Why all these racism rows are driving me mad

By Ian Winwood

Published 13:06 18/11/11

This week’s column comes from the seat of an aeroplane some 35,000 in the air.

By the time you read these words I will be in Sydney. If anyone fancies letting me know the Barnsley score on Saturday, please get in touch.

My journey to the other side of the world began at 17:00 Greenwich Mean Time when a cab collected me from my home in Camden Town.

At a pace roughly equal to that of the spread of Dutch Elm Disease, my driver, Jason, made his way through rush hour traffic – and why is it called ‘rush hour?’ It should be called ‘crawl hour’ – quite determined to prove himself a character straight out of Central Casting.

Pick a subject, any subject, and Jason had an opinion on it. Actually, don’t even pick a subject… Jason’ll pick it for you.

Inevitably I was asked my trade, to which I answered that mostly I write about music but that I also put together this column once a week.

As our silver car nudged its way past the Landmark Hotel on the Marylebone Road, it seemed as if a 100 watt bulb had ignited above Jason’s head.

“What do you think of this John Terry business?” came the question. “And what that FIFA man said about it.”

Er, okay. Well, first off, Sepp Blatter is clearly an idiot; the fact that he suggested that women’s football should promote itself by its players wearing tighter shirts renders pretty much everything he has to say about anything to be entirely invalid.

Secondly, John Terry should not be made a scapegoat: the full facts of the case should be established as if this were a trial, his guilt shown to be beyond reasonable doubt.

But if it is proven that he did as is alleged – describing Anton Ferdinand as “a black bastard” without mitigation – then he should not only be stripped of the England captaincy but also never again play for his country of birth.

That should cover it, I said.

Jason laughed at me in a way that was quite uniquely condescending.

People, they get too het up over this stuff, was my driver’s opinion. He saw nothing wrong with Terry describing his opponent as being a “black bastard” because he was black. That’s just a statement of fact.

Yeah, but he was using it as an insult, not a stateme… And another thing, said Jason, people these days are so PC that there are all sorts of words that you can’t say any more. He remembered a time when you could use the word ‘gollywog’ and now you can’t. The fact that you don’t see any gollywogs any more, and can’t say the word in polite society, is a sign of political correctness gone mad.

Do you find that word offensive? I was asked. I said that I did.

Jason couldn’t believe that I did, and I can’t believe that he didn’t.

And on it went. When was the last time Alf Garnett was on telly? Bloody liberals stopping Til Death Do Us Part getting the repeats it deserves.

Alas, all good things come to an end and soon enough the two of us were at my destination. Jason climbed out of the driver’s seat and helped me with my bag, an item heavy enough to have buckled his rear suspension.

Despite having disagreed with almost everything he said on this and other subjects discussed on the 90 minute ride, I found myself rather liking my bewilderingly wrong-headed driver. As passengers rushed around us, we shook hands and wished each other well.

As he slid himself back behind the wheel, a thought struck me.

Jason doesn’t half look like Samuel L Jackson.

***

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