Kafka would be proud...

When, as a society, did style become more important than substance? In the social care sector, this is most certainly the case. The government body, Supporting People, which oversees the commissioning and monitoring of services has become obsessed with "performance indicators", "outcomes", "support plans", "reviews" and so on. Ostensibly, of course, this creates accountability, which ostensibly leads to better services.

The theory goes something like this:
Workers provide support services to people with mental health problems, older people, homeless people and so on. For years, services have been commissioned based on the need. Our government has seen little evidence that these services are doing a good job.

What is the job? Well, on an average day, it means helping a person to fill out a form, go to pay their rent, phoning up the Jobcentre to find out what has happened to their benefits, or just sharing a joke with them. It might mean something as mundane as booking an early visit so they get out of bed in time for a job interview or it might mean something more drastic, like getting them to see a solicitor before they make themselves homeless.

That's all well and good, say Supporting People, but we need to show that the services are doing a good job. We need to measure it. Ok, yep, I'm all for accountability. Why don't you phone up or visit my clients and find out? They'll tell you, especially if you phone or visit them at random.

They don't do that, though. Instead, they look at files, check everything is up to date and score according to policies in place, quality of paperwork, regularity of said paperwork etc etc.
So, the paperwork becomes the thing. If you want to win the next contract, cut costs (also known as employing monkeys and paying them peanuts), train them to churn out the paperwork and... bingo! You've,er, won the contract. Well done. The fact that your monkeys may spend about 25% of their time doing paperwork for its own sake doesn't matter, because the paperwork is the thing. Are people not being seen?

Are they lonely and frustrated because they haven't seen their worker? Would they like them to visit and just help them with a couple of forms? Well, I'm sorry, the reviews need doing. What's the priority, applying for charity money, getting you on to a course or making sure the paperwork looks right? Well, one means I keep my job and the other means you'll get your forms done more quickly. Great, isn't it?

The nuttiness of the big eating squirrel

Dear blog,

You will have noticed that there is little rhyme or reason to the topics, or indeed to the mood in which I write. Today's blog comes to you with some inspiration from the great Mr Ozzy Osbourne, to whose music I am currently listening.

Anyway, squirrels (or squizzers, as they are known in the Gomezcat household). In the nice, suburban part of London which I call home, are some of the world's most pampered. They are the sort who would demand appearance fees if there were a documentary called, "When Squirrels Attack".
"Dahling, you were so vicious"
"Mwa, so were you dahling. Mwa"
"Oh, sooper dahling. YOU! NUTS! NOW, GODDAMIT!"
"Dahling, one can't get the humans these days".

I digress. The Kelsey Park squirrels are more demanding than the Royal Family or Janet Jackson (allegedly). They eat nuts, but not common or garden cheap supermarket own brand. For Their Squizzernesses, only Hazelnuts (organic, thank you) or Walnuts ("tsssk, I suppose") will do. It is with some trepidation that Miss Gomezcat and I enter their domain. It is as if we had asked for an audience with His Holiness.

"And you are?"
"A servant wishing to serve you, o cute one"
"I see. May I inspect the merchandise? Receipt, please"
"(Blush)"
"And these are from Sainsbury's... I see"
"Any chance of a photo, Your Squizzerness?"
"Erm, not with those dastardly pigeons in shot. SHOO!"

And on. And on....
Some of the critters are here. I include a picture of zombie squirrel. You approach evil-eyed zombie squirrel at your own peril. His comrades can be found here.

More nonsense to follow later in the week.

On politeness and punishment.

My first foray into the blogosphere will be something of a rant. If successful, I will rant again... and again.

I have two current beefs. One is the lack of politeness in society. Is it asking too much of one's fellow human beings that they say "please" and "thank you" to shop assistants, bus drivers, waiters, people who hold doors open and people who let others out into traffic? Have we really become a nation of such self-important, time-poor, narcissists that we consider "please" and "thank you" to be beneath us?

I have lost count of the number of people who would rather push past others, than say "excuse me". Have we become so paranoid that we believe that "excuse me" will bring out "manner rage" in others? Will they pull out their Uzis, flick knives, dirty bombs or weapons that they are hiding on behalf of the Iranian regime to blow us away?

"You infidel motherf***er! How dare you say 'excuse me' to me? Do you know who I am? Huh? Well, eat weapons grade plutonium, you over mannered ****".
Oh, and another thing while we are at it. I DON'T WANT TO LISTEN TO YOUR MOBILE PHONE CONVERSATION. EVER. UNLESS IT'S A 999 CALL AND I CAN USE IT AS A TOPIC OF DINNER CHIT CHAT.

On a more positive note, nice people really make my day. I always remember those people who hold doors open or say, "after you" when it comes to getting on the train. It makes my day a little more bearable.

The other beef I have is violence and aggression. Why do we as a society put up with it and then spend far too much money on jailing aggressive people, whilst the rest of us work until February (or something) to pay for them? I'm not advocating the death penalty, as one innocent person is one too many. However, what about placing the long-term, persisently violent offenders on a large island somewhere? We drop basic resources into them, let them receive letters and do what they want to each other on the island. They can become lords of their fiefdom and get out their latent anger on one another. Perhaps we could call it Celebrity Death Island and get a weapons manufacturer to sponsor it.

Just for the record, I would add persistent tailgaters and rude people to the island. Why just keep it for the mainly underclass criminals when we can throw in all the aggressive sales people, bullying managers and other assorted arseholes?