A Fine Example of a Letter of Complaint

What follows is not my own work but that of a friend writing to the UK Border Agency. The basis for his complaint will become evident. I have posted it here as I think it's a wonderful piece of writing and a perfect example of the incresingly threatened species that is the complaint letter.

Application for Certificate of Approval of Marriage

Your ref: CA ----------

Case ID ---------

My complaint relates to the incompetence of the UK Border Agency staff responsible for processing my application and to the disregard by those staff of the published requirements and guidelines of the UK Border Agency.

I applied for a certificate of approval for marriage on 20 October 2010. This was acknowledged by return letter from the Border Agency dated 21 October 2010. No progress was made on my application until 22 February 2011, when I received a letter of that date from the Border Agency, stating that those applicants who were originally granted less than 6 months' leave to remain or only have 3 months of valid leave remaining must submit a statutory affidavit in support of the application. As I pointed out in my reply dated 3 March 2011, I was originally granted a three year working visa (No. ---------) which was extended and reissued until 15 October 2012.

This is the first instance of incompetence (or contempt, for if it is not incompetence it can only be contempt for the very own guidelines of the Border Agency) of which I now complain. Despite not being required to do so by the Border Agency's published requirements, I nonetheless enclosed statutory affidavits as requested in an effort to accelerate the determination of my application, which had now been outstanding for 19 weeks, well in excess of the Border Agency's published service targets.

I then waited. Despite numerous calls to the Border Agency's information line - a singularly useless service, I might add, given the complete absence of contact between the people staffing the service and the people determining the applications. You would surely be doing a greater good to the taxpayers of the United Kingdom by cancelling this information line entirely - not one of your staff had the decency to inform me of a bill before the Parliament which would cancel the certificate of approval scheme. I discovered the passage of the bill into legislation by a chance visit to your website in late April. I thus set out to wait patiently for the return of my application.

What I did not expect, and what has moved me to make this complaint, is the rank opportunism taken by the UK Border Agency to put its thumb in my eye one last time, and to remove utterly any doubt that would otherwise remain regarding the contempt with which the Border Agency holds those who apply for its permission to marry. Instead of simply returning my application for a discontinued permission, your staff have once again demonstrated their incompetence or contemptuous disregard for guidelines by stating in their letter dated 5 May 2011 that my application has been discontinued on the basis that my fiancée does not live in the United Kingdom and has not on that basis also submitted an application for a certificate of approval for marriage.

The guidelines of the Border Agency were clear. Only those settled in the United Kingdom must submit an application for a certificate of approval. Those who wished to enter the United Kingdom for the purpose of marriage but not to reside thereafter need only obtain an entry visa endorsed for marriage.

I am a decent, law-abiding person. I work hard and contribute to society. I understand and respect the need for the United Kingdom to protect its borders against the abuse of the institution of marriage for the purpose of gaining entry through illegitimate relationships. However, I could never have imagined that the civil service of any civilised government would take seven months to determine an application of this nature, to fail - disingenuously in my mind - to inform an applicant of a bill then before the legislature to remove the scheme, and then, on two separate occasions, to act with contemptuous disregard for their very own published guidelines and requirements.

I look forward to the day when the cold winds of economic change finally sweep through the British civil service, whereupon a good number of its staff will find themselves thrust out of the warm comfort and protection of the taxpayers' bosom and have to find real jobs that produce and contribute to the society in which they live. I am sure that such incompetence and contempt as has been meted out to my application will not make the search for such employment an easy one.

I am available to submit copies of any documents you may need to support this complaint. I should emphasise this last point, just in case the very same individuals that processed my application with such a marked ability to see black as white are now in charge of complaints: this is indeed a complaint. It is not praise.

I wish to see my complaint acknowledged. I wish it to be acknowledged that this experience is not justifiable on any grounds, be they of public policy or otherwise. I wish the past seven months of uncertainty and expense and frustration to be acknowledged. I wish the fact that I have been callously prevented from marrying the woman whom I love because of the unaccountable incompetence or contempt of individuals in the employment of the UK Border Agency to be acknowledged. I wish to receive an apology.

I look forward to hearing from you.

Postcript; the author and his beloved were married last Friday.

Lateralist Commentary - A Critique

It's been a great year thus far for supporters of the West Coast Eagles. I'm not saying we're going to win the flag, but given that we are the current holders of the wooden spoon, the fact that finals are a realistic proposition is nothing short of incredible.

If only the commentary was as good.

I'd find it so much easier to enjoy the success of the Eagles if Brian f*cking Naylor was barred from calling Eagles games. He is a colossally annoying wind bag, whose girth is in inverse proportion to his wit. If I hear him refer to the f*cling vortex pocket or call Glen Jakovich the King of the West one more time, I'm going to feel more than justified in throwing a pie at him next time I see him. And to make sure he doesn't mistake it for a gift and scoff it down as would a pelican with a chip, I'll be sure to lob it at the back of his head.

Not that there are many better options out there. Robert Walls is a joke, intoning inanely obvious details like a man who thinks reading Wittgenstein. I shit you not, last year I distinctly remember him saying - with extraordinary self satisfaction - that from a position of being ten goals down, Richmond were really going to have to lift their work rate. You think, Wallsy? I know that the AFL isn't exactly the most neuron-rich environment in which to work, but to sound like a bloke who's just cracked Fermat's Last Theorem, one honestly should feel the need to offer something a bit more insightful than that.

But Wallsy's hardly the bottom of the barrel. Take a bloke like Alastair Lynch, who, regardless of what he's actually saying, says it in a voice so torturously rasped, that he sounds like a Dalek on crack. Even Bruce McAvaney, for all of his enthusiasm, describes the players like an obsessive (and rather delicate) man professing love for each and every member of his porcelain doll collection. Mind you, he travels less than Collingwood, so it hardly matters.

Which leaves only Cometti, and he can hardly be asked to call eight games every weekend. Admittedly, Gerard Healy is quite good, but he's no Cometti. In all seriousness, it shouldn't be that hard to get people who can call the game with the following caveats:

a) They can speak English;

b) They understand the game;

c) They do not call the game from a criminally biased Victorian perspective; and

d) They can present their views from a position other than deep inside their own arse.

Brian Naylor, I'm sorry to say, is zero for four.

Still, at least we're winning. And that's something.

Lateralist Livestock - The Politics of Conscience

I was going to start this posting with a reference to the debate about live animal exports that's been taking place recently. But I can't, because no such debate has taken place. Instead, there's been shocking footage, public outcry, Government action, and some grumbling. It's not been particularly inspiring.

I couldn't help but be annoyed when I got an email from GetUp proclaiming proudly just how effective they'd been in garnering over 300,000 signatures to a petition calling for live exports to be banned. I was annoyed because I don't think getting so many people to profess their outrage to such horrendous footage was much of an achievement. Truth be told, I don't think anyone - GetUp, the Meat Industry, the Government, or the public, for that matter, have very much to be proud of at all.

We are good at reacting to things. As is our Government. When I say we (and by extension, they) are good at it, I mean it happens with dispiriting consistency. I do not mean that the reactions themselves are good; after all, reactions (as opposed to swift decisions) rarely are.

It's frustrating on two levels. On the first, it should have been well known to all in the Meat Industry that such atrocious acts of cruelty were taking place. A Four Corners Report really need not have been necessary. It seems more and more apparent just how much was known about what was going on in Indonesian abattoirs, and that it was being blithely ignored by those who could have acted to stop it. This can only have occurred for selfishly commercial reasons. So if money is lost - too bad. Money made from cruelty deserves to be lost. It's a shame that the most guilty figures probably aren't the only ones going to lose, but I'd still rather be a cattle farmer with empty pockets than a cow bound for bloody and brutal slaughter.

But it is also frustrating how little we - as a general public - choose to care about things until they are shoved under our noses. There is certainly animal cruelty in other parts of the world. We as a nation trade with other nations who impose brutal regimes on their citizens, never mind on their poor animals. We trade with nations who barely recognise women as even a sub-species of human being. But right now, we're outraged about cruel cattle slaughter, because someone showed us some nasty pictures.

I think our consciences need to be controlled by more than a drip-fed media message. We, as people, need to be active citizens of the world, who actively care about things. For this to happen , we do need an engaged, passionate culture of journalism. As the so-called Forth Estate becomes increasingly corporatised, we lose more and more of the investigative voices that we need to help us keep track on an increasingly complex and interwoven world. But even as we lose these key links in the chain of understanding, the onus will still be - as it has always been - on us, as people, to care, and to act, or not to act.

Personally, I'd be thrilled if the live export trade of animals folds completely. It's a barbaric trade, and a pathetic way to make money. But I think there are a lot of other things we need to care about, too. Focusing on the live export trade for the moment, I can understand how easy it is for people to focus on the money and the trade, rather than on the other, less pleasant things. But I could scarcely believe (okay, I could) the idiotic comments made by Opposition spokesman, Barnaby Joke, who basically argued that Indonesia is too powerful a country (and near neighbour) for us to piss off over something this insignificant. Fuck you, Barnaby. I think every wanker complaining about the detrimental economic effect this ban on the cattle industry is going to have should be stripped naked, given a nice jolt from a cattle prod - right up the arse - and hoarded onto a ship. In a box the size of a coffin, let them make their way to Indonesia. Let's see how they like it. Why? Because it's bullshit. The cows bound for export were never going to be consumed here. It will do sod all to the meat industry as a whole.

Consuming an animal need not be an act of barbarism. But there are limits to what an animal should have to suffer to provide sustenance for a human being. But in an age of Coles and Woolworths, people are losing more and more touch with the increasingly corporatised world of food production. We are eating food of lower and lower quality, and ignoring the fact that for the sake of a few dollars, we are prepared to let animals endure unbelievably cruel conditions. It's terrifying. I mean seriously, if you buy caged eggs, there's something wrong with you.

I'm all for caring about things that matter, but I refuse to be lead - like a horse to water - by a flavour-of-the-moment outrage, like a cow bound for export. Serious issues need serious attention.

And it needs to be ongoing.

Lateralist Politics - An Update

Those of you who check this blog from time to time will no doubt have noticed that it's been a while since I've posted anything. Let me explain.

It wasn't that I didn't have anything to say; it was actually that I had too much to say, and too little time in which to say it. Nothing much has changed, but I'm determined to make the effort at least once a week from now on. At least, that's the theory, anyway.

It's funny, but I started this particular posting with a view to surmising my thoughts on the last few months in Australian politics, and now that I've started writing, I find that very little is actually cutting through the foggy malaise. So many sensationalised stories; so little substance one can actually remember.

It's an important point, I think; in an age of instant news, the news media has worked hard to convince the populace that the news it has to present - in a virtually unending stream - is all of substance, and thus, worthy of our time. The more I think about it, the more I realise that nothing could be further from the truth. In reality, we are getting more and more about less and less. I can't even use the pithy reproach that style has replaced substance, because there is no actual style to speak of, either. There are, from time to time, extended (and reflective) comment pieces that appear on the websites of news media sites, but they are few and far between. And when they do, they quickly become smeared with reactionary comments by folk whose primary goal seems neither to understand, or even to be understood, but simply to register their presence, and the force of their pain. It's actually pretty sad.

In the last few months of Australian politics, nothing much has happened. Abbott has attacked, and made ground in the polls, and Gillard has defended. Neither has impressed. Abbott, despite being a rallying point around which the small-minded can gather and stamp their feet, he remains - and will remain - the very essence of unelectable for around half of the Australian population. Don't get me wrong, he's an impressive politician. It's just that when you're an opposition leader whose key weapon is being able to boil down a social issue into a vague but seemingly sage phrase, it's not unlike saying he's a good thug, or a talented thief. Anyone who says they do not think Abbott's primary strategy is to play upon the fears, ignorance, greed and prejudices of the electorate is either lying, or one of his constituents. And if you're in the latter camp, then I'm sorry. For you.

Gillard, whilst often unimpressive, actually doesn't do a lot wrong, other than fail to inspire anything other than loathing, amongst those in the electorate who were never going to vote for her anyway. It's funny, but people who really hate Gillard can't understand that for the rest of us - who merely find her irritating - the extent of their hatred isn't actually a compelling argument for us to share their views. (It actually just makes us want to stand well away from them.) The fact is, the Right are always going to hate the Left in a way that the Left can never fully reciprocate? Why? Because if we could, we'd be the Right, too.

But for most people, this is all bullshit, anyway. Truth be told, a high percentage of Australian people don't have particularly strong feelings about politicians. They've allowed their passions - if ever they were strongly felt - to wind down to, at best, a simmer. Why? Because there's no point to them, really. Feeling strongly about something, no matter how strong the feeling, is a waste of time, unless it's accompanied by actions. And the majority of people actually have things to, you know, do. Politics is a spectator sport, even for those playing, never mind the rest of us.

Which is why it's probably best to stay away from it. Better to do useful things, like read about issues, rather than politics. But I have a suggestion. Rather than read thirty stories that have less depth to them than the skin of a grape, why not read one or two stories that actually reveal to us the complexities and nuances of a particular issue? It'd sure be helpful. But there's a catch.

The catch is that if we allow ourselves to know a few things quite well, we're going to have to rely on other people knowing other things - different things - better than we do, and listening to them. This has become a bit of a problem for people. The internet has brought with it boundless information, but it has also brought with it the misconception that we are capable of processing all of it. We are not. Only in an age where a search engine has replaced research and learning could an idiot like Paul Murray (West Australian "writer") actually think his opinion on climate change is worth anything more than a warm bucket of piss. But this isn't the real tragedy; the real tragedy is that some poor souls listen to him, and consider themselves more informed for having done so.

That we've created generations of people who think being able to form an opinion is the same as being able to form an informed opinion is frightening. Don't get me wrong; everyone is entitled to their opinion, but how about we give the world (and its issues and problems) its due, and acknowledge that perhaps we don't know enough to be able to contribute much to the debate, other than, at best, carefully considered questions, and the ability to accept complex, and at times, necessarily inconclusive answers.

Whether we know it or not, or like it or not, our politicians and our media organisations are in between us and the knowledge and understandings we need. And both are utterly, utterly failing to deliver. And it doesn't matter which side of the political aisle you are on; both sides are failing us. If anyone should be held to account, and someone probably should, it's probably Rupert Murdoch. In actively politicising the media, he's made it impossible for people to access apolitical information, or to even be apolitically receptive to information. Anything from News Limited is immediately dismissed by the Left. Anything (bewilderingly) from the ABC is immediately dismissed by the Right. It's pathetic. People are left angry, suspicious, and comparably ill-informed.

So what's to be done? I honestly don't know. But I hope that one day soon, even if people are still grappling to understand the complex issues which continue to vex our society, they will at least understand that the current processes we have in place for merely comprehending the scale of these issues - never mind nutting out their solutions - are woefully inadequate. Then at least we might start asking for something better. And this last point is key; improvement must come from us. If we simply lapse into indifferent cynicism, then we've only got ourselves to blame.

Lateralist Musings - Respect and Reason in Political Debate

There's an article on the ABC's website today which notes Tony Windsor's growing concern over the increasingly vitriolic tone being adopted in Australian political debates. The article quoted a particularly worrisome death threat Windsor had recently received.

I share his concerns. Increasingly in Australia, people seem unable to - to coin an old sporting adage - play the ball, rather than the man. I'm really not sure why we are doing this, but it's a very disturbing trend which does not bode well for any aspect of our society at all.

It's easy, especially for a Labor supporter, to lay the blame at the feet of Tony Abbott. Abbott does seem to revel in his version of a political scrap, and seems determined to oppose virtually every initiative raised by the current Government. If I believed for a single moment that an Abbott Government would be completely and utterly different to the Gillard one, this this approach might have at least some merit, in substance, if not style.

But I doubt anyone really believes this. We have, and have had for some time, two essentially centrist parties. So, from where does all the rhetoric spring? The bile thrown around in observation or comment on matters political has descended to the kind one might expect at a football game, where misdirected passion deliberately eschews all reason and objectivity in favour of virtually tribal bias. It's not really that healthy at the footy, but as the increasingly preferred tone for national or political debate, it's worse than useless. In fact it's much, much worse than useless; it's corrosively harmful.

I think Abbot is as much symptom as he is cause, really. There is an increasingly hostile tone creeping into Australia's general discourse. One only has to read any media website that enables comments to see just how much reason has given way to reaction. Given that many people who post comments probably wouldn't actually voice these comments to those about whom they complain, I can only deduce that the internet has offered a sufficiently anonymous location from which people feel safe to vent their spleens with relative safety. It's not debate; it's not even boxing; it's lobbing molotov cocktails through windows, and then running away.

Talkback radio has been offering a comparatively inefficient forum for such trash talk for decades. But even this basal media backwater has managed to lower its sub-terrestrial tone. I was simply appalled by how Allan Jones spoke to our Prime Minister last week. His "Ju-Liar" (I don't believe he meant Jew-Liar) insult ought not be considered acceptable. I wish to goodness Tony Abbott had taken him to task over it, as I believe our leaders - regardless of their views - are deserved of some respect. I also think that this treamment of Gillard has its roots in a deeply masked sexism; as I simply cannot believe Jones would have dared speak that way to Kevin Rudd, John Howard, or Paul Keating.

The mention of Keating might prompt a few readers to protest that my singling out of Abbott ignores Keating's reputation for political barbs. I certainly concede this point; Keating did much to lower the tone of political debate in Australia. But he also managed to raise it: it's one thing to call someone "all tip and no iceberg", but if that same person can also deliver a speech as timely, eloquent and powerful as his famed Redfern Speech of 1993, then you perhaps get a little more leeway than those who simply hector and harangue.

Politics has always been a rough and tumble game, but when the rough and tumble becomes the game, it is the electorate which loses. We are, as a nation, a dismal distance from having a rational debate about the implications for putting a price on carbon. (Or for that matter, a great many other issues.) I think the fight is going to get uglier and uglier, largely because Abbott has given Gillard little choice but to fight him toe to toe. If she doesn't take Abbott on, she'll simply be steamrolled. If she does take him on; it'll be a fight, rather than a debate. No one wins, no matter which political leader is left standing at the end of it.

For any who think that the left of politics is as bad as the right on this, think about this question. Where is the Left's equivalent of Alan Jones? Where's the left-wing lunatic who spends his (or her) days whipping up anti-fascist bile? They won't be found, because they don't exist. The right tries hard to pretend that the Greens are actually this mythical enemy, but even the most cursory glance at their policies suggests such accusations are all smoke and no fire.

For what it's worth, I believe that a carbon tax is necessary. It is also, at its core, a sound idea, both economically and environmentally. The market doesn't like changing direction, but a tax will certainly dis-incentivise pollution. If the money raised offsets pain for general consumers and also subsidises clean energy research and development, then it's doing what's needed in my book. Even climate sceptics must surely concede that reducing pollution is good, no matter what one's position on man-made global warming, and that our actions will likely make it easier for other countries to act.

But if we keep asking stupid questions, will only get irrelevant answers. Will prices go up? Yes, probably a little. But if current prices are contingent on environmental damage, you'd hardly call them right or fair, would you? A degree of long term thinking is surely required for long-term planning.

To be honest, I can't quite make my mind up about Tony Abbott. He's either prepared to use whatever tactics he can to win office, or he genuinely has extremely different views from the Government. I can't help but think that it's the former, and that this is the more dangerous of the two possibilities. I can live with someone in power whose views don't reflect mine, but I'd hope to God than in my efforts to remove them from office, I'd remember to respect myself, and my nation. I'm not sure Abbott is doing either.

Gillard is right when she notes that Abbott should really contribute constructively to the debate, or just stop blindly attacking everyone and everything that the Government is trying to do. The problem is, no one is listening. If Abbott really has managed to poison the minds of a large enough number of his supporters, then this really is going to be an ugly, ugly fight to the death, because logic just isn't going to cut it.

I hope Gillard wins, but if the cost is to our national identity, then I'm not sure it's worth it. With any luck, too much bile will turn our stomachs, and we'll crave something better. But in an age of push polls and internet comment warfare, I don't think that's going to happen. But until it does, we will continue to get the political climate we deserve.

Lateralist Health Hazards: The Ore-Besity Epidemic

I couldn't help but notice, when scanning the ABC Grandstand website, a story detailing (well, surmising) how "mining magnate" Nathan "Twinkie" Tinkler is backing out of a deal to buy the Newcastle Knights. I can only assume that once he realised he was buying a sporting (rather than pie) franchise, that his interest cooled.

But it got me thinking. Has anyone else noticed that in Australia, to be called a Mining Magnate, you've basically got to be the size of Garden Island? Consider the following people: Nathan Tinkler, Andrew "Twiggy" Forrest, Gina "make mine a double" Rhinehart, and best of all, Clive "don't even bother to slice it" Palmer. Let's face it; none of these folks have spent a lot of time at the salad cart. I'll be fair to Twiggy, though; compared to the others, he resembles, well, Twiggy.

Australia is clearly in the grips of an ore-besity crisis. Perhaps it's the sheer scale of the mining industry that's done this. I mean, look at the size of a Haulpak Truck. Perhaps these magnates simply assumed that these vehicles were an unwritten invitation to spread out a bit, girth-wise. It's hard to know for sure. I just hope it's not an error born of scientific and linguistic confusion. It's well known that large objects (like planets and the like) exert a significant gravitational pull. Could it be, that these poor folk have stuffed themselves senseless in misguided quests to become recognised as mining magnets? The mind boggles.

All I know is that perhaps it's time that the mining industry came with a health warning. Or better yet, some sort of super-corpulent tax, whereby the rate you pay is a careful calibration of girth and wealth. Who knows; with that kind of incentive hanging over him, Mr Palmer might just get the impetus he needs to say no that third serving of bison and fries.

Mining. It's bad for you.

Lateralist Review: Radiohead's The King of Limbs

Radiohead have long been a band determined to plough their own particular musical furrow. That they've achieved as much success as they have in spite of their (at times) complex and challenging music gives hope to all those who hold great fears for society as a whole. (That is, if a lot of people can actually love music this good, then maybe the world isn't doomed, after all.)

The King of Limbs is Radiohead's eighth album of original material, and to these ears, their most immediately satisfying since Kid A. It is, for all its sombre notes and pulsing movements, a fluidly compelling brace of songs, which ebbs and flows beautifully, and in a contentedly life-affirming way. But make no mistake; this is not Radiohead on autopilot. In fact, they sound more engaged in their work than ever, and full to the brim with confidence in their own abilities.

A word on the release itself: Radiohead have scaled back the "pay what you like" price experimentation that accompanied the release of In Rainbows, and have instead opted for a fixed price download. Or if you like, you can also order a deluxe package which contains (as well as an mp3 version) a compact disc, two 10 inch (clear) vinyl albums, and assortment of newspaper-related paraphernalia, and possibly a papier mache arm chair. Good on them, I reckon.

Whilst Radiohead continue to try and find new and/or interesting ways to present their music to their fans, such acts would ring rather hollow if the music itself were not of commensurate value. Fortunately, it is. If we consider the album's opening track as a portent of all that follows, then I think the album's style comes into fairly sharp focus. It begins with "Bloom", which sounds like a mash up between Philip Glass and the soundtrack to Bladerunner. Thom Yorke, possibly recalling a trip to the dentist, begins with the lyric, "open your mouth wide", but follows it with, "the universal sigh", which perhaps suggests a yawn. But as the lyric turns to the power and restorative beauty of the ocean, the listeners can perhaps infer that in the midst of weary self (or societal) examination, there is something actually rather life-affirming at the core of this album. The song moves to a beautifully layered coda, which, in its own intense way, is up there with the most calmly joyous music that Radiohead has produced.

The second song, "Morning Mr Magpie" works within a familiarly twitchy sonic palate, but eschews the previously oft-generated sense of unease so favoured by the band to reveal, of all things, a song which sounds uncannily like what one might get if Radiohead were to cover a circa-Rubber Soul Beatles track in their own inimitable style. Put another way, it is the song, rather than the style, that most attracts the listener.

"Little By Little" further extends this fusion of the familiar and the unfamiliar. Its minor (and modal) chords are offset by what I can only describe as what Kraftwerk might sound like if asked to play in a Mariachi style. Quirky, but entirely of a piece with the album proper. And it's by this song, I think, that it becomes clearer that Yorke's lyrics on The King of Limbs are more straightforward and more accessible than on previous albums. They recall the simple symbolism of Roger Waters' words on Pink Floyd's Dark Side of the Moon; an album hardly lacking in angst, but also lacking neither warmth nor universal appeal. I'm not suggesting that The King of Limbs is going to be quite so popular as Floyd behemoth, but it is a surprisingly accessible album, given its sonic stylings.

"Feral", the album's fourth song, is highly percussive, with heavily treated and edited vocals. Almost wordless (if certainly not an instrumental), its rhythms are hypnotically appealing. It segues (in terms of mood) seamlessly into "Lotus Flower", which along feels like the album's highpoint. It's a genuinely soulful song, with Yorke's voice soaring effortlessly above subtly propulsive instrumentation. "Codex", with stately, Rick Wright-styled piano chords, again suggest a Pink Floyd parallel. But the song's feel is actually more redolent of the Australian artist, David Bridie, and his two remarkable solo albums, Act of Free Choice and Hotel Radio. Tonally, the song is a beautifully wistful lament, with Yorke employing what sounds like his most natural and unaffected singing in years. It ends with birdsong.

The albums final two songs (there are only eight in total) bring things to a thoughtful and gentle close. The penultimate track, "Give Up the Ghost" is a bona-fide English Pastoral. The potentially desparing lyric - in the style it is rendered - actually suggest of mood of release and relief, rather than resignation. This mood, via a shift (yet again) in style, flows into the final song, "Separator". It's probably the album's weakest track, musically, but it still has a warm sense of hopefulness and discovery.

Honestly, it's quite exhilarating to hear a band of this stature risking such aural inventiveness on their eighth album. When I first listened to the Kid A album, I was mesmerised. It was one of the very, very few times in my life where I've felt like I was listening to a musical event; a genuine shifting in the musical landscape. The King of Limbs is not quite an album of that calibre or that significance, but it is still an extraordinarily good (and important) piece of work, from a band that is still unequivocally one the most talented in the world. It's a confident, hopeful and consistently surprising celebration of an album. A quiet celebration, certainly, and, best of all, a quiet triumph, too.

Long live the King.