Old Scrotum

A bit of a balls-up, but they’ve been stringing them along... A World Service interview that amused me, revealing that the medical condition of “cello scrotum” was a hoax all along, invented to counter another condition reported in the BMJ that the hoaxers felt sure was surely also a joke.
The bit that most amused me, however, was the incidental fact that the Musicians’ Union has been lobbying to have “cello scrotum” recognised as an “industrial injury” and that even cellists in the then-USSR claimed to suffer from it. Now that we can rest assured it is (a) fictitious and (b) impossible anyway, Jerome K Jerome’s belief that anyone reading a medical text-book will convince themselves they suffer from every ailment in it (save Housemaid’s Knee) survives the passage of time.

Top of the Morning

A sign of the times? A bus-stop advertisement had broken down, such that only the top of one poster appeared at the bottom of the frame. “Top ur self” it read. That’s text-speak, of course. I knew that. But the message was a grim one. Has the credit crunch become that serious? “It’s hopeless, so why not do yourself in right now and get it over with?” What were they advertising? Futurama-style suicide booths? Or was it a public service, to push enough people over the edge so as to reduce the surplus population, as Ebeneezer Scrooge (and doubtless Gordon Brown) would have phrased it?
Then a man who had been standing in front of the display moved to the right and the whole slogan was revealed. “Top ur self up for £1.99”. It was for fried chicken. Great. But for a mad moment I had genuinely entertained the idea that a billboard advertising campaign might have started to encourage mass euthanasia. “Visit Switzerland! £65 (one way).” Of course, the cynical might have felt the fried chicken would do the same job in the end. Oh, sorry, that’s me that is - the cynical. I thought that too. Either way, as the drunken crazyman sitting next to me (where else?) on the bus put it later on, “We’re all going to the same place. We're all going to the same place.” Too right, Joe. Top up?

Captain Peng Watch

There is a great deal I could say about the current round of fighting in the ‘Holy Land’, but I really find it too depressing to add to all the words already wasted over it. It reminds me of a thought I have long and often held... that in this world there is - and has only ever been - one single conflict. On the one side are the Men of Violence. On the other side is everybody else.

However, two stories have stood out in terms of what they say about the nature of wars, terrorism and the human use of human beings. One flows from a conflict which bears astonishing parallels to the Middle Eastern troubles, yet is largely overlooked by the world's media. A prominent Sri Lankan journalist foretold his own assassination and wrote about it. His words from beyond the grave were read out on BBC World Service by actor Bill Nye. It is astounding, and worth listening to in full. It maps onto so many conflicts and addresses us all in what we think of as our havens of safety.

The other was another World Service story, but one that offers more hope. To me, the actions of Captain Peng battling pirates on his ship exemplifies the spirit of Shaolin.
As my old martial arts teacher used to say to me, when an enemy approaches the Kung Fu man he (or she) should first tell the enemy that they do not want to fight and warn the aggressor to go away. The enemy continues his advance. The warrior runs. The enemy runs after. The warrior again warns the enemy that they do not want to fight. The warrior should then hide or run further. The enemy attacks. The warrior is trapped in a corner. Now the warrior has no choice. The warrior must fight, and fight like fury. The warrior will use the enemy's own strength against him, exhausting him with the futility of his aggression. In the end, the enemy has to retreat. But, the enemy must not be humiliated or dishonoured in defeat, for then the warrior is disgraced.
All of these elements are present in this story, but it is that last bit about the shoes that made my spirit soar. I would never suggest that Captain Peng was consciously invoking the practices of the Shaolin Temple, but he did not need to. It has soaked through into Chinese culture. This story gives me hope. Should that nation come to the greater prominence in the world that so many expect, that tradition of conflict and its resolution may radiate outward. There is a proverb in China that goes something like this: I used to weep because I had no shoes, until I met a man with no feet.

La Lutte Continue...

¡Che! He’s a sexy boy, eh? A beardy beatnik in a beret who beat up Batista’s bastards. Who could fail to love him? Er, well, lots of people, actually. How about the thousands slung into jail for daring to criticise the vile, repressive regimes he helped put in power? The ones who were murdered outright, either by the Communists or by Che himself would not, of course, have been able to comment. But, hey, he’s got a sexy beard... eh? And great cheekbones. So, you forgive him, yeah?
No, I bloody don’t. All this Che adoration that’s coming out of the film world... arencha sick of it? I am. First The Motorcycle Diaries and now we’ve got another one - the first of a two parter, no less. How would we react to a major Hollywood film depicting the early life of Frederico Franco, I wonder. Well, he was very sexy too, when he was young, and - what a hero! - he liberated Spain from democracy and brought in a fine, enduring Fascist tyranny. Hurrah!
And how about Tristan, the life of thrusting, sexy German revolutionary Reinhardt ‘Hangman’ Heydrich, who stormed across Europe, spreading Nazism wherever he went. Just like Che, he cheerfully killed and tortured everyone who dared criticise his inspiring leader (in his case Adolf Hitler) or stood in the way of his glorious vision - a Nazi in every home! Cheer as he helps mastermind the Final Solution! Weep as his sexy, thrusting life is cut short by terrorists in the pay of those evil, dastardly Allies - Boo!
Can we not also look forward to Hendrik - the life of sexy, thrusting racist Dr Hendrik Verwoerd and his heroic struggle to establish Apartheid in South Africa, before he was cruelly gunned down by beastly supporters of (ugh!) democracy - ‘Boo’ and ‘Boo’ again!
I don’t see any difference between Nazism and Communism. Both were evil ideologies, both ordered the wholesale slaughter, torture, and oppression of millions, while raking in cash and corruption for their kleptomaniac tyrants. Che was a cold-blooded killer who wanted only to impose a foul, repressive dictatorship on the world. The dead cannot accuse him. We should not celebrate him.
Oh, and all you beardy beatniks out there who still love the blood-soaked Che Guevara, let me tell you a home-truth you won’t like. You only support revolution because you think that, if it came, you’d be at the captain’s table afterwards, yes? Because you were good Commies all along, right? Think again! The first thing a fresh tyrant always does - and must always do - is massacre the revolutionaries who put him in power. After all, if they could pull off one revolution successfully, they might be able to do it again and get rid of him! So you Che-ite nitwits out there would be first for the chop.
Mind you, speaking of biopics for prominent torturers, I’m still looking forward to seeing Forces Sweetheart: the Lynndie England Story. Come on, come on! Surely that’s got to get the green light soon?
(It also made me smile to see what you get if you go to www.che.com)