Quintin Jardine's blog

Almost thirty years ago, I spent some time in a town called Darlington, in the north east of England. It had every thing you’d expect of a community that was a mix of rural and industrial, the latter based  largely on its proximity to a main railway line. It was a bustling place, particularly on market days, and it had a football team. They were known locally as the Quakers (I never did find out why) and played in an old-fashioned riverside ground called Feethams. (Again, don’t ask me why.) When I was there I went to see them play a friendly against Fulham, then managed by Malcolm ‘Supermac’ Macdonald, who turned out as a player that night, although he had retired, and I’ve had a fondess for them ever since. The Quakers were fine then, owned and run by local people who knew their place in  the natural order of things, but in 1999 control of the club was acquired by a businessman who made the colossal mistake of building a new, expensive stadium before building a team capable of sustaining its cost.

 He and his big dreams are long gone, and since then the aftermath of his malign intervention has seen Darlington FC in and out of the Football League and in and out of administration. They returned to that state recently, and this may be the end. There is a real danger that they will go out of business this week, unless a benefactor can be found. I use that word because no sensible investor would put a penny into  the business with any hope of return. If it happens, I’ll be very sad, and also I’ll have one less score to check on a Saturday evening.

Like the rest of Scotland, I awoke to the news today  that the Coalition is moving towards giving the Scottish Government the power to hold a binding referendum on independence, with both the timetable and the question on the ballot paper set by Westminster. Bring it on, Dave, the sooner the better.

Couldn’t help but laugh this morning at the news that the House of Commons Science and Technology Committee is recommending that we should all have at last two alcohol-free days per week. I donlt have a problem with that idea, but I find it hilarious that it should be proposed by a group of MPs.

Thanks Norah. My cold is still there. The nice lady doctor advised me to keep it until it goes away. As for Andy, yes, well done our man, and I know he has a record of getting to Australian Open finals, but I fear his hopes must rest on being in the other half of the draw from Djokovic, and also on his having a bad knee or some other physical ailment. I hope he does it, but to be honest I haven’t been very interested in tennis since Steffi Graf retired. Wonder what he’ll get honour-wise if he does win a major? If Chris Hoy was knighted for pedalling his bike fast, then Wimbledon’s got to be worth a K also. Yes?

We have a traffic problem in East Lothian, one that I’ve mentioned before, and it isn’t getting any better. Cyclists. My son is one of them but when he goes somewhere on his bike, he’s on his own, unlike the swarms of enthusiasts who descend on us on any decent Saturday or Sunday, in groups that can be as large as thirty. They’re almost invariably male and too often they are lacking in consideration for other road users. They frustrate motorists to the point of recklessness and if a service bus comes up behind them then its driver is in trouble. I have a suggestion for the Scottish Government. Legislate to limit leisure cyclists to groups of three, maximum, class anything more than that  as a disorderly crowd and giv ethe police poweres to stop them and break them up. And here’s another proposal; any cyclist who ignores a light-controlled crossing should have his bike seized and fed into a crusher, or better still, exported to a third world country and given to someone who would put it to a useful economic purpose.

. . . for having to pull out of my weekend signings, due to  the mother of all colds. I’ve never had to do such a thing before and I hope that I never will again, but trust me, you wouldn’t have wanted to know me today. I’m hoping to reschedule the Gyle event for 1pm on Tuesday.

Ah, the ‘Who should play Bob on telly?’ question. My current choice is Idris Elba. In the likely event of him being unavailable, Dominic West might come into the frame. Also, and becoming more of a possible the older he gets, is the brilliant Daniel Mays. As for the author you mention, no, I’m sorry, I’m not aware of any of his work.

Hello, Braveheart. The next Skinner, Funeral Note, is out in the UK in mid-May. As for the general Amercian market, I’m not so sure, but http://www.campbellreadbooks.com will fill US orders as soon as it’s available.

That’s right you did read that DC Haddock’s nickname is ‘Sauce’. if you go back to that book, you’ll find out why, because I explain its origins frequently, for new readers.

Almost twelve years ago now, I had an incident that led me to discover the hard way that I suffer from a condition called sick sinus syndrome. It has nothing to do with the nasal passages, but with the regulation of the heartbeat. As a result, I had a pacemaker fitted. (Strangely, so did Bob Skinner a couple of years later.)  In an hour or so, I’m off to the clinic for my annual check-up, which will probably show that the battery life is running down and that I’m going to need a replacement within a couple of years. If that’s the case I’m not going to worry about it, just as I would advise anyone who is facing the need for a similar implant not to hesitate for one second but to go for it without fear. I played five-a-side football for over ten years with mine in place, and lots of other stuff beside, while barely remembering that it was there. Call this a public service announcement if you like, but I mean it. My pacemaker is my pal.

Oz Blackstone went to the great Hall of Fame in the sky somewhere between For the Death of Me and Inhuman Remains, having somehow evolved into a sociopath while I wasn’t looking. His demise took place off-page; in other words, nobody saw it happen . . . not even me. People have suggested to me that actually he is in the shower, a la Bobby Ewing, but trust me, he’s not. If, somehow or other, he has escaped the Reaper he’ll have done it in a more original way than that.

I watched a DVD yesterday evening that I’ve had on my rack for a while waiting for the right moment. It ‘s called The Expendables, and it’s a Sylvester Stallone project, (starring, co-written and directed) also featuring Mickey Rourke, Jason Statham, Jet Li, Randy Couture, Steve Austin, Dolph Lundgren, Terry Crews, Bruce Willis, and for no obvious reason, Arnold Schwarzenegger. Search through that cast and with the exceptions of Mickey Rourke and Bruce Willis, you will be struggling to find anyone who can act for toffee, and will deduce that it’s mainly about killing people and blowing things up. It sure does that, to a greater degree than any movie I can recall seeing before, and you don’t want to know what happens to the guys who are about to have their evil way with the heroine. If that’s your thing, go for it. If not, don’t let all those names lure you in there. There is however one marvellous exchange, after Sylvester has gunned down Dolph Lundgren, after an enormous car chase and fight.

Dolph: ‘Am I dying?’

Sylvester: ‘I shot you two inches above the heart.’

Dolph: ‘I’ll take that as a yes.’

Expendables 2 is currently in production, with most of the guys listed above and the addition of Jean-Claude Van Damme, and Chuck Norris who is legendary for something, although I’m not sure what it is. Since these are action movies it is worth noting that the youngest of the leading players waved goodbye to forty some three years ago, and that the oldest, the legendary Chuck, is a few weeks off seventy-two.

I note from a report today that the Burmese opposition leader and national heroine, Aung San Suu Kyi, hopes that she will see fully democratic elections in her homeland in her lifetime. In theory, that country now has a democratic government. However, the recently elected president is a general who set his commission aside so he could run for office, and the state is still denying that it holds any political prisoners, as the world knows it does. I hope that ASSK achieves her ambition, but it’s a  concern that in a nation recently famous for its secrecy and brutality, there is a very obvious way of ensuring that she doesn’t.

Interesting news from John Lewis, reporting big increases across the board in sales during the Christmas period. Maybe the light at the end of the tunnel isn’t an approaching train after all.

So we’re one step closer to knowing who will challenge Barack Obama for the Presidency in November. I’ve seen a few wisecracks about the fact that the current front-runner believes that less than two hundred years ago an angel showed a man named Joseph Smith a golden book buried on a hillside, but to me that’s no dafter than most of  the stories on which organised religions are based. I prefer to ignore the candidates’ beliefs and look at their policies. Yesterday I read a resume of the platforms of all the current entrants and found common themes running through them; none of them want to pay tax, none of them like Obama’s flagship health care programme, and none of them are too keen on anything that smacks of social policy. They may all have forgotten that the less well off have votes too. Some of those might not be mobilised in mid-term elections, but when the Presidency is at stake, that’s a different matter.

Glad you enjoyed The Loner. I like your lending policy.

Thanks to video recording I was also able to watch, last night, ITV’s drama Endeavour, which resurrected Colin Dexter’s DCI Morse as a detective constable at the outset of his career. Having just done a Skinner prequel, and with more in the works, I’m not going to knock the concept, and I enjoyed the finished product into the bargain. At the moment it’s a one-off, but with Kevin Whately getting too crusty to play Lewis  in that series for much longer than next year, I expect that the long term future of the Morse franchise will lie in  the hands of Shaun Evans and Roger Allam, who was excellent as Morse’s mentor DI Fred Thursday.

Devotees of Robert Louis Stevenson may wish to look away now.

I’ve just spent part of the last two evenings watching Sky’s adaptation of Treasure Island. Now it’s all over I find myself asking one question. Why did anyone in his right mind allow a jobbing screen-writer to tinker with the greatest adventure story ever written? Leaving aside the questionable political correctness of the casting, how were the producers persuaded that there was added value in turning the steely Doctor Livesey, who faces down the menace of Billy Bones very early in the book, into  a cowardly simpering alcoholic? I don’t remember Poor Ben Gunn being a woad-painted guerilla fighter. Who came up with the notion of turning Squire Trelawney into a sadistic Dickensian villain, so obsessed with gold that he dies rather than let it go? And what genius allowed the plot switch in which young Jim Lad tosses all the treasure over the side at the end?

I don’t blame the actors. (Other than Shirley Henderson, who insisted on mumbling or squeaking every line she had.) They all did professional jobs, even if some will by now be regretting having such a turkey on their credit list, most of all Keith Allen, who was completely unrecognisable as Blind Pew. But I do blame those who commissioned the project. Sky has been doing some very good original drama lately; too bad they screwed this one up.

Now I’ve got all that off my chest . . .

to all my friends around the globe, those I’ve met, I extend the hope that Nostradamus, Sarkozy, Merkel, Peston and all the other prophets of doom have all got it completely f**king wrong and that we’re all going to have a great 2012.

A couple of years ago a few worthy volunteers within East Lothian founded a community radio station. They called it East Coast FM, and started broadcasting on the internet with a view to proving themselves worthy of a community radio licence, issued by Ofcom, the UK broadcasting regulator. A few days ago, a pal of mine told me that he was doing a two-hour show there. When I went on line to find him, I clicked too quickly and found that I was listening to something called East Lothian FM, an entirely different set-up operating from the same street in Haddington. After considering this for a while, I used the ELFM contact facility to ask what was behind it and what their motivation was. Next day I had a response from the chairman, saying in summary that there had been a fall-out within ECFM and that the new station was a consequence of that. I replied, pointing out  the potential for confusion, and hoping that nothing would get in the way of a grant of a community licence for the county.

This exchange was copied to others. When I opened my emails yesterday morning, I found that my first of 2012 was from a character  calling himself  ‘The Duke’. It was abusive and I found it offensive. My reply was robust; there is no compound for prisoners in my garden. This provoked further abuse and a series of accusations and innuendos against ECFM. At Mr Duke’s urging I have passed these on, and have been assured since that every one can be countered. At this moment, Ofcom is inviting applications for community FM licences in Scotland, and I expect that there will be two from East Lothian. I know which I will be supporting, and why.

This is a very local matter, but I am posting on the assumption that it will become public. I’m not sure whether The Duke, who says he’s a nice guy and a very good judge of character, styles himself after  Edward Kennedy Ellington, Arthur Wellesley, or some other specific ducal grandee. If I had to guess, I’d go for Marion Morrison.