CRBeebies

The CRB system was set up in the wake of the Soham murders, committed by Ian Huntley. Huntley had been able to get a job at a school despite some previous by using his mother’s maiden name. The CRB system checks, amongst other things, that you have always been who you say you are. Therefore it could probably catch another Ian Huntley. It couldn’t catch, say, another Gary Glitter, who was only found out when an engineer at PC World found pictures on the computer he had taken in for repairs. Muppet.

It certainly wouldn’t and couldn’t catch the family members or long-standing acquaintances of children who are the most likely to commit any form of abuse. But still, the grasp of the CRB spreads and spreads, instilling a sense of false bureaucratic security in the brains of politicians and tabloids but absolutely no one else, and now it has reached the realm of famous authors.

Fortunately things aren’t quite as bad as they’re being painted. Yes, authors who visit schools more than once a month will have to apply for a CRB (and representatives of other trades too, presumably, but authors are a large subset of the whole). And yes, that does include people like Philip Pullman, Michael Morpurgo, Anthony Horowitz, Quentin Blake … And yes, it costs £64 to prove they’re not paedophiles. BUT, in the case of authors, that will be apparently be paid for anyway, and those of us who visit schools less than once a month won’t be required to register. (This assumes the teachers in charge of visits to be fully au fait with the regulations and not insist on CRBs for everyone, regardless, which is by no means a given.) So the situation hasn’t really changed. That much.

It remains utterly ludicrous, as Mr Pullman points out: in 20 years of visiting schools, he has never been left alone with kids. Ever. But the logic of applying the rule to the once-a-month-or-more brigade is precisely that: prolonged and repeated exposure allegedly increases the chances of grooming the kids for Unspeakable Acts. How you do this when faced with a baying mob of 50 year 9s and 10s, I have no idea. I doubt anyone does. But that’s the roolz.

Once, on a school visit, I was asked to wait in the staff room for a while, and then a single solitary boy, aged 13ish, was sent to get me when everyone was ready. So I suppose I was technically alone with a child, for about 5 seconds. The staff room had a glass wall looking onto a main corridor, but still I suppose that if I was a really, really determined, cunning and persuasive paedo – and if the young man was brain dead, dumb and physically handicapped – then I could have got lucky. We really are pushing the bounds of probability here.

Some further reading on the subject:

Any politician who tries to rationalise the system will inevitably provoke hysterical screams of wrath from the red-tops, and be labelled as soft on crime by the leader of Her Majesty’s Opposition. So, cross-party action – which is would be needed to change anything – is unlikely if it’s a single party issue. The hysteria could however be toughed out by the next Prime Minister and the next Labour leader (highly unlikely to be the same person) working together. The former will be a product of a system that can actually understand the non-tangible benefits of authors visiting schools. The latter should welcome the chance to distance himself from the triumphs of his predecessors’ reigns. It could work.

Meanwhile Pullman et al will have to decide what matters more to them – the grind and, yes, the insult of being required to register, or the thought of the kids who would greatly value their visits being deprived of same. And Anthony Horowitz has nothing to fear: the CRB form is extremely unlikely to have a question saying “Are you now or have you ever been the perpetrator of Crime Traveller” so his secret is safe.

Always shoot hovering litter with a bow and arrow

At least, that’s the only interpretation we could come up with for this rather strange little graphic on the label of a bottle of Tango.

Or maybe it’s “Wait until it’s hovering over a bin, then shoot it with a bow and arrow.” Yes, that would be tidier. That must be it.

Said bottle was consumed at our table at the reception following the wedding of Best Man’s Ex in Swanage, which is really what this post is about. The weather was an extremely wet dry run for next month’s holiday in Ireland, but that doesn’t really matter when the proceedings were mostly indoors. Mostly. A brave attempt was made to congregate on the lawn outside the church where five or six gazebos had been pushed together. The problem with gazebos is that their sides slope and so they don’t really tile. Everyone was clustered into neat little squares and you couldn’t get from one to the other without another split-second drenching.

But, a lovely day with the children of both parties being especially supportive. Junior Godson proudly explained to us that now he has two step-parents and two real ones, which I think pleases his sense of symmetry (he was always the artistic one). I got alittle irritated at constant references to how BME had raised two boys on her own … Her ex is quite a good friend (as you might gather) and I know for a fact that he’s been as involved as he possibly can be. But it wasn’t actually her making these claims, just relatives/other guests, and anything that helps close that particular chapter and open a new one is just fine by me.

None of this silly giving away business, either: bride and groom entered by different and opposite doors, met at the foot of the aisle and walked up together. As it should be.

Total Eclipse of Art

I’ve always had a soft spot for Bonnie Tyler’s “Total Eclipse of the Heart”. It combined traditional Jim Steinman anthemic passion with the best of eighties excess, and managed to be sad and moving at the same time.
Then it became a staple of the end-of-year SFSoc weekend at university, with a mash-up video of classic Dr Who scenes (tragically still not available on YouTube, as far as I can tell), so it also became associated with the bitter-sweet end of term feeling that you were saying goodbye to your friends, even if you were going to see them again in September.
And now I like it even more. Cue the Literal Video Version.