Holding up the mirror

(LONDON, 1751, about tea-time...)

"'Ere, are you Mr 'Ogarth?"

"Yes, I am. What can I do for you?"

"'S about that picture you got in your window."

"Ah yes, 'Gin Lane'. A satirical portrayal of modern society. I'm rather proud of it, actually; in fact, I'm planning to make a print of it to sell."

"It'll 'ave to go, squire."

"What?"

"It's a bad influence, see? All that drunkenness and so on; it's offensive, like. The Beadle's on 'is way and 'e wants you to get rid of it; it's all part of 'is new plans for a sober October. Burning's best - it'd go up lovely on the fire!"

"You can't do that - it's a work of art!"

"Don't matter, squire; can't have a picture like that where people might see it and get the idea they wants a strong drink."

"But... but... the whole thing is meant to show the evils of drinking cheap spirits instead of good honest beer. It's satire!"

"Couldn't say anything to that, squire; Beadle's against beer too, he is. In fact, 'e's dead set against all that sort of thing. Now 'and it over before 'e gets 'ere and we'll be on our way. I'm sure you don't want any trouble now. After all, it's 'ardly as if it's a loss to future generations, is it?"


(Inspired, of course, by recent events in Clacton.)

A Vole Lotta Lovin'

There's more proof this week that science can be fun; a group of researchers decided to host a drunken swingers' party for prairie voles.

In an experiment that follows in the noble tradition of levitating mice, stoned spiders and cinema-going ferrets, the usually monogamous voles were plied with drink in an attempt to establish the effects of alcohol on social relationships.

What is particularly interesting is that the scientists have found that, given a choice between dilute alcohol (essentially vodka) and water, the little furry chaps hit the bottle with relish (or as the study more sedately puts it, 'prairie voles voluntarily self-administer substantial amounts of alcohol').

24 hours later, when all the voles were pleasantly pickled, the scientists removed them from their current partners and set them up on a three-hour blind date with someone new, all the while closely observing their amorous activities.

According to their findings, inebriated females would rather snuggle up to their usual boyfriends for reassurance while drunken males, in an altogether more laid-back fashion, are happy to go out on the pull.

Both sexes tend to get more affectionate with drink, and possibly rather less discriminating too: 'the authors found no evidence that alcohol-related aggression, impaired locomotor activity (e.g. stumbling) or passing out played a role in determining whether two voles became a steady couple.'

I can't help feeling that an observational trip or two to Britain's town centres on a Saturday night would have furnished them with much the same information - though obtaining the requisite brains to dissect for confirmation would have been rather more problematical.

It must, I think, come as something of a shock to the Righteous to discover that, far from being an unnatural and peculiarly human vice, the enthusiastic consumption of alcohol appears to be hardwired into other animals - it's just that only we have yet evolved sufficiently to invent the off-licence.

"A man's soul can be judged by the way he treats his dog."

The diverse unpleasant doings of the underclass have long been the preserve of the indefatigable JuliaM, whose blog is well-equipped with labels for their various nefarious antics.

That said, occasionally a story comes along that prompts even the more reticent among us to comment.

Remember the prison van that made a 96-mile trip in order to transport a suspect 60 yards because, it was claimed, to walk from the police station to the magistrates court next door in handcuffs would 'breach his human rights'?

Naturally the song-and-dance over avoiding the 60-yard walk to court attracted far more attention than the walk itself could ever have done, and, in any case, turned out to be something of a red herring; it was the security contractor who chose to send the van - at public expense - citing human rights as justification*.

The charges against the suspect at that initial appearance were described only as a 'public order offence' - as opposed to his conditional discharge for shoplifting and the robbery charges he was facing in Oxford at the time:

The 27-year-old threatened to stab student Emma-Jane Pring if she didn’t hand over money. Thomas, who has 19 previous convictions for 30 offences, admitted attempted robbery.

Judge Corrie said: “You don’t seem to feel any shame... you have been smiling throughout the proceedings.”
The case in Banbury has finally been heard - the 60-yard van journey having resulted in a plea of 'not guilty' - and, if you thought your opinion of him couldn't get any lower, think again.

Drunken Oliver Thomas tossed a neighbour’s pet dog out of a third floor window because he was angry with it, magistrates heard yesterday. The Bichon Frise died in pain after plunging more than 50 feet.

Actually, the headline is not quite accurate; according to the article, Thomas grabbed the dog, walked to the open window and held the struggling animal outside for several seconds before letting go. The only statement offered in mitigation was that he was so drunk he did not know what he was doing and now feels remorse, which suggests even his defence team were struggling with this one.

I'd hate to be putting ideas into their heads, but it strikes me that Thomas, like Karen Matthews, suffers from an almost pathological lack of maturity. His attack on the dog was the unthinking cruelty of an angry child, while his many and varied previous crimes - including assault and damaging a car - suggest infantile levels of reasoning and self-control.

There's something childish, too, in his denial of 'causing unnecessary suffering'. Despite the evidence of the dog's owner and another witness, Thomas initially claimed the dog had slipped out of the fanlight window, only changing his story when he was confronted with overwhelming testimony - or 'found out', as he probably sees it.

Thomas (now with 20 previous convictions for 31 offences) has been jailed for 18 weeks - I can hear Julia sighing from here - which, even allowing for early release, should at least give him time to find out how his fellow-inmates feel about cruelty to small, fluffy dogs; I understand even the most hardened criminals have a sentimental side.

Oh, and the attempted robbery last year? That got him a suspended sentence. Sorry, Julia!


*Even the prisoner thought it was ridiculous: "surely they could have just walked me there in handcuffs".

A serious gripe

It's a measure of parental desperation - bottles of Gripe Water, priced at £2.49, are changing hands on ebay for as much as £9.99.

The manufacturers have confirmed today - according to the Mail - that production stopped 4 months ago, leading to previously unexplained shortages in shops. According to a (surprisingly vague) spokesman:

‘I understand we stopped producing it last year because of some kind of licensing issues but we hope to start selling the product again in a few months.

I haven’t been able to get to the bottom of what the licensing issues are but it may have something to do with the wording on the packaging.’

For anyone unfamiliar with the product, it contains dill extract and sodium hydrogen carbonate and, in my experience at least, is about the most effective of the over-the-counter remedies for babies with colic.

It's been in use for generations; I was, by all accounts, particularly fond of it as a baby, back in the days when it also contained sugar and alcohol - although the formula has been altered since then to satisfy modern sensibilities (giving rise to an inspired Giles cartoon).

Since the offspring graduated to solid food nearly two decades ago, it's not something I've had occasion to buy since - although I must admit to the odd swig from the bottle left in the medicine cabinet in the years afterwards in an optimistic bid to combat indigestion.

I do however, sympathise with the parents - and retailers - who feel they have been kept in the dark. As a matter of fact, I have recently found it nearly impossible to find a particular combination painkiller I take for migraines - the shop staff cannot tell me why it is no longer stocked (though one chemist will still order it in specially - so far).

To add to the puzzle, a French pharmacist recently told me, in answer to an agonized plea, that the same tablets could no longer be sold over the counter in France - "C'est la loi, Madame". (Migraines being what they are, I'm afraid I proceeded to make an involuntary protest against 'the law' by being violently sick in the municipal flower-bed outside.)

So why the interruption of supply? Internecine strife in the ranks of Big Pharma, perhaps? Or is it something to do with the EU? Has the mighty armament of Brussels now turned its sights on infants with tummy-ache and middle-aged women with migraines?

I wish they'd tell us!

All present and correct?

While on the theme of exotic animals (see previous post), we've mentioned this before, but why should London Zoo be holding its annual animal-count slap-bang in the middle of winter?

The papers are awash with shots of the customary photo-call - this year, it's the penguins - as a keeper poses with a clipboard and journalists try to think up an amusingly punning headline.

I suppose the staff are less busy now than at any other time, but it does seem a little harsh on the poor animals to be turfed out of their nice warm beds for roll-call - I heartily sympathise!

Meanwhile, the Scottish Government is being castigated for spending nearly £43,000 on a 'welcome party' for their new pandas, though it's not quite the extravaganza the term suggests:

The money spent by the Scottish Government includes a grant of £12,900 offered to the Royal Zoological Society Scotland towards the arrival event, £23,000 on marketing links between Scotland and China in both countries and staff costs of £6,822.

So that's what it was about: I thought there was something distinctly odd about the ranks of children obediently cheering and waving their little flags in unison as the lorries went by - though I bet it played well back home among the big bosses in China.

Subrosa certainly wasn't impressed:

'I have no problem with businesses introducing new ideas to boost their profits, but using live animals under the canopy of improving relationships with China, is a few steps too far.'

Looking after your neighbours' pet rabbit while they're away is worry enough; I hope, for Scotland's sake, these two furry hostages to fortune thrive in the chilly winds of Edinburgh.

Cancer statistics and the blame game

There's been a distinctly statistical flavour to this week, what with the question of lessons in gambling and The Moose's musings on child poverty.

I'll be the first to admit that, while I can more or less follow the reasoning of such Titans in the field as Mark Wadsworth (at least as long as he keeps explaining things so clearly), my grasp of the finer points is a little shakier than I'd like - I don't gamble, but if I did, I'd be the one standing in the bookies muttering "Each way? Er, is that r factorial divided by n minus r?"

Even I, however, have no difficulty working out from today's headlines that if just over 40% of cancers could be prevented by lifestyle change, then nearly 60% are determined by factors beyond the patient's control.

Unfortunately, this reasoning still seems to be beyond the grasp of some of those who work in the field. I make no apology, therefore, for recycling part of this post on the subject from last May, when similar statistics were published for breast cancer.

*******

The other 58% of cases may be linked to environmental or genetic factors or other causes not yet established. Information like this, however, proves a logical step too far for many NHS staff, for whom the mantra runs thus:

Cancer is caused by unhealthy lifestyles.
You have cancer.
ergo You have an unhealthy lifestyle.

In the past few years, several of my friends and family have been diagnosed with so-called ‘lifestyle cancers’, and, to a man (and woman) subjected to lengthy instruction by medical staff about their supposedly unhealthy habits despite a clear family history of the disease in each case.

Thus a friend who walks her dog several miles every day was advised to take more exercise; a lifelong non-drinker was repeatedly told to cut down on his alcohol consumption and, most bizarrely of all, a woman who has the healthiest diet I know of was constantly lectured on cutting down on fat and sugar and avoiding junk food – she weighs less than eight stone.

And each of these reported, with varying degrees of fury, a clear and consistent implication by hospital staff that they must have brought the cancer on themselves by their own failure to lead a healthy lifestyle. Their remonstrations were brushed aside - the cancer was proof enough.

It is no secret that doctors receive a ridiculously small amount of training in the interpretation of statistics, given the relevance of probabilities and incidence – I have mentioned before the GP who excused his diagnostic failure with the words, ‘97% of people with this cancer are obese; you aren’t even overweight, so there was only a 3% chance of you having it.’

That being so, how likely is it that the lower echelons of the medical hierarchy can correctly interpret statistical information, given the standard of maths in today's schools? It is a matter of record that numeracy skills are at a frighteningly low level across the population, and I doubt that hospital staff are any exception.

Tell them that cancer is linked to poor diet and lack of exercise and, unless it is clearly explained, some, at least, are going to go on with complete self-assurance to tell cancer patients that it is all their own fault.


Update: via Longrider, this BBC article includes an interesting show-trial interview with a woman brought out to make a public confession that her cancer was lifestyle-related.
Watch out for the interviewer posing the loaded question:
"Why was it you? What was it in your lifestyle that was wrong?"

Lashings of SASS

We at the Tavern have no cause to love Professor Sir Nicholas Wald, purveyor of pills and potions to all regardless of casualties from side-effects; the needs of the many may outweigh the needs of the few but that's small consolation if you happen - through no fault of your own - to be one of the few.

And now he's back; according to the Sunday Times, he is proposing a 'SASS' tax - on Salt, Alcohol, Sugar and Saturated fat; anything the Danes can do, it seems, we can do better.

He believes that if manufacturers are compelled by taxes to take all the 'unhealthy' ingredients out of processed food, they will produce 'healthier' alternatives, thus working to prevent obesity.

It's not entirely clear what is to replace the SASS; perhaps he intends manufacturers to increase the use of artifical sweeteners such as aspartame. A minority of people would suffer unpleasant side-effects from the chemical but, as the Professor has amply demonstrated, that's fine as long as they aren't statistically significant.

What baffles me is why he thinks this would work. After all, taxes on cigarettes have been rising for years, yet the fag-and-pushchair combo is ubiquitous in what we are constantly told are seriously deprived areas. People eat SASS because they like the taste; put up the price and they'll grumble, but they'll still search out food they like.

It's the over-consumption of fast food, fizzy drinks and confectionery that has to be tackled if malnutrition is a problem - that and the lack of cooking skills among today's young adults. Insisting that manufacturers make taste-free diet versions of everything (the sort of food known in the Tavern as FOFF [F*** Off Fat Free]) will simply increase production costs so avoiding the tax will have no financial benefits.

To be honest, I'm not entirely sure why the Professor has stuck his oar in on this one; after all, he's planning to mass-medicate the lot of us with polypills anyway, whether we like it or not. As a Professor of medicine, tax is surely outside his remit - let alone deciding which of our small pleasures should be taxed beyond our reach; St Emilion? Vintage Cheddar? Sachertorte?

In any case, I'm not going to trust a man who's happy to write off a proportion of patients for what he considers the greater good.

Healthy eating and an odour of sanctity

The recent figures on childhood eating disorders make chilling reading.

Over at Orphans of Liberty, Angry Exile points out - with his customary acerbity - that while the MSM are quick to point the finger at 'size zero' models and the celebrity culture, their own constant reference to the 'obesity epidemic' may well be playing a significant part.

Obesity has given the Righteous a mighty stick with which to smite the unbeliever and the righteous are wielding it with a vengeance; their new morality - derived, I suspect, from the slimming clubs attended by NHS administrators - is an easy one; fat = bad.

A while ago, I posted on NHS staff berating cancer patients for their supposed alcohol consumption or lack of exercise with no evidence whatsoever, justifying their action with the false syllogism:

Cancer is caused by unhealthy lifestyles.
You have cancer.
ergo You have an unhealthy lifestyle

Never mind that the patient hates alcohol and her last drink was a sherry with the in-laws at Christmas, or that she walks seven miles a day with her dog; the gospel of Healthy Living must be preached.

These evangelical harpies recently struck again; a friend was in hospital when a bright-faced young woman came in and introduced herself as his dietician before launching straight into the First Lesson for the day; 'You have to cut down on red meat".

"How much red meat do I eat, then?" my friend replied. This puzzled her; " I don't know," was the baffled answer, "How could I?" Then she brightened up; "But you have to cut down, anyway."

My friend - a Cambridge graduate who has managed to feed himself well for decades while pursuing an active career - ran logical rings round her as she tried in vain to deliver her creed for Healthy Eating; eventually she gave up and went in search of easier prey.

Our secular society is in danger of creating a whole new priestly caste - the Nanny State embodied in an army of 'experts' loudly proclaiming their revealed truth of 5-a-day and reduced-calorie diets and casting out the unholy trinity of salt, sugar and fat.

The message is pitched at a volume designed to reach those whose lifestyles feature more television and takeaways than home cooking and exercise - subtlety is, I think it's fair to say, not the order of the day.The 'healthy eating' message, complete with graphic portrayals of the fate of non-believers, is delivered with aggressive evangelical zeal to even the youngest of hearers.

And, just as some children in the past became fervently religious, a few over-conscientious, sensitive children are taking this message to extremes. The 'odour of sanctity' reported in the cells of ascetic medieval saints was almost certainly ketosis - which produces sweet-smelling acetone in the breath - resulting from extreme fasting in the name of religion.

Who would have guessed we would see its re-appearance in the 21st century?

Statistical idiocy in the NHS

All cats have whiskers.
This animal has whiskers.
ergo This animal is a cat.
Discuss

A classic false syllogism? Obviously untrue? Flawed logic? Well not, it seems, for some health professionals in Britain, if the experience of some of my friends and family is anything to go by.

And it can only get worse, to judge from this report concerning breast cancer:

A new report says that as many as 20,000 British women could avoid developing the potentially fatal disease each year, if they took more exercise, drank less and ate better.

So far I have no problem with this per se; I am prepared to agree that they have established links between breast cancer and obesity or lack of exercise and that somewhere between 0 and 20,000 women could avoid developing the disease by a change of lifestyle.

However, that’s not the end of the story: according to the Deputy Head of Science at the World Cancer Research Fund,

“It is very worrying that in the UK there are still tens of thousands of cases of breast cancer which could be prevented every year. Breast cancer can be prevented by cutting down on drinking, being more physically active and carrying less body fat.”

What she means is that breast cancer in cases where it is related to lifestyle can be prevented by a change of habits and losing weight – that is, by the WCRF’s own estimation, about 42% of cases overall.

The other 58% of cases may be linked to environmental or genetic factors or other causes not yet established. Information like this, however, proves a logical step too far for many NHS staff, for whom the mantra runs thus:

Cancer is caused by unhealthy lifestyles.
You have cancer.
ergo You have an unhealthy lifestyle.

In the past few years, several of my friends and family have been diagnosed with so-called ‘lifestyle cancers’, and, to a man (and woman) subjected to lengthy instruction by medical staff about their supposedly unhealthy habits despite a clear family history of the disease in each case.

Thus a friend who walks several miles every day was advised to take more exercise; a non-drinker was repeatedly told to cut down on his alcohol consumption and, most bizarrely of all, a woman who has the healthiest diet I know of was constantly lectured on cutting down on fat and sugar and avoiding junk food – she weighs less than eight stone.

And each of these reported, with varying degrees of fury, a clear and consistent implication by hospital staff that they must have brought the cancer on themselves by their own failure to lead a healthy lifestyle. Their remonstrations were brushed aside - the cancer was proof enough.

It is no secret that doctors receive a ridiculously small amount of training in the interpretation of statistics, given the relevance of probabilities and incidence – I have mentioned before the GP who excused his diagnostic failure with the words, ‘97% of people with this cancer are obese; you aren’t even overweight, so there was only a 3% chance of you having it.’

That being so, how likely is it that the lower echelons of the medical hierarchy can correctly interpret statistical information, given the standard of maths in today's schools? It is a matter of record that numeracy skills are at a frighteningly low level across the population, and I doubt that hospital staff are any exception.

Tell them that cancer is linked to poor diet and lack of exercise and, unless it is clearly explained, some, at least, are going to go on with complete self-assurance to tell cancer patients that it is all their own fault.

Watch with Mother Nanny - World Cup Special

Worried about your waistline while you watch the football? Concerned you might be piling on extra pounds as the tension mounts? Fear not, help is at hand!

The Food Standards Agency is justifying its existence (and annual budget of £135million) with advice to help you stay healthy through the World Cup, inviting you to 'check out our tips on how to make some healthier choices about what you’re going to eat and drink while you’re feasting on the footie'.

First target is having friends round to watch the match - 'there are lots of tasty and healthy options you can tuck into as you cheer your team on. Why not serve a vegetable curry with boiled rice or a tasty chilli with plenty of kidney beans?'

Or if it's snacks you're after, you could try fruit, low-fat crisps (remember to compare those labels!) or 'low-fat dips (less than 3g fat per 100g) with vegetable sticks for dipping'. Come on, you know it's good for you!

Perhaps you're off to watch the match in the pub instead - 'You could walk to the pub instead of taking the bus [because you'd never drive there in a nasty polluting car, oh no no no!] or use half-time for a brisk walk and some fresh air'.

And watch out for all that dangerous alcohol: 'with many hours of football to watch, it can be easy to over-indulge. It's recommended that men drink no more than 3 to 4 units, and women no more that 2 to 3, a day.

Don’t feel pressured by those around you to drink more than you want to. Skip a round or opt for a soft drink – how about try [sic] a sparkling water with a slice of lemon or lime?'

Pubs, it turns out, are full of hazards: 'Enjoying the match at your local pub can be great fun, but the snack and meal choices tend to be limited. Bar snacks are often high in salt and fat, particularly saturated fat.' You don't say!

And the same demons are lurking round every corner on the way home: 'You can still make a healthier choice if you opt for a takeaway — but remember not to eat them too often as they can be high in calories, fat, saturated fat and salt'. Thank goodness Nanny is there to save you from your own ignorance!

So as England kick off their quest for World Cup glory, you and your friends can happily sip your mineral water and nibble on low-fat-humus-dipped carrot sticks, secure in the knowledge that the Food Standards Agency is leading you by the hand to the sunlit uplands of glorious state-sponsored health.

A Glass Half Full

Following yesterday’s post, we at the tavern have been selflessly investigating the contents of Britain’s wine glasses.

Remember the days of cheese’n’pineapple hedgehogs and Black Forest Gateau? If you do, then you’ll remember that in those days a wine glass was small and round (unless you were posh and had special ones) and held about 125ml.

They were tough, those little glasses, and able to stand up to the rigours of everyday life and mulled wine. The Sandi Toksvigs of the wine glass world, what they lacked in size they made up for in character and robust durability.

Then along came the willowy long-stemmed style icons. Slim-legged and elegant, they were photographed wherever beautiful people were gathered for a convivial glass. They found their way into sitcoms and property shows, soap operas and films, providing us all with something to aspire to.

Meanwhile advances in dishwasher technology meant that placing these slender beauties in the top rack no longer meant opening the door two hours later to the heart-sinking scrunch of broken glass. Even pubs began to offer wine in them, hoping to attract the image-conscious drinker.

And instead of the paltry 125ml of the 70s, these glasses held 250ml, a third of a bottle. In fact, a quick visit to M&S website reveals that the full capacity of their medium wine glass is 320ml, while their large ones can hold an eye-popping 450ml – nearly a full pint.

No-one is suggesting that you fill these glasses up to the top, but they do help reinforce the constant drip-feed of suggestion that a bottle each is a reasonable amount for a quiet evening in. The media abound with comments to that effect, particularly in relation to young women, and must bear some responsibility for the high levels of consumption reported for that group.

However, with a legal drinking age of 18, the consumers are, by definition, adults. They have been bombarded with messages about safe limits and units, yet some will still choose to drink to excess, just as some of them choose to smoke despite graphic health warnings.

The most effective way to reduce consumption among the young and impressionable would be to use the same methods as the advertisers. Find some way of making small glasses stylish, of suggesting that the big ones are out-of-date and ugly – it takes far more effort to get through a bottle if your glass has to be topped up at least five times.

Sadly, unless the Department of Health signs up a PR genius in the near future, it’s about as likely to happen as London Fashion Week employing models who are five feet tall. Meanwhile, here at the tavern, we resolutely cling to the habits of our youth and a cupboard full of little round glasses.

Cheers!

(For a more philosophical examination of alcohol consumption, I recommend this from Demetrius at the Cynical Tendency.)

One for the Road to Perdition?

Poacher turned gamekeeper Frank Skinner has launched a vehement and interesting attack on alcohol consumption in today’s Times. As one might expect from a former problem drinker, he insists that Britain has a dependency culture and that intervention is essential:

"the BMA should forget about cosmetic changes, such as banning advertising and happy hours, drop the niceties, come down at least as hard as it did on tobacco and say what needs to be said: alcohol is a dangerous drug dressed up as a warm and reassuring companion."

Of course, coming down hard on tobacco hasn’t exactly stamped out smoking, as a walk down my local high street will amply demonstrate. In fact, I should hazard a guess that the same people whose alcohol consumption gives cause for concern are those whose health is being undermined by their smoking and eating habits.

Here in the tavern we are generally as politically neutral as possible (saves arguments with the regulars) but should Mr Skinner turn up for a lime juice, we might find ourselves getting in touch with our inner libertarians:

"We can’t trust the people to decide for themselves because their dependency — often not readily apparent and so easily denied — obviously clouds their judgment. We need the BMA to provide impetus for a great national sobering-up."

Nobody would deny that there are serious alcohol-related problems in this country and that there is a risk that excessive consumption is seen as normal. However, to suggest that we are all, to some extent, alcohol-dependent and in need of regulation is rather too like the prescription of statins for all because some people are overweight.

If Frank Skinner does drop into the Tavern, I sincerely hope Ambush Predator will turn up for a chat; the ensuing debate should be well worth watching.