Talk To Rex

…this being the third day in a row that he’s walked past me looking shifty.

As far as one can deduce (or possibly allege, since my basis for deduction is somewhat shakey), a good night out for Rory involves a trip to my local with his wife or lady friend, where he has a glass of wine and plays on a slot machine, then leaves again with said wife or lady friend.

I can only assume he lives very close to me, because it seems unlikely that he is following me around, and he always looks very annoyed to see me even though I have never so much as said to him ‘hey, you’re Rory McGrath!’

I am not a particular devotee of Neighbours, though readers of this weblog will be aware that I have become more interested in it since Paul Robinson returned and has been acting in a suitably villainous manner. Today, because I had more important activities to attend to, I missed it, but my housemate Tim and his girlfriend Jessica (who is an Australian no less) didn’t; so when I got home they acted out the whole episode for me.

Some of the scenes had the hallmark of absolute authenticity, and it seemed that they had remembered much of it line for line (when Jessica delivered the line “there isn’t any us because there isn’t any trust!” I could almost have been in Ramsey Street).

Tim did a passable Harold, and Jessica’s Izzy was very commendable, though her Cindy was the most entertaining part of the spectacle. And as a viewing experience it was ten times more enjoyable than Neighbours itself.

So I’m wondering whether I ought to make it a regular institution. As long as Tim and Jessica are happy to do it I think it will be fun for all. And perhaps some other Neighbours watchers might like to come round and join in? I imagine that in a few years’ time, my living room might fill up with people at about 6 o’clock, eager to see the spectacle of the superior, live-action Neighbours Reconstructed…

I am planning to give my website a thorough overhall as it’s currently merely adequate but nothing special. Was talking about this with somebody on MSN messenger earlier and he told me I would need Corel design and all sorts of fancy PHP or PMT or something.

“Can’t I use paintbrush?” I innocently enquired. But no, no, apparently it’s impossible to design anything in the least bit good on paintbrush…..HE THOUGHT.

Hah! I soon showed him!

Tony Blair on those naughty terrorists:

“Let us expose the obscenity of these people saying it is concern for Iraq that drives them to terrorism. If it is concern for Iraq then why are they driving a car bomb into the middle of a group of children and killing them?”

Roughly translates as: “Let us describe as obscene anyone who implies that people have been driven to terrorism by any of my policies. If I make a reference to children, I will hopefully disguise the fact that it is also a non-sequitur.”

“We are not going to deal with this problem, with the roots as deep as they are, until we confront these people at every single level – and not just their methods but their ideas.”

Roughly translates as: “We are not going to deal with this problem. We are going to talk about roots, levels, methods and ideas (specifically evil IDeologies), to reinforce the fact that terrorism is just evil people and unrelated to any of our policies.”

Now our human rights are being defended against creeping governmentitis by … Michael Howard. How did we get here?

Well thank you, Mr Blair. I hadn’t realised! I thought that certain people were always going to become terrorists, since nature wins over nurture, we’re all subject to predestination, and the Lord God Made Us All (in his image, although we must suppose he ran out of crayons by the time he got to western Europe).

The problem isn’t that people don’t have the option not to become terrorists – of course they do. To trot this out with a heartfelt face as if everything will sort itself out now is either incredibly naive or incredibly optimistic.

What’s needed is for people not only to have the option but to have a reason not to become terrorists. Potential terrorists aren’t using Iraq as “an excuse” for what they do – he’s right on that, at least – because Iraq is merely one more time we’ve gone stomping around the world causing havoc under the guise of kissing it better. (And before that, when we just considered it our God-given right. And before that, when we just considered it our Gods-given right.)

If we’re going to “stand up and confront the ideology of this evil”, then this means standing up and confronting what we’ve done, as well as bitching about what they’ve done – and we’ve done some evil things ourselves.

Sarah Jane Smith is to return in the new series of Dr Who. This is surely the best news since – oh, since Paul Robinson returned to Neighbours.

And I’m sure that David Tennant’s new costume will grow on me. Not quite so sure about Billie Piper’s decision to dress as a marshmallow.

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.