A Writer's Thoughts

Lady Di worthier than 'Wacko Jacko'?

Thu, 21 Jan 2010 11:54:00 -0500

It seems that, at last, one can now walk into a shop without it being inevitable that the music being piped around the store is by Michael Jackson. While it’s not been unknown for me to buy his music, there is only so long that you can listen to the same tracks ad nauseum (which is also why it’s a mercy when Christmas is over).

Having said this I was genuinely disturbed at the fact that, within a week of Jackson being dead, satirists on the BBC and elsewhere were already making jokes at his expense. Some were very cruel, others less so, but I couldn’t help feeling that some respect should be reserved for the dead.

By contrast, I remember the outrage there was when Rory Bremner did an impression of the deceased Lady Diana (If I remember rightly she was enjoying spending time with Versace in the afterlife), several months after her death. Arguably it wasn’t in the best taste but certainly a lot better than many of the jokes about Jackson.

Why these double standards? I know some will argue that Lady Di was a great philanthropist whereas ‘Wacko Jacko’ was, at best, always a bit odd (and, at worst, there were those molestation allegations that seemed to dog him). But are we then saying that we grant people dignity on the basis of what they’ve achieved? To some degree I can understand this; those who’ve touched many lives in a positive way will naturally attract more praise. But shouldn’t there be some basic level of respect that all people deserve in death?

There is a side issue here and that is, whoever people are, at what point does it become right to make jokes about them after their death? Obviously we make jokes about great disasters in human history (be they Black Death or the Great Fire of London or the Norman Conquest) because they are so distant from us and many generations lie between us and those who experienced them (thinking of Monty Python’s ‘Bring out your dead’ from The Holy Grail, which still makes me chuckle). But if someone were to make a joke about the recent earthquake in Haiti we’d think they were sick. Yet is what’s being suffered by the people of Haiti now any worse than what happened in Europe when the Black Death swept through? Funny what a difference a few centuries make.

And there are some jokes that should never be told. Referring back to jokes about Michael Jackson, a number of jokes made about him in life were distasteful too. These become even worse when told at the graveside. It’s one thing telling a funny story about a dead friend we remember fondly; it’s another when we’re being cruel and unfeeling, just using another for a cheap laugh.

As so often, there are probably no clear cut answers on this one. But I think it is always the duty of anyone telling a joke, be it professionally or just to a friend down the pub, to think about the spirit in which we tell it, particularly when it’s about those who are no longer able to defend themselves.

Words have a lot more power than we think.

Forget Christmas; bring on Winterfest!

Tue, 05 Jan 2010 11:23:00 -0500

I think I can just squeeze in a Christmas related post (seeing as we’re only on the eleventh day of Christmas)!

I realise this year that I’ve undergone a change in my views on Christmas. Hitherto I have bemoaned the fact that people no longer remember ‘the reason for the season’, railed against cards wishing ‘Happy Holidays/Season’s Greetings’, ranted at Christmas pop being more prevalent than Christmas carols and wailed about Father Christmas (or rather ‘Santa’) being the most recognised symbol of Christmas.

A couple of incidents have led to me rethinking what I think on the matter. The first was group of friends railing about some town in the tabloids which was proposing changing the name ‘Christmas’ to ‘Winterfest’ (or some similar trite ‘blah’ name). My friends were up in arms, complaining about undermining our Christian heritage for the sake of political correctness. In essence, I agreed. But here’s the rub: none of said friends would describe themselves as Christian (one is a proud atheist) or followers of Jesus. I found myself puzzling about what it was they valued so much about their ‘Christian heritage’.

A few weeks later another friend (of whom I am very fond, I hasten to add) was complaining because, at a Christmas Church service, one of the people leading the service had shared about what a difference knowing Jesus had made in their life. They complained that they hadn’t gone to Church for all that emotional nonsense. Surprisingly they made little response when I asked if the reason we celebrate Christmas wasn’t the fact that Jesus had come to make a difference in our lives.

I still hate ‘Happy Holidays’. I still groan when Slade come on the radio. I still wish that Christ, rather than Santa was central to Christmas. For my part I intend to try to keep Christ as the focus of my Christmasses. And I hope and pray that more people would do the same. But if people want the Christmas trappings (tree, stockings, snow, reindeer, etc) without Christ why don’t they call it Winterfest or Winterval or whatever? At least it would be more honest. Seriously, I keep wanting to ask ‘What on earth are you celebrating?’ It’s like organising a birthday party for someone and then forgetting to ask the birthday boy/girl to attend; just call it a party then and do away with the pretence.

However, for my part, I wish you all a very Merry Christmas (all twenty-four hours of it).

P.S. And where Christmas pop’s concerned, I look forward to seeing Rage Against the Machine’s ‘Killing in the Name of’ on ‘Best of Christmas’ compilations in future years (Best Christmas no. 1 of my lifetime, that’s for sure!).

Honestly, let's have sex.

Fri, 09 Oct 2009 07:00:00 -0400

According to the eighties romcom, ‘When Harry met Sally’, the majority of women have faked orgasm at some point during sex. Now, I am not about to take this as rock solid fact: I have no idea where the writer of the film got their figures from or even if they just made it up on the spot (and, either way, we are talking 20 years ago in another country).

But, my point is, how awful it is that anyone does fake orgasm. I know some will talk about protecting fragile male egos here (not that I’d know anything about fragile male egos!) but surely to fake anything is to go contrary to the whole point of sex.

In ancient Hebrew the phrase used of having sex was ‘to know’ someone. Therein, I think, lies the rub. The act of love making is, at heart, about knowing and being known. It is laying oneself bare before someone and saying ‘Here I am, all of me. I’m holding nothing back, good, bad, the ugly. Take me as I am.’ To be dishonest, to hold something back, is to miss the whole point. This is why the commitment of a loving relationship is so important as the context for sex: why do you want to open up on that sort of level if you don’t know that the other person is going to stick around?

Incidentally, this is where I have some reservations over the part of role play and costumes in love making. I am not whole heartedly condemning it (there is an argument about fun and playfulness to be made, I’m sure) but if someone is deliberately trying to be someone else in the act of making love, how honest is that being? (As I say, I’m not trying to make a definitive pronouncement here; as so often, I’m sure much depends on heart attitude).

So many popular magazines offer a raft of advice on ‘how to have the most amazing sex ever’. In almost every case they focus solely on the technicalities of the act. I have yet to read any magazine which talks about honesty and heart attitude.

Perhaps if they did, people might not rush into sex so mindlessly.

Birthday Honours

Thu, 03 Sep 2009 10:36:00 -0400

My Dad was recently made a Member of the British Empire in the Queen’s birthday honours. I’ve been wanting to write about my family for a while now and this seems a good excuse.

Obviously, I’m proud of my Dad for this (though, to be honest, I see the honour as belonging to both my parents. Their calling and work is intimately intertwined). Indeed, I’ve been very proud (though perhaps in the wrong sense) to belong to a family which has now received honours from the Crown for at least three centuries in a row.

And yet, what does it mean, really? So you get a title for doing something worthy. So what? I mean no disrespect to either my Dad or our forebears but, really, so what? There are many people who do incredibly selfless and serving things without recognition-is someone who gets a gong somehow worth more?

There is an argument for honours, I know, and if someone tried to abolish them I’m sure I’d come up with an argument for why they’re important. My Dad did ask me if I had any objection to him accepting the award and I couldn’t think of any. But, frankly, I don’t think any more of him for getting it.

Does this make me a terrible, disrespectful son? I might well be one of those but not for this. You see, I am proud of my Mum and Dad, fiercely proud (in a better sense). I could not ask for better parents.

My parents have lived through numerous war zones, they have been held hostage, they have had attempted terror attacks made against them, they have both battled serious life threatening diseases, they have been slandered, they have been accused of being spies, they have been accused of being power grabbing, they have been deported, threatened with execution and much more besides. Am I proud of them because of this? No. I’m proud because they could have avoided all of this (perhaps not the disease but the treatment might have been much easier) and yet, for the sake of others, they were willing to suffer.

And yet they make light of it all. My Mum said to me a couple of weeks ago ‘Panic isn’t known in this household’; and that’s absolutely true. My parents have got this wonderful ability to stay cool and laugh things off. It’s not because they don’t care. On the contrary, I’m humbled by how their hearts bleed for complete strangers. But there is a recognition that they cannot carry fears and worries with them, that they have to let them go.

I could go on about the qualities of my parents: their generosity, their patience, their encouragement, their hope, their joy, wisdom, self-control, humour. But the one thing I really want to highlight is their love of their Lord and God, Jesus Christ. They have poured themselves out for the sake of the broken and the hurting but all of that, ultimately, has been for Him. That is also, ultimately, why I’m proud to be part of this family with its heritage. Yes, it’s nice to be able to say that my great-great-grandfather was a knight (though I suppose it’s showing off to say that) but I’m far more proud of my relative who was clubbed to death in the South Pacific while trying to tell people that Jesus loved them.

Maybe that sounds strange to some people. But that is the true measure of character, being willing to die for the One you love. I’m very grateful for the fact that my parents have not had to go that far but there is no shadow of a doubt that they would be willing to make that sacrifice, as have so many of my family over at least the last two centuries.

As for me, I just want to bring honour to this family and, specifically, to my parents. I’m conscious that the things I do and achieve reflect on them, either to their shame or their glory. And I want to bring them glory.

Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel pressure or obligation from them on this. They have made clear that, if I never amounted to anything more than a bog cleaner, they would still love me completely. But I want to honour them in what I do.

But much more than that, I want to honour the One they honour. It’s ultimately for Him that I do everything-again, not out of duty but because He loves me no matter what and I want to do everything possible to show that I love Him. And I know that that is the best way that I can honour my parents.

Safeguarding Fears

Thu, 07 May 2009 12:06:00 -0400

Last Monday I took our dog on a leisurely walk by the Thames. It was a delightful Bank Holiday Spring morning. Several people were out enjoying the sunshine.

Two of these people were a pair of girls, probably around the eleven-year-old mark. They were ‘oohing’ and aahing’ over the baby ducklings, paddling to keep up with their feathered parents. When they (the girls) saw our dog they immediately turned their attention to her, falling on her without invitation (which the dog loved). They proceeded to tell me about their own dogs and about how they were out enjoying the day. Their joy in life and nature was really a beautiful thing to see and I appreciated my brief conversation with them.

And yet the experience was marred by a little voice in my head: the voice of youth work training, the voice of Safe to Grow guidelines and Safeguarding Courses-the voice, in short, which said: ‘man on his own with a puppy talking to two minors-get out of here, you fool, get out!’ There’s even part of me right now that’s thinking ‘Should I even be writing about this incident on my blog?’

I have nothing to hide. I had not the slightest malicious or improper intention towards those two girls. I was in a public place with people passing by. But I’ve been so conditioned now never to be alone with young people, seen too many cases where people have been ruined by false accusations, that I didn’t feel I could enjoy an innocent chat with these two girls.

I believe that young people should be protected. There are some very disturbed individuals out there who want to do some very sick things to young people. It’s right to be sensible and careful.

But it’s not right to be ruled by fear, which is what Twentieth Century Britain is rapidly giving itself over to. In my opinion much of the safeguarding guidelines are not about protecting young people but about protecting adults from false accusation. Something has gone badly wrong. In protecting ourselves, what are we denying children?

To take one example, the official advice I’ve received when I do voluntary youth is to never touch a child, even when there are other youth workers with me. In other words, if a child falls over and cries, I shouldn’t comfort them by putting an arm around their shoulder-not if I want to be safe.

I’m sure there’s room for these things to be abused and we need to be sensible-but where is common sense in the midst of governmental guidelines? What have we sacrificed while trying to protect ourselves?

Because my fear is that, in all this, the key thing we’re communicating to young people is just that: fear.

A Sense of Perspective

Fri, 01 May 2009 10:04:00 -0400

It’s always important to keep things in perspective.

This week I heard a BBC interview with a lady who had to cancel her honeymoon to Mexico due to the swine flu outbreak there.

Now I appreciate that having to cancel one’s honeymoon plans at short notice is annoying. In anyone’s book, this would be a pain in the backside, especially as the lead up to a wedding is usually fraught enough. However, this was not a cancellation because the hotel had messed up her booking or baggage handlers were on strike. This was a cancellation because there is a virus out there which has already killed almost two hundred people in Mexico.

The woman shared how she was ‘devastated’ and that ‘she could never get that time back.’ Again, yes, this isn’t pleasant. But, at the end of the day, there are several nice places in the UK where you could book a place to spend a honeymoon at short notice which would be more than covered by the insurance money (And to be honest, how much time do you really spend sight seeing on your honeymoon?)

But the people who are really ‘devastated’ are those who have lost loved ones to swine flu. Time with them is time they truly will never get back.

I waited through the interview for some acknowledgement of that-a ‘Yes, this is really disappointing but nothing compared to what people in Mexico are suffering.’ But no. To be charitable, maybe she did say something like that and it was edited out but it didn’t sound like it was going that way.

Why is it that, in one of the most privileged nations on earth, we seem to be so unaware of what we have?

Violence on Screen

Fri, 13 Feb 2009 07:06:00 -0500

I’ve been having an inner conversation with myself about this ever since October when my sister-in-law walked out of an episode of ‘Spooks’ because she found it too violent. This is fair enough; I often feeling like walking away from things on the telly (which is one of the reasons why we don’t have a licence). However, it made me ask a lot of questions of myself about whether I’ve simply become desensitised to violence and about what role violence should play on the screen.

In theory I have no problem with violence on screen being repulsive. In some ways, I wish more people did behave like my sister-in-law. Violence is not a nice thing. But it happens. I don’t have a problem with violence being portrayed as it is. Personally I’m a big fan of the new Bond films starring Daniel Craig; partly because the violence is unpleasant. Not that I’m glorying in the violence. But I’d much rather that than the Bond of yesteryear who happily killed left, right and centre, his victims looking cartoonesque. Real violence is not like that; it is horrible and any proper depiction of violence should repulse.

If people don’t want to watch that, I don’t blame them. But I don’t have a problem with violence being portrayed as it is; I have a problem with it being seen as something casual with no consequences (in the same way as I take issue with most of the depictions of sex on screen; something free and fun without any consequences, regardless of whom one sleeps with).

Obviously there should be some point to the violence. I would question why anyone wanted to see a film which consisted of nothing else.

To me one of the best portrayals of violence is, funnily enough, in ‘Spooks’ (Series 3, episode 5, I think). In it Danny, one of the MI5 agents, has to kill for the first time. The kill itself is very peaceful (he injects a man in his sleep) but the entire episode is taken up with the effects on Danny. We see his immense struggles to summon up the will power to carry out the kill, his inner battles as he befriends his victim and the awful realisation afterwards of what he’s done. I can’t think of a better depiction that I’ve seen of just what it means to take the life of another (except possibly ‘Gallipoli’, starring Mel Gibson). Yes, there’s violence, yes, it should be hard to watch, but you come away with a far deeper appreciation of just what life means; and of the dreadful consequences for the moral well being of those who take life callously.

This leaves me with an internal dilemma: ‘300’. It is not a good film. The storyline and characters are unimaginative. But the battle scenes are superbly done and I enjoyed watching them. They are bloody, they are gratuitous, but they were also, in the way they were filmed, beautiful. So why did I enjoy them, when I can be so repulsed by other violent scenes (I think of the scene in ‘Platoon’ where an innocent peasant’s skull is smashed open. You see nothing, it’s all out of shot, and yet it makes me want to be sick)?

Why? Because those being killed were, again, cartoonesque (To be fair, ‘300’ is shot as a graphic novel; the main thing it has going for it in my opinion). The violence isn’t ‘real’ so I don’t feel affected by it.

And that makes me uncomfortable. As uncomfortable as I feel when I take for granted that characters in films can hop from one sexual partner to the other without consequence. I simply accept the moral framework of the film (‘You aren’t meant to be thinking that hard about it, Tim’) and let things which should offend me slip by. In the moral framework of ‘300’ (as with the older Bond films) you simply accept that characters are cardboard cut outs to be blown away/decapitated at will.

Should that bug me?

Pre-Six Nations Thoughts

Thu, 05 Feb 2009 12:03:00 -0500

Well, it’s that time of year again: The 2009 Six Nations begins this weekend. So here’s my thoughts, for what they’re worth (probably not terribly original but there we are).

Wales go in as the bookmaker’s favourites to retain the title, for the time in probably decades. Being favourite is a dangerous tag to have but, if Wales are serious (and I think they are) in their stated aim of being the world’s best then they need to get used to that label. And, to be fair, that label has been fairly earned. Their performances have only improved since winning the Grand Slam last year, pushing the All Blacks and South Africa hard and beating Australia, better results than any of the other Northern Hemisphere sides (result in their current world ranking of 5th; again, better than the rest of the NH).

But it’s not enough for Wales to be the best in the NH any more, not if they want to be the best, not if they want to win the World Cup. Can they win the Gram Slam again? Certainly (though there’s no such thing as a dead cert). Do they need to win it? Not necessarily. The worst result Wales could accept in the autumn (if they’re to remain on track to be the world’s best) was what they got (as I said in this blog at the time): beating one of the Tri-nations and pushing the others hard. I think the worst result they can take from the Six Nations is to come second (you can’t win everything all the time). But any worse than that and it will be a serious step backwards for this Welsh side.

If Wales do lose any matches I suspect their line out will be to blame. At the moment it’s the one real Achilles Heel in their game. The injury to Jonathon Thomas is a blow in this department but, frankly, they need to sort this out and not rely on one key man to get things right.

Having said this, Wales are looking good and I certainly hope to see them repeat their feat of a hundred years ago and achieve back to back Grand Slams.

As for the rest: France remain as unpredictable as ever. They could win it or they could crash and burn and it’s pointless to guess though, to judge on the form of French clubs in Europe the latter looks more likely. Ireland I suspect will do well, both on the strength of their autumn and of Irish clubs at the minute. Italy will fancy their chances against anyone looking weak; which would be England at the minute.

While I still can’t quite believe England can lose at Twickenham to Italy they are looking ropier than I’ve ever seen them look. While I don't want to revel in another team's misfortunes, it confirms what most people have been thinking, that England's runner up spot in the last World Cup and Six Nations was very flukey. It’scertainly a strange experience hearing so many of the phrases that were used of Wales a decade ago now being applied to England. Maybe they will surprise but, historically, England are not a side who do surprises.

A side which I do hope for some surprises from are Scotland. Apart from Wales they’re the side I really want to see this season. Both attitude and performance seem to have shot forward in the last year. If an upset happens to any team it’ll be at the hands of Scotland.

I just hope it’s not this weekend.

Mamma Mia-What's all the fuss?

Mon, 05 Jan 2009 12:18:00 -0500

I finally got around to watching 'Mamma Mia' a couple weeks ago. I was quite keen to see it. I'd heard lots of good things from those who'd seen it. And I'm always keen to see a British film which has met with financial success (The patriot in me).

In other words, I went to see the film wanting to be positive. I wasn't absolutely raring to watch it (unlike 'The Dark Knight' which I'd been itching to see and was, for me, the best film of 2008. Not that I can say that I saw I huge amount of new releases last year) but I was keen and expected an enjoyable evening's viewing.

I was badly disappointed. I got very bored. Not until we were into the final half hour did I begin to get even vaguely interested. I really could not see what all the fuss was about. The characters are two-dimensional, the dialogue is amateurish and as for the plot we had it all in the first five minutes. In the first scene we have explained to us that the young heroine is getting married, that she doesn't know who her real father is but is one of three contenders (It's pretty obvious she'll never find out who he is) and she's invited them all to the wedding. However, it's behind her mum's back. From this we can infer that the relationship between her mum and her old beaus is difficult and will take some working through. And that is basically the plot.

With this revealed there was absolutely nothing to hold me to the film there was really very little to hold me to the film bar some stunning shots of the Mediterranean and some Abba songs. And if I really wanted to hear the latter I could have bought their 'Greatest Hits' album and spared myself the bits in between.

I appreciate that if you're a keen Abba fan the songs alone may have won you over. I wouldn't put myself in this category, though I appreciate that they are well crafted pop songs. But you need more than good songs to make a good film (and if the songs aren't original it says even less for the skill of the writers).

I'm aware that, in my disgust, I may have have overlooked some scenes which deserved some merit (I confess I did rather enjoy the rendition of 'Take a Chance on Me' in the final few minutes of the film) but I'm afraid it really turned me off thoroughly. It looked liked the cast had fun making the film, which is great for them-but that didn't translate into enjoyment for me.

Before anyone accuses me of being a bloke and therefore not 'getting it' I would say that I put this in the same category as 2007's 'Transformers'. That was a film which, as a bloke, I was very eager to see and, equally, ended up bored; flashy robots, like seventies pop songs, don't, in my book, make up for poor script writing (though, if anything, I found the characters had slightly more depth in 'Transformers' and, though it was inevitable it would end in a shoot out, the plot was less predictable).

By contrast, this last weekend I rewatched the excellent 'Monsoon Wedding'. Anyone planning writing any more wedding related films in the near future would do well to watch this again.

If you enjoyed 'Mamma Mia', good on you. That it's earned money for the British film industry-fantastic. But I shall be quite happy never to watch it again.

Why the stubble?

Tue, 09 Dec 2008 13:41:00 -0500

Call me old fashioned but when did it start becoming acceptable not to bother having a shave the day of a wedding?