2013-05-19T01:07:55-04:00 David Lintott http://www.huffingtonpost.co.uk/author/index.php?author=david-lintott Copyright 2008, HuffingtonPost.com, Inc. HuffingtonPost Blogger Feed for David Lintott Good old fashioned elbow grease. tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1772624 2012-08-13T10:48:03-04:00 2012-10-13T05:12:11-04:00

David Lintott http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-lintott/
The 2012 Summer Olympic Games is officially titled the Games of the XXX Olympiad, which makes it sound like it is associated in some way with hardcore pornography. One can only imagine what qualifies as an Olympic sport in ahem, those Games.

Everything that was wickedly subversive and fun about Danny Boyle's brilliant opening ceremony was absent here. There seemed to be no overall theme linking the acts, though granted there were lots and lots of taxis. The musical fodder was second rate, and there was a noted absence of certain big-name stars. Take That were there minus Robbie Williams, which in many ways would certainly be for the best, but Williams is undoubtedly a global megastar, unlike his former band-mates. Adele didn't perform, but Essex's Jessie J did, and she snatched at the limelight like a spoiled child who refuses to share any of their pick n' mix with their younger, shyer sibling despite repeated attempts at reasoning.

With dark splotches on a flesh-coloured body suit, J's costume appeared to be a paean to the symptoms of syphilis, a disease that saw its rates of infection decrease dramatically following the discovery of penicillin by the Scottish scientist Alexander Fleming. It was a timely nod to Britain's medicinal heritage.

It's a challenge trying to work out which of the performers didn't once have a crippling dependency on alcohol and/or narcotics. But I don't judge them for their addictions. I judge them for their alleged high cholesterol levels. Seriously, forget butter, it's not good for you. Eat Flora instead.

Flora isn't one of the major sponsors of 'The Games' incidentally, so the International Olympic Committee may well now sue the shit out of me. Fuck. And that's an intentional use of the expletive "fuck", not a typo of the UK strand of French Connection, better known in its acronym guise: FCUK. They're not an Olympic sponsor either.

A closing ceremony that aimed to showcase mainstream British pop acts from the past 50 years was never likely to appeal to me. Bands I adore like The Fall and Joy Division would alienate swathes of the estimated three billion-plus global audience and not sit well with the celebratory spirit of the occasion. Besides, Ian Curtis has been dead for over thirty years.

There's no reason why innovative acts should have been discounted though. Bands like Radiohead, The Stone Roses and The xx all twin a mainstream sensibility with a creative approach. On paper, Russell Brand showing up as Willy Wonka and performing I Am the Walrus is a surreal, whimsical delight. But it was just dull. Brand is an eccentric comedian, and the creative team should have tapped into his own persona instead of patching him up with a new one.

Can anyone explain why the perma-permed Brian May is summoned to every national event to play a self-indulgent five minute guitar solo? Be it the Queen's Jubilee, VE Day; He's allegedly available for state funerals. These events are always by-the-numbers borefests. Flavour of the month popstars? Check. Brian May tuning his guitar on stage while everyone goes off to make a cup of tea. Check. Sir Paul McCartney leading a half-hour rendition of Hey Jude whilst acknowledging the audience by sticking up an appreciative thumb. Check...ish. (That was certainly what happened at the opening ceremony. He must have been cup-tied last night.)

The finale lacked a stellar name. I'm no Coldplay apologist, but if there is a nailed-on Biggest Band in the World in terms of popularity it's probably them, and they're British too. Members of The Who bounced around on stage with the dexterity of an arthritic pensioner who's recovering from hip replacement surgery. Listening to 68-year-old Mod survivor Roger Daltrey belt out "I hope I die before I get old" during My Generation is surely little more than an exercise in personal humiliation. He left his dignity down the back of the sofa somewhere in the 1970s.]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1576699 2012-06-07T04:39:48-04:00 2012-08-06T05:12:10-04:00

David Lintott http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-lintott/ reign; a time of unparalleled social change.

Anyone that witnessed the 1,000-strong flotilla could have been forgiven for not realising, though.

David Cameron's "we're all in this together" mantra rings hollow at the best of times, but it's made to sound particularly insincere when unpaid jobseekers are shepherded into London overnight without properly-organised sleeping provisions and made to kip under a bridge before stewarding the royal pageant to ensure the Queen's jubilee celebrations go off without a hitch.

The jobseekers involved had volunteered their services under the government's own Work Programme, which arranges for companies and charities to take on unemployed workers without paying them. The incentive for large private companies is clear: why employ people on the minimum wage when you can get them to work for free?

It's been reported that the company hired to steward the event, Close Protection UK (CPUK), hired 50 "apprentices" who were paid £2.80 an hour (around half the minimum wage), and 30 unemployed jobseekers who were not paid at all.

Molly Prince, the managing director of the CPUK, the private security firm that used the unpaid jobseekers, said: "The only ones that won't be paid are because they don't want to be paid. They want to do this voluntarily, [to] get the work experience."

Prince's assertion, "they don't want to be paid", implies that the volunteers waltzed into London on a wave of jubilation befitting of the celebrations for Queen and country, ready to offer their services charitably, free of charge, because they're so bloody nice; blatantly disregarding the fact that jobseekers joined the scheme in order improve their chances of finding work and to avoid being stripped of their benefits. Ultimately, they do wish to earn money and escape the horrors long-term unemployment yields, like afternoons in front of the television watching Bargain Hunt.

Whilst it would be churlish to suggest that the organisational failings of CPUK are akin to the brutalities of slavery, Molly Prince shares her surname with an 18th century slave - who's autobiography, The History of Mary Prince, is said to have had a galvanising effect on the anti-slavery movement; which adds an ironic footnote to this sorry charade.

Assuming this affair will come to be referred to in a way that is customary to all post-Watergate scandals, 'Jubileegate' smacks of a lack of accountability from all involved. Downing Street has brushed off the incident was a 'one-off', whilst CPUK has suggested the coach drivers that they sub-contracted insisted on leaving following a timing mix-up, when none of their representatives could be reached.

I've been on many a coach trip in the past. On some of these occasions the driver has reacted unkindly to lateness, vociferously grumbling if people return to the coach later than the scheduled meeting time. This is not unreasonable. Coach driving is a profession that requires levels of patience and tolerance that the Dalai Lama would deem excessive. But the CPUK is surely culpable for failing to ensure all the volunteers were picked up; with those left behind forced to camp under a sodden London Bridge and change into uniforms in broad daylight.

The government's Work Programme is theoretically a good idea. Encouraging unemployed people to gain suitable skills and experience in preparation for full time work will put some of their free time to good use. However, when people are made to nap for two hours under a bridge before embarking on a 14-hour shift for no pay just to keep the £12m, 1,000-boat show on the, ahem, river; it could be considered that some form of exploitation is at work, and that the government's scheme needs greater regulation.

It appears that minimum wage jobs are being displaced by the Work Programme to create cheap labour. The Queen is financially supported to the tune of £30m annually via the sovereign grant, funded by British taxpayers. Perhaps the unpaid volunteers who braved hours of rainfall without shelter or toilet facilities - let alone a ceremonial barge from which to wave to the Union Jack-clad masses - could benefit from some of that money instead?]]> tag:www.huffingtonpost.com,2012:/theblog//3.1559263 2012-05-31T11:15:33-04:00 2012-07-31T05:12:17-04:00

David Lintott http://www.huffingtonpost.com/david-lintott/
I graduated in July 2010. I'd had three years suckling on the frosty teat of independence, living away from home with friends and 'finding myself' as is de rigueur for the arts student. My student house was shambolic; the washing up never seemed to get done, we'd stay up all hours philosophising about life and no one ever had any milk.

The halcyon days of going to bed at daybreak and irregular mealtimes were soon over. I moved back in with my parents after my graduation ceremony with high hopes of moving out imminently and reclaiming that independence. Except living at home was different now. There were grumblings about how I would have to "pay my way" and "earn a living". I couldn't dangle the unconditional-love-of-a-mother-to-her-child carrot in an attempt to sponge off Ma and Pa any longer as this "child" was now a 21-year-old man. The good life was over, but who was I to complain? I expected to find a job soon enough.

I kept reading in the papers how I was part of a "lost generation", as if I'd sacrificed myself in World War One or something. What if I could never have a career?

This was all very unsettling. I saw the term 'quarterlife crisis' being bandied about and was pretty sure I was having one. Life is one existential disaster after the other. I'd have to find myself all over again. But I didn't have time to figure out my place in the world again, I had to find a job.

As the weeks and months passed, I was still beavering away in search of employment by sending out CVs and cover letters for jobs I believed I was suited to but getting nowhere. The dreams of nabbing a graduate scheme now seemed retrospectively delusional.

But I had a degree in English Literature, the most traditional of subjects. I couldn't escape this fact as my mother had proudly hung up the robes-clad graduation photograph of me self-consciously forcing a grin in the most hallowed of places: the downstairs toilet.

One of the problems unemployed people face is being in limbo. You can apply for 20 jobs a day but still have to play the waiting game until you hear whether or not you've been summoned for an interview. Many employers don't even bother replying to your lengthy application - modified to meet the job specifications - and the ones that do will forward an almost-sincere apologetic generic email emphasising the "high calibre of candidates" before breaking the crushing news that you've been overlooked.

You can't make long-term plans or go anywhere on a whim and end up housebound in a perpetual state of ennui with the television your only friend. Watching Challenge TV for hours on end may sound like a decadent treat to the overworked money-rich, time-poor but there are only so many episodes of Bullseye you can watch before you find yourself actively screaming at Jim Bowen as he wearily repeats his "You can't beat a bit of Bully" mantra again and again and again.

Perhaps my inner-rage developed by osmosis after succumbing, with alarming regularity, to the swirling vortex of darkness that is the daytime staple The Jeremy Kyle Show. I wrote essays about the Modernists and Chaucer in the not-too-distant-past but had been defeated by the idiot's lantern, haemorrhaging brain cells in the process.

In November 2011 youth unemployment hit 1 million for the first time. Due to the ongoing financial crisis recruiters have taken on far fewer graduates and government austerity measures have led to public sector cuts, reducing job vacancies across the board. Graduates with little work experience are considered a higher risk than someone that has a five or ten year career under their belt. Many companies offer internships, but most are unpaid positions and ultimately exploit willing unemployed young people as a source of cheap labour.

It's now two years since my graduation, and in the interim I've taken on several odd jobs: working as a barista for an Italian coffee shop chain for a spell; teaching English to German students during summer months; and the occasional freelance journalism gig to scrape some semblance of a living. There are currently limited opportunities to grow into a profession and establish oneself, unfortunately.

The job market is looking bleaker now than in 2010, with graduate unemployment now up to 25%, and more than one in three of those employed are working in lower skilled jobs.

Many class of 2012 graduates will need to recalibrate their expectations of a career for the foreseeable future as they join the growing ranks of the unemployed.]]>