All that is neccessary for banality to triumph is for men with better things to do to go and do them

Many of you will be familiar with the old anarcho-wisdom: don't vote, it only encourages them.

Today, as millions of Europeans across the continent don't bother to vote, I think we can all see the wisdom of that slogan for what it is. Of course, if you want a European parliament full of nutters, ne'er do wells and expense gougers (that means you, Ukip) then it makes perfect sense.

Personally, my primary concern is that I am working the late shift on Sunday night, so if you could all vote in accordance with the polls that would be most welcome, thank you.

------

'Aaaaaaarold

It's a sunny day here in London. By some theories this will depress turn out as people find better things to do. By contrast, some would argue that cold, wet weather would also depress turnout.

Personally, I think it means that if you are a politician and your supporters can't be arsed to turn out and vote for you, then you'd probably better find some new ones. Or give them a reason to vote for you. (See p99 How to succeed at politics: don't be Gordon Brown).

Apparently Harold Wilson once convinced the BBC to delay an episode of Steptoe and Son because he was worried that his supporters would rather watch that than vote for him. "And whose fault is that?" the BBC did not reply.

The consolations of idleness - a reprise

The soupy folly of the "at least the recession is allowing us to get in touch with what's really important" school of thought (best left to clergymen and Liberal Democrats that sort of thing), it is pleasing to note that people are coming to the conclusion that the pursuit of money, status and other such vapid gewgaws are hardly worth the 18-hour days, corporate greasing and the rest.

Anyway, this caveat in place, you may wish to read this piece from the Sunday Times about men who, perforce, find themselves gentlemen of leisure. And aren't they getting to love it, just?

The three former bankers had already dubbed themselves the Musketeers and have spent the first few weeks of 2009 on a rollercoaster ride of lunchtime martinis and paintballing. [Cut out the paintballing, lads. That's just embarrassing] Charles — who was laid off in December — has two kids and thought he would get rid of the nanny after the first flush of freedom, but three months later she’s still clocking on. “I found there was just too much to do,” he laughs.

Of course, the Musketeers are the lucky ones. Their bank balances are buoyant from years of lucrative toil, to say nothing of decent pay-offs or a spouse still slogging away. I go to meet them on a Tuesday afternoon at a gastro-pub in Primrose Hill, where they are finishing up a long, boozy meal. “We’re the ladies who lunch,” cries Matthew, 41. “We do a different restaurant every week — all the places we used to read about in Style, but never had the time to try out.”

At this point it's worth pointing out that most of them made so much money in their soul-sucking jobs that they can afford to do this (but then what's the point of making money if you don't get to fund more agreeable activities with it?). But interestingly a few of them appear to be relying on the woman in their life continuing to go out to work.

One may argue about whether or not the idea of getting women to work harder while the men are no longer relied upon to generate all the cash – remember Jerome K Jerome hit on this as a fine idea more than 100 years ago – is something society ought to do more to encourage. Appealing as it is, there might be downsides. Some people might even think it unfair.

However, it could not be more damaging that those saps who measured their value by the size of their pay packets. Nor can I see why it would undermine someone's sense of self-worth or esteem. On the contrary, having somebody to bankroll me in the style to which I should like to be accustomed would do wonders for the ego (heiress or working girl, it would make little difference to me).

Anyway, as ever, I digress. Let us hope that those able to live in this more gentlemanly fashion, will realise their previous folly. For them the prospect of a higher state of existence beckons - a life of contemplation, fuelled by martini lunches.

If you must go to work tomorrow, if I were you I really wouldn't bother

Those of you who have noted the frequency with which I update this blog have probably deduced that I am not a whole-hearted admirer of hard work. So you can imagine my delight at reading about a survey that suggested long hours are bad for you.

(An important caveat at this point: the media seems to have contracted a serious dose of survey-ities. Any bit of scientific research, no matter how small or tentative, will get reported as if it were some great definitive truth. You know the sort of thing: Sausages give you cancer, Facebook will kill you, Reading Daily Mail-type journalism reduces your IQ etc. So by responding to this, I'm guilty of something I deplore. Still, this isn't Bad Science, you know.)

However, this study raised more questions than it answered. The thought that, since the sample group consisted of British civil servants, it is possible that they were actually spending several hours a week sitting around doing nothing in the hope of impressing their bosses, and that this might have contributed to the decline in their mental skills, can be dismissed as unkind and unworthy. Probably.

However, there is a possible paradox here. A willingness to work long hours is one of the main attributes needed to gain positions of power and influence. It's a good indicator of being a good arselicker and that - allied to a talent for backstabbing - is a surefire route to the top.

Actual ability comes a poor third. And therein lies the problem. Is it not possible that the type of person who is willing to work long hours has, in fact, less mental capacity than those who would rather go home (or to the pub, or the theatre, or wherever) as soon as they've got their work out of the way? Could we even go so far as to infer that the type of person likely to gain a position which "requires"working long hours is, in fact, the sort of person who should not be given that sort of position? (A look at Britain's politicians, bankers, financial regulators, managers etc might suggest that.*)

The alternative thought – that anyone who attains a position of importance loses the abilities that got them there because of the compulsion to work long hours – is not less depressing.

Of course, this is all complicated by the fact that idleness is not in itself a guarantee of ability. George W Bush was not the hardest-working of US presidents, for instance. Then again, Gordon Brown appears to regard relaxation as a sign of weakness. Neither will, one imagines, be making any list of Great Leaders in the next couple of millennia.

Clearly, more research is needed. I am more than willing to offer myself as a guinea pig: offer me a well-paid, influential job and I am happy to take long lunch breaks, slope off home early and generally skive whenever possible. We'll see if I am any worse than most of the people in positions of power and responsibility.

* I, of course, except any of the hard-working, dedicated and talented people who may employ me from this generalisation.

Man must strive and striving he must, er...

What a couple of demotivaters from the past week of course you do.

First up: twitchers spend hours lying in the mud waiting for a view a rare bird. Eventually it appears, just in time to be eaten by a buzzard.

“The funny thing is, neither of us had seen a buzzard make a kill before either, so from a bird-spotting point of view it was two birds with one stone.” That's the spirit.

Second: man spends 26 years trying to solve a Rubik's cube. Graham Parker said:

I have missed important events to stay in and solve it and I would lie awake at night thinking about it. I have had wrist and back problems from spending hours on it but it was all worth it.

Persistence is often claimed as a virtue; oftentimes it is one of the deadly virtues however. It can all to easily become a form of mania. Literary characters as varied as Widmerpool, Mr Pooter and Captain Ahab were all persistent after all. I am beginning to think that learning when to give up is an essential quality, an inability to admit defeat in the face of overwhelming odds is a form of madness, after all.

Remember: The journey of a thousand miles sometimes ends very, very badly.