Quintin Jardine's blog

Okay, two days off, now back to work. Big edit looming on Primavera 3, polishing, improving, expanding where necessary and locating and removing dead chauffeurs. Once that’s done, I’ll . . . take another couple of days off.

What’s that you say? ‘…creepy Ed Miliband, … has the look of a perverted vampire’ Perhaps that is taking it a little far. There is no reason to assert that Ed is perverted in any way, Mary. His party is, yes, in electing him to lead it after he wrote its last, disastrous, manifesto, but that needn’t apply to him. Creepy? Again, no evidence, although his apparent lack of commitment to the family unit, as witness his readiness to shaft his older brother, and some other stuff that’s in the Telegraph this morning might strike some people as having a little of the weasel in it. Vampire? We won’t really know that until he smiles properly.

Six matches gone, Motherwell have won all their away games and none at home. Funny how, every time Hearts lose at Tynecastle it’s always the referee’s fault.

The bookies got it right, then. Too bad for the Labour Party that it’s got it wrong; it’s now led by someone who wasn’t the first choice of either the Parliamentary party or the membership at large.

Only seven hours until we know the name of the new Leader of the Opposition, (I can hardly wait) and the bookies are telling us it’s going to be Milipede the Younger, Ed rather than David. Since the voting system is so complicated that nobody understands it, this has to be based on chatter rather than analysis. I hope it’s wrong, because I find him a creepy character and he’d be my second last choice, preferable only to Ed Balls. I’m not a member of any part of the fractured organisation that’s holding the ballot, but if I was I reckon I’d have voted for Diane Abbott. She has more charisma than all the other candidates put together,  she once appeared in Romeo and Juliet with Michael Portillo, and she’s also the oldest by some years, and so has significantly more knowledge of life. She strikes me also as someone who’s prepared to fight for what is right, not simply for that which is considered electorally acceptable. My only problem with her is that apart from her time at Cambridge, she doesn’t appear to ever have set foot outside London. But on the plus side she’s the only one of the five to have on her CV any real experience outside the secretive and disreputable Westminster community. How can you aspire to govern a country when all your knowledge of it is second-hand? How can you presume to  preside over an economy when you’ve never actually contributed to it?

Chicken curry and a shared bottle of Protos Rosado  in La Clota last night, followed by an interesting discussion with a retired gynaecologist, and a chat with a newly married couple, Kim, whose mother was a Rudyard Kipling fan, hence the name, (could have been Mowgli) and Pilar, who’s from Venezuela. Live long and prosper, folks

A little while ago I referred in a post  to ‘the brilliant new Kate Atkinson novel’. Then I went back to it, and came upon a line where Margaret Thatcher is grouped alongside Hitler and Pol Pot. I’m prepared to accept that might be the view of her character rather than the author, but if I’m wrong, I’m left wondering how someone can be supremely talented, yet, simultaneously, spectacularly fucking stupid. I’m no Thatcherite, by definition because I’m Scottish, but the lady won three general elections; to my mind that entitles her to a degree of respect.

I am by nature a Luddite. I like CDs rather than downloads and, going further back, I still have 400 vinyl albums in storage somewhere. I also take pleasure in having a bloody great pile of books beside my bed. Thus, I wasn’t a likely buyer for an e-reader. So, when my son and daughter-in-law bought me a new generation Amazon Kindle for a recent birthday, they were either being provocative or they were taking a chance, or both. Well, I’m a convert. It arrived a few days ago and I’ve hardly put it down since, so thanks, Kyoko, thanks Al. There is something about walking around with a thing that’s slimmer than my Filofax even in its case, knowing that it contains, among other things, the Complete Works of Shakespeare. My first proper read on it is the brilliant new Kate Atkinson novel. When I’m through with that, I might try Twelfth Night.

Is it my imagination, or is global sport being a wee bit racist over the state of facilities for the Commonwealth Games in India? I seem to recall that the preparations for the Athens Olympics were every bit as chaotic, but I don’t recall any rush to boycott them.

Just finished The Third Man, the autobiography of Peter Mandelson; to an extent it was a loyalty purchase, as we have the same agent, but I came away liking the man a lot more than when I began it. (Still don’t like Captain Barbossa, though.) I heard of him first in the mid 80s, when he was beginning to make his presence felt in the Labour Party organisation and I was in the process of leaving the Tories. My dear friend Harvey Thomas had him marked down as a man to be watched, so I have done, from that point on. Having had his perspective on Blair and Brown it will be interesting to read theirs on him. He’s done a great deal for his party over the last quarter of a century, and stood by its leaders with a greater loyalty than they showed him, at those times in his career when he could have used it. One thing is certain; he’s too young to fade away. Wherever he pops up next, I’ll still be following Harvey’s advice, and keeping an eye on him.

Beehive housing? It’s the contemporary description that was given to the distinctive ‘colonies’ houses built for working families in Edinburgh in the Victorian area. Their history’s easy to find if you look on line.

Around half an hour ago, I reached the two magic words on Primavera 3, those being ‘The End’. There were times when I thought I’d never reach them, but I have done, and pretty much on schedule. A week or so 0f rigorous edit and then it’ll be off to the book factory. Publication? January 2012, would you believe.

It’s nice to know that you’re a fan, so it’s going to be tough for me to say this. I accept that you’re trying to be helpful, but you’re not getting there. In fact, you’ve done the opposite; you’ve hit the ‘Annoy QJ’ button, at a bad time. So here it is, on the line, with my sincere regrets: on occasion, Bob Skinner uses ‘for’ rather than ‘because’, okay. Why? Because he f**king well does, so please, live with it, or not, as you choose. Bob doesn’t walk around with Fowler’s English Usage up his arse, or even constantly consulting it on his iPad. If, as you say, this choice between words drives you nuts, I have to assume that you’ve had a very short journey. If it really is a problem for you, then everything must be a problem, from your first waking moments. Is your life really so precise? If so, I can imagine you ensuring that you have the correct sock on each foot, before going to breakfast and checking the number of raisins in each scoop of muesli. I must suggest that you work on this; perhaps you could you begin by going out and meeting more people.

I love to get feedback from serving cops; does me the world of good. When you get to Fatal Last Words you’ll find Bob venturing on to your patch. Look out for him.

Thanks, on Oz’s behalf. My link to Australia? I believe that I have some distant relations there from my great grandfather’s second marriage, (If any of them know of it and would like to get in touch I’d welcome it.) but that’s all . . . other than the fact that I’ve been there.

As my bio says, I started my working life as a journalist. Occasionally, I’ve found myself regretting that I didn’t stay in the profession, and go down a specific path, politics, for example, or golf. Most days though I’m glad I got out. I may have missed some excitement, but the upside is can look myself in the  eye every time I face a mirror.

I have no brief for Wayne Rooney, although I’m sorry for his wife, who’s having his misdeeds slammed in her face, and I’m outraged by the whores who took his cash and are now apologising to Mrs R for practising their profession. (Akin to Wayne apologising to the people of Switzerland for stuffing one in their net last week.) I’m deeply opposed to betting, and it’s on those grounds that the allegations against Pakistani cricketers concern me, but if they are as poorly paid as is said, those who run their sport should be condemned for putting them in harm’s way. I’ve always liked what I’ve seen of Ricky Hatton, while worrying also that his proclaimed fondness for Dom Perignon and Guinness didn’t quite fit with the example that a successful sportsman is expected to set, yet I can’t for  the life of me see why he should be able legally to pour those down his neck and yet not sniff some powder up his nose.

Still, the things that all these people are alleged to have done are, if true, blameworthy, in a domestic or criminal context. But in my book none of them matches up to what my former profession has done to them. If I could be David Cameron for a day (Insert the head of government of your choice; Barack, Julia, Stephen, John, etc) then I would table a new statute which would make it a crime  to film or record, for commercial purposes, any individual without their knowledge. I don’t mean a misdemeanour either: I’m talking about an offence punishable by a minimum of two years in the slammer for every one involved in its commission,  up to and including the editor of any newspaper, broadcasting station or website  that makes use of material so obtained.

No, you are not wrong. You are either a genius for detail, or the reader from hell, or both. The same thought did occur to me, late in the day, but I decided that he owned more than those purchased by Tony Z, as indeed he did. The lady in question has evolved as the series has progressed, and I’m sure you’ll agree that its best if she isn’t remembered as a keeper of bawdy houses, Let’s put that part of her career behind her. Incidentally, thanks. Your comment has helped me reached a decision.

As of this moment, ‘Somewhere Over the Rainbow’ will be a Kindle exclusive. But few things change faster than my mind, so you never know.

Ah, so you think you know the poor bloke’s fate? That’s more than I do.

Yes, Lynne. You can tell your mum that Skinner 21 will be published next June. Before then, something different, a stand-alone work called The Loner.