Hello

Am putting together some longer things atm and not publishing much until the election is over. Will mostly be on Twitter @hangbitch making childish remarks about the election for the next week or two.

The pits

1518__450x450_20091218_gr3-greenwich-snow-056-vv2-1000I’ve owned dogs all my life: labradors, retrievers, yorkies and a large, lovable, spectacularly hairy number whose father could have been anything. ‘Wow,’ people would say when she walked past. ‘What’s that?’ Now, I have a pit breed dog. I wanted to give a good home to a dog that might otherwise not have found one.

So the tale begins:

It’s been nearly 20 years since the dangerous dogs act made it into law – and to the top of our (rather competitive) rankings for misguided legislation. Neither people, nor dogs have come out in front with the DDA: those who know and care for dogs and people are – well, baying for change.

The number of dog-on-human attacks has not altered for the better in 20 years. Some argue the numbers are worse, and others say they’re the same. Nobody says they’ve dropped. The world of dog attack statistics is a maelstrom of politics, misinterpretation, inaccuracy and hysteria: we’ll try to unpick the numbers as we go on.

The act has been no picnic for dogs, either: with its emphasis on banning breeds (the pitbull type terrier, the Japanese Tosa, and the rarely-seen-here-anyway Dogo Argentino and the Fila Brasileiro) the DDA has succeeded mainly in contributing to the global destruction of the reputation of dogs that had – particularly in the pit-type dog’s case – a great history as favoured companions and champions. They were never bred for conflict with people, as we’ll see.

By virtue of their illegality, they’ve become attractive to a small number of dog owners who like the thought of a canine fiend. They’re thrown into pits for illegal dogfights (I know three rescue dogs, Ace, Tazz and Channa, who were rescued from owners who used them as pit bait. Their new owners walk them in Greenwich park, where we walk our dog).

In America – another convert to breed specific legislation – unlucky pit type dogs have ended in the hands of the sadistic likes of Michael Vick. The story of the rise of the pit dog as doggie enemy No#1 in the last 30 years is not, as it happens, about a dog type at all. It’s a story about man’s endless capacity for viciousness and violence, and of his eagerness to hold the animal he tortures responsible for its reaction to him.

Another irony of breed specific legislation like the DDA is that it is difficult to be specific about the breeds it aims to ban.

There’s no breed standard for the animal the DDA describes as the ‘type known as the pit bull terrier.’ There is just a bunch of dogs that might look the part, and have pit-type DNA. There’s the small, strong, courageous American pit bull terrier, recognised by the the United Kennel Club and made famous (in a good way) by Petey on Little Rascals. There’s the American staffordshire bull terrier, which is recognised by the American Kennel Club. There are the ones that confuse a lot of people and are legal here, but not in some states in America – bull terriers and staffordshire bull terriers. Then, there are the thousands of perms and combs of the bull and terrier dogs that were first bred centuries ago to produce pit breeds. There are the thousands of dogs that may have a pit-type heritage that owners don’t know about. There are the dogs bred for size and savagery by psychopaths. There are the thousands of dogs that look pit-typeish to some eyes, but aren’t: boxer mixes, mastiff mixes – anything, really, with a big head, a wide mouth, and/or rose ears.

There is, in other words, good reason why it’s a waste of time trying to decide a dog’s personality on the basis of its face, but that is what BSL wants to do. The upshot is the sort of madness that befits our nervous, but lightweight, age: an obsession with a dog’s type and looks, rather than canine behaviour and the all-important dog-owner relationship, a sensationalising media with an evil-dog fetish that leaves no room for balanced discussion about the many factors that contribute to dog attacks, static, or worsening, dog attack statistics, and a ground (some might say class) war between people who own pit and bull breed dogs and people who don’t (more on that as we go on).

None of which is to say that pit type dogs haven’t killed and injured in the last 30 years, because they have. It’s just that their type is the least of it. They don’t come out of the box as uberkillers with special fangs and an innate inclination to go batshit. Bloodhounds (used to track and kill slaves and convicts), German Shepherds and Dobermanns (associated with Nazis), Rottweilers, St Bernards, huskies and labradors (starving, ill treated sled dogs) have all been accused of the same over the years.

‘The greatest pup in Mongaup today is a brindled Bulldog, as brave as he is hideous. Every woman who meets the brindle pats it, seems disposed to kiss its ugly mug, and says: ‘Good dog! Good dog!’ Washington Post, 1907

—–

‘They can be absolutely enchanting,’ Dogs trust CE and founder Clarissa Baldwin says of pit breeds. Baldwin is at pains to make clear that her organisation has ‘zero tolerance of dog aggression’: to want to shift the political emphasis from dog breed to dog deed is not to suggest unconcern about canine aggression. Quite the reverse – it’s to know that life will improve neither for dogs nor people until, as Baldwin says, political attention switches from the dog to the individual ‘at the other end of the lead.’

This is particularly true for pit type dogs – the great irony of their reputation today is that they were bred for an unusually trusting, exceptionally good humoured relationship with humans, and to be able to distinguish quickly between people and dogs (some pit dogs are aggressive with other dogs if they’re not socialised, because of their dogfighting history).

Richard Moore, the manager of the Dogs Trust Harefield rehoming centre (and owner of two geriatric staffies) discusses this with me in some detail. The trust-in-people trait was vital for great fighting dogs: when they were wounded in the pit, they had to be able to turn off their aggression the moment someone stepped in to handle them. Pit dogs that were aggressive towards people had short careers and lives.

That left a dog type bred to expect the best from man, and to trust him, even when injured. Make no mistake – the magic is still there. Treated well, pit breeds are notable for a sublime joie de vivre and enthusiasm for people through which, in one’s soppier moments, one may almost glimpse the divine.

That is why they have a loyal fan base, and descriptors like ‘enchanting’. It is also why – as Baldwin says – the responsibility for the behaviour of these dogs lies so absolutely with the people in charge of them. When a pit type dog attacks a person, you know that someone has turned that dog against type. As Malcolm Gladwell put it in his seminal New Yorker article on the dangers of generalisation, ‘a pit bull is dangerous to people, then, not to the extent that it expresses its essential pit bullness but to the extent that it deviates from it.’

So it is that the Dogs Trust trust is lobbying all three political parties to shift the DDA’s emphasis. Baldwin wants all dogs microchipped at point of exchange, so that dogs can be traced to original breeders – the trust is working with local authorities on a UK wide chipping campaign. Baldwin also wants doggie Asbos – the early identification of dogs and owners that have begun to cause trouble, and compulsory obedience training, neutering, and leads and muzzles for problem dogs.

The Communication Workers Union, which represents postal workers (6,000 of whom are attacked by dogs each year) and keeps numbers on dog attacks, is of like mind. ‘We’re very much of the ‘it’s the deed, not the breed’ point of view,’ says spokesman Karl Stewart. ‘And we’d agree that the DDA’s emphasis on breeds has missed the point somewhat.’

The CWU wants the DDA changed to allow prosecution of owners whose dogs attack on private property. At the moment, the law only targets people with dogs ‘that are dangerously out of control in a public place,’ which isn’t terribly helpful for posties, who by law must deliver mail to all addresses.

——–

No owner can say that their dog will never attack. What owners can say is that they will never encourage aggression.

Malcolm Gladwell again: ‘the dogs that bite people are, in many cases, socially isolated because their owners are socially isolated, and they are vicious because they have owners who want a vicious dog.’

And, as Randall Lockwood, a senior vice president of the ASPCA, told Gladwell: ‘a fatal dog attack… is usually a perfect storm of bad human-canine interactions—the wrong dog, the wrong background, the wrong history in the hands of the wrong person in the wrong environmental situation. I’ve been involved in many legal cases involving fatal dog attacks, and, certainly, it’s my impression that these are generally cases where everyone is to blame. You’ve got the unsupervised three-year-old child wandering in the neighborhood killed by a starved, abused dog owned by the dogfighting boyfriend of some woman who doesn’t know where her child is. It’s not old Shep sleeping by the fire who suddenly goes bonkers. Usually there are all kinds of other warning signs.’

——–

In January 2002, a teenage girl call Pauline Broughton was walking past a house in a small, poor, rural New Zealand town called Patea when three pit bull type dogs jumped the house fence and attacked her. The dogs did terrible damage – they pinned the girl face down to the ground, and ripped skin and muscle from her arms, legs and buttocks. They probably would have killed her if neighbours hadn’t fought them off.

I was communications manager at South Taranaki district council then – and Patea (and dog control) was in the council’s jurisdiction. The national press was on the phone in a flash, asking about the dogs’ breed, and if they had a history of aggression.

The Patea dog control officer, a local woman who had a couple of kids herself, told the mayor and chief executive that she’d only ever received one complaint about the dogs. That’s what we told the press. It all hit the fan then – Patea locals read that claim of one complaint, and rang the papers to tell a very different story. It turned out they’d been complaining about the dogs and their aggressive behaviour for more than a year.

I went down to the environmental services department to check the records myself. I found the dog control officer there, tearful and shaking and working through a pile of paper that she’d printed out. ‘I wish this would go away,’ she kept saying. ‘I wish it would go away.’

It turned out that Patea residents had made at least 11 formal complaints about the dogs, and mentioned their behaviour numerous times to the dog control officer. The dogs’ history was classic – intact, unsocialised animals, and negligent, aggressive owners who weren’t interested in their neighbours’ concerns, or instructions from the council. The dog control officer had visited the property several times and told the owners to keep the dogs restrained, but the truth was she was too frightened of the owners and their dogs to pursue a stronger course of action. Council set dog control policy: it was ridiculous of the council to think that a lone officer who lived locally would be able to handle such a situation. You need special dog teams for problem owners and their dogs.

—–

Not long after we got him, I took our pit breed puppy out to a small piece of grass next Lewisham’s Coldbath estate.

A bunch of kids from the estate were playing football on a concrete pitch nearby. I didn’t take much notice of them, because I was playing with the puppy, but then I noticed them, all right: they were stampeding towards us like pitch invaders, screaming and shouting with hoodies fluttering and more and more kids joining them…

Aha, I thought. Perhaps this is it. The dog’ll be pinched and I’ll be tomorrow’s Daily Mail lead and office toast – another nice, white, middle-aged lady with her handbag lifted and her old fanny raped by a horde of sweating newish Britons… although things turned out rather lower-key than that. The youths thundered up to us, said hello, then dropped to the grass to play with the puppy. They were absolutely thrilled with him, and just – well, perfectly civilised and polite.

‘Can I pet your dog?’

‘Is that a little pit?’

‘Is that a little staff? Sick, innit?’

‘What’s his name?’ ‘How old is he?’ ‘Where did you get him?’ They kicked their football for the puppy and ran round with it so that he could chase, and he got so excited that he did little piddles all over the place. When it came time to leave, the kids thanked me and went back to their game.

Thus it has been ever after. This kind of dog opens doors, and eyes, to the truth of one’s own prejudices. It is true that there are kids out there who want these dogs and use them as weapons: it’s just that they’re not the whole story. To say that a dog type is inherently evil, or that kids are inherently evil, and that there is nothing else to it, is to take the easy road. On more than one occasion, I’ve watched a bunch of kids in hoodies and my dog race around with each other, playing like kids and dogs do, and I’ve thought -‘it’s awful that these kids and these dogs get such a blanket bad press.’

Next article – a trip to a Dogs Trust rehoming centre and more on attack numbers.

Get the Flash Player to see this video.


1518__450x450_20091218_gr3-greenwich-snow-056-vv2-1000I’ve owned dogs all my life: labradors, retrievers, yorkies and a large, lovable, spectacularly hairy number whose parents could have been anything. ‘God almighty,’ people would say when she walked past. ‘What’s that?’ Now, I have a pit breed dog. I wanted to give a good home to a dog that might otherwise not have found one.

So the tale begins:

It’s been nearly 20 years since the dangerous dogs act made it into law – and to the top of our (rather competitive) rankings for misguided legislation. Neither people, nor dogs have come out in front with the DDA: those who know and care for dogs and people are – well, baying for change.

The number of dog-on-human attacks has not altered for the better in 20 years (some argue the numbers are worse, others say they’re the same, while nobody says they’ve dropped. The world of dog attack statistics is a malestrom of politics, misinterpretation, inaccuracy and hysteria: we’ll try to unpick the numbers as we go on).

The act has been no picnic for dogs, either: with its emphasis on banning breeds (the pitbull type terrier, the Japanese Tosa, and the rarely-seen-here-anyway Dogo Argentino and the Fila Brasileiro) the DDA has succeeded mainly in contributing to the global destruction of the reputation of dogs that had – particularly in the pit-type dog’s case – a great history as favoured companions and champions. They were never bred for conflict with people, as we’ll see.

By virtue of their illegality, they’ve become attractive to the small number of dog owners who like the thought of a canine fiend. They’re thrown into pits for illegal dogfights (I know three rescue dogs, Ace, Tazz and Churnel, who were rescued from owners who used them as pit bait. Their new owners walk them in Greenwich park, where we walk our dog). It’s estimated that 30% of the dogs in Battersea are staffie, or staffie crosses).

In America – the world’s other convert to breed specific legislation – unlucky pit type dogs have ended in the hands of the sadistic likes of Michael Vick. The story of the rise of the pit dog as doggie enemy No#1 in the last 30 years is not, as it happens, about a dog type at all. It’s a story about man’s endless capacity for viciousness and violence, and of his eagerness to hold the animal he tortures responsible for its reaction to him.

Another irony of breed specific legislation like the DDA is that it is difficult to be specific about the breeds it aims to ban.

There’s no breed standard for the animal the DDA describes as the ‘type known as the pit bull terrier.’ There is just a bunch of dogs that might look the part, and have pit-type DNA. There’s the small, strong, courageous American pit bull terrier, recognised by the the United Kennel Club and made famous (in a good way) by Petey on Little Rascals. There’s the American staffordshire bull terrier, which is recognised by the American Kennel Club. There are the ones that confuse a lot of people and are legal here, but not in some states in America – bull terriers and staffordshire bull terriers. Then, there are the thousands of perms and combs of the bull and terrier dogs that were first bred centuries ago to produce pit breeds. There are the thousands of dogs that may have a pit-type heritage that owners don’t know about. There are the dogs bred for size and savagery by psychopaths. There are the thousands of dogs that look pit-typeish to some eyes, but aren’t: boxer mixes, mastiff mixes – anything, really, with a big head, a wide mouth, and/or rose ears.

There is, in other words, good reason why it’s a waste of time trying to decide a dog’s personality on the basis of its face, but that is what BSL wants to do. The upshot is the sort of madness that befits our nervous, but lightweight, age: an obsession with a dog’s type and looks, rather than canine behaviour and the all-important dog-owner relationship, a sensationalising media with an evil-dog fetish that leaves no room for balanced discussion about the many factors that contribute to dog attacks, static, or worsening, dog attack statistics, and a ground (some might say class) war between people who own pit and bull breed dogs and people who don’t (more on that as we go on).

None of which is to say that pit type dogs haven’t killed and injured in the last 30 years, because they have. It’s just that their type is the least of it. They don’t come out of the box as uberkillers with special fangs and an innate inclination to go batshit. Bloodhounds (used to track and kill slaves and convicts), German Shepherds and Dobermanns (associated with Nazis), Rottweilers, St Bernards, huskies and labradors (starving, ill treated sled dogs) have all been accused of the same over the years.

‘The greatest pup in Mongaup today is a brindled Bulldog, as brave as he is hideous. Every woman who meets the brindle pats it, seems disposed to kiss its ugly mug, and says: ‘Good dog! Good dog!’ Washington Post, 1907

—–

‘They can be absolutely enchanting,’ Dogs trust CE and founder Clarissa Baldwin says of pit breeds. Baldwin is at pains to make clear that her organisation has ‘zero tolerance of dog aggression’: to want to shift the political emphasis from dog breed to dog deed is not to suggest unconcern about canine aggression. Quite the reverse – it’s to know that life will improve neither for dogs nor people until, as Baldwin says, political attention switches from the dog to the individual ‘at the other end of the lead.’

This is particularly true for pit type dogs – the great irony of their reputation today is that they were bred for an unusually trusting, exceptionally good humoured relationship with humans, and to be able to distinguish quickly between people and dogs (some pit dogs are aggressive with other dogs if they’re not socialised, because of their dogfighting history).

Richard Moore, the manager of the Dogs Trust Harefield rehoming centre (and owner of two geriatric staffies) discusses this with me in some detail. The trust-in-people trait was vital for great fighting dogs: when they were wounded in the pit, they had to be able to turn off their aggression the moment someone stepped in to handle them. Pit dogs that were aggressive towards people had short careers and lives.

That left a dog type bred to expect the best from man, and to trust him, even when injured. Make no mistake – the magic is still there. Treated well, pit breeds are notable for a sublime joie de vivre and enthusiasm for people through which, in one’s soppier moments, one may almost glimpse the divine.

That is why they have a loyal fan base, and descriptors like ‘enchanting’. It is also why – as Baldwin says – the responsibility for the behaviour of these dogs lies so absolutely with the people in charge of them. When a pit type dog attacks a person, you know that someone has turned that dog against type. As Malcolm Gladwell put it in his seminal New Yorker article on the dangers of generalisation, ‘a pit bull is dangerous to people, then, not to the extent that it expresses its essential pit bullness but to the extent that it deviates from it.’

So it is that the Dogs Trust trust is lobbying all three political parties to shift the DDA’s emphasis. Baldwin wants all dogs microchipped at point of exchange, so that dogs can be traced to original breeders – the trust is working with local authorities on a UK wide chipping campaign. Baldwin also wants doggie Asbos – the early identification of dogs and owners that have begun to cause trouble, and compulsory obedience training, neutering, and leads and muzzles for problem dogs.

The Communication Workers Union, which represents postal workers (6,000 of whom are attacked by dogs each year) and keeps numbers on dog attacks, is of like mind. ‘We’re very much of the ‘it’s the deed, not the breed’ point of view,’ says spokesman Karl Stewart. ‘And we’d agree that the DDA’s emphasis on breeds has missed the point somewhat.’

The CWU wants the DDA changed to allow prosecution of owners whose dogs attack on private property. At the moment, the law only targets people with dogs ‘that are dangerously out of control in a public place,’ which isn’t terribly helpful for posties, who by law must deliver mail to all addresses.

——–

No owner can say that their dog will never attack. What owners can say is that they will never encourage aggression.

Malcolm Gladwell again: ‘the dogs that bite people are, in many cases, socially isolated because their owners are socially isolated, and they are vicious because they have owners who want a vicious dog.’

And, as Randall Lockwood, a senior vice president of the ASPCA, told Gladwell: ‘a fatal dog attack… is usually a perfect storm of bad human-canine interactions—the wrong dog, the wrong background, the wrong history in the hands of the wrong person in the wrong environmental situation. I’ve been involved in many legal cases involving fatal dog attacks, and, certainly, it’s my impression that these are generally cases where everyone is to blame. You’ve got the unsupervised three-year-old child wandering in the neighborhood killed by a starved, abused dog owned by the dogfighting boyfriend of some woman who doesn’t know where her child is. It’s not old Shep sleeping by the fire who suddenly goes bonkers. Usually there are all kinds of other warning signs.’

——–

In January 2002, a teenage girl call Pauline Broughton was walking past a house in a small, poor, rural New Zealand town called Patea when three pit bull type dogs jumped the house fence and started to tear into her. The dogs did terrible damage to the girl – they pinned her face-down to the ground, and ripped skin and muscle from her arms, legs and buttocks. They probably would have killed her if neighbours hadn’t intervened. I was communications manager at South Taranaki district council then – and Patea (and dog control) was in our jurisdiction. The national press was on the phone in a flash, asking about the dogs’ breed, but if they had a history of aggression. The Patea dog control officer, a local woman who had a couple of young kids herself, told the mayor and chief executive that she’d only ever had one complaint about those dogs, so that’s what we told the press. It all hit the fan then – Patea locals read that claim of one complaint, and rang the papers to tell a very different story. It turned out they’d been complaining bitterly about those dogs and their aggressive behaviour for at least a year. We went down to environmental services to check the records ourselves. That’s when I found the dog control officer, tearful and shaking and trying to organise the pile of paper she’d just printed out. ‘I wish this would go away,’ she kept saying to me. ‘I wish it would go away.’ We went through the pile of paper together. Patea residents had made at least 11 formal complaints about those dogs, and mentioned them numerous times to the dog control officer. The history was classic – intact, unsocialised animals, and negligent, aggressive owners who weren’t interested in their neighbours’ concerns, or pointers on dog training and control from the council. The dog control officer had visited the property several times and told the owners to keep the dogs restrained, but the truth was she was too frightened

Baldwin thinks government is adult enough to overturn breed-specific legislation. I am not as confident. These are conservative times, and the middle class’ negative, righteous view of pit breeds and the people who own them is entrenched in our DNA:

Not long after we got him, I took our pit breed puppy out to a small piece of grass next Lewisham’s ColdBath estate (the estate backs on our twee block of new build flats).

A bunch of kids from the estate were playing football on a concrete pitch nearby. I didn’t take much notice of them, because I was playing with the puppy, but then I noticed them, all right: they were stampeding towards us like pitch invaders, screaming and shouting with hoodies fluttering and more and more kids joining them…

Aha, I thought. Perhaps this is it. The dog’ll be pinched and I’ll be tomorrow’s Daily Mail lead and office toast – another nice, white, middle-aged lady with her handbag lifted and her old fanny raped by a horde of sweating newish Britons… in fact, things turned out rather lower-key than that. The youths thundered up to us, said hello, then dropped to the grass to play with the puppy. They were absolutely thrilled with him, and just – well, normal and polite to me.

‘Can I pet your dog?’

‘Is that a little pit?’

‘Is that a little staff? Sick, innit?’

‘What’s his name?’ ‘How old is he?’ ‘Where did you get him?’ They kicked their football for the puppy and ran round with it, so that he could chase, and he got so excited that he did little piddles all over the place. When it came time to leave, the kids thanked me and went back to their game.

Thus it has been ever after. This kind of dog opens doors, and eyes, to the truth of one’s own prejudices. It is true that there are kids out there who want these dogs and use them as weapons: the point I’m trying to make is that they are not the whole story. To say that a breed is evil, or that kids are evil and that there is nothing else to it is to take the easy road. On a few occasions, I’ve watched the kids and the dog race around with each other and I’ve thought -‘it’s awful that these kids and these dogs get such bad press.’

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Standing by

View of Skem

View of Skem from Tawd valley park

Three months ago, we went to West Lancashire town Skelmersdale to talk to council tenants about their fight to stay in flats that were due for demolition. Here we are in February, and nothing much has changed:

Skelmersdale council tenants on the Firbeck and Findon estate still don’t know if their homes will be demolished as part of Tory West Lancashire borough council plans to upgrade rundown Skelmersdale town centre.

As readers of the November article will know, the council believed that the upgrade should include a wholesale flattening of Firbeck and Findon estate, and a replacing of it, and its working class occupants, with plush new apartments for private sale to the better heeled. Firbeck and Findon residents would be dispatched to outlying West Lancashire estates where, presumably, they’d better complement the tone.

‘We’ve heard nothing [since November],’ longtime Firbeck and Findon tenant Hazel Scully says. ‘It’s nearly three and a half years [since the council announced its plans to demolish the estate] that we’ve been waiting [for a final decision on demolition]. There are old people who have lived here for years. There are disabled people here. Nobody knows what is going to happen to their homes. It’s a terrible way to live.’

Back in November, the council told us that it couldn’t make a final decision about demolishing Firbeck and Findon until government decided whether to grant Tesco and Everton FC permission to build a new retail centre and stadium in nearby Kirkby. The Skem regeneration project (and its attending Firbeck and Fendon demolition) was unlikely to go ahead if the Kirkby one did: Skem town centre development partner St Modwen’s said it would it would back out of the Skem plans if Kirkby got the go ahead, because a retail and private-apartments-for-sale centre in Skem would not be able to compete with the Kirkby one. Alas for Skem, regeneration based on retail is the only game in town.

The thing is – the government rejected the Tesco and Everton bid late in November 2010, but the council still hasn’t decided whether the Skem development should go ahead, or if Firbeck and Findon will be destroyed.

Scully isn’t hopeful.

Firstly, it seems likely that Tesco and/or Everton – encouraged by local MPs – will resubmit their Kirby proposal, if they haven’t already. ‘If that happens, we don’t know what will happen to the Skem development project.’

Secondly, people in high places are behaving as though the Firbeck and Findon estate has already gone. Basic cosmetic upgrade works that were planned for Firbeck and Findon are not included in the council’s capital programme (the Skem town centre project, which includes the destruction of Firbeck and Findon, is on the programme for 2010-2011), and Scully says that council leader Ian Grant was heard to say that there was ‘no point spending money on Firbeck and Findon for cosmetic purposes if the estate was to be demolished.’

Apparently, Labour councillor Bob Pendleton asked Ian Grant – in no pleasant terms – to clarify that comment at a recent scrutiny meeting, and got nowhere (more on this soon).

For now, all Scully and Firbeck and Findon residents have is a verbal promise from Tory councillors Val Hopley (cabinet member for housing) and (deputy leader) Adrian Owens that they will be told the fate of their homes before anyone else.

‘We don’t want to find out in a newspaper, or a newsletter,’ Scully says. ‘But they [the council cabinet] have closed up. They won’t give us any information.’ She has only one option – to stay in the cabinet’s ear until the information comes through.

The accidental purchase

1518__450x450_20091218_gr3-greenwich-snow-056-vv2-1000Not long after purchase, I took our newish, kind-of-rescued pit breed puppy out to the small piece of grass by the hulking Lewisham estate that sits behind our twee block of new-build flats. A bunch of kids were playing football on the concrete pitch by the grass.

Suddenly, the kids started running towards us, screaming and yelling with their dark-coloured hoodies flaring behind them.

Christ, I thought. This is it. The dog’ll be pinched and I’ll be (oh, horrors) tomorrow’s Daily Mail lead – a nice, white, middle-aged lady with her handbag lifted and her old fanny raped by a horde of sweating newish Britons, and Paul Dacre just out of frame somewhere, wanking over the money shot into his ashtray (all marginally better than going out in obscurity, I guess, but not exactly how I wanted to leave).

In fact, things turned out – well, rather lower-key than that. The huge youths thundered up, said hello, and threw themselves onto the grass to play with the puppy.

‘Can I pet your dog?’

‘Is that a little pit?’

‘Is that a little staff? Sick, innit?’

‘What’s his name? How old is he?’ They kicked the football for the dog and ran around so that he could chase, and the dog got so excited that he wet himself all over the place. The kids all thanked me politely when it came time to leave.

Thus it has been ever after. This kind of dog opens doors, and eyes, to the truth of one’s own prejudices. Which anyone can see.

The working class has kept these dogs for many years.

Pit breed terriers: a much maligned dog type that was bred over several centuries for bear-baiting, and latterly, to fight other dogs for sport in pits. Has also long run a useful second line as a rodent killer.

Key characteristics: a sublime joi de vivre and affection for man through which one is occasionally privileged to glimpse eternity (which is not, you understand, because the dog is tearing your throat out). Pit dogs were bred for an unusually intricate, close relationship with humans, and to distinguish quickly between people and dogs: it was vital that they were able to turn off their aggression the moment someone stepped in the pit to handle them when they were wounded. Uniquely among animals, their instinct is to expect the best from man, and to trust him, even when they are injured.

Make no mistake – that magic is still there, and that is why they’re owned. It is true that a few people have turned a few of them to evil. But I know dogs very well. I have owned them all my life. I see very clearly that it’d take a real effort to teach these dogs to hate people. They can be dangerous with other dogs, because of their history, but not with people, because of their history. Our dog trainer says the same, as do most dog behaviourists. Nobody can say their dog won’t attack, but they can say they won’t encourage it.

Media management is also a problem: the rightwing mainstream press religiously reports all bull terrier attacks, but tends to ignore attacks by labradors, huskies, malamutes, jack russells, and all so on. The bull terrier in all its formats – pit bull in its many incarnations, English bull terrier, staffie – is a working man’s dog. The mainstream press enjoys nothing more than highlighting the sins of the working man – and, several times a year, the sins of a very small number of his pets.

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One of the most amusing aspects of owning a pit breed dog is the speed at which tonier members of the middle class decide you’re working class, and that they are entitled to hate you for it. (It should be said that these tossers are absolutely in the minority: it’s just that they’re brilliant at giving the impression that theirs is the majority – only, even – view).

It’s not the dog they hate – like most well-treated pit breed animals, the dog is passionately pro-people and always acts like it, with the mad-wagging tail and obvious thrill at all overtures – it’s you. The fact of the dog simply gives the chichi the green light to take a swipe at the lower orders.

They don’t say a great deal to your face – probably, the instinct is to bottle out when it comes to approaching chavs directly. Instead, they go in for deep sighs, tsk-tsks, a lot of whispered and/or nasal ‘God, look at thems, tight lips and narrowed eyes.

‘That dog has got a muzzle on,’ a little blonde girl observed this morning at North Greenwich station.

Yessssss,’ her mother hissed over her shoulder like Iago. Sitting at feet at an outdoor cafe, the dog suddenly barked loudly for a biscuit. Mum and the blonde twitched, and beat it.

‘Is that a staff?’ a woman whispered loudly to her boyfriend at the traffic lights opposite the Maritime museum in Greenwich.

‘Sssssssssshhhhhhhh,’ he rasped theatrically, elbowing the girlfriend down the street a few feet, presumably out of harm’s way. His outfit caught the sun as they went: bright red cords and a shoulder bag so shiny that the dog could see shapes moving in it.

‘Ow,’ said the girlfriend.

‘Shut up,’ the boyfriend brayed. ‘SSSSSSSSSHHHHHHHHHHHHH.’ By now, the dog was completely fascinated. His whole back end wagged. He strained to join in. It took a while to convince him to leave.

To be fair again, the hoity-toity reaction is not the most common. There are just a few imperious types who believe that they may openly spurn those who appear to have been born to the labouring classes. Most people seem to prefer to make their decision about an owner on the evidence of the dog – or, at least, to keep a civil tone when talking to a person with a pit breed on a lead.

‘That’s a happy dog,’ they’ll say as the dog rockets around, jumping up as young bull terriers do. Hearing our accents (one from the colonies, one very English middle class), people decide that the dog is a ridgeback. Others assume he is a rescue dog. The number of rescued staffies and pit mixes in Greenwich park seems to be on the rise: it may be that attempts to promote their positive aspects with potential rescuers are starting to work.

The dog plays with other big dogs – boxers, labs, a sloughi, schnauzers, pure bred staffs, and the staffs and pit mixes that people have rescued. The trick is to say something fast. People need to hear your accent. They’ll be polite after that. Nobody ever asks what people like us are doing with a dog like that.

Still writing, so more soon.

Old new towns

Ornament in a house in Skem

Ornament in a house in Skem

West Lancashire’s Skelmersdale (clipped to ‘Skem’ by locals) was designated a new town in the early 1960s. With its green spaces, schools and new estates, it was sold as an attractive option to council tenants living in cramped blocks in nearby Liverpool.

Skem’s fortunes have been mixed. Regeneration and sustainable housing concepts for low income earners require ongoing investment, commitment and imagination. Problems on all three fronts aren’t exactly news.

By the 1980s, Skem was losing on investment and political commitment: in 1985, just 20 years after it was launched, the Skelmersdale development corporation was wound up. New town corporations had been financed by the government, and responsible for town development and maintenance. Each corporation had loans to buy land and establish town facilities.

When the corporations closed, assets like housing and services like maintenance and estate management passed to local councils – where investment, commitment and imaginative development are a lot harder to come by.

Thus we have Skem – a postwar socialist concept adrift in a Tory borough. Poverty is an issue for some Skem locals: fury at their own powerlessness is another.

We spent some time in Skem recently, talking to the locals. The stories start below.

Bare market

Hazel Scully

Hazel Scully

Long time Skelmersdale council housing tenant Hazel Scully is pleased that West Lancashire borough council is planning a facelift for run-down Skelmersdale town centre – there’ll be a new high street, shops, cinema, library, sports centre, swimming pool, housing, and a lovely landscaped park to replace the spooky weedfest along the River Tawd that presently serves as Skelmersdale’s main municipal space.

It is just a pity, says Scully bitterly, that she won’t have much chance to enjoy the improvements.

She and everybody else who lives on the town-centre Firbeck and Findon estates will be removed from view as part of the upgrade. The council wants to demolish the estates, shift the occupants elsewhere in the borough, and build homes for private sale in place of Firbeck and Findon. Continue reading

Cost effective

Murder scene on New Church Farm

A front door on New Church Farm

Gathered round a broken gate on one of the secluded pathways that link New Church Farm estate’s 600 houses are plumber Barry Nolan and housing benefits officer Neil Furey.

Both have lived on this estate for years. Both are also members of the committed, if notoriously messy, Labour group at West Lancashire borough council. Furey is young, a father of two, a socialist, and a churchgoer. He was elected to council in 2008.

Nolan is older, a father of three married daughters, and a still-optimistic veteran of years of Labour and council politics. He’s been a party member for decades and a councillor for two terms, but appears to be at peace.

Anyway – the New Church Farm estate. Built in 1961, New Church Farm was among Skelmersdale new town’s earliest, and most desirable – a roomy spread of 600 brick houses set a short, countrified walk from the then-pleasant banks of the River Tawd. Continue reading

Community game

This Sunday in Skem is on the waterlogged side – pouring rain, puddles and offroad pathways turned to mudpies.

Joe Nelson and SJFL refs

Joe Nelson and SJFL refs.

Joe Nelson, 74, is out in it in a wet coat and steamed-over glasses, as he usually is on Sunday. Nelson is chair of the Skelmersdale Junior Football League, and has been for more than 30 years.

As Nelson says, it’s a commitment – especially on Sunday, which is matchday for junior footballing Skem.

Outside of the new clubhouse that the FA helped build (with a £400,000 donation), hundreds of small footballers between the ages of six and 14 tear around a huge marshy paddock. There are about ten games in progress.

Nelson says that about 1000 kids play over the course of each Sunday, with around 4000 people (kids, families, friends) turning up to the park in total. They’re impressive numbers, especially in action: swarms of brightly-dressed, miniature footballers as far as the eye can see.

Noticeable too is the number of tiny footballers playing to a spectacular standard of finish. Parents on the sideline at one game watch as one little kid, who is standing a good few yards out from goal, curls a near-perfect free kick towards the top left hand corner of the net. The ball sort of hangs in the air, then drops like a falcon. Amazingly, the ginger haired boy in goal is equal to this flightpath. He launches himself into the air, sails towards the ball on a straight anti-gravity horizontal, and swats the ball clear with both hands.

Nelson says the SJFL channels a considerable portion of its income (raised mainly through a weekly tote) into helping Skem kids into skills training events, FA courses and away trips to other teams.

Families, the kids and team managers are keen. Leon Osmond made it from the SJFL all the way to the Everton first team (Everton signed him when he was nine), and Liverpool, Everton and Wigan scouts still stop by SJFL games.

Nelson – an affable, grandfatherly type who has lived in Skem for 37 years and has five children of his own – has mixed feelings about these early-age big-club signings. He prefers to think of football as an entry to community, rather than a means of escaping it.

‘They [the big clubs] are picking them up too early if you ask me. A lot of [our] lads have gone to the likes of the Wigan teams, and some have gone through to the Liverpool setup, but they haven’t progressed as far as Leon.

‘They go to the academy, and then they get to a certain age, and they say “No, sorry, you’re not going to make it…they’re taking their childhood away from them. They can’t play for their [own] clubs once they’re picked up [by the big teams].’  Which isn’t to say he doesn’t understand. ‘If these fellas [football scouts] come up [to a parent] and say “I want your boy to join Liverpool,” what does a parent do?’

Anyway, Nelson says, the SJFL is less for the few than for the majority, which needs to be kept fit and busy and away from – well, boredom, arson, violence and throwing dogshit round the likes of the New Church Farm estate.

‘If you can keep kiddies occupied in the right areas you can keep them out of the wrong areas. [SJFL] kids train two days a week with their teams. The club holds social evenings for the kids and their families. We’re getting floodlights, so they can play at night.’

A lot of Skem sees one point or the other of the exercise. The league’s army of volunteers (organisers, fixtures secretaries, coaches, managers, refs, tote-collectors, cooks in the canteen) is mostly local. Players who stay in Skem as adults stay with the league as referees.

‘We’re lucky to have a good pool of referees. It’s one of the hardest things, because of the abuse that referees take,’ Nelson says. ‘We don’t get that much, but we do get some.’ He laughs. ‘You always get some.’ The coaches and the managers put a lot of work in to improve the [kids’] skills. Nearly every manager we’ve got has been on an [FA] course for the first level of training.’ They’re all cleared to work with kids.

Nelson worries about Skem, although he’s happy here – ‘I think Skem has been left behind a bit. In truth, it hasn’t come along like it might have done.’

Four of his five children still live here. The one who left did so on the strength of football – she was a good player who moved to San Diego with her husband, a trainer and coach. The next family member out of Skem will be Nelson’s granddaughter, who is also a footballer. She’s a 22-year-old who has played for England and joined Everton as a youngster.

‘She’s out in the US, so she’s doing very well out of it. She’s got a two year scholarship, so she’s had a good little run out of it.’ He stands in the rain with us, watching the hundreds of miniature footballers. ‘There’s a lot out there if the opportunity comes along.’