LSE Library

The LSE library is a brilliant piece of architecture, designed as it was by Norman Foster (of Reichstag and Hong Kong airport fame); it houses over four million items, 95% are accessible on shelves which - placed end to end - would stretch 55km...1,600 study places are on offer plus 490 networked PCs.

There are only two problems with this utopia of learning....1) nothing works, 2) its full of tossers !

Taking each in turn...a typical visit to the library will start with the security barriers - if you haven't got your card on one of LSE's frequent 'unofficial bank holidays' forget it...if you have remembered your ID card a mere half a dozen swipes and you're in. You will then want to print off an article to read - you trot off happily to the computers. After extensive searching (often on several floors), you find one that works and that isn't occupied. You find the article eventually and send it to print. This is where the fun starts...

You then wander off in the direction of the printers...Official LSE guidelines dictate that 75% of printers must be out of order at any one time. Assuming you find one working, you then go to top up your account - simple ! Putting your details into the machine you nonchalantly put several pound coins into the machine - what happens then. Nothing ! You then go upstairs to the copyshop to put the credit on - naturally this is closed !

Oh well, you think, I'll get a book instead. Find the book you want in the course collection - are you having a giraffe ! Even if you can its more than likely to end up costing you thanks to LSE's innovative fines system working much like a nightmare game of monopoly with your bratty Richard Branson wannabe cousin...

Assuming you find something to read and sit down, be wary of making the slightest noise...the upper floors of the library are home to a curious tribe of primates who live there 23 hours a day, drink nothing except Starbucks coffee and tend to become accountants. At the slightest noise they will give you a look that will actually make you physically sick. At the other end of the scale is the 'GC', a gang of rich largely (but not exclusively) American students whose specialty habit is to talk very loudly on their mobile phones about their recent weekend in Florence or 'road trip' to Cornwall (another thing why does everyone feel the need to visit Cornwall ?).

At this point you think - bugger this for a game of soldiers, I'm going down the pub...

(Belated) Happy Easter

Conservatives : "Are We Thinking ?"

The Conservatives, so we are to believe, have run a spirited campaign of late (at least if you read the Mail or the Torygraph) - true the usual mix of cynical opportunism, incitement to racial hatred and general populist nonsense-talk seems to have been more potent than usual...

So it was a shame that the whole apple cart was upset last week by the sad case of Howard Flight who dared to suggest at a meeting of City bigwigs that Letwin and Co. might have been planning a bigger cut in spending on public services than the advertised £55bn identified by a report into Civil Service laziness...

"But I was only telling them what they wanted to hear, er I mean the truth" said poor Howard as his namesake placed upon him a Transylvanian gypsy curse (aided, naturally, by the right to practise witchcraft enshrined in the Human Rights Act), spat three times and banished him from the party. He is already said to be planning his revenge : the village shop in his (now ex) Arundel constituency has reportedly run out of garlic...his local constituency party is also up in arms, not least because "power to local communities" has been a central plank in the Tory mantra.

The truth however, is that the British public is finally wisening up to the old pre-election con of tax cuts without impacting spending; moreover there is no public appetite for cuts in services. Imagine in the coming days receiving a quote for some building work; just before you are about to sign on the red dotted line a rival gang of builders appear in a gleaming 4x4 - led by a goulish looking bloke with glasses (hey we all know what these Eastern European "travellers" look like, don't we) - and offer to undercut the first lot by, say, £55bn. However, as he speaks, a slow realisation grabs you...you had this same bloke in to do work eight years ago. The project was spun out to eighteen years and left your house on the verge of collapse...

Are you thinking what I'm thinking ?

The real tragedy is course is that this will leave the Rev Blair ('in six days Iraq was made; on the seventh day Tony rested') looking at another three figure majority. Wee-Charlie Boy, the local pub landlord seems more than content to seize the whisky bottle as opposed to the moment...oh well, we could always rig the postal vote...

Irony

One final thing...discovered the other day that one of the people who originally thought up the 'spindoctor' nickname has ambitions to become, er, a spindoctor...

Can say no more for legal reasons...

Little Britain meets Hardcore

Well it's been another interesting weekend in the world of Spin...

Friday did the traditional family Easter- ie. visit gran in Folkestone; this town, best known as the British end of the Channel Tunnel has had quite a bad press over the past few decades - for the perfectly good reason that it is a dump. Actually though it looked strangely better this time - maybe something to do with shortness of the visit (26 hours) or because I haven't seen the sea for ages. The trip was also interesting for me because I was able to visit territory straight out of the sitcom 'Little Britain'. Located a few miles outside Folkestone, 'The Drum', recently refurbished, is actually a first rate pub, don't get me wrong - its just the generous sprinkling of copies of the 'Daily Mail' (the only paper on offer) and the general feeling that the two world wars and several centuries of fighting the French have conclusively defined our relationship with Europe and there is really nothing more to say. Had the opportunity to talk to someone who - having (amazingly ?) been up to London recently - complained about the incompetent running of the Tube (don't we all) and the fact that, well, the station manager was, er, 'black'...as if this somehow explained the ills of the system. Oh dear.

Actually was still a thoroughly entertaining afternoon - the pub had laid on a live band and a troupe of increasingly drunk morris dancers (note to non-English readers, these are silly old men that do traditional dances with bells attached to their feet) who also specialised in singing hilariously rude songs...and the landlord was one of the most chatty/friendly I've ever met.

Saturday had to return to the ol' smoke for Transmission, a massive hardcore, D'n'B and old skool rave up the road from me at Alexandra Palace...literally the most amazing venue I've ever been to - thanks to 'the time thieves' changing the clocks (something, apparently to do with Scottish farmers - bastards), got to sleep at 7.30am...needless to say Sunday was a washout...although was thoroughly exhilarated by the combination of sipping ale with ye merry little Englanders one day and, the next, going to an underground dance music rave.

Today had usual wander round the giant useless junk emporium that is Camden - now have an incense burner (useful, eh !) on my desk. More importantly bought a badge to define my final weeks at LSE - it says "Bullshit Free Zone"...

Tomorrow - revision starts; can hardly wait...

Her Royal Honess

Another Steve Bell...the man is a genius

Bright Eyes Lyrics

When The President Talks To God"

When the president talks to God
Are the conversations brief or long?
Does he ask to rape our women’s' rights
And send poor farm kids off to die?
Does God suggest an oil hike
When the president talks to God?

When the president talks to God
Are the consonants all hard or soft?
Is he resolute all down the line?
Is every issue black or white?
Does what God say ever change his mind
When the president talks to God?

When the president talks to God
Does he fake that drawl or merely nod?
Agree which convicts should be killed?
Where prisons should be built and filled?
Which voter fraud must be concealed
When the president talks to God?

When the president talks to God
I wonder which one plays the better cop
We should find some jobs. the ghetto's broke
No, they're lazy, George, I say we don't
Just give 'em more liquor stores and dirty coke
That's what God recommends

When the president talks to God
Do they drink near beer and go play golf
While they pick which countries to invade
Which Muslim souls still can be saved?
I guess god just calls a spade a spade
When the president talks to God

When the president talks to God
Does he ever think that maybe he's not?
That that voice is just inside his head
When he kneels next to the presidential bed
Does he ever smell his own bullshit
When the president talks to God?

I doubt it

I doubt it

Having just listened to this song...I really can't think of anything to add; I'm so glad I too have the benefit of a Prime Minister in regular dialogue with the almighty

End of Term

Well, I hope no-one's feeling the clawing hand of nostalgia having been to the last proper end-of-term Crush (LSE's Friday night for people with nothing better to do) - if so, don't - it was shit, is shit and will always be shit. And I'm not bitter because a) felt yesterday morning like I had a hamster running around inside my head) and b) my housemate (the very same 'cooler' one mentioned earlier - I can't convey in words how ironic I'm being with this epithet - just take my word for it) was rather full of it after returning to a certain lady's flat mid-Crush and - actually making it back before the end. A possible challenger for Paddy Ashdown's 15 second record ?!

Anyway Spindoctor is taking a well deserved weekend away from the mayhem that is life in London, visiting a couple of friends in Cambridge; one is the member of several successful jazz/funk bands and lives in a palatially sized room in Trinity College (some readers may recognize the identity of this person)...the other I'm meeting for lunch 'after church'. To get a couple of things clear, this guy used to be more skeptical about religion than I am now (amazingly this is possible)...obviously his amazingly fit evangelical girlfriend had nothing to do with it...Oh well, at least I have Jerry Springer the Opera to listen to on my Ipod !

Back soon,
Spindoctor .

Early Morning Singing Contest

Regular (if there are any) readers of this blog will note that 9 o'clock is generally quite an early time for Spindoctor to be posting.

Having staggered in from Walkabout at about half 2, drunk the customary pint of water before crashing out, the next thing I was aware of (about 8 o'clock) were sounds normally associated with AU karaoke in the Tuns...my flatmate (who by this time had seemed to have consumed several bags of sugar) happily dancing around with her 17 year old sister and a bunch of her mates giggling their heads off...when I asked what they were doing, I was informed they were having a 'singing contest'. So much joy and happiness so early in the morning can't be a bad thing can it?

Er, think I'm gonna have a large dose of paracetomol and spread the love by going into Uni early....

Other (cooler) flatmate (also at the Walkabout) didn't come in - can hardly wait to hear how fit the bird was this time...ah the joys of life...

Religion

The Catholic hierarchy last night joined forces with both Labour and the Conservatives to head off a political row over abortion in the coming election after the Archbishop of Westminster suggested that religion should play a larger part in British politics.

Michael Howard insisted he had not tried to make abortion an issue during a magazine interview and key aides stressed that it should remain a matter for MPs' consciences.

No 10 called for a "calm and rational" debate, but said Tony Blair has no plans to change current laws. Mr Howard said: "I don't decide what is an election issue, neither does Mr Blair. The British people will decide."

Steve Bell in today's Guardian

LSE, Quotas and Freedom of Information

In the dying weeks of December 2004, a new sound could be heard as you walked along Whitehall : that of the paper shredder. But these civil servants were not shredding their credit card statements for fear of the identity theives. They were simply preparing for the Freedom of Information Act (FOIA), which came into force in January this year.

Just as it seemed that FOIA would be a paper tiger, with everything of interest either destroyed or (as in the case of Wars R Us QC's Iraq advice - hopefully more convincing than the speil we got in PIL) - exempt, along comes the rather embarassing disclosure of a document from our own dear LSE. Anyone reading this who's ever tried to print anything at LSE will have little difficulty believing that their shredders may not have been working...

The document, which naturally contained the caveat,

These notes should not under any circumstances be discussed with any member of the public, including students, parents and schools,

disclosed that the evil LSE is setting aside 40 places a year for applicants from state schools with poor records of achievement. Horror of horros ! Call Amnesty International - public school kids (a group which I must include myself in) have human rights too ! Toffs reclaim the streets !

But is the 'quota' really so bad ? 40 places is after all a modest number out of the total annual undergraduate intake...coming from what I term a 'privatised grammar school', I freely admit that I had smaller class sizes than in the state sector and it was therefore arguably easier for me to get higher grades...Moreover, lets remember the scheme was being run as a pilot and the numbers were not 'ring-fenced'. Nor are we dealing with a pro-state bias per se - merely a selection of the most failing schools.

Furthermore, it seems likely that a number of these schools are likely to be found in London's less-affluent boroughs; given its high proportion of international students' (far from being a bad thing) it is especially important that the LSE maintains some links with the city in which it is located.

Of course, its easy for me to say this being a) from a private school not in London and b) having gained admission to the LSE ...but hey, if you want to call me a hypocrite so be it.

So no great evil...just an embarrasing day for the person on shredder duty.

Hotel Rwanda

Went to see Hotel Rwanda last Friday - seriously cannot praise this film highly enough.

It features the true story of Paul (Don Cheadle), the mild mannered manager of a four star hotel in the Rwandan capital Kigali during the 1994 genocide. When the country descends into madness, Paul and his Tutsi wife, Tatiana (Sophie Okonedo) shelter over a thousand Tutsi refugees fleeing the slaughter. When the small band of inept UN peacekeepers finally pulls out, he is forced to resort to bribing officials in order to survive.

Quite apart from being one of the most moving films I've ever seen, it was, in a macabre way, fascinating to see the sheer power of media-driven hatred if left unchecked...

Ethnic tensions between Hutus and Tutsis have never been far from the surface in Rwanda, exacerbated by the role of the Belgian colonists in separating them and making one (the Hutu majority) subordinate to the other (the Tutsis). When the Hutu President's plane was brought down in 1994, state radio was quick to blame the "Tutsi cockroaches" and instructed machete wielding militias to "cut down the tall trees". In the ensuing slaughter, 800,000 Rwandans died in the space of three months, the majority of them Tutsi; ultimately the rebel Tutsi Rwandan Peoples' Front defeated the Hutu army and thousands of Hutus fled. In the face of obvious slaughter, the International community (still smarting from the Somalia debacle) wrung its hands, actually withdrawing soldiers that had been protecting civilians (who, of course, were subsequently slaughtered).

Afterwards, the UN Security Council set up the Criminal Tribunal for Rwanda...based in Arusha, Tanzania, this has so far convicted 19 people and acquited 3; the Rwandan courts have also tried suspects, and several have already received the death penalty and been executed.

The BBC's page on the Rwandan genocide is definitely worth reading in its own right.

Bodily Fluids

Ever asked yourself how much it costs to clean up bodily fluids ?

Well, today a friend forwarded me the following e-mail :

Dear Residents,

A standard charge has been set throughout all of the LSE Halls for cleaning up bodily fluids. It is £65.00 plus VAT.

Any changes to this charge can be made by the Warden.

We would just like to add, that this has not been a big issue at Butlers Wharf, and we hope it continues that way, but it is important that you know this charge exists.

Hall Admin

So now you know...

On Bullshit

Read last night that a Princeton professor by the name of Harry G Frankfurt, has written a treatise entitled "On Bullshit". Both the liar and the honest man must have regard to truth - he says - the former to subvert it, the latter to propagate it.

Bullshit, on the other hand, is fundamentally unconcerned with truth, but only with appearance, effect (spin ?) and persuasion. The art of the bullshitter (as anyone who's ever been to a class at the LSE will tell you) is simply to 'get away with it'...Persuading listeners or readers of a sincerity that is, by definition, phoney.

Thus his thesis is that bullshit is, in fact, a greater enemy to truth than lies are...

In New Labour speak we need to be (as I have said before) "tough on bullshit and tough on the causes of bullshit"...next time you find yourself talking 'city speak' to an investment banker, sat in a human rights lecture where someone feels the urge to deliver their life story and show off by making it pseudo-relevant to the course, or a political canvasser comes knocking on your door promising you a tax break, better hospitals and a Tube that works - tell them to, in the words of my good friend Judge Jonathan (who's blog is always a good read) - shut the fuck up.

Legal Theory

At the moment trying to plan and write a legal theory essay on the work of Michel Foucault.

Only one slight problem : the little voice in the back of my head whispering "bullshit" at regular intervals.

Detox not going brilliantly - just poured myself a large G&T...

Alcohol

This has, perhaps more than anything, defined last week; Wednesday had a nice alumni dinner (they might have almost put a begging bowl on each table). On the up side there was plenty of free wine - necessary to deal with the one or two of people who were clearly distraught at having paid £45 for a networking dinner only to be sat next to a lowly LLB student (I'd have personally asked for my money back - but in the LSE this tactic rarely works). Our esteemed head of department was very modest in his assessment of his own views on the legality of the Iraq war ("I'm right, everyone else is wrong") to be perfectly honest he's beginning to remind me of the lunatic one sometimes encounters on the N29 nightbus, who tried their hardest to convince you that, whilst they are 100% sane, the entire rest of the world is off its rocker (occasionally you're so pissed you actually believe it)...in fairness another four years of Bush bodes well for the salary and reputation of Wars R Us QC - and I guess this can only be good for LSE.

Ultimately the evening was salvaged thanks entirely to a trip to a local Brazillian joint with (very) cheap cocktails...and gullable, er nice, people to buy rounds of drinks

Roll on Thursday and the annual law-soc black tie ball. Always fun, this years did not disappoint -the opulent setting of a posh hotel, trays of champagne and the eclectic crowd of immaculately turned out undergraduates and the occasional optimistic ageing professor never failing to provide entertainment...the only downside was the painful hour-long lecture the following morning (well 12 o clock to be fair).

Needless to say the weekend will be about detox...

The Brick Lane phenomenon

Last Saturday (it being my housemate's 22nd birthday) three of us went 'retro-clothes' shopping in Brick Lane; previously a gritty working class area of the city, which has seen successive waves of immigrants move in, now the area around Brick Lane and Bethnal Green is now officially a trendy place to live (an estate agent having woken up one day, realised the proximity of BL to the City and gone, in the words of Homer Simpson, "DOH"). As such the streets are lined with life's essentials- who, after all, could live without organic, shade grown coffee ?

Brick Lane is also home to a curiously 'inverted' market for clothes where, the shitter (sorry, er more retro) a piece of clothing appears the higher the price it sells for...thus a semi ripped pair of jeans will set you back £20, a fully ripped pair £35 and so on. Whilst sifting through this assortment of stuff is fun for a while (to be fair, I've bought several t-shirts from Brick Lane over the past three years) you're left with the impression that someone, somewhere, is taking the piss (other than me that is)...

I read somewhere once about a qualified lawyer who made his money by going over to Hong Kong, buying "genuine silk ties" (the label may be silk - the tie however, is polyester) for bugger all and selling them out of a suitcase in pubs around the City). So I'm not going to be too harsh on people selling their charity-shop stock in Brick Lane; in a few years I might be joining them !

David Mitchell

One other thing I've been wanting to say this week...

About this time last year, I was handed a book to read by one of my friends; the book was the debut novel of a man by the name of David Mitchell and was, without doubt, one of the best and most enjoyable books I've ever read; the novel consists of nine different narrative voices telling interlocking stories from different places around the globe. The geographic and temporal scope as well as Mitchell's skill in incorporating radically different narrative voices is exceptional.

Since then I've been telling everyone to read it.

Later in 2004, Mitchell shot to fame when his third (and latest) novel Cloud Atlas was the bookies favourite to win the Booker Prize (although it didn’t win); this week Cloud Atlas received gushing reviews on Richard & Judy...I say in my own defence that I am no more inclined to watch this programme than I am to read its print equivalent, the Daily Mail (of which more abusive posts will doubtless follow), I only watched it for the review.

The point of this post...read anything by this man - he is a God !

LSE Elections

Well I've certainly found the balmy glow of Students' Union democracy this week exciting; I like it when people I've barely spoken to since the first year rush up to greet me in the street like an old friend; even better than that was walking the length of Houghton Street today with gangs of people trying to grab hold of me and thrust pieces of paper at me - the Siberian temperatures not withstanding, I could've been walking around an Indian market.

Yes, today was the last day of the SU Elections.. Very much in vogue this year was the battle cry (if indeed the motivations were strong enough to merit the word battle) of 'students not politics' - thus the candidates were falling over themselves (and each other) to get across how little they believed in (we used to have a word for people who couldn't be bothered with politics in this country - conservatives). Whilst it obviously makes sense to priorities student issues this approach has now been taken to its ridiculous extreme; some of the best attended UGMs have contained motions over divisive 'political' issues - for instance the Israeli 'security fence'. Nothing gets the monkey house that is the balcony going more than the sight of LSE's few remaining lefties (who should in my view receive legal protection as an endangered species) arguing over antiwar sit-ins and demos. Given that apathetical materialism (aka investment banker syndrome) arguably represents the new politics at LSE, maybe we should only be talking about issues that affect our own self interest...but its undeniably sad.

So whoever is declared the winner of the £24,000 jackpot tonight, does it really matter ? We are all but guaranteed a bunch of clean cut, smiling and (on the face of it) apolitical people who will almost certainly do average or above job of running our Union. So why should I care who the faces are ?

Introductory Bullshit

Welcome.

Having decided I'm much too lazy and unreliable to write for any of the wonderful range (well 3) of my university's student publications(despite what you might read on my CV) , I now turn to the web as a place to outpour my thoughts on various shit...

Incidentally you may ask why I've decided to call this blog the web of spin; last year i acquired a reputation from some people (they shall remain nameless) for 'spinning' information (that is changing facts, spreading rumours that were only partially true etc). Hence the name spindoctor. To anyone who has a problem with this approach to life I say - f*** off and cover something more important (oops that last sentence was meant for another blog). Seriously I've heard Alistair Campbell speak (twice in fact, both at LSE and UCL, where the latter institution ripped me off a fiver for a G+T - just 'cos I come from a Uni that has lines of Beamers parked outside it doesn't give u the right to rip me off guys), and he's a great bloke...honestly.

One final disclaimer : if anyone is offended by anything I write here...tough shit. Like our esteemed mayor Uncle Ken, I make no apologies...

Vote (New) Labour,
Er, thats it...