A Thought on the International Response to the Pakistani Floods

Not my original thought but courtesy of my dad and I completely agree.

If the West seriously wants to get Muslim states on their side in the War on Terror/Islamic fundamentalism, why have they given groups like Al-Qaeda the perfect ammunition for propaganda by their response to the floods in Pakistan?

By not donating huge amounts of aid to the ravaged Muslim country, unlike in the aftermath of previous natural disasters, the new propaganda message of Al-Qaeda is simple:

"Look, after Haiti's earthquake, they got huge amounts of aid. After the 2004 tsunami, a tonne of aid was donated to the countries affected. But look, when a disaster is based in a Muslim country, no aid is forthcoming because the West hates Muslims."

Simple, perhaps not true, but devastatingly effective. If I was a Pakistani man who has lost his family and possessions and saw no aid being given to my country, I would certainly believe such a message if I heard it.

So, why are the West ruining their best chance at reviving their relationship with the Islamic world? David Cameron's "terrorists" comments probably didn't help is all I would say.

Must Be The Music- Sundays @7pm Sky One- 7 out of 10

Apart from the crap grammar in the title, the blatant rip-off format, the stupid, screaming, baying studio audience and the airheaded, dead-behind-the-eyes, dull-as-dishwater, "look-at-me-aren't-I-so-young-and-pretty-and-I'm-friends-with-Peaches-Geldof-doncha-know?" host (Fearne Cotton if the clues weren't so obvious). Yes, apart from all this, Must Be The Music is actually rather passable.

It is, of course, a rip of The X Factor, with the studio audience, the three judges with their buttons that they press to crush people's dreams and the prize of getting into the music industry. However, the key difference is that the people auditioning actually have to be able to play an instrument, which makes them about a million times more talented than the corresponding X Factor warbler.

Unlike The X Factor, the three judges are young, Scottish and black, in that order. We have baby-faced midget Jamie Cullum (famous for playing the piano standing up), Sharleen Spiteri (famous for having the most un-Scottish name ever) and Dizzee Rascal (famous for being the acceptable face of hip hop for the white, British Middle Class).

Presumably, the judges, especially Dizzee, were chosen to appeal to a younger demographic. Sadly, these people, whilst being able to spot musical talent a mile away, cannot pick out the x factor (so to speak) of what makes a musician into a star, Cowell and Walsh's role on The X Factor.

Interestingly, the show appears to have just two rounds of auditions before holding the live semi finals (pronounced LIIIIIIIVVVVVEEEEEE semi finals), this despite the fact all the audition venues appear to be full to bursting point, enough to make many more shows about the auditions. This means, either, the majority of the auditions were so terrible they couldn't be shown on TV (not even Sky) or the producers just hired lots of people to stand around looking busy at the venues. Take ya pick.

So basically, Must Be The Music is X Factor minus bad grammar plus instruments minus Cotton (a move that can never be apologised enough for) which leaves it lagging behind it's ITV role model. But it's not at all trying to copy it. Not. One. Little. Bit.

Amazing Away Days

One of the great things about football, and there are many, are the days out to far-flung outposts of the UK (and beyond), encountering strange new towns and odd, potentially aggressive new people that wear different colour shirts to you. The adventure is part of the allure, as is the boozing on the train.

The Saturday just past was Reading's first away game of the season, to our locallest of local derbies this season, Portsmouth, the city where I attend university.

Thinking it would be an easy day out, seeing as I do such the journey there many times a year, I would know the place inside out, where to drink, where to eat, no chance of getting lost and so on. So it twas, that on the morning of the 14^th August, I met my mate and his girlfriend at Basingstoke station and we headed to the coast.

But alas, that was the only part of the day that was to go to plan, an easy day out was not going to be had.

The plan was to go to my new flat and have a few drinks there before casually strolling to the ground in the sun, enjoying the game before heading back home at about 7ish. However, this plan failed at the first hurdle. The key to my flat snapped in the lock. 'Bollocks' I immediately thought, 'it's going to be one of those days.' And so it was.

What followed for the next two hours was yours truly frantically running from the flat, to the estate agents and back again many times, leaving my mate and his other half to try to get the broken half of the key out of the lock with no tools but their fingernails.

Eventually, I was told I needed to call out a locksmith. Cue 45 minutes agonised waiting as the minutes to kick-off ticked down, followed by annoyance at having to pay 90 quid call out, just to get the lock sorted (there was also a downed can of cider in between those two events but that's neither here nor there).

From there, a taxi was ordered to Fratton station, where I ran to get a new key cut before wading through a million intimidating Portsmouth fans to get to the Reading end. Finally, to top it off, the walk back to my flat was in the worst rain ever, my Converse are still wet it was so bad.

Still, it's become something of a tradition for my away days to go awry. Watford last year- my cousin lost his ticket. Bristol City last year- my mate and I walked right past the pub we were meant to go to before he got involved in a 'heated dispute' with a steward. Manchester City in 2007- our coach gets stopped by police. Derby County in 2008- uncle gets bruised ribs, Reading get relegated and my boss from work sees me after I didn't technically ask for the day off.

Ah well, QPR away up next for me. Wonder what will be next to spoil/make my away day.

Our Drugs War (Life and Death of a Dealer)- Mondays @ 8pm- 8 out of 10

God damn you Channel 4! Why must you consistently offer high quality, thought provoking documentaries about controversial subjects. Why! It's so difficult to take the piss out of something so good, though I guess I could have just watched something else that was of poor quality (maybe Channel 5, or Channel 5+1 or Fiver or Five USA).

Anywho, on to the documentary and the reviewing thing. Our Drugs War: Life and Death of a Dealer
is the second in a three part series by documentary-maker Angus MacQueen, renowned for his documentaries on drugs. The series is largely arguing for legalisation, rather than prohibition, of drugs.

This film follows a New York drug dealer by the name of Thomas Winston, who at age 28 has been in prison for a quarter of his life (7 years to those who can't do maths).

Winston began drug dealing at the age of 13, is a black man, lives in the New York Projects and has a small child, born with a woman he barely knows. Paints a stereotypical picture doesn't it?

But no, Winston is a well spoken and intelligent man with the desire to get a 9-5 job. He produces a reasoned argument at the inherent racism of US drug law. How cocaine only carries a penalty of one year in jail but crack cocaine carries a jail term of 10 years. Cocaine is a Wall Street drug, crack a ghetto drug.

Furthermore, the dealers MacQueen speaks to all back up Winston's theory of racist law, saying that their suppliers are white, suburban people and yet they just will not get arrested.

Winston's situation is inescapable due to the lack of support for ex-cons with no education or past jobs. As Winston's councillor explains: What incentive is there for a young man who can earn $15,000 a week dealing drugs, for not a lot of work to go straight and work at McDonalds earning $110 a week?

The genius of this film is that while it should be difficult to pity drug dealers, this film leaves you feeling for Winston and the hand life has dealt him, where he appears to be merely a victim of circumstance and that one slip at the age of 13 leads to a life time of inescapable crime.

MacQueen's bravery as a film maker is also in evidence, particularly going into dangerous areas for a man with a camera and a very white, English accent. Overall, a fantastic documentary with a heart breaking ending. Brava Channel 4.