Another Monday and another survey about what makes us British. Apparently, talking about the weather and queuing are our top two traits, both of which were in evidence on a visit to the Cenotaph yesterday for Remembrance Sunday. The winds coming up the Thames were bracing and there was queuing aplenty, mostly due to the security gates/metal detectors erected by the Metropolitan Police. Not sure that I enjoyed the somewhat dubious religious proclamations on the day (what with me being an atheist), but the ceremony was moving as always. I had not been for some years, so the security gates were quite a shock.

Crowds at the Cenotaph, Sunday 9 November

I think that most of the entries in the survey make it into my version, though I missed out ‘working long hours’ and ‘leaving things to the last minute’. We’re British, Innit offers readers a chance for readers to tell me what I have missed out and I have had quite a few suggestions so far, mostly pudding- or television-related ommissions.

This week sees the peak of sales in Remembrance Day poppies, with street sales and many offices and businesses having boxes of the red paper and plastic flowers on sale in reception. We are fairly unique in the way we mark the memory of our war dead in the UK, which I wrote about in We’re British, Innit. Obviously this was one of those entries that it was hard to bring any levity to.  Though I did note that it seemed only fair that World War II veterans were able to get a bit of a thrill by ignoring health and safety and pinning poppies to the clothing of attractive female buyers.

Everyone has their own reasons for wearing (or not wearing) a poppy, which became something of a political symbol in the 1980s (CND/the Falklands) and more recently (Iraq). But the poppy, for me, is not about government policy or backing wars (past or current). It is instead about marking the lives and the deaths of the thousands of working class men (and now women) sent to the front line. The money raised also helps veterans with welfare and housing, something I know about well as my mother worked at a local British Legion home until she retired.

In addition, this also allows me to mark the memory of my maternal grandfather, who fought against the fascists in World War II. He did not die fighting, but he lost his hearing and a lot of friends as a result of his time at war. Though, like so many, he barely ever spoke of his time under fire and of manning the guns. So, it galls me to read the the British National Party is encouraging its knuckle-dragging supporters to become involved in poppy sales.

Those of you who want to become a poppy seller/collector can do so by contacting the Poppy People. Though any fascists tempted should note that their side lost in 1918 and 1945 and that they should probably stay away.

A few weeks ago I went on a trip to the Isle of Wight with Martin Parr, the details of which are published in the Daily Telegraph today. The trip was run by The School of Life and was a great chance to see this concentrated slice of Britain through Parr’s eyes, as well as having a chance to meet one of Britain’s finest photographers. Parr is far more popular in Europe than he is in the UK, perhaps because the warts and all way in which he photographs people leaves us a little confused; offended even. But the Germans and the French love him for his portrayal of us Brits.

Martin Parr on Ventnor beach by Iain Aitch

With Christmas approaching fast and the credit crunch biting, readers may like to note that my book is now a rather wonderful 50% off at Amazon. So why not buy two for just £4.99 a pop and give one as a present? And then buy two more. It is Government policy to spend, spend, spend at the moment and newspapers are running campaigns to Buy British. So if you buy We’re British, Innit you will be killing two birds with one stone. And remember, the more copies you buy now the more cheap fuel you have to burn after Christmas when the price of gas goes through the roof.

In We’re British, Innit I talk a good deal about British food stuffs and the items we are likely to take on holiday with us or miss if we move overseas. The top items we cram in our suitcases include tea, Marmite, gravy powder and even Pot Noodle. But this new American business means that British expats in the US no longer have to smuggle 4 kilos of (highly explosive) custard powder through Heathrow. They also offer Golden Syrup, which is wonderfully British and a notch above that American favourite, maple syrup.

My only criticism is that they sell the traitorous HP Sauce, which is no longer made in the UK, despite still displaying the Houses of Parliament on the label.

It seems that celebrating Britishness for one day a year is no longer deemed desirable nor profitable. You may think that in these days of return to Keynsian economics that a day for the public to spend, spend, spend may be a boon to the economy, but the Government has finally admitted that the day has been dropped. One stumbling block may have been the CBI’s estimate of how much the day would ‘cost the economy’ (ie employers) rather than how much would be pumped into the economy by consumers (ie employees on a day off). Maybe they had a word with the new Business Secretary. Do the CBI do yachts?

Last month I wrote a piece for the Guardian on this topic, looking at Liam Byrne’s 27 ideas of how we might celebrate such a day. But now the plans are no longer. Though one amusing thing to come out of this farce is the revelation as to how many Daily Express readers cannot tell the difference between Britain and England, rattling on in the comments section of an article on the newspaper’s website about St George’s Day. Lovely.

NB: I have expanded on my feelings about a bank holiday for Britishness Day at Comment is Free.

Those sneaky Icelanders are fighting back against our Prime Minister’s wholly justified* use of anti-terrorism legislation to freeze the assets of that frozen-hearted nation. A campaigning new website pictures innocent-looking Icleandic folk holding up banners of denial and wearing alluring and exotic knitwear, but we all know they would have your savings as soon as look at you. And, as everyone knows, opening an internet bank with tempting interest rates is one of the most horrendous terrorist outrages since 9/11 or 7/7.

*may not actually be justified. Your home could be at risk if you have one at all.

The George Osborne saga is a great news story that probably won’t go away until Osborne gives a full and frank interview or falls on his sword, but the story is not actually the story, for me at least. The public-facing story is the portrait of the British political system that this provides: shadow front benchers sucking up to oligarchs, their best mates mostly being millionaires, the new Business Secretary hanging out in the same company (shorn of his Militant-style moustache and any socialist principles long ago), the chief Tory fundraiser being an old Oxford chum of David Cameron and 99% of those involved in the world of Westminster either having their nose in the trough (admittedly often on behalf of ‘the party’) or trying to press their snout in amongst those already feeding. Not one of them can answer a straight question with a straight answer. This is a world so far removed from the man or woman on the street that it is little wonder that election turnouts are so low.

Growing up in Margate, Kent as a working class boy I saw sleaze as the way that politics ran. The local MP, William Rees-Davies, was known among his constituents as The One-Armed Bandit, which was a delightful conflation of the fact that he did, in fact, have one arm, was representing a seaside constituency where the slot machine was king and was rumoured to like the odd backhander. One of his cohorts at Thanet District Council was Cyril Hoser, a man, if memory serves, convicted of forging everything from dollar bills to ‘O’ level certificates. As I was too opinionated and distracted at school to stay on to take my ‘A’ levels (and not rich enough to buy any of Mr Hoser’s) I attended the local college in Ramsgate. Here, my first student political action was to occupy the office of Jonathan Aitken MP. His secretary said he was not in, but as he was the man who lied and lied and lied he may well have been hiding in the broom cupboard.

Among the local populace, Thanet District Council always had a reputation somewhere below that held by the residents of the London boroughs of Hackney or Lambeth about their councils. The locals expect political promises to fade and die and for politicians to feather their nests. I have no idea of the moral state of the current administration, though Private Eye did recently describe the council as ‘supine‘ and has also commented on its activities over a recent large scale development in the area.

Anyway, a return to Tory sleaze is great news for bloggers and satirists alike. It can’t be too long before shadow ministers are telling more intricate lies or throwing themselves on prostitutes while their backbench colleagues attempt to see who can swing from the rafters while eating citrus fruits (hopefully not air freighted, as that would spoil the party’s green agenda).

It comes no surprise to 99.9% of the population that Lord Mandelson of Governmental Desperation is a bit of a tosser, so I think it is time his name became rhyming slang for being (or having) one. The up and down circled thumb and forefinger move is, of course, optional. In this case I refer not to the financial or passport scandals that saw Mandy disappear from the front bench in the past, but the fact that he may steal our new bank holiday before we even get it. Apparently, plans are afoot to abandon the Britishness Day, as the CBI say it will cost £6 billion. Plans for increased flexible working patterns and extended paid maternity leave will also be shelved. Meanwhile, MPs will get their longest Christmas break since Pitt the Younger was even younger.

But it is the abandoning of Britishness day that, naturally, annoys this blog the most. We are used to the Government hyping the same tax reforms or spending twice, or even three times. But giving with one hand and taking the same thing away with another is a new move. Of course, Government is always on the side of business (as is opposition in this case, see Cameron’s only new idea) as opposed to the general populace of employees. Mandelson is refusing to use the word ‘recession’ to describe the current mess, but then he may not notice it himself, what with his enormous pay out from the EU.

Of course, Mandelson may be too busy counting his money or privatising the Post Office (just as we are nationalising banks) to think about how an extra day of bank holiday may actually aid the economy and national morale, as spending increases on that day and tourism increases. The numbers quoted by business are nominal figures based on lost days, but, generally, work still gets done, orders still get filled and profit is still made. We have a tiny number of public holidays in the UK and as long as both major parties rely on the word of bodies like the CBI then we will never see this change.

For once, the words ‘you couldn’t make it up’ seem oddly apt, as it becomes clear that the Audit Commission, the body in charge of overseeing public value for money, has sunk £10m into Icelandic banks. They did so during the period when it was blatantly obvious to anyone waving millions around that the Bjork-based puffin-led economy’s banking system was in trouble.