Features

There is a point in the life of all companies where they go from being truth machines to lie machines. The honesty necessary to succeed when times are difficult, either as a start-up or as a firm fighting off disaster, becomes a tendency to distortion when the cash is flowing freely and the profits seemingly endless. Apple may not quite be there yet. But the firm regarded as the benchmark for elegant, popular technology is fast becoming one of the bad guys, a byword for the moral failings of global capitalism. While its profits soar, minor blips, like the recent news that the latest iPhone has a dodgy antenna, can be smoothed over. Last week, all it took was a presentation by its revered CEO Steve Jobs, and consumers were reassured.

Crooks who are in prison are not burgling your house, says Theodore Dalrymple. They themselves understand that perfectly clearly: it is only sentimental mugs who don’t When Mr Clarke went recently to Leeds Prison, prior to announcing in a speech that prison wasn’t working and that therefore fewer people ought to be locked up, he was reported to have been much affected by the story of a man he met there who had been imprisoned for six weeks for having failed to pay child support. The man told him that the brief sentence had ruined his life, that he had lost his job because of it and that when he came out of prison he would have to go on the dole. Whether Mr Clarke asked himself some rather obvious questions about the case is unknown.

Lhasa I experience an electrifying culture shock upon arrival in Lhasa. Not because it is so different to what I’m used to in London, but because it is so similar. Having been raised on a diet of Tintin in Tibet and other tall tales of a snowcapped mountainous land inhabited by a mystical people, I was expecting a paranormal experience, monks in snowboots, maybe even a yeti or two. So imagine my surprise when I notice that the Tibetan man driving me from Lhasa airport to my hotel is wearing a Playboy jacket. Which he might have bought at the Playboy shop that I later see in central Lhasa, near the Nike shop, the Tibet Steak House, and a casino in which young Tibetan men in leather jackets, hair spiked skywards, try their luck at the slot machines.

By the age of 21 Geoffrey Wellum knew his life had peaked. It was downhill from here on in. He was a squadron leader and had won a DFC. Moreover, he had lived through the Battle of Britain. Today, he is one of the few of ‘The Few’ left to tell the tale of how they won the battle 70 years ago this summer. Waiting for Wellum in his local hotel bar, perched on the cliffs of Mullion Cove, I watch the rifle-green Channel grinding on to the rocks below. I’m reminded of the watery graves of the many fellow pilots he pays tribute to in his bestselling memoir First Light. In it he details his days as the youngest Spitfire pilot in the fray. The BBC has now adapted the book to mark the anniversary.

Alex Murray was detained for two hours by Special Branch at Gatwick for using the word ‘bomb’ at security — and finds that in this age of terrorism airport staff just can’t take a joke I live in France, but because I have family in England and Belgium, I travel frequently. And so, on the occasions when I have to fly rather than take the train, I do everything to get through the hell of British airport security with the minimum of fuss. I never wear a belt. I usually check bags and often board empty-handed.   Indeed, my main concern when travelling is usually my wife. She’s a Belgian citizen who also travels frequently. She claims that airport security is worse in Britain than anywhere else in the world and she sees it as her duty to point this out.