Next week Sandwell Council are holding a public consultation on their plans for the future of Lightwoods Park. They will be at Thimblemill Library on Monday 1st October between 4 and 7 pm. Developing the park and consulting with residents there’s a novelty. Why did Birmingham Council never think of that?
Some years ago I was returning home late from work when I saw, opposite the King’s Head pub on the Hagley Road, a single decker bus, a crowd of people and a clutch of police officers. I assumed the bus must have been involved in an accident and thought no more of it until the following day when I read in the local press that the Cuddles Massage Parlour had been raided and a bus used to take the women to a place of safety. The press were briefed that the women were from Eastern Europe and had been trafficked and detained on the premises against their will. Lurid tales appeared of electrified fences to the rear of the premises and cattle prods and guns used to keep the girls under control. This was a surprise to the owner of a neighbouring shop where girls from Cuddles regularly popped in to buy drinks and cigarettes. The police soon became embroiled in a row with the Immigration Service who claimed that the raid had nothing to do with trafficking but rather with arresting girls who had overstayed their visas and removing them from the country. The owner was later jailed for running a brothel but not, curiously enough, for trafficking and false imprisonment.
A couple of years later the police closed down another Bearwood brothel known as Fun Place, a place so discreet that few people even knew it was there. Apparently a local resident had made a complaint and the police felt obliged to act. So Bearwood is now free of prostitution as far as most people know, unless there are girls operating out of flats. So we can parade our consciences and rejoice that our neighbourhood is clean and free from vice.
But hold on. A quick Internet search reveals that most of the girls who worked at Fun Place are still in the industry, most of them locally. One of the few that no longer have sex for money is, a reliable source tells me, now working as a primary school teacher, which just goes to show not only that you shouldn’t judge people but also that prostitutes, sex workers, or whatever you want to call them are not a race apart but rather ordinary women many of whom will eventually leave the industry and get “respectable” jobs. They are also mothers, wives, daughters, sisters. In short they are full members of society like me and you.
Little is achieved by raids, which only seem to happen if a busybody makes a complaint or if the Olympics happen to be taking place a couple of miles down the road. They simply force the women to work elsewhere, which might mean the streets. Institutional hypocrisy abounds. I talked recently to the owner of a city centre brothel in Birmingham. She told me that the city council who license her premises as a massage parlour know perfectly well what goes on there but as long as the management pretend it really is a massage parlour, by, for example, having high massage tables rather than beds in the rooms, they are happy to pretend they haven’t noticed. It is dishonest and the raids which are purely arbitrary put women at unnecessary risk and waste police time.
I have entitled this piece “Women beware Women” because there is one high minded and doubtless well intentioned woman intent on putting an end to the current hypocrisy and double standards. Rhoda Grant MSP intends to do this by criminalising the buying and selling of sex. A bill to this effect is currently before the Scottish parliament. With the best of intentions she is going to make the lives of a whole lot of, generally less privileged, fellow women a hell of a lot worse.
A number of women and a smaller number of men earn money by having sex with people with whom they have no emotional attachment and who are, in many cases, complete strangers. This is associated with obvious health risks and with significant physical danger, particularly for women sex workers. The supporters of the bill, essentially a coalition of radical feminists and moralists, argue that sex work is inherently exploitative and demeaning of women. It is a potent symbol of their subjection to men. Where there is prostitution, violence and drug addiction are not far away. The children of prostitutes grow up to become the next generation of delinquents. The sex industry is a dirty and sordid trade and needs to be stamped out for the good of all women. Criminalisation is a way of cutting out demand that will stop the supply. Much of this is argued from a feminist perspective but those making the arguments are remarkably intolerant of women who happen to have a different view. An example of this was Julie Bindel’s intemperate attack on Dr. Brooke Magnanti, the scientist formerly known as Belle de Jour, in the Guardian a few weeks ago.
Opponents of the Bill are not saying that prostitution is a wonderful thing and entertain no romanticised notions of the “happy hooker.” What they are saying is that the overwhelming majority of women are not trafficked and not working to feed a drug habit. They are working to pay the mortgage, put food on the table, clothe their children and so on. They are ordinary women trying to make a living as best they can. Their decision to become sex workers was freely made, albeit within the constraints of their socio-economic position. The same could be said of cleaners. It is just that sex work pays better. Whilst there may be some women who see sex work as a lifestyle option they are probably the minority. Most of these women work because they need money and it is one of few options open to them to make a living wage. Criminalisation will not magic away the bills that have to be paid. Sex workers will remain sex workers but forced underground, with even less protection than they have now and with the danger of stigmatisation through a criminal record that will make it impossible to return to more conventional paid employment. As we have seen many women do eventually want to leave the industry.
There is, I think, a further and major difficulty that supporters of the proposed legislation fail to see. This is that sex work eludes easy definition. Not all sex workers are women servicing men. There are male sex workers too, catering for both women and men. Is it suggested that, say, a lonely middle aged woman who books a male escort for a couple of hours of sex should be given a criminal record? Is there exploitation in a gay man offering paid sexual services to other gay men?
And what about the world of BDSM? The service providers here are mainly professional dominatrices but there are also professional masters, that is men providing domination services for both men and women as well as, usually female, professional submissives who let you spank them for money. It is generally the case that the services provided in this whole area exclude penetrative sex yet all the activities that come under the BDSM umbrella are in some way an expression of sexuality. Should they too be criminalised? How would the law be enforced? Is a dominatrix a victim? My limited experience suggests not. The dominatrix I interviewed for a feature in her Solihull home last year came across as a balanced and wholly sane person who enjoyed her work. The house as well as the Porsche on the drive suggested it was rather more lucrative than any more conventional paid work she might have done.
That the apparatus of law enforcement will interfere in this area was shown by the Spanner trial 20 years ago when a number of men were imprisoned for engaging in wholly consensual sado-masochsitic activity or the more recent trial of barrister Simon Walsh for possessing images of legal BDSM related activity. This prosecution was brought under another ill thought out and unworkable law (Section 63 of the Criminal Justice and Immigration Act 2008) brought in under the last Labour Government. This bans what it terms “extreme pornography” and specifies as extreme any image showing activities which might damage the breasts, genitals or anus. Visiting a dominatrix to have her stand in her stilettos on your penis may not, I suspect, float your boat. It certainly doesn’t float mine! It is, however, perfectly legal provided you have consented to it. However if she provides you with digital pictures of your suffering and you upload them onto your computer you are committing a criminal offence. The fact that the acts depicted were consensual and legal is no defence in law. If you think this is idiotic you are not alone. When moralising politicians go on crusade using women’s rights as an alibi that is what you get, and will get again in Scotland if the proposed legislation is adopted. No doubt England and Wales will follow the same misguided path in due course.
Human sexuality is complex and multidimensional. The range of professional workers in what might loosely be termed the sex industry reflects this. It even extends to the provision of tailor made sexual services to disabled people. Is it proposed that they be prosecuted for booking sex workers when they may have no other outlet for their sexual urges? The proponents of the Scottish bill show little sign of understanding this. The result will be flawed legislation that ties up police and court time at a time when, frankly, they have better things to do, as well as causing rank injustice. Experience suggests that the law will not catch the thuggish pimps and traffickers but rather the minor players and their clients, simply because they represent easier pickings.
Most people need sex and no-one should be condemned simply because they need to pay for it. Any encounter between a sex worker and a client is a commercial transaction freely entered into by both parties. It is not the role of society or the state to condemn and prohibit. There are sufficient laws already in place to deal with traffickers and pimps. The proposed criminalisation will do nothing to improve the lives of women in the sex industry, but may well do a lot to make them worse.
Fifty years ago Dr Richard Beeching was appointed Chairman of the British Railways Board and went on to achieve a notoriety that was in part undeserved. Contrary to urban myth railway closures did not begin with Beeching and BR closed a number of lines in the 1950s. Not all of the closures that followed publication of the infamous report Reshaping British Railways were recommended by Beeching. You will, for example, find no mention of the Varsity Line in the report. This and several other lines were closed by decisions of the Labour Government, particularly Transport Minister Tom Fraser. Neither did Beeching ordain the end of steam as many seem to think. That was laid down on the Modernisation Plan of 1955. Some of what Beeching did was sensible and of long term benefit to the railway such as his restructuring of the freight business.
The main flaw in Beeching’s plan was its assumption that there was, somewhere, a profitable, core railway that you could extract from the clutches of the tangle of loss making branch and cross country secondary routes. This failed to appreciate the role that these played in generating traffic on major routes. Neither was any serious effort made to examine how loss making lines could be made viable, through unstaffed stations or changes in working practices. You either got a Rolls Royce or nothing. Kingsbridge station in Devon still had nine staff on its last day in September 1963. With hindsight this was a line that could usefully have been kept.
It was only with the Transport Act 1968 that the concept of uneconomic but socially necessary services was recognised and grants made available to keep them open. BR finally made efforts to reduce costs, with DMU Paytrains serving unstaffed halts. Yet the folly continued. This year marks the 30th anniversary of the Serpell Report. He proposed an option for a self-financing railway which represented a radical hacking back of even the slimmed down post-Beeching network and would have left most of Wales and Scotland trainless. The West of England main line would have terminated at Exeter. Serpell had seemingly little understanding of how the railways worked and was apparently unaware, for example, that most passengers heading for the West Country are heading for destinations beyond Exeter.
Underlying this “study” was the old Beeching misconception that there is somewhere a profitable core railway waiting to be set free. What made the whole thing even more bizarre was that BR, under the leadership of Sir Peter Parker, had turned the corner and, as last Thursday’s excellent BBC4 documentary about the development of the HST showed, 1982 really was ‘The Age of the Train.’
Twenty years on from Beeching nothing had, apparently, been learnt. This was a study in ignorance of the railways that I thought at the time could never be surpassed. Ten years later it was, with the disastrous results we now see. It is easy to dismiss Serpell and his kind as harmless eccentrics. The truth is that he helped to soften public opinion up for further, unnecessary and damaging change.
Sam Doble, fullback for Moseley and England, died thirty five years ago today. He was 33. The club house at Billesley is in part a shrine to the man with several photographs and the programme from the Memorial Match played at The Reddings shortly after his death. A look at the line ups is a sign of the regard everyone at the highest levels of the game had for him.
Rugby is a different game now and the changes have not necessarily been for the better. When backs are bigger than props were in Sam’s day and a lot of Premiership games are mind numbing (and bone breaking) physical battles, flair and grace are at a premium. The attraction of Rugby Union is that, at its best, it combines the beauty of the rapier with the power of the bludgeon. A consequence of professionalism is that the balance of the two has been lost. Would Phil Bennett and Gareth Edwards have a place in the modern game?
On the other hand Sam would be happy to see that Moseley survived the traumatic years around the turn of the century and remain committed to attacking running rugby, happy too that Mose supporters observe the old fashioned courtesies such as silence before an opponent’s kick, that seem to have gone out of fashion elsewhere.
What a shame that the developers who built houses on the site of The Reddings were so unimaginative as to name the development Twickenham Drive. I call on them to rename it Sam Doble Drive and mark this anniversary in the proper way.
As it turned out, the 15th April 1989 was the last occasion that the two FA Cup semi-finals were scheduled to be played simultaneously on a Saturday afternoon. I didn’t go to a match that day. I had recently bought my first house and with the arrival of spring had a lot to do in the garden. I booked a skip which arrived shortly before eight o’clock. I started work and, with the help of my father, worked methodically until he left shortly after three o’clock. This seemed like a good time to break for a cup of tea and a sandwich. I switched on the television to catch up with the football. The first news was that fans had invaded the pitch and caused the Liverpool-Forest tie to be suspended.
‘Bloody idiots’ I said to myself.
The updates came thick and fast. Within five minutes I had mentally retracted my initial judgement. I sat and watched as the scale of the disaster unfolded. Before five o’clock the horror of it all was clear. A chilly breeze lifted the net curtain. My tea had gone cold. My sandwich was untouched. The mess in the garden was suddenly unimportant.
I did say I would be writing about Lightwoods Park. This piece is, therefore, long overdue. Tomorrow night the Park is hosting a drive-in movie. I have a special relationship to Grease. 1978 was O Level year and the film in a sense the soundtrack of that summer. This was not something I could admit at the time as no self-respecting fan of New Wave music could own up to liking Olivia Newton-John. But I can now say it loudly. I love Grease. I love Olivia
Somehow going to a Drive-In movie in a Skoda doesn’t seem quite right. Ideally I would go in a late 50s British pseudo-Yank. There are two options. The Vauxhall Cresta PA has its fans but they are seriously ugly, most of them rusted to pieces before their first MoT was due and the idiotic design of the windscreen pillars means you injure yourself every time you get in and out. No, for me it would have to be a Mark Two Ford Zodiac with whitewall tyres. For the true petrol heads the note of the straight six is as good as Olivia in tight trousers and wedges. Besides which you have two big bench seats that seem to have been designed with the drive-in in mind!
The Lightwoods Park Drive-In movie is on Friday 14th September at eight o’clock. Admission is twelve pounds per car with, sadly, no discount for Mark Two Zodiacs
Last night was Poetry Society Stanza night, an opportunity to get some feedback on poems in progress. This can be dispiriting as when you realise that your carefully crafted allusions mean nothing to anyone and that you need to go back to the drawing board or intriguing as when people see things in your poems that you never knew were there. That is the beauty of a poem. You create it but once released into the public domain it takes on a life of its own. I once heard Dennis O’ Driscoll comment that, essentially, the poems write themselves. This is true up to a point but if we as authors are to die, in the post-structuralist sense, we only do so after a lot of pain and frustration and after, on occasion, getting up at three in the morning to jot down that missing line, that ending, before it disappears. Whilst great art, and even a lot of mediocre art outlives its creator, without the creative impulse of living human beings nothing would be created. Texts are material and grounded in lived experiences, not least the most elemental ones of sex, disease and death. They do not exist in an airy realm of meta-text and signifiers. People wrote them and people read them and relate them to their lived experience, their materiality. It is in materiality and not in meta-text that the author dies. And writes. Whatever we achieve, or are considered by peers to have achieved (not the same thing) we submit more or less willingly to the need to write and wouldn’t have it any other way.