Some intriguing news from Hull.
They are to revive the ancient title of High Steward of Hull. The honorary post was abolished in 1974 as part of a local government re-organisation. Historically, the office holder was expected to act as a highly-placed lobbyist for the interests of Hull within central government in return for the honour of the title.
A condition of any appointment was for the postholder to be a Lord and a Privy Councillor.
Fortunately for Hull, they already have an ex-’steward’ who is both a Lord and a Privy Councillor. Lord Prescott – or Baron Prescott, as the famously ’down to earth’ ex-steward prefers to be known these days…
Curiously, they have overlooked him for the post, and offered it to the man he once described as a ‘crab’. Lord Mandelson.
I understand that the Blairite Alan Johnson, MP for Hessle, is the man behind this offer of new titles and baubles for Mandelson’s jewellery box.
Labour’s internecine wars soldier on…
Ms Raccoon lives in the Monbazillac area of South West France, renowned for its fine wines and gourmet food, so she frequently finds better things to do than sit in front of a computer all morning. She is liable to take off traveling at a moment's notice. Consequently this blog only gets updated these days when it is raining - and it doesn't rain very often round here...
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Ye gods, is there no getting rid of the man? Not so much ‘crab’ as ‘cockroach’; it’s a fair bet that, in the aftermath of global annihilation, Mandelson would be bustling about looking for ways to turn the apocalypse to his own advantage.
Personally, I think it ought to go to Prescott in recognition of his services to the English language, but would that make Pauline into a Stewardess?
Problem with cockroachs mahceath is once they are in, it is one hell of a job to get rid of them.
apologies macheath.
Hull has an interesting history. My memory I a bit vague but I was once, for reasons which must remain obscure fournished with copies of its ancient and Royal Charters which granted it special status and prerogatives and which as our learned editor says establsihed its existence until 1974, when it vanished in a puff of Parliamentary statute, only to magically re appear as a creature of statute. I cant help but feel that however anachronistic, its charters were at least more beautiful to read that the dull 1974 legislation.
However, I am concerned that the ermine clad Lord of Pies has insufficient pensions and offices of state to secure him in his dotage. Surely an honourary post at a modest sinecure of say £200,000 per annum could be found for the man who has done so much for the city and stayed so close and true to his root. Failing that a giant statute (for there could be no other type) of Jabba the Hut could be erected in a prominent place.
On another note, in about 2003 the first of the little but erudite “Crap Towns” books was published. Compiled by the editorial staff of “The Idler” magazine, I think, as a result of a free vote on its web site. Each “Crap Town” was honoured by a short precis of just why it was so crap by a jaundiced resident or refugee therefrom. Some of the entries were not only dry and hysterically funny but hauntingly beautiful, and as a scathing record of the drab, mundane and distopian Britain ruled by those such as Prezza and Mandy Balls it was par exellance…
As I recall, Hull was the victor in that first pole, and there was a scathing entry under the title: “Hull – It Smells of Death”
A suitable place for Prezza to rule.
Sadly the Crap Towns series seems to have died out; butif you can get your hands on the first one, snap it up.
G the M
Hull – twinned with Dignitas.
Now, now – let’s not start taking evidence or experience of the place as, yer know, an indication of the metaphysical reality. I went to college there for 3 absolutely fantastic years and a more excellent time would have been impossible any where upon this orbitting rock. The locals were really friendly – I fondly remember 2 chaps using their chum as a battering ram to break down the toilet door as their other chum was inside snorting all their coke – amazingly amusing and we invited them all back to our house for an after party. The ‘Room’ nightclub was so friendly yet at the vanguard of house music. The student area was completely disregarded by the rozzers, there are boozers there which date back 1,000 years. If I had my way, I’d quite happily lob a few billion in as direct investment ignoring the venal, self serving politicians they’ve had the misfortune to have represent them. Hull maybe Hell, but Hell ain’t that bad. Hmmm……just sayin’ is all.
I am not having a go at Hull DtP! I merely record the acerbic book. In fact I have some fondish memories, and it seems a friendly little place on the whole. A bit out of the way mind. But the near death of the fishing industry has, as it seems to me, kicked the life out of the town.
It really is quite tragic. It’s isolation does prevent it being viewed in similar fashion as perhaps Liverpool or Glasgow in that there’s no overspill but the level of abject decline, corruption, irrelevance is heart-breaking. We used to call it the ‘sleeping giant’. I blagged an economics degree there and the essays just wrote themselves by wandering into Bransholme or Orchard Park. I seem to remember that Luton was always the town to beat for crappiest dump of the year award and never having visited. Mind you, have you ever been to Sunderland – rodger me with a pineapple and call me Marjory but it was something out of Bladerunner!
Glenrothes
Interesting Pub Fact number 3,427 about Hull: During Operation Banner it was used to train Army drivers before tours of Northern Ireland because of its similarity to Belfast… right, I’ll go and get the darts.
Addendum
Seems “The Idler” and Crap Towns is still pottering along. Here is the link to their archive.
I remember the “Crap Jobs” and “Crap Holidays” books now. I haven’t seen them for a while, though.
Here is a link to an archive at The Idler web site
http://idler.co.uk/category/crap-towns-archives/
G
Thanks for the link. It’s very upmarket compared to the slightly raw Chavtowns.
I lived in Hull for about 15 years and found that Prezza was not particularly popular with the locals – but as it was solid Labour he was guaranteed his seat in perpetuity.
It is worth noting that he was rejected as police commissioner so they did show their feelings when it was no longer a “political” matter.
By the way, I thought that he used to be a Bar Steward – although people who know him tell me that he is a nice guy and a loyal friend.
Out of the to, Mandelbrot has influence; Prescott is a superannuated oaf.
Ooop two.
At least Prezza responded like a real man, when egged-on.
I imagine Mandy would get his boyfriend to issue a handbags-at-dawn duelling challenge.
A real man would have asked for the egg to be fried and served with the rest of the breakfast.
No-one’s been to Bradford yet then ?
I have heard that the River Humber is the arse-hole of England, and that Hull is 7 miles up it.
If I recall correctly, Mandelson’s grandfather (you know which one) was High Steward of Hull back in the sixties. I never really understood why.
Does the office of Admiral of the Humber still exist, however theoretically?
I recall being very impressed when I read that they had always had their own telephone company. Also strange how Thatcher’s demolition of their fishing industry – following orders from her EU masters – never attracted the same opprobrium as her behaviour towards the coal mining industry in the other part of Yorkshire.
I have only one word to say to you Sir.
Runcorn. Just Runcorn.
The word you were actually grasping after is Slough. Always to be mentally suffixed with ‘of Despond’.
http://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Runcorn
I see I have not been the only unwilling visitor to that cesspit!
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