13 f Ranting & Reeling
hey’re trying to ban Christmas again. Except they’re not (whoev- er THEY are). No one wants to ban Christmas. That hasn’t stopped Theresa May assuring Express readers she’ll “stand up for our traditions generally and that includes Christmas”. Nothing like an imaginary attack on our way of life to give the impression you’re a strong leader. “As Prime Minister I’ll not tolerate cobras hiding in umbrella stands; cups of tea won’t explode and The Great British Bake Off will never move to Chan- nel 4. Unless they offer more money.”
T
The myth about Christmas being banned to avoid offending other religions rears its stupid tinselly head earlier every year; it’s the conspiracy theorist’s Coca Cola lorry. But it’s always based partly on fact (or part of a fact.) This time it’s Dame Louise Casey’s report that one man in a community centre wanted to erect a “fes- tive tree” to avoid upsetting some Mus- lims who existed only in his mind. This man is not a threat to our ancient Victori- an customs, he’s simply an over-sensitive fusspot who causes everyone’s buttocks to clench when he speaks at meetings. I imagine. Neither will you have to call Christmas ‘Winterval’. That was just the name Birmingham Council gave to a mar- keting strategy. It was never suggested as
a multi-faith alternative but it’s passed into lore as what THEY want to do.
That said, I wish Theresa the best of luck in standing up for our traditions. She’s welcome to wade into the blackface Morris debate any time she likes, provided she’s read all the PhDs, archived articles and Facebook posts that I have in the last month. And I’m still no closer to arguing everyone into a consensus. Even amongst the contributors to this publication opin- ion varies from anti, to neutral to one writer who never leaves the house with- out covering their visage in coal dust lest they be recognised.
Whether you accept Cecil Sharp’s conjecture that blackface was a disguise for dancers (or possibly maybe to do with paganism or something), or you’re con- vinced by the scant but unavoidable evi- dence that Border Morris adopted the trappings of minstrel shows (in 19th Cen- tury Britain it was bigger than The Beat- les), I want to share these words from a more concise friend: “Does it matter what the origin is? If someone thought what you were doing was racist, why wouldn’t you stop?”
But that’s what THEY want, isn’t it?
The PC brigade, the social justice warriors, the virtue signalling, erm, Beaver Scouts.
As so many sides have already shown, a change of colour or pat- tern doesn’t make a differ- ence to the dancing. This glorious 40- year-old reconstruction – based largely on imagination and guessing – can adapt and survive. But if there’s anything humans hate more than inequality and injustice, it’s change. In a society where what we thought was right yesterday is wrong today, perhaps what we mean when we talk of political correctness gone mad is “stop telling me to change!”
Jam manufacturers were once free to promote themselves with caricatures most people thought were harmless but were really a relic of the dehumanising way for- mer black slaves were lampooned by min- strelsy. You can’t do that anymore. THEY banned it (they didn’t). Maybe what they should ban next is progress. What has that ever done for us?
Tim Chipping
The Elusive Ethnomusicologist I
read somewhere that Mo Farah has an espresso before running the marathon. Inspired by the Olympics to get off my bum and to actually achieve something, anything, I tried it. I downed two one morning, because obvi- ously I’m not as fit as him but still only managed a stroll round the park. Actually I could have done with a few espressos just to watch the Olympics. All those extraordinary feats of human prowess are a bit knackering, plus there’s the determi- nation and discipline and the sacrifice involved in actually getting there. It’s enough to make you think you might use your time a bit better so I was glad when the Olympics drew to a close and I could stop worrying abut under-achieving.
But then it got worse. The Para- lympics popped up on our screens setting the bar even higher. So Usain Bolt, you can run faster than the speed of sound with no performance-enhancing drugs, but could you run really, really fast with no legs? Ditto Charlotte Dujardin, you might have won gold for the Dressage, but try doing that with cerebal palsy and no feel- ing from the knees down (and incidentally with a first class Masters degree in Maths) like multiple gold medal winner Sophie
Christiansen. Honestly it gets to the point when paralympians look completely able- bodied, that you think they’re cheating. Oh yes and what odds have you overcome to get there?
It’s a short hop, skip and a jump to considering all those extraordinary artists who overcome insane odds to get their music out there (and that’s even before coming up against the mainstream music business). It’s a long list, you’ll no doubt have your own. And all of them have to play on the same level field as their able- bodied counterparts. The music they put out is either good or it isn’t, so all musi- cians have to be judged on equal terms. No-one says “You’ve got to listen to Robert Wyatt, his songs are brilliant because he’s in a wheelchair”. But the fact that he is and they are might prompt Spinal Tap’s deepest thinker David St Hub- bins to comment on perspective.
So stop moaning Phil Collins, and think about Rick Allen. Def Lepard’s leg- endary one-armed drummer lost his arm in a car accident. And though in many other cases musicians’ physical and mental impairments might be entirely due to self- medicating with drugs that are the oppo- site of performance-enhancing, this does
not detract from the indomitable spirit that keeps them playing.
And talk- ing of
indomitable spirit I come again to my friend Al and the fact that you don’t have
to be an Olympian, or an artist, to be inspirational. Al is totally paralysed from the neck down with MS and reliant on 24-hour care, so it’s a complete palaver and extremely painful for him just to leave his house. Against medical advice he took a trip from West London to Iona in the Scottish Western Isles to realise his dream of seeing the island and his old friends once more. He not only survived, he said the journey made him feel that life held possibilities once more. It’d be rude for us not to try and make the most of ours. So I’m off now to grab another espresso and get going.
Elizabeth Kinder
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