A couple of things caught my attention today, firstly the joy of waking up to the Oscars being the main headline on BBC News despite all the other minor things in the world and at home, such as the internal strife in Libya and the continued recession in Britain. The Oscars annoy more with every passing year, or should I say the BBC annoy me even more every year, don’t they understand that people watch the news for news not back slapping film industry awards. It is no coincidence that the BBC and the Arts are heavily dominated by the Oxbridge elite and that the over exposure of these awards, (especially in a year The Kings Speech dominated proceedings) was at least partly down to favours for friends. Colin Firth seems an inoffensive sort of chap, but I bet my mortgage that he and his fellow actors have plenty of luvvie friends in Arts and Entertainment corridors of the BBC.

Before you start calling me a miserable killjoy, I have no doubt the Kings Speech is a fine film (it must be it won Oscars) and I wouldn’t even mind seeing it, but don’t tell me it is news, certainly not headline news, it just isn’t. Why can’t the BBC, if they love the Oscars so bloody much, put it on BBC3 or BBC4, then those who choose enjoy the big gushy love in that it is, can watch it all morning. I am sure that the majority of normal people who have got better or should I say worse things to worry about would much rather hear Bill Turnbull say:
“And finally, The Kings Speech did rather well at the Oscars last night, if you want to see more of the ceremony you can turn over to BBC3……. now over to Chris with the sport….Chris, wasn’t that a great game of cricket between England and India yesterday?” Instead we got an interview with Helena Bottom Farter or whatever her bloody name is.

Secondly, on this, supposedly the last day of winter, I went to work in Eastbourne today on the Sussex coast and decided that on my way back that I would take a ten minute diversion to Beachy Head, Britain’s number one suicide hotspot, and what an eye opener that was. I have never been there before and on this dank day with a fresh easterly wind chilling my bones I was quite taken aback by the eeriness of the place. At the arrival car park there is a Samaritans sign saying “Always there, Day and Night” and a Chaplain drives around the area looking for suicide candidates meandering to the cliff edge. Even more chilling is the home made crosses and bunches of flowers everywhere you turn; it is a picturesque yet depressing part of our coastline. I walked down to the edge and stepped over the fence and looked over, it has an almost gravitational pull that makes you curious about how it would feel to jump off and I quickly edged back. It gave me a sensation I had felt a couple of times before, once at the top of the AA building in Basingstoke and another time on a ferry to France. I didn’t like it so I left deciding to avoid heights from now on.

What makes people take that hideous leap on to the cliffs below is, fortunately, beyond my comprehension, but as I walked back I wondered how a person could get to a point where the only option in life is too smash themselves in on the rocks below. They must be in a terribly dark place.

I couldn’t do it, not even on a bleak late winter’s day after eating my breakfast watching the bloody Oscars!