I hold The Independent in high regard, not least their bold and polemical front covers, but I don't want this:



I know the question mark is supposed to make it alright (we're not saying they are the enemy within, we're asking, are they?), but do we really want to be suggesting that the "enemy" walks among us in this kind of emotive, curtain-twitching, shop-your-neighbour fashion? The phrase "the enemy within" harks back to what Mrs Thatcher called the leaders of the 1984-'85 Miners' Strike. The Independent looks like a copy of the Daily Mail today. I expect better. (Inside, admittedly, Robert Fisk is given his usual platform to say what needs to be said.) Oh, and while I'm here, I like the art prints they've been giving away but does the big red and blue lettering of "LICHTENSTEIN: FREE GLOSSY POSTER" not slightly distract from the seriousness of the story beneath? I know, I know, sign of the times. But I don't have to like those times.

I didn't like yesterday's front page either:

10/8
Was this going to be the next date in the calendar of terror?

Answer: probably not. Again, Daily Mail sensationalism.

And if you want to know that what we're reading isn't news, but speculation, just skim over this lead article from the Indie and take note of the bits I've bolded up. It makes enlightening reading:

Bomb-making equipment has been discovered by anti-terrorist officers investigating the foiled plot to blow up 10 transatlantic airliners, intelligence sources say. MI5 and the police believe a Britain-based terrorist cell, assisted by al-Qaeda members, had been planning to start a series of suicide bombings on American-bound planes as early as yesterday or today. It has also emerged that there was a police informer working closely with the plotters.

The alleged terrorists were foiled after police carried out the series of raids in which they arrested 24 people, mostly young British men of Pakistani descent, in east London, Buckinghamshire and Birmingham. The police were rushed into making the arrests after one of the alleged ringleaders - a British citizen - was arrested in Pakistan on Wednesday, US intelligence sources have disclosed.

The police acted swiftly because they were fearful that the arrest in Pakistan would alert British based suicide bombers and prompt them into carrying out the planned attacks in the next few days, the US sources confirmed.

Anti-terrorist officers are understood to have found material and documents that could be used to make liquid explosive bombs for smuggling onto aircraft, at houses in east London and High Wycombe in Buckinghamshire. There are also unconfirmed reports of one or two "martyrdom videos" - recordings made by would-be suicide bombers - being discovered. The suspects are accused of planning to use specially adapted sports drinks bottles to smuggle in the explosive material, which could be detonated with a battery, or flash from a disposable camera.

An unprecedented year-long surveillance operation by MI5 and the police is alleged to have uncovered a plot to blow up nine or ten airliners, killing up to 3,000 passengers and crew, in three phases. The investigation has discovered a series of links with Pakistan, where several of the alleged plotters are thought to have been partly trained, financed and radicalised by al-Qa'ida members, although the alleged plot remains largely a homegrown affair, intelligence officers believe. The alleged plan was to use a homemade explosive and smuggle it through airport security in hand luggage.

Three of four suicide bombers would each board a passenger plane heading for the United States and detonate the devices at the same time. Two further waves of attacks would then be carried out at later dates. The terrorists had got as far as identifying several American-owned airlines to target, but had yet to select specific flights or buy any tickets, it is understood. Security sources believe they intended to purchase tickets at the last minute.

The alleged plot has caused chaos to airports and forced the authorities to introduce strict new security measures, including banning hand luggage. Britain also remains on the highest level of security - known as critical - although the Home Office has admitted this is only as a precaution. Police continued to search more than 20 properties yesterday and are preparing to question the 24 suspects being held on suspicion of the commission, preparation or instigation of acts of terrorism. Nineteen of the suspects have had their bank accounts and assets frozen.

Several of the people arrested, which included a mother and her child, are expected to be released without charge in the next few days. As the investigation progresses more details of the the operation have emerged. Known as Operation Overt, the US network, ABC News, revealed that the British police had penetrated the alleged cell and had someone working for them on the inside.

MI5 were reportedly alerted to one of the suspects after a relative became suspicious and contacted the authorities, according to an unconfirmed US report. It was also disclosed that the reason the police had to bring forward their plans by about a week was that one of the leading alleged plotters was mistakenly arrested in Pakistan.

Police have said that they have arrested all the suspected main players, although it is not clear whether everyone involved in Pakistan has been detained. But John Reid, the Home Secretary, said: "We can never be certain and we want to be sure that, alongside the operational interventions we made, we maintain a very high level of vigilance and the necessary restrictions on the aviation sector."

Domestic God
I'm here to tell you, with a certain amount of multi-tasking pride, that this morning I boxed in the pipes in the downstairs toilet while simultaneously making a delicious chicken stock with last night's carcass. That's carpentry and cookery at the same time. I should have my own TV programme. The boxing was easier and harder than I'd imagined - the sawing of the wood to fit around the pipes, using a jigsaw and special drill bits, was easier, and the mounting of the plywood onto wooden beams was easier, but the fixing of the beams to the plastered walls was harder, in that I was working on my knees around a toilet bowl, basin and heated radiator, which I was trying not to damage in any way, as they're new. It's pretty cramped in there, and I had to cut a couple of corners (not literally), but I'm still pretty chuffed with the end result. It cost me no more than the price of the wood from B&Q and a morning on my knees. I've primed it, ready to undercoat tomorrow morning. And the stock came out OK too.


Customer review
Forgot to mention that when I went out to post a letter on Tuesday evening, I walked along the road that adjoins ours and noted, once again, that in a relatively litter-free area, it only seems to be people who eat McDonald's or drink Carlsberg Special Brew who drop their packaging on the grass verges, from moving cars I suspect. What does this tell us about litter louts? That they eat crap food and drink disgusting beer. However, here's my social-engineering theory blown out of the water: on Tuesday I saw a discarded Phil Collins CD. Face Value, featuring the excellent In The Air Tonight and I Missed Again, but not a lot else of note. I think this, too, was cast from the window of a moving car. The jewel case was smashed and the disc loose, just sitting there, with Phil's big, divorced face staring impassively up from the grass. It was obviously thrown out in a fit of taste. Imagine the scene. A row, perhaps? A punishment after heavy words lightly thrown? "Right! If you don't take that back, Phil goes out of this window!" I rather admire the person for going through with it. It's an easy threat to make, but to actually commit ...

I think the people who throw beer cans and Coke cups are just ignorant twats.

Miami Something Or Other
Well, it looks brilliant. But the problem with Michael Mann's Miami Vice is not the pictures, it's the sound. You have to admire Mann - he knows how to shoot a city. Miami gets the same star treatment meted out to Los Angeles in Heat and Collateral - just look at those twinkling lights and the cloudy purple widescreen skies, all grainy and unreal. Things get slightly queasy when we get under the artificial lights. It's all very impressive. Mann can do this. Why he's doing it to an 80s cop show that he executive-produced, I don't really know. He's lifted it out of the decade that made it iconic, put socks on Crockett and Tubbs, added laptops and mobiles, and removed every ounce of camp, accidental or otherwise. This is a very serious film. It's about drugs. The guns make a lot of noise, even when they're being cleaned. As do the "go-fast boats" and the helicopters and planes and cars. Perhaps it's all this extraneous racket that makes the dialogue so difficult to hear. I've seen this film in a big cinema with a state-of-the-art sound system and I still couldn't follow it - this is the fault of Michael Mann, not some bad speakers. Unless he is being postmodern and doesn't think we need to hear what the men and ladies are saying. Or unless the actors are bad speakers.

Worst offender is Colin Farrell, who may as well have been speaking, or muttering, in a foreign language throughout. I caught a few words - "boat" was the main one - but most of it was just sound. Can we blame Farrell for this? After all, he's just an actor, doing what he's told by the director. (It wasn't his fault that he looked ridiculous in that moustache either. OK, so there was a smudge of facial hair under his lip, but that's not a beard, it's still a moustache.) Jamie Foxx is mildly better in terms of comprehensibility, and the fact that Naomie Harris is English lets her off the hook a bit, as she is doing a broad, New York-style American accent, likewise Ciarian Hinds, who spits his words out like a mouthful of tobacco. Gong Li, for whom English actually is a second language and who must have learned her lines phonetically, we forgive. Her character, Isabella, the Cuban-Malaysian drug lord (or drug lady), is the weak link in the plot anyway - her salsa-fuelled romance with Crockett is both unbelievable and unpleasant. And slow. This is the 20 minutes they should have removed from another film that's 20 minutes too long. Michael Mann is happier portraying single men, ideally at work, away from pesky women. He doesn't like sex, hence the cheesy nature of the sex scene involving the heads of Foxx and Harris, but the bodies of some models.

Miami Vice is then, a beautiful-looking film of little narrative merit. You can just about follow what's going on - disco, drugs, shooting, explosion, drugs, kissing, disco, boats, shooting - but you won't know why it ends when it ends. It doesn't even have the excuse of Pirates Of The Caribbean 2, which was made back to back with Part 3 and operates like a Saturday morning serial. This one just ends, with some big synth chords. I won't ruin it for you. But I wonder if anyone else has seen it, and felt there was something missing at the end?

Great to see Eddie Marsan in a small role - he played Sunshine in little-seen sitcom Grass - I may have mentioned him in relation to Pierrepoint. Oddly, Naomie Harris calls him "sunshine" at one point. Spooky. (Hey! Unless I misheard her!)

Pirates Of The Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest
Felt like some easy entertainment last night, so wandered down to the Screen and caught Pirates Of The Caribbean 2 in what must be its fourth week of release. I really enjoyed the knockabout maritime fun of the first one, and this was essentially more of the same swashbuckling hokum with CGI monsters and bad teeth, except it was so much less at the same time. It ticked all the boxes: Johnny Depp reminding us that he thought of Russell Brand before Russell Brand did, Keira Knightley making that weird pouting face that everybody seems to love, Orlando Bloom with his pathetic bum-fluff doing his Errol Flynn bit, lots of cannon fire and creaking decks, a big fight in a rough bar, a parrot, a monkey, some comedy gurning deckhands, including Mackenzie Crook with his wooden eye, and a satisfying ending that ties up all the separate story strands. Hang on, don't tick that box, as when the inordinately indulgent 150-minute running time is finally up, they just stop the film, throwing in a cliffhanger to make sure you tune in again next year.

I know they made Parts 2 and 3 back-to-back - the studio accountants love that kind of economy - but did they have to conceive of them as two halves of the same story? What a swiz. Also, there's a big octopus-like sea creature in this one, the Kracken, which is pretty impressive the first time it attacks the ship with its computerised tentacles, but less so the second time, and the third. In a film that's at least 20 minutes too long, that's one Kracken attack too many isn't it? (Jason And The Argonauts rolled out a new monster for each new sequence and that was all done by hand.) Naomi Harris was good as the Jamaican witch, and Tom Hollander too as the starchy villain. Bill Nighy might have been good as Davy Jones, with his octopus face, but it was difficult to tell under that deft blend of latex and pixels. He was a voiceover artist really, and well paid, I hope, for his troubles. The best bits were the out-and-out action sequences that took place in daylight, like the swordfight between Bloom, Depp and Jack Davenport on the rolling millwheel. Great stuff. I'd have liked more of that please. And less interminable sequences at night, on board the pirate ship, with all those crusty CGI blokes made out of bits of other sea creatures.

I might have let it off a few of these points of order if it had had an ending. Like proper films. I've a good mind not to go and see Part 3, That'll show 'em.

Airline terror plot disrupted: bothered
First of all, I feel sorry for all the daily papers, as this happened too late for their morning editions. A plot to blow up planes in flight from the UK to the US and commit "mass murder on an unimaginable scale" has been disrupted, so we are told. Scotland Yard say that the plan was to detonate explosive devices smuggled in hand luggage on to as many as 10 aircraft. Twenty-one people have been arrested. High security. Delays at all UK airports. Threat level to the UK has been raised by MI5 to "critical" (this means "an attack is expected imminently and indicates an extremely high level of threat to the UK").

So why do I not believe them?

I realise that it may all be true, but I hear news like this and I am immediately filled with cynicism. My brother, the policeman, will kill me for writing this, but whenever a terror plot is foiled and we, the public, are expected to be grateful, I can't help thinking, well, I could say that I foiled a terror plot this morning. How would you know if I hadn't? You've got a beleagured government, who, whether you support them or not, are definitely in need of a boost. And the foiling of dastardly plots makes everyone look good. It also makes us all terribly grateful.

Is this my problem, this terrible deep-seated cynicism? Or is it them? Life would be a lot simpler if you believed what you heard on the news.

But you've got John Reid, desperate to push through more draconian anti-terror measures but thwarted by critics whom he says, "don't get it", and now he can go on telly and tell us that had this airline attack gone ahead it would have caused a loss of life of "unprecedented scale". In other words: if you want us to protect you from frightening foreigners with exploding hand luggage, you've got to give up some more of your civil liberties. Sorry, but look what just nearly happened.

I feel sorry for anyone stuck at an airport. Tony Blair, in the Caribbean, and his ministers, elsewhere, are already on holiday so they'll be OK. (Oh, unless enough Labour rebels get Parliament recalled over Lebanon, which must be worrying a few of them.) Mr Blair paid tribute to the the police and the security services today, as he ought, since they are operating under appalling pressure, not just from government, but also from the media. But wrongful arrests get made under pressure. And people get shot. And it's as much the government's fault when this happens as the police themselves.

The PM's statement said, "There has been an enormous amount of co-operation with the US authorities which has been of great value and underlines the threat we face and our determination to counter it." Yeah, the US authorities who allowed September 11 to happen. Well done, those authorities. Terrorism didn't start on that particular day, by the way. There was some terrorism before it. I've checked.

Scotland Yard said, "We believe that the terrorists' aim was to smuggle explosives on to aeroplanes in hand luggage and to detonate these in flight. We also believe that the intended targets were flights from the United Kingdom to the United States of America." I will not comment or speculate on this until the suspects have been questioned, as what we learn in the next few days through the media will not be reliable. Remember Jean Charles de Menezes and all the guff that came out about that in the days after the shooting. Let's wait for people to be charged, and then see what we have been protected from.

Police have spoken to a "good number of community leaders to make them aware that a major operation was under way." We all know what this means.

Meanwhile, US air marshals are being sent to the UK to provide extra air security. Thanks. The US Department of Homeland Security, which continues to operate with one of the stupidest names in US history, increased the "threat level" applied to US-bound commercial flights originating in the UK to "red", the first time it has done this for flights coming in from another country. (In other words, they're only on red alert for certain flights. This is a very localised alert. Let's not get too excited.)

So, we have arrested 21 people and yet the threat remains. Airline passengers are not allowed to take any hand luggage on to any flights in the UK. Passports and wallets will be allowed to be carried on board in transparent plastic bags. These measures are in place "for a limited period only." So, in a couple of days, it'll be back to hand luggage. Why? Have they arrested the people or not? Why not ground all flights? Oh yes, too expensive.

Still, at least you can be sure that British people will be moaning about their flights being delayed, so some things will stay as normal during this most difficult time.

Didn't we have a lovely time the day we went to Burton Bradstock
Work. A day return to Dorchester South to see Billy Bragg. Virgin are republishing Still Suitable For Miners in the New Year and they want me to update it with a new chapter. I don't get down to see Billy often enough, so it's a good excuse to visit his "clifftop mansion" (sorry, but that's what the tabloids called it when he betrayed his socialist beliefs by moving to the former guest house in Burton Bradstock and I know he loves it when I call it that). There are few nicer places to be than the cliffs overlooking Chesil beach on a balmy day like today, and there are few nicer people to interview than Billy. We chatted for three hours into my tape recorder, moving from his office to the Hive beach cafe (too crowded - it being, oh yes, the height of summer), from whence we took away raspberry smoothies to his front garden. For the first update of the book, in 2001, we did a similar thing, albeit a couple of days after the World Trade Center attacks, which, I must shamefully admit, seemed an awful long way away on that day, which was also balmy.

There's less of immediate note to put into this new chapter, as Billy's been writing his own book, The Progressive Patriot (an autobiographical journey to the heart of English identity - I can't wait to read it), which is out in October. But we covered the England, Half English tour, the push to get Take Down The Union Jack into the charts for the Golden Jubilee, the General Election, the BNP taking 12 council seats in Billy's own Barking heartland, the single he co-wrote with cancer patient Maxine Eddington, We Laughed (credited to Rosetta Life) for National Hospice Day last year (it charted at number 11 - I had no idea it had anything to do with him), the release of the first box set, and of course his battle with MySpace over ownership rights. I'm really pleased Virgin want to update the book and I shall enjoy writing the new chapter and tinkering with some of the existing ones (for instance, it says he's been in the business for 15 years in the 1998 version - that's now 23 years - and I think there's a present-tense reference to Top Of The Pops). He's excellent company and it's a pity it was something of a flying visit, and work-related, but I'll be back.

The train journey there and back was spiritually cleansing, as solo train journeys usually are. It took me three and a half hours to get there, changing twice, which concentrates the mind nicely, and prevents you from allowing yourself to nod off, in case you miss your change. Reigate to Guildford, Guildford to Woking, Woking to Dorchester South. When I was waiting for my decaff coffee in the cafe at Woking, an agitated young man in a suit was behind me, waiting to pay for a chocolate bar. Out of the corner of my eye I could see that he had his money ready. He may have been agitated because his train was due, so I won't judge him for that. But he eventually lost his patience (there was only one man serving and he was making my coffee) and he put his money down on the counter before I had made my transaction, cursorily showing the man behind the counter his purchase. I noticed the customer had both earpieces in, which I consider rude when you are making transactions with other human beings. Anyway, he rushed off. The man behind the counter told him it wasn't enough money for the chocolate bar, but the customer couldn't hear him as he had his music on and he had turned away. The man shouted after him, but he was oblivious and left the shop. We're talking about 20p's difference, but I felt really sorry for the man behind the counter as he couldn't go after the customer without leaving the shop unattended. He sighed and put the money in the till. I really hope he doesn't get in trouble when they cash up at the end of the day. It wasn't his fault. This was my last ever coffee with soya milk in, as I have decided not to drink soya milk anymore after reading about how it is manufactured.

Soya was one of the things I spoke to Tom Robinson about tonight, filling in for Mark Radcliffe on Radio 2 between 10.30 and midnight. I was his studio guest, and we talked about all sorts: honorary degrees, writing sitcoms, guilty pleasures (and the preposterous nature of the concept when you are over the age of 17), and soya milk. I described how it is industrially made from the leftover sludge after processing it for oil and flour after separating it from the flake of crushed bean used for animal feed. Once you know that it is leftover sludge, it's hard to drink it.

It was a long day, as my cab home from the BBC got me in at 1am, and I left the house this morning at 8am, after about five hours' sleep. It was nice to spend the day with two men who had been on the Red Wedge tour though. And I finished reading a book called Unimagined, a childhood memoir by Imran Ahmad, which I will review separately, nearer the time it is published, which is March 2007 (the publishers sent me a proof copy, hoping for a positive quote to put on the cover, which I am certainly inclined to give them).

Incidentally, I passed Leona's house in Brockenhurst on my way to Dorchester, as it overlooks the railway line, and she and Michael waved out of a bedroom window at my train. I waved back. Sort of pointless and silly, but all the better for it. We did the same on my journey back to London. That's a lot of fun for one day.

Going to the pictures
Wow. What an experience. After work, I ventured into West London, that mysterious hinterland, to meet some friends and discover the delights of the Electric Cinema on the Portobello Road. You feel as if perhaps someone might ask to see your passport in the Notting Hill area, it's so different to the rest of London. I've known a couple of friends who lived here, and they spoke of the constant noise, the constant buzz. They also moved out, one to the suburbs, the other to Herefordshire. It's not for everyone, but as a visitor, it's like nipping abroad for the evening, to a place that's part European capital, part New York. Particularly effective on a balmy night like this one, when everyone's out on the pavements. Those that aren't certifiably young, look and dress young. You wouldn't want to try and get a parking space on any other night except Sunday, when it's free. This is very built-up area, mainly bars, very Wendy James, very Rough Trade shop, and it can make you feel dowdy, but that's part of the fun. Seen the film Notting Hill? You haven't seen Notting Hill.

Our friends had bought tickets for us all to see Miami Vice and booked us in at the Electric Brasserie. The cinema was bought and refurbished in 2002, and a restaurant and bar added, by the bloke who runs Soho House, in Soho. In the dark, airconditioned cool of the back of the brasserie, we ate posh fish and chips (the chips came in a small metal bucket) with mint-flavoured mushy peas, a stack of buttery spinach, and desserts all round. My only worry was that, full of lovely food, I would nod off in the cinema. I was relying on Michael Mann to not let that happen. Mind you, cinemas are so uncomfortable, this was surely not going to happen. At 8pm we got up and went next door. Already the evening was a hit.


Fuck. This is what I call refurbished. There must be no more than about 150 seats in the cinema, which has just the one screen. The Electric is the oldest purpose-built cinema in London and it's been lovingly restored to its early 20th-century grandeur. What's not traditional is the layout. Each seat is a leather armchair, with a leather footrest, and with a handy table for drinks in between each one. You sink down into your seat with a bottle of water or beer or wine at your side. The actor Paul Bown, out of Watching but now mainly out of The Bill and Doctors, was sat in front of us. This is a an astonishing place. The prices are hiked accordingly, for ticket and drinks, but it's an experience anyone who loves the cinema should have at least once. It was warm in there, so to have a large bottle of Aqua Panna to hand, with a glass, was perfect. Miami Vice is a long film (about two hours and 20 minutes), but I could have stayed there all night. Only once did I start to feel myself slide into slumber, but I pulled myself out of it. Nobody would have noticed or cared if I had. The seats are further apart than the houses in our street!

I'll review the film separately. Needless to say, we repaired back to the Brasserie when it was over for a late-licence nightcap. Again, pricey, but you get what you pay for. The Electric is by definiton not a place you could afford to use as your regular cinema, but we all deserve a treat, and it fits that bill. (Oops, did I say bill? Let's gloss over that.) The only downside of a superb evening was the little film about the history of the cinema that they showed, which had misplaced apostrophes in the "its" on almost every subtitle. A subtle letdown in an otherwise sophisticated and literate-seeming republic of cool.

Its. Its. Its, you idiots!