Sharia in the UK?

The Arch-freakin’-Bishop of Canterbury* is saying that sharia law in the UK is inevitable? Holy-effin’-moly! Where’s your convictions man? I’m nearly (but not quite) struck speechless.

In one breath the Archbishop says

Nobody in their right mind would want to see in this country the kind of inhumanity that has sometimes been associated with the practice of the law in some Islamic states: the extreme punishments, the attitudes to women,”

Well, yes, I would certainly agree with that. But then he goes on to say:

“But there are ways of looking at marital disputes, for example, which provide an alternative to the divorce courts as we understand them.”

Arrrrgggggggghhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (Sorry I couldn’t come up with something more eloquent, but I did say I was nearly struck dumb with the stupidity of it all.)

Doesn’t he get it? Doesn’t he understand? Enforcing sharia based decisions in matters of family law – and especially in matters of divorce – is exactly what underlines the barbaric attitudes to women.

There’s nothing to stop two parties coming to an agreement based on sharia and abiding by it under current UK law. Women – in case of separation, do you want to hand over custody of your children? Do you want to have a “mosque-based” marriage in which you have no rights when it comes to property? Hey, fine by me. Do what you want.

But no way, no how should British courts be enforcing such decisions or routing women of Muslim origin into sharia based civil court hearings. That’s what a tandem system of sharia law for Muslims would mean.

It’s wrong.

Equality before the law. One law for everyone. We may not always get it, but we must always , always aspire to it.

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*head honcho bishop in the Church of England

UPDATE: At Harry’s Place, just as one would have expected there’s a discussion about this. They call for the sacking of the Archbishop and the disestablishment of the Church of England. No need. When the head of the CoE calls for sharia law – the church done been disestablished.

A memorial to a Polish bear

There’s a campaign to erect a memorial a Polish bear. Well, an Iranian bear enlisted in the Polish army.

No joke.

Known as the “soldier bear” he saw action at Monte Cassino, in Italy, before being billeted – along with about 3,000 other Polish troops – at a camp in the Scottish borders.

And like any other combatant, he is even said to have had an official name, rank and number.

Now a campaign is underway to build a permanent British memorial to the remarkable bear who fought so valiantly for the Allied forces and lived out his final days in Edinburgh Zoo.

Voytek the Bear carried munitions for the troops and also discovered a spy. And his reward? Beer and cigarettes and access to the shower hut. Oh, and a retirement villa at the Edinburgh Zoo, where apparently his old comrades tried to chuck him cigarettes.

Polish veteran Augustyn Karolewski, 82, who still lives near the site of the camp in Berwickshire, said: ‘He was like a big dog, no-one was scared of him. “He liked a cigarette, he liked a bottle of beer – he drank a bottle of beer like any man.”

When the troops were demobilised, Voytek spent his last days at Edinburgh Zoo, where died in 1963.

Mr Karolewski went back to see him on a couple of occasions and found he still responded to the Polish language. He explained: “I went to Edinburgh Zoo once or twice when Voytek was there. “As soon as I mentioned his name he would sit on his backside and shake his head wanting a cigarette. “It wasn’t easy to throw a cigarette to him – all the attempts I made until he eventually got one.”

Yes, you can just imagine the Polish old soldier tossing lit cigarettes into the bear enclosure. Or did he toss him cigarettes and a lighter. If so, that’s one talented bear.

Anyway, best of luck getting a memorial to Voytek the Polish bear.

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Reminds me of that bear that lived at a gas station in Pigeon Forge, TN. It was before my time, but I’ve been told that there was a bear that lived in a cage at this gas station in Pigeon Forge. It was kind of a tourist attraction. Obviously you can’t do that sort of thing anymore, but folks would do anything to drum up business. Even cage a bear and show it off to the motor tourists. Sad really.

And like Voytek, this bear was partial to treats of a human nature. You know, junk food. Snack cakes. Peanuts. Bottles of coke and 7-up. He especially liked the coke. You could hand it into his big paws (if you were brave enough) and he’d tip it up and drink it right down.

Well, one day some drunken rednecks or maybe it was some uncouth yankees who weren’t raised to know any better gave the bear some gasoline in one of those coke bottles. Just handed it right over. They probably reckoned that the bear wouldn’t actually drink it. But it did. Just tipped the bottle up and drank it right down.

Well, that gas didn’t agree with the bear. It started frothing at the mouth and raging and rattling in its cage and throwing itself about. And to be honest, the workmanship on the cage maybe wasn’t what it should have been. Anyway, the bear got loose (scaring the pants off the drunken rednecks or uncouth yankees, depending on who’s telling the story). And it took off up the road. Back towards the park. I guess it wanted to go home. (Well, who can blame it?)

That bear ran right up the road. And the people in the cars were pulling over. It ran up past where the outlet malls are. It ran up past the all those miniature golf places that are there now. It ran past where Porpoise Island used to be. It ran on past where Dollywood is now. It just ran and ran.

It was running up toward the park and then, just about where the welcome sign is for the park it just stopped. Fell over in the road. Fell into a huddled hunk of bear right there.

And you know what happened?

…

….

….

….

It ran out of gas.

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Sorry. Sorry. My friend Vol-K told me that story one time as we were leaving the park, just as we were passing the sign and going the other way into Pigeon Forge. Man, she totally got me, too.

Years and years later she was visiting me in London and telling me about the bear scene in that horrible movie Borat and I said -”Did I ever tell you about that bear that was up in Pigeon Forge?” And she said no – and she had totally forgotten the story and I got her with it. Ha, joke revenge.

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Check out these awesome bear pics. Including this one, which should be a lesson to all gas station bears.

Welcome sign photo from Flickr user The Paradigm Shifter used under Creative Commons license.

Not in good conscience

Londoners were treated to a Channel 4 Dispatches expose on the methods and madness of our dear leader, Mayor Ken Livingstone. Among the charges:

• violating electoral rules – appointed staff working on his re-election campaign while being paid from the public purse – on his orders.
• spending vast amounts of money on thinly justified foreign junkets
• allowing millions of pounds to be funneled to sham companies owned by cronies and fellow travellers
• drinking on the job, not just at his desk, but brazenly drinking whisky at council meetings and at “town hall” style question time with the public
• appointing inappropriately skilled cronies to high paying jobs

Really, this is more than enough to not only turn the man out of office – this is enough to start criminal investigations. Any one of these alone represent a bad sort of politics, but together render the man wholly unfit to represent perhaps the finest capital city in the world.

And this is before taking into account that the man acts like an ass. That he refuses to answer legitimate questions from friends and foes alike – the key means of accountability for elected officials. That he bullies, blusters and evades. That he name calls like a child in the playground.

And this is all before you take account that he associates with some rather nasty characters like Qaradawi and seems to overtly endorse a radical, political Islam. And anyone who questions his association with Muslim Brotherhood fronts and members is called an Islamophobe.

The worst thing about all of this is that dear old Red Ken is likely to get away with it. His jocular bluster seems to sway large parts of the electorate. And in this country Socialist is not a dirty word, so his association with the Socialist Alliance doesn’t sound so bad. Never mind that they don’t practice the kind of socialism that’s essentially benign -no – it’s that deconstructionist, let’s destroy everything that’s good so somehow, some way a new society will come rising from the ashes – meanwhile we’ll wander around drinking champagne and totter around on our hind trotters unless our snout is in the trough type socialism. And folks seem blind to the difference.

I know a lot of people don’t like Boris Johnson. I know his manner is odd and his hair is wild and he’s a master of the self-deprecating. I know that Mr Johnson hasn’t yet really communicated his vision for London – and he must do that. But please, Londoners, you cannot in good conscience re-elect Ken Livingstone.

Not something you’d expect from the Welsh

An Irishman, a Scot, an Englishman and a Welshman all walk into a bar. No, that can’t be right, at least three of them must have been smart enough to duck.

Seriously though, of those four – which is the least bright? Did you say the Irish fellow? Shame on you. You’re not allowed to say that anymore. It’s racist. The Irish have their own box now to tick on forms. You can’t have said Scottish or English because they have different cultural stereotypes. So it must have been the Welsh guy. He must be the stupid one.

The thick Welshman was a new stereotype for me when I came over here. I had no idea. But it’s pervasive. I once had a long, long conversation in the first class smoking carriage of a train to York with a Welsh fellow. We traded secrets about how we’d played on our regional accents (I can still sound Southern if I want to) acted dumb and gotten away with – if not murder – then free bus fares and out of traffic tickets and used it to gain advantage in sales. How we laughed. How we garnered the sulking, resentful looks of the English on the train. Surely, they didn’t think the Welsh really were that stupid, surely they must have had some suspicions all along?

In an age of offense, there do still remain some groups it’s ok to pick at. Groups which it’s still OK to make fun of – like Redneck Southerners or Welshmen from the Valleys. Hey, it’s all for a laugh right?

Apparently so. The Adverstising Standards Agency has rejected a series of complaints about an ad which cast less than flattering light upon the Welsh intellect:

The advertising watchdog has rejected 21 complaints about a commercial which featured a Welsh team in a quiz show. Complainants said the advert for Welsh firm Brecon Five’s vodka presented Welsh people as of low intelligence.

It showed a woman called Jones getting a question about a philosopher right, before a voiceover that said: “That’s not what you’d expect from Wales”.

Hardy, har, har.

The Advertising Standards Authority (ASA) ruled it was light-hearted and unlikely to cause widespread offence.

Well, it’s not likely to cause widespread offense outside Wales, I guess. I mean, I admit – I’m not offended and my mother’s maiden name is Welsh and all.

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And in other news from Wales, this story also struck me funny.

Warren Gatland [the new Welsh rugby coach] has dismissed the notion that there is a widespread drinking culture in Welsh rugby.

Mwwwa, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha. ROFL, LMAO

That’s not what I’d expect from Wales. Or rugby players.

It’s political correctness gone mad, I tell you

Check this out. A man from Northern Ireland has been sentenced to 10 weeks in jail (suspended) for calling a Welsh woman English.

Apparently, being called English is a racial slur. Can I demand prosecution of the judges or magistrates who’ve handed down this silly sentence for declaring that being called English is offensive? They’ve offended me and my English son.

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Actually, I’m not that bothered about the English bit. What really bothers me:

The former lorry driver[Michael Forsythe], who is originally from Northern Ireland, but lives in Powys, Mid Wales, called Lorna Steele an “English bitch” during an argument after he collided with her parked vehicle in the Welsh market town of Newport in February.

Why is it OK for a probably big and burly trucker to hit a woman’s car and then call her a bitch. I’ll admit that “English” wasn’t the right label for the Welsh woman, but it’s hardly the end of the world. I’ll even grant that out of the mouth of someone from Northern Ireland, English does carry a bitter weight (whether they be Protestant or Catholic). But the hurtful, hateful part is indisputably calling that woman a bitch.

I can’t tell you how many times I’ve been called Canadian*, and I’m tough enough to take it. I’ve been called Yank**, too – and while I do find that offensive, I haven’t called the cops yet. But I’d be worried if someone hit my car and called me a bitch. To use that word is aggressive and offensive in anyone’s book. It’s usually meant to offend and when used by big, strange men it’s usually meant to physically intimidate, too.

I’ve noticed this before. Why is it OK to be misogynistic – but even the slightest, tiniest touch of “racism” is deemed worthy of 10 weeks in the poky? I’m not calling for the use of gender-based slurs to go on the books as a crime (we’ve got more than enough “hate” legislation as it is). But I bet his use of the b-word went without comment.

I’m not defending Forsythe’s behavior. Far from it. He sounds like a nasty man. But I’m inclined to agree with him here:

Forsythe has attacked the prosecution as a waste of time and money, according to the Daily Mail newspaper.

“I find it unbelievable that I’ve been prosecuted for this,” he said. “I’ve travelled all over Europe as a lorry driver and never had any problems with anybody and now they’re officially calling me a racist.

“It’s political correctness gone mad.”

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* The Canadians, rather churlishly, do seem to take offense at being called American, so a lot of Brits use Canadian first since we Americans don’t seem to mind.

** As a Southerner, I really don’t like being called a Yank. But I usually just try to explain to the offender what they’ve done.

Low-grade phobias and serial killers

I’m afraid of heights and that’s pretty normal, though I wish I weren’t. But I also have some weird low-grade phobias. By low-grade I mean I’m very afraid of it, irrationally so. But I also understand that the likelihood of encountering my trigger is pretty low – so it doesn’t exactly rule my every day life.

I did have a low-grade phobia of being sued. And I was sued. And it was pretty awful.

Currently, there’s a story in the UK press which has aroused my sense of fear relating to another low-grade phobia I have.

Here’s how the scenario plays out.

There’s a knock on the door. It’s the police. It’s probably a plainclothes officer. He has a warrant. But it’s not because of anything I did. It’s because some psychopathic nutcase who used to live in my house is suspected of hiding human remains on what’s now my property. And now the police want to dig up my garden. My beautiful garden, with its perennials and shrubs and layers of bulbs and small but perfectly formed magnolia.

You know you can’t refuse, because the police have a warrant or will get a warrant. And you also know that no matter how careful they are, all your horticultural effort will be gone in a couple of days.

So what brings this up? Police are currently digging up the garden of someone in Kent, because Peter Tobin used to live there. Human remains have been found, but not the ones they were looking for.

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Peter Tobin was convicted for the slaying of a young Polish woman, Angelika Kluk. Her body was found in a church and I remember the story because during the investigation it was revealed that she had had an affair with the priest. Although it had broken off, and he was entirely innocent of her slaying.

I don’t think any of the former owners or occupiers of our home were sex killers, but you never know. I know a lot of them were odd, because of their post that we’re still receiving. Psychics and scientology mainly.

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There may be some illegal remains in our garden though. Our cat is buried there, and I think, technically, we’re not supposed to dispose of animal remains that way. But we were careful, we buried her deep.

Happy Run-up-to-Christmas Day

By 4pm yesterday, I had bought no Halloween candy. Last year, we got no trick or treaters and I had to bring the candy in to my work (and eat a fair bit of it myself). But in a last minute glow of Horror Holiday nostalgia I rushed to the local grocery store to find the shelves picked nearly bare. I managed to find some Werther’s originals and some kind of strange candy stick thing in boxes, probably the politically correct offspring of candy cigarettes.

I also checked the “seasonal aisle” to see if I could find anything to top up Cletus’s outfit. Nope. Where accessories had been reasonably well stocked only days before, there were only a few vials of fake blood and some tatty witches hats. An Arabic speaking father and daughter where tearing through the remnants in search of costuming for a little boy and they sought my help. I pointed to some novelty skull spectacles in a child’s size and he seemed happy enough with that, but the distressed daughter was pointing to the spot where £1.50 ($3) capes used to sit.

On the way home I noticed two jack-o-lanterns on my street. Two more than I had ever spotted before. And it warmed the cockles of my halloween heart.

We had two sets of trick-or-treaters – though I did have to go out for a while during peak trick-or-treating time, so we might have had more. At any rate, I did give away some candy – although we do have an awful lot of Werther’s original.

Anyway, despite much sneering for many years by the English about this “American” holiday, they finally seem to be taking to it. I’ve always wondered why folks haven’t taken to it more – I mean c’mon, dressing up and free candy. What’s not to like? Who doesn’t have room on their calendar for an extra fun holiday?

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And as we all know, Halloween is no longer All Saint’s Eve, but the Run-up-to-Christmas eve. And in recent years it marks the beginning of the “War on Christmas”, too. And here’s the first story in the gruesome advent calendar. Because this story appears in The Daily Mail – it’s hard to tell exactly what the truth is. They distort everything to make it “political correctness gone mad” – I know this because this happened to a project I worked on.

But it appears that a favorite Labour think-tank, the IPPR is about to issue a report calling on us to “downgrade” Christmas. Leaked recommendations include:

“If we are going to continue as a nation to mark Christmas – and it would be very hard to expunge it from our national life even if we wanted to – then public organisations should mark other religious festivals too. We can no longer define ourselves as a Christian nation, nor an especially religious one in any sense.

Britain may no longer be particularly religious, but this country is still ethnically and culturally Christian to a large degree. And folks still love their Christmas.

I’m all for celebrating other holidays – as long as they’re about fun and feasting and not scourging and fasting. But I don’t see why we need to downgrade any existing holidays to do so.

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Slight digression:

Another finding of the IPPR report was that the state should make a bigger deal of the birth registration.

The system in which parents are required to register a new baby at a register office is dismissed as “purely bureaucratic”. The occasion should be transformed into a “public rite”, using citizenship ceremonies for immigrants as a model, the report says. “Parents, their friends and family and the state [would] agree to work in partnership to support and bring up their child.”

Hell, NO! I’m not working in partnership with the state to bring up my child.

And anyway, this shows a leaning toward a particular ethno-religious tradition – infant baptism. I guess there are parallels with some other religions, too – the Bris for Jewish boys and I think there’s some kind of thanksgiving sacrifice traditional made for Muslim children (two lambs for a boy, one for a girl, if I recall correctly). But in my religious tradition – hard core Protestantism – we don’t hold with such things.

And besides, the report authors (two men) have clearly never had a c-section. You have to register the birth within six weeks – but at that point I couldn’t even get myself down to the town hall never mind organise some stupid statist ceremony.

Ghoulish policy

Today, on Halloween, CABE (The Commission for Architecture and the Built Environment)
issued a report on the uses of cemeteries as open spaces for all, not just the dead.

The report found that up to half of all open spaces in some local authority areas were made up of burial grounds – and that this is an untapped resource.

Sarah Gaventa, director of CABE Space, said “Cemeteries should not be considered solely as resting places for the dead, they should be designed with the living in mind too. The great Victorian cemeteries were designed and maintained as beautiful public parks for the enjoyment of all. Every local authority should have them in their green space strategy and ensure that their full value is realised.”

Our nearest green space is a graveyard, and we go walking there almost every day. I occasionally see other people using the cemetery for walking (even jogging once), but it’s very rare. The cemetery workers are used to seeing me now, and they certainly don’t make me feel unwelcome. But I reckon a lot of people wouldn’t feel entirely comfortable recreating in a place of eternal rest.

Darth Saudi

The King of Saudi Arabia is on a state visit to the United Kingdom. That means Saudi flags are flying on the Mall. That means that King Abdullah is serenaded by British military bands.

Guess what they played as he strolled up to meet the Queen.

The Imperial March – aka Darth Vader’s march.

Heh.

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Update

This is so unbelievable, so apt yet so daring, that I started to doubt myself. But someone else saw it, too. Here’s the clip from Channel 4 news – under a story called Saudi funded literature in British mosques I wish I knew how to get that up on YouTube, but here’s one to tide you over:

FURTHER UPDATE – Noon 31 October 2007

Of course it’s on YouTube now – spotted via Conservative Home.

Best line is “King Abdullah may not be head of an evil empire” – but then again, he might.

Who watches the watcher?

Head of UK Government Audit steps down after loads of tasty meals

Sir John Bourn, the guardian of the public purse who ran up bills of £356,000 on travel and £27,000 on meals, is to step down from the post in January, it was announced today.

This just tickles me silly.