Friday 26 June 2009

What about the poor man in the street?

Given the White Glove is now a little more than off-color, there has been much said about how much out of pocket AEG Live will be. But where are the thoughts for the poor man in the street? No, Hippie doesn’t mean the fans (those people who a few years ago wouldn’t dare announce their view of White Glove in public – a career & reputation in tatters; record sales falling badly; even radio stations banned the White Glove from the airwaves... although they made up for it recently) who won’t now go to the ball, but should get a refund on their purchases. Hippie’s thoughts aren’t even with those fans that paid over the odds in buying tickets on auction websites – the refund policy for these purchases is normally more fragile even than trying to get money from a broke company.

No, Hippie thinks some thought should go to the poor man in the street; you know the ones that are on every corner for a few blocks before you reach the venue of chosen event.

Tickets for the Not-So-White Glove’s performances sold out in hours, but you just know the touts will now be pouring over the terms & conditions, focused on finding a way to explain their possession of hundreds of tickets, all booked in someone else’s name, and with the seats disseminated around the hall, determined to get something back for their dodgy investment.

At least those with a stock of t-shirts & hats that look as authentic in appearance as Not-So-White-Glove did can find a pocket of mourning fans, and get some return on their useless wares. But for many others, they’ve got bundles & bundles of worthless memorabilia, tickets to an event that never will be.

So next time you get all excited at seeing your favorite performer, as you make your way across the expanse of space to join a line a adoring fans, spare a thought for the poor man on the street, and how broke they must be now.

Hippie

Thursday 25 June 2009

Long Time, No Trousers

Hello,

Hippie's been really busy of late, so if you don't mind, please do excuse my absence; I am back now - and determined to get back to the flow of things.

One posting that has been dwelling within me since I was last here is eventually coming to fruition as I type...

I can't remember, and having not checked the historical posts, I'm not sure quite where things were left. I do know, though, that my sabbaticalish absence started around the weeks before an important court case - I was presenting a claim, not facing court in my own right! (Thanks to the useful change of heart of a client only when in the stand to give testimony, and the odd view of a court on a visitor becoming a resident the moment they drift into sleep on any visit, the case was lost, but que sara, life & Hippieisms goes on).

Aside from the above, for which preparations were done as far as they could be - regular discussions & prompts with the client, and assurances they knew what their position was; I can't select the judge, let alone do more than the "credible & appreciated" [judge's words, not Hippie's - I actually think their commendations were more, but these things are care-free to Hippie, particularly when I was hanging on their every word, which a few moments later prompted me to finish my note to my client: "We... lost"] summing-up of Hippie – I felt good about the case for weeks in advance. The opposing side regularly wanted to settle, and regularly applied to the court for new orders against us; we rebuffed everything, safe in the knowledge the client was sound in their testimony, and the judge's - or strictly speaking, a judge & two lay-persons, making a panel of three - would be of sound mind. Optimistic, but no obvious reason not to be.

A couple of minor points to deal with in the days before the case, but all of such ease in substance that there was simply nothing (apparently) to worry about...

Hippie dropped a suit into the cleaning shop a few days in advance of the court hearing (don't have to bother with court or other formal meetings too often, so don't bother with formal attire too often) with clear instructions on what (and why) was required.


A day or so later, all good: Hippie, accompanied by Mrs Hippie, attended the cleaners, and was assured all was in good order, and Hippie would be fit for presentation; no reason to doubt the professionals.

We then hit the aisles of the local supermarket, the grounds of which within the dry cleaner resides; armed with a basket, Hippie delegated responsibility for the laundry to Mrs Hippie, the suit deposited over a shoulder as we strode among the proper bacon & ghastly-looking pasta sauces.


A few hours after getting home, Hippie felt his girth should be measured against the restrictions of his formal clothing – strange things happen to clothes after time if they’re exposed to the fumes of alcohol for too long! (Never understood how cloth is affected in this way, but it does happen.)

Alas, such an exercise was not practical on this occasion: there was no waistband within which to test the fitting of Hippie’s physique.

Indeed, not only was the waistband missing, but the accompanying trouser legs too!


Consulting with Mrs Hippie, advice was offered that involved calling the supermarket and enquiring about whether they noticed if Hippie, on a recent visit to their store, had dropped his trousers in one of their aisles.

Hippie declined to pursue this option ("Hi, did I drop my trousers when I was there recently?") , although Mrs Hippie did pursue such enquiries – to no avail. Enquiries with the dry cleaners were also to no avail, so clearly Hippie’s trousers were dropped somewhere in public, but not in a manner that Hippie was aware of, never mind being a willing participant in.

Well, the trousers have never been recovered, and Hippie is juggling other suits to cope with current demand. Will also be juggling time better to keep this post alive though.

Be happy, Hippie always is.




Hippie