Well done, 'The Speccie': In the face of this howling gale of national hysteria concerning old pervs and gropers from decades ago which seems to have blown all commonsense out of the window, the dear old 'Speccie' has not one, not two but three articles this week advising our less-than-glorious leaders to calm things down. The heading to Matthew Parris's excellent piece says it all: "There's no fighting paedophile panic. But I'll try". Douglas Murray bemoans the lack of any authority figures these days who might knock some sense into the scaremongers and Rod Liddle does, well, a Rod Liddle, need I say more?
Thank God it's nearly over: Tonight is the final performance in the latter-day Ring Cycle otherwise known as the World Cup. I use the word 'peformance' not in the sense of athletic abilities demonstrated but in the strictly theatrical sense. As far as I could see from the various bits and pieces I watched before invariably dozing off, most of them could get jobs as film extras in big battle scenes after they retire because they can fake serious injury better than any luvvie can. Should any player (what an appropriate word!) inadvertantly sneeze you could bet the deeds of the house on at least three opposition players falling to the ground writhing in agony. I think Will's advice to the 'players' is pertinent:
suit the action to the word, the word to the action; with this special, o'erstep not
the modesty of nature: for any thing so overdone is from the purpose of playing, whose end, both at the first and now, was and is, to hold, as 'twere, the
mirror up to nature; to show virtue her own feature, scorn her own image, and the very age and body of the time his form and pressure. Now this overdone,
or come tardy off, though it make the unskilful laugh, cannot but make the judicious grieve; the censure of the which one must in your allowance
o'erweigh a whole theater of others.
More rumbles later . . .
