Our weekly round-up of outlandish and interesting information collected from the corners of the charity sector.
So a man has accidentally donated all his clothes to charity.
How, you ask? How did this happen? Diary wondered that too, although this column is certainly happy that he did.
Well, Matthew Hager, from Charlotte in the US, found he had bedbugs, so he went with a time-honoured method, and left them outside in the heat, in black bin bags, in the hope that would kill the bedbugs off.
Diary rather doubts it would have worked, but it hardly matters now – to Hager, at least – because a charity collector from the National Kidney Services came round, saw the bags, reached the obvious conclusion, and took them away. Hager went back a day later and found they were gone.
Diary has been unable to ascertain what we was wearing during the day all his clothes were on his porch; perhaps he hadn’t actually donated all his clothes, or perhaps he had just been wandering around in the altogether, and went out in a towel. Perhaps he’d hung onto one pair of tighty-whiteys or his favourite budgie smugglers. Who knows?
Hager tracked down the charity’s number, rang them up and by all accounts got a bit, er, shirty. But it seems likely that the shop has sold them. Or perhaps it’s discovered that the clothes had bedbugs and thrown them away. He’s not getting his clobber back, anyway.
The upshot is, he’s going to have to buy a lot of new clothes. Sounds like a sizeable in-vest-ment. Let’s hope he’s got deep pockets.
Miller’s Tale
On Friday, Diary sat down with great enthusiasm to read all 1,000+ pages of responses to the Lords Select Committee on Charities.
We failed. Pretty miserably, really.
Strangely, rather than proceeding in chronological or alphabetical order, Diary’s eyes were drawn to the submission by wealthy glamazon and serial pain in the arse Gina Miller, masquerading as the True and Fair Foundation. Mrs Miller is currently suing the government over Brexit, so we were given to hope that she’d stop producing poor quality evidence about the charity sector.
Sadly, no.
There this column encountered plenty of nonsense. Rather than bore you with all of it, here’s a more-than-usually baffling bit.
“The talents of many elderly volunteers are being squandered by large charities giving them menial jobs within their charity shops rather than using their talents for better use in the charity and within society at large.”
Diary is not a volunteering expert, however this column is acquainted with the meaning of the word volunteer, which it understood to mean “someone who is giving their time freely, and can stop at any point”.
Surely if a volunteer is unhappy with their work in the charity shop, what is needed is not legislative change, but merely a short trip across the shop, to the door, and out into the street.
You can see the conversation, really.
“I feel I’m being exploited in a menial position here.”
“Okay Joyce, sorry you feel that way. You will find that this is a very large planet, and almost all of it is not in this charity shop. Why not see if you can find a place which is more to your liking. There is literally nothing stopping you.”
“Oh, okay then. Shall I close the door on my way out?”
“If you wouldn’t mind awfully.”
There we go. Problem solved. No legislation necessary at all.
What a pillock
Diary wouldn’t want readers to think this column is obsessed with Donald Trump. Unfortunately, the evidence suggests we are. So maybe there’s nothing to be done.
The trouble is, he’s not only in the running as the worst charity boss in history, he keeps turning up at charity events and behaving like a gold-standard berk.
Of course, he is proof of the American dream. If you too inherit hundreds of millions of dollars, you too could end up incredibly rich.
Anyway, this week it was the Alfred Smith memorial dinner, where he pitched up on the stage, and made a dick of himself. You can watch it here. Diary commends you particularly to the editor’s note at the bottom of the page:
Buy that man a watch
This week it was the Charity Finance Summit, run by this very organisation. Diary’s more frivolous and more lightweight colleagues over at Charity Finance magazine were left paring their nails with their teeth after the minister for civil society, Rob Wilson, failed to turn up on time for his opening plenary.
Wilson did eventually arrive, delivered a ten minute speech, took two questions, and scarpered afterwards like a vole that had spotted a ferret.
Wilson’s got form for this. He was late to the NCVO round table, at his own party conference. He was late to Civil Society Media’s last awards dinner. He didn’t turn up at all to give evidence to the Lords Select Committee on charities. He was nowhere to be seen at most charity events at his own party conference. He’s managed to miss a few key events even if they’re held in the building where he works.
Diary has been wondering why the minister for civil society so rarely turns up at charitable functions.
Previously this column had assumed it was because he didn’t known very much about charity and wasn’t interested. But perhaps there’s another reason, instead. Perhaps he’s just bad at timekeeping. Perhaps he means to come, but by the time he turns up, they’re all over.
Tell you what, Rob, if you like, this column will put its hand in its pocket, and buy you a watch.
What can we say. We forgot.
A column of wonder and wit
Made a promise to share the best bits
Of National Poetry Day jokes
Written by charity folks
But we didn’t because they’re all not very good.
Plus, Diary forgot. Anyway, our favourites are here:
Everyday help for charities
— NAVCA (@NAVCA) October 6, 2016
comes from local infrastructure
On national poetry day
we say "thank you very much-er"#NationalPoetryDay
My first poetry outing since puberty is not going well pic.twitter.com/onqyh2RJua
— Nick Davies (@NJ_Davies) October 6, 2016
Nothing can prevent
— Dan Gregory (@CommonCapitaI) October 6, 2016
autumn leaves falling. Even
Social Impact Bonds.#NationalPoetryDay #SIBs
