Where the streets have no shame

Back at work in the West End after a hectic schedule but a largely very pleasant week off. More on this no doubt in another post, because there's plenty I'd love to share. Journalists are normally stuck for stories at this time of the year, but this has to be the heaviest summer season for news we've encountered in many a decade. The week just gone had enough of them, and now there's just time for a brief pause before 6th July brings probably the most important and significant events of the year to Britain, as the G8 Grandees gather in Gleneagles and Britain's Olympian hopefuls gather in Singapore to learn tomorrow whether after all the hype, London will finally get the games for 2012.

The last days of June brought the Trafalgar 200 celebrations, with the biggest fleet ever assembled in English waters to commemorate our great man of the sea and what was billed as the biggest fireworks Britain has ever seen. Funny, there was me thinking they were going to be happening in Scotland from tomorrow as the jaw jawing starts all over again, but there you go. Meanwhile, the first weekend of July saw the thrilling climax to Wimbledon fortnight, with both the men and the women giving a thrill a minute.
Lindsay Davenport literally jumped for joy at the end of the longest ladies' singles final ever, while the unstoppable Federer Express once again de-railed poor Andy Roddick. A great shame really, as I rather like the US fall guy, and fall he did a couple of times. It certainly looks though as though the young Swiss could go on to be up there with the greats- he's certainly proving himself to be one of the most astounding talents ever seen on a grass court.

And yet I've managed to get through three paragraphs already without yet mentioning the media drowing in a Saturday Sea of Superlatives, as Live8 took place, billed as "the biggest worldwide event ever". However saintly Bob Geldof KBE may be to some, he shouldn't be called a "Sir" as an honorary knight, and neither should grown up journos who ought to know better be trumpeting a mega musical concert, however worthy, as anything other than that. The biggest worldwide event ever was clearly the creation of this terrestrial ball, and none of us had the advantage of satellite to see that, but we do have the eyes of faith to see that the only thing maybe worthy of a an even better "audience figure" is the death and resurrection of God's only son, our Lord Jesus Christ.

U2 headlined Live8, with Bono proud to sing alongside "Macca", Sir Paul McCartney, on what was apparently his first ever live performance of "Sgt Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band", hard though that is to believe. Strange to think, really, that these worldwide megablast attacks on one of the greatest evils in society owe so much to two Irishmen, viz Bob and Bono, who sound like a pair of dogs to me. For the origin of the song I allude to above, look no further than the lyrics and interesting story behind its genesis by clicking on the title above. Genesis, by the way, were one of the few ancient rock acts, it seems, who were not persuaded to reform for Live 8. Meanwhile, The Who and Pink Floyd seem to have seen no harm done to their own record sales by their show-stopping performances in Hyde Park.