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I think we can comfortably assume that, at least in the eyes of the government, the freedom to not be blown up is more important than the freedom to not be shot at. Not only are we supposed to swallow this rather dubious point of view, but we’re being asked to happily accept that not only are we not free to not be shot at, but we are going to be shot at. It’s just inevitable. Better get ready: we’re all potential targets. (And think again about wearing body armour, because that will just make you more of an obvious target – everyone knows that terrorists wear kevlar to disguise themselves – any anyway, in this country we shoot people in the head to make sure they’re dead, and it’s difficult to wear head-protecting armour and not walk into things, like lamp posts and undercover police hitmen.)

What’s probably most appalling about this unfortunate event is that many papers – and not just the viciously right-wing ones – are starting to talk about de Menezes as a victim of terrorism. Jean Charles de Menezes is as much a victim of terrorism as Ahmad Wail Bakri was a victim of Saddam Hussein’s regime. Or, to put it another way, he’s isn’t. He’s a victim of an unfortunate error, but he’s a victim of a British error, and we should all stand up and say that now.

If we’re actually going to fight a war on terror (and let’s assume for a moment that this is both desirable and actually possible), then we have to think for a moment about what that means. A war on terror is waged not by reducing the acts of terrorism, but by reducing the fear of terrorism – reducing the terror. If we’re not afraid of people blowing us up even while they are, then the terrorists have lost. London was doing pretty well with this until last Friday, perhaps in part because of the IRA bombing campaigns last century (we still haven’t got all those litter bins back), but now increasing numbers of people will be wondering if they’ll be one of the other innocents who must die in the hunt for terrorists.

Facing up to what’s actually going on here may not make people sleep easier at night, and it might not even reduce overall levels of fear, but it would at least make it possible to have a reasonable discussion about the correct response. While we brand every innocent victim of the police force’s crusade as a terror victim, we make it impossible to oppose the current policy. The words simply aren’t there, because as things stand the terrorists are so powerful that they are killing more people without doing anything. To argue against the status quo we have to be able to label these people as victims of the approach by the British government, police and security forces.

Of course, that kind of attitude is probably seditious. Almost certainly immoral. In fact, I’m a monster for even thinking it. Yes – they’re not even my thoughts at all, they’re terrorists’ thoughts. I can hear the heavy tread of a policeman with a brainsaw already …

Earlier this week a friend of mine told me that Sir John Barbirolli claimed that the overture to The Marriage of Figaro was the right length of time to make the perfect boiled egg. Since I have always been hopeless at getting boiled eggs right, this morinng I decided to put the theory to the test.

My conclusions were that either Barbirolli conducted an unusually slow Marriage of Figaro overture, or that he liked a considerably runnier egg than I do.

I am not one to waste an egg, half-raw as it may be, so I resourcefully popped the open egg back into the boiling water to achieve a half-boiled, half-poached effect. The resulting creation, which I have named Eggs Barbirolli, and which I can confirm was revolting, is served with burned toast. (Never time your toast to the Tristan overture.)

I just skipped home thinking I must be full of joi de vivre. Then I realised it was hoegaarden.

“We interrupt this programme to bring you a special BBC news broadcast following rumours that there has been an incident today. Although we are unable to confirm these rumours and don’t yet know the nature or scale of the possible incident, we are able to confirm that it is rumoured that the police have told us that as yet they are unable to confirm any rumours that there has been an incident, although this remains as yet unconfirmed. We’re looking now at a street in London, where as you can see some traffic is moving and some people are milling around, though we can not at the moment confirm whether the street in question has anything to do with the rumoured incident, or indeed whether it is actually a street in London, though we have now heard from some witnesses that there is indeed a street in London, which I must stress the BBC can not ratify in any way. There have been definite rumours that somebody who may have been near the incident had a mobile phone with them at the time, and may at one stage have taken some grainy photographs of a street in London, though at this stage police have not confirmed whether the photographs on your screen are related to the incident or whether they are actually taken from a different incident altogether. Our correspondent is at the Oval now – are you able to confirm any rumours about the incident which may have taken place at the Oval today?”

“Well, it has been an exciting day at the Oval, there are rumours that Glen McGrath took five wickets in a devastating few overs, though it’s impossible to confirm these rumours as yet. Specatators have commented that there has been an incident at the Oval, though there has been no official confirmation of this yet and as you can see from your screen, there is a street in London just in this area in which nothing appears to be happening, though police won’t confirm whether this is anything to do with the incident, and as the cameras are pointing in the wrong direction it is difficult at this stage to show you any cricket.”

“Well, if you’ve just joined us expecting to see today’s episode of Neighbours, I’m afraid that it has been postponed for this special news broadcast to tell you that we know nothing at all about any possible rumoured unconfirmed incident though it is rumoured that an unconfirmed incident has taken place. Our correspondent is watching BBC1 now – can you confirm any of the rumours that David Bishop has been accused of fraud and his wife has left him?”

“Indeed, no I can not, it has been rumoured that there have been incidents on Ramsey Street, but because of the special news broadcast to bring people news that we have no news at the moment it is impossible to say whether any of these rumours are actually true.”

“Thank you, well, we will continue to bring you news throughout the day of how little we actually know, though I can not confirm that at the moment, in the mean time here is a picture of a street in London…”

I haven’t been in London since 7th July, so apologies if you are familiar with the situation and this all sounds a bit distasteful. But today being the first time I have used the underground since all of that nastiness, I was slightly appalled to find myself eyeing with suspicion anyone with either a rucksack or a dark face.

Between Oxford Circus and King’s Cross a man with a terrorist haircut clutching a large rucksack on his lap made my palms go all sweaty. But did I have the balls to ask “did you pack that bag yourself?” The hell I did.

Now I’m rather glad that I did not. In retrospect the rucksack he was clutching probably contained his lunch box, and his haircut – well, we’ve all had unfortunate haircuts at one time or another, haven’t we.

If I have been terrified into becoming a habitual racist and rucksack-hater, does that mean the terrorists have won?

Steven

I want to make a big film … something huge, something epic.

David

What about Exodus?

Steven

I just knew I should have kept that one for myself.

Josh

How about War of the Worlds?

Pause.

Steven

Aliens are big.

David

Right. Really big.

Steven

Actually, we could make them bigger.

David

Really?

Steven

With special effects and stuff.

David

Cool.

Steven

So what else happens in the book?

David

Aliens come down … I dunno, I never read it.

Steven

Me neither.

Josh

I have …

Steven and David

Shut up, Josh.

Steven

Can it have a dysfunctional family in it?

David

Yeah, and they can be reunited at the end!

Steven

Survival through adversity!

Steven and David

It’s about the human spirit!

Josh

No it’s not, it’s about unwarranted aggression by a superpower.

Steven and David

Shut up, Josh.

Steven

It’s about the human spirit.

David

And there’s got to be a kid.

Steven

Make it a girl this time, boys freak me out.

David

Okay – a super-smart girl who pays attention to everything.

Steven

And screams.

David

And we can have a bit where they all have to be really still because if they move the monster will know where they are.

Steven

I like it – and people can be plucked off the ground by the monsters –

David

Bellowing monsters.

Steven

– bellowing monsters, right. And sliced in two, yeah.

David

Can it have someone killed while they’re on the toliet?

Steven

This is, like, a national emergency! No one’s going to the toilet in this film!

David

Right, sorry. Oh, this is going to be so cool!

Steven

It’s missing something, though.

Josh

Hope?

Steven and David

Shut up, Josh.

David

A train! It needs a train, where people are trying to get vital information out to, to – to the military. But it’s being attacked by the monsters, and the phones keep on going wrong –

Steven

Can’t it just be on fire?

David

(Grumpily) Okay.

Steven

So we’ve got an underdog hero guy, with a broken marriage and kids who can’t stand him, he’s attacked on all sides by huge monsters that kill people indiscriminately and can’t be stopped. He’s got to get his kids through this – I don’t know, this huge part of America where these monsters are, and back to the safety of the kid’s grandparents.

David

And at the end, the kids respect him.

Steven

Cool. Thanks, guys.

Josh

Erm … what about the monsters?

Steven and David

Shut up –

David

No, he’s right. We’ve got to get rid of the monsters, otherwise like New York belongs to the aliens.

Steven

Is that such a bad thing?

David

I like New York. (Shrugs)

Steven

Okay … how about they die.

David

Well duh.

Steven

Don’t ‘duh’ me, David.

David

Sorry. How about they die because … because there’s something they need to eat, but they can’t get it on earth.

Steven

Something essential to the life process …

David

I’m thinking something chemical. An amino acid?

Josh

In the book they get killed by bacteria.

Steven

I knew I should have read the book.

David

That’s great! It’s like not eating something you need, but the other way round. And it kills them off just in time for our hero to get his kids home. No, wait a minute – that sounds too quick, too clunky.

Steven

I like it.

David

How about he gets the kids to safety, and then the creatures start to die, and we see the lead characters flying away from the wreckage as the military starts the cleanup operation?

Steven

I said, I like it.

David

(Grumpily) Okay.

Steven

So, who do we get to play the lead role?

Josh

Tom Cruise?

Steven and David

Shut up, Josh.

Batman, eh. What is it that makes a grown man dressed up as a bat so appealing. What?

As a young person (and oh those years seem increasingly distant) Batman was always my favourite superhero. The cool kids all liked Superman, but I was the one as school that liked Batman. I even made a Batman mask out of cardboard and – possibly the best thing I ever made as a kid – I made a utility belt. Which I wore around the house. When my parents got a new washing machine the box became the Batcave. (My brother got to be Robin, and I fear he got a raw deal.)

And I’m surprised to discover that the character still fascinates me. I saw Batman Begins yesterday and, Katie Holmes’ nipples aside, I thought it was a wonderfully crafted film. I could go into the reasons why, for individual performances, cinematography and direction, I thought it was a fine film. but that still wouldn’t explain why I came out of the cinema wishing I could start avenging crime dressed as an oversize flying mammal.

But nearly all the Batman films did that to me. I love the 1966 film (the scene where Batman tries to dispose of a bomb remains one of the funniest scenes in cinema history as far as I’m concerned) and to my mind the Tim Burton films near perfection. You can keep the Schumacher films (well, there’s a single scene in Batman Forever involving the Riddler and Two-Face which I like, but I’ve never made it past the first fifteen minutes of the dismal Batman and Robin).

And I’ve never read any of the famous graphic novels, for, out alas, having delusions of culture I tend to read real novels. But maybe I should change. I like looking at pictures, after all. And I do have fond memories of Batman comic strips. There was a great one where Batman proved a man innocent of murder in a court scene by showing that the defendent couldn’t possibly have killed his victim without crushing his hat in the struggle, yet the hat was uncrushed.

But a man dressed as a bat in a court of law – how stupid is that? And even in my pre-teens I was faintly aware that his defence had certain holes in it.

So why on earth did the concept appeal to me? I would love to reference the Christopher Nolan interest in Bruce Wayne’s loneliness, so brilliantly brought to the screen in the latest flick. And a Batman annual detailing the origins of the character did make a lasting impression on me – after all, Bruce Wayne’s parents are shot in front of him, that’s pretty nasty. Also the loneliness of Batman and his desire to fight injustice are things he shares with the other great love of my youth, Dr Who.

But I fear that’s not the real reason I loved – and love – Batman. No, on reflection I think the real reason I love Batman is that I think it would be so much fun to dress up as a bat and have all those brilliant toys. No other superhero has so many toys. Or a utility belt. And let’s face it, that’s the only element that’s consistent throughout the franchise.

There you are. I’m not automatically drawn to human suffering, the fight against injustice and the pain of existence. I just have a shallow desire to dress up and play with toys.

If Mr Blair is going to keep on using the term “evil ideology”, he should at least learn how “ideology” is pronounced.

So apparently weblogs are a bit passé now. The newest way to alert web-surfers to your deepest thoughts is with “podcasts”.

What are podcasts? Well, essentially they are the same as what I used to do in my youth with a tape recorder – pressing record and saying whatever came into my head. Only instead of playing the resulting musings back to an audience of one (i.e. myself), “podcasts” have a potential audience of millions, thanks to the world wide web.

Oh how annoying that I wasn’t able to broadcast my own childish ramblings in this way back in the 1980s. I fear I no longer have the time to do it, and in any case I’d only be tempted to do silly voices and it would lose all the charming sincerity of bona fide podcasting.

On the other hand I still have the tapes. Perhaps I could belatedly podcast them to the world now?

I’ve just taken part in an enforced two minutes’ silence. An email went round stating that the group we’re a part of “is observing the two-minutes silence at noon today”. It’s no wonder that as a nation we’re fairly maudlin but slightly weird when these things get foisted on us as part of our jobs. (I’d rather have spent a few minutes quietly in the church down the road, but that wouldn’t have been culturally resilient of me, or something – we’re fiercely proud of standing together, then getting on with it, no matter what happens. Sometimes I wonder if the Blitz hurt London more than it helped.)

Also, why is it two minutes? What makes something worthy of two minutes? We gave only one minute to Bali – but two to New York (rather stingily, as everyone else was giving three). Apparently three minutes were observed following the Madrid bombings, but Buckingham Palace suggested only one for Diana. (Mind you, only one was suggested originally for Armistice Day in 1919, and the King had to step in and make it two.)