Havo 2003 II Teksten

8/12/2019 Havo 2003 II Teksten

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Onderwijs Tijdvak 2

Woensdag 18 juni

13.30 16.00 uur

20 03

Engels(nieuwestijlenoudestijl)

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Girt for a flirt alertTony radman

(aged 43) surveys a selection of advice books for teenagers

DEAR DIARY nicelady from The DailyTelegraph rang to ask

if yours truly would reviewbooks that explain mysteriesof life, relationships, and soon, to teenagers. Said yes, asown family contains (just)several adolescents, andyours truly realises teen yearscan be difficult and angst-filled. Have dim memory ofgoing through it, and feel

advice books might be useful.Large parcel arrives andyours truly thinks of cunningwheeze: order offspring toread books. Alas, 13-year-oldson engaged in permanentphone conversation (to Mars,judging by bills); 17-year-olddaughter last seen leavinghouse on platform-soled train-ers estimated time of return,early hours of morning; their19-year-old sister is nowcosting family a fortune at

university. So thrown back onown middle-aged resources.

First book off pile strikesinstant chord. Scan pages ofHelp! My Family Is DrivingMe Crazy! A Survival Guidefor Teenagers (Piccadilly,5.99), by Kathryn Lamb, fortips on how to get son offphone, but no luck.Annoyingly, said book writtenfrom teenagers point of view,and includes excellent advice

for adolescents on how tohandle parents and siblings byusing flattery, bribery anddiversionary tactics. Haveburied Kathryn Lambs book

in garden.Friends or Enemies?(Hod-

der, 3.99), by Anita Naik,very like reading magazinearticles strung together tomake book. Not surprising, asauthor is agony aunt of JustSeventeen, publication own17-year-old subscribes to, andwhose letters page tacklesthings even yours truly hasnever heard of. The book,however, not so hair-raising,

but deals with friendships, andis full of sensible advice onsubject close to every teengirls heart.

Not quite sure how to takeBoys Behaving Badly (Picca-dilly, 5.99), by JeremyDaldry. At first glance, saidvolume appears to be a hand-book for teenage boys, withadvice on puberty, lookingcool, dating, and so on, all setout in a rIoT of wiLdtyPOGrapHY. Also thought

son had scribbled badly spelt,unfunny comments through-out, but suddenly realise thissupposed to make book seemrather sUbvERsiVe.

Still cannot get son offphone, so forced to rely onown judgment. Feel this bookhas plenty of good advice andinformation, but am deeplyirritated by presentation ofsame, although as yours trulyis by now (according to off-

spring) well past use-by date,this may simply be a functionof age.

Feelings regarding youngMr Daldrys book very mild,

however, compared to right-eous indignation prompted bynext book off pile. Enter theBoy-Zone: Sport Sorted forGirls (Piccadilly, 5.99), byCaroline Plaisted, turns out tobe a bluffers guide to sport forgirls eager to impress teenagemales with their understandingof the offside rule. Feel this isobscurely patronising to bothsports-crazed girls and boyswith brains.

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Reach bottom of pile andfind Victoria McCarthysBody Talk (Hodder, 3.99),another magazine-style vol-ume aimed at helping teengirls in the quest for Lurveby reading body signals asthey go on flirt alerts andtry to snare their men. Feelless said the better on this one,and am reaching saturationpoint with prose dominated byinterjections of the Aargh!Im so depressed cos I cant

get a boyfriend variety.Finally decide to come up

with pithy conclusion onbooks under review. Feelsome are good, many medi-ocre, and some not worth thepaper printed on. No matter,as most adolescents, like son,on phone so much they haveno time to read them. Thingslooking up, though, as goodlady wife seems interested inA Complete Guide to Kissing

(Macmillan, 3.50), by NickFisher. Perhaps yours trulynot past use-by date after all.

The Daily Telegraph



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Do you have to be prettyto be in Parliament?

WITH HIS hooded, falcon eyes, sensuous lips and unruly curls,wrote our television critic Allison Pearson a fortnight ago, theItalian footballer Paolo Maldini is clearly the love child of SophiaLoren and a Bellini angel. would say the same of SirGeorge Gardiner,readopted last Friday as Conservative candidatefor Reigate.Variously compared to a bloodhound disappointed inlove and to Dracula left out in the rain, Sir George, by his ownadmission, is no Adonis. As he sorrowfully observed of thecampaign against him, it is not his fault he was born ugly.

It is no use pretending that looks do not matter in .Robin Cook would have had a better chance of beating Tony Blairto the Labour leadership had he looked more like Pierce Brosnan

or even, perhaps, a bit more like Tony Blair. It is that inpresidential elections in the US, the taller of the candidates almostalways emerges as the winner.

And yet, in the case of Sir George, there is reason to think thatthe exploitation of his ugliness was . He is, by generalconsent, his partys slyest conspirator. By spreading around thethought that he might be paying the price for the looks his makergave him, he no doubt hoped to distract attention from the rest ofhis critics agenda: his opposition to the Maastricht treaty, hisinconstant loyalty to John Major, his support for Majorsopponent Redwood a year ago when his local party backedMajor.

Good looks may boost a Commons career, but the lack of themis not , as visitors to the Houses of Parliament can confirmfor themselves any day. There are many other Tory MPs whomyou would never see on a catwalk and yet whom local partieshappily readopt, election after election. Even poor old Sir Georgeis not so ill-favoured as he wanted us to believe. Few may warm toa Dracula left out in the rain. But what better to than thesoulful eyes and the droopy skin of a bloodhounds head?

The Observer Review

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Do you have to be prettyto be in Parliament?

WITH HIS hooded, falcon eyes, sensuous lips and unruly curls,wrote our television critic Allison Pearson a fortnight ago, theItalian footballer Paolo Maldini is clearly the love child of SophiaLoren and a Bellini angel. would say the same of SirGeorge Gardiner,readopted last Friday as Conservative candidatefor Reigate.Variously compared to a bloodhound disappointed inlove and to Dracula left out in the rain, Sir George, by his ownadmission, is no Adonis. As he sorrowfully observed of thecampaign against him, it is not his fault he was born ugly.

It is no use pretending that looks do not matter in .Robin Cook would have had a better chance of beating Tony Blairto the Labour leadership had he looked more like Pierce Brosnan

or even, perhaps, a bit more like Tony Blair. It is that inpresidential elections in the US, the taller of the candidates almostalways emerges as the winner.

And yet, in the case of Sir George, there is reason to think thatthe exploitation of his ugliness was . He is, by generalconsent, his partys slyest conspirator. By spreading around thethought that he might be paying the price for the looks his makergave him, he no doubt hoped to distract attention from the rest ofhis critics agenda: his opposition to the Maastricht treaty, hisinconstant loyalty to John Major, his support for Majorsopponent Redwood a year ago when his local party backedMajor.

Good looks may boost a Commons career, but the lack of themis not , as visitors to the Houses of Parliament can confirmfor themselves any day. There are many other Tory MPs whomyou would never see on a catwalk and yet whom local partieshappily readopt, election after election. Even poor old Sir Georgeis not so ill-favoured as he wanted us to believe. Few may warm toa Dracula left out in the rain. But what better to than thesoulful eyes and the droopy skin of a bloodhounds head?

The Observer Review

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Oh, I cant complainAt last the British have learnt to complain but we still fail to get good service,

says Miranda Ingram

You know what we Britsare like. We find a slugin our salad and weremore likely to wrap it in

a paper napkin and slip it intoour handbag than to summonthe waiter. Delicious, every-things fine, we nod when hefinally sweeps past our table.

If we do complain, we screechlike I do, more madwoman than

dissatisfied consumer. What wecant do is the cool, calm, effi-cient complaining at which theAmericans are so good. I used tosit opposite one of these people.She never raised her voice but Iwould rather have paid for a re-placement myself than swap pla-ces with the salesman who hadsold her shoddy goods.

The key to this womans suc-cess, of course, was that she actu-ally believed she deserved to getwhat she had paid for, which is

the key difference between theAmerican and British attitudes tospending power.

Or was the difference. At last,it seems, we are catching on, ac-cording to a survey by the Insti-tute of Customer Service TMI,which shows that today half of usregularly complain about defi-cient goods and services twiceas many as ten years ago.

That is the good news. Thebad news, however, is that all our

newfound complaining tech-niques are getting us nowhere.We are becoming demandingand aggressive but not successful.You can complain all you likebut British organisations justdont get the point.

The point about complaints,

says Cary Cooper,Professor of Organ-isational Psycho-logy, is that theyare an incrediblycheap and accurateform of marketresearch. Com-plaints show youthe way to developyour products and

services to meetcustomers needs.Our organisationsare not used toconfrontation andcant handle com-plaints. They seethem as a waste ofthe companys time andsomething to be smoothed overand forgotten as fast as possible.

These companies will be ing

hile, although we have

ays Cooper.

bi trouble soon, though, saysCooper. In his view, people over50 dislike change. They will keepcomplaining to their bank butare unlikely to move their ac-count. The under-30s, however,are a completely different breedand, having grown up in a 24-hour, fast-changing world, thinknothing of switching brands andloyalties.

Meanwlearnt to complain, we now haveto learn to do it properly. Scree-ching and exploding may give us

instant satisfaction but to get realcustomer satisfaction we needmore sophistication.

First, keep cool, sThink what you want to get outof your complaint. Do you want areplacement? An apology? A dis-count? And be specific about what

you want. Be logical about thefault. And judge the person youare complaining to are theysenior enough to deal with yourcomplaint? Above all, be tena-cious. Make it quite clear that you

are not going to give up until youhave what you want.Coopers personal opinion is

that it is really rather sad that weBrits are turning into complain-ers. The stiff upper lip that keptus quiet before was what made usso civilised. But in todays con-stantly changing, time-drivenworld, the ability to be tolerant isno longer a useful tool. Now wecan stamp our feet and get whatwe want along with the best ofthem but the cost is that it puts

us into a state of constant conflictwith others. Sadly, saysCooper, those who remainadmirably relaxed and civilisedand British are just going to betaken advantage of.

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Like John Cleese in Monty Pythons dead parrotsketch, we have not learnt to get customer satisfaction



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The Times

pride: group (of lions) noot 1



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y daughter, aged

14 (or practically16, as she prefers

nown), announcedsome time ago that it washer intention to attend this

weekends Reading Festi-val

2) in the company of

older friends (who are all,

we understand, practically18). I was honoured to beinvited to participate in herplan, namely by supplyingthe cash with which shecould purchase a ticket.

to be k

M

This I managed by nego-tiating a small extension toour mortgage. Arent rockfestivals supposed to be all

about rebelling against cap-italism, I asked my wife.

Or am I out of date?Anyway, tomorrow my

daughter goes off to this event

and I am suddenly

consumed with dark forebodings.

Isnt it funny how the human

mind can hold two completely

contrary opinions simultaneous-

ly, especially if they involve

ones own family? Case in point:

education. In any newspaper

office you find journalists whospout the most dewy-eyed,

equal-opportunities-for-all senti-

ments in print. But when it

comes to the schooling of their

own kids, they turn into ruthless

monsters, moving heaven and

earth to get their beloved off-

spring into Londons most com-

petitive cramming-factories.

In the past week I have dis-covered that rock festivalsreduce me to the same state of

hypocrisy. In theory, I thinkthey are wonderful. Every teen-ager should experience one, if

only to teach them how to copewith physical squalor, sleepdeprivation and close encoun-ters with gropers, muggers anddealers. But now that it is myown childs turn, I have become

paranoid on the subject.

Every time I pick up the

paper I seem to read something

new and alarming. Primarily

that is because of one awful

disaster. Some time ago, at the

Roskilde Festival in Denmark,

nine young men were trampled

to death during a set by theAmerican rock band Pearl Jam.

A long police investigation

concluded last week that their

deaths were a freak accident.

Well, maybe. But the condi-tions which added up to that

freak accident slithery mudunderfoot, plentiful alcohol, anda tightly packed crowd ofyoungsters stage-diving andsurfing (running over theheads and shoulders of the

others) are typical of every bigrock festival.

Nor is the Roskilde cata-

strophe an isolated example ofthings going horribly wrong.

Last year 54 people were killed

at a rock concert in Minsk, when

the crowd stampeded during a

storm. Consider, too, the cata-

logue of woe at last autumns

Woodstock Festival

looting, arson and

several reported rapes

and the 1,400 reported

crimes at Glastonburythis June.

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Richard Morrison

Of course we areassured that deaths orserious injuries could

never happen at a mod-ern British festival,where crowd control isorganised very profes-sionally. Not since1985, when two people

died at a Bon Jovishow, has anythinggone seriously wronghere.

But when I hearMelvin Benn, the

Reading Festivalorganiser, saying thathe is 100 per centopposed to restrictions

on stage-diving or crowd-surfingbecause it would take away allthe excitement, I do start to get

nervous for my daughter andthe thousands of small,vulnerable boys and girls likeher. Certainly, if crowd condi-

tions like this were encounteredat any British football match

these days, the stadium would beclosed instantly.

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Oh well, its too late now. Ihave offered my old motorcyclehelmet to my daughter as pro-tection, but for some reason this

well-intentioned suggestion wascontemptuously rejected.

What are you going toReading for, anyway? I askedher.

Limp Bizkit, she replied.You shouldnt bother, I

said. Weve got a whole packet

of chocolate biscuits in thelarder.

She stared at me without atrace of a smile. You are sosad, she said. Gosh, what it isto be practically 16.

The Times

noot 2 Reading: town in England



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Granada gave Lawrence

suspects 2,000 holidayTHE five youths suspected ofmurdering Stephen Lawrence received

a holiday worth at least 2,000 from

the television company that gave them

primetime exposure.

The racist gang enjoyed a 15-day

break at Hennhill House, a well-

appointed farmhouse south of Perth,

where they played golf and football

and watched satellite television.

The revelation appears to 29

assurances given by Granada, the

maker of ITVs current affairs

programme Tonight with Trevor

McDonald, that the youths would not

benefit in any way from the interview.

In a further blow to the programme,

Scotland Yard was 30 to confirm

claims by Granada that the holiday

had been organised on the suggestion

of the police, who were concerned

about public order.

The Sunday Times

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everyo

Dishonesty is reaching epidemic

proportions and not just in the

House of Commons. These days,

nes telling porkies. Just look at Victoria

Beckham, who took to the stage at

Birminghams Party in the Park at the end of

August sporting a new lip ring. Its really

painful, she whined to the assembled

thousands; but it emerged later that the

piercing wasnt real at all. It was a clip-on fake

and the fat-lipped teenage fans who had

rushed out to copy their idol were not amused.

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2 Poshs fibbing may not be malicious, but itis symptomatic of a wider malaise. A recent

Gallup poll found that, on average, people in

Britain tell up to 20 untruths every day, while

another recent survey revealed that a whopping

96% of women say they lie when they feel they

need to (and one has serious doubts about the

honesty of the 4% who claimed they are never

untruthful).

3 While many of these lies are what

psychologists call false positives, the kind of

fibs that serve as harmless social lubricants

(Ooh, you look nice in that dress, The meal

was wonderful and so on), there are growingnumbers of people who lie excessively.

4 Anyone under pressure or with a big

enough incentive is prepared to say something

that isnt true, says Professor Leonard Saxe,

an expert in lie detection at Brandeis

University in America. And these days, such

behaviour seems to be increasingly acceptable.

A recent survey found that at least 1 in 10

Britons exaggerates their hectic lifestyle to

give the impression that they are high

achievers, while one third admits to lying

on their CVs leading the French press to labelthe Brits as liars and cheats.

5 People start by exaggerating their40

accomplishments to boost their self-esteem or

for a specific gain such as trying to get a job,

says Professor Aldert Vrij, a social

psychologist at the University of Plymouth.

The trouble is that once they have laid those

foundations, they cant stop and they layer lie

on top of lie. And the better educated a

person, the higher their level of deceit .

Education gives people the vocabulary and the

confidence to deceive, says Professor Bella de

Paulo, a social psychologist at the University

of Virginia. So their lies are more

sophisticated and plausible than you might find

elsewhere in society.

Politicians, celebrities, royalty everybodys at it.Telling great big porkies has never been so

socially acceptable, says LUCI HOE

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6 Tryingto spot a liar isnt easy, even for55

experts. Vrij has foundthat experienced

deceivers are so aware of the usual giveaway

signs, such as shifty eyes, that they take

calculated measures to avoid them. Sometimes,

however, the subconscious takes over. American

scientists reported this year that a liars nose

really does get bigger, something they called the

Pinocchio effect. Although the subtle swellingcant easily be seen with the naked eye, it makes

the nose so itchy that it triggers a bout of

scratching. When we lie, the heart pumps

quicker, swelling the nasal tissues.

7 And if the thought of your nose swelling

doesnt put you off, consider your health.

Baring your soul, it seems, is better for you.

Lying eventually takes its toll in all but the

most extreme and compulsive individuals,

says Vrij. Constantly having to keep one step

ahead of the game in the job you got because

you lied about your previous experience can be

mentally and physically draining.8 And notjustfor the liars themselves. As Patsy

Kensit said of her marriage to Liam Gallagher:

A thiefs going to rob you, a murderers going to

kill you, but you never know where you are with

a liar.

The Sunday Times

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Silly walksJ

OHN PRESCOTT, the Deputy Prime

Minister, is launching a campaign to

push the nation back on the

pavement. It emerged last week that his

department has drawn up a national

walking strategy to increase the number

of journeys made on foot from 28 to 33

per cent in the next 10 years. This would

be a most improving and laudable change

in our daily habits.

Yet the mastermind of the policy is

Two Jags John Prescott, so named

because of his proud ownership of twoJaguar cars. Mr Prescott, we can see, is a

man who richly appreciates the purr of a

good motor, and the caress of leather

upholstery. He also enjoys a portion or

two of fish and chips.

But we wager that Mr Prescotts car

journeys are not reserved for long trips

alone. His walking strategy puts one in

mind of the riposte given to the late and

portly Reginald Maudling, who com-

plained in the House of Commons that

the British car worker took three days to

build a car, whereas the German car

worker took only two. To which Dennis

Skinner, the Labour MP, shouted: Anow long would it tekyou, fats?

Sunday Telegraph

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