The views of one guy out of 6.93 billion of them:

While I’m busy scouring every inch of Bath looking for somewhere to live another generation of school leavers get their GCSE results. And what results they were too. Roughly one in four achieved an A or the high-flying A* on Thursday. General pass rates were at 69.8% out of the 650,000 candidates; a slightly lower turnout than last year, thanks to a steady teenage population decline that will please some people who still seem to be terrified of us. Of course with the rising pass rates and more A grades appearing by the thousands the expected cry of exams getting easier aren’t far behind. I think that’s not automatically true and a bit deriding for all those who’ve actually sat a load of exams this summer, me included. Straight off the bat they’re assuming that children were clever back in the 60’s and somehow stupid now. Which would be odd as the IQ scores in a population do rise over time, in a phenomenon called the Flynn effect. Also no one stops to think of the context. Exams are different, the goals of certain questions are different, teaching is different; people aren’t battered with thin bamboo rods for example. All this has been waived to assert that the method of testing is completely consistent. Which of course it isn’t. So whatever people and politicians say; the students have earned them, not anyone else. There’s no GCSE in existing. A story that captured my attention related to events last week was the tale of a 6 year old passing a GCSE in maths. Deborah Thorpe’s parents give her extra lessons on Saturdays and deprive her of television from Monday to Thursday all for the respectable grade of, an E. Despite a technical pass it’s barely mind-blowing. How pointless is it to force a small child to undertake older, uglier tasks? What were they seriously expecting from a 6 year old? (5 at the time of sitting the exam) Did she illustrate Pythagoras’s theorem in crayola? Her father even said without an ounce of irony “I wouldn't say maths is her favourite subject, but when she says she wants to be a doctor I tell her that she must be very good at science and maths.” So when your kid tells you they want to be an astronaut when they grow up you now know to stuff them into an air-tight tube and feed them a solid diet of freeze-dried strawberries for several summers.

I apologise for not posting this sooner, i'm afraid ive been caught up in the whole build up to results day, but that's whole another article. Meanwhile: It felt as if the land itself was ablaze for the last week. With scenes plastered across every screen and newspaper not dissimilar to what I’d imagine the end of the world to look like. If it caught me off-guard I certainly wasn’t alone. Mr. Cameron was dragged from busying himself relaxing in Tuscany whilst the deputy prime minister, the chancellor, the home Secretary, and the mayor of London were all also on holiday at the same time; a paradigm of thoughtful planning. The sheer numbers of those taking part in the riots have raised profound questions about our police force, our coalition government, our laws and perhaps most controversial of all; our culture. Was this on the cards for some time now? Was all that was needed was some form of excuse, in this case Mark Duggan’s suspicious death? Youth, especially concentrated in the inner-city has been arguably ostracised by a government that cuts its opportunity and even parents that are either absent, or aren’t really interested in them. The only love these people receive is from other equally as ostracised people and, over time gangs form. All sharing a common background, a general contempt and disrespect brews for others and their property. This wasn't thought up in an afternoon; this is a cycle spanning decades. It is sadly part of the system. Severe punishment and even calls for the army may neutralise the problem for now but it doesn’t actually change anything. You can also kiss goodbye to credibility once you’ve lost the moral high-ground to Syria. In fact; a move like that one would only inflate the wrath of these youths and their hatred of hard-work and society to even grosser proportions; and who knows what would happen next? No, for a real endgame we need to head right back to the source; parents. Parents or parent-like figures, regardless of whether you’d like to admit it or not, shape you as a person. The story of a mother, Adrienne Ives who actually shopped her own daughter, an Olympic ambassador to police after apparently seeing her face in an image of recent looters, is simultaneously tragic and a step in the right direction. It would’ve taken guts and possibly a daughter that will take you as a betrayer but ultimately, her mother loves her. If she were to just casually accept it and move on what’s telling the daughter that this is wrong? She got away with it. Result. Same time tomorrow? This attitude will persist in children who are never held to account by genuinely loving parents. As we watch on, and send our respects to those that have died, we should remember the great task that these parents face.

The Sunday of the 10th July saw the final edition of The News Of The World, claimed to had a 7.5 million readership. The whole affair is disturbing at best. Morally kaput at worse. But there is an aspect that many, in their glee to celebrate its demise, have failed to note. Britain, as a so-called free country wouldn’t normally be so overjoyed at the closure of what is effectively a public outlet. Alright it’s owned by Rupert Murdoch who yes controls a gluttonous amount of global media; but the point still stands that under any other circumstances, if it was any other paper; there would be outcry. A tabloid with a numerically intimating readership is just ruthlessly dispensed with, depriving many a Sunday morning’s gloat at who’s sleeping with who, and comes so poignantly soon after the war over free-speech that was the super injunctions fiasco. One could even argue that unless approached objectively, the scandal could conclude with a tip towards a backwards state-approved press that would make any Kim Jong-il envious. But make no mistake; hacking a dead girl’s phone for the sake of filling a few pages is no way pursuing free speech. The closure I heavily suspect is not an apology, as I drew from its last edition’s sickly sweet positive self-portrait. Moreover it is an attempt to shut us up. Murdoch in his infinite wisdom believes that a swift wave of his palm will make to British public forget what his institution did. As does his ‘we are sorry.. That we got caught’ (what he really meant) full-page adverts published in other papers. He’s very much mistaken. As our MPs learned when they were caught in their own scandal, we don’t forget. It’s partly what’s made them have to begrudgingly form a coalition with each other after an punishing electoral failure. This week has made me realise something. The government doesn’t run the country, neither does the media. (Even when they do at times get in bed with each other to pool efforts) None of them have managed to convince us otherwise when we see the wrong in the world. People: 1, Shadowy corporate elite: nil.

So on the 30th June there is to be a national strike of teachers, no doubt bringing many a child celebration over an extra day to put off that Maths homework. Until recently, that to me would’ve been the only thing worth noting about a teacher’s strike. Now that I’ve left school, and thus have no maths work to actually put off, I’ve found myself looking at things like this through a larger perspective. Strikes aren’t just waved around when a few people get a bit upset. The Governments new changes to the pensions scheme seems grossly unfair; work for longer, retire later, earn less. Rightly, it has caused a stir to all those affected. Although, some Union chiefs have hinted that the one day isn’t going to get anywhere; that a compromise is needed. Dave Prentis, general secretary of Unison – which has over 1.3 million members said “I strongly believe that one day of industrial action will not change anyone's mind in government. We want to move towards a settlement. The purpose of industrial action is not industrial action; it is to get an agreement that is acceptable.” Meanwhile, the staunchest antagonist to the move, Education secretary Michael Gove said the action would “damage the reputation of the profession” Which is an odd argument; given as an MP he used £7,000 of taxpayers money furnishing a London property in 2006 before ‘flipping’ his second home designation to a new property in Surrey. He then covered the £13,000 in stamp duty using yet more public money. One day of not turning up to work is worse damage to a profession’s reputation than this little hushed-up spendathon? He’s also kept conveniently quiet the fact that he himself has been on strike before; as a reporter at the Aberdeen Press and Journal during the 1989 journalist’s dispute. The words glass, houses, and stones spring to mind.

My face.

I'm assuming it's slightly creepy following someone or being followed if you've no clue as to what they look like.

I believe I may’ve celebrated too soon for the final end of Big Brother. Now we’ve got The only way is Essex, Made in Chelsea and perhaps the worst of the lot; Geordie Shore; a shameless rip-off of an already terrible American show. Being from Essex myself I must say I weep a little when I see kinsmen act in the way that they do. It makes me thankful I’ve moved. In its defence though, I must say Nanny Pat is an adorable character and at the end of the day it did win a Bafta. Although I don’t know why; it was up against Sherlock which at least had a higher ratio of 3-dimensional characters. Geordie shore however. Let’s just say I’m currently searching for a method for which to ‘un-see’ things, not to mention get the 42 minutes of my life back I wasted watching it. For the uninitiated it’s 8 ‘lads & lasses’ filmed in a house together and then interviewed later. (sound familiar?) At least in Essex they were filmed working rather than just ‘playing,’ and by that I mean, comparing six-packs, being sick in toilets and pouring booze over various body parts. It’s a classy atmosphere. Don’t think that E4’s Made In Chelsea’s cast will restore your faith in an allegedly accurate picture of British youth however. The ‘class’ factor is indeed present unlike their Northern and Essex cousins, although, it’s so overpoweringly sickening that it half makes you want to raid their nightclub and cart all the Rah rah Ruperts off on an un air-conditioned tour of India’s decaying slums: - courtesy of daddy’s millions, as that’s all they’re living off. At least our Essex friends manage to blow their own cash. What we have here across all three shows, binding all these people together is a classic case of good old-fashioned stereotyping. Hopefully the intelligent among us, and I pray that’s the majority will see these shows for what they are, slapping new generalisations on whole groups of people across the country; filling the bomb-crater sized hole left by Big Brother. Although, maybe those were the best days. At least they kept their specimens behind walls and barbed wire.

I've been interested in writing for a very long time. Which is odd for an angst-filled teenager I know. In fact, I like writing so much I fill out a weekly column for my local newspaper every week. And I've been repping that for almost as long as world war II was waged. This is where Tumblr comes in. A friend of mine suggested recently I oughta take what I do in the paper and project it out to a wider audience using the internet, which I must say, I can't believe I haven't done already. I'm not a blogger by nature, so there'll be no sepia toned photos of apples or anything Tumblry like that. That's not what this is about. I'm not expecting thousands of followers hanging off my every post. I started this little project just to see what would happen if I took what I do in the real world and pushed it onto a dark corner of the internet. I might find myself alone forever or the best thing since sliced bread; I won't know until I try it. Finally, I'll leave you with an image that I felt best describes what I'm doing, it's also the name of the blog: launching chimps into space. Happy reading, Joe Munday.