Why does the 2nd world war still haunt us Europeans? And why do families fight?

It ended over 60 years ago and yet it pervades so much of European consciousness. The Second World War was heinous in extremes; whether thinking about the sheer number of dead on both sides, the genocide that took place (the effects of which we're still feeling in the Middle East today) or the ultimate triumph of freedom over fascism, the war was record-breaking in so many ways.

And yet, we persist to label the Germans, sympathise with the Jews to the neglect of all other concentration camp suffers and pat ourselves on the back as victors who would never have stooped so low. Never, would we have treated our fellow man in such a despicable way; and yet history is littered with examples of men being callous to his neighbour in every part of the world: Indian Partition, Rwanda, Bosnia...

The deaths, the senseless deaths of the holocaust and the others who died alongside the Jews: the Catholics, the political prisoners, the gays, the gypsies, the mixed races; it brings me to choking point, and I wasn't even alive when it all happened. One could be sucked, so easily, into a downward spiral of pessimistic pandering. But the strong amongst us will see the good in people; the beauty that surrounds us; the joy we can give to each other. Without this we're doomed.

Just as those thousands and hundreds of thousands of Jews who dug their own graves were doomed; only to be shot in the head by with a Nazi bullet.

We are better than that; we're stronger than they.

And to make it personal; my own family is rent apart because of a stupid puerile disagreement that could have been so easily averted. We must find it in ourselves to forgive our trespassers, for if we don't we're condemned to a life of hatred and loathing that will consume our very being: look at amazing South Africa and the reconciliation the managed to achieve! We can do it. We can move on.

As the tears stream down my face, I lament a family once in love with each other and now one that is riven apart by misunderstanding, pride and baseless prejudice.

The war of the worlds is often played out in the parlours of families.

Let's hope the butler soon arrives and asks us for our choice of sherry to sweep away the lacrimosa effect of my rantings and we shall, in typical English style, sweep our anxieties under the proverbial carpet and get on with life...!

Funny what T-shirts people wear

Public declarations are interesting things.

Some of us wear a red ribbon, at least on 1st December, to show their solidarity for the thousands already heaven-bound due to AIDS; some of us don Prada and Gucci to show the world we love fashion - and yes, can afford it; some, on the other hand, are perhaps less subtle.

I was leaving the office the other day and entered the lift as I usually do.
There in front of me was a charming looking young lady, with neat hair and a deliciously white smile.

Then I noticed her T-shirt.

It was jet black with white words emblazend on it. It clearly conveyed her whole being and perhaps that of the entire Y-gen at large.

It read: If you don't like my attitude, dial 1-800 EAT SHIT.

Not your usual call centre mnemonic, yet, catchy nevertheless, I'm sure you'd agree.

The Internationale - why the obsession?

Recently, or perhaps not so recently, I have been mildly impressed and indeed intrigued (it makes my hairs on the back of my neck stand on end) by the communist anthem The Internationale.

"Oh!", I hear you yelp; this from Darren the Thatcherite - how can that be?! The tune is blood-curdling and the passion with which it is sung is nonetheless electric. These worker-strugglers stood up for what they believed in and looking back with Cold War distance it is easy to mock - but also less challenging to appreciate it.

A German version is particularly rousing: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aRF4aN5C6U&feature=fvw
Not to mention several Soviet renditions.
The Chinese don't do a bad job of rousing the party-faithful either.
And for those of you who know anything of Japanese nationalists - get the irony?!?! - this is wonderful: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mRkRiOYFs4A&feature=related

Mind you listening to an Hewbrew version - that sounds like Milk and Honey from the 1979 Eurovision Song Contest (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AhbMuW_RxP4&feature=related) it's perhaps not all doom and gloom or taken too serious either. You can compare and contrast with: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dqFOxKPD_Ok&feature=related

On YouTube it's in virtually every imaginable language: Norwegian, French, Greek, Bangladeshi, and it goes on and on.....I even found it Burmese.

Marx was fool, Engel his equally idiotic side-kick, yet the lure of equality appeals even now. And perhaps it's right that it does: capitalism has taken a knock of late, but I still feel it's the most logical of human life-systems - the one that rewards those who deserve to be rewarded and penalises those who perhaps should be disadvantaged.

Yet, the powerful notion that we're all due something in life from government, from our fellow citizens, from God, is compelling and has ramifications for non-communist doctrines like capitalism. My Great-Uncle Jack has been a communist / socialist all of his life and a great life he's had too; I respect the history and origins of such beliefs, of such Weltanschauungen (world philosophies / views) but that framework of a solution is defunct, distressed, deserted.

We cannot and should not ignore our fellow man, we are all responsible for the good of our village, community and ultimately planet. This responsibility transcends left and right and currently the world is failing largely to acknowledge this obligation.

Yet the hypocrisy of communism should not be lost on anyone, especially the Nepalis in the video at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KAxz0ECZ-Lo&feature=related where an adherent proudly wears an Arsenal football top - overtly displaying a symbol of both the submission of a sport to rampant capitalism and corporate manipulation - O2....?!!?

The world is crazy. But I love it.

How difficult can it be to wash ones hands? Surely easy.

Well that's what I naively thought before I ventured into the downstairs lavs at my work place.

Singapore is a great nation for educating its people and indeed ensuring that public information instructions are regularly delivered on a myriad of topics. A recent campaign in the underground, encourages boarding passengers to let the alighting individuals off first - then barge full steam ahead to get a seat - usually the priority seat also. This latter resting place is intended for the frail, pregnant and old; usually what happens is an able-bodied person of any age and/or sex plonks themselves down, makes themselves comfortable and resolutely refuses to budge even for one-armed, pregnant octogenarians - of which I must admit there are relatively few in sterile baby-poor Singapore.

The offending sitter is equally likely to be male, female, of teenage or middling years - and worse still, they are quite inclined to even pretend to be asleep or be engrossed in their play-station so as not to have yield their perch for a perhaps more deserving lackey.

Anyway, back to my rant.

Oh, before, I forget, talking of letting people out before you march in: I was in the elevator this morning at work and was quite encumbered with my pepper chicken puff, sweet tea (teh c) and numerous baggage items. As we approached the 3rd floor, I readied myself to exit the lift and as the doors parted I was for a split-second glared at by a middle-aged woman, on her mobile who regardless of my intent to exit (this was the top floor and the lift was going down) proceeded to push her way into the lift - as if it would descend any more quickly just because she'd managed to force her way in, even before the doors were actually fully opened...!

In my incredulity, I snipped: "You should let people out first! Then you'll find it easier to get in!" To which she retorted (increasing my pique of disbelief): "You didn't exit quick enough!" Amazing: I couldn't exit because she was right in the middle of the curtaining doors and blocked my way out....I was stunned and could only bring myself to yell back: "You stupid wench!" I'm sure she even understood what a wench is, but I felt sated.

So back to my hand-washing.

I did, in all honesty, think people should (thanks primarily to primary school teachers and perhaps even doting parents) know how to wash their hands. Well apparently not in Singapore and people need reminding. What I didn't know as can be clearly seen in the photo I snapped while in the gents (not a wise thing to do usually, I add) is that astonishingly, there are indeed 8 steps of good hand-washing. Now that's impressive.

Does anyone out there know what they are?

Card fraud - oh my word, I'm liable

Well, I must confess I had heard that in Singapore the cardholder is actually liable for any fraudulent activity relating to ones card - but we're creatures of ostrich propensity and I never really paid much attention to this niggling difference. In the UK, and a vast array of other "developed" nations, the merchant is actually liable for fraudulent transactions and has an obligation, therefore, to check the identity of the cardholder when they make a purchase.

They check your signature and may even ask for photo ID if you're buying something expensive.

Not so in beautiful Singers...here you can (and believe me cos I've done it) sign your name at Batman, Hitler or Mickey Mouse and the merchant won't bat an eyelid [pardon the pun].... why? Because they're not bloody liable, that's why.

It's a sham that's recently been highlighted in the local press and NOW at long last the Monetary Authority of Singapore is calling the banks to task on this -- but how long will it take to action?

The greatest irony of this all is that my credit card from Citibank - oh yes I shall name and shame - actually re-issued my about-to-expire card; the irony? Well, my previous card which expired on 31st August was a photo-card complete with a delightful mugshot of yours truly. The new "enhanced" card came complete without Darren's beaming visog but accessorised (and I use that term purposely) with a PIN chip built-in.

More secure, I hear you yell..!

Well, except that Singapore hasn't instituted a Chip and PIN scheme so the chip is redundant - you can't even eat the damn thing - so what's the point of that....!?

I have intelligence that the culprit is a 30+ male of Indian descent - how ironic...do you suppose he'd have been as successful in separating me from my credit line with my blue-eyed lily white countenance glaring back at the merchant? I doubt it somehow....

Thanks Citibank - from security to stupidity in one fell re-issue.

I love banks....I love them like Kin Jung Il loves democracy - you simply can't bank on them.

Oh and the photo? What's that all about?

Well my dryer wasn't performing, [in fact it was taking over 2 hours to dry 2 towels, 3 shirts and a sock] so I investigated and found a ton of fluff inside the filter -- thank you Miss Landlady for preparing my flat so well and cleaning thoroughly for my move in. Mind you, the fluff does have something in common with the banks in Singapore: they're grey, they're soiled, the lurk in dark corners with little or no transparency and worst of all, they stop the system from working properly...!

Good night.

Harry who?

Just been to see Harry Potter - the Half Blood Prince - and for those that don't know that's a reference to Severus Snape....who managed finally to become the Professor to the Dark Arts - or should that be "against" - ah that's for you to work out. Go see the film - it's awesome.

A great collaboration between good and evil, between light and dark, between boy and girl - I guess only a gay man could have come up with that triptych of a sentence. Ah well, that's what you get for reading my blog. It's incredible how the saga of a boy wizard has captured the imagination of millions - if not billions. I heard the other day that Bollywood has even plagiarised (read copied) the format and released Hari Puttar last year which is an Indian spoof on the fabulously successful format. Are muggles and dalits too close to for comfort?

Anyway, off to my Arabic class tomorrow morning - that has nothing to do with Harry Potter, but it's rather intriguing.

More on that next time........

Peaceful abandon

The fans whir above my head as I sit at a chunky glass topped table in a sumptuous villa in the green lush canopy that is Bali. I have joined my good friend Chris for his birthday celebration and what a wondrous place to celebrate such an anniversary.

All day I have been lazing around doing absolutely nothing - except ruminating of course.
But it has been blissful watching the butterflies flit around and listening to the haunting chants of a nearby Hindu temple, mingled with the cling clang of gamelan.

Being out here, literally in the middle of nowhere, has been splendid for forgetting Singapore - the speedy pace of life there, the cars, the sale mania....as I turn my head to think of the next line I see an azure blue sky getting ready to let the stars come out in preparation for night time and it's full of fluttering kites; eagles, airplanes, butterflies and other winged wonders - soaring, soaring.

Guests will be descending very soon for a delicious dinner (well I hope it will be delicious, the party boy is a chef after all). There will no doubt be lots of martinis, camp chandeliers, purple potato and duck curry - with a sparkling birthday cake to finish it all off.

I can't wait.