Holy Clarkson!

It pains me to say this but I have recently found myself coming to the conclusion that Jeremy Clarkson might be the saviour of the English language.

This thought came to me a few days ago, not while listening the the Top Gear presenter's baritone voice or his opinions on the latest Audi or Porsche, but while listening to an economics report on Radio 4's PM programme. A correspondent was reporting on the possibility of some kind of economic rescue package to be proposed by the Chancellor. The reporter was speculating as to what the package might consist of and finished by saying that the Chancellor would need to be careful that it didn't 'turn out to be a damp squib'. So far, so informative. The only problem was that I had been able to see the approach of the words 'damp squib' from the start of the sentence, if not the paragraph.

It was then that I realised the problem. Journalism, an occupation which is all about words and opinions and communications is hidebound with clichés. Whether it is reporters talking about 'damp squibs' or weather-presenters talking about torrential and (get this) heavy rain, the media seems entirely empty of original prose and original thoughts.

However, there is one shining light that promises a better world. Jeremy Clarkson never met a cliché that he didn't stamp on. Each of his phrases is beautifully constructed to illuminate and surprise. The argument that clichés are useful because people can understand them is redundant. No-one would claim to be unable to understand Clarkson, yet what passes his lips is always fresh and enlightening. You might not agree with what he says, but you have to appreciate the way he says it.

And so I leave you with the following:

"It really is about as useful as putting a snooze button on a smoke alarm."
"Much more of a hoot to drive than you might imagine. Think of it, if you like, as a librarian with a G-string under the tweed. I do, and it helps."
“Owning a TVR in the past was like owning a bear. I mean it was great, until it pulled your head off, which it would.”
"Unless I have been sorely misinformed, supermodels are powerless to resist a man with illuminated doorsills."


Oh, yes, and Stephen Fry's pretty good too.

The History of the Truth of Reality

Good morning, slept well? Good. Let me tell you an interesting thing.

Just a little while ago, on the radio, I head a politician talking about the situation in Georgia. (I admit I wasn't listening closely when he was introduced, and am only guessing that it was a politician from the strangely circuitous way he was talking. It's equally possible that he was simply on drugs, or maybe insane.) He was answering a question in response to a Georgian who had been interviewed and said that he thought the West had not provided enough support for Georgia. The politician used the following phrase 'it [the perception] may be very real, but it is not based in total reality'.

Now, this is not a political blog, I don't propose to give you my thoughts on the Georgian situation. I am not nearly well informed enough to do that. I know that wouldn't stop most people, but I am proud to belong to an elegant minority that when it doesn't know what it's talking about, simply doesn't talk. However, it was the use of the words 'real' and 'reality' that caught my attention. Although it might have been said a little inelegantly I think we can agree on what the speaker meant. He was crediting the Georgians with actually having that perception and believing in it, but he was perhaps suggesting that the person wasn't possessed of all the facts. Fair enough. It is hardly likely that people in a war zone are going to be getting an unbiased and unvarnished version of events from whatever news outlets they might have access to.

But what, I want to know, is 'total reality' and who defines it?

There was a time when politicians talked about the Truth. There was a time before that when they talked about History. I'd like to say that there was an earlier time when there were no politicians, but unfortunately I don't think so. (I can just imagine one australopithecine avoiding the question of who had eaten all the food by asking and answering his own, unrelated question.) But the words Truth (note the capital T) and History (likewise) are no longer neutral words up for grabs, they are loaded with meaning and bias. We all know now that History is the winner's view of the world, and the Truth is simply 'whatever I say it is'.

So now they have hijacked Reality. And just in case you were worried that this was some biased version of Reality that only told one side of the story, it's now 'Total Reality', netural, unfiltered, unfettered and free.

And yet...

Somehow I feel that what was meant was a Reality that backed up the speaker's argument. No, let me clarify, a view of Reality that backed up the speaker's argument. We have already lost History, and Truth, and now they have taken Reality from us.

Quite depressing really? And so, I hear you ask, what does that leave us?

Well, we still have our Opinions, our Thoughts, our Minds and our Voices. I suggest you use them as much as you can and stop your Reality from becoming History and theirs from becoming the Truth.

Now, wrap up warm, take your brolly, and make sure you have a day. It can be any kind you want, just make sure it's yours.

A Hot Buttered Welcome and a Cup of Tea.

Okay, so I suppose everyone gets to write a 'This is my new blog' post at one time or another, and this is mine.

This is my new blog. Welcome. Come in, grab a cup and a plate, and pull up a chair. Gather with us around the fire where we can tell tales into the night of things we've never done but claimed we have; things we have done and then lied about, and things we'll never do and never want to.

The sharper eyed amongst you might notice my use of the word 'new' to describe this blog. The suggestion might be that this is the latest in a long line of blogs, started and abandoned, perhaps, like every summer when the start would be made on building the tree-house only for the boards to warp and the nails to rust when September's rains found them still unused.

Or perhaps they aren't abandoned. Maybe I am a world famous blogger, one of those you've read about whose blogs have been picked up by the media and turned into real printed books, and this is just one of many blogs I write on a variety of subjects under a variety of names. Maybe I'm taking a break from life in Baghdad and writing this for fun.

Or maybe this is simply the first post in the first of my blogs, the comfortable yielding up of my blogging virginity to your kind yet insistent caresses. Be gentle, dear reader, for I am in your hands.

All three, you say? Could be. Or none of the above.

Whichever it might be, let me bid you welcome. Let me pour some tea into your empty cup and slide a slice of hot buttered toast onto your plate. Sit back, relax. You've arrived.