Like Son of Groucho, I’ve been suffering from a bad case of blogger’s block this week. (Though SoG’s link to the fractal hand kept me entertained for ages.) I’m not sure why this should be, especially in a week when the government has been enjoying a ban-feste — fags, glorifying terrorism and not having an ID card. Not a bad haul even for this lot.
Regular readers will know I have nothing for or against the above, it’s the ‘ban’ word I have problems with. For many years I’ve laboured under the impression that smoking is a perfectly legal and tax revenue raising habit; that I live in a land that believes in freedom of speech and; that I don’t have to prove my existence (or lack of it) to anyone in authority unless I’ve been up to no good.
I suspect my will to rail against such things is waning. We are living in an increasingly repressive society. Okay, so not as ugly as those dictated by theocracy, but those,such as ours, ruled by a politocracy also seriously hamper our freedom of expression and action.
What gets me is that government never gets to grips with the things that really need banning: footballers gobbing on tv; chewing gum; reckless driving of supermarket trolleys; reality tv; any book by Geoffrey Archer; the wearing of strong perfume; the bewildering Department of Health website; anything that involves spending tax pounds in London; green veg with Sunday dinner and; the big no-no: flashing your lights to let someone out in the rush-hour and they don’t bloody acknowledge it.
“Don’t mention it. Oh, you didn’t.” Never sure if that’s from Hitchhiker’s or Fawlty Towers, but you’ll guess I’m in a grumpy mood.
On which Note I’ll leave you, other than to point to the new © on the right bar on the off-chance that I might be plagiarised — lawyers on stand-by!