I am a Labour party member. I’ve got the card and everything. I’ve not been a member that long – I joined shortly after the 2015 election in the spirit of ‘oh dear sweet christ how did that lot get in again?’ – but I’ve yet to be excluded from the upcoming leadership election.

I voted for Jeremy Corbyn last time this came round in what I assume is a now-annual competition. I did so because he seemed to be the only candidate that wasn’t blaming the loss at the 2015 election on Labour not being Tory enough. In trying to be slightly less nasty than the Tories, the opposition under Ed Miliband didn’t seem to be doing much in the way of opposing and carrying on like that was unlikely to get a Labour government of the sort I believe would be helpful to the nation into power.

I’ve liked some of what Corbyn has tried to do, but attempting to play a different game – his fabled new, kinder style of politics – when nobody else is aware of the rules just doesn’t work. And in that space, any message gets lost. And there have been plenty of times where strong leadership is required and we’ve not seen it, particularly surrounding the base level of debate around his leadership.

The manoeuvrings of the parliamentary party, at odds with the membership’s overwhelming choice, was depressing and dispiriting. If that energy had been directed at opposing an utter shambles of a government we might be getting somewhere. But a leader needs to command not just a mandate from members, but also from the party’s MPs so it’s clear that Corbyn’s position has been untenable for a while.

It’s said that he’s unelectable – always a highly subjective statement – and that there’s no point having principles if you never get the power to legislate in accordance with those principles. Which sounds to me like suggesting that the only way to gain power is to lie to the electorate and do lots of other stuff when you get in. That sounds an awful lot like the sort of thing we’d all scream about should the Tories do it and a lot like the laughable Leave campaign in the EU referendum. He may be unelectable – the polls make ugly reading – but I wouldn’t particularly want to fight the next election on a sham of a manifesto.

I think probably that a change is required. But the alternative being offered isn’t that appetising. Owen Smith seems to represent the option that reverts to the sort of position that lost Labour the last election and more or less support the neoliberalism that clearly, abjectly and demonstrably failed in 2008, albeit in a slightly different shade.

In other words, I don’t know what I’m going to do when my ballot arrives. Go for someone I don’t think it very good at leading the opposition or someone who former DoSAC minister Hugh Abbott would doubtless have described as a brushed aluminium cyber-prick. I don’t know. And I’m not going to call anyone names on social media if they disagree.

EDIT: BUT I’m always less likely to find common ground with anyone who thinks homeopathy is anything but pure quackery.

So we did that thing for charity. Finally, we did it.

Five bands, three spoken word artists, about four hours and who knows how many beers.

Here’s a film:

If you were there, thank you so, so, so much. We cleared over half a grand for CALM including a £315 donation from Mark, bassist of co-headliners Dr Hackenbush, who had been running a last man standing football competition all last season.
It was a top night. I had a laugh despite falling off the stage after the brilliant Ceiling Demons had finished and giving myself a really solid whack in the ribs.

If you weren’t there, you can still donate. With impeccable timing, we set up a justgiving page after the event. Chip us a few quid at justgiving.com/fundraising/CALMapalooza

Maybe we’ll do it again some time.

As you may have seen, I commentate. Specifically on football and rugby league. While I do it voluntarily for a charitable organisation, I take it very seriously. Sometimes it’s difficult not to get carried away and get overexcited, but I think that not being a fan of the two teams I cover most helps – there’s not the emotional involvement for me that there might be for some of my colleagues. When you are a fan, emotion can get the better of you, as per last night and Iceland’s dramatic late winner v Austria which secured their first ever win in a major championships:

That is up there with two of the greatest examples of overexcited commentary ever.

from the unmatched Jack van Gelder.

from the partisan Rodolphe Pires.

Marvellous. Sport, isn’t it?

Football sucks. I thoroughly hate the bloody game at the moment (typing this just after a 4-0 loss away at Oxford which pretty much turbo-fucks us as far as Football League survival goes).
But a couple of weeks ago, Nick Murphy asked if I’d knock together an all-time York XI (in a 4-4-2) plus five subs for the Dagenham and Redbridge programme in advance of our game there. And so I share it here for you, to remind you of happier times.

GK: Dean Kiely
Arriving initially on loan, but quickly being snapped up permanently, Kiely played a part in the two great glories of the 1990s – the play-off win at Wembley and the 3-0 win at Old Trafford.

RB: Andy McMillan
Having trialled for Spurs and Hull, the South African signed for City in 1987 and stayed for 11 years. 492 games puts him second on the all-time appearances for the club.

CB: John MacPhail
A stylish but uncompromising defender, MacPhail won Clubman of the Year twice in his three years at City, the first during the 1983/84 Division 4 championship-winning season.

CB: Paul Stancliffe
Not arriving at City until he was 33, Stancliffe still played with distinction, captaining the side to play-off victory at Wembley in 1993.

LB: Wayne Hall
Cult hero thanks to the combination of gingerness and baldness and twelve years at the club. Another alumnus of the play-off win, he struck the winning penalty in the shoot-out with that fabled left foot.

RM: Gary Ford
Classy right-winger who debuted for the club at 17, member of the Championship side of 1984 and the Cup win over Arsenal and draws against Liverpool.

CM: Nigel Pepper
He was a nutter, but he was our nutter. You didn’t want to be on the end of one of his rasher challenges. Owned a rocket of a free-kick too. 1990s stalwart.

CM: Neal Bishop
Only spent a season and a half at the club when we were in the Conference, but he was clearly far too good for us. Clubman of the Year in his one full season.

LM: Jon McCarthy
At a club like York, you don’t often get truly exciting players. McCarthy was one. Twice Clubman of the Year, he was right-sided, but I’m sure he’ll do a job out here.

FW: Keith Walwyn
My first football hero. A man about whom nobody spoke anything but highly. A true gentle giant. 140 goals in 291 matches, second highest in the club’s history, and sadly missed by all.

FW: Keith Houchen
Before his diving header in the final for Cov, Houchen’s FA Cup moment came at a freezing Bootham Crescent in January 1985 as he rolled a late penalty past Arsenal’s John Lukic, the most memorable of his 27 goals in two seasons at City.

Subs: Alan Fettis, Denis Smith, Graeme Murty, John Byrne, Paul Barnes

 

Basically, what I’m saying is that for two periods in my life – the mid-1980s and mid-1990s – we weren’t utterly shit. Maybe I should have put Byrne in for Houchen, but the latter gave us that moment against Arsenal. Maybe I should have put a left-winger in instead of McCarthy, but I didn’t and I don’t care. And obviously I only went for players I’d seen, otherwise the 1955 side would have got a look-in.
Anyway, now that navel-gazing is done, let’s return to the present reality. *sigh*

This year, I’m doing something daft for charity.

It wasn’t my idea. It was my mate John‘s. See, last year he released an album (which is pretty good) raising money for CALM. And I’d been doing a bit with Tom under the name John Thomas.
Then in January, he says “I’ve had a daft idea. Why don’t we put a gig on?” Not finding a polite way to say ‘don’t be so fucking stupid’, I instead went along with it. And it’s taking shape.

July 30. The Parish, Huddersfield.

Suicide is the biggest killer of men aged 20-45 in the UK, which is frankly a ridiculous stat.
CALM operate a phone line and web chat every day to try to help men at risk. It costs £7 per phone call to run, hence the admission price. Everything we make on the night will go to the charity. It’s something close to the hearts of all the performers.

Follow @CALMapalooza on Twitter for more as it comes.