Henry Ford may have something

Why history, actually, is bunk, and a sense of proportion

The observatory at Greenwich reminded me of the cosmic scale of things. The Earth isn't just one pea in a huge bag of frozen peas, nor a pea in a container lorry of frozen peas, and not even a pea if the Earth itself were made up of frozen peas. Then add the time factor: if the earth were six hours old, then human life on this indescribably small and insignificant lump of the universe is one second long.

So, in real terms, how interesting or important is anything historians feel the desperate need to record and repeat for us? Scientists and engineers have made massive progress. Artists have produced beautiful, dazzling, amazing works. What have the humanities delivered? A history so inaccurate and subjective that we seem incapable of learning from it. A geography of desert, water shortages, extreme weather patterns. Politics of greed and self-interest. Any number of faiths egging believers to torture, maim and murder.

There's still the number of people starving and living in poverty as there ever were. There's massive protests going on at the moment. About the starvation, disease and poverty? No. About a film. It's upset the Allah-botherers. It has come to light that there's a multi-million pound government funded history re-writing industry in the UK, as the Hillsborough families will testify.

Some good work, easily undone

Some ex- and serving policemen and ancillaries on the radio this morning. It started so well. The ex-chief officer first made unreserved apologies, agreed that there were no excuses and that reputations had been severely tarnished. Asked whether the failure of trust should apply across the board, he responded that it shouldn't, but that wasn't the question at the moment.

Next up, destroying the efforts to suggest that “they're all the same” isn't the way to go, a retired copper from Dover refered to the problems he'd had with “football fans” at the ferry terminals, “all drunk, no money, no tickets”. Right. So much for treat everyone on their merits. What was his point? They got what they deserved because someone else had once given me a hard time?

Next up, a woman customs officer who got it wrong and admitted being let off a speeding ticket when she told the patrolman she worked at the Heathrow border agency.

Next up a serving PC who pleaded the case for the everyday bloke on the beat, then, without any prompting, started up the “of course, it's more corrupt the higher you go” track and couldn't fully apply the brakes.

I didn't hear the rest of the calls, but that was enough to answer the question:

No. You can no longer trust the police (and probably never could).

An alternative point of view on Chris Moyles, to his PoV, that is

Mate, you 'aint one of the boys. You're the podgy little boy with the note from your mum for games trying desperately to be one of the lads. When you pitch up in hell you'll be in the pit with Clarkson, Evans, and all the others desperately seeking ladhood and falling at the first hurdle. See Danny Baker for someone who manages it. Without trying. That's the crux. Without trying. Apparently there were all of seven people at broadcasting house to see Moyles off. Two were autograph hunters who “can't stand him”.

Apparently, you either get ot don't get Moyles. I get football, cricket, rugby, and talking rubbish with the boys. Moyles I don't get.