine change. The Black Lives Matter (BLM) movement would be at the forefront of this peaceful revolution.  

However, what we have witnessed over the weeks is looting, burning and ransacking of businesses (many of them black owned) across the United States. The looters and arsonists do not care one iota about the death of George Floyd but saw this as an opportunity to fill their own pockets. Similarly, in London the protests have turned to violence where a significant minority have fought with police and insulted black police officers as 'race traitors'.

 As soon as the first brick was thrown, the first window pane smashed and the first business set alight the cause was irrevocably lost. These actions repulse and scare the pants of the silent majority of Americans who will go to the polling stations in November and vote in huge numbers to re-elect the self-styled law and order candidate, President Trump.   

It should not have come to this. The BLM had the sympathy of the world behind them, but allowing themselves to be hijacked by extremists and advocating to defund the police, the movement along with Joe Biden and the Democratic Party have clutched defeat from the gaping jaws of victory. President Trump could not have hoped for a better outcome even if he meticulously planned it himself.  

Coronavirus Pandemic - Never Discuss Politics or Religion among friends

With being furloughed from my events company, it has given me time to catch up with friends and family via social media.

I had the opportunity to speak with a companion of mine who I have known for several years. We had lost touch for a time but we were able to renew our acquaintance over the last six months.

We are both keen on politics her more so than I, but it was only when we rebooted our friendship that I realised how passionate she was about her political views and how she saw the world. Maybe I should of guessed her politics, as on her WhatsApp image she has photo of her and a smiling Jeremy Corbyn cheek to cheek.

Personally, I am moderate in all things especially when it comes to politics. In the past you would of refer to me as a Blairite (that was before he invaded Iraq with his brethren President George Bush).

I was never a Jeremy Corbyn fan and was horrified that he became leader of the Labour Party. No denying I was in the camp that wanted this old Trotskyite ousted from the leadership along with his communist companion John McDonald. I predicted nothing good would come of it with these people at the helm of the opposition party.

I hadn't realised that my friend was a fully paid up member of Momentum (socialist movement within the Labour party). They viewed Jeremy Corbyn as a saint, freedom fighter and hero of the downtrodden lumpen proletariat. Unquestionably, for most in Momentum including her, Corbyn is the British equivalent  of Fidel Castro and Che Guevara rolled into one.

This soon became apparent whenever we discuss politics. I tried to explain my political leanings but she would always rebuff my concerns over the labour leader by saying that I was being manipulated by the mainstream media and that anything negative about Corbyn was down to them and the right wing establishment.

When Labour lost the last election (December 2019), losing so many seats in traditional labour constituencies, according to her it was the media along with Labour in-fighting that caused this historic defeat.  Not one iota of blame was attributed to Corbyn and his acolytes.

It was nothing to do with the policies that Labour espoused and the muddled thinking over Brexit. It was all the fault of the establishment and the ignorance of voters. I thought when you start blaming voters that's when you truly lost any semblance of reality.

This came to a head after another feisty debate over the new leader Keir Starmer (who I am a keen supporter of and whom she hates). She texted me later saying she could not be friends any longer with someone who possessed my political views. This was accompanied with other messages which she accused me of being of low intelligence, mentally impaired and a thicko.

I was astounded that she would have nothing to do with me just because I disliked Jeremy Corbyn and the way he went about destroying the Labour Party. It wasn't as if I was a raving right-wing lunatic who admired Nigel Farage, supported Brexit and hated immigrants. For pity's sake we were in the same party!

However, purity was everything for her. If you weren't an ardent socialist, wanting to overthrow capitalism, then you were the enemy and you might as well be a fascist. 

I shall miss her indeed but as they say up in Yorkshire -  There's nowt so queer as folk!

Coronavirus Pandemic - The New Me On The Other Side

I read on Twitter that there are 3 things that you should be able to fulfil  when we eventually come out of self-imposed lockdown.

First develop a new skill. Second, plan a side hustle. Third, gain more knowledge.

After some reflection and still at the embryo stages of my thought processes, thus subject to substantial changes between now and the foreseeable future, my categories are the following: 

1. My new skill learnt would be poker (Texas Hold Em to be precise). Arguably, this could feed into my side hustle as I can envisage myself adorn in a loud sparkling shirt, dark rimmed glasses and wearing a 10 galleon hat playing poker at the Plaza in Las Vegas for eye-watering amounts.

If successful, this would be welcomed revenue to supplement my unemployment benefit if the pandemic wipes out the events/hospitality industry altogether. A relative suggested I could work for a food store if everything goes to pot. Stacking shelves at your local Sainsbury's is noble work and you can proudly say that you are a Key worker and enjoy the adulation as the whole nation appreciates your contribution by giving you a round of applause every Thursday. However, that's not for me, I want my new skill to have slightly more glamour than piling tins of Heinz bake beans on top of one another. More 'Bling than tin'.

2. My side hustle apart from the poker, would be my desire to become a personal trainer. Keeping up with my bling and glamourous trend, I would focus my efforts in training the rich and famous. I can imagine myself putting through their paces soap stars wanting to lose their man breasts, love handles and cellulite on their thighs.    

3. Reading more is the final part of the trilogy. The isolation has given me the opportunity to read the books that people purchased for me over the years that have simply collected dust on my fabulous designed book shelves. Apart from consuming fictional authors such as Sue Townsend, Tom Sharpe and Terry Pratchett, I would highly recommend Michael Haralambos book on Sociology which touches upon the Human Condition. Very relevant in the circumstances that we collectively find ourselves in. I have realised belatedly and to my shame that my books are not just there as an intelligent crafted backdrop when I appear on Zoom. 

The success of this endeavour is all a matter of discipline. It is not as if don't have the time. Maybe even too much time. That's my problem, the danger that I convert to my old self; sheer bloody laziness and procrastination.

The fear of fallen into my old ways could easily see me with three alternative scenarios after quarantine:

1. Extra blubber including Katie Price size man boobs, elephantine love handles and enough cellulite to inject into the lips of every wannabe star appearing on Love Island for the next ten series.
2. After weeks of isolation seeing myself creating an imaginary companion by drawing a face on an Adidas football and it being my best pal. 
3. An inability to do anything except watch copious amounts of Netflix, view dogs and cats behaving badly on YouTube and troll Twitter endlessly.  

Thus, either I will turn out to be a new renaissance man or a morbidly obese drooling Neanderthal after lockdown. As they say only time will tell. 

Coronavirus Pandemic - Lock me up already!

My heart sank even though it was inevitable, when it was announced last night (16 April 2020) by the stand-in Prime Minister Dominic Raab that the country-wide lockdown will continue for another THREE whole bloody weeks. God give me strength!

It was hard in the beginning to keep myself occupied in self isolation. This was not helped with the news that I have been furloughed by my work. It was no real surprise considering that my company specialises in events. Hence, this pandemic has been a disaster for the organisation and the events industry as a whole.

With time on my hands I have been fortunate that I have been able to volunteer at a local Food Bank, offer my services at a nearby homeless shelter, run shopping errands for vulnerable neighbours and last but not least look after an elderly relative who has been quarantined.

The above does not take up all of my time. There are days where I am literally navel gazing my tummy button for hours on end. I was never a great reader but I have forced myself to take up a book. Sue Townsend is my choice: 'The woman who went to bed for a year' is surprisingly funny. I have disciplined myself to read a chapter a day, so should finish by the time enforced lockdown is history.

As an aside, not being able to avail myself to services of my Jamaican barber has resulted in my hair growing unfeasibly high. It will not be long before I have a proper 1970s Afro resembling Michael Jackson on his album cover 'Off the wall'. MJ appears in all his glory on his first solo album with hair to die for (before the numerous nose operations and skin lightening).  Julian Assange could have comfortably holed up in Michael's bonnet for an eternity if the Ecuadorian Embassy in London hadn't opened their doors to him.  

Now on Chapter 2. If I keep this up and Event Management becomes an obsolete a job as a chimney sweep, I may become literary critic. However, reading a chapter a day may not cut it in most literary circles.





 

Knife Crime and the Issue facing Black People

The issue of knife crime especially in urban areas is over-whelmingly affecting the Afro-Caribbean community. We are both perpetrator as well as victim.

People who say that this is not simply a ’black problem' are missing the point entirely. Without the involvement of disaffected black teenagers this would not garner all the headlines that it has. It is a black problem where the black community needs to first acknowledge and take full responsibility for.

I despair when I listen to the likes David Lammy MP who attributes blame to everybody in society for the rise in knife crime, including police, the judicial system, schools, Tory austerity cuts, poverty, discrimination and white middle-class consumption of cocaine which in his eyes is fuelling Black violence. Like many on the left he attaches no responsibility whatsoever to the teenagers carrying out these cold bloodied crimes or their parents who have raised them. For liberals it is society's fault and not down to perpetrators or how they have been raised. For the Guardian newspaper reader, you would never direct any form of responsibility towards parents for failing to bring up their children to become decent, upright and law-abiding citizens.

This is where I fundamentally disagree with the liberal establishment. The root cause of the searing rise in violence is the destruction of the Black Family. Indeed, other factors play a part on the periphery but unmistakably all the problems facing black people stems from the absence of Black Fathers and the chaos this has inevitably caused in the growth of black children.

I believe the way forward is to embrace education. Even in the most deprived areas young men and women of all races, when they put their minds to it, will see education as an invaluable tool to social and upward mobility.

As Black people we need of course to work in conjunction with the police, the government, schools and other agencies to remedy the problem of knife crime. However, be in no doubt, the problem of gangs, drugs and extreme violence that are plaguing Black communities is of our own creation which we need to acknowledge. No amount of shifting the blame to others and perceived victim hood is going to solve it.

As I have stated repeatedly to anybody who wants to listen is that the biggest problem facing Black people is Black people. Unless you understand that concept you will never solve the problem of violence and mayhem which has become a malignant cancer in too many of our communities across the country.

Marvellous Marrakech Adventure!

I have decided after an awful long time (over 2 years) where I ceased to venture abroad to break this fast and pop over to Morocco to immerse myself in the delights of Marrakech. 

The reason why I chose this North African spot is the many people who have repeatedly been and talk excitedly about the wonderful and welcoming people, the culture and the attractions. 

I have to say the one thing on my Marrakech hit list is hiking up the Atlas Mountains. That should be an interesting and exhilarating experience. 

I am staying at the Dellarosa Hotel Suites and Spa. It is a four-star Boutique hotel, which is walking distance to the main tourist attractions of Marrakech City. The hotel has had decent reviews on Trip Adviser, which I hope it lives up to those expectations during my stay on a half board basis.  

I fly out on the 22nd June for 7 nights. The weather is going to be hot and humid so the sun tan lotion as well as the bug spray has been safely secured in the suitcase. I have also been freshening up my French and Arabic. It is always nice to know what is please, thank you and have a nice day in the local lingo. 

As the football world cup will be heading towards the knock out stages whilst I am here, I have also familiarised myself with French and Arabic football speak. The most relevant is 'have England made it to the last 16' and 'has Harry Kane scored a hattrick yet'. By the way, some people may think me mad, but I really believe that Gareth Southgate's men are going to lift the Jules Rimes Trophy come July 15th. I have got a ''Monkey'' riding on it (those not acquainted with British slang that's £500).  

I will be contemplating what I will be spending my vast winnings as I am camel riding through the Sahara Desert. Oh, happy times ahead!  

   

New Career New Challenge at the Food Standards Agency

It was good while it lasted but my time at the Guy's and St Thomas NHS Foundation Trust has come to an end.

Admittedly, being a Training Programme Coordinator for a number of specialties including Paediatrics, Haematology, Oncology and Radiology did have it's ups and downs. However, the people I worked with were generally okay and relatively easy to get on with.

My last day in the office was Friday 25th August. I start my new post within the Food Standards Agency on Monday 4th September. It's great having a week between jobs to recharge my batteries and relax.

As a Secretariat Manager my role is to look after the FSA Board Members by being their first port of call as regards to any information they require. Essentially it is about building and maintaining good relationships with important people. In many ways that is what I did in my previous post but with Consultants.

This is a new chapter in my working career and I'm confident it will go well. Frankly, if it does not work out I have nowhere to go. I do not have a plan B; only the fact that I envisaged myself selling the Big Issue if all goes to pot. The only thing I am dreading is minute taking that's my Achilles Heel. I need to work on that especially if I am going to be the minute taker at the next FSA Board Meeting on 20th September  in Belfast. It is already giving me nightmares and I have not even entered the building to commence work. I am crossing my fingers to make sure it goes okay.

One thing for sure I will either be great at the job or complete pants. There is going to be no in-between not for me. All or Nothing!

Below is a video of my leaving drinks. A nice turnout.

First Dates on the MayFair Power & Tower Race

It has been an eventful time at the DM Thomas Foundation for Young People where I am volunteering on my sabbatical from the NHS.

As part of my internship gaining experience in Event fundraising, I was tasked in helping organising the annual Mayfair Power and Tower Race held on the 26th May. We had nearly 100 competitors taking part. The event consisted of running 5km through Hyde Park, then entering the lobby of the iconic Hilton Hotel Park Lane before taking on the daunting challenge of ascending 28 flights of stairs to the Michelin-star Galvin at Windows Restaurant. Our intrepid Olympians were well rewarded with a medal and a lavish champagne breakfast to feast upon. This year’s winners were Mark Apsey who did it in a record 19:52 minutes and Louisa Lingley who completed the event in 21:40 minutes. All the money raised on this unique and exceptional challenge was donated to Galvin's Chance an into work programme for disadvantage young people in society.
http://galvinschance.co.uk/

My own claim to fame on that blistering hot Friday morning was I had the great fortune of having a selfie taken with Fred Sirieix the star of Channel 4 First Dates, and also the Co-founder of Galvin's Chance. He did a wonderful speech at the end of proceedings firstly, congratulating the runners and the event organisers plus talking about Galvin's Chance describing how the money raised by the participants will assist vulnerable young adults.  

In summary the ninth running of this event was a tremendous success with a record  number of contestants racing and a large amount of money donated to a worthy cause. If that wasn't  satisfaction enough, my new best selfie pal Fred remarked he would put in a good word for me to appear on the next series of First Dates. I replied that  I would only star if I was paired up with either Alesha Dixon or Beyoncé, preferably both. I maybe waiting a long for that phone call from the programme producers! 

Fred Sirieix and I

All the volunteers who made this race possible

Not Resting On My Laurels On Six Month Sabbatical

To date it has been 4 months since I took the monumental decision to take time off work to principally volunteer my services to work in the Charitable Events Industry.

I have no regrets over my decision especially as I am learning a great deal from my internship (funny to use that term considering that I am as old as Moses) at a charity called DM Thomas Foundation for Young People. It is a grants charity dedicated to helping disadvantaged and vulnerable young people and children transform their lives across the UK and Europe. Their website if anybody is interested in finding more about the organisation is: http://dmthomasfoundation.org/

For me there was always the imminent danger that my sabbatical could turn out in one of two ways. First as above that I find stimulating work giving me insight and valuable experience in the business of events fundraising. The second alternative that I feared, was that I did not secure any suitable position and that my time spent would be watching the Jeremy Kyle show and feasting on KFC. The only benefit after 26 weeks would be that I would be a distinguished expert on dysfunctional families who love to appear on daytime TV and possessing  an elephantine backside which Kim Kardashian would be envy of. Thankfully, the latter did not materialise although I did come awfully close on occasions.

In fact the time away from the NHS has also given me the opportunity to attend the gym on a regular basis, take up a new sport in the form of squash and increase my competence on the culinary front. It's highly unlikely that I will star on Masterchef  anytime soon but I can whip up a mean meat casserole if so desired. With me eating far more healthily than before combined with my spin cycling, squash and Zumba classes I have been able to shed a few pounds along the way. I confess going to Weight Watchers has also helped enormously in not becoming the size of Milton Keynes.

Overall, it has been a positive endeavour taking time off from paid employment to join the voluntary sector. Apart from not having much money thus restricting my normal routine binge on drugs, sex and rocknroll I would recommend it to anyone who has the inclination to learn something new and has the wherewithal to finance it.

Enjoying my Sabbatical at the Haven't Stopped Dancing Yet Disco in Greenwich. 

Gala Dinner to celebrate money raised by supporters for the DM Thomas Foundation for Young People

Fred Sirieix from Channel 4 First Dates fame speaking at the DM Thomas Foundation for Young People Awards Ceremony

    

Bruges Here We Come!

Time is nearly upon us when I take myself away to another foreign land. Before the United Kingdom decides whether to stay in or out of the European Union I thought best to venture beyond our national borders one more time. I have this awful feeing that after the referendum on 23rd June that authorities may be compelled to brick up the Euro Tunnel to stop these pesky foreigners and migrants swamping our civilisation.

There is no better place than a 3 day trip to Bruges, Belgium to spend possibly my last Euro holiday. My travelling companion and I will be getting the National Express coach at Victoria on the first of next month.

It is an early departure at 8.00am reaching the main station in Bruges by mid-afternoon. My friend joked that it gives us ample time to consume as much local beverage on the first night.

However, my main aim in venturing to this ancient market city is to consume its culture, history, canals and magnificent buildings. But I confess that I can't wait also to taste the world famous Belgium chocolate and the assortment of delightful beers that Bruges has to offer to a thirsty traveller. However, I have promised myself not to eat or drink excessively during my stay. I have no intention in returning to England 10 pounds heavier.

As always I will be writing my holiday experiences on Social Media including Twitter and Trip Advisor. The hotel we chose is Martin's Brugge. It is very central and easy walking distance to many of the attractions. It has reasonable reviews on TripAdvisor and I just hope it lives up to expectation, which I am sure it will do along with the beer and chocolate.

Bruges is famous for its Canals

Martin's Brugge Hotel

Reception area of hotel

One of 118 Guest rooms. Some with roof beams

That Nice West Indian Boy

It was mere coincidence that during my stay on this lovely island that there would be an opportunity to attend a cricket Test match featuring my beloved West Indies. The venue was Galle, an old colonial town further south from where I was staying in Kalutara.

I took a tuk tuk from the Mermaid hotel to the station, south of Kalutara. The ride was an experience. The journey which would normally take 20 minutes took 10. I had informed the driver that I was West Indian supporting my team in the first Test match in Galle. The driver dressed in a sarong could not have been more excited for me. In his broken English he replied that his hero was Vivian Richards and he loved Carribean cricket. He made sure that I did not miss my 8.05 express train to Galle. We weaved in and out of traffic with such speed and precision that Lewis Hamilton would be put to shame. He even got my ticket for me when we arrived to the station. I over heard him say to the ticket master please make sure that this nice West Indian boy gets a nice window seat.

The 90 minute journey was eventful. A group of young boys dressed in immaculate white shirts and trousers with polished black shoes sat beside and opposite me. Like me they were going to Galle to watch the cricket. They began singing with one playing the bongos. It lasted the whole duration of the train ride.

An old man tried to join the school boy vocalists by singing out of tune which was not helped by him banging a plastic box at the same time. It was not at all surprising when he tried to asked for a monetary reward for his efforts from the passengers that he got zilch. Sri Lankans are discerning folk. They can distinguish shit from gold and the old man's performance fell definitely in the shit category.

The ground was only a 5 minute walk from the station. I said farewell to the boys in white and I made my way to the Galle Test arena. It cost a thousand rupees (£5) entrance fee. With that you got a lovely seat with a wonderful view of the play. Accompanying this was the flat screen TVs dotted around where  I was located. Thus if you were tired of watching the game live you could go to the bar and watch the game there whist drinking a cold Lion beer. Although the Windies were being soundly taken to the cleaners by the host nation I enjoyed my day at the cricket. This is one I can take off my bucket list, watching Test match cricket in a foreign land.

At the close of play I walked around Galle, the old Dutch colonial town. I ventured up the fortress. The view from the ramparts was magnificent. Galle is as beautiful as West Indies were woeful. They followed on still 189 runs behind with 8 wickets remaining.

I missed the train home and got a bus back to the Kalutara station. The same tuk tuk driver was waiting for me as I arrived. He already knew the Test score. He commiserated saying the Windies would mount a fight back.

Neither he or I really believed that would happen taking into account past Windies performances. I had a fun day out in Galle only spoilt by the cricket on display. This West Indian boy can't have it all.

Sri Lanka an island of No Happy Endings

My arrival at Colombo was smooth, with a stopover in Doha via Quatar Airways. The two hour drive to my hotel in Kalutara was similarly without hiccup.

As I entered the gates of the Mermaid hotel and Spa I was greeted with a  warm smile and a firm handshake by the hotel manager who introduce me to his deputy and the  deputy introduce me to his assiassistant and the assistant introduce to the head chief. I felt like bloody royalty. The manager shouted at the 3 staff behind reception enquiring if my room was ready for habitation. They responded in the affirmative. I was escorted to my room by an army of staff all wanted to know about my welfare. The room was deluxe. It was so spacious that you could genuinely hold a five a side football tournament and still have room for changing facilities. The bathroom was amazing. It contained an oversized bath where a dozen large ladies from my local weight watchers could be easily accommodated and still have room for the Enland Rugby scrum forwards.  

However, the best thing about my room upgrade was the view of the palm trees and the ocean. I couldn't help thinking this is the reason why I go to work to earn a small crust so I can journey across the globe staying at fabulous destinations. As my room key was handed to me by the manager he told me that he enjoyed reading my Bali blog, but politely cautioned me in half-jokingly manner that I was unlikely to come anywhere near having a massage happy ending in Sri Lanka. I told him i was happy to hear that was the case. He smiled nervously and while exiting my room he said he was looking forward in reading my first blog despatch. I replied that it would be uploaded in the next few days and I would give him a preview. He again smiled nervously.

My first few hours in the country and I am already mired in controversy. The thought was circulating in my head, as I sank into my gargantuan bath, that this island does not know what's hit them when the Graffster is in town!  Happy ending or not!

Review of the Swiss-Belinn Hotel, Legion, Bali

The Swiss-Belinn hotel has earned a reputation of being a three star hotel which punches well beyond its weight. Its well renowned for its customer service  where most guests put this as the hotels most endearing asset. The rooftop pool and the food has also come in for high praise from many travellers.

I would agree in most part with the overwhelming positive comments placed on Trip Advisor about this establishment. The following issues I would raise as concerns which the hotel could improve upon, and which is why I would give a rating of 3 out of 5, an above average score.

The food is tasty, however, if you are on full board and  selecting from the limited a la carte menu for two weeks it becomes repetitive. I would suggest to travellers to go B&B or least half board and utilise the various eateries that the area has to offer. You will taste the genuine cuisine of Bali and Indonesia, which is hot and very spicy. The hotel's menu caters very much for the western palate and not particularly adventurous which is a shame. I would love the hotel to do more food which represents more of the flavour f the island. You can consume burger and fries anywhere.

I would agree that the customer service is good. However, to make it exemplary I would make sure that the English of most of the employees could be dramatically improved. There were several instances where there were miscommunication from myself and the staff which detracted from my enjoyment of my stay. But saying that I realise that the staff do their level best to provide a good service, which overall I received.

The infinity pool on the rooftop is great and distinguish it from other hotels in the area. However, I can imagine in the high season that it would be extremely busy. Thankfully, for me it was not highly used especially in the morning. You could swim in peace comfortably.

The room were small but cosy and modern with a balcony.  I was on the fifth floor with great views of Legion. It had everything I needed for my stay. The flat screen TV showed the main channels including the BBC. It even had a DVD which was a bonus. The room was cleaned daily and towels changed as frequently.

Again the gym was petite with three apparatus only and some free weights. It was perfectly adequate for me as it seemed only very few guests used the facility when I was there.

If money was not an object there are better hotels in the region. But the Swiss-Belinn is the best by far if you are on a budget. It delivers much more than you expect for a modest price. For all its minor faults I would undoubtedly recommend this establishment to all and sundry.

Jamming with the Bali Rastas

The place was rammed and it was not even midnight. I came upon the Apache Reggae Club completely by chance.

A smiling, petite teenager with a tattoo of Bob Marley on her uncovered navel beckoned me towards her, as I was walking the narrow pavements, constantly on the lookout for speeding scooters who happily use the pedestrian walkway as a way to avoid the congested traffic.

The young lady was thrilled that although coming from London I had Jamaica roots. She ushered me into the club, where the live band was playing a medley of Bob Marley songs. Apart from the massive portraits of Marley adorned across the club what I noticed that it seemed that every other person was a rastafarian of Balinese origin. The other patrons were white rastas from Australia.

I felt completely at home. Talking about the only gay in the village I was the only Jamaican in the club. As soon as I informed people of my heritage I was greeted with a loud Jah rasta far'i  and a warm brotherly handshake.

After every song the lead singer would drop some serious Jamaican patois as if he was straight from the slum Yardie streets of Kingston. It didn't matter a jot that most of the crowd did not understand him, it simply got them worked up into a frenzy. I was skanking with the best of them now, as the strong aroma of hashish circulated the dancefloor.

The band played well beyond 1am nearly 2. The club was still buzzing well after they're left the stage. I departed myself after several servings of Arak (local spirit) and diet coke. It was a minor miracle that I wasn't knocked over by moped whilst unsteadily advancing towards my hotel.

Just want to say a massive big up to all the Balinese rastas at the Apache and no doubt I will looking forward to jamming with them on several more occasions before returning to England.

Its Time To Hang Up The Disco Shoes

I am caught between a rock and a hard place. Staying in Kuta on the  coast of Bali, its  surrounded by an assortment of bars, 
eateries and nightclubs. You can the hear pumping and vibrant  sound of electro music, R&B and soul from your room.

In my advancing years I should of listened to the rational side of me. That I am a man whose best dancing years are behind him and not very much in front of him. The age of disco and the moonwalk is over. But no, my immature, irrational unconsciousness won through. I wanted to impress the Balinese with my body-popping skills. So I put on my tight jeans and dancing shoes and headed for Ecstasy & Oblivion (the main nightclub in Kuta), which also aptly summarise my night. 

The club was packed with locals and young Australians getting down to some serious techno. I had nothing in common with these clubbers. I was the oldest one in the place by a country mile and more. Doing the funky chicken and robot was not going to cut it. Everybody seem to be twerking which was beyond my capabilities.

By 2am I was exhausted. The smoke, the noise and gyrating bodies was too much for me. All I could think of was putting my feet up in front of the TV whilst watching Countdown and enjoying a mug of Horlicks.

I trundled back to my hotel, avoiding the Balinese ladies of the night offering untold pleasures for a price. As I tucked myself in bed I come to the realisation that clubbing is a young persons pursuit. Middle aged people like me simply look out of place like a black man at a Ku Klux Klan convention or Kevin Pietersen  in the England cricket team. Like Liverpool's Steven Gerrard its time to retire with grace and dignity, and hang up those disco shoes for them to gather dust. I had my moment in the sun its time now to pass the torch (or disco shoes) to the next generation.

I had one thought to console me that at least a good number Balinese and inebriated Aussies were able to see me moonwalk from one end of the dance floor to the other. Michael J would of been proud of me.

No Bali Happy Ending For Me

The flight was not as onerous as I imagined. Twelve hours to Singapore and just two from there to Bali. Felt reasonably fresh
as I landed on this wonderful island.

As I handed in my documents to the Customs Officer he gave me a stern look and asked if I was travelling with family or on my own. When I responded in the latter he gave a smirk. His grin was even more pronounced when I informed him that I was staying in Kuta ( a place infamous for its night-life and massage parlours). I tried in vein to convince him that my vacation was for all the right reasons and not for lascivious purposes. I had not won him over by the time he stamped my passport and waved me to the exit, with a passing comment that he very much hoped that I enjoy my stay over the next two weeks. His tongue was firmly in cheek  when he said it.

The taxi drive to the Swiss-Belinn  Legion hotel was less than 30 minutes. It was nearing 11pm by the time I checked in. My deluxe room was on the 5th floor with balcony. The accommodation was small but modern. I  fondly imagined over the next fortnight consuming the local beer whilst watching the sunset go down.

Although nearing midnight, I thought I would venture out to have a brief taste of what Bali had to offer. A few minutes into my stroll I was accosted by several different locals offering massages by beautiful Balinese females who were experts in giving tourists like me "happy endings". I politely declined their offers as I was not interested in these young ladies, however skilled they maybe.

One chap  with barely any teeth and a huge pot belly enquired if I was interested in men giving me a "happy ending". He would do it himself for half the going-rate. I firmly declared that I had no desire for anybody male or female in dispensing any type of ending; happy, sad or otherwise!

I was able to escape to a local bar without further incident. Whilst sipping on a bottle of Bintang (Balinese beer) I reflected on my  encounter with the burly Customs Officer. If I ever see him on my departure I will have a smirk on my face as wide as the Bali Sea knowing that I was never tempted to have a happy ending even if it was from a toothless fat bloke at half price. 

David Lammy MP Cynical Ploy to become Mayor of London

David Lammy - the Labour MP for Tottenham gave a TV interview on boxing day warning that the ingredients of what caused the 2011 riots were still prevalent and that disturbances would again happen if these were not resolved by the present government.


David Lammy Tottenham Labour MP

 The Labour MP went on to say that disillusionment amongst white working class people, blacks and asians which the present coalition administration have not address will be the catalyst for the significant disturbances in the future.

I could not diametrically disagree more with the Labour former minister. The riots in 2011 were instigated by criminal gangs who saw it as an opportunity to loot, rob, burn and kill without fear of being caught by the police. It had nothing to do with young men having no hope or not having a stake in society and more to do with a sub-culture where greed, avarice, instant gratification and obtaining what you want at any cost is the norm. These so called disaffected people are not interested in getting jobs, if they were they would be able to obtain one if they put their minds to it. Remember we have had several million people mostly from Eastern Europe come to the UK over the last 10 years doing low paid jobs because employers could not find British people to fill the vacant posts. This story is the same up and down the country.

The reality is that this a cynical ploy from Lammy to be Labour's candidate for mayor of London. He believes if he can predict another major disturbance hopefully next summer, he will be able to come along on his white charger and be the saviour of post-riot London and telling anyone who would listen he foretold this and he has the answers. Riots may well happen again but the causes will not be the ones outlined by Lammy. The reasons will be gang related as the result of the breakdown of the black family which has given rise to the problem of drugs, crime and violence in the black community. It was this that led to the 2011 riots and I am afraid it will do so again. 

David Lammy and others prominent in the black community are aware of this cancer eating away in their communities but are in complete denial or worse they don't care. The MP for Tottenham must know that people were murdered in the disturbances in 2011. Why would he want blood on his hands for the sake of becoming leader of the most powerful and influential city in the world. Maybe I have just answered my own question.

Biggest Problem Facing Black People - Is Black People

Is name was Dwayne Douglas. He was only 15. According to his grieving mother he was good at school and aiming to go to university. He wanted to become a teacher. However, like many black teenagers before him he was stabbed to death by a group of other black boys. As the saying inevitable goes he was in the wrong place at the wrong time. This sadly follows a number of other stabbings of teenagers that have occurred in my own area of south London, which have become so frequent over the years that it hardly makes the local press let alone the national newspapers. You don’t have to be a contestant on Mastermind to know that the one incontrovertible factor that these violent incidents have in common is, as in the case of Dwayne, that the perpetuators and the victims are black. For me it is become clear that the cause of this escalating knife problem in London is due to the devastating social consequences of illegitimacy within the Afro-Caribbean community. The last official census figures revealed that lone parents form the majority of Afro-Caribbean families. The family structure is increasingly disappearing – where drugs, crime, murder and social anarchy are evaporating once stable black communities. Black commentators would argue that problems facing the black community can be laid at the door of Institutionalised racism as outlined in the Macpherson’s Inquiry into the Death of Stephen Lawrence. There is no doubt that there is a good deal of residual discrimination in society and in the police, but not enough to explain the over representation of black people in prisons, crime figures, and school exclusions. Racism in itself is not the sole explanation. The absence of fathers as role models for young black males is critically important in the genesis of delinquency. We know that some single mothers succeed better than some couples at raising well-adjusted children but the downward spiral of deprivation among lone-parent families is far more pronounced than among comparably poor two-parent ones. The stronger the family unit, the better the economic and social progress, as witness with British Chinese and Asian families. Today, Black people found themselves at the precipice, as a result of the unwillingness among its ranks to tackle this single most important issue facing the community – it is more critical than crime, drugs, poverty, welfare or homelessness because the disintegration of the Afro-Caribbean family structure lies behind and drives them all. The Black community desperately need a debate on this issue if we are to avoid repeated scenes of inconsolable parents like the mother of Dwayne Douglas appearing on our TV screens mourning their loss of their children in such a violent and appalling manner.

Hey Fatty Boom Boom

Well it’s official. My 11 days in an all-inclusive paradise has resulted in me being the combined weight of Barry White and Demis Roussos. These guys may have been morbidly obese but at least they could hold a note. The only thing I can hold is several large chicken kebabs simultaneously. I swore an oath to myself that I would not become a stereotypical Englishman abroad at an all-inclusive establishment and eat my bodyweight every half an hour. So much for broken promises, I am eating like a condemned man who has been given the dubious request of having anything he wants for his last meal before being strapped to the Electric Chair and cooked himself. You see these US prison documentaries where the killer – who has normally murdered his whole family and some – always seem to have the same dietary requirements. It’s a variation on burgers, fries, fried chicken, steak, washed down with coke (personally, I would politely ask for a triple rum with the coke considering the circumstances) and an ice-cream dessert. For me the only thing that’s condemned is my waistline. I soon won’t be able to fit into any chair electric or otherwise if I don’t rein in my elephantine appetite. Roll on Friday when I return. It’s Slimfast, Ryvita biscuits and stomach crunches for the rest of the year.

BAYRAM

Last Tuesday was the first day of the Bayram Festival across Turkey, which lasts for nine days. My understanding from the locals is that in this period you sacrifice a lamb and other animals as a gift to the poor and disadvantaged. It’s a form of charity giving. I could not help reflecting on this national celebration whilst watching the England versus Poland match. Roy Hodgson would have been the “sacrificial lamb” for the British press if England did not win and qualify automatically for the 2014 World Cup. Finally, England played to their potential and really did not look in any trouble throughout the match. I thought Hodgson was brave and innovative in his team selections especially the picking of Andros Townsend. I suppose the manager is right to play down English prospects at next year’s tournament. But not me! The side have as much chance of winning the competition as any other European team. You first heard it here folks – England will win the World Cup (most probably beating Brazil 2-1 in the final). I am so confident that I am going to put a monkey on (£500) an England victory. Unlike those poor lambs giving their last rites during the Bayram Festival – my monkey will still be in very rude health with a World Cup winners medal draped around its neck come Sunday 13 July in the iconic and newly built Maracana stadium.