Tis the Season

You’ll forgive my absence, dear readers, when I tell you that it was solely down to the various enforced preparations and visitations that have been made necessary by the festive period.  At this point in the proceedings I’m supposed to bemoan the expense, the inconvenience and that irritation at having to spend my all too rare time off with people I find infuriating “because it’s Christmas.”  However, I’m going to refrain from doing that because I actually like Christmas....

OK, I hate having to spend money on gifts that I know people will probably hate and promptly consign to the back of the wardrobe (just as soon as they’ve finished gushing over how they have always wanted an electronic tin opener shaped like Ken Livingstone’s face).  I have also never been a huge fan of making small talk with relatives who I barely know and probably won’t see again until next Christmas, when we will probably have the same conversation yet again.  BUT....

I like Christmas.  It is the one time of year when normality is suspended and you can just let your hair down.  There is also something rather spirited about this time of year.  Sure, advertisers are as infuriating as ever, trying to get us to buy their tat and masquerade them as gifts to our unsuspecting friends and relatives.  Aside from that, there is this air of excitement that seems to just pervade and not just amongst young children.

When you’re a child Christmas is all about that wonderful sense of anticipating what is in store for you on Christmas morning (and having time off school).  As an adult it becomes an excuse to share some time with friends who we have not seen nearly enough during the year.  Sociologists and psychologists are constantly telling us that we are far too unhappy and that this is due to the fact that we are terrible at prioritising.  We simply do not make enough time and effort with the things that matter most because we are much too busy rushing around pursuing things that, on balance, don’t matter that much.  British people apparently work some of the longest hours in Europe and this seems to be having an impact on the quality of our relationships.  Why is this relevant?  Well, whilst you are busy rushing about answering the telephone, typing letters, selling stuff etc you are not busy engaging with friends and family.  You can easily become cut off and it may even reach the point where you feel loathe to reconnect because, well, it has been so long.

Then Christmas comes and is in itself a reason to reconnect.  Suddenly you have an excuse to put away the laptop and go visit a friend that you have not seen in months.  Even though you do not have an excuse as such you can simply say that you thought you would drop in “because it is Christmas.”  Suddenly, you are sitting, chatting and wondering why you don’t do this more often.  Then you go round to your parents, aunt’s, in-laws, you name it....OK, so some people are just plain annoying and make you want to staple things to their heads but at least you are reconnecting with people.  You are making an effort.  You are, once again, part of it. 

Sure, you can sit there and moan about those “Morcombe and Wise” reruns and the fact that the turkey was just too dry for your liking but when it comes down to it, I bet you loved every single minute.  You loved watching your little nephew tear at the wrapping paper like a kitten tearing a baby mouse to shreds; you loved hearing your elderly grandfather tell you about what Christmas was like when he was a kid (for the umpteenth time!) and you loved having the excuse to consume your body weight in wine and novelty confectionary.  Complain as you might, you know deep down that Christmas just would not be the same without any of these things.  Indeed, life would not be the same without any of these things. 

If you are still doubting the truth of my words, I would urge you to consider those who have spent this Christmas alone and isolated.  Those who would have given anything to see a friendly face or share a laugh or two with a well meaning friend or neighbour.  There are many reasons why a person may have spent Christmas alone; family break downs, poverty, lack of transport, death of friends and loved ones etc.  I am not writing this article as a way of explaining why people are lonely because like many facets of the human condition, loneliness can be a complicated and very individual issue.  It is also beyond the remit of an amateur blog such as this one.  I simply write this entry to ask that you use Christmas and all of its associated messages to take stock and be thankful for all that you have because even if it does not seem to be a great deal, it is probably more than a lot of other people.

With love and good wishes for the New Year!

Class reproduction

It was bound to happen, wasn’t it?  And when it did it was bound to be plastered across the front page of every newspaper on the planet.  I am, of course, referring to the news that William and Kate have spawned.  On a human level, I am happy for them.  For most people, the prospect of having a tiny rug rat running around is a delightful prospect.  Finally, here is a miniature version of yourself that you can teach to hate everything you hate (Justin Bieber, racists, Tories etc).  Plus, there is always something unashamedly optimistic about being a small part of creating a new generation.  One that will hopefully be much less careless and much more educated than we were. 

On a political level I am horrified, embarrassed and somewhat confused.  I am horrified because, in spite of the fact that many ordinary Brits are struggling to keep body and soul together, we will still be expected to contribute to this little person’s lifestyle via our taxes.  Taxes that could and should be spent on better things, such as improving public services and getting us out of the financial mess in which we have now found ourselves.  The thing is that council services, the NHS and education have all faced huge cuts because we are apparently unable to support them.  However, we could somehow afford to pay huge sums of money for silly Jubilee festivities that had no discernible point other than to remind us that the queen has been successfully fleecing us for 60 years.  We also found money to pay towards security for a wedding of two people that we hadn’t even met and that the vast majority of us probably couldn’t care less about.  Then there are all the regular perks that we pay for: private education, goodness knows how many palaces, private health care.  The list goes on and incorporates things that most of us cannot even afford to pay for for ourselves, which begs the question: why should we pay for that bunch of scroungers to have them?  Thus, this latest addition will only continue the “work” of its family, which is namely taking money of the working people of this country and using it to fund a life of unashamed privilege.

My embarrassment and confusion have arisen as a result of listening to some of the sycophantic opinions that are being banded around.  Admittedly, it is mostly the deluded individuals from the Royalist fraternity but I have also overheard comments from people who should really know better.  The comments mostly centre around how wonderful it will be to have another royal running about.  Do these people not realise how much they are being exploited and how much better this country would be if we didn’t have to fund an institution that is essentially a pointless waste of money?  This latest addition will be just another pointless waste of money.  Furthermore, I have heard many of these same people talking about how the tax payer should not be funding non-workers to have children (I think they mean benefits claimants).  In their blissful ignorance they seem to forget that the royal family do not contribute anything to society (don’t you dare try and play the tourism card: Britain would attract tourism with or without the monarchy) and have a much easier time of it than benefits claimants.  How many benefits claimants do you know who can afford to send their children to Harrow or Eton?  No, many of their children are languishing in sub-standard state funded comprehensives.  It is the ignorance of these people that embarrasses me.  The ignorance and the willingness to unquestioningly hand money over to a bunch of people who are so much better off than they will ever be.

You have to question what impact this little brat will have upon your own life.  Will it, for example, be emptying your bins or tending to your sick relatives?  Probably not.  At best it will open a few hospital wards, whilst grinning at the assembled crowds in a condescending and mock sympathetic manner.  Meanwhile we will be working ourselves to death to pay for it to enjoy a swanky lifestyle whilst we languish in sub standard housing that we haven’t a hope in hell of ever owning.  If you do not think that this is a good enough reason for Britain to become a republic then there is clearly something wrong with you!

Opportunity Knocks But Rarely Comes In

So I just signed up for a student loan.  This is purely so that I can complete a course, which will allegedly enable me to progress in my chosen career.  Quite a noble reason for getting oneself into debt.  I suppose that, on balance, there are worse reasons for getting into debt but this does not make the fact that I will come out of university owing a big evil bank thousands of pounds any easier to deal with.  The thought of contributing anything to their already over inflated balance sheets, even if it is only a pittance, leaves me feeling cold and resentful.  Yet, without their “help,” I would have been unable to complete my course.  The problem is that for all that Universities pretend to be these high minded cathedrals of learning; they are really nothing but blood sucking, money grabbing leeches.  Sure, they may have been all altruistic when they were nothing more than a few learned masters teaching gifted and talented students in rooms above inns but it just isn’t like that any more.  If you really want to prove my point then feel free to be late with a tuition fee instalment.  Have a gander through the myriad of threatening emails that they send claiming that you will be kicked off your course and unable to matriculate if you fail to make the coveted payment within an allotted timescale.  The long and short of this paragraph is that if you want to get anywhere these days, you will probably need to go on some sort of course and these courses cost money.  Money is in short supply to most people.

However, there is another way.  A way that doesn’t involve begging banks on bended knees to loan you money.  A way that doesn’t entail you sitting up until stupid o’clock in the morning typing up an essay whilst high on energy drinks.  There is a down side though.  You have to not mind looking like a complete pillock in front of an entire nation of brain dead drones.  The official term is reality TV but I prefer to call it the exploitation of the financially desperate and chronically stupid.  However, reality TV has a much better ring to it so we shall run with it (that and it is much easier to type). 

I will be the first to admit that I have often been disdainful of such programmes and the kind of people who go on them.  I mean, who would want to spend however many weeks prancing around in a house full of strangers and be filmed in the process?  I never really understood the mentality.  That is, until I found myself grovelling to a bank in order to be able to BORROW my course fees.  The thing is, that if I was financially better off this would not have been an issue.  I could have just paid off my uni fees in one lump sum.  However, like most of the population I am not rich.  Sure, I can afford my bills and my rent without a struggle.  This is more than can be said for a lot of people.  There are many people who I know of who have to think twice before putting the heating on.  It is literally a case of “can I afford to eat AND be warm?”  It is a grim state of affairs when you have to choose between eating and staying warm but that is what a lot of people are calling reality these days.  So I cannot blame those who, upon seeing a way out, scramble towards it in the hope of finding something better on the other side.  If that means locking yourself in a house full of other z list wannabes then so be it.  Six months of endorsing cheap perfumes and appearing on day time TV shows has got to be better than serving booze to twelve year olds in One Stop. 

Of course, these people could do it the old fashioned way and work hard in order to get a good job.  It is perfectly doable, right?  WRONG!  As we have already discussed, the way in to most reasonable jobs nowadays is a university degree and these do not come cheap.  Then there is the issue of your education before university.  In the UK, the top jobs are taken by those with the privilege of a private school education, which certainly does not come cheap.  Thus, it goes without saying that in order for a person to succeed in this world they had better be starting from a relatively good position.  By that I mean that mummy and daddy had better be in a position to pay up for school and university fees.  I know you will all hate me for saying this because, well, you are still clinging onto the belief that Britain is a meritocracy whereby anyone with the talent and determination to succeed can do so.  Just look at the likes of Alan Sugar and Philip Green, you all cry wistfully.  Yes, they started from virtually nothing and are now worth tidy sums.  However, they started off in a different climate.  One in which the business world was less hostile to the fledgling businesses.  Amazon had not yet been dreamt up and Tesco wasn’t the colossal force of misery and exploitation that it is today.  Today’s world is different.  The big guns like Amazon and Tesco rule and you may as well quell any notions that your business could ever compete with them because that just won’t happen. 

Traditionally, the business world has been the hope of the working classes where politics and general pratting about with polo sticks has been the domain of the upper classes.   However, the current economic climate has stopped a lot of working class people in their tracks.  They see that their traditional means of gaining some semblance of control (for the business community is quite influential) and autonomy has now been shut off to them, whilst the rich are still able to do pretty much what they have always done.  Namely, doing a bad job of running the country and blaming those lower down the pecking order for their monumental screw ups.  So this leaves your average working class person with a conundrum: One Stop or Big Brother?  I suppose that the end decision doesn’t actually matter since either way, you will end up getting mouthfuls of abuse from an undeserving public whilst being shafted by a huge corporation whose only use for you is to make them money.  It’s just that one of the options will net you more riches and a brief sniff of fame (unless that armed robbery you were caught up in happens to be broadcast on Crimewatch).

Somehow, I am feeling more positive about the loan debacle....

Don't Tell The Groom!

I was warned by a rather disdainful fiancé not to watch it and like the stubborn little bint that I am, I went ahead and watched it regardless.  I am, of course, referring to “Don’t Tell The Bride.”  That hour long sexist extravaganza, in which a bratty bride to be hands over the responsibility of organising her dream wedding to her feckless but ultimately well meaning groom.  You don’t have to be Mystic Meg to predict the premise: woman expresses her desire for a Disney style wedding, man organises a wedding that involves a quick job at the local Maccy Dees (whilst they all dress in tracksuits and prance down the aisle to dub step), bride bursts into tears.  It is a cheap, no fail formula.  Well, I say cheap.  The programme makers have to fork out 12K for the featured wedding. Indeed, why else would somebody volunteer to make a complete tit of themselves on national TV?  I say no fail because it seems to encapsulate all that the British public want from their TV programming: morons, weddings, gender stereotypes and, if you’re really lucky, a few colossal tantrums.

It turns out that the fiancé was right; I hated the whole bloody programme and got extremely angry.  I mean, come on.  Thousands of people the world over are starving.  Many people in this country are struggling to heat their homes due to rising fuel costs.  Animals throughout the world are suffering due to mistreatment and neglect.  Yet, somehow these spoilt brats (sorry but I cannot think of a term that is more apt) seem to feel that her husband to be picking the wrong colour wedding dress or incorrectly shaped invites warrants her throwing a massive wobbly.  Oh Christ alive!  One phrase springs to mind and that’s GROW UP.  Oh and get over yourself.

Then there’s the sexism.  The whole thing just backs up the cultural stereotypes that are so pervasive in the portrayal of relationships.  You know the stereotypes I mean: the woman puts everything into maintaining a healthy relationship whilst the man sits in an armchair, slurping beer, burping, belching, watching football and picking his nose.  Hmmmfff.  This programme takes these stereotypes and shoves them into a very specific, high pressured situation.  I.e. wedding planning.  The one day that most women are socialised and manipulated into dominating and having as their day.  The day that would normally be meticulously planned by bride and mother of the bride (or so I’m told).  Only this time it is down to the simpleton groom and his clan of apelike peers.  Rather predictably, they ALWAYS manage to organise something that is the exact opposite to the dream wedding that has been dreamed up by their bride to be.  Shock horror.  A man actually getting control of a day that, when you think about it in a fair and even handed way, is half his day anyway.  So what if he wants to serve kebabs at his own wedding?  So what if he’d rather arrive at the registry office on the back of a tractor instead of a Rolls Royce?  I’m actually on the side of men everywhere here. 

We talk about equality and how we want everyone to have an equal say in everything, a sentiment that I wholeheartedly agree with.  Yet, it seems that when it comes to wedding planning a lot of girlies seem to cringe at the thought of letting the male half of the partnership anywhere near it.  Why?  What are you all afraid of?  More sense being injected into the proceedings?  A lower credit card bill?  Offending your mother?  Oh dear God. 

Naturally, it is all the opposite way around in our case.  We have agreed that, in order to comply with health and safety and common decency, he should organise everything and I should not be let anywhere near anything.  This decreases the possibility of embarrassment and would be better all round.  

This is the ten o'clock news

It isn’t.  In actual fact, it is only 19.32 and this isn’t London...it is ummm some place up North.  That is the North of England.  The place of the Bronte’s, luscious green hills, cute villages, tumbledown mills and relentless rain.  Aaaah.  Anyway, I digress.

I have given up on watching the news.  Not because I want to become some ignorant drone, quite the reverse.  My reasoning is somewhat more pathetic than that: to put it simply, I don’t want to get depressed.  Seriously, all of this doom and gloom about recession, people killing each other and oxygen causing new fangled illnesses is starting to get me down.  This is quite a bitter realisation for somebody who prides herself on being up to date with the world and all that goes on within it.  I have always been disdainful of people who don’t have any desire to engage with the world around them.  Every time somebody reiterated the excuse of not wanting to depress themselves by sitting through yet another news report about kids gunning their parents down with AK47s and pensioners mugging bankers at knife point I always got annoyed.  I was always thinking “yeah but no man is an island dude.  One day it might be you who is being rugby tackled to the floor by a crazed toddler for your Samsung Galaxy.  Then what?  Surely you’d like to think that somebody would care.”  But now, I’m feeling jaded by it all. 

I feel like a lot of the news is aimed solely at telling us about how ultimately shit human beings are.  One minute it’s recalcitrant teens.  The next it’s teenage mums.  Then it’s demonic protesters nicking a pair of shoes from Footlocker (or whichever low class establishment it was).  Whatever it is, it is usually a negative or dehumanizing portrayal of the lower classes, much of which is unjustified. 

I think it was Maggie Thatcher who claimed that we were now living in a classless society. I am normally a stickler for correct referencing but I will let the citation slip in this case because whoever said it was clearly talking out of their backsides.  A not too close look at news reports and the difference in the way that the deal with people from different social classes is more than enough to confirm this.  I will give an example: Bob Diamond (ex-exec of Barclays Bank and all round bad boy) is revealed to have fixed the LIBOR rate, resulting in untold damage to the economy.  OK, this was reported.  BUT THAT WAS ALL.  He wasn’t hounded by reporters.  Apart from being asked a few questions by disgruntled MPs, he wasn’t really forced to provide answers.  As far as I am aware, no criminal charges have been brought.  The guy is still wondering the streets enjoying his multi-million pound payout.  Compare this to people who have been hunted down for trying to evade paying council tax, claiming too much benefit and other financial misdemeanours that have had the government pacing the floor in self righteous indignation.  Don’t get me wrong, these things are naughty too.  We all use government funded services and we are all responsible for their upkeep.  BUT what these people did, although wrong, pales into insignificance when compared with the antics of Mr Diamond.  It strikes me that many of those who have been prosecuted for things such as claiming too much benefit are much more vulnerable than the likes of Bob (I’ve mentioned him so much that I now feel that I am on first name terms with him).  Yet, they are the ones who are not only being imprisoned but are also being made to pay back money that they probably claimed because they felt they needed it in order to live.  Yet, Bob and friends have done much more damage to the economy and they seem to be getting off scott free.  Why?  I don’t know.  Maybe it has something to do with the fact that they, the government and the media all live in each other’s pockets and therefore protect each other when the chips are down.  I don’t know.  It’s quite an accusation to level at somebody but in the absence of proper investigative journalism, what is a girl to think?

So, in a nutshell: I am completely tired of viewing the demonization of the working classes and seeing it repackaged and regurgitated as news.  Yet, I do not see this state of affairs changing until we have a radical overhaul and get rid of the corrupt element of society whose job it is to oppress and take advantage of the working person.  This realisation, coupled with the relentless scare mongering that seems to be prevalent in today’s news reporting, is more than enough to convince me to switch off in the interests of my own emotional equilibrium.  

Bullying

If there is one thing I hate reading about it’s bullying, regardless of the ages of the victim and the bullies.  Of course, many of us can recount times when we have been picked on, punched or intentionally left out of the social loop and if you genuinely can’t, you’re lucky.  Reading the story of poor Amanda Todd brought tears to my eyes and made me feel sick.  It’s not so much the fact that a few people called her names and generally made her life a misery.  Like I said, that kind of thing happens to the best of us and usually resolves itself one way or the other.  It is more the fact that EVERY SINGLE PEER (or a significant number of her peers) clubbed together to make her life a living hell, to the point where the poor girl thought that committing suicide was the only way out.

I don’t want to meter out judgement to these people because, hey, I can be unpleasant and it’s not my place to go around making judgements about people I have never even met.  I don’t know who these people are or how their minds work.  What I do know is that people are capable of being extremely cruel and seem to possess something of a pack mentality.  I witnessed it at my own comprehensive.  Basically, if you weren’t sporty, rough, pretty, wearing the latest sports gear (this was in the nineties and trashy sports labels were all the rage back then), you were fair game.  Amongst the bullied were those of us who were also too tall, too small, too fat, too thin, too quiet, too weird, too sober, too nerdy, too bright, not bright enough...you get the idea.   The form of the bullying seemed to vary according to the bullies and their targets.  Some were very physical with their prey.  By physical I mean their preferred method was to kick the living shit out of their victim whilst most of the school watched and cheered (usually for the bullies) before leaving the poor kid lying there rolling in a pool of their own blood.  Others preferred to target people emotionally.  By this I mean name calling, taunting, purposeful social exclusion and other non-physical forms of bullying.

 The teachers weren’t much nicer.  Whenever you raised concerns about bullying you were told not to tell tales and to maybe consider what YOU might be doing to entice the bullies...what?  This is very much in line with an article I recently read, which discussed how some professor of psychology (always a bad start) has come up with some sound advice aimed at making weird kid be less...well, weird.  It talks about cultivating social awareness and learning not to talk about things that other people may find bizarre or inappropriate.  Both very useful.  I mean, you don’t want to be making a habit of talking about your piles to complete strangers.  However, what happened to teaching self love and tolerance.  How exactly does this work when we are also telling children that they are just too weird to have friends.  It’s as though we have developed some pathological obsession with fitting some socially cultivated ideal of “normal” and “perfect.” 

My issue is that “normal” and “perfect” are just too narrow, not to mention boring.  By way of confirmation, I just have to look around my circle of friends and colleagues.  Most of them, if not all of them, would struggle to appear anything but weird.  One of my friends enjoys providing graphic details of her bowel movements to anybody-ability to listen and not being grossed out is not essential, you just have to be there-she is twenty six.  Then there is the friend who can down neat vodka, whilst listening to Iron Maiden and painting war hammer models.  I have a friend who likes to make random animal noises.  Others who will discuss their intimate lives in lurid detail with complete strangers.  There are also those who dress a little funny, have piercings in interesting places and listen to heavy music.  So, whilst none of them would win most conventional person of the year, they are my friends and I love each and every one of them (cue vomiting noises).  Maybe it is their inherent weirdness that makes me enjoy spending time with them.  Not only do I find their antics entertaining; I think that their bizarre behaviour gives me a sort of licence to exhibit my own brand of strangeness.  I know that I can come out with random stuff and they wouldn’t think anything of it, whereas other people may mock or avoid me altogether.  When in their company I feel completely accepted, as though I can say or do anything without being made to feel stupid or freakish.  A feeling I never really had at school.  At school I was always on my guard, careful to appear normal (and never succeeding) only to find myself the butt of everyone’s jokes anyhow.

If somebody had told me at fifteen that as an adult I would find a group of people who would accept me as I genuinely was I would have snorted with laughter.  I thought I was the only person who wasn’t into boy bands (I forced myself to listen to them in a stupid attempt to fit in.  Hearing the Backstreet Boys still sets my nerves on edge to this very day), sports, looking pretty or trying to bed as many boys as I possibly could.  Five years in my scuzzy comprehensive taught me that spending my nights alone and reading was somehow inferior to sitting on a freezing cold park bench necking white lightening and contracting every STI you possibly could!  The relentless taunts of the bullies had somehow convinced me of this.

Yet, here I am.  Several years later.  Not entirely normal or, indeed, very sane.  I have now made a career out of my book obsession.  The books stuck around much longer than the evil bitches with their fake tans, inane gossip and stupid hair extensions.  I have my own home and a group of very accepting friends.  We spend a lot of time having strange conversations (who would win in a fight; Elmo or David Cameron) and being generally, well, weird.  I will NEVER, EVER be one to conform to the cultural ideal of normal and that’s ok.  If anyone out there is being bullied or marginalised; it gets better.  I know it probably won’t feel like it at the moment but it does.  One day you will leave school and the bullies behind.  You will make friends who are genuinely interested in who you are rather than in how they think you should be.  Believe me, when I was being bullied I thought that I was the only one and that no matter how hard I tried I would never make friends.  But not everywhere is like school.  School is a small place inhabited by small people, many of whom follow the crowd because they are alone and scared too.  When they pick on you for being different just remember that you are perfect the way that you are and don’t let anybody ruin your life!  You don’t have to change for anybody.

Freedom of Speech

Despite being quite bookish and working in a library there are many things I do not know.  For example, I still don’t know the meaning of life or why the sky is blue (I guess it is something to do with the molecular/atomic composition of the atmosphere, the gasses of which it comprises and so forth but please don’t quote me on it-I am a librarian, not a genius!).  Until this week I also didn’t know that a UK citizen could be arrested for posting a FaceBook message.  Yet, this is exactly what happened to 19 year old Azhar Ahmed from Dewsbury when he posted a rather vitriolic status about British soldiers and how they deserved to die and go to hell.  The judge presiding over the case called Ahmed’s comments “derogatory” and “inflammatory,” which, of course, they were.  Although Ahmed has been found guilty of sending a grossly offensive communication, he will not be sentenced until October the 9^th.

Ahmed defended his position by stating that the point of his comment was not to cause offence to anyone but to point out that, whilst the news broadcasts details of the deaths of military personnel, it does not even mention the deaths of ordinary Afghans as a result of this conflict.  At this juncture, I have to say that I can see his point.  I don’t think I have ever heard or seen a news report where it has given details of Afghan fatalities.  I have heard the odd implication that there has been “collateral damage” but nothing more in depth.  However, this imbalance is the fault of the British media and the government rather than the military personnel.  I think it always pays to remember who instigated this stupid war and it certainly wasn’t the people who are fighting on the front line.  If I remember rightly, it was the Bush administration in the US, backed by Tony Blair (minus the support of much of his cabinet, opposition members of parliament and the British people).  Military personnel were simply deployed to do a job, whether they agreed with the reason for their presence there or not.  From this point of view, I do find Ahmed’s comments very disrespectful, even if his intention behind making them was to balance out injustice.

Having said that, I do not believe that prosecution was the right thing to do.  I think it sets a dangerous president.  The thing is that everybody finds something offensive.  By the same token, I am sure we have all said something that somebody else could take offence at, whether it is a joke or a difference of opinion.  And both of these things should be allowed.  In fact, both of these things should be encouraged.  It is part of what makes human interaction so interesting and colourful.  If we start saying that we can’t say certain things on the off chance that certain people might get offended then where does that leave us?  Will it become the case that one’s points of view can only be aired if they conform to a set way of thinking?  If that is the case then freedom of expression ceases to be and we all morph into bland, passionless automatons, spouting the same stuff as every other member of society.  Those who dare to be different will end up being punished, simply for trying to be themselves.  Not only would this diminish individuality; it would also mean that the average person would be quite powerless to challenge injustice and inequality.  It would stifle our creativity and political imagination and we would cease to operate as a truly democratic nation.  This is not the kind of society I would like to live in.

Of course, I am not saying that we should simply accept opinions that we find odious without challenging them.  Of course they should be challenged but not in the court room and certainly not using conveniently ambiguously worded legislation (explain, definitively what constitutes an offensive communication).  Ahmed’s status, for example, was challenged by those who read it and were upset by it.  He subsequently took it down upon realising how hurtful it was for some people.  I guess the question is: how far does this have to go before we wake up and realise that our civil liberties are being eroded?  How far are we willing to let it go before we wake up, put our collective foot down and proclaim that, whatever our point of view, we all have a right to express it?  That is, after all, what freedom of speech is!