A Mars a day.

For those of you that know, I have been getting some school days in as a Cover Supervisor lately. This is relevant to the blog for one reason and one reason alone, we’re running with ‘God of War’ for the theme.

Straight off then, I was drawn to Wikipedia and a never ending list of war gods. There are a lot of gods attributed to war, let me tell you. I get Monday though, so I’m starting with the easy one- Mars.

Being into the gods was always something I liked to think I was as a kid. I knew more than most year 5 kids at any given point on the subject of Egypt. I knew a hell of a lot about the Greeks for a long time thanks to an unhealthy obsession with a Theseus and the Minotaur VHS in the library. The Romans though, I never really was big on. It might be something to do with my year 4 teacher being off all year. Long term absence maybe, I should have known all about the Romans though.

I was of a ‘Mars a day’ generation. We got greedy over hyped up football boots and Pepsi Max. A chocolate bar was a reasonable price, as were decent comics and so, it was all pretty simple. We went to school, we learnt about something from a teacher and then we played out. I would say anyone of my age or above will relate to this general routine.

Something changed a few years after that. We became bombarded with ever-faster games consoles, we all got hooked up to the internet and, in the process of all of this, somehow learnt how to perform basic functions with an emphasis on speed and not thought. I think this perhaps is the reason why society is becoming such a negative place.

Now and again, we get people so intolerant of others, so misinformed or simply so volatile that they just pick the fights. For these people, they aren’t having the chocolate bar every day- they aren’t resting or playing half of the time either though. They have opted to have a rage.

It feels good to blow off steam, I’ll admit. I came quite close to punching a cantankerous old sod in the shop the other day, with his racist ideology. I’d have felt better if I did and though it doesn’t justify what happened in class, it maybe hints at a bigger picture- the under surface cracks that can appear in people.

To cut a long story short, I had a TA in who did more harm than good. How does this relate to my poetry blog? Well, I was so angry I’ve done one of those vent poems that gets written in a rage and never gets put anywhere. You can have a read below.  

Shakespeare said, in his introduction to Henry IV that ‘The speed with which falsehood travels was a classical commonplace’.  He is saying here a very similar thing to the much attributed ‘…before the truth can put its boots on’ line we all have heard before. That one moment of losing the plot by the TA though (in some part the fault of the seven kids in the corridor), well, it has forced something out of me and though I’ll leave the school details out, I wasn’t a happy chappy, put it that way.

We can all have a Mars a day. Make your Mars a chocolate one, or something else you enjoy (vegan alternative for me)- there really is no need to rock the boat all the time. I’ll leave you with that. I’m ranting.

The chain forgot that we exist

And talk of work like all the rest

That through our agencies we know

The schools to jump at,  the ones to say No

Way, Jose! Multicultural madness mushrooms

Chairs thrown by boys at the kid you detest

Whose dad is a racist, and the thug doesn’t think

that to risk stepping in means you’ve sexually groomed

The future Young Offender institute’s top detainee

I’d drive the little wretches out, one by one in assembly

For we talk about the day we’ve had at work and realise

There is madness in the youth, something is missing in their eyes.

I taught a class the next town down

A special business taster day

All safe in the help of a specialist TA

Who sent seven out for backchat,( I feel here that I should mention

That to bollock them in my lunchtime gives me unpaid detention!)

Yes, it is the children’s fault,

Yes, it is TV.

Yes, it is computer games and yes, it’s partly me.

For I’d sack it in tomorrow

Teach somewhere that is worth my while

With a badge not saying visitor where my colleagues wear a smile

I’d not teach in schools with scruffy kids and hormonal TAs

But the Tories are in, the sad fact is, and sadly morals do not pay.

Thanks for reading, S. 

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How I Feel About the "Novels" of Katie Price...

Jordan and her ghostwriter Rebecca Farnworth

This week’s theme, ‘literary fiction vs commercial fiction’, has the potential to be dangerous. It has the potential to evoke great mists of anger. And, contained within these mists are small glass orbs of sulphuric acid, suspended by nothing more than strings of self-restraint...

One word is capable of making me run for the scissors. One name makes me want to cut the strings, cause the fragile orbs to fall and allow the acid to burn massive holes through titles such as Angel,  Crystal and Sapphire. These are not the writings of a spiritual hippie on a path of enlightenment – if they were, I would probably hate them a little less – but rather they are (just a few of) the “novels” “by” Katie (aka Jordan) Price.

*The presence of scare quotes around both ‘novels’ and ‘by’ is deliberate and completely justified. I refuse to state, acknowledge or use the literal meaning of these two words when placed in the same context as said page three model for the following reasons:

1) A ‘novel’ is generally thought to mean: an invented prose narrative that is usually long and complex – and I don’t believe for one minute that Jordan is capable of writing anything longer or more complex than a shopping list. (Please make sure that all hate mail uses correct grammar and punctuation. Thank you.)

2) The preposition ‘by’ can be employed to indentify the agent performing the action, e.g. a novel  [written] by Tolstoy. Therefore, given that Jordan has a ghostwriter, I would argue that it is not correct to write: a novel written by Katie Price, given that she hasn’t actually engaged in the act of writing (her ghostwriter has).

 However, despite this fact, I will continue to allow her to be the object of my disdain...

...Because it’s difficult to make voodoo dolls of the unknown, spectre –like, Rebecca Farnworth.

...Because publishers accept a name before they accept a manuscript.

...Because our celebrity obsessed society insists on buying a name rather than a novel.

...Because we value fame over talent.

...Because bookshops merely roll over and indulge immature palates.

...Because I walked into Tesco in 2009*, and saw Sapphire “by” Katie Price placed at number one in the book charts – and despaired.

*It was also on this same night, in Tesco, that I decided to rewrite the charts. Removing all of Jordan’s “books” and replacing them with Ian McEwan’s On Chisel Beach (which was number fifteen in the charts).

For me, the literary verse commercial fiction battle will only ever result in one winner. Literary fiction is literature that has the ability to last – to be read, enjoyed and sought years, decades, even centuries after the author has died. I very much doubt that the “novels” of Jordan will survive the test of time, and if they do then maybe society really is doomed.

But for now, the “novels” “by” Katie Price will remain as a pet hate; they are that one thing that I really wish I could throw into the Room 101.

Thank you for reading,
Lar   

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