Let’s talk about Bill …

Teaching can be a brutal profession. Young graduates, filled with evangelistic zeal, are inspired to enter the classroom ‘in order to make a difference’. Some love their subject and want to share that love with the next generation. Others want ‘to give something back to society’. Some love the ‘cut and thrust’ of classroom banter, swear that they ‘like children’ or have a passion to ‘make the world a better place’. Invariably, new teachers are idealists.

Yet, many do not make it through 5 years in the profession. The classroom can often resemble something more akin to a battlefield than a place of learning. Instead of intellectual autonomy, the teacher becomes an agent of institutional control: checking conformity with uniform standards, delivering pre-packaged lesson materials and talking in endless meaningless jargon.

The classroom itself is a lonely place. Lonelier than they imagined it would be. Lonelier than anyone would imagine it could be with all those bodies packed together like sardines in a tin. Despite constant rhetoric about collaboration and teamwork, in the end, the teacher is on their own for most of a day. Outnumbered, he has to muster the emotional energy required to be the dominant force in the room for hour after hour. All teachers know that they may not actually be the smartest, most talented or strongest character in that room. And, if they are not teaching their own subject, they may not even be the most knowledgeable. That comes as an almighty shock: new teachers expect to be teaching the subject they signed up for - typically the one in which they have a degree. They anticipate being able to wow their juvenile audience with their hard-earned expertise. ‘At least there’, they think, ‘I will have the advantage.’ No - modern schools frequently take the view that any ‘teacher’ can teach ‘anything’ and a young person, barely out of school themselves, finds that they are trying to explain something they simply do not fully grasp themselves. Unless you’ve been there, you cannot really understand how totally disempowering that is. A PE teacher is told to ‘teach’ French because 5 years’ ago they got a GCSE in French. An Art teacher is told that they have to ‘teach’ DT: Resistant Materials or Food or Graphics. Since when does a degree in fine art equip you to teach Food? A Chemist is directed to Maths. Or a Drama teacher to Music or IT. You feel utterly vulnerable.

I’ve known teenagers who have been sufficiently self-aware to also know that - and who have been prepared to use their own charisma, intellect, social credibility and strength of will to deliberately undermine a teacher. When that happens, the teacher becomes a victim. A class of harmless-looking children can behave like a feral pack; they ‘hunt’ their teacher; they attack, relentlessly and mercilessly. And many a young teacher has been driven from the classroom, their idealism torn to shreds, by the fear of being savaged several times a week, or even a day, by a class who has them ‘on the run’, often surreptitiously led by a single. malicious and dominant character who remains hidden and unseen beneath the chaos. Experienced teachers who’ve fought this fight - and won - can often spot the real malignant force which is persistently working away to destroy not only the classroom environment, the learning of the majority, and the teacher’s own self-esteem. An experienced teacher watching the dynamics of a classroom in which the teacher is a novice can often see what’s really going on in a kind of sub-text.

What this means is that the life of a classroom teacher can be like living on a knife-edge. A teacher’s senses can be on hyper-vigilant alert, all day. Every sound may signal danger. Every move an imminent crisis. At any second, the teacher may be called upon to react, in an instant. It’s easy to make a mistake. There is no space for relaxation. And, if you know that trouble is coming down the corridor towards you in the form of that class you truly dread, the anticipation is as bad as the experience. Indeed, it’s the fear of tomorrow that keeps many teachers awake at night. That sense of relief on realising that the student, whose face haunts your nightmares, is missing today is quite something. I imagine that it’s a bit like going to receive some test results and discovering that you haven’t got cancer after all.

That metaphor of cancer is incredibly apt. Being in a classroom, hour after interminable hour, and having your self-esteem eaten away by that nagging feeling of vulnerability: insecurity, anxiety and that knowledge that you are absolutely not in control of the situation, is like living with a cancer that is insidiously corroding your very being. You are truly an imposter. You are a clown with thick, caked-on make-up which is disguising that ever-diminishing figure which is the real you.

And if you come to work ill? They sense it. There are classes which are super-nice. Lovely human beings who metaphorically cuddle you in a blanket of sympathy. But the others? They have no pity. They will exploit the poor teacher’s vulnerability. These are dangerous times because this is when the unwary teacher can make an error - and the next day find themselves in trouble because they ‘were a bit snappy’ or missed something they should have noticed. A parental complaint comes in and they find themselves having to defend an action or something they said when they were really too ill to be in that tense and pressured environment but they’d turned up out of sheer conscientiousness, thinking they’d cope. Do school leaders show sympathy? Of course not. They behave as if the poor teacher’s vulnerability did not exist. Struggling in with a sinus infection, a stomach upset or, even, hayfever doesn’t cut the mustard. ‘If you aren’t fit, you should have stayed home.’ Very true. But, if you stayed home every time you weren’t 100% up to snuff, especially given that there are several nights in a week when your fears for tomorrow mean that you barely sleep, you’d be in trouble for triggering an attendance warning. You can’t win. If a teacher has five lessons in a day and only one of them is the class from hell, the risk of the day ending up as a catastrophe is 100%, not 20%.

Then, there is the workload. Teachers are always complaining about workload. Yet, they rarely define what that means. A full day in the classroom is emotionally exhausting. It’s impossible to convey to anyone who hasn’t done it how the adrenaline, which has fuelled the teacher all day, suddenly drains as the end-of-day bell screams out and the children hurtle from the room and a sudden silence descends. It leads to a ‘downer’ - which has to be filled by something. Alcohol? Sugar? Compulsive exercise? There are many ‘drugs’ which teachers use to combat this barely recognised, but all too real, sensation. The most benign mean walking with a dog or engaging in an absorbing hobby. The most insidious is alcohol. Many teachers drink too much. It’s so easy to reach for that glass of wine, that shot of whisky, that gin and tonic - just to aid post-school relaxation. But, over a week, that alcoholic consumption is cumulative, and, over years, it’s easy for that one glass to become two, or three - or the whole bottle. There are teachers who would be horrified at the thought but, in truth, by their mid-40s, they have become functioning alcoholics.

All this is cumulative and it makes a normal family life very difficult. Teachers often find that they can’t ’switch off’; their minds race, their fears about what will happen tomorrow and insecurity about whether they did the right thing all whirl around in their minds. Insomnia is common. Irritability with family inevitable. Many teachers actually, and totally unintentionally, neglect their own children whilst spending their entire working lives helping others. Yes: they’d be horrified at the thought and absolutely do not recognise it in themselves. But a teacher who spends every weekend working, and leaving their partner to deal with their own children’s problems is not being a good parent. Children of teachers often spend hours in empty classrooms while mum or dad attends meetings or works after the end of the school day. Such children are patient but few of them will ever voluntarily enter the teaching profession themselves. Some do - but, for many, that decision is internalised rather than understood. And marriages fail because of it. What husband is going to respond well to a wife who comes home every night and does 2-3 hours of work, barely talking to him, and then does the same all weekend, leaving him to ferry the children to swimming or football or dance class? What wife is going to tolerate a lifetime of a husband who talks about nothing but school - if, and when, he talks to her at all - while she cooks and cleans and washes and deals with her children’s every day problems, while trying to hold down her own full-time job? Such relationships inevitably come under strain. Lots of teachers marry teachers. It’s the only way - and children where both parents are teachers really can pay that price. Some families make it work, of course. But many break under the strain. More often, a teacher decides that leaving the profession is the only way to be a good parent or to save their marriage.

Teachers don’t get enough daylight, or fresh air. This is especially true in winter. Too many hours under electric lighting can give rise to semi-permanent headaches. They don’t get breaks. Gulping down a scalding cup of tea in the ten minutes of mid-morning break is not a break, especially when the choice was between this abominable beverage and going to the toilet. Teachers must have strong bladders for it is often impossible for them to relieve themselves for hours. Children demand to be able to go to the toilet whenever they want and loudly proclaim that it’s their ‘human right’ to do so. OK - but their poor teacher must stand there and hold it, for he can’t indulge himself and pop out for a pee just because nature has called on him, too. And - God forbid that you are a young female teacher at a certain time of the month: that tell-tale ‘blup’ warning you that you must not sit down until you’ve been to the toilet - and that possibility might be two hours away.

Lunchtimes are too short. Thirty minutes? If the teacher wishes to speak to a child about something, tidy up and get ready for the afternoon or make a private phone call, there’s no time to eat. Many a teacher has nothing to eat from 8.30 in the morning until late afternoon. No time. And - there’s that rush for the staff toilets again.

Oh - and I forgot - I’m supposed to be talking about workload. The heaviest and most relentless part is, of course, marking. Teachers from an older generation talk of long lunches and more non-contact time in which marking could be fitted in. But today’s frenetic days mean that there’s no time in the school day. Marking must be taken home or it will not get done. Many a teacher, who tries to balance work with family life works late into the night, after their own children have gone to bed … marking. In my teaching days, I’ve marked til 2 am on a Saturday night, marked while walking in fields on a Sunday afternoon and marked during mealtimes.

Teachers also complain about planning. Yet, like marking, planning is part of the job. Even in the era of the classroom delivery model, no teacher can afford to rock up to the classroom without having at least read what they are supposed to be delivering. But many do - it’s easy to spot those who are ‘winging it’. And the children know. Of course they do; it undermines their respect for a teacher when they can obviously see that the teacher hasn’t a clue what is on the next slide. And cares even less.

Then there’s the scrutiny. It’s hard enough to be alone in the classroom. Harder still to be constantly alert to the imminent arrival of someone with a clipboard. You know that the word ‘support’ in teaching is largely code for ‘checking up on you’. Every school has its own version. Did you follow the entry routine correctly? Did you make sure that the children correctly laid their equipment out on their desk? Did you use the approved wording for your lesson objectives? Did you make sure to give praise points to at least three children? Did you monitor skirt length as the children entered the classroom? Check for jewellery? Was the ‘house badge’ correctly displayed? The House system inculcates pride and a sense of belonging - but, apparently, that escapes the average teenager, who will, if not relentlessly checked five or six times a day, dispose of said insignia and, showing a streak of malevolent individualism, walk around ‘un-branded’. It’s the same with uniform. Despite being persistently told that it gives them a sense of community, they will insist on pulling their shirts out, twisting their ties into bizarre shapes and wearing shoes with non-regulation bits of decoration. In the days before clip-ons, I spent many an early afternoon untangling a tie which had been used at lunchtime as ‘handcuffs’ or tied round the head as a bandana. It’s almost as if they don’t want to ‘belong’ to a club they’ve been conscripted into. Strange creatures! But for the teacher? Ah … there are endless protocols to adhere to, driven by fad, by external educational consultants and the whims of school leaders.

And I’ve not even talked about the data mania. In many schools across the country, each child is given a plethora of ‘targets’. Where these targets are derived from is mysterious and their statistical validity unknown. All the average teacher is told is that they define a child’s ’potential’ in your subject and, despite having virtually no autonomy whatsoever to deviate from the externally imposed teaching programme or the imposed protocols regarding delivery, the teacher is told that it’s their responsibility to ‘ensure’ that the children reach these divinely-inspired ‘targets’. Responsibility without power is a recipe for cognitive dissonance and a source of great psychological stress. How many teachers have been told that the targets that have been handed down by holy writ to their students are both ‘aspirational’ yet, also, the ‘minimum expectation’? Is that even possible? How many more have been told that 70% (or even 100%) of their students must achieve ‘above average’? And, if those students fail to achieve this miraculous feat? Well - that’s the teacher’s fault, obviously. It’s a strange concept.

It’s an even stranger world. Most jobs are based on the premise that wages are awarded in return for hours worked. It is beyond the comprehension of the non-teacher to contemplate doing work for no pay. Whether that’s a professional, paid by the hour, or a factory worker, paid for the shift. No-one expects to be told that it’s an ‘expectation’ that they put in extra hours of work for no pay at all. It’s routine in teaching. So - you’re paid to do classroom-facing duties for 23 hours per week and someone comes along and tells you that you’re expected to do two more, after school, hours. Will you get paid for them? No. It’s an ‘expectation’. And the word ‘expectation’ is thrown around like litter in a strong breeze. Run a club? When? In the 30 minute lunch break? Another ‘after school hours’ commitment? Run a revision session during the holidays? Am I going to be paid for it? No - it’s your ‘duty’ to ‘do everything you can’ for the children taking exams. And it’s largely performative. Who, in their right mind, thinks that, after more than a decade studying Mathematics, it was that two-hour session in the Easter holidays which made all the difference? It never ceases. And if you refuse - as you are entitled to do - it’s a black mark. This teacher ‘lacks commitment’. Or worse - they’re ‘unprofessional’.

Oh boy! Is that phrase banded about in teaching. What it really means is that the teacher stands their ground regarding these non-contractual ‘expectations’ or criticises a policy decision, a curriculum decision - any decision. It means that they went home at the end of the school day, rather than stay for extra hours of unremunerated work. Perhaps they expressed frustration with a petty imposition, or insisted on a basic entitlement, like having lunch or dared to go on holiday at Easter rather than run unpaid revision sessions. Most commonly, it means that they simply disagreed with the leadership over something. At worst, it is because you let the Panglossian mask slip: the public persona of teaching is that ‘Everything is for the best in the best of all possible worlds’. The 11th commandment is: ‘Thou shalt radiate positivity at all times.’

‘Just make three positive phone calls home each week’, they say. Nice idea. But each one of them can be a 20 min conversation. The parent is delighted that their child is doing so well. They’re pleased you rang and, while they’ve got you on the phone, they’d just like to mention … Three phone calls equals another hour’s work … for no extra pay. ‘And - don’t forget to log the call with a brief description of what was discussed’. That’s another half hour. It quickly mounts up.

And the justification for all this? Well, the standard teaching contract contains that catch-all concept of having to do anything necessary to fulfil their duties. And who defines that? As Shakespeare says, ‘There’s the rub.’ It’s as long as a piece of string.

But what about Bill?

What? You thought I’d forgotten? No. Bill was one of the best teachers I’ve ever met. He taught English.

More than that, Bill was the single best manager of people I’ve ever met in my life. He was a Deputy Head from the old school. Started teaching in the mid-70s in a boys’ grammar school and rode the tide of comprehensivisation to become a pivotal figure in everyone’s life. Bill had a saying “No-one has the right to make anyone else’s day miserable.” Bill would shadow a single child around school to make sure that he wasn’t being bullied. He’d make sure that he knew what each child coming into Year 7 from our feeder schools needed. He knew the community: the families and the problems.

But - Bill also cared about the staff. If any teacher had a problem, Bill would be there. Bill had a way of dealing with the most awkward of characters. He massaged bruised egos, alleviated the anxious, calmed the headstrong and lifted up the weary. He solved problems which seemed intractable. When asked, I said that Bill was the ‘oil’ which made the school function. He was.

He was kind, considerate, funny, clever, charismatic - and gentle. That’s not to say that he couldn’t terrify the children. I had many a child ask if they could stay in my classroom at lunch. Why? Because they had English after lunch and they hadn’t done Bill’s homework. They’d not done mine either - but, clearly, I did not inspire the same kind of respect as Bill.

Yet, on his office wall was a handwritten copy of the old proverb: “If you have two loaves of bread, give one to the poor. Sell the other and buy hyacinths to feed your soul.” That was Bill: a good man, a fabulous leader and a truly inspirational teacher.

But teaching broke him - in the end. As in many schools, change starts with an incoming Head, inexperienced and full of jargon: ‘monitor and evaluate’. Bill’s dry humour pointed this out as it became clear that one candidate was heading for the job. Yet, within months, behaviour had deteriorated to the point where some of the children became dangerous and violent. Teachers were assaulted. Everyone’s confidence and self-esteem plummeted. And, of course, everyone turned to Bill. But, as good as he was, Bill couldn’t solve every problem simultaneously and especially with a weak Head who was determined to box him in. It was this Head who asked what Bill’s job really was and to whom I’d answered that Bill was the ‘oil’ which made the school function. He was determined to fit Bill into a ‘role’ on a management flow chart. You couldn’t box Bill in to a defined ‘role’. To ‘cage’ Bill was to drive him …. to drink.

Bill had always liked a drink. But, under the mounting pressure, he drank more. He began to drink so much that he couldn’t make it into school all the time. We all missed him. We needed him. Months passed and, eventually, Bill stopped making it into school at all. He just disappeared. No-one would give a clear answer about what had happened to him.

Later, I heard a story that he’d gone to visit a sick friend. He’d taken the friend a bottle of whisky - and sat and drank it all himself in less than an hour.

Two years after this, he was dead. He was 52.

Teaching really can be brutal.

Precision. Clarity. Verbatim.

Practise or Practice? The Difference Explained Clearly

Writer at work (Image generated from AI)

If you’ve ever hesitated over practise versus practice, you’re in very good company. Even confident writers and seasoned professionals stumble over this one. The two words sound identical, look almost identical, and refer to related ideas—so how do you know which to use?

The answer is surprisingly simple once you know the rule. And once you know it, you’ll never forget it

The Simple Rule (UK English)

In UK English, the distinction mirrors that of advice and advise:

• Practice (with a c) is a noun.

• Practise (with an s) is a verb.

If you can replace the word with action (a verb), use practise.

If you can replace the word with thing (a noun), use practice.

Examples:

• I need to practise my French before the exam. (verb → doing something)

• She has a thriving dental practice on the High Street. (noun → a thing)

• The more you practise, the better your practice becomes. (both!)

Why It Confuses People

The confusion largely comes from the influence of US English, where practice is used for both the noun and the verb. Global digital content, American software, and spell-checkers have all blurred the line for UK writers.

If you’re writing for a British audience, or you simply prefer precise, traditional usage, then sticking to the c = noun, s = verb pattern is the way to go.

A Quick Memory Trick

Think of:

• Advice → noun (ends in c)

• Advise → verb (ends in s)

Then apply the same pattern to:

• Practice → noun (ends in c)

• Practise → verb (ends in s)

If you can remember advice/advise, you can remember practice/practise.

What About Phrases?

Some common expressions help reinforce the distinction:

• Out of practice → noun

• Put it into practice → noun

• You need to practise → verb

• To practise what you preach → verb

You’ll notice these expressions always follow the same rule.

One More Tip: Check the Grammar

If you’re unsure, test the sentence:

• If you could replace the word with “rehearse”, use practise (verb).

• If you could replace it with “training” or “a habit”, use practice (noun).

Final Thoughts

Mastering the difference between practise and practice is an easy way to sharpen your writing and avoid a common pitfall, especially in professional, academic, and business contexts.

If you’re producing a CV, drafting marketing copy, or writing an academic essay, this is one of those details that signals clarity, precision, and care.

And if you ever feel unsure… practise until it becomes second nature.

Precision. Clarity. Verbatim.

A New Social Contract

This is is an opinion piece which I first wrote in November 2016 - shortly after the Brexit referendum in the UK and the first election of Donald Trump to the US Presidency. I’m including it in this Blog to showcase a different genre of writing. However, it strikes me on re-reading the piece, how very pertinent the themes are a decade after it was originally written. After a brief hiatus, Donald Trump is back in the White House and populism is on the rise in many parts of the world. This piece isn’t intended to promote or denigrate any particular poltical figure or party. It was originally intended to stimulate readers to think. Here - it is merely being used as an exemplar of opinion writing, as opposed to a story, a poem or an academic essay.

Jean-Jacques Rousseau 1712-1778 (image generated by AI)

When Jean Jacques Rousseau wrote "The Social Contract" in 1762, it was during a period of profound social, economic and political change which ushered in the greatest expansion of human prosperity and personal liberty ever known. It is the thesis of this article that the time has come to reconsider the terms of this contract in order that we do not lose the benefits we have gained in the last 250 years.

It has been 87 years since the Wall Street Crash triggered the banking crisis which facilitated the Great Depression and much has been learned as a result. It didn't matter much whether your political philosophy was fascist, communist or liberal democratic, all states affected by the Depression pretty much pursued the same solutions. In the end, vast amounts of government expenditure kick-started the global economy into activity by creating demand where there was none. Of course, most of this expenditure was justified by World War Two. Even people who violently object to public spending on welfare have no problem justifying precisely the same expenditure when directed to national defence. In economic terms, however, it matters very little what one spends taxpayers' money on; the point is that it was spent.

In the aftermath of the Second World War there was a de facto recognition that unfettered capitalism has flaws. Admittedly, there are those whose belief in perfect markets has a religious fervor to it but, in practice, all stable states have practiced

policies of economic management. Furthermore, all states in the western world have, to a greater or lesser extent - and often whilst making public declarations to the contrary - actually pursued policies of a redistributive nature. Here in the UK, for instance, every state employee, every old age pensioner, every business working on a government contract and many organizations whose independence is little more than a superficial facade for the expenditure of a government grant - and every small business whose income is dependent upon state employees spending their money on their goods and services is, in fact the recipient of government policies which are inherently redistributive. Just take a walk down any typical small town high street, but especially in areas of deindustrialisation, and consider how many of those nail salons and sandwich shops only exist because they have a regular clientele whose income is derived directly, and more commonly, indirectly from the state and it will soon start to sink in that we are a nation whose economic wellbeing is utterly dependent on the fact that the state shifts vast amounts of wealth from those who have to those who have not. To argue otherwise is quite to delude oneself in the face of the facts. In other words, the very survival of capitalism, as we know it, has been the result of state nurture.

And, let's be honest. It's been a good thing. It is utterly undeniable that capitalism - the free movement of capital, goods, service and labour - within a framework managed by the state has led to a greater collective wealth and well-being than ever before. The thought of returning to a pre-capitalist world of labour service and personal bondage is ridiculous. Economic freedom, a polity based on the social contract between ruler and ruled and the personal liberty of the individual are all manifestations of the same post-Enlightenment world. We, in the modern world, may disagree about many things but we are all beneficiaries of a world built, in part, by capitalism.

And, yet, it happened again. Indeed, that the 2008 banking crisis did not lead to another Great Depression is thanks entirely to the lessons learned in the 1930s. This time, states did not wait until the banking system collapsed before taking pre-emptive action: they bailed out the banks. The result has been an inevitable increase in sovereign debt and, in some quarters, the cry that this necessitates a reduction in the redistributive role played by the state over the past 87 years. Basically, the individual citizen must shift for themselves. If a person will not work, they shouldn't eat - and there is a moral repugnance at the idea that those who are industrious should pay the bills for the indolent. It's time to recognise that there are finite resources within a state and they should be shared on a basis of individual moral worth, rather than on a basis of universal equity.

OK. I see the logic. And, if that is the logic, then we should indeed look after our own first. We should limit immigration. We should protect our industries. We should "take back control". We should "put America first" etc etc. We should defend our interests, howsoever they be defined, against "the other", the outsider, the alien. Even if we are one of those who have lost our livelihoods and lack economic security - who rely, in short, upon the redistributive hand of the state (although we'd really like to pretend that that isn't the case) - we can all rally behind the call of a charismatic personality who promises to put 'us' first. What we want is a Messiah!

But, what, exactly does this mean? The millions of UK citizens who voted for Brexit and the millions of US citizens who voted for Donald Trump are an inchoate group with no discernible philosophical unity - except for one thing. They want the state to take action to increase their economic security. This isn't a rebellion against the concept of government. If that were so, voters would not have turned out to vote at all. Voter apathy is indicative of a population which wants less government or who isn't interested in who governs them. No: this might be characterised as some very angry people who want their government to listen to them and "do something" about their very real problems. The logic of this is an increase in state activity, not a decrease.

But, what can these governments, in practice, actually do? It is an unfortunate truth that most governments in western states govern for the short term. Election cycles dominate thinking and there are often swinging reversals in government policy as opponents replace incumbents within historically minute periods of time. Right now, and despite all the noisy disputation, there is a consistent call for an increase in government spending. Central banks have slashed interest rates to zero, or nearly to zero. They have printed money, albeit electronically. They are out of ideas - and still the level of demand in the global economy remains sluggish. Politicians, financiers and businessmen talk up the prospect of future prosperity - but we all know that such recovery as exists in the aftermath of the 2008 crisis is incredibly fragile. So-called 'Project Fear' was driven by very real fears that cutting the UK off from its most lucrative market is economic suicide, even though it will take years before the reality of this begins to hit home. UK Chancellor Philip Hammond's pledge to abandon the objective of achieving a budget surplus by 2020 is a shadowy reflection of President-elect Trump's pledge to orchestrate a construction-driven boom. At heart, we are watching these states come to terms with a reality which few are willing to admit: state expenditure is a necessity because there are a lot of very angry citizens out there. They want jobs, they want security - and YOU, rulers of the world, had better provide it. You can do so by stimulating private enterprise or you can do so by employing us directly: we don't mind.

At this point, we reach the crux of the argument. Can the rulers who have been brought to power on this wave of popular discontent actually make good on their promises? I fear not. Why? Because not one of them is facing up to the long term and underlying problem which has plagued capitalism for the past 87 years. It is a fundamental flaw in the theory. Capitalism is driven by the profit motive. It works on the principle that every enlightened being pursuing his or her own rational interests will inevitably result in change which is of benefit to the whole. This is fine and dandy in theory but, in practice, it not only results in the unprincipled members of society taking every opportunity to exploit their fellow man but, more benignly, it results in the owners of capital taking every opportunity to dispense with human labour entirely. The industrial revolution is predicated upon the replacement of human labour by machine. The thing is that machines may produce; they do not consume. When capitalism functions in accordance with the theory, there is an equitable balance between production and consumption. The workers who labour in the factory proceed to spend their earnings on the very product they have laboured to produce.

But, what if there were no workers? Let us, Jules Verne-like, imagine a future in which all production was to be accomplished by robotics. Who, then, would buy the products thus produced? Can we not, reductio ad absurdium, fantasise of a bottomless pit into which the mechanized production line teems a vast array of wonderful products whilst a poverty-stricken population sits and watches? Of course, the global economy is vastly more complex and some things will inevitably be done by mankind alone. It merely serves to illustrate the flaw: the advancement of technology has made labour cheap. Low wages may serve to increase company profits but they do nothing to increase demand. The angry citizens are real people who face job insecurity and low wages. Right now, they are blaming "the other". Without a great deal of empirical evidence to support the conclusion, they are convinced that the blame lies at the door of the immigrant who is "stealing their job" or undercutting local wages. If it isn't the immigrant at home, it's the foreigner abroad: the Chinese mostly. Or, here in the UK, the fault lies, obviously, in "Brussels"....

In fact, none of this is true. Human migration is driven by many factors, chief among which is the belief that life is better somewhere else. It is very likely to be true that migrants are seeking work. But that pre-supposes that there was insufficient work at their place of origin. It is true that businesses seek out the cheapest source of raw material, human labour included. But, were workers to be in short supply on a global basis, labour would be more costly. Employers would be competing for workers wherever they might be found. It was the demand for workers after the Black Death which helped to undermine the medieval feudal system, after all. And, for all its inefficiencies and absurdities, the single market is a phenomenally good idea, extending the positive benefits of capitalism to its logical conclusion. To work efficiently, a single market requires a stable political and legal framework which reduces uncertainty. What is caricatured as "Brussels" is, in fact, a sensible means of creating the context in which capitalism can flourish in Western Europe. The angry citizen is blaming the wrong causes. For this reason, their Messiahs, spouting slogans which pithily express an underlying emotion, will not provide long term solutions.

There's nothing inherently wrong with using machines in the place of human labour. There's nothing inherently wrong with the acquisition of wealth. The question is: what is it all for? Surely, the morality of capitalism lies in the use of whatever humankind produces for the benefit of all humankind? That those who are industrious view themselves as more virtuous than those who are indolent might have merit if indolence was a voluntary choice. Yes: we can all cite examples of lazy scoundrels. But, the millions of voters who voted for Brexit and Trump are not primarily lazy scoundrels. They're angry because they want to work - and they want to receive both financial and moral recognition that their labour is valuable - but can't find it, or enough of it, to be able to enjoy life. Equally, I'm not suggesting that the solution is for the state to appropriate the proceeds of society and redistribute it in some form of totalitarian concept of the equality of man. I am suggesting that those who would compete for power in a democratic polity in which the benign benefits of capitalism can be realised need to recognise that there is an underlying flaw in capitalism. It's been growing for 87 years and it isn't going away.

We need to create an economy and society in which everybody's labour counts. Yes: everybody needs to work, in one way or another, but not all the time and not in the same way. And, however one contributes to society - provided one does contribute - one should be able to reap the reward of a 'good life'. I want those who read this article to think about the implications of this, for they are profound. Societal contribution does not just mean a fixed number of hours spent grafting in a factory or an office. It might mean many different things. We need to decide what it is that we value in our society and how we should distribute resources in order to reflect that. Right now, what we're actually saying is that we don't value people just because they're people. In essence, that makes our civilisation little better than those who based their economy on slavery or whose rulers used them as cannon fodder in the pursuit of personal glory. I think we're better than that. We ought to be better than that. And, if liberal democracy is to survive in the long term, we had better be better than that. People are active agents and they don't do "nothing". Eventually, if their faith in their leaders is destroyed completely, this mass of angry citizens will do something - and who knows what? What I fear is that whatever they do will destroy all that the post-Enlightenment world of capitalism and liberal democracy has gained.

So, in this article, I am talking about the need for a new social contract - and I want to see and hear people debating what that might look like.

If you need help working out how best to express your opinon, Verbatim is here to help.

Precision. Clarity. Verbatim

Never judge a book by its cover… especially this one.

Michael Lewis’s book on English verbs doesn’t look like a must-read, but it’s one of the most fascinating books I’ve picked up in years. I genuinely couldn’t put it down.

It isn’t a thriller or a mystery. It’s a revelation about how English actually works.

Lewis argues that, unlike verbs in many European languages, English verbs aren’t fundamentally tied to time: they are tied to the speaker’s perception of an event.

For example:

“I’m catching the 8.30 train tomorrow.”

Grammatically present.

Semantically future.

But the real meaning? Certainty. The writer sees the event as fixed.

“I will be on the 8.30 train tomorrow.”

Same time reference: totally different attitude.

This expresses intent, not certainty.

Once you see this, you realise how much power English gives a writer. By shifting verb constructions, you can:

✨ signal emotion

✨ drop subtle clues

✨ create ambiguity

✨ mislead deliberately

✨ reveal a character’s state of mind

All through grammar, not plot.

The book may look unassuming, but if you love language, it’s a gem. It made me see English from a completely fresh angle.

Never judge a book by its cover. Sometimes the plainest covers hide the richest insights.

Precision. Clarity. Verbatim.

Nightfall

These eyes are sad.

This face is aged.

These lines were born of grief.

I bet it all;

And lost it all.

And time became a thief.

Prose or poetry, Verbatim is there for your proofreading or editorial needs.

Precision. Clarity. Verbatim.

The Gladiator’s Loss

The Colosseum stood empty. The baying crowds had gone home, satisfied that they had got their money's worth. It had been the highest quality entertainment the Empire could offer. Customers had thrilled at the spectacle of men fighting for their lives. Twisting and turning, thrusting and parrying, running, leaping, ducking, diving, they had fought for their very lives. They had fought hard. They had fought bravely. Blood had flowed. And, in the end, there was a victor and a vanquished.

Before the contest, both men had been lauded as heroes as they strutted around the arena, signing autographs and exchanging jests with their fans. For days groups of giggling girls had admired their physique and angled to be noticed as they arrogantly swaggered through the streets of Rome, picking up free samples of whatever they chose from the market stalls while their owners grinned in tolerant awe and thought how the patronage of one of these popular idols would increase business. The boys would ape them, of course, copying their every fancy in the hope of attracting one of those silly girls. Indeed, most of the girls would, in the end, settle for a facsimile, for obtaining a kiss or a night-time liaison was something reserved for the lucky few who would then brag about it to their friends. The celebrity could take his pick. It was all just a bit of fun.

In the hours before the main spectacle, anticipation reached fever pitch. Bets were placed, not only on the winners and losers but on who would strike the first blow, draw the first blood, lose the first eye ... Alcohol fuelled the excitement and, as the gladiators entered the arena, the roar of the crowd soared to a deafening crescendo. For a while they peacocked about exchanging the customary insults and posing to let the audience gawp at their bronzed musculature. They sneered and snarled at each other, yet only moments before they had sat side by side, like brothers, and exchanged comment on the two girls they had shared the night before, a gladiator's treat. The noise became more of a hum as the action began. At first, they merely circled each other, defensive, cagey and not breaking eye-contact. Then came the moment of that first lunge. It didn't draw blood but it cracked the tension open and the crowd began to cheer their man and to bait his opponent.

They loved the mistakes as much as the skill. As the ill-informed mob 'ooed and ahed' with the obvious ebb and flow of the contest, experienced former gladiators passed comment on technique and made prophesies about life expectancy and career prospects. They wanted drama. A quick and easy contest would not have satisfied their lust for sensational gore. They got it. Now one, then the other, seemed to be gaining the advantage. Both protagonists acquired gaping wounds and they sweated profusely.  If you had looked closely, though, each man's brow began to furrow as he felt his strength begin to fail. It was fun for them no longer, a life or death struggle. His only possessions now: his weapon, his meagre clothing and his life. Brotherly comradeship be damned as each man's chance to see another dawn hovered in the balance. One fatal mistake ... But the crowd only hollered for more. Fights broke out between rival fans, who relished the sham of a non-fatal brawl, and were broken up by a complacent and tolerant armed security. Meanwhile, vendors sold souvenirs, pickpockets took their opportunities, bookies made their profits and prostitutes worked the testosterone inflamed crowd. Everyone, it seemed, was a winner.

Except, of course, for the loser. Eventually, someone had to fall, right? Too weakened from the loss of sweat and blood, too bruised and battered to stand any longer, he crumpled and passed out right in front of the VIP box. The Emperor grinned. It had been a good contest and he did not want to ruin the mood with the lame killing of an unconscious beast and send the audience home on an anti-climax. So, today, the defeated man might live. A cheer went up as the victor's arm was raised in triumph. Garlands of flowers were hung around his neck, the women flocked and he was whisked away on the shoulders of his owner's slaves. His reward, to live to fight another day, to repeat the empty pattern of an arrogant pretence which only masked the gritty fact that his life had no more meaning to it than to die dramatically for the pleasure of the bored and idle mob. The crowd dispersed and went home in happy mood.

Left in the dusty centre of the arena lay a solitary man. No longer of any interest to the mob, a defeated gladiator is no longer of value to his owner. And, so, he is left, like a wounded animal, to fend for himself, a strange kind of freedom. Dazed and in great pain, as he tries to lift himself back onto his hands and knees, the utter loneliness of his existence rushes in upon him. Who cares for the defeated warrior? Wounded, perhaps disabled or disfigured for life, how will he build a future? A former celebrity, a 'has-been', what are his skills? All he knows is how to fight. And, as hard as he tried, as much as he determinedly willed it, he could not find the strength within himself to stand.

Much later, as the sun slowly began to set over the Colosseum, it stood empty. No. It was not quite deserted. The defeated gladiator could still be seen struggling in the centre of the arena. Trying to lever himself up using the point of his sword, he repeatedly climbed so high and thought he had almost made it before his knees gave way once more and his shaking hands, slippery with blood and sweat, slithered off the hilt and he fell back down into the grimy dirt. Heart pounding and chest heaving, he determinedly tried again and again. He must do it alone or he would surely die. No-one was coming to aid him. No-one. He didn't want anyone to aid him; that'd look weak, so he must do it alone. He must.

If only he had looked up. The shadow of another solitary figure could be seen against the darkening background. Somehow, he knew that one alone had remained behind but he was not going to acknowledge him. Disgusted by the brutal spectacle of mankind as civilised beasts, this man now watched the gladiator from behind the closed and shuttered barriers which segregated the spectators from the performers. It was truly impossible to reach him. But, had the wounded man given a single yell, or even a whimper, he would have clambered over the impassable, broken through the toughest barricade and overcome every opposition in order that a man, not a beast, might use the strength of this one true friend to stand on his own two feet once more. He would have lifted him out of the dirt and forced his weakened being to move beyond that arena of certain death. Together, they might just find the exit and make it to a safe place where he might become whole again. And, being freed from the conventions of being a 'gladiator', what new identity might he not discover?

But, too proud to see, he would not even look ...

Whether you write fiction or non-fiction, Verbatim can help your words say exactly what you want them to say.

Precision. Clarity. Verbatim.

The comma that changes everything!

Most people think of commas as creating ‘pauses’. But that’s not, strictly, true. Commas create meaning.

As a teacher, my life was filled with stress - so, using that to model the impact of the comma, here’s a demonstration of how the comma can make a big difference to meaning.

1. Teachers who are stressed make mistakes.
This means that only the stressed teachers make mistakes.
(“who are stressed” restricts the meaning.)

2. Teachers, who are stressed, make mistakes.
This means that all teachers are stressed, and they make mistakes.
(“who are stressed” is additional information.)

A pair of commas — or the absence of them — changes the entire meaning of the sentence.

Proofreading is about ensuring that the final text conveys exactly what the author intended it to mean - correct use of commas is absolutely critical to that.

Precision. Clarity. Verbatim.