A trade journal of a still-emerging field, written by Adam Tinworth.

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Scaryduck talks about the BBC/LandSec outsourcing deal in passing:

The sale of BBC Technology killed of the illusion of St Greg in some quarters, as did the outsourcing of property management and the construction of the Grey Lubyanka in White City, where jobs would mysteriously disappear en route from other locations.

It’s interesting to view the deal, which saw developer Land Securities effectively become the BBC’s property manager and partner, from the inside, because from the outside, or at least the property industry, it’s viewed as a roaring success and a model for the future.

The problem is, of course, that many of these activists live in little self-reinforcing circles of fanatical belief. Make no mistake, that’s what they are: fanatics who believe their own conviction puts them above the law. Certainly they show a fanatic’s contempt for the law. With no-one within their circle to challenge their beliefs, they grow and develop in strange ways. They tell each other that there’s no scientific basis for animal experimentation, and scientists only do it because companies pay them, as one suggested on Today the other morning. When he was confronted with the question: “And why would companies pay for this if it doesn’t do any good?”, he had no answer. He’d never thought about it, nor sufficiently interrogated his own beliefs.

This is the politics of the schoolroom, given deadly life by adults. Without any intellectual frame of reference that lets them analyse their own beliefs, we come down to “cute fluffy animals good, nasty scientists bad”. The irony, of course, is that the very scientists they call “bad” have to pass every action they take through committees of ethics. Clearly, the activists have no such safeguards.

For anyone who like words, The Word Spy is an invaluable read, giving you a feel for the linguistic zeitgeist.

More importantly, it has given me a new phrase to describe my wife at the moment: mucus trooper. These are the noble souls who troop into work every day, carrying their flu and cold germs along with them as happy little passengers. These germs are promiscuous sorts, and before long we have a whole new load of mucus troopers to keep the clan going.

If I get another cold, it’s straight to bed for me.