I suppose I like comedy as much as anybody, and I can’t really come on here spouting bull about what a big comedy fan I am. I have no special interest in it, or knowledge of it – my background is in film and literature, after all. But I still have quite a big soft spot for things like Monty Python and Fawlty Towers, as I might have noted on here once or twice before, so tonight I feel I ought to send you here. Truth is I hadn’t really heard of John Howard Davies before tonight, but I know that tv and film arre art forms where one easily forgets about the people behind the camera, so I just thought I’d use my blog entry tonight to mark thee passing of a man partly responsible for making so many people laugh.

I had intended to go to bed early last night, as I didn’t sleep too well the night before, but after the news, Legends Of The Fall started playing. I’d only seen a bit of it before, so I thought I’d give it a viewing, and I’m happy to report that I was impressed. Granted, it may be nothing special in terms of the philosophy of film, buut in terms of watching a great story well told, with fascinating characters portrayed by outstanding actors, I doubt it can easily be beaten. The film is essentially about the american myth of the old west, populated by independent men with a deep resentment for the state; it’s also about brotherhood and family, so you can see how hese two things play to a specific american notion of itself. I went to bed pondering these myths, and how they may have a bearing on America’s attitude towards guns. Above all, I felt satisfied at having just watched a great film, and slept well, though it was punctuated by several gruesome dreams.

I’m just blogging to tell you all that I have now switched computer: I’m currently using Lyn’s old Mac, which we recovered from the thieves. It’s still much faster than my old pc though, which I think now needs a good old reformatting. I already quite like my new computer, although I must say Im having to squint at this blog entry as I type it, as I don’t yet know how to make stuff appear bigger. Anyway, I have much to explore; for one thing, I’m looking forward to using yootube without it going jerky. I’ll let you know how I get on in this brave new world of apple, but for now I am off to investigate.

This may be somewhat lazy blogging again, but tonight I want to draw your attention to this interview with Daniel Craig. The first clip on the page interests me the most, as in it, Craig discusses the difficulty of making a new bond film which does not quite take itself seriously – as bond films shouldn’t – yet is not a parody of the franchise. The problem, Craig points out, is the Austin powers films, which prevent any new bonds from moving in that direction; yet without the comic, at times camp element, Bond wouldn’t be completely Bond. For a cinephile like myself, it throws up a few rather interesting questions about a film’s relationship to others which are well worth pondering.

This afternoon I decided that it has been far too long since I did any creative writing, so I jotted down the following poem. No prizes for guessing who it’s about.

Herculean Creativity

She rolls her rollerball, an inch a time

Patiently placing notes on the score, Gradually composing. Generating sounds.

New, exotic, and yet rhythmic.

Meticulously making music, building up beats

Unruly hands fidgeting with effort and concentration.

It’s an Herculean effort of creativity;

Yet, every day she rolls back(wards) into her studio, and hours later there comes out a sublime beauty, the type of which I have never before heard or seen.

Lyn has been working on a new track, which can be found here. I really think this track is the best I have heard her create, which is why I don’t want to say much about it but let it ‘speak for itself’. It really is an impressive piece, and I’m very proud of my girlfriend. We’ll now start work on a video for it.

I heard on the news this morning that a man from Cheshire has been jailed for four years for using facebook to try to incite a riot. Now, is it me or does that sound like a very dangerous precedent? If you think about it, we must all now be much more careful about what we say on facebook, twitter, and on blogs. I’ve written on here before now about my hatred of David CaMoron; I may have even called for his assassination once or twice. Of course, I’d never seriously want the guy dead, but I’d claim I do to be provocative and as a display of my anger and frustration with him. Now, though, we can’t state such things for fear of risking a jail sentence. In effect, then, this judgement acts like a censor – we no longer have the ability to write entirely as we want to, but must now be careful that we don’t incite acts of violence, intentionally or otherwise. Thus this Tory government has began to erode our civil liberties, using the riots as an excuse. The riots may have worried us all, but the way in which they are now being used by the government is even more worrying.

The truth is I’m not in the mood to get myself into a frenzy about what CaMoron said today. He claims to offer explanations for recent events, and yet spouts the most simplistic, puerile arguments. He just want to pin the actions of the rioters down to the typical tory scapegoats of bad parents, single mums, and a lack of morals, whatever they are, without realising that the causes for the recent upheavals are far more complex. All I can say is, what an idiot. I’d laugh if I wasn’t so angry.

anyway, my reason for this entry is to link to a new blog about the Woolwich riots, which can be found here. They link to me, so returning the favour is the least I can do.

Yesterday saw the best night out I’ve had in a good long while. I’ve always wanted to go to a festival, and now I have, if only for one evening. We went to canary wharf jazz festival. To be honest it was Dominic’s idea. But he always seems to have brilliant ideas like that.

At first, of course, I didn’t know what to expect; I was rather expecting to hear some old-style jazz music, the type you hear in places like new Orleans. Instead, wart I found was more modern, but still very, very cool. We saw the last two groups of the night, and I was especially taken by The Herbaliser, the headline act. For some reason they reminded me of The cat empire, so I’ll definitely be looking them up.

Listening to the funky music last night in Canada square, surrounded by people, and looking up at the skyscrapers around us, I remember thinking: ”This is what London is really about”. A glance at the list of upcoming events told me that there are many more gigs to go to, many more nights out to be had. In the last week the image of London has become an image of a looter and a thug, but that isn’t it’s true face – the true image of london is the image I saw last night – an image of people coming together, listening to music, and having a great time.

I just saw something incredible, and I don’t just mean england winning the cricket. i decided to take a walk to Woolwich this afternoon, to take a proper look at the damage there. What I saw was really quite life affirming. on the boards outside the burned out pub, people were writing messages. I don’t just mean graffiti – someone had apparently used his twitter account to set it up, first obtaining permission from the police. People from all walks of life are just coming, picking up a marker pen, and having their say. In a way it was a reaction to the violence, a statement from the comunity to the rioters that they can’t win. yet it s a also a forum, a place for people the vent their anger yet also to offer explaintions. While the fire was a manifestation of people s anger in the lacanian real, in a way that wall fuctions to translate that manifestation, as well as our collective reaction to it, in to the symbolic.

Yesterday I was out and about with my friend chopper. I go out with him quite a bit – he seems to like my company, claiming I help him calm down. Although some of his views are rather too right wing for my liking, I like him too. Going around with him helps me to see the more authentic side of south London – chopper seems to know everyone in the area, and seems very well respected. Mind you, I can’t help but wonder what people think when they see him pushing me along in my chair, or whether it damages his reputation as one of the hardest men about.

Anyway, yesterday we were in Woolwich. You may recall that Woolwich was one of the areas affected by the recent riots, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like it. There is a Weatherspoons pub where we had the occasional pint, which was burned to a cinder; there is nothing left of it but a blackened wreck. More striking, though, was a building half way along the high street which had totally collapsed – you could see right through it. You could tell it was a really old building, as a Victorian fireplace had been exposed; it was like seeing a burned corpse stripped of life. Rather eerily, you could also see blackened books on a shelf, still clinging to a wall. I really was taken by that sight, and I suspect it will stay with me for a long while.

I’m still not sure what all this means, but aster seeing what I saw yesterday, I really hope the riots are now over.

I just want to use this blog entry to commemorate the thirtieth birthday of my brother mark. Did I just write that? Can my big bro really be thirty? It does not seem two weeks since we were playing ‘war of the rooms’ back in Cheshire, but now Mark has become a great man of science, bound for Cern, married to a most excellent woman in Kat. I am truly proud of my brother, and seeing him these last couple of weeks, after so long apart, has made me realise how lucky I am to have him as a sibling. Happy birthday bro!

Yesterday I said that the current uprisings in our cities had no purpose behind them, save the urge to wreck and steal. That may well be the case, but it begs the question, what gives rise to that urge. According to the prime minister, it is a question of a lack of morals and a decent upbringing in some people; in other words, CaMoron thinks the problem stems from the fact that not everyone is like him. How stupid? Seriously, how is this numpty leading the country? As pointed out far more eloquently here, the problem is far more complicated, stemming from the disenfranchisement of young urban men, lack of education and jobs, the cutting of services, and a general discontent with the status quo. While these riots are not overtly political, they are caused by the actions of this government. That is why I was appalled to see Michael gove trying to pretend that the government had nothing to do with this problem on Newsnight, arrogantly ridiculing tedsa Jowell for suggesting that the problem was far more complex than sheer thuggery. We really do not need people this stupid, who see such problems in such simplistic terms, running the country at times like these.

Let me begin this entry by issuing something of a retraction: I once stated on here that I did not recognise David CaMoron as Prime Minister. Of course, the truth is I do; whether I like it or not, he was more or less democratically elected to lead a coalition government, and I will not do anything to alter that. I still fully intend to rant and rave on my blog against him though, and that is as it should be. People have a right to peaceful protest, be that going on marches, writing nasty blog entries, or producing other forms of art, but some sort of order must prevail.

That is why I am so frightened about the recent violence in our cities: there is no order to it, no reason behind it. A political protest I can understand, but the uprisings in London and other cities seem to be mere acts of violence and burglary. Of course, there must be something behind it – some underlying discontent in certain sections of society. To dismiss this violence as mere thuggery is too simplistic, which is why part of me suspects we’re only getting one side of the story from our politicians and our media. Yet the way in which these acts seem to have no purpose behind them, save the urge to wreck and steal, and seem to be brutal and random, petrifies me.

Although I daresay I had rather too much champagne on Saturday evening, later today we will most certainly be cracking open another bottle. The police came round earlier and dropped Lyn’s stolen mac off. She is examining it as I write. I must admit that, when it was first taken, I did not have much hope of ever seeing it again I’ve experienced such a thing once before, when my Lightwriter was stolen, and that episode taught me not to get my hopes up. But I had not factored in the tenacity of Lyn Levett.

Looking back, it’s quite an incredible story, really. I helped Lyn buy a new computer to replace the old one. Using that, she realised that the old computer was still logging on to her network, and was able to see what the guy who had it was doing. She made a film about it and put it on youtube in the hope of getting help finding it. With a little help from my friend Becca, this was brought to the attention of a reporter from channel Four. But then the trail went cold, until a few weeks ago when the Mac appeared back on her network. Lyn and my brother Luke were then able to track it down to an address in Manchester, we told the police, and the rest, as they say, is history.

The story has ended very happily indeed. Words cannot describe how grateful I am to Luke, Becca, and everyone else who got involved, nor how proud I am of Lyn. She never gave up. I can’t help thinking what an awesome film this might one day make. You know, I think I’ll email that guy from channel for again, and then start work on the screenplay.

My list of the best meals of my life now has another addition. I know I said that one could only decide such things in retrospect, but sometimes you just know you’re eating an amazing meal. Yesterday I was sat, with Lyn, in the hall of Balliol College, Oxford, surrounded by a great many of my family, huge portraits of people like Asquith hanging on the walls, and I just thought ‘wow’.

We were there to celebrate the wedding of my cousin Christina to Tom. It was, like Mark and Kat’s wedding, an incredible day: the buildings around us were awesome, the service was touching, and although we’re related I have to say Chris looked beautiful. I don’t think there was a dry eye in the house.

Not wanting the hastle of having two weekends away in a row, we had decided to go to oxford and back in a day, so we couldn’t stay to the bitter end. It’s a shame, as I don’t know when I will see my extended family again, and I don’t think I said bye to all of them. Oh well, I’ll just have to engineer an excuse to get everyone together again.

I was watching channel four news last night, and a writer of a famous right-wing blog was on there claiming that mainstream politics and media does not reflect the views off the majority. According to him, the majority of people in this country oppose stuff like immigration and our ties with Europe, and support capital punishment. I’ve come across this arrogant point of view before, and would like to address it. There is no silent right-wing majority whose views are being somehow suppressed in the mainstream. Mainstream politics and media is liberal (with a small L) because the vast majority of people in this country are liberal and tolerant people, although, to be fair, you could debate which is the cause and which is the effect. By and large, however, although we could at this point get all bogged down in Marx, I think it fair to say mainstream politics must reflect majority views simply because that is how people vote. many in the right-wing blogsphere delude themselves into thinking they represent a majority viewpoint, when, in fact, they represent the views of a tiny minority of numpties who make the rest of us feel embarrassed. Their views aren’t mainstream because, thank the FSM, the rest of us have thought about the issues at hand and realised how philosophically barren such views are.

Sometimes writing a blog can give you an inflated sense of self importance, and you think that, because people read your entries, people like and agree with what you say. Blogging gives one a sense of power. I know my blog is probably only read by my friends and family – who else would want to read my inane rantings? – but in some, their hitcount goes up so quickly, and they get such supportive comments from the idiots who read the fascist crap they write, that they convince themselves that they are right. In fact, the rest of us can see that what they spout is bull, and, after reading a couple of entries just for a laugh, disregard such writing as the illogical, ill-thought-through dross it is. Thus there is no silent, repressed, right-wing minority, only a bunch of idiots whose views the rest of us see as shallow, illogical and intolerant.

I hate it when these blogger-types talk so much bollocks.

I love the internet. Like most cripples these days, I could barely survive without my computer or the Internet. It’s how I keep in touch with most of my friends and family, do my research, organise my Pas and so on; in fact, I think Lyn and I spend most of our time at our computers. Yet sometimes I think there are cases where you just have to get off your arse, go out into the world, and get stuff done.

Take this morning, for instance. On Saturday we have another wedding to go to, this time in oxford. Now, I know you can book tickets online, but the route we’re going to have to take will be complicated, so after much fretting and trying to work out websites, I said to myself, ”Right, let’s just do it the old way.” I wrote out the following note, printed it, and set off for Charlton train station.

” Hi

On Saturday, me, my wheelchair-using fianc and two personal assistants need to travel from here to oxford. We have an appointment at [omitted] at 3pm. We intend to travel back in the late evening. We need as few changes as possible. Can you help me book tickets and arrange for ramps etc

Your help is greatly appreciated”

I knew I could have typed the message into my lightwriter, but I find sometimes simply handing people notes is faster and more efficient. If memory serves, it’s a technique I used to use when I first started coming to London to visit Lyn. Today, once again, it worked a treat – the woman helping me was bright, attentive, and understood immediately what I needed. It took a little while, but a short time later I rolled out of the station with the tickets, itinerary, and the assistance we’ll need organised. Sometimes, the old ways are the best; the ‘net is great, but there’s nothing like good, knowledgeable people to get stuff organised.

I don’t feel I know enough about american politics or economics to comment on it at any legnth, but I do feel that world economics is currently being held to ransom by a band of ultra right wing zealots in the states, holding far more power than any bunch of morons should. I could go on about how I feel that the so-called tea party is putting their hatred of obama ahead of all else, including the risk of a dire world financial crisis. Instead, I better just direct you here , to an article by someone who knows what they’re talking about.

In my entry earlier I neglected to mention a very important detail: it’s only small, and I only remembered I had intended to include it after we went out this afternoon, but I think it’s worth a blog entry unto itself anyway. At the reception on Saturday, each table had a name rather than a number, as is commonplace at such events. I think I’ve mentioned on here before that Mark is a physicist, so each table was named after a famous physicist. The head table, at which Mark, Kat and our parents sat, was called Newton, for example. Now, I don’t know for certain weather he had done it deliberately, although I’d be willing to wager good money that he did, but the table which Lyn and I were on was called Hawking. When I realised the connection – like hawking, we are both VOCA users, and he was something of a childgood hero of mine – I burst into laughter; never again will I doubt Mark’s wit.

Rather appropriately for my two thousandth entry, It gives me very great pleasure indeed to be able to record that the wedding of my brother Mark to Kat. The ceremony was in Loughborough on Saturday, and was followed by a reception at the magnificent Stanford Hall. I went with Lyn, and we had a great time. Once again, I find myself having too much to write on here, and not knowing what to put in or leave out.

This weekend was the first time I had seen mark or Kat in over a year and a half, so just seeing them was a joy in itself. It was also the first time they had met Lyn, so, in a way, the family felt complete for the first time: at the reception on Saturday afternoon, a great feeling of happiness came over me – I know it was Mark and Kat’s day, but this weekend was very special for me. I suppose I love my family, and I’m enormously proud of them, and to see it united for the first time brought me great joy.

This weekend, I also met Luke, Mum’s cousin, for the first time. Although I’d heard a great deal about him he lives mostly in LA so it was the first time we’d met since I was a baby. He works in film, so almost as soon as we got talking, I knew where I’d got my passion for the arts from. It was an incredible moment: finally, someone in the family who knew about Lacan, Bazin and so on. Indeed, I became rather jealous when he told me he had been taught by a guy who had studied under Barthes himself. I’m now looking forward to emailing him my thesis, to see what he thinks of my work.

In all, then, it was a wonderful weekend, and it went too fast. The best thing, I think, was seeing mark and Kat so happy. Another highlight, it has to be recorded, was Luke’s awesome best man speech. It’s my cousin Christina’s wedding to Tom this coming Saturday, so it won’t be too long till I see my family again. I can’t wait!

I do not have much to blog about tonight, other than quite an interesting observation. I have been watching quite a bit of the bbc news channel recently, and I noticed today that at least two of their correspondents have a disability. Not just underlings either: their foremost military consultant, who they call on to speak on subjects like Afghanistan and Iraq, is a wheelchair user, and one of their foremost commentators on politics is blind. These are not just minor correspondents, but seem very much foregrounded in the BBC news. This is surely just another example of the beeb leading the way.

[I just wrote this for one of my online right-wing correspondants. I got carried awayy, but I think it would be kinda wasteful of me not to reprint it here. I hope she doesn’t mind]

There is nothing rational in the type of rancid politics you promote. If you were a rationalist as you claim to be, you would have realised that there is no ‘normal’ state for man, no fixed set of values and behaviours everyone must adhere to. You would also have realised that there is nothing tangible fixing a specific people to a specific place, and that the free-flow of people helps spread the exchanging and generation of ideas. You would have realised that it is liberalism, the ideology of acceptance and tolerance, which is the only truly rational ideology given that there is no normal state for humanity. Things like morality, ethnicity, gender and even intelligence are subjective values – there are no absolutes. The only ideology liberalism cannot tolerate is intolerance; this is it’s central paradox, but part of tolerance is the constant questioning of one’s own ideas and beliefs. Thus liberals accept there can be no objective truth, and reality is itself is contradictory. That is why the notion of ‘liberal fascism’ is so laughable. Right-wing ideologies lack this dynamic function, choosing only to believe in absolutes – good and bad, black and white and cannot therefore be said to be truly rational. I realise that this can make some uncomfortable, because it states that nothing is fixed, but when you try to be as objective as one can be, this is the only conclusion one can come to. Even the notion of rationality is a subjective concept, so you may be right after all, but to accept such a notion as the subjectivity of rationality is in itself liberal.

It seems to me that, in a way, Anders Behring Breivik was right when he said he thought himself to be in a war, as there are indeed people in the world who seek to set up the Muslim state he fears. But, rather than all Muslims as he would have us believe, they are a very tiny minority, who, ironically, have views very similar to his. This is a war of intolerance against intolerance, right-wing nutter against right-wing nutter, with ‘normal’, moderate people caught in the middle. The problem is intolerance itself: extreme right-wing xenophobia which, almost ten years ago caused the 9/11 attacks and caused the attacks last week. They are two sides of the same coin, and unless something is done to stem this hatred more innocent people will die.

Of course, people have a right to speak as they will and believe what they whish, but if I started spouting things which are obviously untrue, and might actually harm people, I should be told to shut up. Parties like the BNP, EDL and UKIP, with their manifestos of xenophobia and ‘repatriation’ are part of this problem, helping perpetuate this insane war by preaching segregation and difference. They hide themselves hypocritically behind the freedom of speech, quite unable to back their views up with evidence, while all the time adding fuel to the fire of hatred. Meanwhile we liberals are stuck with Starbucks dilemma, unable to do or say anything while madmen steer us to our doom.

This must change. What Richard Dawkins has done to religion must now be done to extreme right-wing politics; they are, after all, pretty similar. Just as Dawkins, in The God Delusion and other books, laid bare the lack of logic behind religion, so must someone lay bare the lack of logic behind racism or ethnic prejudices. There may be absolutely no evidence for god, but there’s even less for racial differences. More to the point, whereas religion might be a force for good, racism is always destructive and so needs to be exploded once and for all. It’s time these far-right nut jobs were shown their mistakes and made to shut up, before the rest of us suffer even more for their intolerant lunacy.

I have finally got round to listening to Beat Science, music made my old university friend Chris Flackett and his friend Daniel Horton. To be honest, Chris has been asking to give it a listen for a while, but I’ve been putting it off, not knowing what to expect nor whether I’d be able to do it justice. However, I clicked the appropriate link this afternoon, and was instantly impressed. Chris is a very clever guy and a skilled wordsmith, and Daniel Horton has put his thought-provoking, angsty lyrics to some very cool tunes. Together, they form music which comments on the modern world; I like it very much, especially the cynicism directed at David CaMoron and his ‘big society’.

Tonight I feel compelled to write something about the atrocity in Norway, but I don’t think I can. Like most people, I suspect, I can not understand what could bring a man to decide to cause so much suffering and grief. Most of all, I am struck with revulsion at his far-right, extremist politics; I see myself as a liberal who values multiculturalism and equality, and the idea that this man attacked such noble aims so violently fills me with fear. Most of all, though, I am horrified by the idea that this man had links with the English defence League: the leader of that organisation just appeared on Newsnight trying to distance himself from these attacks, but I remain unconvinced. It seems to me that they, as well as the BNP, share a type of xenophobia, directed especially at Islam, which, when placed in the mind of someone far enough unhinged, will always lead to atrocities like we saw in Oslo. I am horrified that anyone among their ranks could remotely justify such actions, as I saw earlier today, by suggesting that ” The fire should be turned on the liberals who allowed uncontrolled immigration to cause so much anxiety and hatred, and who even now refuse to deal with it”, the inference being that it is the liberals, whose ideals of tolerance and freedom of movement regardless of identity who are to blame for this massacre for causing such ‘anxiety’ in this madman.

This morning I woke up and echoed a line once spoken by Frodo Baggins: ”Where am I, and what is the time?” for the first time in a year and a half, I could not roll over and hug Lyn, which made me rather sad. Yesterday was, however, a very cool day: my cousin Christina is marrying tom, whose stag do was yesterday. I’d seen he had posted an invitation on facebook to quite a few people, including myself and my brother Luke, and, thinking I’d only have a coupler of drinks with him then come home, I decided to go along.

A couple of drinks, however, turned into several very nice bottles of wine by the river, which then became my first visit to the dog racing, accompanied by several beers, which then became a visit to Tom’s friends place for a pizza. I rarely turn down a good party, and taking my leave of thee group halfway through would have been rude. By the time it was winding down, however, we were in Wimbledon, and a taxi fare across London at that time of night would have cost a bomb. That’s how, for the first time since I moved to London, I woke up without Lyn beside me, and it felt wrong.

I was also worried that Lyn didn’t know where I was. I vaguely remembered asking one of the guys with us to phone Paula to tell her to tell Lyn where I was, but I wasn’t sure. Thus, once I was awake, even though it was 7am and I’d only had hour hours’ sleep, I couldn’t drift back off. I also felt guilty for imposing myself on tom; I’d gone without a PA, expecting only a short trip, but that had turned into a full-blown overnight stay, so I vaguely remember tom trying to get my very drunk self into borrowed pyjamas at three this morning.

Apart from that, however, it had been an amazing night. I met a few of Tom’s friends, who, to a man, are a most excellent group. Having a flutter on the dogs was great fun, although we didn’t win much. Tom accompanied me home on the tube this lunchtime, and my parents were rather surprised to see him appear with me on Skype, much to our amusement. Right now, though, I’m knackered and probably in need of a bath. What a weekend!

I realise I have not written much on here concerning dsability politics recently, so tonight I think I’ll simply direct you here. This Guardian article spells out explicitly the impact the Government’s cuts will have for people not unlike me and lyn. To be honest, I’ve started to stop reading such articles as they terrify me too much, and make me too angry.

I watched Sherlock on Iplayer earlier. I started watching it on the telly last night, but decided to watch something else at nine. However, I was so taken by the half hour I did watch that I thought it well worth a proper reading. I was not disappointed: I thought it a masterful adaptation and modernisation of the original; I was extremely impressed with the writing, which has the subtlety and precision of a scalpel wielded by a master surgeon, yet wasn’t without humour. I was especially impressed with the characterisation of Holmes himself, which seemed both utterly modern yet retained something of the nineteenth century original. Making Watson into a blogger was a master stroke too. In all, it really was a damn fine bit of TV, and one I heartily recommend.

Today saw the last space shuttle land for the last time, bringing to an end the shuttle project. I can’t help feeling pretty glum about it: of course, those machines were getting pretty old, but given NASA doesn’t have anything to go in it’s place, and given the financial positions of both Europe and Russia, it seems like mankind’s exploration of space has been put on hold. Ever since I was a kid, I have loved programmes like Star trek, portraying a future where we all explored space as one people. perhaps rather sillily, in a way I hoped that one day this would come true – my brothers and I played at flying around in space ships, exploring strange, new worlds. Now, reality has hit, and it would seem that economics has brought that dream to an end, for the foreseeable future, at least.

Yet, maybe one day, perhaps in fifty one years, seven months and fourteen days*, that dream will be reborn. Then, maybe, humanity will achieve her first, best, destiny, and we’ll leave the confines of our planet behind. If we don’t, we are forever doomed to bicker over resources which will grow sparser and sparser, ultimately wiping ourselves out. That’s why I’m so concerned about this halt in progress. You could argue that the billions of dollars spent on space exploration could be better spent on, say, finding new renewable energy sources or better crops, and it would be a good argument, but, in the long run, in terms of the future of the species, I really believe we need to spread out into the galaxy.

*feel free to check my maths

Changing the subject slightly, those interested in cinema might be interested in this article on Godard. It’s only short, so it doesn’t go into too much depth, but it gives one a little insight into one of the last great auteurs; a person who saw film not just as a medium for telling stories and making money, but as the quintesential art form of the twentieth century.

I was going to do an analysis of what happened yesterday today, going into what I think the implications will be for the Murdochs, CaMoron and all the other parties involved. Butt I can’t – the truth is, we had guests round last night, certain quantities of alcohol were consumed, and I fell asleep on the sofa. I therefore missed Newsnight, so I cannot write the cutting edge analysis you usually get from this website. For this I apologise. Besides, it’s probably too early to judge what the political fall-out will be from this farce anyway. Instead, I’ll just send you here, to a clip of what is surely the most memorable moment of the day.

Do you ever get the feeling that you just watched a piece of dynamite explode? I just watched Panorama on bbc1, and it suddenly truck struck me how monumental the events of tomorrow may turn out to me. Tomorrow, the CEO of News international, one of the biggest news organisations in all the world, will be questioned in part of a scandal which also has a good chance of forcing the Prime minister to resign. Rarely has he word seen the like.

I would like to be able to say I’ve never liked Murdoch or Sky, but that would be untrue. As a kid I practically begged my dad to get Sky so I could watch American wrestling and therefore blend in more at school. I soon realised that wrestling was a soap opera in trunks, and not long after that Sky was only interested in taking my dad’s money. I now realise that the whole organisation is a sham; a con for swindling the gullible. I loathe the Murdoch press and media, and so I must admit to relishing the prospect of Murdoch being torn to shreds tomorrow.

Yet, at the same time, I know I must not relish it so much. My brother Luke once told me of a very wise motto: ‘I do not agree with what you say, but I will defend your right to say it to my death’. We lefties might be bouncing up and down at the prospect of seeing the right wing media take a trouncing tomorrow, but at the same time they have a right to be there. Mind you, in the way that Murdoch himself shut down news of the world in an effort to save his own skin, we can see he doesn’t care about that sort of thing himself. I thought the News of the World utterly juvenile, but what Murdoch did was an act of a mann who had grown too powerful; a man too used to invincibility. The problem, then, is not with the right-wing papers; the problem is the fact that so much of the media is controlled by one man and his son. A man who, until now, has enjoyed far too much power. I think tomorrow he’ll fall. The question, as tonight’s Panorama made clear, is who he’ll take with him.

I hope James gets home okay. He came to visit us this weekend. even though we have only met twice, we have been talking online for quite a while, and in many respects we are pretty similar. I think this weekend, then, was long overdue. The thing with people you meet in the online world is that your friendships never feel concrete until you meet in person. Mind you, at this point I should state that, although it’s how I met the person I hope to one day marry, one should always be cautious about meeting people who you encounter online. In this case, however, I was pretty sure James was who he claimed to be.

What I was less prepared for, though, was his wit. Perhaps for the first time I was struck by how intelligent James is. He has CP, and is doing an MPhil in politics, so I knew he was intelligent, but I didn’t realise quite how bright he is. We were talking last night, and he was throwing out references to lots of writers, many of whom I’d never heard of, let alone read. Even though I didn’t agree with him all the time – for instance, he puts too much emphasis on elitism, which I see as a subjective construct – I found our conversations this weekend very interesting indeed. Speaking face to face with someone, rather than just online, adds an extra dimension to a conversation; I think it lets you understand more.

I think James Cullis went from being an online associate to being a friend this weekend. He is a great guy, and I must say that I love his rather plumy accent. As he said as I saw him off at the station earlier, we really must see each other more regularly than once a year from now on.

Given that I have been plugging Hugh Jones’ work on here quite a bit, I might as well plug that of his sister. I don’t think I’ve sent you here, to the harmonettes website, before. Charlotte, it seems, has been her usual absurdly busy self: she’s now part of a group called the harmonettes – she and two other girls, Georgie and Sarra, go round fairs and festivals singing in the style of the Anderson sisters or the Puppinis. I’m pleased to say that, by all reports, they seem to be doing rather well. It’s also good to hear that they came together as normal groups should, rather than being put together by some producer for money. Anyway, please go check them out.

It is to my great shame and embarrassment that I knew nothing of this. it is a short film by Michael Reed about the difficulties faced by some people who use AAC in accessing literacy and communication. I know Michael from Onevoice, but, now I’m living with Lyn and dealing with life as a south Londoner, I’ve fallen out of touch with that brilliant organisation. Thus this film slipped under my radar, and I’m kicking myself for it. Anyway, it’s a brilliant bit of animation, serving as an introduction to the complexities of educating kids with AAC, and the often inane prejudices they have to face.

There is a hell of a lot to think and write about tonight. It’s been quite an amazing day – the day on which Rupert Murdoch withdrew his bid for sky. I am, of course, no expert, but it seems to me that the implications and ramifications of what happened today are huge. The damage to Murdoch’s reputation this scandal has done is one thing, but now the Americans are talking about the possibility that Murdoch’s people hacked into the phones of 9/11 victims. Most worrying for us, though, is the possibly that the newspapers will have to be more tightly regulated. I can see why parliament could have no choice but to impose regulations, but this would directly conflict with the principal of the free press. Moreover, the question was raised in parliament earlier over whether things like blogs or Facebook would then come under regulation. I’d like to consider this in greater detail soon, but it seems to me that this debacle may have lead us into some very, very dangerous territory.

A rather interesting question keeps jumping into my head: what if it was the Beeb, and not news international, that got caught hacking into people’s phones? The bbc has, of course, had it’s share of controversy, most notably over the Iraq war, but the current scandal is of a different kind. Granted, the bbc accused the government of exaggerating claims about WMD, which is rather serious, but it did not hack into people’s phones or bribe police. Had it done so, I have no doubt that the bbc would be no more. It is a publicly funded institution, and had it been found to have engaged in the type of activity news int seems to condone, it would have had to be broken up at the very least. This begs the question, what should happen to news int? their bid for sky has already been blocked, but should it be broken up? Is it possible to do so?

One of the things which irritated me the most about the filmic adaptation of the Lord of the Rings was that, whenever the good guys were in a tight spot, it seemed that someone would come to their rescue in the nick of time. For instance, at the battle of Minas Tirith, all seemed lost until the elves came and saved the day (hence Legolas’ exclamation ”that is no orc horn”). This happened several times during the films, and it irritated the hell out of me. We all know that in real life there’s no guarantee of such things happening, so tonight, with pressure mounting on CaMoron and Murdoch, it’s hard to see how either of them could get out of their predicaments. There will be no cliches, no mighty cavalry charges, just two scumbags getting their comeuppances. Both their reputations are in ruins, especially Murdoch’s, who I think can now kiss Sky goodbye. Sometimes, just sometimes, reality turns out to be more interesting than fiction.

I have just finished watching the return of the King; it’s taken me about a week and a bit to get through the whole Lord of the Rings trilogy. As I said , I have the extended edition, so the whole thing is in six parts. I think that in itself adds to the experience, as it retains the episodic quality of the novel. The books take a while to get through; one reads them chapter by chapter, and you have to pause. This means that, unlike something you experience in one go from start to finish, these books become part of your life for some time. I think the films have retained that quality. Thus, Jackson has not simply made a film, but something different, something which requires extended attention – something between a film and a novel.

It is not, of course, without it’s faults. It certainly isn’t a shot for shot adaptation of Tolkien’s novel, and I disagree with some of the choices he’s made. For instance, I hate the way he’s turned the character of Gimli into little more than comic relief; there are also quite a few americanisms and modern transtextual, pop-culture references which irritate me and which I suspect Tolkien himself would have loathed. I could write at length the pros and cons of this adaptation, and part of me still resents their making, yet while I was watching these films I began to feel as I did reading the books. They made me yearn to go walking along the lanes of Cheshire again, between the fields pretending there were black riders again. Despite it’s faults, and I can see why Tolkien purists hate this film, I think peter Jackson has done a remarkable job in adapting a novel once said to be unfilmable. I’ll probably write more on this soon, but all in all, I think he deserve praise and gratitude.