From Russia, without love

Like something from the plot of a James Bond film, the poisoning of a former Russian spy and his daughter has been playing out to a fascinated and horrified audience this week.

Sergei Skripal, and his daughter Yulia, remain in a critical condition in hospital, following the use of a Russia-made nerve agent on the pair on March the 4th.

Sites around Salisbury, where the incident took place and the ex-spy lived, continue to be investigated, and the army have been involved in decontaminating the area they were found, even taking away the ambulance involved in transporting them to hospital.

Whilst the victims are clearly seriously ill, this despicable deployment of a highly dangerous substance has also risked the lives of many people, not least Det Sgt Nick Bailey who is in a serious but stable condition in hospital, after responding to the incident.

Advice was issued to members of the public who may have come into contact with traces of the nerve agent via the pub and restaurant the Russians used before they were found, unconscious, on a bench. Some of these recommendations did seem somewhat obvious – apparently, you should wash your clothes. Really? I bet no-one had thought of that.

Of course, the political ramifications of all this are taking a lot longer to disperse than the poison. The government’s threat of “punitive” action against Russia, unless they “provide unambiguous answers as to how this nerve agent came to be used” was met with a stony response - Which was that they would be met “with a response”. It’s great that everyone is being so clear what they mean here, isn’t it?

To further muddy the contaminated water, US president Donald Trump has said his country is “with the UK all the way”. Is it OK to start panicking yet?

Action against Russia has already included the UK expelling 23 of their diplomats, who are apparently “undeclared intelligence officers”.

There is another option – one that will really hurt the Russians. We could boycott the Fifa World Cup in Russia later in the year! Yeah! That’ll show them! No England team. Conveniently, that would also save us having to explain why the team performed dismally again, so there’s definitely a dual positive to this idea. Saying we won’t send the Royal Family isn’t enough – I’m pretty sure they wouldn’t be that keen on going now, anyway.

One thing is abundantly clear about this incident though – someone has access to a lethal substance from Russia, and is willing to use it even though it risks the lives of many innocent people. As in the case of the poisoning of former Russian intelligence office Alexander Litvinenko in 2006, don’t expect this to be solved any time soon.

In that instance, a public enquiry eventually concluded that the Russian President, Vladimir Putin, had probably approved of Litvinenko’s planned killing.

Bond film villains always get their comeuppance. When the credits eventually roll on this frightening blockbuster, don’t expect to come away with any idea of exactly who the bad guys actually were.

This post first appeared as the lead piece in my column/page in The Mail and the News & Star, on the 16th of March 2018. It was re-titled as "Everyone's nerves on edge" in print.

I had to hastily edit this one before submitting on Wednesday night, as the story continued to develop. One of the risks of (and the reason why I tend to avoid) writing about a 'live' news item.

(CD A-Z: The brilliant, and highly underrated, XTC's "English Settlement".)

Making an exhibition of yourself

Now and again, it’s good to reaffirm that you’re a (relatively) normal human being. One excellent way of doing this is to go to a business exhibition. Despite what you might have surmised from reading my previous columns, I am employable, and even capable of acting like a regular person most of the time, even joining in the Monday morning conversation about the weather over the weekend, and why (insert name of footyballs manager here) should be fired immediately. The mug! True, there are times, often involving a caffeine deficiency, where it is like having the distilled essence of ten moody teenagers in the room, but I try and get that out of the way when people I genuinely like aren’t around to see it. As part of my ongoing experiment with what others call ‘working’, my ‘job’ involves me occasionally needing to go and see what some of my colleagues get up to outside the office, and what our competitors do to try and make sure that they do whatever my colleagues do better than ...

The Schaf Shuffle

The weather – source of endless fascination, conversation, irritation and (just recently) excess irrigation. And a fidgety weather presenter on the BBC... I’m endlessly fascinated with the weather, and will confess to making sure I catch the BBC’s updates whenever possible. Not the local ones, where half the presenters look like they got dressed in the dark, or ITV, where they seem to know very little about actual weather, but the national forecasts. Delivered by actual Met Office personnel, their job entails a tricky mix of waving your hands about a bit, explaining about warm fronts without smirking, and trying not to look too pleased whilst mentioning gales force winds and torrential rain. Or stand in front of Cornwall. Each has their own presenting style, but there is one who intrigues me above all the others. Step forward, Tomasz Schafernaker, the 37 year old man from the Met who breezed onto our screens in 2001, as the youngest male ever to point out that it was going to r...

RIP Jenwis Hamilbutton

We are gathered here in this... (looks round a bit) um... blog, to mourn the passing of Jenwis Hamilbutton. His life may have been short and largely irrelevant, but he touched the lives of so many people that... sorry? Oh. Apparently that was someone else... Jenwis Hamilbutton rose briefly to fame on twitter during 2010, when he was retweeted by BBC F1 presenter Jake Humphrey, having criticised his shirt. A similarly unspectacular claim to fame occurred when a tweet he crafted at 1am on a windy night appeared in F1 Racing magazine. An amalgam of bits of Formula 1 drivers Lewis Hamilton and Jenson Button (mostly the hopeless bits), he came into existence via 3 pints of cider, a Creme Egg and the Electric Light Orchestra’s mournful 1986 farewell album “Balance Of Power”, played loudly over headphones. In his short existence, he was followed on twitter by Paul Hardcastle of “19” fame, and a bunch of slightly odd but jolly nice people, whom he was never entirely sure actually exist...

grumpyf1

Search This Blog