Chez Topsyturvydom, we no longer have one of Mr Baird’s televisual apparatuses, so the wireless is our main mass medium. The DAB radio in the kitchen is habitually tuned to Radio 4, with Radio 2 providing the meal soundtrack, except on Tuesdays. At other times, we’ve recently tried theJazz. Although I can’t be doing with trendy interCapitals, I feel this station might prove a winner. Basically, it’s jazz, mainly of the 50s and 60s, played without adverts, and without DJs. It’s owned by Classic FM, so presumably at some point it will become awash with commercials and presenters. At the moment, all you hear between tracks is someone who sounds very like John Thompson (probably because it is John Thompson) saying fatuous things like “Listen up to The Jazz…” He doesn’t say “Nice” in his Fast Show voice though. What you get is oodles of Ella, lashings of Louis, bags of Billie, miles of Miles and other stars of the fifties and sixties. Which is nice. It’s as if someone has seen one of those lists of “the hundred best jazz albums ever” and has bought them all, and is obsessively playing the stand-out tracks. Programming seems entirely random, so you might hear “God Bless the Child” by Billie Holiday, and then again by some big band three songs later. And they don’t seem to have that many records… There’s nothing experimental – I did hear a bit of Keith Jarrrett, but that’s as far as it goes, and the only modern stuff is by pseudo-jazzers such as Jamie Cullum and Madelaine Peyroux. No trad, either. So, although generally pleasant, not a patch on the sublime Humph, whose show is a must-hear in these parts. I’ve not, however, heard on Humph or TheJazz anything by Georgie Fame, coolest man on the planet. I’ve been listening recently to his album Sound Venture, forty years old, and sounding as brilliant now as it did then. He is in great form, appearing as vocalist with the Harry South band, whose line-up is amazing: Stan Tracey, Tubby Hayes, Dick Morrisey, the absolute pick of British jazz of the day. George sings some of his own stuff, some Lambert and Hendricks, and even persuades Harry to blast out a great version of Papa’s Got a Brand New bag. It’s all marvellous stuff, and in these days of endless reissues it’s bizarre that you have to get it via Japan. That does mean that it comes in a very funky mini-LP format though, a CD sized replica of the original sleeve – and with 9 bonus tracks. Bliss!
I’ve read the Guardian, man and boy, for a very long time- but after reading today’s issue, I’m seriously considering a change. The front page – the front page! – of today’s issue is dominated by a photo of Coleen as Venus. The Weekend magazine’s main feature is a further portfolio of her in the guise of the woman in various famous paintings. Even if Ms McLoughlin had achieved anything in her life other than being the girlfriend of Mr Potato Head, this still would represent an extravagant waste of the paper’s resources, and constitute an insult to its readers, who buy the paper to be informed about national and world events, to read the reviews, to enjoy lively and well-written features by good writers. Instead, we get a huge publicity puff for a totally worthless book. She is, apparently, “an icon”. God help us.
This annoyed me. I do wonder how you can possibly come up with a figure of 10% of all work being plagiarised if you then say that most of it is undetected. Of course, it’s just “estimated” – but on what basis, we aren’t told. What this means is – someone just made it up. Doubtless, though, since this is the BBC, the 10% figure will now get quoted as if it’s a verifiable fact. Well, here are some facts: I have yet to meet a colleague in HE who doesn’t take the issue of plagiarism very seriously. I have never known of a colleague ignoring plagiarism. In every case of proven plagiarism I have come across, the student has been given an appropriate punishment, up to and including failure of the degree. Students are aware of plagiarism, and don’t just copy things from a screen, unless they are very stupid, or very desperate, or both- and when they do, they are usually found out.
I loved this. I was reminded of an old cartoon, showing a monk slumped over a manuscript weeping. Two other monks are watching, and one says “I see the copier’s broken down again!”
This is worrying. I can only imagine that it’s an example of the government’s joined-up thinking: Tessa Jowell reckons all those BBC types will make loadsamoney when they swap their bijou London residences for grim northern terraces, and as a result will have lots to spend at the shiny new casino…
