(no subject)
Working in WH Smiths does open one's eyes to a few of the prevelant phenomena of Britain in 2007. The fact that chip-and-pin sits as comfortably with pensioners as drum-and-bass or vodka Red Bulls is one, as is the revelation that a large section of the youth community are capable of browsing through shops wearing shoes with wheels in the soles. In fact, they accomplish this feat with such aplomb that it would appear Lewis Hamilton is just the tip of an iceberg of a British generation whose control of wheeled transportation devices is at Zen Master levels.
But the most intriguing thing taking place in the world of litrature at the moment is the fact that, for once, the single most readable, fascinating and addictive publication on sale is, if my store is anything to go by, also the one that's flying off the shelves the most. After a couple of years dominated by Dan Brown claiming Jesus was a woman or something that's not half a refreshing change.
And what is this tome? It's none other than Her Majesty's Government's 'Life In The UK'- a guide for people hoping to become British citizens by taking a test. A little like the driving theory test but you don't have to remember what to do if your car breaks down in a tunnel. The book itself preports to tell these would-be Brits about what life is like on this island by giving them handy tips such as what and when Bank Holidays are, what the House of Lords is all about and what to do when you spill someone's pint. Seriously. I'm not making this up. It reads like a cross between an instruction manual and a Morrissey lyric.
In fact, rather than the book and test, we may as well just get the new immigrants to listen to 'Louder Than Bombs' a couple of times (as long as they skip 'Golden Lights', natch). Actually, for those who've come in from a war-torn country, making them take in an album with that title could be a little insensitive. They can play 'The World Won't Listen' instead.
Smart arsed gags about Smiths album titles notwithstanding, I think cherry-picking bits and bobs of British music would be an infinitely more entertaining and fulfilling way of letting new people to this nation know what we're all about. Want to see what life on the streets is like on a Friday night? Listen to some Girls Aloud! Want to understand our sense of humour and ironic whimsy? Bang on a bit of Beautiful South! Want to have it made clear that which ever evil you've escaped in your home country we're capable of crushing tedium that's just as bad? Here's The Kaiser Chiefs!
We can tell them about history too. Anyone who's listened to Chas 'n' Dave will know exactly how London kept it's spirits alive during the Blitz with just jaunty, knees-up singsongs to drown out the V2s whilst listening to The Stereophonics will demonstrate that we are a nation that's clearly capable of inventing horrific things like chemical warfare and concentration camps.
We can go even further back in time than that. Arthurian Legends? Rick Wakeman's your man. Planting crops and worshipping obscure religions? Bit of Sting for you, Sir. Foraging for food then dancing round a fire like a twat? Any Glastonbury stalwart will do you. I'm struggling to think of any pop music that covers the last ice age thawing and cutting Britain off from mainland Europe 35,000 years ago but it's surely only a matter of time before Peter Gabriel gets round to cobbling something together on the subject.
Our musical heritage is the one thing in this country we can be justifiably proud of. Let's face it, if the French had a pop-star like Morrissey flailing about with gladioli and a hearing-aid we'd have him on Eurotrash in an instant but on these shores he still gets idolised despite the creeping sensation that maybe Johnny Marr was the talented one. If we live in a country with that sort of attitude, why not make knowing about pop music the criteria for getting in and living here?
And if you have to know about decent tunes to live in Britain then there's one real bonus for us all. Phil Collins lives in Switzerland. And he could never come back.
But the most intriguing thing taking place in the world of litrature at the moment is the fact that, for once, the single most readable, fascinating and addictive publication on sale is, if my store is anything to go by, also the one that's flying off the shelves the most. After a couple of years dominated by Dan Brown claiming Jesus was a woman or something that's not half a refreshing change.
And what is this tome? It's none other than Her Majesty's Government's 'Life In The UK'- a guide for people hoping to become British citizens by taking a test. A little like the driving theory test but you don't have to remember what to do if your car breaks down in a tunnel. The book itself preports to tell these would-be Brits about what life is like on this island by giving them handy tips such as what and when Bank Holidays are, what the House of Lords is all about and what to do when you spill someone's pint. Seriously. I'm not making this up. It reads like a cross between an instruction manual and a Morrissey lyric.
In fact, rather than the book and test, we may as well just get the new immigrants to listen to 'Louder Than Bombs' a couple of times (as long as they skip 'Golden Lights', natch). Actually, for those who've come in from a war-torn country, making them take in an album with that title could be a little insensitive. They can play 'The World Won't Listen' instead.
Smart arsed gags about Smiths album titles notwithstanding, I think cherry-picking bits and bobs of British music would be an infinitely more entertaining and fulfilling way of letting new people to this nation know what we're all about. Want to see what life on the streets is like on a Friday night? Listen to some Girls Aloud! Want to understand our sense of humour and ironic whimsy? Bang on a bit of Beautiful South! Want to have it made clear that which ever evil you've escaped in your home country we're capable of crushing tedium that's just as bad? Here's The Kaiser Chiefs!
We can tell them about history too. Anyone who's listened to Chas 'n' Dave will know exactly how London kept it's spirits alive during the Blitz with just jaunty, knees-up singsongs to drown out the V2s whilst listening to The Stereophonics will demonstrate that we are a nation that's clearly capable of inventing horrific things like chemical warfare and concentration camps.
We can go even further back in time than that. Arthurian Legends? Rick Wakeman's your man. Planting crops and worshipping obscure religions? Bit of Sting for you, Sir. Foraging for food then dancing round a fire like a twat? Any Glastonbury stalwart will do you. I'm struggling to think of any pop music that covers the last ice age thawing and cutting Britain off from mainland Europe 35,000 years ago but it's surely only a matter of time before Peter Gabriel gets round to cobbling something together on the subject.
Our musical heritage is the one thing in this country we can be justifiably proud of. Let's face it, if the French had a pop-star like Morrissey flailing about with gladioli and a hearing-aid we'd have him on Eurotrash in an instant but on these shores he still gets idolised despite the creeping sensation that maybe Johnny Marr was the talented one. If we live in a country with that sort of attitude, why not make knowing about pop music the criteria for getting in and living here?
And if you have to know about decent tunes to live in Britain then there's one real bonus for us all. Phil Collins lives in Switzerland. And he could never come back.