As the icy chill of winter and political party conference season descends on the UK Diary has resorted to comfort eating.
In charity sector satire this week we look at crisp packets, coffee mornings, and cats. Also, it appears that the term "third sector" has had its chips.
Zonal marking
This week Diary found itself on a heavily delayed train to Liverpool to attend the Labour Party Conference. And Diary was delighted when it perused the exhibition stands on Sunday afternoon to see signs for a Third Sector Zone at the conference. Immediately, Diary’s scepticism about the event’s relevance to the charity sector evaporated. Despite barely mentioning charities in its last manifestos, Labour was clearly putting voluntary organisations at front and centre of its conference this year.
Except, the signs appeared to lead to nowhere. None of the otherwise helpful stewards at the conference had any idea where the Third Sector Zone was or what it might entail – they squinted with confusion as they tried to understand what the words Diary had said might mean.
The confusion ended when one steward calmly told Diary: “You are in it, mate.” Diary’s excitement at this revelation wore off gradually as it perused the surrouding premises. There were about 40 exhibition stands, but the high point was a bookshop, a café and some Corbyn mugs. Not so much as a Farage condom in sight.
BHF, Macmillan Cancer Care and the other charities, Diary soon discovered, were at the other end of the Echo Arena, along with Google and Microsoft and all the other big names. When Diary asked the charities why they had not set up camp in the Third Sector Zone, they asked: “Where?”
We can thus declare that the words "third sector", long thought by this publication's editors to be an outdated phrase, are now officially irrelevant.
Half-baked
Break out the gingham doyleys everyone, because today is one of the biggest days on the fundraising calendar. Yes, it’s Macmillan’s World’s Biggest Coffee Morning. Or, as Diary prefers to call it: Marshmallowe'en.
Obviously, this is an incredibly diverse, inclusive event, which anyone can attend. So that's great. Except that it's entirely peopled by mums with small kids and old ladies baking Victoria sponge. But apart from that.
Speaking of which, is there anything more Tory than Victoria sponge?
Yes, in fact, there is. And there's a video of it. It features a Victoria sponge, a giant mug of tea, and Robert Jenrick MP, exchequer secretary to HM Treasury and Conservative member for Newark, in a colour-neutral kitchen, waxing lyrical about the Gift Aid Small Donations Scheme.
Ahead of @macmillancancer #worldsbiggestcoffeemorning on Friday, @PhilipHammondUK and I are ensuring bake sales and coffee mornings can be gift aided to increase donations by 25%. pic.twitter.com/yGz2PPMiFh
— Robert Jenrick MP (@RobertJenrick) September 26, 2018
Yes, apparently the Tories are ensuring that bake sales and coffee mornings can be Gift Aided to increase donations by 25 per cent. That sounds nice, doesn’t it? Boost your penny donations on slices of lemon cake and tepid, milky builder's tea.
In theory yes, but Diary’s not entirely sure that Mr Jenrick entirely understands how the Gift Aid Small Donations scheme works. Frankly this would be entirely forgivable in just about any civilian or, indeed, amongst most politicians. But it seems a bad trait for the exchequer secretary to the Treasury.
The best thing about this is the tweet from BBC Nottingham political reporter Hugh Casswell in Jenrick’s mentions.
Looks like a vic-Tory-a sponge
— Hugh Casswell (@HughCasswell) September 26, 2018
Icing on the cake.
Crisp packet avalanche
Campaign group 38 Degrees, as everyone no doubt knows, gained its name because this is the “angle at which avalanches happen”.
Technically, it turns out, 38 degrees is the angle at which avalanches don’t happen. It’s the “angle of repose” of snow – the steepest degree of slope at which snow is stable. So really they should have called their campaign group 38-and-a-bit Degrees.
Just a thought.
Anyway, 38 Degrees is trying to cause a new avalanche this week, but this time of crisp packets.
The campaign group is upset with crisp maker Walkers because it’s not made its packaging recyclable, so it’s encouraging people to stick a label on their empty crisp packets and send back to the firm’s freepost address.
But the Royal Mail has got the hump because its sorting machines can’t process an empty crisp packet, and has asked people to stick them in envelopes.
Diary is personally shocked to discover that many people do not know the lifehack which enables you to fold your empty crisp packet into a small, neat triangle for ease of posting and/or disposal. It is hard to understand how many people are going through their existence without this invaluable knowledge, which would enable them to get many more crisp packets into each envelope they freepost off.
Purr-fection in a press release
Here at Civil Society Towers we are big fans of both puns and cute animals, so a press release from Battersea launching its “Purr Minister” competition, was music to our ears.
Battersea is asking “pawliticians” to send in photos of their feline pals, with a “manifursto” to be in with a chance being crowned the political top cat.
Rob Young, Head of Catteries at Battersea, said: “This is now the fifth year Battersea has run this impawtant competition. It’s always been a popular poll and the competition is always fur-midable.
“We’re inviting all cat loving MPs and Peers to submit their feline friends along with a ‘Manifursto’ to decide who will win the coveted crown of Purr Minister 2018.”
Diary cannot think of a better use of MPs’ time right now.
But why, we ask, should this competition be limited to politicians? Or indeed cats.
Send us your pictures of the charity sector’s favourite furry friends and we’ll declare a winner next week. If we remember.
By way of inspiration here’s Midnight, owned by Banbury MP Victoria Prentis, who won in a landslide victory, with almost half the public vote last year. You can see how much it means to him.
