I heard part of a radio documentary from the Irish state broadcaster RTE recently. Most of its documentary output is little better than an hour along the lines of "Cork Man Saw photo of Hitler in 1935 edition of Daily Mirror" and stretches the subject matter way beyond how far it can be stretched. And let's not forget the sequel Limerick Man Once Met Cork Man Who Saw photo of Hitler in 1935 Daily Mirror. The half- decent documentary I'm referring to is one of the half dozen or so I've heard in the last decade that demonstrated even competent journalism. It was about fellahs from the Irish Republic serving in Afghanistan with the Royal Irish Regiment. Contrary to what the Australian Broadcasting Corporation declared when it rebroadcast the programme, the regiment is not exclusively recruited in the Irish Republic, far from it. But since 1922 when the Free State was created, everyone from the island has been able to serve in the British armed forces. Lads from Northern Ireland have been equally welcome to serve in the Irish Defence Force. I remember meeting a crowd of them on home leave in Northern Ireland. They held the IRA in complete contempt. But then the IRA was the main threat to their lives in the early 1980s. Every security van in The Republic needed a army escort and a carload of detectives as escort to foil the IRA's fundraising hold- ups.

I recently came across an American book for people who collect old military vehicles, as in tanks. The 1994 book gave details about how to refurbish and maintain your tank. It turned out that about the cheapest tanks to buy at the time were British Centurions and Chieftains. Both were being sold off in some numbers by the Ministry of Defence  around 1994 for $10,000 a piece. But the book advised going for the older Centurions, originally designed during the Second World, as the Chieftains  were a little more complex and difficult for the enthusiast to maintain. I seem to remember when I was younger a lot of ex-Polish Army T-34s were being imported into the UK by collectors. I believe the customs forms described them as "agricultural vehicles", as in heavy duty tractors. 

Who could be against the 1914 Christmas Truce on the Western Front? British and German troops in some sectors clambered out of their trenches into No-Man's Land and mingled. There was even supposedly a football game. But here's the thing. Breaking the enemy's morale is a key part of war. The Germans were, and are, even bigger on Christmas than the British. Many British Christmas "traditions" were introduced by our German Royal Family; don't be fooled by them calling themselves Windsor these days. The Christmas Truce boosted German morale to a greater extent than it did the British. Of course, the Germans didn't throw up their hands and surrender in the sectors where there was no mingling. But The Truce did boost their will to carry on with the fight. 

I sometimes wonder if the collapse of journalistic standards has stoked the fires of misinformation. An ever increasing number of people now get all their news via social media. Sadly, their scorn for "traditional" media is fed daily by sloppy journalism. It is hard to believe anything that comes from a media source that tells you one Russian rocket destroyed 72 apartment buildings in Ukraine. Unlikely, unless the Russians are using tactical nuclear weapons. Maybe try try 72 flats in a complex of more than 300 apartments. Can a bus overturning on an icy road in a single vehicle accident really be said to have been involved in a collision? Recently several reporters could not tell the difference between an unmarked  potential gravesite and a mass grave.  Another reporter spoke of "portable water"; more likely that water was "potable". Or is it too much to expect for the newsreader to say which country is suffering from anti-government riots? From the politicians named, it was Peru. No wonder so many folk ignore the increasingly inept mainstream media and end up falling for lies and conspiracy theories. 

A lot of people apparently believe I'm a red-head. Not flame ginger red but red just the same. In fact, the hair on the top of my head is a dirty blond. As a toddler I was, like my brother and cousins, a golden blonde. What fools people is my beard. It is indeed red, or was; it's now streaked with grey. Somehow, all people saw was red hair. The beard is now more of a goatee but in the old days it was full. Well, full some of the time. I used to stop shaving during my two week summer holidays and by the time I went back to work I had a good enough beard. It would then grow for a while. Then I would attempt to cut it with the kitchen scissors. Year after year all I did was cut doorsteps in my facial fungus and had to go clean shaven until the summer holidays came again. Oh, my eyebrows are black. Three hair colours on one head. 

The BBC World Service recently celebrated it's centenary. They played a recording  of the first head of the BBC, Lord Reith,  speaking at the launch of what was then called The Empire Service. He apologised for the poor  quality of the programming and promised it would be get better. He must be turning in his grave. The Newsroom programme had an item about the supposed reintroduction of beavers to Britain on the legendary first Duke of Wellington's former estate. Less than a minute on a search engine shows that beavers were reintroduced to Scotland more than a decade ago and have been in northern English rivers as well  for several years now. The only recent development is their arrival in Hampshire. Is it BBC World Service policy that nothing that happens north of Watford counts? Or, let's look at the 23 January edition. What the heck is World of Witchcraft? I've heard of World of Warcraft. This was one of several examples of sloppiness in an edition that could be taught at broadcasting school as a "how not to do it". Or what about mentioning several times mentioning the Archbishop of Canterbury was on a joint visit to South Sudan with the Pope with only a brief aside that the Moderator of the General Assembly of the Church of Scotland was also a member of the party.  But then again, Canterbury is south of Watford.  

We get a radio programme here in Canada, courtesy of the BBC, called In The Studio. It's usually pretty dull, pretentious, people talking pretentiously about their latest project. The interviews and updates are usually assembled over a period of several months. But the biggest problem is that the programmes are often presented by the subject's best friend or someone who wants to be their new best friend. Too often the programme stinks of "you scratch my back and later I'll scratch yours" careerism. I'm reminded of a student journalist's interview with Andrew Neil when he was editor of the Sunday Times. It was so sycophantic. It was pretty obvious that the student hoped Neil would give her a job when she finished college and didn't want to upset him with any probing questions. 

I'm glad the odious  Aung San Suu Ky has had seven years added to her existing 2ear prison sentence. She deserves it for what she did to the Rohingya Muslims. In the old days bad cops used to frame criminals on the basis of "you may not have done this one but you've done a lot of bad stuff and for the sake of your neighbours you should be in jail". Wrong, but how much wronger than defence lawyers giving prosecution witnesses' addresses to their clients? The charges Aung has been jailed for were trumped up by the military regime that runs Myanmar, once known as Burma. But if Aung hadn't been born a girlie, she would have been part of the junta  founded by her father. Aung and her father, General Aung San, occasionally showed disarming honesty.  Long before the genocidal attack on the Rohingas, Aung said she would not never lift a finger to protect them because such a move would be electoral suicide. Her father when challenged that he only only stopped fighting for the Japanese  when it became obvious they would lose the Second World War, pretty much replied with a smile  "Of course". 

Quite  often when I hear folk complaining about racism I can’t help feeling their narrow focus is missing the bigger picture. And that is that the problem is not really skin tone but of being poor. Take for example police stopping people. It’s often about location rather than skin tone. Now, it's true certain neighbourhoods may have a lot people with certain skin tones. But the police are suspicious of everyone on the streets of that neighbourhood and stop them for “a chat” regardless of skin tone. Those who cry “racism” are, intentionally or through stupidity, doing the work of the Boss Class. Divide and Conquer. The old Klu Klux Klan was more about stopping black and white workers uniting to fight poor pay and working conditions than any genuine belief amongst its financial backers in racial superiority. 

It's not very often I hear much worthy of praise on the Canadian taxpayer funded Canadian Broadcasting Corporation; never mind something that involves moral courage. The item concerned was about a scheme to teach Black people how to become professional wine tasters. We were told that this necessary because a black person had once been told that a wine tasted of quince. When further explanation was sought the person in question was told to eat some quince and then they would understand. After the interview tape ended one of the programme presenters remarked she had never tasted quince either. It was like something from the Emperor's New Clothes and at least one other presenter also declared he had never tasted quince. Now, we're talking about a programme here in which if brains were gunpowder, collectively the entire production team would not muster enough to blow one nose. Certainly no-one involved in producing the item concerned had challenged the woman behind the training scheme to give a better example for the need for a race- based training scheme. So, it was kind of refreshing to hear the racism even obliquely  challenged on air. 

Well, the blog you've all been waiting for is finally here. The2022 Book of the Year is being announced today. In reality, it would appear that even the winners don't care. My Boys' Book of Successful Authoring told me it might be good idea to let the winners know. Only a handful ever got back to me. The noticeable thing was that the ones who did respond were also the ones who wrote the best books. I doubt if that's a coincidence. 

Years ago I worked for a newspaper with a lot of satellite offices. It was a fact of life that the emergency services in each office's area were often reluctant to mention what they had been up to because they didn’t want the extra work that would be generated by media interest. But many were happy to mention events involving neighbouring stations. So, reporters used to call their colleagues in those neighbouring areas just to make sure they knew about these happenings. Except for one guy. He used to call the assistant editor-type people at head office. Guess who got the promotion to assistant editor type person. And who was the biggest creep at head office? As well as being a creep and all round nasty piece of work, he was also a pretentious snob of the first water. I remember once, after his ill- deserved promotion, reporting to him that for once there was nothing doing in my neck of the woods. "Nothing will come of nothing; speak again," he said to show off his expensive private education. I didn't have the heart to tell him they teach Shakespeare in the state schools too.

There’s nothing like a common adversary to create a sense of community. Maybe that’s why there is so much nostalgia for the Second World War and The Blitz – whether in London, Coventry, Liverpool or Clydebank. I encountered this phenomenon recently. A bunch of wicked capitalists bought the building I lived in and evicted all the tenants. By final few weeks beforeeveryone had to be out, the sense of community, especially for those who hadlived in the building for more than 20 years, had undergone a massive revival. There had always been some community spirit, folk often gave neighbours a lift to medical appointments and stuff like that, but as the last few long term tenants scrambled to find new homes, it soared as soon-to-be-former- residents tried to help each other out. I was reminded of when I was little and all the houses on my street were brand new. The adversary in that case was builder. The shared fight got a sense of community in the street off to a flying start.

I heard a listener's comment on the BBC World Service that made me wonder about education standards in India. By the way, the World Service in its enthusiasm to be The World's Radio Station would appear to be prepared to sacrifice Truth and Commonsense. This guy claimed that before the arrival of the British, India was a united Garden of Peace and Tranquility. In fact, the British managed to take control because the sub-continent was riddled by rival warring states. What I wonder is, do this idiot's comments reflect how history is taught in India? And what is the BBC thinking airing such distortions? Does it have so few listeners that they feel obliged to air all comments no matter how stupid in the hope of encouraging more audience participation? The BBC has a cheek criticising social media outlets such as Facebook and Twitter for propagating racial  hate-inspired lies. 

The  press used to sit behind the witness box when the High Court was held in Inverness. So, the reporters could see something that that the jury couldn’t. That was the leg, or legs, of the witness shaking as they gave evidence. To me, that suggested they were not telling the truth. Then one night in the pub a lawyer came up to me and asked if I was the Paul Cowan who had seen a fatal accident on Ness Walk two years earlier. I said yes and he asked me to appear as a witness next day at Inverness Sheriff Court.  Imagine my surprise when I found one of my legs shaking like crazy. I was telling the truth.

I'm hearing hurt feelings on the radio coverage of the World Cup as English people are reminded that there are Scots out there who want to see Anyone But England win. Part of the hurt is that many English people cheer on the other Home Countries when they are not playing against England in sporting events.  This ABE thing is getting tiresome and is damaging Scotland's relationship with those who are still our overlords. It's not worth it. But I would remind people that when it comes to the Football Association there are grounds for a grudge. It killed off the oldest annual international fixture in the world because it declared Scotland was not worth playing anymore. And let's not forget the insufferable BBC coverage of that annual fixture. The arrogant and ignorant Jimmy Hill was only the worst feature of a game day that made a nonsense of the BBC's claim to be a national broadcaster. It was difficult not to transfer the disgust aroused from the BBC to the England squad and the FA. 

I heard a disturbing item on that font of racism and intolerance, the BBC World Service, about a group of African female trainee car mechanics who planned to go into business - businesses that only employed female car mechanics. Is that not sex discrimination? I would hope the said African country if it allows this discrimination also permits all male car repair businesses too. And that the BBC approves of the all male businesses as much as it evidently supports the all female versions. All too often supposed Equality campaigns are really demands for special treatment. These female car mechanics almost certainly  want the right to work in any car repair workshop facilities while denying men the same employment opportunities. I bet if they tire of a female only operation they will complain bitterly if they are refused a job elsewhere on grounds of gender.  I would not want to join a golf club, for instance, that banned women. But  as it seems acceptable for there to be female only golf clubs, surely men who do not wish to share a green or a clubhouse with women should be equally indulged. 

I hate it when people lie to me. It's like they are saying they think I'm stupid enough to believe the lie. They say Truth is the first casualty in war. But do the Ukrainians have to be such crude propagandists? I didn't expect much from the Russians. Part of the problem is that the collapse of mainstream media means that we have to rely on cheap semi-amateur news stringers for news of the war. I encountered many of these sad characters in Kosovo and Afghanistan in ever increasing numbers as the years went on. The Blundstone boots were kind of red flag. So, sadly, I have very little idea of what is really going on in Ukraine. Much of the coverage makes little sense. And a good rule of thumb is if it doesn't make sense, it isn't true. There is no real need to embellish the terrible things happening in Ukraine. Have they never heard the story of The Boy Who Cried Wolf? 

Well, if you don't want a speeding ticket, don't speed. I cringe everytime I hear that in Edmonton, Canada. I've had two speeding tickets and on both occasions I had to search for the speed limit sign afterwards. In one case the driver would have to ignore the traffic they were merging with and watch the opposite side of the street to see the sign; in the case of the other ticket the sign was frequently obscured by parked buses. The photo radar trap undercover trucks used to sit outside my block of flats. That was irresponsible because the industrial strength flash gun on the truck when activated blinded passing pedestrians when it fired in their faces. But trying proving in 20 years' time that your blindness was caused by the retinal damage done by that flash. The speed limit sign for that stretch of road was tiny. Most of my neighbours certainly didn't know the limit was dropped by 10 kilometres an hour at the end of the street. Then a bigger sign was put up and the speed trap vanished. Weeks later the photo radar trap trucks had returned. Right enough, the bigger  sign was gone and the tiny one was back. Recently, the trap trucks have been painted bright yellow but the speed limit signs are still tiny or badly positioned.