Nasty

It used to be the fault of video nasties – remember them? The copying of the violent behaviour of characters like the evil doll, Chucky, would become the norm as youngsters grew up to disrespect the law and behave in ways outside the bounds of common decency. Or did we have all that the wrong way round? Was the advent of the Video Recordings Act 1984 an attempt to genuinely curb the excesses of movies like Texas Chain Saw Massacre, or was it merely a way of apportioning blame for extreme behaviour already growing violently out of control?

In the 1984 act, the British Board of Film Censors was renamed the British Board of Film Classification; was that itself not a form of censorship? Banning a movie, restricting who can watch it or ordering its editing before release is undoubtedly censorship, so why not call a spade a spade? Or does the very word ‘censor’ evoke the unhelpful spectre of intrusive state control? Hmmm, 1984? That year rings a bell... nope can’t quite put my finger on it.

There can surely be no doubt that observed behaviour must have some influence on actual behaviour, if only in terms of creative input. Following Reservoir Dogs half the dopey fucksticks out there walked with a swagger, wore dark glasses and wore out jukebox copies of “Stuck in the Middle with You”, imagining that one day they would harvest their very own copper’s ear trophy. A bunch of sad wannabes, of course, but it’s not inconceivable that a saddo might turn sicko, if he somehow felt he’d given permission by the turning of a malevolent act into a piece of gory entertainment.

Except that we are supposed to have self-control; we have a choice in how we behave, don’t we? So, no matter what our fanciful, impressionable selves may imagine we might do, punching the air after seeing the first Rocky movie (you know, the good one) surely not more than a handful of idiots went out afterwards and rented time in an abattoir freezer to pound the meat, only to find out how sore it makes you afterwards. Does watching extreme behaviour genuinely change yours, or is it just a serving suggestion for an already deranged personality?

Of course the mantle of responsibility has now passed from movies to violent video games, or indeed violent gamesmanship. While the jury is still out on the firmness of the causal links, some people grasp at anything to explain or blame the bad behaviour of their nearest and dearest. Thus it is that in a heartbeat the cannibalistic urge of Luis Suarez on Sunday has been blamed by a parent as directly causing her own little angel to end up as first course in a literal knuckle sandwich.

So, what is sauce for the goose, etc and should we just accept that whatever the rich and famous, or infamous get up to, it is beyond our control to do otherwise? Of course, with behaviour comes responsibility and those who transgress must pay the penalty. By this, also, do we learn. So it was not a little disappointing to learn that those two vindictive nasties, Huhne and Pryce are to be released after serving just two months of their eight month sentences.

What's the point, you may ask yourselves, of not following your urges when it is clear now that nobody is responsible for their own behaviour any more and the punishments meted out clearly reflect this lack of control? I wonder how many will now blame their reckless and violent speeding point transfer and marital stife behaviours on the Huhnes? It’s madness I tell you!

Good old Benny

It’s a busy old day for news: Huhne and ex-Huhne wake up in chokey, the tattered remnants of the Catholic church begin the quest for a new high priest of whatever it is they stand for and – who knew – yet more evidence is revealed about Jimmy Savile’s ‘colourful’ past. Liam Fox is acting the spanner in Shiny Dave’s machine and the Limp Dems are pushing ahead with a ‘back of a fag packet’ mansion tax plan against all reasonable advice. Oh and a tiny part of the southeast appears to be having its own mini ice age. Passing curiosities against the backdrop of good news from the south. 

In a brilliant demonstration of actual democracy the Falklands referendum attracted a 92% turnout of which only three individuals voted against remaining a part of a heritage treasured in those cold South Atlantic seas far more than here in the UK itself where, if we ever were to get a referendum on the EU, the result would simply be manipulated or ignored if it went ‘the wrong way’. 

Meanwhile, to get a head start, the EU Propaganda Machine targets children in the hope that come 2017, if there IS a vote, the infants will have their brainwashed say. Way to go, Uncle Joe (Goebbels). Of course, the most successful way to stifle debate is the recent rise in accusations of racism at the merest hint of a likelihood that you may be about to use the name of another culture. Even to mention ‘Bulgaria’ makes you a racist; against Wombles, presumably. 

So, by that measure the Falkland Islanders are brutal colonial racists. No wonder they all voted in that nasty nationalist manner. We must send an invading force of sociologists to re-educate them. They will surely pay for their rash choice when our democratically elected leaders sell them to Argentina for the price of a kind word. 

Back in 1982 British troops were chastised for their use of the word “Benny” – after the simpleton Benny from the now defunct soap opera Crossroads - to describe the islanders. Soldiers are one of the last bastions of political incorrectness, but shared adversity and a bit of time has relegated what was once an insult to merely a gentle term of almost affection. 

Well I want to reclaim Benny for entirely pejorative use; I want one of my own. As a sort of pet... or better, a slave. I don’t mean I want a Falkland Islander - no, those worthies are no trouble at all. In my lexicon the new Bennies are those who live entirely on state benefits when there is no reason whatsoever why they couldn’t work. The NEETS and the feckless, amoral scum who breed like rats and take benefits away from those who genuinely need them and are in no way a part of the solution. Well I reckon my taxes pay for a whole one... so I want him/her/it to be a slave to me, rather than the other way round.

This is a brilliant idea now I think of it. If you pay tax you should be given a breakdown of what you pay for and have the opportunity to benefit from it. If you pay enough for a nurse, for instance, that nurse should be at your beck and call 24/7. If you pay for a day's worth of gritting, they should come round and clear your drive when you need it. I see no reason why this shouldn’t be extended all the way to the top. 

Now everybody gets to be a Miss Dianne

The Chris Huhne’s of this world should be accountable to the taxpayer. So, if you pay enough tax to fund an MP’s salary he should be yours to command! Oh, sorry, I just realised we’ve been doing that for donkey’s years.