Searchers of the Time of Alacrity,

Creating a new routine is difficult. Side projects should have been shelved. I need to find health and fitness.

I feel like an invader who needn’t feel like an invader. Being lead comes before leadership but there might be no time at all for being lead.

Mind games and stand-offs are unwanted, although setting up simple versions can ward off selfish simpletons.

I ordered some new CDs last week, only Year of the Leopard by James Yorkston has arrived so far. He is one of the Fence Collective’s people, along with King Creosote and KT Tunstall, who have been scooped by the major record labels. I have little knowledge of James Yorkston’s previous releases and I bought his latest release more or less on a whim – it’s great, it has followed me from the car to the house, back and forth.

The Down with Brown campaign appears to have been successful; former chairman Derrick Brown has been relieved of all his duties at Bayview. He remains as a director of East Fife FC in job title only but he has been asked to tender his resignation. Our days of standing on a mound of earth have been worthwhile.

Ogresses who pen Garbled Opuscules,

I've entered my second week as a stewdent at St Andrews yooni. My research area is new to me and I've been wading through the literature. What I've gleaned so far may not make as much sense as it might when I begin work in the lab.

I attended an Induction Day last week, the level of pomposity made many of the talks hard to bare. Some of my fellow new stewdents appear over-pleased with themselves to have made it to St. Andrews but I will always remember that this is an institution that I overlooked when choosing a venue for my undergraduate studies, and this puts the virtues of St. Andrews Yooni in perspective. The people in my school are likeable and I'm thankful for that.

There are a few interesting opportunities on the gig-going front but I can't disclose them because The Bellyaches massive will buy all the tickets before me and it could turn into another Idlewild fiasco.

Jan Vennegoor of Hesselink might be injured for the visit of FC Copenhagen to Celtic Park tomorrow, Craig Beattie ought to be the man to deputise.

Corinne Bacon Roll is releasing another new single but this evil is balanced by the return of satsumas to the supermarket shelves.

If the Roswell incident was real, could George Bush decide to show the world the evidence? Would such an act rule all religion null and void?

Partible Possessors of Peewits,

I started my studies at St. Andrews Yooni on Monday, I think the tale of how I ended up at St. Andrews is a miracle. It’s not really a miracle but I owe a debt of gratitude to one man who went out of his way to help a complete stranger when so many others ignored me. I’ve got to cover a lot of the ground work in the literature for the first few weeks. I’ve been able to do much of this reading at home which is helpful because I have a bit of a cold. St. Andrews is baby in cot, under a mobile of jet fighters from RAF Leuchars; I find it quite surreal.

On the radio, the Zutons, who are excellent live, keep annoying me. I realised that All the Rage by my new favourite band, The Royal We might just be Everyday People by Sly and the Family Stone. I was cut out of BBC Radio Scotland’s Radio Café in July, in favour of people who suggested that a Proclaimers musical would be a good idea; well, they’re writing a Proclaimers musical to be premiered in Dundee before being sold around the world. On the Mark Radcliffe's show, Noddy Holder did a decent review of the TV programmes I would have watched – the football bungs and the Stephen Fry documentaries - had I wished to succumb to the drivel-box, but Noddy will most likely revert to reviewing stuff like Come Dine With Me next time.

I tried to take a picture of a hedgehog.

I’ve had some bad luck with door handles; first, I broke my bedroom door handle off (the metal rod that goes through the wood split) and today, I snapped the handle on the front door of the house. I haven’t always been able to split metal rods; I don’t know where I’ve found this strength from.

I had my hair cut today for the first time since the grudguation. My hair was fine before the haircut apart from one bit where it kinked nastily around my spectacles, but my haircut is really good.

I bought Amorino by Isobel Campbell and Three EPs by The Beta Band from Music Zone (it’s soulless) in Glenrothes.

Misplaced and Egotistic, Devouring Simpletons,

It’s a fascination on par with Roddy Woomble’s reliance on the word “century” (or any of its derivatives). So when I couldn’t hear what Riley Briggs was singing because of the morons who talked all through last night’s Aberfeldy gig at Liquid Rooms in Embra, I substituted the word “millionaire” in for the obscured lyrics.

I had seen Aberfeldy once before, at T in the Park, and I finally managed to catch up with them again. We timed the journey through the rain-lashed night to miss the support acts, Dateless and Catherine Feeny, to perfection. We travelled in the courtesy car supplied to David Twinnie after his accident, a Nissan Micra; it was strange to be able to see the car’s headlights from the inside, it gave the odd feeling of travelling inside a cart designed like a frog that might be seen on a kiddies ride at a funfair or of permanently being about to emerge between the frog’s legs at the end of the flume, at Levenmouth Swimming Pool.

Aberfeldy opened with A Friend Like You, a song which typifies the band: great lead vocals and lyrics, brilliant backing vocal harmonies, charming glockenspiel, all-important violin, intelligent bass and drums. Songs from the first album, Young Forever, like Love is an Arrow and Vegetarian Restaurant, went down well. The simplicity of Summer’s Gone – Casio keyboard rhythm #17 and a light sprinkling of glockenspiel - is to be marvelled at. After only 3 or 4 songs and quite inexplicably, the chatting started. The inevitable heckles demanding Tom Weir came after the first song, and when it came, Riley’s introduction of the much-requested and much-loved song was cut short by the chatterboxes.

Hypnotised and the title track from Aberfeldy’s latest album, Do Whatever Turns You On, were well-received. Apart from these few songs, there was too much talking from the large groups of people around the edges of the room; they should have offered rapturous warmth to the band on this triumphant homecoming. I loved Something I Must Tell You, with its speedy synth backbeat, it is reminiscent of Belle & Sebastian’s Electronic Renaissance but that’s not a bad thing. The guitars in Need You To Know, as Riley acknowledged, makes it sound a bit like a Police song but I couldn’t think which one. Their last song before the encore was their “disco hit”, Uptight, for which they were joined on stage by dancers – Dateless, the first support act – am no share if they wur guid radgies or no.

Obviously, they came back for an encore, they had to, no one would have left without hearing “the holdy-nose song”, Heliopolis By Night. Aberfeldy are a top band, they put on a great performance and with Riley’s song-writing talent, there’s no reason why they can’t go from strength to strength. On a sour note, we had to endure another crowd at the Liquid Rooms of which a large section were ignorant and selfish nitwits. There’s absolutely no need to talk right through any gig, no matter how good the band are.

Venial and Trustworthy Messengers,

I finished reading Paddy Clarke Ha Ha Ha by Roddy Doyle. It is a fine book. It’s set in 1968 when Paddy is 10 years old. Doyle captures the thought process of a 10 year old growing up perfectly whilst telling the story through the eyes of Paddy. There’s a real mix of emotions felt by Paddy and the reader as he enjoys the warmth of family life before watching it deteriorate. It’s often quite funny but ultimately sad. Paddy doesn’t always deserve sympathy, for instance, in his battle for popularity in the schoolyard, but that’s why this book is so good, it is hugely realistic and accurate.

I was given the task of going to Kirkcaldy to buy a new football for our 5-a-side group. Driving was boring, the tedium was not aided by the fact that Fife Council have decided to dig up every road ever laid; Fife Council work in small spurts They must have decided to get all the work finished during the final throes of summer to enable them to sit inside until April, they’ll only venture outside for a bit of fly-tipping between now and then. Of course, come the start of April, they always realise that they haven't done anything and have major budget underspend, so they have to waste money extravagantly and quickly, so they dig up every road in sight again and create new disastrous traffic-calming road layouts.

Once in Kirkcaldy, I was asked for directions to the pet shop by a man. I reckon I am approached by complete strangers for this kind of job (give directions, take a photo etc) more often than anyone else. I don’t know why, maybe I look smarter than everyone else or perhaps I appear common (scruffy) enough to be approachable. I’m not very good at giving directions. I had to hide once when I gave someone rubbish directions, later I had to go somewhere near where they wanted to go and saw them still wandering about lost. Once, I also gave two people brilliantly precise directions to a certain street and then after they’d gone off, I remembered that I had confused their intended destination with another street.

In the sports shop, the manager was arguing with four men, he shouted ‘I do not operate a barter system.’ which was funny at the time.

I went in every clothes shop on the way back to the car. There must be some shop where I can buy the clothes that I’d like to. I don’t particularly need anything. I regretted going in the expensive shop, so fashionable that whole shelves are dedicated to single baseball caps. They stared at me in a manner that suggested that they didn’t think I belonged in their shop. My t-shirt cost £4 and the ones on sale cost £60 but I can buy and sell anyone now and again. I slid out - their loss.

The Bellyaches Music Prize winning My Latest Novel’s single did not receive the praise it deserved on 6Music’s Roundtable. Steve Lurpak ought to have lamped his guest Christian Reilly.

Football did not go well, every time I went forward, the guy who likes to think of himself as the best player was organising a pantomime in defence.

Rebus is on television but they always maul the plot of the novels, the drivel-box is hardly worth bothering with.

Disillusioned Followers of Radio,

Much of what I spoke to the Scrupulous Ears Intimate with Providential Eyes about is out of date. 6music and Radio 1 have declined the quality of their programming.

The only salvation is that Marc Riley has been promoted to weekday evenings, even if only from 7-9.30pm on Wednesdays to Fridays. Marc Riley’s Brain Surgery has so far proved so good that I felt lost without it on Monday and Tuesday despite the fact that Dr. Tom was doing a fine job in his usual 6music timeslot.

The Blue Room will soon be axed and as will the much-vaunted OneMusic vehicle.

Vic McGlynn has departed from 6music to tour Australia, and the afternoon output on 6music is now a wasteland.

I spent most of today listening to KEXP, a Seattle radio station, over the internet. It’s brilliant. There’s none of the inane prattle that’s become a feature of most BBC radio shows. The DJs choose all the records, with the help of listener requests. There’s no repetition. It’s fresh. The DJs play 4 tracks back-to-back then announce what they were and which albums they came from. There’s no talking over records and no fading of records. 6music should use this as a template.

Doubters of the Disparagers,

I can tender no explanation. It descends without warning and leaves suddenly. Every fault makes it worse because in this environment, the person or people smart enough to have made the diagnosis are helpless to remedy those problems. I should probably try to keep a record and identify a pattern.

A worrying misconception surfaced when the boundaries were broken. I was shocked that time had not killed this image, but perhaps that’s just what the small town-mentality that I detect and detest is, it never understands what it knows. The subconscious might be as powerful as the conscious.

I had another high-speed dentist appointment. It failed to leave me feeling my teeth were cared for. I always get the rookie dentist at my practice, I’ve seen some horrors. There must be some sort of scheme; I never have the same dentist for more than a year, that was probably the last time I’ll see this one, she has a check-up finished before I’m seated properly. I hate the forced politeness of the receptionist, especially when it requires so much concentration that she fails to carry out her duty.

In essence, an anniversary means the Earth has gone round the Sun once more since something happened. If something’s worth thinking about and remembering, it’ll always be with us. My memory of the WTC attacks is quite vivid. Neighbours was interrupted as live BBC News 24 video of the towers was broadcast on BBC1. I watched in amazement, father, having heard some news on the radio at work, phoned me to ask what was happening. I began work at 2.30pm. I tried to explain to a co-worker what was happening, I’m not sure they were listening to me properly but they replied, ‘What film were you watching?’

Religion has much to answer for, but it’s the politicians who control religion.

Masticating Exultant Arthropods,

The first record I ever bought was The Decline of British Sea Power, this was released in 2003. This seems a bit late in life to have purchased my first CD, but I didn’t like music until just over a year before that – probably because I didn’t know what music was, I was only exposed to mainstream pap. I started paying attention to proper music through the freeplays of Mark and Lard once I had eventually discovered their shows, which, again, was too late in life.

I managed to see the lads responsible for that first CD at King Tut’s Wah Wah Hut in Glasgow last night. It was my first visit to this venue, it’s amazing. I was shocked that a venue so legendary could be so small, but I’m a rookie.

Supporting British Sea Power were the Seal Cub Clubbing Club and Firebrand Boy. Seal Cub Clubbing Club were alright. My first thought was that these guys could be Interpol with a bit of refinement, this thought lasted between 10 and 20 seconds. They can’t be pinned down; every song seemed to have a different style. The faster ones were more enjoyable; during the slower ones, more attention is drawn to the singer’s voice which isn’t remarkable. They were nice enough but I wonder if they’ll ever be anything more than a perennial support band.

Firebrand Boy replaced Field Music on the bill, which was a disappointment. Firebrand Boy are two guys, a guitar, laptop named Fred and a Gameboy. It was beepy stuff, they were okay, although having recently seen Flying Matchstick Men, I don’t think they compare favourably. It was better when the one with the guitar didn’t sing. How does somebody produce original music using a Gameboy? Would a song be ruined if Mario was killed by a Koopa Troopa? (This is too far into the territory of the geeks, I’m merely an oddball and I didn’t even do Nintendo.) Firebrand Boy collected some polite applause and some boos.

By the time British Sea Power arrived, we had migrated to the upper level. The lower level was too cramped. The upper level soon became a bit crowded, it was difficult to see from behind the mixing desk and the people behind it. We eventually managed to find a space standing on the benches along the back wall, this space was vacated by everyone else because it was below the air-conditioning unit, thus we were maintained at around 4^oC for the rest of the gig, but at least we could see the stage, glorious in foliage.

British Sea Power were great, they’ve restored my faith in 4-piece guitars and drums bands, or maybe they haven’t, maybe they’ve just reminded me that British Sea Power are different and much better. I don’t want to hear any more of the insipid drivel that the radio stations peddle. There’s little I have to say about British Sea Power, people should already know about all their great songs and then find out that Noble performs diving headers into the microphones and dangerous leaps from the onstage furniture.

Distant and Recalcitrant, 38p-richer Egomaniacs,

The East Fife Mail review is back after its absence last week. Without precisely knowing the shift patterns down at East Fife Mail HQ, it looks very likely that the best journalists seem to take every second week off.

The main front page story wasn't worth bothering about but they did include a side story to which they could attach a picture. This brightened up the front page and encouraged people to buy the newspaper. There were apparently problems at a sailing competition on the day that it rained.A local convenience store, in which I used to work, has lost its license to sell alcohol for 3 months because under-age customers were sold alcohol twice. It wouldn't have happened under my regime. In essence, the shop owner has been failed by his staff and whilst someone has to be punished, it's perhaps unfair that everyone should suffer because of the mistake of one or two incompetent members of staff.This week's comedic story is about an imbecile who has been arrested, whilst still in fancy dress, for driving under the influence of alchol . I think he should be banned from driving for life and not just a year. He's probably not going to quit drinking so he should be made to quit driving.
The plans for the Fife Energy Park are becoming clearer, I don't actually think Methil has its own wind or wave farm yet. I think they're just going to manufacture the power-generating machinery at Methil Docks for distribution across the country.The dispute over potential ship-to-ship oil transfers in the Firth of Forth continues. Christine May MSP is right, these activities would not be beneficial to Levenmouth and the population of puffins on the Isle of May. For once, the local NIMBYs have good reason to rail against change.
Bridge tolls on the Forth Road Bridge (and the Tay Bridge) are again in the news. Commuters have already paid for the construction of the bridge, now the toll fees are going into the government's coffers. I don't think tolls on the bridge help to reduce road use; they might if public transport was cheaper. As such, they might as well be abolished, although it's not something I feel strongly over. The biggest argument in favour of scrapping bridge tolls is that tolls are no longer paid on other bridges or tunnels in Scotland.

Hooded youths have been blamed for the vandalism of a bowling green. I've always wanted to play football on a bowling green and I recently wore my new hoodie for the first time but there's no connection.Once again, there's no place for me to live. This flat is clearly a corker but it's too far away from my location of desire. I wanted to live near the library and the post office.

I've saved my favourite part of this week's episode of the East Fife Mail for the end of the review.

Shallow Musicologists Swayed by Accolades,

The elite of the music industry gathered in the restaurant at Harthill Services on the M8 for The Bellyaches Music Prize 2006 ceremony hosted by Bryan Burnett on Tuesday evening.

The albums nominated for the prize, a photo of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs signed by the event organiser and a video of Apollo 13 as taped off the telly, were as follows:

Moon Mountain by The Pendulums: This album by The Pendulums, which is full of songs about socks and witches, is as refreshing as a stalk of rhubarb.

The Campfire Headphase by Boards of Canada: If all the birds were to die, the government would be forced to act; they’d choose to play this album by Boards of Canada over loudspeakers across the land, on the loveliest of mornings.

KC Rules OK by King Creosote: The Kingdom of Fife’s ruling monarch transports everyone to a harbour wall on the Fife’s idyllic east coast with an ice cream in their hand and a bag of wine gums in their pocket with this delightful album.

Let’s Get Out of This Country by Camera Obscura: It’s a shame when this album by Camera Obscura ends, it’s worth more than a bottle of whisky from Pat Nevin.

My Secret is my Silence by Roddy Woomble: Roddy Idlewild from Woomble’s solo album was created whilst wearing a bobble hat. Roddy’s favourite word “century”, or any of its derivatives, features at least once.

Do Whatever Turns You On by Aberfeldy: Aberfeldy have crafted an album that, if dispatched the correct agents, could stop a war.

Bucko by Fickle Public: Fickle Public take the rest of the proles on a musical adventure that proves that they can get used to something new and loud once they’re properly woken up.

The Life Pursuit by Belle & Sebastian: Belle & Sebastian are great. This album is a progression of their talents that still remains true to their signature sound.

Wolves by My Latest Novel: The arrangements on My Latest Novel’s album are as stunning as a fine painting by Vincent Van Gogh.

Ballad of the Broken Seas by Isobel Campbell and Mark Lanegan: Isobel Campbell does some of the words and Mark Lanegan does the rest, it was a partnership that worked well.

Mr Beast by Mogwai: This majestic collection of rock instrumentals by Mogwai can only be bettered by things that are very, very good.

Fangs by Dawn of the Replicants: This album by Dawn of the Replicants is as life-enhancing a satsuma.

After their Wimpy burgers, the judges retired to the overhead walkway to decide the destination of the coveted prize. And after much deliberation by the judges, My Latest Novel were appointed winners of the prestigious Bellyaches Music Prize 2006. Gary of the group said, ‘Awards are only for people who need them.’

Bandmate Laura was later reported to have been seen throwing the photo of the Yeah Yeah Yeahs onto the bonfire that local youths had manufactured from Bryan Burnett’s Citroen Saxo. Kenny of Camera Obscura has asked to borrow the video of Apollo 13 once the winners are finished with it.

Also-rans From the Radio Competition,

I apologise to 6music listeners, and especially those who tried and failed to win tickets to the Indian Summer music festival in Victoria Park, Glasgow, during Rob Hughes’ show. They lost out to me, a weakling who lacked the stamina to endure both days of the festival.

I had a fine time at Indian Summer Saturday. It was a smaller festival, much nicer than T in the Park and the line-up was a bit different from the major identikit festivals that have taken place this summer. The festival was touted as being more sophisticated; aside from music on three stages, the proles could also play bowls or croquet and eat healthy food; they didn’t sell chips - only potato wedges, a circumstance that my assistant musicologist sulked over.

Upon entering the park, we thought we were faced with watching 1990s on the Main Stage out in the rain until The Royal We came on stage in the ABC Tent (for newer bands). The official programme had the times listed wrongly, and we didn’t have to watch 1990s, but we did for a while with a just a handful of other people and one of them from Franz Ferdinand. They sounded very much like Franz Ferdinand; they were alright and better than Razorlight. I don’t see much of a future for bog-standard 3 or 4 piece guitar/bass/drums/vocals approach.

We left 1990s at the time which The Royal We were supposed to be starting, only to find that they’d been on for 15 minutes. This was disappointing; I was looking forward to seeing The Royal We on the strength of their myarse.com songs after they were praised by Bricolage on Marc Riley’s 6music show. For the remainder of their set, they were a real treat. They’re a 6-piece; 3 boys and 3 girls including a bespectacled keyboardist/guitarist, a bassist who wears a pair of boxing gloves around his shoulders, a mean lead singer and an all-important violinist (there are some photos here). A cloaked Steve Pacamac watched from the side of the stage, and if he does his job properly (for once), The Royal We will fill the “new favourite band” feature on his 6music show in the near future.

Next on the Main Stage were Scissors for Lefty, their set consisted of boring guitars, drums and pointless electronic noodling. Someone will like them, I think Steve Pacamac does. Their stuff seemed rather tired and unoriginal.

For electronic noodling done properly, we needn’t have looked further than the Flying Matchstick Men who came on to play the ABC Stage halfway through the hollow set on the Main Stage. Graham, Mark and Gavin mess about with gadgets and a laptop whilst Mark plays drums. Lead singer Graham is full of energy - 10 out of 10 for his “we’re Hot Chip, we’ve just decided not to play Over and Over today” quip - and their overall technical wizardry meant no one missed the guitars.

Ben Kweller was the man who first brought the Main Stage to life. In his woolly cardigan, he rocked on the guitar and he rocked on the piano. Despite having nearly a wholly new backing band, Ben played an impressive collection of new and old songs to a really knowledgeable crowd. I’ve liked Ben Kweller’s solo work for a while, I have a couple of his albums but my recollection of the songs wasn’t a patch on some of the people’s that enjoyed a belter of a set.

We caught snippets of The Voom Blooms and Mother and the Addicts in the ABC Tent either side of Guillemots on the Main Stage. I’m not so sure about whether I like Guillemots so much these days. Some of their racket is quite difficult to handle all of the time.

I was really looking forward to hearing Lupen Crook. He played to a tiny pocketful of people, with his backing band, the Murderbirds, a drummer and a fellow who played an assortment of guitar, keyboard and fork and knife on hubcap. The unenlightened were all watching Hot Chip. They were brilliant and were exactly what I expected being a proud owner of the immense Accidents Occur Whilst Sleeping album which is an angry collection of songs about nasty relationships, death, rape and skeletons.

I like Over and Over as much as the next person but Hot Chip on the Main Stage were boring musically and visually.

After a boring vacuum in the programme, we headed to the ABC Tent to see Pigeon Detectives. They’re a five-piece rock’n’roll outfit. They were quite good but I don’t know if there’s anything that sets them apart from everyone else. There’s not much more of music left to be explored with just guitars and drums.

We departed for the Main Stage to see The Fall. The band came on and was playing for a few minutes before the nonchalant Marc E. Smith finally ambled onto stage to join them. I know very little about The Fall but I went over with an open mind. The band seemed pretty good but I didn’t see the point of Mark E. Smith turning up. I didn’t have a clue what he was singing, shouting or saying at any stage; it was just some sort of lazy, nondescript drawl. I suppose he remains untouchable. Towards the ends of the songs, when his parts were over, he strolled around the stage as if he was inspecting the work of his band and wondering who to sack next.

We wandered away to the ABC Tent in search of something better. Jack Lukeman was playing. It was a painful experience; we tried to like him twice. I think Jack L has written his own Wikipedia entry.

We finally made it to the end of the day – the headline slot: Yeah Yeah Yeahs. They were amazing. Karen O, resplendent in a silver space suit, is brilliant and I’d say a certainty to become the next President of the USA.

I'm not very good at reviewing artists, unlike the fellow who was watching the Flying Matchstick Men next to me - he had a notepad and pen, he ran away when he saw that I was reading what he had written. My highlights were The Royal We, Flying Matchstick Men, Ben Kweller, Lupen Crook and the Yeah Yeah Yeahs. People can ask questions of me, I might be able to answer but on the whole, if I say something is great, I should be trusted.

Bristling but Hushed Liberals,

Security Reasons. It’s the reason given and blamed for the many absurdities and inconveniences that are forced upon people in all walks of life. In truth, many of the measures are just to keep us in our places.

I have never seen any of Mark Thomas’ stand-up comedy performances but I applaud him for leading a small protest against the “demo ban zone” around the Houses of Parliament. It’s never clever to quote anyone else, in fact, there’s a quote about that – “Fools rush in where angels fear to tread.” or maybe, “Wise men make proverbs, but fools repeat them.” – but it’s further vindication of an observation on "democracy" by Karl Marx, “The oppressed are allowed once every few years to decide which particular representatives of the oppressing class are to represent and repress them.”

Mark Thomas only had around 100 people in his protest, but London is very far away and not many people want to go there for fear of being affected by its corruption. People protested on a range of issues including war, Goth pride and Pluto. They deserve a right to protest. There are few other channels by which to demonstrate the opinions of the people and show the level of support for a cause than a crowd. People can send letters or emithers to MPs but there’s a high probability that some unelected secretary will discard any correspondence that looks slightly awkward. The people that we elect to parliament don’t really represent us; they pander to their party superiors – people in other constituencies over which we have no say. I’d like to see Parliament full of independent members, who’d vote with their conscience. The Referendum Party were a single issue party, concerned only with the position of the UK in the EU, but the concept of the party was that they would let the public decide its country’s fate via a series of referendums. I’d argue that referendums aren’t really necessary to decide the direction of a nation, there is only one right way, and if the all the facts were available to everyone; people – even the politicians - could see right from wrong and act accordingly, it’d save time and paper.

The Parliament building wouldn’t require stringent security if its incumbents didn’t act so erratically and thoughtlessly. They could all benefit from being closer to the public - they might learn something. Why do they deserve protection anyway? The rest of us aren’t being protected from the villains that roam the streets. They deserve two big burly blokes on the front door and any additional security can be provided by a House of Lords peace-keeping force.