Red Nose Day

As all our members will know, the LLF is a caring and considerate organisation. We are dedicated to fair play, honesty, inetgrity (especially that of our catalogue) and concern for our fellow person. This is not in any doubt, we are good people.

But sometimes this can be tested to the very limit. Brothers and sisters, I give you Red Nose Day. One day every two years when our televisions fill with images of suffering and pain, misery and deprivation, juxtaposed with scarcely-known people leaping about and telling old jokes and encouraging everyone to be gay and pleased with themselves. Are we being asked to celebrate the grotesque iniquities of our society by throwing a big party as if to rub the developing world’s noses right in it? The library staff felt it appropriate to come to work half naked today in order to encourage our readers to part with the hard-earned pension book. Old Mr. Throgmorton nearly parted company with his eyeballs, poor chap hadn’t seen anything like it since his time in Saigon.

The aim of this mayhem is, apparently, to raise money to be sent to whereever it is most needed.  I thought that our taxes were supposed to do that? But no, with our taxes being used to shore up corrupt and incompetent banks so that they can continue to oil the wheels of the capitalist juggernaut, the health and well being of us, the people, is left to Jonathan Ross and Peter Kay. Worse still, our copies of the latest James Patterson’s are getting a big dog-eared after a million borrowings. Will we get Comic Relief money to replace them? Wow. Charity money to large publishing house scandal, Hell’s Bells, things are getting a bit Sherdian.

Enjoy your Red Nose Day and have fun. Just don’t pretend that you are actually making a difference.

Drop The Shopping

It’s just sooooo predictable. It’s as sure as the late return of Harry Potter books and the illustrated pages of Alex Comfort’s magnum opus being ripped out. If there is one thing we can all rely on for early January, it’s bad weather, rubbish songs on the hit parade and high street chains moaning about how awful their Christmas has been.

With cash dribbling from their pockets, we have a succession of economists and retail analysts bleating on about how profits are down, sales have not matched expectations and more stock has been put into the January sales. By stock, of course, I refer rows and rows of cheap designer goods fashioned by 4 year-olds in Asian sweat shops – not our lovingly collected stock of the world’s great literature neatly shelved for the entertainment and education of the people, by the people, for the people – and laboriously checked annually.