Issue #101. April 15th - April 28th, 2005

Taking my breath away
You Really Saved Me There (my habit of always mentally capitalising each word you say as if it was an orcale started there. I still do it now).
By Johan Hugo

Let's start a revolution
While I dream on may I suggest you start a revolution. I once gained a friend by suggesting we revolted by having a cup of coffee, so please, dear reader - do you think you can do this?
By Dimitra Daisy

My Goodness, Poor Grainne...
Duncan McFarlane strode into Glasgow Airport, beaming with pride. He would show them! Everyone had thought he'd miss his plane, but here he was 11.30am on the dot, in the right airport, over two hours before his plane was due to take off, ready for anything.
By Rachel Queen

Idle thoughts on a Shiftless Saturday
I have given up trying to find my 'niche' in life. I have much in common with one person. I have a lot in common with 2 people. I have a few things in common with a few people. I have one thing in common with (according to agencies that record the intricacies of the mundane) one fifth of the worlds population (and it isn't Catholicism).
By Paul Williamson

Taking the Michael and the Tony out of Parliament
Many voters in the British elections on the 5th of May might be forgiven for fearing that Tony Blair is right that it's a choice between him or Michael Howard - with more wars , poverty and higher taxes for cuts in public services whichever of them becomes Prime Minister. In fact there are far better choices available for how to vote - and it's entirely possible to vote out both Blair and Howard and replace them with someone much better.
By Duncan McFarlane

Moments of her peace
If they could still smooth/ the lines of your brow/ as my fingers once did...
By Nima

Record review #3: A Happy Couple (Fools in Love)
Before I start, let me confess – any record entitled “Fools in Love” can ask me to dance anytime, and I wouldn’t think twice, or even glance down at my card… The flipside is that it creates greater scope for disappointment, perhaps.
By Johan Hugo

Record review #4: Potion (Band of Outsiders)
They have a pretty and funky website – also a good sign, I like it when bands have good websites – and Band of Outsiders is their third release.
By Grainne Lynch

Taking my breath away

All of a sudden it feels like our eyes have never met before – I introduce yours to the conversation. I tell you I’m not quite sure yet what colour they are – they always seem to change. You ask me what they look like now. I say green, but that I can’t be sure, because I’ve always thought they’re brown before. (“Hazel” is a copout.)

And then you say, that’s the colour that they turn when I’m calm and happy then – and that’s the sweetest thing, so that’s when I kiss you. Also, I resist calling you my little green-eyed monster, though the image I have of that is quite cute really.

Instead, after we’ve stopped kissing long enough, I tell you again about the time I saw you first. The night when you were dragged along to my brassband concert because you had a friend with a ticket going spare, though you didn’t like any wind-instruments, and still don’t. (I know you feign your tolerance for my mellifluous French horn, and you don’t hold my love of it against me – and I know better now than to try and convince you otherwise by my words or by playing it to you: “at you” as you told me once, jokingly… and perhaps not. I didn’t know it then, of course, playing it outside your window a few nights in a row, until finally you couldn’t stand it anymore, coming out and making me stop by taking my breath away. I’d had a good line going in puns on “blowing my own horn” – words failed me then, and sometimes do still, when you appear before me too unexpectedly. God Only Knows… how you do it.)

That night too, I couldn’t play, suddenly, and I didn’t know why. The notes came out all wrong, when they came out at all. Halfway through the first number I laid the horn down on my lap, and bent my head. I was dazed, light-headed – a fainting fit coming on. I hadn’t seen you yet. From the corner of my eye I could see the Sime, who had the only other horn, try to play louder to cover for me, our cheeks reddening in tandem – mine from shame, and his from the doubled effort, his popping eyes darting worriedly between the sheets that I could no longer decipher now, and me. As the first number – and neither of us can even remember now what it was both of us blanking it out for quite different reasons – came to an end, I stood up and lurched off-stage, feeling the rest of the band follow me with their eyes only. As I closed the door Daniel, who was the leader could be heard mumbling a faint apology for my untoward departure to the audience. I cut it off with the stage-door. Off-stage, in the passage, the fog in my mind turned into its opposite, a type of heightened lucidity that was equally impossible to handle. I ran to the dreeing-room, plonked the horn down on top of its case, grabbed a pack of cigarettes from someone’s coat and fled to the chilly night outside.

Minutes later found me sitting hunched up on the steps, chain-smoking my way through the stolen pack – that’s how and when you found me too. At first it had been that for you – an excuse to escape the oppressive hall with its blaring that you found then, and still do, so offensive to your sensibilities. Glad to have a gracious alibi, if very thin, you’d made your excuses to come see if “the boy who’d left was okay” though you didn’t know me then, and wasn’t really expecting to even find me. Still, you did, and seemed surprised to see me smoking. Surely I shouldn’t if my instrument obviously required a lot of lung-capacity? I said I know, but right at the moment I wasn’t sure at all that it was even the instrument for me. You sat down next to me without asking if it was okay and asked how long I had been playing for. I mumbled something about years – which made the exact number fairly irrelevant.

You were blunt – you said you didn’t like it at all. I was equally so – I told you you were wrong. There didn’t seem to be much say after that, but somehow we managed it. I think perhaps I couldn’t have been so open if I hadn’t felt so bad, but talking to you made me feel better anyhow. I hadn’t look at you yet, my head still bent over my knees. As I came back to normal again – slowly – I made to turn my head… and it was too dark to see you properly, just a darkish silhouette again a starry sky. That was good perhaps – it made me able to form words for a few moments still. Then we heard applause rising from inside – I realised I hadn’t even realised that we could hear the music here. You rose and, with your palms, smoothed your jeans back down your legs, then said Thanks – You Really Saved Me There (my habit of always mentally capitalising each word you say as if it was an orcale started there. I still do it now). You had to go now – your friend would be waiting to take you home, and wondering where you were. I just nod and grind out the cigarette, half-smoked, and make to rise as well, but suddenly start feeling ill again. Instead I merely nod to you, my eyes sinking to my toes. Instead of saying bye I say that it’s unusual for people to wear jeans to things like these. I add that I wish more would. You say – again – Thanks, and then add: I Think. (You told me later that you’d held out your hand for me to shake, but I didn’t see it then, and so you merely turned and left.)

I saw that though – saw your shape moving further and then merging with the shadows before emerging again, smaller, at the corner where the foyer-lights spilt round it. You didn’t stop to wave or look, and that made me somehow want to find you again. I took another cigarette from the packet, but looking at it, knew I didn’t want it now. At the same time I knew I’d want it later, and stuck it up behind my ear rather than returning it. Finally I steeled myself and rose, and found my way sheepishly – still somewhat queasy – back to the dressing-room, where the rest of the band were packing up, all glancing at me questioningly, none appearing to have the sourage to ask me what was wrong. I had no wish to tell them either, merely walked up to Gordon, to whom the cigarettes had belonged and gave them back to him, the last one suddenly burning behind my ear like an admission of guilt. Without looking at him, I said softly that I’d buy him a packet “next time” though I wasn’t sure at all yet what next time could mean, or if there would be one. Daniel wasn’t there yet, and I wanted to avoid him, so as quickly as I could with my extravagantly downcast gaze I too stuffed the horn into its case, threw the coat that I couldn’t bring myself to wear right now over it, and stumbled out the door. I didn’t live far away, and could’ve walked – instead I took the bus, but not straight home. For a while I was happy to just sit with no-one knowing me and nothing that I had to do. The bus was empty. I sat on it for its entire round, just thinking. Mostly thinking just of you, the conviction growing that I’d have to see you again. Somehow. I didn’t know the faintest thing about you. I got off home, eventually, more than an hour later and fell asleep eventually in sweaty sheets.

I quit the band the day following, but couldn’t let it go and pleaded with Daniel the next week to let me play again. He wasn’t hard to persuade – we’d always gotten along well, and he said he understood, though goodness knows I didn’t. He told me then about a girl who called the day after the concert, enquiring about my health. My heart quickened – it was you, it had to be. You’d left you name, but nothing else. It was enough. A phone-book did the trick, but I didn’t have the guts to call.

Instead, on a whim I pitched up outside your apartment that very night, and started to play, the first time since that night. The notes came awkwardly at first, and to tell the truth I didn’t really know anything that was really conducive to solo playing on the horn, but the happiness I felt just playing and knowing why reminded me why I’d liked it so much in the first place. (You interrupt me here to tell me – as you always do when I tell you all this again, as I always do, that, For The Same Reasons, It Reminded You Of Why You Hadn’t Liked It At All In The First Place! But That You Could Appreciate The Idea At Least… which was more than could be said for your neighbours!)

That first night I got nothing for my trouble except this joy, a desperate and sleep-deprived bottle arcing from a window next to yours and smashing at my feet, and the faintly suspected twinge of a curtain in yours. But the next night I couldn’t help myself, and did the same again. That’s the night you came down and silenced me with that kiss that took my breath away, not scared of seeming forward, and I didn’t think you were. It was too dark to see your eyes again, and still was for a long while.

This is where I normally end the story, and I do so again tonight. You reward me with a kiss, though for telling the story or for stopping I’m not quite sure. I look into your eyes again, and all of a sudden it feels like our eyes have never met. They look different again – there are no exact words for their colour – and they take my breath away again. I tell you that – I say: You take my breath away, you know. You smile and me and say Here, Have Mine. And you lean in and kiss me once again, for ever and ever and ever.

And in my mind I don’t hear violins, but the mournful tones of french horns playing distantly, so beautiful… so beautiful… comme toi…

Johan Hugo

(More by this author)

Let's start a Revolution
a confession, a rant and a manifesto of sorts

I am not my parent's first child. The reason I am telling you this is that I grew up thinking I was. Twenty-two lonely years of wishing I had an older brother until I learned my mum had had an abortion before me, and that she had, in fact, promised that child that she would keep the next one. I felt like falling off a cliff for days for a while - a feeling that slowly turned into the realisation that, as a token of love I suppose, I've always seen the world through the eyes of a lost child. I've always felt distant from most people, almost invisible in a way, appearing lonely when all I was was dreaming away. A lot of the things people did never made sense, but the world has always seemed magical and certain things were clear and simple: living had never been a question, and neither had the meaning of life. I've always known what to believe in and why it was all worth it. I still do by the way.

the rant about the film review

You see, another reason I'm telling you this is that the other day I found myself reading something in the newspaper that made me want to write the editor a letter. It would have been a letter containing phrases such as "I worry about the influence people such as you can have on young impressionable readers," and, as you can imagine, I didn't do it. I'm not clever enough to make it sound like I'm making fun of them, so I think they would just make fun of me sounding like an old man or otherwise totally naive, instead.

But what I read still makes me shake my head so I'm telling you instead. I'm not sure I can point my finger at what it is that makes me angry, but I'll try. I suppose it wasn't something the author said -though there was that terrible phrase in the middle of it all- as much as the general attitude. He started the review of a film ('Garden state' - which, mind you, I haven't watched) by reffering to the people that were born in the eighties, especially near or after the middle of the decade. For these people, he thought, the film could be talking about their life as it is now: "with the insecurities, the uncertainty about the future, the dreams, the anxiety of choises, the crisis and the feeling that death is a reality that concerns people close to you." Then he went on to point out that he couldn't feel for the film's heroes all the way to the end because this is something he's been over for years. Apparently he has been "promoted" to the grimness of everyday life.

This is where I had to stop to take deep breaths before I read on: a synopsis of the plot, some comments on the quality of the acting and the conclusion that the film is "an ode to defeat, with a few moments of underlying optimism", all of which may be fair enough, followed by the statement that the author finds the somewhat timid turn to a happier ending "forced and falsely smiley." Though, on second thoughts, this, too, seems to be suspended in a dangerous uncertainty. (The reviewer seems rather happy about this I have to add.) Today the hero gets something he's dreamed of, but what happens after the film ends nobody knows. "For the kids of that generation the smile might be more convincing, coupled with some real tears. For the rest of us, exiting the cinema will come with a sarcastic smile."

and a manifesto of sorts

Perhaps I shouldn't have minded. It's just a grumpy old sod after all -or perhaps you could be kind and say one rather sad man- but I can't help it. I do mind. Because I quite like happy endings. Because I was born in 1981, and I seem to have spent most of my life in what seemed like a foreign land populated by cynics with sarcastic smiles who made living in my own world so much better. Because I don't find everyday life all that grim, and I'd like to think that's not just because I'm too young to know better. Because at twenty-four, somewhat lost between the generation the reviewer talks about and his own I'm growing up fast, and, quite suddenly, alive to the realisation that I might actually get really happy.

And because I'm quite honestly fed up with the fact that being a disappointed unbeliever, not getting excited and most certainly never admitting to being happy is considered the epitome of cool. It's things like these that make me think Friends of the Heroes is a lot more than just a bunch of happy kids having a bit of fun with their obsessions. It's things like these that make me think we're doing something different and important; that one of the reasons that we've reached issue #101 is that someone the world needs us. Sometimes, especially if I'm drunk, I go so far as to think it might discover us one day.

While I dream on may I suggest you start a revolution. I once gained a friend by suggesting we revolted (against this) by having a cup of coffee, so please, dear reader - do you think you can do this? Make some coffee or some tea and ignore the cynics of this world. Just get on with your life, pretend they don't exist. Don't let anyone tell you the things that warm your heart aren't true. Dream about anything you can dream of. Dance your heart out every now and then, even if you have to do it when nobody's watching (though it gets better at four am, if you're drunk and kindof falling onto your friends in the process of screaming the lyrics and bouncing in front of a bemused crowd.) And if you ever find yourself on my street, and it's mid-April and the air smells of honeysuckle as the night is falling, even though you're so near the centre of such a big city, let yourself cry if you feel like it.

And we'll let happiness be our revenge.

Dimitra Daisy
(More by this author)

My Goodness, Poor Grainne

First, we went to Norway. It was fun. 9 months later and 4 of the friends of the heroes had been bitten by the travel bug once again. Here is their story…

Sunday 26th March-

Glasgow Airport

Duncan McFarlane strode into Glasgow Airport, beaming with pride. He would show them! Everyone had thought he'd miss his plane, but here he was 11.30am on the dot, in the right airport, over two hours before his plane was due to take off, ready for anything.

He looked at his flight details and suddenly his pride vanished. He reached for his phone and frantically texted:

"Have they mucked up my flight details or are we really not going to Ireland until next Friday?"

Friday 1st April-

Glasgow Airport

Duncan, cautiously boarded his plane to Ireland and mumbled to himself:

"If this some kind of April fools joke, the B*%$a#ds will pay!"

Passengers gave him worried looks and then as luck would have it he found himself with a seat to himself. This was somewhat unsurprising considering that two rows of passengers in front had resorted to sitting on one another's laps.

Dublin Airport

It was not an April fools and later that day we all met up in Dublin Airport. By we I mean Duncan, Johnny, myself and of course Grainne who had invited us all to stay at her house for the weekend. I always find it a bit strange to see familiar people in unfamiliar surroundings. I suspect this is why my first words to Duncan of the trip were a rather shocked "You got here then?!"

Saturday 2nd April

Dublin- Sightseeing

"So what shall we do today then?"
"I don't mind. I'm happy to do what everyone else wants to do."

It was 10.00am on Saturday morning and we sat on a bus headed for Dublin looking at a guide book detailing a bewildering number of ways in which we could spend our day. Trouble was that each one of us was happy to do what everyone else wanted.

We were still no closer to a decision by the time we arrived into Dublin, and standing around on street corners for the day did not appeal, so we ventured into the nearest pub to continue the decision making process.

The nearest pub just happened to be showing a Manchester City match. All eyes turned with suspicion towards to Johnny. He claimed that he had no idea that the pub was showing the match before promptly steering us to a table a view of the biggest TV screen.

A few drinks, an equalising goal from Charlton, and an hour or so later we decided that we were not going to waste our day in Dublin by sitting in a pub drinking Guinness. No, we were going on the Guinness tour…

Supermac's Vs. McDonalds

Later that evening our days site seeing was coming to an end and we found ourselves strolling through Dublin. The Sky was dark blue and a hazy sense of well being settled upon us as we looked at the lights reflecting off the Liffey. We had already eaten but the effect of using Euros had gone to our heads and we decided we would be continental and find a café which would serve us coffee and cakes while we spent the remainder of the evening indulging in sophisticated conversation.

After we had been turned away from two different cafes which were shutting for the evening, giving us "Why don't you just go the pub like normal people?" looks we knew our choices were:

a) Go to McDonalds - an evil multinational corporation which would serve us food of a dubious quality.

b) Go to Supermac's - the Irish equivalent of the evil multination corporation McDonalds. Identical in everyway, but 100 times tackier.

Tack won out and we ended up in Supermac's, and I ended up with a strawberry milkshake and a chocolate sundae. I can tell you now I have not eaten something so deliciously synthetic since I stopped eating Angel Delight at the age of 7.

Not only was the food good, that but Grainne found a 5 euro note floating about on the floor. It was obvious that this was a special 5 euro note so we debated long and hard how to use it. The idea of using it to play the lottery was mentioned but in though this idea was superseded by a desire to a leave a tip for the waiting staff. A perfect way to end the day.

Sunday 3rd

Newgrange

At the risk of displaying my ignorance I shall tell you that before I went to Newgrange all I knew about it was that it was an old monument, somewhere near Grainne's house.

But, having spent Sunday at there I can now tell you a lot more:

The Megalithic Passage Tomb at Newgrange was built about 3200 BC. The kidney shaped mound covers an area of over one acre and is surrounded by 97 kerbstones, some of which are richly decorated with megalithic art. The 19 metre long inner passage leads to a cruciform chamber with a corbelled roof. It is estimated that the construction of the Passage Tomb at Newgrange would have taken a work force of 300 at least 20 years.

The passage and chamber of Newgrange are illuminated by the winter solstice sunrise. A shaft of sunlight shines through the roof box over the entrance and penetrates the passage to light up the chamber. The dramatic event lasts for 17 minutes at dawn from the 19th to the 23rd of December

OK, I'll admit I didn't exactly remember all of that and I just copied that straight from this site.

I still don't really know why all those years ago people put so much effort into building Newgrange, or how they measured the path of the sun so accurately, or what it really meant to them. What I do now know is that despite the large numbers of people stood inside the chamber with me it felt incredibly peaceful in there. I could almost feel the thousand hopes and dreams clinging to the air. And the for the few moments that our guide shut off the main lights and switched on a light which danced and flickered on the cool stone walls mirroring the effect of the winter solstice the universe truly felt magical.

Sunday 4th

The Head of Oliver Plunkett

In his tour of Ireland Billy Connolly had visited the head of 17 century saint Oliver Plunkett. If it was good enough for Billy it was good enough for us.

The head was somewhat disturbing - It was brown and wrinkled and belonged to a real dead person. I did not like it much.

Instead I sat down on the hard wooden pew, hands under my legs and breathed in the distinctive "church smell". It was cool and calm and the peaceful atmosphere reminded me of Newgrange, "Maybe it doesn't matter what we have faith in, as long as we have faith in something…" I thought.

Bye For Now

Later that day we say in Grainne's kitchen playing 20 questions. Who would have thought that anyone could guess "the dog that looked like a bear that we saw in the pub, the stick on the beach that looked like a deer, or the group of American school girls who's short skirt's earned them disapproval from the local headmistress", in just 20 questions, but we did.

Eventually it was time to leave. Goodbyes were said, bags were collected and passports were checked. Then Johnny asked:

"So where are we going next?"
"ummm it should be a city we can all get to by train or plain cheaply"
" what about Liverpool?"
"ok"

Suddenly we were all more decisive and, for a reason I'm not quite sure off, going to Liverpool.

(to be continued…
sometime…
as soon as someone decides when we are going…)

Rachel Queen

(More by this author)

Idle thoughts on a Shiftless Saturday

Today I listened to Belle and Sebastian. I hadn't listened to them in long time but then a friend of mine recalled a poll on the 'Sinister' website (for the uninitiated this was/is a fans website 'devoted' to Belle and Sebastian) when people were asked to name their favourite 10 bands or something and Belle and Sebastian came tenth. It was around the time they were at their most pop and popular. I learned never to trust such people or polls again. I can't remember who won the actual poll, but one imagines it was some obscure non-entity. One hopes that they never become/became moderately famous...

I have given up trying to find my 'niche' in life. I have much in common with one person. I have a lot in common with 2 people. I have a few things in common with a few people. I have one thing in common with (according to agencies that record the intricacies of the mundane) one fifth of the worlds population (and it isn't Catholicism). I have nothing in common with the remaining three point nine nine whatever fifths.

I like it this way. Life becomes interesting. I enjoy extremes. And there's the self-destructive tendency in me that usually means, at the point of a supposed utopia, at the zenith of some zen-like contentment, I find a way to fuck things up.

Recommendeth I do not.

I used to feel like jumping off the top of buildings, just to see what it was like. I still do. Sometimes I feel like throwing my bike in front of an oncoming car. Just to see what would happen. I'm curious about boundaries- I have spent my whole life hurdling a plethora of them.

Expectations. Like that Belle and Sebastian song. People have expectations of me, in much the same way as people have expectations of you. People assume I am rich. People assume I was born with a silver spoon in mouth. That, in its literal self, would be remarkable, nay, a miracle. I am an accident. Some people don't believe me when I tell them of my upbringing, when I talk to them of my friends and my family back home. Jobless, alcoholics, drug addicts- I love you all.

I am listening to Belle and Sebastian because I want to. At some point I might listen to U2 today. Maybe I will listen to Eitzel or Kozelek or John Denver, and if I get depressed I will definitely listen to 'Long Long Long', and I have found a website that has a whole heap of Adorable downloads and I have listened to 'Breathless' six times over, and I am trying to find the Jack ep by Moose so if anyone has a copy let me know, and when I first listened to 'Piazza New York Catcher' I didn't know what a pitcher was and what he pitched or what a cathcher was and what he caught, but living in Japan has taught me this if nothing else, and the Tigers have won 2 out of their first 3 series so maybe this year will be a good year after last years catastrophe. The sun is shining, I am sat on my balcony drinking Kirin and 'Nice Day for a Sulk' reverberates against my clammy walls.

You have no idea how happy I am.

Paul Williamson

(More by this author)

Taking the Michael and the Tony out of Parliament

Many anti-war and progressive voters feel they have no choice and don’t know how to vote in the UK on the 5th of May elections – but there are real choices available – this article and links in it aim to help people who haven’t decided how or whether to vote yet

Many former Labour voters – and even former supporters of other parties – are uncertain about how to vote in the General Election on the 5th of May in the U.K.

This is a particularly difficult issue for those who are opposed to the war in Iraq since both the Labour government and the main opposition Conservative party MPs mostly voted for war and want to continue the occupation – not to mention having a record of involving Britain in any war begun by whoever happens to by US President at the time.

Bush made it quite clear in his speech on the USS Abraham Lincoln at the supposed end of ‘major combat operations’ that the invasions of Afghanistan and Iraq are only ‘battles’ in a ‘continuing war on terror’.

That means that voting Labour or Conservative could in most cases lead not only to more British forces and Iraqi civilians dying in the continuing occupation of Iraq – but to British troops being sent into a new war in Iran.

American journalist Seymour Hersh reports that US Special Forces have been on the ground in Iran since June last year identifying targets for air strikes. The Pentagon deny it. They denied it when Hersh first reported the My Lai massacre in Vietnam and torture by US forces at Abu Ghraib as well. It’s likely that the Bush administration are just waiting for the re-election of Labour party Prime Minister Tony Blair – or his main opponent Michael Howard (the leader of the Conservative Party) to begin organising war on Iran.

If Tony Blair – or Michael Howard – is elected Prime Minister with a large enough majority on May 6th then you can be certain British troops will be in Iran within 6 to 18 months.

Blair and the Labour government have claimed that they have ‘no plans’ for war on Iran – but then they claimed the same about Iraq until Autumn 2002.

A Domestic Policy Record almost as bad as their foreign policy one

Blair also claims that people should re-elect Labour on it’s domestic record of investing in hospitals , schools and transport.

In fact pretty much all of the ‘investment’ in hospitals and schools has been in the form of contracts given to consortia of private companies. These ‘Private Finance Initiatives’ (PFIs) begun under the Conservative Prime Minister John Major have continued under Blair’s Labour government under a new name – ‘Public Private Partnership Projects’ or PPPPs.

The amounts of money paid to private firms under PFIs/PPPs are so vast that in order to fund them new PFI/PPP hospitals and schools have to have less space , less beds and less staff than the buildings they replace. Tax payers end up paying more taxes for services which are cut – only the shareholders and senior executives of the firms getting the PFI/PPP contracts benefit.

Under PFIs and PPPPs vast consortia of private firms sub-contracting work to other smaller firms are given government contracts to build a new hospital or school which replaces one or more existing ones. The contract is a kind of hire-purchase agreement under which the government agrees to pay the companies involved over 10 to 80 years for constructing – and often for maintaining – the buildings. This costs several times as much money as it would to construct these buildings either in the public sector from taxation or by taking out a loan – since the government can get loans at an interest rate of 3 -5% - a fraction of the effective interest rates of PFI.

Transport is also a disaster, as it was under the last Conservative government who privatised the railways. Private companies were meant to bring private money into the railways. Instead government subsidies to the rail industry trebled between privatisation of the railways in 1994 and 2004 – and they’re still rising.

While getting all these subsidies most of the private rail companies have increased fares for train passengers much faster than the rate of inflation every year – in many cases at up to three times the rate of inflation.

Accidents have increased as a result of poor maintenance due to private firms sub-contracting jobs at the cheapest rate possible to maximise their profits – resulting in more deaths and injuries.

The number of delayed and cancelled trains has increased and is only projected to fall to the level in 2000 (the year of the Hatfield crash) next year – and that’s just a hope not an achieved target yet.

The Labour government eventually re-organised the system so that at least the track , signals and maintenance were all owned by the same firm – Railtrack. Of course Railtrack as a private firm had profits – not safety or service – as its bottom line. As a company whose whole business is maintenance with all the train services and most of profits from ticket sales still going to private train companies it could only make a profit to keep shareholders from selling their shares in the firm by cutting back on costs (maintenance etc) since the privatised train operators get all the income from ticket sales. So when the government insisted it stop making these cutbacks the company collapsed and went into administration. It is now a public company. The government is still considering privatising it again despite the fact that it is completely unviable as a private firm and bound to attempt to cut back on maintenance and safety to try to turn a profit as one.

So under Labour or the Conservatives you can expect not only a continued war in Iraq and a new war in Iran but also higher taxes to fund subsidies to private companies while services are cut to provide their shareholders and senior executives with bigger share dividends and bonuses.

This all sounds like a predictable ‘politicians are all the same’ and ‘whoever you vote for things will get worse’ but that’s not the case.

The large minority of Labour MPs and candidates worth voting for

A minority of Labour MPs opposed the war on Iraq and even want British troops brought home now. Many also oppose PFI and want the railways re-nationalised. You can find out how your MP – of whatever party – has voted on each issue at several sites. The Guardian’s ‘Ask Aristotle’ will tell you who your MP is if you put in your post code and will also give a summary of their voting record on major issues as well as information on which party or candidate came second in the constituency at the last election.

The Public Whip website does the same but also lets you see how they have voted on any and every vote in parliament if you want to. The Strategic Voter website is also helpful as is the So Who Do We Vote For Now website for tactical anti-war voting.

Other parties who oppose war and PFI – and tactical voting

The Liberal Democrats’ MPs voted against going to war on Iraq and their manifesto calls for the withdrawal of British troops from Iraq by the end of this year (when the UN mandate expires) as "the openended presence of coalition forces is destabilising and fuels the insurgency."

Other positive aspects of the Lib Dems are that they have not joined in the witch hunt against immigrants, are not ideologically committed to PFI or PPPPs (though they refuse to commit to ending all PFIs /PPPPS or to not starting any new ones) and are not committed to involving British troops in whatever wars the US President decides to start. They also support proportional representation (PR) as an electoral system. This would be much fairer than the existing ‘first past the post system’ and allow people to vote for whoever they want to without worrying about ‘wasting’ their vote on smaller parties in future. In the Scottish Parliament a minority of members (MSPs) are elected by PR – resulting in 6 Scottish Socialist Party MSPs , several independents and some Green Party MSPs being elected.

Given all this it may be worth voting Liberal Democrat if they came second in your constituency in the last election and your MP is a Conservative or a pro-war pro-PFI Blairite Labour MP. You can find out the election results in your constituency at the last general election by looking up.

Interestingly Conservative Party leader Michael Howard – as keen a supporter of following US presidents into war , PFI , privatisation and scrapping pensions as Tony Blair – has a majority of less than 2,000 – and the Liberal Democrats are coming second in polls in his constituency. If you live there a vote for the Lib Dems might rid parliament of one of the few men who looks bad standing alongside Tony Blair

The Scottish Socialist Party and the Scottish , Welsh and English Green parties also oppose war and PFI. The Scottish Nationalist Party also oppose involvement in the war in Iraq and PFI – as do Plaid Cymru (the Welsh Nationalists) in Wales , the Welsh Socialist Alliance and the Green-Socialist Unity Platform/Socialist Alliance in England.

To decide which party or candidate to vote for in your constituency if you oppose the war and PFI see the same websites listed with reference to Labour MPs - the Strategic Voter website the So Who Do We Vote For Now website, the ‘Ask Aristotle’ website , the Public Whip website and also vote4peace.org (though it has less information).

Independent Candidates

There are three independent candidates in this election who are standing to hold the government to account for the war in Iraq and it’s complicity in torture – two lost sons in the Iraq war – the third was the British ambassador to Uzbekistan – sacked for criticising torture and killings by the Uzbek government and US aid to it. There's also an independent MP who was elected opposing PFI and voted against going to war on Iraq.

Craig Murray in Blackburn.
The former British ambassador to Uzbekistan , who resigned over the British government’s acceptance of supposed ‘intelligence’ which the Uzbek government got by torturing its own people – sometimes to death. He is standing against Foreign Secretary Jack Straw MP in the Blackburn constituency. You can read more , get in touch to help his campaign or donate to it at www.craigmurray.co.uk

Rose Gentle in East Kilbride, Strathaven & Lesmahagow.
Rose Gentle’s son Gordon was a British soldier killed serving in a Scottish regiment in Iraq. She is standing against Defence Minister Adam Ingram MP in the East Kilbride, Strathaven and Lesmahagow Constituency in protest against her son and other soldiers being sent to fight in Iraq under false pretences and to call for the withdrawal of British troops from Iraq. You can read some of what Rose Gentle has to say in this comment article she wrote for the Guardian newspaper. You can read her election statement here.You can visit her campaign website -www.justice4gordongentle.org if you'd consider voting for her, donating to her campaign or volunteering with it.

Reg Keys in Sedgefield
Reg Keys son Tom, like Gordon Gentle, was killed in the Iraq war and occupation. He is standing against Prime Minister Tony Blair MP in the Sedgefield constituency in the North of England in protest against the PM’s refusal to accept responsibility and resign for misleading the British people over the Iraq war and sending British troops to their deaths in an un-necessary war. You can read an interview with Reg Keys in the Guardian newspaper here. His campaign website , with contact details for donating to or volunteering with his campaign is www.keysforsedgefield.org.uk

Dr. Richard Taylor in Wyre Forest
Dr Richard Taylor was elected in 2001 – over-turning a large Labour majority. He was backed by a local political party – ‘Health Concern’ which has several councillors on the local council and developed out of widespread opposition (led by Dr. Taylor) to the Private Finance Initiative planned for Kidderminster hospital and pushed on with by the government and the local council despite widespread opposition from the majority of NHS staff and patients in the area. He is however independent in the sense that he is not subject to any party whip from a national party or national party leader. In his maiden speech he said he has ‘no master but the people’ He went on to vote against the Iraq war and is likely to be re-elected.

The election need not be the depressing ‘straight choice between Labour and the Tories’ or ‘Tony Blair and Michael Howard’ which the two main parties ‘ leaders want it to be.

Reason for Hope – We can Take the Michael and the Tony out of Parliament

Above all remember that who can or can’t win an election – under almost any electoral system (barring electoral fraud) – depends on perception - who voters believe can win or can’t win. Even under first-past-the-post a small party or independent candidate can win a seat if enough voters support them and believe they can win sufficiently to give them their vote – Dr. Richard Taylor (now MP) in Wyre Forest proved that in the 2001 election standing on an anti-PFI platform as did Dr. Jean Turner (now MSP) in the last Scottish Parliament elections in Strathkelvin & Bearsden.

The problem is effective tactical voting – voters aren’t necessarily certain which party other opponents of the war and PFI will back. The most effective method of overcoming this problem is either to vote for the opposition party that came second last time (assuming it isn’t the Conservatives , a pro-war pro-PFI Labour candidate or bigots and racists such as the UK Independence Party , British National Party or Kilroy Silk’s ‘Veritas’ ) or for an independent anti-war or PFI candidate if there is one standing in your constituency.

Gentle , Keys and Murray – like Taylor before them offer a chance to unite voters and over-turn majorities for sitting pro-war pro-PFI MPs who no single opposition party could defeat.

If there is no independent and the party (or candidate) that came second last time isn’t worth voting for (e.g they’re a Conservative or a Labour candidate who won’t oppose war or PFI) then vote for the party whose policies are closest to what you believe in.

Of course I’ve no right to tell anyone how to vote – this is just the election from an anti-war, anti-PFI perspective and there are many independent candidates , a minority of Labour candidates and many other parties worth voting for – any of whom would provide a change for the better.

I would plead with you to vote though. Far from not voting ‘sending a message to the politicians’ it sends them the message that they don’t need to worry what you think and can just ignore you in favour of people who turn out to vote. There are real choices at this election – not between the right wing of the Labour party and the Conservatives – but there are plenty of other people to vote for.

It’s not a ‘wasted vote’ either – the only really wasted vote is one that isn’t cast.

Vote on May the 5th. With luck we can take both the Michael and the Tony out of parliament – or at the least deny either of them a Labour or Conservative majority big enough to take us into any new wars or force any more PFI , privatisation , poverty, higher taxes for worse services , bigotry against asylum seekers and destruction of our health and environment on us.

Duncan McFarlane 2005

(More by this author)

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