Smashwords: 2014 Read An Ebook Week - Count Me In

Those awfully nice people at Smashwords are promoting the joy of reading ebooks, for a week from Sunday 2 March. In their own words: -

"Read an Ebook Week is an international celebration of ebooks in which thousands of authors, publishers and retailers feature free and discounted ebooks to help promote the joys of e-reading to the world's readers.  Each year, Smashwords authors are the most active participants, and our store features the largest selection of participating titles.  It's a fun promotion, because the more the participating authors promote their involvement, the more readers then go on to discover new Smashwords authors.  It's writers-helping-writers at its finest."

It would have been a shame to let this pass by without participating. So for one week only, head on over to Smashwords and you'll be able to download both Hatred Ridicule & Contempt and Sackcloth Ashes & Penance for a pretty sizeable discount.

(Link to follow.)

More On Surveys (or: Moronic Surveys)

Hard on the heels of the National GP Survey (see post below from 13 January), where a recent reminder that I had not completed and returned the original questionnaire still failed to convince me of the merits of doing so, I found myself looking at another survey. This time the subject matter was diversity. The administrator was the regulatory arm of one of our once great professions, and there was an unspecified sanction for failure to return the collective questionnaire answers on time.

It is arguable that this one, despite its mandatory nature, was futile from the outset. Quite rightly, the answer gatherers were duty bound only to invite the return of completed individual questionnaires, not to compel it. And quite properly, the model questionnaire included a “prefer not to say” option to the many somewhat intrusive questions about sexuality, religion, education level and family care duties, even if some form of “mind your own business” might have more accurately reflected the reaction of the interrogated. And, of course, there was no guarantee of honest answers. Even if an army of national census takers had been put in charge, the results may have been equally meaningless and/or unfit for constructive subsequent use.

But the online process for the mandatory reporting of results recognised none of this. Having asked for an initial headcount of the interrogated, it gave no option to report that all or any of them had declined to return questionnaires at all. It simply launched straight into the answers, where the closest option to record the refuseniks’ stance was (inaccurately) “prefer not to say”. Remember, of course, that this is a compulsory procedure, and the online response template was unyielding.

So if and when anything is reported about the survey results, we may not be reading, hypothetically, that a substantial number of those asked to complete and return questionnaires declined to do so. We may instead be reading that there was an overwhelmingly good questionnaire response, even if a substantial number of the answers comprised “prefer not to say”. And this would no doubt be spun as a positive reaction to the survey, with the next one duly scheduled for 12 months’ time, and so on…

I am reminded of a Soviet era spoof report on a Cold War sporting contest, which ran “In yesterday’s athletics/chess/ice hockey match between America and Russia, our Soviet heroes finished second, and the filthy capitalist swine finished next to last.” It would of course be very unkind to suggest that there may be similar spin from a body of UK professional regulators when they have collated the results of their diversity survey. But for a less frivolous view, an extract from a 60s political speech says it all: -

“Sometimes it is a minor detail which casts a flood of light upon the malaise of a whole society. This incipient perversion of the census machinery derives from the very same general assumption which is pervading and strangling our life and our economy, namely, the conviction that the citizen is perfectly incapable of conducting his own affairs unless he is managed and controlled, planned and organised, with material distilled by experts from elaborate surveys which bureaucrats have conducted into his benighted behaviour…..they are all branches, some tiny, some large, of this same pervasive, poisonous upas tree of contempt for the independence, dignity and competence of the individual.”

- Enoch Powell, Wolverhampton, 19 April 1968, ironically the day before a certain other speech.

Hatred Ridicule & Contempt - on Awesomegang

Thanks to authors' and readers' site Awesomegang for today's publication of a full page ad for my debut novel Hatred Ridicule & Contempt, complete with all the links. Click here for a look. Quite a lot of other promising book ads and links on Awesomegang too.

Coming to Breweries' Websites Now: the Nanny State

Would the outlet at the Banks’ Brewery be open, I wondered, on Saturday mornings in the winter? The need to head in that direction for a small errand had made me think it would be worth finding out. And their website seemed the obvious place to start.

I found myself looking at an Enter Here page. It was illustrated by a promising slogan, “Fresh From the Country – the Black Country”, and a picture of a handpump with a rotating display of their flagship bitter and mild. But that was not all. There was a dropdown menu. And a question: “Are you of legal drinking age for the UK? Please tell us what year you were born in.” The menu asked visitors to select a year, making it implicitly clear that failure to tick one of the choices would preclude entry to the site.

Intrigued, I scrolled down to the bottom of the page, finding some consistent small print. “You must be of legal drinking age to enter and use this site.” Really? “To find out more about responsible consumption, visit Marstons PLC.” Beneath the small print was a link to the website for the charity drinkaware.co.uk.

What sinister invitations could be lurking the other side of the barrier, I wondered, deciding to click on my year of birth and take the plunge? Well, the outlet’s opening hours were there as I had hoped, thankfully including Saturday mornings. A description of each of their beers too. A walk through the process of brewing. The history of the brewery. And an explanation of their brewery tours with the catchline “enjoy 3 half pints on us”, although the tours were seasonal. But nothing more sinister than that. Not even the chance to order a supply of beer online, let alone an invitation to the next secret lock-in at one of their tied houses (joke).

So what’s with the demand for age confirmation? Such a pointless gesture anyway. An underage schoolboy interested in researching local industrial history, or how water, barley, hops, and yeast can be transformed into beer, is hardly going to think twice before clicking on an inaccurate age option. And that’s the kind of prohibited person who might be looking at the site, not someone in search of illicit online refreshment when it’s quicker and easier to go straight to the off licence or supermarket.

Not knowing if some draconian EU based legislation might have been sneaked through on the quiet, I thought of four other favourite ales and checked out their breweries’ sites. Neither Timothy Taylor, nor Theakstons, nor Hook Norton nor Purple Moose asked their website visitors to confirm their age. The latter two were heinously (!) offering beer for sale via online shops. Both Theakstons and Purple Moose had the drinkaware website link. A brief look at the JD Wetherspoon site also sailed through without an age confirmation enquiry.

One impression stood out. Whoever decided to make visitors to the Banks’ website go through that irritating final step could only have been following that equally irritating policy doctrine, namely the need to be seen to be doing something, empty and futile gesture as it was. Will it result in one single drop of beer not finding its way down an underage drinker’s throat? Hardly. Would they have put it up because of a legal threat? Equally hardly (but watch out for the nanny state’s mission creep, now that they have seen off tobacco displays). Might they have been responding to some busybody’s nagging? Maybe, even if common sense would have dictated a reply involving long walks and short planks.

At least the visit to the outlet was worthwhile. Eight top range bottled pints for £10, from a wide variety including the Wychwood and Ringwood ranges alongside Banks, Marstons and Jennings, was an offer that beat the supermarkets hands down. Well done, Banks’ Brewery. But please, take that silly age confirmation requirement off your website.

The GP Patient Survey 2014: a recipient's view

Early in the New Year a bulky envelope found its way through the letterbox. The accompanying letter gleefully told me that I was being asked for feedback “to help improve local healthcare and other services” by answering questions about my experiences of my local GP surgery and other local NHS services.

Wondering if the answers would be truly anonymous and confidential if any recipient chose to cross-check the 10 digit reference on both the letter and the form, I turned the page. I was advised that my name had been selected randomly then and invited to apply for any necessary assistance in 13 different languages, or to request a copy of the questionnaire in Braille via a special phone number. (Yes, I know…..)

I flicked through the questionnaire to assess the task ahead of me, and saw fifty box ticking questions. The first section was about “accessing GP services”, which was fancy talk for making appointments and speaking to staff and doctors. The old cliché about whether other patients can hear what you say to the receptionist was dusted down again, closely followed by a question that appeared to presume that some people make GP appointments by fax or would prefer to do so.

Over to the “making an appointment” section. “Last time you wanted to see or speak to a GP or nurse from your GP surgery, what did you want to do?” One of the six options was “I wasn’t sure what I wanted.” Oh, come on. To order a large cod and chips, perhaps? Or a pint? Or just seek a few kind words? (Maybe this was an option for the Alzheimers’ sufferers.)

Now for the GP and nurse appointment section, all about assessing time given, listening, explaining, involvement and caring, all on a sliding scale from very good to very poor. All options fairly covered, you might think, but how interesting it might be to see the GP completing a parallel patient focused questionnaire on such issues as lateness, paying attention, courtesy (e.g. not interrupting a consultation to answer the mobile) and respect for the opinion of a trained professional who might not be giving the advice the patient wanted to hear?

The focus then switched to the patient’s personal circumstances. Questions were asked about long term medical conditions before moving to mobility, ability to wash and dress, usual activities, pain, discomfort, anxiety and depression. Curiously, none of them carried a “mind your own business” (or should that be “prefer not to say”) option. The questionnaire went on to ask if the patient had a “written care plan” before ending up at question 50 via out of hours services and a brief set of enquiries about NHS dentistry.

Now, it’s perhaps not entirely unreasonable to conclude that out of the brave souls who began to complete the document, a fair few would have given up out of boredom, frustration or annoyance before the last of the 62 questions bore a ticked box. It may be equally accurate to conclude that those who were sufficiently motivated to fill the whole thing in and return it would comprise more than a fair share of the complaining classes, leaving the silent majority to nurse their adjective of choice. So how representative would the answers be, and how sensible or otherwise in turn would it be to allocate resources in order to address perceived shortcomings evidenced only by those answers? Debatable. But it’s hardly likely to bring the questionnaire mania to an end, even if its sole practical purpose is to demonstrate that “garbage in, garbage out” is as true a principle as ever.

Wait a minute. Did I just say 62 questions when I started off with 50? Indeed I did. Well, a government questionnaire would hardly be the same without the usual collection of diversity questions about personal characteristics. The normal range was spiced up on this occasion with a few more covering such topics as how long your work journey takes, your smoking habits, and your time spent giving support for the infirm. Interesting to note that while the “male or female” question did not provide a third option, thereby inexcusably discriminating against the hermaphrodite community, the orientation question included a curious “other” alongside straight, gay, bi and prefer not to say. It would perhaps be wiser not to comment further, save perhaps to note the potential deterrent value of this closing section upon the incentive to return completed questionnaires. Or to decide whether to laugh or cry at the thought of the poor souls in the survey brainstorming session struggling with the duty to report that 26% of the respondents who were both Buddhist and heavy smokers used their written care plans to help manage their health day to day and had trust and confidence in their GP surgery nurse despite not being happy that other patients could overhear what they said to the receptionist, having made their appointment booking by fax.

Diplomatic and Consular Yearbook: opportunity or scam?

Early one Wednesday morning, the office phone rang. The displayer indicated a withheld number. An exceptionally plummy voice came on with one of those first name greetings that is always so irritating coming from a complete stranger, and a “how are you today” type of enquiry that would have been more appropriate for a long lost friend rather than a cold caller salesman.

The caller made out that my law firm (which is, let’s be honest, a minor business and employment law practice in south Birmingham) had been specially selected and placed on a preferred shortlist for advertising space, via editorial content, in the special Legal and Business section of the next edition of the Diplomatic & Consular Yearbook. The marble mouthed caller, “Ben Parker”, dropped a few supposed backers’ names into the pitch, including Chris Grayling (Lord Chancellor), Shailesh Vara (evidently a junior at the Ministry of Justice since October 2013) and Lord McNally (a Lib Dem Minister of State for Justice) and asked if we might be interested.

I made an excuse relating to urgent client work at that particular moment, but asked for a phone number out of a nagging sense of curiosity. This was duly provided: 0208 956 4035.

In a spare moment, I decided to search against the number. It led to the discovery of some notably interesting entries on the “WhoCallsMe” boards for the parallel 4065 number (I have added some links below), all of which suggested that the call might have been an elaborate scam, where the commercial theme – in my case Legal and Business - is simply varied to match who is being called, with different names from the political class dropped in as applicable.

I decided to play along. I put in a return call to Mr Parker. Unfortunately he was not available, but his PA Simon Barker fielded the call. (Who else might be in the team, I wondered? Tarquin Harker? Marcus Larker? Crispin Marker? Otto Tarka? Rufus Farquhar?) The camp voiced Mr Barker went into effusive detail, explaining that an advertiser from the specially selected shortlist could choose either a single page at the bargain price of £2,750, or a double at £4,950. Ten minutes of sales pitch later, I asked him to send me an email, which he enthusiastically agreed, saying that all I needed to do was cut and paste a standard form agreement to take up the advertising space – just a couple of lines - into a reply email.

The email duly arrived, confirming that the Yearbook had been “appearing for 40 years, as an annual showcase of excellence”. It was accompanied by a page of testimonials, full of effusive praise as to how useful and valuable the Diplomatic and Consular Yearbook was. The UK embassies of Cuba, Myanmar and Mozambique stood out (anyone feel the urge to cross-check with them?) as indeed did the names of three eminent politicians. Two of them, unfortunately – Michael Howard and Kenneth Baker – were described as MPs even though they had both been elevated to the House of Lords some time ago, Lord Baker in 1997, Lord Howard in 2010.

There was a useful link to what was held out as their website, which looked plausible at first sight but to my mind full of hot air upon closer inspection. Their business address was evidently a serviced office centre in Finchley, London.

As for the cut and paste, it comprised the single sentence, helpfully in bold type: “Confirm booking of a full page (including corporate profile and a 500 word editorial) in the Diplomatic Yearbook under the section ‘Excellence in Legal Services’ at a sponsorship cost of £2,750.00 & VAT.”  

I sent a reply email and asked for confirmation of their registered office address and company number; their partners’ identities and home addresses, if they were not in fact a limited company; and their bank details. I explained that this was all a matter of due diligence checks on a prospective new supplier. It was not long before Mr Barker phoned, promising the information I had requested, and enthusiastically asking once again which of the two options I was most interested in, the £2,750 or the £4,950. I hedged my bets.

When his inane drivel came to an end, I looked more closely at the WhoCallsMe contributions. They contained an entry on 22 September 2013 described as an ex employee’s spilling of the beans upon how this operation worked. The idea, so it was reported, for this and a number of other such yearbooks, was to extract the commitment to take out advertising, then to let however many months go by, and then render an invoice as the prelude to some ever increasing nasty threats if the invoice was not paid. Evidently the bold type commitment has some force.

My due diligence email, perhaps not surprisingly, was not answered despite a reminder.

Now, you might think that anyone who was naïve enough to commit to such a hefty fee, in the hope that an advertising page or two would lead to a solid investment return from the diplomatic and consular community, was a fool who deserved to be parted from his money. Well, maybe. But let’s think back to the original phone call, with all the top people’s names being dropped in, and the promotional material with all of those supposed testimonials from the embassies and the senior politicians. Along with the supposed quality and reputation of the Handbook itself. Does the term “misrepresentation” begin to ring a bell? And that’s only civil law. Trade descriptions misdemeanours, should there be any, would bring in the criminal law.

Not that this would be much comfort to anyone who had actually paid the money and then wanted to try to get it back, on the basis that the end product, if it ever emerged, was not remotely near what had been promised. There is no sign of any limited company details, or anything to suggest who owns the business, just that serviced office address in Finchley.

Some of the correspondence on WhoCallsMe suggests that there are two disqualified directors behind it all, whose names I will withhold. Well, fancy that. The parallel websites that a determined searcher might encounter, if looking to get to the bottom of it all, do refer to a named business entity, and anyone minded to look at whois.net to find out who owns the domain name diplomaticandconsular.com may find some further enlightenment.

So is it a scam? Well, it’s not for me to say. People can make their own minds up. But let’s just finish by saying that the initial calls were rather unfortunate one for “Ben Parker” and “Simon Barker” to have made. Of course they were not to know that one of the two parallel plots in my legal/political suspense novel Sackcloth Ashes & Penance was all about how someone tried to pull off an elaborate scam on a solicitors’ firm. So may I suggest that if anyone has read this blogpost and thereby saved themselves from making a commitment they might regret, the very least they owe me is to buy my book. A screaming bargain as a Kindle or other e-reader download, and an ideal Christmas gift, especially as I remain convinced that the parallel political plot is still the first and possibly only novel to have the 2010 UK General Election as a factual backdrop.

Links: -

WhoCallsMe, 02089564065: http://whocallsme.com/Phone-Number.aspx/02089564065/8

The Diplomat Business Office: http://www.diplomaticandconsular.com/

Whois.net: http://whois.net/

Sackcloth Ashes & Penance (Amazon) - go on, treat yourself: http://www.amazon.co.uk/Sackcloth-Ashes-Penance-David-Cooper-ebook/dp/B009JEBSDG/ref=sr_1_3?s=digital-text&ie=UTF8&qid=1386882535&sr=1-3&keywords=sackcloth+ashes

Sackcloth Ashes & Penance (Smashwords): http://www.smashwords.com/books/view/301537

The US Government Shutdown revisited: Neil Peart and the Dilligafs

Last month, recalling a recent holiday in the USA, I described two narrow escapes resulting from the National Parks being briefly closed down when the government ran out of money, and the forces of officialdom in Washington Dulles International Airport reacting with bovine indifference and then sadistic obstruction to our need to catch a connecting internal flight to Atlanta.

How coincidental it was, a few weeks later, to be reading Neil Peart’s account of his latest USA road trip, not long after Rush had finished their Clockwork Angels tour, through Zion Park and Bryce Canyon with a touch of Route 66 thrown in. That certainly brought back some happy memories for me from previous trips to the West. (Neil – hope the Aston Martin’s bumper has recovered from the deer hoof.)

Over to the man himself. Having evidently avoided the effects of the shutdown thanks to Utah undertaking to reopen its parks, he speaks robustly for every foreign tourist who has experienced the US National Parks or hopes to do so: -

“But what did these foreigners think of a country in which a few mean-spirited creeps could hold the entire country hostage—all for the principle of denying mercy to the suffering (because it might be “their own fault”—hardly a Christian objection), while also denying its citizens (and “resident aliens,” as this Canadian is classified) access to their property? (A flashing sign inside Bryce Canyon National Park put it nicely: “Welcome to Bryce. Enjoy Your Park.”) These foreign visitors, like the American seniors who also visit the national parks outside the summer months, might have waited all their lives for this one opportunity. And there are tens of thousands of Americans, especially in the West, whose livelihoods are tied to the national parks.”

Expanding his theme, NP goes on to suggest that those “few, miserable damaged egos” who caused the Parks shutdown and displayed such disregard for its consequential effect on intending visitors ought to wear T-shirts bearing a slogan otherwise only fit for renegade bikers and surly rednecks, namely “Do I Look Like I Give A Fornication?” How neat to see this “expression of pure evil” producing the eminently pronounceable acronym “DILLIGAF”.

So as I think back to how my own recent USA trip was almost ruined, and then reflect in turn on the way that we are governed here in the UK by a political class and an administrative machine that all too often appears to have little regard to the practical impact of its conduct on those who have to pay for it, may I suggest that the acronym is upgraded to a noun?

“Dilligaf”: a politician or official who, having acted quite unreasonably, reacts with deliberate indifference or hostility to the plight of someone suffering materially as a result of that act.

In passing, that would sit neatly alongside “snollygoster”, but that’s another story.