Apparently, RAF people in Peterborough have been told to not wear their uniforms when outside of the base, because of “fear of verbal abuse” from members of the public protesting at the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Whilst I could comment on how this has all been blown out of proportion, there is one slightly more pertinent point that I haven’t seen made yet: our brave soldiers, the people we’re relying on to protect us in a time of war, who we send over seas to shoot baddies and poor people and defend our country, protect human rights, protect genocides and stop the terrorists are getting upset about being called names? Seriously, what the fuck?
I’m not great military strategist, but surely if I soldier can’t handle hurt feelings then how the hell is he supposed to handle bullets? I’m prepared to publically admit that I probably couldn’t handle getting shot – I reckon it’d be most unpleasant – but getting called names? Are the army all massive pansies? Seriously guys… sticks and stones and all that? What happened to all of the thick-skinned and thick-skulled emotionless killing machines that we’ve relied on in the past?
Is this a new terrorist plot to wage some sort of emotional warfare? Is it a reverse “hearts and minds” operation, where after being unable to defeat the British army using guns and bombs, they’re resorting to calling them names? That’s a play right out of Sun Tzu’s earlier, lesser known work, the Art of (Playground) War.
These aren’t even trained professional spin-doctors (mercenaries) who are highly trained in the art of flaming that are hurting the feelings of “our boys” – apparently its “members of the public” – or an insurgency, in military jargon. Is this the new plan? When Al Quaeda find themselves in the sights of a British soldier, will they just shout out “The war was started under false pretences!” or “This war breaks international law and contravenes the norms and precedents set out under the Nuremberg principles, that whilst flawed, are accepted internationally”, and then our soldiers will lay down their arms, fall to their knees, drop their heads into their hands and have a bit of a cry?
Maybe the, er, “terrorist attacks”, would be more puerile? “I hate you!” “I won’t be your friend any more” or whatever?
I think the only way we can combat this new menace is by letting women fight on the front lines in Afghanistan and Iraq. If they come up against a terrorist’s emotional assault, they’ll be better equipped to deal with it, as women discuss their feelings all of the time with other women, so will be able to cope better than the wimpy men.
If you missed the rather oblique hints I’ve been posting over the past week, you may be surprised to learn that I was on the Weakest Link on Monday. And even more remarkably, I actually won.
It’s fairly probable that a couple of million people saw my glorious victory on the telly – on (almost) primetime BBC One. I’m not going to delude myself though. The grandeur, the celebrity, the immense wealth… are all factors I’m going to have to cope with in my new role as a prominent figure in the public consciousness.
Obviously, despite being a quiz show champion and presumably able to take my seat next to Judith Keppel and Kevin Ashman on the Eggheads team at my own discretion, I should probably resign myself to the fact that at best I’m going to be a rather low-rent celebrity now, rather than face the crushing disappointment later. I don’t want my pursuit of fame to lead me to milling around the town centre in the same brown shirt I wore on the programme, pen in hand ready to sign autographs, approaching people and saying “You are the Weakest Link, Goodbyeâ€, in a desperate attempt to be recognised. I don’t want to slowly die a little inside every time someone looks at me and raises my hopes, only for them then to cross the road to avoid me.
This said, I fully intend to take my duties as a low-rent celebrity seriously. Without people like me, the trashier end of the gossip magazine market would crumble, and the general public would have nothing to read in waiting rooms the world over.
In fact, I’ve already started phoning up the gossip magazines and newspapers to report “wicked whispers†of myself, just so that I remain in the public eye. It can’t belong until “Psst… which Weak Link was spotted filling his car up with petrol last Tuesday?†or something equally inane appears inset in a box on the 3am Girls page.
My concern at this time though is prolonging my fame – I imagine its going to be pretty fleeting. I’m already bored of talking about the programme, so my legions of fans probably are too, so I’m going to have to try and reinvent myself. It’s going to be difficult, but as this is the entertainment industry we’re talking about, luckily a lack of talent isn’t actually a barrier to remaining famous. The fact I can namedrop Kerry Katona or Richard Blackwood and you know who I’m talking about illustrates this nicely.
So I’m thinking there are two routes I could go down. I could take up drugs and have myself referred to as “the troubled star, James O’Malley†whenever I’m mentioned, or slightly less self-destructively, acquire myself an equally low-rent celebrity girlfriend – say, a former Eggheads contestant, or someone who once appeared in the background of an outside broadcast on the regional news – that’s the sort of level of celebrity we’re talking about. Interest in me would be revived as the press would, for some reason, care about the ups and downs of our relationship, as if it somehow makes a difference to… well, anything.
Obviously after the difficult and highly public split I’ll have another short lived career revival as everyone wants to see what I do next.
I think this is starting to sound like a plan. Sure, there’s at least a case for bowing out of the public eye gracefully instead and not perpetuating our societal addiction to the cult of celebrity… but where’s the fun in that? If anyone needs me, I’ll be in Britain’s crowded shopping centres and precincts, waiting for someone to recognise me from off the telly.
Well that was exciting. I’ll post more as soon as I’ve put something decent together. If you’re in the UK and you missed it you can watch it on the BBC iPlayer for the next week:
Just in case you haven’t spotted all of the not-so-subtle hints, or the post below, or are genuinely stupid, here’s one last reminder that I’m on the Weakest Link Tonight (that’s Monday 3rd).
That’s on BBC One, at 5.15pm. Just after Newsround. I’ll probably post more about it after the event. Unless I come across badly.
I went to another gig yesterday evening, to see Anti-Flag play at Birmingham Academy. Predictably, it was really good. I say “predictably” because I also saw them playing in Peterborough a week ago, so knew what to expect.
For the uninitiated, Anti-Flag are a highly politicised punk band: all of their songs stick it to the man in one way or another, and are effectively protest songs, with the choruses just being chants that you chant along with in agreement. As luck would have it, I agree with most of their politics.
So they have a pretty agreeable message – anti-war, politicians are bad, racism and sexism are bad, that sort of thing. Unfortunately, towards the end of the gig, one of the band had to go and sour the whole gig experience by revealing where the band’s philosophy comes from.
“Have you guys heard of David Icke?”, one of them asked in a bizarre bit of stage banter. The room fell silent, apart from me, who let out a rather loud laugh at the very notion of Icke being mentioned. “He’s a bit weird… but he writes some really good books”, they continued. “No… I didn’t hear that right did I? They can’t be talking about celebrity-crackpot-who-thinks-that-the-royal-family-are-lizards David Icke… can they?”
It wasn’t even a “Haha, he’s a crackpot” angle. They were mentioning him as if he were a credible source of… well, anything. They could have mentioned anyone else and my respect wouldn’t have dropped as much. They could have logically cited, say, Noam Chomsky or John Pilger as a good writer who reflects their political views… or could have gone back further to Kant or Marx… hell, they could have said that their political views are derived from the work of Kerry Katona and their credibility wouldn’t have nosedived so quickly.
Mortified, I tried to put this behind me and enjoy the rest of the gig… although it all felt a little tainted.
At the end of the gig, I saw one of the band milling around and meeting fans, so I decided to confront him. At this point, I was on a post-gig high, so I was rather animated, loud and sweaty, so rather than construct a well thought out academic argument, I ended up approaching Chris Barker, the bassist and, waving my arms in the air, cried “David Icke?! He’s MENTAL“.
Slightly taken aback, Sane replied, to my relief, “Yeah… I don’t know why we mentioned him… he’s pretty crazy!”. My respect for the band rose slightly.
Meeting fans is a necessary part of being a celebrity. Look how excited Chris Barker from Anti-Flag is at meeting me.
So… I guess it was all okay in the end, and the band aren’t hopefully that mental… although I now get a feeling my admiration of Anti-Flag and their music is going to be a lot more difficult to defend when confronted by critics moaning about my favourite bands. I imagine its a bit like a Mark Speight fan feeling obliged to defend Speight in the face of murder allegations.
If you missed the rather 
Well that was exciting. I’ll post more as soon as I’ve put something decent together. If you’re in the UK and you missed it you can watch it on the BBC iPlayer for the next week:.jpg)