Jeremy Corbyn and the NFL

Voting has now closed in the Labour leadership contest, and we will know the results on Saturday. This week also sees the start of a new season for American football, in the National Football League. I have realised that Corbyn's supporters remind me of British NFL fans.

The NFL has a devoted following in the UK. In 2007, the league played its first regular season match in London's Wembley Stadium. It has played there every year since, increasing the number of matches to two in 2013 and three in 2015. The NFL has no difficulty in selling out the 90,000 seats at Wembley.

I've been to one of these games, and they're great fun. The atmosphere is fantastic; it's not just supporters of the two teams who are playing, but fans of any other team who just want the chance to see a live match. It's ninety thousand cheerful and good-natured fans, united by their love of a game played with an egg-shaped ball by men in helmets, shoulder pads, and very tight trousers.

These are just the paying customers; many more are watching at home on television.

NFL at Wembley: Oakland v Miami, October 2014.

Here's the thing, though: No matter how great the passion and enthusiasm of the fans, the NFL is not poised to take over the UK. It is strictly a niche interest. Football, rugby, and cricket will enjoy much greater popularity for the foreseeable future.

I think you can see where I'm going with this. No matter how fervently Corbyn's supporters want him to win the next election, it doesn't mean he can or will. To the typical British voter, Corbyn may turn out to be as incomprehensible as an NFL match, and considerably more alarming.

Relying on Corbyn to survive the inevitable monstering from the media and Conservative party; unite the parliamentary Labour party, whose views of him range from deep suspicion to open hostility; turn out a massive army of left-wing support, without simultaneously inspiring the not-so-left-wing to turn out and vote for other parties; and do it all with a reheated version of early 1980s leftism, seems wildly optimistic to say the least.

If Corbyn wins the leadership contest, we'll have the chance to find out. Either way, I'm looking forward to a great NFL season; the Green Bay Packers are looking good this year.

Edit: This is the 200th post on my blog since March 2014. Huzzah!

A Lion Is Not A Leader

"A prince, therefore, being compelled knowingly to adopt the beast, ought to choose the fox and the lion; because the lion cannot defend himself against snares and the fox cannot defend himself against wolves. Therefore, it is necessary to be a fox to discover the snares and a lion to terrify the wolves. Those who rely simply on the lion do not understand what they are about." — Niccolò Machiavelli, The Prince, Chapter XVIII

Jeremy Corbyn's campaign for the Labour leadership has made me think about the above passage.

Machiavelli is notorious for his cynical view of politics, as a brutal contest in which victory goes to the most ruthless and crafty. I imagine he would have approved of New Labour; particularly the dark arts of spin and message control, practiced by the likes of Alistair Campbell and Peter Mandelson. Corbyn makes no secret of his disdain for these methods.

One doesn't have to be a fully paid-up disciple of Mandelson or Machiavelli to recognise that firm, unbending principle is not enough. A successful leader must be able to negotiate, compromise, and evaluate complex details. It is insufficient to be a preacher; one must also be a salesperson, a judge and a diplomat.

Cute Cat Friday 2015-09-04: Belle

Life is full of puzzles.

Photo credit (and jigsaw) belong to my lovely wife.

Size matters: The Labour electorate

There are two philosophies for deciding who gets to choose a party leader. Labour has chosen a confused mixture, which seems likely to have the flaws of both and advantages of neither.

Cute Cat Friday 2015-08-28: Belle

Fluffy cat!

Now that we have said goodbye to Freddie, Belle is much less stressed and returning to her usual confident self.

Magic Sugar Pills

Jeremy Corbyn, frontrunner to become the next leader of the Labour party, claims to believe in the efficacy of magic sugar pills. This not only makes him a bad leader, it makes him a bad socialist.

It has emerged that Corbyn signed a House of Commons motion in 2010 approving the provision of homeopathy on the NHS, and later confirmed his support for it on Twitter.

Other MPs on the list include Tim Farron, now leader of the Liberal Democrats. (I have already expressed serious doubts about Farron's moral fibre.) The Secretary of State for Health, Jeremy Hunt, has also stated his support for homeopathy. In their disregard for science they join the SNP, with its recent ban on all genetically modified crops in Scotland. With the possible exception of Plaid Cymru, not a single party in Parliament is unequivocally in favour of science. This is alarming and depressing in equal measure.

Medicine: More effective when it contains something other than sugar.

The scientific evidence is very clear: Homeopathy achieves nothing more than the placebo effect. It consists of "medicines" diluted so far that no trace of the supposed active ingredient can remain. It is an industry which sells these products to sick and vulnerable people, some of whom have died after substituting homeopathy for conventional medical care. It consumes resources which could instead be spent on real medicine.

A Prime Minister must decide on matters of life and death. With his support for homeopathy, Corbyn demonstrates a shameful lack of critical thinking, unfit for one who aspires to high office. He might as well believe the UK's energy grid can be replaced by a perpetual motion machine which runs on happy thoughts.

The Hard Case of Fast Freddie

Rehoming Freddie in the style of film noir. What can I say, I was trying to avoid work.

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It was another hard case today. My pal Fast Freddie got in trouble with a dame. It's always the dames. He had to skip town, so he kept his head down in the back seat, while I drove him through the rainy streets to a place where they ask no questions. He can stay there until the heat is off.

Next week he'll be back out in the world, with a new name, far away from the woman who brought him low. He should have known better than to mess with a classy lady like her.

Don't know if I'll ever understand this case, but at least a few beers will help it settle into perspective.