Part One Saturday

I Every parking space in Church Row was taken by nine o'clock in the morning. Darkly clothed mourners moved, singly, in pairs and in groups, up and down the street, converging, like a stream of iron filings drawn to a magnet, on St Michael and All Saints. The path leading to the church doors became crowded, then overflowed; those who were displaced fanned out among the graves, seeking safe spots to stand between the headstones, fearful of trampling on the dead, yet unwilling to move too far from the church entrance. It was clear to everyone that there would not be enough pews for all the people who had come to say goodbye to Barry Fairbrother. His co-workers from the bank, who were grouped around the most extravagant of the Sweetlove tombs, wished that the august representative from head office would move on and take his inane small-talk and his clumsy jokes with him. Lauren, Holly and Jennifer from the rowing team had separated from their parents to huddle together in the shade of a mossy-fingered yew. Parish councillors, a motley bunch, talked solemnly in the middle of the path: a clutch of balding heads and thick-lensed glasses; a smattering of black straw hats and cultured pearls. Men from the squash and golf clubs hailed each other in subdued fashion; old friends from university recognized each other from afar and edged together; and in between milled what seemed to be most of Pagford, in their smartest and most sombre-hued clothes. The air droned with quiet conversations; faces flickered, watching and waiting. Tessa Wall's best coat, which was of grey wool, was cut so tightly around the armholes that she could not raise her arms above chest height. Standing beside her son on one side of the church path, she was exchanging sad little smiles and waves with acquaintances, while continuing to argue with Fats through lips she was trying not to move too obviously. ‘For God's sake, Stu. He was your father's best friend. Just this once, show some consideration.' ‘No one told me it was going to go on this bloody long. You told me it'd be over by half-past eleven.' ‘Don't swear. I said we'd leave St Michael's at about half-past eleven – ‘ ‘ – so I thought it'd be over, didn't I? So I arranged to meet Arf.' ‘But you've got to come to the burial, your father's a pall-bearer! Ring Arf and tell him it'll have to be tomorrow instead.' ‘He can't do tomorrow. Anyway, I haven't got my mobile on me. Cubby told me not to bring it to church.' ‘Don't call your father Cubby! You can ring Arf on mine,' said Tessa, burrowing in her pocket. ‘I don't know his number by heart,' lied Fats coldly. She and Colin had eaten dinner without Fats the previous evening, because he had cycled up to Andrew's place, where they were working on their English project together. That, at any rate, was the story Fats had given his mother, and Tessa had pretended to believe it. It suited her too well to have Fats out of the way, incapable of upsetting Colin. At least he was wearing the new suit that Tessa had bought for him in Yarvil. She had lost her temper at him in the third shop, because he had looked like a scarecrow in everything he had tried on, gawky and graceless, and she had thought angrily that he was doing it on purpose; that he could have inflated the suit with a sense of fitness if he chose. ‘Shh!' said Tessa pre-emptively. Fats was not speaking, but Colin was approaching them, leading the Jawandas; he seemed, in his overwrought state, to be confusing the role of pall-bearer with that of usher; hovering by the gates, welcoming people. Parminder looked grim and gaunt in her sari, with her children trailing behind her; Vikram, in his dark suit, looked like a film star. A few yards from the church doors, Samantha Mollison was waiting beside her husband, looking up at the bright off-white sky and musing on all the wasted sunshine beating down on top of the high ceiling of cloud. She was refusing to be dislodged from the hard-surfaced path, no matter how many old ladies had to cool their ankles in the grass; her patent-leather high heels might sink into the soft earth, and become dirty and clogged. When acquaintances hailed them, Miles and Samantha responded pleasantly, but they were not speaking to each other. They had had a row the previous evening. A few people had asked after Lexie and Libby, who usually came home at weekends, but both girls were staying over at friends' houses. Samantha knew that Miles regretted their absence; he loved playing paterfamilias in public. Perhaps, she thought, with a most pleasurable leap of fury, he would ask her and the girls to pose with him for a picture on his election leaflets. She would enjoy telling him what she thought of that idea. She could tell that he was surprised by the turnout. No doubt he was regretting that he did not have a starring role in the forthcoming service; it would have been an ideal opportunity to begin a surreptitious campaign for Barry's seat on the council with this big audience of captive voters. Samantha made a mental note to drop a sarcastic allusion to the missed opportunity when a suitable occasion arose. ‘Gavin!' called Miles, at the sight of a familiar, fair and narrow head. ‘Oh, hi, Miles. Hi, Sam.' Gavin's new black tie shone against his white shirt. There were violet bags under his light eyes. Samantha leaned in on tiptoes, so that he could not decently avoid kissing her on the cheek and inhaling her musky perfume. ‘Big turnout, isn't it?' Gavin said, gazing around. ‘Gavin's a pall-bearer,' Miles told his wife, in precisely the way that he would have announced that a small and unpromising child had been awarded a book token for effort. In truth, he had been a little surprised when Gavin had told him he had been accorded this honour. Miles had vaguely imagined that he and Samantha would be privileged guests, surrounded by a certain aura of mystery and importance, having been at the deathbed. It might have been a nice gesture if Mary, or somebody close to Mary, had asked him, Miles, to read a lesson, or say a few words to acknowledge the important part he had played in Barry's final moments. Samantha was deliberately unsurprised that Gavin had been singled out. ‘You and Barry were quite close, weren't you, Gav?' Gavin nodded. He felt jittery and a little sick. He had had a very bad night's sleep, waking in the early hours from horrible dreams in which, first, he had dropped the coffin, so that Barry's body spilt out onto the church floor; and, secondly, he had overslept, missed the funeral, and arrived at St Michael and All Saints to find Mary alone in the graveyard, white-faced and furious, screaming at him that he had ruined the whole thing. ‘I'm not sure where I ought to be,' he said, looking around. ‘I've never done this before.' ‘Nothing to it, mate,' said Miles. ‘There's only one requirement, really. Don't drop anything, hehehe.' Miles' girlish laugh contrasted oddly with his deep speaking voice. Neither Gavin nor Samantha smiled. Colin Wall loomed out of the mass of bodies. Big and awkward-looking, with his high, knobbly forehead, he always made Samantha think of Frankenstein's monster. ‘Gavin,' he said. ‘There you are. I think we should probably stand out on the pavement, they'll be here in a few minutes.' ‘Right-ho,' said Gavin, relieved to be ordered around. ‘Colin,' said Miles, with a nod. ‘Yes, hello,' said Colin, flustered, before turning away and forcing his way back through the mass of mourners. Then came another small flurry of movement, and Samantha heard Howard's loud voice: ‘Excuse me †¦ so sorry †¦ trying to join our family †¦' The crowd parted to avoid his belly, and Howard was revealed, immense in a velvet-faced overcoat. Shirley and Maureen bobbed in his wake, Shirley neat and composed in navy blue, Maureen scrawny as a carrion bird, in a hat with a small black veil. ‘Hello, hello,' said Howard, kissing Samantha firmly on both cheeks. ‘And how's Sammy?' Her answer was swallowed up in a widespread, awkward shuffling, as everybody began retreating backwards off the path: there was a certain discreet jockeying for position; nobody wanted to relinquish their claim to a place near the church entrance. With this cleaving in two of the crowd, familiar individuals were revealed like separate pips along the break. Samantha spotted the Jawandas: coffee-brown faces among all the whey; Vikram, absurdly handsome in his dark suit; Parminder dressed in a sari (why did she do it? Didn't she know she was playing right into the likes of Howard and Shirley's hands?) and beside her, dumpy little Tessa Wall in a grey coat, which was straining at the buttons. Mary Fairbrother and the children were walking slowly up the path to the church. Mary was terribly pale, and appeared pounds thinner. Could she have lost so much weight in six days? She was holding one of the twins' hands, with her other arm around the shoulders of her younger son, and the eldest, Fergus, marching behind. She walked with her eyes fixed straight ahead, her soft mouth pursed tight. Other family members followed Mary and the children; the procession moved over the threshold and was swallowed up in the dingy interior of the church. Everyone else moved towards the doors at once, which resulted in an undignified jam. The Mollisons found themselves shunted together with the Jawandas. ‘After you, Mr Jawanda, sir, after you †¦' boomed Howard, holding out an arm to let the surgeon walk in first. But Howard made sure to use his bulk to prevent anybody else taking precedence over him, and followed Vikram immediately through the entrance, leaving their families to follow on. A royal-blue carpet ran the length of the aisle of St Michael and All Saints. Golden stars glimmered on the vaulted ceiling; brass plaques reflected the glow of the hanging lamps. The stained-glass windows were elaborate and gorgeously hued. Halfway down the nave, on the epistle side, St Michael himself stared down from the largest window, clad in silver armour. Sky-blue wings curved out of his shoulders; in one hand he held aloft a sword, in the other, a pair of golden scales. A sandalled foot rested on the back of a writhing bat-winged Satan, who was dark grey in colour and attempting to raise himself. The saint's expression was serene. Howard stopped level with St Michael and indicated that his party should file into the pew on the left; Vikram turned right into the opposite one. While the remaining Mollisons, and Maureen, filed past him into the pew, Howard remained planted on the royal-blue carpet, and addressed Parminder as she passed him. ‘Dreadful, this. Barry. Awful shock.' ‘Yes,' she said, loathing him. ‘I always think those frocks look comfy; are they?' he added, nodding at her sari. She did not answer, but took her place beside Jaswant. Howard sat down too, making of himself a prodigious plug at the end of the pew that would seal it off to newcomers. Shirley's eyes were fixed respectfully on her knees, and her hands were clasped, apparently in prayer, but she was really mulling over Howard and Parminder's little exchange about the sari. Shirley belonged to a section of Pagford that quietly lamented the fact that the Old Vicarage, which had been built long ago to house a High Church vicar with mutton-chop whiskers and a starched-aproned staff, was now home to a family of Hindus (Shirley had never quite grasped what religion the Jawandas were). She thought that if she and Howard went to the temple, or the mosque, or wherever it was the Jawandas worshipped, they would doubtless be required to cover their heads and remove their shoes and who knew what else, otherwise there would be outcry. Yet it was acceptable for Parminder to flaunt her sari in church. It was not as though Parminder did not have normal clothes, for she wore them to work every day. The double standard of it all was what rankled; not a thought for the disrespect it s howed to their religion, and, by extension, to Barry Fairbrother himself, of whom she was supposed to have been so fond. Shirley unclasped her hands, raised her head, and gave her attention over to the outfits of people who were passing, and of the size and number of Barry's floral tributes. Some of these had been heaped up against the communion rail. Shirley spotted the offering from the council, for which she and Howard had organized the collection. It was a large, round traditional wreath of white and blue flowers, which were the colours of Pagford's arms. Their flowers and all the other wreaths were overshadowed by the life-sized oar, made of bronze chrysanthemums, which the girls' rowing team had given. Sukhvinder turned in her pew to look for Lauren, whose florist mother had made the oar; she wanted to mime that she had seen it and liked it, but the crowd was dense and she could not spot Lauren anywhere. Sukhvinder was mournfully proud that they had done it, especially when she saw that people were pointing it out to each other as they settled themselves in their seats. Five of the eight girls on the team had stumped up money for the oar. Lauren had told Sukhvinder how she had tracked down Krystal Weedon at lunchtime, and exposed herself to the piss-taking of Krystal's friends, who were sitting smoking on a low wall by the newsagent's. Lauren had asked Krystal if she wanted to chip in. ‘Yeah, I will, all righ',' Krystal had said; but she had not, so her name was not on the card. Nor, as far as Sukhvinder could see, had Krystal come to the funeral. Sukhvinder's insides were like lead, but the ache of her left forearm coupled with the sharp twinges of pain when she moved it was a counter-irritant, and at least Fats Wall, glowering in his black suit, was nowhere near her. He had not made eye contact with her when their two families had met, briefly, in the churchyard; he was restrained by the presence of their parents, as he was sometimes restrained by the presence of Andrew Price. Late the previous evening, her anonymous cyber-torturer had sent her a black and white picture of a naked Victorian child, covered in soft dark hair. She had seen it and deleted it while dressing for the funeral. When had she last been happy? She knew that in a different life, long before anyone had grunted at her, she had sat in this church, and been quite content for years; she had sung hymns with gusto at Christmas, Easter and Harvest Festival. She had always liked St Michael, with his pretty, feminine, Pre-Raphaelite face, his curly golden hair †¦ but this morning, for the first time, she saw him differently, with his foot resting almost casually on that writhing dark devil; she found his untroubled expression sinister and arrogant. The pews were packed. Muffled clunks, echoing footsteps and quiet rustlings animated the dusty air as the unlucky ones continued to file in at the back of the church and took up standing room along the left-hand wall. Some hopeful souls tiptoed down the aisle in case of an overlooked place in the crammed pews. Howard remained immovable and firm, until Shirley tapped his shoulder and whispered, ‘Aubrey and Julia!' At which Howard turned massively, and waved the service sheet to attract the Fawleys' attention. They came briskly down the carpeted aisle: Aubrey, tall, thin and balding in his dark suit, Julia with her light-red hair pulled back into a chignon. They smiled their thanks as Howard moved along, shunting the others up, making sure that the Fawleys had plenty of room. Samantha was jammed so tightly between Miles and Maureen that she could feel Maureen's sharp hip joint pressing into her flesh on one side and the keys in Miles' pocket on the other. Furious, she attempted to secure herself a centimetre or so more room, but neither Miles nor Maureen had anywhere else to go, so she stared straight ahead, and turned her thoughts vengefully to Vikram, who had lost none of his appeal in the month or so since she had last seen him. He was so conspicuously, irrefutably good-looking, it was silly; it made you want to laugh. With his long legs and his broad shoulders, and the flatness of his belly where his shirt tucked into his trousers, and those dark eyes with the thick black lashes, he looked like a god compared to other Pagford men, who were so slack and pallid and porky. As Miles leaned forward to exchange whispered pleasantries with Julia Fawley, his keys ground painfully into Samantha's upper thigh, and she imagined Vikram ripping open the navy wrap dress she was wearing, and in her fantasy she had omitted to put on the matching camisole that concealed her deep canyon of cleavage †¦ The organ stops creaked and silence fell, except for a soft persistent rustle. Heads turned: the coffin was coming up the aisle. The pall-bearers were almost comically mismatched: Barry's brothers were both five foot six, and Colin Wall, at the rear, six foot two, so that the back end of the coffin was considerably higher than the front. The coffin itself was not made of polished mahogany, but of wickerwork. It's a bloody picnic basket! thought Howard, outraged. Looks of surprise flitted across many faces as the willow box passed them, but some had known all about the coffin in advance. Mary had told Tessa (who had told Parminder) how the choice of material had been made by Fergus, Barry's eldest son, who wanted willow because it was a sustainable, quick-growing material and therefore environmentally friendly. Fergus was a passionate enthusiast for all things green and ecologically sound. Parminder liked the willow coffin better, much better, than the stout wooden box in which most English disposed of their dead. Her grandmother had always had a superstitious fear of the soul being trapped inside something heavy and solid, deploring the way that British undertakers nailed down the lids. The pall-bearers lowered the coffin onto the brocade-draped bier and retreated: Barry's son, brothers and brother-in-law edged into the front pews, and Colin walked jerkily back to join his family. For two quaking seconds Gavin hesitated. Parminder could tell that he was unsure of where to go, his only option to walk back down the aisle under the eyes of three hundred people. But Mary must have made a sign to him, because he ducked, blushing furiously, into the front pew beside Barry's mother. Parminder had only ever spoken to Gavin when she had tested and treated him for chlamydia. He had never met her gaze again. ‘I am the resurrection and the life, saith the Lord; he that believeth in me, though he were dead, yet shall he live: and whosoever liveth and believeth in me shall never die †¦' The vicar did not sound as if he were thinking about the sense of the words issuing from his mouth, but only about his own delivery, which was sing-song and rhythmic. Parminder was familiar with his style; she had attended carol services for years with all the other St Thomas's parents. Long acquaintance had not reconciled her to the white-faced warrior saint staring down at her, nor all the dark wood, the hard pews, the alien altar with its jewelled golden cross, nor the dirgey hymns, which she found chilly and unsettling. So she withdrew her attention from the self-conscious drone of the vicar and thought again of her father. She had seen him out of the kitchen window, flat on his face, while her radio continued to blare from on top of the rabbit hutch. He had been lying there for two hours while she, her mother and her sisters had been browsing in Topshop. She could still feel her father's shoulder beneath his hot shirt as she had shaken it. ‘Dadiii. Dadiiiii.' They had scattered Darshan's ashes in the sad little River Rea in Birmingham. Parminder could remember the dull clay look of its surface, on an overcast day in June, and the stream of tiny white and grey flakes floating away from her. The organ clunked and wheezed into life, and she got to her feet with everybody else. She caught a glimpse of the backs of Niamh and Siobhan's red-gold heads; they were exactly the age she had been when Darshan had been taken from them. Parminder experienced a rush of tenderness, and an awful ache, and a confused desire to hold them and to tell them that she knew, she knew, she understood †¦ Morning has broken, like the first morning †¦ Gavin could hear a shrill treble from along the row: Barry's younger son's voice had not yet broken. He knew that Declan had chosen the hymn. That was another of the ghastly details of the service that Mary had chosen to share with him. He was finding the funeral an even worse ordeal than he had expected. He thought it might have been better with a wooden coffin; he had had an awful, visceral awareness of Barry's body inside that light wickerwork case; the physical weight of him was shocking. All those complacently staring people, as he walked up the aisle; did they not understand what he was actually carrying? Then had come the ghastly moment when he had realized that nobody had saved him a place, and that he would have to walk all the way back again while everybody stared, and hide among the standees at the back †¦ but instead he had been forced to sit in the first pew, horribly exposed. It was like being in the front seat of a rollercoaster, bearing the brunt of every awful twist and lurch. Sitting there, mere feet from Siobhan's sunflower, its head as big as a saucepan lid, in the middle of a big burst of yellow freesias and daylilies, he actually wished that Kay had come with him; he could not believe it, but there it was. He would have been consoled by the presence of somebody who was on his side; somebody simply to keep him a seat. He had not considered what a sad bastard he might look, turning up alone. The hymn ended. Barry's older brother walked to the front to speak. Gavin did not know how he could bear to do it, with Barry's corpse lying right in front of him beneath the sunflower (grown from seed, over months); nor how Mary could sit so quietly, with her head bowed, apparently looking at the hands clasped in her lap. Gavin tried, actively, to provide his own interior interference, so as to dilute the impact of the eulogy. He's going to tell the story about Barry meeting Mary, once he's got past this kid stuff †¦ happy childhood, high jinks, yeah, yeah †¦ Come on, move it along †¦ They would have to put Barry back in the car, and drive all the way to Yarvil to bury him in the cemetery there, because the tiny graveyard of St Michael and All Saints had been declared full twenty years previously. Gavin imagined lowering the wickerwork coffin into the grave under the eyes of this crowd. Carrying it in and out of the church would be nothing compared to that †¦ One of the twins was crying. Out of the corner of his eye, Gavin saw Mary reach out a hand to hold her daughter's. Let's get on with it, for fuck's sake. Please. ‘I think it's fair to say that Barry always knew his own mind,' Barry's brother was saying hoarsely. He had got a few laughs with tales of Barry's scrapes in childhood. The strain in his voice was palpable. ‘He was twenty-four when we went off on my stag weekend to Liverpool. First night there, we leave the campsite and go off to the pub, and there behind the bar is the landlord's student daughter, a beautiful blonde, helping out on a Saturday night. Barry spent the whole night propping up the bar, chatting her up, getting her into trouble with her dad and pretending he didn't know who the rowdy lot in the corner were.' A weak laugh. Mary's head was drooping; both hands were clutching those of the child on either side. ‘He told me that night, back in the tent, that he was going to marry her. I thought, Hang on, I'm the one who's supposed to be drunk.' Another little titter. ‘Baz made us go back to the same pub the next night. When we got home, the first thing he did was buy her a postcard and send it to her, telling her he'd be back next weekend. They were married a year to the day after they met, and I think everyone who knew them would agree that Barry knew a good thing when he saw it. They went on to have four beautiful children, Fergus, Niamh, Siobhan and Declan †¦' Gavin breathed carefully in and out, in and out, trying not to listen, and wondering what on earth his own brother would find to say about him under the same circumstances. He had not had Barry's luck; his romantic life did not make a pretty story. He had never walked into a pub and found the perfect wife standing there, blonde, smiling and ready to serve him a pint. No, he had had Lisa, who had never seemed to think him up to scratch; seven years of escalating warfare had culminated in a dose of the clap; and then, with barely a break, there had been Kay, clinging to him like an aggressive and threatening barnacle †¦ But, all the same, he would ring her later, because he didn't think he would be able to stand going back to his empty cottage after this. He would be honest, and tell her how horrible and stressful the funeral had been, and that he wished she had come with him. That would surely deflect any lingering umbrage about their row. He did not want to be alone tonight. Two pews back, Colin Wall was sobbing, with small but audible gasps, into a large, wet handkerchief. Tessa's hand rested on his thigh, exerting gentle pressure. She was thinking about Barry; about how she had relied upon him to help her with Colin; of the consolation of shared laughter; of Barry's boundless generosity of spirit. She could see him clearly, short and ruddy, jiving with Parminder at their last party; imitating Howard Mollison's strictures on the Fields; advising Colin tactfully, as only he could have done, to accept Fats' behaviour as adolescent, rather than sociopathic. Tessa was scared of what the loss of Barry Fairbrother would mean to the man beside her; scared of how they would manage to accommodate this huge ragged absence; scared that Colin had made a vow to the dead that he could not keep, and that he did not realize how little Mary, to whom he kept wanting to talk, liked him. And through all Tessa's anxiety and sorrow was threaded the usual worry, like an itchy little worm: Fats, and how she was going to avert an explosion, how she would make him come with them to the burial, or how she might hide from Colin that he had not come – which might, after all, be easier. ‘We are going to finish today's service with a song chosen by Barry's daughters, Niamh and Siobhan, which meant a lot to them and their father,' said the vicar. He managed, by his tone, to disassociate himself personally from what was about to happen. The beat of the drum rang so loudly through hidden speakers that the congregation jumped. A loud American voice was saying ‘uh huh, uh huh' and Jay-Z rapped: Good girl gone bad – Take three – Action. No clouds in my storms †¦ Let it rain, I hydroplane into fame Comin' down with the Dow Jones †¦ Some people thought that it was a mistake: Howard and Shirley threw outraged glances at each other, but nobody pressed stop, or ran up the aisle apologizing. Then a powerful, sexy female voice started to sing: You had my heart And we'll never be worlds apart Maybe in magazines But you'll still be my star †¦ The pall-bearers were carrying the wicker coffin back down the aisle, and Mary and the children were following. †¦ Now that it's raining more than ever Know that we'll still have each other You can stand under my umbuh-rella You can stand under my umbuh-rella The congregation filed slowly out of the church, trying not to walk in time to the beat of the song. II Andrew Price took the handlebars of his father's racing bicycle and walked it carefully out of the garage, making sure that he did not scrape the car. Down the stone steps and through the metal gate he carried it; then, in the lane, he put his foot on one pedal, scooted a few yards and swung his other leg over the saddle. He soared left onto the vertiginously sloping hillside road and sped, without touching his brakes, down towards Pagford. The hedgerows and sky blurred; he imagined himself in a velodrome as the wind whipped his clean hair and his stinging face, which he had just scrubbed clean. Level with the Fairbrothers' wedge-shaped garden he applied the brakes, because some months previously he had taken this sharp turn too fast and fallen off, and had had to return home immediately with his jeans ripped open and grazes all down one side of his face †¦ He freewheeled, with only one hand on the bars, into Church Row, and enjoyed a second, though lesser, downhill burst of speed, slightly checked when he saw that they were loading a coffin onto a hearse outside the church, and that a dark-clothed crowd was spilling out between the heavy wooden doors. Andrew pedalled furiously around the corner and out of sight. He did not want to see Fats emerging from church with a distraught Cubby, wearing the cheap suit and tie that he had described with comical disgust during yesterday's English lesson. It would have been like interrupting his friend having a crap. As Andrew cycled slowly around the Square, he slicked his hair back off his face with one hand, wondering what the cold air had done to his purple-red acne and whether the anti-bacterial face wash had done anything to soothe the angry look of it. And he told himself the cover story: he had come from Fats' house (which he might have done, there was no reason why not), which meant that Hope Street was as obvious a route down to the river as cutting through the first side street. Therefore there was no need for Gaia Bawden (if she happened to be looking out of the window of her house, and happened to see him, and happened to recognize him) to think that he had come this way because of her. Andrew did not anticipate having to explain to her his reason for cycling up her street, but he still held the fake story in his mind, because he believed it gave him an air of cool detachment. He simply wanted to know which was her house. Twice already, at weekends, he had cycled along the short terraced street, every nerve in his body tingling, but he had been unable, as yet, to discover which house harboured the Grail. All he knew, from his furtive glimpses through the dirty school-bus windows, was that she lived on the right hand even-numbered side. As he turned the corner, he tried to compose his features, acting the part of a man cycling slowly towards the river by the most direct route, lost in his own serious thoughts, but ready to acknowledge a classmate, should they show themselves †¦ She was there. On the pavement. Andrew's legs continued to pump, though he could not feel the pedals, and he was suddenly aware how thin the tyres were on which he balanced. She was rummaging in her leather handbag, her copper-brown hair hanging around her face. Number ten on the door ajar behind her, and a black T-shirt falling short of her waist; a band of bare skin, and a heavy belt and tight jeans †¦ when he was almost past her, she closed the door and turned; her hair fell back from her beautiful face, and she said, quite clearly, in her London voice, ‘Oh, hi.' ‘Hi,' he said. His legs kept pedalling. Six feet away, twelve feet away; why hadn't he stopped? Shock kept him moving, he dared not look back; he was at the end of her street already; for fuck's sake don't fall off; he turned the corner, too stunned to gauge whether he was more relieved or disappointed that he had left her behind. Holy shit. He cycled on towards the wooded area at the base of Pargetter Hill, where the river glinted intermittently through the trees, but he could see nothing except Gaia burned onto his retina like neon. The narrow road turned into an earthy footpath, and the gentle breeze off the water caressed his face, which he did not think had turned red, because it had all happened so quickly. ‘Fucking hell!' he said aloud to the fresh air and the deserted path. He raked excitedly through this magnificent, unexpected treasure trove: her perfect body, revealed in tight denim and stretchy cotton; number ten behind her, on a chipped, shabby blue door; ‘oh, hi', easily and naturally – so his features were definitely logged somewhere in the mind that lived behind the astonishing face. The bike jolted on the newly pebbly and rough ground. Elated, Andrew dismounted only when he began to overbalance. He wheeled the bicycle on through the trees, emerging onto the narrow riverbank, where he slung the bicycle down on the ground among the wood anemones that had opened like tiny white stars since his last visit. His father had said, when he first started to borrow the bike: ‘You chain it up if you're going in a shop. I'm warning you, if that gets nicked †¦' But the chain was not long enough to go around any of the trees and, in any case, the further he rode from his father the less Andrew feared him. Still thinking about the inches of flat, bare midriff and Gaia's exquisite face, Andrew strode to the place where the bank met the eroded side of the hill, which hung like an earthy, rocky cliff in a sheer face above the fast-flowing green water. The narrowest lip of slippery, crumbling bank ran along the bottom of the hillside. The only way of navigating it, if your feet had grown to be twice the length they had been when they had first made the trip, was to edge along sideways, pressed to the sheer face, holding tight to roots and bits of protruding rock. The mulchy green smell of the river and of wet soil was deeply familiar to Andrew, as was the sensation of this narrow ledge of earth and grass under his feet, and the cracks and rocks he sought with his hands on the hillside. He and Fats had found the secret place when they were eleven years old. They had known that what they were doing was forbidden and dangerous; they had been warned about the river. Terrified, but determined not to tell each other so, they had sidled along this tricky ledge, grabbing at anything that protruded from the rocky wall and, at the very narrowest point, clutching fistfuls of each other's T-shirts. Years of practice enabled Andrew, though his mind was barely on the job, to move crab-wise along the solid wall of earth and rock with the water gushing three feet beneath his trainers; then with a deft duck and swing, he was inside the fissure in the hillside that they had found so long ago. Back then, it had seemed like a divine reward for their daring. He could no longer stand up in it; but, slightly larger than a two-man tent, it was big enough for two teenage boys to lie, side by side, with the river rushing past and the trees dappling their view of the sky, framed by the triangular entrance. The first time they had been here, they had poked and dug at the back wall with sticks, but they had not found a secret passageway leading to the abbey above; so they gloried instead in the fact that they alone had discovered the hiding place, and swore that it would be their secret in perpetuity. Andrew had a vague memory of a solemn oath, spit and swearwords. They had called it the Cave when they had first discovered it, but it was now, and had been for some time past, the Cubby Hole. The little recess smelt earthy, though the sloping ceiling was made of rock. A dark green tidemark showed that it had flooded in the past, not quite to the roof. The floor was covered in their cigarette butts and cardboard roaches. Andrew sat down, with his legs dangling over the sludge-green water, and pulled his cigarettes and lighter out of his jacket, bought with the last of his birthday money, now that his allowance had been stopped. He lit up, inhaled deeply, and relived the glorious encounter with Gaia Bawden in as much detail as he could ring out of it: narrow waist and curving hips; creamy skin between leather and T-shirt; full, wide mouth; ‘oh, hi'. It was the first time he had seen her out of school uniform. Where was she going, alone with her leather handbag? What was there in Pagford for her to do on a Saturday morning? Was she perhaps catching the bus into Yarvil? What did she get up to when she was out of his sight; what feminine mysteries absorbed her? And he asked himself for the umpteenth time whether it was conceivable that flesh and bone wrought like that could contain a banal personality. It was only Gaia who had ever made him wonder this: the idea of body and soul as separate entities had never once occurred to him until he had clapped eyes on her. Even while trying to imagine what her breasts would look and feel like, judged by the visual evidence he had managed to gather through a slightly translucent school shirt, and what he knew was a white bra, he could not believe that the allure she held for him was exclusively physical. She had a way of moving that moved him as much as music, which was what moved him most of all. Surely the spirit animating that peerless body must be unusual too? Why would nature make a vessel like that, if not to contain something still more valuable? Andrew knew what naked women looked like, because there were no parental controls on the computer in Fats' conversion bedroom. Together they had explored as much online porn as they could access for free: shaven vulvas; pink labia pulled wide to show darkly gaping slits; spread buttocks revealing the puckered buttons of anuses; thickly lipsticked mouths, dripping semen. Andrew's excitement was underpinned, always, by the panicky awareness that you could only hear Mrs Wall approaching the room when she reached the creaking halfway stair. Sometimes they found weirdness that made them roar with laughter, even when Andrew was unsure whether he was more excited or repulsed (whips and saddles, harnesses, ropes, hoses; and once, at which even Fats had not managed to laugh, close-ups of metal-bolted contraptions, and needles protruding from soft flesh, and women's faces frozen, screaming). Together he and Fats had become connoisseurs of silicone-enhanced breasts, enormous, taut and round. ‘Plastic,' one of them would point out, matter of factly, as they sat in front of the monitor with the door wedged shut against Fats' parents. The on-screen blonde's arms were raised as she sat astride some hairy man, her big brown-nippled breasts hanging off her narrow rib cage like bowling balls, thin, shiny purple lines under each of them showing where the silicone had been inserted. You could almost tell how they would feel, looking at them: firm, as if there were a football underneath the skin. Andrew could imagine nothing more erotic than a natural breast; soft and spongy and perhaps a little springy, and the nipples (he hoped) contrastingly hard. And all of these images blurred in his mind, late at night, with the possibilities offered by real girls, human girls, and the little you managed to feel through clothes if you managed to move in close enough. Niamh was the less pretty of the Fairbrother twins, but she had been the more willing, in the stuffy drama hall, during the Christmas disco. Half hidden by the musty stage curtain in a dark corner, they had pressed against each other, and Andrew had put his tongue into her mouth. His hands had inched as far as her bra strap and no further, because she kept pulling away. He had been driven, chiefly, by the knowledge that somewhere outside in the darkness, Fats was going further. And now his brain teemed and throbbed with Gaia. She was both the sexiest girl he had ever seen and the source of another, entirely inexplicable yearning. Certain chord changes, certain beats, made the very core of him shiver, and so did something about Gaia Bawden. He lit a new cigarette from the end of the first and threw the butt into the water below. Then he heard a familiar scuffling, and leaned forward to see Fats, still wearing his funeral suit, spread-eagled on the hill wall, moving from hand-hold to hand-hold as he edged along the narrow lip of bank, towards the opening where Andrew sat. ‘Fats.' ‘Arf.' Andrew pulled in his legs to give Fats room to climb into the Cubby Hole. ‘Fucking hell,' said Fats, when he had clambered inside. He was spider-like in his awkwardness, with his long limbs, his skinniness emphasized by the black suit. Andrew handed him a cigarette. Fats always lit up as though he were in a high wind, one hand cupped around the flame to shield it, scowling slightly. He inhaled, blew a smoke ring out of the Cubby Hole and loosened the dark grey tie around his neck. He appeared older and not, after all, so very foolish in the suit, which bore traces of earth on the knees and cuffs from the journey to the cave. ‘You'd think they were bum chums,' Fats said, after he had taken another powerful drag on his cigarette. ‘Cubby upset, was he?' ‘Upset? He's having fucking hysterics. He's given himself hiccups. He's worse than the fucking widow.' Andrew laughed. Fats blew another smoke ring and pulled at one of his overlarge ears. ‘I bowed out early. They haven't even buried him yet.' They smoked in silence for a minute, both looking out at the sludgy river. As he smoked, Andrew contemplated the words ‘bowed out early', and the amount of autonomy Fats seemed to have, compared to himself. Simon and his fury stood between Andrew and too much freedom: in Hilltop House, you sometimes copped for punishment simply because you were present. Andrew's imagination had once been caught by a strange little module in their philosophy and religion class, in which primitive gods had been discussed in all their arbitrary wrath and violence, and the attempts of early civilizations to placate them. He had thought then of the nature of justice as he had come to know it: of his father as a pagan god, and of his mother as the high priestess of the cult, who attempted to interpret and intercede, usually failing, yet still insisting, in the face of all the evidence, that there was an underlying magnanimity and reasonableness to her deity. Fats rested his head against the stone side of the Cubby Hole and blew smoke rings at the ceiling. He was thinking about what he wanted to tell Andrew. He had been mentally rehearsing the way he would start, all through the funeral service, while his father gulped and sobbed into his handkerchief. Fats was so excited by the prospect of telling, that he was having difficulty containing himself; but he was determined not to blurt it out. The telling of it was, to Fats, of almost equal importance to the doing of it. He did not want Andrew to think that he had hurried here to say it. ‘You know how Fairbrother was on the Parish Council?' said Andrew. ‘Yeah,' said Fats, glad that Andrew had initiated a space-filler conversation. ‘Si-Pie's saying he's going to stand for his seat.' ‘Si-Pie is?' Fats frowned at Andrew. ‘What the fuck's got into him?' ‘He reckons Fairbrother was getting backhanders from some contractor.' Andrew had heard Simon discussing it with Ruth in the kitchen that morning. It had explained everything. ‘He wants a bit of the action.' ‘That wasn't Barry Fairbrother,' said Fats, laughing as he flicked ash onto the cave floor. ‘And that wasn't the Parish Council. That was What's-his-name Frierly, up in Yarvil. He was on the school board at Winterdown. Cubby had a fucking fit. Local press calling him for a comment and all that. Frierly got done for it. Doesn't Si-Pie read the Yarvil and District Gazette?' Andrew stared at Fats. ‘Fucking typical.' He ground out his cigarette on the earthy floor, embarrassed by his father's idiocy. Simon had got the wrong end of the stick yet again. He spurned the local community, sneered at their concerns, was proud of his isolation in his poxy little house on the hill; then he got a bit of misinformation and decided to expose his family to humiliation on the basis of it. ‘Crooked as fuck, Si-Pie, isn't he?' said Fats. They called him Si-Pie because that was Ruth's nickname for her husband. Fats had heard her use it once, when he had been over for his tea, and had never called Simon anything else since. ‘Yeah, he is,' said Andrew, wondering whether he would be able to dissuade his father from standing by telling him he had the wrong man and the wrong council. ‘Bit of a coincidence,' said Fats, ‘because Cubby's standing as well.' Fats exhaled through his nostrils, staring at the crevice wall over Andrew's head. ‘So will voters go for the cunt,' he said, ‘or the twat?' Andrew laughed. There was little he enjoyed more than hearing his father called a cunt by Fats. ‘Now have a shifty at this,' said Fats, jamming his cigarette between his lips and patting his hips, even though he knew that the envelope was in the inside breast pocket. ‘Here you go,' he said, pulling it out and opening it to show Andrew the contents: brown peppercorn-sized pods in a powdery mix of shrivelled stalks and leaves. ‘Sensimilla, that is.' ‘What is it?' ‘Tips and shoots of your basic unfertilized marijuana plant,' said Fats, ‘specially prepared for your smoking pleasure.' ‘What's the difference between that and the normal stuff?' asked Andrew, with whom Fats had split several lumps of waxy black cannabis resin in the Cubby Hole. ‘Just a different smoke, isn't it?' said Fats, stubbing out his own cigarette. He took a packet of Rizlas from his pocket, drew out three of the fragile papers and gummed them together. ‘Did you get it off Kirby?' asked Andrew, poking at and sniffing the contents of the envelope. Everyone knew Skye Kirby was the go-to man for drugs. He was a year above them, in the lower sixth. His grandfather was an old hippy, who had been up in court several times for growing his own. ‘Yeah. Mind, there's a bloke called Obbo,' said Fats, slitting cigarettes and emptying the tobacco onto the papers, ‘in the Fields, who'll get you anything. Fucking smack, if you want it.' ‘You don't want smack, though,' said Andrew, watching Fats' face. ‘Nah,' said Fats, taking the envelope back, and sprinkling the sensimilla onto the tobacco. He rolled the joint together, licking the end of the papers to seal it, poking the roach in more neatly, twisting the end into a point. ‘Nice,' he said happily. He had planned to tell Andrew his news after introducing the sensimilla as a kind of warm-up act. He held out his hand for Andrew's lighter, inserted the cardboarded end between his own lips and lit up, taking a deep, contemplative drag, blowing out the smoke in a long blue jet, then repeating the process. ‘Mmm,' he said, holding the smoke in his lungs, and imitating Cubby, whom Tessa had given a wine course one Christmas. ‘Herby. A strong aftertaste. Overtones of †¦ fuck †¦' He experienced a massive headrush, even though he was sitting, and exhaled, laughing. ‘†¦ try that.' Andrew leaned across and took the joint, giggling in anticipation, and at the beatific smile on Fats' face, which was quite at odds with his usual constipated scowl. Andrew inhaled and felt the power of the drug radiate out from his lungs, unwinding and loosening him. Another drag, and he thought that it was like having your mind shaken out like a duvet, so that it resettled without creases, so that everything became smooth and simple and easy and good. ‘Nice,' he echoed Fats, smiling at the sound of his own voice. He passed the joint back into Fat's waiting fingers and savoured this sense of well-being. ‘So, you wanna hear something interesting?' said Fats, grinning uncontrollably. ‘Go on.' ‘I fucked her last night.' Andrew nearly said ‘who?', before his befuddled brain remembered: Krystal Weedon, of course; Krystal Weedon, who else? ‘Where?' he asked, stupidly. It was not what he wanted to know. Fats stretched out on his back in his funeral suit, his feet towards the river. Wordlessly, Andrew stretched out beside him, in the opposite direction. They had slept like this, ‘top and tail', when they had stayed overnight at each other's houses as children. Andrew gazed up at the rocky ceiling, where the blue smoke hung, slowly furling, and waited to hear everything. ‘I told Cubby and Tess I was at yours, so you know,' said Fats. He passed the joint into Andrew's reaching fingers, then linked his long hands on his chest, and listened to himself telling. ‘Then I got the bus to the Fields. Met her outside Oddbins.' ‘By Tesco's?' asked Andrew. He did not know why he kept asking dumb questions. ‘Yeah,' said Fats. ‘We went to the rec. There's trees in the corner behind the public bogs. Nice and private. It was getting dark.' Fats shifted position and Andrew handed back the joint. ‘Getting in's harder than I thought it would be,' said Fats, and Andrew was mesmerized, half inclined to laugh, afraid of missing every unvarnished detail Fats could give him. ‘She was wetter when I was fingering her.' A giggle rose like trapped gas in Andrew's chest, but was stifled there. ‘Lot of pushing to get in properly. It's tighter than I thought.' Andrew saw a jet of smoke rise from the place where Fats' head must be. ‘I came in about ten seconds. It feels fucking great once you're in.' Andrew fought back laughter, in case there was more. ‘I wore a johnny. It'd be better without.' He pushed the joint back into Andrew's hand. Andrew pulled on it, thinking. Harder to get in than you thought; over in ten seconds. It didn't sound much; yet what wouldn't he give? He imagined Gaia Bawden flat on her back for him and, without meaning to, let out a small groan, which Fats did not seem to hear. Lost in a fug of erotic images, pulling on the joint, Andrew lay with his erection on the patch of earth his body was warming and listened to the soft rush of the water a few feet from his head. ‘What matters, Arf?' asked Fats, after a long, dreamy pause. His head swimming pleasantly, Andrew answered, ‘Sex.' ‘Yeah,' said Fats, delighted. ‘Fucking. That's what matters. Propogun †¦ propogating the species. Throw away the johnnies. Multiply.' ‘Yeah,' said Andrew, laughing. ‘And death,' said Fats. He had been taken aback by the reality of that coffin, and how little material lay between all the watching vultures and an actual corpse. He was not sorry that he had left before it disappeared into the ground. ‘Gotta be, hasn't it? Death.' ‘Yeah,' said Andrew, thinking of war and car crashes, and dying in blazes of speed and glory. ‘Yeah,' said Fats. ‘Fucking and dying. That's it, innit? Fucking and dying. That's life.' ‘Trying to get a fuck and trying not to die.' ‘Or trying to die,' said Fats. ‘Some people. Risking it.' ‘Yeah. Risking it.' There was more silence, and their hiding place was cool and hazy. ‘And music,' said Andrew quietly, watching the blue smoke hanging beneath the dark rock. ‘Yeah,' said Fats, in the distance. ‘And music.' The river rushed on past the Cubby Hole.

Declaration of the Rights of Men and of Citizens Essay

The Declaration of The Rights of Man and of Citizens begins with a clear stipulation of intrinsic freedom and equality in every man. Equality, therefore, seems to be an appropriate place to begin. The Declaration defines our equality in relation to our rights, such that we are all born with the same entitlements and among them the right to perpetuate such rights throughout our lives. Each and every one of us is entitled to the expression of the will of a community (which, according to Rousseau, is the collective will of the constituent individuals). In a similar light, the law is to regard each individual without bias; performing its duty of punishment or protection as justice sees fit. The sixth section of the declaration states that: â€Å"All being equal in its sight, are equally eligible to all honours, places and employments, according to their different abilities, without any other distinction than that created by their virtues and talents.† Effectually, this levels the metaphorical playing field, rightly empowers the skilful and the able while ensuring men are distinguished not by the colour of their skin, nor by their religion and neither by their wealth – but by their merits and abilities. Unfortunately that has never been so. There are a plethora of sordid historical examples that contravene section VI. The apartheid, holocaust and slave trade are amongst the many historical events that have grossly violated the former section. Nepotism, racism, sexism and segregation still ail society and contribute to its atrophic senescence. One audacious claim is that every man is innocent, until proven guilty by the law. The present Catholic Church disagrees, believing than everyone is born  with the burden of original sin. It is not the only body that believes in immediate guilt, many states (including China) adopt a judicial system, which operates on a contrary principle: that every man is guilty until proven innocent by the law. UNRESTRAINED COMMUNICATION Each individual is entitled to his own opinions, their expression and their communication (regardless of content and context). The Declaration explicitly iterates that this is a man’s most â€Å"precious right† and can only be annulled when it threatens the public order. The law establishes the threat. How exactly can you abuse the right of free speech? Who has the right to decide when freedom of speech is abused? A state may act unjustly towards the expression of politically or religiously sensitive opinions, as they may rouse widespread criticism and lead to an imbalance of governing power and authority. However, is it within the law’s rights to place the right to freedom of speech below its own interests? Such controversy is faced in places such as China and Russia. However, the uproar provoked by Julian Assange and Edward Snowden prove that the West cannot lay claims to an unmarred reputation of moral conduct. Individual intrinsic equality is never defined with autonomy, since it is always bordered by the canons of the law. The Declaration seems to state that the power of the law transcends the rights of man, as it may decide what is within and excluded from such rights. It is given the power to distinguish and determine. LAW The Declaration defines the primary duty of the law as an â€Å"expression of the will of the community† and that the law should only â€Å"[prohibit actions that are hurtful to society]†. It decrees, â€Å"what is not prohibited by the law, should not be hindered† and â€Å"the law ought to impose no other penalties but  such as are absolutely and evidently necessary†. The law is detailed as the decision-making faculty in society, it has the power to imprison, accuse, arrest, apprehend and (the two most important powers) to determine the extent at which one man may secure the liberal exercise of his own rights and to establish when public order is breached or threatened. So who deems what is â€Å"absolutely and evidently necessary†? Who holds the reins to the law? Shouldn’t the law be separate from the normal man, should it not occupy a different order of sovereignty? What gives another man the power to wield the scales of the law, is he superior to any other man that he may decide his counterpart’s fate? Who has the prerogative to empower another man with the sword and shield of the law? According to the declaration, â€Å"all citizens have a right†¦either personally, or by their representatives, in its formation†. So the populace, by right, has power over the law, which in turn, by right, has power over the populace. Ideally, this ascertains the equality of power. A cyclic system where the law changes with the people and adjusts itself accordingly as the essence of man itself changes; where any change in the attitudes of the people is reflected in a change in the law. Equilibrium is, therefore, maintained and this allows elasticity and exposes duality in the expression of power. This is by no means a moral system. By this definition, the law is as fickle as man and serves as an inadequate canon, an imitation canon to reassure us that we are a moral and just society. Though the Declaration implores the equal distribution of law, all being equal in its sight, it has managed to allow the atrocities committed in the past. The witch hunts, slave trade, oppression of women, exploitation of children and the inquisition are merely a few events where the latter section of the clause (â€Å"[the law] should be the same to all†) has been unpardonably violated. Is this the fault of the people? No, the fault lies with the educated  lawmakers, the â€Å"representatives†. REPRESENTATIVE The Declaration mentions lawmakers (or â€Å"representatives†) and their sole duty to express the will of the citizen. They are effectively the mouthpiece of the populace and are crucial for succinct communication between power and the people. In modern society, this role is prevalent in the majority of democratic states in the form of: Members of Parliament in the UK, Senators in the US and LegCo members in Hong Kong. Unfortunately, the representative role can be held responsible for neglecting its duties and promulgating laws in favour of the upper echelons of society throughout history. The Church is one of the main perpetrators, abusing its influence and power to serve its own needs or requirements. It can be held directly responsible for the frenzied witch-hunts, the inquisition and the violent reformation, which are some of the darkest events in history. Wealthy plantation owners all over the world perpetuated the slave trade, since their operations were extremely labour intensive and extensively profit orientated. Plantations could not profit if workers were to be paid and treated fairly; therefore requiring underpaid and exploitable workers. Since the role of a representative is conventionally a caste specific role, it is nearly impossible for a member of the â€Å"people† to ascend to this position. Therefore the role of a lawmaker is somewhat disconnected from the people and is, perhaps, inadvertently stifling the voice of the people. The representative has, of course, the same (equal) rights of the people and therefore is entitled to ambition. Though their duty is to represent and express the will of the people, it is – rather understandably – second only to their personal desires and demands. Self-satisfaction is ingrained within every single complex organism on this planet, so it is only natural to pursue your own interests and seek your own ends. However, those with power (and above all representatives and lawmakers) have  the means to meet their ends. The mere possession of power is corruptive and addictive. Those in the upper classes of society will, at the very least, strive to remain in the rung they nestle in; fearing a relegation to a lower status. Many will desire to advance and climb further from the people and manipulate the resources available to them in order to do so. Yet, it is the privileged that possess such resources or have access to certain opportunities that allow them to advance and the unprivileged that don’t, thereby consolidating caste preservation and setting the cyclic nature of disparity in place. This is where the voice of the people is lost in transmission. This is evident in the American taxation scheme, where the wealthy benefit from certain policies that permits income to be classified otherwise and thereby avoiding the maximum rate of taxation. The Republican Party immortalizes these policies, as it contributes to their socio-economic preservation. What seems not to be apparent is that there is no need to abuse power. The correct expression of power and fair distribution can only bring about what the Declaration suggests: a level playing field. It would encourage a Darwinian model of progression, where the socio-economic advance and preservation of an individual is reliant on performance, ability, talent, skill and virtue. COMMON CONTRIBUTION It is necessary, according to the declaration, for a common contribution. This is for the â€Å"support of the public force, and for defraying the other expenses of government†. The declaration states that this common contribution ought to be â€Å"divided equally† amongst all â€Å"according to their abilities†. The former of the statements still rings true today and is the only thing reputed to be certain (apart from death). The latter stipulation, regrettably, has not. Internationally most citizens are taxed on their income, on the goods they  purchase and the money they inherit. Yet no system of taxation is truly fair, as the law affords disproportionate contribution and means of evading certain taxation. This is most evident in America, where many high net worth investors pay a smaller percentage of their income than their middle class, working counterparts. This is achieved through exploiting the capital gains tax and the carried interest tax. As a result of such exploitation, Warren Buffet only paid a combined tax rate of 17.4% in 2010, where less affluent Americans contributed up to 45% of their income to the government. The declaration stipulates that â€Å"common contribution† should be divided â€Å"equally among members of the community according to their abilities†. A merit and ability based taxation scheme is fair and just. So how should a population be taxed (if they are to be taxed on ability)? Taxing on the basis of income seems not to work. Perhaps the rate of tax should be varied by age or perhaps determined by occupation (seeing as occupation is decided by ability). A problem that arises is that this would discourage hard work and penalize success. Thus resulting in a population hesitant to use their abilities and work to their full capacity.

Global Managerial Economics Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

Global Managerial Economics - Essay Example Some countries may not need financial assistance but advice on policies. IMF also extends this by providing Policy Support Instrument. Together with these programs offered by IMF is an austerity program. Financial aids are coupled with "neoliberal"1 ideology or agenda which is a prerequisite for the fund. Examples of these conditions are "cutbacks" or "liberalization" of the economy, opening markets for trade, minimization of government intervention, privatization which causes the reduced protection of domestic industries, currency devaluation, mounts in interest rates, "flexibility" of the labor market, elimination of subsidies, and incentive for foreign investors (Shah 2005). There has been a growing controversy on the effects of these austerity measures. Some critics claim that problems experienced by the countries aided by the IMF can be directly traced by the implemented austerity measures together with the organization's financial assistance. A good illustration of the above discussion is the global economic crisis which occurred from 1997-1999.

Spring Awakening Analysis Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 3000 words

Spring Awakening Analysis - Essay Example Spring’s Awakening, was published by Wedekind in 1891. However, it was not actually performed until 1906. â€Å"Spring’s Awakening investigates and explores the theme of adolescent sexuality in a noticeably modern and expressionistic approach. In nineteen episodic scenes, Wedekind imparts and communicates the stories of a few teenagers. It tells of the experiences and feelings of these teenagers as they move violently through sexual maturity. What the play examines is the lack of knowledge and sheer ignorance of their teachers and parents. In essence, the adolescents are having such a difficult time because of the ignorance of their elders who do not guide them or assist them in getting through this difficult time. In actuality, their teachers and parents are themselves sexually self-conscious, repressed and withdrawn. This becomes apparent in the scenes of the play and they present themselves well to represent this aspect of the teachers and parents as well as the str uggles of the adolescents in the play. Wedeknd’s Expressionism is unmistakable in his use of heavily stylized dialogue. He mixes this dialogue with lyrical and cutting irony with prosaic speech to create a seriocomic tone. In addition, Wedekind has a character return from the dead. This is significant because it is something that could not happen in naturalistic theater. Through the dialogue and expressionist theme of the scenes Weekend presents a mocking and satirical measure of inadequacy and condemnation of the hypocrisy and prudery of middle-class German society, At the time of its release, Wedeknd’s play was seriously censored. However, in spite of this it was also one of the playwright’s most successful works. In Act One Scene 5, it becomes apparent why Wedeknd’s work can be thought of as a tragi-comedy of teenage sex. In the first Act the audience is introduced to all of the teenagers of the play in a manner that setrs up the remainder of the play. In this scene a

Should the government protect American jobs by imposing stiff Essay

Should the government protect American jobs by imposing stiff penalties on companies that transfer jobs offshore by outsourcing or manufacturing in a different country - Essay Example The US companies have also taken advantage of this scenario to tap the resources available outside their geographical boundaries for which the operations of the US companies have been outsourced. The US companies have undertaken cost-benefit analysis and have taken strategic decisions in some cases to establish the productive units for manufacturing outside their own country. This has created shortage of employment opportunities for the people of US as more number of US companies started to create offshore jobs either by outsourcing or through foreign direct investments. This has led the US government to design policies for restoring the decline of American jobs for which huge penalties were imposed on the companies that were engaged in transferring job to the offshore industries either by outsourcing or through investments in the foreign economies. This paper argues the fact that the US government should not protect US jobs by imposing penalties on the US companies that are setting up manufacturing processes or outsourcing jobs to the foreign economies. The severalbenefits due to the activities of the US companies in undertaking the process of outsourcing business operations or engaging in the foreign direct investments and carrying out offshore manufacturing activities have been discussed as follows. The US companies which have either outsourced the business operations or set up manufacturing facilities in the foreign countries have been able to stimulate free exchange of economic resources between the countries in the international trade. This has supported the growth of free market and free trade in the global platform (Kehal and Singh 62). The setting up of manufacturing facilities and outsourcing of business operations has influenced the growth of competition in the foreign economies. This has led to the rise of competition in the international business context. The

About sales people as employee performance Essay

About sales people as employee performance - Essay Example between employee performance and sales people I would have the chance to check the differences in the form of the above relationship, as appeared in markets worldwide. In other words, I could evaluate the current potentials of employee performance to influence sales people, and vice versa. Current training course has been related to a series of problems. At the first level, not all students are aware of all aspects of employee performance. In this way, delays appear in different phases of the courses. At the same time, existing material related to employee performance is vast. Identifying the material referring solely to sales people takes more time than estimated, a fact that will necessarily affect the progress of the course. The instructions used in the particular course will be aligned with the course’s theme. Emphasis will be laid upon the review of material that is appropriate for understanding the course’s subject. Emphasis will be also given on the development of examinations for checking the progress of learners. Examinations will be based on exercises related to the course’s key issues and its sub-issues. Instructions should be available online, in the school’s website, so that participants are able to check the progress of their exercise, without the intervention of a third person. My instructional strategy would have two different characteristics: it will be interactive, available through the Internet for review, and b) direct instruction. In addition, a different instructional strategy can be used anytime for evaluating the performance of sales people as employee performance. The course will be divided into 8 sections; each section will focus on the examination of a particular issue of employee performance. The relationship between employee performance and sales people will be also analyzed. The schedule will be structured as follows: five sections will refer to employee performance; the sections, during which the relationship between

Analysis of POLITICAL CARTOONS Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 500 words

Analysis of POLITICAL CARTOONS - Essay Example t, Steve Breen, I realize that he has presented a very weighty issue of wage hike in contemporary societies, and the mechanisms that are either set in motion in its anticipation or brought about by its occurrence. The stable man withstanding the weight of an equally bulky man on top portrays small businesses in the economy of nations that more often than not, bear the weight of the pay hikes which despite their minimal status, bear huge weight on the small businesses. Despite the massive burden of the pay hike, the small businesses are seen to be resilient and persevere to sustain themselves and the weight altogether. The cartoon also displays some unethical practices occasioned by the introduction of the hike. Physically, the cartoon, shows the bulky individual-the weight- mercilessly down treading on rather clean and well pressed shirt of the man bearing the weight, introducing dirty marks on the shirt. Moreover, upon reaching the top, the carried man steps right in the nose of the one below, thereby suffocating him. Furthermore, the carried individual mercilessly strikes the eye of the one below and by that blinding him. In trying to decode this last range of observations, these acts could indicate the confusion that come with such issues of pay hike. The dirtying, blinding and the suffocation in the process of bearing the weight is suggestive of the corrupt practices and all other forms of unethical practices that the small businesses suffer from. The level of grooming of the man on the top is also suggestive of a golfer; a game conventionally associated with the wealthy. This can only suggest that those who go about corrupting the systems to their advantage are by majority, the wealthy. Comparably, the cartoon text seems to compute with more impact than the plainly written text about the same issue. This is because the visual impact of a cartoon is more enhanced than that of the written text. It is also agreeable that the use of different colors at

Definition of honor Essay Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 750 words

Definition of honor - Essay Example Concept Honor is a gesture or an attitude that others display for an individual for all the deeds and accomplishments that is earned or procured for the endeavor that is beyond the scope of a common man. It is an immense pride that any group of individuals or any nation exhibits towards the undertakings performed. Honor is an encouragement for others, an ethos and own confrontation clinched by any nation to recommend for all the actions that has made the result in its favor, may it be war where the bravery has turned the consequences in favor of the nation. May it be any sports accomplishment or any research that has brought glory to the nation in front of the entire world. A statement of belief or faith that a parents who worth the conception of reputation and examination would be lawfully conceited to comprise, a son or daughter entrust to (A Concept of Honor). Honor is also institutional that is regulated by the rules that one has to abide by. This Code of Honor should never be vi olated. The Code is equally applicable to all the laws and orders that any nation prescribes. Infringement of these laws is considered as a misconduct, such behavior brings defame or dishonor to any nation or an organization. These acts could be criminal or scandals that is against the set rules and regulations. Violations of laws are accountable to punishment, retributions or expulsions (A Concept of Honor). Thus, honor also encompasses an enormous pact of tasks. These responsibilities are being taught, guided and evaluated over the time as the providence of any organization or a country relies upon set guidelines. To receive and act dependably as well as sensibly is a great deal of responsibility. These principled as well as forfeited actions bring nobility to the institution. To procure graciousness and dignity for any nation it becomes imperative for every individual to work conscientiously and meticulously within the frames and parameters of the nation's rules and regulations. It is obvious that if any individual does wrong then it directly affects that pride of the organization (A Concept of Honor). It could be understood that by means of cultural unfairness or discriminations or by sustaining dual standards, conceit of the nation is influenced. It is imperative that for the sake of honor of any organization such strokes should be evaded. There could be a variety of condone to keep the spirits of the employees at a high pace and to let them enjoy the freedom of work. This not only promotes confidence and support in favor of the nation or the organization but also brings rewards and honor for the institution (A Concept of Honor). Rewards and honor could not be forced but they are self- generated by means of actions and the feeling of belongingness that an individual possess for the nation. Unless, this feeling of belongingness is generated from within, honor of any form can never be procured. This feeling is essential for the safety of nation and to eradi cate terrorism from its roots. It is observed that in some of the developing as well as developed nations women are highly ill-treated and there is little wages for their hardships. This could not bring any honor to the nation. It is therefore essential that both men and women work in co-ordination and respect for each other to bring pride, appreciation, magnificence and glory to the nation (Honor). Conclusion In social perspectives it is

Organizational Plan for Dr. McDougalls Right Food Asian Entres Essay

Organizational Plan for Dr. McDougalls Right Food Asian Entres - Essay Example Further, a McKinsey 7-S Assessment would be applied, as required. For Dr. McDougall’s Right Food, the management team is comprised of the founder, Dr. John McDougall as chairman of the board of directors; Karen Alden, the CEO and board member; a Vice President and Operations Manager with expertise in natural foods production; a Finance Manager who takes care of accounting and finance; and a Human Resources Manager who takes care the administrative and personnel resources’ needs for the organization. All of the management team are members of the board of directors. The success of the team lies with Karen Alden, reported to have extensive expertise in the areas of strategic planning and marketing (Full Circle Fund, 2011, par. 1). Under the governance of Dr. John McDougall, known as an expert in healthy eating, his qualifications, as noted are â€Å"one of the founders of natural, or organic, wellness and is a board-certified internist. He is also a best-selling author who has been writing about the effects and benefits of good nutrition to health† (Grocery.com, N.D., par. 2). The rest of the team address production, finance and human resources requirements, as needed. The elements of the McKinsey 7S model are: strategy, structure, systems, shared values, style, staff, and skills (Mind Tools, 2011). Applying this model in Dr. McDougall’s Right Foods Asian Entrà ©e, the following are revealed: Strategy: To produce and market Asian Entrees entirely on all natural ingredients to be targeted to health conscious people who are always on the go. Despite its premium price strategy, an extensive promotional campaign would assist to enhance product awareness to consumers and therefore, it would be available in all major supermarkets and groceries. Structure: The management team is structured as a lean and flat structure with limited members

Assignment Example | Topics and Well Written Essays - 1000 words - 2

Assignment Example The addition of these two variables would then be divided by the original price the investor paid for the stock or lot of stocks. This calculation would give the gross return. The net return is calculated by subtracting the tax expenses associated with the investment from the numerator of the formula. It is important for investors to periodically calculate the return they would achieve if they sold a stock at a particular point in time. This can help investors determine when it is the best moment to sell their stock investment. 2. Contrast systematic and unsystematic risk. There are two types of risks that investors must pay close attention to. The two types of risks are systematic and unsystematic risk. Systematic risk is a risk factor that cannot be control by the investor or the firm due to the fact that it is a market inherent risk. These risk factors affect all firms. Some examples of systematic risks include recessions, wars, inflation, and the occurrence of natural events. In the aftermath of the March 11, 2011 earthquake in Japan the valuation of most Japanese stocks when down a lot. This risk could not have been predicted by an investor. Unsystematic risk is also referred to as firm specific risk or diversifiable risk. Unsystematic risks are risks that can be controlled by the firm. Some examples of these risks include employee strikes, lawsuits, unsuccessful product launches, and the quality of the labor force hired by the firm. A way to offset the effects of unsystematic risks is through diversification. A smart investor is able to reduce the unsystematic risk of their portfolio by purchasing a wide array of investments including blue chip stocks, bonds, and mutual funds. Within the stocks selected by the investor they choose common stocks from firms from different industries. Both systematic and unsystematic risk must be considered by people that are contemplating investing in the stock market. 3. Explain why the total risk of a portfolio is not sim ply equal to the weighted average of the risks of the securities in the portfolio. Many people think because the expected return on a portfolio is calculated as the weighted average of the expected returns of individual stocks that the risk of a portfolio is calculated in the same. Well all those people that thought that way are wrong. Generally speaking the portfolio risk is usually smaller than the weighted average. This occurs because on many instances the risk of different stocks offset each other. A way to measure how the risk of the different stocks of a portfolio is affected is by using the correlation coefficient. The correlation coefficient measures the degree of relationship between two variables. It is possible for a portfolio of two stocks that both have risks to formulate a riskless portfolio if the risks of the two stocks cancel each other out. This can occur because the returns of each stock move in opposite directions. 4. State what beta measures and its uses. The be ta coefficient measures a stock’s sensitivity to fluctuations in the stock market. The normal beta is 1.0. A 1.0 beta implies that the common stock has the same risk as the market. When a company has a beta below 1.0 the common stock of the firm is not affected too much by the market risk. Stocks that have betas above 1.0 are very sensitive to fluctuations in the stock market. A stock that has a beta coefficient of 2.0 implies that the firm is twice as volatile or risky as

The politics of globalization of Brazil Essay Example for Free

The politics of globalization of Brazil Essay The world, which started in the form of tribes exchanging barters as trade, entered a modern scenario, and barter soon turned into exchange of gold and then eventually currency. With the period of time, the humble trade transformed into international deals, and which eventually started the age of globalization. The era of globalization brought the world very close, and the trade that seemed much distanced because of the detachment of continents, started commencing on daily basis, and every place in the world has now become reachable in hours. â€Å"Brazil†, one of the highlight of Latin America, has it share of chaos and confusion, but eventually with the course of time, it has dwindled itself in the colors of globalization. Brazil has had a very troublesome past, and after the colonial monarchy, the army crept in leading to numerous coups, which resulted in mass destructions and stumping of the economy. It has been only three decades since there has been proper regime that has been ruling the country, and has been providing a platform for business and trade to prosper in the nation. Brazil with due course of time has joined the trillion dollar economy, and is shaping up to become of the leading economies of the world. With its due course of time, Brazil silently has crept in the list of large economies, and currently it stands as the eight largest economy of the world. Brazil since the early 90’s started accelerating its prospects by splurging into the world economy and opening its huge market to the world. Brazil’s sudden significance to the world market made it entry into the G-20 and also into organizations like ‘Mercosur’ Globalization is just not one huge international trade fair anymore, and it has a lot of politics involved. The level of politics in globalization has different facets and different indicators, and each country with the amount of its strengths and weakness are weighed into the politics of globalization. The facets of politics of globalizations is best explained, when it is revealed that it is nothing much than anger of people in the underdeveloped countries of the world, of what they are seeing as the unfair distribution of wealth, education and resources and the increase in the gaps of the people falling into categories of haves and have-nots (Gail S. Schoettler, P. 1). The politics of globalization of any nation can be best understood on the basis of import prohibitions imposed by that particular nation. In the case of Brazil, it has a serious issue with automobile being imported, as it wants to protect its huge automobile market, which is very evident from the fact that in the year 2005 Brazil manufactured more than 1. 65 million cars only for its domestic consumption (Elisangela Cordeiro). Brazil doesn’t want cars to be imported in the country as it can seriously damage its very own market, posing a threat to its own economy, as automobile is one of the biggest manufacturing sectors in the country of Brazil, and if the ban is lifted for importing automobiles from other nations, then it can have several negative impacts on the Brazilian economy as well as Brazilian labor force. On the other hand Brazil maintains kind of a monopoly, when it comes to its exports, as Brazil is supposed to be the leading exporter of coffee, sugar, beef and orange juice. Brazil’s best example of playing the politics of globalization game, is by understanding the fact, that when the whole world, is trying to impose bans on the production giant China over the unsafe toys filled with lead content, which even includes the World Trade Organization, Brazil has no issue with the unsafe toy and Brazil’s ambassador to China has even made comments openly like â€Å" It’s necessary to avoid simplistic solutions, like championing protectionism, which is an ineffective tool in a globalize world† (Luis Augusto de Castro Neves, Reuters). The reason for this kind of attitude towards China is because Brazil has a huge market in the form of China for its iron ore and its soybeans production. This double standard of not only Brazil but almost all nations in the world of imposing prohibitions for imports, but want free trade scenarios for exports, show the depth of politics of globalization. Brazil on a global scene is moving towards huge figures in terms of trade, and it was estimated in the year 2005 that within a span of four years, Brazil had managed to double its exports from US$58 billion in 2001 to a whopping US$118 billion and within the same estimated period, Brazil has managed to curb its import levies and has managed to control imports from the rest of the world, in their booming economy, and have been able to manage import increase by only 30%, from US$56 billion to US$74 billion. Brazil has been taking the wrath of the United States of America in terms of its trade policies and import prohibitions, but again the politics of globalization can be seen from the fact that how much ever the tiff between these two countries over free trade, America tops the list in both segments of trade, i. e. import as well as export from Brazil. The country supposedly is very actively involved in its productions and manufacturing strengths, especially of automobiles, aircrafts, textiles and footwear. Basically the level of globalization is very different of that of an idealist, and now each country is only trying to protect its interests and actually has no regards for the impact of it callous attitude towards other countries. Brazil fundamentally thriving on its agricultural economy has to suffer because of the conflicts over farm subsidies and agricultural tariffs from the United States of America and other European countries. Brazil considers itself to be one of the developing countries and tries to connect to other developing nations on the basis of monopoly of the developed nations, be it on the basis of agricultural tariffs or import prohibitions. Brazil how much ever shows its dissent for the policies of the west, it tries to rally itself for trade to all the developed nation, and there is a huge hypocrisy, when it comes to trade, as both Brazil and the developed countries, how much ever disagree with each other’s policies, but both will be on one list of top imports and exports. Brazil though being part of the G-20 and Mercosur, was never actively involved, but with periodic trading coordination, Brazil has started taking active part in these institutions as of now, and it was seen that brazil has been participating in injecting a fresh lease and leading the confront from Mercosur on the lines of boosting trade, creating jobs and reducing poverty in Latin America. Brazil with all its highs and lows, is making a special place in this globalize world, though how much ever unpredictable is the entire trading scenario, Brazil is set to carve a niche in midst of all the politics, that the world has to offer in international trade. Work Cited: 1) Gail S. Schoettler, â€Å"Politics of Globalization†, November 2002, University of Colorado at Institute for International Business and Global Executive Forum Center for International Business Education Research, cudenver. edu/International/ /Documents/Politics_of_globalization. pdf 2) Elisangela Cordeiro, â€Å"Despite Crisis, Brazils Auto Industry Should Grow 5% This Year†, Thursday, 30 June 2005, http://www. brazzilmag. com/content/view/3004/54/ 3) â€Å"Brazil ambassador opposes quotas on China imports†, April 19th 2005, Reuters, http://asia. news. yahoo. com/070418/3/30itr. html 4) â€Å"Trade Policies†, U. S library of congress, http://countrystudies. us/brazil/80. htm

Marketing Strategy For Daily Telegraph Marketing Essay

Marketing Strategy For Daily Telegraph Marketing Essay Each company must find the game plane for long term survival and growth that makes the most sense given its specific situation, opportunities, objectives and resources. It is important to understand the overall companies strategic planning to understand the marketing strategy. Strategic planning usually sets the rest of the company planning. It is the mix and match of companys objectives, goals and capabilities. In the recent days effective marketing strategy are equally important for newspaper industries. Generally news paper tells about other business marketing but the marketing strategy for the newspaper are never been discussed. (Peter J P Olson 2004). With the changing of Global Business environment, the marketing strategy of news paper is changing. In this particular paper the researcher will demonstrate the marketing strategy for one of the UKs leading news paper Daily Telegraph. The Daily Telegraph is one of the famous and effective daily morning newspaper distributed throughout the United Kingdom and internationally. It was first founded in June 1855 by Colonel Arthur B. Sleigh. It is the only remaining major newspaper in UK. It is now owned by David and Fredrick Barclay, and it is the ninth largest newspaper in UK. In the recent days Daily Telegraph, has become one of the successful newspaper not just in UK market also in International market. In January 2009, the Telegraph was the highest selling newspaper, with average daily circulation of 842,912. The daily telegraph has a significant influence in British Politics. The significant number of readers shows that Daily Telegraph is popular in the newspaper market. Effective marketing strategy leads them to this successful condition. As like other business, newspaper business has a marketing strategy, which they follow to compete with the market. For the purpose of this particular paper, the researcher constitutes several of factors that might influence the marketing strategy for Daily Telegraph. The researcher will start with discussing about the objectives of daily Telegraph, researcher then discuss about business environment that might influence Daily Telegraphs marketing strategy. The researcher also demonstrate the factor involve in 7 Ps. The researcher also constitute situation of Daily Telegraph in global market. Marketing Objective for Daily Telegraph: Informing: Objectives should provide with the information about functional and psychological needs that the services satisfies. It is very important especially for new product. In the case of Daily telegraph they just need to set their communication objectives as to inform audience in more sophisticated way because they already know the needs of their potential buyer. Persuading: Objective should set to persuades consumer to move towards some action or attitude. It should be appropriate for competitive growth products. The Daily telegraph is a growing business in a competitive market. Reminding: In the objectives companies initiate a communication approach that reminds that the product or services is still available. As a existing company Daily Telegraph will set their marketing communication objectives in reminding that the services are still available for them. Marketing Strategy for Daily Telegraph: Before go the marketing strategy for Daily Telegraph the leading news paper in the UK, we need to understand the concept of marketing strategy. Marketing strategy is a marketing process and a marketing method which justify and focuses an organizations energies and resources on a course of action (Christopher M, Payne A Ballantgne D 2002). Marketing strategy eventually can lead to increased sales and dominance of a targeted market niche. A marketing strategy consists several of elements such as product development, promotion, distribution, pricing, relationship management and other elements. It help in identifies the firms marketing objectives as well as organizational objectives and goals. It also explains how they can be achieved, ideally within a stated timeframe. Marketing strategy determines the choice of target market segments, positioning, marketing mix, and allocation of resources. Business Environment for telegraph: It is very important to consider the business environment for any organization before established a marketing strategy. Studying the external and internal environment which influence organizations overall business strategy including marketing strategy. As different organization work in different industries and business environment, it is important to find out appropriate business environment for them. UK news paper market is very competitive. So it is important for Telegraph to consider the business environment first, before concentrating towards their consumer. There is several of factor need to be considered to evaluate the environmental issues for newspaper Daily Telegraph. There are two different business environments, one is internal and other is external. To measure those issues, organization needs to use several of marketing model and theory. SWOT and PESTEL is important model in this regard. SWOT Analysis for Daily Telegraph: SWOT Analysis is a strategic planning method used to evaluate the strengths, weaknesses, opportunities, and threats involved in a project or in a business venture. It involves specifying the objective of the business venture or project and identifying the internal and external factors that are favorable and unfavorable to achieving that objective. SWOT provides convenient headings under which to study an organization in its environmental setting and may provide a basis for decision making and problem-solving (Mullins J L 2005). Internal Environment: Strengths: Strengths are those positive aspects or distinctive attributes or competencies which provide a significant market advantage or upon which the organization can build for example, through the pursuit of diversification (Mullins J L 2005). Strength is the measurer of internal business environment for any organization. As far as Telegraph is concern, is has got the competency because it has been working as an influential in this particular industries for the past several of decades. Because of its strong work ethic, internal business environment are in favor of it which put it in a competitive advantage situation. Weakness: Weakness is those negative aspects or deficiencies in the present competencies or resources of organization or its image or reputation, which limits its effectiveness and which needs to be corrected or need action taken to minimize their effects (Mullins J L 2005). Every organization has some negative aspect, so do Telegraph has some. It has some political influence which sometime work as negative business environment for Telegraph. Different political views some time reflects on it writing and information. External Environment: Opportunities: Opportunities are favorable conditions and usually arise from the nature of changes in the external environment (Mullins J L 2005). As far as Telegraph is concern it has got the potential which work as its opportunity towards the newspaper market. So considering the external business environment Telegraph is in competitive position. As the researcher mentioned that in January 2009 it has been selected as one of the highest selling newspaper, it reflects the external environment is in its favor and it in fact an opportunity for Telegraph. Threats: Threats are the converse of opportunity and refer to unfavorable situation which arise from external developments likely to endanger the operations and effectiveness of the organization. It includes political and economical, new product by competition and other external factor. Same as the opportunity we have to assume that some external factor of Daily Telegraph has became a threats for him. Because of its traditional working patterns, it will face some threats from outside market because there are some developments of new ideas in these particular industries. PESTEL Analysis: PESTELstands for Political, Economic, Social, Technical, Environment and Legislative. It is a strategic planning technique that provides a useful framework for analyzing the environmental pressures on a team or an organization.PEST analysis is also know as a useful strategic tool for understanding market growth or decline, business position, potential and direction for operations Kotler (1998). Political factor: Political factor includes Government, tax, trade barriers, and infrastructure. Considering Political situation in UK, Daily Telegraph has been influenced by it for last several of decades. It is known to every one that, daily Telegraph indirectly a conservative party newspaper and 65% of its reader is conservative party supporter. Its make a great deal of impact on its marketing strategy. It is am external business environment which not just influence its marketing decision but also the overall business strategy as well. Economic factor: Economic factor are the most important for any organization towards its growth. These include interest rates, taxation changes, economic growth, inflation and exchange rates. In the recent days, economic crises are the major concern for UK and it hits the newspaper industries as well. Most of the business organization has to change their marketing strategy because of the economic factor which works as both internal and external business environment. Social Factor: Changes in social trends can impact on the demand for a firms services and the availability and willingness of individuals to work. UK has got multicultural environment. Considering the social factor Daily Telegraph should concentrate on planning for their marketing strategy. Generally every news paper has some responsibilities towards the society. So daily star should consider the social influence as well as social responsibilities towards its marketing strategy. Technological factor: New technologies create new services and new processes. Because of globalization technology are developing rapidly. The impact of technological development mostly effect on the media sector. Technological development increases the marketing opportunity for news paper industries. Legal: Legal factor put impact on companys legislation such as employment, competition and health safety. It is vary important for every company for their marketing strategy. Legal factor are important in media industries because it deals with very sensitive matter. As far as news paper is concern they have to consider the ethical and unethical, legal and illegal advertising. In UK every newspaper has to follow the EU law and trading policies including the marketing strategy. Environmental: Environmental factor influenced the level of pollution created by the product or service. News paper should take in to consideration of environmental issues and encourage general people regarding this. So the marketing strategy is influenced by the environmental factor for Daily Telegraph. Marketing Strategy and Marketing Mix: Marketing mix and marketing strategy has a positive relationship. As far as marketing strategy and marketing mix is concern, company has to consider several of factor such as product, price, place, promotion, people, process and physical evidence which is know as 7Ps. (Hawkins I, Roger D Best J 1998). Product: Product means the goods and services combined the company offer to the targeted consumer market. In the case of Daily Telegraph news paper is the product and every one is the consumer. Daily telegraph has to consider their product and service level to create an effective marketing strategy. Price: Price is the money that consumer pay for their consumption of goods and services. Daily telegraph has to consider the price for their goods and services they provide to the consumer in respect of marketing purpose. Place: Place includes the companies activities that make the product available to target consumers. Promotion: Promotion activities that communicate the merits of the product and persuade target customers to buy it. People: People are generally known as consumer who will buy the product and services. Process: Process is the marketing process that involve in promoting the product and services. It is one of the vital parts of marketing strategy. Physical Evidence: Physical evidence consist the physical existence of the product and services. Marketing Communication Tools Integrated marketing communication refers to the management and control of all marketing communication; in fact it is the implicated level of marketing communication which is a part of marketing strategy. The strategic analysis, choice and control of all elements of marketing communications that efficiently, economically and effectively influence transaction an organization and its consumer (Smith P, Berry C Pulford 1997, 1999). Conclusion: During the analysis of different field of marketing strategy the researcher found several of ideas that could be implemented in Daily Telegraph marketing strategic process. Because of the recent changing global business environment, it is vital for Daily Telegraph to take appropriate initiative to build a relationship with the existing customer and also to focus on creating new customers. As recent days corporate responsibilities are a key issue in terms of ethical marketing communication process, Daily Telegraph should follow the truthful and sensible marketing communication concept but in new approach which refers to the integrated communication tools. Daily Telegraph should take in to consideration of buyer behavior seriously because of changing environment. Reference Cited: Christopher M, Payne A Ballantgne D (2002); Relationship Marketing: Creating Stockholders Values; 2nd rev edition; A Butterworth-Heinemann. Peter J P Olson (2004) Consumer Behavior : Series in Marketing, McGrew Hill Irwin Simons, J. A., Irwin, D. B., Drinnien, B. A. (1987). Psychology: The search for understanding. New York, West Publishing. Smith P, Berry C Pulford A (1997, 1999) Strategic Marketing Communication, Kogan Page Limited, USA Mullins J L (2005), Marketing Strategy; Ney York, McGraw Hill. Hawkins I, Roger D Best J (1998) Consumer Behavior: Building Marketing Strategy, 7th Edition, Mc Grow Hill, Boston.