Monthly Archives: January 2008

No public hanging for Peter Hain

Far too much is being made of tangoman Peter Hain’s funding of his ill-fated deputy leadership challenge. Despite his resignation as a minister, he has not been found guilty of anything and even if he is found to have broken the rules, who has lost out? Not you, nor I. If self-engrossed business people think it will benefit them to hand over cash to campaigns for ambitious politicians, fine. Someone has to pay. We don‘t want to. Even ardent enemies find not a trace of Hain having unduly helped any funder in return.

So what exactly is his crime here? He used a dormant think-tank to channel the £103,000 donation and possibly keep it out of the public domain for a bit. So? It was doing nothing anyway so better to find some use for it. If that is not a crime, and it is not, then the only other mud they can fling is he did not declare the donations. Wrong. He did but too late. If everyone in this country who has been late submitting tax papers were to put their hands up, how many of Hain’s detractors would have limbs aloft right now.

I will take my own hand down now and add that as the useless, toothless Electoral Commission has passed the matter onto the flatfoots, then obviously Hain had to stand down and prepare a defence. These are hectic roles running work and pensions and Wales. There is a time-consuming process he now has to concentrate on. But do not hold your breath for Hain to be flung in the pokey at Tower Hamlets. We claim not to like gawping at a hanging yet the average British citizen is famous for doing just that, or the modern version. These days, many of us are quite partial to a spot of public humiliation. That is why so many will hope he will be caught out. What a rogue. He is like all the rest. Hell mend them all, I hear you hiss.

Yet this is a bright and decent guy with a good, solid record. From his early days, he fought the atrocities of apartheid and conspiracies in South Africa while British politicians sat on their hands. He helped inspire people like me about the injustices there at that time before going on to prominence in Ireland and elsewhere. His have been a steady pair of hands. I remember my disappointment way back when he fled the Liberals but I also came to realise that to achieve what he wanted to do he probably had to make sacrifices to get nearer to the power base. Unless you were an activist, and the problem the Liberals had was that they could enthuse too few of those, it was completely forgiveable.

Contrary to ill-informed nonsense, there is no evidence that Hain has been corrupted by his rise. Not like so many others on the left and right of their parties with their snouts in the trough. Some are so intoxicated by their own power that they will tackle anyone – usually their secretaries and anyone else within groping distance. What if Hain had actually become deputy leader? What a change that would be from be from snotty disaster magnet John Prescott. It would have saved us the faceless embarrassment that is current vacuous incumbent Harriet Harman. They hardly let her out on her own nowadays.

Hain will not only survive this but, in the fascinating way that the spotlight creates enduring images, will benefit hugely from it. I predict he will be cleared of any deliberate wrongdoing. That will position him conspicuously at the head of a list of straining successors to that erudite but joyless son of the manse. So deluded is he that he even thought waiting in the wings for a decade would be sufficient grooming to be a leader. The future is bright for Peter Hain. For us, the future’s orange.

Heads should roll over defence laptop

It was just bonkers, old chap. There I was taking the personal details of about half a million people on this laptop to the West Midlands. Why I had it when I am just a junior officer is a mystery even to myself. Guard it with your life, said the commandant. Anyway, I locked up the car while I went for a lunchtime snifter in Birmingham. Safe enough, I thought. After all, they said the info is all duplicated elsewhere. I come back later and I find the jolly old car has been broken into. The jolly old laptop had been snaffled. Well, what was one to do?

‘Hullo Benedict, this is Cedric. Guess what, some oik has stolen that laptop – yeah, that’s right, the silver one with all those names on it. It is alright, isn’t it? You have a copy of it all, yes? Er, say again? Bank details, what 3,500 bank details? Passport details, too? Oh yes, forgot about that, old boy. Oh, yikes. Does this mean I may be in trouble, old thing? Father will be most displeased.’

Why was a device with that kind of sensitive – even explosive – information on it not password-protected, encrypted and attached to the officer’s wrist by a clunking great brass chain? Why was the Hurray Henry allowed to leave it unattended in his car? Why were there not two people at all times with the machine?

No, do not talk to me about hindsight being wonderful. It had 600,000 sets of personal details on it. That is exactly what should have happened. That it did not is incompetence, buffoonery and cretinous negligence.

The stolen laptop episode shows again how this government has a serious problem keeping potentially-sensitive data secret. It is not a priority any more. There are obviously few messages coming from on high. This is just the latest in a string of utterly preventable potential catastrophes.

In November, Revenue and Customs said they had lost details of 25 million claimants and since then 6,000 Northern Ireland drivers’ details also vanished. Then another three million drivers’ details were lost. Then, just before Christmas, medical records were confirmed missing at nine NHS trusts. The list goes on. This laptop had home addresses, bank details, national insurance and NHS numbers and even passport details of hundreds of thousands of people. Just about all you need if causing a national epidemic of identity theft takes your fancy.

Serving members of the Royal Navy, Royal Marines and RAF will be the most at risk of potential fraud . That is because all their details are on there. Only Army details were not on it so only our gallant squaddies can rest easier in their beds. Our hero matelots and brave Brylcreem boys should resume fretting – at the double. The pea-brained officer is now facing a court martial. But that should not be the end of it. Why were there no safeguards in place to prevent such potentially ruinous information being wheeled about and left in cars by irresponsible junior personnel?

Des Browne, the defence secretary, will make a statement to the Commons early next week but will he explain the negligence all the way up the line that allowed this appalling incident to happen? It would not be right for only the junior officer to face the wrath of a whiskery court martial. He should have been subject to a protocol that would not allow it to happen in the first place.

The MoD now says it is writing to the 3,500 people whose bank details were known to have been included on the missing laptop. The note should say ‘Sorry and rest assured we will declare the dozy officer and the five senior people above him surplus to requirements.’ That, at least, would help focus minds in other departments on the consequences if they do not take data protection seriously.

Why Tom Cruise should scare you too

I am seriously worried about Tom Cruise. I have just been watching that video where he is explaining what the Church of Scientology means to him. Oh heck. He is absolutely nuts.

Cruise finds it a bit of a mission impossible to tell people with a brain what he feels. He resorts to: ‘It’s rough and tumble, and it’s wild and woolly and it’s a blast. It’s a blast. It really is fun, because… there is nothing better than… going out there and fighting the fight and, suddenly you see, things are better.’ Rough and tumble? Wild and woolly? That is not Scientology. That is sheep gathering day in the Hebrides.

Despite him having ‘a blast’, Cruise whines on for nine minutes, sometimes laughing like a demented banshee, about the thrills in store for anyone who joins up yet he cannot explain any of these pleasures in a way that anyone else would find even remotely interesting. Try this one: ‘Being a Scientologist, when you drive past an accident, it’s not like anyone else; as you drive past, you know you have to do something about it, because you know you’re the only one that can really help.’ Really? Waow. When have we heard of him stopping at accidents? I think we would have heard. Why can only Scientologists help? Sadly, that and much else is just missing. Like, it would appear, the man’s powers of reason.

At first, the video seems incredibly boring. I watch again. There had to be some reason why the Scientologists were trying scrub it off the internet. Then you understand. The video is obviously some kind of indoctrination aid where the great star is wheeled out to flog the message to the confused masses who are seeking answers to life’s great questions. They are supposed to be won over by his toothy happiness and manic guffaws. Yet it prompts far more questions than it answers. Why is he so incoherent? Is he on medication? Why not? Who wrote the script? Is Cruise that creepy in real life? What is real life to him? Should he be allowed out on his own?

Of course, his bosses will want to hide the grim picture that emerges of their best known nutcase. Having had many discussions with them on London pavements, I know there are many other loony tunes in that ‘church’ too.

More predictably, Cruise knits his brow and spits: ‘You’re on board or you’re not on board’. Okay, I get that bit. I know people who have converted to religion who have then quickly proclaimed that their way is the right way, the only way to salvation and they are the chosen ones. Everyone else is doomed. There are fundamentalist preachers here in Scotland who will tell you the same thing as a basic principle of their faith. There are sects of Muslims and Roman Catholics with similar aspirations to the Kingdom. These people seem to need hard, unyielding rules to function properly. They need to be told what to do and what not to do – and the punishment for disobedience – to be able to live their lives. It leaves no room for doubt. Must be wonderful.

Freedom of religion and expression are privileges to be cherished even if some of these same fundamentalists would deny such freedom to fellow citizens with other beliefs. There are very reasonable, open, loving Christians and Muslims and people of every faith. Cruise is different. He is babbling madly away about how different Scientologists are, even claiming: ‘We are the authority on getting people off drugs’ and ‘We can rehabilitate criminals’. There was, of course, no shred of evidence for what he was saying. So what is the point of the video? Why the over-the-top shrieking?

If Tom Cruise is merely trying to make the world a better place, fine. Tell us how you do it. Or is the film star, or someone else, merely using his high profile to lure in the desperate and the befuddled? Now that thought really scares me. I hope for your sake, my dear blog reader, it scares you too.

Stop the shake-ups at The Bill

Duty Office
ITV
London

11 January 2008

Sirs

I wish to make a formal complaint about the silly new filming
techniques being used on The Bill. The half-wit producers have
recently started a particularly annoying ‘shakey camera’ method
of shooting the actors particularly when they are in small
groups.

One must be charitable. So I shall assume that this is just some
kind of ill-conceived and blitheringly daft and vain attempt at
creating an atmosphere of unpredictability at Sun Hill. It would
have been decided on a Friday afternoon – just before pub time. I
know how these guys work.

They may also wrongly believe that they have achieved some kind
of knack of making the action seem more realistic by deliberately
inducing a wobble in the poor soul who is shouldering the camera.
Whether he or she is forced to drink trawler rum – it produces
the same effect in myself – or is occasionally just kicked in the
shins is not immediately clear to the bewildered viewer.

In any case, it doesn’t work. It makes me sick. Living on a
Hebridean island, I am already forced to endure sea sickness on
the ferry to the mainland. The last thing I want is my staple
fare of cops and robbers being used as some half-baked experiment
by programme makers who have either worked too long on
tuppence halfpenny arthouse projects or are so fond of
hallucinogenic substances they think having the whole cast wobbling
is normal.

The same producers have only recently stopped the equally
ridiculous technique of shooting dialogue between two people in
an open space while they are circled continuously by a single
camera. Unfortunately, that nauseous technique has been picked up
by other programme producers with tight budgets and absent
imaginations.

Stop the shakey cameras. It begins in subtle fashion but once you
notice it there is nothing you can do to avoid the serious
distraction. Think of the viewers. It is not clever. It looks
pathetically amateurish and makes the whole programme a nasty
experience waiting for the next stomach-wringer.

You will, I expect, want to address my complaint with a full
explanation, an apology and an assurance that behinds have been
firmly kicked. I will, of course, then include such grovelling on
my blog – www.maciverblog.co.uk.

Yours faithfully

What should Kenny Richey do next?

The long and arduous campaign to save Kenny Richey from a hot seat in Ohio was absolutely right and proper. There were too many unanswered questions for him to be executed. Not enough facts emerged about that fateful evening when a young child died in a mystery blaze. Yet while his death sentence was wrong that does not mean that should be welcomed back to Scotland as some kind of long-lost hero as will inevitably happen this coming week? Richey is not a hero. Never was.

Kenny Richey

Richey leaves the courthouse

Before accepting him as a person worthy of any note, I think the public needs to hear that admission that he has done nothing to warrant special treatment from his own lips. We have to be sure he is grounded in reality. Only then may we decide we want to listen to his story. Otherwise, despite the inevitable column inches, most of us will be sceptical and suspicious of the man himself. For decades, Richey vowed he was innocent. He would never admit any guilt over the death of poor Cynthia Collins. She was the two-year-old who died when an apartment block near where Richey had been drinking caught fire. Yet now he has pleaded no contest to the charge of involuntary manslaughter. He has no defence to the charge.

So he is officially not innocent. Yet that is not to say that he is actually guilty. A crucial point. There was a lot of circumstantial evidence – but that is all it was. The plea bargain which has been struck means all sides accept his sentence to be the time he has already served. It gets him outta there. Not quite without a stain on his character but onto the outside of Putnam County Jail. Whether that move means that Richey has now decided to abandon his previous denials of any guilt or whether it means he has tired of his plan to maintain his innocence and grabbed with both hands the first real chance of walking, we shall no doubt soon hear.

He can also say that he has served his time and repaid his debt to society. His representatives will say he must be allowed to move on. And that bit is true, as far as it goes. What the deal he has signed up to really means is that he cannot ever again claim to be innocent of some part in that child’s death. That could be a burden that will wear heavily on him when he goes for a pint after the steak dinner his mother has promised him. Can he shrug off the aggravating drunks at the end of the bar? You can just hear them. ‘Hey you. Yeah you, kiddie killer. Been roasting any wee girls today? Ah’m gonna roast you, ya scumbag.’

Can he ever adjust to life in Scotland after 20 years incarceration? The £50,000 of media cash negotiated by Max Clifford will certainly help for a bit. He then has a choice. He can resume life as, by all accounts, a boorish and aggressive drunk or become a personality, whatever that is. It will take maybe six months for main media interest to wane. Then the only TV offers could be from I’m A Jailbird Get Me Out Of Here! Then what? Will he be fit to work again? If so, what work? Or will the now-not-quite-so-innocent Richey get swept along with the bandwagon and keep accepting the inevitable offers of book publishing, documentaries and even films?

Being a luckless if not jinxed fellow who has lived an unusual life, there is plenty to satisfy these less salubrious outlets. For whatever reason, dumping Karen Torley last year, after she had campaigned for him for so long, in favour of the woman he was briefly married to 20 years ago will keep them knocking at his door for a wee while longer.

Media tart or barfly? Tough call. No actually, these are both the easy options that anyone in his position could go for. These are what Richey could become with no effort at all. That is, if he wanted the rest of his life to be all me, me, me. However, Richey could instead prove us doubters wrong and use his high profile to aid those who fought for him and people like him. Now there is a novel idea. Doing something that is not for me, me, me.

But who or what could he help? Let me offer a suggestion. A certain organisation that I am a member of, Amnesty International, is opposed to capital punishment in all cases. It spent many years arguing with the authorities in Ohio for both Richey’s retrial and for his death sentence to be commuted. Is there a more deserving or more appropriate cause for him? Having side-stepped a horrible death against all the odds, and after a tireless campaign by others on his behalf, will this man who now has a ready-made international platform on human rights, want to give something back? To help others?

It would not be an easy choice. It would be a thankless one at times. It would also give the rest of his life a definite direction, a real purpose and show that he was a man of real courage embodied with the spirit of human love and gratitude. Over to you, Mr Richey.