We must not rush to conclusions

The mystery about the Belfast bank robbery continues. I'm afraid to say that some irresponsible journos have rushed to blame the IRA simply because they have a motive (retirement money), the ability to carry out such an attack and a track record of doing that sort of thing. Frankly it's not good enough.

Now An Phoblacht is hinting (lets see what it comes up with in time) that they thing elements of the British security forces (with their loyalist chums are) involved. An evil-minded cynic might imagine that the response of the Examiner hacks was to snigger at the absurdity of the claim and then print it it such as way as to imply they were not convinced but the claim deserves proper consideration.

Motive: The British security forces could do with the money. Many of them could be out of a job soon and a robbery like this could be a good way to pay the boys off. It might even keep them in a job by stalling the peace process. Or maybe they just need the money?

Ability: They have guns don't they? They're trained to do all sort of things. If they can keep the lid on Basra, surely they can arrange a little robbery?

Opportunity: With everyone trying to blame the Shinners for trifling affairs such as hob-nobbing with Colombian rebels on false passports, what better opportunity to carry out his audacious raid.

But the clincher, surely, is the attempt by those same British forces to blame the IRA. After all, surely it's a sign of guilt to try and pin the blame on others?

Sentimental and mushy.

Clearly there is nothing interesting happening in the world (except for a few bits of unpleasantness in far away places and the Provos retirement fund-raiser in Belfast *allegedly*) since I find sweetness and light breaking out even in the more robust blogs. At Harry's Place they are wishing their readers a happy Christmas, forgetting that the true meaning of Christmas is an intellectual beer cellar row with one's nearest and dearest.

Meanwhile, Professor Geras treats us to the latest in online navel-gazing.

Fortunately I wouldn't be doing this blog were my life and opinions not of especial interest, so here for your edification is my own response to the three things parlour game.

Three Names You Go By:
1. Buff and Blue
2. Sir (as in I think you've had enough, don't you sir?)
3. That I cannot reveal

Three Things You Like About Yourself:
1. My intellect and good looks
2. My fascinating life
3. My extreme modesty

Three Things You Dislike About Yourself:
1. My liver
2. My inability to fall asleep when people are boring me
3. My inability to strike poses when answering such questionnaires.

Three Parts of Your Heritage:
1. The public schools of England
2. The public houses of Ireland
3. The salons of Paris

Three Things That Scare You:
1. Haridans
2. Hooligans
3. Bin Ladens

Three of Your Everyday Essentials:
1. Dry Martini
2. A sword stick
3. Cuff links

Three Things You Are Wearing Right Now:
1. Smoking jacket
2. Persian slippers
3. Regimental cravat

Three of Your Favorite Bands/Artists (at the moment):
1. Richard Wagner
2. Fela Kuti
3. Serge Gainsbourg

Three of Your Favorite Songs at Present:
1. Fairy Tale of New York (Pogues)
2. Unsolved Child Murder (Bader Meinhof)
3. Coffin for Head of State (Fela Kuti)

Three New Things You Want to Try in the Next 12 Months:
1. The Dogs Giblets Cocktail (Zhiguli beer 100g, Sadko the Wealthy Guest shampoo 30g, anti-dandruff solution 70g, superglue 12g, brake fluid 35g, insecticide 20g, Let it marinade for a week with some cigar tobacco, then serve: from Moscow Stations)
2. Open a Dada cabaret in Kerry
3. Dwarf throwing

Three Things You Want in a Relationship (love is a given):
1. Censored for reasons of taste
2. Ditto coupled with uncertainty as to where the law draws the line on that sort of thing
3. A large inheritance

Two Truths and a Lie:
1. A truth that's told with bad intent beats all the lies you can invent
2. We must love one another or die
3. England is mine and it owes me a living

Three Physical Things About the Opposite Sex That Appeal to You:
1. Taste and elan in dress
2. Elegantly presenting a cigarette to be lit
3. I'm sure you can guess the rest

Three Things You Just Can't Do:
1. Use the telephone
2. Surf
3. Play the banjo

Three of Your Favorite Hobbies:
1. Big game hunting
2. Vice
3. Repose

Three Things You Want to do Really Badly Right Now:
1. On the whole I'd rather be in Philadelphia
2. Fire a shotgun in the air
3. Ruin some children's Christmas

Three Places You Want to Go on Vacation:
1. Havana
2. St Petersburg
3. Xanadu

Three Kids' Names:
1. You
2. Thingy
3. The other one

Three Things You Want to Do Before You Die:
1. Abolish Wales
2. As little as possible
3. Get someone to write the greatest novel of the century for me.

To Hell or the East

Sartre's well-known "Hell is other people" gag is rather trite and simplistic. What he should have said was "Hell is other people's small children surrounding you when you're cramped into a train seat for a long journey."

Foolishly I decided to visit Dublin today and bitterly have I paid for my folly. After two hours or so my legs were cramping up from trying to avoid the constant kicking of Fat Child A who was too busy fighting for possession of the second jumbo bag of crisps with Fat Child B. The shrieks and inane gurglings of the pair of them combined with their mother's soupy endearments to drive all intelligent, rational even, thought from out of my head. I thought I would offer a prayer to the children's maker:

Toi qui fais au proscrit ce regard calme et haut
Qui damne tout un peuple autour d'un échafaud.

Instead I sank into a pit of despair and frustration, wondering how long it would be until a truly volcanic, soul-spewing torrent of rage would errupt from within me, devastating all in its path and, worse, making me look a bit foolish.

The worst of it was that they weren't especially bad as kids go, but imagine a journey like that, of infinite length populated by the most malevolent, squealing brats imaginable. That would be hell.

As it was, the journey I endured would scarcely be worth it if an orgy featuring a polysexually perverse cast of thousands, featuring costume changes, elephants, dwarves, the Belorussian under-19s netball team, plovers' eggs served from Kate Moss's navel, bales of mind-altering drugs and a chorus of high-kicking drag queens singing German beer hall songs awaited me at the end. For a cold, crowded and frustrated day of Christmas shopping: forget it.

Some questions have to be asked

With the web, the airwaves and print media all collapsing under the weight of arguments about Iraq, other conflicts rarely get a look in. Occasionally, just occasionally, people notice that horrendous things are still happening in the Democratic Republic of Congo. Depressingly, there is a real danger that the war will start up again.

Despite the world's (relative) indifference there are questions to be asked. I could ask why people who jump up and down like frogs on ecstasy at the slightest thing in the Middle East or America are silent on this. I could ask what practical help can be given to the Congolese government.

But most importantly: how come the DRC's football team is on a par with Scotland's? (Hint: scroll down to 77th spot)

(Incidentally: I notice Iraq (45) and Zimbabwe (59) are well ahead of the Scots. Bloodshed in the streets of Dundee, I know, might be the answer.)

Justified force

I see the Tory party and Telegraph, in particular, are getting very agitated about the possibility of allowing householders to use force to protect themselves against burglars. The question is: what constitutes reasonable force in the case of a burglary?

I cannot claim that the prospect of losing a few possessions bothers me greatly, and since I dislike any visitors entering my household the prospect of unforced entry is little more than usually irritating.

Of far greater concern to me is the relentless assault I am suffering from the pan pipe music drifting to my desktop as I write. I cannot shut it out and am going to be stuck here for a few hours yet. Clearly I have a right to protect my sanity and that of those around me. The question is: what is a reasonable degree of force in this case?

As I hear the music from the Titanic film rendered even more irritating I'm thinking suicide bomb.

Update: the ambient noise now consists of the office TV broadcasting the Late, Late Show with Pat Kenny. His guests are Gerry Adams and Janet Street Porter. I'm hoping one of these great thinkers will give me some guidance as to what constitutes reasonable thought.

PS: in a straight fight, my money would be on Janet.

Just don't call it an eeky-peeky, pretendy language

With so much foul-mouthed abuse polluting the new, it is with relief that I can recommend something which seeks to uphold proper linguistic standards.

Yin Bloague ae Ulster-Scotch.

Thanks to the Young Fogey for the tip-off.

UPDATE: In light of today's not in the slightest bit surprising events, I may have been too hasty to endorse the hated sectrarian monster that is Ulster Protestantism. I should, of course, have insisted on parity of esteem and demanded that the same blog is published As Gaelige. I'd offer to do it my self, but my knowledge of Irish can, I believe, be best summarised as an culpa fuck-all. The challege goes out to An Fhogbhie Og: can you do any better?

Spurious comparisons of our time: Number 2.

Iraq. I had to be hadn't it? Never mind the excessively tiresome Vietnam comparions, according to the gloriously-named Charles Krauthammer, in the Washington Post (via the Graun) its more like the US Civil War.

An interesting comparion. The war was widely unpopular in Europe (the Graun was dead against it) and was perceived as Washington agressively protecting its own interests with a thin and unconvincing moral veneer.

But all nonsense, of course.

In my view, the current conflict has far more in common with the Peloponnesian War. I admit it's unlikely the US will allow themselves to be diverted by a naval invasion of Zanzibar, but you never know. Otherwise the parallels are uncanny.

Perhaps we should not be too sanguine

Regarding my previous post on Mr Kilroy-Silk, Quink observes that the man sounded rather deranged following his dunking in ordure. With this in mind, we ought to worry about the potential for disorder involving various DSS nationalists and the theological literalists.

Fortunately there is a template for resolving such conflicts in an entirely satisfactory fashion: Northern Ireland/Ulster/Occupied Six Counties etc. etc.

As a first step the North of England could be renamed something such as the Islamic Republic of Ukipland. A coalition government involving the devout, rather than the fanatical, and those who do not hate foreigners, merely distrust them, should be established forthwith. Of course a few years down the line it could mutate into a coalition of the BNP and al-Mujaharoun, but we wouldn't want to treat one part of the UK differently from another, would we?

We need not fear the clash of civilisations

At least not in Britain. In Holland Robert Kilroy-Silk's rude comments might have led to his death. In Manchester he just gets covered with slurry. That's progress.

Let us not demonise British Muslims.

Number crunching

I am still aquiver with excitement following the combination of Biffo Cowen's first budget in the Dail and Gordon Brown's Aren't-I-Great-athon in Westminister.

One interesting statistic from Ireland: One third of the workforce is on the minimum wage (and no one seems too upset by this).

Today the Press Association reports: the Irish are the second-richest people in the EU.

"The figures from Eurostat, the EU’s statistical office, assess GDP in terms of purchasing power standards (PPS). Taking 100 as the EU average, Luxembourg per capita GDP is put at 215%, followed by Ireland at 133%."

Could someone do the maths, please. I find statistics incredibly dull and would most likely get my answers wrong.

I salute his courage and indefatigability

Given his libel victory against the Torygraph, I am not going to say anything bad about George Galloway. I will certainly have no truck with the vile insinuation that he was some sort of dictator's lickspittle. In fact, given his luck in the libel courts, it's probably safest not to say anything.

More interesting, is the Telegraph's own use of the Gilligan defence: we may not have been right, but we were right to repeat these allegations. And anyway, Blair/Galloway's a bit dodgy isn't he. Only got to look at him to know. (although in this case the first clause should read: we may have been right. Who knows? After all, we're just a newspaper; why should we check that sort of thing.)

What is fascinating is the Torygraph's own take on Mr Gilligan's rather fact-free assertions. These great defenders of the right to raise serious issues were rather less sympathetic earlier in the year. In an editorial entitled In Defence of Hutton, the paper argued:

"The problem for the BBC was that the facts were devastating to their case. Mr Gilligan's defenders argue that, irrespective of the flaws in his report on the Today programme on May 29, he performed a great public service by bringing to light the alleged tensions between the intelligence services and Number 10 during the preparation of the September Iraq dossier"

But after damning his methodology and the lack of proper checks and controls, the piece went on to say: Lord Hutton, who was pretty tough on unreliable journalism, was quite right to conclude that "the BBC failed to ensure proper editorial control over Mr Gilligan's broadcasts on 29 May."

But let's not make any accusations of hypocrisy here. The day after the Hutton report the paper argued:

"Some might say that such slapdash reporting - which smothered the beginnings of a good story - is typical not just of the BBC, but of the media in general. And they would have a point. But the BBC is not the media in general. It is a unique organisation, with a special place in our national life.

"It is one thing for a tabloid or a Sunday newspaper to indulge in such cavalier behaviour; indeed, it is the very stuff of their trade. But the BBC is not meant to broadcast dubious stories. Precisely because of its unique status, the mere fact of it reporting such an item lends credence where none is due. Rather, the BBC should have a more respectable, trustworthy, public service ethos."

So that's alright then.

UPDATE: It gets better. Gorgeous George announces he's been cleared (even though the veracity of the documents wasn't an issue) and takes his merry band of Trotskyists and Salafists off to Bethnal Green. Ever modest, he compares his ordeal to that of a condemned man. In a few weeks his enemies will be reduced to the tried-and-tested tactic of muttering they're sure he's guilty of something, must be something in those rumours, dammit he looks a bit dodgy.

Meanwhile, the Graun which carried several pro-Gilligan pieces at the start of the year now carries several pro-Georgie pieces.

Its leader of January 29 seems far more sympathetic towards the Beeb's errors than today's offering which urges the press not to panic. A fair-minded man would have to admit that the Graun's official line is nuanced and critical towards bad journalism from both parties. Fortunately I am not a fair-minded man and, in the best traditions of the press, will not allow this fact to mar a good sneer.

Another tedious debate solved.

One of the more wearing aspects of the Bush presidency is the fact that we face four more years of vituperative debate about the neo-conservatives.

Are they former admirers of Mr Trotsky? Are they a secretive cabal intent on world domination? (Jewish?) What is their agenda and ideology? Is Mr Blair one of their number? (Thank you Harry's place). What are their origins?

I can at least answer the last one. Here was the first neo-con: a former left-wing radical who believed in the use of force to remove oppressive regimes, remake the world and promote a civic society. ("His most important legacy is the civil institutions he built in France and all over Europe"). And from the neo-cons' favourite country too.

Reasons to care

A letter in the Irish Times today about why we should care about the Ukrainian political situation.

Bill Lawlor, from Lawlor & Associates Recruitment Ltd, includes plenty of links between Ireland and Ukraine. For those of you who aren't prepared to pay to read the whole thing (here for those who are), it includes the following gem:

"There is substantial Irish interest in the cement industry of Ukraine, and many other areas of business (such as Irish pubs) and technology networking are being developed, to our mutual benefit."

Before concluding that what Ukraine needs more than anything is Irish diplomats:

"For these reasons, and to show solidarity with the democratic process developing in Ukraine, I propose that we should soon set up a proper diplomatic representation in Kiev in support of the new spirit of independence in that country, and in keeping with our position in the EU. Ukraine has set up its embassy in Dublin, but we have not reciprocated. It is difficult to do business when there is no proper embassy service available."

So before you turn away to other matters, please remember the cement makers of Ireland in your prayers tonight. May their business be unaffected by these unfortunate events.

At last a solution to this tiresome debate

I had intended to avoid entirely the debate on fox-hunting and leave it to the tedious and unappealing individuals on both sides of the debate. But now an entirely reasonable compromise presents itself, one which will satisfy both traditionalists and those concerned with animal welfare: the return of the wild boar hunt.

The antiquity and lineage and, dash it, Britishness of this sport is beyond reproach, it is highly demanding and, crucially, the boar should be killed by a spear and not by the hounds.