Chariots of the Rock Gods

Some time ago, we reported that Bruce Dickinson was backing a project to build a modern-day airship.

Mainstream production came a step closer this week with the unveiling of the Airlander, a 92m long craft filled with enough helium to make the Treorchy Male Voice Choir sound like a chorus of gnats. The vehicle could provide an ingenious solution to the problems of moving heavy items in areas with no ground access or runways.

Dickinson himself has played an active part in the publicity, appearing on the Today programme where he memorably compared the Airlander to one of the Thunderbirds (to the secret delight, I imagine of a host of forty- and fifty-somethings). He now has plans for a non-stop trip twice round the world:

"It seizes my imagination. I want to get in this thing and fly it pole to pole."

Mine too. If there is anything that might serve as some consolation for this week's conspicuous lack of giant serpents, wrathful Norse Gods and supernatural wolves, it's the thought of Iron Maiden's lead singer cruising above our heads in something that looks like Thunderbird 2.

Fire from Heaven in the Emerald Isle

(No, it's not UARS this time; if that's what you're after, you want the post before this one.)

Here at the Tavern, we are always interested in manifestations of the mysterious and unexplained; today's news has furnished a prime example in the verdict handed down by a coroner in Ireland.

A man who burned to death in his home died as a result of spontaneous combustion, an Irish coroner has ruled.

"This fire was thoroughly investigated and I'm left with the conclusion that this fits into the category of spontaneous human combustion, for which there is no adequate explanation," he said.

Anyone who read 'Fire From Heaven' - the definitive popular book on the subject - as a teenager will instantly recognize the classic signs; an elderly victim, a nearby heat source and the surroundings relatively untouched despite the high temperatures that consumed the body.

Spontaneous human combustion has long been acknowledged as a phenomenon - no need to mention here Dickens' use of it as a plot device (or, for that matter, its appearance in 'This is Spinal Tap') - though this is thought to be the first case of its sort in Ireland.

I refer anyone seeking further information to what may be the most awesome TV documentary ever - 'Bruce Dickinson Investigates Spontaneous Human Combustion'.

Meanwhile, a dissenting voice has appeared in the form of retired professor of pathology Mike Green, who claims that there must have been an ignition source of which the fire subsequently eliminated all trace; something he claims accounts for all cases of SHC.

The pragmatic professor does not agree that combustion could have started spontaneously; not surprisingly, he also dismisses the historical explanation of divine intervention, demonstrating an opinion of his fellow man that I suspect is shared by many of you, my dear readers:

"I think if the heavens were striking in cases of spontaneous combustion then there would be a lot more cases."

Bruce Dickinson, you tart!

Bruce Dickinson surely qualifies for the status of Rock God: expert fencer, qualified airline pilot and lead singer of Iron Maiden - the band that has been combining heavy metal with the A-level Humanities syllabus for the past 36 years.

As if that were not enough, he also made what my 14-year-old self would have called the best TV programme ever - 'Bruce Dickinson Investigates Spontaneous Human Combustion'.

Dickinson has been in the news a lot recently - yesterday's Sunday Times carried a behind-the-scenes magazine article following the band on a recent tour and a piece in the main newspaper on one of the other strings to his bow.

He has been backing a British aeronautical firm who have just secured a contract to supply airships for the aerial surveillance of Taliban activity in Afghanistan - something he describes as a prelude to energy-efficient mass air transportation.

Oh, and a plane from the airline that employs him - with Bruce at the helm - is to be leased for commercial flights to Iceland and Denmark this Summer*, according to several recent reports including one in NME.

I have no doubt that all this is newsworthy stuff but why now? The answer is in a link in the NME article, and it's a depressing one. It seems Bruce, like almost any other celebrity suddenly thrust into the limelight, has something to sell - a 'Greatest Hits' compilation - their fourth - out next week.

I have to admit I'm puzzled; after all, it's not the sort of thing Auntie Margaret's going to pick up on a whim. The market for it will consist almost entirely of existing Iron Maiden fans who would surely spot the thing as soon as it came out anyway.

But these days the Juggernaut has gone well beyond reason. Any celebrity with something to sell is trotted through the hoops of chat show, magazine interview and the inevitable incongruous TV appearance - given the timing, my money's on Dickinson appearing on the BBC's coverage of the Chelsea Flower Show.

It's all part of the Faustian pact that is PR - agencies will do anything to get their clients in the public eye and these days, for the cynical at least, the question that springs to mind whenever a celebrity appears is "What have they got to sell?"


*Mind you, given the Scandinavian passion for heavy metal, I doubt he'll be announcing the fact - unless they are prepared for the cockpit to be besieged by hordes of fans demanding to sit on the captain's knee.