The End of the Free Lunch is Nigh

July 16, 2009

black-cab

As society vents its spleen upon itself, castigating everyone who is anyone for improper behaviour of the most venal kind, Swordplay asks: is it still possible to get a free lunch in London?

The Scene: a restaurant in the City. It is busy but the atmosphere is unusually subdued, as if those present have their minds on other things.

Enter a lawyer, a journalist and a PR. They take their seats and look at the menu.

PR: It’s so nice to get out of the office every now and then. What do you fancy?

Lawyer (brows furrowing): Are you offering to buy me lunch?

PR: Er, I hadn’t really thought so far ahead as the bill. I was just wondering what you fancied. The grilled rib-eye, perhaps? I’m told it’s rather good.

Lawyer: I might have the rib-eye, but I’d like to make it clear that you can expect no favours from me if you buy me lunch.

Journalist: Nor me.

Lawyer: We’re our own men.

Journalist: Independent, free-thinking, uninfluenced by free lunches.

Lawyer: Speaking for myself, I’m paid well enough as it is without having to accept the blandishments of PRs.

Journalist: Speak for yourself. For me it’s a matter of integrity. I like to pay my own way. If you bought me just a biscuit, to go with my coffee, there’s a danger I’d be compromised.

The PR is momentarily lost for words. However, being a good PR he is congenitally incapable of silence for more than 37 seconds. Soon, therefore, he is speaking again.

PR: It all seems a bit ridiculous. Are you really saying that if I paid for lunch you’d consider yourselves in my debt? Can’t we just enjoy a nice bite to eat without having to worry about the finer points?

At this point, as the lawyer and journalist clasp their chins and ponder, a senior BBC executive arrives.

BBC Exec: I’m sorry I’m late, I was held up by a select committee. Now then, what are we having? The steak looks good.

PR: We’re not sure yet. There’s some debate over whether this is a free lunch.

BBC Exec: Free lunches are excellent things! Trust me, I’ve been having them every day for 25 years.

Journalist: That’s exactly the problem with this country. Everyone expects a free lunch. I bet your programmes have been totally skewed in favour of those who’ve bought you lunch.

BBC Exec: The taxpayer, you mean?

Lawyer (brandishing a piece of paper): Would you please all sign this?

PR: What is it?

Lawyer: It is confirmation that, howsoever this lunch is paid for and by whosoever, its ingestion and underlying financial matrix is of no relevance to my work as a lawyer.

PR: You mean that if we sign this, you’ll accept a free lunch?

Lawyer: Yes.

Journalist: Can you draft one for me, too?

Lawyer: Yes, but it won’t be for free.

Journalist: What if I pay for lunch?

Lawyer: That would be sufficient consideration, yes.

PR: But I thought I was paying?

BBC Exec: No, I’ll pay.

Journalist: That means the taxpayer will be paying. That’s not right. I’ll pay.

Lawyer (hastily producing another document): Sign here.

As the journalist searches for a pen, a bedraggled but suited individual enters the restaurant. As she reaches the table it is clear that she is a former MP.

Former MP: Hello everyone, nice to see you again. What are we having?

PR: Not a lot, at this rate.

Former MP: I used to have a lot, when I was an MP. I had a moat and my husband could watch all the TV he wanted. Now he lives in our duck house, alone and without a television. At least it’s mortgage free though.

BBC Exec: Why don’t you order some food and take it back to him?

Former MP: I’m afraid I haven’t got any money. Would you be so kind?

Journalist: Hang on. Let’s redraft the document. I’ll pay for everyone, and we’ll say that it’s for an exclusive interview with Former MP. I need something juicy, though. What have you got?

Former MP: My husband killed one of the ducks last night.

Journalist: Excellent. How?

Former MP: He made it fill out an expenses claim form. The poor thing couldn’t cope. ‘Which bill, what bill, my bill?’ is what it said, over and over again. Its haunting cries will haunt me forever.

Journalist: Brilliant. If ever there was a story in the public interest, this is it.

Former MP: So it’s true – there is still such a thing as a free lunch?

PR: If the end justifies the means, all things are possible. Now let’s get on with some eating. I’m starving.

Five hours later the quintet stagger out of the restaurant, bloated and flushed. Our last image is of them haggling with a taxi driver, who is heard to say: “I had a free lunch in the back of the cab once. Those were the days.”

Pictured courtesy of Dr Claw’s Keeper: an empty black cab.

 

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Seven of the Best Alternative Professionals

August 30, 2010

Susan Casey’s new book, The Wave, is soon to be published. It brilliantly illumines the world of professional big wave surfing, at the same time as exploring the phenomenon of rogue waves (specifically, those which top 100ft).

Suitably inspired, we thought we’d take a look at a different kind of professionalism than is usually to be found on these pages. Those featured in our magnificent seven of alternative professionals may not wear suits for a living, still less spend their time in the boardroom, but they couldn’t do what they do if they weren’t every bit as dedicated, focused, driven and downright professional as those at the helm of a City law firm, finance house or PR company.

1. Laird Hamilton

Hamilton is the star of The Wave, and no wonder. Based on the Hawaiian island of Kauai, the man is a force of nature, a 6″3′ powerhouse who makes big wave surfing look like a walk in the park. But it isn’t. The wave known as Teahupoo, surfed by Hamilton in Tim McKenna’s picture below, is a killer. Only years of focus, training and preparation make Hamilton able to ride this wave with such aplomb.

2. Danny Way

Warning: do not watch this footage if you are afraid of heights (and squeamish). American skateboarding star Danny Way has been rebuilt more times than the bionic man. He’s also made a small fortune from a sport so often wrongly derided as ‘for kids’. Definitely not one for a suit and tie, Way nevertheless deserves respect – as much as he would appear to need a permanent personal medical staff.

3. Shane McConkey

Professional skier Shane McConkey died in March 2009 while skiing in the Dolomite Mountains in Italy. His death robbed the world of extreme sports of an athlete known for combining BASE jumping with skiing, as seen in such feats as skiing into a BASE jump off the Eiger. RIP.

4. Shaun White

There are those who say that White, snowboarder extraordinaire, has the kind of hair that is inimical to success. We say, like Forbes magazine, that if White earned $9 million from his endorsements in 2008 alone, what’s he worth now? We also say: don’t try what White does at home. Or anywhere, really.

5. DannyMacaskill

If BMX riding is jejune, does it matter? Not to Macaskill, a man who’s worth a lot of money thanks to his remarkable ability on a bike.

6. Lynn Hill

There are rock climbers, and there’s Detroit-born Lynn Hill, the woman who made the first free ascent of the infamous Nose Route on El Capitan in Yosemite Valley. Currently sponsored by the Patagonia gear and clothing company, Hill has done it all, taking phenomenal risks in the pursuit of her calling. Take a look at the intensity of her gaze: this woman would have been a genius at whatever she’d chosen to do.

7. Dallas Friday

She has the best name of any sportsperson, ever. She also looks pretty good, too, and is even better at her chosen discipline, wakeboarding. And discipline is the name of the game: as with everyone here, however outre their worlds, however extreme their sports, if they weren’t disciplined they’d not only be impoverished but also, quite possibly, dead. Respect.

Hats off to the News of the World

August 30, 2010

Fantastic sting by the News of the World, whose legendary undercover reporter, Mazher Mahmood, has pierced the heart of some disgraceful match-fixing in professional cricket. Hats off, yet again, to Mahmood, but, strangely, we feel slightly sorry for him. Will he ever be able to retire into the sun and live a normal life? Somehow we rather doubt it.

Pictured: something which is decidedly not cricket.

Judge Dread, truly dread

August 24, 2010

An Englishman’s home is his castle. This ancient tenet of English society means that when a burglar breaks into an Englishman’s home (or castle), the homeowner, or feudal Lord, is entitled to defy him. The tools of defiance are many and varied but include diplomacy (“isn’t it past your bedtime?”), wheedling (“please, my good fellow, won’t you go away?”), lies (“see that castle across the street? It’s full of gold bullion”) and weaponry (“is that a nuclear missile in my pocket, and why aren’t you terrified to see me?”).

This last, however, causes problems. When a homeowner, eager to defend his castle, shoots a burglar, all hell breaks loose. Tabloid hacks break out in sweats as they find themselves compelled to blame European laws and the politically correct for daring to wonder whether such force was necessary when, really, all that is in issue is whether shooting dead an intruder was proportionate to the perceived threat and context.

In the US, this question was recently answered in the affirmative by the excellently named Judge Carlisle Overstreet. The 65-year-old judge shot and killed an unarmed bandana-wearing burglar after the man broke into his home and started coming upstairs. According to the estimable Legal Blog Watch, the dead burglar, John Howard Jr. (who, says the Augusta Chronicle, delighted in the nickname ‘Killa’), was one of two men who broke into the judge’s house in the early hours of the morning. The other, William Omar Jacobs, turned himself in and was denied bail.

This sorry or inspirational tale begs a question. If it had happened here, would it be the first time in recorded history that a judge had killed a burglar? In fact, is this unprecedented across the pond, too? And more to the point, if anyone says the judge acted disproportionately and that he really shouldn’t be canonized, are they politically correct stooges from a morally abased, utterly bankrupt European superstate (or something like that: we confess that tabloidese eludes us)?

Pictured: a judge says “Clint Eastwood isn’t the only one who likes large handguns.” But note: she’s not Carlisle Overstreet.