Language barrier

There are many dual language (English and Irish) road signs in Northern Ireland, but they never cease to be controversial. Some of them go up only after angry protests from the locals.

I must say I don't see the point of Irish signs in a country where the everyday language is English and only a minority of the population speak Irish fluently. But if that's what some people want, it doesn't really bother me one way or the other.

People justify dual language signs on the basis that they promote linguistic diversity, they encourage people to learn Irish and they recognise our close ties to the Republic of Ireland.

But there are only 72,000 Irish speakers in Northern Ireland out of a population of two million, so I wouldn't have thought dual language signs were a high priority.

And why only road signs? What about all the other signs on public buildings? Shouldn't they also be dual language?

There's a big lobby to have dual language signs on the new Grand Central Station, and an equally big lobby not to. I await the outcome with interest.

Personally I have no desire to learn Irish, especially as it's a famously hard language to learn. Jenny has been learning Irish for some time despite all its oddities and its fiendish pronunciation. But fluency is still a long way off.

A right royal hoo-ha

Well, that's quite enough earnest introspection. And now for something completely different.

No sooner was a new statue of the late Queen and Prince Philip unveiled at Antrim Castle in County Antrim than it was widely ridiculed, a common opinion being that the female figure looked nothing like the Queen, and that Prince Philip didn't look much like Prince Philip.

One critic even suggested that the late monarch looked more like Mrs Doubtfire. And Philip looks more like a movie villain about to roast some useless underling.

Antrim and Newtownabbey Borough Council commissioned the local artist Anto Brennan to create the sculpture and claimed to be delighted, saying it captured the Queen "in a dignified pose, reflecting her grace, steadfastness and life-long devotion to public service."

But Vera McWilliam, an Antrim and Newtownabbey councillor, thought the critics had a point. "We have to be honest, it does not resemble the queen in any shape or form."

Other statues that have been roundly derided tend to be discreetly removed. I await with interest whether this statue meets the same fate.

Another statue of Philip dressed as a don, erected in Cambridge at an estimated cost of £150,000, was also derided and removed. Presumably a similar sum was spent on the controversial statue of the two Royals.

Anto Brennan hasn't made any public comment on his statue as yet.

Pic: The contentious statue

Tasteless

When I was growing up the idea of "bad taste" was commonplace and most people took care not to do or say anything that was "in bad taste".

My parents were constantly telling me I shouldn't do this or that because it would be in bad taste. Anything sexually too explicit, anything that insulted the dead, anything too critical of other people's appearance. All sorts of things were frowned on.

Today the idea of bad taste seems to be fading rapidly. Politicians and celebrities and journalists say the most outrageous things and get away with it. They might be briefly criticised but that's it. On social media there's no idea of bad taste at all and people say exactly what they want, including rape threats, death threats and all sorts of violent intimidation.

In fact for many people nowadays "bad taste" doesn't even refer to questionable behaviour, but only to an unfashionable personal choice, like orange wallpaper or shag pile rugs.

Some people scoff at the idea of bad taste and admire those who "tell it like it is". In practice this just seems to mean pouring out streams of invective against anybody and everybody, and not caring who you're upsetting or belittling.

But I was so thoroughly conditioned by my upbringing to avoid anything that was in bad taste that it's virtually impossible to change. I'm still very careful not to say or do anything controversial, anything that goes beyond the bounds of polite socialising. There's no way I could simply blurt out whatever comes to mind, however shocking or repulsive.

Other people's over-the-top comments never cease to amaze me.

Rush to judgment

It suddenly came to me that something very odd is going on. There's a growing trend for authoritari-anism but also a growing trend for anti-authoritari-anism. How can they both be happening at once?

On the one hand, people rush to pass judgment on others, often people they've never met and have only heard of through the media. They home in on anyone who's provoked a bit of controversy and tell them forcefully where they're going wrong. They call for people to apologise for their actions, recant their opinions or lose their jobs.

Or they think people getting welfare payments or public housing or being granted asylum are being treated too generously and demand a stop to this burden on the taxpayer.

Or they call for harsher punishment for criminals and complain that prisons are too luxurious and should be more repressive.

At the same time there are people demanding more freedom and declaring they won't be told what to do. They object to the virus restrictions and oppose vaccines, face masks and distancing. They go to huge parties where hundreds of people are crowded together, spreading infection.

Or they object to any measures to reduce obesity-related health problems and insist on their right to be as plump as they wish and eat whatever they fancy.

Or they complain about complicated recycling rules and make a point of dumping their rubbish in any old bin. They won't be ordered about by the "nanny state".

Well, I'm not sure what that makes me as I wouldn't identify with either tendency. I'm one of those irritating middle-of-the-road types who takes whatever attitude seems to be most sensible - which might be authoritarian (if absolutely necessary) or might be the opposite. I don't take a position simply because it's fashionable/ woke/ trending on social media.

I naturally recoil from extreme opinions of any kind.

Naked controversy

Fierce controversy over a new statue of Mary Wollstonecraft at Newington Green, North London. People are asking why she's so small and totally naked and saying this is hardly a suitable way of honouring her memory.

The artist, Maggi Hambling, has vigorously defended the statue. "The point is that she has to be naked because clothes define people. We all know that clothes are limiting and she is everywoman. As far as I know, she's more or less the shape we'd all like to be. Statues in historic costume look like they belong to history because of their clothes. It's crucial that she is 'now'."

This seems to me a bizarre explanation. People aren't defined by their clothes but by their personality and achievements - in this case her passionate pursuit of feminism. Neither is she everywoman, it was specifically Mary Wollstonecraft that campaigners for the statue wanted to memorialise.

Caroline Criado-Perez, who helped campaign for a statue of Millicent Fawcett in Parliament Square, said the decision-making process had been "catastrophically wrong. This representation is insulting to her." She argued that, as a piece of political art, it should have depicted a recognisable Wollstonecraft, as less than 3% of UK statues were of non-royal women.

The writer Caitlyn Moran said "Imagine if there was a statue of a hot young naked guy 'in tribute' to Churchill. It would look mad."

It would look totally bonkers. Personally, I think the Hambling statue should be replaced with a fully-clothed, clearly identifiable statue of Mary Wollstonecraft.

I suspect Maggi Hambling knew very well that her statue was bound to be controversial, and she's enjoying all the fuss and attention. Two other Hambling statues, Conversation with Oscar Wilde and Scallop, were equally contentious when first erected in 1998 and 2003.

Mary Wollstonecraft deserves better.

PS: The statue was commissioned by the Mary On The Green Campaign, which unanimously chose Hambling for the sculpture. Jude Kelly, Patron for the Campaign and Artistic Director of the Southbank Centre, said "She is a wonderful choice to capture the spirit and strength of Wollstonecraft."

PPS: A crowdfunder has been launched for an alternative statue of Mary Wollstonecraft by Martin Jennings. This statue would be of Mary Wollstonecraft herself.

Pic: the statue

The unflinching truth

Prepare yourselves! My new no-holds-barred autobiography, out tomorrow from Snipcock and Tweed ("Counting The Cost", 872 pages, £24.99) will be a shattering exposé of my chequered and controversial life, marked by brutal honesty, eye-watering revelations, and unflinching hatchet jobs on all my friends and relatives.

Humiliating financial circumstances have forced me to relive all those notorious, headline-grabbing episodes I'd prefer to forget and plumb the depths of gratuitous muck-raking and character assassination.

Recoil at the sordid details of the all-night chocolate cookie binge. The hysterical outburst on the number 4A bus. The uplift bra calamity. The awkward stumble on the loose paving-stone. The mangled credit card. Images that will haunt you for weeks. Insights that will change your life.

The complete story of the runaway pram is told for the first time. The frail pensioner who lost her left leg. The giant egg. The missing sock. The burnt toast. The unbelievable chain of events that led to one of the biggest disasters in post-war British history. Including newly-discovered, stomach-churning photos.

Nothing is spared in the account of my tragic unrequited crush on Rosie Huntington-Whiteley. The repeated visits from her 20-stone bodyguards, the restraining orders, the arson attacks on my country hideaway, the sabotaged car brakes, my poisoned Alsatians. I make no secret of my tormented heart, my hopeless misery, my searing emotions.

I nail once and for all the persistent rumours that I was born with three legs. I prove that the photos were faked and the so-called reliable source was an alcoholic welder from Dundee. I reveal the real owner of the amputated leg, a 90-year-old widow called Fiona.

All this and more in the literary sensation of 2013. Buy it now or be out of the loop! An ideal topic for dull dinner parties! And at 872 pages, the perfect doorstop! What are you waiting for?

PS: Rats! All copies of the book have had to be withdrawn following a legal writ from Ms Huntington-Whiteley. She claims there are numerous defamatory statements, unauthorised photographs and factual errors in chapter seven. I can't say right now when the book will be re-published.