"Thanks Gloria. And two digestives this afternoon, eh? It being Friday?"
"Tea's just mashing, Mr Scroggins. Shall I bring cups for the assembly line shop stewards?"
"No, No. We'll be here all day. And porcelain upsets them. Show them in". As he looked out of his steel Crittal windows over the vast Leyland car plant, George Scroggins' heart surged with pride, pride at the haze from the leaking steam pipes, the cracked and patched asbestos cement roofs, the grimy and cracked windows and the plywood-patched skylights. From this plant came the finest automobile in Britain - the Austin-Morris Allegra. The noise of the broken door closer woke him from his reverie.
"Come in! Come in! Arthur, Frank. Sit thee down. Now I don't expect this to be a lengthy meeting ..."
"That's why you always see us at three-fifteen on Fridays, Mr Scroggins. To be fair."
"That's not wholly true, Frank, no, no .... now this is about young Donald Higginbottom I gather?"
"Foreman suspended him, yes. Unwarranted victimisation. We're demanding full restitution."
"But Arthur, he was fixing gearbox gaiters with two inch nails. He ruined nearly two hundred cars before Quality Control noticed, half of which have already been sold."
"Not his fault, Mr Scroggins. Supply shop ran out of that size of machine screws, and the screw shop said they weren't scheduled to turn any more until November. Donald was on gaiter bonus for twenty gaiters a day - not fixing gaiters would have taken food from his childrens' mouths. So he used what he had. You can't blame the lad"
"Arthur, I have to support my foremen. I have to uphold the suspension."
"We'll bring Number Two Line, the rubber shop, the window shop and the carpet-cutters out unless he's revoked. Higginbottoms are big in the eastern sheds."
"Wait wait Frank. There's no need to be precipitous. Digestive biscuit? We've had two strikes already this month, if you recall. Now what if I say he's only provisionally suspended, permitted to work as normal until his hearing, on full pay, but nominally suspended?"
"On full bonus? Even if screw shop can't supply gaiter screws?"
"Yes yes. Alright? We'll ask the Welsh Megra plant if they can lend us some screws. Otherwise we'll go with the two-inch nails. Now about next month's cars. What have we got?"
"There's plenty of bright red upholstery vinyl, so we can switch all production to that. On the paint side, there's four thousand gallons of that yellowy-brown - 'Curry' the paint shop named it."
"Head office vetoed 'Curry' as an Allegra colour, Frank. It's not the best word, is it? Reminds me of that German mustard we had at BMW last year ... I know! Let's rename it the German for mustard - Gloria! What's German for mustard?"
"Moutarde, I think, Mr Scroggins"
"That's it. Tell the dealers they'll all be getting Moutarde Allegras with pillar-box red upholstery next month, Gloria. Now, lads, was there anything else?"
"There was a suggestion that in future customers might be able to choose their own body and seat colours, Mr Scroggins. And that the waiting lists might be cut from four months to ten days"
"Bloody scaremongering. Don't pay any heed to that rubbish, Frank. I promise you, under Mr Corbyn, such things will never happen!"
10 comments:
Plus ça change, plus c'est la même chose
. . . and there was me thinking this was a story from 1977.
Welcome to the Billy Bragg Tolpuddle Martyrs Theme Park: please turn your watches back 200 years.
I am not a supporter of Mr. Corbyn and his ilk, and this amuse-bouche does have strong echoes of "Derek Red Robbo" and the antics that helped to bring the wholly British owned motor industry to its knees.
However, I wonder if anybody realises that those antics never stopped, the "civil" service at its higher levels is a closed shop, as is the legal profession, the medical profession, the accountants, the architects and worst of all, the education industry.
We have been merrily blocking any real progress, whilst protecting self interest in every sphere of life, except in the area where "the workers" operate...
... Of course in that environment, unlimited immigration which still seems to be gathering pace, means that capital leaves the country, and workers get progressively poorer, whilst politicians of every ilk, tell us that if we just give them (or rather allow them to steal) just a little bit more, that they will be looked after from "cradle to grave".
Welcome to the new closed shop in the new communitarian nirvana, the one called abject slavery, where the serfs stand shoulder to shoulder (literally), and the Jeremey's and Theresa's idle their retirement years "hiking" along the the promenade in Monaco.
Righ writes has nailed it there.
The real people who shaped our country and provided the manpower to defend it in two world wars have to soak up the consequences of untrammeled 3rd world immigration while the white collar closed shops ensure comfortable high earnings for privileged remainers at the expense of the hard working brexiteers.
@ right-writes
Not quite sure what you mean: to become a professional engineer at the lowest level you must have at a minimum an honours degree plus a masters degree from approved courses - and then go through a mentored level of experience before you become chartered - so it is a closed shop for all but those who do not go for it - you either have levels of ability or you do not - would you like to fly in an aircraft designed by Diane Abbott? But engineering is open to all who take the trouble. But if you do not have any of that, it does not stop you from creating a world class company like Dyson did.
Terence...
I don't recall mentioning engineers?
I was referring to those "professions" that like "turntable underlooking", do not require any particular skill, other than a willingness to cleave to a bunch of arbitrary rules, designed to maintain the status quo.
Engineering in my view is the most underrated skill, where the best innovation comes from those that think independently. This does not apply to many areas, certainly not in most "learned professions", but where it does apply, is in the areas where independent thought, genuine bravery and a willingness to risk everything, are somewhat sneered at by our leaders.
Whilst I was careful not to mention engineers, you might think that I am being unkind by lumping doctors onto my little pile of ordure. That is until you have a serious chronic disease as I have, and realise that after many years of accepting that their knowledge is indisputable, now realise that they belong to a closed shop of the very worst kind.
@ right-writes
Thank you for the clarification: as an engineer engaged in medical device design, production and validation I agree with you - I now know more about the medical profession than I want to know and I examine anything that they have to say with a very jaundiced eye - medical is a bit of a curates egg.
'Allegro mean Vroom. Miles and miles of Vroom'.
See also the film 'I'm alright, Jack'
It isn't what Corbyn said in his speech, it's what he deliberately omitted to say that worries me most.
Anyway, I once had an Austin Montego estate car as a company car (Christ, I would never have bought such a monstrosity out of my own money) and the whole thing was a f*****g joke! A dangerous joke at that. Every single facet of that retched piece of shit was utterly and dangerously useless. The only thing that made that car less dangerous was it's reliability - you can't crash it if you can't start it. Out of the laundry list of mechanical carnage, the one thing that stood out was it's inability to stop. And in the wet, you might as well do as they tell you on a passenger aircraft and then hope for the best. But the best never came! Then along came the Vauxhall Astra estate; an altogether better proposition, but first to get allocated one of those, my Montego had to be deemed beyond economic repair. So the plan went like this. To put that car out of my misery, I took it to a long fast downhill section of road and got it up to 70 mph and then forced it into 2nd gear and popped the clutch out. There was a brief but pleasurable shriek from the engine before it went BANG! clatter, clatter, clatter as the valves hit the pistons, wrenching out the valve gear and shattering a couple of con-rods. Chuggity, cluggity, clangity, poppity, blop as it stopped at the side of the road. My new Astra arrived two days later!
In defence of the UK car industry: it was cursed by the worst management in the world and the world's worst unions. Thatcher got rid of the unions and foreigners bought out the car industry forcing out the rubbish management - and were they rubbish - leaving what was best - the engineering talent. And the result is a successful and highly innovative industry. Whether it will survive driverless/electric/4th industrial revolution is entirely up to their capacity to diversify into other fields.
Post a Comment