Will Terrible Terry trigger transformation?

Although I spent a year living with a houseful of football aficionados, when lazy Saturday mornings featured Football Focus and late night comedy was vetoed in favour of Match of the Day, I have never taken more than a vague interest in the premier league jostling. In fact, even though footballer hedonism has long been sandwiched between the pages of gossipy glossies, I have remained blissfully ignorant of WAG-fueled social scandals.

Nevertheless, the tale of Terrible Terry has been hard to avoid: his narrow-eyed glower has been splashed across almost every national newspaper. After the entanglement with his team mate’s ex-girlfriend was exposed, reporters gleefully chronicled Terry’s swift dismissal by a brusque Capello, and opinion columns swelled with didactic editorials, tinged with tones of smug satisfaction.

In fact, the past two editions of The Sunday Times have paraded Terry’s troubles on the opening pages. Last week their magazine featured an exhaustive four-page spread detailing an out-of-date interview with him: the journalist initially describes Terry as a likeable, vulnerable Cockney, before coming to the predictable conclusion, in tune with the times, that he is in fact a skanky-lying-bastard.

Another article, published a week earlier, is entitled, ‘Charity begins at home for Oxshott’s local hero’. The headline itself is a misnomer: far from Terry being a local hero, it is more likely that residents know nothing more of Terry than what they have glimpsed of his £3 million mansion. Indeed, it is clear from the outset that in his ‘neighbourhood community’, what goes on behind his 10ft electric gates stays behind them. So why on earth does the journalist bother to interview the village vicar, the owner of a beauty salon, a resident in the pub, the local butcher and a ‘good, churchgoing member of the choir’?

Admittedly there is popular enthusiasm for gossipy slander, but since when have broadsheets pandered so whole-heartedly to a public appetite for celebrity scandal? Granted, the dismissal of an England captain - particularly when training time for the World Cup is rapidly dwindling - is newsworthy to say the least, but such a plethora of press attention seems misplaced.

Clearly for journalists the woe of Terrible Terry is an opportunity too good to pass up. Terry is not just a self-promoting graduate of reality TV, but is supposedly a symbol of England’s football prowess and an icon for millions of aspiring players. Whether Terry deserves such an onslaught or not, his latest escapade has granted journalists a license to delve into the exclusive lifestyle of footballers, to lament bloated egos and swollen paychecks. His fall from grace has not only prompted dogmatic catalogues of all his previous misdemeanours but has unleashed a general bewailing of English footballers as a breed of overpaid pre-Madonnas.

But will this exposé help to rein in footballer excess? Sadly, football is no stranger to social scandals (Beckham’s interlude with Rebecca Loos and Gerrard’s nightclub scuffle spring to mind) and so far, none has succeeded in deflating overlarge egos. Players have been able to simply sit tight and wait for the media storm to pass by. However, the reaction of Capello – a prompt, unquestioned dismissal - is more promising. The fact that he has banned WAGS from proceedings in South Africa is further encouragement. By linking off-pitch antics with sportsmanship and performance, he can hit players where it hurts. Perhaps he will be the one who will manage to puncture footballer pretension. One can only hope!

Dongles and bellyvision versus helical wind turbines…

Although the latest computer gadgets have always been unaffordable irrelevancies to me, I recently experienced life on the frontline of new technology when I started working for a pioneering internet innovation. Engulfed in the milieu of ‘dongles’ (portable internet devices) and ‘bellyvision’ (the bizarrely named phenomenon of watching TV while surfing the net), I have been temporarily shaken out of my indifference.

I was working to help launch TellyLinks.com, a website designed to serve links in sync with whatever is on the television. As the project developed, the office was awash with murmurings of internet and television merging in a two-screen revolution. A fledgling idea at the moment, currently only operating for channel FIVE’s CSI-style series Numb3rs, the industry-wise are predicting that it will revolutionise the television experience by uniting two of the biggest media of the 21st century. TV viewers and internet users will morph into ‘viewsers’.

However, even after experiencing the first-hand frustrations involved in developing pioneering technological ideas, the fast-moving frontiers of computer innovation still baffle me. From the paper-thin apple ipad screen threatening to make books redundant, to the revolutionary Microsoft Surface (seemingly an interactive, touch-screen coffee table currently featured in cafes in Las Vegas), I just can’t motivate myself to keep pace with the rapid succession of advances.

On the other hand, mention urban agriculture (super-green, self-sufficient buildings inbuilt with food-growing ecosystems) or solar groves (raised solar panels that shade vehicles while powering EV charging points) and I am instantly curious, envisioning futuristic technologies able to transform polluted, congested cities into clean, green hubs in sync with the world's natural resources. Even seemingly mundane press releases detailing vertical-axis wind turbines for urban areas stir my enthusiasm, and I find myself imagining terraces of self-sufficient houses with vertical turbines installed next to their satellite dish.

My selective enthusiasm for new technology seems to confirm suspicions that I have become an eco-geek. Or perhaps it just confirms a genuine concern about what happens to us in the future. I am not a fear-mongering alarmist, but in the face of a looming energy crisis (frequently forecasted by experts in the news), something needs to change to make our way of life more efficient. It seems implausible that people will make drastic sacrifices in the name of distant environmental benefits. As such, cutting-edge technology glamorising greenness and making sustainability manageable is undoubtedly the best option – and something I feel I can justify being excited about.

(Curious about Tellylinks? Check out my Suite 101 profile for a more detailed article!)

Divine grace, Brideshead Revisited, Stephen Fry and Berlusconi’s cathedral-borne injuries…

I was unexplainably apprehensive about reading Brideshead Revisited, the classic novel by Evelyn Waugh. Although the TV adaptation was a firm family favourite, albeit one I had never watched, delving into the weighty hard-back gathering dust on the bookshelf seemed an unappealing prospect. In fact, my misgivings seemed justified when I read Waugh’s description of its theme: “the operation of divine grace on a group of diverse but closely connected characters”.

However, from the opening sentence my reservations dissolved and I became absorbed in the meandering tale of the protagonist, Charles Ryder. Throughout, I felt as if Charles himself was softly relating his tale to me over a cup of tea. I was gradually immersed into his ambling account of idle college lunches, hedonistic weekend jaunts and carefree merriments.

As well as being an indulgent foray into a world tinged with luxury bordering on gluttony, it also delves into the murky swathes of Catholicism and atheism. Despite obediently reciting my Hail Mary’s at a Catholic school for five years, I had never thought much about the hazy debates surrounding Catholicism until I became engrossed in this book - each character’s actions are defined by their attitude to religion.

One evening, midway through my Brideshead adventures, I was surprised to find myself hooked on a televised debate about Catholicism, where the mighty Stephen Fry, paired with razor-sharp journalist Christopher Hitchens, argued a motion that the Catholic Church was not a force for good in the world.

The bumbling ramblings of Archbishop John Onaiyekan of Abuja, Nigeria, and conservative MP Ann Widdecombe were no match for articulate Fry and bulldog debater Hitchens, and the duo mercilessly lambasted the church. Fry’s final punch, which centred on the notion that celibacy is fundamentally unnatural and leads to a distorted perception of one of the body’s most instinctive instincts, reverberated with the conclusion that the Catholic Church is paradoxically obsessed with sex.

Following this verbal onslaught I read Brideshead with sharpened interest, closely following each character’s inner turmoil and their sensitivity to religion. Some surrendered to devout, unquestioning piety whereas others were ensnared in a paradoxical moral debate, trying to rebel from stifling moral expectation but remaining tied by embedded Catholic loyalties.

Post-Brideshead I have taken more interest in the debates swirling around Catholicism that feature in the media, which have most recently been awakened by the peace-threatening passions of staunch Catholic MP Iris Robertson for a 19-year-old. Other occasions when the church has appeared in the unflattering light of the media, aside from tragic cases of child abuse, range from the bizarre (Berlusconi’s unfortunate encounter with a model cathedral) to the demoralising (the attack on the pope on Christmas day).

Overall, glimpses of Catholicism in a positive light seem far and few between - whether that is the flaw of a pessimistic press or a reflection of the church is anyone’s guess. Either way, such a sparse smattering of praise for such a powerful religion is not particularly encouraging.

Suite 101

When I started this blog, I pledged to avoid didactic preaching, fact-filled essays and ranting diatribes, and to stick to a more light-hearted tone. However, in an ambitious bid to improve my writing, I recently applied to write for Canadian website Suite 101. The site requires a fairly demanding ten articles every three months, and I am slightly unsure so far as to whether my commitment to them is over-optimistic. However, I have at least managed to get my first article published: 'The Case for Green Change'. I admit the title is less than inspiring (I was under strict “use key words for clicks” instructions) but please click away if you’re interested - hopefully you will find the article a bit more colourful than the title!

Tramp-Stamp on a Muffin-Top

“Tramp-stamp on a muffin-top on a chav”: the expression supposedly emblematic of the decade. The phrase, used to refer to tattoos on the lower back, has a certain ring to it - particularly coming from the well-spoken lips of Andrew Marr. Marr was speaking on BBC1’s ‘History of the Noughties’, an engaging, though slightly premature, analysis of 21st century society.

The programme is hardly uplifting: charting the rise of ‘chavocracy’ and ‘celebrity-itus’ it creates a denigrating picture of modern society: a world where award-winning actors share the limelight with shameless, self-promoters, Cowell-manufactured singers monopolise the charts and the Prime Minister spends his time making official comments on Britain’s Got Talent and Big Brother.

Unfortunately it seems to be a fairly accurate portrait. When musing over the opinion that the society of the noughties had recklessly and extravagantly spent itself into oblivion, I happened to overhear an ambitious teen pronouncing: “when I get married I’m going to tell my husband to buy me two Ranger Rovers: one black and one white - to match my outfit.”

While on the subject of blind extravagance, it seems fitting to mention Dubai’s colossal, man-made, floating, palm-leaf island, featured on the programme as a sun-spot gradually being colonised by the super-rich. The epitome of opulence, it features a restaurant accessible only by submarine and a water slide through a shark-filled lagoon.

Another symptom of the decade discussed was globalisation: from the meteoric rise of low-cost airlines exporting drunk Brits to an unsuspecting Riga, to the relocation of call centre staff. One particularly funny scene shows staff at relocated call centres being made to analyse episodes of Eastenders, take elocution classes and study British weather reports in an optimistic attempt to fool British callers that the centres were based in Brixton and not Bangladesh.

Amidst all these trends the nub of the noughties seems to have been that, although many had a bloody good time, they were an era of “delusion and folly” - none too reassuring when this decade is meant to predicate where the 21st century is heading.

For me, such reflections have prompted the paradoxical conclusion that the recession can only be a good thing for humankind. By no means am I revelling in still having to work wage-free six months after graduating, but maybe a generous dollop of reality is just what everyone needs.

The illogical perks of the press pass

I have always marvelled at the perks the press enjoy. With a quick flash of their pass, press members are licensed to bypass stationary queues, access VIP areas and chow down on complimentary lunches, whilst those without that powerful plastic pass are left clenching their fists at the injustice.

Over the summer, I temporarily joined the fortunate few granted a press pass. Sadly, it was not during Glastonbury, but when working for Horse & Hound magazine at the European Dressage and Show Jumping Championships.

Granted, I enjoyed parking next to the main arena rather than a bus-ride away, supped up the free tea, coffee and biscuits, and revelled in not having to queue for a portaloo, but, I felt these privileges were at least justified as I was working all day – providing essential online coverage of the event for Horse & Hound website users.

However, when I was sent off to a Holland & Barrett press event in London Zoo as magazine representative for Green Futures in November, justifying the press perks was slightly harder.

I had swotted up on circulation figures and details of the target audience, setting off with hopes of returning to the office with a good story and a load of new subscriptions. And I did start enthusiastically – throwing myself into the initial inter-journalist, card-swapping foray and scribbling notes throughout the CEO’s staunch cataloguing of Holland & Barrett’s green credentials. However, when I realised that Green Futures was unlikely to feature a green-themed advert for any shop: my interest started to wane and I had to feign attention.

 My mind rejoined the action only briefly for an interesting story about a deceptive butterfly that lurks in ant-nests gorging on its hosts.

Following this, I made the most of the scrummy lunch (wine and pudding included) and the guided meander around the butterfly house, before being given a given a press bag and left to my own devices, having done nothing at all except lap up the freebies! I was able to spend a happy half-hour roaming around the zoo: gazing at the pelicans, surveying the gorillas and sympathising with the prowling tigers (appreciating it all the more as I hadn’t paid for entry) before returning to the office with nothing other than a full belly and bag of goodies.



I confess openly that I am almost completely business illiterate, but the whole thing seemed slightly illogical to me: more budget-busting than budget-sense in the midst of a recession. Was all of that expensive entertainment simply for the possibility of a few lines of positive publicity…?

I have to say, when I’m classed as one of the press, I'm certainly not complaining about the power of that plastic pass!

Taxpayer-funded duck house… try self-dedicated temples, divine powers and horses awarded senatorial powers

Until I graduated, my attempts at reading classic novels (other than those stipulated by my course) seemed to dissolve after an enthusiastic first chapter. Despite best intentions, I was always thwarted by trips to the pub, box sets of senseless comedy in the lounge or the descending haze of a hangover.

When I started my internship, the daily trundle into work on the train (when not spent slumped against the train window snoozing) became ideal ‘enforced reading time’. I found myself storming through the first chapter of novels before Vauxhall, and I can now tick off a few classics from the generic list of ‘must-read novels’.

I recently finished ‘I Claudius’, by Robert Graves. I was prompted to read it following an inspiring visit to Rome. Bemused by the plethora of Gods, Goddesses, Julians and Augustus’, guilty twinges at my lack of knowledge (despite a. Ancient Rome module in first year) compelled me to try and improve my sparse knowledge.

Graves’ novel seemed like the most pain-free option – historical fiction, based wholly on the work of classical writers such as Suetonias, Tacitus, Plutarch and Claudius: none of his characters are invented, and none of the events described are completely fictional. My dad lent me his old copy – a 45 pence edition that hasn’t been opened for over 30 years – and I found myself spending a happy fortnight engrossed in the turbulent tyranny of Emperors Augustus, Tiberius and Caligula.

I was initially somewhat bewildered by the succession of Germanicus’s, Drusus’s and Aggripina’s, but soon the names became irrelevant. The novel quickly becomes a glut of inventive murders, backstabbing bribes and sexual intrigues – which makes for a bloody good story! The entangled self-seeking motives of the senate, pride of the generals, divinity of the Emperors and schemes of their wives, which are narrated matter-of-factly by Claudius, enthralled me. To be honest, reading about the political intrigues 2000 years ago makes the expenses scandal pale into insignificance.

It wasn’t long before I scrutinised the extended version of Gladiator, and I am now stuck into Graves’ sequel: ‘Claudius the God’. I even received a box set of the TV series in my stocking this year.

In fact, on reflection, I am amazed that my lecturer at university managed to make such a captivating period so boring that I don’t remember a word of what he talked about!

The future is... green!

In the final few weeks of uni, when wallowing in deadline doom and finals stress, my somewhat eccentric lecturer decided to buoy up his seminar group up by stating that we were graduating in the worst economic climate since the 1920s… Sadly, this seems to have rung fairly true, and the last time I met up with the ladies from Cardiff, we were all working full-time for free.

Although undoubtedly I am missing the pyjama-clad lifestyle of studying history (and the termly injection of funds from the student loan company that boosts the bank balance) and had anticipated finding a reasonably paid job after three years studying, I would not take back the past three months working as a freebie intern.

I was somewhat daunted at the thought of the daily slog up to London, bleary eyed and cold on the half seven train every morning, without the promise of a paycheck at the end of it all. Yet, cliché as it sounds, the intern experience has offered me a whole new perspective - not only on my career, but also my way of life!

I applied for the Green Futures magazine internship (which is the publication of NGO Forum for the Future) because I was keen on magazine journalism, try to recycle and eat organic food when I can. However, after three months surrounded by passionate greenies envisioning the creation of a healthy, happy and balanced planet, I have been fully converted to this future ideal.

By no means am I an ideal greenie - I enjoy long hot showers and have taken short-haul flights this year – but the energy of the Forum for the Future team has certainly rubbed off on me. Not so that I feel twinges of guilt if I find myself cranking up the radiators in the evening, but that I want to use my energy to work for a sustainable future.

Hydro-powered, automated pods zooming around cities, super-efficient, self-monitoring fridges, agri-cities that cultivate food on rooftops... There's no end of green ideas bubbling away...

During my three months, the friendly idealists at Forum became a welcome counter to the brusque, grumpy-faced businessmen on the Waterloo & City line. Now I always want to be surrounded by such visionaries - working step-by-step for a cause other than an end-of-year bonus.

Following my being ‘Forumised’, a lot of my friends think I am on the road to becoming a lentil-eating, hemp-wearing, hippy. Have a look at forumforthefuture and be your own judge…