By the time you read this [unless you are a devoted fan who logs on to the site ten times a day, in which case a) your appreciation is appreciated, and b) get a life], I will have waved goodbye to the other inhabitants here at TC Towers, and be on my way to parts foreign. This is largely an attempt to use up my holiday allowance before the looming Millennium Bug Thing causes the company to outlaw all time off, as a precursor to physically nailing employees to their seats from now until January 2000.

Things are therefore accelerating, in a typically pre-holiday style, with the number of things left to do increasing inversely to the amount of time left to do them. This editorial is one of those things, and you will never know how close you came to getting a page on the current foibles of my video recorder (I’ve preserved the title as a warning of your narrow escape). However, God decided to take his foot off my head for once, and threw me the inspirational equivalent of a slow long-hop, in the shape of the recent BBFC decision to allow the release of ‘The Exorcist’.

“And about bloody time too”, may be your first reaction, seeing how it’s been 25 years since it came out at the cinema, and we’re about the only country in the world who banned it (save Afghanistan, where they objected to Linda Blair not having a beard). On the BBFC website, you’ll find their press release, which is a beautiful masterpiece of double-think. In it, they burble on merrily, and completely fail to explain why it was unreleasable last year, yet is now apparently entirely appropriate for home viewing.

The reason is blindingly obvious to anyone who is even slightly aware of the BBFC’s mechanism and recent history. Has Britain suddenly become an atheist country which can tolerate blasphemy? No. Are teenage girls no longer at risk from this evil film? You’re getting warm; they never were to start with. Has James Ferman, defender of said teenage girls, and about the only man in Britain who gave a damn about the film, recently resigned from his position as head censor? Ah…could be…

It will be interesting to see whether we are now treated to the sight of the youth of Britain levitating over the beds, heads rotating like spin dryers, while they find novel uses for crucifixes [crucifii? crucifes?]. But I think what you’ll find is that, just as after ‘Crash’, just as after ‘Lolita’, and just as after any other “controversial” film, nothing much will change. Films just don’t affect society that way.

I’ve little doubt it’ll do very well on video, simply because of the notoriety banned films inevitably attract. However, it’s not a film I find shocking – perhaps it’s my non-religious upbringing, but while there were a couple of chilling moments, too much of it now seems derisory. On the plus side, it should at least stop people asking me if I can get them copies of the damn film, and Mark Kermode will now be able to sleep at nights after succeeding in his long-running campaign to remove the ban.

However, the lord giveth, and the Lord taketh away. And so do the BBFC. To follow up their removal of one title from the banned list, they added two more titles to it, a mondo documentary and Lucio Fulci’s ‘Cat in the Brain’. I’ve not seen the former, but the latter is precisely what you’d expect from a B-grade Italian horror movie: bad acting, a ludicrous plot and copious gore — as ever, it’s the violence against women which has raised the ire of the BBFC. Somehow, I doubt this one will achieve anywhere near the same level of notoriety outwith horror fandom.

So we still live in one of the most heavily-censored countries in Western Europe, which partly brings me back to the opening paragraph. The great thing about the BBFC can be summed up in two words: “personal importation”. They can ban films all they like, but unlike drugs, it remains totally legal to possess them. And rest assured, that I’ll be doing plenty of possessing on my return — just as soon as I can sit down after going through Customs… 🙂

As a Scotsman, I have been viewing with great amusement the turmoil surrounding the England football team this week, culminating in the sacking of manager Glenn Hoddle for his remarks about how the disabled are paying for their sins in a previous life. I’ve never had a lot of time for Hoddle since he stopped playing — a genius on the pitch, he never quite seemed to grasp the fact that much of the job is involved with…well, managing, specifically the players.

However, I confess to having had some sympathy for him over the past few days. To start with, it all began when he was asked for his opinions on the topic, and he gave them. It’s not as if he shouted them out during a pre-match press conference. They are not new, either, he’s said similar things in the past without such a furore springing up. It’s also pretty clear to anyone with half a brain [admittedly, this criteria rules out most of the people running the game in this country] that he’s always been, shall we say, a little eccentric — most notably, his reliance on a faith healer, not just for himself, but the members of the squad he picks. So why are his (admittedly bizarre) religious views now an issue?

It’s obvious that the tabloids have had their knives out for Hoddle since the World Cup. The love affair terminated rapidly after that “glorious night in Rome” [a pedestrian 0-0 draw], and though they failed to have him fired after the World Cup, they have long memories. They always get their man — or at least can claim to, since few incumbents of the England managerial position die on the job. The only real surprise in the entire, depressing coverage was the Mirror not spotting the writing on the wall, and bravely/stupidly taking Hoddle’s side. Not a triumph they will boast about in years to come.

So, should he have been fired? ‘Course not. What he said was no different from what billions of people round the world believe; mind you, reincarnation is not standard Christian philosophy, admittedly. In an earlier age, such heresy would have had him swiftly meeting Messrs.Rack, Pincers and Stake, but in these enlightened days, who really cares? Sure, some people probably found it offensive or hurtful, but that’s in the nature of religion — and there’s no evidence Hoddle has ever gone round pointing at cripples and saying “Ha, ha — bet you’re sorry now”. Indeed, he’s done more for the disabled than I, and probably you too, ever have.

Much has also been made of the supposedly divisive effect on the squad. I doubt professional footballers are actually such delicate creatures as to be damaged by their boss’s religious convictions. I’m sure they possess convictions of their own: criminal damage, drink driving and assault seem to be the favourites. Round this office, we have everyone from atheists to born-again Christians, and no-one really cares, because IT’S UNIMPORTANT. If our job involved baptising children, it might be viewed as relevant, but it isn’t, any more than it is to footballers.

There is, of course, the possibility that Hoddle let his bizarre chocolate box of philosophies influence his choices, but this should have been apparent a long time ago. Waiting for him to answer honestly a loaded question asked by a reporter seems somewhat harsh.

Perhaps he’s better out of the limelight — and certainly, he’ll be considerably richer, England managers needn’t worry about employment any more than ex-Chancellors. His replacement, whoever it is, will no doubt suffer a similar fate the next time the tabloids are feeling particularly bored. Who cares? Just as long as England keep losing!