Nobbut Laiking, by Ross Brewster
If the quality of mercy is not strained, then the pockets of charity givers most certainly are.
It was like the Twelve Days of Christmas on TV the other afternoon, only substituting appeals from various charities. Join me half way down and sing: Five manky cats, four sad-eyed dogs, three depressed donkeys, two poorly babies, one pangolin and a woodland cremation followed by tea. Yes, I realise the last one isn’t a charity, but you get my drift. It’s too much, even for the most generous hearted.
It used to be pleas for a straight fiver, now they want a fiver a month. My dodgy maths makes that a £60 donation. Even three quid adds up over 12 months. I’m not deterring people from giving to their favourite good causes. But this is the season to be merry and prick our consciences.
I know of two instances where elderly people on their own became hooked by charities. They were sending hundreds of pounds and that’s irresponsible on the part of the charities. The other dodge is to send you merchandise which you end up paying for although it’s unsolicited and not wanted. They are playing unfairly on people’s sense of guilt.
Charity has suffered a body blow recently with the situation surrounding the family of Captain Tom, whose daily walks during the pandemic lockdown inspired the nation.
I am not suggesting the TV charities are not worthy causes. But it’s over the top. In a sense it’s a shaming attack in your own living room. How can you resist those abject abandoned pets? We’re an amazingly generous nation. Don’t push us too hard.
Trump this for a bizarre encounter with a future US president
“Polite, friendly, cordial. A perfect gentleman.” Is this THE Donald Trump we’re talking about?
Well, you speak as you find and that’s the impression former Football League chief David Dent got when he accompanied those two inveterate jokers, Saint and Greavsie, on a jaunt to New York where ITV were filming.
Jimmy Greaves convinced his fellow presenter, Ian St John, that he could persuade Trump to take part in a stunt for World of Sport, the TV company’s flagship sports show in 1992 when football fans had Match of the Day and little else for their weekly fix.
So it came to pass that Saint and Greavsie, with David Dent to provide the sensible contribution, enlisted the Donald, big hair and all, to help them make the draw for the Rumbelows Cup, as the League Cup was then known.
David, originally from Bolton near Appleby, speaks about his encounter with Trump on a website called When Shorts Were Short. Look it up if you are a footie fan, it’s got some fascinating insights into Dent’s 18-year career as secretary of Carlisle United and Coventry City, plus his role as a top administrator.
He admits that Trump “gave no indication of the type of man he might develop into in the future”. He did appear somewhat bemused though when he drew out a Manchester United and Leeds tie. “You’ve no idea what you’ve just done,” smirked an amused Greaves.
Dent also speaks about Carlisle managers he worked with and names his all-time favourite United player. Clue: tall, elegant passer, rather slow. He retired in 2001, but still has his links with Brunton Park as honorary club president.
He has had a rich and varied life in football, from when he played as a youngster for Appleby to when he became the Football League’s leading man. But nothing was ever as bizarre as that cup draw in Trump Tower.
The times they are a-changin’
Age doesn’t half catch up with you. I heard the singer, songwriter and political activist Billy Bragg on the radio at the weekend. I could hardly believe it at first. He’s 65. An OAP. He’s got the obligatory grey hair and even greyer beard to prove it.
Bragg was lamenting the fact that popular music is no longer in the vanguard of protest. Not like the 1980s when he was spitting out his bitter contempt for authority. Certainly not like the sixties, when I knew all the words to the songs of one Robert Zimmerman. As Bob Dylan he wrote the most stinging condemnation of political leaders I have ever heard, Masters of War, with its plea “I hope that you die and your death will come soon.”
Billy Bragg admits he can’t keep up with Taylor Swift. “But I can talk to an audience,” he said. Today’s popular songs are less politics and more personal soul-searching and painful. They are likely to be more about mental health than wars. The kids have different ways of communicating and expressing their feelings. We had Peter, Paul and Mary, Pete Seeger, Joan Baez and Dylan himself of course. Now there’s social media. And as Billy Bragg says, kids can even direct films on their phones.
If you go on a protest match you are unlikely to be singing We Shall Overcome. More often you will be taking pictures on your phone. Recording a podcast. It’s change. Old timers like me, and I daresay Billy, have to do our best to go the pace.
