Public Interest.co.uk

THE FLORIDA RECOUNT

Lest we ever forget.

Not that we're likely to, with guys like this around. This time it's British animal lover Richard Dawkins, falling at the first. Anyway, here's the gen:

"This is George Bush's war. His motives and his timing have an internal American rationale. Bush is so unswerving in his thirst for war that Saddam has even less incentive to disarm than Blair's paradox would suggest. Cowboy Bush is saying, in effect, "Stick your hands up, drop your weapons, and I'll shoot you anyway."

Hey, Dawk, go read Jonesy, you goon. Yeah, well it's all about oil and stuff.

"If Bush now wins a quick war, with few American casualties and no draft, he will triumph in the 2004 election".

Well not necessarily.

"Victory over Iraq will play well in Peoria".

Cos they're all morons in Peoria, you see.

"Those of us opposed to the war are sometimes accused of anti-Americanism".

I can't imagine why.

"I am vigorously pro-American, which is one reason I am anti-Bush. They didn't elect him, and they deserve better".

Well they did, actually.

"If, in a khaki election, Bush finally wins a term as President, decent Americans, intellectual Americans, American scholars, scientists, philosophers, engineers, writers, artists and, not least, American philanthropists, Americans with a great deal to contribute, are going to be looking for a civilised haven".

That's right. How about Baghdad?

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Fabled Bristolian socialist and Rousseau fanatic Chris "Genius" Bertram is about to celebrate his first anniversary and is out on the streets, showing his legs, trolling for hits. Curiously, he didn't mention MY bloggiversary when it fell a few weeks' back. And he gets a bigger hit count than me. And he doesn't have a comments section. But hey, pay him a visit.

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There comes a time in every desperate columnist's life when, short of anything else to write about, he starts to fantasise about the forthcoming electoral triumph of the Liberal Democrats. Now it's Simon Jenkins' turn.

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THE FLORIDA RECOUNT

Lest we ever forget.

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Ever wonder what your average poet, novelist, literary critic, screenwriter, and hairdresser thought the alternatives to war were? Me neither. But anyone interested in writing an ultrafisk ought to check these characters out. There's enough material here for an entire conference.

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Jackie Ashley, quick on the uptake as ever, has noticed that population rates are declining in your western civilisations, and draws a socialistic conclusion:

"If we want balanced demographic growth, we have to help people bring up babies without being excluded from the workplace".

We could, alternatively, make it illegal for women to work. Or criminalise contraception. Or guarantee a swimming pool and a packet of sweeties for every child born. Or we could decide that it doesn't really matter.

"In decently organised societies, population growth and economic growth go hand in hand".

Yes, but who wants to live in a decently organised society?

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"There has always been an unhealthy streak of anti-Americanism in the Labour Party", announces the Indy disapprovingly. I know. Shocking, isn't it?

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Portillo came on at the last minute to save the day. A portent, perhaps.

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On the other hand there are still goons like this one, knocking around:

"The people who want to attack Iraq are the politicians surrounding George Bush, the Enron orphans. The American people are fully aware of what is going on, and just as they managed to stop the war in Vietnam, they may, when no convincing explanations are forthcoming, manage to persuade Mr Bush's psychoanalyst to prescribe a sedative and put an end to this nightmare".

Marvellous stuff. I suppose the odd 'Some' or 'Many' would undermine the rhetoric, wouldn't it?

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Refreshing article in the Indy from Simon Carr, in which he discusses the forthcoming Desert Carnage:

"Just when I start to believe in the merits of going to war, I listen to Mr Blair and doubts creep in".

I agree. Considering that he's a lawyer he's a useless arguer. Yeah, he's the best of a bad bunch, and at least we haven't got some sleazebag like Chirac running things, but as to this war stuff, well it's all bluff. It's all very well saying that Resolution 1441 must be obeyed. Well it hasn't been. And if they meant it, then they should have invaded already. The Allies are undermining their own case by poncing around worrying about what the Frogs, Gerries and Russkies think. Screw'em. Unfortunately, they seldom say Saddam has actually breached the resolution because if they do, that begs the question: Then why haven't you done anything about it, then? Why are you still arguing?

Come on guys, get a grip.

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Anyway, so there I was, thinking about Deborah Orr. After all, considering she's both a liberal, and a feminist, well she's not completely unattractive, is she? And then it clicked. In the midst of her rant yesterday about the peace pixies, she said:

"I've also become increasingly more disgusted by the divisiveness of left-wing rhetoric: the simple-minded anti-Americanism (how not to win friends and influence people), the wilful damage that is done by the insistence that the war is being fought over oil (even if it was, what use would this stance have in talking the US down?), the playground level of the insults against the intelligence of Bush and Blair (they may not be the most original thinkers, but they're pretty bright); the heartless hard-left insistence that national sovereignty should always be respected (I thought the left was against life being a lottery – if so, then why is being born under a vicious dictatorship hard cheese?); and the hectoring insistence that only Palestinians, and never Israelis, are victims (yes, it's key that this situation should be sorted out, but again, is haranguing with such bias the way to win hearts and minds?)".

I see. So what kind of lily-livered, simple-minded anti-Americans does our Debs hang out with? And then I remembered: Do you recall this column, by the noted columnist, chatshow host, gameshow panelist, reformed heroin abuser, sesquipedelianistical novelist and art installation Will Self, who wrote back in November that:

"the American electorate resembles a crack head at the end of a particularly savage and protracted binge. Rather than face up to the fact that it's the biggest debtor nation in the world, and that it's fast squandering not only its own natural resources, but also all those of the rest of the Earth's inhabitants, crack-head America has decided to embark on another run".

Stern stuff, eh?

"Still, I can't really feel that angry with Dubya, or with any of his corrupt, self-seeking henchmen, or even with the paranoid, deluded American electorate, who are in search of another fleeting rush of imperialism".

I wrote a little thing about it then, as did Steven Personperson.

Well yes, you guessed it. Deborah Orr is married to Will Self. They must have interesting little chats over the cornflakes.

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Heard that nice Mr. Hague on the radio. What a star, he bestrode the world like a colossus, and we shall never see his like again. Apparently. Still, he should never have quit. As I understand it, he only did so because he could feel Portillo breathing down his neck, threatening all and sundry. Not a pleasant feeling, whatever your persuasion.
Incidentally, he tells me he can no longer update his blog. Oh, he's tried all right. But if you leave it long enough, they seem to go dead. Oh well. Perhaps he'll have to go back to politics, after all.

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"Q: How many Frenchmen does it take to defend Paris?

A: No one knows, they've never tried".

Deborah Orr, in the Indy. Yes, that Deborah Orr.

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Best analysis of the latest Tory troubles comes from William Rees-Mogg. IDS might be a pillock, but Portillo has got a serious ego problem. He's a man who'd rather be leader of the Tory Opposition than in power, but merely Chancellor of the Exchequer. People like that are a waste of time and he and his acolytes must be culled.
Regarding the current IDS problem, well here's a thing. A week before the last election, and things weren't looking all that rosy for our William. I was chatting about this with a friend of mine who came up with a doomsday scenario to save the great man. Go on TV, and announce a new plan of action. If he wins the next election, he'd have a referendum on the Euro within six months, and then, if the public voted against, he would then have another referendum, again within six months, on whether the UK should stay in the EU. Then, six months later, he would hold a general election.
This might yet have to be applied by IDS. It would smoke out Clarke and the Europhiles, and it would get the Sun onside, and a fair coterie of socialist anti-EU dudes would find themselves, just the once, voting Tory. It's a bit of a Hail Mary, but when you're down by six points and it's fourth and goal at your own goal line and there's only two seconds on the clock, there is no point in punting.
On the whole I tend to disapprove of politicians, especially those in opposition, having policies. Not only are they divisive, but they might actually either have to be put into practice, or they might have to be changed. When Colin Powell was being mooted as a potential President, and likewise Ross Perot, they were much more popular when they affected integrity and competence. As soon as they came off the fence and had an opinion on anything they alienated all those who disagreed with said opinion. The same goes for both Blair,and Thatcher. Just before they were elected, they just shut up and let the governments destroy themselves. And when they did write manifestos, the swing voters just ignored them. Same with Charles Kennedy and his merry band of vegetarian Europhiles. The vast majority of people who vote Liberal Democrat disagree quite violently with their policies. Red Ken? How many people voted for him because of the Congestion Charge? How many knew it was policy?
Obviously you need to say something, have a strategy, but why write all this stuff down? Only if they are very popular, are held by the vast majority of the MPs, and are opposed by the Government then I think there may be a case for them.But these are thin on the ground.
This clearly should have been the Hague strategy, and was to a degree, IDS'. But one of the problems with political people - journalists, activists, bloggers, is that they tend to see things in political terms, whereas the masses basically don't give a damn. It's all about personalities, and a bit of morality thrown in just to make them feel superior every now and again. A bit of snooty disdain, a bit of integrity, and a sorrowful attitude that 'I'm afraid that the present lot basically mean well, but they just aren't up to it'is all that is required from your average leader of the opposition. But now Portillo is forcing the pace, and desperate measures are called for. Go on IDS, throw that football!

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Or maybe this explains it. I should have been able tell from their hairy buttocks.

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"The French President is an unscrupulous, conniving, preening, lying, cheating hypocrite".

Can't say fairer than that. Also, in the Sun, Richard Littlejohn discusses spooning and the NHS. You couldn't make it up.

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Stephen Pollard had his toes curled, and it didn't do much for mine either. IDS gave a radio performance yesterday that was positively Kinnockian. Clearly, only one man can save the Tories now, the Best Prime Minister We Never Had, who has an article in the Guardian today. He also writes a mighty fine blog.

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"Female baboons' cries during sex are longer and livelier when their partner is a higher-ranking male, researchers have discovered".

Announces the New Scientist. I'm afraid this tallies with my own experience. The number of times I've been out boozing in Baker Street and come eleven o'clock at night I have decided to climb over the railings at London Zoo for a bit of rumpy-pumpy, only to find myself doing the dirty with a baboon and getting absolutely no reaction. I could be pumping away like a piston and the surly primate doesn't even bother to stifle a yawn. However, dress up as a cop, or as a captain of industry, or even as a Church of England vicar, and the critters are squirming like toads.
Orang-utans are different, though: they'll do it with anyone and be grateful for the privilege.

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Timothy Garton Ash, in the Guardian:

"We have seen the first casualties of this war already. They are: truth, the western alliance and European unity. Today, let's mourn European unity".

And tomorrow? Let's boogie!

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"Little in British life is so unattractive as the spiteful tantrums of the rightwing elite when denied a kill".

announces the Wanker.

"The more they fear their war is slipping away from them, the more these leather-elbowed armchair warriors vent a bilious resentment. Opponents of war have in recent days been called wicked, naive, cowardly, ignorant, malevolent, unpatriotic and (a new one, this) "disrespectful of Arabs". They are accused of anti-semitism and anti-Americanism; of betraying Iraqis; of being "Saddam's useful idiots" and Chamberlain-style appeasers; and of reckless immorality. The sheer desperation of this verbal violence suggests, against all the odds, that British democracy is working and that the case for war may be foundering on its own contradictions. All the same, these frustrated, hate-filled ranters should knock it off. By exacerbating, exaggerating and exploiting Britain's divisions at a moment of great national difficulty, it is they who give comfort to the enemy".

"verbal violence", eh? "leather-elbowed armchair warriors", eh? "frustrated, hate-filled ranters", eh? Whatever... However, let's cut through this. First, he's saying this proves "democracy is working", then he says this gives "comfort to the enemy". QED Democracy gives comfort to the enemy. Or maybe the writer thinks that if us warmongers all just shut up and went on Peace Marches that would really put the wind up old Saddam. Or maybe whoever wrote this didn't really have a clue.

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"We are a biological weapon".

Yes, Moonbat's back with his latest conspiracy theory: American distaste for Iraq is driven by the fact that those crazy Yankees have got too much money and are looking for new places to invest it. Well, it's a point of view. I do think, though, that it's time Rusbridger too him to one side and told him that there is a law of diminishing returns regarding this arresting opening sentence mallarkey and he passed it a few years' back. Meanwhile Fisky thinks it's all about mice. Or cheese. Or something. Well I've been complaining about the pesky rodents for ages, but even I don't think they threaten the whole damn world. Crazed paranoiacs both. What the hell Aaronovitch thinks of these guys doesn't bear thinking about.

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"But, you know, you only live once. Why not offend as many people as possible?"

Tobacco-loving fox-hunter Roger Scruton explains his recipe for a quiet life, to a rather dashing Kris Kristofferson-lookalike.

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By the way, anyone interested in the developing story of AN Wilson's idiocy ought to go and check the links over at Stephen Pollard's site. Things have come to a pretty pass when a comic novelist finds himself to be quoting a Holocaust denier with enthusiasm, but that's how things have got thus far. His whole Evening Standard archive has disappeared as well.

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The conscies are having a high old time of it today. Two weeks ago in the Wanker, Madeleine Bunting was predicting:

"This is the beginning of the end of the American empire: it has failed to focus on its true enemy, terrorism; failed to grasp how asymmetric terror transforms the power relationships of the globe; and is choosing instead to indulge itself in an old-fashioned war between nation states - an irrelevant, costly and dangerous sideshow".

Today it's Tony's turn:

"Blair will never be forgiven. A tragic end to a good prime minister who was swept to power on a promise that "things will only get better".

The Indy likewise links a fatuous question with a similar prediction:

"How can the world be a safer place when the US is perceived to be – and indeed is – a power untrammelled by international law, world opinion or global institutions? So long as Mr Blair is Mr Bush's unconditional ally, the price of leadership and the cost of conviction of which he spoke at the weekend could be high".

The Mirror even claims that plans are afoot to oust the PM at the next Labour Conference.

Well I beg to differ. This is what we cynics call wishful thinking. Much as I would like to see Mr Blair deposed I think this is all a load of baloney. Consider this an alternative scenario: The UN passes another resolution, Iraq doesn't play ball, the bombs fall on Baghdad, a couple of months later Saddam gets a bullet in his head from one of his generals, Iraq is liberated, and it's over. Bush rides high in the polls, while back in Blighty Clare Short and a few of the hard left peaceniks have long since resigned, much to Blair's delight. He never liked them anyway. The Independent and the Guardian print leaders saying that victory is all down to them, and Blair's position in the Labour Party is strengthened. Come the Party Conference in September, Iraqis who haven't been home for twelve years are tearfully paraded on the platform and Blair is feted as the saviour of Iraq. The sentimental left love nothing better than losing battles while having their consciences massaged, and this will be another example thereof.

Game over, Blair the winner.

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So how was White Flag Saturday for you? We managed to avoid most of it, spending the early part in Dorset, but, driving back through Kensington there they were: the peaceniks, the towelheads and the Quakers. An hour earlier we had gone past Twickenham too, where the Limeys were beating the crud out of the garlic-eaters from across the Channel. Well, I know who I'd rather be in a foxhole with. For some in Britain, it will always be about oil, the rich will always be getting richer, pensioners will always be starving in their council houses, and schools and hospitals will always be underfunded. Perry has the photos, and David the text, if you can stomach it. However, I find it hard to get too depressed about these weirdoes. It's worth mentioning that earlier in the morning 70 thousand people paid over twenty pound a head to watch Manchester United play Arsenal, in a game covered live on television, and a similar number paid even more to watch England beat the French at rugby. Again, you could watch all this from the comfort of your armchair. So is three quarters of a million people with bellies as yellow as a field full of daffodils enjoying a day out in the smoke such a big deal? Mary Riddell in the Observer tries to make a case that this is some kind of 'defining moment':

"The age of apathy stops here", she announces.

"Some are too young to remember the Cold War. What unites them is anger against Bush and Blair, but mainly Blair.
Everyone I talk to says that he will not have their vote again. It is odd to think that these are the sloths who could not be prised from their armchairs when elections rolled round".

which means they never voted last time, either, and means that their opinions, so long as they refrain from voting, are irrelevant. These goons, according to Riddell, would rather go on a march than bother to vote. So it's all about posturing; making a real, practical difference us is beyond them. And we're supposed to be impressed?

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"The potential victims of the war on terrorism are easy to imagine, impossible to number".

announces a feverish Jackie Ashley.

"They include ordinary Iraqi families who just happen to live in the wrong town, or the wrong block of flats; the unknowing, relaxed passengers of a 747 arriving at Heathrow, or any European airport; vilified asylum seekers on the streets; and equally innocent Americans going about their daily business anywhere in the world. It is quite a list".

Indeed. Yet I've got a premonition there's one left you're holding out on us here, Jackie.

"But we should add one more potential victim: progressive, liberal politics itself".

Of course some of us might think that were a good thing.

"Al-Qaida has killed enough people; we mustn't let them kill the centre-left as well".

All other political philosophies are fair game, no doubt, but the 'centre-left'... leave it out, Osama!

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Which journalist is a pillock? Answer: A.N. Wilson. Which journalist looks like a ponce? Answer: A.N. Wilson. Which journalist sounds like a ponce? Answer: A.N. Wilson. Which journalist wrote an article a good fifteen years ago denouncing journalism, and promising to go back to the preferred option of writing novels? Answer: A.N. Wilson. Which journalist didn't? Answer: A.N. Wilson.

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"Allow me, please, to go all womanly on you".

Er, well if it's all the same to you, Yazza, please don't.

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The world's most beautiful lesbian Sam Fox ain't so cool, after all, reports a former lover. Oh well, all our idols have breasts of clay, don't they?

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Yes, So I've been ill. And believe me, there's nothing to be said for it. There's been none of that 'reassessing where I'm going with my life' stuff, I tell you. No, it's been why can't I breathe? When will it end? Will it end? Give me some pills. The symptoms? Breathlessness, grogginess, headaches, earaches, bone aches ( all of them - teeth, ankles, included ). Sore throat, decongestions, dehydration, fever, and then some. I've lost half a stone in three days. My forehead has been so hot you could fry an egg on it. Yet I've never felt so cold.
Still, I feel better now. Last night, I actually slept. And I haven't run out of things to say. Because I have watched a lot of television recently.

Ten things I didn't know before I watched tv this week:

1. Multiracial singer Michael Jackson is seriously weird. Doesn't he ever get moments of reflection where he suddenly thinks, "boy I am weird"? That is the question we needed answering.

2. Pint-sized singer and former topless model Sam Fox enjoys a bit of girl and girl action. Well if she's a lesbian, let there be more! Actually, she's a feisty little thing and I couldn't but warm to her.

3. Sam Fox is a natural brunette. I found this even more surprising. If you've got it, baby, flaunt it.

4. Jimmy White is still a master of the green baize. He's my age, and like me, is left-handed. There the similarity ends, but I do identify with him, and the way he took five games in a row off slaphead Peter Ebdon was a hell of a thing. It wasn't pretty, but he won!

5. The rehabilitation of Garry Glitter continues apace. In 'Happiness', the tv series starring the rubber-faced comedian Paul Whitehouse, much use was made of Rock and Roll Part Two. Before we know it, he'll be chatting on the sofa with Richard and Judy, talking about how he's put all his past troubles behind him, and that he's come out of it all a better person.

6. Robert Wyatt is a great singer. I caught him doing 'I'm a Believer' yesterday, rocking away in his wheelchair. I've occasionally wondered whether he uses his wheelchair the same way Wacko Jacko uses his white gloves, just as a showbiz prop, and that as soon as the cameras are off he's off running marathons in under three hours. Still he's my favourite rocker. He could do a crushing version of the Robbie William classic, Feel, I reckon.

7. Courtroom dramas are boring. All that 'strike it from the record' 'objection sustained- overruled!' crap. And as for, 'I'm warning you Mr. Goonsburg, if I have one more intervention like that from you again I'll have you up for contempt of court'. Stop it. Now.

8. Humanity is wasting time and effort trying to save the panda. We'd be better off saving bugs, bacteria, and the like. But pandas are cuddlier.

9 Saddam Hussain is not only the world's most evil dictator, he is also the world's most boring. Yeah, I know he was speaking in Iraqian, and it may have lost something in translation, but still and all, liven it up a bit. Tell us some jokes. "Yes, Michael, that reminds me of the time I was in Hollywood with Jimmy Stewart". Or something.

10. The most distressing thing I learned this week is that Tony Benn has one of the biggest egos in British public life. I really want to like the old boy. Lots of Tories hold a strange affection to the ageing leftie, and when I read the last volume of his diaries he came across as a very decent, generous fellow. He had nice things to say about Thatcher, Tebbit and Major. He denounced Stephen Byers, said he wouldn't trust Gordon Brown to do his photocopying, and described Hugo Young as 'intolerably pompous', so clearly he is a man of major psychological perceptions. But I'm afraid I just can't take it anymore. Whenever I see him interviewed these days - and that means about the last twenty years or so- he never answers the completely innocuous first question, and goes off into a rant about how he and his view is never taken seriously, that the BBC and Channel Four is all part of the same cunning plot by the 'Establishment' to drive us to war, and that more time should be given to real debate. Telling this sort of thing to dyed in the wool liberals like Jim Naughtie is guaranteed to wind them up and inevitably turns the whole thing into a slanging match. Of course, if he actually bothered to answer the questions he's have the real debate he always yearns for. Instead it always ends in him declaiming his foes for not giving him enough time. So why does he do it? Doesn't he have any friends who can tell him to knock it off? Likewise, when he launches into some fatuous little story about how he has eleven grand-children, three of who are black, two American, one gay, and nine crippled, and that he went into politics to try and stop wars from happening are any of us supposed to be impressed? No, it seems to me that he despises people who disagree with him so much that he can't be bothered to argue with him. He doesn't answer the questions because he thinks they are beneath him. Tony is the grand repository of wisdom, and anyone who can't see that is a poor misguided fool, at best, and at worst, a devious crook. This puts all the amiability of the diaries into perspective, I feel. He likes people who like him back. It can't really have taken much effort for John Touchy-Feely Major to ask him "'By the way, how's Caroline?' Easy enough, and all that was required for Benn to go rushing back to his tape recorder to report how delightful a chap the Prime Minister was. The guy's a disgrace, I'm afraid.

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Happy birthday to me,
Happy birthday to me.
Happy Birthday, Public Interest,
Happy Birthday to me.

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I suppose they've got their uses but I really wouldn't want to live in one.

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Yes, the liberation of David Aaronovitch continues. Aside from being airbrushed from the Indy's history - try linking to him there, you can't - now that he's joined the Wanker he's in favour of the forthcoming desert carnage. When he was at the Indy, he was against. From this piece, I really can't see what has changed his mind.

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MY FIRST WANK

by David Aaronovitch.

This piece starts inside the sordid mind of a liberal journalist, one evening at the Barnsley Middle-Class Trotskyites Women's Workshop, back in the early Fifties. There are five people there, earnestly discussing the plight of the miners, and one of them was feeling slightly horny. That, dear reader, was me. Of course, I didn't know it then, after all, I was a chubby-faced 13 year old, deeply concerned about unemployment, racism, and the rising tide of the multinationals. But the problem wouldn't go away. I had, for want of a better word, a boner.
You may laugh. But sex, then, was a thing of mystery.
This was before the Beatles, even before Philip Larkin, and we were a repressed bunch of people then, we Cliff Richard-listening Englishmen, bowler-hatted commuters all, living in the MacMillan Never Had It So Good Era, where women knew their place, and social cohesion was oppressive ( especially if you were black, or coloured as I am ashamed to admit we used to say ) and sex was a dirty word.
Anyway, I made my excuses, disappeared to the Gents, and relieved myself.
It was, as they say, a seminal moment. For in that moment, I felt great waves of compassion for the oppressed of the world that has never left me. I also conjured up from the dark recesses of my imagination, not only the pristine figure of Betty Page, but the Duke himself, John Wayne.
It was an early warning that sex isn't just to be done in the sad confines of the marital bed. Sex is a mystery.
What has this got to do with the War on Iraq? Fuck knows, but now I write for the Wanker, they expect me to pump this sort of crap out, day and night.
However, one thing remains with me now. A deep love for Big John, and by extension, an affectionate feeling for the good people of America. Sure, they may be oil-hungry cowboys, sure they are led by someone who stole the election and looks like a monkey, hellbent on a war he cannot possibly win, that will destroy the European Union, cause massive distrust in the Arab World, and put back the cause of feminism twenty years, but he has a disarming self-mocking quality that I cannot be alone in my age group in finding attractive.
When one looks at Britain today, what with the rising hysteria directed against Islamophobes, fox-hunters, paedophiles, petrol-protesters, and asylum seekers, I often think, what a great time it was back then.
And then I head for the Gents.

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Seven astronauts die. Still, according to the Indy, there's always a bright side:

"There can be no harm, in the present world situation, in the US coming to terms with the idea of limits to its power".

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Sometimes the Labour Party are right on the money. Not the British Labour Party, of course.

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