Wrap-up of the week: W/E 12 May 2023
UKRAINE. MUSIC. DOUBLE BINDS. MICROSOFT. SELF-LOVE. TRANSLATION. RUSSIA. A low-down on Linked-In
“It’s Friday, it’s five to five and it’s … Crackerjack!”
British kids knew the weekend was here when they heard these words from Peter Glaze and Leslie Crowther, as they kicked off a show of zany humour and goofing around, with no shortage of boy scouts and girl guides to cheer them along. I loved it.
Crackerjack is a thing of the past, so here’s the next best thing. A round-up of my LinkedIn activity in the past week. At — near enough — eight o’clock.
Ukraine will show what Europe is capable of.
If only Europe could show what Europe is capable of
“It is in Ukraine that you will see what Europe is capable of,” says Mr Zelenskyy. He’s the Ukrainian president. I am not the Ukrainian president.
If Europe were capable of what Ukraine is capable of, this war would have been won by Ukraine long, long ago.
If Ukraine were capable of what Europe is capable of, this war would have been lost on Day 1.
We speak of Ukraine as a country mired in corruption, whilst Europe’s officials are investigated — for corruption. We sully the name of Ukraine as we implicitly underpin Putin’s claims that democracy can never work. But Ukraine can mount a solid defence of its territory, even when it’s mired in corruption. Europe simply ups its trade with Russia.
Ukraine can’t do this alone, and it’s given up on turning to Russia for alliance. It turns to Europe. How much of that is because it has no other choice?
How long before Mr Putin sails down the Danube and hails Hungary as his loyal partner in crime?
#standwithukraine. Don’t just say it. Do it.
Graham Coath
interviewed songwriter Polly Paulusma this Friday. Take a look on rewatch.
It was refreshing and energetic. Just like Polly’s music is.
After the bombs
The Guardian’s indefatigable Luke Harding reported on Ukraine’s ICRC workers dressing the legs of a war-wounded schoolboy, between the dry goods and the confectionery of a supermarket. It’s as safe as anywhere.
They’re dressing his leg. They can see the leg bone.
He lives in Kherson, Ukraine, and is very young. No, he’s not. He’s lived more life experience than I did in 60 years. Putin wants to kill him. Putin doesn’t know his name. But he knows Putin’s name.
He doesn’t cry. The photographer wanted to, but needed to take that picture, so we would know.
The boy. Calm, collected, suffering; because a man 70 years his senior wants to steal his country.
This boy’ll grow up. He will know Putin’s name and he will know the names of all who come after Putin. I saw Zulu and The Charge of the Light Brigade. But I never saw bravery like this.
Mr Putin: do you want to kill him? With the end of your umbrella stick? Do you?
Because he, and millions like him will be after you. They’re writing your epitaph right now. But they’re not writing this boy’s. Not for a long time will they do that.
This boy can deal with his now.
After, he’ll be after you, Putin.
And others will come after him.
After you.
And after those who come after you.
After your bombs.
Storm Shadows over Ukraine
The most important news in the past 48 hours is the admission by UK Defence Secretary, Ben Wallace, that Storm Shadow cruise missiles have been supplied to Ukraine. These missiles have been adapted to be launched from current UA fast jets and have a range of up to 560 km or 350 miles. World media outlets often misuse the term game changer but in this case it might be appropriate.
This is not a sudden decision, it is clear that the UK has spent considerable time, energy and expertise getting these weapons operational in Ukraine. The inclusion of Storm Shadow missiles might be the final link in the plan to retake Crimea. Sevastopol and the Kerch Bridge are in range.
As a result, the remaining Black Sea fleet in Sevastopol could be forced to abandon the port and retreat back to Russia. Russian supporters who remain in Crimea will anticipate another attack on the Kerch bridge and attempt to run home. Expect an even bigger traffic jam. Most importantly, Russian Forces in Crimea can be isolated and cut off from their supply lines and escape routes. We don’t know how many missiles have been supplied. At £2 million each, they are not cheap.
Since the Russian invasion the UK government has taken a leading role in the support of Ukraine. This determination from Johnson and Sunak to defeat Putin broke down political posturing and procrastination and led some nations to quicken the pace and follow suit.
The ground work has been done, the missiles can fly on UA jets. France also holds stocks of these missiles. I hope they will follow the same path and add their weight to this crucial strategic advantage.
Robin Horsfall, a steady ex-SAS commando who writes profusely, and wisely, on the Russo-Ukrainian War (and liberated the hostages in London’s Iran Embassy crisis back when I did A-levels) tells us this great news.
Why tell them this info?
Well, what will the Russians do with it? Move the bridge out of the way? Evacuate Crimea before the only way out is through enemy territory?
At the River Kwai, it was different. Had they known William Holden’s little plan, they’d have removed the explosives — Guinness nearly did. I’d like to see them try to remove these explosives.
I don’t think it’s an enormous breach of intelligence to say “We want to blow up your bridge. And we have the means. And you don’t have the means to stop us.”
Well, of course, they do have one.
People are looking at this announcement from a military strategy viewpoint. I look at it from a humanitarian viewpoint. It says “Keep off the Kerch bridge. Or go now before the offensive starts. We don’t want to kill anyone we don’t need to. This is a war, although we’re trying to keep the deaths to a minimum. Unlike Russia.” Plus, it gives press photographers a chance to vie for position and compose their shots: ka-boom.
If Ukraine can retake Crimea, the thorniest thorn in their flesh, it will tell NATO and the EU, “You can depend on us to get jobs done.” It will tell Russia, “You thought it was David against Goliath? You’re right. And David won.”
And it will tell the world that they have little to fear from Russia, if they make the right friends. It will cause some thinking in South America and Africa.
If they can do it. Never was breath more bated.
Headroom
It’s called a double bind.
No it’s not.
There’s no double bind if you know your road signs. As a road sign maker or a road sign reader.
What the road sign maker does not feel bound by is the need to use correct signage for advance warning of a reduced headroom. That’d be the lower of the two, with, underneath, a rectangular adjunct in 100 metres (white letters on a blue ground). The sign, however, should be triangular, and not the prohibitory circular form. The signs contravene the road traffic law.
What the road sign reader does not feel bound by is the need to duck. If he reads it as “2.8 m limit, but 100 is okay,” he won’t duck. But if his height exceeds 2.8 m, he contravenes the road traffic law by even passing it, regardless of the available headroom.
In 100 metres, however, his putative contravention of the road traffic law gets compounded by having the roof of his van sliced off. And he’ll probably be liable to a ticket. For contravening the road traffic law.
This he may appeal and he may win the appeal. If so, he will win damages for his wrecked van. And then the council will put up the correct sign and stop messing everyone around. And taxpayers will foot the entire bill.
The same ones who are well aware of the sodding bridge.
Nobody’s bound here. It’s all a question of being silly.
Microsoft processing
I love my computer. But it does some odd things.
When, in recent times, I’ve opened and closed my own Word documents, never before, it’s said it’s processing. What, exactly, it doesn’t say. Word is processing. Sometimes five or ten seconds’ worth of processing.
Microsoft — that’d be one of those companies that scrapes the Internet to teach its AI, wouldn’t it?
I love me, who do you love?
Barbara Heinrich is from Erfurt, where Bach’s from. Like him, she’s great. Though, Erfurt’s Bach is worse than Barbara’s bite.
Dumped
Towards the end of 2019, I was contacted out of the blue by a translation agency I’d never heard of. Their offices are in my own town, slap, bang next to the offices of a LinkedIn contact who has been a friend for 20 years. Both their offices are next to the municipal dump.
The agency sent me a flurry of language requests, and I performed as best I could and asked them afterwards how I was. They paid the bill, everything was great. At the time, I had another job on and it started to press: it was a very large translation for a German agency and delivery was due on 4 January. It was a squeeze, if ever there was one. I spent Christmas Day from dawn to late in the night working on it. Every second counted.
The local agency sent a note on Christmas Eve. They have a rooftop garden and invited me to come down for a glass of egg nog, to celebrate the Holy Season. I explained that I was busy on another urgent matter and unfortunately could not spare the time, even to pop into a local office for drinks, but thanked them for thinking of me.
That was the last time they thought of me. A year later, I wrote to enquire whether there was anything more I could do for them. No reply. A few months after that, I wrote, a tad more aggressively, to ask, “What did I do wrong?” No reply.
If a conclusion is to be drawn from this, then it is this: always accept invites to drinks. Otherwise it could be you who ends up at the municipal dump.
Here’s an article that seems to confirm this.
Finally …
Maksym Fastovets is living the Ukraine war. He’s pretty down in the dumps about it and he has my eternal sympathy. He posted this short video.
“Where would you go if you left Russia?” a Russian comic asks his Russian audience.
“Where?”
— “Georgia.” Right, Georgia, where else?
— “Poland...” Sure, Poland—
— “... except I wouldn’t go to Poland.”
“Why not?” asks the comedian.
— “I don’t much like their attitude.”
“Attitude? What attitude?”
— “Well, they’re not very nice there.”
“Not very nice? In Poland? Who are they not nice to?”
— “To Russians.”
“They’re not nice to Russians? What? Only in Poland?”
He treads a thin line. How thin, I can’t say. But he gets laughs, and it’s no back-room snug. But when will it escalate? From theatrical banter, to toppling Putin?
Maybe when people aren’t that nice in Russia, either.
I just got home after a long a tiring day at work. I took pleasure in the diversity of topics, tones and styles in these bits of mind-scapes.