Life and Nothing But: How reassuring that on a day when MI5 categorised the UK terror threat as �severe�, a posse of anti-terrorism officers should have been dispatched to rifle through the drawers of a middle-aged Tory MP from Kent.
HOW reassuring that on a day when MI5 categorised the UK terror threat as "severe", a posse of anti-terrorism officers should have been dispatched to rifle through the drawers of a middle-aged Tory MP from Kent.
Damian Green was arrested at his constituency home and questioned for nine hours in connection with alleged leaks from the Home Office. Among the facts Mr Green, who denies any wrongdoing, has recently brought to public attention is the employment of an illegal immigrant as a Commons cleaner, and the Home Secretary's worries about rising crime during the recession.
It is hardly the stuff to rock the foundations of the state. It should also be pointed out that Mr Green, who has not been charged with any offence, is the party's immigration spokesman and a member of Her Majesty's Loyal Opposition, paid, by us, to hold the government to account. In any other job, he'd be given a bonus, but in this case he has had his knuckles rapped. Only metaphorically, of course. I'm sure the police were ever so polite about inconveniencing Mr Green, and that there were lashings of tea and biscuits down at the station. But there is no doubt that whoever knew about this arrest and when - Downing Street says it was entirely in the dark - it sends an unmistakable message to potential whistleblowers and those who would help them get information into the public domain. That message being: put up and shut up, or we'll bang you up.
Green's arrest is a reminder, should it be needed, that the British establishment works in entirely hypocritical ways. Westminster couldn't function without the judicious use of leaking. Whether it is a case of flying a kite, taking the sting out of a controversial policy or scoring points off the opposition, all governments make like a sieve at some point. They can hardly blame civil servants who might, very occasionally, do likewise. It's particularly galling to find a Labour government, which thrived on leaks when it was in opposition, becoming sniffy about the practice. If Labour wants to be whiter than white on leaking, let it open up the dusty files of its own MPs for examination. That, of course, much like any prosecution of Mr Green, will never happen.
AFTER almost a century of selling everything from pick'n'mix to picnic rugs, poor old Woolworths couldn't pull off the ultimate deal and flog itself to a caring buyer. There has been genuine sadness over Woolies' demise, much of it sympathy for the 30,000 workers who face losing their jobs, but some of it sheer nostalgia for what Woolies represented. For many a child, being allowed to run free in Woolies was a rite of passage. The downside to letting kids go wild in the aisles was that the store became a Bermuda Triangle for children: no visit was complete without an announcement of a lost child seeking its mother. The management, bless them, never quite cottoned on to the fact that so many children got "lost" in Woolies because it was a sure-fire way not only to get sweeties from the kindly security staff, but extra loot from a grateful mum as well (Glaswegian children, of course, had to endure a skelp on the legs before getting the goodies). Innocent days. Many of us would pay our body weight in pick'n'mix to have them back.
SOME trends in male fashion and grooming are most welcome. The current fad for man bags, manly versions of handbags, has broadened the accessories range of many a woman. Instead of stealing your razor or white shirt, the love of your life/sister/gal pal/daughter can now borrow your Mulberry messenger permanently. There's one trend, however, that must stop now - cater- pillars on top lips, also known as moustaches. Men, unless you look like Clark Gable, just say no. Otherwise, we'll stop shaving ours in retaliation.
IT'S quiet. Too quiet. It's been almost a week now since I opened a magazine or newspaper to find Gordon Ramsay waxing lyrical about family life and the love he has for his super-sexy wife. Radio silence on the television, too. How odd, spooky almost, not to switch on of an evening and find Gordon swaggering about like a silverback gorilla fed on Viagra instead of vines. What can have happened? The G-force famous for his use of the F-word was scheduled to do his live show on Channel 4 last night. If it goes ahead as planned, I hope he is introduced not as a Michelin-starred maestro but as a humble sous chef. That's sous as in under his wife's thumb from here to eternity.
"LEMSIP: Women give men with colds five minutes of sympathy." That long, eh?
