Supporting youth entrepreneurialism

While searching for the source of the River Oooze, my brother Rupert and I are also looking to support the thriving young entrepreneurial talent that lives and works along its banks.

Today we have a get together with more than 300 young Homewardians for an entrepreneurial discussion on how to succeed while also making your business a force for good.

We heard some fantastic ideas - but I was particularly impressed by one dynamic youngster who had created a marvelous product.

"Mister Uncle, Sir," he explained " because you are such an inspiring figure and so loved by everyone in Homeward I had an idea to make puppet figures of your good self - everyone wants one Sir!"

Not that is what I call real creative thinking - just the sort of thing I like to invest in ! Not, of course, because I take  any pride in my effigy being such a desirable item - but because of the hearfelt glow it gives me knowing that my exaltation of the importance of good citizenship has so aroused the populace !

I urged the director of the BBC documentary being made of our trip to make sure that he got plenty of footage of the event - it would be a great inspiration, I am sure, to the people of that blighted Isle of Britain. He just muttered something about "making a serious scripted reality documentary not a  tawdry piece of self-promotion !" - Confounded cheek !

After Rome

The film crew have been busy again today, filming our expedition to discover the source of the Oooze.

Not surprisingly, given my celebrity status, I am often asked to make television appearances.

However, as you know, being somewhat self-effacing I prefer to only become involved in projects where my expertise can enlighten the viewer.

There has been much press speculation in London over Mister Boris Johnson's involvement with televisual productions - namely a series he did for the BBC called 'After Rome'.

It is a little known fact, however, that I was first approached to write and present this series.

I wrote a first draft script and there was even a test shoot to gauge my screen presence. They made me wear a coalscuttle - to represent a galea, a Roman soldier's helmet.

"Don't worry" the director assured me "You look great - we'll stick the Coliseum behind you in post-production !"

I could not tolerate the script interference though - here is an excerpt of what I wrote:

"The ancient kings certainly valued the elephant in war, some stating that 'an army without elephants is as despicable as a forest without a lion, a kingdom without a king or as valour unaided by weapons.'

The successful military use of elephants undoubtedly led to the collapse of the Roman Empire."

"Uuum" piped up the Director "I am just a little concerned that this could be seen as a bit pachyderm-centric ?"

Before I knew it I had been replaced by Mister Johnson who, they claimed, had a less revisionist approach to history than mine. Personally, I suspect the fact that he was willing to do it for £30,000, rather than the fee of £60,000 that I was asking for, had more bearing on their decision. I was not doing it for the money, of course, but for a good charitable cause.

Today, for the sake of Rupert, I soldiered on with this rather strange documentary they are making of our expedition.

This morning they had me swinging from a tree and pretending to rescue a distressed maiden from a man in a gorilla suit.

"Just a bit of fun - adds a bit of glamour you see!" snickered the Director.

Itchy Reality™

 " There is only one world, and this is false, cruel, contradictory, seductive, without meaning - a world thus constituted is the real world. We have need of lies to conquer this reality, this "truth", that is in order to live"

Nietzsche

As I have mentioned before, my brother Rudolph used to be a big game hunter, but when that became rather politically incorrect - he became a TV pundit on survival in the wilderness.

He has made a number of television programmes visiting various parts of the world and covering such topics as bushcraft and survival skills, the traditional culture of indigenous peoples, and the achievements of noted explorers.

I should have realised that he would not be able to resist the publicity surrounding our trip to discover the source of the River Oooze.

The fact that I, myself, world-renowned entrepreneur and “A” list celebrity, would be accompanying him, has garnered great interest from many television companies – keen to have me on their channel.

Rupert sheepishly admitted that he had done a deal with the TV controller of Channel One, of the British Broadcasting Corporation, to deliver a primetime reality series on our expedition.

“He is very keen on, what he calls, ‘itchy reality™” explained Rupert. “It seems that he feels that our adventure, battling with the wilderness, is just the ticket!”

Now, I have to say that I have already fallen out quite badly with the Controller of BBC1.

He pestered me all last year to agree to be a judge on his new flagship show – The Voice. This is a music competition to find new singing talent. The judges sit in chairs with their backs to the artist, so they can only judge them on their singing, if they like what they hear, a button-press allows their chair to spin around and face the performer, signifying that they would like to mentor them.

As you know, despite not wishing to be in the limelight (for I am a retiring soul) I am well known for my charitable works. So, I was only persuaded to take part in this project when I was assured of the great opportunities these young singers would benefit from.

Imagine my fury to receive a phone call from the TV Controller early one morning declaring that they would no longer require my services “F’raid it’s no go Unc – we just can’t make a chair that will turn carrying your weight – you are just to big for the show!”

“Are you implying that I am too fat?!” I fumed.

“You must appreciate that we are not judging you on your looks, Unc, It’s just not technically possible to have such a lard arse in one of our chairs!” he whined.

After this debacle, as you can imagine, I was in no mood to take part in some silly documentary. However, for Rupert’s sake (his career has suffered since the incident when he was found to have been staying in an hotel during a ‘wilderness trip’) I felt I had little choice but to go along with the filming.

I must admit I did not take to the cameraman/director. He seemed familiar – but as the camera hid his face all the time I could not place him.

The whole thing was ridiculous – he insisted on creating a number of silly scenarios that were supposed to have happened during our journey. I believe this is known as ‘scripted’ reality.

First he had me fighting a crocodile (which was, in reality, my brother Rupert in a crocodile suit) then he had me pretending to take a phone call from President Obama agreeing to bail out US government debt. Then I was supposed to take a call from Carla Bruni – suggesting an overly personal relationship!

“Say something about how modestly you both live and people eating cake!” shouted the director.

I have a bad feeling about all of this.

Elephants vs Dragons

"Here be Dragons ?" I queried, as I perused the map of our journey. 

As you will be aware, I have joined my brother Rupert on his expedition to discover the source of the River Oooze.

He used to be a big game hunter, but when that became, more than somewhat, rather politically incorrect - he became a TV pundit on survival in the wilderness.

He prides himself on knowing everything there is about the dangers of the wilderness - but even he seemed a little perplexed about this particular warning inscribed on the map.

"Where exactly are we ?" I asked of him.

"Well, these surrounding mountains are the source of much of your wealth, my dear brother" he replied. "For they contain the Great Gold Mines that so many of the dwarfs of Homeward toil in. As for dragons, though, they are clearly just a myth put about by the dwarfs to scare off thieves and robbers !"

"They are no myth, if you beg my pardon, Sir!" piped up Goodman the Cat. "For I have read of these fearsome creatures in books from you very own library, Sir!"

One had to take Goodman's remark seriously - for he is a very well-read cat.

At this point, our party found itself surrounded by a  horde of screaming and ranting dwarfs.

"What's all the fuss about, Old Monkey?" I bellowed.

"They seem to be angry with you, I'm afraid, Sir. They say that they are downing tools and taking industrial action !" he replied.

"Yeah, and if you think we are cross you wait till the dragons get hold of you - burn you to a crisp they will!" declared a red bearded dwarf, who was clearly the ringleader of the rabble.

At that moment, three giant scaly flying lizards swooped down towards us. Breathing fire and with fearsome expression they clearly meant to do us harm. Sadly, because, of course, a dragon is no match for an elephant, I had no choice but to protect the expedition.

"Take the fire extinguishers from the boats and let them have it!" I declared.

If there is anything a dragon cannot abide it is a dose of Co2.

They were soon lying in a spluttering heap at our feet.

"Huh" coughed the leader of the pack "Just the sort of behaviour we should have expected from a tyrant like you!" he ranted. "we were warned that you would not fight fair!"

"I had no choice - your behaviour is atrocious. Do you not know who I am?" I questioned the ill- mannered brute.

"Yeah! you are the pachyderm who has ruined our living!" he spluttered.

Using all my diplomatic skills I finally got him to explain his hostility to our group.

It seems that the dragons main source of income is in the making and selling of a certain delicacy from their native Cornwall.

"What exactly is a Pasty?" I murmured to the Old Monkey as the dragons raged on.

"It's a sort of pastry filled with diced or minced beef, onion, potato and swede in rough chunks along with some peppery seasoning. Rather crude for someone of your refined palate, Sir, but very popular with common dwarfs, I'm told" whispered the Old Monkey.

"Sound awful - I'd rather have a Whooshmeat Roulade, anyday!" I muttered under my breath.

"We love em!" declared the ringleader of the dwarfs "especially piping hot!"

"Yes!" chimed in the head dragon "we would fly down with our pasties for the dwarfs, and heat them up with fire from our mouths - fresh and hot! - Greggs Pasties (that's my name!)"

"Delicious!" shouted all the dwarfs in unison. "But now you have gone and bunged tax on it!"

"Tax! what tax! - I charge no taxes on foodstuffs!" I retorted.

"One of your tax inspectors came and told us you had ordered it. Short little fella with skewers. Said we had to send all the money we collected to your accounting office at Badfort" replied Gregg. "Then Mister Hateman came and told us you were coming and said we should give you a warm welcome ! - he cackled at that little joke, and said he meant we should make the miserable tyrant burn!"

"Will that ruffian never give me a moments peace!" I sighed.

The ruse that had been played on them was explained and we invited dragons and dwarfs to join us at our encampment for a feast.

The Dragons greatly enjoyed the Ballotine of Beef washed down with a rather nice Chablis.

Unfortunately, I had to reciprocate by eating one of their pasties - it is still repeating on me.

The Leapers of Leapington

We are making steady progress on our journey down the River Oooze to discover it's source.

Today, we passed through the moat around Homeward and began our exploration of my vast domain.

A most extraordinary sight greeted our eyes, as we passed around the river bend, opposite Leapington Tower.

All along the bank of the river were hordes of men, in business attire, leaping, for all their worth, high into the air.

"Oh, yes" remarked my brother Rudolph coolly "These folk do this every four years - you see, all the inhabitants of Leapington Tower were born on the 29th February." he explained.

A Leap Year, as you may know, is a year containing one additional day in order to keep the calendar year synchronized with the astronomical or seasonal year. Because seasons and astronomical events do not repeat in a whole number of days, a calendar that had the same number of days in each year would, over time, drift with respect to the event it was supposed to track. By occasionally inserting an additional day or month into the year, the drift can be corrected.

For example, in the Homeward calendar, February in a leap year has 29 days instead of the usual 28, so the year lasts 366 days instead of the usual 365.

"You see," continued Rudolph "they leap to celebrate their birthday and their extraordinary good fortune!"

"I would hardly have thought that having a birthday only every four years would be something to celebrate!" I countered.

"But you see, dear brother, they are all as rich Croesus! Nowhere near as rich as you, of course, but still extremely well off! Do you realise that Leapington Tower is the only tower in Homeward that you don't own?" said Rudolph.

"I am astounded, that means that they must have bought it off old Wizard Blenkinsop before I bought Homeward! How in heavens name did they come by this fortune merely by an accident of birth?" I declared.

"Well," revealed Rudolph "Every single inhabitant is an offshore company - and because the 29th of February only exists every four years, other companies pay them a vast sum on this day so that it immediately disappears - because the day does not exist! The company then, having mysteriously lost the money, does not have to pay tax on it - in fact they can show a loss and get a rebate! Then the Leapingtons give the money back less one percent! All those one percents add up you know! It's a brilliant scam - the British Banks have been using the Leapingtons for years! "

Astounding - I'm surprised the British government has let them get away with it.

Our Journey Begins

Today our journey began, to discover the source of that great river that runs through Homeward – The Oooze.

However, our journey would not begin from Homeward. For, The Oooze runs into the moat around my vast domain (that is how the water is continually freshened) and thence out to the sea near Homesea.

There are still quite a few hardy inhabitants of the Oooze Estuary who live on the marshlands around Homesea, but the majority now live in my greatest architectural accomplishments - the Seascrapers of Estuaria.

As you know, Homeward consists of hundreds of skyscrapers – for I firmly believe that it is the best way of living. So, when it came to sorting out the housing problems of the estuary folk, I thought, why not skyscrapers that went down – beneath the waves?

We took my traction engine to the mouth of the estuary and I soon spotted my brother Rupert, the intrepid explorer, supervising the loading of the boats.

“I hope that you have made sure that we have all the necessary requirements for an expedition of this magnitude?” I declared.

“Oh yes,” replied Rupert “We have banana cake, pumpkin soup, casks of lemonade, Jubba fruit, Whooshmeat with apple and sage stuffing wrapped in maple cured bacon, butter cabbage, Seaweed Slasher Porridge and a 1787 Chateau Lafitte !”

“Excellent! – we shall at least have the basic foodstuffs, then” I declared.

“However, I have been forced to leave the lifebelts out to make room for the provisions.” added Rupert.

I could see that the Old Monkey seemed somewhat aghast at this news; he is such a worrier, so I swiftly reassured him.

“No matter, I doubt we will need them with the expert hand of Captain Walrus at the tiller!”

Before we set the boats on course up the river I decided that we should pay a visit to the Estuaria School for Boys and Girls. A charitable foundation, set up by myself, it caters for the education of the youngsters of this fair creek. Elocution lessons are an important part of the curriculum. The peoples of the marshlands speak a strange dialect, which is very difficult to understand, called Estuary English.

As our boats passed the many towers of Estuaria I could not help feeling that they were looking very rundown and neglected. “They all look like they could do with a lick of paint – if they are not more careful with their maintenance they could spring a leak!” I remarked to the Old Monkey.

When we arrived at the School Tower, I was very disappointed to see how badly looked after the grounds seemed to be. Every tower in Estuaria has a large green surrounded by trees at the top. Here, the grass had been allowed to grow in wild abandon and scattered around were half a dozen decrepit Nissan Huts.

I stormed into the School reception demanding to see the Headteacher – Mr Snodgrass. An unsmiling and flinty receptionist made us feel that it was all too much effort to even speak. No pleasantries passed her lips.

“Impossible – he is in a meeting with the other CEO’s – leave your name and he might get back to you – if he feels it is important enough” she smirked.

“Do you know who I am?” I thundered.

“A rather large elephant, by the looks of you” she countered.

“I am the benefactor of this school and up with this I will not put,” I bellowed. “Come, Old Monkey – I hear voices emanating from the library, I have a lot of questions for Mr Snodgrass!”

The receptionist attempted to bar our passage, but was swiftly dealt with by Cloutman and Gubbins.

I could not believe my eyes as we entered the library. Denuded of books it now contained a large snooker table around which half a dozen fellows lounged around drinking beer.

“What is the meaning of this Mister Snodgrass! What have you done to the library I donated to this school?” I demanded.

“Oh Uncle, great benefactor, you should have warned us you were coming – so the children could have performed for you. Ah, now the library, you see – it became surplus to requirements so to speak. Modern technology and all that, you see, the kids don’t really need books anymore – they have their e-books. Or, at least, they will – once we have disposed of some more assets. This is now the Executive Lounge and I and my fellow CEO’s were just discussing that very issue” blustered Snodgrass.

“CEO’s?” I queried.

“Well, yes, Headmasters as was” murmured Snodgrass.

“A school does not need six headmasters!” I countered.

“Well there you are, sir, this is no longer one school – in fact, in a manner of speaking, the tower itself is no longer a school.” he burbled. “You see we felt it was no longer a sensible use of your funds to carry on using such a prestigious location merely as a school. It is worth far more on the open market as an office building. So we decided to rent it out and use the funds to build six new schools! This way we can give the people of Estuaria parental choice!”

“Parental Choice? – you mean those decrepit Nissan Huts on the roof are my school?” I shouted.

“Well, Sir, let me assure you that we have the parents and children’s interest very much to heart. By having six schools we are able to offer them choice. We have Eton Mess – that’s the rather nice Nissan Hut with the pretty pink paint – that’s where we train pupils to run the country. Then we have the hut, I mean school, that trains them to get a job that they grumble about – but on the whole is not too bad. Then another school where they train them for a job they hate but the money is good and our celebrity school, which also trains them in waitering, just in case you understand, and so on…it all works splendidly.” Snodgrass explained.

“This is what you are doing with my endowment?” I countered. I could hardly believe my ears.

“Well, Sir, I am afraid your endowment has proved insufficient. It only really covers staff costs. Specialist education like this comes at a price. To achieve these standards we are competing at an international level and you can only attract the right caliber of teachers if you are willing to pay the market rate. Also to get the best CEO’s to run the schools one has to be prepared to pay. “ He boasted. “I am afraid that we do have to charge the pupils a small fee.”

“The pupils pay for this? I don’t see how the parents can afford it, despite the fact that Homeward is the one place that seems to have weathered the financial storms besetting the world, Estuaria seems to have fallen on hard times!” I queried.

“Ah, well, I think that we may have accidentally contributed to that situation.” said Snodgrass sheepishly.

“In what way, exactly?” I asked, suspiciously.

“Well, you see we are always looking for ways to increase the school funds. So we came up with this very clever idea of selling derivatives based on the children’s futures. A Hedge fund, if you will, ‘hedging’ a bet on how well your child might do. The parents loved the idea, you see, because they all thought little Johnny would do so well. But then just in case Johnny might not do as well as Justin, we offered them ‘parcels’ of futures. They were given AAA ratings ! Well, they were at first, but then when the pupils left school and some of their careers did not pan out so well, it all started to go a bit pear shaped.

In a nutshell, the parents were left a bit borassic. Oh sorry, Sir, slipped into a bit of Estuary English there!” stuttered Snodgrass.

“We did lose quite a bit of money, Sir, but don’t worry we are building our reserves again. We have upped the fees to parents and our results are so good that we are still able to pay our CEO’s a bonus!” he smarmed.

“Well, at least your results are still good – I employed Doctor Lyre to set the exams – I take it he is happy with the standards maintained?” I replied.

“I am afraid we had to let Doctor Lyre go, we felt that the additional cost was unnecessary. We now set the exams and mark them ourselves. Here is a copy of our latest one.”  he said.

“What does 3x3 equal ?!!” I read.

“Yes, and they all got it right! Absolutely splendid, a definite improvement on last year when they only knew what 2x2 equalled!” declared Snodgrass.

“Whose idea was it to destroy my school!” I shouted angrily.

“Why, the President of our Corporation, he gets the biggest bonus! – Mister Hateman!” replied Snodgrass.

“I should have guessed! Right, you lot are all fired. Old Monkey get all these people evicted from my tower, and get Doctor Lyre down here at once – he will have to take charge until we can get this mess sorted” I stated forcefully.

“Will we still get our bonuses, Sir” piped up Snodgrass.

“Yes, you can each have a Nissan Hut!” I answered.

Honestly, the whole purpose of this trip was to get away from all this nonsense.

To The River

 

My advice seems to be much in demand these days. With the economic situation so gloomy, everyone seems to expect me; with my great entrepreneurial skills, to sort things to right.

I have barely left my office in Homeward in months - frantic phone calls from Karolos, from the Oval Office or No.10 , seeking advice and aid, come at all times of the day and night.

In the early hours one morning, I decided to take a stroll around my residence to blow away the intricate cobwebs besetting my mind.

I was surprised to see Goodman the cat, still hard at work, in my library. There is nothing more he enjoys than sorting through dusty tomes for my librarian, Will Shudder.

 "Are you finding it hard to sleep, too, Goodman?" I inquired. "No, Sir, it's just that I was having such fun cataloguing that I completely lost track of the time. Would you like me to recommend a good read – to distract you from your great burdens?”

“Sound idea, Goodman!” I replied.

“How about this, Sir, it’s called Angelmaker, by Nick Harkaway – it’s a ripping yarn!” he suggested.

Now, I must say, I am not usually that keen on novels, apart from the classics. I do enjoy Charles Dickens rags to riches tales – so like my own story. Little is known of it, but he once visited Homeward, in the darker periods of its history, and campaigned against the exploitative use of dwarfs as chimney sweeps.

However, I must say that this book by Mister Harkaway is a jolly good read.

Elephants, of course, play an important role in the adventure – if I were to level any criticism at the author it would only be the fact that I feel the book would have been much improved if the hero of the story had been an elephant. His hero tinkers with clockwork engines, not unlike are own Cowgill. Much as I respect Cowgill, I think, even he would admit, that he does not strike one as having a stature of heroic nature.

Today, Goodman, the Old Monkey and I took a stroll down Water-Chute Tower, around the Blowpipe Laundry, past the Dwarf’s Drinking Fountains to Money-and-Engine-Room Wood. “Fantasy! Pure fantasy!” I declared to the Old Monkey “Much as I admire Mister Harkaway’s book, it has to be said that a decent book on economics is far more useful – particularly in these troubled times!”

“That may be so, Sir, but sometimes one needs to escape – a mental diversion – so that one can come back to the fray refreshed, and mentally alert again” he replied.

“I take your point, Old Monkey – you are suggesting that I might have become stale in my thinking?” I queried.

“Oh no, not at all, Sir, but your absence on the interweb has been noticed – perhaps you have allowed your many good works to rather rule your life?” he responded.

 

“Well, I hardly think that readers of my missives would be interested in examining the probabilities of default implicit in observable market spreads or would wish to consider these calculations against sovereign debt dynamics!” I retorted.

“Well, know, Sir, exactly – may I suggest that you need to take some time out from all this and get back to having some adventures again?” he sighed.

“Hmmm, I must admit, my domain is vast and there are still so many unexplored areas. Brother Rupert has been badgering me to join him on his expedition to discover the source of the Oooze…” I pondered.

“Oh yes please, Sir, please can we go! I have always wanted to explore that mysterious river that runs deep into the heart of Homeward!” he said excitedly.

I must admit that the dark brooding force of the Oooze has always fascinated me – a force that has traced an intricate flow through the literature and mythology of Homeward.

“I would love to go – but what if Mister Obama needs to get hold of me urgently? I said.

“Don’t worry, Sir, with modern satellite telephonic communication you can keep in touch anywhere!” wheedled the Old Monkey persuasively.

He had persuaded me. I will be joining my brother on his mission into the unknown !