Bouncebackability

Who cares if the world is imploding? I'm off to (fingers crossed YET AGAIN) the Caribbean coast this weekend and we have a lovely lunch planned at work today (where I get to bring potato salad - homemade, of course - then scoff everyone else's gorgeous food). I also have a bar of the chocolate on your left to share. I may not actually get round to the sharing part. Just because we always eat so much that we don't end up eating dessert. Ahem.

However, I have now detected a disturbing trend among columnists, in Spanish and English, in a variety of publications, that is upsetting me and I'm trying to work out why. This was a typical article in the aftermath of the Zidane meltdown. Title: Zidane put Family Honour before Ad Campaign. But it wasn't his family honour, but the honour of his mother and sister - i.e. the women in his family. You can't imagine him having the same reaction if Materazzi had insulted his father or brother, really - unless he'd said they were gay, of course, which is what happened with Sol Campbell's brother. It is upsetting that the only real way, it seems, that a lot of men get angry about insults to male members of their family is a question of their "manliness" - i.e. they must be straight and not likened to women.

This is discomforting to me. I think it's due to the idea that it's women who bring shame on the family; women whose virtue must be uncontested and protected and saved at all costs. Let's ignore the sons' ruttings. It's on the continuum with "honour killings" (the most horribly ironic name, in my opinion). Again, our sexuality must be hidden; if it comes into the open or is commented upon, denied and either in private or public, acted on with violence. My reaction to this is, well, I understand perhaps contradictory and hypocritcal. But if the insults had been racist, as I thought they were originally, there would be more understanding on my part. Because they weren't, simply about virtue of women, I have retracted my sympathy, somewhat. And that relativism probably isn't a good idea. But there it is...

not going to explore it further. I am, however, going to direct you to this, which is the now surely infamous headbutt-as-seen-by-different-people and the most amusing thing to come out of all of it. The Japanese one is, by far, the best.

...and I think I like it

Strange reference there to 1990s chocolate adverts in Britain. Sorry. Reason = T minus 10 hours. YIKES. YIKES. Now, what will happen this evening - when I arrive at the airport - is one of two things. I will either have decided to get there for when the flight arrives, meaning that he'll take three hours to come through customs. OR what will happen is that I will decide to take the chance that he'll take an hour to get through everything which means he'll be waiting for me on his own for ages, poor soul. This is what always happens to me when I go to meet someone at the airport, which, having lived abroad for nearly three whole years now, is something that I do often, unfortunately.

I know a lot of people like airports, but for me they are only just losing their air of misery due to the year M and I spent commuting between la manzana grande and BCN. I'm more with the Douglas Adams theory which is that they are designed to suck your soul out and be the most depressing things on earth.

And more with my obsession with the big gorgeous Frenchman. This is genius.

Zinner the sinner?

John Hegley
Tuesday July 11, 2006

Guardian

The world, his No 1 fan:
Zinedine Zidane.

The game

dancer's shame.

Why, why, did he lose his head?

Abuse his head?

What was said

that made him turn so quickly on his

quarry?

The king of ball control

who lost his self-control,

can the man -

and should Zidane -

say sorry?

Did Materazzi call him Baldy?

Or say, "I'm going to poke you in the

eye

with a French stick?"

Je ne le crois pas.

Le roi

comme ci?

Pourquoi?

L'Italien, qu'est-ce qu'il a dit à Zidane?

Soudainement, le roi n'est pas chouette.

Il est fou - mal à la tête.

Une bête noire.

C'est mauvais pour la France.

Absence

de sens.

Je commence à croire

qu'il doit dire "pardonnez- moi" avant son "au revoir".

· John Hegley will be performing, mainly in English, at the Pleasance Theatre during the Edinburgh Fringe Festival, August 8-28.

Guardian Unlimited © Guardian Newspapers Limited 2006

Le Bien, Le Mal

I'm sure I've used that title before, but tough. Can't think too much, as have to prepare for interview for human rights scholarship this afternoon that I am in no way going to get. So forgive me for the repetition. Plus it's the title of the MC Solaar song he does with Jazzmatazz that I love. Ooh, Prose Combat mood coming on! Favourite tunes: Obsoléte, Nouveau Western (of course).

A weekend of mixed fortunes and emotions. The mighty Crouching Tigers won their very first game, which makes me incredibly happy, tinged with a small amount of envy due to not being there. But it's wonderful, unbelievable news and I am so proud of how far everyone has come, it's amazing, particularly given that some had barely kicked a football eighteen months ago. Fabulous women, fabulous football - I miss it so, so, so very much.

Of course, Italia won. They had been the better team, more or less, up until now, but I am very very angry with Zizou for getting himself off and, more importantly, therefore allowing Trezeguet to take a penalty (although he probably would have done anyway), and also for headbutting someone (violent, bad) and looking so absolutely mindblowingly good in the photos on his return to France (see below). Or maybe that's just me. But that one with Chirac... And somehow being named best player of the tournament - he was wonderful, but the violent conduct surely mars that - Cannavaro must be wondering what on earth he had to do to win that?

I also had some fantastic sushi yesterday, ate a lot of Mexican sweets, and had a grand afternoon. However, it was marred by being made absolutely petrified by a man who was a pirata i.e. non-official taxi driver. He decided to beep us (not uncommon for taxistas here - you become able to ignore it after a while), but normally they move on when you indicate you're not interested. So we shook our heads. And instead of driving on, he slowed down, shouted things out the window at us and then stopped and got out of the car, walking towards us. Why would you deliberately terrify people like that? It was dark, 8pm on a Sunday which for Costa Rica means there is NO ONE around. We scarpered indoors, wandering around a shopping centre for a while, before realising that we weren't going to catch a taxi that way, but there were a few people around on the other side of the street (including guards with guns - useful, very useful), so went there instead, and finally got into a safe taxi. Still, home safe and sound, and only about 33 hours until I see M, so all in all, a good weekend had by all.