Once upon a time . . . in a big city in Englandland lived four friends, Jacqui, Jenni, Jimmi and Maximilian. They\u2019d been friends since they\u2019d first met, some ten years earlier, at Lowestoft University (formerly Suffolk Fish-boners\u2019 Polytechnic). They weren\u2019t happy in the big city. For one thing, they didn\u2019t like the work they did, nor the people they worked for . . . or even the people they worked with. What they really wanted was to work for themselves and to live somewhere nice, perhaps in the country.<\/p>\n
One Friday evening, the four friends were having a candle-lit dinner in Jimmi\u2019s basement flat and, just before Jimmi opened another bottle of Lidl\u2019s famed Afghan red wine (\u2018\u00a32.99 for 3! This month only!\u2019), Jenni piped up with, \u201cDo you remember Primrose . . . was in college with us . . . real swot, got a 2\/2?\u201d The question got a mixed response, but undeterred Jenni went on, \u201cWell, she runs some charity or something, down in Wales, catering for trans-sexual trawler men. I was thinking we might do something like that.\u201d This information was greeted with a more interested response, and it was Maximilian who articulated the thoughts of the other two, \u201cSounds good, but . . . Wales!<\/i>\u201d \u201cYes\u201d, answered Jenni, \u201cIt\u2019s not that bad, honestly. Let me explain\u201d. And she went on.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou see, the way Primrose explained it to me there\u2019s oodles of money being dished out in Wales to anybody who can come up with the right idea. What you have to do is find a \u2018niche market\u2019 that no one else has thought of. Once you\u2019ve identified it, and set up your group, you apply for the grants.\u201d \u201cLike trans-sexual trawler men, you mean?\u201d interjected Jimmi. \u201cExactly\u201d, she replied, \u201cWe\u2019d be working for ourselves; and it wouldn\u2019t be like running a real business . . . y\u2019know, capitalism and all that . . . ripping people off, taking money for nothing. We\u2019d be helping people<\/i> . . . wouldn\u2019t we?\u201d The others nodded thoughtfully.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe other thing Primrose said was that Labour Party connections help. Well, Max is a member . . . and we\u2019ve all helped out in some way or another over the years. I mean, we share the values, right?\u201d Jimmi gave a half-hearted clenched fist salute before contributing, \u201cYeah, this could work. But how do we identify a niche market?\u201d There was a silence for a moment before Jacqui \u2013 who up until then had been under the table doing something \u2013 patted her hair into place and made her contribution.\u201cThere must be a list somewhere of all the groups currently being funded, so we avoid these and think up something really imaginative that\u2019s not on the list. Simples!\u201d This met with general approval, and it was decided that Jenni should make a trip to Wales to learn more from Primrose, do a little networking, and get the lie of the land.<\/p>\n
So off Jenni went to Wales. Rather than travel all the way to Pembrokeshire \u2013 where Primrose had her \u2018Mission\u2019 for sexually confused net yankers \u2013 they had decided to meet in Swansea. Primrose was waiting on the platform, excitedly waving her Andean recycled llama wool scarf as the train pulled in. They hugged and kissed effusively, attracting much attention. Then, as they gaily waltzed out of the station, they were confronted by the harsh realities of modern Wales . . . in the form of a foul-smelling beggar shouting, \u201cGis a tenner for a cuppa, you slag!\u201d They both moved quickly away from her, and as they pulled away saw many others of the same type, drinking from bottles, fighting, urinating and generally making mayhem. They jumped into the nearest taxi and sped off to an agreeable little bistro down Mumbles.<\/p>\n
Once safely ensconced at a table overlooking the bay, and waiting for their Indian filter coffee to arrive, Jenni felt safe enough to ask, \u201cWhat the hell was that all about up at the station?\u201d Primrose grimaced before explaining. \u201cWell, thing is . . . homelessness is something of a cottage industry in Swansea. The way it works, right . . . you argue that there\u2019s many homeless people in the city, so you get funding . . . then \u2013 and this is the clever bit \u2013 you make Swansea attractive to homeless people from all over the place. Bingo! More homeless equals more funding; more funding attracts more homeless; which then results in more funding. It\u2019s what we in the Third Sector call a virtuous circle.<\/p>\n
“Now a few more things to remember. First, get to know your local Labour councillors and officials. Second, make sure you put \u2018Cymru\u2019 (it means \u2018Wales\u2019) in the name of your organisation. Third, employ somebody with a Welsh accent to answer the phone, maybe give the odd interview (otherwise certain people will try to undermine the good work we\u2019re doing). Fourth, identify a disadvantaged group that didn\u2019t even realise it was a group (let alone that it was disadvantaged), then start a campaign saying how this group is losing out. Fifth, finally, and most importantly! don\u2019t ever succeed in solving the problem you\u2019re being funded to deal with. Because if you do that, the funding stops and you<\/i><\/b> join the ranks of the unemployed”.<\/p>\n
The following Friday it was dinner again at Jimmi\u2019s. Jenni explained what she\u2019d learnt in Wales and the discussion was soon in full swing. All sorts of ideas were aired for the new group \u2013 someone wondered if gay and lesbian ramblers were catered for. Or could they get funding for bar staff to get breast implants. (Or was that sexist?) Jenni reminded the others that \u2018Helping people back into employment\u2019 was a very popular area for funding, but all possible angles seemed covered: black and ethnic minorities, battered wives, east Europeans, defrocked vicars, etc. There was even a group in Cardiff getting funding to help find employment for Vietnamese waiters with speech impediments \u2013 of whom there were two! (Possibly one, if the European-looking one is in fact \u2013 as many suspect \u2013 named Evans, and comes from Brecon.) It was then that Maximilian had his moment of inspiration. \u201cWait! I\u2019ve just thought of a group not covered in all these lists we\u2019ve been looking at. How about \u2013 wait for it! \u2013 holistic car mechanics? Instead of all those spanners and stuff, we train car mechanics to repair cars holistically. What about that?\u201d The others looked nonplussed to begin with but their faces changed as they gave the idea more thought. Eventually it was enthusiastically agreed (even by Jacqui under the table). They would set up the Holistic Car Mechanics\u2019 Co-operative Cymru and unveil it after meeting with the local Labour hierarchy in Cwmscwt, with whom they had made initial contact, Cwmscwt being where they had decided to set up base camp.<\/p>\n
And lo! it came to pass. The founders of HCMCC changed trains in Cardiff and soon arrived in Cwmscwt, with its long rows of terraced houses climbing up the sides of the valley. It was raining. They looked for a taxi outside the station, but all they could see was a burnt-out car and a few supermarket trolleys in only slightly better condition. So they trudged up the hill to their guest house. After freshening up, they went down for tea. They were greeted by the proprietrix, Mrs Lucrezia Leyshon who, after scanning the signing-in book, felt confident enough to suggest, \u201cFrom away, are ew?\u201d Not entirely sure how to respond, they simply nodded. In a desperate attempt at conversation Jimmi informed Mrs Leyshon that in a couple of hours they would be in the Labour Club meeting with Councillor Josef S. Lloyd. This seemed to leave the good woman unimpressed, for after extracting another bogie, and flicking it at the cat, merely responded with, \u201cMmm . . . I yeard \u02bce was out.\u201d Unsure what to make of this remark, or indeed, what to make of the taciturn Mrs Leyshon, the group tucked in to their guinea pig and cockle pie with feigned gusto.<\/p>\n
It was still raining as they walked up the hill towards the Lord Tonypandy Memorial Labour Club. The proud banner fluttering above the building carried the inspiring motto \u2013 \u2018It\u2019s Always Somebody Else\u2019s Fault\u2019. Upon enquiring at the bar they learnt that Councillor Lloyd was waiting for them in the committee room, along with a couple of other local party officials. As the representatives of HCMCC made their way across the large bar area towards the committee room they couldn\u2019t help but feel the many eyes (some in working pairs) scrutinising them. For the lack of scar tissue and the full complements of natural teeth betrayed them as strangers, as did the four unbroken noses.<\/p>\n
They reached the door of the committee room unmolested, though not without many ribald and sexually explicit remarks being directed at the women. (Jimmi and Max certainly hoped they were directed at the women.) They knocked on the door, and were invited in. Seated at a table before them were, in the centre, a large man with a bulbous nose and a curiously shaped ear; to his right, an even larger man bearing a number of tattoos and other adornments; and on the other side, a skinny, rather gormless looking youth with a lazy eye. The man in the centre spoke: \u201cI am Councillor Lloyd; this gentleman on my right is David, our branch secretary, and this young man on my left, is Klarence . . . um, my, er (clearing his throat), sister\u2019s boy. Now then, \u02bcow can we \u02bcelp ew?\u201d<\/p>\n
The four missionaries explained their plan to use holistic car mechanics as a means of encouraging local youths to take responsibility for their lives; to lay off the drugs and the booze, to desist from thieving, impregnating the local females, and in other ways blighting society. (Though it should be said that most local youths would have thought that, far from blighting society, the activities listed were all that gave meaning to their otherwise empty lives.) All the while Councillor Lloyd nodded sagely, \u201cI loves it, I loves it! \u02bcOlistic car mechanics. Nobody\u2019s thought of that scam before . . . scheme!<\/i> I meant to say scheme. I can\u2019t see no problem\u201d the local worthy continued. \u201cSounds just the kind uh thing they loves to fund. We\u2019ll be ‘appy to join ewer organisation\u201d. The four were not sure how to take this last remark, so it fell to Maximilian to ask, \u201cHow do you mean, \u2018join<\/i>\u2019? What exactly will you be doing in our organisation?\u201d Before Maximilian could continue Councillor Lloyd was on his feet . . .<\/p>\n
After a pause that took in a quizzical, even pitying look at the putative Board of HCMCC, he continued: \u201cEw don\u2019 understand \u02bcow it works, do ew? Le\u2019 me spell it out. Ew people comes \u02bcere lookin\u2019 to get ew \u02bcands on funding. Fair enough! We controls the fundin\u2019. People like me puts in a good word, ew gets ew fundin\u2019. In return, ew shows ew gratitude by puttin\u2019 me on the books . . . and Dai by here, and Klarence. Ew scratches our backs, we scratches ewers. Tidy!\u201d Slowly it dawned on our four ing\u00e9nues that they were lumbered with Josef Stalin Lloyd, his minder, and his nephew. (Klarence was by now making Jacqui slightly uneasy. He was staring at her and drooling but she couldn\u2019t be sure if he was also winking because of the eye.)<\/p>\n
And so it came to pass that the Holistic Car Mechanics Co-operative Cymru received \u00a32.3 million in EU Structural Funds and \u2013 because it was such an \u201cimaginative scheme” (local Labour AM) and a worthwhile idea \u2013 another \u00a3750,000 from one of the Welsh Government\u2019s own funds. Councillor Lloyd was paid a fee for \u2018advisory services\u2019, but these \u2018on book\u2019 figures made no mention of the other payments. And the expenses claims were things of great imagination and no little literary merit. (As the auditors confirmed in the unpublished codicil to their report.) Josef Stalin Lloyd went on to become Leader of the local authority, a position from which he was able to provide for both his henchman and his simple-minded kinsman.<\/p>\n
No cars were holistically repaired. No local youths were ever trained to perform this miracle. Jenni became a local Labour councillor. Jacqui had a breakdown, but recovered enough to \u2018pull down\u2019 more grants for her Indonesian Massage treatment for Tourette\u2019s Syndrome, a \u2018technique\u2019 she had picked up while a guest at Doctor McLoony\u2019s Retreat in Aberdeenshire. Jimmi took to the bottle and eventually went to live with a Chinese herbalist in Trimsaran. Only Maximilian ever made it back to Englandland. He had thought of writing a book about their experiences in Wales, but soon realised no one would believe it.<\/p>\n
No matter; for a great purpose was served. The Holistic Car Mechanics Co-operative Cymru, and countless similar ‘projects’, allow civil servants in Cardiff to report to civil servants in Brussels that over one billion pounds of EU funding has been well spent, with remarkable \u2018outcomes\u2019. The wheel will turn and more funding will arrive. To be spent in exactly the same way. So keep voting Labour. Keep sending the message to those wicked Tories up in Lundun. We don\u2019t want their type down by ‘ere. For Labour is more than capable of wrecking Wales on its own.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
Once upon a time . . . in a big city in Englandland lived four friends, Jacqui, Jenni, Jimmi and Maximilian. They\u2019d been friends since they\u2019d first met, some ten years earlier, at Lowestoft University (formerly Suffolk Fish-boners\u2019 Polytechnic). They weren\u2019t happy in the big city. For one thing, they didn\u2019t like the work they … <\/p>\n