Skip to main content

Smog? Really (Checks calendar, checks atlas)?

Living as I do in the drizzly north west of this sceptred isle, the recent bout of air pollution hasn't directly affected me, at least, not in the lung-burning, stroke-inducing, A&E admission rapidly rising sense. It has, however caused me no end of head scratching.

You see, the thing I can't get over is that heavy air pollution, of the put-people-in-hospital type is being reported as though it were just one of those things. Best to stop indoors chaps, air quality's lousy. Saharan dust eh? Nowhere have I seen anyone going "hang on. Air pollution? Are you having a fucking giraffe? I just checked a calendar, it's not the 1950s, I just checked an atlas, it's not one of those bits of Russia that they leave blank so the capital imperialist running dogs don't know that's where all the refineries and petrochemical plants are. Air pollution? Who fucked up?"

Where's the sense of outrage? The air is literally not fit to breathe. Whose fault is this? What can be done about it? Why is nobody even asking these questions?

In Paris, when air pollution levels rise, the government places restrictions on private transport, effectively shutting areas of the city down in order to help the air clear. In China factories are closed to avoid adding to the problem until the situation abates. In Britain, BoJo tells you to stop indoors if you're asthmatic.

This isn't good enough, air pollution levels are not a natural phenomenon, and HM Government's total inaction on it effectively says that as far as they're concerned the actions of polluters are of far more worth than the health of the general public. The cost to the NHS is incalculable (asthma alone costs a billion a year, in addition to the 3.8 billion cost in lost productivity. HMG's own figures, fact fans), and heaven help the Govt that tells people that maybe they could, y'know, walk.

It seems as though something which should have been fought for tooth and nail, air that's fit to breathe, is a right that's been ceded without a murmur, and for the life of me I can't find a single compelling reason why.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

To all intents and purposes, a bloody great weed.

I absolutely love trees, and I get quite irate when they get cut down. One of the aspects of life with which I most often find myself most at odds with my fellow man is that I'm not really a fan of the tidy garden. I like to see a bit of biodiversity knocking about the gaff, and to that end I welcome the somewhat overgrown hedge, am pro the bit of lawn left to run riot, and, most of all, very anti cutting down trees. I love the things, habitat, provider of shade, easy on the eye, home to the songbirds that delight the ear at dawn, the best alarm clock of all. To me, cutting a naturally growing tree down is an act of errant vandalism, as well as monumental entitlement, it's been around longer than you. So, this being the case, let me say this. The public outcry over the felling of the tree at Sycamore Gap is sentimental, overblown nonsense, and the fact that the two men found guilty of it have been given a custodial sentence is completely insane. Prison? For cutting down a Sycam...

Oh! Are you on the jabs?

I have never been a slender man. No one has ever looked at me and thought "oh, he needs feeding up". It's a good job for me that I was already in a relationship by the early noughties as I was never going to carry off the wasted rock star in skinny jeans look. No one has ever mistaken me for Noel Fielding. This is not to say that I'm entirely a corpulent mess. I have, at various times in my life, been in pretty good shape, but it takes a lot of hard work, and a lot of vigilance, particularly in my line of work, where temptation is never far away. Also, I reason, I have only one life to live, so have the cheese, ffs. I have often wondered what it would be like to be effortlessly in good nick, to not have to stop and think how much I really want that pie (quite a lot, obviously, pie is great), but I've long since come to terms with the fact that my default form is "lived-in". I do try to keep things under control, but I also put weight on at the mere menti...

Inedible

"He says it's inedible" said my front of house manager, as she laid the half-eaten fish and chips in front of me, and instantly I relaxed.  Clearly, I observed, it was edible to some degree. I comped it, because I can't be arsed arguing the toss, and I want to make my front of house's lives as simple as possible. The haddock had been delivered that morning. The fryers had been cleaned that morning. The batter had been made that morning (and it's very good batter, ask me nicely and I'll give you the recipe some time). The fish and chips was identical to the other 27 portions I'd sent out on that lunch service, all of which had come back more or less hoovered up, we have have a (justified, if I do say so myself) very good reputation for our chips. But it was, apparently, "inedible". When it comes to complaints, less is more. If you use a hyperbolic word like that, I'll switch off, you've marked yourself as a rube, a chump, I'm not g...