Pensioner sorts out suicide bid

This cheery video says so much about the human condition.

Police in Guangzhou spend hours trying to talk a suicidal man off a bridge before a pensioner breaks through and does what Plod fails to achieve. He even cuddles him. What happens next is a lesson to anyone dependent on the kindness of strangers. Inspired by the Harry Enfield/Paul Whitehouse school of compassion.

From East South West North via Blood and Treasure.

Pensioner sorts out suicide bid

This cheery video says so much about the human condition.

Police in Guangzhou spend hours trying to talk a suicidal man off a bridge before a pensioner breaks through and does what Plod fails to achieve. He even cuddles him. What happens next is a lesson to anyone dependent on the kindness of strangers. Inspired by the Harry Enfield/Paul Whitehouse school of compassion.

From East South West North via Blood and Treasure.

Morecambe Bay disaster poem: how charity works

Having been invited to participate in a fund-raising event commemorating the 5th anniversary of the Morecambe Bay disaster (5th February), I was going to write something about it here.

But seeing how it was derailed from its original purpose by power and money, not to mention the power of money, I've thought long and hard about the role of charity in blinding us to the issues and maintaining the status quo.

It was to be a star-studded gala full of high-rolling movers and shakers. But the idea of reading out letters from the orphaned children of the victims to an audience largely composed of the Establishment who make these rules and set the agenda, made me feel ill. After all, aren't I supposed to be comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable and not the other way round? I spent a sleepless night wondering if I could stand there onstage and make the powerful feel good about themselves. Images of Malcolm McDowell in the last reel of If abounded. I decided to withdraw.

Although the charity doubled its target and the survivors' children are assured of an education until the age of 20, something the charity should rightly be proud of, the original aim of the event was to also raise awareness about unauthorised workers and so try to prevent future Morecambe Bays occurring. Human history is a history of migration. Yet while capital knows no frontiers and is allowed to go anywhere in the world in pursuit of cheap labour, labour must stay home and starve. But this perspective was dropped and the planned presswork suddenly stopped as other interests took over.

My instinct proved right when I read one of the articles put out by the wealthy acting spokesperson of the charity, a Chinese entrepreneur, in which he called for a halt to "'aspiring' illegal immigrants" leaving China; stated that Britain has zero tolerance towards economic migrants, which is a bit of an insult to the British; and telling the Chinese associations their job is to dissuade Chinese from coming here. What wasn't said is that this applies to poor Chinese. If you are rich, the world is your oyster and you can go where you like. As does the author of the article.

So I wrote this poem.

I Am Rich and You Are Poor
Lines on dead Chinese workers and their rich benefactors
February 2009

I am rich and you are poor,
I travel, you seek a foreign shore,
You have needs but I have more.
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

The world’s an oyster, a wondrous thing,
Find the pearl, make an angel sing,
To swinish herds it’s all just bling
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I’ve news for you, I’ll beg, implore,
You aren’t walking through that door,
You figure what frontiers are for.
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I am rich and you are skint
You slave for pennies, I made a mint
This world loves those who’re carved from flint
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I weep for you, I sympathise
Look, tears are welling in my eyes
You’re coming here to seek the prize,
But tales of gold are pretty lies
You want to be where you’re despised?
You’ll be lucky if you’re serving fries,
Yes, me, well I have cash to buy
Whatever I want, I get to fly

Not hide in a truck, rolling in muck
Relying on luck to make a buck
Stuck in a rut with the doors all shut
Banging on gates and the ladder pulled up.
Sucked down in the sands
You ebb with the tides
White under the moon
You shine in the sea

I am rich and you are poor
Bottom of the barrel while I’m top drawer.
I will help you stay where you are
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I am rich, you’re stony broke
I am special, you’re an anonymous bloke
We’ll only love, respect, honour, support, hold you, care for your loved ones, when you croak
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

STOP PRESS: Marina Hyde's trenchant take on charity and the Fortune Forum which proposes tax cuts for the rich to help the poor.

Morecambe Bay disaster poem: how charity works

Having been invited to participate in a fund-raising event commemorating the 5th anniversary of the Morecambe Bay disaster (5th February), I was going to write something about it here.

But seeing how it was derailed from its original purpose by power and money, not to mention the power of money, I've thought long and hard about the role of charity in blinding us to the issues and maintaining the status quo.

It was to be a star-studded gala full of high-rolling movers and shakers. But the idea of reading out letters from the orphaned children of the victims to an audience largely composed of the Establishment who make these rules and set the agenda, made me feel ill. After all, aren't I supposed to be comforting the afflicted and afflicting the comfortable and not the other way round? I spent a sleepless night wondering if I could stand there onstage and make the powerful feel good about themselves. Images of Malcolm McDowell in the last reel of If abounded. I decided to withdraw.

Although the charity doubled its target and the survivors' children are assured of an education until the age of 20, something the charity should rightly be proud of, the original aim of the event was to also raise awareness about unauthorised workers and so try to prevent future Morecambe Bays occurring. Human history is a history of migration. Yet while capital knows no frontiers and is allowed to go anywhere in the world in pursuit of cheap labour, labour must stay home and starve. But this perspective was dropped and the planned presswork suddenly stopped as other interests took over.

My instinct proved right when I read one of the articles put out by the wealthy acting spokesperson of the charity, a Chinese entrepreneur, in which he called for a halt to "'aspiring' illegal immigrants" leaving China; stated that Britain has zero tolerance towards economic migrants, which is a bit of an insult to the British; and telling the Chinese associations their job is to dissuade Chinese from coming here. What wasn't said is that this applies to poor Chinese. If you are rich, the world is your oyster and you can go where you like. As does the author of the article.

So I wrote this poem.

I Am Rich and You Are Poor
Lines on dead Chinese workers and their rich benefactors
February 2009

I am rich and you are poor,
I travel, you seek a foreign shore,
You have needs but I have more.
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

The world’s an oyster, a wondrous thing,
Find the pearl, make an angel sing,
To swinish herds it’s all just bling
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I’ve news for you, I’ll beg, implore,
You aren’t walking through that door,
You figure what frontiers are for.
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I am rich and you are skint
You slave for pennies, I made a mint
This world loves those who’re carved from flint
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I weep for you, I sympathise
Look, tears are welling in my eyes
You’re coming here to seek the prize,
But tales of gold are pretty lies
You want to be where you’re despised?
You’ll be lucky if you’re serving fries,
Yes, me, well I have cash to buy
Whatever I want, I get to fly

Not hide in a truck, rolling in muck
Relying on luck to make a buck
Stuck in a rut with the doors all shut
Banging on gates and the ladder pulled up.
Sucked down in the sands
You ebb with the tides
White under the moon
You shine in the sea

I am rich and you are poor
Bottom of the barrel while I’m top drawer.
I will help you stay where you are
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

I am rich, you’re stony broke
I am special, you’re an anonymous bloke
We’ll only love, respect, honour, support, hold you, care for your loved ones, when you croak
Hey, let’s all give to charidee

STOP PRESS: Marina Hyde's trenchant take on charity and the Fortune Forum which proposes tax cuts for the rich to help the poor.