Thursday, 21 August 2008

Mistrial by jury

Hugely-expensive court cases are collapsing in Britain because jurors are doing their own private research - including trawling the internet for information on the person accused. This is despite the judges warning them not to.

The person on trial, who has gone through months of anxiety and nail-biting waiting for the case to start, has to wait all over again after the judge is forced to end the case and order a retrial at a later date.

The case against an 18 year old man charged with murdering a 71 year old cabbie had to be abandoned at Newcastle. And in London the trial of a celebrity's nanny accused of child cruelty was also abruptly dropped.

In Newcastle the juror had actually gone to the death scene, taken photos and done research into his own theories about what happened on the night in question. And then discussed his ideas with other jurors.

I can understand a juror's temptation to make their own inquiries into things they're not clear about. I did jury service twice in London and there were often things that were puzzling or confusing, or even totally unbelievable.

But the whole point of a court case is that the jury makes a decision based on what they've been told in court - which hopefully is rigorously tested for bias or lies. If jurors start doing their own digging, they'll come across all sorts of dubious rumours and anecdotes which can seriously slant their decision.

If I was accused of something and I thought the jurors were busy sniffing around on their own I'd be horrified.

Unfortunately the internet makes it all too easy to find information about people at the click of a mouse. And nobody even knows you're doing it unless you're careless enough to tell someone.

In the end, you can only trust people to take the job of deciding a person's guilt or innocence seriously and not deliberately put a spanner in the works. Happily from my own experience, most jurors seem extremely conscientious about holding someone else's fate in their hands.

Monday, 18 August 2008

But is it art?

Popped over to London to see my 86 year old mum's new sheltered flat (well, more like bedsit), which is very cosy and much less trouble than the four-bedroom house she had before.

We went to the Royal Academy Summer Exhibition in Piccadilly which rather bemused my mum. The large number of abstract and semi-abstract paintings left her scratching her head, as she prefers the more realistic stuff - landscapes, portraits, still lives, that sort of thing.

Me: That's a brilliant painting (i.e. colourful abstract)
Mum: There's nothing to it. I could have done that.
Me: I doubt if you could.
Mum: And that one's got paint dripping off the bottom.
Me: Yes, that's the Jackson Pollock drip technique, mum.
Mum: I see (i.e. what the hell's he talking about?)
Me: And I love this one.
Mum: But what does it mean?
Me: Whatever you want it to mean, mum. That's the whole point of abstracts.
Mum: Well, I can't say I like it (i.e. it's a load of bollocks)

She was also fascinated by the little red Sold stickers.

Mum: Goodness, that one's got a lot of stickers.
Me: I think it's the painting we're meant to be looking at, not the stickers.
Mum: But I can't see why they all like it so much.
Me: Well, it must be to their taste, mum.

I hasten to add that my mum has many admirable qualities - including a fierce desire to hang on to her independence for as long as possible. But her appreciation of art is strictly limited and anything under the heading of "contemporary" or "modern" blows every fuse instantly.

I think she's missing out on a vast swathe of artistic culture. She probably thinks I'm a pretentious poseur taken in by talentless charlatans. I can't see a meeting of minds anytime soon. Or in the next decade, come to that.

I got back to Belfast to find our brand-new multi-million pound city centre underpass had been completely flooded by torrential rain and had to be closed and pumped out. An urgent inquiry is under way by red-faced politicians.

Wednesday, 13 August 2008

Home help

I was moved by the generosity of a 93 year old North Devon woman who has used the proceeds of her first published novel to buy a house where her friends can stay instead of ending up in lifeless nursing homes.

Lorna Page thinks most nursing homes are so awful (“You sit there all day staring out of the window”) she wants to provide something better that will be life-enhancing rather than stultifying.

“I started asking people if they wanted to move out of their care homes and live with me and I’ve had dozens of offers. They are queuing up” she said.

It’s equally impressive that she’s become a published author in her nineties. She didn’t even think the book (A Dangerous Weakness) was much good but her daughter-in-law persuaded her to send it to a publisher.

Personally I’d hate to end up in a nursing home. I’ve visited quite a few and they always seem desperately soul-destroying. The residents sit around like zombies looking bored to death and stupefied by a barrage of powerful drugs.

Last year Jenny and I visited an aunt who was in a Belfast nursing home temporarily while she recovered from an operation. The sight of the several dozen permanent residents slumped speechless in their armchairs doing absolutely nothing was so terrifying I couldn’t get out of the building fast enough.

I would rather be roasted slowly on hot coals than end up in a place like that. I hope to hell I just die quickly of a heart attack or a rapid cancer rather than spend years incarcerated in a nursing home not in full possession of my faculties but still dragging out my life.

Other people see it differently. They believe a lot of those apparently comatose nursing home residents are actually quite content, their minds meandering happily through old memories and experiences and conjuring up all manner of fabulous interior landscapes.

I wish I could believe that, but I think hopeless despair seems more likely. Count me out.
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I'm pleased to read that Dr Paul Miller, the psychiatrist who Northern Ireland MP Iris Robinson claimed could "cure" homosexuals has severed his connection with her. He has also been suspended from his psychiatric job at the Mater Hospital in Belfast. Unfortunately he is being made the scapegoat for the controversy, while Iris still refuses to resign over her description of homosexuality as an "abomination" and a practice "as bad as child sex abuse".

Sunday, 10 August 2008

Ideal workmates

My new workmates are a lovely bunch. They made me feel at home right away. They happily help me out when I'm floundering. And best of all, they haven't yet brought up any of those irritating topics I'm sick to death of talking about. Mainly because whatever I say no one ever understands. I simply don't compute. For example:

1. "Goodness, you're so thin. You need fattening up. Have a scone. In fact, have two scones."

2. "So why are you vegetarian? What's wrong with meat? Doesn't veggie food get boring?"

3. "Why do you have a blog, then? Isn't it just a substitute for a proper social life?"

4. "What, you're not interested in sport? No sport at all? Not even the Olympics? Not even Tom Daley?"

5. "You never wanted children then? Wouldn't you like to be a Grandad? I just adore my kids."

6. "So why did you come to Belfast? Do you like it here? Do you ever think of going back to London?"

7. "How come you quit journalism? But it's so glamorous, so exciting. Hobnobbing with all those celebs."

8. "What, you never watched The Apprentice? I couldn't drag myself away. I was really rooting for X." (actually one person did ask me this)

9. "You don't like getting drunk? But this is Ireland, mate. Everyone gets wrecked. How else can you enjoy life?"

10. "You're so bloody healthy, how do you do it? What's your secret? It must be genetic."

But they have talked to me about whether the office needs a trade union, the best holiday spots, what changes the new chief executive might make, and the war in Iraq. Now that's more like it. Things we can have a sensible conversation about. Things we might even agree on. Where my own position might actually be understood. It makes a nice change.

Am I really that perplexing or is it just that imagination is in short supply?

Wednesday, 6 August 2008

Back in the kitchen?

A new study says people increasingly believe that family life suffers if a woman works full-time. Both men and women have changed their views on the issue. But why is the criticism aimed only at women and not at men?

Family life can suffer just as much if the man is away at work. But that possibility is seldom commented on. This carries more than a whiff of new attempts to force women out of the workplace and back into the kitchen (or nursery) where they belong.

The study says that in the mid-1990s 51 per cent of men and 50 per cent of women agreed a woman working full-time wouldn't damage family life. Now the figures are 42 per cent of men and 46 per cent of women.

Likewise only 54 per cent of women now think a job adds to their financial and social independence, as opposed to 65 per cent in 1991. But is that their genuine belief or are they coming under mounting pressure to stay at home and give more attention to little Emily or the dirty washing?

Considering workplaces make more and more provision for people's family lives, and that other employees are increasingly sympathetic to the problems of sick children, doing the school-run or other domestic emergencies, it seems odd that women increasingly think family life is being damaged. I can't help thinking there are other factors involved.

On the other hand, many women are genuinely disillusioned with the potential of the workplace for their personal fulfillment. Long hours, heavy workloads, monotonous routines and unpleasant colleagues are making them think twice about their commitment to paid work. If an opportunity arises to quit, they often grab it with relief.

It seems to me that what's really damaging family life is not women (or men) in full-time work but the rising cost of living - particularly housing costs - that means couples are both forced into the workplace to make ends meet. Family life is bound to suffer from this mutual inability both to look after children properly and to have enough health-preserving downtime.
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Sorry, a rather skimpy reply to Quickroute's tag on the Film-Of-Your-Life meme - but food for thought anyway! Let's see now. To play the world-weary but mischievous Nick - who else but Bill Nighy? To be the simultaneously sexy and brainy Jenny - Jennifer Saunders (Janis Joplin would have been good too!). To be my ailing but plucky sister Heather - Meryl Streep. And to be my elderly but combative mum Audrey - it has to be Patricia Routledge (from Keeping Up Appearances). A blockbuster in the making, don't you think? I won't tag anyone else, but if you want to share your own cast list, feel free! Now who could play Baino, I wonder?

Ah, Baino has given us the answer - Dawn French. Nice one!

Sunday, 3 August 2008

Young and fragile

It's disturbing that there are internet sites inciting young people to take their own lives and advising them on how to do it. Experts say they know of at least 30 suicides in which the internet has played a major role - not to mention attempted suicides.

But what should be done about these sites if anything? Should we respect free speech whatever the subject and whatever the possible results? Should such sites be closed down? Should they be forced to include links to organisations with a different point of view?

The British government are so concerned they are urging internet service providers to veto "harmful or distasteful" suicide sites, and to provide automatic links to bodies like the Samaritans or ChildLine giving advice on depression and emotional problems.

They're also looking at the existing laws to see if they're strong enough or if they need to be updated.

It's a thorny issue. Once you start interfering in the content of websites and saying what is or isn't acceptable, where do you stop? Even if some young people are impressionable or emotionally fragile, it is right to block off anything that might influence them for the worse and say they're not even allowed to see it?

Just about any website can have a bad influence on people if they are susceptible and interpret what it says in an unintended way. If only a very small number of people might be vulnerable, is it justified to take such draconian action? And if someone wants to commit suicide, shouldn't they have the right to do that anyway?

But I'm not happy with this classic liberal free-speech argument, the idea that anything goes and it's up to the individual to take responsibility for their feelings and actions. A caring society has to protect people at risk and ensure their safety and well-being, rather than leaving them to their fate.

There are already thousands of measures protecting young people from harm and exploitation, and a good job too. I think the government is right to urge safeguards and precautions.

We shouldn't freely allow people to encourage those in emotional difficulties to take an extreme solution, if there are other courses of action that might enable them to sort out those problems and turn their life around.

Iris rejected

Yesterday saw the Belfast Gay Pride Parade 2008 in the city centre. Loads of gorgeous transvestites and exuberant gay couples stunning the shoppers and tourists. Participants again attacked Northern Ireland Assembly member Iris Robinson for saying homosexuality was an abomination and that therapy could turn gays into healthy heterosexuals. She is still unrepentant and refuses to resign.

Wednesday, 30 July 2008

Home truths

I'm always curious about other people's homes - how they furnish them, what they keep in them, what gadgets they have, how spartan or cluttered they are. I love it when I'm invited into a home I've never seen before. And I'm always peeping into people's windows as I walk along the street.

The most spartan house I ever saw belonged to a friend's aunt in Liverpool. Aunt Dolly was deeply religious and refused to own anything that wasn't strictly essential. Every room was totally basic - just tables, chairs, beds and cupboards. There were no carpets, no ornaments, no pictures, no books. It would have given me the creeps if it wasn't a rather refreshing contrast to the mountainous clutter of my parents' house.

I've seen plenty of cluttered homes, with so many bits and pieces stacked everywhere I have to step carefully through the remaining spaces to avoid toppling huge piles of books, crushing the kids' toys or stepping on a pot plant. The occupants always apologise for the mess and vow to tidy up but the next visit usually reveals even more jumble and disorder.

There are homes where just about everything is faulty and needs attention but the faults are seen as a charming part of the domestic ambience. Ah yes, that door always sticks. Oh yes, that radiator has an awful rattle. And don't worry about the leak, I'll just put a bucket under it.

Some houses exude sex. The main bedroom is full of nude pictures, the bed coverings are silky and sensuous, and a titillating erotic memoir lies on the bedside table. No doubt there are drawers full of sexy underwear and vibrators but I wouldn't be that nosy.

Householders can be so obsessively houseproud you're nervous of touching anything at all in case you leave a fingerprint or a dirty mark or any trace whatever of human contact. Every pristine object looks as if it were bought yesterday and I feel like I'm in a museum. I keep expecting a security alarm to go off or a po-faced attendant to say I'm too close to something.

People's houses are full of fascinating insights into their private lives. And sometimes repulsive ones. I'll never forget the elderly London woman who kept hundreds of cats in her four-bedroom house - the overpowering stink had to be smelt to be believed. She was probably so used to it she never even noticed.

Sunday, 27 July 2008

Tipping point

I've known for some time that restaurant tips added to the bill may never reach the waiter or waitress, so nowadays I either leave the tip on the table or give it to the server personally. I want my money to go to the underpaid toilers and not a well-heeled boss.

Even if the tips don't go to the boss they're increasingly treated as part of the staff salaries, and the basic untipped wage is reduced accordingly. Sometimes they're deliberately withheld as compensation for breakages or customers who leave without paying.

So I'm pleased to see the campaign by the London Independent for decent basic salaries for waiting staff and an end to the practice of tips being secretly filched by the restaurant. And I'm glad to see trade unions lining up in support.

It's about time these undercover fiddles were given more publicity and time the thousands of diners still blissfully unaware of where their tips are really going learnt the unpleasant truth.

Naturally the restaurant staff affected are reluctant to say anything for fear they'll be penalised or sacked by their employers, so often all they can do is stand by and watch diners and themselves being conned.

Not only do I always do my best to get a tip to the server, I invariably give one unless the service was atrocious. I think it's mean to find petty excuses for not giving a tip, like a dirty knife or insufficient smiling or bland coffee.

It's not necessarily the server's fault and after all, none of us are perfect. Would we accept a cut in our own wages because we didn't smile enough or we made a typo in a letter? I think not. Waiting staff are employees the same as us and deserve similar treatment.

So let's hear it for those restaurant staff like Manuel and let's stop being so sanctimonious over the crumpled napkin or the wobbly table.

PS: When Jenny and I were in the States, we always made sure to tip the going rate of 20 per cent, unlike other stingy Brits.

PPS: British government ministers have now said they will outlaw the use of tips or service charges to top up low basic wages. They made a formal pledge on the 10th anniversary of the Minimum Wage Act (July 31).

Thursday, 24 July 2008

Creaking city

Although New York thinks of itself as a five-star city with a reputation for high-class services and superb hospitality, I beg to differ. Just about everything Jenny and I did ran into some unexpected glitch.

* At the Whitney Museum we went through a door marked Exit which set off an ear-splitting security alarm. There was no warning the door was alarmed.

* There was a one-hour queue in scorching heat for the Ellis Island ferry, as it goes via the Statue of Liberty. They don't have a ferry for each island.

* My plane from New York to Chicago touched down 3¼ hours late. This was put down to thunderstorms and air traffic control problems.

* The water only ran hot in our hotel room after 8 am. Before that it was cold. According to the hotel, we weren't running the taps for long enough.

* One pizzeria menu included a personal pie, a regular pie and a large pie. When we asked the waitress what sizes these were, she didn't know and recommended slices instead. It's only my second day, she pleaded.

* Virtually all the museums and galleries were closed on Monday, as opposed to Chicago where most of them opened on Monday.

* The signage to tourist venues was so poor we were forever asking people for directions. Even the Ground Zero Visitors Centre was hard to find.

* The key cards for our hotel room kept failing and we were constantly getting them reprogrammed. The hotel blamed over-sensitive locks and cards.

I could go on, but I think I've made the point. So many things weren't properly thought through, had technical faults, or were badly planned. It seems to me that New Yorkers are too complacent (or easy-going) about their malfunctioning city, and ought to be a lot more assertive and demanding.

Pretending everything is fine and making out we're just nit-picking tourists is an odd attitude to say the least. My answer is, Long Live Chicago!

Photo: The Whitney Museum of American Art

Monday, 21 July 2008

New York

So here we are in New York, which Jenny and I haven't seen for 12 years but which seems much the same. Skyscrapers hustle and bustle, tiny hotel rooms, pizza, art galore, baseball, skinny women in weeny shorts, overpaid city slickers and underpaid grafters.

The major change is of course the huge vacant lot where the World Trade Center used to be - and whose roof we stood on the last time we visited. Construction of the new buildings is now well under way.

Like Chicago, people from all over the world are mingling and working together. We went to the Immigration Museum on Ellis Island to learn how immigrants once applied for citizenship, the restrictions and prejudice they faced, and how they got by in this unfamiliar country. There are many sad and tragic stories. Some didn't even survive the dreadful conditions on the overcrowded boats.

To complement that, we revisited the Lower East Side Tenement Museum, which shows how typical families lived in an Orchard Street tenement at the turn of the 19th and 20th centuries. They had to contend with grasping landlords, contaminated food, lethal infections and uncleared refuse.

Naturally we looked in at the revamped Museum of Modern Art and the brilliant Dali exhibition, complete with some of his movies. We also had a peek at the New Museum of Contemporary Art, and Pawel Althamer's strange human figures.

But my conclusion after several days here - I prefer Chicago. It seems to be going places while New York is standing still or even going backwards. The gap between rich and poor is very visible, with ragged hobos outside opulent office blocks. Air pollution is severe as is traffic congestion. The sewers always overflow after heavy rain. It feels like a city struggling to cope with limited resources. Still a Big Apple, but a Bruised one.

Photo: Ellis Island, just south of Manhattan, where more than 12 million immigrants entered the USA.

Tuesday, 15 July 2008

Chicago

Okay, secrecy over, I'm actually in Chicago, the city of skyscrapers and the El (the elevated subway tracks). And of course diversity.

The people of Chicago originate from all over the world. They've been coming here from other countries literally for centuries, since Chicago has always been one of the most prosperous American cities.

It feels great to wander the (very hot) streets with such a global pot-pourri, all energetically making their way in this bustling city. Every other person seems to be speaking Spanish, and a hundred cultures make themselves felt.

Most of the time this eclectic mix of people have co-existed quite harmoniously. There have been occasional flare-ups, like the burning and looting of white-owned businesses by angry blacks after Martin Luther King's assassination in 1968. But in general there's a feeling of acceptance, goodwill and openness.

Chicago is also an inventive city. It created zippers, mail-order, TV remote-control, the birth-control pill, nuclear fission, the Ferris Wheel, and of course bigger and better skyscrapers.

It's always attracted people with unconventional minds who could see better ways of doing things and were given the chance to try them out.

Though some things seem to have escaped their attention. The subway system is still run-down and exasperatingly slow. It took me a good hour to get from O'Hare Airport to the city centre, a journey of about 12 miles. And naturally I had to contend with the customary lunatic screaming inanely about black bitches.

But one thing they do well is local history. The Chicago History Museum in Lincoln Park is a mine of information on how the city began, how it developed, the disasters it had to cope with (like the Great Fire of 1871 that destroyed 17000 buildings), and how it has constantly reinvented itself.

Its citizens certainly seem proud of their adventurous and exuberant city.

Wednesday, 9 July 2008

Sex trap

Can you imagine what it's like to be lured to Britain with the promise of a lucrative job, only to find yourself in thrall to a pimp who forces you to have sex with 15 men a day and pays you nothing at all?

And if you even think of running away, he'll threaten to kill your family, beat you and keep you permanently locked up?

Police say the number of women trapped like this is nearly five times more than previously thought - anything between six and eighteen thousand.

They could be working next door to you in an ordinary suburban house that's been taken over by gangsters and filled with coerced women.

While they're paid nothing for their humiliating labours, their owners bank colossal sums from what is now one of the highest-earning crime rackets in the world.

Operation Pentameter 2, run by police forces across the UK, has just finished its biggest ever crackdown, releasing 154 women and 13 girls, arresting 528 suspected traffickers and closing 822 brothels and other premises.

Most of the women are foreign but British women are also being lured away from their home towns and put to work hundreds of miles away.

It seems there's an endless supply of men keen to prove their masculinity by having sex with a complete stranger in the most squalid conditions, no doubt well aware of the misery behind the scenes but only interested in satisfying their physical cravings.

And unfortunately there's also an endless supply of gullible women falling for enticing job offers that turn into something hideously different from what they were promised.
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Jenny and I have been invited to Veronica Trinket's sumptuous New York hideaway in the Hamptons. If the weather's good, we'll be on the yacht. If not, we'll be pampering ourselves in her private beauty salon. See you all soon. Behave yourselves while we're away. I'll be keeping an eye on you via Veronica's laptop!

Sunday, 6 July 2008

Butt in or butt out?

After several horrific fatal stabbings in London, people are asking themselves what they would do if they saw something dreadful happening as they walked down the street.

What would I do? If I saw a man attacking a woman or threatening someone with a knife, if I saw a woman wrecking her ex's car or hitting her child, would I intervene or would I hurry past telling myself it was dangerous to interfere?

I've often seen mildly disturbing scenes like a man and woman screaming at each other or a woman swearing at her little boy, but I've never seen anything so violent or sickening that I've thought seriously of trying to stop it and protect the victim.

It's hard to predict what I would do if I suddenly found myself in that situation. I like to think I would do the altruistic thing and intervene but I might simply be too scared to act. Especially if the attacker looked really vicious or was brandishing a weapon.

I do remember though an occasion many years ago when Jenny and I were in a London supermarket and saw the manager knock to the ground a frail elderly man who was walking out with a stolen packet of cheese.

We were so disgusted we complained heatedly to the cashier and abandoned the basket of groceries we had been about to buy. Afterwards we both felt very public-spirited and glad we had made our anger known.

But when I hear about people who've tried to stop some act of violence, and ended up seriously injured or even dead, it does make me think twice about being a Good Samaritan. When it came to it, would I just cut and run?

Wednesday, 2 July 2008

Fatal vanity

The tragic consequences of unnecessary plastic surgery have been shown yet again with the death of a 33 year old Dublin man who was afraid his wife would leave him for a better-looking man.

After extensive cosmetic surgery in Colombia, which his 23 year old wife begged him not to have, he died of a heart attack. She said she had lost “the most beautiful thing” in her life, and had been left to look after a new baby.

But Pierre Lawlor was convinced he was "fat and ugly and had big ears" and was terrified his young Venezuelan wife Andrea would leave him for one of his friends. So he arranged for liposuction plus work on his eyes, cheekbones, nose and neck.

The surgery proved disastrous and the Dublin coroner concluded that the physical strain of the lengthy procedures had led to a cardiac arrest.

Andrea had told him he was "foolish" to get the surgery. "I didn't think he needed it," she said. "He was paranoid all the time about his looks and getting old and what people would think when they see us together."

The huge risks of plastic surgery, even for fit and healthy people, are constantly trivialised but are very real. It’s crazy to embark on it if it’s purely for reasons of vanity and insecurity.

Even if he thought he was not too attractive and was maybe disappointing his wife, he should have accepted the risk of her going off with someone else rather than having himself ‘improved’. Who knows, she might not have liked the so-called ‘improvements’ anyway. We all know how false and unnatural such surgery can make people look.

It seems he had the same problem of distorted body image that many women have. He was convinced he was ugly even though his wife denied it, and he just refused to listen to her. What he really needed wasn’t surgery but some serious counselling on his abnormal view of himself.

Monday, 30 June 2008

No regrets

Some people are weighed down with regrets about their life. They shouldn't have done this or that, they should have had a different job, a different man, a different personality.

But I can honestly say I've never regretted anything in my life. It's taken strange twists and turns, some fortunate and some less fortunate, some happy and some miserable, but all in all my life has turned out well and I can't recall anything so disastrous I would want to rewrite it.

It must be heartbreaking to have serious regrets, to believe that some fatal decision you made decades ago has ruined your life, and to wish fervently that you could go back and do something quite different.

It amuses me sometimes to imagine parallel scenarios, how my life might have turned out if I'd made other choices or been another sort of person. Suppose I'd been a woman, or been more self-confident or gregarious or virile or gifted.

Yes, my life would have been rearranged. But I'm not convinced it would have been more rewarding or more enjoyable. The grass is not always greener on the other side.

Maybe I'm just very lucky. I've never known anything so catastrophic that I've desperately wanted to undo it. I've never caused anyone's death. I've never lost a child. I've never been tortured or raped. Whatever's happened to me has always been reversible or repairable.

Like anyone else, I've had plenty of negative experiences. I've been jilted, betrayed, ostracised, humiliated. But I've always bounced back, always learnt something, always moved forward to new joys and new achievements. So what's to regret?

Wednesday, 25 June 2008

It's only a kiss

No apologies for returning to a gay theme, since this is just as extraordinary as the Iris Robinson outburst. An ad for mayonnaise has been withdrawn because it shows two men kissing. Shock horror outrage!!

The food company Heinz made an ad in which a man is leaving the house with a sandwich, saying goodbye not to the usual devoted wife but to a second man in a chef's hat and apron.

The two men kiss and the "chef" says "Love you. Come straight home from work, sweet cheeks."

After this sinful scene brought over 200 complaints, in what some say was an organised campaign, Heinz pulled the ad saying it had "failed in its intent to amuse" and apologising if they had offended anyone.

I'm glad to know the gay rights group Stonewall has responded to this cowardly ban by urging the public to stop buying Heinz products.

The group said "We're shocked that an innocuous ad should have been withdrawn in this way." They have had a flood of phone calls from deeply upset supporters.

It's ridiculous that in 2008 a company should wilt in panic and give way to a few hysterical loudmouths who still think same-sex kissing is scandalous and outrageous.

I wouldn't mind betting that these homophobic hotheads stay completely silent about anything genuinely offensive like mass rape by soldiers or the escalating reign of terror in Zimbabwe.

PS: It struck me that the basic message here - gay kisses bad, mayonnaise good - is upside down. The sane equation surely is gay kisses (happiness-promoting) good, mayonnaise (up to 85% fat) bad.

Saturday, 21 June 2008

Rape as weapon

Mass rape as a deliberate tactic of war is something not often spoken about. But it happens in many countries and wrecks the lives of many thousands of women - and girls.

Military commanders know systematic rape can be more intimidating and destructive than conventional weapons. It terrorises whole communities, wiping out resistance and support for combatants.

It also attracts less attention because there is no pile of bodies and the victims are often too ashamed to say anything about it.

Up till now world leaders have done disgracefully little about it, treating it simply as a side-effect of war, as petty crime, or as typical male behaviour they can't control.

But the United Nations Security Council has now voted unanimously to classify rape as a weapon of war. And it is setting up an inquiry into how widespread it is and how to tackle it.

Attempts are being made to get the US Senate to take the issue seriously too. It needs to be recognised universally as a war crime and dealt with accordingly.

Military mass rape is common in African countries but has also occurred in Eastern Europe and the Middle East. The rape capital of the world is said to be eastern Congo, where in some areas three quarters of women have been raped.

It can do far more damage than weapons, producing rejected children, widespread disease, and individual and communal trauma. And the assailants avoid the potential death and injury of traditional warfare.

The victims are not even combatants but innocent civilians who may want nothing to do with local conflicts. They are simply pawns in a battle for power.

Now that world leaders are recognising this routine brutality, there is hope it can be reduced and with it the appalling human toll.

Thanks to Nicole for flagging this up on her own blog.

Photo: Anti-rape protest in Liberia, West Africa. The message reads: "Do not give in to fear, sadness and danger. Do not give up. Report violence cases"

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I start a new job on Tuesday - at another charity which I'd better not identify. So posting and commenting may be a bit erratic until I've got the new routine sorted out. But I'll be visiting you all just as often as I can!

Wednesday, 18 June 2008

Living with danger

I'm always humbled by people whose partners have incredibly risky jobs or hobbies but somehow have the resilience to accept the risk without being permanently worried stiff about them.

If your loved one is a police officer, firefighter, racing driver or rock-climber, you can never be sure they're going to return home in one piece - or even alive.

You must be often wondering how you would cope if you had that awful knock on the door to bring you the worst possible news. Or do you eventually get quite philosophical about it and just think "If it happens, it happens"?

Some people must face the prospect of their new love being constantly in danger and decide they simply can't face it, they'll settle for someone whose only occupational risk is a scalding from the coffee machine.

Two Northern Ireland motorcycling champions, brothers Joey and Robert Dunlop, were both killed while racing, and their grieving relatives have had to accept that they died doing something they loved and just wouldn't have been so happy doing something else.

Some people argue that it's irresponsible to choose such dangerous activities when you have a family who love you and depend on you and will be devastated if you come to harm. But if that's what you enjoy, if you're good at it, if it enriches your life, should you back off solely to be risk-free? And end up a bored, frustrated pen-pusher?

If you're the one at home though, it must be quite a relief every time your partner rings to say "I'm on my way now, sweetheart. How have the kids been today?" And for a few blissful hours, you can relax and stop worrying.

Monday, 16 June 2008

Political maverick

As you know, I'm pretty cynical about politicians, so I'm amazed and impressed that a leading English politician is taking a stand of high principle on the erosion of civil liberties.

After the Labour government won (just!) agreement to a possible detention period of 42 days for suspected terrorists, Conservative MP David Davis said he would resign and fight a by-election* on the issue.

Because he believes so strongly that the 42 days provision is draconian, and because he thinks the government is steadily undermining civil liberties in one area after another, he is going to ask the voters to re-endorse him and his stand for basic freedoms.

Naturally the Labour Party have poured scorn on him. So have the Conservatives. But the general public are right behind him, by a big majority.

He has been scathing not only about the detention increase, but the huge number of CCTV cameras, the new ID card project, restrictions on public protests, attempts to reduce jury trials and mislaid confidential personal data.

He will no doubt raise all these issues at length during his by-election campaign.

When so many politicians toe the line and do what they're told to do, usually lying outrageously in the process, it's refreshing when one of them sticks his neck out to emphasise his deeply-held convictions.

I don't often support a Tory, but his tactic is inspired.

PS: An example of the misuse of terrorist laws. Three pensioners joining a demonstration at Heathrow Airport on May 31 were questioned and escorted from the airport by police for wearing T-shirts that read "Stop Airport Expansion". Police took their names, addresses and descriptions and followed them out, warning they would be arrested if they returned within 24 hours.

* When a seat becomes vacant through death or resignation, there is a by-election to elect a new MP.

Jenny has a very different opinion on David Davis. She believes his typically Tory views on other subjects make him unworthy of support.