Tuesday, October 31, 2006

Rites of Passage

My first memory of a birthday party, was Martin Bridger's in Hororata 'round about 1973. I was 7 years old and I remember all this because I didnt want to go.
Ever since that I've made a reputation for acheiving a few quick exits from many a birthday party. Or any party for that matter. A friend the other day threatened to tie herself to me in an effort to stop me escaping when no one was looking next time we were drinking together. Time will tell if i grow out of this phase - I guess when I've made my mind up to leave I can't be stopped.
The first rite of passage for many New Zealanders is the 21st birthday, an unfortunate event where one almost always ends up throwing up in front of their freinds after skulling a yardie. It's a horrible experience - or so I'm told: I left my 21st early and managed to miss out.
From twenty firsts come engagements, then marriages, then the 30th's and 40th's.
Whilst the horrors of batchelor parties abate, I will never be able to forget them all, even with serious therapy. Even today the words "half mast" can send many of my friends into post traumatic stress disorder.
Divorce has never really been something I've had to deal with. Ok, it happens, and I'm very lucky to have seen the best in my friends during this trying time. I'd imagine it's a hard thing to go through - perhaps even more horrible than the yardie - but to go through it publically for the whole world to see, must be horrible.
So spare a nice thought for Reece this week, and if you see a "womans magazine" with a down and dirty expo article on their marriage split, do yourself (and them) a favour, and leave the mag on the shelf.

Lovely - they say.

Saturday, October 28, 2006

How many worlds was that?

According to the WWF - that would be the World Wildlife Fund (not the Wrestling one) , we Humans are living beyone the planets means. Well D'oh!
Kibbles had previously mentioned this some time ago, and was quoting five planet Earth's would be required if the rest of the world decided to follow the western worlds requirements for resources. I am happy now to see that he was wrong, and that we would only require 2 Planet Earth's. I feel so much better.

From the article;

Humans are stripping nature at an unprecedented rate and will need two planets' worth of natural resources every year by 2050 on current trends, the WWF conservation group said on Tuesday.

Populations of many species, from fish to mammals, had fallen by about a third from 1970 to 2003 largely because of human threats such as pollution, clearing of forests and overfishing, the group also said in a two-yearly report.

"For more than 20 years we have exceeded the earth's ability to support a consumptive lifestyle that is unsustainable and we cannot afford to continue down this path," WWF Director-General James Leape said, launching the WWF's 2006 Living Planet Report.

"If everyone around the world lived as those in America, we would need five planets to support us," Leape, an American, said in Beijing.

Ok - so it turns out Kibbles was right after all.

The Americans are doing something about it 'tho. Their latest Hummer H3 does an impressive 20miles to the gallon (on highway driving).

Check out the ad...(click to view in more detail)

Monday, October 23, 2006

Stealing my soul

Hugs are underated

Just the other day I Skype'd Di and along with other gems of conversation, we ended up talking about people who steal your soul. "Steal" is perhaps a harsh word, especially in this sense, where people you know or love take a piece of your soul - perhaps in a way - without knowing. In my mind, parts of someone's soul are given freely, more than taken. It's not a conscious effort on either persons part, it's like I'd imagine, when you see your child for the first time, or when you greet a dear friend after a long time apart. I'd like to believe that at that moment the dynamics shifts, and we become something more than aquatintences, or even more than friends. I'd like to think that.
The trouble is, that society in its infinite wisdom, has its little rules that must be obeyed - and we often find it hard to say the things we need to say to each other, sometimes until it is too late. Knowing this to be a universal truth does not make it simpler to buck tradition, but I'd like to think the soul swapping happens anyway.
I have to believe it - actually. :)

Friday, October 20, 2006

The Australian Language

In case you thought it was just Kiwi's who were hard to understand. Here's Australian Bee Lee with "Cigarettes will Kill You". I love everything about this track - musically it's so tight - brilliant. Just wish I understood the lyrics 100% - or even 70%.


You throw me in a pan
You cook me in a can
You stretch me with your hands

You love to watch me bake
You serve me up with cake
And thats your big mistake

Your guest comes in dressed smart
You offer a la carte
You didnt have the heart

And I want a tv embrace
And i, Im getting off your boiling plate
They swore youd steal my steam to feed your dream
And then be gone
I wish I could say that everyone was wrong

You left me burned and seared
You left me ripped and teared
And older than my years

I should have know at first
That you would leave me hurt
You had to try dessert

No way to let off steam
Dont bother milk or cream
No way to let off steam

And I want a tv embrace
And i, Im getting off this boiling plate
They swore youd steal my steam to feed your dream
And then be gone
I wish I could say that everyone was wrong

It must feel good to stand above me
While I make you so proud of me
It must feel good that Im now gone
I wish I could say that everyone was wrong
I wish everyone was wrong
I wish everyone was wrong
I wish everyone was wrong
I wish everyone was wrong
I wish everyone was wrong

Thursday, October 19, 2006

I care

Regardless of your political leanings, to retrospectively change a law to make an unlawful act lawful, is dangerous in the extreme.

If you are a New Zealand citizen please go here and apply your natural right to protest, or not ; depending on your point of view.

Wednesday, October 18, 2006

Balance Luke...Balance

It's the NZ Music Awards tonight, and because the Elemeno P vid was a bit too warm and fuzzy - we need some balance in the Force.

This is Shihad - with "Home Again". Personally my favourite song of theirs is "Pacifier" but the YouTube Version doesnt do it justice.

Hope this doesnt make you homesick Di.

Elemeno P

The quintessential Kiwi band.
1) A lead singer with non classical vocal training.
2) A catchy name - in this case think L M N O P
3) A BBQ around a pool listening to a song with a hook so big you could hang a towel on it.
4) A piss take somewhere in the chorus

Spring is here - and summer's just around the corner! :)

Party on Wayne - Party on Garth ! Excellent!

english translation for those who dont speak Kiwi:

Song: Everyday's a Saturday

I got a pocket full of your kisses
And i know that I'm never coming back
I've been warned but I long for your embrace
I keep calling save me,save me
Cup of coffee and a packet of cigarettes
Up late cause lectures don't start yet
Bowl of Weetbix and a plate of bacon and eggs
Sunday morning gonna do it all again

Every day's a Saturday
Every night's a night like this
Every time that we draw close
Every time a perfect miss

Called up my friends and I'm thinking of a barbeque
Mid afternoon and there's nothing better to do
Feeling good and they sky seems extra blue
I can almost see Utopia

Monday, October 16, 2006

Vroom with a View

The following article was printed in the New Zealand Herald as rebuttle to the previous article calling for Top Gear to be Junked. Ben Fenton from the Telegraph Group obviously disagrees.

Two words are guaranteed more than any others to provoke me. The first is "provocative", when used in a way that ignores the dictionary definition of the verb "to provoke": to annoy or infuriate someone, especially deliberately; to incite or goad.
The second is "healthensafety", which began its wretched existence as three words, but has become one. Between them, they encapsulate some of the most tiresome aspects of British life.
Hugely popular and boorish television programmes such as Big Brother and I'm a Celebrity Get Me Out of Here! are justified by their producers as "provocative".
In a genuine world, it would be enough to justify Big Brother because it supplies the second aspect of Juvenal's recipe for controlling the mob - bread and circuses. But that idea might be too provocative.
"Healthensafety" was invented in the 1960s by civil servants to create jobs for their own children. Its primary function is to stop everyone who wants to do more with their lives than eat bread and watch circuses, from having any fun.
The BBC often has to defend its motoring programme Top Gear from criticism of its presenters' sexist or xenophobic comments, or their glorification of environmentally unfriendly driving.
It usually claims that the programme is meant to be "provocative".
Perhaps it means it in the dictionary sense, but I doubt it. Knowing the BBC, it probably means that Top Gear is naughty, but attracts huge audiences.
Five hundred complaints in six months about a programme that reaches five million people a week is simple maths for 21st-century broadcasters.
Last week, Richard Hammond, one of the trio of politically incorrect Top Gear presenters, lay in a neurological ward in Leeds after flipping a drag-racing car while driving at close to the British land speed record of 300.3 miles an hour (482.3 km/h).
His comrades, James May and Jeremy Clarkson, spent time at his bedside, but they and the huge staff that produces the programme must have been conscious that "healthensafety" is now as great a threat to the future of Top Gear as the laws of physics were to Hammond's life.
A BBC spokesman talked of a "healthensafety investigation" during the day and to many fans of the programme, it sounded like a herald announcing the arrival of the Spanish Inquisition.
By the weekend, more than 1000 people had sent Hammond their good wishes on the BBC's website. It was a testament to the popularity of the man, but also of the programme.
In our risk-averse and emasculated society, watching people fool around at high speed in cars answers a basic human need, even if only vicariously.
Children, mine included, love Top Gear and that is not surprising, because their lives are particularly restricted by the undiscriminating edicts of the riskaverse.
And, of course, Top Gear is a very childish programme. The humour is childish - using a medieval catapult to throw a particularly awful Nissan through the air, or dropping a caravan from a height is slapstick, but it delights my 11-year-old and me equally.
The jokes meander towards puerile xenophobia -- Clarkson said the BMW produced Mini Cooper would be more quintessentially German if its satellite navigation system was set to invade Poland.
The ritual humiliation of the weak is cruelly childish. Caravanners, cyclists, environmentalists and the dull are Top Gear's favourite targets.
Inventing ways of destroying caravans occupies much of the producers' time, and ridiculing safe drivers or "green" roadusers provides an easy laugh.
Yet its psychological geometry leads to a single point - driving is easily transformed into a mundane activity, but it is also one of the few affordable ways human beings can defy our natural limitations. Or, in other words, have fun.
Fun should be safe, but only if you are supervising somebody else or doing something that affects other people's security and property. Otherwise, fun should just be fun.
Personal risk should be a matter solely between a person and his or her insurance company.
That is the essence of Top Gear. Humans have climbed all the mountains and travelled up all the rivers that the planet has.
We haven't explored all the oceans, but there is a limit to the interest you can take in translucent fish. Few of us can visit Everest or the Amazon basin, still fewer can pilot a bathysphere, but we can watch someone else do it.
Few of us can afford a Bugatti Veyron, but we might be able to imagine what it's like to sit behind the wheel of one, and we want to see it driven fast, because that is what it was built for.
Hammond, Clarkson and May are paid to have fun on our behalf and make us laugh while they do so. They do a very good job of it. Of course, they aren't always justified in doing what they do.
Their antics with an antique Jaguar C-type were condemned by my colleagues, and could have led to a duel at dawn if "healthensafety" had permitted two sets of motoring journalists to fling spark plugs at each other from 20 paces.
Overall, Top Gear simply celebrates transport as risk-taking rather than travel.
Last year, the lobby group Transport 2000 berated Clarkson and the others for favouring performance over efficiency and conservation. They proposed replacing Top Gear with something more moderate and green.
The BBC must resist any calls to put Hammond and his friends in any other gear than top, or apply any brakes to their adventures, because, if it can tolerate them being "provocative", or even provocative, then it can certainly let them continue in the fast lane, waving two fingers out of the window in the direction of "healthensafety".

Sunday, October 15, 2006

Aung San Suu Kyi

Did you realise, some of the seemingly biggest battles won on this earth, have been achieved not with conflict, but with passive resistance? For example of passive resistance take this WW2 story;

When the Wehrmacht invaded Denmark in 1940, the Danes soon saw that military confrontation would change little except the number of surviving Danes. The Danish government therefore adopted a policy of official co-operation (and unofficial obstruction) which they called "negotiation under protest." On the industrial front, Danish workers subtly slowed all production that might feed the German war machine, sometimes to a perfect standstill. On the cultural front, Danes engaged in symbolic defiance by organizing mass celebrations of their own history and traditions. On the legislative front, the Danish government insisted that since they officially co-operated with Germany, they had an ally's right to negotiate with Germany, and then proceeded to create bureaucratic quagmires which stalled or blocked German orders without having to refuse them outright. Danish authorities also proved conveniently inept at controlling the underground Danish resistance press, which at one point reached circulation numbers equivalent to the entire adult population.

So - Have you heard of Aung San Suu Kyi?

What comes next is a summary of the following Wikipedia entry.

When I hear about people like this, I feel the human race has a chance at survival. :)

Aung San Suu Kyi was born on 19 June 1945. Her father, Aung San, negotiated Burma's independence from the United Kingdom in 1947, and was assassinated by his rivals in the same year.Suu Kyi was educated in English Catholic schools for much of her childhood in Burma. Khin Kyi gained prominence as a political figure in the newly-formed Burmese government. Khin Kyi was appointed as Burmese ambassador to India in 1960, and Suu Kyi followed her there, graduating from Lady Shri Ram College in New Delhi in 1964.[1] Suu Kyi continued her education at St Hugh's College, Oxford, obtaining a B.A. degree in Philosophy, Politics, and Economics in 1967. Upon graduation, Suu Kyi furthered her education in New York, and worked for the United Nations. Aung San Suu Kyi returned to Myanmar in 1988 to take care of her ailing mother. In that year, the long-time leader of the socialist ruling party, General Ne Win, stepped down, leading to mass demonstrations for democratisation, which were violently suppressed. A new military junta took power. Heavily influenced by Mahatma Gandhi's philosophy of non-violence, Aung San Suu Kyi entered politics to work for democratisation, helped found the National League for Democracy on 27 September 1988, and was put under house arrest on 20 July 1989. She was offered freedom if she would leave the country, but she refused. In 1990, the military junta called general elections, which the National League for Democracy won decisively. Under normal circumstances, she would have assumed the office of Prime Minister.[citation needed] Instead the results were nullified, and the military refused to hand over power. This resulted in an international outcry and partly led to Aung San Suu Kyi's winning the Sakharov Prize that year and the Nobel Peace Prize the following year in 1991. Her sons Alexander and Kim accepted the Nobel Peace Prize on her behalf, Alexander's acceptance speech is linked in the External links section of this document. Aung San Suu Kyi used the Nobel Peace Prize's 1.3 million USD prize money to establish a health and education trust for the Burmese people. She was released from house arrest in July 1995, although it was made clear that if she left the country to visit her family in the United Kingdom, she would be denied re-entry. When her husband Michael Aris, a British citizen, was diagnosed with prostate cancer in 1997, the Burmese government denied him an entry visa. Aung San Suu Kyi remained in Burma, and never again saw her husband, who died in March 1999. She remains separated from their children, who remain in the United Kingdom. She was repeatedly prevented from meeting with her party supporters, and in September 2000 was again put under house arrest. On 6 May 2002, following secret confidence-building negotiations led by the United Nations, she was released; a government spokesman said that she was free to move "because we are confident that we can trust each other". Aung San Suu Kyi proclaimed "a new dawn for the country". However on 30 May 2003, her caravan was attacked in the northern village of Depayin by a government-sponsored mob, murdering and wounding many of her supporters. Aung San Suu Kyi fled the scene with the help of her driver, Ko Kyaw Soe Lin, but was arrested upon reaching Ye-U. She was imprisoned at Insein Prison in Yangon. After receiving a hysterectomy in September 2003, she was again placed under house arrest in Yangon. In March 2004, Razali Ismail, UN special envoy to Myanmar, met with Aung San Suu Kyi. Ismail resigned from his post the following year, partly because he was denied re-entry to Myanmar on several occasions. On 28 May 2004, the United Nations Working Group for Arbitrary Detention rendered an Opinion (No. 9 of 2004) that her deprivation of liberty was arbitrary, as being in contravention of Article 9 of the Universal Declaration of Human Rights 1948, and requested that the authorities in Burma set the prisoner free, but the authorities have so far ignored this request. On 28 November 2005, the National League for Democracy confirmed that Suu Kyi's house arrest would be extended for yet another year. Many western countries, as well as the United Nations, have expressed their disapproval of this latest extension. On 20 May 2006, Ibrahim Gambari, UN Undersecretary-General for Political Affairs, met with Aung San Suu Kyi, the first visit by a foreign official since 2004.[6] Suu Kyi's house arrest term was set to expire 27 May 2006, but the Burmese government extended it for another year, flouting a direct appeal from U.N. General Secretary Kofi Annan to Than Shwe. Suu Kyi continues to be imprisoned under the 1975 State Protection Act (Article 10 b), which grants the government the power to imprison persons for up to five years without a trial.On 9 June 2006, Suu Kyi was hospitalised with severe diarrhea and weakness, as reported by a UN representative for National Coalition Government of the Union of Burma. Such claims were rejected by Major-General Khin Yi, the national police chief of Myanmar.

Saturday, October 14, 2006

On doing nothing

Tessa distinguished absolutely between pain observed and pain shared. Pain observed is journalistic pain. It's diplomatic pain. It's television pain, over as soon as you switch off the beastly set. Those who watch suffering and do nothing about it, in her book, were little better than those who inflicted it. They were the bad Samaritans. (The Constant Gardener).

Yes my friends: Season Three of Battlestar Galactica is dark indeed. What other program on American TV would dare show the use of suicide bombers to acheive a "justified" end? Ron Moore has something to say, and I can't stop listening.

Kara's undoing?

Friday, October 13, 2006

Pledge Card

"I am not a crook" - Richard Nixon

I noticed on David Farrar's Kiwiblog that there is an auction on trademe featuring Labour's election pledge card. I love the comments. Priceless.
Humour is a large part of what makes a New Zealander. Our dry wit, and our under-statement speaks volumes. You can never take yourself too seriously here because there's always someone around who will absolutely take the piss, and you will regret it - trust me.
Have a great weekend folks :)

Monday, October 09, 2006


OK - so the album is like 3 years old - but I love this song.
Check it out if you're in a folk type of mood.
Damien Rice - The Blowers Daughter

Friday, October 06, 2006

Keep Cool til After School

I am truly a child of the seventies. Although I was born in the sixties, for some unexplained reason, the memories of my childhood revolve around 1977: What came before 1977, and what came afterward.

Before 1977 I remember growing up in rural Canterbury, then travelling to the Cook Islands, where I lived for 2 years. During those formative years there was no TV - but there was music, and books. In reading, I developed an active imagination, and to this day I can still get lost in a book. I joke that now when I'm reading or watching TV, you first have to open a channel of communication before I can hear you. Simply put: you must say my name first. This isn't me being rude: i simply cant hear you unless you do. Until then I'm not there with you - I'm somewhere else.

Its hard to know why ''77 was a pivotal year. We moved to Dunedin in ''76, and boy was I ever green. Living around kids in the Cooks who weren't sophisticated types (read: didn't lie, cheat, or use sarcasm), it's a wonder I made it out of a New Zealand Intermediate school in one piece. Again; today I often feel a little naive about the way i interpret other peoples actions - I've spent all my time catching up I guess.

In spite of the lack of street smarts, I'm happy about where I am. I'm not any part of a flock of sheep, congregating in groups, saying nothing. Don't get me wrong -I'm no leader either, but I have a strong notion of self, and that's important when we live in a climate where conformity seems more important than individuality.

This post is going somewhere - I'm sure of it.

Normally the phase "When I was young" would only apply to sad old gits who whine about the youth of today, and when I hear that phrase, normally I'd change the radio to another station and shake my head and sigh - but today I'm not so sure. This is because the world has changed a lot in the intervening years - and so have it's youth. Any of us older than 40 have had some small part in making what we have, that surrounds us. I'm not proud of that fact.

If we are simply growing up sooner, then either we have to somehow slow things down again, or accept that a youth that commits an "adult" crime be treated as an adult. Holding on to the past is a nice idea - but if the past no longer applies, perhaps we can just remember those endless summers long ago when the world seemed a safer place, and smile, knowing we got to live there once upon a time.

Wednesday, October 04, 2006

Battlestar's Back

Tricky relationships are always interesting.

On the 6th of October the first episode of season three will air in the US.
Yes - I am a geek.
Yes - this means I will not get laid any time soon.

I dont care - I await, with interest, the relationship between Apollo and Starbuck. The fact she's now married may throw a spanner in the works. Perhaps Apollo will now take more risks?
We will see - I guess.

Starbuck is perhaps one of the most interesting characters in on TV today - period. And the fact she looks like a very good friend of mine just adds to the mix.

Yes - again - I know I am a geek :)

Tuesday, October 03, 2006


Whilst tripping the blogsphere, I dropped in to see Green St Girl and came across her article on Banksy.
I'm not sure if agree with the whole grafitti art thing - I guess for me it comes down to a combination of the talent of the artist, the subject matter, and the area painted.
One of my biggest regrets is that I can not draw. I'd love to be able to do this type of stuff. Until then I guess I can trace.
Take a look at Banksy's website here, I'd be interested in your thoughts on this type of art. Dont be shy - there are no right or wrong opinions....

BTW: I found the information on his site;

A guide to cutting stencils

• Think from outside the box.

• Collapse the box and take a fucking sharp knife to it.

• Leave the house before you find something worth staying in for.

• It's easier to get forgiveness than permission.

• Spray the paint sparingly onto the stencil from a distance of 8 inches.

• Be aware that going on a major mission totally drunk out of your head will result in some truly spectacular artwork and at least one night in the cells.

• When explaining yourself to the Police its worth being as reasonable as possible. Graffiti writers are not real villains. I am always reminded of this by real villains who consider the idea of breaking in someplace, not stealing anything and then leaving behind a painting of your name in four foot high letters the most retarded thing they ever heard of.

• Remember crime against property is not real crime. People look at an oil painting and admire the use of brushstrokes to convey meaning. People look at a graffiti painting and admire the use of a drainpipe to gain access.

• The time of getting fame for your name on its own is over. Artwork that is only about wanting to be famous will never make you famous. Any fame is a by-product of making something that means something. You don't go to a restaurant and order a meal because you want to have a shit.

Sunday, October 01, 2006

It's time to Junk Top Gear

I couldnt find this article on the web, so I should point out it was written by Johann Hari for the Independant newspaper in the UK. (Please dont sue me guys).

Article Starts here;

Jeremy Clarkson's speed addiction is a health hazard, and not just for him, writes Johann Hari

Ho Ho. For Jeremy Clarkson, Richard Hammond and their army of Top Gear speedophiles, driving cars so fast they can smash a skull or kill a child has been a subject for uproarious laughter and acidic hate for years now.
Clarkson has declared "speeding is no big deal" and shouldn't be punished with points on your licence. He has supported the gangs of thugs going around smashing the British speed cameras that have -- according to independent studies - saved more than 1000 lives. And he has derided anybody who disagrees as a "health and safety Nazi".
His acolyte "Hamster" Hammond said that because of these views, Clarkson should be made Mayor of London so he can "roar around London in a Lamborghini with a mayoral flagpole, shooting cyclists".
Now Hammond is lying in a hospital bed, lucky his life was not ended by this adolescent need for speed. I wonder if Clarkson, as he stared tearfully at the wounds of one of his best mates and comforted Hammond's wife and kids, thought back to all the times they have used Britain's big death toll from speeding as a glib punchline.
Did he remember the column he wrote recently, in which he declared, "Of course, in France speeding is endemic and this means they have a far, far higher death rate than we do. But let's be frank here. You can't really judge a country by the number of people who don't die in car accidents"?
Did he remember the snarling contempt with which he responded to pleas from the AA and some of Britain's most senior traffic cops to stop encouraging people to break the law? Does he see now why we "Nazis" try to slow cars down?
I have never engaged with Clarkson's arguments in my columns because he doesn't have any. I may as well engage with one of the Tweenies.
He is merely the court jester for the petrolhead death cult, a far-right jokesmith gripped by an erotic obsession with inanimate metal objects. A man whose response to global warming is to deny its existence and brag that he leaves his patio heater on 24 hours a day "just to wind up Greenpeace" is not a person to argue with; he's a person to ignore.
But as he has learned in the past few days, Clarkson's unserious statements can have serious consequences. The chief speedophile's campaign against speed cameras has vastly increased the number of people like Hammond lying injured in a hospital bed. It's hard to find a logical thread in Clarkson's opposition to the Gatso (speed) cameras.At times, he claims he is angry because they don't actually save lives but international studies show this is nonsense. Speeding has fallen 40 per cent in areas with speed cameras - and that has huge consequences.
If you smack into a child at 30mph, the odds he or she will die are 50 per cent. If you hit them at 20mph, their chances of dying fall to 10 per cent. When confronted with these basic facts, Clarkson switches his jabberings into a different lane. He begins to argue that he opposes speed cameras because politicians have installed them simply to pay for their junkets".
But as Clarkson admitted last year recent figures show Britain's 6000 Gatso cameras earned £110 million ($314 million) last year but made a profit of just £12 million".
In governmental terms, that is a pittance. So ... they aren't "raking in money", then, are they Jeremy? That's because the Government has installed the cameras for the reason they say they have: to save lives.
Then Clarkson is left to fall back on the case that he is a brave defender of the rights of ordinary people from a "1984-style" Government. But the right of an individual to drive at 50mph doesn't weigh much against the right of a pedestrian not to be killed and Clarkson knows it.
That's why-- when his mercifully unbroken back is against the wall - he confesses: "I don't curse speed cameras because of civil liberty issues. l curse them because they slow me down."
He describes speeding as a glorious aesthetic experience he is prepared to take huge risks to indulge in. This pure distilled glee is at the core of his hatred of speed cameras; the rest is just a rationalist sheen that is easily scraped away. But this makes it clear how purely selfish his defence of speeding is.
So Clarkson and his groupies can feel an adrenalin rush, there has to be a bloodsacrifice on our roads that tops even the death toll jihadists have so far inflicted on us. (If this sounds like hyperbole, remember: The death toll from 7/7 is racked up every fortnight on our tarmac by Mullah Clarkson's soulmates.)
Of course, if these sad boy-men want to pay to go on private land and take risks with their own safety - as Hammond did in this instance - they should be allowed to, just as you are allowed to go mountaineering or chain smoke or (in my case) eat too much lard. If Clarkson wants to commit suicide, who are we to stop him?
But these Top Gear toffs posing as ordinary blokes know most of their viewers will speed on ordinary roads, where they will smack into ordinary people. (Hammond thankfully seems to be recovering. Every year, 1000 of his fellow Brits never do.)
Indeed, Clarkson brags about his ability to speed on real roads, saying he can find sustained "high octane, red-line thrills" on Britain's standard-issue tarmac any day.
The rhetoric of this tiresome eunuch doesn't only blatantly encourage his viewers to speed; it has bullied and intimidated the Government too. Richard Brunstrom, the chief constable of North Wales, says: "Police resources have slowly drifted away from road policing [over the past few years] because that is the Government's intention."
Even though the opinion polls show solid support for speed cameras, the Government is allowing this vocal, vacuous campaign to skew their priorities. And the BBC is giving it a swollen platform.
Clarkson seems not to have learned from his friend's accident, still raving at the weekend against "the environmentalists and ... muddle-headed road safety campaigners" in the very articles where he described his mate's injuries. But his blindness is no excuse for the BBC's.
It's time for the corporation to send the rusty, dangerous old piece of scrap called Top Gear to the wrecker's yard-before it can maim and kill anyone else.