Yesterday a group of people gathered in Custom House Square, Belfast. They then opened three large freezers, removed 1,517 diminutive frozen figures and began placing them around the square. When the task was complete they stood back and spent the next twenty minutes watching as these human icicles melted before their eyes.

This happening was part of a festival to mark the centenary of the sinking of the RMS Titanic.

The person responsible for this particular commemorative response was the Brazilian born artist, Néle Azevedo (born 1950). Her poignant idea was entitled, Minimum Monument. It was intended as a celebration of the “ephemeral and diminutive, as opposed to what is monumental and grandiose.”(1)

For instances of the “monumental and grandiose” one might turn to John Blackwood’s book London’s Immortals: The complete commemorative outdoor statues (Savoy Press, 1989). The cover features an individual who exudes monumentality and grandiosity. This is all the more remarkable given that the person being represented is physically frail – so weak in fact that he requires a walking stick to support his gargantuan frame. But his greatness comes from the courage of his convictions rather than the strength of his sinews. The bronze effigy commemorates a man who is seemingly so famous that he requires no elaborate inscription. On the pedestal on which he is placed is but a single word: Churchill.

Statues of this nature are intended to create the illusion of universal acclaim and permanence. This façade came crashing down during my investigations into this sculpture and the other commemorative monuments that surround the Houses of Parliament in London. In the year 2000 a riot broke out where the natural order was inverted: protestors mounted Churchill’s plinth and daubed it with graffiti. In the process they turned the war hero into a bloated warmonger. For a short time this establishment figure became a punk icon (courtesy of the grass mohican draped over his pate).(2)

I wonder what the late, great playwright and author, Dennis Potter would have made of such bad behaviour? I ask because, way back in 1967 in one of his earliest plays for television, Potter took a “swipe at Churchillianism”.(3) Alas, the original recordings of this and two other such works were subsequently deleted by the BBC.

Years later Potter reflected on his vanished play. He dismissed it as “polemical” and “overtly political”, something with which now felt uncomfortable.(4) We are not in a position to judge if he was right to be so self-critical given that the work no longer exists. This makes the title of the play deeply ironic. It was called, Message for Posterity.

That phrase sums up Ivor Roberts Jones’s titanic statue of Churchill that has scowled at parliament ever since its inauguration in 1973.

But messages for posterity do not always have to be like this. They can be more modest and far less bombastic – like Néle Azevedo’s already vanished tribute to the 1,517 lives cut short when the monumental and grandiose prow of the Titanic sank beneath the icy waves of the North Atlantic Ocean.

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Notes

(1) Nuala McCann, “Poignant ice tribute to Titanic victims”, BBC News, 21/10/2012, http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-northern-ireland-20020498
(2) For more about this, see my doctoral thesis, On Stage at the Theatre of State: The Monuments and Memorials in Parliament Square, London (A thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements of Nottingham Trent University for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy, March 2003).
(3) Graham Fuller (ed.), Potter on Potter, London, Faber and Faber, 1993, p. 17.
(4) Potter on Potter, pp. 31-32.

So says the introductory panel to the exhibition “At Home With the World”. This is the title of the Geffrye Museum’s contribution to the laughably labelled “Cultural Olympiad”. The temporary display seeks to explore notions of Englishness in the domestic sphere. What – if anything – is nationally distinct about the homes of England given the ongoing patterns of “foreign influence” that pervade our public and private spaces?

This question resonates with a line of dialogue from a play that I am going to see later this evening just up the road from the Geffrye Museum:

    “All I want is the England I used to know...
    When you knew where you were and
    all the houses had gardens and
    old ladies could feel safe in the street at night.”

This understandable nostalgia is ratcheted into a gleefully xenophobic rant by a mild mannered man who goes by the name of Martin Taylor. He must surely be the most compelling and controversial character conjured up by the playwright, Dennis Potter.

His play, Brimstone and Treacle charts how monstrous Martin wheedles his way into the moribund home of the Bates family. Tensions between the unhappily married Mr and Mrs Bates are exacerbated by the condition of their tragic daughter, Pattie. She lays bedridden and brain damaged following a traffic accident.

Martin decides to quite literally lend a hand. The nature of his grotesque physical intervention led to the censorship of Potter’s Brimstone and Treacle.

Potter wrote his television play for the BBC some four decades ago. Time, however, has not diminished the shocking denouement of the drama.

So it is with a growing sense of guilty excitement that I sit in the sun-drenched café of the Geffrye Museum writing these words and waiting impatiently for the drama to unfold.

Until now I have only ever seen Potter’s work through the mollifying medium of television. The chance to come within touching distance of Dennis’ devilishly disturbing world has brought me to London and the Arcola Theatre in Hackney.

As luck would have it, the last leg of my journey to the theatre involved the number 149 double-decker bus from London Bridge station. It strikes me that the loathsome Norwegian terrorist, Anders Behring Breivik should be compelled to serve out his life sentence on this bus route. He’d be driven out of his miniscule mind by the glorious microcosm of London life that is played out by a worldwide cast of bus passengers, 24-hours a day.

If it were not for the number 149 I wouldn’t have passed by the Geffrye Museum. This marvellous museum has provided the ideal preparation for Brimstone and Treacle. As a “museum of English homes and gardens”, it is filled with stage-set interiors charting a chronological sweep through English domestic history.

The Bates’ morose middle class abode of the mid-1970s would fit in beautifully as one of the room sets of the Geffrye Museum.

These museumified interiors confirm our collective obsession with “home”. Many people share the sentiments of Mr Bates: they long for a private refuge from the world flanked by a neat little garden and a street outside filled with safe-and-sound old ladies. Of course, these exact same private paradises are all too often the setting for all manner of barbarisms perpetrated by “sweet talking rapists at home”.(1)

The domestic sphere is, then, a potent mixture of brimstone and treacle. Dennis Potter makes this shockingly apparent in his brilliant play of that title. I really hope that the Arcola Theatre does justice to Potter’s helping of demonic hospitality.

___
Note

(1) The Blow Monkeys, “Sweet Talking Rapist at Home”, Whoops! There Goes the Neighbourhood, 1989, RCA.

Security measures are being put into place to safeguard the much-heralded London Olympics.

It comes as a blessed relief to discover that the streets of Britain’s Megacity are to be patrolled by thousands of military personnel. The skies above will echo to the roar of attack aircraft. The waters will be awash with warships. Meanwhile, tower blocks in the vicinity will house surface-to-air missiles. Networks of surveillance cameras will monitor the streets.

And rest assured that, in the unlikely event that disturbances should occur, sonic cannons will be swiftly deployed. They will be wielded by the “tens of thousands of troops and private security guards working alongside police officers and the security services”.

But how will honest, law-abiding citizens recognize these guardians of the peace? Well, I can exclusively reveal the new-look uniforms with which they are to be issued (see image). Of course, should you be fortunate enough to come across such an operative, you will be left in no doubt.

They are just what Britain needs in these troubled times of austerity: judge, jury and executioner rolled into one.

Chief among these lawgivers is Judge Dredd of Dennis Potter Block in the Brimstone-&-Treacle Sector. He has already seen service at the first Luna Olympics.

When asked if he had a message for any olympian perps, muties, monsters and fatties, Dredd replied simply: I AM the law.

And with that in mind, let the Brit-Cit games begin!

Two politicians have featured on this blog in recent weeks:

• Jeremy Hunt, the UK's Secretary of State for Culture, Olympics, Media and Sport
• Lena Adelsohn Liljeroth, Sweden's Minister for Culture and Sports

I playful pondered which of the two was least awful, finally favouring Hunt over Adelsohn Liljeroth.(1) However, in the light of today's revelations to the Leveson Inquiry, I now realize that this was misguided. For any Swedes who are dissatisfied with their culture minister should spare a thought for their British neighbours. Hunt has emerged as an utterly inappropriate individual to hold public office.(2) Confidential emails reveal that he completely abused his position in relation to the attempted take-over of BSkyB by Rupert Murdoch's News Corp. For example, in January 2011, News Corp's chief lobbyist wrote to James Murdoch to tell him that he had "managed to get some info" on an announcement that Hunt was to make to Parliament the following day – even though this was "absolutely illegal!"(3)

As it currently stands, Hunt says he did nothing wrong and James Murdoch dismissed the email comment as a joke.

But this is no laughing matter.

Yet don't be surprised if Hunt clings on to his job: the government needs him to stay in post in order to protect the British Prime Minister, David Cameron.* Cameron is just as guilty of unethical behaviour in his dealings with the Murdoch empire.

One positive thing has emerged out of all this. In his evidence to Leveson, James Murdoch conceded that greater efforts should have been made to "cut out the cancer" of phone hacking at his organisation.(4) Good to see Mr Murdoch accept something that Dennis Potter pointed out many years ago: Rupert Murdoch is a cancer that has infected and undermined British society for decades.(5)

The parlous state of Jeremy Hunt’s political health is a direct consequence of that cancer.

Get well soon, Jeremy!

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Notes

(1) "Let them eat cake, Lena", 18/04/2012, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/04/let-them-eat-cake-lena.html.
(2) A hint of Hunt's partial handling of cultural affairs is outlined in my blog posting, "Hunt's cunning stunt", 23/03/2012 http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2012/03/hunts-cunning-stunt.html.
(3) "James Murdoch at the Leveson inquiry - live coverage", http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2012/apr/24/leveson-inquiry-phone-hacking.
(4) Ibid.
(5) "Dennis Potter and Rupert", 19/07/2011, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2011/07/dennis-potter-and-rupert.html.

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Supplemental
25/04/2012

* Another figure to watch out for is Michael Gove, Secretary of State for Education and a former journalist at The Times. He is apparently "greatly admired by Rupert Murdoch". For his part the politician is less enamoured by the Leveson Inquiry, describing it as having a "chilling effect on freedom of speech". The man is clearly beyond parody.

See Nicholas Watt, "Leveson inquiry has chilling effect on freedom of speech, says Michael Gove", The Guardian, 21/02/2012, http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2012/feb/21/leveson-chilling-freedom-speech-gove.

_ I am a child of Thatcher’s Britain. As such, one of my earliest political memories was a television interview between Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher and Diana Gould, a teacher from Gloucestershire. The exchange concerned the highly controversial sinking of the ship, General Belgrano. This occurred during the war between Great Britain and Argentina regarding the sovereignty of the Falkland Islands (Islas Malvinas). Transcripts of the interview are available online, as is the actual television footage.(1)

Gould was motivated by a belief that the Belgrano had been in international waters and on a bearing that took it away from the Falklands at the time it was torpedoed by the British submarine, Conqueror with the loss of 323 lives. She felt, moreover, that this action occurred at a time when a peaceful resolution of the conflict was still possible. Gould presented these arguments in a lucid, forceful manner which clearly rattled Thatcher.(2)

Diana Gould died a few days ago at the age of 85. Whatever one’s politics, she deserves to be remembered for the courage she demonstrated in standing up to the Iron Lady. I find this as inspirational today as I did as a ten year old schoolboy. We need more Diana Goulds: everyday heroes and heroines who refuse to be cowed into silence by overbearing politicians and gutter-snipe journalists.

And remembering Diana Gould obliges us to recall the jingoism of the Falklands campaign. This was encapsulated in a single word: "Gotcha!"(3) That was the infamous headline used by The Sun newspaper on 4th May 1982 to announce the sinking of the Belgrano. Dennis Potter's characterisation of Rupert Murdoch as a cancer in British society finds irrefutable proof in those six letters.(4)

Let us hope that future generations opt to celebrate the humble heroism of Diana Gould (1926-2011) rather than choosing to wallow in the belligerence of Margaret Thatcher and the malevolence of Rupert Murdoch.

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Notes

(1) See, for example, "Diana Gould", accessed 09/12/2011 at, http://en.wikiquote.org/wiki/Diana_Gould.
(2) "Diana Gould" (obituary), The Telegraph, 09/12/2011, accessed 09/12/2011 at, http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/8944544/Diana-Gould.html.
(3) Roy Greenslade, "A new Britain, a new kind of newspaper", The Guardian, 25/02/2002, accessed 09/12/2011 at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2002/feb/25/pressandpublishing.falklands.
(4) See my first ever blog posting, "Dennis Potter and Rupert", 19/07/2011 available at, http://www.stuartburch.com/1/post/2011/07/dennis-potter-and-rupert.html.

Sadly it appears that the video below is no longer available

My decision to start this blog was inspired by something that the dramatist and writer, Dennis Potter said just before his death from cancer in 1994:

"I call my cancer Rupert... There is no one person more responsible for the pollution of what was already a fairly polluted press [than Rupert Murdoch]. And the pollution of the British press is an important part of the pollution of British political life, and it's an important part of the cynicism and misperception of our own realities that is destroying so much of our political discourse."

The truth of these words has only become clear to me thanks to journalism like this:

Harris, John (2011) "How the phone-hacking scandal unmasked the British power elite", The Guardian, 18 July, accessed 18/07/2011 at, http://www.guardian.co.uk/media/2011/jul/18/phone-hacking-british-power-elite

My personal response to Murdoch's cancerous cynicism is this modest venture into cyberspace.

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Supplemental 21/08/2011

A horrid nightmare woke me with a start this morning. I dreamt that I'd somehow managed to trap Rupert in a can. He'd taken the form of a long-legged insect. This hideous creature succeeded in forcing its way out and proceeded to stab me in the side. This shocked me into consciousness, leaving me rubbing my imaginary wound and marvelling at how deep the Murdoch affair has penetrated my subconsciousness...