All Square at HQ

Harlequins 26 Leicester Tigers 26

After visiting Tate Britain, we repaired to a nearby pub (The White Swan) for a couple of pints. We then went our separate ways. I travelled on the Northern Line up to Hampstead where I purchased the last James Bond novel The Man With The Golden Gun, which I look forward to reading in the next few days.

I ended my sojourning at the Duke of Hamilton pub, just off the High Street, where I settled down to watch Harlequins take on Leicester at Twickenham stadium. As a season ticket holder, I could have gone to this 'home' fixture for free, but had better things to do this Advent than go through the rigmarole of sending my ticket away to be exchanged for a new one and make my way down to Tickenham on the helpfully reduced South West Trains service. And in any case, it was just a money grabbing exercise. I was more pleased to let the Duke of Ham grab my 'hard earned' cash instead.

As for the game - Quins are a competitive team, but Leicester are the kind of side I never really expect them to beat. In the first half, however, the two sides were evenly matched. Quins went into half time 9 - 3 ahead, but against a top side like the Tigers, that is not much of a lead.

So it proved in the second half as Leicester charged into the lead with two well scored (from their point of view) tries. It would have been three but for a great in-the-corner tackle by De Wet Barry, which sent the Johne Murphy over the white line just as he tried to ground the ball.

Leicester has a Rome connection - one of their players is called Kayser! When he was sin binned for 'hands in the ruck', things were looking up. This sense of hope lasted just a few minutes, however, because then Quins captain Will Skinner was sin binned for the exact same offence. Dur!

The match was coming towards its end with Leicester 26 - 19 up when Ugo Monye broke past Varndell and put the ball down right in the corner of the try zone. There were just a few seconds left. Nick Evans had to score the conversion or else Harlequins would leave the game with but a losing bonus point. He struck the ball. It looked like it was drifting to the left of the near post, but then seemed to swerve slightly to the right. A perfect strike and a deep breath from me. We got a well deserved draw.

The Turner Prize

Yesterday, Jim and I visited Tate Britain for our annual outing to see the Turner Prize exhibition. Every year we expect a pile of crap and every year we are not disappointed.

The 2008 competition was dominated by film installations and it was one of those, by artist Mark Leckey, that won. His exhibit was in several parts. There was film footage of a model of a comic strip cat, film footage of something or other else and a film about the same cat. All very unimpressive. Still, there is something strangely comforting about the certainty that if you go to see the Turner Prize you know in advance what you are going to get. No nasty surprises, or anything beastly like that.

When you enter the exhibition, the first to assault your eyes is an installation by Cathy Wilkes. It is dominated by two supermarket check-out counters around which are sprayed various items of rubbish. They rest on the counters, on the floor and on two naked manikins. As Jim and I passed one of the counters, we brushed out fingers along the edges of it. From out of nowhere the security man lept, "Please do not touch the exhibit!" he cried. As if we could make a bigger mess of it than it already was! We could our own back, however, when Jim asked the guard if he did not get really bored having to stay in the same room all day.

Here is what the Tate says about Wilkes' work:

Cathy Wilkes's installations of objects, readymades and paintings are formally precise and contemplative. Their essentially diaristic and self-reflective forms are composed using a complex and liberated visual language. Her work, whilst in many ways uncompromisingly introspective, is characterized by direct, almost diagrammatic invocations of daily human experience.

This description sounds good, but it is, of course, rubbish. The Turner Prize is creatively unimaginative and intellectually feeble. It is is an insult to the artists of old to pretend that some kind of continuity exists between modern art and old. Still, the installation descriptions, as you can tell from the above quotation, are cleverly written and interesting to read - even if they are, ultimately, silly. And the visitors' comments at the end of the exhibition are always fun to read. It is good to know that not everyone is taken in by this guff.

Benedict in the News - Or Not

Well, Pope Benedict set the cat among the pigeons with his remarks on human gender in his speech to the Roman Curia just before Christmas. Unfortunately, inaccurate reporting has lead to impression that he was talking about homosexuality. Not that anything he would have to say about that would please people, but it would have been nice if he had not been so misrepresented.

According to BBC On-Line, Benedict "called for peace in the Middle East and stability in Africa in his Christmas Day message" in his Urbi et Orbi Christmas Day address. Iain Dale had a lot to say about Benedict's Curial speech, but will he - or any other blogger who covered that speech - mention Urbi et Orbi? Doubtful - people hear what they want to hear and the rest can go hang.

What is also interesting is an observation made by the Daily Mail, from whom Dale drew his post, at the start of its report.

Pope Benedict, 82, known as God's Rottweiler for his hardline views, made the comments in his festive address to the Vatican's governing body, the Curia.

Never mind that a principle feature of Benedict's papacy has been his collegiality and gentleness. It suits the Hate Mail to return to the old stereotype - which was never that accurate, anyway.

At work last week, I told someone at work that Benedict was spot on in what he said. Gosh, they replied, you must have found working with the gay temp who left last week really difficult. This highlighted a common mistake - that because one disagrees / disapproves of the way someone lives, one must therefore dislike them. The concept of 'hate the sin, love the sinner' is far too alien.

Unto Us A Child Is Born

Happy Christmas everyone. I hope all readers of this blog have a happy and holy day.

And suddenly there was with the angel a multitude of the heavenly host praising God and saying, "Glory to God in the highest, and on earth peace among men with whom he is pleased!"

At Midnight Mass last night I was in the organ loft armed with my sister's camera ready to take photographs of the packed out church. And indeed, I managed to take a few during the carol service that preceeded the service. But when the Mass started... then the camera mysteriously stopped! The flashing battery seemed to indicate that it had run out of battery juice, but SisterEvs tells me it was recharged. Anyway, needs must, so I whipped out my mobile phone. Having not used it to take pictures before (I got this particualr phone at the end of October), I do

not know how they turn out, so the upload should be interesting.

This morning, it was a walk across town to the Oratory. Fr. Ignatius Harrison, provost of the London house, was preaching. He used the scarlet and gold curtains that now hang from the Oratory walls to tie the birth of the Saviour to his death and shedding of the precious blood for Mankind. It was well done.

And now, back home, there is turkey roasting in the kitchen. Hopefully it will go better than a certain someone's porridge this morning (mentioning no names Evs!) which was left on the cooker for far too long! Cue a rush into the kitchen when the smell of burning porridge came through to the living room.

You Only Live Twice - Ian Fleming

At the end of On Her Majesty's Secret Service, James Bond lost his wife Tracy to an assassin in the employ of his arch-enemy Blofeld. You Only Live Twice picks up the story several months later. Bond is still on active service. In fact, he is in Japan, making easy with geishas and schmoozing with Tanaka, the head of the Japanese secret service.

As is Fleming's wont, he shows the present first then launches into a flashback to show how we got there. As it turns out, although Bond never discovers this, it is thanks to a favourable report from the Service's doctor, that he is in Japan. M. was all ready to sack Bond as being unfit for duty before the doctor suggested that he would only overcome his grief by taking on a mission that was the equal of it; that would be so difficult that he would be forced to think of nothing but it. Thus, his visit to Japan to persuade Tanaka to reveal what he knows about a Russian agent called Magic 44.

We never find out who Magic 44 is because Tanaka tells Bond he will only spill the beans if Bond does something for him, namely, assassinate a botanist called Shatterhand and this mission takes up the rest of the book.

Botanists are not known for being dangerous people; Shatterhand, however, has raised the ire of the Japanese authorities by installing a garden of deadly plants around his castle in the country and surreptitiously encouraging people who want to kill themselves to do so there.

Fleming has a few observations to make about Japanese society and it has to be said that they are not all complimentary. A lot is made of the suicide culture. Funnily enough, while this is looked down upon, a certain amount of respect is given to the kamikaze pilots. This highlights how history can dim the reality of certain events. For, if I had read You Only Live Twice in 2000 I might have been tempted to sympathise with Tanaka, the failed kamikaze pilot who wanted to do all for his country. But we are now in 2008 - seven years after the 11th September attacks, also perpetrated by kamikaze pilots. Such a sympathetic view is no longer possible.

The story really gets going when we discover Shatterhand's true identity - Blofeld. Bond's mission now becomes extremely personal. In between times, however, it gets personal in a less dramatic but perhaps more human way. As Bond makes his way carefully through the garden of lethal plants, he stops in a shed for a final cigarette. It is not just because he could be walking to his death that he does this, but to feed his nicotine addiction! It is very unheroic. I say that this makes Bond's mission very 'human', perhaps I should have said it makes the story a little bit more normal as revenge and the desire for it is unfortunately also a human matter.

The best part of the book comes when Bond has broken into the castle. He makes a mistake and is quickly caught by Blofeld's men. Then comes the final confrontation with his nemesis. It is wonderfully sinister. And best of all, Blofeld is finally defeated. He does not die half as dramatically as he ought to, but the manner of his doom violently befits his character.

The story does not end with Blofeld's demise. Bond escapes, but only just. His balloon is shot down and a blow to the head makes him lose his memory. Luckily, he has a lovely lady waiting for him on a nearby island. The end of the book contains Bond's obituary as written by M. The lovely lady, you see, loves him to much to share him with anyone and upon his return keeps his survival from the mission secret.

At the end of You Only Live Twice, Bond has been with his lady, Kissy Suzuki, for several months. One day, he sees a reference to Vladivostok in a newspaper. There is something about the word that Bond feels is familiar. The story of James Bond is about to take one more dramatic turn. But to see what it will be, we will have to wait for the last full length novel in the canon - The Man With the Golden Gun.

You Only Live Twice is an interesting sequel to On Her Majesty's Secret Service. It was very odd seeing Bond in Japan - and playing the paper / scissors game at that! - right at the beginning, but the reason offered by Fleming did make sense. The inclusion of Blofeld was excellent. Him as botanist was silly and without much sense but really secondary compared to the real story of Bond's revenge mission. That is the heart of the novel, and Fleming writes it well. The Kitty Suzuki sub-plot was a surprise but a good one. Because the story follows on from the death of Bond's wife, it is dark in tone, but still consistent with other Bond novels. It also compares favourably with the other Bond sequel, Dr. No, in the way it picks up the threads of the previous story.

Bump!

Northampton Saints 23 Harlequins 13
And that is the onomatopœic sound of Harlequins falling back to earth after their back-to-back wins over Stade Francais. According to the Daily Telegraph, it started well,

The first half won't linger long in the memory save for an exceptionally well taken try by Ugo Monye as he ran the perfect line to benefit from Gomarsall's popped pass to score under the posts. Monye was one of the few Quins who seemed to retain his intensity from the European epics against Stade and looked threatening whenever in possession.

But not for the first time this season, Quins let the game go. The Times says:

All credit to the Saints for launching an amazing second-half comeback, but Quins will be kicking themselves for the indiscipline that saw them concede 10 unanswered points while Andy Gomarsall, and then Tani Fuga, were consigned to the sin-bin.

Alas! (from the Guardian):

This time there were no more last-minute heroics from Nick Evans, whose late drop goals had given Quins their heart-stopping win in the pouring rain at the Stoop last week and when the New Zealander missed his third penalty five minutes from time, in perfect conditions, the Londoners knew the game was up.

THAT drop Goal!

It doesn't get much more righteous than this -

A Petrolhead Writes

As I write, the BBC Sports Personality contest is taking place on BBC 1. If there is any justice in the world, Lewis Hamilton will walk it. Listening to Radio 5 earlier today, I heard supporters of the other candidates offer the opinion that he shouldn't because he had a better car than anyone else and that made winning easy.

In actual fact, he didn't have a better car; the Ferraris were the equal of the McLarens, if not better overall. It should not be forgotten that he also had a partner. No, Lewis Hamilton won the World Championship because he made more right decisions and fewer mistakes than anyone else. If we take up the Best Car anti-Hamilton argument, we might as well say that no one should win the title because they ran / swam / cycled fastest simply because they had the best genes.

***

The F.I.A., the regulatory body that controls Formula One, met this week to discuss cost saving measures. Here are some of the measures that will come into effect in 2009:

* Engine life to be doubled. Each driver will use a maximum of eight engines for a season, plus four for testing (i.e 20 per team).
* Engines to be limited to 18,000rpm.
* Cost of engines to independent teams will be approximately 50 per cent of 2008 prices.
* No wind tunnel testing using models exceeding 60 per cent scale and speeds of 50 metres/sec to be used after 1 January 2009.
* Factory closures for six weeks per year, to accord with local laws.

This list comes from the Daily Telegraph website. To read more, including the changes planned for 2010, click here. It is a shame that any changes have to be made, but the ones described above do not seem to be too bad. I am certainly glad that the FIA and F1 teams decided not to adopt the same engine for every team rule. That would make Formula One look too much like Indy Car racing for my liking.

People who do not understand Formula One moan about how processional it can be, and when one team is allowed to dominate the field (Williams and McLaren during the 80s / early 90s, Ferrari during the 90s and early 2000s) that can become a fair criticism, but F1 is also an intensely tactical sport - far removed from the same engine, same chassis, oval circuit never-do-anything-except-turn-left nonsense that is Indy Car. It should never do anything that brings it closer to Indy Car. Or anything kind of motorsport in America, for that matter.

Mass Expeditions

This December I have been spreading my liturgical wings a little by attending Mass in different churches. Well, different insofar as they were not my parish ones.

On 30th November I walked across town to the London Oratory for the 11am Sung Mass. As wonderful as it ever was. A priest I did not recognise gave the homily. Perhaps a new member of the congregation? Before the homily, the priest announced that communion would only be given on the tongue. When I returned to the Oratory this week, Fr. Large gave the same notice. The Oratory now only gives communion in the 'traditional' manner due to a scandal which occured in respect of the Eucharist during the summer (see here for further details), but I thought that on the tongue was always how it was given. Certainly, on the tongue seems the most appropriate method in the Oratory.

On 7th December I should have been at Spanish Place. But like Maddox and the International Sand Club in The English Patient, I planned badly. Truth-to-tell I didn't plan at all. As a result, despite going up one street and down another, I failed to find the church. Usually I stumble across it and all is well, but not this time. So, I ended up at the Cathedral instead. Looking better and better as the scaffolding comes down.

Today, I planned better and found my way to Spanish Place for the Mass in the Extraordinary Form. After serving this Mass on All Soul's Day, I was particularly attentive to the movements of the Server and Priest, adding a layer of meaning to the service.

Shoot Out at the Stoop

Harlequins 19 Stade Francais 17
It's grim up north and what between the credit crunch and rainy weather that afflicted London all of yesterday it was not too pleasant in the south either. All except for one little corner of the city, that is, which at 7:15pm revealed itself to be the rugby equivalent of Asterix's Amorica, holding out against the doom and gloom which inexplicably dominates the land of the saviour of the world.

Amorica was the Stoop and the Gauls were Harlequins, ironically playing a true Gaulish team - Stade Francais du Paris, in the return leg of their Heineken Cup match.

In battle, the tactics of the ancient Gauls were to cover their bodies in woad, gather round their leader, make a lot of noise and charge at their enemy. Ideally, he would be so cowed by their display of fighting prowess that his legs would shake, his bones rattle and in quick order his line break. If this did not happen then the Gaulish warrior's day would either be very long or, if he was fighting the Romans, literally breathtakingly short.

Rugby Union has moved on only a little from the ancient days. Instead of woad, the teams have their shirts. This is particularly relevant to Harlequins who are specially famous for their quartered ones. A certain element of gathering round the leader also takes place, although, he is usually the scrum-half who - whether it is a maul or scrum - wisely stays clear of the action, contenting himself to shouting instructions or, depending on your point of view, being very gobby towards both his team and no doubt, if he can get away with it, the opposition.

While rugby teams no doubt make a lot of noise, that has become more the preserve of the fans. When the Gauls ran into battle, they made it a family affair by bringing the wife and children along with them to watch from behind the dead body line. Despite having a reputation for being a team for poshnobs, Harlequins are very family oriented and yesterday, in the minutes leading up to kick-off at 5:30pm, and those following, it is hard to believe that not every man, woman and child in the stadium was shouting for the home side, exhorting them to repeat the famous victory at the Stade du France of the week previous. Great credit goes to the Stoop's own Cacofonix - Mad Max - for stirring the 12,000+ strong crowd up. It did lead to one or two less desirable results, however, with one gentleman next to me shouting at particular moments (usually when Quins were under pressure), "Come on Quins! Throw back the Froggies!".

Having lost the home leg of this game (10 - 15) last week, Stade Francais came out with all guns blazing. Billy the Kid would have been proud. Their first score, a penalty, came just minutes into the first half. But Harlequins were not to be cowed and responded with a penalty of their own not long later. Pat Garrett was stalking his victim.

But Stade fought back. Oelschig, who scored the opening penalty, cut through Quins to score the game's first try. Importantly, he failed to convert it though. When the try was scored, Harlequin fans looked on with the same desperation as John Tunstall's cowhands when he was buried having been murdered by agents of the Murphy - Dolan gang. At this point I began to worry that the floodgates had happened and Quins were going to be handed a beating. Yet it was not so.

The next score came from Harlequins. It was a penalty near the Stade 22 metre line. Easily close enough for Quins to kick to touch and heave the ball over for a try, but they went for the posts instead. Confidence, indeed. Interestingly, for me, anyway, was the fact that the referee - Nigel Owens of Wales -pointed to the goal posts with just one hand, rather than extending both and drawing them together.

So, it was now 6 - 11. The contest, unlike most Gaulish encounters with the Romans or the Lincoln County War for the matter of that, was fierce but fairly even. As the game ebbed and flowed in favour of one team and then the other, only one constant remained - the rain. Later on, I would discover that the day long rain fall lhad ead to a pitch inspection ninety minutes before the game started.

The inspection passed and I thought the rain would lead to many more handling errors than in the end happened. A great credit to the skills of both sides. As the first half progressed, either side could have scored, but it was Harlequins who did so, courtesy of Centre Jordan Turner-Hall. Nick Evans converted the try and Quins went 13 - 11 ahead. That wasn't the end of the half, though; before it came, Stade nipped into the lead again with another penalty. 13 - 14.

The Stade lead lasted eight minutes into the second half when Nick Evans scored another penalty. This was to be the story of the second half, with the defences of both sides proving every bit as strong as a Macedonian Phalanx on flat ground.

Both Harlequins and Stade Francais were guilty of not taking all their chances during the game. One particularly big heart-in-mouth moment came after Stade had scored what would prove to be their last score of the game to take them into a 17 - 14 lead when Hernandez, the excellent Argentine fly-half, failed to put a drop goal between the posts. Right up until it flew just wide I was expecting it to go through. Phew!

Time was now ticking down. In the 78th minute, Quins recovered the ball deep in their own half. A long charge / crawl up the pitch began. The 80th minute arrived. We had the ball, but Stade were fighting like a team of Poruses. And if Quins made one mistake, Stade would kick the ball into touch and the game would be over. But on they strode and when it appeared that a try had been scored in the far corner, the Stoop erupted.

Nigel Owens, however, had other ideas. Despite this setback, Quins held on to the ball. They manoeuvred towards the centre of the pitch. Go for the drop goal! I cried to myself. But every time, it was given to a forward who put his head down and ploughed into a Stade defender for the purpose of a few more feet.

Finally, however, having had the option of kicking for goal, but rejecting it a couple of times already, Nick Evans judged the moment right. He dropped the ball and kicked it low. Over the bar it went. Or did it? As the stadium celebrated, Owens went to the video referee. The celebrating ended. Tension rose. Then, in an immortal moment, Owens raised his arm. A huge roar went up to heaven and every Harlequin fan entered the seventh. Quins had won 19 - 17. The game ended in the 85th minute after 29 phases of play by the home side. The Stade players put their hands behind their heads and fell to the ground. Quins rejoiced.

Harlequins now have one foot in the quarter final of the Heineken Cup. With two matches left, home to Scarlets and away to Ulster, it should be manageable. And then? Who knows. If they play like this again, the semi-finals. What a prospect.

Clearly overpaid and out of touch

Hot on the heels of the Daily Mirror declaring poor Shannon Matthews to be 'pure, concentrated evil', the Daily Telegraph gets in on the act by declaring on its front page that 'Theo Walcott supports teenage cancer'.

A Slight Hic-cup

A reliable source has told me this amusing story about the Metropolitan Police. It was formed on 29th September 1829. Since then, the number given to all new officers has been sequential. So, what happened to Officer No. 1? Did he enjoy a long and illustrious career? Was he the first officer to fall in the line of duty? No, that happened in 1830, the victim being PC Joseph Grantham (requiescat in pace). One year before then, in fact, on the afternoon of 29th September 1829 - three hours after being made London's first ever policeman - Officer No.1, whose name, unfortunately, is not known to me, was found to be drunk on duty and sacked! Oh dear. The force could only go upwards from there.

Woof!

In Britain, television commercials are thirty seconds long so that they finish just as you start to get bored of them. In America, it seems, not only are they significantly longer, but have been developed to the point of being almost film shorts. And furthermore, they are in no way boring. A splendid example is provided by a company called The Jewelry Store. It is addressed to men and is called Beware of the Doghouse. Click on the link and then the film camera. You won't regret it!

Chav Nativity

There is righteous indignation in Bexley, Sarf Lundun. The Daily Telegraph reports:

'Chav' nativity which has Jesus turning water into lager angers
parents

A 'chav' nativity play where Jesus turns water into strong lager and the three wise men bear gifts of Adidas and Burberry clothes was handed to teenagers to learn at a school during a drama lesson.

As it turns out,

A statement issued by Bexley Council said: "It was never the intention of Oakwood School to use this script as its nativity play. This piece of work was part of a sketch four year nine students were looking at during a drama lesson on the use of language.
"This is definitely not the kind of language that the school would ever encourage or endorse.

"The school apologises for any upset this confusion may have caused parents. We are proud of our school community and our relationship with parents and pupils and would never knowingly cause distress to either.

"The school's annual nativity play will be a traditional take on the Christmas story and will involve pupils from every year in school.

How did this episode come about? In a way, it is a compliment to Christianity. We often hear about the marginalisation of the religion, but if it had no relevance to the school children, it would never have been used as a text in a drama class.

Where the problem has, I think, arisen, though, is in the teachers' interpretation of the Bible as simply a cultural text on a par with the likes of Shakespeare's, Milton's or Dickens' works.

If they had had any understanding of the Bible as being also a sacred text, this mistake would never have happened. Interestingly, the Council statement does not apologise to Christians who might be offended by the misuse of their sacred text. You can be sure that if the Koran had been used, an apology to muslims would also have been forthcoming. I think the reason for that lies in the cultural status of Christianity in this country. It is so much part of British culture that (some) non-Christians are simply not able to see the wood for the trees; the sacredness for the cultural. Islam, unfortunately at the forefront of our conciousness due to Islamist terrorism, is more easily recognised as a religion and therefore, so is its holy book.

In case you haven't clicked the link above, here is a sample of the Chav Nativity:

Pupil One: Do you hear what we 'erd, right, there's this bird called Mary, yeah? She's a virgin.
Pupil two: Wossat then? A train?
Pupil three: She's not married or nuffink. But she's got this boyfriend Joe, innit? He does joinery an' that. May lives with him in a crib down Nazaref. Well anyways, one day right Mary meets this bloke Gabriel right.
Pupil two: Gabriel? What sorta name's that den?
Pupil one: Dunno, sounds Chavvy to me.
Pupil two: Innit! Bruv.
Pupil three: She's like 'Ooo ya looking at?' Gabriel just goes 'You got one up the duff, you have.' Mary's totally gobsmacked.
Pupil two: Innit?

There you have it

As is usual at this time of year, we have a 'revelation' regarding the Birth of Christ. The Daily Telegraph reports:

'Jesus was born in June', astronomers claim

They found that a bright star which appeared over Bethlehem 2,000 years ago pinpointed the date of Christ's birth as June 17 rather than December 25.

The researchers claim the 'Christmas star' was most likely a magnificent conjunction of the planets Venus and Jupiter, which were so close together they would have shone unusually brightly as a single "beacon of light" which appeared suddenly.

Full story here.

A word on Byzantium at the Royal Academy

The Catholic Herald continues to run the popular Pastor Iuventus diary. Another Catholic blogger recently named the priest behind the column, which surprised me, although it is not as if any shame should be attached to being responsible for what is always an interesting and excellent piece of writing. Anyway, in the latest column, the pastor visits the Byzantium exhibition at the Royal Gallery. If you haven't been to see it and are in a position to do so, I thoroughly recommend it; L. and I went a few weeks back and enjoyed ourselves greatly. The exhibition is quite substantial and is full of glittering jewels, ornate objects - reliqueries, manuscripts, incense burners and a lot more. Well worth your time. The Herald reviewed Byzantium here.

The Catholic Herald on Phillip II

The Catholic Herald has increased its size to twenty pages. Unfortunately, this means the price has also gone up - £1.20. Still, this provides a good opportunity to gather up and get rid of spare change.

In this week's edition, there is a review of a new biography of Phillip of Macedonia by Ian Worthington - Alexander the Great's pater. The review starts disagreeably with a reference to Alexander as Phillip's 'infamous son' but improves later on with a mention of 'Alexander's great Macedonian empire'.

Who shot J.R.? was the great mystery of 1981. But in 336 BC, Who killed Phillip? was the question everyone was asking. Phillip was in Aegae celebrating the marriage of his daughter Cleopatra when one of his bodyguards, Pausanias, lept forward and fatally stabbed him.

Cui bono? Phillip had many enemies, but the reviewer is of the opinion that Alexander and his mother, Olympias, were behind the deed. Space does not permit him to go into the details, but it would be easy to agree with his opinion. Alexander and Olympias had been sidelined by Phillip's dynastic marriages and in royal families down the generations, to become sidelined is to become dead. On the other hand, to kill Phillip would be to become king and the king's mother.

An example of what could have happened to Alexander is provided by Olympias. After her son was declared king, she had Phillip's last wife and their son murdered to make sure there could be no dynastic doubt about Alexander's accession. More blood was spilt for this reason, though one half-brother of Alexander's did survive, Arrhidaeus. This appears to have been, however, because he was regarded as being mentally sub-normal.

To go back to Philip of Macedonia, the reviewer states that the evidence against Alexander and Olympias is 'convincing'. Well, they certainly had the most to gain by Philip's demise, but as far as I am aware, there is no actual evidence to suggest that they were behind the murder. Unfortunately - or, perhaps, deliberately - Pausanias was killed following a brief chase from the crime scene. One ancient writer says that Olympias placed a gold crown on his corpse, but I don't know how seriously this statement should be taken. According to Wikipedia, the historian Robin Lane Fox in his book Alexander the Great absolves Alexander of blame but not Olympias.

The Stoop

Here is an exciting aerial shot of The Stoop, home of the mighty Quins, which I have stolen from the Harlequins website. My seat is somewhere in the middle of the red section of the West Stand (recently renamed the LV stand in honour of the latest sponsor). If you click on the photo it should enlarge. My seat is just to the left of the players' tunnel as you look down. Anyway, last Saturday was the feast of St. Nicholas. Boy, did he deliver a present to Quins in Paris. Let's hope St. Lucy is as obliging when Harlequins take on Stade Francais in the home leg this coming Saturday!

Born in the grace of God

Today is the feast of the Immaculate Conception - the doctrine that states that Mary was born without the stain of sin. Mulier Fortis says that this doctrine 'sorts the men out from the boys'. I don't know about that, after all, according to yesterday's Westminster Cathedral newsletter, none other than Thomas Aquinas disbelieved it, but, even the best minds get it wrong from time to time. So, a Happy Feast Day to you!

O la la!

Stade Francais 10 Harlequins 15When Harlequins were promoted back to the Premiership in 2006 they lost their first six games of the new season. But even then, I knew that there were some promising players in the side that - if they were developed properly - would give the club a good future. So it has turned out. And things are just getting better and better. This win over Stade Francais must mark a pinnacle of achievement for the current XV. Stade are rugby royalty. They have never lost a home game in the Heineken Cup, yet here came Harlequins and turned them over! Wow, I can still hardly believe it.

Let's bask in what the press said about the game. First up, BBC On-Line:

Quins raced into a 12-0 lead thanks to tries from Tom Williams and Jordan Turner-Hall, before a late Juan Martin Hernandez kick narrowed the gap.

A try from Juan Leguizamon cut Quins' lead to 12-10, but the visitors refused to cave in despite intense pressure.

Here is what the Daily Telegraph said:

Harlequins arrived in Paris on Friday as a raw, callow side, still saddled with all those hoary cliches that have attached themselves to the multi-coloured ones down the years: flighty, maverick and eccentric.

They left the French capital on Saturday evening as a team with real clout and championship credentials. They were tough and firm, and they were together. This was a coming-of-age performance.

And The Guardian:

It was not pretty, more a smash and grab raid. Harlequins jumped on Stade's mistakes in the first half to go 12 points up in 25 minutes and battened down the hatches in the second half when the home side threw everything at them... Harlequins were marvellous in defence. Led by their captain, Will Skinner, who tackled himself to the point of exhaustion, and supported by Care and Nick Easter, Quins stopped Stade again and again, and even earned a Nick Evans, until with victory seemingly in the bag, there was one final indiscretion. With nothing left on the clock and a penalty won, Care spoke to referee Alan Lewis - "I may have said something," the scrum-half said later - and the penalty was reversed, condemning Harlequins to another minute under siege. "It is not just the defence we had but also the discipline," said Richards, almost hitting the nail on the head. "A lot of the boys grew up here." As for Guazzini, the part-time showman will have to be satisfied with drawing 77,000 - the highest attendance for a Heineken pool game.

After Rome

I have been watching the first part of Boris Johnson's two part programme After Rome in BBC's iPlayer. After Rome tells the story of the rise of Islam in the East and its encounter / conflict with the Christian West.

I haven't finished it yet, but two things that have struck me about the programme is, firstly, how strongly thematically based it seems to be. The principle characters in the drama are, of course, mentioned, but in the way Johnson more often than not refers to the encounters and conflicts between the faiths rather than the people, he does seem to be suggesting that it is Islam and Christianity as religions which were the driving forces of history rather than Islam and Christianity as interpreted and used by the people of the time.

Secondly, although Johnson made the film before he became mayor of London earlier this year, such is its aching determination to be nice about the religions (but especially Islam), the film could almost have been made by a company's Diversity and Equality office. That, however, is not proper history.

Also, early in the programme, Johnson refers to the spread of the Islamic Empire from Arabia to Persia in the east and Spain in the west in eighty years as if this was a great achievement. Well, granted, it wasn't a bad one, but while impressive, I might add that Alexander's empire, which stretched from Macedonia in the west to the eastern border of modern India in the east took just ten years to win. And it was won by just one man. Take that, Rashidun Caliphate, Umayyad Caliphate etc.

Et benedictio Dei omnipotentis...

This news comes a little late, but a source tells me that Bishop Longley was visiting patients at the Whittington Hospital the other day during which he gave one patient a blessing - in Latin. Damian Thompson was admitted shortly afterwards suffering from shock.

Language Matters (2)

Further to the previous post, there is more infelicitous language at the Daily Mirror's website. The URL address for its report of the conviction of Karen Matthews is titled "Mother of pure evil". But, doesn't that imply that Shannon Matthews is also evil?

Perhaps in a moment of literary insight, the Mirror is comparing Karen Matthews to Grendel's Mother. Although, that would still imply a connection between Shannon Matthews and Grendel himself. More likely, the Mirror is alluding to Saddam Hussain's reference to the first Gulf War as being the 'mother of all battles'. But, yet again, unless we call battles good, that still leaves poor Shannon being compared to something bad.

What then are we to make of the Mirror's headline? Fuzzy language always leads to unclear thought.

Update: Courtesy of Iain Dale, I have just seen this post at the Bloggerheads website. "I don't think the good people at the Mirror really thought this one through" Never was a truer word spoken.

Language Matters (1)

The enemy of clear thought is fuzzy language. Detective Superintendant Andy Brennan may be a fine policeman, but if he is, he would be even better if he did not muddle his mind with the wrong words. For not only does imprecise language damage clear thought, but the truth as well.

Mr. Brennan came to public notice when he stood outside Leeds Crown Court last Thursday and made a statement following the conviction of Karen Matthews for the kidnap and false imprisonment of her daughter Shannon and for perverting the course of justice.

Brennan lead the investigation into Shannon Matthews' disappearance. He said, "It is difficult to understand what type of woman would subject her own daughter to such a wicked and evil crime..." despite the fact that he had just answered his own question, for according to the BBC On-Line report (here), he had just described Karen Matthews as being 'pure evil'.

'Pure evil'. Now, Karen Matthews acted in a very wicked fashion and in this respect if no other showed herself to be a wicked person, but if Detective Superintendant Brennan really believes her to be 'pure evil' what does that make, let's say, Adolf Hitler or Joseph Stalin?

I suspect Mr. Brennan's hopeless hyperbole was written for the red top press. It is just the kind description they would like. The problem is that as a result, it makes it very hard for one to read a newspaper headline and believe it without looking into the matter further. I am sure that Andy Brennan would not wish the public to have the same low view of police statements. If so, he would be well advised to avoid pandering to them in the future.

As for Det. Supt. Brennan, my recommendation to him would be to speak less and learn more about the nature of evil; how it exists in shades and one absolute. That way he will understand criminals better and speak of them more accurately. While he is at it, he could do a lot worse than learn about the shades of good as well. Karen Matthews acted wickedly towards her daughter. But that action does not define her whole character. She is no doubt capable of good as well. It would be unjust towards her not to recognise this.

Incredible and not true Mr. Dale

Iain Dale refers to a tasty headline in the blogosphere today-

RC church supports death penalty for homosexuality comes from Scottish blogger Malc in the Burgh. Malc continues:

Sensationalised title - yes.

But true nonetheless.

Er, except it isn't - as Malc would know if he read the Catechism. The basis of the headline is summed up by the Norfolk Blogger:

... the RC church knows that in some countries this criminality is also an offence which can be given the death penalty[.]

By that measure then, if I support the criminality of, let's say, murder, because it it can lead to the death penalty in some countries, I must therefore support the death penalty for murder as well.

The only problem is that I don't and it would be quite wrong to assume that I did. If the above scenario was laid before me, I would - in common, no doubt, with most people including Malc and the Norfolk Blogger - object very strongly to the manipulation of my position. Malc in the Burgh and the Norfolk Blogger can legitimately argue against the Catholic Church's position on homosexuality, but that is what they should argue against - not what they think it is. At the moment, instead of the Norfolk Blogger's Religious hypocricy we have his Catholic distortion.

Lewis on the BBC

It is my suspicion that the BBC is incapable of presenting any element of Christianity in an orthodox matter. All programmes dealing with religion have to have an unorthodox hook in order to make it onto our screens. As Christmas draws near, look for a programme which will attempt to deconstruct the star of Bethlehem, the virgin birth or the political situation in Judaea at the time of Our Lord's birth.

Thanks to the newly discovered (by me; I imagine everyone else has known about it for ages), Google Alerts device, I have found that 'Auntie' is going to show a programme (albeit not this Christmas but at the other time of year when it makes an effort to show Christianity related programmes - Easter) about the 'hidden' astrological theme in C. S. Lewis' Narnia books. That's fine, but can you guess what the programme will be called? The Narnia Code. Hmm. Read all about it here.