Three hundred and twenty-two people are outraged. Four of us gathered names for the top letter, and only just now have I noticed the letters beneath, including one from musicians and writers. And there are more, and more, beneath that. We don’t know if letters make any difference, but there is a sense of trying something. You cannot scream in a letter, and I would like to scream. To stand in Clowning Street and scream at Mr Brown and Mr Miliband and… anyone else passing. But a letter is better, perhaps, than no letter. I had an idea to bomb the Israeli embassy. I went on the march last week, took my two small bombs (Smiffy’s Stink Bombs: Break Glass Vial To Release An Utterly Evil Stench!!) and was so overwhelmed by all the people and the aggression of the police, forgot to let them off. Actually, I’d quite like to let one off in a supermarket, or a bus, because I’m damned sure noone would suspect a 4o year old woman gazing into space. Would I stand by and watch as small boy gets cuffed around ear? But of course! This is a basic lesson I learned whilst reading Sun Tzu’s The Art of War, a book I became obsessed with when I was living in Angola and trying to understand Unita’s military strategy. (I even tried to write a From Our Own Correspondent about the book and what it taught me about Angola’s war, but the ed felt it a wee bit far-fetched for ‘our listeners’. Stick to the facts… or something like that…)
Elsewhere, foreign troops backed by the United States are evacuating Mogadishu. Never forget Somalia. Africa’s always the first to vanish at times like this.