I am consideration personified. When I start sneezing at night, I invariably get up, no matter the time and head for the lounge. Better this than have J’s hands round my throat trying to ‘throttle’ me back to sleep!
The other night, I could feel the mimosa sneezes coming on so I grabbed my PC from the side of the bed and headed for the lounge. Just in case there was something watchable on TV, I switched it on. Normally it’s some pathetic programme where a family are sitting side by side in a studio trying to explain why the daughter isn’t really a daughter but the mother’s sister or why the son isn’t really a son but was ‘found’ in a shopping mall and taken in by the family. If you’re really ‘lucky’ you’ll get DNA Stories, a programme which takes DNA of people who think they are related, or hope they are, to another person and then to a drum roll, tells them that in fact they are not related but have the DNA of an obscure South American tribe, known for their cannibalism.
The other night however, two programmes caught my eye. The first was by Ross Kemp, he of the rough, tough, mean, Mitchell brother from the soap Eastenders. I wouldn’t say he’s typecast but I’ve never seen him in anything other than documentaries about violence of some sort. I never watched his programme about ‘Gangs’ as I don’t think the reprobates who pose and preen in front of the camera with guns and swords should be given a platform to promote their violent lifestyles and the thought that the programme makers might actually pay them, makes it even worse.
But his programmes, when he follows the British Forces on some of their military exercises, is certainly worth watching, especially the other night when he joined a platoon fighting the Taliban in Afghanistan. Most probably because my youngest son, Timothy is heading there soon, I found the programme a fascinating insight into the guys and gals who are trying to give that country back its democracy.
On one sortie, Kemp and the platoon came under some serious fire from the Taliban with bullets flying all over the place. As they scrambled for cover they had to remember to stay within certain areas, otherwise landmines would take their toll. Unfortunately, the ambush was fierce enough for one soldier to lose his life and the reaction of his comrades told you everything you needed to know about war. He died doing what he wanted to do, they said. No, they couldn’t think about his death because they needed to concentrate 24/7. They would grieve for him when they got home to the UK.
Profound as this was, it was the soldier who said that he was in Afghanistan because he wanted to be there that depressed me. Not because he wanted to be out there fighting but because he said his wife was a Call Centre operator in Glasgow and she earned more than he did!
The second programme was also about ‘wars’ – Road Wars. Shot in Slough, Berkshire, it followed some traffic police chasing motorists for offences ranging from not having a valid tax certificate to those who shoot off at 100 mph when they see the blue flashing light behind them.
What I found depressing about this programme was that having careered through the streets of Slough at unbelievable speeds and having no licence, tax or insurance and having stolen the car in the first place, the offenders, normally kids, get a ticking off and a paltry fine of some £200. Twenty odd years ago I got snapped by a camera in Slough when my front wheels crossed a line at a red traffic light. I didn’t actually go through the lights, I stopped with my tyres across the line – but I got fined £300 and three points put on my licence. Where’s the justice?
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