People With Tattoos Are Dangerous

I don’t have a problem with tattoos. I really don’t. I liked the crow blades on George Clooney in the film From Dusk Til Dawn, and I would never insult a member of the New Zealand Maori rugby team for all the flowery tribal prints running up their legs. They might eat me.
So the thing that I struggle with is what tattoo I would get done, if I wanted one. Maoris have the excuse that tattooing is part of their culture and heritage, and they eat you if you upset them.
No disagreements here then.
For most people, tattoos are a rather idiotic way to fill your skin up. Cartoon characters, family members’ names or strange combinations of flowers and skulls are just some of the typically foolish designs. There was a trend in Britain for a while to get something tattooed in Chinese script. That was until people realised they had the word ‘dog’ or ‘crisps’ or something that meant nothing at all sniggering behind them on a shoulder. Chinese people must think we’re really odd.
Funnily enough, some pale and pasty Brits try to look tougher by copying barbed Maori patterns but unfortunately they still look a few chips short of the full football hooligan. Do they make you look stronger? Probably not, but if you’re prepared to spend a few hundred quid on the splat under your skin, no doubt you’re prepared to punch someone at a bus stop too and are probably best avoided. You heard it here first: people with tattoos are dangerous.
So if you’re thinking of getting a tattoo, at least get something that is worth it. If you’re dedicated to a cause or have achieved something exceptional, maybe that’s a justification. Won a medal at the Olympics? Get those five rings etched on your chest. Survived Tour de France? A speeding bicycle on the calf. Greenpeace activist? Whale on your bottom, why not?
The important thing is that it means something to you. I remember working in a supermarket at the age of 16 where one of the women slipped her uniform to one side to show me a tattoo of the Mr Men, a children’s cartoon, on her shoulder. She thought it was cool but I really couldn’t understand what they were doing there. Did they really have that important an influence on her that she felt the need to dedicate her body to them? Had she overdosed on Mr Happy or got too friendly with Mr Tickle? It was one of those strange teenage experiences; I still shudder when I think about it. How many people must have thought she was an idiot? Wouldn’t you rather have a blank shoulder than an idiotic one?
But wait- I need to be honest. I have thought about getting a tattoo myself. As a younger man, I dreamed of playing rugby for England and would have been proud to have the red rose inked onto my chest for life. Although as I get older, balder and more brittle, I am gradually coming to terms with the fact that my dream may not come true. Mrs Betts has come up with a cool design for a his-and-hers number and I’d happily devote the best part of a pec to my wife, but something’s stopping me...
Maybe I want to feel calm at bus stops. Or confident around Chinese people. All I know is that a tattoo is permanent and you’d better get it right if you’re having one.
IB

Upper East Side of Culture

Television dramas will do anything to get your attention. Jack Bauer saves the world in 24 hours without stopping to pee, a load of polar-bear-fearing amnesiacs run around an island in Lost and Dr House can misdiagnose any mystery illness, have a pill-popping crisis and then solve it all in the space of an episode.
If there’s a genre and formula to be exploited, television is where you’ll find it. And it’s no surprise as the battle for ratings is a fierce one. When networks find a winning recipe, they stick to it; if you don’t believe me try watching CSI: Crime Scene Investigation as it comes in a variety of flavours so similar that watching CSI: NY then CSI: Miami feels like a traumatic déjà vu, or another Bush family presidency.
So don’t go telling me that you can’t get snobby about TV. The majority of programming- from Oprah to American Idol- is just a slop-load of generic content designed to buffer the airtime between adverts. The producers of the CSI shows are not worried about artistic expression nor are they motivated by a sense of social conscience: they’re just laughing all the way to the bank.
But that doesn’t mean that all TV is rubbish. If you’ve seen The Wire, you’ll know it’s one cop show that shuns the CSI formula: a bleakly realistic, morally-conflicted yet socially aware exploration of the crime underworld of modern Baltimore. Corrupt politics, crumbling industries and a failing education system all provide the landscape of a ground-breaking drama where the good guys don’t always get their man. For once, it’s art and not content that we find on our screens.
The Wire is a rare achievement in television and it’s right that we recognise its significance. Its array of awards is testament to that belief. So to compare the artistic achievements of The Wire to something like Gossip Girl seems cheap and distasteful. People like the exaggerated, pinballing relationships of the Upper East Side glitterati but that doesn’t mean the programme is anything more than a banal reworking of Dynasty for teenagers.
And that’s my point really: some programmes are better than others.
From do-gooder liberal types will insist that free choice is important and nobody can tell you what to like. And I suppose that’s true to an extent. If you get off on watching Jack Bauer wield a handgun, or Dr House quip sarcastically through a diagnosis, who’s to stop you?
All I ask is that you acknowledge that some of the things we watch or hear are better than others. Miley Cyrus is no Mozart and Steven Spielberg isn’t a patch on Scorsese. Don’t be so easily fooled. In such a saturated media, it’s a rare occurrence that something transcends the generic mire to stand on its own, especially when it comes to television.
People might be uncomfortable with acknowledging the existence of highbrow culture or be reluctant to determine what is highbrow and what isn’t. Taste does come into it and really, it’s for you to decide. But don’t try and tell me it’s all the same.
That would be depressing.

Verbal Difficulties: 110%

The world is changing. Sea levels are rising while financial empires fall. Earthquakes roar and all we seem to be worried about is Lady Gaga’s latest outfit. How much of her midriff is on show? Did you hear about it on Twitter? The mind boggles. And that’s not the end of it...
Numbers are changing too. Not too long ago, Nigel Tufnel of Spinal Tap marvelled at amplifiers ‘that go up to eleven’. Apparently, as most amps would only go to ten, it was important to take that extra step, to reach beyond the norm. After all, ‘it's one louder, isn't it?’
And it seems in our globalised, gossip-ridden, retweeted world, going that extra step is the most important thing. To get anywhere in the music business these days, you are subjected to public exploitation on a show like X-Factor or Ídolos, its Portuguese equivalent. After the deliciously cruel and gruelling auditions where hundreds of desperate hopefuls are held up for ridicule, the few of them granted a place in the next stage of the programme earnestly promise to give their captors ‘110 percent.’
110 percent? What is that? If you look at it mathematically, it’s more than the whole. Those hundred-and-ten-percenters promise to do everything the next guy or gal can and more. Not only will they sing you a song, but they’ll play it to you on a guitar carved from a rare redwood that they felled with a single karate chop. And who cares about protected species? These guys would harpoon dolphins to get a place in the next round of the show.
The worst are the contestants of American Idol: bulging, scary-eyed fanatics desperate for their fifteen minutes. In typical American style, these ardent hundred-and-tenners come and sing random acapellas all over the metric system. Why not reinvent whole numbers? They’ve been using the imperial system for years which is a about as useful as the judging panel of the show. Join the yankee hundred-and-tenners and share that same wanton abandon that presumes you can march on any stage and spontaneously start singing a dodgy version of Beyonce with bottom-shaking dance moves to match.
And what do those wobbles tell you? If you give 110 percent, you’ll never regret it.
Or will you? Should we really have to flog ourselves in public for the pleasure of others to fulfil our dreams? If it’s fame you want, well maybe you do. After all, the audiences you are subjecting yourself to are the very people you are seeking to win over. But what worries me is how keen people are to make fools of themselves, the implication being that the only way to be happy is to be exceptionally shameless.
And what about us regular, down-to-earth hundred-percenters? The normal, run-of-the-mill, finish-what-you-started people like you and me- where does that leave us? The trouble with all this superlative effort is that it encourages us to worship extremes. It makes you think that being normal isn’t okay, that if you’re not suffering from bulging muscles or extreme anorexia somehow you don’t fit in. Monstrous obesity is fine as long as you’re on a diet or a reality TV show.
Yet all these extremes are used to grab our attention by television programming that just isn’t representing a healthy majority of adjusted people. What happened to all those other contestants who sang well enough but didn’t make it past the first round of the show or weren’t freaky enough to be featured anyway? And what about the rest of us at home? A lot of people don’t want to be famous, and everyone should know that’s it’s alright to just be yourself.
And if that doesn’t convince you, think of a world run by these tree-chopping, dolphin-murdering fanatical idiots, wobbling and crooning on every street corner, each one clamouring for your attention like buskers with a messiah complex.
You’d hardly get anything done.

Pirates Should Pay

Piracy adverts make me laugh. You know what I’m talking about: the ones with the blaring rock music that say buying a pirate DVD is like stealing a handbag, or where you see that the man who sold you the dodgy DVD is actually the hired stooge of a London mobster who coincidentally looks a lot like Jason Statham and has a stash of Russian assault rifles for sale from his car boot.
It’s just not like that.
The nearest I came to such a character was in my old local pub in Manchester. A withered oriental gentleman would go from table to table saying: “Widgee-wee... widgee-wee?” It was only after peering inside the stuffed black dustbin bag he was carrying and seeing a gross number of cellophane-wrapped discs did we realise that he was saying ‘DVD’. It seemed more ridiculous than threatening; if anything, he looked like some strange intercontinental tramp wandering the drinking establishments of Great Britain begging for bar snacks.
So don’t believe everything you’re told: buying a pirate DVD does not mean you are keeping your local mafiamen in shades and shiny suits. But do let me tell you this: piracy is a bad idea.
Have you been to the cinemas recently? Have you noticed the kinds of films that are being brought out? If it’s not a sequel, it’s some rehashing of an old story as a prequel, an animated adventure or perhaps even a musical: Star Trek has been resuscitated, James Bond revived and Batman begun again. Fame was botoxed and performing split-legged jumps across our screens once more, while we were being sold spin-offs like Wolverine or sequels like Transformers 2, Toy Story 3 and The Fast & The Furious (number four, but this time just called the same thing... again).
Why is this? I’m sure it’s something to do with merchandising; James Bond dolls that turn into remote-controlled robot Aston Martins probably make as much money as the ticket sales of the film itself. And that’s exactly why the film companies are making these films: they’re a safe bet.
Since downloading has appeared, DVD sales have plummeted with everyone choosing to get their home video entertainment online for free. The film companies have responded to this. Instead of putting out regular movies, they now come in eight different visual dimensions with surround sound that reverberates like you’re sat inside a drum. And the films that are coming out are ones that they know will definitely make money; well worn and proven franchises, only now with even crazier special effects. Avatar might be new, but it’s also all of these things. And a lot like Pocahontas in space.
These films still have massive budgets and in most instances, they earn this money back. But the effect of this has been felt further down the cinematic food chain. Small independent productions are struggling to get funding unless they include Johnny Depp dressed up as a witty pale-faced freak. Even Sherlock Holmes has been reinvented with an American actor in the lead and a convenient number of explosions alongside some polite Victorian bare-knuckle boxing.
Don’t get me wrong: this is a transitional period for film. Until the industry has worked out how to pay creative people to produce real art for the big screen, we will continue to wallow in the absurd, steroid-injected CGI revisions of well known movies that are on our screens right now. But if you’re not prepared to pay for the good stuff, then get ready for more rehashing: High School Musical 7: Robots Attack and Pirates of the Caribbean 9: Singalong with Captain Jack could well be gracing our screens soon. They might even dust off Police Academy for another run.
Now there’s a worrying thought.

Rugby in Mexico

Rugby in Mexico

You may have seen Rugby before. It’s the sport where 15 oversized men bash, dash and grapple to get an egg-shaped ball to the other end of the pitch. It’s not for the faint-hearted, but if you come to love it, you’ll find it is one of the most exhilarating and sociable sports to watch.
In fact, Rugby is an international sport that is particularly popular in English speaking countries. South Africa won the last World Cup in 2007 by beating England. I prefer to remind people of England’s glorious win in the previous tournament in 2003. That year, we had a well established team of many famous players like Martin Johnson, Lawrence Dallaglio and Jason Leonard. We also had an excellent goal-kicker called Jonny Wilkinson who made sure if we had a chance to score, we did.
Bitter southern hemisphere types will tell you that he’s the only reason we won the World Cup, but for me it’s indicative of the inclusive nature of Rugby. It’s a game for all shapes and sizes, and as a rather overweight child, it was the only one I could be good at outside of an eating competition. I’ve now been playing for 17 years, am a qualified coach and am still carrying a few extra pounds.
Sometimes people say Rugby players are ‘gym-freaks’, but the truth is there is a wide variety of body shapes. You do have to be both fit and strong to play the game, but the demands of each position are different. The players who control the game tend to be very skilful and quick like whippets, while the ‘front row’- human battering rams- tend to resemble escaped gorillas. That’s my position. Between us, there are the towering second and back rows as well as the outside backs who can usually run 50 metres in the time it takes to open a bag of crisps.
The current World Player of the Year is Shane Williams, a winger who plays for Wales. He runs with an equal measure of grace and electricity and seems to create scores whenever he touches the ball. He is also just 1m70 tall and weighs 77kg. He dispels the myth that you have to be big to succeed in the sport, and he does it with style too.
Most Mexican rugby players come in the Shane Williams mould. Small, quick and full of enthusiasm. The seven-a-side version of the game is popular here, and that requires a high level of skill and great physical conditioning as well. Games are short because they are so tiring, maybe 7 or 9 minutes in each half and you can play 4 or 5 games in one afternoon. There are tournaments every month or two which are hosted by different clubs around Mexico.
In fact, playing Rugby here has been a great way to make friends and see the country. Since arriving in 2007, I have played in 20 or so games and tournaments, travelling to places like Guanajuato, Guadalajara and Puebla with the team. Our team is called Tazmania, after an island of Australia. Our main rivals in Mexico City are the Wallabies. Not very original I know, but then the team with the most Mexican name- Miquitzli- is full of English and American players. Our team consists mainly of Mexican players, and I’m glad that I’m the only Brit. We do have some other foreign imports including several beefy Argentines and a guy from New Zealand who is frighteningly good.
Tazmania have won many competitions, and we came top of the Mexico City league last season, beating Wallabies in the final. Although we lost the semi-final of the National A league away in Guadalajara, our B team were crowned champions of National B league the following weekend. Luckily, some of our best players were available for that one after losing the week before!
Many of our players also play for Mexico. There is great desire to advertise and improve Mexican rugby and many see the way to do this is by being successful in international competitions. They compete in an international sevens tournament in San Diego every year, and have recently played World Cup qualifiers in the Cayman Islands. Although they did not go through, Mexico’s results are steadily improving.
This is encouraging, particularly as the International Rugby Board are desperate to get Rugby back into the Olympics. Did you know the USA are the reigning Olympic champions after beating France in 1924? Apparently there was so much crowd trouble that the sport was never invited back. Well, the IRB hope to change that and are supporting Mexico as they are hosting the Pan-American games in 2011 where Rugby will be played.
Although I do not qualify to play for Mexico, nor would I probably make the team, I still feel a deep affection for them and hope they are successful in the next few years. Knowing many of the players and coaches, they are desperate to put Mexican Rugby on the map and have been training twice a day as well as working in their jobs. That is an achievement in itself and perhaps paves the way for Mexico becoming Pan-American champions in Guadalajara in 2011. Time will tell.
Meanwhile, I hope Tazmania can be successful again. So far, the season has been rather lacklustre, having lost the Mexico City competition already. Some key players have left the club or not been available to play, and even worse we no longer have our training ground (we used to be based at Colegio Americano) so we are not practising regularly.
Even so, I intend to enjoy the rest of the season until Natalie and I leave for the UK in July. The good thing about Rugby is that a game also means a few beers afterwards; as the Mexican players like to call it, the ‘third half’ is a big part of rugby culture, and has given me friends all over the world. While in Cuba for the New Year, I got talking to an Australian just because he had a Rugby shirt on. I’m sure whichever country we end up in, Rugby will play a big part in our lives.



Ian Betts
Mexico City
February 2009

Tempting Fate

Tempting Fate

My hands aren't right.
The cold penetrates them
So they're dull and numb.

Bones for fingers,
I rock back and forth,
Hands in my crotch.

It's never been this bad before.

Simon is grinning.
His axe hacks into the wall
Which spatters ice chips in my face;

He starts off,
Athletic and fearless,
Scaling the imdomitable.

I look up.

The steep wall rises
Like a monolith
Of fluted snow and ice;

Siula Grande splits the perfect azure sky.

Chekhov on vulgarity

What are these people coming to? Everywhere I see degeneration. It is the worst disease of our age. There are old men in the streets everywhere. You can read the dejection, the lust on their faces. Will I be like them one day?

I cannot forget my father. When we were children, we would sing in the choir so that people thought us angels. Our parents were envied. Little did they know that we felt like convicts. The bastard. His insults and beatings showed us just what people can do.

I have spent my life speaking out against hypocrisy, pretention and vulgarity. My stories and my plays aim to show people just how their lives are, and how they could be. If only they would realise how much better it all could be!

Sometimes I think of my time on the Steppe, of the wide branching trees and endless fields of grass and reeds. It is that sense of peace that I humbly strive for in my life. What else is there?


Quotes from Chekhov himself:

Wherever there is degeneration and apathy, there also is sexual perversion, cold depravity, miscarriage, premature old age, grumbling youth, there is a decline in the arts, indifference to science, and injustice in all its forms.
ANTON CHEKHOV, letter to A.S. Suvorin, Dec. 27, 1889

I thought famous people were proud, unapproachable, that they despised the crowd, and by their fame and the glory of their name, as it were, revenged themselves on the vulgar herd for putting rank and wealth above everything. But here they cry and fish, play cards, laugh and get cross like everyone else!
ANTON CHEKHOV, The Seagull

There should be more sincerity and heart in human relations, more silence and simplicity in our interactions. Be rude when you’re angry, laugh when something is funny, and answer when you’re asked.
ANTON CHEKHOV, letter to A.P. Chekhov, Oct. 13, 1888

All I wanted was to say honestly to people: "Have a look at yourselves and see how bad and dreary your lives are!" The important thing is that people should realize that, for when they do, they will most certainly create another and better life for themselves. I will not live to see it, but I know that it will be quite different, quite unlike our present life. And so long as this different life does not exist, I shall go on saying to people again and again: "Please, understand that your life is bad and dreary!"
ANTON CHEKHOV, letter to Alexander Tikhonov

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