EXPOSED: A TALE OF TWO CITIES - SPIN VERSUS SUBSTANCE

WE reproduce below, for your entertainment, the full text of the press release issued by Randy Newman on the sad occasion of the resignation of Jason Harborow, aka The Harbarrowboy.

It is a triumph of spin over substance worthy of serious study by students of the genre (he means us, eds).

So we have, therefore, provided our own translation. Enjoy.

"Jason Harborow, Chief Executive of Liverpool Culture Company, has announced today that he is stepping down from his post.

Translation: We have been forced to pay off the Harbarrowboy, because the Fireman Bradley’s stupid emails and secret meetings meant that Jase could take us to the cleaners for constructive dismissal with all the attendant disastrous publicity that would ensue from such a high profile case. And we couldn’t stand another round of ruinous headlines in our Culture year.

...He has successfully steered the Culture Company from its inception to readiness...
Translation: Jase has spent all his time feathering his own nest and looking after his own interests, by hopping from one job to another in his four years at the Fun Palace. He made sure that he never stayed in the same place long enough for the penny to drop that he couldn’t deliver a stamped addressed envelope if it killed him. (Which it very nearly did). Everyone agrees the Culture Company is utterly ramshackle, incompetent and hopeless and no-one has the foggiest idea where all the money has gone or what is supposed to be happening.

...of the Culture Company, including raising private sponsorship funding...
Translation: He couldn’t even do the job he was originally appointed to do – raise private sponsorship. The city council is still £5million adrift of the amount he promised to raise, no-one knows whether a penny in hard cash ever came in – it was always support ‘in kind’ which meant that we are now knee deep in crap Echo non-stories, Sayers pasties and sausage rolls, Ethel Austin undies and free legal advice for Jase from Hill Dickinson...

...and the delivery of the much acclaimed artistic programme for 08....
Translation: No one has acclaimed the artistic programme at all, except for us at the city council and the Echo. At least half of the population seem to be scratching their heads and wondering when something is going to happen, but we don’t give a toss about those oiks on the council estates, obviously. Most of the good stuff has been put together by our established cultural partners, but we have claimed all the credit and have managed to slap our 08 brand on everything that moves. Tee hee.

Mr Harborow said: “I have fulfilled my pledge to the people of Liverpool...
Translation: I have ripped you mugs off, big time. By the Christ, I have filled me boots with your dosh. Dick-heads. I am laughing all the way to the bank – and you have let me! Fantastic result.

...my job is done...
Translation: “I have spent the last six months on the sick and got full pay! That amounted to £100,000 in the bank for doing fuck all - except sit in the hacienda sucking ice lollies. I have achieved what I set out to do – bugger all. And since my sick pay was going to go down to half the amount, I thought I would jack it all in now and let my drinking mate Col pay me off with a handsome cheque.

...and it is time now for a new challenge”....
Translation: I am going to see Bradley off first of all, by submitting an official complaint to the Standards Board. Hasitall and Cover Up have been egging me on to do it for months and nothing would now give me greater pleasure than
to see Bradley barred from public office. Cheeky bastard. Who the fuck does he think he is? It’s us officers who run the council, not the morons like him who stand for election. With a bit of luck, I will come across as the innocent victim of it all. Even though I cocked up Mathew Street, everyone will forget all that when Bradley is led in chains down Dale Street. Then I am going to do a bit of consultancy to any other European cities who are gullible enough to pay any attention to a word I say and give me lots more lucre. I might do a bit of extra shopping in Chester, I have got some personal stuff to sort out and after that it will be a life of Riley back at the hacienda. But not Joe, obviously....

He is moving on to pursue new business interests and is to step down from his post at the end of the month...

Translation: We have no idea what he is going to do now and we don’t care, we just want to see the back of him PDQ.

He went on to say: "I have very much enjoyed my time in Liverpool...
Translation: This bloody city has been a fucking nightmare. First Finnegan sussed me out as a total fraud within weeks, but Henshaw thankfully got him out of the way for making sure the papers knew Henshaw wasn’t going to get his pension. Then Forde started kicking off about me cutting the Mathew Street budget and threatening people’s safety. What do I care about Scousers? But thank Christ Forde packed it in too. I had to laugh when Bradley had a go at him. It was priceless! If you ask me my recipe for success, I would say that I soon learnt not to stay in the same position for too long – so no-one cottoned on to what I was doing, until it was all too late. I have to say I learnt from the master - Sir Diddy. He taught me everything I knew. Must go for a coffee with him, next time I am in Manchester. I suppose I will end up paying as usual.

...It has been a tremendous challenge but we are there...
Translation: Thank Christ I am getting out of here before it all goes pear-shaped.

...2008 will be the beginning of the future for Liverpool and its entire people, and I am grateful that I was able to play a role in that...
Translation: This sounded really good when Randy read it to me over the phone, but now I have no idea what it means. I hope he doesn’t mean all that Creative Communities bollocks that the Scousers were obsessed with trying to promote. All those horrible unemployed people – trying to teach them about Culture was a bit like teaching Hasitall financial management. A hopeless case. They deserved being ripped off. Numb-skulls.

...Other personal business opportunities have opened up for me next year and I wish to concentrate my efforts on these...
Translation: I shall bullshit my way around the world.

...I have therefore taken the decision to leave now, confident that the programme for 2008 will make it the most successful Capital of Culture ever...
Translation: I am getting out of here sharpish, before people wise up. With my pockets full of dosh.

...I am leaving behind a strong organisation moving forwards into its delivery role..."
Translation: I have left it all in the hands of The Ego Our Lord Redmond, who just wants his name in the papers and nutters like McCogloose, who will just agree with the first person she hears. Half the staff are applying for other jobs like it is going out of fashion, the other half daren’t admit they work for the Culture Company for fear that it will ruin their reputations for life. The place is a total laughing stock. And I haven’t mentioned the money yet. But that’s your problem now, suckers!

Colin Hilton, Chief Executive of Liverpool City Council, said: “Jason has made a huge contribution to the city over the last four years in leading the team that has developed such a strong programme for 2008.

Translation: Am I really supposed to say this? Are you sure? I don’t know what the hell has been going on over there for the last four years. Where has all the money gone? No one has got a grip on it at all. Consultants kept on waltzing in and out as if they owned the place. They probably did, with all the money the city council was paying them. It wasn’t for me to interfere either. I am a council bureaucrat, I don’t do culture. I have no idea what the artistic programme is at all. But the brochure has lots of nice pictures in it. I just can’t be bothered to turn the pages. My mum seems to like it though.

...He brought flair and a commercial edge to our work....
Translation: Jase was great. He seemed to know lots of people in the private sector, which was obviously a very good thing, and he brought them in regularly to help us out with all kinds of things. They did an excellent job, by all accounts. One of these friends of Jase’s presented me with a nice grey fleece, which keeps me very warm, and also gave me a lovely wooly hat for my mum. Which was really very kind and thoughtful of him, I thought. They have done a fine job for Liverpool – just like BT and Liverpool Direct. It has been a real partnership. I am just waiting for a full report about what has been achieved.

...and will always be remembered for his enthusiasm and ability to engage the support of the most top level people across sport, government, the arts and other institutions.”

Translation: Jase was a terrific bullshitter. The Government ministers were so gullible it was incredible and they believed every word he said. Don’t ask me why. I don’t know who half these people are. I recognised a few faces from the telly though. One of them got a ticket for my mum to go and visit the House of Lords. She had a really nice day. Redmond went with her – he said something about going on a recce. The cultural lot/arty farty set were a piece of cake – they wouldn’t say boo to a goose, anyway. Even if Jase had pissed all over their chips.

Bryan Gray, Chairman of the Culture Company Board, said: "I would like to thank Jason for his contribution to the success of the Capital of Culture over the last few years.
Translation: I can’t believe I am saying this. Jesus, the things I have to do for these clods in Liverpool. Good job I have taken it over now, after I told that Fireman Fella what was what. He soon got the message. Pygmy.

...I am sure that everyone associated with the Liverpool Culture Company will join with me in sending best wishes to Jason for his future..."
Translation: I am not giving any radio interviews about this tosser. I would choke on these words.

THE LIVERPOOL '08 TOP TWENTY

We have been reading in the Echo that Phil 'the great grey hope' Redmond has unveiled his secret weapon to make Liverpool No 1 in 2008.

Apparently, there is to be a new "Song For Liverpool" to mark our very special year.

(What a fantastically original and creative idea, absolutely guaranteed to engage and involve the people of Liverpool, eds)

And it's going to be a joint production by the Culture Company, (unholy)Trinity Mirror, Radio Murkeyside and City.

Doesn't that make your heart sink, pop pickers?

The song is destined, we fear, to be 'bubbling under' for a very long time (rather like our Salthouse Dock fish, ed)

Far better, in our view, to produce something which will be truly unique, distinctive and popular.

What about a once-in-a-lifetime Liverpool '08 compilation CD?

Featuring memorable cover versions of our favourite hits - but sung by some of the city's contemporary and most respected figures.

Mark Ronson could produce it - and blog readers could contribute the song titles and suggest the local personalities best equipped to perform!

It could be our very own version of the Liverpool X Factor!

So, to get the ball rolling and your creative juices flowing, might we make some suggestions about our very own top twenty?

THE LIVERPOOL '08 TOP TWENTY

1) We Don't Talk Anymore - Cllr Warren Bradley & Jason Harbarrowboy
2) It Should Have Been Me - Cllr Mike Storey(teller)
3) The Sound of Silence - Colin 'Cover Up' Hilton
4) Heaven Knows I'm Miserable Now - Phil Redmond
5) People Get Ready - Claire McColgan
6) Say it Ain't So, Joe - Paul 'Randy' Newman (in the chart with a bullet, eds)
7) Art for Art's Sake (Money for God's Sake) - Phil Halsall, the smiling assassin
8) Life in a Northern Town - The Residents (of L4, L5, L6, L8…etc etc, eds)
9) Y Viva Espana - Jason Harbarrowboy (solo performance, eds)
10) I Shoulda Known Better - Roger Phillips
11) She's Gone - Robbing Archer
12) Take The Money And Run - Sir David 'Diddy' Henshaw
13) Happy Talk - Alistair Machray (Echo Editor, eds)
14) Let's Dance - Flo 'quick, quick' Clucas
15) The Great Pretender - Kris Donaldson (Donald Bullshitter)
16) Hanging on the Telephone - Carolyn 'snitch' Hughes

17) Starman - Tony Parrish

18) I Wanna Be Elected - Liam Fogarty

19) Hound Dog - Dr David 'rottweiller' McElhinney

20) How Long Has This Been Going On? - The people of Liverpool

Bubbling under: Born To Run (Chris Green), Money's Too Tight to Mention (Sir Diddy), These Foolish Things (Matt Finnegan), Suspicious Minds (Lee Forde), I Fought The Law (Rex Makin), You Better Go Now (Joe Anderson)

It's something which everyone can join in!

Send your song suggestions to the blog, nominating your personality songster.
We will ensure that the Culture Company spends millions of pounds of council taxpayers' money on hiring record studios and top notch producers for the CD.

Thanks L&J!

MATHEW STREET INQUIRY: 'THE CUSTARD COMPANY FARCICLAPS, JASPER HOTTLEBOTTLE, MR FORDLY CAPRI, WALLY BRADLOW AND COLLOP COVERMOST'.... BY STANLEY UNWIN

Prof. Yaffle Chucklebutty said...

By Jove Missus, Have I got you a scoop?

Here it is, found on the back seat of the only surviving Trolley bus in Liverpool and sent to me direct from the Municipal Building pigeon shelter lost and floundering dept.

The comments by the legal expert Sir Stanley Unwin QC prior to the publication of the Matthew Street enquiry.

At last, a clear explanation!

PROFESSOR STANLEY UNWIN WRITES:

Enquiry into Cancellation of The Meryl Streep Festivule.

As legalode visoree for Lilliput Silly Console, The Chief Excrutiate, Mr Colollop Hiltio and The Loader of the Silly Console, cllr Worried Badly, have asp me to examine the findings of the repole composted by the indefensible enquirymode into the lasp minute cancellation of the Mirthview Streep festavole. Pre- publo.

In advance of the floo repole being deleted for public constipation and due to the risk that it may, on publo release, cause further laughtermost in the national printopress, I have been asked to cast a boadley eyeball and summarise the phonal repole from a legal perpload.
Since the awarb of Callipole of Custard for throb trouser and eight, the Custard Company farciclaps has caused tabload news coverage to now return to the old stereoscousey of all calmy-down,calmy-down, gis a jobello and all knocky off with the holdey out the cappy hand.

The repole documes a tatley missmanagemode around crapalot of custard 2008.

It is of great conserve that the general picture of daily debaclo has manifolding in the city and that beclose of this, the image of Loolapole may have been set back a decode. Deep, deep folly. The Matthew Strobe festeral began life as a celebro of the fib four moppy tops. John Lemmole, Pole Mc Slidey, (favourmost by Bradlow) George Witherspoon and Rumpo Stark.
Inertialy known as “The Butties Festeral”.
It used to provide much cheery on the city streebs every year with no treebhole, oh no, apart from the odd sickload in the handlebag of a fold age pensioner at the bus stop.
Usually by an inebrioled man all dressy up the walrus. Deep joy many years!
In fact the Matthew Strobe festeral as it became later known, was so purpello that people flockermost from all round the world, include far flung examploads such as, Japone, United Stairs of Jamiraqui, Jockland, Germinate and Frince to name but throde.
Come the award of Cap-in-hand Culture 2008 much rushy board the gravy boat for the ferry cross the Mersey ( a sling made flabemost by Jolly Marsdone)
All shout with cocknole accsperent, “Gis a job.” But not the job to give the scouseyload, oh no! All the big cashy jobs given to people who never once set a footy print in Lollopool.
Not even paddle by the beachpoo at New Brightlight.

Even the persil spellification stateyclear that being a muddle clapp southerner was an essential crimeria fool getting the job.
Liverpole culture was overnight transfumed to the jellied eels perspective with pearly cones all along the roads as the big diggerup of all the frogs and toads caused a great deal unendo congestomole and total kiosks.
It was the big drig after hole that many peoplo held resprollable for the near closey sale of Lowersole’s and a lisp of promits for Raphole Hardwood.
Jasper Hottlebottle, Expletive Director of the Culture Clammity, so the report states, said with all trumpety fanfare and spittle canope as he speakload.
“The Matthew Streep Farcical would better be handed over to the offal sirs of the Incompetent Company. We’ll ruin it from now on”

So they handy the festival over with all hastily speed to the cashbuckets of the clammity companole, blissfullow unaware that all poury down the drain and pissly up the wole.

After much swiggy chardonnale and trampermole round and round the daily banquoles for extinguished gusts, severmole floke suddenly rollexed that the only plans drown up to actually organise the event were all scribbly down on a misplomed fag packet.

Deep folly and much wailey cry eye when they rollexed the faggy packet had been accidentally crumple up and throwed down a big hole in the road somewol near Whitechapphole.

Thip explones why Rex Makeloads, the cities flamour solitersole, is constantly writhing in his workly column about fallolloping down a big hole outside his offices. The repole states.

As the clockety tock by, Mr Fordly Capri with wringy hands and a sweatload on the highbrow make constantly phone and sendy the electromic mails to Collolop Covermost and Jasno Hollowbottle, but all say as wimb that they never set an eyeball and heard not a liverbird.

Many suspode that they jisp ignolled him.

Consequally all holes break loose when Wally Bradlow, the Loader, sitting all comfy with a bare leg and flip follopers enjoying a short holiday, nearly fallolloped out of the decky chair when he read the Echlo splashy news headlice. “Meryl Streep Festivole Candelled! Fiascole!”

All red face and quite the twisty mouth with a shakey fist Bradlow was all shoully down the Drummond Phone.

“Bring me the head of Alfredo Garrowbarrow” he screechy with a high pitch girly scroam. “I demean an explanation immediately..first thing in the moaning…or next week the earlymost!” he cried to Colllolop Highnoon.
The worms fearst was confirmymost.
With no Hole and Softy plan in place and vasp crowds to risk fallollop into the diggerholes or snag of cardy on the fencil posts, The companole of consolants, Cashitter recommend cancellation on the basin that all the visitors and tworisps to the festervole could tripple up all arm over tithebarn, and fall down the hollies. It was da scissorsisters waiting to happen.
Oh Frock! They all criedly-eyed. Who can we blame this on?
So the Festibule was cally off at the last minuet a total Boccherrini.
Liverspole makes national news and even Jeremole Paxo smirky face with a perm and tashy lip talk pretended to interview Terry and Barry and said “ On Newsnole Tonole Calm-down, calm-down….as Livepule’s Internaspernole musole fistula is called alf” and newspapers around the world translate “Cultureload My Arse!” in every linguode.
The whole country unites as all but one and laughy out loud til dampy in the eyeline and trickle spot the trouserleg too.
But most steamy gusset and dampole the leg were in Birminghole and Newcapple, They laughed til they cried!

But then they cried again without the laughyeyes for themselves and what they could have done with the awarb.
What a watered opporternity.
Woollen Bradlow cancelled all the reception dinners for that day and gather the custard complainy at The Little Big Horn pub.(Custards Last Spam)
Bradlow was spitter with roage to suggest Jasno Holloborrow must be related to Catherine the Great as equally infamoule for habling one big cock-up after another.
There were gusps and chockles in epral propulsion but Mrs Bradlow was very creebs with Woolen and later make him wash all the mouth out with sarp and womer after she plume him home by the earlobe. Deep folly!
On Argos Bank Hapliday weekend, as confused tourists gatheried up all puzzle faced at what they thrim was some kind of Yoke, oh no, they stared in thris beloaf and goggle ode at a lone hairy tramp vest, who strummed a play on a cardboard guitar in queens squall. (Tribload act, bless him)
So this enqueeryprobe proverbs a pubload report in the hope that any ratsqueeks to jump or ship themselves overbole so they can carol the can, will leave not only the assembled remoaning thick skins of the custard company, but the loader and anyone else whose trouser pounds matter, totally exfoliated.

Appendix 1 Lessoles lermed

• Report conclumes by hailing the savoury of the Culture Crapalo with the frappointment of Anthea Redmond, not only the creeper of TVs Grungehole, Brookesode and Hairy Blokes, but one time give us a twirl wife of the Bruise Foreskin. “Knives to see him to see him knives” (Recommole biographicole details are cheemed prior to publo. ed)


• Finaloe the repole stains that we should now clone this unfornicate chapto and points out the exciting programme of attractions for 2008…er Ringo…


• Vote Ludicrous Dimmertwat in May!
  
• stanley.unwin@crapalotofcustard2008.guff

VICTORY FOR FREE SPEECH, DEFEAT FOR RANDY NEWMAN!

We are pleased to officially announce that Mr Joseph Riley, erstwhile scribe and cultural provocateur of the unholyTrinity Mirror publication, the Liverpool Echo, has this morning been fully re-instated to his dubious but accustomed position with that (un)esteemed organ. (oooerrmissus, eds).
We trust that Mr Riley will now return to being the extremely irritating, irascible and opinionated correspondent, who often talks completely out of his arse, that we have all come to know and love.
And that he will do so without a stain on his reputation, without a blemish on his record, without a spot on his...(that's enough of that, thank you very much, eds)
Further to this, we hope that Mr Riley's chief - and usually invisible - accuser, Mr Randy (sic) Newman, will come to bitterly regret his ill-considered, ill-judged and intemperate intervention, which was a disgace both to journalism and to Liverpool.

See Liverpool Confidential for more on this: Randy Newman 'categorically' denies trying to get Joe the sack