The Coronavirus Law, Or How Not To Draft Legislation Unless You're Trying For Herd Immunity Via The Back Door

I'm going to hazard a guess that if you're reading this you're aware of the Prime Minister's address to the nation, regarding the loosening of lockdown restrictions. You may be searching for answers; it's hardly like the actual changes were made clear.

I can't provide those answers yet. I'll probably write something new on the restrictions once I've read the published guidance tomorrow. I already have a few thoughts on that - the main one being 'who on earth other than myself dives into the House of Commons library and Legislation.gov.uk in their free time to find out what they can and can't do?' - but they'll also have to wait for a later time.

The situation is as clear as mud. And, just to add further sediment to the water, I'd like to start at the end.

In his address, Johnson stated that fines for breaching lockdown will be increased. Good. Positive start. For me, the main problem with lockdown has been that it hasn't been properly enforced. At least, the main problem with lockdown that isn't the fact that it has been subtly and gradually loosened through contradictory advice from the government has been that it hasn't been properly enforce. A deterrence through proactive policing isn't a bad thing. It's worked in France and Italy, and it would work here.

The problem is the regulations themselves. The Health Protection (Coronavirus, Restrictions) (England) Regulations 2020 are pretty clear when someone is allowed out of their home. A person may leave their home when:

• Shopping for basic necessities for themselves or the member of a vulnerable household;
• They are obtaining or depositing money witha business specified in a schedule of the Regulations;
• Exercising, either alone or with a member of the same household;
• Seeking medical assistance;
• Providing care to another;
• Donating blood;
• Travelling to or from work (don't get me started on the wording of this as it's accidentally rendered all work outside your place of residence illegal - a classic example of rushjob legislation written by an idiot) or volunteering;
• Attending a funeral of a close family member;
• Fulfilling a legal obligation (such as attendance at court);
• Accessing critical public services such as social services;
• Taking a child to or from the other parent with custody or access when the parents do not live together;
• Going to a place of worship if a minister of that religion;
• Moving house;
• Avoiding injury or illness.

In short, quite a list. They're not reproduced verbatim; you can access them yourself if you're interested. The problem is that frequency isn't specified. Nor are activities that qualify as exercise, seeking medical assistance, etc. Interpretation depends upon the individual. The police have been issued with guidance, but this guidance doesn't have force of law.

Interestingly, a big deal was made of the restriction on personal exercise when lockdown measures were first introduced. The law itself at no stage makes reference to not being allowed to exercise more than once a day; this was only ever guidance without legal force. And that guidance has been loosened as time has gone on and the government has taken an increasingly populist approach. Neither was there ever a legal restriction on going out elsewhere to exercise, nor a proscription on different types of exercise. You know those people who went for a wander with a picnic in the park? Lawful excuse. Complete idiots, but when the law has been rendered unenforceable by virtue of being thought up by people without a clue, there's no legal recourse.

Also loosened - quietly, without telling anyone - have been the restrictions on freedom of movement outside the home. Again, you may remember there being a big deal made of the main reasons you could leave home. Those haven't changed; in truth, nor have many of the activities listed above. They were always legal; the government just didn't tell you about it. The fact is that the lockdown has, in fact, only ever related to the restriction of business practice with a prescribed list of businesses who may and may not operate.

So what of today's proclamation? Legislation.gov.uk interestingly says that there are no pending amendments to the statutory instrument that manages the lockdown; whether this is true or not we'll see tomorrow. So in short: nothing has changed other than the guidance now being provided by the government being much more wooly; there's much more scope now for people to abuse those regulations, particularly employers who wish for their staff to come to work as they haven't provided home-working facilities in the past. In my former place of employment - unless things have changed with regards to hardware and setup - many of the secretaries and paralegals will find themselves back in the office as the government has pretty much mandated it. The scope of exercise is now so wide that it's impossible to police, and will prove a go-to excuse for people flouting any kind of guidance.

Has anything changed legally? It appears not, and this is a problem. The law was far too loose as it was, and was never enough to allow the police to get on top of any real issues that could arise. Add to that the inherent contradictions that have run throughout the legislation. It's fine to go to work with 100 other people on a construction site or in an office, who will all go to different households, but you're barred from seeing your parents or children, even when you can maintain physical distance from them. One of those appears to be a far more obvious vector for the disease than the other, yet it is the one being encouraged as of this evening by the government. If the latter is banned, then the former must also be banned.

We will see more tomorrow. It may be that with the publication of additional guidance all will become more clear and more logical. It may also be that the enforcement of what limited regulations there are will be made easier by amending the existing law. What it doesn't disguise is that the existing law was absolutely inadequate - another example of rushed legislation not being up to the task, either by accident or design - and that the revised regulations appear to be contradictory and geared towards money rather than health.

Stay safe. Stay home.

Lockdown: A Mental Health Post

Quick warning before you start: this is highly personal and probably a little confused. It's a sign of the times that I'm seriously struggling to express exactly what's going on. This is a bit of a stream of consciousness, a hopefully cathartic splurge that might help others as well as myself. Whatever happens, and as hard as it is to reach out or make feelings known, we are in this together.

*

If popular history is to be believed, Shakespeare wrote King Lear in the midst of an outbreak of the plague. While locked down, he turned his incomparable genius to one of his most enduring plays - albeit one where no main characters exit, persued by a bear. It's a parable some in the Twittersphere have put out: 'See, you can be productive in lockdown! Look at this!'

It's nice that some have tried to keep people upbeat and encourage creativity. On the other hand, telling people to measure themselves against one of the great historical literary geniuses is probably not that inspiring. 'Look, you can work on your first touch in lockdown. Even Lionel Messi is managing it!' Yes, and Messi is one of the best footballers ever with what is probably a small estate, while you have a back garden and a patio that needs weeding. Not to mention, you're not as good as him.

At least, that's what the voices say. Being creative in lockdown has been a futile task, made harder by one fundamental fact.

For the past six months I have been suffering from an episode of depression.

It's not been easy to deal with at the best of times. To help, I'm on a course of anti-depressants. It's likely I'll still be on them more than a year from now. I was on them before it became clear that COVID-19 was going to hit Britain, and hit Britain hard. There had been days before then when it was hard to get going, to say the least. When getting up on a morning was the hardest thing I could do.

Thankfully, I do a job to get up for. As stressful as it can be, as much of a workload as it has, as demanding as each day is, I enjoy teaching. There's a reason why I want to be in work for 7, an hour and a half before the school day begins. When I fell into depression, school took on an additional meaning: it was the reason to keep going. Seeing those kids every day, much as they can be the most irritating so-and-sos going, was a reason to get up. On the final day of regular school, some of my year 8s trailed me around when I was on duty to applaud me and say thank you; I can only say the feeling was mutual because they'd kept me going.

Then came lockdown.

I can't say I've struggled more than others although I'm also prepared to acknowledge that it's not an experience I've relished. A combination of medication and a constant, hard training regime have kept my head above water, at least for the moment.

One of the symptoms I've found in depression has been the bone-tiredness that comes from keeping going during the day. It was a symptom at school; constantly putting a face on to the kids was draining, even though I also got energy from the classroom and doing a job I love. By the end of a week I was on the point of collapse.

That same bone-tiredness is present now, but for different reasons. Keeping going, keeping working has needed me to stay disciplined. 8-4 most days, making lists of tasks to complete for school on a daily basis, keeping to a routine during each day. On one hand, it's kept me going. Knowing what I expect of myself and knowing what others expect is a motivator. At the same time, it's exhausting. It's artificial. There's a constant feeling of 'what's the point?' The motivation of seeing 30 kids staring up, wanting to know what's next (or, just as often, how they can avoid work and keeping me on my toes with tasks) just doesn't exist.

Today I started work at 8:55. I completed my list of essential tasks by 11:10. I can't do any more. I'm exhausted; physically from a demanding running regime, mentally and emotionally by a psychological millstone that hits every part of my life. The former keeps the latter in check and has kept me just about functioning.

That isn't to say I'm completely functioning. I was struggling socially before the lockdown. A few weeks before all this kicked off I had to force myself to two friends' wedding. I very nearly didn't go. It was nothing to do with not wanting to be there and celebrate their day. It was entirely to do with the tiredness I felt, and the absolute hopelessness seeping through every thought. Why would they want to see me? Wouldn't I just bring it all down? I left after a couple of hours of the evening do, completely shattered after putting a face on.

Equally, socialising in lockdown is a challenge. I've lost count of the number of times I've picked up a phone to speak to someone but decided against it. I'm too tired, too often, to entertain speaking to someone - at least that's what my conscious reasoning is. The result is an isolation that's deepening and counterproductive.

Truth be told, I am coping. Just. But I'm not coping to an extent where I can entertain the idea of being creative or doing more, for the time being, than the bare minimum that needs to be done to keep going.

Some might question why I've written this. Partly, it's as catharsis. I often feel better after explaining something. When I told my parents I was on anti-depressant medication I felt better than I had in weeks (perhaps helped further by a fantastic performance from Town that night - a 2-1 win against Bristol City that could have been 8 or 9). I've kept a lot of things quiet, either to not bother people or because I don't want people to think any the worse of me, or think that I'm incapable of doing what I need to do. I know that isn't a healthy attitude to have.

Yoda one that I want

Criticising the creators of a story for getting their own characterisation wrong is not a good idea. It makes you look like a complete idiot. All too often on Twitter we see men (for it is always men) explaining a character and their motivation to the creator of said character, seemingly without thinking, 'Maybe this person knows more about their own character than I do'. Normally the end of that exchange comes about when the critic asks the creator just who they think they are, and the creator points out the name on the cover.

With that now in place, I'm going to criticise George Lucas for the characterisation of one of his own characters and possibly look like a complete idiot.

Yoda has been one of the enduring characters of the Star Wars saga, and not just because when 900 years old you reach, look as good you will not. He's small. He's green. He's wise. He has expressive pointy ears that a Vulcan would look at with envious eyes, were it not completely illogical. He's also got a reputation as a benign, benevolent presence within the Jedi order.

I for one am mystified how this came to pass, because Yoda in the original triology was a very different character. He wasn't defined by his weird syntax in Empire; no, he was best summed up as being a Jedi master taking on Luke's training who carried a vaguely threatening aura. There was very little benevolence about him. In fact, I'd argue that the audience was encouraged to reserve judgement on him. Was he actually helping Luke, or was he a potential enemy? Once we see his motivations are pure, he's still not all benevolence and helpfulness.

Consider this: When Luke Skywalker first arrives on Dagobah, Yoda doesn't reveal who he is. Instead, he is this mischievous elf thing. We can work out from the context that Yoda is judging Luke, working out whether the son of Anakin Skywalker is worth training. He sees someone who is impulsive (not helped by having a blaster pulled on him within about half a nanosecond of unveiling his presence), who has too much in common with his father, and who he even says he feels cannot be taught. This is a long way from the Yoda we see in the prequels.

Also consider this: When Yoda agrees to train Luke - after intervention from Force ghost Obi-Wan Kenobi - there's a distinct sense of underlying threat. He asks Obi-Wan whether Luke will finish what he begins, at which point Luke says he won't fail. That he isn't afraid. Yoda's response? 'You will be. You will be.' The camera shifts back to Luke, who's sitting back, uncertain of Yoda. That's not the response of a benevolent teacher; it's the response of someone much darker. It's almost a threat against Luke. That threat is carried out. Luke is sent into the cave where he faces a dark side version of himself in Darth Vader's armour. Yoda gives him no warning what to expect; in fact, he tells Luke that he won't need his weapons when he sets off to the cave, leaving Luke potentially all the more vulnerable. That scene - for me, one of the best in the entire saga - is open to so much interpretation. Did Luke take the darkness with him by taking the weapons? What would have happened if he'd gone without? Was he really at risk? But in not telling Luke what he faced, Yoda was revealing himself as a potentially threatening figure.

Then there's the bit everyone remembers. You know the bit: sinking X-wing, Luke being a bit whiny and negative, failing to lift it out of the water, and then Yoda showing off. 'I don't believe it,' says Luke in an echo of every child I've ever taught. 'That,' says Yoda, 'is why you failed.' It's inspirational. If you believe, you can achieve. It's something I'm more than happy to put on my own classroom wall as an inspirational quote. The problem is that Yoda has once again shown his own power. That power is so much greater than Luke's, and yet he's sending Luke out to face Darth Vader. It should be said that Yoda is absolutely clear that Luke is nowhere near the end of his training at this point, which is why he says Luke shouldn't go to help at Cloud City - his one actually benevolent move - but it's still something that should make us question Yoda.

So in the original trilogy, Yoda sends us mixed messages. He's something of an enigma. Even if his goals match with the rebels, his methods and deeper motivations are open to debate. He's mischievous, slightly threatening and even slightly arrogant. So why does he become something a far cry from this in the prequels?

We never see that version of Yoda in the prequel trilogy. We see someone who is a patient teacher. We see someone who is child-like and yet wise and calm. There's no threat to him. There's little mischief. The character has gone out of him. There was no reason for him to turn into that character either.

It's been said by more commentators than I care to read that the prequel trilogy is a massive disappointment. People have consistently suggested improvements, but one of the obvious ones is staring us in the face. And if George Lucas had beeen sharp enough, I'm sure he'd have seen it: Yoda should have been different. We see Yoda's stubbornness in Episode I when he withholds his blessing from Obi-Wan's decision to train Anakin, but that's about it. We don't see that threatening side. We don't see a side of him where he would withhold training from someone.

That's another problem. The end of Episode III sees Yoda pretty much declaring Luke and Leia the new hope, so why would he refuse to train him? There are many legitimate reasons why he might have taken the action he did in Empire - testing Luke is the obvious one, with the intention always existing to train him when he showed himself worthy of passing on the torch of hope to a new generation of Jedi - and many of those points make some of my arguments moot points, but none addresses why Yoda was characterised as this incredibly patient teacher with time for all. The big problem is that George Lucas failed to realise what he had created in Yoda.

So how could Yoda have been improved? There are a number of suggestions I'd make. One would be to have made him more arrogant so the doom of the Jedi order was in part down to his hubris. That's implied at times in the novelisations and the expanded universe, but not explored at all in the films. Another could have been to make his teaching techniques closer to his methods in Empire, and they could have pushed Anakin closer to the dark. It makes more sense than the sudden shift that Anakin undergoes in Episode III.

One thing does have to be said, however. The Last Jedi gets an awful lot of unfair stick from certain quarters. I confess myself to be a fan, and my favourite part comes with Yoda. That's because the Yoda in The Last Jedi - Force ghost that he is - is the Yoda from Empire. You're left slightly uncertain about his motivations and his methods as he seems to burn down the first Jedi temple. He's got that mischievous threat back. Although you know he's on the light side, his methods are unorthodox. His wisdom doesn't manifest itself in benign little lessons; his guidance is far more about threat. It's a bit of a stretch to say that Yoda is dangerous, but you can't say that he's absolutely benign.

The Walking Dead?

In the years since graphic novels gained recognition as a serious form of storytelling, quite a few noted series have emerged. Some of those have been postapocalyptic thrillers with a range of voices to be heard. Y: The Last Man told the tale of a society bereft of all men except one (and Ampersand, his pet monkey) and was an original take on familiar tropes. But perhaps the best known - in no small part down to the TV series based on it - is The Walking Dead.

It's got a plot familiar to any who know genre fiction. Zombies rise. World ends. Humans in danger. Stuff happens. Like most of those tales, it's gritty and 'realistic'. Or at least as realistic as it's possible for a plot to be when it relies on the dead rising in an unspecified fashion.

For the past year I've been meandering my way through the compendium editions of The Walking Dead. The first compendium begins the tale of small-town cop Rick Grimes and his family as they attempt to piece lives back together and find something new in a world at once familiar as the one they occupied for their entire lives, but also new, bereft of the familiar comforts of electricity and society itself. The subsequent compendiums, you'll be unsurprised to hear, push on through the same story, weaving a world that is at once intensely personal but also massive.

The issue with graphic novels is always with depth. The aforementioned Y: The Last Man was a good story, but at times it felt like it lacked something. Perhaps my first experiences of adult graphic novels - Watchmen, V for Vendetta - set me up for something more, but the series as a whole, whilst being immensely enjoyable, seemed to lack something. It could, of course, be the writer. I've not really got into Brian K. Vaughan's Saga either, and that's extremely highly rated elsewhere. But my experiences with other graphic novels suggests otherwise. There are plenty I've enjoyed. There are few that have left me awed in the same way as phenomenal fantasy novel or the best science fiction short stories.

Thankfully, The Walking Dead is one of the few series to have maintained that awe with its depth. It's deceptively simple at times and you could be forgiven for thinking early on that it's going to be a straightforward - if dark - tale of man versus zombie. In fact, that's perhaps as far from the truth as its possible to be. The Walking Dead is a story about humanity and how humanity faces up to disaster when society collapses. From the prison in compendium one to Alexandria and the Commonwealth in compendium four, there's a constant sense of being on the very edge of violence - not from the unknowable towards the known, but from one human to another as people are pushed right to the edge of their limits. The characters are truly what drives The Walking Dead forward. They're layered, complex. Again, a problem of graphic novels can be that characters can be left two-dimensional. Not so here. Robert Kirkman takes the time to develop them, to test them, to make them seem more real.

But does that depth come in part from the length of the series? Consider for a moment: Y: The Last Man runs to around 1,400 pages over 10 volumes. The Walking Dead runs to near enough 4,500 pages over 32 volumes collected into 4 compendiums. It could be argued - albeit not by myself - that Kirkman had the room to be patient, and to build character rather than advance the action constantly. For me, it's not an argument that holds true, but it's certainly something for a new reader to consider as they embark on the first issue.

Something that certainly isn't in doubt is the constant sense of danger that underpins the narrative. This isn't Gene Roddenberry's vision of Star Trek, that much is for sure; conflict between characters is as much the source of that violence as any. Rick is never comfortable in his position. Threat is ever-present, and not just the threat of external violence. And on the odd occasion that it lulls you into a sense of security, of cosy catastrophe a la Wyndham, there's something just around the corner to shock you back into the reality of this new world.

The Walking Dead is highly recommended. I started the series wondering whether it would be something I spent any real time with. In the end, the answer was long evenings spent in a world without TV and electricity, without structure in society, and where might was, very often, right. It's not a comfortable read, but it is one that will make you think.

Prorogue One

Avoiding parallels to the 1930s is tricky at the moment. On the one hand, referring everything back to Hitler like a badly-behaved Ken Livingstone is a bad idea; it cheapens the lessons we should take from the 1930s and it means when legitimate parallels are drawn they're lost in the wider drone. On the other, it's quite hard not to at times. There's the rise of increasingly extreme politics on both left and right. There's the increased trend towards nationalism. The Overton window has perceptively shifted towards nationalism being more and more acceptable, and with nationalism comes virulent nationalism: the kind of nationalism that legitimises a small minority of voices and silences others based on ethnic or political grounds.

The trends don't end there. Distrust of the 'political elites' was endemic in the 1930s, particularly in Germany. It played a key role in the rise of Hitler and allowing him to subvert the nascent democracy in the Weimar Republic. The idea that politicians then were not to be trusted came from the 'stab in the back myth'; that is to say, politicians in Germany were blamed for Germany's surrender in the First World War. The myth, perpetuated by nationalist politicians like Hitler, was that Germany's soldiers were betrayed by the politicians who signed the armistice and, in time, agreed to the Treaty of Versailles. That this was linked to rabid antisemitism should also not be overlooked in the context of the Third Reich. Racial politics and distrust of democracy helped Hitler to rise when times were hard in the 1930s, following the Wall Street Crash. It enabled his rise in the Reichstag and also played its part in allowing him to become the dictator of Germany, doing away with any semblance of democracy very quickly after he took power.

Whilst links to Nazi Germany may seem a little over the top, in the time I have been writing this Richard J. Evans has tweeted the question of whether current events are Britain's Reichstag fire moment. Professor Evans quite literally wrote the book on Nazi Germany, and I would encourage any and all to read his three-volume history of the Third Reich.

We live in a time of distrust of democratically elected politicians. We also live in a time where there is either increased fear of the 'other' or people who were always in fear have been given more of a voice for their opinions. The cause is simple, and it's the most divisive topic in British politics: Brexit. David Cameron's gamble has not paid off. The country is now more divided than it has been in a significant amount of time. The perception of a group of people is that some MPs are actively working to frustrate the so-called 'will of the people' following 2016's referendum result. The result is that politics is increasingly becoming a game to some people where the ends justify the means - any means.

The Prime Minister's decision to prorogue Parliament is unprecedented in modern history. In effect, Parliament's function has been suspended between early September and mid-October, just a matter of days before Britain defaults out of the European Union. I'm not going to sit on the fence here: this is a constitutional crisis and an outrage to Parliamentary democracy. I keep seeing a range of questions and answers being provided to those questions; often, those answers are completely politically motivated by leave voters or politicians. The justifications for this move just do not stack up. The justifications for actively suspending Parliamentary democracy are little short of a disgrace.

Of course, some ministers - mostly in the Lords, where the government whip has led the departures - either have resigned or will resign over this move in coming days. Some will be Brexiters. This won't matter to some people, who have the attitude that this is a matter of such importance that the most important democratic principles of the United Kingdom, built up over centuries, just don't matter. The irony is that it was just those democratic principles that many people in favour of Brexit were striving to protect.

I'm going to answer a few questions that people may have. These questions and the answers matter. If we are to live in a country recognisable as a Parliamentary democracy we cannot allow events to overcome long-standing principles.

So, without further ado, here are some questions and answers.

So what is proroguing?

In essence, it's the suspension of Parliament's functions. Parliament - which is the House of Commons and the House of Lords - cannot sit, which means it can't debate, it can't pass laws, and it can't fulfill its legislative function whilst asking questions of the government to hold the government to account.

But aren't MPs currently on holiday?

A good point. MPs do get a long summer recess from Parliament, where Parliament doesn't sit. The difference is that Parliament can be recalled at any time and Parliament itself sets the timetable for its holiday. While Parliament itself is on holiday, Members of Parliament spend much of their time in their constituency, working on constituency issues which they wouldn't often get the chance to work on otherwise, as they're expected to be in London.

So how is proroguing different from recess?

In the case of Parliament going into recess, Parliament itself has set the timetable. Rules surrounding Parliamentary sovereignty dictate that Parliament decides its own times, its own business, what issues it debates, and so on. The key principle of Parliamentary sovereignty is that, in theory, nobody can tell Parliament what to do unless Parliament itself agrees to do what it's told - or asked - to do. Proroguing is where the government breaches that principle and Parliament is suspended against its will. It's the difference between deciding your own annual leave and your boss telling you you're taking five weeks at this time, just when really important things are happening at work.

But surely Parliament should do what the people tell it to do, and leave won, so Parliament should be just getting us to leave?

Let's break this down.

First of all, we're not a direct democracy. We're a representative democracy. Each constituency sends a representative to the House of Commons where their vote has equal weight to each one of the other 649 MPs (I've included Sinn Fein because I can't remember just how many seats they have). It's the duty of an MP to act in the best interests of their constituency and the country, and sometimes what is popular isn't necessarily the right option.

On the same principle, we must remember that 48% of people voted to remain in the EU; Parliament must represent people who voted to leave and people who voted to remain. There's no two ways about it. It's not as simple as 'leave won, we're off'. There must be a more nuanced debate, and debate and critique is what Parliament is there for. If the government is making a complete hash of it, or taking the country down a road which MPs feel is against the country's best interests, then MPs must speak out. This isn't a case of people against Parliament as has been represented in certain locations in the popular press; this is literally MPs doing their jobs. If, as is the case, a large number of MPs feel that a no-deal Brexit would be bad for the country, then they must hold the government to account in Parliament, and the government must not stop their voices from being heard and having an impact. The aim isn't for Parliament to placate a vocal group of people who want a particular Brexit at all costs; it's to act in the national interest.

We voted to leave! The national interest is us leaving on 31st October and Parliament is trying to stop it!

Not really. Parliament is trying to get the best deal for the country. We need to remember that specific options weren't on the ballot paper. It was a binary in/out question. If remain had won, you'd get those striving to leave hitting the roof if it was announced that the referendum result meant we were joining the Eurozone because that wasn't specified. In addition to that, the campaigning was clear that there would be deals in place before we left, protecting the national interest. The economic forecast for no-deal Brexit is not good; the north west region is forecast to take a 12% hit in the event of a no-deal Brexit, so it's no wonder that many MPs are trying to mitigate that risk. In what has been put forward by certain - quite frankly idiotic - commentators as a 'people versus establishment' debate, it's worth remembering that MPs are doing their best to protect the people from taking that hit where they feel they must.

But MPs are the establishment! They're frustrating the will of the people! Boris is quite right to stop them doing that!

Stop talking rubbish and read what was written above. Also: how on earth is someone educated at Eton not a member of the 'establishment'? Give your head a shake.

Without Parliament having the chance to debate and scrutinise, the government gets a free pass to do whatever it likes. It's true that it can't pass new primary legislation - an Act of Parliament - but it will rely on existing legislation and be in a position to use delegated legislation to govern. Without the scrutiny and approval of Parliament. Right now, Parliament has sat for five days while Johnson has been in power. By the time it gets to the middle of October, that will still only be five days - in almost three months.

It's also worth pointing out that the Prime Minister is the person who has the most control of the House of Commons. If the Prime Minister can't face the scrutiny of the House, then he's no Prime Minister. It's not a sign of strength. It's a sign of fundamental weakness.

But once Brexit goes through, it'll all go back to normal.

This is where it gets tricky. We have an unwritten constitution based on convention. If it's happened before, the precedent is set and it can happen again. It would fundamentally undermine Parliamentary democracy if, in order to force through changes, the government had the power to suspend Parliament and govern through statutory instrument and orders in council. In fact, I'd go so far as to call it a dictatorship, not a democracy. Scrutiny and debate are two key elements; when meaningful debate is silenced in Parliament, then that's it for Parliamentary democracy.

So imagine the situation: in 10 years time, a Labour government is in power. It wants to do something Parliament is opposed to, or which Parliament wants to give more scrutiny to before it passes into law. An existing law is similar, but not quite the same. Labour prorogue Parliament and use a statutory instrument to alter the existing Act of Parliament without debate and without scrutiny. Is this something that should be allowed to happen? Of course not. But the precedent has now been set, and that's a deeply dangerous and alarming move by any government.


But this is a one-off.

It won't be. If it's allowed to happen once, it WILL happen again. That's the thing about a constitutional convention. Governments shouldn't be allowed to escape Parliamentary scrutinity because it suits the result of a popular vote before the last general election. It might wash with people who support it, but populism is a dangerous force. How long before a government rides completely roughshod over Parliament claiming it has a mandate to do so?

Why should I care?

Democracy is a funny concept. Each country has a different democracy. Some have written constitutions making clear demarcations between the roles of the different branches of government. Some have unwritten constitutions which evolve over time. At the heart of them all is a plurality of opinions, free speech, and scrutiny of those who would wield power. Constitutionally speaking, power in the UK derives from the Crown, but in practice it comes from the people who provide a mandate. If the representatives of the people - that is the House of Commons, not the government - are prevented from holding a government to account then the voice of the people is silenced, Parliamentary sovereignty collapses, and everything the entire vote was about in the first place will be lost.

Governments which cannot be held to account are a step above dictatorships. Although it would be remiss at this point to refer to the move to prorogue Parliament as the act of a dictator, there are certainly authoritarian overtones which should not be ignored. If Parliament is subservient to the executive and has to pander to the whims of the Prime Minister, our representative democracy is compromised. Parliament's independence is sacrosanct precisely because it can hold the government to account. A backbencher can ask questions, there's no absolute obligation to vote with the party whip, and moves that would be against the national interest can be prevented. It's why this step is so dangerous and should be stopped immediately.

In addition to this, Parliament has more business than just Brexit. That's a 'believe it or not' sentence these days, but in an average year around 80 bills pass through Parliament to become Acts of Parliament. Many of them escape notice, but some are significant reforms to the law. If these don't take place in this session of Parliament, then the reform may never take place when the new session of Parliament begins and is bogged down with government business from the forthcoming Queen's speech.

Isn't Boris just setting Parliament up for the Queen's speech?

He is, but the timing couldn't be interpreted as anything other than a deliberate political trick. He could have waited until after 31st October, announced the Queen's speech, suspended business for a day or two (the tradition is around five business days) and then had the same Queen's speech. The fact is that this is an attempt to get the UK to default out of the EU with no deal - securing a political outcome that Parliament would be in no position to stop due to the lack of time to pass legislation to overrule what already exists.

And what about party conferences?

Every year, in September and October, conference season takes place. Parliament traditionally breaks up for conferences. The fundamental difference is in the nature of the breaking up. Usually, business can be suspended until after conferences, and Parliament itself sets the timetable - a key aspect of Parliamentary sovereignty. In this case, the break is forced upon Parliament from without, violating every constitutional convention on Parliamentary sitting. It's political game-playing at its most dangerous.

To conclude, this is a dangerous move that sets an equally dangerous precedent. It is actively anti-democratic and is (woe betide me for saying this, a phrase I hate) fundamentally unBritish. It's a move that, were we living in a sane world, would have ended Boris Johnson's career almost before he'd formulated the thought. Wherever you stand on the Brexit debate, you should be against this.

The Winnowing Flame Trilogy

Summer comes, and with it the chance to spend a little time on those things left to one side during the academic year. This is a holiday of reading and relaxing; playing and practising; training and, perhaps, testifying.

Despite this, there's little to report on a writing front. It's been a while since I put pen to paper. We've been away for a few days - Cornwall is very nice at this time of year - but in that time my pad of paper has remained in my bag, untouched. Instead, time has been spent exploring worlds both real and imaginary. Untouched sands have given way to lost gardens and ancient coastlines in warm days that have drifted together until all track of time and date has been lost. Between excursions, time has been spent with a sequence of excellent books, the pages turning and helping to lose all sense of the outer world.

Jen Williams is still a relative newcomer to the publishing world. Her debut, The Copper Promise, was released in 2014. Her second trilogy, The Winnowing Flame, began in 2017. Bearing in mind how fresh to the field she is, in a publishing sense at least, it's been refreshing to come across a trilogy as accomplished and polished as The Winnowing Flame. More experienced and better-known writers will be reading it and cursing themselves; as for me, it's been a long time since I read a fantasy trilogy of such high quality from someone still so early in their career.

What marks The Winnowing Flame out from other fantasy at present is its creative verve. Yes, it uses some old tropes - ancient bloodsuckers and witches on bats to name two - but it uses them in fresh ways. Yes, it's a ragtag bunch of heroes up against an apparently all-powerful enemy who cannot seemingly be defeated. But that ragtag bunch of heroes exist in a fantasy world that feels genuinely fresh. The last time I read a fantasy novel set in a world this fresh, it will have been one of China Mieville's Bas-Lag novels.

Sarn is an ancient world with an ascendant human race. The Eborans, an ancient rival race, have long been in decline after the guardian tree seemingly died after a race of insectoid alien invaders, the Jure'lia, were defeated after a series of wars in which the tree birthed powerful war beasts for the Eborans to bond with and fight the Jure'lia. Each of these wars was known as a 'rain', and there were eight of these rains before the Jure'lia disappeared, leaving only tainted parts of the world of Sarn, where their remains corrupted other life, and the Corpse Moon, the remains of a raiding Behemoth which once would have rained terror on the people of Sarn. The Eborans have long been reviled by the humans after the Carrion Wars, where the Eborans turned to humans for food after the life-giving sap of Ygseril, the guardian tree, ceased to flow, and Eborans are generally shunned in human society.

Also shunned are fell witches, women who have the power of winnowfire. To produce this, they must sap the life of others and are considered dangerous. When a girl is born with the power of the winnowfire, they are taken away by the Winnowry, which imprisons such women and tries to train some to do its bidding, all in the name of protecting the women - and the citizens of Sarn.

Such is the situation at the beginning of The Ninth Rain, the first volume of the trilogy, when we meet Vintage, a travelling noblewoman obsessed with the history of Sarn; Tormalin the Oathless, an Eboran exile travelling with Vintage as her protector; Hestillion, his sister in Ebora itself, determined to resurrect Ygseril from what she is certain is a slumber and not death; and Noon, a fell witch imprisoned in the Winnowry. Another strength of Williams is her characters. Much like Connie Willis, she has the knack of making you care very quickly about her characters. They're very human from the word go, each with their own distinct personality and flaws which make them all the more compelling. Take Tormalin for instance: he's prone to being incredibly shallow, self-obsessed and to withdrawing when the going gets tough. But that doesn't define his character, it's just an element of it. He, like all the other characters, is well-rounded and multi-faceted. Throughout the trilogy, the characterisation holds up. There's no single one-dimensional character, and even the characters who are briefly introduced always have a well-rounded feel to them. As a result, the relationships between characters have an organic feel to them.

These characters inhabit a world that has been lovingly created. Like the best fantasy, this is an imaginary world that feels real. It's a world of detail and history; this isn't some casual creation. It's fleshed out expertly, with the kind of care and style you'd expect from a seasoned master of fantasy. Like other fantasies, it borrows heavily from western history for its sensibilities - in this case, there's a distinctly Victorian feel to the technology and the geography - but unlike others it doesn't lean on real-world considerations to make it believable. The characters' interactions and the depth of the history make it believable.

There's also a smattering of myth and legend that is used sparingly but well. Ygseril is clearly based on the Norse myth of Ygdrasil. The war beasts of legend are based on a range of legends from around the world. But what makes The Winnowing Flame outstanding is the creativity these myths and legends are used with. This isn't a tired writer re-telling old tales; this is a fresh voice using familiar ideas to help tell a story that is fresh and new, with superb characters. Before long, you'll be sucked into the world of Sarn.

In the best possible way, this is a trilogy that feels completely different. It's identifiably fantasy, but it bucks the modern trends. In some ways, it's closest to sword and sorcery - occasionally feeling like a 2D JRPG like Final Fantasy VI in its storytelling - but there's something more rounded to it than that. It takes the best elements of modern movements like grimdark and uses them to good effect in something that always feels fresh and thoroughly enjoyable. I could not recommend it more.

Half the World

*Skyrim Theme.mp3*

When we conjure a certain type of medieval invader, we have a very clear mental image of what they were like. Clad in chain mail (that is, the armour, not the irritating postal circulars), helmed by behorned helmets, they step out of the history books and onto the beaches of Lindisfarne, Whitby and any number of other bits of north-eastern coastline unlucky enough to have both people and more than a packet of Polos going spare before going on the rampage, killing abbotts, maiming monks, robbing anything not nailed down to the bedrock and melting away into the North Sea night, leaving the shell-shocked locals to piece together what remained of their communities and limbs.

Make no mistake: the above is only half of the story (and, in the case of horned helmets, a completely blatant lie told to schoolchildren. I know. I tell them it). They were from an advanced warrior culture, pagan and bloodthirsty though it was, that eventually succeeded in taking over England and, through one particularly powerful ruler - careful how you spell this - Cnut, they were the very people who fully unified England for the first time, despite the best efforts of the contemporaneous and unfortunate Saxons.

I am, of course, talking of the Vikings.

The mention of Vikings makes many people conjure other images: those of Odin, the All-Father, and Thor. People immediately think of Norse mythology and of harsh, bitter nights at sea. Some think of Beowulf. In all cases, people know that the lot of a Viking was a hard, bloody life, often at sea, often invading (and murdering) the people they came across in order to pillage and loot. But it was also a life of song and society. Perhaps we come at this from a British perspective - we're prone to the 'us and them' mentality far too much, perhaps summed up best by events of 1066. 'We' beat the Vikings, and then 'we' got beaten by the Normans - who, curiously enough, were descended from Vikings. The fact that Britain is as Norman and Viking as it is Saxon apparently never occurs to the people who keep regarding Harold II (Harold I was a Viking) as some kind of Saxon demi-god, despite the fact he was a power-grabbing, oath-breaking so and so who had gained his position of power via Viking influence.

Anyway, I was meant to be writing about Joe Abercrombie's Half the World before I got sidetracked by a favourite topic.

Not that Half the World isn't going to be a favourite topic. The sequel to Half a King, it is a Viking-inspired grimdark young adult fantasy that is well worth your time. It's rare, these days, for me to rip through a book, particularly if it's more than a couple of hundred pages. I spend half my life reading, what with marking and subject knowledge enhancement, and by the time comes to relax it feels like these days there are better and easier things to do. So it's a particular mark of enjoyment that I read Half the World in 27 hours from beginning to end.

Thorn wants to be a warrior, but has a problem: she's a girl. A feisty, irritating girl, who appears hell-bent on alienating those around her. She's talented, but proud and haughty, and when she accidentally kills one of her sparring partners in the training square and branded a murderer she finds herself at the mercy of Father Yarvi. Yarvi, the protagonist of the earlier book, is persuaded to take a chance on her by Brand, one of the boys Thorn sparred with, and both soon enough find themselves on a voyage to make allies, for Gettland finds itself in need of them against the High King of the Shattered Sea in a desperate attempt to avert war. What follows is a tale worthy of song.

For Abercrombie can write. Too often tales such as this one have foundered because they have got bogged down by detail and lost all sense of pace and drive. But not here; worldbuilding, intrigue and action combine expertly, with a cast of varied and likeable characters who all contribute something necessary to the plot. But of all the things that are to be admired, what is to be admired most about Half the World are its phenomenal pace and its immersive world. At times, you can almost hear the drumbeat setting the pace of the strokes in the longship. You can smell the salt of the sea, feel spray whipping up, hear the grunt of the man next to you on the oars as you battle the elements.

Half the World is clearly inspired by Vikings. A simple glance at the list of locations should tell you all about the Nordic roots of the tale. But it avoids making the mistake of assuming the Vikings were part of a simple world. The same tale could have been told by a less skilled storyteller without truly fleshing out the wider world, which the men of the Shattered Sea are just a small part of. But Abercrombie is the consummate storyteller. Narrative drive is never lost to the world, but the world itself is not sacrificed. This is a rich world, of more than just violence and raids. It's a world of high politics and diplomacy, where merchants and priests rub shoulders with the warriors. Just because the story focuses on the politics and the wars does not mean that these elements aren't present; they most certainly are, and they make up a significant part of the wider world.

This is a rousing tale of heroes who are human. There's very little magic here, and when it makes its appearance it is something that many people who sneer at fantasy would not recognise. This isn't a world where magic or anything spiritual truly holds sway. Like the characters, there are many elements of the world which are broken, but it all adds to the experience of this fine book.

This is a book that is to be savoured. It surpasses its predecessor in almost every way - and should be mentioned that Half a King was a fantasy novel of the very highest quality. I cannot wait to read the final part of the trilogy, Half a War. And not because I'm addicted to Vikings.