British Betrayal

"Let's not overlook a practical military issue here: Who will ever work for the British army in a war zone if they know that later they will be tossed aside like a spent cartridge?" Adam LeBor, The Times 9th August 2007.

Do you remember Goldeneye? It was the 1995 Bond movie, in which Pierce Brosnan tackled international terrorism in the first of the 'post Cold War' Bond films.

Thrilling stuff - and interesting too.

The bad guy in that movie, Alec Trevelyan, was revealed to be a Lienz Cossack. His plot was intended to wreck vengeance against the British for their betrayal of his people back in 1945.

Lienz Cossacks

Not familiar with that particular bit of history? I'm not surprised. It's hardly Britain's finest hour and so it doesn't make it into the history books that often.

The Lienz Cossacks were 'white Russians' who'd fought bitterly against communism and the rise of the Soviet Union following the Russian Revolution. During the Second World War, when Germany invaded the Soviet Union, the Lienz Cossacks sided with the Nazis in order to try the topple the communist regime and bring 'freedom' to their country.

Which didn't happen.

First off, the Russians defeated Germany and communism reigned in Russia for another half a century. Secondly, the Lienz Cossacks made no friends by siding with the brutal Nazi regime and committed countless atrocities during the battles on the Eastern Front.

So when the war ended, things got messy.

The Lienz Cossacks who'd fought with the Germans were rounded up by the British. It was up to the United Kingdom to decide what to do with them.

The Cossacks hoped that Britain would protect them. Even though they'd fought on the side of the Germans during WWII, the Cossacks were not Nazis themselves - merely enemies of communism who figured that 'the enemy of my enemy is my friend.'

Britain and America were staunchly anti-communist and the Lienz Cossacks hoped that they'd be considered allies in any upcoming conflict against communism (what would later be called 'the Cold War.')

But it was not to be.

Because of the brutality of the Cossack soldiers, who had murdered and raped their way along with the SS and the German army, the British wanted nothing to do with them and 'repatriated' these 'Russians' to the Soviet Union, where they 'belonged.'

Trains and trucks were pulled up and Cossack soldiers were forced into them. As were their wives, families and children - many of whom were not even Russian, having been born in the years after the Lienz Cossacks had left Russia.

The Cossacks didn't go willingly. British troops had to beat them into submission with billy clubs and rifle-butts. Eventually, almost 35,000 Cossacks were transported to their 'mother country' where the Soviets 'welcomed' them.

The vast majority of them were sent immediately to labor camps in Siberia, which were little better than the death camps the Nazis had built. Almost all of the Lienz Cossacks 'repatriated' back to Russia died in brutal suffering.

The 'lucky' ones didn't even make it that far. Because many of the Cossacks weren't born in Russia (their parents had left following the Russian Revolution) they were unable to be tried for treason as Soviet Citizens. Therefore the Red Army saved themselves the hassle of a military trial and executed them on the spot, with a bullet through the brains.

In the end, the British decision not to protect the Lienz Cossacks led to the deaths of over 30,000 men, women and children. Their blood is directly on British hands.

Although, as Valentin Dmitrovitch Zukovsky said in Goldeneye: "A brutal people. They got what they deserved."

The History Lesson

The reason I'm dredging all this up is because Britain and America are facing a similar problem at the moment. Hundreds of Iraqis who work for the British and American forces in Iraq - as drivers, translators and the like - are requesting asylum in the West to protect them from the bloody retribution they'll face from Iraqi insurgents.

And Britain's giving them the same answer as they gave the Lienz Cossacks.

'Nyet.'

The difference is, of course, that the asylum-seeking Iraqis begging for protection aren't brutal Cossacks. They're average men and women, trying to make a living for themselves. And the reason they're facing a death sentence from brutal Iraqi terrorists is because they deigned to work for the British.

We Brits placed a death sentence on them and now we're turning our backs.

The true horror of this is pretty hard to stomach. Take Mayada Salihi, for instance. She was a red-headed, divorced mother of two who had grown up in Baghdad and taught herself English by listening to American music growing up.

When the American and British soldiers arrived, she took work translating for the foreign servicemen, helping to communicate between the 'invading' forces and the people of Baghdad. All part of winning the 'hearts and minds' of the Iraqi people.

Doing so earned her a death sentence. In May of 2006, a terrorist cell called Ansar Al Sunna kidnapped Mayada off the streets of Baghdad and drove her to a remote location. There, she was brutally beaten, raped and horribly tortured with an electric power drill (the calling card of Ansar Al Sunna.) Eventually, many hours later, the insurgents 'put her out of her misery' by drilling directly into her skull.

Her broken body was dumped on the streets of Baghdad - a 'warning' to any who dared work with the American or British troops.

Is that the fate faced by hundreds of 'collaborating' Iraqis forces?

Betrayal

Although peace seems to be coming to Iraq (deaths of both servicemen and civilians are at some of their lowest levels at the moment) the 'war' is not won and terrorists and insurgents are still a constant danger.

Once the British and American soldiers leave, those Iraqis who assisted the soldiers and diplomats face the same fate as Mayada Salihi. Death, if they're lucky. Torture if they're not.

Unless Britain offers them asylum or protection of some description, many of them - if not the majority - will die. It's as simple as that.

And it's funny (although not 'ha ha' funny) that so many people are ranting about these asylum seekers - talking about all sorts of issues except the single most important one. The decision to let them live or die.

The Issue

Scrubby journalist Neil Clark, for example, wrote a heated piece in which he declared: "let's do all we can to keep self-centred mercenaries who betrayed their fellow countrymen and women for financial gain out of Britain."

The Exile is deliciously blunt: "Keep the buggers out!"

It's funny how two bloggers who bleat about liberalism and the evils of capitalism turn out to be so quick to condemn hundreds of people to death!

Comparison

If we'd been blogging sixty years ago, I'm sure Neil and The Exile would have been very vocal about rejecting the Lienz Cossack's pleas for protection, too. After all, the Cossacks were a brutal people, who murdered and raped alongside our country's most hated enemy.

But the Iraqis requesting asylum in Great Britain are not Lienz Cossacks.

They are not soldiers or revolutionaries. They are drivers and translators. Folks who want to provide for their families. They're people who put themselves at risk to work for the British forces in Iraq because we asked them to.

Just look at Mayada Salihi. Not a brutal criminal or a bloodthirsty Cossack. She was just a divorced mother of two. I can't imagine any of the rest of the asylum seekers are any different.

And that's really the issue, isn't it? While Neil Clark calls the Iraqis who assist British troops 'quislings' and compares them to collaborators from World War II, he's really just trying to justify why he doesn't want a bunch of brown skinned people getting asylum in England.

The Exile is much more honest about things. He demands to know why hundreds of Iraqis are going to get first dibs on council houses and benefits when there's a long line of working class British people who've been waiting ages for them.

But in their anger over keeping the Iraqis out of Britain they ignore the truth - that turning them away is akin to a death sentence. Level that charge and both The Exile and Neil Clark leap behind the flimsy defence of 'I didn't support this war!" and "Their blood's not on my hands!"

But it is. Because whether you consider the Iraqi asylum seekers regular folk trying to make the best of their lives in war torn Baghdad - or back-stabbing quislings collaborating with an invading army - the end result is the same. If you campaign to keep them out of Britain, many of them may die.

I'm not arguing with their right to protest the asylum. I'm just wishing they'd avoid the hypocrisy and bite the bullet. You want them kept out of Britain? Fine. But they'll die - and you'll have tortured and killed them as sure as an insurgent with a power drill.

You are complicit in the betrayal.

If you can live with that - just like the British officers who who had to live with their decision to turn over the Lienz Cossacks to the Soviets - then more power to you. But I think you're a pair of heartless bastards.

True Copy Writing Legends...

If you've ever flown into a small Scottish airport, like Glasgow or Edinburgh, you might be familiar with the signs that used to greet you when you arrive:

"Welcome to the Best Small Country in the World!”

Jack McConnell, First Minister of Scotland, instigated those signs a few years ago to help encourage the burgening Scottish tourism industry. But times change - and his replacement, Alex Salmond, wanted to change the slogan to something more nationalistic.

Something inspiring and romantic - yet also communicating the modernity and brisk efficiency of modern Scotland.

So he gave a team £125,000 and six months to come up with a new slogan to replace "Welcome to the Best Small Country in the World!"

And yesterday, the Scottish Nationalist Party revealed it:

“Welcome to Scotland”


That's probably the easiest £125,000 that team of copywriters has ever made.

Quiet on the Set!

I have spent the last two days at a 'film shoot.'

Nothing nearly as exiting as it sounds. It was a short installation video for a bit of kit my company produces - but I'd contributed heavily to the script and was one duty as a 'Script Supervisor' or something along those lines.

It's a fascinating business. Being immersed in the production of a film - even a short 15 minute tutorial like this one - has given me so much more appreciation for the amount of work and dedication that goes into producing the things we take for granted on our television and cinema screens.

First off, there's the sheer scale of the operation. This little film-shoot involved a crew of about twenty people. So with twenty-people came catering and food for them all, too.

Everybody had a job - and our director was a highly efficient 'boss' and made sure they all knew what they were doing.

Shots were set up. Lighting was adjusted six million times (to tolerances so minute, I couldn't even notice them with my untrained eye.) The camera rolled and metres of video were recorded. We watched next door on a big screen TV.

The first thing I appreciated was the lighting. A properly 'lit' scene is THE difference between cinema or television quality recording and the crap we film on our camcorders.

Secondly, I garnered an enormous amount of respect for the 'talent.' We were using a union actor who was so slick and professional, I was in awe. Plus he was a really nice guy!

He could 'turn it on' and suddenly go from a regular guy to 'TV dude,' who would not have looked out of place on an episode of ER or something. He memorised the entire script (which was not the most thrilling read) and delivered it with unfaltering enthusiasm and charisma.

And considering his shooting schedule dragged on for about twelve straight hours, that smile he cracked attested to his stamina and patience.

Thirdly, I appreciated the attention to detail. Everything had to be perfect, from the sheen on the surface of the car we were filming to every lock of our actor's hair.

When we watch videos and commercials in the comfort of our own homes, we don't really appreciate these minute details. They just zoom past us like a digitized breeze. In reality, though, every second of screen time is carefully considered, prepped, polished and perfected before it ever reaches the consumer.

Forth, and finally, I came to realise what hard work filming was. Like the organization involved in keeping a twenty-man machine (or two hundred man machine, if you're filming a television show) moving relentlessly forward. Every second costs the production team money, so not a moment can be wasted.

The crew 'set up' at 6:45am each morning. On the final day of filming, we wrapped up at 1:30am the following morning. Breakfast, lunch and dinner had been served and eaten on the fly and the rest of the time was spent working. Always, relentlessly working.

But even watching the unedited footage, it was amazing to see words on a page become pictures on a screen. It looked amazing. Slick, professional and powerful.

Even though it was incredibly hard work, the reward was seeing it all 'come alive.'

That buzz and sense of achievement must be why people work so hard for so little pay, just to get the chance to work in the 'movie' business.

Filmmakers great and small - I salute you!

Bloody Rowan Williams...

Sometimes, these modern 'men of the cloth' should be gagged with it.

Back in my day - and my 'day' was less than a decade ago, mind - there was a clear distinction between politics and religion. Your local vicar concerned himself (or herself, in this day and age) with your spiritual wellbeing and kept their opinions out of their sermons.

But golly, not any more. Now the church shoves more political dogma down your throat than a member of the Socialist Worker's party.

It's the Church of England I get especially annoyed about.

I mean, we've already had the one stupid woman who declared that she could be a practising Church of England vicar AND a practising Muslim both at the same time.

Now we've got the head honcho - le grand fromage - waxing lyrical about the state of the world in the Muslim lifestyle magazine Emel.

Rowan Williams, the Archbishop of Canterbury and spiritual head of the Anglican Church, ranted bombastically in an interview with Emel on the evils of America's foreign policy and their fall from moral grace.

It was a heartwarming bit of solidarity with the growing anti-American movement in Europe. Getting it published in a Muslim magazine (perhaps not the most objective of publications) was the icing on the cake.

Personally, I'm very angry with him. Politics and religion should have nothing at all to do with each other. I thought that an organisation as venerable as the Church of England might understand that.

Why am I angry?

I mean, I'm not exactly a regular church goer and I have been undergoing somewhat of a crisis of faith recently. Why should I care what Archbishop Williams has to say?

Well, because his bleating, cynical, politically-motivated rant ends up being considered an 'opinion' of the Church of England and all who pledge their loyalty to her. People like me - because I firmly consider myself an Anglican.

In America, you're expected to label your religious convictions just like you are your political and ethnic ones. Just as you have Irish-Americans, Italian-Americans and African-Americans, or Liberals, Moderates or Conservatives, you have Baptists, Catholics and Episcopalians (that's us Anglicans.)

Unless you firmly identify yourself as one type of Christian, you're forever being invited to luncheons at the local church. Plus, by declaring myself a proud Episcopalian, I was declaring my roots to my 'mother country.'

It's the denomination I was raised as. It means something to me. We have a history.

I declare my loyalties to the Anglican church - and now the head of that church has gone and embarrassed me with his ill-considered rant.

So Americans ask: Where do your loyalties lie? With your adopted country or your church?

To a very small degree, I'm beginning to understand the problems young Muslims must face growing up in Britain and America. They have religion saying one thing, but the culture they have been brought up in standing for something else. Their religious leaders make them choose - and having to make that choice results in things like the 7/11 suicide bombings in London.

Mixing religion and politics is very wrong and very dangerous.

All Rowan Williams has done is driven a wedge even deeper between me and my relationship with the Church of England. And considering the plummeting level of church attendees, perhaps I'm not the only one he's alienated.

I think the Archbishop of Canterbury should be admonished for his political bleating and told to keep his eye on what's important - people's spirituality. Too many modern 'men of the cloth' forget that pride is a sin and use the pulpit more to feed their egos than to stoke the fires of their congregation's belief.

Shame on all of them.

Torchwood Sucks America

My sister in law has a different cable company than we do, so she receives the wonders of BBC America.

BBC America is the BBC's own television channel in the states, which shows all of Britain's finest TV shows (Top Gear, Doctor Who, Torchwood and... erm... Cash in the Attic.) They're paid for by advertising, so your favourite shows get interrupted every ten minutes for commercials for car insurance and overpriced mineral water.

But you still get them! And that's the main point.

This evening, while babysitting nephew Jared, I got my Doctor Who fix with two back-to-back episodes, followed by two episodes of the Who-spinoff Torchwood, staring everybody's favourite omnisexual time traveller, Captain Jack Harkness.

Watching Torchwood again was quite fun - and I was impressed by the production quality and the (over)acting of John Barrowman as Captain Jack. His gloomy performance in Torchwood has been somewhat explained during his brief return to Doctor Who - so I don't mind so much that he's not up to his charming par.

But in all other respects, watching Torchwood again reminded me of how terrible it is.

It's appalling, it truly is. A real wasted opportunity sustained purely by John Barrowman. And here are the reasons why:

1. The cast are truly terrible. If 'Torchwood' is meant to be this top secret, elite government organisation, why are the 'top' agents all absolutely incompetent, totally unprofessional and so horrifically, over-the-top WELSH. This is the 21st century, people! Don't you think the Torchwood recruiters might have slung their nets slightly wider than Cardiff Bay?
2. The writing is awful. Russell T. Davies might produce gold when he's behind the helm of Doctor Who, but Torchwood is a series of hackneyed sci-fi cliches and recycled movie plots, interspersed by utterly unbelievable romantic and sexual melodrama. And if that wasn't bad enough, Russell T. Davies commits the most heinous of writing crimes... His characters - badly written, incompetent and unlikeable as they are - act without rhyme or reason.

And that's what gets my goat.

Two dimensional as they are, the characters should at least remain true to what brief character attributes Russell T. Davies has deigned to give them. But they don't.

Their actions are cynical and mechanical, servicing the increasingly unlikely plots or injecting totally unbelievable drama by their illogical adventures. They make no sense.

It's lazy, it's dreary and it spoils what has the potential to be an exceptional British sci-fi classic.

The next season of Torchwood is hotly anticipated. Hopefully Russell T. Davies will look more closely at the big picture and make some investments in characterisation - instead of steamrollering us with his pro-Wales and pro-gay agenda.

Torchwood is entertainment, not a party political broadcast. Keep it that way, Russell, and your message will still get across - just like it has with Doctor Who.

Saturday Morning Tao of Militant Ginger #2

In the five minutes I spent watching it, I was instantly impressed at director Joe Wright's 2005 adaptation of Jane Austen's Price and Prejudice.


It was one of the finest versions of Emily Bronte's Wuthering Height's I'd ever seen.

Saturday Morning Tao of Militant Ginger #1

In a marriage, there is one partner who volunteers to look after somebody's dog and there is the other partner, who has to get up at 6am on a freezing weekend morning to walk it.

Guess which one I am?

Tryptophan Junkie!

Tomorrow is one of the best holidays in human civilization - Thanksgiving.

Ostensibly, Thanksgiving is a traditional American feast started by the pilgrims back in the 1600's. They would gorge on roasted turkey, yams and corn (all American staples previously unknown to the British pilgrims) and give thanks for their bountiful harvest.

These days, the holiday is an excuse to gather the family together, eat a mountain of food and snooze in front of one of the many American Footballs games that go on.

It's a wonderful holiday. Totally non-commercialised and centred around a very positive thought - simply giving thanks for everything you have.

In my office, I see colleagues from all over America rub their hands at the thought of turkey and stuffing. Immigrants such as myself, whether they're from England, China, Korea or Bangladesh, still find enthusiasm for this most American of holidays.

Because it's about family, food and festivities - without the presents or religious connotations associated with Christmas - the holiday has a wonderfully broad appeal. In fact, the only demographic who aren't too thrilled about 'Turkey Day' are the Native Americans.

Which is understandable really.

Tryptophan Tots

Most of what I know about Thanksgiving, I learnt from watching tots in costume perform the traditional Thanksgiving day pageant type thing.


This is a primary school tradition, retelling of the publicly accepted 'Thanksgiving mythos' which paints a heartwarming picture of shivering, starving pilgrims being welcomed to America by the Native Americans and fed on their delicious native foodstuffs.

It tactfully ends before the Jeffrey-Archeresque 'twist in the tail' - in which the rescued pilgrims turn around, steal all the Indian's land and drive them to the brink of extinction.

It's not quite Disney material - and it's the reason why Native Americans generally feel a bit cynical when families gather to celebrate the kindness that saw the pilgrims through their first winter in America.

Tryptohan Tuck

In keeping with the pilgrim theme, traditional Thanksgiving food is strictly American. And we don't mean 'American' as in burgers and fries or pizza.

American in the sense that the foods prepared for the Thanksgiving table are generally native to North America. That's why they roast a turkey, since the big bird was discovered by the pilgrims and only brought over to Europe later (where it replaced the goose as the centrepiece of the Christmas feast.)

So you'll enjoy:

Roast Turkey.
Cranberry Sauce
Pecan Pie
Mashed Sweet Potatoes
Corn
Pumpkin Pie

All the sort of foods the pilgrims might have enjoyed as they adapted to life across the Atlantic.

Tryptophan Traditions

There are other fantastic Thanksgiving traditions.

In New York, the world famous Macy's store has had it's Thanksgiving Day Parade every year since 1924. It's famous for the massive floating balloons, made to resemble famous characters like Felix the Cat, being led through the streets of Manhattan. Last year, New Yorkers could gaze up at Snoopy, Pikachu and the Energizer Bunny floating above them.

The 'Turkey Day Game' is a football must - a friendly game of American Football that has become something of a television tradition (to enjoy while digesting turkey.) Three games are played by the NFL teams - know as the 'Thanksgiving Classic.' Almost as much of a tradition as the games themselves are the teams which feature - always including home games by the Detroit Lions and the Dallas Cowboys.

The National Turkey Federation and the Poultry and Egg National Board traditionally roll up to the White House at this time of year too, to request a 'Presidential Pardon' for one lucky turkey. Instead of thinking 'I'm stuffed!' this lucky bird gets to dodge the dinner table and live out his days in a petting zoo in Disneyland.

Plus he gets to meet the president!

Happy Turkey Day!

All things considered, it's a wonderful American holiday and one of the reasons I absolutely adore living in the United States.

And what will I be thankful for this year?

• Well, the continued health of my friends and family.
• The fact that I've finally achieved my dream and got to move to America.
• My great job in the radio business.
• Having bank statements printed in black for a change.

But most of all, I'm grateful for another significant event which happened to coincide with Thanksgiving 2007. It's my forth wedding anniversary.

And that's something to be very thankful for indeed!

In fact, if I was a good spin doctor, I'd say it's very nice for the people of America to make our wedding anniversary a national holiday!

It's even nicer for every household in the United States to toast our marriage with a feast of turkey and stuffing.

Happy Turkey Day, everybody!

Nanowrimo Failure

In a kind of literary suicide pact with fellow Nanowrimoer Jodiferous, I have decided to throw in the towel to 2007's Nanowrimo challenge. The spirit was willing, but the imagination was weak.

I flunked. I failed. My Nanowrimo attempt ended like English ambitions in a football World Cup - an embarrassing disappointment.

I think the largest hurdle in my path to 50,000 words was a plan.

I am a stickler for plotting out each of my novels, chapter by chapter. This time around, I had been so wound up with a publishing project that I never even thought about what I intended to write until a few days before the kick off date.

I leapt headfirst into The God Squad - but in less than 10,000 words, the lack of planning led my team of intrepid monster hunters into a gloomy morgue and no off-the-cuff plotting promised to lead them back out again.

Good story. Good idea. It just needed a plot and planning.

So The God Squad lurked in the shadows and I moved onto Plan B.

By this stage, I'd already wasted 12 days of Nanowrimo, so I would have to double my word count to even approach completion. So in the absence of an original idea, I yanked Adventure Eddy out of vacation and threw him into a radio-based adventure I'd been musing about for a while.

One Saturday, I hammered out 10,000 words of that story... And hit a dead end.

It was a nice little story, but needed to be plotted and planned. Adventure Eddy came to a dead end sitting in a studio at WinFM during Mia Saxon's mid-morning show.

[Mia Saxon's back?? And she's a radio presenter?? - Editorial Bear.]

So we'd blown the half way point by now and things were looking grim. Despite having typed a total of 20,000 words in two unrelated stories, I was now left with a word count of zero.

I tried my hand at one last project - something I'd been musing about for a while.

Basically, it was a fictional autobiography of Auric Goldfinger - the bad guy in Ian Fleming's 1959 book Goldfinger.

As much as I love his books, Ian Fleming was a pompous ass - and worse than that, the first three Caucasian bad-guys he invented (Le Chiffre, Hugo Drax and Goldfinger) were all redheads!

Since the popularity of The Moneypenny Diaries (the so called 'real' diaries of Bond's secretary) I figured maybe it was time for a different perspective on Bond's most enduring nemesis. So I started a little story following Goldfinger's arrest and incarceration after his failed attempt to rob Fort Knox.

I claimed his 'death' was staged by the British government so they could interrogate him and reclaim the billions of pounds worth of gold bullion he'd smuggled out of Britain.

It was fun - but difficult. Fleming's incontrovertible 'facts' in Goldfinger made a reinvention of the character kind of difficult and once I'd dug into his back story - which featured an upbringing in war-torn Latvia and a stint spent in Korea - I realised I wouldn't be able to right this story without several history books and - you guessed it - some concrete planning regarding plot.

So my third effort came to naught as well.

A grand total of 20,124 words written - and none of it worth printing on anything other than toilet tissue.

So since I'd made three stabs at Nanowrimo, I figured Goldfinger's mantra was worth observing. To paraphrase - first time is Happenstance. Second is Coincidence. Third time is Enemy Action.

I'd observe the warnings and surrender my Nanowrimo ambitions.

So what's the next step?

Well, I need to get my head together and start thinking about what it is I want to write, what I hope to achieve with my writing and how best to accomplish that. If the least few years have taught me anything, it's that the ability to sit down and write a 50,000 word story is just one of the many talents required to make it in writing.

I need a plan. I need focus. Otherwise I'll be like countless aspiring writers and scribble away, never really spending the valuable time required to find out what it is publishers or readers are looking for.

Watch this space...

Until then, some excepts from my stories:

The God Squad

They pinned the struggling girl to the gurney, straining as the tiny, slim woman threatened to throw them aside with her flailing limbs.

“Damn, she’s strong!” Mike was laughing hysterically. “I thought she was dead a minute ago and now…”

Thump!

The girl’s flailing arm struck him straight in the nose, knocking the grizzled man to the floor. His nose started bleeding profusely.

“Hold her down!” Doctor Lang ordered, but she realized it was useless. The girl who’d lain there like a corpse a few minutes ago was now fighting with horrific strength.

And screaming. All the while screaming and spitting blood.

Radio Daze (featuring Adventure Eddy)

“Hello,” Eddy crammed his muddled paperwork back into it’s folder. “What are you doing here?”

“Dur!” Mia rolled her eyes. “There’s a bloody great fire going on. I’m a reporter. What do you think I’m doing?”

“Oh,” Eddy realized she was holding a microphone and a tiny bit of kit he’d later learn was a minidisk recorder.

Mia ignored him, heading towards the crowd.

“Oh, this is great,” she complained. “I’m never going to get through that lot.”

Eddy stood there dumbly, his papers clutched to his chest.

“Where exactly do you want to go?”

“Where do you think?” Mia wheel around. “Look at those flames! Look at all the action! I need to get over there. I want to chat to the firemen. I want to interview the owner. I want to record the crackling flames on this thing,” she held up the minidisk recorder, “because it’ll make great radio.”

“Well,” Eddy beamed mischievously. “I think I could get you over there.”

Mia Saxon blinked.

“Really?”

“Piece of cake.”

The Goldfinger Chronicles

For twelve weeks now, their routine has been the same.
Captain Northrup enters my cell at nine o’clock.

I am taken to an interrogation room, where I am ‘persuaded’ to release information regarding the whereabouts of my global bullion deposits.

Account numbers. Vault holdings. Anything in order to procure my wealth for their bankrupt little government.

I will tell them nothing.

And until now, their attempts to extract information have been largely unimaginative.
For the first few weeks, it was just talk.

Talk. Questions. Threats.

So much talk that hearing Northrup’s pinched accent bark on could have itself been considered torture.

I told them nothing.

Talk is cheap. Silence is golden.

And gold has always been my obsession

Maybe one of these days, I'll dig one of these stories out and have another crack at it. But until then, it's time to take a break and get my head together.

American Football

Last night, I watched football with my brother-in-law.

American Football, of course. Not the 'real' kind - where people actually use their feet.

But watching two games - the Pittsburgh Steelers against the New York Jets and the Washington Redskins against the Dallas Cowboys - I came to a startling conclusion.

It was good stuff! And this is coming from a confirmed sports-hater. I hate English 'footy.'

Soccer, or what we Brits call Football, is a limp, pathetic game these days. A bunch of coiffured metrosexuals run up and down the pitch, hurling themselves to the ground every time they trip over a blade of grass.

Games are hardly ever won on goals any more. It's normally nil-nil until the end of the game and then it's all decided on a penalty shootout (or what the Americans have dramatically relabelled - SUDDEN DEATH!)

Why do they bother with the 90 minute kick around if it's all decided in the penalty box? It's the same flaw as with Formula 1 (where they could shelve the race and just have a competition to see who can change tyres the fastest.)

It's so dreary and unexciting and there simply isn't any sportsmanship any more.
But American Football?

That's still a GAME.

Take last night's game against the Jets. The Pittsburgh Steelers - one of the finest teams in the National Football League - were on top of them by a good three points until the last few minutes of the 4th quarter. Then the Jets blitzed through their defence - and when it's four 300lb men running at 25mph, that's quite a blitz - and evened the score.

It was nail biting stuff - decided in extended time when the Jets snatched victory with a brilliantly played touchdown.

When was the last time a soccer match had been so exciting?

Although the Jets/Steelers game was nothing compared to the Redskins/Cowboys.

[Cowboys versus Indians? Really? - Editorial Bear.]

Until the final few minutes of the game, the Redskins were on top of the Cowboys. Then, in just a couple of minutes, the tables had been turned by a few clever plays.

Suddenly the Cowboys were ten points up - and emerged victorious.

It's always nail biting stuff. The game twists and turns and underdogs can emerge victorious with a few clever moves.

Soccer vs. Football

What's great about American football is the way it's played.

Like rugby, the goal is to cart that pigskin down across the 'touchline' at the other end of the field. In order to do this, the coaches plan 'plays' - which is where tactics enter into the game that are simply unheard of in football.

The quarterback plays here. He passes to this receiver. He makes a run down this line. It's all planned out in advance.

Like a cavalry charge, each play is plotted out by the offensive line and the defenders try to make a defensive play. There are feints and bluffs and double bluffs and one clever idea can change the course of an entire game.

It's tactical, it's smart and it's exciting.

In comparison, soccer is just an opportunistic kick around. There are no real tactics.

Aside from being a more tactical and exciting game, American Football is also a lot more entertaining. These big 300lb men run like freight trains, hammering into each other in a way that would have David Beckham widdling himself.

Even rugby clashes can't compete with the sheer power of these bulging men as they hurl themselves at each other.

Plus, of course, no American Football game is complete without the stunning antics of the hyperactive cheerleaders. Beautiful girls doing acrobatic things. A neat little reminder that the testosterone filled world of sports is a firmly heterosexual one.

And whether that's politically incorrect or not, it does make a refreshing change from the poncy European soccer players, forever advertising moisturiser and shampoo on television.

American Football. Game on.

The Election Aftermath

Well, the voters of New Jersey have spoken.

On Election Day 2007 - which I covered here - the people of Middlesex County voted in resounding support of their incumbent mayors, with only South River's Robert Szegeti getting booted off in favour of Republican challenger Raymond Eppinger.

And while this leaves South River with a 'one party' local government (the mayor and five council members are now Republican) the rest of New Jersey remained grudgingly loyal to the Democrats - although how they approached the four 'voters questions' revealed that they want their democratic representatives to rein in the spending and stay fiscally conservative.

North Brunswick's mayor, Francis 'Mac' Womack III was welcomed back for another term - and good for him. He's done our township proud.

Aside from choosing our representatives, however, voters of New Jersey were asked to vote on four specific 'questions' that effected our great state.

The first was:

1: Should New Jersey permanently dedicate a percentage of revenue earned from sales tax towards property tax relief?

New Jersey said no.

Which was the right decision, no doubts about it. While New Jersey has some of the highest property tax in the whole of the United States, it seems entirely illogical to take money out of one tax pool to alleviate the sting of the other. If New Jersey has such an enormous surplus in their sales tax revenue, perhaps they ought to lower the tax rate?

Or, alternatively, they should use that revenue stream to pay for whatever it is that keeps the property taxes so high?

Although it is more complicated than that. Sales tax is raised on a state level, while property taxes are raised by the townships where people live. It's easy to forget that government in America is a multi-tiered structure and the different tiers have responsibility paying for different things.

But accepting that makes the proposed property tax relief even more illogical. If property taxes pay for schooling, rubbish collection and local police and fire services - things only a particular township benefit from - why should the entire state of New Jersey bail out particular townships via the sales tax?

Because rerouting sales tax revenue to offer property tax relief essentially leaves everybody in New Jersey - renters and property owners alike - bailing out the home owners. Which simply isn't fair.

2: Should New Jersey approve borrowing $450 million for stem cell research?

Again, the answer was a resounding no.

On the surface, I think that's a very good thing. Borrowing such an astonishing amount of money to pump into an uncertain science doesn't make good financial sense. The people of New Jersey pay their taxes to receive the benefit of public services - not to invest in ill-considered business adventures.

My suspicion is, however, that many people voted 'no' simply because of the scary concept of stem cell research. There has been a pretty good disinformation campaign about this fledgling science that has people scared of human cloning and other people worried about the thought of human embryos being used in research.

To reject this proposal because it made poor financial sense is a good thing. To reject it because of ignorance and fear is bad. Stem cell research can be conducted ethically and might offer the chance to repair nerve damage and diseases that are currently untreatable.

It could herald a new era in science and medicine. We shouldn't reject it simply because we want to remain in the blissfully ignorant dark ages.

3: Should New Jersey approve borrowing $200 million for open space preservation?

New Jersey voted yes.

Which is a great victory. A victory because the borrowed $200 million can be invested in keeping the 'Garden State' living up to it's name. Forests, grassland, farmland and plains can be preserved and protected from aggressive redevelopment, meaning a new generation of New Jersey children will grow up being able to enjoy the beautiful countryside.

In America, there are currently 1 million unsold new homes, suggesting that the drive to build, build and build is not a wise one. There are strip-malls and shopping centres enough in New Jersey. While I'm all for supporting free enterprise and market forces, I think New Jersey needs a hundred acres of woodland far more than it needs another K-Mart.

By voting 'yes,' the people of New Jersey created a market force of their own - and proved that preserving the countryside was something they were willing to invest their tax dollars in.

4: Should we revise language outlining when voting rights can be denied by deleting from the state Constitution the phrase "idiot or insane person" and replacing it with the phrase "person who has been adjudicated by a court of competent jurisdiction to lack the capacity to understand the act of voting."

This was another resounding yes - and requires very little explanation.

The Next Step

Back when I was studying politics at Plymouth College of Further Education, we were taught that local elections can mean a lot of different things. Sometimes they can even predict the direction national politics will take.

If that's the case, I think New Jersey has spoken.

Support for the Democrats seems strong, suggesting that NJ will lean towards a Democratic candidate in 2008's presidential elections. However, this support is tempered by a growing demand for fiscal responsibility - and any hopeful candidates should accept and embrace that.

I think this might well prove to be a national trend. With America balanced on the knife-edge of recession, the important election issues are a lot closer to home than people suspect. Jobs. Taxes. Inflation. The Economy.

My father figures the 2008 elections will follow the 1992 ones, with the major campaign issue being 'the economy, stupid.'

It was that mantra, hung outside Bill Clinton's campaign headquarters in Little Rock, Arkansas, that helped lure voters away from the seemingly unbeatable President Bush Snr.

Bush Snr. had seen the end of the cold war and the successful Desert Storm through - but left America in the depths of a recession. James Carville, the campaign strategist for Bill Clinton, coined the phrase 'it's the economy, stupid' to make Americans consider domestic financial issues as well as foreign policy ones.

It was enough to topple Bush Snr, whose approval ratings had been at 80% just the year before.

Now history threatens to repeat itself! With a Bush in the White House and a Clinton standing at the gates. Except this time, the departing Bush Jnr has an approval rating barely half that of his father.

If the local elections in New Jersey have taught us anything, it's that the winning presidential candidate will need to have some sensible spending ideas that will send the American economy trundling out of the doldrums.

Why do pirates wear eye patches?

You'll be surprised when you find out.

For years, I assumed pirates wore eye patches either to cover a missing eye (punctured by a careless cutlass) or else to protect one eye from flying splinters.

But the truth is far more exciting!

Pirates traditionally fought their battles on the high seas of the Caribbean, on enormous wooden ships.

On deck, the sunshine would be blinding, reflecting off the water.

But once a pirate swung over to the enemy ship and 'shivered their timbers', he'd often be forced to leave the blood soaked deck and take the ongoing battle into the bowels of the ship - and pirate ships were rarely well lit.

It takes between five and six minutes for the average person's eyeball to gain 'night vision' and allow them to see clearly in the darkness (which is why you get blinded when somebody flashes a torch in your eyes.)

Five or six minutes, when you're hacking and slashing for control of a pirate ship, is a very long time.

So canny pirates would leap blindly below decks and then swap their eye patch from one eye (which had no 'night vision,' since he'd been above decks in the bright sunshine) to the other (which had been covered and had adjusted to a low light level.)

Almost instantly, they'd be able to continue the fight from the bright sunshine to the murky darkness. A very clever trick.

It makes perfect sense. My father told me that he'd been told to screw one eye closed when he was on guard duty with the RAF, so if an enemy switched off the lights or tried to blind him with a torch, he'd be able to open the other eye and still have his night vision.

It's interesting to think that this little 'trick' has been on the battlefront for hundreds of years.

And that, my friends, is why a pirate wears an eye patch.

Right to a Fair Trial

Well, O.J. Simpson will be facing a jury again.

Just this morning, Las Vegas Justice of the Peace Joe M. Bonaventure refused to dismiss any of the twelve charges levelled against the former NFL running-back. Lawyers on both sides are now preparing for a lengthy trial to decide whether Simpson is guilty of armed robbery and kidnapping.

The whole affair has got the media riled up. As far as many people are concerned, O.J. Simpson is 'the one who got away' after he was cleared of murder charges following the death of his wife Nicole Brown Simpson in 1994.

Back then, the Los Angels District Attorney's office failed to make a convincing case pinning the murders of Nicole Brown Simpson and friend Ronald Goldman on Simpson. As far as the media is concerned, the Las Vegas trial will be their opportunity to even the score.

After all, it's an 'open secret' that 'O.J. did it.'

Or at least, that's the consensus of opinion in America.

Which does raise some very serious issues when a jury gets picked to hear Simpson's case in six months time. A jury is meant to be unbiased. How can you possibly find a person with no bias when it comes to the infamous O.J. Simpson?

Everybody has an opinion. Most people have convicted him even despite the evidence...

And, yes - let's not forget the evidence.

Because no matter how suggestive the circumstantial case against Simpson was back in '94, the most 'convincing' evidence was made somewhat less convincing by the fact that the lion's share of it — things like the famous 'bloody glove', the bloody socks and Ron Goldman's blood in OJ Simpson's Ford Bronco — were found by Los Angeles Police Detective Mark Fuhrman.

During the trial, Fuhrman committed confirmed perjury on the witness stand and then pleaded the 5th Amendment when people started querying his integrity.

In their desperation to convict, the Los Angeles Police Department tried to pin an awful lot of false evidence on O.J. Simpson to 'beef up' their case - which is turn destroyed it's credibility.

Most people believe O.J. Simpson was guilty of murdering his wife - and turn a blind eye to the fact that an innocent-until-proven-guilty man was stitched up like a kipper by the Los Angeles Police Department.

Whether he was guilty of the murders or not, no jury in America should have convicted him based on the horrifically flawed prosecution case - but his aquittal has led to a common cry that O.J. Simpson might have been found 'not guilty' - but that's a long way from 'innocent.'

Which leads on the the problem he'll face in six months time.

I don't believe that O.J. Simpson will be put on trial for armed robbery and kidnapping, which are the allegations made against him by Prosecutor Chris Owens. When he enters that courtroom, he'll face down a jury of people trying to convict him of murder all over again.

If he does manage to avoid a conviction, it will be a real testament to the American justice system - and if he is convicted, that verdict will forever be tainted by the nation's universal bias against him.

Because, after all, it's not exactly a watertight case. O.J. Simpson and two associates are charged with holding a Las Vegas sports memorabilia dealer hostage at gunpoint to recover certain items - items which belonged to OJ Simpson in the first place.

The bulk of the Las Vegas District Attorney's case is made up of testimony by O.J. Simpson's own associates, who have all copped a plea in return for speaking out against Simpson.

As defence attorney John Moran Jr said in court, the testimony against Simpson would be delivered by "crackheads, groupies, pimps and purveyors of stolen merchandise - and gun carriers, con artists and crooks."

"These guys are bad. The court can't ascribe any credibility to what comes out of their mouths. Every witness up there is looking to sell testimony and make money off of this case."

I'm not saying O.J. Simpson is innocent - but I'm certainly not going to be spoon fed a leaky case like we were back in 1994.

Just like during his murder trial, the issue is not whether O.J. Simpson is guilty - it's whether the prosecution can deliver a convincing case, which proves his committed the crimes beyond any reasonable doubt.

They couldn't then and I honestly believe they won't be able to this time. But sadly, I don't think that will have any effect on the jury's verdict.

O.J. Simpson is one of the most hated men in America - and I don't believe it's possible for him to receive a fair trial.

The Changing Face of the High Street - via Weblog Awards 2007

Well, somewhat surprisingly, scrubby journalist Neil Clark managed to win the Weblog Awards 2007 'Best UK Blog' by a surprising margin, with sterling support by some of his blogging buddies (both of whom actually deserved to win the coveted price far more than Neil!)

To give the man his credit, he won fair and square and has been fairly gracious about winning. In his victory post, he printed an article of his from last week's Morning Star - the very same article I quoted in my post below (because of it's ridiculous opening line.)

The charge sheet against the Anglo-Saxon neo-liberal model is a long one.

If you can work your way through all of it (Neil's typesetting leaves something to be desired and there aren't any gaps between paragraphs) you'll see it's actually a delightfully suburban piece lamenting the destruction of the great British High Street.

You know the drill. A Starbucks on every corner, normally opposite a McDonalds and a Pret a Manger. The big businesses swoop in and try to make all High Streets look the same. The Daily Telegraph do this sort of stuff much better and never vomit out the word 'neo-con' once.

But to give Neil his due, his article has a point. Whether I was working in lovely Winchester or gorgeous Newbury, the cobblestone streets and medieval buildings were home to a uniform list of shops. Next. Phones 4 U. HMV. Pizza Hut.

It never really bothered me that much, since Winchester and Newbury had lots of lovely independent shops around the corner and down the side streets - it was brimming with the 'Mom & Pop' places Neil is lamenting the end of.

But the fact is, both streets DID kind of look the same. In fact, so do many High Streets up and down England. The same shops. The same crap. The same pedestrian precincts and various cookie-cutter clones hawking The Big Issue.

It's all rather sad, really.

Neil points out that things are different in Europe - and that's true.

In Niort, the lovely city near where my parents live, the city ordinance has kept the big, national chains out of the centre of the city and billeted them in the 'big sheds' on the outskirts of town.

If you want to go to Conforama, Gifi, Gemo or Geant, you drive out to enormous industrial estates with plenty of parking and all the stuff you need.

The centre of Niort, on the other hand, is filled with small, independent shops, little bars and restaurants and has a lovely atmosphere. On market day, it's a lovely, bustling community full of French spirit and joie de vivre.

But the downside?

During other times of the week, it's deserted.

An absolute ghost town. You can walk down the street and not see a soul. Shops shut at weekends and often on Mondays, too. Unless people are in 'for a jolly' they normally do their shopping in the cheap, convenient 'big sheds.'

Winchester High Street, on the other hand, was always bustling. There were crowds of people at all hours, plus buskers playing their music. It was vibrant all the time - even if you sometimes had to put up with some git from Phones 4 U shoving a flyer in your face (and I refuse to read anything that replaces the word 'you' with the letter 'u')

That's purely because the big name shops - the nationals Neil was complaining about - were there, in the High Street, offering people what they wanted.

And what people want is the crux of the issue - and why we can all lament the demise of the High Street, but short of a fascist revolution, there's not much we can do about it.

People go where they'll get what they want. And the sad fact is that companies like McDonalds and Starbucks became international superpowers because they cater to that.

If somebody could convince us all to give up our double mocha choca lattes overnight, the likes of Seattle's finest would soon disappear into the ether - but the fact is, we need our overpriced caffeine hit and we'll go wherever we can get it.

The problem exists in America, just like Britain and France.

Just this Saturday, Tina and I got up early and nipped to the Post Office. On the drive back, we were feeling peckish and fancied some breakfast. We were just debating between Burger King (who do these sausage-in-croissant things) and McDonalds (with their famous McMuffins) when we spotted 'Steve's Place' on Livingston Avenue, which was an apologetic little cafe just opposite 'The King's.'

We popped in there instead of the big name places and had two delicious breakfast bagels (two eggs and cheese for her, sausage patty for me) and it was made fresh on the griddle, right in front of us. The bagels were fresh baked and the whole meal - which was about twice the size of the apologetic McDonald's portions - came to under five bucks.

Yet despite the delicious food, great service and cheap price, customers would still see the big Burger King sign and drive right past Steve's to get the processed, frozen, reheated stuff.

And that's the crux of the problem. People.

People are the ones who make the choice and when they vote with their dollars (or pounds, or Euros) they put little places like Steve's out of business to support bright, shiny Burger Kings, Starbucks and McDonalds.

The only way to solve what Neil Clark laughingly coined 'turbo-globalism' is to convince millions and millions of people to stop going for the 'cheap and easy' big-business options and support the little 'Mom & Pop' independents he's so fond of. And the problem with that?

99% of the world won't.

Oh, for stuck up Telegraph readers like me, who lived in gorgeous places like Winchester, that was fine. We'd pay a little more and establish that we supported the independents (besides, the McDonalds in Winchester is the most poorly run and inefficient in the world)

But the rest of England, Europe and the world won't.

They want things cheap and easy. They earned their money and they want to get the most out of it - and that's why places like Wal-Mart and their ilk will always survive.

So 'convincing' people is out.

The only other option is to eliminate free choice and 'make' people shop at the independents. And to a certain extent, that's what's happened in France.

Laws and ordinances have protected the city centres and kept out the big businesses. In France, with their unique and delightful mentality, that's worked well. France has deep socialist roots and such buggering about the mechanics of local business is tolerable.

I don't think the same can be said of England or America.

Besides. The very idea of 'telling' people which shops can and can't exist in our High Streets is pretty miserable. If some self-important officials start telling us where we can and can't spend our money, we're not living in a democracy any more.

People deserve the right the choose where they shop. The fact that we're all idiots and make the wrong choice doesn't change that in the slightest!

All I can say is: Ignore Neil Clark's angry socialist rhetoric - but think about his point. The answer doesn't lie in Neil's gloriously outdated socialist fantasy (in which the government wisely spends and redistributes our hard earned money for us.) But we don't have to lie down and let the likes of McDonalds and Starbucks walk all over us, either.

We have a say. We have a voice. And next time you feel like a jolt of caffeine or a quick breakfast snack, look at the five pound note in your hand and ask yourself whether you want to give it to: The smiling shareholders or a hard working guy trying to earn an honest living.

Then shop (and, in effect, vote) accordingly.

We can't turn back the clock on the big-business blitzkrieg - but we don't have to contribute to it. The choice is yours.

The Writer's Strike

At the moment, the Writer's Guild of America (East) and the Writer's Guild of America (West) are on strike.

There is no Writer's Guild of America (Central) because according to the popular media, nothing exists between the east and west coasts except cornfields and the world's largest ball of twine.

The Strike

There are 12,000 writers striking against the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers - the people who make the quality programming we enjoy every night on cable TV.

Television has pretty much ground to a standstill. The Daily Show and The Colbert Report are in reruns (like they are every Friday - leading one detractor to demand: Why is it called the 'Daily' show if it's only on four nights a week?)

And there's no end in sight - experts warn that this strike could continue well into the beginning of 2008.

Leading us all to ask: What the hell is going on?

The Write Stuff

I'm a writer. It says so in my job description. Should I be on strike?

I feel, deep within my heart, that I should be mortified if my writing brethren are being exploited. I'm all set to jump on a bandwagon - but nobody sent me an invite!

Maybe the invitation writers were on strike too...

But to be honest, I'm pretty much confused by the whole thing. I'm a big supporter of 'writers' so I'm instinctively on their side... But I'm also a stuffy old Tory and don't like Unions very much -and besides, these guys are getting paid to write so they shouldn't be complaining, should they?

I mean, the first rule of being a paid writer is to remember that there is ALWAYS somebody willing to do your job better, for less money, just to get their foot in the door.

Anybody who gets paid to write (even marketing stuff like me) is very, very lucky. The alternative is scrubbing toilets for a living - or selling radio advertising.

So if you've got the best job in the world (being a writer) why should you be on strike?

I figured I'd look into it and see what all the fuss was about.

New Media

The last time the writers were on strike was 1985.

It was around the time of the birth of the home-video market. Movies and TV shows the writers had worked on were being offered for sale on VHS cassette for the first time - and the writers figured they should get a percentage of that revenue, just like they did with box-office income and television cash.

After all, it was their work. The studios were making a profit from it. They deserved 'their cut.' And so they got it. The writer's were awarded 0.3% of all revenue generated from the sale of their work on videotape.

That means if the studios got a million dollars in profit from selling one particular movie on VHS tape, the writers walked off with $3,000.

Even Newer Media

Twenty two years later, the writers have realised that the home video market has exploded. Money raised via DVD sales now beats box-office income. For every $MILLION a movie makes when it gets released in theatres, it can bring in two and a half times that in subsequent DVD sales.

So the writers want a bigger 'piece of the pie.' The union is demanded a doubling of the current percentage, raising the average writer's income from a DVD sale from 4c to 8c. What's more, they want 2.5% of revenue from 'new media' - in the form of iPod downloads, webcasts and all that jiggery with mobile phones that play TV. [If the download is free, surely 2.5% of it earns the writers nothing - Editorial Bear.]

Naturally (since a 100% increase is a pretty big opening negotiation) the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers are saying 'no ball!'

I can see where the writers are coming from. Their experiences with the home video market proved that the way the viewer consumes TV and movies is constantly changing - and if they don't get their percentage in now, in five years time, television could be defunct and their contracts might not get them any revenue for their work being transmitted over the net, direct to people's mobile phones or - and it could happen - beamed into their brains or something.

It's a small percentage, but it's valuable. God knows a professional writer doesn't often have a steady paycheque. The trickling revenue from DVD sales and television reruns is often all that sustains them over the lean periods - and they're going to get a whole lot leaner if DVD sales get overtaken by automatic downloads that the writer gets no revenue from.

Reality Bites

However, the legitimacy of the unions' claim suffers a bit when other things are taken into consideration - like America's obsession with Reality Television.

You've all heard of reality shows. Big Brother. American Idol. That sort of thing. They normally involve putting a bunch of opinionated people in a confined space and then videotaping the results.

A lot of Writer's guild members work on these TV shows - but since they're 100% unscripted, can they claim credit (and revenue) for 'writing' on them?

No! Of course not. That's silly. They should just take their paycheque and be done with it.

Union Busters

In fact, I'm surprised the Alliance for Motion Picture and Television Producers is playing ball at all - because writers don't have much of a foundation when it comes to this sort of thing. If steel workers or train drivers go on strike, you can't exactly replace them with fully trained alternatives the next morning. But writers?

America is FULL of millions of aspiring writers and, like I said earlier, they'd be quite willing to replace the union members at the drop of a hat.

If the Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers put an ad on Craigslist reading: 'Opportunity for Writers! Pay on Contract Basis Only' there would be millions of applicants who'd be happy to do what the on-strike writers currently do without demanding a cut of resales and reruns.

They'd just be happy to get their foot in the door of the showbiz world.

As a professional writer, I always remember my mantra: There is always another writer willing to do your job better, for less money.

Writing is a passion. A calling. And those of us who earn a living from it are very lucky indeed.

I agree with the Writer's Unions that they shouldn't be exploited - but I also believe that every single 'striking' writer should remember how incredibly lucky they are to have that job.

For every Larry David (the writer of Seinfeld) who makes $500 million from his work, there will always be a hundred writers who can barely pay the rent and do it just for the love of writing and the thrill of contributing to a TV show or movie that people enjoy.

Besides... Isn't the whole concept of a 'writer' striking just absurd? I mean, writing for a living is the ultimate white-collar job. I can hardly imagine a band of writers making a picket line outside the studios, warming their hands around a fire and singing songs about 'the man' exploiting them and chaining them to a typewriter.

While decent, hardworking Americans might have sympathy for exploited steel workers, cops and firemen, they're not much sympathy for the striking writers. The public are effected - by their favourite TV shows going off air. But I think the general opinion is that the writers should stop bitching and just get back to work.

It will be very interesting to see how it all pans out.

In the mean time, I'll adopt a Yorkshire accent and cry: 'Stay strong, my writing brethren!'

Don't Fake It!

I discovered this wonderful article by Lisa Falkenberg of the Houston Chronicle.

I have right to see red

By LISA FALKENBERG
Copyright 2007 Houston Chronicle

The very sight of the dyed-haired redhead can still fire me up.

It's not that I don't acknowledge other people's pigment prerogatives.

I just think people shouldn't get to enjoy the spoils of red hair without first surviving the stigma: the adolescent name-calling, the stereotypes of being hot-tempered or devilish, the painful sunburns. There are stresses associated with these flaming tresses that the bottle-brewed variety can't possibly appreciate. It ain't easy being red. You have to earn it.

Full article here.

It's a very amusing article mentioning something I'd never considered before - the people who 'fake it' by dying their hair red.

Although ginger is a source of ridicule in the UK, French women love to dye their hair red. In fact, the flame-haired temptress is an international symbol of sexiness all over the world (except in stupid old England.)

Think of all those redheaded femme fatales in the Private Detective novels, or gorgeous redheads Dana Scully or Willow Rosenburg from X-Files and Buffy the Vampire Slayer.

It's only the ignorant English who seem to have a problem with redheads. Even Lisa Falkenberg discovered that. I was rather ashamed of my countrymen when I read:

"Oi, Ginger!" I got a taste of this from some of the Brits I encountered while studying in Spain.

I find the hatred British people have for ginger hair particularly funny considering that so many women across the world actually dye their hair to become redheads.

I mentioned that red hair is popular in France. That's an understatement. It's enormous in France. The short, chic haircuts and the dyed red locks are a staple amongst 'women of a certain age' on the continent.

And elsewhere, women are turning auburn whenever they can. I mentioned Dana and Willow - two of television's most famous redheads. It's probably surprising to learn that both of them get it out of a bottle.

But why do women turn red? What is the allure of the Titian hair?

Well, redheaded woman are always seen as sexy. The Romans and Ancient Greeks saw red hair as a highly attractive quality (much like modern fascination with the blond.)

The term 'Titian' itself comes from Renaissance painter Tiziano Vecelli, who was famous for painting redheaded beauties. Before the days of fake tans and sunbeds, pale skin was the ultimate 'look' to go for and redheaded women were always naturally pale.

But sexy isn't just a look. It's also an attitude - and redheaded women are renowned for having plenty of that. The 'hot tempered' redhead is a positive stereotype. The flaming locks signify a woman who's fiery, passionate, impulsive and sensual. Read an old detective novel and the words used to describe the redheaded romantic interest are usually dripping with innuendo - words like 'smouldering.'

Red hair is also a symbol of strength. Think of famous redheads in the past - the terrifying Boudica - 'Ice Queen' of the Celts - had red curls that fell down her shoulders. Queen Elizabeth I, who rode to face the Spanish Armada at the head of the English army, was renowned for her beautiful red hair.

Women with red hair are seen as leaders - as symbols of strength and passion. They're seen as sexy, sassy, sensual and smart. Gentlemen might prefer blondes, but Bruce Springsteen sang: "you have not lived til you have had your tyres rotated by a red-headed woman."

Women dye their hair red because they want to be associated with these positive traits. And who can blame them? The only sad thing is that most fake-redheads are easy to spot. I've seen many women die their hair red - but I've never seen one who looks entirely convincing.

It's the pale skin. The freckles. The icy blue eyes. The entire 'ginger' package is difficult to emulate. Turning into a blond Playboy bunny only involves a slap of fake tan and some peroxide. Redhead women, however, are in a class of their own.

All hail the honest, home-grown, 100% natural redheaded woman...

Models - pictures sourced from Flickr, models featured: Feline, by .hi3photo, Jen Thornton taken by Chris Flook at Doubletree Studios, Sara by jaidecker.

Only in America - in Finland...

Last Wednesday, an 18 year old Finnish teenager, Pekka-Eric Auvinen, opened fire at his high school in southern Finland. He killed six students, a school nurse and the principal before ending his own life with a gunshot to the head.

The shooting shocked the world - but for some people, the only shocking aspect of the tragedy was that it hadn't occurred in America.

That's because, according to the media, the tradition of the high-school shootout is a curiously American phenomenon.

Editorial Bear blogged about this disturbing assumption here.

It happens all the time. We Europeans adore peering down our noses at the 'colonials' and their tragic school shootings - tut-tutting at their lax gun control and violent society.

However, each time we do so, we neatly ignore events like Hungerford and Dunblane - proof that violent massacres also occur in our 'more civilised' society.

In fact, there is nothing uniquely 'American' about school shootings or violence - but the European media would never want to admit that.

Which is why they've leapt on tentative evidence suggesting that Pekka-Eric Auvinen was speaking online to a Pennsylvannia youth just weeks before his suicidal massacre.

The youth is believed to be 14 year old Dillon Cossey, who attended high school in Philidelphia.

Cossey was arrested in October for allegedly planning a high school attack in the mould of the horrific Colombine tragedy. He had dozens of air-soft pistols (low powered BB guns) daggers and knives - plus a 'violence filled' notepad, according to Plymouth Township Deputy Chief Joe Lawrence.

The European news places a heavy emphasis on the idea of Dillon Cossey helping to plan Pekka-Eric Auvinen's violent attack - because it's neatly perpetuating the myth that school shootings are an American problem.

Since the Finnish school shooting upset the 'only in America' mindset, Dillon Cossey is a perfect scapegoat to shift the blame Stateside once again and restore the media's biased 'status quo.'

Which I think is disgusting.

For a start, Pekka-Eric Auvinen was 18 years old. Dillon was four years younger. If the teenage pecking order is anything like I remember it, there's no reason to believe that Pekka-Eric was the follower, not the instigator.

Secondly, the claim that Auvinen and Cossey had even communicated at all is conjecture at this moment. Police have confiscated the two teen's computers - but currently haven't announced any links between the two apart from the fact that they both used the Internet.

And lastly and most importantly - I think Dillon Cossey is a blip on the high-school shooting radar. While he's clearly a disturbed and potentially dangerous young man, his collection of BB guns are largely harmless.

Ignoring whether or not he might have turned into a 'school shooter' in a few years time, at the moment, Cossey was only discovered with toy guns and a violence filled diary. Not the stuff of notoriety.

Dillon was a 'small fry.' Don't believe the hype which places responsibility for the shooting into this troubled 14 year old's lap.

If anything, Dillon was being groomed for a future massacre by Pekka-Eric, rather than the other way around. Pekka-Eric was the older teenager. He'd actually bought himself a real firearm, while Dillon merely had a collection of harmless toys. If these two had communicated at all, Dillon was clearly the student and Pekka-Eric the macabre mentor.

Yet that's not what the papers say. The European media have jumped on this news story in order to perpetuate the myth that high-school shootings always originate from America - even when they take place in Finland.

It's just another example of a growing anti-American bias in the European media.

On the subject of gun control and school-shootings, Editorial Bear had this post, too.