The Mayor & The Simpleton

When I was about to retire from teaching some seven or so years ago people told me that I would  especially miss the Christmas festivities that go on in all schools - the singing of carols, Christmas parties, the Nativity, the disco, the excitement of the children and the like. I can’t say that I have – in fact I’ve been happier in the more moderate build up to Christmas without the frenetic activity of pre-Christmas school life!

There is , however, one element of school Christmases that I have rather missed – the words of Christmas. For many, many years I was the person who “wrote” and produced the Christmas carol concert or nativity. Each year we concentrated on telling the Christmas story in a different way – it may have been via the Russian story of Babushka, or by taking a historical theme such as a medieval mystery play or by looking at how Christmas is celebrated in different parts of the globe but, whatever, it was a vehicle to retell the great story of the first Christmas. Each year I would plough through books to find suitable poetry, words and ideas to put the whole thing together so that in the end the kids not only retold the Christmas story but also maybe learned a bit – a wonderful poem, a bit of history or some legend from long ago or some far off place. In my researches and resulting “scripts” I came across many wonderful pieces and somehow or other tried to fit them jigsaw like into the tale.

And at this time of year I often think back to some of the great words that I came across and I find myself flicking back through my old school books and re-reading some of the wonderful verses and extracts that I used and which, through the ages, people have scribed down as their thoughts on the Christmas story.

Some of my favourites might only be a couple of lines long......

”And did you know that every flake of snow,

That forms so high, in the grey winter sky

And falls so far is a bright six pointed star......”

(Clive Samson: “Snowflakes”)

Others might be great tracts that retell the whole story from a particular perspective......

“Three Kings came riding from far away,

Melchior and Gaspar and Baltasar;

Three wise men out of the East were they,

And they travelled by night and they slept by day,

For their  guide was a beautiful wonderful star..........”

(Longfellow: “Three Kings Came Riding”)

Of all those I used over the years two or three stand out above all others as having something special and pertinent to say at this time of commercial frenzy when it is easy to forget what it is all about. One is the great poem by John Betjeman “Christmas” – see blog: http://www.arbeale.blogspot.co.uk/2012/12/the-waiting-bells.html .

Another is Kipling’s “Eddi’s Service”:

“Eddi, priest of St Wilfrid

In the chapel at manhood end,

Ordered a midnight service

For such as cared to attend............”

Read Kipling's short poem and I defy anyone not to at least feel a twinge about the true meaning of the Christmas story.

And yet another is TS Eliot’s masterpiece: “Journey of the Magi”

“A cold coming we’ve had of it,

Just the worst time of year

For a journey, and such a long journey:

The ways deep and the weather sharp,

The very dead of winter..........”

Like Betjeman’s poem “Christmas” Eliot’s is at one level a superficial, if different,  retelling of part of the Christmas story, but it  asks great questions in the final stanzas.

Ian Serraillier

And right up with the best of my favourites is the wonderful poem by Ian Serraillier “The Mayor and the Simpleton” . Serraillier is one of my favourite authors. I could not even begin to imagine how many times I have read his most famous work “The Silver Sword” to classes of children. Serraillier was a Quaker and a pacifist. In the Second World War he was a conscientious objector and his message of peace runs all the way through “The Silver Sword” – the story of refugee children in the war damaged Europe of the second World War. It is the sort of book that children can learn something about themselves and about growing up – as well as being edge of the seat exciting. Whenever I read it to a class, children would exclaim “Ohhhhh” when we got to the end of a chapter – and want to read another one!

Serraillier’s poem, it seems to me, gets to the heart of what Christmas is about – in a rather strange way. It reminds us of what we are about as we tear open our Christmas presents or we  sing “Silent Night” . I always think of it at this time of year – I know the words by heart – I have so often spent time with children as they learned their lines or put expression into the words as we rehearsed it for a  Christmas “production”. But a couple of days ago I was reminded of it for another reason.

Making up food parcels in one of the
world's richest countries. We should be
ashamed not making excuses.

In the UK (and, I guess, in other parts of the world) a day does not pass without newspapers and TV reporting people being thrown out of work. The other side of the coin is that we still hear each day it seems of bankers and others associated in high finance and corporate life receiving huge bonuses, of vast wealth in certain sections of society and of calculated misuse of  influence by those with access to power and wealth. Our society is becoming, daily, more divided between the “haves” and the “have nots”. I read only the other day that in my area – a wealthy area of the midlands - there has been a huge increase in the number of ordinary people receiving food handouts – this, in one of the world’s richest countries. In Monday’s Guardian a full page article described how the head teacher of a highly successful and government applauded school in Essex is concerned and angry at the number of his pupils who come from “good” homes but are increasingly ill clothed or fed simply because austerity is biting. The Head was using his own money to buy a winter coat for a boy whose parents could not afford one - a symptom of an escalating economic crisis that has seen the number of pupils in the area taking home food parcels triple in a year. The Head described how even children with a parents in work were often struggling and having to choose between heating their homes, buying their children clothes or having enough food.

Oh! I am such an important man -
I havequick riposte and glib gag
for every occasion

And against this backdrop of an ever more unequal society this weekend the Mayor of London, the amiable buffoon, (and, because of that carefully cultivated persona, highly dangerous) Boris Johnson made another of his misguided utterances. Except that this was, I felt, offensive, unacceptable and thoughtless from an extremely wealthy and, sadly, very influential man. The fact that Johnson finds himself the leader of our capital city is, in my view, an affront to decency and, indeed, democracy. That Johnson has risen to this position (and is, staggeringly, tipped as a future national leader) sadly says far more about our society and the people who voted for him than it does about the man himself. His glib “off the cuff” comments, his “clever dick" one liners, his relentless self promotion and pathetic pseudo intellectualism built upon a mock veneer of the odd Latin quote and affected accent reflect badly not only upon the man himself but also upon an easily impressed and gullible electorate. Johnson is the personification of shallow pomposity and while being interviewed on TV over the weekend he suggested people should not to "sneer" at the coffee chain Starbuck’s over its decision to grudgingly pay £20m in corporation tax. The company has paid £8.6m in corporation tax in its 14 years of trading in the UK and nothing in the last three years, despite UK sales of nearly £400m in 2011. Starbuck’s, he reminded us was showing "corporate responsibility" and the issue was "difficult". 

It is not "difficult". In an age when millions are out of work – largely because of the lack of “corporate responsibility” in past years it is  an eye wateringly irresponsible and offensive statement. In the past weeks there has been much media comment and hand wringing about multinational companies “playing” the tax system and legally paying less tax than they might – Amazon, Google, Starbuck’s and many others have jumped on this money laundering band wagon. Starbuck’s have been highlighted and a series of demonstrations have occurred outside many of their shops. For Johnson to suggest that they should not be criticised or that they are now showing “corporate responsibility” by making a nominal tax donation because they have been “caught with their trousers down” says much about Johnson’s own beliefs and possible actions. The issue is not, as Johnson suggests, “difficult” – it is extremely simple: Starbuck’s and others pay the tax required in the spirit it is intended and be pleased to do it – there can be nothing simpler.

Starbuck's have the spotlight turned on them

I do not suggest that Starbuck’s paying of appropriate tax will solve the problems of the Head Teacher who takes his children down the local “Primark” to buy them a coat out of his own money – there are deeper issues. But a few extra billions in the national coffers will certainly help and it would say much about the sort of society we would all wish for. For Johnson to come out with this pathetic and pompous defence of corporate greed is a disgrace - especially at a time when we are reminded daily that many in the UK  (one of the world’s richest nations) will be without basic comforts this Christmas. Reading this
my mind idly wandered to another mayor - the one in  the Serraillier Christmas poem “The Mayor and the Simpleton”. And in a flash I saw Boris Johnson in this other guise! The unthinking, callous and irresponsible utterances by the pompous, self important Mayor of London seemed to me to be a twenty first century mirror of Serraillier’s pompous mayor – full of talk, full of trivial and misguided comment but with no feeling for common humility and humanity. Johnson should be ashamed - but perhaps, too, should all those people who elected him as Mayor of London and who now talk of him as a prospective national leader.

The Mayor & The Simpleton

They followed the Star to Bethlehem – Boolo the baker, Barleycorn the farmer,

Old Darby & Joan, a small boy Peter, and

A simpleton whose name was Innocent,

Over the snowfields and frozen rutted lanes

They followed the Star to Bethlehem.

Innocent stood at the stable door

and watched them enter. A flower

stuck out of his yellow hair; his mouth gaped open

like a drawer that wouldn’t shut.

He beamed upon the child where he lay

among the oxen, in swaddling clothes in the hay,

his blue eyes shining as steady as the Star overhead;

beside him old Joseph and

Mary his mother, smiling

And Innocent was delighted.

They brought gifts with them – Boolo, some fresh crusty loaves

(warm from the baking) which he laid

at the feet of the infant Jesus, kneeling

in all humility.

And Innocent was delighted.

Barleycorn brought two baskets – one with a dozen eggs,

the other with two chickens – which he laid

at the feet of the infant Jesus, kneeling

in all humility.

And innocent was delighted.

Darby and Joan brought apples and pears from their garden,

wrapped in her apron and stuffed

in the pockets of his trousers; the little boy

a pot of geraniums – he had grown them himself.

And they laid them

at the feet of the infant Jesus, kneeling

in all humility.

And Innocent was delighted.

The mayor rolled up in his coach with a jingle of bells

and a great to do. He stepped out with a flourish

and fell flat on his face in the snow. His footmen

picked him up and opened his splendid

crimson umbrella. Then he strutted to the door,

and while the white flakes floated down

and covered it with spots. He was proud of his umbrella

and didn’t mean to give it away.

Shaking the snow off onto the stable floor,

The mayor peered down at the child where he lay

Among the oxen, in swaddling clothes in the hay,

His blue eyes shining steady as the Star overhead,

Mary his mother smiling.

And Innocent was puzzled.

And the mayor said: “On this important occasion

Each must take a share in the general thanksgiving.

Hence the humble gifts – the very humble gifts –

which I see before me. My own contribution

is  something special -  a speech. I made it up myself and I’m sure

you’ll all like it. Ahem. Pray silence for the mayor.”

“Moo, moo” said the oxen

“My fellow citizens,

the happy event I refer to -  in which we all rejoice –

has caused a considerable stir in the parish....”

“In all the world” said a little voice.

Who spoke? Could it be Innocent, who, always shy,

Timid as a butterfly, frightened

as a sparrow with a broken wing? Yes, it was he Now God had made him bold.

“I fear I must start again” said the mayor.

“My fellow citizen, in the name of the people of this parish

I am proud to welcome one

who promises so well......”

“He is the Son of Heaven” said Innocent

The mayor took no notice

“I prophesy a fine future for him,

almost – you might say – spectacular.

He’ll do us all credit. At the same time I salute in particular

the child’s mother, the poor woman who.....”

“She is not poor but the richest, most radiant

of mothers.”

“Simpleton, how dare you interrupt!”

snapped the mayor.

But God, who loves the humble, heard him not.

He made him listen, giving Innocent the words:

“Mr Mayor, you don’t understand. This birth

is no local event. The child is Jesus,

King of kings and Lord of lords.

A stable is His place and poverty his dwelling place –

Yet he has come to save the world. No speech of yours

Is worthy of Him....”

“Tush” said the mayor.

“I took a lot of trouble. It’s a rare

and precious gift, my speech – and now

I can’t get a word in edgeways.”

“Rare and precious did you say? Hear what the child

has brought us – peace on earth, goodwill towards men.

O truly rare and precious gift!”

“Peace on earth” said the neighbours

“goodwill towards men! O truly rare

and precious gift!” They knelt in all humility,

in gratitude to the child who lay

among the oxen, in swaddling  clothes in the hay,

his blue eyes shining steady as the Star overhead,

beside him old Joseph and

Mary, his mother, smiling.

The mayor was silent. God gave the simpleton

no more to say, Now

like a frightened bird

over the snowfields and frozen rutted lanes

he fluttered away. Always, as before, a flower

stuck out of his yellow hair; his mouth gaped open

like a drawer that wouldn’t shut.

He never spoke out like that again.

As for the mayor, he didn’t finish his speech.

He called for his coach And drove off, frowning,

much troubled. For a while

he thought of what the simpleton had said

But he soon forgot all about it, having

Important business to attend to in town.

Ian Serraillier

Goodwill to all men...as long as it's corporation tax deductable

I suspect that Boris Johnson and others on the corporate/power bandwagon will, too, have “important business to attend to in town” over Christmas – he and they will "soon forget", Serraillier's mayor did,  about the poor and the homeless on London’s streets and those having to choose between warmth, food and clothes. He and they will, I have no doubt, have lots of corporate gatherings to attend, pompous speeches to make, lots of self adulation in which to wallow, much champagne to drink and turkey to eat. And, I have no doubt, they will all – unlike the Essex schoolboy - have a warm coat on their backs and maybe a few presents under their corporate Christmas trees. 

And no, Mr Mayor, problems with corporate tax avoidance are not "difficult" to resolve – they are so very simple that even a simpleton could come up with the answer – pay the required tax, pay it on time, do not employ people whose sole purpose is to find ways to legally and often shady ways to  minimise your tax obligations and last, but not least, be pleased that your corporation is given the privilege (and yes, it should be considered a privilege) of trading in our country. That is the humanitarian message that the Mayor should have been sending out. Instead he decided to side with greed and excess and maybe that’s why our pompous and shallow Mayor of London may have  a little “Christmas Greetings and Best Wishes for the New Year” card from a certain multinational company’s PR department under his Christmas tree!