Rotherham, and why we shouldn't listen to the racists.

So what next for this stand-up comedians lighted hearted blog posts?  A post about the Rotherham recent child abuse scandal?  Well, that is bound to be a wheeze.  Ho, ho, ho, strap in comedy lovers...

Well, maybe not.  Yes, I am covering that subject, but I must admit that a report uncovering the sexual exploitation and abuse of over 1400 children in Rotheram isn't exactly a giggle fest.  Still, as with any major news story, there are plenty of contradictions at play.

First was watching the BBC news two mornings ago which included an interview with the group "Parents Against Child Sexual Exploitation".  It twisted my mind as to why such a group existed.  After all, who would be against that group?

The other issue is the groups name.  Why "parents" against child sexual exploitation and not just "people"?  I don't have children myself, but does that mean they think I would be in some way neutral on the issue?  Would I be expected to complain to the BBC, demanding to know why they hadn't invited on a pro-paedophile spokesperson to provide balance?  No, I will be happily maintaining my license fee payments for the foreseeable future.

Of course a big issue with this case is the impact of race and racism, as the perpetrators here were mostly men from a Pakistani background.  With the ongoing rumblings of Investigation Yewtree turning up historical abuse cases involving mostly white male celebrities, you might be fooled in to thinking that overall race isn't really a factor.  But that's not going to hold the right wing press back.

Reading The Sun on Thursday, unsurprisingly, warmed my urine to a rolling boil.  A particular highlight being columnist Trevor Kavanagh's take on the issue, where he blames:

'mostly white, mostly Labour politicians and police... (who) represent a political class, backed by the BBC, who waved in millions of migrants during 13 years of Labour government under the discredited flag of multiculturalism.  Their avowed objective was to change the face of Britain which they deemed to be "too white"'

Of course!!  How stupid of me not to realise that the problem all along was caused by Labour, the BBC and multiculturalism!  Case solved, thanks Trev.

Aside from rantings by columnists such as Kavangh, the general argument is that the police in Rotherham, backed by Labour, didn't investigate the claims out of a fear of being seen as racist.  It would be easy to write off this argument as barking mad, because it is.  For a start, the police not wanting to be racist???  My, my, how times change.

Scarily though, you cannot just ignore this argument, because it is one that is seated well and truly in the mainstream.  The Sun are not alone in turning this horrific story about child abuse in to one for their own agenda attacking Labour and multiculturalism.

In reality, the real problem in this case is precisely the same problem as there was in the case against Jimmy Saville.  Victims and their families were blamed for the abuse, and ignored.

£60k salary v. honour.  Salary wins!

Police in Rotherham ignored the complaints because they saw the girls as complicit in their own abuse.  "If you hang around with that kind of crowd, what do you expect to happen", was their position.  In reality, where girls in any way "chose" to spend time with their abusers, that was as a result of grooming.  That's how it works, and that is why there is an age of consent.  They are children, not consenting adults, and they need protecting.

Perhaps there is some cultural aspect as to why a minority of Pakistani men thought it was acceptable to abuse young girls (and not exclusively white girls either, like the media often suggests).  But then, there is a cultural explanation as to why older white celebrities thought it was ok to do exactly the same.

As much as I mocked the name of "Parents Against Child Sexual Exploitation" before, one thing you can say is that they don't make any issue of race.  They, and anyone who is genuinely concerned with helping put a stop to child abuse in this way, say that the real issue is to put a stop to victim blaming, and for the police to take complaints seriously.

The Edinburgh Festival Experience

6am at the Edinburgh festival

In my opinion Edinburgh is one of the most beautiful cities in the UK.  I say the UK, that could well change with the referendum in September of course.  Can the Scottish really turn down the chance to never have Tories rule them again?  I know I couldn't.

Part of the Union or not it’s a city that drips with beautiful architecture and culture.  But it’s also a challenge.  I have never visited somewhere before where you could walk for hours and always appear to be going uphill.  I'm not used to following directions to get to a destination and find that a left turn is impossible because the road I want is actually underneath the road I am on.  It is like Edinburgh was designed by two people, then they just stuck one map on top of the other and got on with it.

But in other ways Edinburgh really helps pack in the experience for you.  Have you ever been somewhere and wondered what it would look like at other times of the year, what impact the other seasons would have on the landscape?  Well that’s not a problem with Edinburgh because you will get the weather of every single season in just one day!

Being a child #1 - Haggis, neeps and titties

All this is exacerbated during the Fringe, as you have to traipse around the venues all day throughout the City centre (and as far as Leith and Haymarket to see shows by people conned in to thinking they had been booked in to a workable venue).  Outside weather ranging from downpours to heat waves just minutes apart, then into rooms which are stuffy and airless.  Make no mistake, during the biggest arts festival in the world, condensation is King.

The rooms for the shows themselves rarely help.  There are a number of spaces I have seen shows that are considered great rooms, but outside of Edinburgh the thought of putting on a show in these places would be considered mad.

Last year I did a solo stand up show for a week at 1am on the top deck of a bus.  No, really.  Only in Edinburgh would they spray paint a bus, park it in a courtyard, and call it a venue.  But, and this is the kicker, as Edinburgh festival venues go, this was pretty good!  Even at that stupid time I managed to fill it each night.  Yes, my face on posters can fill buses – now there’s an odd boast!

Flyering for your own solo show at midnight can be a lonely experience, I don’t think anyone would be surprised to hear.  Thankfully for me I have the antidote in that each time I am in Edinburgh I am performing as part of ComedySportz, a competitive improvised comedy show, with an entire troupe of my closest friends.  Unlike with stand up, here I am not on my own, and in fact have a number of people around me who have my back.  It does make all the difference.

With ComedySportz in a lovely Edinburgh dungeon

This year I only came up for a few days with these guys, and whilst performing with ComedySportz I was otherwise not performing, but instead watching shows.  My girlfriend Sally came with me so I could attempt the tourist experience.  That has been a learning experience in itself.  Mostly in that I now know our comedy tastes are more divergent than I first thought, but that where they match, they match very well indeed.

Funz and Gamez with Phil Ellis and friends and the improvised musical Baby Wants Candy had me in absolute stitches, whilst Sally instead looked rather bemused.  But that’s fine.

Following the sad passing of Robin Williams I have spent time looking up clips of his stand up and, apart from a few exceptions, I have to admit I just don’t get it.  But many of my peers and comedians who I respect very much hold him up as a seminal genius.  Not enjoying his stuff personally does not take away from the impact and importance of this man, and my ability to appreciate what he did.  Oft repeated but entirely true, comedy is indeed subjective.

Whilst certain comedy shows didn't hit home for Sally as much as for me, we did both love Kerry Godliman’s Face Time, so that was a trend bucking relief.

Being a child #2 - yes, it was mostly whiskey

We also had a wonderful archetypal Fringe experience with the short play Post-it – Notes on a Marriage, by being the only two people in the audience.  A touching play about the fragility of loving relationships, this was a unique experience.  A significant credit of course to the actors for their solid performance in these unusual circumstances, especially with taking time to shake our hands immediately after their bow.

Sore feet, shabby digs, wet clothes and endless flyering.  The Edinburgh festival can be punishing but despite all that, like the City itself, it has such a beauty and appeal that as a performer is hard to resist.

Comedians are a bizarre and rare breed.  Whether the manic energy of Robin Williams, Phil Ellis arm wrestling an 8 year old, Mary Poppins getting Ebola (thanks to the audience suggestion the night I saw Baby Wants Candy), or being willing to perform an hour of solo stand up at 1am on a bus it’s fair to say that, with a genuine reverence for the term, you don’t have to be mad to work here, but it probably does help.

Getting in the saddle

The mad bastards

It’s an usual taboo, but one I must confess to.  I have managed to get in to my 30s without being able to ride a bike.

Apart from being toilet trained and learning how to walk, there are few expectations of an adult more universal than being able to ride a bike.  Even if you don’t have one it is expected that you could ride one if you choose.  After all, “you never forget”.

Of course, I did try to learn, and the important thing is that I was able to swerve to avoid the car, but my muscle memory involved in braking wasn’t quite there yet, so I hit a curb and flew over the handle bars.  One broken arm later and I gave up the idea of ever learning to ride a bike.

This is a concept I have been perfectly happy with, especially when in my twenties I learnt how to drive.  The car is a wonderful concept.  Unlike a bike it has a roof, a radio, and heating.  Added to that it is also entirely impossible to fall off the bloody thing!

However, times change.  I started a relationship at the end of last year with a wonderful woman who decides she wants the best for me.  Turns out, that includes getting me to ride a bike.  Despite my protestations, she was determined that she would teach me.

She had me riding up and down her street as she held my seat for balance.  An image immediately recognisable to all parents, made absurd by the fact that I’m not a child but instead a 6 foot tall man, with a bald head and a beard.  To add to the absurdity, I was learning using her bike, which is only a 16 inch frame.  The only way I could look more physically comical would have been by wearing clown shoes.  In this scenario she looked more like my carer than my girlfriend.

As it should be

And yet, with plenty of patience, she manages to get me cycling.  The thought of cycling on roads still worries me though.  Parks and pathways near her home have only the danger of social embarrassment.  Roads, with 4x4s, BMWs, and other assorted wankers present the very real threat of death!

My fear is in no way abated knowing that the only thing I have to warn drivers and other road users of any impending peril on my behalf is a tiny bell.  The sound it emits is less likely to make people think danger is afoot than to think their microwave meal is ready.  I’m thinking my head is about to be split open like a brick dropped on a cantaloupe melon from 20 foot, whilst around me people think their chicken Korma is ready.

But Sally finds a solution to this, by booking us in to the Manchester Sky Ride.  At this event certain road are closed off to provide a 12.5km route through the city centre just for cyclists.  Free from the worry of cars I am able to cycle along at my own pace with Sally alongside me through the city centre itself.

Passing The Etihad stadium (AKA the council house), Piccadilly station and the Town Hall I gain in confidence monumentally and start to really feel comfortable with my new bike, purchased merely days before the event.  It was a signal of commitment on my behalf to buy this bike, and one that has been justified because now, with a huge dollop of help from my better half, I now feel that I can say yes, of course I can ride a bike.

Ready for the Sky Ride