Why the Sunday Times is rubbish, Part 163

Last Sunday's edition was typical. The front page was dominated by a photograph and an article on Kate McCann, and the "News" Review devoted pages 1 to 3 to an extract from her forthcoming book and six more photos.
Everyone sympathises with Mrs McCann, and no-one would blame her for keeping alive the tragic story of the disappearance of her daughter Madeleine, but it was disingenuous of the ST to push these non-revelations with the subhead: "Here she tells what really happened that terrible night". After four years it would certainly be good to know what really happened, but of course the extract, and presumably the book, contains nothing new of any importance.

How's that again?

Newspaper headlines are there to catch readers' attention and make them marvel, or at least excite their curiosity. Here are four recent ones which worked on me:

Police arrest 21 after woman in tent is injured by lawn roller

Trial shows new drug better than rat poison at preventing stroke

Pit bull saves four as blaze sweeps toilets

Bus-pass Briton, 67, back fighting bulls



Actually, I wasn't very impressed by that last one. This fellow is very proud of his titanium knee: well, I've got two titanium knees and if only my traje de luces still fitted me I'd be off to the plaza de toros in a flash.



And there's also:
Sixty horses wedged in chimney
.....but this one was invented by Beachcomber and the story to fit it hasn't turned up yet.

And finally, Claud Cockburn claimed to have won a competition in The Times for the dullest headline with:
Small earthquake in Chile. Not many dead

The POTUS writes

I haven't watched The Daily Show very often recently; Jon Stewart is a bit pleased with himself and the sycophantic laughter sometimes grates, but his heart is in the right place and his satire only rarely misfires. To the English, the news that the show has been "criticized as having a liberal bias" is incomprehensible until you remember that in north American right-wing parlance "liberal" is a term of abuse.

Our liberal Guardian has been assiduously satirizing the US administration throughout the Bush years and has not stopped doing so just because the White House it is now occupied by a less sleazy bunch. The paper asserts that, "in a unique experiment in democratic transparency", they are being sent copies of all Obama's confidential emails, of which this is one:

To: Arlen Specter [arlen.specter@senate.gov]
Subject: welcome aboard
Just wanted to drop you a line to welcome you personally to the Democratic party, and to say how much I appreciate this courageous act of naked self-preservation. Not everyone would have the nerve to abandon an affiliation of some 30 years standing in order to avoid a tough primary race. I've long admired your independent spirit, but you won't be needing it any more. Good Democrats toe the line. I'll drop by the debriefing if I get a chance - in the meantime I'm getting some bumper stickers and stuff sent over to your office. Update your website, and cover your mouth when you cough.
Barack

[Not having kept up with the political news from the USA for a week or two, I was puzzled when I first read about Specter's recent defection. Why should the Democrats welcome a convicted murderer into their ranks, even if he had been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame? Then I realised: silly of me, wrong spelling and different first name]

Another curious creature

A couple of days ago I posted illustrations of some imaginary creatures, and to follow this up I am devoting this post to a real one. Proving that the saying about truth being stranger than fiction is not only a boring cliché but completely untrue, here is a real animal which is far less strange—or at any rate far less interesting—than any fictional one could possibly be: Expert On Anteaters Wasted Entire Life Studying Anteaters is a perfectly cast and beautifully acted piece telling the tragic story of an interviewer who is finally reduced to speechlessness by his guest.

[Anyone to whom this masterpiece is unfamiliar has probably also missed other Onion News Network items. Get the flavour of their morning show Today Now and then sample some of its in-depth reviews of such items as Time Magazine's Annual List of the 299 Million Least Influential Americans.]

Fracas in mid-air

There was an item of news earlier this month which must have been of much interest to anyone compiling an anthology called Amazing Stories from New Zealand, and finding himself a bit short of content.

Reports in the Australian and New Zealand press were fairly incoherent, but most included some of the following details: 33-year-old Blenheim woman (or in some reports, "Somali refugee") attempts to hijack small commuter plane going to Christchurch, produces a knife and has another in her shoe, says there is a bomb on board and demands to be taken to Australia, tries to seize the controls, wrestles on the floor with the pilots, stabs one on the hand and the other on the foot, plane lands safely and armed police with dogs arrest the woman.

Two of the passengers, according to one newspaper "were named as a man and a woman".

Clearly an exciting time was had by all, and there were international repercussions: "...the England cricket team's flight from Christchurch to Wellington was delayed for two-and-a-half hours".

Nowadays the threat posed by two knives and a bomb does not dismay experienced airline pilots: one wonders whether the incident might have ended less happily if the woman had armed herself with something more calculated to inspire terror.

Poetic licence

I never expect anything in the way of thrills or titillation when I scan through my local newspaper, but this week there wasn't even much in the way of interest: a naughty vicar, "Gales damage a school roof", "Doris is 104" and "Builder head-butted off-duty policeman", and that was about it.

Until, with a shock, I encountered an item which left me open-mouthed and which, if TV news and the national papers are on their toes, must surely soon become a hot topic throughout the country. I leave out the names, but here is the piece (honest, no kidding):

Wordsmiths are being invited to compete in a prophylactic poetry competition to win £50 in vouchers. [Our local] Primary Care Trust's chlamydia screening programme and [-]'s Pharmacy have joined forces to run the contest which covers two age groups. Young people aged between 16 and 25 are being asked to pen a poem using the word chlamydia, while over 25s are called upon to write a piece containing the word contraception, or a form of contraception.

There are several things to be said about this. For one thing, the rules are somewhat vague: Do they really mean any sort of poem, or do they want some verses which rhyme and/or scan? Must chlamydia be used in its proper context and refer to the infection or can it be treated as just a word? It would make things much easier if could be used as a proper name, so that you could submit a sentimental ode titled To Chlamydia, with a line similar to the one Ernest Dowson very nearly wrote: I have been true to thee, Chlamydia, in my fashion.

If it must be used as a medical term, on the other hand, then the poems would have to outline the bacteriological background, symptoms and treatment (what else is there to write about on this subject?), and references to C. trachomatis, purulent exudate and Azithromycin would have to be featured; these are very tricky things to work into even the loosest rhyming scheme or metre.

For the older competitors, contraception as a subject offers lots of possibilities, since no particular approach is specified. The poem could be lyrical, romantic, theologically controversial or merely practical. In the latter case, the various methods alone provide plenty to say; references to them in popular song go back to 1930, with Ira Gershwin's lyrics to I Got Rhythm.

This competition seems to me to be much more difficult than one I set before Christmas, and that attracted only five entries. Somehow the sponsors will have to ensure that there are at least two entries in their Prophylactic Poetry Contest, even if they have to write them themselves, for the winning poems are to be displayed at the town's main shopping centre on February 9th to mark National Contraceptive Awareness Week. Anyway, I shall not fail to be there to see how the young poets of the town have risen to the challenge.

A ray of light amid the gloom

Usually, I resist the easy option of creating a post by simply quoting or linking to a news item. Since the beginning of 2008, however, the news has been so uniformly depressing that I am happy to give everyone a lift by reporting this incident. It is a heart-warming tale of a narrow escape from danger, serving to remind us of the resourcefulness and courage of the youth of today and perhaps to make us all feel optimistic about the prospects for the coming year and more than ever confident that our island race still has a great deal to offer the world.

The BBC made a 300-word story of it, with an illustration, but a précis will suffice:

Mrs Marsey of Hartlepool is out for the day ... son and nephew are at home frying some bread ... they go to answer the door ... they come back, the pan is blazing ... fire threatens to engulf the house ... the brave lads find a pair of Mrs Marsey's giant knickers (size 18-20, M&S, £4.99) ... they wet them and throw them over the flames ... inferno is extinguished ... danger over, general rejoicing ... Mrs. M. says, "I think if they had been my daughter Sarah's skimpy knickers they wouldn't have done any good, I'm taking it all in my stride" ... Fire Brigade man says, "They did the right thing in the end. We advise everyone to get fire safety advice."

And, presumably, to keep a huge pair of knickers handy at all times.

Blow, blow, thou winter wind

...and don't stop in the summer.

From one of our bedroom windows we can just see a little white three-bladed thing on the roof of a house half a mile away.

A chain of DIY stores has been selling these wind turbines for £1500, and apparently they are being bought enthusiastically by people who either wish to slow down global warning and save a bit on their electricity bills, or hope it will impress the neighbours.

Either possibility seems over-optimistic; most people have read by now that unless you live on a storm-lashed promontory of the Outer Hebrides such a device is likely to provide barely enough power to run a hair-dryer, and will take at least a decade to pay for itself, meanwhile making a irritating noise and possibly shaking your house to pieces with its vibrations.

But the one we can see won’t cause much trouble of that kind: it doesn’t seem to be rotating. Perhaps it is a dummy, like those cast-iron cats people put on the roofs of country cottages.

Saddam not pleased with verdict

...but CNN.com had an even more arresting headline yesterday:
Silent plane would cut airport noise

and Grumio offered me another "Well, I never" headline, from BBC News Online:
Death row man 'glad to be home'

Environmentally responsible warfare

According to an absolutely serious, even po-faced, report in the Sunday Times yesterday:
BAE Systems, one of the world’s biggest arms manufacturers, is designing a new generation of ‘green’ munitions”, cutting out “dangerous compounds which can harm the environment and pose a risk to people"

Apparently, among the exciting possibilities under consideration are lead-free bullets, quieter warheads to reduce noise pollution, safer and sustainable artillery, biodegradable plastic for missiles, and grenades that produce less smoke. There have also been experiments to see if explosives can be turned into manure (before they are let off?)

Many will be reassured to learn of these initiatives, which should do much to improve the image of the arms manufacturers. Up to now they have been widely believed to be concerned only with finding better ways of killing people; it is good to know that they are developing ways of doing it quietly and without leaving toxic residues.

However, there is nothing new about the idea of conducting a battle without actually hurting anybody very much: back in the thirties Beachcomber came up with the concept of a powerful gas called Bracerot (nowadays it would be BraceRot, I suppose). In the event of an infantry attack, huge clouds of the gas would be blown towards the enemy troops and when it reached them their braces (or suspenders, if they were American) would quickly disintegrate, their trousers (or pants) would fall down round their ankles, and the advance would be brought to an ignominious halt.

How he would have enjoyed this!

It has recently been revealed that in some rural areas of China it has been common practice to hold a striptease show at funerals in order to boost the number of mourners, as large crowds are seen as a mark of honour. Sadly, local officials have ordered a halt to such “obscene performances” and arrested the leaders of five striptease troupes. A hotline has been opened for the reporting, for a reward, of “funeral misdeeds”.

Clearly the shows had always been successful in pulling in the crowds, following the principle expressed in a remark said to have been made at the hugely well-attended funeral of the Hollywood mogul Louis B Mayer*:
"It only proves what they always say—give the people what they want to see and they'll come out for it."

*(or possibly that of Harry Cohn, of whom Hedda Hopper said “You had to stand in line to hate him”.)

Pongs on tap

I know it’s lazy to publish a post containing a link to an item in a newspaper without any comment. However, I was much taken with a report about the development, by one Pambuk Samboon of the Tokyo Institute of Technology, of a device that can record a smell and play it back to you, but I have absolutely nothing to say about it.

I can’t even be bothered to name the source, since I have cited it or linked to it some 35 times in the last three years.

Industrial news

Football has been driven from everyone’s mind by an announcement from Luxembourg stating that the board of the pan-European steel group Arcelor will decide on Sunday whether to recommend acceptance of a takeover bid from Mittal Steel. Earlier in the week the Guardian had racked up the widespread excitement over this extraordinary development by illustrating their report with this picture.
Selecting it must have been difficult; clearly the Pictures Editor was keen to avoid the one usually used to enliven such news items, which shows a great bucket thing pouring out molten steel amid showers of sparks, and chose instead a low-key approach intended to intrigue readers, who will be asking themselves:
Who is this man? What's his game? Why is he wearing a fireproof smock and a hat clearly made from thin card? Is that a gleam of wry amusement in his eye or is he just fed up after a long day in the slag vats?
These questions will provoke heated argument in the pubs and clubs over this weekend while the huge plasma screens flicker unwatched.

How to get really really comfortable, Italian style

This idiotic picture was used on the front page of a travel supplement to illustrate an article on how Italians take their holidays.

Oxymoron

Adrian Leppard, assistant chief constable of Kent, has said that the £50 million raid on the cash depot in Tonbridge "had been planned and executed with military precision". Clearly, he has never been in the army.
Or perhaps he has, and is being sarcastic. He has also said "I've got no doubt in my mind we will catch these people", so he may believe that the apparent success of the robbery was only temporary, and that the operation was actually an FCMBU.
But note that at midday today, 28th February, there are only just over three days left to try for a bargain.
[Later note: This was a link to an item offered on eBay: 50 million pounds in used banknotes, complete with an illustration of the pile, with a note to the effect that it would interest someone who wouldn't ask too many questions. Last time I looked there were around twenty bids, with the highest £100,000 or so and then, after leaving it there for four days, dozy eBay woke up and killed it. All good clean fun.]

In Scotland they can say Not Proven

So, after nine years, one trial, two appeals, two retrials and five million pounds for our learned friends, Sion Jenkins has been acquitted of murdering his foster daughter Billie-Jo by beating her to death with an iron tent spike. There are some who still believe him to be guilty, but these are simple-minded people who cannot put out of their minds the facts that he is has been shown to be a violent and abusive liar and that there is no other suspect: shame on them.

We live less than a mile from where the murder took place, and in 2003 a TV company hired our house for a week to shoot some of the scenes for a play about the case. I was warned that this can be an unpleasant experience, but we did not find it so: the cast and crew were agreeable people (the actor who played Jenkins was a well-known heart-throb) and it was fun to watch it all happening; the money wasn’t bad, either.

Sadly, the play hasn’t been shown and now it probably won’t be. This means that, like my operatic career, my life in television is over before it could begin. During the shooting of a scene in the road outside the house I inadvertently wandered into shot when returning home, and was shouted at by the director. Now I shall never get the plaudits I would have earned for my subtly underplayed performance in the role of Man With Sainsbury’s Bag Crouching Behind Pillar.

Isn’t that Donald and Melania Trump over there?

I went to Valencia on business a few times in the sixties and don’t remember much about it except that you could eat paella in a sort of tent café on the beach.
It's different now: a cultural renaissance for the town is under way. The biggest opera house in Europe has just opened there (they already have a €400 million City of Arts and Sciences complex) and all this strikes me as a very good reason for going again. But they say it’s going to be “a magnet for up-market tourists”—a depressing thought—and certainly it will be best to get there well before the arrival of the “millionaire crowd expected when Valencia hosts the America’s Cup in 2007”.

A good send-off

Every so often a news story appears which confirms one's belief in the infinite richness and variety - and, ultimately, the inexplicability - of human conduct. This week's comes from Barnsley in South Yorkshire:
"Twenty-four police officers in riot gear using CS gas, five of them injured, nineteen people arrested, three pubs closed, traffic backed up for miles."
The occasion was a funeral......
It's often said half-jokingly by mourners but must have been true here: "How he would have loved this - what a pity he's missing it !".

Taxidriver, Mosul, January 2005

Crisis Pictures publish daily images of humanitarian emergencies worldwide that would not otherwise reach a broad audience. They select images that communicate the individual humanity behind overwhelming events, with the aim of promoting discussion and reflection based on individual conscience. They take no political stand, have no affiliations or commercial restraints, and do not print written content beyond limited identifying captions.

Northern lights

There are many websites offering pretty if slightly boring pictures of auroras and a few with gloating details of the Aurora’s aborted round-the-world luxury cruise.

But actually there is no reason for schadenfreude, since the passengers really did rather well out of it and it’s not surprising that few of them complained.

They will get their money back with a credit of 25% on top, and have had eleven days of what P G Wodehouse called excellent browsing and sluicing (16,626 bottles of wine, 1,246 bottles of spirits, 9,800 cocktails…).

But it wasn't all fun: the downside was that when they weren’t boozing or looking at the view of the Isle of Wight they were subjected to “a full programme of events” including entertainment from Jimmy Tarbuck, Paul Daniels and Elaine Paige, excursions to Portsmouth and “personal briefings by the managing director David Dingle, who climbed aboard twice every day to relay the latest news”.