In the past I espied a sign on the side of a house, "Ancient Lights", it read. Puzzled, I asked around (long before Google) and was told it was to denote the ancient "right to light" accorded to those who enjoyed continuous natural light through a window for 20 years. I now hear that this right is under threat from a government whose intent is to make it easier to build and disregard the wishes of neighbours who may object. The right to light is currently enshrined in law and can effectively kill off a planning application for a building which is likely to occult the adjacent one.
The law of Ancient Lights goes back to the Prescription Act of 1832 and relates to protections in place, should the said light have been enjoyed for a period of 20 years or more.
I can imagine that this was rather a crucial piece of legislation, for, as a wiseacre once said, if you have to have a law there is a problem. (For example, the law against sex with a porcupine, allegedly, in Florida)
Go back to the 1830s and you might easily imagine that the need for natural light was a matter of survival. If you were dependent on light to do your work, for example watch making and repairing or needlework, then I suspect that the removal of such light, due to the encroachment of another building, might be taken as very serious indeed.
So how about now? Surely there is no such fundamental need. We can have as much light as we need at the flick of a switch, even if the EU has decided it should be dim and inoffensive.
Well, I don't know about you, but I need natural daylight as sure as I need air and water.
******
Today I walked in the sunshine, alongside the river that runs by the bottom of my garden. I am lucky to be free to do this.
Monday, 18 February 2013
Saturday, 2 February 2013
Television doesn't get much better than this..
I have been watching House of Cards on Netflix. Three episodes, perhaps enough to know where it's going and whether it is worth another look. And, oh boy, it is worth another look.
And as if political drama is the new black, there's Borgen as well.
But first, how about this phenomena? How about the idea that a streaming movie website has commissioned a first-rate drama, with the best writers, actors and director? Apparently, Netflix have spent $100 million dollars on the series. This must be an enormous punt for a company which hitherto has relied on being a mere platform for, let's face it, not all the best movies.
As loss-leaders go, this is one of the better ones. How else can you describe something that has pursuaded me (me of all people) to sign up for an entertainment package? All I can guess is that they have done their market research. They have gone for the older audience, and an older audience with a brain. That in itself is enough to give me hope for the future of digital media.
As for terrestrial channels and traditional television, well, I have to say again that I have not had a Television for over ten years and do not intend to. Neither do I wish to support an organization - the British Broadcasting Corporation - which is not only bankrupt of ideas but appears to have become a job creation scheme for Marxists and perverts.
From time to time people call for the abolition of the TV license. Well, if things carry on the way they have been doing, the BBC will become obsolete by its own hand. On Friday night, the way we watch television changed forever.
******
For those of you who saw the original series of "House of Cards" with the incomparable Ian Richardson as Francis Urquhart, the new Netflix production, with Kevin Spacey will be something of a delight. It is as if FU is a sort of Dr Who, someone who can metamorphose into a new character who, whist referencing the past is wholly and utterly novel. This is Francis Underwood - Southern style. Of course, it references West Wing - it has to - but in that kind of inter-textual way that all great art references other great art. The writers understand us as an audience, meaning that they take us as former West Wing fans and begin by showing us the darker side to places where the saintly Jed Bartlett never went. It is, nevertheless, the same Washington with the same limos and the same muted lighting. Refreshingly there are few visual tricks or tedius corridor tracking shots. The only innovation, if you can call it one, is the clever way they allow us to see the text messages. (I am sure it has been done somewhere else, but I don't know where.)
Is Kevin Spacey convincing? He is worse than convincing, he is likable. You know he is being a despicable shit but you cannot help but admire the way he does it. Maybe some of the plot lines stretch believability; episode three hangs on a particularly implausible premise, but perhaps it was something lost in translation. As for the direction, there was a little bit of business near the end of episode three concerning white tulips and the bodyguard that demonstrates the economy and artistry with which the writers and the directors are not spoon-feeding us, but allowing the viewer to do the work. We are being treated as grown ups, and that is as it should be. This series is a hit. It is the best thing since The West Wing and for all I know, it will surpass it.
Talking of Ian Richardson, I have just finished watching the original TV version of Tinker Tailor, followed by Smiley's People, followed by A Perfect Spy. Despite the very very good recent movie remake, Alex Guinness is the only genuine article. Those productions still stand the test of time and it is so sad that nothing on terrestrial British TV has come close to them since.
And as if political drama is the new black, there's Borgen as well.
But first, how about this phenomena? How about the idea that a streaming movie website has commissioned a first-rate drama, with the best writers, actors and director? Apparently, Netflix have spent $100 million dollars on the series. This must be an enormous punt for a company which hitherto has relied on being a mere platform for, let's face it, not all the best movies.
As loss-leaders go, this is one of the better ones. How else can you describe something that has pursuaded me (me of all people) to sign up for an entertainment package? All I can guess is that they have done their market research. They have gone for the older audience, and an older audience with a brain. That in itself is enough to give me hope for the future of digital media.
As for terrestrial channels and traditional television, well, I have to say again that I have not had a Television for over ten years and do not intend to. Neither do I wish to support an organization - the British Broadcasting Corporation - which is not only bankrupt of ideas but appears to have become a job creation scheme for Marxists and perverts.
From time to time people call for the abolition of the TV license. Well, if things carry on the way they have been doing, the BBC will become obsolete by its own hand. On Friday night, the way we watch television changed forever.
******
For those of you who saw the original series of "House of Cards" with the incomparable Ian Richardson as Francis Urquhart, the new Netflix production, with Kevin Spacey will be something of a delight. It is as if FU is a sort of Dr Who, someone who can metamorphose into a new character who, whist referencing the past is wholly and utterly novel. This is Francis Underwood - Southern style. Of course, it references West Wing - it has to - but in that kind of inter-textual way that all great art references other great art. The writers understand us as an audience, meaning that they take us as former West Wing fans and begin by showing us the darker side to places where the saintly Jed Bartlett never went. It is, nevertheless, the same Washington with the same limos and the same muted lighting. Refreshingly there are few visual tricks or tedius corridor tracking shots. The only innovation, if you can call it one, is the clever way they allow us to see the text messages. (I am sure it has been done somewhere else, but I don't know where.)
Is Kevin Spacey convincing? He is worse than convincing, he is likable. You know he is being a despicable shit but you cannot help but admire the way he does it. Maybe some of the plot lines stretch believability; episode three hangs on a particularly implausible premise, but perhaps it was something lost in translation. As for the direction, there was a little bit of business near the end of episode three concerning white tulips and the bodyguard that demonstrates the economy and artistry with which the writers and the directors are not spoon-feeding us, but allowing the viewer to do the work. We are being treated as grown ups, and that is as it should be. This series is a hit. It is the best thing since The West Wing and for all I know, it will surpass it.
Talking of Ian Richardson, I have just finished watching the original TV version of Tinker Tailor, followed by Smiley's People, followed by A Perfect Spy. Despite the very very good recent movie remake, Alex Guinness is the only genuine article. Those productions still stand the test of time and it is so sad that nothing on terrestrial British TV has come close to them since.
Sunday, 20 January 2013
That's what I want
What do the rich have that is not always in reach of those less well off?
The above are in no particular order but I will deal with them one by one. Alan Whicker once said, when asked about his career choices, "You have to have fuck off money". And that is the essence of choice; you can always walk away. If you cannot walk away then you cannot be said to have a choice. Of course, money is not the only conduit of choice, but more about that later.
Mobility in terms of wealth, means that you can travel at will and live anywhere at will. Most of us, including me, are economic migrants. For various reasons we end up living where the work is, not where we want to live. The rich are almost homeless in this respect because they may have at any one time a raft of temporary and permanent abodes, none of which are "home" in the sense that most understand it.
Freedom, as Janis Joplin once sang, can merely be "another word for nothing left to lose" but for the wealthy it means freedom to change, freedom to make mistakes, freedom to choose and occasionally, freedom from the many petty rules and laws that most of us must abide by.
I believe that the gap between rich and poor can be lessened by stealth and ingenuity. I have not met many very rich people but I have known several multi-millionaires and spent time with them. What they seem to have in common is an incredible lack of basic skills. By that I mean, being able to drive a car or being able to plan a simple journey or to cook some food. Whilst they may be above average in a certain sphere the rest of their world is that of childish naivety. They often have no idea of the cost of things and they may have a very tenuous grip on the reality of daily life.
I think what I am saying here is that in my experience, the rich waste their wealth. It does not matter if they by a Ferrari on a whim. If they get fed up with it they can trade it in for another one and not count the cost of depreciation. If they book a disastrous holiday they can simply walk away if the hotel or the resort isn't to their liking. I know some people whose house, a quite modest one, is valued at around £4 million and it is filled with the kind of furniture you find in museums. They live in constant fear of theft and they live in only two or three rooms of the rambling, many-roomed house. The insurance must be phenomenal and they have spent thousands on burglar alarms. Years ago I spent the summer at what was once a typical minor stately home. It had been closed to the public and brought back into private ownership. The new owner had inherited it but really could not make up his mind what to do with it. He played at being Lord of the Manor for a few years and eventually ran off with the daily maid. I think it became a school but I have no idea what it is now. A similar thing happened with a similar house only a few miles away. The owner tried a series of silly half-baked ventures, having inherited the place. The grand plans came to nothing and in descending into a downward spiral of debt, he sold up.
Of course, not all wealthy people are as feckless and as clueless as this, but if you have never had to plan your meals each week according to a budget, or bought a car for a couple of grand that was going to have to last you for sometime, you may not be in the habit of thinking about consequences or indeed, thinking at all. For there is one thing that rich people seem to expect and apparently always get, and that is utter agreement with everything they say.
- Choice
- Mobility
- Freedom
- Power
The above are in no particular order but I will deal with them one by one. Alan Whicker once said, when asked about his career choices, "You have to have fuck off money". And that is the essence of choice; you can always walk away. If you cannot walk away then you cannot be said to have a choice. Of course, money is not the only conduit of choice, but more about that later.
Mobility in terms of wealth, means that you can travel at will and live anywhere at will. Most of us, including me, are economic migrants. For various reasons we end up living where the work is, not where we want to live. The rich are almost homeless in this respect because they may have at any one time a raft of temporary and permanent abodes, none of which are "home" in the sense that most understand it.
Freedom, as Janis Joplin once sang, can merely be "another word for nothing left to lose" but for the wealthy it means freedom to change, freedom to make mistakes, freedom to choose and occasionally, freedom from the many petty rules and laws that most of us must abide by.
I believe that the gap between rich and poor can be lessened by stealth and ingenuity. I have not met many very rich people but I have known several multi-millionaires and spent time with them. What they seem to have in common is an incredible lack of basic skills. By that I mean, being able to drive a car or being able to plan a simple journey or to cook some food. Whilst they may be above average in a certain sphere the rest of their world is that of childish naivety. They often have no idea of the cost of things and they may have a very tenuous grip on the reality of daily life.
I think what I am saying here is that in my experience, the rich waste their wealth. It does not matter if they by a Ferrari on a whim. If they get fed up with it they can trade it in for another one and not count the cost of depreciation. If they book a disastrous holiday they can simply walk away if the hotel or the resort isn't to their liking. I know some people whose house, a quite modest one, is valued at around £4 million and it is filled with the kind of furniture you find in museums. They live in constant fear of theft and they live in only two or three rooms of the rambling, many-roomed house. The insurance must be phenomenal and they have spent thousands on burglar alarms. Years ago I spent the summer at what was once a typical minor stately home. It had been closed to the public and brought back into private ownership. The new owner had inherited it but really could not make up his mind what to do with it. He played at being Lord of the Manor for a few years and eventually ran off with the daily maid. I think it became a school but I have no idea what it is now. A similar thing happened with a similar house only a few miles away. The owner tried a series of silly half-baked ventures, having inherited the place. The grand plans came to nothing and in descending into a downward spiral of debt, he sold up.
Of course, not all wealthy people are as feckless and as clueless as this, but if you have never had to plan your meals each week according to a budget, or bought a car for a couple of grand that was going to have to last you for sometime, you may not be in the habit of thinking about consequences or indeed, thinking at all. For there is one thing that rich people seem to expect and apparently always get, and that is utter agreement with everything they say.
Friday, 18 January 2013
He does it right
I was of course saddened by the news that Wilko Johnson has terminal cancer, but heartened to hear that he is going to play a handful of euphemistically titled "farewell" dates. The Daily Telegraph has wrongly (I think) reported that he is going to play these concerts with "former band" Dr Feelgood. I doubt it. Wilko has a perfectly good backing band of his own and apart from a band that tours under that name, "Dr Feelgood" does not exist. At least not in any meaningful sense. The members of this "Dr Feelgood" band have little or no connection with the original members and apart from Lee Brilleaux, none of them ever played with a founder member. They are not even original replacements of original members; indeed the guitarist is the fifth incarnation of the role originally held by Wilco Johnson.
Does this matter? I mean, does it matter that bands tour as a shadow of their former selves? After all, nobody reckons the Berlin Philharmonic has gone down hill since Von Karajan left. Or maybe they do. Its probably a false comparison because the Berlin Phil don't even write their own material and nobody can tell you the name of their original first violin player, let alone their current conductor, without looking it up.
Remember "Three Wheels on my Wagon"? The New Christy Minstrels, a staple of Children's Favourites and a blatantly commercial folk outfit had a hit with it in 1962. Gene Clark was in it, he of the Byrds. David Crosby wrote about The New Christy Minstrels in the first volume of his autobiography. I am quoting from memory but the gist is that, when the NCMs became well known, their manager found that he was overbooked and so he hit on the idea of touring several versions of The New Christy Minstrels at the same time, since nobody had any real idea who was in it. I suppose the moral of this story is that anybody can sing, "Three Wheels on my Wagon", but only Crosby can sing "Almost Cut my Hair". (And quite deliberately, nobody can tour as "Crosby, Stills & Nash" apart from CSN themselves - a deliberate factor in the choosing of their stage name)
Strangely, Wilko does the vocals when he plays these days. He murders "Roxette" and "She Does it Right" and sounds nothing like Lee Brilleaux. But hey. Who cares? Its Wilko; mad, strutting, guitar-gunning Wilko and he will always be the heart and soul of a sound that went a long way beyond the Thames Delta.
Does this matter? I mean, does it matter that bands tour as a shadow of their former selves? After all, nobody reckons the Berlin Philharmonic has gone down hill since Von Karajan left. Or maybe they do. Its probably a false comparison because the Berlin Phil don't even write their own material and nobody can tell you the name of their original first violin player, let alone their current conductor, without looking it up.
Remember "Three Wheels on my Wagon"? The New Christy Minstrels, a staple of Children's Favourites and a blatantly commercial folk outfit had a hit with it in 1962. Gene Clark was in it, he of the Byrds. David Crosby wrote about The New Christy Minstrels in the first volume of his autobiography. I am quoting from memory but the gist is that, when the NCMs became well known, their manager found that he was overbooked and so he hit on the idea of touring several versions of The New Christy Minstrels at the same time, since nobody had any real idea who was in it. I suppose the moral of this story is that anybody can sing, "Three Wheels on my Wagon", but only Crosby can sing "Almost Cut my Hair". (And quite deliberately, nobody can tour as "Crosby, Stills & Nash" apart from CSN themselves - a deliberate factor in the choosing of their stage name)
Strangely, Wilko does the vocals when he plays these days. He murders "Roxette" and "She Does it Right" and sounds nothing like Lee Brilleaux. But hey. Who cares? Its Wilko; mad, strutting, guitar-gunning Wilko and he will always be the heart and soul of a sound that went a long way beyond the Thames Delta.
Tuesday, 15 January 2013
To give up enthusiasm wrinkles the soul
When I started this incarnation of Wrinkled Weasel I deliberately went a bit anti SEO (search engine optimization). I wanted something stripped down and easy to read on little phones. I hope that is the case. However, I still find that the old blog still gets more hits than this one. That is partly to do with the number of posts and topics and also to do with things like photos and videos and music.
People do read this, but not many. I wonder if I should worry? I suppose my main concern is the amount of time and effort I put into the posts. (Yes, it doesn't always show, does it?) Having said that, I discern that the readers, the regular readers, are probably the kind of people I would like to meet in real life - not just those who are searching for nude photos of Lady Diana. (There goes the SEO!)
This year for me and mine is, or should be, something of a watershed, a point of self-actualisation. I have finally acknowledged to myself that this is where I live (Scotland) and this is where I expect to die. In a few weeks I shall be moving to what I also expect will be "my final resting place" as I call it; a small hamlet in the Scottish Borders.
I mention this because I see in myself, and some of my friends, a tacit acceptance of the way that this road along which I travel is running out. This is not to be maudlin or to capitulate. Not at all. I actually feel rather free now that the ordinary things of life; having a family, where you live, what you do, have all mostly been sorted out.
I can wake up in the morning and say to myself, "what shall I do today?" And that, dear reader, is possibly an even greater challenge than what has gone before.
As Sophocles said: "A man growing old is like a child again". How very true
People do read this, but not many. I wonder if I should worry? I suppose my main concern is the amount of time and effort I put into the posts. (Yes, it doesn't always show, does it?) Having said that, I discern that the readers, the regular readers, are probably the kind of people I would like to meet in real life - not just those who are searching for nude photos of Lady Diana. (There goes the SEO!)
This year for me and mine is, or should be, something of a watershed, a point of self-actualisation. I have finally acknowledged to myself that this is where I live (Scotland) and this is where I expect to die. In a few weeks I shall be moving to what I also expect will be "my final resting place" as I call it; a small hamlet in the Scottish Borders.
I mention this because I see in myself, and some of my friends, a tacit acceptance of the way that this road along which I travel is running out. This is not to be maudlin or to capitulate. Not at all. I actually feel rather free now that the ordinary things of life; having a family, where you live, what you do, have all mostly been sorted out.
I can wake up in the morning and say to myself, "what shall I do today?" And that, dear reader, is possibly an even greater challenge than what has gone before.
As Sophocles said: "A man growing old is like a child again". How very true
Monday, 14 January 2013
The vanished green to mourn
It does not take a rocket scientist to see why Jessops, the camera store and HMV, the music store have both gone to the wall. These once mighty high-street giants have gone into administration and of course the reason is the technology revolution.
I sometimes wonder if our revolution felt the same as the industrial revolution which took place in the second half of the 18th Century, along with the Acts of Enclosure that changed the landscape forever.
Whilst cottage industry, rural dwellers were made to leave (as economic migrants) their quiet villages and set up home in the big cities, their old haunts and their way of self-sufficiency was being taken from them with the removal of common land and the important rights of use that went along with it.
Of course, the erstwhile life was a subsistence life. Even today, with all the advantages of 21st century husbandry a Scottish crofter can be not much more prosperous than Jethro Tull, and must mostly seek other forms of income in order to survive.
Cottage industry has returned as a result of our revolution, but it is more a function of our economy than of lifestyle choice. We can simply have more of what we want because in relative terms, our disposable income is considerable. The choices are legion and our way of life has become a confusing search for the best holiday on Trip Advisor or the best Tablet on Cnet. The jumper that Sophie Grabol wears in The Killing was originally hand-knitted in the Faroe Isles and for all I know, still is, but the company that sells it, Gudrun and Gudrun is now a world-wide enterprise. It's an example of some incredible changes in the way one person with a pair of knitting needles has effectively tapped into a global market.
What are the lessons to be learned from the demise of shops such as Jessops and HMV? Well, obviously, don't invest in a product that is vulnerable to technological advance on the scale we are experiencing at the moment. In a way, these stores are like the music hall acts who toured the same 20 minute spot for their whole careers, or at least a few seasons, doing the same jokes or tricks or whatever. In the old days, you went into the hardware store and bought a toaster. Or you ordered a telephone from BT. Or you bought your knickers from Marks and Spencer. In those days, you got toasters made by Morphy Richards and the phone was the same phone everyone had because only BT let you have one.
Strangely, only Marks and Spencer seem to have hung on to the knicker monopoly and perhaps that is why you might still see them, in one shape or form, for some years to come.
As for the future, it may well find a clue in the past since the technology revolution has torn down the fences and monopolies of old, perhaps signalling the beginning of a return to some of the better aspects of the old ways of life;
I sometimes wonder if our revolution felt the same as the industrial revolution which took place in the second half of the 18th Century, along with the Acts of Enclosure that changed the landscape forever.
Whilst cottage industry, rural dwellers were made to leave (as economic migrants) their quiet villages and set up home in the big cities, their old haunts and their way of self-sufficiency was being taken from them with the removal of common land and the important rights of use that went along with it.
Of course, the erstwhile life was a subsistence life. Even today, with all the advantages of 21st century husbandry a Scottish crofter can be not much more prosperous than Jethro Tull, and must mostly seek other forms of income in order to survive.
Cottage industry has returned as a result of our revolution, but it is more a function of our economy than of lifestyle choice. We can simply have more of what we want because in relative terms, our disposable income is considerable. The choices are legion and our way of life has become a confusing search for the best holiday on Trip Advisor or the best Tablet on Cnet. The jumper that Sophie Grabol wears in The Killing was originally hand-knitted in the Faroe Isles and for all I know, still is, but the company that sells it, Gudrun and Gudrun is now a world-wide enterprise. It's an example of some incredible changes in the way one person with a pair of knitting needles has effectively tapped into a global market.
What are the lessons to be learned from the demise of shops such as Jessops and HMV? Well, obviously, don't invest in a product that is vulnerable to technological advance on the scale we are experiencing at the moment. In a way, these stores are like the music hall acts who toured the same 20 minute spot for their whole careers, or at least a few seasons, doing the same jokes or tricks or whatever. In the old days, you went into the hardware store and bought a toaster. Or you ordered a telephone from BT. Or you bought your knickers from Marks and Spencer. In those days, you got toasters made by Morphy Richards and the phone was the same phone everyone had because only BT let you have one.
Strangely, only Marks and Spencer seem to have hung on to the knicker monopoly and perhaps that is why you might still see them, in one shape or form, for some years to come.
As for the future, it may well find a clue in the past since the technology revolution has torn down the fences and monopolies of old, perhaps signalling the beginning of a return to some of the better aspects of the old ways of life;
Now this sweet vision of my boyish hoursJohn Clare.
Free as spring clouds and wild as summer flowers
Is faded all - a hope that blossomed free,
And hath been once, no more shall ever be
Inclosure came and trampled on the grave
Of labour's rights and left the poor a slave
And memory's pride ere want to wealth did bow
Is both the shadow and the substance now
The sheep and cows were free to range as then
Where change might prompt nor felt the bonds of men
Cows went and came, with evening morn and night,
To the wild pasture as their common right
And sheep, unfolded with the rising sun
Heard the swains shout and felt their freedom won
Thursday, 10 January 2013
Yer acksual mull ee cull sheral Bri'ann
News today that Birmingham, Luton and Leicester no longer have a majority white population may have sown fear in the hearts of Daily Mail readers, but not me.
Ever been to these places? Ever thought, "Oh, Luton is such a paradigm of picturesque tranquility, a joy to behold and just the place to see out the winter of my years"?
No. I thought not. The fact is, in places like Bristol, which boasts something in the region of 25,000 failed asylum seekers, is and always was and always will be a shit hole. Of course, it is their own fault. Bristol council is full of credulous lefty idiots and their MPs are just as bad. I know, I lived there for 15 years, right next to the road where the animal rights nutters exploded a car bomb and injured a baby. It all thrives there and Bristol people deserve what they get. Somehow, the council tends to regard all these people as heroic and people being people, the City is a magnet for all those types you would really want to avoid.
But back to the Daily Mail and the fear. Or, if you are a leftie, the Phobia.
The time will come of course when the sheer weight of numbers begins to undermine democracy. But thankfully it will be severely limited to the kind of places that most people will avoid.
I used to think that demographic inevitability would undermine our democracy and to some extent it will, but in the end, if people who refuse to become British take over Birmingham, Luton and Leicester (and that by no means means all non-white citizens) they will always remain a minority by virtue of our First Past the Post voting system. Thank God.
Ever been to these places? Ever thought, "Oh, Luton is such a paradigm of picturesque tranquility, a joy to behold and just the place to see out the winter of my years"?
No. I thought not. The fact is, in places like Bristol, which boasts something in the region of 25,000 failed asylum seekers, is and always was and always will be a shit hole. Of course, it is their own fault. Bristol council is full of credulous lefty idiots and their MPs are just as bad. I know, I lived there for 15 years, right next to the road where the animal rights nutters exploded a car bomb and injured a baby. It all thrives there and Bristol people deserve what they get. Somehow, the council tends to regard all these people as heroic and people being people, the City is a magnet for all those types you would really want to avoid.
But back to the Daily Mail and the fear. Or, if you are a leftie, the Phobia.
The time will come of course when the sheer weight of numbers begins to undermine democracy. But thankfully it will be severely limited to the kind of places that most people will avoid.
I used to think that demographic inevitability would undermine our democracy and to some extent it will, but in the end, if people who refuse to become British take over Birmingham, Luton and Leicester (and that by no means means all non-white citizens) they will always remain a minority by virtue of our First Past the Post voting system. Thank God.
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