COPY FOR NEW FALMER FANZINE
By Mike Ward
DON’T laugh, but recently I dreamt I’d reached the final 10 of Pop Idol. Having done my little warbly bit in front of the studio audience, I wandered across and stood before the judges, nervously awaiting their verdict.
The one whose opinion would matter most, or course, was sat on the far right of the panel, wearing that look of smug superiority with which we’ve all become so painfully familiar. This was the moment of truth, then. So, come on, let’s get it over with – what did he reckon to my performance?
“Absolute crap,” he declared. “You’re a fat speccy git and you can’t sing for toffee.”
Well, needless to say, I was gutted. Thanks to this one man, my hopes of a pop career would, from this moment onwards, be dead in the water. But, more significant than that, I also found myself angry and frustrated. I mean, who was he to judge? What the hell qualified this bloke to sit there and shatter people’s dreams so matter-of-factly? After all, he was Paul bloody Daniels.
Yes, that’s right. Paul Daniels. A guy who saws people in half for a living. See, I warned you this was a dream, didn’t I? Dreams are always mental like that. At least, mine are. Which is why, on this occasion, I couldn’t even rely on the other three judges to restore some kind of sanity to the proceedings. The other three judges being Jamie Oliver, George W. Bush and that dog who plays Schmeichel in Corrie.
OK, you’re probably thinking – so what’s all this nonsense got to do with Falmer?
Simple, really. It sums up exactly how I’m feeling right now about this re-opened public inquiry. Namely, that our fate is being determined by people whose lack of knowledge and understanding makes them wholly unsuited to the task.
If you want the most glaringly obvious evidence of this, I can sum it up in two words: Brighton Station. Ignore all the other factors for a moment and simply consider this – the alternative sites that this inquiry must now examine include a plot of land which is currently having a whopping great Sainsbury’s built on it.
I mean, sure, it’ll obviously be dismissed out of hand – unless, that is, some wassock’s going to argue the case for squeezing in a football stadium between the Hob-Nobs and the deli counter – but that’s not the point. The fact that an influential official has actually listed it for consideration in the first place just shows how hopelessly out of touch these people are. And if they’re clueless about something like that, how can we have any faith in their ability to reach a sensible, informed decision on what’s ultimately at stake here? It’s scary, it really is.
In short, it’s a blinding illustration of how ludicrous and insulting it is for these issues to be decided centrally, rather than locally. The fact is, had local democracy been shown the respect it deserves, we’d be well on our way by now to building our new home at Falmer.
Having said all that, I do believe this latest delay is exactly that – simply a hold-up, albeit a desperately frustrating one, before our Falmer dream finally comes true.
On the other hand, maybe I shouldn’t be talking about it as a “dream”. Knowing the way my dreams turn out, that’ll mean it gets built out of marzipan.
By Mike Ward
DON’T laugh, but recently I dreamt I’d reached the final 10 of Pop Idol. Having done my little warbly bit in front of the studio audience, I wandered across and stood before the judges, nervously awaiting their verdict.
The one whose opinion would matter most, or course, was sat on the far right of the panel, wearing that look of smug superiority with which we’ve all become so painfully familiar. This was the moment of truth, then. So, come on, let’s get it over with – what did he reckon to my performance?
“Absolute crap,” he declared. “You’re a fat speccy git and you can’t sing for toffee.”
Well, needless to say, I was gutted. Thanks to this one man, my hopes of a pop career would, from this moment onwards, be dead in the water. But, more significant than that, I also found myself angry and frustrated. I mean, who was he to judge? What the hell qualified this bloke to sit there and shatter people’s dreams so matter-of-factly? After all, he was Paul bloody Daniels.
Yes, that’s right. Paul Daniels. A guy who saws people in half for a living. See, I warned you this was a dream, didn’t I? Dreams are always mental like that. At least, mine are. Which is why, on this occasion, I couldn’t even rely on the other three judges to restore some kind of sanity to the proceedings. The other three judges being Jamie Oliver, George W. Bush and that dog who plays Schmeichel in Corrie.
OK, you’re probably thinking – so what’s all this nonsense got to do with Falmer?
Simple, really. It sums up exactly how I’m feeling right now about this re-opened public inquiry. Namely, that our fate is being determined by people whose lack of knowledge and understanding makes them wholly unsuited to the task.
If you want the most glaringly obvious evidence of this, I can sum it up in two words: Brighton Station. Ignore all the other factors for a moment and simply consider this – the alternative sites that this inquiry must now examine include a plot of land which is currently having a whopping great Sainsbury’s built on it.
I mean, sure, it’ll obviously be dismissed out of hand – unless, that is, some wassock’s going to argue the case for squeezing in a football stadium between the Hob-Nobs and the deli counter – but that’s not the point. The fact that an influential official has actually listed it for consideration in the first place just shows how hopelessly out of touch these people are. And if they’re clueless about something like that, how can we have any faith in their ability to reach a sensible, informed decision on what’s ultimately at stake here? It’s scary, it really is.
In short, it’s a blinding illustration of how ludicrous and insulting it is for these issues to be decided centrally, rather than locally. The fact is, had local democracy been shown the respect it deserves, we’d be well on our way by now to building our new home at Falmer.
Having said all that, I do believe this latest delay is exactly that – simply a hold-up, albeit a desperately frustrating one, before our Falmer dream finally comes true.
On the other hand, maybe I shouldn’t be talking about it as a “dream”. Knowing the way my dreams turn out, that’ll mean it gets built out of marzipan.
