Blue Sky Thinking #2

This post could easily be construed as some sort of far-right rant and to a degree it is but believe me the ramifications are entirely practical. I don't believe in democracy mainly because it gives the capability of any fool or cretin into power. Democracies have been frequently let down by the qualities of the elected representatives, who once they have got into power have either feather-bedded and embezzled billions from their treasury, become totally deranged or pursued a course of invading their neighbours and murdering half of Europe. As long as a candidate can convince a broad enough section of the electorate that they deserve to be in power, they're in and often it isn't until another election before they can be removed unless they do something so heinously awful that they can get the boot from the boss. My theory, rightly or wrongly, is that the best form of government is a benevolent dictatorship where a panel run the country for the benefit of the people. In my own banana republic there would be a convened panel of governors who are experts in their field and in the top chair would be someone of merit appointed by an election. The twist being that the election takes place under a special set of circumstances.

Democracy: Same voting rights as you.

Democracy: Same voting rights as you.

Democracy: Same voting rights as you.

Before I elaborate on the election of the titular president, I want to advance another theory: suffrage has gone too far. The vote has been extended beyond the original qualifications of land ownership and now encompasses everyone over the age of 18. I think this is wrong. I think that age should not be the sole qualifying factor to determine suffrage, that it should be intelligence and political engagement. In my perfect world, in order to gain a licence to vote, electors would need to pass a test. This would be a fairly rigorous assessment designed to screen out people who are incapable of voting properly. By my rationale, only people who want to be engaged with the political process will bother to sit the test thus combating political apathy. Only people who are intelligent enough to pass the test will be given their voting licence, combating the obvious misuse of votes. I can't think of any reason why we shouldn't extend voting rights to people under the age of 18, provided they are capable of passing the test, and we continue to allow stupid people to have a say in running the country when they can't. Reasoning that people of diminished mental capacity deserve some form of representation is a null argument when it is the duty of the intelligentsia to act as carers and protectors of the rest of society including all forms of vulnerability, including that of mental disability. In the last election I pottered along to the polling station and saw a man I knew to be of sub-normal intelligence being led to a booth and his candidate being chosen and his vote being marked for him by his caregiver. This is electoral fraud and highlights a flaw in our system. Under  my system, there is no possibility that this would happen.

The other qualification is that voting rights should not be extended to those who, while otherwise qualified to vote, are serving time in prison. Are these the people we want having a say in who runs the country? At present Ewan MacDonald, Clayton Weatherstone, Stewart Murray Wilson, Graeme Burton and Graham Capill can all choose who runs the country. I would suggest that this errs on the side of morally questionable, that society is demonstrating its approbation of these people and yet they are playing a continuing role in shaping that society.

My preference is that a voting licence should be difficult to obtain to ensure a high quality of electors. Choosing the candidates is a little more difficult, but I would prefer a system similar to that is similar used in the current honours system but a little more rigorous. Candidates are nominated by a dozen qualified electors and considered by a nomination committee. A short list of exceptional candidates will be published and the election will take place with a couple of run offs and finally a first past the post round with three candidates. The successfully elected president will then choose their various ministers from a provided short list of qualified experts and government will take place by their administration. All minsters will be accountable to the president who will govern with the best interests of the people at heart. The judiciary will remain separated from the executive and administration as it currently is.

Can I get you a whisky Mr President?

I have considered who I would pick as president of the new intellectual republic of New Zealand and my first choice was Stephen Fry. Sadly, he fails on the residency requirement as it needs to be a New Zealander. The preferred President should be someone capable with a highly functioning bullshit radar; a person who is loved by the people who has the common touch; and is a master communicator. I nominate Mr John Clarke.
Viva el Presidente!

Happy big ones Phil!

HRH Prince Phillip, Duke of Edinburgh turned 92 yesterday.

Huzzah!

Phil the Greek gets a bit of a bum deal from many in society as being an unelected sponger along with the rest of the royal family as well as being out of touch, sexist and a bigot. This post does not seek to defend the monarchy, instead I want to write about my affection for a chap who has brought the word 'gaffe' into the mainstream media, a man who, despite having a fairly dominant character himself, resigned his career and pledged himself to the life of dutiful service as consort to HM the Queen and a defender of gentlemens' tailoring, pale ale, polo, the British sense of humour and the stiff upper lip. In response to the claims of sexism and bigotry, I would argue that he is a child of his time and it just so happens he lives in the spotlight of a very public profile. Times have changed, and at 92 he can be excused for a few old fashioned attitudes because in his decrepitude he can do very little harm.

"You sure that's the one you want lad? You should see
the arse on her sister."

"Ah, so what the hell happened to you?"
"I married the Queen."

"So I'm minding my own business, having a decent
look at some tribeswoman's pendulous bosoms and
HM the Boss catches me with a left hook to the eye.
What's a chap to do?"

"Got any malt in your handbag dear? It might just
get us through this bloody children's choir."

Prior to marriage, Phillip was a career naval officer, serving with distinction in the Mediterranean and in the Pacific. He was mentioned in despatches for his role in the Battle of Crete, was present at the Japanese surrender and ended his career with the rank of Commander. It happened that he was also related to all of the royal families of Europe, he was the second cousin of the then Princess Elizabeth, and interestingly, during the war his two brothers in law served on the German side and consequently half his family were diplomatically unable to attend his wedding. We can only speculate as to how much this mattered to Phil, if at all. However, he glued his hands together behind his back and embarked upon a career of making small-talk with his new wife who was in due course crowned Queen. 

It must have been crushing to a man of his war experience having to dedicate his life to tea party diplomacy. This was a man of war who now spends almost every day of the rest of his life having to talk to every Tom, Dickwit and Harry who comes into contact with the Queen no matter how uninteresting (the Beatles, George W Bush), loathesome (Mugabe, Jeffrey Archer) or ridiculous (see image at right). Having to swallow his pride by playing second fiddle to the Queen and having to control the urges not to mock, abuse or lampoon people, or even control his urges not to give some of them a bloody good kick in the private parts would test even the saintliest of people. Is it any wonder he would occasionally let one slip? A quick read through his finer works suggests a man who performs his duties out of love for his wife but very much under sufferance. Who can blame him when: he'd rather be back in the second world war machine gunning Eye-ties and Jerry and then going back to the wardroom to get pissed on pink gins when things got quiet; when he's constantly followed by photographers and a quick visit to the doctor to get his bladder examined makes the papers; when he has to watch his son's second wife get vilified by the press for looking like a horse when in reality he just wants his son to be happy; when he has to sit through every public gala, concert, performance and pageant when he'd rather be sitting down to watch a bit of sport on the TV with a beer. Prince Phillip has earned every right to be a grumpy old man. 

Like many grumpy old men, he has a heart and a desire to do the right thing. While the public railed at the royal family's seclusion after the death of Princess Diana, Phillip was protecting his grandsons from the public glare so they could grieve for their mother in peace. William was unsure whether to walk behind Diana's casket in the funeral cortege but Phillip counselled him otherwise, telling him  "If you don't walk, I think you'll regret it later. If I walk, will you walk with me?" The world saw them walking together.
Phillip was also a keen painter in watercolours and oils and collected cartoons showing that while he is a self-confessed cantankerous old sod, he has a more tender side (mind you, Adolf Hitler was a keen painter as well but I make no assertions as to his tender side). Phillip also doesn't like pretence, preferring a pint of Bass Ale to Bordeaux but that did not stop him from meeting villagers from the Vanuatu island of Tana who famously worship him as a god and had travelled to England to meet him. Prince Phillip is conscious of his duties but still very much his own man and that makes him aces in my book
So I raise a glass of Scotland's best and say many happy returns Phil the Greek, you mad old bastard.

I'm the birthday boy! Get me some whisky and bring on the strippers! Ha Ha!