The spying game.

America's Russian spy scandal closes with an exchange of captured agents in Vienna of all places. Cue deep film noir shadow and Harry Lime Theme. Readers of this blog may not be aware of the fact that I am a recognised authority on international espionage. Well, to the extent that I have read every one of John le Carre's books I am. It's the level of sustained deceit required of a spy that intrigues me. In fiction le Carre captures this wonderfully in A Perfect Spy. Magnus Pym is the perfect spy due principally to his huge capacity for deceit. It is no coincidence that Magnus is the son of a master con artist. It is no coincidence either that le Carre based the character of Pym's father on his own conman father. In the real world Kim Philby must count as one of the coolest deceivers of all time. A senior member of MI6, typical establishment figure; and long term Soviet agent. The unpleasant drunken toff hiding the alter ego of unpleasant drunken Stalinist. How do they hold it all together? I would probably be alright at the tradecraft: the secret ink, deadletter drops or whatever and I quite fancy the clandestine meetings in dodgy boozers. But the deceit? I find it difficult to hide the smallest misdemeanours from her indoors. No, espionage is probably not my line of country after all.

Henley it ain't.

No sport has a more snobbish history than rowing and until the 1950's the toff Amateur Rowing Association kept itself a very long distance from the working class National Rowing Association. The two organisations held their own events and had their own champions etc. As you would expect the events run by the two bodies were very different. The toffs had Henley and the workers had - well from what I can make of it they had a right good time. A mate has just been telling me that he has an original programme from one such working class regatta circa 1922. The events included disabled rowing (remember this was not long after the First World War), boxing on a raft, and of all things, POLITICAL DEBATE ON A RAFT. All accompanied no doubt by gallons of ale. No wonder the toffs went to such lengths to keep the oiks out of the posh regattas.

It's not just about football.

Two seemingly completely unrelated news items caught my eye today. One was the news that the death by stoning sentence for adultery passed by Iranian courts on Sakineh Mohammadi Ashtianti has been "reduced" to one of hanging. No doubt idiot lefty apologists for the Islamic regime will be nodding sagely at this evidence of progressive elements in the Iranian power structure.
The other item, and it may seem trite of me to mention it in the same post as the above horror, concerns the FA's decision to not allow mixed football for kids over the age of eleven. What's the link? Well it seems to me that the fear of female sexuality and the desire to control women so clearly evidenced in the Iranian case is best challenged at an early age and what better way then for boys to grow up believing that girls are mates. Later on some of them may become lovers but they are mates first and foremost. I imagine that such an attitude would be anathema to the Islamomentals of Tehran.
When I was young I was convinced that I would live to see the eradication of class society. I may be a little less certain about that now but surely it's not too much to hope that men and women being able to live alongside each other as friends, lovers and comrades is a state of affairs clearly within our grasp.

Pope may drop in for tea.

No Pope! Ratzinger Out! Nazi scum off our......... Just a minute. Bloody hell! The pope is only planing to visit a catholic college 250 yards from my house. They must be planing to chopper him in. I may need a bit of help with this one.

Clegg vows to follow the people's choice.

Cameron's best boy Nicky Clegg's initiative to get us all to let him know what bits of legislation we would like to see struck from the law books was doomed from the start. The overwhelming majority of people will treat this bollocks with the contempt that it deserves and ignore it. A few will fall for it and send off their suggestions no doubt much to the amusement of the Civil Service drones who are detailed to deal with this stuff. We are unable to confirm as yet the rumour that Clegg has promised to repeal the Second Law Of Thermodynamics but we live in hopes.

Nothing to do with me guv.

The massive sums that top footballers earn always leads to the temptation to pour a large portion of it down their neck or shove it up their nose. I have always been a bit more interested in booze and drugs rather than football myself so I'm not entirely unsympathetic. Now comes news that Colombian cops have seized a replica World Cup Trophy sculpted from a solid block of cocaine. Some kind of consolation prize for an as yet unnamed national side I suppose.

Step right up and see the disappearing Arts Council Grant.

I was wandering past Tate Modern the other day and thought that I might as well take a gander at whatever was on offer in the turbine hall. Peering over the balcony I saw that the hall was completely empty save for one girl sitting cross legged in the middle of the floor. I shouted down to inquire if she was the installation but she assured me that she was just having her photo taken by a mate. Well it's not always easy to tell. It was Tate Modern who took the old saying of not knowing a work of art from a hole in the fucking road to it's logical conclusion by presenting a crack in the floor as a modern masterpiece. And why not? The gallery has been in trouble recently for it's association with BP. Perhaps the oil lapping against the Louisiana coastline is in fact a huge art installation.
Readers of this blog will know that I have always been fascinated by the short cons of the fairground, the three card trick, that kind of thing. Sometimes it seems to me that the art scene is the true modern incarnation of that old shadowy world of wrestling and sideshow shenanigans; only not as honest. The snake oil drummers of the past are best represented today I suppose by what we like to call "complimentary medicine". The biggest con of all? Well I think you know what that is.