THE nation was intrigued to read that fashionable and normal people alike are wearing spectacles and feeling no shame. This is an excellent development in the ongoing liberalisation of society, taking us another step away from the halcyon days of the 1950s, when bespectacled citizens were forbidden to marry and could not stand for Parliament.
I am an occasional spectacles wearer myself, in need of reading glasses if I am to make sense of what is going on in the world. But, boy, I hate the damned things. They run off and hide whenever I need them. I am convinced malevolent forces are comin
g into my house and shifting them about. Whatever the case, I can never find them.
Even when I do find them, they ruin my eyesight further when I wear them. Top debunkers claim it's a myth that wearing reading glasses makes your sight worse, but it does. Your eye gets lazy and doesn't put in the effort any more. I first realised I need reading glasses when I couldn't make out the menu in Pizza Express and other top restaurants. Now I can't even see the table.
I must admit, however, that my reading glasses enhance my features, essentially by disguising them. I believe this is one reason that so many people wear sunglasses. True, wearing shades makes them look evil, sinister and "cool" – all being desirable attributes in today's determinedly unethical world – but wearing them also hides poor facial shape, unhappy eyebrows, Neanderthal or "Ibrox" foreheads, and other undesirable attributes.
Today, too, spectacle-wearers are no longer considered geeky. Most of you will be familiar with the Superman cartoon strip, The Kid From Krypton, published in July 1951, in which Mr Clark Kent declares: "I'll keep on wearing these glasses and appear timid, so no-one will guess my secret!"
For a long time, Lois Lane despised Clark for a wimp, while loving Superman, who was essentially the same guy minus the glasses. (Well, the same guy plus a cloak and with his underpants over his troosers.) But he had the same coupon and shape of bonce, and journalist Lois – a trained observer – couldn't spot the similarity. For many years, I thought she was the one needing the specs.
Presumably, Clark's glasses were what are being referred today as "suspecs". These have plain glass, and desperate, hollering mobs of perfectly sighted people are forming outside the premises of leading optometricians, or whatever they're calling themselves now, to buy the blank specs.
Whenever you read about something mad, you can be sure young people are involved, and it is the controversial 18-24 age group who are wriggling free from their Asbos to buy these ocular items in vast numbers.
Bizarrely, bearing in mind the historical point I made earlier, the specs craze is being linked to the 1950s, and the speak from Londonshire is that trendy people in the metropolis are also wearing trilbies and tailored suits.
Although I've advocated a return to the 1950s for many years (since about 1960, in fact), now that it is becoming a reality, I am starting to get a little frightened, and I predict that it can only be a matter of timelessness before I speak out against this retrograde and unnatural phenomenon.
Change is as good as a rest for LabourI'VE no wish to speak to you about politics. You are Scottish and, therefore, psephologically and psychologically peculiar. True, at the time of going to press, the Patriots for London Rule are on the run. But, Glasgow East notwithstanding, I still don't see things changing substantially.
No, today, I want to speak to you about the language of politics, as exemplified by Arthur O'Miliband, the Foreign Secretary (apparently), and also a challenger for Broon's position as Top Loser. In a controversial article, O'Miliband said he wanted – wait for it – "real change". Presumably, this is different from unreal change. But change of what? He doesn't say.
Crucially, he added: "The debate has to be about issues and arguments." No! A debate about issues and arguments? Whoever heard of such a thing? And what would this issue-based debate be about? He doesn't say.
As soon as the article was published, cryptic correspondents ran round to O'Miliband's house to ask if he meant he was wanting a change of leader, which might be seen as a "mad" move. Examining a teapot carefully, he replied: "The Labour Party never does mad. We've got to be a responsible party of government. I'm here today doing my job."
Yes, me too. I'm here today, too, breathing and so forth. Isn't it marvellous? And just imagine the horror of an irresponsible party of government. Isn't it just so exciting and interesting that O'Miliband is opposed to that?
Many people wish politicians would say nothing. But they do so already. True, they speak. But they say diddly.
Wuthering close to the wind in terms of eccentricityIT WAS unfortunate that my mouth was full of Cinnamon Cheerios when I read the news that Kate Bush had turned 50. The pieces of cereal arced across the room, with milk trailing from them – picture the scene in slow motion, if you will – as I spluttered in surprise. Kate is 50? How did that happen? Have the authorities been informed? Personally, I have pickled her in aspic at about the age of 21.
Here's a little tip for you: if you really want to get my goat, describe Kate – who is a true, professional artist – as being "eccentric". How come? Different, talented, years ahead of her time, insightful, creative. But eccentric? How? It is, apparently, because she keeps a low media profile. Well, good for her.
The other week, I saw the novelist Martin Amis described as "eccentric". Eh? Does he mince hither and yon down the high streets of the nation wearing a moon-decorated cloak and singing Barnacle Bill the Sailor? He does not. He writes interesting books.
The term "eccentric" has a whiff of madness aboot it, but it's the people deploying the term willy-nilly who are truly bonkers – and, worse still, boring. There. Controversial, I know. But I've said it. Now, come on, join me: "'I'll spin you yarns 'n tell you lies, I'll drink yer wine 'n eat yer pies,' says Barnacle Bill the Sailor." Hooray!
The full article contains 1073 words and appears in The Scotsman newspaper.
