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Buoyed by their success in cleansing their roads of women, the Saudi authorities are reportedly considering a clampdown on Bahraini drivers. According to our source in Riyadh, Alamin Al Hassan, Saudi advisers have submitted recommendations to minimize simmering tensions in the neighbouring Kingdom. “Flashpoints are created as Bahrainis mingle with policemen and tanks at check-points”, he said. “A 10-year cooling-off period is proposed, during which Bahrainis will not be permitted to drive.”

Still under discussion is how Bahrainis would travel to work. “It’s a small country, and recent events show that many prefer to walk into the capital, Manama”, says Al Hassan. But another suggestion is for Saudi Arabia to provide further assistance by sending drivers to Bahrain, creating much-needed employment opportunities for thousands of school-leavers.

With the current reporting restrictions in Bahrain we have been unable to gauge local reaction to the plan. However, a Twitter message posted by the country’s Ministry of Interior and Tourism appears to endorse the proposal: “Pedestrian areas to boost Manama’s tourist appeal.” With its easy-going lifestyle, Bahrain has long been a popular weekend resort for Saudis, who take the short drive across the causeway linking the two countries.

In a related development, F1 supremo, Bernie Ecclestone, is hoping that the postponed Bahrain Grand Prix can be rescheduled at the end of the season in November. “F1 has always steered well clear of politics”, he said. “but we’re pleased to see strong leadership in Bahrain. I always thought that the problems earlier in the year would turn out to be a storm in a teacup.”

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Cowardly Lion

Read your horoscope today? Nor me. That stuff we read in the papers is all a load of nonsense, isn’t it? But sun signs? Believing that our personalities are shaped by astrological forces? That’s another matter entirely. I’m a believer.

In my early years I had no idea I was a Leo. Timid, introverted, lacking self-confidence, cautious, I was a disgrace to my sign. Not that I’m blaming myself. Astrology wasn’t the sort of thing we talked about in our house. It wasn’t till my mid-teens that I first got my hands on Old Moore’s Almanack. I remember slipping it between the pages of Playboy so my mother wouldn’t find it.

The pleasure I had in those secret moments with old Moore. Again and again I thumbed his pages, shivering with excitement as I re-read my destiny. I was King of the Beasts, a born leader, a creator, a giver and receiver of love and affection, a pleasure-seeker. And I liked the mane. Other boys my age wanted to be an astronaut, a pop star, an accountant. Not me. I wanted to be a Leo.

It took me a lifetime of dedication to get there. At first I was a Cowardly Lion, but when everyone was out of the house I shut myself in the cupboard under the stairs and practised roaring. Soon I began to overcome my fear and doubt; I learnt to lead and I was never wrong. I fought the status quo unceasingly, intolerantly. And now I feel I’m a true Leo. I’m not perfect of course: still today I wonder whether I’m sufficiently regal and pompous. But whenever anyone asks to see my profile, I just refer them to Traditional Leo Traits.

As with Leo, so with Alain. I wasn’t always a proper Alain – in fact, I wasn’t an Alain at all. For years I floated quite happily through life, perfectly content with the Alan Miles brand. Until I came to publish my first novel. And then, to my horror, Google told me that I wasn’t Alan Miles at all. Or if I was, then I already had several books in print, and I had a face that wasn’t at all the one I remembered. I checked the mirror. No, I was right: I wasn’t blond and my nose was more … aquiline. So then I called my mother. Had she been keeping a terrible secret from me?

- Oh that’s good. So you don’t have to write books any more then? And you can go back to your proper job?

Thanks Mum.

I did some more checking and it got worse. There was another A Miles writing too. Writing diet books. Now, it’s true that I have been thinking about writing ‘Cooking For Me And My Dog’ – recipes we both enjoy. But a diet book!? It hardly sounds like me. Lions don’t diet.

So what to do? I suppose pistols at dawn could have been a possibility. But remembering my positive experiences as a born-again Leo, I decided that the best thing was to be a born-again Alan. Now if you’ve ever been born or reborn, you’ll probably remember that one of the highlights is getting a new name. And that’s exactly what happened. I was a born-again Alain.

Why Alain? Well, many people think it’s French. Just the other day, a reviewer was discussing my dialog style – my refusal to use quotation marks – and concluded it was some kind of “French thing”. Actually it’s because after years of faithful service in my garden office, my computer has a few dead insects trapped under the screen, so when I have scenes full of dialog, it can get very difficult to read: is that punctuation or an insect? Since I can’t get rid of the insects, I decided to get rid of the speech marks. But if thinking of me as French makes readers happy, adds a little je ne sais quoi to the writing, then it’s a myth I’m happy to build on.

But the truth is that Al Ain is a city in the United Arab Emirates, a country that has happy associations for me. I considered other cities there too: Dubai, Abu Dhabi, even Ras Al Khaimah Miles, but none of them had quite the ring I wanted. And besides, I think I might have some kind of metaphorical affinity with Al Ain too: an oasis city, stuck in the middle of nowhere and surrounded by desert.

So Alain it was. A new life as a writer, and with my new nom de plume, a new identity. Following in the footsteps of the greats: George Eliot, George Orwell, Mark Twain and Pimbo. But even for a Leo – strong-willed, positive, independent, self-confident, with no such a word as doubt in my vocabulary, this hasn’t been easy. To become the new person, I need to eradicate all traces of the old: just try telling Facebook and LinkedIn that you’ve become someone else. Or your mother. Or your spouse. (This wasn’t so bad: she said she was pleased.)

I spent the whole day yesterday being Alain and leaving Alan behind. I launched the Alain Miles author page on Facebook, rebranded myself in LinkedIn, retitled the blog, created an alainmiles.com domain. There’s just one problem: I might be a fraud. Facebook is certainly suspicious. Before they’ll allow me to ‘claim’ my page, 25 people have to ‘Like’ it. Not see it, not read it, but actually Like it. What if it never happens? I could be left in limbo for the rest of my natural days, neither the Alan I’ve renounced, nor the Alain I intend to be, just a figment of my own imagination ….

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If you’d like to help me out of author purgatory, please Like the Alain Facebook page.

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I’m told I have an American reader. To you, madam, warm greetings … and this translation aid for the following post:

VAT = Value Added Tax. Try to imagine a Sales Tax with bells and whistles.
EU = The European Union. Think Federal Government, without a federation.

Everything else, I think, is in English.


I may not have mentioned that I’m a senior member of the lobbying group, Fair And Responsible Taxation. Fully paid-up of course.

FART is deeply committed to the principle of taxation. How would countries and politicians stay in business without it? How would FART stay in business, come to that? Our flat 7.5% levy on all tax revenues collected keeps us fed and healthy, and has assured us of support across the political spectrum. Many of the world’s great statesmen have been FARTs.

But we also recognize that for a tax to be popular, it must appear to serve the common good. People are reluctant to see their hard-earned wealth redistributed unless it serves some greater cause, such as job creation, population control, or urban renewal. That’s why raising taxes to fight a foreign war is always popular – it meets all three of these criteria, as our splendid adventure in Afghanistan clearly illustrates. Spending on public health on the other hand always draws a groan. The public isn’t stupid; they know that the more people fit to work, the fewer job vacancies there’ll be; and if people start living longer, they’ll obviously consume more of the world’s natural resources and start clogging up our towns and cities.

I wouldn’t want you to get the impression that we’re only concerned with macro-economic issues. We have teams of experts constantly reviewing the fine details of tax legislation, always on the lookout for discrepancies, inconsistencies, and the opportunity to boost our income – which, with the logic of our fair levy, is also in the national interest. FART for the good of the nation – that’s our slogan.

As a novelist myself, I’ve been entrusted with chairmanship of our sub-committee for books and publishing, and I’d like to take this opportunity to present some of the latest FART thinking and open it to public debate. That’s the way things ought to work in a democracy, wouldn’t you agree?

In the UK, VAT is charged on ebooks but not on printed books – and in fact, right across Europe the ebook rate is higher. It’s a glaring anomaly and a very unpopular tax: search Google for ‘ebook VAT‘ and the words you’ll see headlined are unwanted, idiotic and Why? Why indeed? Most ebooks have the same content as their printed equivalents. So why should the consumer pay more tax on the version that doesn’t require us to cut down trees (or fuel transport or power warehouses and shops)? In our green-alert society, the ebook tax clearly fails the ‘common good’ test.

How did this come about? Blogger James Bridle suggests it’s because ebooks are classed as ‘electronic guides’ rather than books. Not so, James. Applying this logic, there’d be VAT on the print versions of cookbooks, car repair manuals, and Douglas Adams.

To tell the truth, some of our politicians were hoping that things would swing the other way. Remove the exemption for ebooks, they argued, and the public would come to realize how unreasonable it is to treat printed books as a special case. After all, it’s hard to argue that a book is one of life’s essentials like other zero-rated goods – food, children’s clothes, gold, and bingo.

Unfortunately, the politicians miscalculated: instead of demanding to pay more VAT on printed books, the public wanted to pay less on ebooks. So, for several months, FART was trying to find its way out of a hole. How could we make an unpopular policy popular, while still retaining our revenue stream? We were grateful when the EU took the heat out of the argument by ruling that from January 1, 2011, individual states could reduce the VAT on ebooks to match the rate for print – but at their own discretion. Knowing full well, of course, that no government worthy of the name would simply toss aside an increasingly important revenue source. January 1 came and went. Nothing changed.

Meanwhile, we were working away furiously behind the scenes, and I can now announce a solution that is fair, responsible and above all, consumer-friendly.

Our first decision was easy. Obviously, we had things the wrong way round. From the start there should have been VAT on printed books, while ebooks should have been exempt. Who today could argue with a tax designed to preserve our forests and woodlands? That’s socially responsible taxation. So our plan is to have printed books reclassified as ‘household furnishings’ – more accurately reflecting their status in a changing world. They’ll be taxed at the standard rate.

But that still leaves us with a problem. As sales of ebooks surge, so print sales are declining. If ebooks were zero-rated, our income from books would eventually dwindle to almost nothing, and the nation would suffer. Our solution, I think you’ll agree, is bold and breath-taking – a work of FART.

The original inspiration came from James Bridle’s post. Although his ‘electronic guide’ hypothesis was wrong, we liked the question it raised: when is a book not a book? Clearly it has nothing to do with the physical form. If a printed novel is converted to Kindle format, people still think of it as a book; but they don’t if it’s a guide or a set of instructions, whether in print or digital format. So the distinguishing feature must be content. We took the idea further. A set of instructions is self-evidently non-fiction. Suppose we made that the starting-point: that non-fiction should be taxable, but fiction not.

In purely economic terms this works. In the Kindle store, non-fiction books outnumber fiction by more than two to one, and the average price is considerably higher. With two revenue streams, print publications and non-fiction ebooks, we were confident that our VAT returns would give us – and the nation – a degree of comfort.

But there was still a nagging question. We’d have no problem selling the idea of taxing print books – all we needed to do was to roll out the old ‘dead tree’ argument. But how could we convince the public that taxing digital non-fiction was both fair and responsible. How could we make them enthusiastic to pay?

And then someone came up with a brilliant idea. What about a progressive tax, with ebooks rated according to the amount of fiction they contained? What if, as well as fiction and non-fiction, we introduced a third category – semi-fiction? After all, we agreed, the lines between fiction and non-fiction are increasingly blurred. Take Dan Brown’s novels, for example. How much of The Da Vinci Code is factual and how much fictional? Take the book I mentioned in my last post, Peter Bergen’s The Osama Bin Laden I Knew. Take my own novel, The Lebanese Troubles, for that matter. We sat down together to run the rule over my book, and found it to be 73.47% fictional (building in a 3% margin of error in case things which were not true at the time of writing may become true later, or vice versa).

Our plan is to tax books according to the percentage of factual detail they contain. Entirely factual? The full VAT rate will apply. Entirely fictional? Zero-rated. Semi-fictional, with a 70% fiction content? Consumers would pay 30% of the standard rate.

Will this popularize the tax? You bet your life it will … with this clever message:

THERE’S NO TAX ON IMAGINATION


The politicians among you will quickly appreciate the power and impact of the sentence. Here’s FART, serving the common good, promoting, preserving, curating one of mankind’s most precious assets – its imagination. And even as we take more from consumers (on the nation’s behalf), the emphasis is on taking less. It’s a lesson we encourage our politicians to learn: stop talking about what you plan to do; focus instead on what you’re certain you’re not going to do. It makes for less trouble all round.

So far, so good. But then we needed to consider the practicalities. If we’re going to tax ebooks on their fictional content, how exactly are we to measure it, and who’s going to do the measuring? What percentage of fiction would be allowable? How would consumers know whether they were reading fact or fiction? We turned for guidance to the EU, with its years of experience setting and maintaining the standards for consumer products. Particularly helpful was their legislation for milk products – whole milk, skimmed or semi-skimmed.

The first requirement is to set clear, measurable standards. Just as the European commissioners require whole milk to have a 3.5% butterfat content, so a book labelled ‘fiction’ would need to contain at least 90% fiction. Skimmed milk must be 0.3% butterfat; non-fiction would need to be less than 10% fictional. Semi-skimmed milk can be in the range of 1.5 – 1.8% butterfat; we’re more generous – semi-fiction books would be permitted to include 20 – 80% fiction.

You might be wondering what would happen to books with 10 – 20% or 80 – 90% fiction content. We’ve learned an important lesson from our friends in Europe: it’s important that there should be clear separation between the different categories of product, in case the consumer might purchase a semi-fictional book thinking it’s non-fiction. For this reason, we’ve proposed that the new legislation should not permit the sale of books with a fiction content outside the permitted ranges, no matter what the format.

Who would calculate the fiction content? With hundreds of thousands of book producers, the only workable solution is for the author to do it. We’ll need regulators and stiff penalties, obviously. How would we punish authors who tried to mislead their readers? One suggestion we’re seriously considering is to reclassify the author’s entire body of work, not as fiction, non-fiction or semi-fiction, but at literary fiction, virtually guaranteeing that his books would never be read again.

How will the scheme be consumer-friendly? Again, we’re following the trail of milk. Blue, green and red caps on a milk bottle tell the customer whether she’s buying whole, semi-skimmed or skimmed milk respectively. Similarly, writers will be required to color-code their ebook covers to indicate the percentage of fictional content inside. Consumers have a right to know what they’re buying.

And this is where we can put democracy to work, giving you a chance to add your voice to the world community of FARTs. Just answer this simple question. What color-code should we use for fiction ebooks? Let’s find out if your vote matches our decision. Leave your preferred color as a comment below, or if you’d prefer, text your answer to FARTCOLOR.

Texts cost £5 plus 1 standard network rate message plus VAT. To register a vote you must be 18 or over. If you are not the bill payer, please ask for permission before sending a text. Only 1 vote may be cast per person. Closing date for voting is June 1, 2011. Votes cast beyond the maximum number stated or after the closing date, will not be counted, but may still be charged. Entries which are incomplete, incorrect, misspelt or incomprehensible will be void but may still be charged. FART will record and count each vote but may choose not to publish or be bound by the results.


Coming soon: new FART proposals for skimmed reading.

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Sorry – much of the site is still under reconstruction. But if you’re new here and looking for more satire, look for posts in The TwitFace Project category.

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The site’s a mess at the moment – I’m in the middle of a re-branding exercise, so mind your head on the scaffolding. But with the news today, I just couldn’t not post …

I’m surprised that with all the column inches devoted to Osama bin Laden today, there’s not a single mention of his one great claim to fame. He was probably the most successful indie writer, artist, performer of our age. When Osama spoke, the whole world listened and trembled. Even when we didn’t have a clue what he was saying.

You have to feel for the poor guy. Imagine how he felt when he saw his other buddies, Bush and Blair, landing big book deals with proper publishers. Even Saddam, for goodness sake, has 12 books on Goodreads – and now Sacha Baron Cohen’s turning one into a film. But Osama, what did he get? An interview. One lousy interview, way back in 1997 with CNN’s Peter Arnett and produced by Peter Bergen.

I mention Bergen because he immediately spotted Osama’s potential. I remember a couple of hours after the 9/11 attacks a fresh-faced, English-accented young analyst assuring the CNN audience that the outrage bore all the hallmarks of Bin Laden and an organization I’d never heard of before, Al Qaeda. Gospel truth. And while Osama never got his publishing deal, Bergen hit the big-time. He’s had three best-sellers already, including ‘The Osama Bin Laden I Know‘, and I notice today, less than 48 hours after the dramatic end to the manhunt, Bergen has been commissioned to write the definitive book. By George W Bush’s publishers.

Can you imagine how Osama must have felt? Is it any surprise that he was bitter and twisted? Everyone cashing in except him. What’s a guy gotta do to get a deal?

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We were talking about Osama this evening, my daughter and I. A newspaper, folded, between us. The headline: OBAMA WATCHED .. But they weren’t Obama’s eyes staring out at us – they were Osama’s.

- Do you think it’s true?
- Dunno. Dunno if it was ever true.
- He had such kind eyes.

Trust Josie. She’s always been immune to mental re-conditioning, praise the Lord.

I looked again. Sure enough, he did have kind eyes. Only problem was, turn the paper over and below the fold he had a curling sneer and a zealous uncompromising beard. The devil incarnate.

And I got to thinking. Now he’s gone, who do we have to replace him in the public imagination? Ayman al-Zawahari? Has a beard, but not the right kind of beard. No sneer. Who else is bad enough? Julian Assange? Young enough to terrify us for years. But just look at him. The face of an angel. Gaddafi then? All the right credentials, and I suppose the evidence is that he’s the West’s favorite for the role: after all, we know exactly where he lives, but we haven’t sent Seal Team 6 to batter down his doors. The problem is, he wears silly hats and looks like a pantomime version of Richard III. And he still doesn’t have a proper beard. So who’s going to scare children and grandmothers to bed? Where’s the face that will make us all believe our cause is right?

Wanted - dead or alive

It’s a rhetorical question. I already know the answer. It’s my face. I’ll need to fashion the beard a bit. But in the right light, at the right angle, I can do the sneer. I have a bit of background too – with all those years I spent in the Mid-East. Why? – I ask you to ask me.

Of course, I’ll need to cut back on some of my other activities to do the job properly. Being Santa at Christmas – that would have to go, for a start.

I’ll have to work a bit on evil too. But I think I know just the man who can help me. Peter Bergen, if you happen to be reading this, you’ll find me in the cave at the end of my garden. No, any time’s OK – just tweet me.

FOOTNOTE: Huffington Post reports ‘Bin Laden’ Google searches increase 1 million percent. Peter – seriously, call me. We could be HUGE together. And look at the graph. Your numbers are falling. You need me.

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I’m beginning to wonder whether this week’s Royal Wedding in the UK is one of the most audacious feats of political skulduggery ever.

My suspicions were alerted when I saw a headline in the Daily Telegraph this morning.

Archbishop of Canterbury hails plan to measure national happiness

It wasn’t the normal Easter address from the head of the Anglican Church, calling on Christians to celebrate the Resurrection of Christ. Instead Dr Williams used the occasion to praise Prime Minister David Cameron’s proposal to replace GDP with GWB (= General Well-Being) as the primary indicator of the nation’s progress.

And then he called on us to celebrate the union between our future Defender of the Faith and his Kate, proclaiming ‘Let a thousand street parties blossom!’

Is it only your TwitFace correspondent who has noticed that hard on the heels of The Wedding – just a week later, when we’ll probably still be trying to find our shoes before we stagger home from the party – comes one of the defining moments in our political history? What defining moment? You’d forgotten? May 5th is the date set for our referendum on AV, the Alternative Vote, possibly changing the way we elect our politicians.

Every time I turn on the TV, I hear people talking about street parties. And what parties they’ll be! Starting on Friday, running all weekend, and continuing on Monday, MayDay. How do I read the timing of The Wedding and this incessant call for partying? Surely it must be an elaborate collusion between Church, State, Monarchy and Media to ensure that not a single person votes in the referendum? ‘Politics – blah! Pass me the Alka-Seltzer.’

A conspiracy? But of course. After all, AV goes against everything our Big Society stands for. The current system is monogamous: a voter chooses a single politician and pledges loyalty. But AV – ranking the candidates on a list – is designed to encourage open relationships with multiple partners. Some would call it a loosening of our moral standards. Some would say that at best it’s a ‘least worst’ electoral system.

Ever since he was hustled into his shotgun marriage with Nick Clegg, it’s been clear that Mr Cameron has regretted his vow to put AV to the public vote. And now I see that the Royal Wedding is simply a plan to scupper the referendum.

Some would call this plan devious – evil even – but not me. I’m full of admiration. It’s been brilliantly conceived, carefully concealed, and skilfully executed. And I’m sure that our Prime Minister will take no pleasure in the thought of those millions of people waking up with a headache after a week of partying, far away from their polling-station, and trying to remember why May 5th was important. I’m confident that his motives are exemplary because he’s a forward-thinker and a democrat. How else could you interpret his quest for General Well-Being?

I’m convinced that, like me, the PM realizes none of the current proposals for electoral reform address the fundamental flaws in our democracy. Which isn’t democratic. He’s done his sums, I’m sure. He’ll know that even when a candidate secures a 50% majority, the voting turnout is rarely more than 70%. What does that tell us? That there will always be a majority of people who either actively oppose the winning candidate – or could care less. Surely there must be a better way.

And of course, there is.

Tell me how many people in your household voted in the last national election? How many in the last local election?

Now tell me how many people in your household use one of the social networks – Twitter, Facebook, LinkedIn, for a start? And how many of them have registered a vote for something they’ve Liked in the last 24 hours?

No contest, is it? You may have exercised your chance to vote in an election once every few years. But here on the web we do it several times a day. The beauty of it is that we don’t even have to read more than a few words. As soon as we see a smart headline or a face we recognize, all we need to do is click on the ‘Like’ button. Surely that’s how democracy was always supposed to work!

It’s only unfortunate that having reached this conclusion, Mr Cameron then commissioned a quango – the Office for National Statistics – to carry out a £2 million, 9-month research project to give him the answers he already knew. I know! I know! Old habits die hard.

But with respect, Prime Minister, may I suggest that the time for action is now – or at the latest May 6th – the day after nobody has voted in the referendum. Close down the Office for National Statistics immediately, demonstrating your firm yet even-handed control of the nation’s purse-strings, and implement these reforms. The country will thank you.

1. Abolish elections

Let the people’s representatives be those who garner the best support in the social media. Those who are most followed, most Liked. Or perhaps you could use The Independent‘s clever algorithm, which ranks Twitter users by Authority, Audience and Activity.

With your 1 million plus Twitter followers, you need have no fear for your own seat, but abolition would result in the de-selection of almost all sitting MPs. At a stroke, you’d remove the lingering public suspicion of expense-mongering. And instead of Vince Cable, Ed Balls, Theresa May for company, you’d have Stephen Fry, Russell Brand, Rio Ferdinand … luminaries whose voices and opinions the people really trust.

Think of the change as a move away from end-of-year exams and toward continual assessment.

2. Abolish campaign funding

Approximately £67 million was spent on campaign funding in the UK during the 2010 election year, money that could be usefully diverted to other urgent social causes (such as my upcoming sequel to “The Social Network” – “Birdman of Folsom Street“).

Not one of The Independent’s influencers owes their position to external funding. Surely this must also increase public confidence in the integrity of our representatives.

3. Abolish parliament

My proposal is actually that we should restrict political statements to sentences of not more than 140 characters. Twitter has shown how completely unnecessary longer utterances are, and it provides the perfect platform for debate. I had a concern that replacing parliament with Twitter might lead to a devaluation of content, but research from Pear Analytics shows that in fact, the two forums are virtually indistinguishable. Analyzing Twitter content over a 2-week period in 2009, Pear organized tweets into 6 categories:

  • Pointless babble – 40%
  • Conversational – 38%
  • Pass-along value – 9%
  • Self-promotion – 6%
  • Spam – 4%
  • News – 4%


4. Sell off the Houses of Parliament

Since our representatives will communicate in cyberspace, there’s no further requirement for a property which occupies a prime development site in the heart of London on the bank of the Thames. No longer will Members need to maintain a second home in London (no more expenses scandals!), and the money raised from the sale could also be used to support my film.

5. Re-brand democracy.

The public is tired of hearing the same call to action for over 150 years – ‘One man, one vote’. That’s why turnout is often so low in elections: people expect different these days, people expect more. My suggestion is ‘One man, 104,000 Likes’.

The number has been carefully calculated. In a single week, each person would be allowed a maximum of 2000 Likes, in my view perfectly sufficient to express a point of view. More than that, and there’s a danger that campaign farms could be set up by candidates eager to wield influence, persuading followers to Like them day and night.

I’m not quite comfortable with ‘One man’. It cleverly builds on the original campaign, but perhaps we should make it clear that women have the Like too. Your suggestions would be welcome.

I’m quite certain that Mr Cameron’s thinking will be far in advance of mine. That’s what you’d expect from a man who has stated that the National Well-Being scheme should ‘lead to government policy that is more focused not just on the bottom line, but on all those things that make life worthwhile’. That he wants Britain to be ‘in the vanguard’ of efforts around the world to change the accepted measures of national progress ‘rather than following meekly behind’.

But he needs our support. So if you believe this plan could reawaken the public’s interest in tired old politics and politicians, then please click on the Like button below. Remember that in Egypt, it took only a month for social media activists to transform the political landscape. With your help, Mr Cameron could do the same.

Recent posts in The TwitFace Project:

Entertrainment
14 Ways To Make Friends With Americans

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Spring

On a dazzling blue summerish spring day like today, there are few pleasures to match a train journey through the English countryside. Our green and pleasant land is awash with color. Bluebells and primroses cluster on the embankment; in the meadows, dense white sprays of blackthorn and cow parsley rejoice in the sunshine, while horse chestnuts have spired and turn to flower; in parks and gardens, there’s delicate pink cherry blossom and stately copper beech; and we slice through famland impossibly yellow with rapeseed.

But of course, you wouldn’t expect your roving TwitFace correspondent to notice any of that. As I travelled by rail in the late morning, my interest was in communication, the effective use of media, the quality of engagement and the return on investment.

Since my journey took me through London, I was able to observe the current status of social marketing for both the overground and the underground service. The rail authorities have kindly requested me to submit a full report of my findings ( – “If you have comments on our services, please contact us at …”). But in the meantime, here’s an interim summary.

EXECUTIVE SUMMARY

While rail seems to understand the importance of social media and has significantly increased its output and improved its content for travellers, there are still too few opportunities for genuine interaction, as my suggestions will indicate.


Factual information and reminders.

Accurate but uninspiring. The correct routes and stations were pre-announced, and doors were there to be minded when we were told to do so. I always remembered to collect all my personal belongings when instructed.

Suggestion: work on the style of the scrolling marquee text in the carriages. Instead of:

The next station is Charing Cross

try:

OMG. Charing X next. LOL

Length

Generally acceptable, though an occasional tendency to ramble:

Good morning. This is your train controller. I’m sorry to tell you that I won’t be issuing tickets on the train today because my ticket-machine is broken. But I have alerted the main-line stations and … use your tickets … buy new … blah … blah … Thank you.

After starting well, he quickly lost our interest, and well before he came to the end, we were all back to sending our own text messages.

Frequency

I timed the silences between platform messages at an average 1 min 35 seconds (slightly shorter on the underground), which is acceptable. No travellers complained that they’d been left unattended.

But a real opportunity has been missed on the in-carriage information boards on mainline trains, where the distance between stations is considerably longer, yet no new messages are displayed for several minutes.

Suggestion: Link the information boards directly to Twitter. Then maximize exposure and feedback by creating the hashtag #amtravelling.

Originality

Poor on the underground with frequent repetition of the colourless – A good service is available on all lines.

Surprising creativity on the main-line station platform:

Parents and guardians are requested to keep children under supervision at all times. Trains may pass through this station unexpectedly and at high speed.

‘Unexpectedly’ made the announcement instantly memorable – and I duly Liked it.

Linking

Some evidence of both internal and external links.

To ensure your safety and comfort on this journey, please observe the instructions posted in the carriage.

On checking, I was pleased to see notices pointing accurately to the fire extinguisher and the alarm bell at the door of the carriage.

More ambitiously:

We would like to inform passengers that services on this line will be disrupted at the weekend due to planned engineering work as we seek to improve our services. For further details, please check our station noticeboards or visit our website at xxx.com.

Suggestion: make it possible for travellers to Like these improvements to the service.

Entertainment value

Strategically placed – right in the middle of the main-line carriage – was a woman’s group on a day-trip to the city. This was pure social marketing genius: the group was loud, brash, on-topic and ready to share with everyone.

For example, here in the UK we have a royal wedding coming up next week – everyone’s talking about it. From our women, I learned the secret history of Royal Icing – on the outside of the wedding cake. Unfortunately I can’t tell you here … because it’s a Royal Secret. But I also learnt that another way to say 2:30 is ‘visit to the Chinese dentist’. (Two – tooth … you see? Never mind. I’ll save it for Twitter.)

Suggestion: This experiment would have worked even better if fellow-travellers were able to give feedback. A button perhaps, on each seat-rest allowing us to Like or Rate each story, joke or phone conversation overheard in the carriage. Think of it as a social icebreaker.

Retweets and Mentions

The system clearly works well on the underground, and in fact I’m presenting the Samuel Beckett RT Award to the oldish gentleman with electric gray hair, gray shirt, loose-fitting trousers over loose-fitting legs, and a brown paper bag in his hand. He lurched across the platform in my direction, shaking his fist at the arriving train and all its well-socialized passengers.

Mind the gap. Stand clear of the doors.

- Min’-the-gap. Stan’ clear o’ the fuckin’ life!

Other TwitFace Project posts:

The TwitFace Plan
7 Health & Safety Tips For Bloggers
Donate A Family. Save A Writer
14 Ways To Make Friends With Americans
Shiny Happy People
What Is Web ME 2?
How To Hypnotize Readers
One Of Our Tweeps Is Missing

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Ommwriter message

A disturbing message

I’m locked into a world where there’s only a blank screen.

Nothing else.

No buttons. No menus. No pop-ups. No tabs.

Blank.

Alone.

No Twitter. No Facebook. Nothing

Friendless.

Likeless.

My head is ambient. Random patterns of sound, swirling, surging, repeating, fading. Electronic leaves falling. Electronic pulse. Electronic argeggios. Going nowhere. Piped into my brain, inescapably.

- You’re a writer? Then write. It’s your only escape.

I press keys. Thinly, they echo back, as shards of sound explode around me.

The page begins to fill, as I write my way back to reality.

How did I get here?

It was Joel Friedlander, The Book Designer, the writer’s friend. I trusted him. I’ve been greading his articles for years, meaning to look at them some day. Until, one day, I did.

When? I can’t remember. There are no clocks in this place, no sense of time.

I can’t even remember exactly what he said. There’s no window to the outside world, no point of reference, no way to send messages.

He said something about a writing tool. Something about concentration and focus. A recommendation. OmmWriter. Omm.

Omm.

There’s a sound sequence I recognize. I’ve been here before. The landscape becomes familiar. A friend. My friend.

- Is it enough? Have I done well, my friend?

- You must write. Always write. Only write, if you wish to escape.

They lied, and it’s a trap. They want to keep me here forever. Just writing. Word after word after word, tumbling out in arpeggios, falling like leaves.

Unnoticed.

Unfriended

Untweeped.

Help!

—————


This was the disturbing message I received, unsigned, this morning.

At first I thought it might be a hoax. You never can tell with the web. But I checked the references, and it’s true that Joel Friedlander posted an article a week back: OmmWriter Dana: My Second-Favorite Writing Program of All Time.

Now Joel’s credentials are of course impeccable. He’s written thousands of articles helping independent writers. Surely no ill can have been intended.

But I followed the trail back to the Ommwriter site, and my fears began to mount:

As mere mortals, we also face the usual challenges of daily life: a multitude of windows open on our computer desktops, messages, emails, calls, meetings, and those crazy thoughts that pass through our minds. OmmWriter emerged as an internal tool to help transport us away from the humdrum noise …

What else is this but a thinly-veiled attack upon the things we value most? Humdrum? Twitter? Facebook? Say it isn’t so. And look carefully at the name of their text editor: Ommdata Dana. Why Dana? Could it be “Download And Never Associate”.

And why are they so insistent on their mortality? Why do they claim to come from Barcelona? My mind is full of questions.

I’m convinced that my message was a genuine cry for help. So what if there was no signature, no avatar? Perhaps this hapless tweep has already been stripped of his – or her – social identity.

We’re a caring community, and I believe that we have a moral obligation to mount a rescue – to save this poor soul from a lifetime of perpetual writing. I would volunteer myself … but Monday’s always such a busy greading day for me, after the weekend.

If you’re as brave as I am, please do what you can … but perhaps you’d be advised not to go in there wearing headphones.

More from the TwitFace Project:

The Twitface Plan
Donate a Family. Save a Writer!
Shining Happy People
+ follow the Twitface Project tag.

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- Hut-THREE!

Before the word died I was across the line of scrimmage, neatly dodging my marker, heading for the line. Faster. Break. Shoulder down and cut inside. Now turn! Keep your eye on the ball. Let it come to you. Perfect pass. Now go. Run till your lungs are bursting .. TOUCHDOWN!!

And in that vast arena the only voice I could hear was my father’s, shouting:

- That’s it son! Show’em what you can do!

It was the only voice because he was the only spectator. Him and Lombardi, our faithful old dog.

It was the best present I’d ever had. A brand new writing-kit, helmet, pants, jersey with my own special number – ISBN 978-1-4523-3709-8 – but more than that, the chance to play at Kindlestick Park, home to 5 million fans. This was my chance to make it into the Big League.

As the day I’d always dreamed of drew ever closer, I was the envy of all my friends. Woo-hoo, you made it, you really made it. Gee, I really wish I could be there. I prepared a press-pack, posed for publicity shots – the all-American hero. Yes, I knew it was a lie, but somehow all-British didn’t really work; surely I could be a virtual American, couldn’t I?

But now, as I sat in the locker-room before my big game, I had my first misgivings. Sure, I was just happy to be there and on the team – except there was no team. Plenty of other players, but each one of us scheduled for our five minutes of glory out there alone on the field. Imaginary glory, an imaginary game, imaginary supporters. Except for my dad and Lombardi.

I ran. I dazzled. I scored. I wept.

My father patted me on the helmet.

- Never mind, son. If only the scouts had been here. With a performance like that, you could have been a contender.

And then, for the first – and last – time, Lombardi spoke:

- The achievements of an organization are the results of the combined effort of each individual.

At the time, it didn’t seem to make any sense. But somehow, I couldn’t shake those words out of my head.

I was out there on the practice field with a few of my friends. Back to earth. We were choosing sides for the game, and it was my turn to be captain. Who would I pick first? Suki Michelle. There was a writer I truly admired. A player who hid behind her characters so you’d hardly know she was there, but then when she came running at you, boy, she packed a punch. Like with her short story, Daddy’s Machine: the first time I read it, I didn’t know quite what had hit me.

So who next?

Maybe it was because Lombardi was sitting there, tongue lolling, head cocked, his eyes bright and staring at me – was that a wink? Suddenly I realized exactly what he’d meant. If we were going to win big-time, it wasn’t just about finding the best players. I needed to build an organization. People working together.

Who next? David Baboulene. Player-coach. David’s a strategist, a student of the game, and he teaches his distilled knowledge in The Science of Story. But like me, he’s a performer too, blogging live on how he’s turning a 25-word synopsis into a film within six months. (We still need to teach David a bit about the American game – he thinks he’s Georgie Best, and insists on kicking the ball every time he receives a pass.)

And then? Well if we were going to find talented players, then we needed scouts. First up, I chose eCapris, who reviews ‘ebooks that are shorter than usual’. That’s smart. With so many writers to choose from, it makes sense to spend an hour or so with them and see how they perform. If they were rated by eC, then I was ready to take a closer look.

Next? Cheer-leaders and supporters. Now I know supporters usually choose the team, not the other way round. But there were a couple who’d been particularly loyal, reading everything that came their way. I wanted Niki and Stuart on my side. And I wanted them to know that their efforts to support the team and spread the word were as important as anything else we did.

And now my mind was racing. It wasn’t enough to be a single team. We needed to play in a league. To associate with other teams who had great players too. Teams like 40kBooks perhaps, producing ‘smart books for smart people’. Was I thinking right, Lombardi?

I glanced across at the old dog. He nodded.

# # #



Today’s featured short-story comes from Suki Michelle. A native of Chicago, Suki’s one of the most versatile and exciting writers I’ve met. You’ll find Daddy’s Machine free at Smashwords. It’s a disturbing story about the consequences of intelligence without understanding, and knowledge without wisdom.

If you enjoy this sample, then head on over to her Facebook page for The Apocalypse Gene, something completely different, as is the way with Suki. It’s a novel co-written with partner Carlyle Clarke that ‘breaks convention, combining the magic of urban fantasy with the swagger of near-future cyberpunk’, scheduled for publication in the fall by Parker Publishing Inc.

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Pirate


An operetta in five acts – with lyrics by Mr WS Gilbert.


‘Publishers cannot pay higher royalties because the money has to go to fighting piracy’TeleRead: April 12, 2011.


ACT ONE

When Alain was a little lad he proved so brave and daring,
His father thought he’d ‘prentice him to some career seafaring.

If you’d known me as a youth, you’d hardly recognize the wretch who stands before you today. With a stout heart and an unyielding arm, I fought piracy with the best of them. When someone offered to lend me a book, I steadfastly refused to accept it, preferring to buy my own copy. When our school started handing out photocopied pages from text-books, I poured sugar in the toner – and it wasn’t long before I could dismantle the drum and make off with it in less than 30 seconds.

From my lofty moral plateau, how far I was to fall!

ACT TWO

Oh, better far to live and die
Under the brave black flag I fly

How did I become a pirate?

Was it a thirst for freedom and adventure? Was it my love of words, the sensuous thrill of ‘swashbuckling’ as it surged forward in my mouth to break on my lips, then fell back exhausted? Was it Johnny Depp?

I’d served my apprenticeship and was an articled writer with a book of my own, written and reader-ready. It was then that Pirate-King Mark Coker came marching into town, recruiting for the bad ship Smashwords. His rallying-call had a beauty and purity I found irresistible. “God is dead.” Ah, Nietzche! “Big Publishing is built upon a broken business model.” And he pressed me to answer a question, neatly bringing the old JFK proposition into tune with the times.

Ask not what you can do for your publisher – ask what your publisher can do for you.

A few days later I was camped at the mouth of the Amazon with the motley Smashwords crew. Every morning we set sail, me and ten thousand other ragged writers with the wind in our faces, bent on mutiny and mischief. We hacked at prices, strangled the old trade-routes, thumbed our noses at authority and tradition. Pirates, of course, but good pirates, only intent on the redistribution of opportunity. Every evening newcomers flocked into the camp, ready to serve under the skull and crossbones.

ACT THREE

I can tell undoubted Raphaels from Gerard Dows and Zoffanies,
I know the croaking chorus from the Frogs of Aristophanes! …
In short, in matters vegetable, animal, and mineral,
I am the very model of a modern Major-General.

Unperturbed, the ships of the great publishers continued their stately progress, laden with the works of fine writers and Tony Blair. (No sir, ‘laden’, not ‘bin Laden’ – they’re still working on the terms.) Let Coker and his mutineers slash prices, and cut their own throats into the bargain. Quality and influence would win the day, as it always had. The croaking chorus would soon be silent.

And besides, there were more important battles to fight, against the age-old foe of my youth – the copy-pirate. Now he was digital and doubly dangerous. But with so many years of experience, this was a battle publishers knew they could win. What’s more, they knew who would pay: their own loyal authors of course, on whose behalf the battle was being fought.

ACT FOUR

Although we live by strife,
We’re always sorry to begin it,
For what, we ask, is life
Without a touch of Poetry in it?

I have a vision.

In dark Amazonian alleyways, heroes rub shoulders with villains. The New Pirates are now the New Publishers. There are no readers, only writers, and on every corner, they plead with one other:

- Read my book, guv? Please read my book. I’m sure you’re going to like it. OK, don’t read it. Just Like it. Or maybe you could just Like me.

What of the Old Publishers? They’re still fighting the Old Pirates, and they’re still winning. Copy-protection’s easier now they no longer work with living writers. And dead writers are far less likely to mutiny.

I have seen the error of my ways.

ACT FIVE

Resume your ranks and legislative duties,
And take my daughters, all of whom are beauties.

Is it too late to say I’m sorry? Too late to renounce my boorish behavior, and fall back into line with the good and the great?

Ever since ‘independent’ became fashionable, I feel like I’ve been losing my independence. A few days ago, word came round that we’re not to call ourselves pirates any more, we Smashwords people. We’re ‘Smashers’ – official! Institutionalized nihilism! I didn’t get into this to be an institution. Or to smash. Just to change, and to have some fun.

And another thing, it’s slim pickings these days, being a writer-pirate. With all the competition, you have to work so hard.

So, what about it publishers, you who are trying so hard to help writers by maintaining the old order? Won’t you take me back? I’m not even asking for much, not like that audacious Hocking woman. A few thousand would suit me just fine.

Ah yes. Yes, of course – I’d forgotten. This is where we came in.

# # #

If you expected to see me revealing the secrets of how to hypnotize your readers today, well I’m sorry to disappoint you. But my lips are sealed – as I said they would be unless we had at least 10 Likes for the post. No likee – no tellee. You’ll need to speak to a few of your friends if you want the lowdown.

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Hypnosis

My Monday Morning Message from Cathy Stucker this week was: “Everything can always be done better than it is being done.” And she issued this challenge: “This week, instead of accepting what is, look for how you can make things better for yourself and others.” Well, Cathy, I think I can. I’m going to show writers and bloggers how they can immediately get the undivided attention of their readers.

By hynotizing them.

That’s right. I’m going to share with you a secret that will get you lots more followers and fans. Can you imagine the excitement of putting your blog to bed at night, then waking up in the morning to find dozens … or maybe hundreds .. maybe THOUSANDS of new readers? Better still, anyone can learn the technique in just a few minutes, it’ll cost you nothing, and it’s actually good for your health. Instead of spending the whole day chasing new followers on your social networks, you’ll be able to sit back and relax, confident that readers will come flocking to you.

The idea first came to me when I noticed that my Twitter friend, Barbara Ford-Hammond (@barbfh), described herself as an ‘author, hynoptist, muse‘. What a brilliant combination! I needed to find out more, and asked Barbara how she hypnotized her readers. The answer came back: “Books do. Entice to suspend reality, be at ‘one’ with the words and use imagination“.

Well, that wasn’t quite what I had in mind. Yes, I believe in the magic of words too, but I wanted more than a metaphor. How could I really use the power of suggestion to influence readers, so that they would enthusiastically respond to whatever I wrote?

As I researched, I started to become aware of the ethical dangers of hypnosis – and perhaps that worries you too. Might there not be a danger that like the Pied Piper of Hamelin I could play a merry tune for my readers and lead them off into the darkness, never to be seen again? Fortunately, that’s not the way it works. Hypnosis will only take people where they are willing to go – according to James Randi it is “a mutual agreement of the operator and the subject that the subject will cooperate in following suggestions“. It follows therefore that my readers will only be grateful: since they want to read my writing anyway, hypnosis will only facilitate their journey. Think of it as a kind of therapy.

And besides, there are very respectable precedents. Like Agatha Christie, the best-selling author of all time. According to the BBC, “Christie used literary techniques mirroring those employed by hypnotherapists and psychologists, which have a mesmeric effect on readers.” Scientists loaded her 80+ novels onto a computer and analysed her words, sentences and phrases.

“The team found that common phrases used by Christie acted as a trigger to raise levels of serotonin and endorphins, the chemical messengers in the brain that induce pleasure and satisfaction.”

But that’s not the approach that I’m recommending. There’s no computer research. No chemicals. You don’t need to use any special words or phrases. It’s not about sentence structure or incantation. There are no tricks.

So what exactly is my secret method? How can you use hypnosis to make that connection with new readers, and turn them into fans? If enough of you are interested, then I’ll reveal all in my next post. If I see at least 10 clicks on the Like or Tweet buttons below, I’ll know you want to hear more. If not, I’ll move on to another topic … and my lips will be sealed forever. (Don’t do that to me!)

Ah … I hear them calling downstairs. Sounds like my daughter’s laid another egg, and they want me to snap her out of it.

References

Cathy Stucker a.k.a The Idea Lady – and that’s exactly what she is. A blog simply bursting with ideas. Highly recommended.

James Randi – acclaimed stage magician and scientific sceptic. Known for exposing charlatans. Uh-oh. The quote is from ‘An Encyclopedia of Claims, Frauds, and Hoaxes of the Occult and Supernatural

Here’s the BBC article on Agatha Christie’s use of hypnosis.

Thank you, Barbara Ford-Hammond, for being a good sport, and allowing me to quote you. For more from a proper hypnotherapist (and muse!), visit Barbara’s site.

A few other TwitFace posts:

The Twitface Plan
7 Health & Safety Tips for Bloggers
14 Ways to Make Friends with Americans
Shiny Happy People

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