The QCA (Qualifications and Curriculum Authority) has confirmed that McDonald’s has been approved to develop courses and qualifications up to the equivalent of A’ Level standard.
Well, why not? When Tony Bliar famously said, “Education, education, education” in the Labour Party conference shortly before taking power, he did explain that in the Brave New Labour World, “Our children will learn more and earn more.” And here’s the proof.
In an education system which, in spite of an increase from £37 billion in the year New Labour came to power to £73 billion in 2005-6, has still failed to increase social mobility among the poorest people in Britain (the UK and USA have the lowest social mobility index in the Western world) this sort of A’ Level is typical of a system that perpetuates, rather than solves, the problem.
If you were going to spend two years studying for an A’ Level, which would you prefer:
one that gives you a universally recognised academic qualification, with a proven track record in opening doors to universities and careers in every sector of the economy?
or one that qualifies you to work for McDonald’s – and no-one else?
The right business has an annual budget of £2,800,000,000 per year.
In 2003-4 it expanded by 46% and, since then, by 33% every two years.
It gets paid bonuses for telling the rest of us to tighten our belts. And even bigger bonuses for increasing our workloads. And it helps itself to large slices of funding for government contracts.
Other people are held accountable for its mistakes. And even after its most spectacular cock-ups it can look forward to newer, bigger, more lucrative contracts.
What is this wonderful, lucrative gravy train? Who are these “heroes of the age” (as Private Eye calls them?
Consultants.
Jacqui Smith, when challenged on the Today Programme this morning, about detention without charge beyond 28 days:
It won’t be hypothetical if and when it occurs.
Who put these morons in charge?
knowl·edge (nlj) n.
1 information and skills acquired through experience or education.
2 the sum of what is known.
3 awareness or familiarity gained by experience of a fact or situation
in·for·ma·tion (nfr-mshn) n.
1 facts or knowledge provided or learned.
2 what is conveyed or represented by a particular sequence of symbols, impulses, etc.
(Definitions from the Oxford English Dictionary)
I’ve just read a blogger’s guide to the history of the MMR/Autism debate, and found it to be a very informative example of the difference between fact and opinion. Or, more accurately, the vast gulf between the perception of knowing stuff and the ability to understand it.
It can be quite possible to produce great tomes on topics with enormous emotional and ethical baggage attached, yet demonstrate a complete lack of understanding of the subject in the process – and still attempt to claim moral and intellectual authority.
And this, I think, is the nugget of truth at the heart of many medical controversies – the MMR/Autism debate only being a typical, angry example.
I don’t deny that there are many advocates in these debates who, in spite of their complete comprehension of the issues involved, are exercising judgement without any reference to a moral compass whatsoever. In fact, I find that they poetically balance out the people on the other side of the debate who seem to be all moral compass and no understanding. On the one hand is an objective analysis with no subjective sensitivity whatsoever, and on the other, a knee-jerk reaction with no analysis.
It leaves the middle ground free for sensible people to join the debate. Just ignore the lunatics on the fringe.
This afternoon I gave Little Nutter’s bedroom its weekly mucking-out.
The easy way to do this is boil wash his bedding, use a pan & brush to pick up all the scraps of catalogues, broken toys and chewed up toilet rolls, and then mop the lino, waterproof mattress and walls with a bleach solution.
Today, though, I discovered that he had decorated his room with pictures torn from a catalogue (pictures of toy trains, inevitably.) They were all stuck on the walls. He had used urine as an adhesive.
I so need that therapist again.
Ever since last summer we have been getting orgasms delivered in boxes every Friday – and it’s been really good.
The big box has been full of vegetable orgasms, and the little box full of fruit orgasms – and the best bit has been that until the box arrived, we haven’t known what was going to be n it. (Actually we would have known if I could be arsed to look it up every week, but that would be like sneaking a look into the dressing room before the strip show. It’s skipping the best bit.
Anyway, foods we have never eaten before include kale (delicious flash fried in soy sauce – it’s now what we do to all unidentifiable green leafy things, and it hasn’t let us down yet) marrow and a massive variety of squashes. We’re also making our own fruit juice because the quantity of fresh fruit you get for £8.35 is just daft. A family of five can’t get through that much fruit without the help of a juicer, a smoothie maker and an ice-cream maker. Please post your recipes for alcoholic smoothies below.
However, this week there were three cauliflowers in it. There should have been two, but I think that River Swale must have a cruel streak. Thanks, guys.
So having just eaten a large bowl of cauliflower cheese, for the first time since these boaxes started to arrive I have not mispronounced the word “organic.”
First, this story has made me ashamed to part of the country involved. A woman who was in the UK for legitimate reasons (a fact that cancels out any arguments about “health tourism” or illegal immigrants) now has terminal cancer – and an expired visa. And Britain’s response: deport her.
Then there is this story – about a coastguard who rescued a girl clinging to a cliff face while suffering from hypothermia in the middle of a stormy night. She had been hanging on to tufts of grass for 45 minutes and was slowly falling off – and after assessing the situation and realising that she would fall before safety equipment could be brought to the scene and set up, he climbed down, established safe footholds for himself and saved her. By my reckoning, he is a hero.
12 months later he has resigned because he has received nothing but criticism for failing to follow health and safety procedures.
It is one thing when bureaucracy gets in the way of comfortable living. I moan every day about how it overcomplicates my life and my job and costs me money.
However, in these two cases bureaucracy is cheap moral cowardice. In fact, it is worse than that, because the bureaucratic imperative is not a failure to do good – it is an incentive to fail to do good, an incentive to do evil. And because it is a bureaucratic incentive, it is held accountable rather than those who have designed it, upheld it and profited from it.
It was once said of the Corporation of the City of London that it could not be found guilty of crime as it had no conscience, nor excommunicated for it had no soul. How convenient – especially for those whose fortunes were made by it.
Our New Year’s Resolution this year (not the royal use of the plural, as Darling Wifey is included in this) is to stop buying alcohol for consumption on school nights, to exercise instead, and to eat more freshly cooked food.
First, though, the birthday and Christmas cellars must be depleted to a safe, background level of alcohol. This means that I have an excuse that will last until Thursday.
From then, all I have to fall back on is the impending Mid Life Crisis.
