Regeneration X

There are a number of strategies that can breathe life into a dying town. Sadly, the bozos of Walsall council cabinet seem to think that the resuscitation of a stagnant local economy will come about by building a multi-storey car park. The plot, along with any credibility, has clearly been lost.

Figures published by the Local Data Company suggest that one in four shops in Walsall town centre lies empty making Walsall the seventh worst town in the country for vacant retail units. Portfolio holder responsible for degeneration, councillor Adrian Andrew was quick to rubbish the data as “potentially misleading”. Lumping in warehouse and office accommodation, he claims that vacant shops represent only 20 per cent of capacity. Presumably this includes the horticultural goings on at an empty carpet warehouse not a million miles from the cabinet table and the empty rooms above empty shops containing imaginary illegal immigrants being offered postal votes in council elections.

Interestingly, the Tory regeneration member for Pheasey Park Farm suggests that the good news is that the figure of one in five empty shops is nearer to what passes for truth in this sorry borough. This is a little like asking the captain of the Titanic if he would like ice in his gin and tonic.

It is surprising that straw-clutching, blue sky thinking denialist councillor Andrew did not point out that Wolverhampton has 27.3 per cent vacant shops compared to Walsall’s meagre 26.9 per cent making Wolverhampton the fifth worst retail experience in this nation of shopkeepers. Bottom of the heap are Dudley and West Bromwich. It is good to know that a long wait and a short bus journey can convey us to other dying towns using a dying public transport system. The growth regenerating czar then offered a list of businesses who have upped sticks and left town realising that in the hands of the current administration, Walsall is a basket case. But, be of good cheer. HS2 means that we can travel from London Euston to Darlaston in three days rather than four.

Rather than the familiar drone of blaming the previous government, Tory MP for Wolverhampton South West, Paul Uppal has concocted an ingenious rationale that blames charities for the retail blight in town and city centres. Chuggers, it seems, are turning people away from high streets. If you have never heard of chuggers, they are the people who shake collection tins for the likes of Macmillan Nurses, Lifeboats, Air Ambulances and a variety of other worthy causes and are, seemingly, the very basis of Cameron’s Big Society. Mr Uppal wants them banished from the streets. Extensive research involving asking a few of his mates, has convinced the successor to Enoch Powell than chuggers are a bigger problem than extortionate parking charges. Powell died 14 years ago today. If you have never heard of Paul Uppal, you are not alone.

The good and the great around the cabinet table in Walsall will, no doubt, take note of this new excuse for failure. Hmm…charities. That’s good. Yeah, with everyone hard up let’s encourage them to kick beggars. Any other ideas? What? A multi-storey car park? Brilliant. Let’s vote to increase our allowances.

Parking in Walsall town centre is a disaster. Having been out smarted by supermarket giants offering free parking, the nice little earner of council run car parks is a golden goose that now needs therapy and the possible attention of a crash trauma team. As ever with this incompetent cabinet, there is very little in detail, transparency, consultation, accountability or common sense. Scratching in the dirt for anything that remotely resembles a plan, our civic leaders say a multi-storey car park is now the answer.

No site has been identified, no costing proposal has been formulated, no time scale is offered. The need for private sector investment is mentioned as is the possibility of selling off council car parks that are “underused”. The mighty intellect that is Mike Bird, who incidentally made his money by specialising in insolvency, said: “We have got car parks in areas that are no longer used.” Does that mean the car park or the area? An underused car park because of empty shops or empty shops because of an underused car park? It’s difficult to know which came first, the chicken or the golden egg.

Cabinet meet tonight (Wednesday) to discuss, amongst other things, the “redevelopment” of the Old Square shopping centre. The proposal is to hand over the land to property developers Zurich Assurance who will then evict and pay off the current landowners and businesses. For good measure, a huge chunk of space used by market stalls will disappear. The genius of this strategy is that we will be able to enjoy yet another supermarket and, joy of joys, Primark. Should cabinet wish to see supermarket regeneration in action, a quick stroll along nearby George Street will reveal a row of boarded up shops in the shadow of Asda.

There are, however, a number of other strategies that can breathe life into a dying town. Sensible parking charges and the dismissal of a private enforcement company intent on profit rather than service. Waiving business rates for the first year of any new small retail enterprise. Start up grants and, if necessary, loans to small retailers and an end to bowing the knee to multi-national high street giants and property developers. Encourage a diversity of retail outlets that bases a local economy on more than supermarkets, pound shops and purveyors of junk food.

Walsall cabinet, along with other local authorities and the likes of Paul Uppal MP, should have a quiet word with Gideon Osborne and request an immediate cut to the rate of VAT, the reversal of sacking public sector workers who will now be forced onto benefit rather than paying taxes and buying stuff and, if they have the backbone, tell the Chancellor and his millionaire friends to pay their own taxes.

If these radical ideas seem alien to Bird, Andrew and Uppal, perhaps the should consider it as a PFI outsourcing deal with the public. They provide the shops, parking and transport infrastructure and we spend money. It might just work, unlike the ruinous deals with APCOA, Amey and Tarmac.

There is, though, one PFI scam that will induce tremors around the cabinet table. Whisper the name Serco and our civic masters will retreat to a darkened room, place a blanket over their heads, reach for the Prozac and wonder if their reserved parking space in front of the Council House will still be there in May.

Cabinet will discuss the mess left by Serco behind locked doors, well away from the irritating attention of those made to pay the bill. It could be a good night for Prozac shareholders.

Crippled inside

We have come a long way since the aristocracy would pay a penny to be amused at the antics of lunatics held in inhumane conditions in Bedlam. But, goodness me, the powerful and wealthy of the 18th century are a tenacious bunch.

The new aristocracy and their merchant followers wasted no time in introducing the Welfare Reform Bill in February 2011. Having brought the world to the brink of ruin, the paymasters of government insisted that the poor should pay the debts run up through reckless greed and at the same time preserve the incomes of the wealthy. So, some nonsense called “Universal Credit” was concocted to turn the screw on those most in need. The most insidious aspect of this loathsome legislation is the removal of Disability Living Allowance, hardly a benefit, but more of an absolute imperative in any humane society.

DLA has two elements, care and mobility and gives our fellow human beings a small chance at independence, dignity and the right to an existence. The coalition government, who we did not vote for, want to take this away. Consider Sarah, not her real name, who lives in Birmingham. She is in her 50`s and suffers from Chronic Obstructive Pulmonary Disease, Osteoarthritis, severe Eczema and, understandably, Depression. In 2001 she was awarded the higher rate of DLA for both care and mobility. Recently, the Department of Work and Pensions decided to “reassess” her claim.

A home visit was arranged to conduct the assessment. The DWP official concluded that Sarah was not entitled to any award for DLA. The report made no mention of COPD, which renders Sarah breathless and on the verge of collapse after walking a few paces or the increasing care she needs from her family. Instead, the official offered evidence of benefit fraud by noting that the “client seemed cheerful” and after using a micrometre to measure the depth of the rubber pads at the end of the clients walking aids, concluded that the crutches had seen little use. The awkward fact that the previous walking aids had worn out and had been replaced two weeks earlier is implacably ignored.

Sarah, of course, appealed against the decision, saying that the withdrawal of support had left her with suicidal thoughts. In response, the DWP official described the possibility of suicide as “blackmail” and further proof of fraud. The official then recommended that Sarah should pay back all the benefits she has received since 2001. This is the reality of social care in Cameron’s Britain even before the wretched Welfare Reform Bill has passed into law.

The bill, of course, has its critics but not many within the Houses of Parliament. The huffing and puffing of Liberal Democrat MPs and Peers does not prevent them from supporting the government’s attack on the people it has a duty to defend. Ed Miliband and the increasingly deranged Liam Byrne whine “it’s not fair” but parrot the headlines from the right-wing press regarding “scroungers”. Liam Byrne, incidentally is the Labour shadow minister for work and pensions and MP for Birmingham Hodge Hill. He is probably unaware or has decided to ignore the torture being inflicted by the DWP on my friend Sarah, not her real name.

Disability rights groups, charities, unpaid carers and even the Archbishop of Canterbury have all said that this bill will lead to disaster. Astonishingly, it required the voice of reason that is Boris Johnson to come out and say that this pernicious and discriminatory bill would harm those that can least afford to be harmed. This could be construed as opportunism with an election on the horizon, but the study commissioned by the Mayor of London started a year ago and is based on facts and not spun statistics favoured by a vindictive government.

If the idea of Johnson talking sense for once leaves you speechless, prepare to be amazed at the stance of the Daily Mail. After years and years and years of branding people with disabilities as scroungers, Paul Dacre`s vile rag has accurately reported that DLA fraud amounts to 0.5 per cent of all claims. Up until now, the Mail’s coverage of disability issues has consisted of alleged quadriplegics playing football, so-called wheelchair users pole vaulting and mildly depressed shirkers claiming more hand-outs in a week than the Prime Minister is paid in a year. From the newspaper that claims it was solely responsible for the conviction of the sub-humans that murdered Stephen Lawrence, these are lies worthy of a cabinet minister or, indeed, his shadow.

DLA fraud certainly takes place and there are some very criminally clever people who take advantage of the system and embezzle what the do not deserve. Even if only 0.5 per cent of claims are bogus, that is a serious pile of money, £1.2billion to be precise and the DWP are right to crack down on the fraudsters. However, set against the £16billion in unclaimed benefits due to real disabled people being left in the dark over their rights, the DWP are operating with a hidden agenda. It is also worth pointing out that £70billion is owed to the exchequer in tax avoidance by the able bodied. There are some very criminally clever people who take advantage of the system and embezzle what they do not deserve. Most of them donate to the Tory party and are chums of David Cameron.

Not content with simply removing the dignity and hope of people with disabilities, the Prime Minister now mocks the afflicted. His weak attempt at humour may have been “off the cuff” and irrelevant, but it give us a glimpse at the true nature of Cameron and his millionaire chums. The sadness and grief within his own family makes his premeditated attack on the NHS and social care even more obscene.

Instead of knowing their place, suffering in silence and crawling away to die to ease the budget deficit, people with disabilities are fighting back against this malicious legislation. Led by the remarkable Sue Marsh (@suey2y on Twitter), the wonderful Kaliya Franklin (@BendyGirl) and others, the real experts on disability have produced a report that exposes the government for what it is.

Liars.

Producing the report “Responsible Reform” without funding or an army of well paid civil servants, the victims of prejudice have exposed the true nastiness of Cameron’s government. In reassessing DLA claims, this bunch of toffs think that limbs will grow back after a caring glance from Iain Duncan Smith, the lame shall walk and the blind will see again after touching the hem of Maria Miller’s expensive frock. After refusing to meet disability campaigners, Maria Miller was dubbed the Minister against the Disabled and is, basically, a liar. The good people of Wolverhampton will no doubt be ashamed of their native daughter.

The campaigners wished to deliver a copy of the report to the MPs who represent them. They were told that they would have to pay £290 for the privilege. Today in parliament, £20,000 of tax payers money was spent on food and drink for our MPs.

We have come a long way since John Lennon released the Imagine album in 1971. The BBC immediately banned the title track and for good measure banned the second track because the title contained the word “cripple”. David Cameron was five years old when Imagine was released.

Even at his most cynical, Lennon could not have imagined that his words would be so prophetic more that 40 years later.

Rovers Return

Five months is a long time in politics, broadcasting and even football. Back in May, Aston Villa missed out on Europe, West Bromwich Albion languished in mid-table obscurity, Wolverhampton Wanderers only just survived and Walsall just about avoided relegation, unlike the unfortunate Birmingham City. It’s not such a funny old game.

As the last football season lurched to its disappointing end, this humble blog attempted to draw attention to one woman’s battle against the might of the Murdoch empire. Pub landlady of the Red, White and Blue in Southsea, Karen Murphy decided that she was not going to be pushed around by BSkyB and the Football League. Having been sued for breach of copyright for daring to screen a football match in her pub, she took her case to the European Court of Justice and today has seen justice prevail. It would seem that media tycoons and dodgy football moguls do not own the intellectual copyright of 22 men kicking a pig’s bladder about.

Back in May, who would have ever thought that by July, Andy Coulson, Neil Wallis and Rebekah Brooks would be under arrest and Murdoch’s flagship, the News of the World, would be scuppered and left as a wreck at the bottom of Portsmouth harbour. Rupert and the boy James still face some awkward questions regarding their probity and their understanding of what telling the truth means and it now seems that anything they touch is tarnished. Court rulings, however, mean nothing to a family that buys and sells governments and they will be back to give Mrs Murphy a good kicking.

This whole affair is riddled with delicious irony. Oily Cameron and the half-wit Osborne have, this week, appointed themselves champions of small businesses and wish to forget the taking of the Murdoch shilling. One doubts that they will be nipping in to Karen`s pub for a swift half and a bit of congratulation. Euro-sceptics from both the right and left, after years of barking at the moon in outrage at EU law, are now strangely but mercifully silent given that Europe has defended the underdog. The men that run football, happy to appoint an England manager with a basic grasp of English that is more impressive than his tactical ability, will be furious that premiership games played and managed by men with names like Carlos, Arsene, Roberto and Didier will be watched throughout Europe. Club owners like the Glazers, Abramovich and Sheikh Mansour bin Zayed Al Nahyan will curse EU legislation as they see all that lovely BSkyB money disappearing down the necks of drinkers in the Red, White and Blue.

The sweetest irony is, however, the fact that Mrs Murphy bought her de-coder from Greece. With most of northern Europe excreting breeze blocks over the Hellenic economy and the banks that caused the trouble in the first place about to close down an entire nation state, it only seems fair that Panathinaikos should be awarded an automatic place in the Champions League final. Most of their players are actually Greek, but the coaching staff is Portuguese.

Ah yes, it might be best not to mention Portugal, or Spain, or Italy, or Ireland or, the way things are going, the United Kingdom. If the finance ministers of bailed out countries need any advice on economic strategy, procurement, fairness and value for money, they could start by asking a pub landlady from Portsmouth. Perhaps Osborne should nip in for a swift half after all.

And the winner is…

“The award for best supporting role in a horror journey undertaken by public transport goes to…the plastic hippo.”

Cue applause, standing ovation, follow spots, glitter cannons and Tina Turner singing Simply the Best.
“Wow! Oh My God! I cannot believe it, thank you, thank you. This is the happiest moment of my life. There are so many people I would to thank, all the little people that helped to make this possible. I would like to thank God, my parents and Centro, without them I would not be standing here tonight.

It would be impossible to thank everyone, but there are are those that deserve a special mention. To the driver of the 529 bus from Walsall to Wolverhampton who couldn’t add up the correct fare for me and my travelling companions, thank you. For slamming on the brakes for no apparent reason as we left the bus station, thank you. The bruise on the small boy’s head is now receding. To the two teenage girl passengers loudly arguing over the affections of some slack-jawed youth, thank you. The swearing was magnificent. To the young man smoking dope at the back of the bus, thank you. Respect again for the driver. For waiting for two minutes at every bus stop and driving like a maniac between stops, thank you. For parking outside Wolverhampton bus station and refusing to let us off even though we told you that we had a train to catch, thank you. For entering the bus station at two miles an hour when the speed limit is ten, thank you. For explaining the regulations to us before finally opening the door of the bus, thank you.

To the smokers congregated outside Wolverhampton railway station who, seeing us running down the ramp to catch the train, refused to get out of the way, thank you. To the passengers on the platform waiting for a later train, blocking access with your heavy luggage to the train about to depart is nothing short of genius. To the fellow travellers occupying our reserved seats, booked weeks in advance, “f**k off, sit somewhere else” is not the correct response. To the young man playing car alarm hip hop on his phone, thank you for the audio toothache. To the fat man in a vest who sprayed me with Special Brew as he opened one of his cans at ten in the morning, thank you. To the beautifully dressed middle-aged lady who decided to leave her suitcase on the table rather than in the luggage rack and so left us unable to play travel chess, travel backgammon and travel connect four, thank you. To the train guard who failed to grasp the meaning of a family rail card, thank you. To the operative dragging the refreshment trolley, £1-80 for a cup of tea and £1 for a packet of crisps, no thank you very much.

The return journey featured a broken toilet full of vomit, four old people eating fish and chips and about eight young people throwing bits of pizza at each other. Thank you, one and all. Back at Wolverhampton bus station, special thanks must go to a different driver of the 529 bus who, seeing us rush to the stand with our luggage, closed the door as the small, bruised boy attempted to board. To the driver, for his cheery smile as he drove away, thank you. Thanks as well to whoever decided that it should cost 20p for a small boy to go to the toilet. No wonder your lovely new bus station stinks of wee.

Okay, I know, I know I’m running far too long, but there are some more people that need thanking. To the architects of the Walsall and Wolverhampton bus stations, thank you. Keep trying to walk upright, you may achieve something. To the decision makers that approved the designs, thank you. You can find the number for the Samaritans in the phone book. To whoever decided to cut the direct rail link between Walsall and Wolverhampton, I wish you a slow and lingering death and whoever decided to privatise public transport, well, you are the true stars tonight. My achievement is absolutely nothing compared to your hard work, talent and ability in turning something that was reasonably adequate into something that is dreadful. Thank you. And finally, to my fellow nominees. I am not worthy to be up here tonight. This award is dedicated to those who have to use public transport to get to work, to hospitals, to schools and then get back again. Thank you.

I’ll see you at the after show party. Good night Burbank and thank you.”

Cue applause, laser beams, a hug from Martin Scorsese and a kiss from Rene Zellweger.